The Martian Race (37 page)

She said, “All right, Dr. Chen, perhaps if you would step into my office …”

Her cabin they had outfitted with two tiny workspaces with pop-out seats. They sat on either edge of the drop-desk. Chen smiled at her, two feet away, and said, “I hope we did not all get off to a bad start today.”

“On Mars, just about everything is a staged event.”

“Just so,” Chen said. “I wanted to discuss the implications of your accident.”

“Better ask Raoul. He—”

“No, the greenhouse incident. You were studying living specimens. That much was clear from your own description, as heard over the suit comm.”

“Uh, yes.”

“You have found subterranean life.”

“Yes.”

“Down a thermal vent?”

“Yes, we finally located one.” How much to give away?

“I would very much like to see those samples.”

“They're in the greenhouse.”

“I saw you had reinflated it. The samples are now dead?”

“Not all.”

“Really!” His face lit with eagerness.

“They're tough to kill, all right.”

“Tell me all about them.”

“Well, for starters, they're carbon-based—no surprise there. And simple vital staining on frozen sections confirmed that their metabolism is similar to Earth organisms.” She reached for her slate, called up her results. “It appears to be an advanced biofilm, well organized, with several distinct cell types.”

“But prokaryotic?”

“So far it seems so. I did some quick SEMs, didn't see anything resembling a nucleus or chromosomes. But they cooperate in a manner more typical of advanced life-forms on Earth. Say, on the level of a sophisticated jellyfish. And the structures get quite large …”

“Like stromatolites?”

“Bigger, with more complex shapes.”

He leaned back. “I have often thought that stromatolites were limited by their environment. The ocean-air interface imposes strict physical limitations. What if they'd been set free?”

She nodded. “I think that's what happened here. Unlimited time, a source of energy, and nutrients from the thermal vent. Anaerobic life went wild.”

“I must see them. My ideas about hydrogen sulfide ecology, do you think they apply?”

“I can't tell yet, but yes, some of what we talked about at NASA, in the training seminars—that might be the right way to think about it.”

He shifted in his seat, hunched over to press his case. “I must see them.”

“I can't do that yet.”

“Why not?”

“We're trying to contain exposure to them.”

“But I would be inside the greenhouse pressure envelope.”

“Look, there are a lot of very squirrely people on Earth who are totally paranoid about this whole subject. You get uplinks, you know all this. Some of them don't want us to go home, fearing some kind of contamination.” The hell of it was, she had no good reason to deny him access except the real one. She didn't believe that crap.

“What other tests have you done? Maybe we can find some way to reassure them.”

She looked at him carefully. He seemed entirely guileless, and she was relieved to be able to finally talk about the biology. The constant edginess and fencing wore her down.

“You have been carrying out DNA comparisons?”

“Oh, yes, let me show you. That's the best of all. First I tried Venter's essential three hundred genes—not much luck. In fact, I can't really interpret what I got.”

“I would like to help. Theory's my game, you know.”

“Well, you're going to love this.” On her slate she punched up the results of the archaea bacterial gene comparisons. “There. The vent life's genes have an eighty-six percent concordance with the so-called unique part of the genome of the archaea.”

Chen seemed dazed. “Which means—”

“Common origin. Those unique genes are Martian genes.”

“This is incredible. It's the biggest story in biology since Darwin. I must see it. We need to reconfirm your results.”

She hesitated, then stepped off the cliff. “When things have settled down a bit, maybe we can do a joint descent in the vent, and you can see for yourself.”

Chen smiled broadly. “That would indeed be interesting. But why wait? You have samples in the greenhouse.”

“I'm sorry, I can't…”

He recovered himself, his face hardening. “You will not let me see because of your company,” he said sternly.

“They say so, yes.”

“You and I, we are the only biologists. We must work on this together.”

“You're going back in a few months. If I show you all my work, what's—”

“To stop me from claiming it?” he smiled warmly. “Only that billions of people already know the truth. You found it. Not I.”

“I don't want to let out results until I've had time to check—”

“I will help you check. There is much to be done.”

“It's Consortium property. We can't just—”

“As you assert, I will be gone soon. This is your only chance at collaboration.”

“Look, I really would like to work with you, but—”

“Then I can make that possible. Come back with us.”

“What?” She had not seen this coming.

“We will have six months to work together. To think, to compare—”

“No, I can't leave—”

“You will bring the samples of course.”

“No, I meant I can't leave Viktor.”

“Most important, you cannot leave your great discovery.”

“If you listen to the Earthside media, plenty of people want us to leave it all right here.”

He waved this aside. “Fools. Western journalists.”

“Even if we ship them back with you, they'll be quarantined.”

“So that for a long time no one will be able to work on them.”

She caught his drift. “So our work will be all there is.”

“That is quite possible.”

Something in his rapt gaze, blazing with excitement, put her off.
Let's see just what the offer is.
“I don't think the Consortium will let the samples go with you.”

“Why?” He seemed affronted.

“Because Airbus will scoop up all the Mars Prize. That hadn't crossed your mind?”

“I do not think of the race, compared with the science.” “I bet.” Really?

“Neither should it concern you so much.”

“Look, what if I come back, we have time to discuss all the biology, you look at all my data—there's a lot—and we maybe write a paper on it in transit. But no samples.”
What's he gonna say to that?

His eyes narrowed. “We must have the samples. No one will be satisfied with merely your—”

“Nope, that's a condition. The Consortium won't let the samples out of their hands.”

“Your hands. We make the decisions here, as Viktor your captain said, and they are your hands.”

“So no berth without the samples?”

“You wish to force my hand this way?”

“Let's call it a legitimate question.”

“A negotiation, you mean.”

“You don't really want me, you want the vent life.”

“Your captain said only he and I, we carry out negotiations.”

“So it is the samples or else no berth for me?” As
if I would go alone under any conditions.

Chen ground his teeth suddenly, as if no longer caring how he appeared. “The biological specimens, yes, they are essential.”

“Nuts.”

“What?”

“Nuts.”

29

JANUARY 29, 2018

A
S THE
A
IRBUS ROVER FELL BELOW THE HORIZON, THROWING DUST,
Viktor said, “We talk.”

“You bet,” Marc said, beating the rest of them to the communal table.

“First, what did Chen say in there?” Viktor asked Julia.

“Biology, mostly. I showed him my slate data. We discussed genetics, that the vent life is related to the early Earth life. We're distant cousins.”

Viktor nodded. “He wants samples?”

“Yes—asked for them several times. Or to at least see them.” “Show him a video,” Marc said.

“Not of the vent descent, no,” Viktor said. “Maybe of the samples in their little dishes. That would be okay, I suppose.”

“He wanted to go to the greenhouse,” Julia said.

Raoul said, “Did you notice him stop and look at it when they were headed back to their rover?”

Marc said, “Yeah, he wanted to walk over there so bad you could feel it.”

Viktor sniffed. “Knew we would come out if he did.”

“Yeah,” Marc said, “but it takes five minutes minimum to suit up.” Julia grinned wryly. “Me, I'd just make the run without the suit again. He's not getting
my
samples.”

“Offer to work on them with you?” Viktor persisted.

“Sure. And to go down the vent with me.”

The men all looked stern. “Sure, help him win the prize money,” Raoul said. “I bet he'd like plenty of help, maybe toss us a free dinner or something.”

Viktor said, “No descent with him, no.”

Julia said nothing. Somehow they all knew there was more. Nobody spoke. At last she said, “He offered me the berth home if I would.”

Predictably, each exploded in a different way. Raoul smacked his palm on the table, Marc shot to his feet, Viktor gave a loud, derisive grunt.

“Bastard!” Raoul shouted. “He's going to bargain us down for it, I
knew
it.”

“Not all of us,” Marc said, pacing back and forth. “What've the rest of us got to offer?”

“True for now,” Viktor said gravely. “Have pilot. Doubt would want Marc's rocks, but his core samples might help them. I am thinking that Raoul may be useful to them.”

Raoul blinked. “How come?”

“Getting ice from pingos, nobody ever done. Need good engineer. Engineers. Gerda is able but there is lot of labor to do.”

Raoul could not disguise his interest, not from people who had lived with him for years. “Think so?”

“If cannot get enough water, they cannot lift in the best launch window. More they wait, more they need. Orbital mechanics very clear. Could be they will need smart worker.”

Marc said, “Sheesh!”

“I doubt that,” Raoul said, measured and not very convincingly, to Julia's ear.

“I do not like this,” Viktor said. “Captains should decide who goes. Not bargain.”

“What'd you say?” Raoul asked her. “I told him no, of course.”

Raoul kept his face carefully under control but his voice was strained. “Really? You'd sit on those samples and not go home?” “You bet.”

Nobody said anything, but Julia could feel the furious calculation going on in the room. She could not tell whether they believed her. The signal bell rang and she was glad to hear it. It was Axelrod, of course. Marc started the priority message and sat down.

“I heard it all, guys. That Chen sonofabitch! One slot, he says.”

Axelrod was pacing before his desk and the view through the broad window behind it was of city lights winking in the night. They had long since ceased keeping track of the mismatch of times between the planets; their clocks gained half an Earth hour every day. Yet somehow Julia was surprised to see the moon hanging in a luminous evening sky. Comfy Earth was indeed a long way from raw Mars.

Axelrod looked frazzled, gray. “Well, don't think you guys have to deal with him up there. I'm talking to his bosses right now. They're playing cagey. Not saying how many berths they could squeeze out. One, Chen says. My engineers say that's a pretty plausible number, given the uncertainties we have about their detailed designs.”

“Fits with what I know from the training,” Marc said.

Axelrod waved away his own reservations. “They're hinting like crazy about those samples of yours, Julia. I figure we got ‘em there, I really do. You're not to tell him
anything
that might help him find that vent. Nothing. He might be able to just follow your tracks back. In fact, don't talk to him at all about this stuff.”

“A little late, Axy,” Raoul said sardonically. “The old time delay strikes again.”

“We discussed theory, genetics,” Julia said defensively.

Axelrod looked at the camera cannily. “One thing I learned in tight negotiations like this. Make damn sure you know your opponent's true position. What's valuable to him. So he doesn't get that for a cheap price, while you're imagining he wants something else.”

“Gotta admire him,” Marc said. “He's holding no cards but he's still playing the game.”

“He knows this sort of business,” Viktor said. “We do not.”

Axelrod spread his hands. “Say, suppose, they need a part or something. Have to come to you, Raoul. Or maybe they really do need fuel, after all this talk about mining those pingo hills. Nobody's ever done that, right? They couldn't have trained for it—Marc hadn't even drilled through to the ice until after they'd boosted on their way. Could be they don't have all the equipment they need. Or can't do it at all, and that engineer, that Gerda, has already found that out.”

“He's got a point,” Marc said.

Axelrod waxed on, thinking out loud. This was not prepared material, carefully scripted to keep their spirits up. “Hell, maybe they'll come begging for that methane of yours. They get more lift than we do out of a pound of liquid, right? Two, three times as much, the engineers tell me. They might not need nearly as much as you guys do to get back here. So they'd bargain for some.”

“He's just winging it,” Raoul said. “All his people, they haven't found out a thing.”

“Not yet,” Julia said. “But they could.”

“So what I'm saying here is, tell them zip, nada, zero. Wait for word from us, from me particularly.” Axelrod blinked. “I know you guys are hanging on by your fingernails there. Stay with me on this. We can wangle somethin’ out, I'm sure of it.”

“Sure about a lot, isn't he?” Marc mocked.

Axelrod straightened and stared into the camera. “Julia, you're the crucial one here. Your message about the vent life, that went over real well in the media. Real well. We're playing you as scientist hero, see. Protecting Earth by studying this thing, before we ever even
think
of bringing it back. The vent—hey, let's come up with a better word for it, huh? ‘Vent life’—that doesn't have a ring to it, seems to me.”

There were some more sign-off phrases, his energy running down, and then he was gone.