Glad of the excuse, I turned on my heel and faced the door. I touched my cap. “My apologies for the intrusion, Ms. Simms.”
I left the cabin. I heard Tracy’s soft tread behind me, and then the door closed. I waited until she was almost beside me, and then I set off through the passageway.
I knew the silence wouldn’t last forever, but I still felt a stab when Tracy broke it. “You said there’s nothing you can speak of, so I assume there’s something you can’t speak of?”
I never could fool Tracy. “I’m sorry you heard that.”
“‘I’m sorry you heard that,’ Tracy. It’s okay to say my name, you know.”
I missed my stride, but only by a fraction of a second. I tried for casual: “Why waste words? We both know who I’m talking to.”
Tracy sped up, edged around me in the narrow passageway, and stopped in front of me, forcing me to stop as well. “You’re not talking, not really. You’re avoiding talking.”
Before I knew what was happening, I answered, “We talked four years ago. That didn’t turn out so well.” I should’ve let it rest, I knew I should’ve. This could only get worse.
And it did. “And you’re still angry? After four years?”
“Still angry that you left me? Absolutely!”
“I left you for Mars! My chance to film the documentary of my dreams. I couldn’t pass up that opportunity. You should know; you did the same to me when you left on the Bradbury.”
“That was different.” I tried to control my emotions, but they were building higher.
“Different? Different how?”
“We barely knew each other then. We had only been together for a couple months. We hardly meant anything to each other yet. Not like . . . not like breaking our engagement.”
“I had to break it. It wasn’t fair. I was going to Mars for nearly four years with training and travel. I couldn’t ask you to wait that long.”
“You couldn’t?” And suddenly my restraints broke. “You couldn’t ask me? Why not? That made me angry, the way you just decided without asking me. But oh, I got past angry.” That took nearly a year. Then I tried hurt for a while. Hurt and drunk. Then just drunk, and then drunk and bitter. Eventually Nick dried me out and kicked my tail and got me to focus on work again. That’s what I have now: my work, and I’m damned good at it. “I ferry passengers to and from Mars now, and that’s all that’s going on here.”
Tracy was silent for almost a minute; and when she did speak, I could barely hear her. “I thought maybe you joined this crew so you could see me.”
I looked away. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much that had touched me. She wasn’t my reason, though part of me wished she had been.
Trying to keep a steady tone, I answered, “No, I’ve been on this crew since the first cycle, and you had nothing to do with that. I’m here to serve under Captain Aames.”
“Nick? He’s a bastard!”
“That bastard is the only reason I’m alive today. Me and the twelve other survivors from the second Bradbury expedition.”
“Yes, but the way he treats you. How can you put up with that abuse?”
How could I explain it to her, when sometimes I couldn’t even explain it to myself? But I had to try. “The safest place to be in this solar system is under the command of Nick Aames—but just outside of shouting distance.”
“And inside shouting distance?”
“Third safest. Second safest if you can get him shouting at somebody else.”
Tracy smiled. Despite myself, I did too. Damn it! I couldn’t do this. I had to keep my distance. If I relaxed, if I let myself loose, it would happen all over again. I couldn’t take another round of losing her.
I squeezed past her. “Come on. The bastard is waiting.”
Nick’s door opened, and the liquid notes of a trumpet emerged, accompanied by a soft drumbeat and guitar. It was a sad, sweet tune, “Meu Esquema.” Now there was a title that suited Nick: “My Scheme.” We entered. Nick looked up and silenced the e-reader.
I stood by the door. “As you requested, Captain, Ms. Wells is here to speak with you. I’ll be in my office.”
“No, Chief Carver, stay. I need your perspective on these interviews.”
Nick had me right where he wanted me, but I wasn’t going to acknowledge it. “As the captain wishes.”
“Ms. Wells, have a seat.”
“Thank you, Nick.” Tracy had never been big on formality, and it looked like she wasn’t going to play by Nick’s rules. No surprise there. She casually dropped into the guest chair, settling easily in the low gravity.
Nick stared directly at Tracy, his hands clasped on the desk. “You’ve had quite an expedition. It’s been a long time. How long?”
“Almost four years, as you know. You always know details like that.”
“Certainly. Attention to detail is my specialty. And yours, apparently, is distracting and ruining my best officer.”
Tracy held her casual pose, but I could see the rising ire in her eyes. “I ruined him?”
“Look at him standing there, all tense, ready to flinch at any moment.”
“I wasn’t the one who talked him out of his opportunity to go back to Mars.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You know full well you did!” Tracy leaned forward. Despite her resolve, Nick was getting to her. He always did. “When you turned down the liaison post on the Azevedo expedition, you knew there was no way Anson would go with us if you didn’t. Of course he wanted to go back to Mars. What member of the Corps doesn’t? Three-quarters of your crew were on our applicant list. I’ve seen it. But not Anson, nooooo! He wouldn’t go on any expedition you didn’t approve of. He wouldn’t leave you.”
“Not even to be with you.”
“Not even to be with me.”
“And that bothers you.”
“No, not anymore. It stopped bothering me a long time ago. But it bothered me then.”
“And that’s why you broke up with him.”
“Captain!” I had had enough of the two of them arguing over me as if I wasn’t there. “You’re supposed to be investigating—”
“Chief Carver, I am investigating, and I’ll do it my way. I expect you to respect my line of questioning and trust that I have my reasons.”
I sighed, but not loudly. “Aye, Captain.”
Tracy glared at me. “‘Aye, Captain.’ It’s still like that? All right, if you want to pretend this is germane, I won’t give you the satisfaction of fighting with you. I broke up with Anson because it would’ve been unfair to ask him to wait for me for nearly four years through the training and the expedition. It would’ve been different if we were together, but you made sure that wouldn’t happen. He had to get on with his life, even if his ‘life’ was following you and taking your orders.”
“Taking orders. Discipline. Concepts you never really understood, aren’t they? That’s why you fit in so perfectly with the Azevedo expedition.” Tracy didn’t respond, but I could see she wanted to. “Carver tried to warn you about their poor planning, I know he did; but you were Mars-struck. Or should I say starstruck, perhaps? The great Professor Azevedo was going to Mars, the first mission of the Civilian Exploration Program, and he was taking the best of the best with him! Or at least that’s what his press releases said. And he chose you, a practically unknown film student, to record his journey! You weren’t about to let anything stop you from going. The dazzle of the spotlight blinded you to the actual state of the mission.”
“It didn’t blind me.”
“No?”
“All right, it sounded glamorous and exciting, at the start. All my life, I had dreamed of shooting documentaries on other planets and between planets. I wanted to capture life in space and on ships and space stations. That’s how I met Anson, when I was filming at the Initiative one time.”
Nick didn’t interrupt, but I knew what he was thinking. He had told me often that he thought Tracy ha
d used me as a stepping-stone for her video ambitions. Tracy’s admissions came uncomfortably close to proving his point.
“But I took my training seriously. Azevedo didn’t train us, you know; we had training from the Corps. From your protocols. And oh, I took notes, and I learned. I wanted to understand what Anson thought was so important, so vital that he would turn down a promotion if he thought the mission was poorly planned. I wanted to learn what made your way so important to him.”
“And did you learn?”
Tracy paused. I knew her face too well, I could read the reluctance there; but then she nodded. “I did. I learned the value of precision and protocol and observation. And your way is right. So I learned.”
“Uh-huh. And your proof is?”
Tracy pushed a file from her comp to Nick’s desk. “Here’s a list of my reports. And notice in particular the variances: every time I observed a deviation from protocols, I filed a variance. Every variance includes a risk assessment as well, and also my contingency recommendations. Every one filed with Professor Azevedo and also with Gale as the Corps liaison. It got so they both stopped reviewing my reports. I was never wrong, but still they just kept doing what they wanted. Despite them, I did everything by the book. By your book, Nick.”
“Hmmm . . . We’ll see, won’t we? These records do look impressive. I’ve had Bosun Smith running an inventory of the expedition gear. It’s sloppy, poorly maintained, articles are missing or misplaced. As I expected, most of your team weren’t as meticulous as you’ve been here.”
Tracy stared blankly. She was used to abuse and criticism from Nick, but something close to a compliment seemed to baffle her.
When Tracy didn’t respond, Nick prompted her to continue. “All right. Tell me about the Chronius Mons trip, and the accident.” I relaxed a bit. Finally we were moving on from personal matters—my personal matters—to the actual subject of the investigation.
Tracy, on the other hand, became less relaxed. As she started into her report, she sat up and looked alert and serious, in a way I wasn’t accustomed to from her. “As you know, Professor Azevedo selected Terra Cimmeria for the first CEP expedition due to two unusual phenomena observed there, one measured and one inferred. The Mars global surveyor measured large magnetic stripes in Cimmeria and Terra Sirenum, which are hypothesized to be evidence of ancient tectonic activity; and albedo spectroscopy had indicated possible carbonate deposits that could be evidence of ancient life. The professor hoped that by choosing that locale, he would double the chances of a momentous discovery that would bring in new investors for future expeditions.
“But by our hundredth day on Mars, Terra Cimmeria had proven frustrating and disappointing. It wasn’t even that we had negative data to report, just no statistically valid conclusions either way. The magnetic stripes didn’t conform exactly to any of the three standard tectonic models; but they didn’t vary far enough to disprove any of the models, either, nor enough to choose between them. All our data really told us was we would need a lot more data. In the same way, the carbonate deposits were largely albedo specters; and what deposits we did find were too small, too dispersed for us to make much sense of. They could’ve been remnants of ancient biotics, but they could just be natural mineral phenomena.”
I managed not to stare, but I was surprised. Tracy had never shown much science knowledge before. Oh, she had always been smart, but she had concentrated on filmmaking and project management. She was an artist, not a researcher, and Azevedo had hired her for her video skills. Somehow, in the past four years she had developed a whole new side to her.
Tracy continued, “So the professor decided to make the trek to Chronius Mons. He . . . Well, it might be easier if I just played back my journal.”
Tracy tapped her sleeve comp, and a strange voice emerged. It was almost recognizable, but pitched to a high octave like a cartoon character’s. “Azevedo Expedition Journal, Day 106. Videographer Wells reporting. After considering my advice—refer to variance report 104-27w—Professor Azevedo has filed a revised exploration plan for a two-day hike to Chronius Mons. He believes we may find—”
“Stop,” Nick shouted, and Tracy paused the log. “Enough with the chipmunk log.”
“I’m sorry,” Tracy said. “I don’t even notice it anymore. After five months of breathing heliox, I speak chipmunk fluently.” To reduce payload mass, Azevedo’s team had brought a helium-oxygen breathing gas mix rather than standard air. It massed only one-third as much, but it had the unfortunate side effect of raising human voices by an octave or more due to the thinner gas. We didn’t bother with it on the Aldrin, since our orbit required almost zero fuel to maintain; but the choice had made a huge impact on Azevedo’s mass budget.
“Well, I hate heliox,” Nick said. “For the sake of my ears, I’d like you to summarize. We can skip the journals.”
“If I have to do a lot of talking, can I get some water? I got spoiled by the heliox, it’s easier to breathe. I’m still readjusting to normal air. My throat always seems dry.”
Nick looked at me. “Carver, fetch the lady some water.” I went to the sink in the corner, poured a glass, and brought it to Tracy. Our fingers touched briefly as she took the glass. I managed to keep my hand from trembling.
Tracy took a drink, and then she resumed. “With the carbonates disappointing and the plate tectonics inconclusive, Professor Azevedo didn’t have much to show for the expedition. So he announced a new mission objective. I told him that was clearly outside of all protocols; but he overruled my objections, as usual, and said we had plenty of safety margin for a trek to Chronius Mons. He said we had spectroscopic evidence of significant and unusual phosphorus outcroppings on the upper slopes. We had no particular theory to test, no reason for scouting for phosphorus. It was data gathering and grandstanding, nothing more. And the spectroscopic assay was far from conclusive, as I told him.”
“Oh? And when did you get a degree in chemistry?”
Nick’s question had been mocking, so Tracy’s answer surprised him as well as me. “I started the program during mission training, and then I got my degree on the trip out on the Collins. I had to do something to fill my spare time.” She glanced in my direction, then looked back to Nick. “Anson always told me how important it is for expedition members to cross-train so that critical skills have backups. Videographer isn’t a critical mission skill, even if the professor saw it as such; but a grounding in chemistry made me a backup for a number of personnel.”
I actually saw Nick nod at Tracy’s answer. That was as close to praise as she was likely to get.
When Tracy realized Nick had nothing to say, she continued, “So Professor Azevedo insisted on Chronius Mons. In truth, I think he was looking for challenge and adventure. He kept talking about scaling the highest point on the Terra and the great panoramas I could film from up there. He wanted something that would make great publicity. This wasn’t really for the scientists, it was all for the money-folks and the media back home.
“He also insisted that we could hike the distance in two days and make the climb in two more, rather than risk a lander flight in the questionable winds. We had no ground vehicles, so it was hike or fly or stay at the camp; and he wouldn’t consider the last two choices.
“Professor Azevedo selected Lieutenant Gale and Dr. Ivanovitch for the hike, and also myself to record it. Gale selected himself, really: as International Space Corps liaison, he had supervisory authority over any trip outside the bounds of the camp. He didn’t always exercise that authority, but he insisted for that trip. Margo also insisted on coming, and the professor wasn’t inclined to say no to his wife—especially since she financed much of the expedition.
“We loaded up sleds with supplies. I personally prepared the equipment plan, but then was overruled time and again by the professor and Gale. Still, I think we were adequately prepared when we left. We had three Mars tents—”
Nick’s eyebrow raised. “Three tents? For five people?”
&nbs
p; “I know, protocol calls for two: a primary for all of us, and a backup. But again, I was overruled. We also had food, water, tanks of heliox, comm gear, spare clothes, the doctor’s med kit, a telescope, a microscope, shovels, sample bags, pitons, hammers, plenty of S3 cable, computers, a satellite locator, flare guns, an emergency beacon, a chemical minilab, a mineralogical kit, videography gear, and suit repair kits.
“Despite the frequent stops for photo ops, the hike to the mountain went quickly, and it was pretty uneventful. Even pulling the loaded sleds, it was light work in the Martian gravity. We walked all day and set up camp, two nights in a row as scheduled. Inevitably Dr. Ivanovitch broke out his vodka. I had long since given up fighting that, and he was too professional to drink to excess when he was the sole medic on the trip. But I had to nag him and Gale to see to equipment maintenance before they started drinking each night.”
“And did they?”
“Look at the reports, here. I didn’t have the opportunity to inspect the gear stored in the other two tents. I encouraged the others to do standard inspections. As you can see, the inspections were spotty; but in aggregate, most of the gear was covered. Except . . .” She paused and pointed.
“Except the professor’s climbing gear, including the S3 cables,” Aames interjected.
“Mmmhmmm. It hadn’t been unpacked since we left Earth, so he saw no need to inspect that.
“And then we reached the mountain. Chronius Mons, the highest peak in that quadrant. We had done mountaineering training in Peru, all in full Mars suits. The mountain was tall, but it looked like only an average-difficulty climb, and even less thanks to the gravity. And I’ll give the team credit: while they were lax on most mission protocols, they took the climb seriously. They tested every handhold, double-checked every piton. And so it came as a complete shock to me when . . .” Tracy stopped, her face anguished. Old instincts kicked in, and I wanted to comfort her; but before I had to decide whether to follow those instincts, she gathered her strength and continued, “Professor Azevedo’s cable snapped. Any one of us could’ve been on that cable at that time, but it happened to be him. He fell so slowly in the Martian gravity. He had plenty of time to cry out for help. But even on Mars, one hundred meters is too far. His cries ended in a sickening crunch before his suit comm cut out.
The Last Dance Page 26