Still, the living body remained the primary vessel and tool. His day climaxed when the entire local population, both sexes, every age above infancy, went into the water and performed a classic ballet for him. He did not know the conventions, and Wanika could barely sketch the story, but after what he saw, the sea dances of the human Lahui seemed trifling; it shook him with tragic power, like an earthquake or a stormwind.
"We make less than our human fellows," He'o said into the final great silence.
"But you live more," Wanika whispered. Louder, to Fenn: "No, you'll never understand. Nor will I ever, except just enough to long for being able to."
She called the boat to come fetch them. They and He'o waited for it, alone on a pier. Waves lapped, air lay cool, the Keiki were hushed. Westward, the sun neared the horizon. It threw gold across the waters and kindled fire in low clouds around it. An albatross soared on high, wings against infinite darkening blue.
Wanika laid a hand on Fenn's forearm. "Now you have observed this side of what we are," she said quietly. "Do you think we can go into space?"
He hesitated.
"You have seen us there." He'o's voice throbbed below the constructed human words.
"Yes, as individuals and for short whiles," Fenn replied. "But to colonize, to stay, that's not the same. Everybody agrees that your first generations, at least, will have to live in a version of the Habitat. No matter how well we design it for you"—he gestured at the shimmering reaches before them—"can we possibly build it large enough?"
He had screened the tentative plans, and made a few suggestions. As a moon, Deimos was tiny—like Phobos, a captured asteroid. That did still amount to a very respectable tonna%e. Flattened into concentric cylindroids, it would dwarf the satellite of Luna. But the material was mostly chondritic. Once it had included a good deal of frozen water, but all that was feasible to extract had long since been taken from both Deimos and Phobos for the Martian colony. The rock that remained would require intensive processing, plus metals brought in from the Asteroid Belt, ices and organics from the comets. The cost would be great. What also troubled him was the thought of how minuscule a sea the new habitat could hold.
"We'll keep our numbers small," Wanika said, "till we're ready to proceed further."
He'o lifted his head above massive shoulders. His whiskers bristled, his eyes caught the sunset light, his tones rang forth. "Hrrach-ch, yes, our young will go, with a few oldsters like me to captain them at first. The stars will be our ocean."
Nerves thrilled in Fenn. The sheer audacity of it—to be, to evolve, as Lahui Kuikawa, human and seal together, from that bridgehead by Mars to the planet itself, at last giving it back its waters and thunders—That job would demand immense powers and riches, gained across the-Solar System by generations of explorers and merchant adventurers—and in the course of those enterprises, winning command over resources, so great that argosies could be launched for the stars.... No, by then, if the then ever came to pass, they would not be Lahui Kuikawa any longer, they who transformed Mars and looked to the galaxy. They would have transformed themselves, as Guthrie's people had changed from simple Terrans to children of the Life Mothers. But they would bear the blood and the memory of their ancestors who first raised ship.
And if the endeavor failed, no matter how ruinously, let the future remember those who dared.
He had no eloquence. "I've heard the arguments ber fore, of course," he said. "You folk know best what you're willing and able to pay out, in credit and everything else. All I can tell you is—well, gffen a few other favorable factors that I don't yet know about, I'd say you can take a flaming good shot at it."
Wanika's fingers tightened on his arm. "Mahalo," she breathed. "Thank you."
The boat arrived and docked itself. "Aloha no, kin-fellow," He'o bade Fenn. Impulsively, the man bent over and hugged the sleek, damp form. He had seldom liked any human as much as he did this creature.
Wanika and he embarked. They stood waving goodbye while the boat left, then changed back to ordinary clothes and sat down in the cockpit. A pleasant tiredness pervaded his flesh. When she reached into a locker and brought out two beers, it was like a benediction.
"What a marvelous day," he sighed. He rarely gave that sort of praise.
"It was life you met," she said gravely, "the various-ness of it, the—the self-willedness, yes, the cruelty and sadness"—he recalled fish snapped to death, a catastrophic legend enacted—"everything the machines do not know and cannot. That's what we want to keep, we Lahui."
"Yes, I understand."
“But can we? I don't mean staying here on our allotted section of Earth, doing the same things over and over, lifetime after lifetime. That might have been good once— after all, it's new to every new generation, and there's more to experience than anybody can before dying—but now we have the word from the stars and—Do you truly think we can break free?"
"You know I can't give you more than my guess, and I don't qualify as an engineer."
"We've plenty of those, plus everything in the databases and the computer capabilities. What we need is a spacedweller's feel for it."
No sophotects had such a need, he thought. Advisors like Benno or Irma could appreciate it, but they could not share it, for they were rational.
"I told you I think a very limited number of you could live reasonably happy in the kind of orbital structure that could be built," he said. "I'm figuring in things like the availability of low-weight and open space to frolic in. But it doesn't seem worthwhile—does it?—unless you can go on to the rest of your ambitions."
"Leave the economics and politics to the experts, Fenn."
He grinned, a flash of teeth in the short beard that the sunset turned coppery. "Glad to!"
"The initial cost is quite bearable, you know. We don't think like mainlanders. We wouldn't be assessing ourselves for the benefit of none but a few. Collectively, we hold a rfuge accumulation of citizen's credit that has never been spent. Nobody individually has had much that s/he wants to spend it on. Why not turn it over to the dream? People will, for the dream's sake and because it's an adventurous investment."
"Will the amount be big enough, though?"
“For a start. Oh, true, we shall have to attract outside investors as well. But we can offer a share in the riches we'll be getting from space, a role in a second era of pioneering."
"Yes, I've heard." At length. "But can you convince them? I've also seen and heard, already, the commentators around the globe who say what a bad idea this is."
"The establishment in the Synesis, the conservatives, they don't like it, no. If it succeeds, in the long run it will perturb the stable economy, the stable world order. And the cybercosm always thinks in the long term. But it can't allow or disallow the undertaking, nor can the human directors. That decision lies with the Republic of Mars, and our leaders believe they can persuade its leaders. Don't you worry about that."
He raised his hand. "For favor, Wanika, I've been over this again and again. You weren't with me then; you had better things to do. What I have in mind this evening is more straightforward. I said your orbiting habitat looks to me as though it would be practical. But it's meant for a bare beginning. You aim at an eventual terraforming of Mars. That's been talked about since before space travel, I suppose, and nothing's happened. Can it be done, especially in the particular way you want, leading to a Life Mother? I don't know. Does anybody?"
"Studies have been made," she said slowly. The sunset burnished the sea and her hair.
"Of course. And you can't steer by my solitary guesses." Fenn stiffened. "But me, I'm not going to make any more unless I've seen for myself. And I can't honestly recommend going ahead at Deimos till I have a better notion of Mars."
She looked at him through the level yellow rays. "Do you mean you should go there in person?"
He gripped his beer container so that his knuckles stood white. "If my opinion's to be worth an electron squiggle, yes. You ought to know tha
t. Why else did I get this tour today? Simulations are useful, but when we're reaching for the truth, our feet had better be planted on rocky reality."
"You would go?"
Geysers and tsunamis in him. "Flame, yes!"
"That would ... commit you rather thoroughly to us, wouldn't it? For that long an absence, you'd have to resign your position on Luna, I should think. You'd have to consider settling permanently among the Lahui, even at last becoming one yourself."
"I've thought about that. I'm willing, if you people are willing to get serious." Charge ahead. To death with caution and consequences. This could get him to Mars.
She was not taken completely by surprise, but her words continued coming hesitantly. "The—the ship"— the biennial voyager between Luna and the fourth planet—"I think it leaves soon. We could arrange—But you'll have to talk with the kahuna and—"
He forced another grin, although he trembled. "If I do get there, I'll try not to be a bull in the china shop."
She caught the drift of his archaism. "Someday we may need one... . Oh, Fenn, what a find we've made in you!"
Like a wave, she came to him.
After a while she murmured, "There's food aboard, and the cabin's comfortable. We're in no hurry, are we?"
She flicked off the motor and had the boat extrude mast and sails. It leagued with wind, sea, and the full Moon that presently rose. Bright among the stars shone Alpha Centauri.
11
MARS.
He was walking on Mars. It was not a red spark, an image, a vivifer sequence, a dreambox program; it was intermediate weight and a skinsuit, grit ascrunch underfoot and sky pink overhead, house and hills behind him and rising rockiness before him, sights lately seen and people lately met, and now a pretty girl at his side. It was a lifelong yearning fulfilled.
For no clear reason—but the smoldering had lain within him, buried under a busyness from which he was free today—resentment suddenly flared up. It tasted of iron.
Through their helmets Kinna Ronay saw him scowl. "Is something the matter?" she asked.
"No, I'm all right," Fenn mumbled.
He could well-nigh feel her gaze on him as they strode on up the trail. Dust puffed ruddy from each footstep, was repelled by the fabric, and swirled back down. It lay in drifts along the rugged slopes and among the strewn boulders on either side. The rock was red, brown, gray, often streaked with mineral hues or sprinkled with crystalline points that glittered in the early morning sunlight.
"You're angry, aren't you?" Kinna said after a while, very softly.
I'm not much good at playacting, am I? he thought, and forced a smile in her direction. "Not at you."
"Can I help?"
"I think not. Thanks anyway. Let's proceed." She meant to show him the area on an all-day hike. He realized she was absenting herself from her studies at the university. Well, visitors from Earth or Luna were van-ishingly rare, and his stay here would be short.
"No, please," she said. "I don't mean to pry or anything, but—you did come not just to look the planet over but to talk with us—us Martians. That's got to be what upset you, and maybe I can tell you something or suggest something a little bit useful. I'd hate for this time you have to be spoiled for you. You were so happy when you first arrived."
Surprise dampened rage. "How do you know?"
"Oh, the way you looked around at things and, and talked, and everything about you."
She had accompanied her father, who had been among those that met him at the spaceport and in the next several days showed him around Crommelin or gave him question-answer-discussion sessions. He had naturally been aware of her—by far the most pleasing sight in the group—but she kept shyly on the fringes when she was in evidence at all. Not until he had accepted the Ronays' invitation to be their guest at Sananton, relaxing when he wasn't making flights to inspect various parts of the Val-les region, did she come forth before him. Then she offered to serve as his guide wherever he went, and last night sang ballads from olden days and beat him two chess games out of three.
He'd be stupid to continue surly, though he knew his moods didn't improve immediately upon demand. "Well, to come to Mars, that was always my wish." The beginning of his wish. Beyond this sky were the outer worlds, the comets, the stars.
She nodded. "I'd've expected it would be." But she wasn't one to cover over trouble with blandness. "I can't believe Dad's made you angry."
"Death, no!" The fire diminished further. "On the contrary. Would I be here otherwise? No, he, your mother, their friends, they've been nothing but kind." He wasn't sure why he felt anxious to explain himself to her, when he hardly ever did to anybody. "They were cautious, yes; they didn't make commitments. That's only sensible. This is an almighty big, radical proposal I've brought." Quickly, lest she think he was bragging: "Not that they hadn't been hearing about it already, of course. But when the Lahui Kuikawa sent me, that showed the idea's gotten serious."
"Then what did bother you? Who? Why?" She saw him frown again and raised a hand, slender in its glove. "No, don't answer if you'd rather not. I told you I don't want to meddle. And I don't imagine I can actually say anything helpful. But if speaking about it would make you feel better—I'd like you to enjoy your visit with us."
He pondered while they walked onward. Finally he smiled afresh, inside as well as outside, and told her: "I want that too. You're right, I've been staring at your planet since my diaper days, and I've only got a few weeks left till the Mars-annual transport starts back for Luna." Once more he made a hasty addition: "Not that I feel sorry for myself, please understand."
She returned the smile. The corners of her mouth dimpled when she did. "Nor need I. You've a glutton's share of wonders waiting for you at home." She had listened raptly while he reminisced, and had drawn him out—not much about cities or machines, but about the Lunar surface and parks, the Yukonian wilderness, the reaches and life of the ocean.
"I'm used to them." That wasn't exactly correct; he was a newcomer among the islanders and a foreigner to most of the other subcultures, but—
She laughed. "And I'm used to this. Shall we trade for a spell?"
"I'd love to take you around my own grounds," he said honestly. "But that can't very well be arranged, can it?"
" 'Fraid not." Merriment reawakened. "We'll make do with what we have. No shortage of scenery, at least."
The trail crested. He beheld Eos Chasma and saw that she spoke truth.
They stopped for lunch on a broad shelf jutting from a cliff. It was well down in the gorge, but depth after depth fell below.
Techniques and technology here bore their resemblances to those of Luna or open space, but also their differences. A Martian skinsuit was not a spacesuit. Among other things, when you were to sit, it extended three legs to form a kind of stool that kept your bottom off the eons-old, energy-sucking chill of the ground. The feedlock through which you ate and drank was less elaborate. Excretion was as usual, but this biostat merely recycled air and a limited amount of water; a complete system would have been impractically heavy, so most wastes were stored for later processing. Solar collector "wings" weren't worth carrying—The list went on. Fenn had adapted without difficulty.
After they had refreshed themselves, he and Kinna lingered. The view was infinite, for every shift of light and shadow created newnesses. A wall opposite stood indistinct, hazed, across immensity, a rampart of elvenland. Mesas rose from the bottom, sheer and scored or many-terraced, many-colored pyramids. Pinnacles soared Gothic. Through the fantasy wove the graven courses of ancient rivers. His sonic units, which he had tuned high, brought Fenn a phantom whitter of wind.
The radio band that carried speech was silent. Kinna seemed content to look, to let the grandeur take her— like Wanika contemplating waves, Fenn thought. He had too much restlessness. Eventually his mind turned to his mission, and he felt memories stoke the ill humor that had earlier burned in him. He didn't want it to. There was no gain in it, nothing but a waste of
this brief time with a charming companion. At last he cleared his throat and attempted: "This makes me feel almost guilty."
Although he was no keen observer of people, he recognized the gladness with which she welcomed conversation. “Whatever for?''
"If the terraforming happens, it'll destroy what's here, and everything else that's special to the planet."
"No, you shouldn't think like that," she replied earnestly. "Think about... bringing the planet alive. Not just our settlements and plantations, but the whole world. Life—it's more wonderful than, than any dead matter." She caught her breath, considered, smiled and added, "Besides, we'll have the data on nowadays conditions. We can dreambox them if we want. And double-besides, it won't be 'we.' You said the Deimos colony will have to get rich and powerful first, out in the asteroids and the big-planet moons and wherever, didn't you? Well, we won't live to see that, you and I. If a Life Mother really does bring us back someday, Mars will long since be green."
She couldn't have known, and it wasn't reasonable, but her enthusiasm restored his bitterness. Nor should he pour it out upon her. Nevertheless, it spilled from him. "Don't count on that."
The big gray eyes widened. Dismay wavered: "What? Fenn, you aren't figuring it's impractical, are you?" She leaned forward and caught his right hand in hers. "Don't let it be!"
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