by Ben Bova
“If a next team comes,” Trumball muttered.
“This isn’t going to be the last expedition to Mars,” Jamie said firmly. “We’re part of an ongoing effort—”
“Not if we just diddle around and don’t accomplish anything.”
Jamie felt his temper simmering. “We’re here to accomplish several goals. This base is well situated and working fine.”
“Except for the toilets,” Dezhurova chipped in. She said it with an unlikely grin, but no one laughed.
“It would take a month or more to move this camp,” Jamie went on, tightly. “And by going to the Canyon we move away from the volcanoes.”
‘Look,” Trumball said, hunching forward eagerly, I’m just as interested in the volcanoes as you are. I’m a geophysicist, remember?”
Before Jamie could reply, Dex went on, “But the people who’ve put up the money for this expedition want to see results. Everybody’s screaming to know what those lichen are all about. The volcanoes are dead! Let’s get our priorities straight, for god’s sake.”
“Who says the volcanoes are dead?” Fuchida snapped. “We don’t know that!”
Jamie took a breath. “Our priorities were decided more than two years ago, and the people who are funding us agreed to them. We’re not here for show business. We’re here to determine how widespread life is on this planet, if we can.”
Trumball slouched back in his chair, the grin on his face close to a sneer. “If we can,” he mimicked.
Trudy Hall spoke up. “I want to get down into that Canyon and study the lichen, of course,” she said, in her soft Yorkshire accent. “But I also want to see if there’s life elsewhere: the volcanoes, the cores Possum’s going to drill, up at the ice cap—we’ve got a whole world to explore.”
Before Trumball could argue, Jamie said, “Look, Dex … everybody: We’re going to be here for a year and a half. Moving the base isn’t a decision we have to make tonight.”
“Especially with the toilets not working,” Dezhurova piped.
“You mean you’ll consider moving later on?” Trumball probed eagerly.
Feeling tired of the whole matter, Jamie nodded. “I’ll consider it, depending on what we find both at the Canyon and elsewhere.”
Trumball’s expectant grin faded. “That’s like a parent telling his kid, ‘We’ll see.’ It means no, but you don’t want to argue about it.”
“I’m not your daddy, Dex.”
Trumball snorted. “That’s for damned sure.”
“As your faithful physician,” Vijay Shektar said, a bright smile on her dark-skinned face, “I have the authority to prescribe a certain amount of celebratory stimulant for this occasion.”
Like all the others, she was wearing tan coveralls. But with her lush figure, the strained fabric looked enticing.
“Medicinal alcohol?” said Stacy Dezhurova, her somber face lighting up.
“Australian champagne, actually,” Shektar replied. “I brought two bottles.”
“I have an excellent Scotch whisky,” Fuchida said enthusiastically.
“Hell, all I brought,” said Craig, “was a quart of red-eye.”
Jamie leaned back in his chair. Vijay’s defused the argument, he realized. She’s a pretty good psychologist. He remembered the first night on the first expedition. The mission regulations had strictly prohibited alcohol or drugs, so everybody had smuggled a bottle or two in then personal effects everybody except Jamie, who had been added to the team so late that he never had time even to think about booze.
He hadn’t carried any with him this time, either. I should have brought something, he chided himself. That’s a mistake.
Sure enough, Trumball asked across the table, “And what has our revered leader brought for the party?”
Jamie made himself grin. He spread his hands. “Nothing, I’m afraid.”
“Not even a six-pack of beer?” Craig asked.
“Not even a button or two of peyote?” Trumball added.
Jamie just shook his head. He remembered that even the dour Vosnesensky, so safety-conscious as leader of the ground team that he was almost paranoid, had produced some vodka on that first night.
Jamie got to his feet and all their banter stopped.
“Okay, have a party. You’ve earned it. But only this one night. Starting tomorrow morning, no liquor until we’re safely on our way back home.”
“Correct!” Dezhurova said, and they all scrambled to their quarters and their stashes.
Jamie stayed for one sip of Shektar’s champagne, then retreated to his quarters. He worked on his daily report and studied the plans for the traverse back to the Canyon, where the first expedition had abandoned a rover vehicle that had sunk into a crater filled with treacherous sand.
It was hard to concentrate on the work, with the others singing limericks at the top of their lungs to the tune of “Cielito Lindo.”
“Ay, ay, ay, ay,
“Your mother swims after troopships!
“So sing me another verse,
“Worse than the other verse,
“Waltz me around again, Willy.”
Stacy Dezhurova’s voice rang above all the rest, a rich, clear soprano. She could have been an opera star, Jamie realized. Madam Butterfly. A chunky, dour Madam Butterfly.
The limericks got raunchier and raunchier, including one that Trumball loudly proclaimed had been written by no less than Isaac Asimov:
“A harlot from South Carolina
“Tied fiddle strings ‘cross her vagina,
“With proper sized cocks
“What was sex became Bach’s
“Toccata and fugue in G minor!”
Then Shektar’s unmistakable Aussie voice rose above the babble: “Do any of you know “The Jolly Tinker’?’
Silence. Jamie could sense them all shaking their befuddled heads. In a mezzo soprano, Shektar began:
“Oh, the tinker was a-strolling,
“A-strolling down the strand,
“With his knapsack on his shoulder
”And his penis in his hand …”
Everyone laughed uproariously. The song went on and on, worse and worse. Jamie wondered if they would be in any shape for work the next morning.
DIARY ENTRY
We’ve made it down at last, after five months cooped up in that sardine tin. Another day in that metal coffin and I would’ve started screaming. The dome is bigger, more spacious. But it’s strange. It doesn’t smell right. I know that something’s wrong here. The dome smells bad.
NIGHT: SOL 1
JAMIE WAITED UNTIL THEY AT LAST QUIETED DOWN BEFORE HE STRIPPED off his clothes and pulled a pair of Jockey shorts and a tee shirt from his garment bag.
I ought to unpack the clothes and stow them away properly, he told himself. But he felt too tired, drained physically and emotionally, to do anything but lie back on his bunk. I’ll get up early tomorrow and do it.
He had plugged his laptop into the dome’s power line and set it up beside the bunk, where he could reach the keyboard easily. He tapped into a news broadcast from Earth, realizing that whatever he saw and heard had been beamed from a satellite a quarter-hour earlier.
Most of the major news and entertainment networks on Earth had gladly agreed to beam their broadcasts to Mars, free of charge. The expedition planners had willingly paid the costs of setting up the transmitters; a link with home was important for the explorers’ emotional well-being, even if the link was only electronic.
Jamie saw the eight of them in their blank-faced hard suits, standing on the red sands of Mars, mouthing their little speeches. Then the screen cut to scenes of schoolchildren watching the landing ceremony. The second landing on Mars did not draw the huge throngs of people that the first landing had.
Jamie stretched back on his bunk and locked his fingers behind his head. Well, that’s natural enough, I guess. The first time’s exciting for the general public. The second landing looks a lot like the first one did. There won’t be any exc
itement back home unless we run into some real trouble.
Or unless we find—
Someone tapped at his door.
Almost annoyed at the interruption, Jamie called, “Who is it?”
“Vijay.”
Jamie swung his legs off the bunk and stood up. “Hold on for a second.” He grabbed his discarded coveralls and pulled them on. As he sealed the Velcro front seam he stepped to the door and unlatched it.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
She had changed from her standard coveralls to a bulky, loose-fitting nubby turtleneck sweater and a pair of shapeless baggy slacks.
She sure isn’t flaunting her body, Jamie thought. But she does like bright colors. The sweater was coral red, the slacks sunshine yellow.
“No, nothing wrong,” she said, holding up a sealed plastic bag in one hand. “Just your vitamin delivery service, mate.”
“Oh.” Jamie took the bag from her hand.
“This week’s supply of the supplements you’ll need,” she said. Shektar had personally delivered the vitamin supplements to every member of the expedition all through the flight from Earth.
“Right.”
“Don’t want you coming down with scurvy,” Shektar said, almost impishly. The whole ground team of the first expedition had done just that when their vitamin supplement supply had been contaminated.
“No,” Jamie agreed, “once is enough.”
“Do you have time for a nightcap, or are you ready for sleep?”
He almost snorted at her. “After the blast you guys had, you still want a nightcap?”
“Orange juice, Jamie. Blood sugar.”
“I thought you’d be needing aspirin.”
“No worries,” she said, leading the way toward the galley. “I didn’t drink enough to hurt.”
The dome was dimly lit now; since the partitions of the privacy compartments only rose eight feet high, nighttime illumination was kept low.
“Where’d you learn those songs?” he asked, following her across the shadowy floor.
“The benefits of a college education.”
“Some education.”
Vijay looked at him curiously. “Din’t you ever get drunk at college and sing bawdy songs?”
“No, I guess not,” Jamie said, thinking of how many Navahos he had seen reeling from beer.
“You don’t have to look so disapproving,” she said, with a smile.
“I didn’t realize I was.”
“You’re scowling like a cut snake.”
“Like a what?”
“I mean, it’s not as if we’d gone completely devo. Nobody jumped me.”
She isn’t drunk or hung over, Jamie realized. She’s the expedition’s psychologist as well as our medic. This little visit isn’t personal, it’s professional. She’s testing me.
Is she wearing perfume? he wondered. A faint flowery scent tickled his nostrils. Maybe she’s using perfume to cover up body odor. Without the water from the recycler, they had gone without showering after their long sweaty day of physical labor.
“I wish somebody had brought some beer along,” Shektar said as she tapped the dispenser for a squirt of orange juice. Once the water line was working properly they would mix powdered concentrate with fresh water and save the precious prepackaged supplies for emergencies.
“Why wish for beer when you’ve got champagne?” Jamie asked.
She shrugged, and the motion stirred him despite the bulky sweater. “Aussie beer’s a lot better than Aussie fizz,” she said.
Jamie wished for hot chocolate, settled for a tea bag and a squirt of hot water.
“Rank has its privileges,” Shektar murmured as they sat at the table.
Jamie blinked at her, puzzled.
“You’re using some of our reserve water supply,” she explained.
“Oh, that. We’ll bring the generator on-line tomorrow. We won’t run short of water.”
She leaned back in her chair, as relaxed as if they were in a neighborhood cafe. “If we do run short, we’ll have to return to Earth, won’t we?”
“We won’t.”
“You’re very confident.”
Jamie made himself smile at her. “Is this a psych test?”
She smiled back. “No, not really. I just wanted a chance to talk to you privately for a few minutes. Hard to do on the ship.”
“Easier here.”
“Yes. Much roomier here in this dome.”
“So?”
Shektar took a sip of juice, then put her plastic cup down on the table. Leaning slightly toward Jamie, she said, “You and Dex are going to have an explosion soon if you’re not careful.”
So that’s it, Jamie thought. Aloud, he replied, “No, we’re not. I won’t let that happen.”
‘ ‘How can you prevent it?”
Jamie hesitated, then answered, “I’m not going to lose my temper. I can understand how he feels and I’m not going to let it bother me.”
“It already bothers you. That’s obvious.”
“Look,” Jamie said, “I know that Dex’s father was a major driving force behind getting this expedition funded. But we’re a long way from daddy now. Dex is going to have to figure that out for himself. Here on Mars it doesn’t count who your father is or what happened back on Earth. Here on Mars the only thing that counts is what you can do, what you can accomplish.”
“Nice theory, but—”
“I’m not going to let him get under my skin,” Jamie insisted, consciously keeping himself from clenching his fists. “The work we’ve got to do here is too important to let personalities get in the way.”
“Do you really think you can spend a year and a half here without some sort of confrontation?” Shektar’s face was deadly serious, her eyes locked onto Jamie’s.
“Yes,” he said. He couldn’t look away from those eyes: so deep and dark, shining and grave. Her midnight black hair was pulled away from her face, pinned back behind her neck. Jamie wondered what she would do if he reached back there and unpinned it, let it fall loosely around her shoulders. He recalled that it had been nearly a year since he’d made love.
Shektar seemed to sense something. She looked away briefly.
“I can do it,” Jamie assured her, trying to keep his voice light and relaxed. “I won’t let him get to me.”
“The stoic Indian, hey?” she said, without humor. “Let your enemies burn you at the stake without uttering a peep.”
Jamie grasped her slender wrist. “Nobody’s going to burn me, and nobody’s going to die here. We’re going to explore as much of this planet as we can and Dex will just have to learn that he’s a member of the team, not the mission director.”
“He’s an alpha male, y’know. Just like you.”
“What’s that mean?”
Shektar looked into his eyes again. “You’re both natural leaders. You both have to be top dog. It’s a prescription for trouble. Maybe disaster.”
Feeling nettled, almost angry, Jamie asked, “How did you psychologists allow the two of us to come on this mission?”
“Because,” she answered, “Dex was clever enough to hide it. He knew what the psychologists were testing for and he fooled all of them.”
“You too?”
“Me too,” she admitted. “It wasn’t until the two of you started arguing on the way out here that I realized what a mistake we’ve made.”
“You mean I’ve got the same psychological profile as he does?”
“You’re both alpha males, that’s clear as sunshine. You’re natural-born competitors.”
Jamie shook his head, more in wonder than disbelief.
She mistook the gesture. ‘ ‘Look at what you did on the first expedition. You took it over, din’t you? You overwhelmed that Russian cosmonaut who was supposed to be the leader of the ground team and you even pushed the mission director into letting you go to the Grand Canyon, din’t you?”
“Well … yeah …”
Very seriously, she sai
d, “That’s alpha male behavior, Jamie. Top dog. Ruler of the roost. King of the hill.”
“And you’re saying Dex is just like me?”
“Same profile. Different personality, in many ways, but he’s got the same kind of devils driving him that you have.”
Jamie blew out a breath. Then he asked, “Are you having the same talk with him?”
“Not yet. I wanted to speak with you first.”
“Do you think talking to him will do any good?”
“No. Frankly, I don’t.”
“Hmm.”
“He can’t alter his basic personality any more than you can. You can’t change yourself. The only reason I brought this up to you is because you’re the mission director and I thought you had to know what you’re up against.”
“What we’re all up against—us,” Jamie said.
“That’s right,” Shektar agreed. “We’re all in the same canoe, aren’t we?”
Jamie mulled it over in silence for several moments. Shektar watched him, unmoving, leaving her wrist in his grasp.
“Okay,” Jamie said at last. “I don’t know if it’ll do any good to mention this to Dex or not.”
“It might heighten his competitive drive. Give him a stimulus to push harder.”
“Then leave him alone,” Jamie said quickly. “Let me deal with it.”
She disengaged her wrist gently. “I’ll try to help all I can, Jamie.”
He grinned ruefully. “Maybe you could slip a couple of kilos of tranquilizers into his vitamin supply.”
She smiled back at him. “Sorry to drop this load on you the first night, but I thought you’d better know about it as soon as possible.”
“Right. Thanks.”
She gulped down the rest of her orange juice, then said goodnight and headed for her quarters.
Jamie sat alone in the dim nighttime lighting. The dome structure was darkened by an electrical current that polarized the plastic to keep the interior heat from escaping into the frigid night. Everyone else was asleep, or at least in their own quarters.