Birth Of Fire

by Jerry Pournelle

  "We have enough to last a thousand years," she said. "Although the way Dad keeps expandin' this place - “

  As we laughed she led me up a ramp and then we were on a flight of stairs leading to another tunnel. I was thoroughly lost. "There's a nice valley on the other side of the ridge from here," she said. "Make a good station. Ice there, I think. The Rim's getting crowded, all the way from Hellastown to Big Rock Candy."

  Crowded. The closest stations were seven or eight kilometers apart. Crowded. Of course she was right: the best claims, with ice and good mining, were all taken.

  There was a small, airtight door at the end of the tunnel. She automatically checked the gauge for pressure on the other side - I was learning that habit, but she'd grown up with it - then opened it and we went through.

  We stood a hundred meters above the Hellas Basin floor. There were flickering lights in some of the station's agro-domes down below. Phobos was almost overhead. Phobos is only about a twentieth as bright as Luna, but that's enough to show the basin floor and the rocks piled along the Rim. The little moon zips right along. You can't quite see it move, but if you look away a minute and look back you can see it isn't in the same place.

  "Pretty out there," Erica said. "What's it like to stand outside under the moon, with no pressure suit?"

  I tried to tell her about Earth, and about warm nights and soft breezes. I told her about going to the ocean at night. She had never seen an ocean and never would. Of course she'd read about them, but she didn't know, and I found myself getting homesick and choked up when I tried to tell her about all the things Earth has that we'd never see on Mars. Oceans and forests and whales and elephants and - "Someday we'll have forests," she said. "And we'll go outside without these suits." Her eyes shone.

  "So you're a Project nut too."

  "Aren't you?"

  "Don't know enough about it," I said. That was a mistake; I got an engineering dissertation. I liked her voice, and if necessary I'd have listened to her recite bad poetry in a language I didn't know, but a lecture on the Project wasn't the topic I'd had in mind for a tete-a-tete under the hurtling moons of Barsoom (actually, Deimos wasn't up yet, but never mind) with the most beautiful girl in the universe.

  And yet. Maybe it was earlier, maybe it was just then, while she told me about how it would be some day when there was air on Mars and it stayed warm all night in summer, and there would be green fields and forests - maybe then, maybe earlier, but I knew as well as I knew anything that this was the girl I wanted to marry.

  Crap, I told myself. Garrett, you haven't seen any women for months. Anybody you met just now would be the One and Only, which is a bunch of romantic claptrap you don't believe in in the first place.

  Maybe so, I answered myself. But I've known a lot of girls, and I never felt like this before, and damned good it feels, too.

  What you need, Garr baby, is a trip to Hellastown.

  Go away. The idea is nauseating.

  "We'll do it," she said. "We'll make Mars green and beautiful, the way Earth is, and it will be ours."

  "Earth isn't -" I couldn't finish it. Earth is green and beautiful, except where people have messed it up.

  We must have talked for another hour, but I don't remember what about. Finally I got up the nerve to reach for her hand. She didn't draw back. Well, here goes, I thought. I drew her to me and kissed her.

  That went on for quite a while. Then she pushed me away. "I'm no expert on this, but I think we'd better stop," she said.

  “Why?” "Because I've got the feeling we stop now or we don't stop at all -"

  "And why stop at all?"

  "I just think we'd better." She moved away from me and perched on a bench on the other side of the small dome. "Garrett, I am not a town - “ "Lord, I never -"

  "Let me finish. I live on the Rim. I like it here. I know that girls in town, not whores, just girls, have plenty of affairs, and they must enjoy them. I'm damned sure I would. But then what? I intend to live on the Rim. I don't think I could stand it in town. But stations are family affairs, and I do not believe I want to get involved with anyone I'm not going to live with for a long time."

  "And I'm a convict and -"

  "Oh, shut up. You're just past being a pilgrim. In about a year you'll have a stake and when that time comes, if we can still stand the sight of each other, we'll open this conversation again. Until then, no."

  "Yeah. Okay. I'm sorry."

  "What's there to be sorry about? Didn't you enjoy it? I certainly did. I know I don't have much experience at this sort of thing, but you didn't seem too bored at the time. Now I think we ought to go downstairs, because I have work to do in the morning."

  SEVEN

  "Thinking about Erica? Pretty girl," Sarge said.

  I concentrated on guiding the tractor around a small crater. The wind had come up, and whipped the dust in our faces so that visibility was bad. When I could look up, I threw Sarge a grin. "Well, actually I was thinking about the trees."

  "Sure you were."

  "Well, I was. just then, anyway."

  We both laughed. "You know, Garr, I've been meaning to grow some fruit trees myself one of these days. Fruit trees make sense. But you know what Ruth Hendrix wants? A wood table for the dining room."

  Erica had told me that, but I wasn't going to spoil Sarge's story.

  "Yep, a wood table," Sarge said. "Be the only goddamn piece of wood furniture on Mars. Tax collectors ever saw a thing like that, they'd break old Sam. Dah! Why'd I get on that subject?"

  "Why would the tax collectors care what Sam's table is made of?" I asked.

  "Property tax." Sarge snorted in contempt. "Otherwise known as a fine for improving your property. You've got a lot to learn about Mars politics, and I guess you ought to start now. The Federation runs Mars to suit the big companies."

  "The only thing I've seen the Federation in charge of was the prison ship and the school -"

  "Yeah. Well, the school's Commander Farr's idea. He runs it in a way that helps us out. But the rest of it's Earth types, bureaucrats, don't want anybody to get ahead. And they're bringing in marines to make sure."

  "You used to be a Federation Marine."

  "Sure." Sarge sniffed his contempt. "Old style. We were peace keepers, back when keeping the peace on Earth was a damn dangerous job. None of my type left. The new marines are bloody thieves in uniform, out for wages and what they can steal. That's why the Skipper retired. He wanted no part of being a tax collector!"

  "What do they do with the money they collect?"

  Sarge laughed. "They don't put it to anything that helps us, you can be damned sure of that! Be different if they'd finance the Project, but not them." His voice changed to an unctuous whine. "Mister Speaker, we cannot destroy the ecology of an entire planet! To humans, perhaps, a breathable atmosphere on Mars is desirable, but to Mars it is no more than pollution… I swear to God, kid, I heard one of the goddamn Federation Councilors say that!"

  I shook my head. "Sam grows the trees and makes the table. Why should the Federation take a cut for that? It's not very fair."

  "Yeah. Question is, what do we do about it?"

  "What can we do?" I asked.

  He didn't answer. Instead, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, then said, very slowly, "Garrett, it's about time you started thinking about a place of your own. It's months yet, but not too early to pick out a location and study it."

  "Erica said that too. She also said there's a good valley on the other side of that ridge behind Sam's place. Not on the Rim, but good mining and water ice -"

  "Yeah. I know the place. Kind of remote. Have to cut a road in. Be even better if we can find a way without cuttin' a road…" He muttered to himself for a moment, then said, "Yeah. I like it and the Skipper will like it."

  "Okay," I said. "Have I been here long enough to know, or do we go on playing games?"

  "How's that?"

  "Commander Farr sends you to look me up. You take me in, but we don't mention F
arr's name in town. You talk about setting me up on my own, but you like the idea of my going off into the hills without a road. So will Farr. How does it all fit together?"

  "Are you sure you want to know?"

  I concentrated on driving while I thought about that. "Sarge, I'll do anything you want me to -"

  "Didn't ask that. Do you want to know what this is about?"

  "Should I?"

  "It could be dangerous."

  "Is Sam Hendrix in it? Is Erica?"

  "Now how can I answer that, Garrett?"

  "You've already answered. I think. Sarge, what's Sam Hendrix like? Would he let his daughter marry a convict? Would she care what he said anyway? Would she marry a convict?"

  "What do you think?" he asked.

  "I think she would. I don't know about him. You told me marriage was pretty serious business on the Rim. And the families get involved deep -"

  "They do. Remember what the Skipper told you, Garrett? Nothing counts before you got here. You can be whatever you've got it in you to be. Why the hell should Sam Hendrix care what you did on Earth? You care what he did to get sent here? Or do you think he was a volunteer? Or that Ruth was? You want to marry a convict's daughter, and you ask me if he gives a damn about your background."

  "I never thought," I said. I hadn't thought at all. If I had, I'd have guessed that Sam Hendrix had been here forever. And his wife? Ruth Hendrix a transportee? "Whoopeee!"

  I startled him. "You gone crazy?" he demanded.

  "No. Just happy. Sarge, if you tell me what's going on, will I get her into trouble?"

  "Depends on what you do with the information. You don't have to join up, you know. It's a crime to know what we're up to and not report it, but if I don't tell and you don't, who's to know?"

  "Okay. You've got a revolution planned. And Commander Farr is in on it."

  "Sure," Sarge said. "Hey, the wind's comin' up good. You want me to drive?"

  "If you want to -"

  "Naw, you're doin' all right. Just watch the downwind sides of the rocks. Sometimes there's holes back there, and they f i l l up with dust. You can lose the tractor in one if you're not careful. There's no way to protect the Skipper, Garr. He's got to interview recruits and see they don't sign up with some company before we can get to 'em. We've got other inside men, but he's the most exposed."

  "Think they suspect him?"

  "Nothing to suspect him of. He hasn't done anything yet. Just selected out some transportees fox us to put through Marsman training. Like you. Nothin' illegal about that, although you never know what the Feddie bastards will try."

  The dust was really blowing thick now, covering the solar cells. The tractor began to lose power. We slowed to a crawl. I glanced at the charge indicator. We were running on direct, not draining the batteries, but we weren't moving very fast.

  "Keep with her," Sarge said. "It'll blow off again."

  "There's something else bothering me," I said.

  “Yeah?” "You're talking about me going out on my own. That takes a lot. Tractor, airmakers, solar cells, pumps - good Lord, just a lot."

  "Yep."

  "Damned expensive -"

  "Sure is. Don't worry about it, Garrett. We'll swing it. There's more than me on this." He sucked his teeth loudly and smirked at me. "Course, you marry well and you can save me some money. Old Sam's a rich man."

  "Sarge!"

  "Kids get married and start up on their own, both sets of parents help. Custom out here. Don't turn down a girl because she's rich."

  "I wouldn't turn her down if she was a new pilgrim. If she'll have me. But you're not my parent. How do I pay you back?"

  "Pay it forward. You'll help two more pilgrims get a start. Nothing big all at once, just over the years you kick in outfits for two. That's the way it works." "And if I take your stuff and forget it?" He shrugged. "Your word good?" "I see." I thought about that all the way back to Windhome.

  There were two hundred people packed into Zeke Terman's station, overflowing the main hall and packing the corridors, so many people that I couldn't see how they all got in. And more were coming. It was a Rim gathering.

  I had been to one before. That had been a wake. This would be a wedding, but the atmosphere wasn't much different. The Rimrats hold a party to send off an old friend or marry new ones.

  Everybody brought what he could: food, beer, wine, whiskey, musical instruments, song collections, or just themselves if things had been rough. We made our own entertainment, and talked treason against the Federation. I didn't know because I didn't have to know, but I suppose three-quarters of those at the gathering were members of the loose organization headed by Commander Alexander Farr. It had no name; it was just a group banded together for Martian independence.

  I stood with Erica, not too far from the spot where the ceremony would take place. Henrietta Terman was an old friend of Erica's, and John Appleby had been recruited by one of Sarge's proteges. Appleby stood nervously at the front of the main hall. Then the Padre came in.

  At least that's what they called him, and if he had another name, it wasn't used on the Rim. He was vague about which denomination had ordained him back on Earth, and no one knew why he'd been sent to Mars.

  The Padre had a station of his own, filled with orphan children and rumored to hold several runaways from company labor contracts. Whenever he was needed the Padre would come, and once a month he made the rounds of the Rim stations whether he was needed or not.

  He conducted weddings, spoke words at funerals, held christenings, and talked treason. He was the Padre, and he had a thousand friends.

  Every one of them wanted a word with him. It seemed to take him an hour to get through the press in the Terman main hall, but finally, with John Appleby in tow, he reached his place. Then Zeke Terman brought out his daughter. He held her for a moment, then took her hand and put it into John's and clasped them together. I felt Erica reach for mine.

  The Padre read from his leather-bound book for a while. The words were old; I think it was a hundred-year-old Book of Common Prayer, and God knows where the Padre got it. Then he closed it and said, "Do you, Henrietta, take this man as your true and only husband, a man to stand by and work with, to have children by and grow old with, and will you remember that he's only a man and forgive him seventy times seven transgressions?"

  " I will.” "Who speaks for this man?" the Padre asked.

  Harry Bates stood in front of the group. Five years before he had been what I was now, one of Sarge's recruits. Now he had his own station. "I'll stand up with him," Bates said.

  "And me too." Sarge had put on his old marine uniform. There was a red stripe down the trousers, and a comet with sunburst on his chest. "I'll stand with him and fight the man who says he's not a Marsman."

  "Anybody dispute that?" the Padre asked.

  There were a couple of laughs, and somebody shouted, "Nobody crazy here!" That got cheers.

  "Okay. Will you, John, take this woman as your true and only wife, and work with her and defend her, build her a home she can be proud to keep for you, and stay away from the whores in town?"

  " I will."

  The Padre opened his book again. "Okay. There's some more words we need here, but I figure that's mostly what they mean and it don't hurt to put them in plain language." He continued to read, and John and Henrietta gave their responses.

  The crowd was fidgety. There was a rumor that John Appleby brewed the best beer on the Rim.

  Nobody believed it - I certainly didn't, and I still think mine is better-but we all wanted to sample it. And Terman had set out a splendiferous feed.

  Eventually the Padre ran out of words. He closed the book. "In front of Almighty God and these good People, I say you're man and wife. And if any Federation clerk says different, shove it down his throat!"

  "YOWEE!" A hundred and more families yelled their approval. Then we headed for the beer.

  Later, somehow, they cleared some space for dancing. I don't know where the
y put the people, because nobody left.

  What we call dancing on the Rim isn't exactly what they do on Earth. There are some remnants of Earth square dances in it, but everything is done more violently, with lots of leaping and shouting. In 40 percent gravity that gets spectacular.

  There were a lot of girls at the party. I had made up my mind: I was going to meet some of them. I was going to spend time with someone other than Erica so that I'd know it wasn't just the lack of female company in my life that made me feel the way I did whenever she was around.

  I meant to, but somehow the evening was over and we hadn't been apart…

  The main hall in Hellastown was packed: members of nearly every family along Hellas Rim, company representatives, shopkeepers, city dwellers, Federation officials; all were there - and all were talking at once.

  There was a guy in natty clothes up on the stage. He kept pounding his gavel for order. His coveralls were a shiny polyester, and they had creases along the trouser legs and sleeves. He didn't wear a p-suit under it. Most of us in the room did, and we smelled, even in thin air. But not him. He was the new administrator for Hellas Region, and he'd never in his life worked hard enough to smell bad.

  "Citizens, please!" he shouted. "I cannot listen to your grievances if you all talk at once!"

  "Citizens, hell!" I looked over to be sure, and it was Sam Hendrix. "Slaves, that's what you're making us!"

  There were plenty of cheers, but they came from the farmers and station owners. The city people were silent. The company reps glared.

  "GODDAMN IT, one at a time!" Sarge yelled. He turned toward me and winked. "Let Sam talk for us."

  The babble died away. Sam Hendrix got up from his bench and went to the front of the room. He stood on the stairway, but they didn't let him have the microphone. No matter. We could hear him.