Tithonium Base: Conflict
Chang Laodong looked distinctly uncomfortable as he sat behind his desk facing Carter Carleton. The mission director’s office was small but three of its four walls were covered with smart screens that displayed treasures of Chinese art: silk paintings of misty mountain scenes, statues of powerful arch-necked horses, the inevitable portraits of Buddha and Mao. Otherwise the office was strictly utilitarian, with only Chang’s desk, the chair before it, and a sofa and low table along one wall, flanked by two more small chairs.
As always, Chang was wearing high-collared blue coveralls. He had summoned Carleton to his office to discuss the anthropologist’s demand for field workers to help excavate the village site. In his mind’s eye, the mission director saw all his carefully prepared work schedules being torn apart, his meticulous plans being thrown into chaos.
Two hundred and forty-two men and women were based here at Tithonium, he knew. Biologists studying endolithic lichen and underground bacteria. Geologists studying satellite data of south polar cap melting. Atmospheric physicists investigating decline of moisture in atmosphere. Paleontologists searching for more rock dwellings along the walls of Grand Canyon. And the geysers: spurts of liquid water bursting out of ground. What is the heat source that liquefies permafrost? That is important!
All my responsibility, Chang told himself. All on my shoulders. Their work depends on my leadership, my ability to organize them properly, to bring their work into smooth, harmonious totality.
And this one stubborn anthropologist who’s made a lucky discovery. He sits there smiling, handsome as a video star. What does he care how he upsets my plans? He thinks he has the upper hand over me.
Chang forced a smile. “There is great excitement Earthside over your discovery,” he began.
“Yes,” said Carleton, his own smile broadening. “I’ve received several dozen messages from all over the world. Even China.”
Chang closed his eyes slowly, a tactic he used when he did not want to reveal his inner thoughts. He felt a surge of anger at this upstart who was wrecking his schedules, who was threatening to wrest control of this operation from his hands.
Carleton thought of a lizard basking on a sunny rock as he waited for Chang to open his eyes again. And his mouth.
“Waterman urges me to provide you with all the assistance you may require,” Chang said at last, his eyes still closed.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Snapping his eyes open, Chang added, “He also tells me that the United States government is canceling all its funding for our operation. We may be forced to abandon our work here and return to Earth.”
Carleton’s head flicked back as if he’d been slapped. Good! Chang thought. Let him understand the consequences.
“We can’t stop the work here!” the anthropologist said. “Hell, we’ve just started.”
“I agree with your sentiment,” said Chang. “But if the Foundation cannot raise enough money to replace funds that the American government is withdrawing, we will be forced to go home.”
“Waterman won’t let that happen. He’ll figure out a way.”
“Let us hope so. In meantime, there is the question of how to adequately assist you in your work.”
“I’ve got plenty of volunteers.”
Chang shook his head slowly. “I cannot allow staff personnel to work for you on a volunteer basis. They are already working eight to twelve hours a day on their assigned duties. More, in many cases.”
“But if they want to—”
“Their eagerness to help you outweighs their common sense. They cannot help you with your digging for several hours each day and still work effectively at their regular tasks. Productivity will decline. People will fall asleep on their jobs. There will be accidents, dangerous accidents.”
Carleton started to reply, hesitated, then offered, “What about the team coming back from Hellas Base? They’re supposed to be shipped back to Earth. What if some of them volunteered to work with me full time?”
“Highly trained geologists and biologists, slaving like coolies in that pit of yours?”
His smile turning almost into a smirk, Carleton replied, “Dr. Chang, may I remind you that I’m a highly trained anthropologist and I’ve been slaving like a coolie for months. By myself. Now I need help, and your superiors Earthside agree that you should provide it to me.”
Chang’s self-discipline snapped. “May I remind you that you are a fugitive from very serious criminal charges on Earth!”
Carleton’s smile evaporated. “Those charges are baseless and you know it.”
“I know that the charges have never been settled. We took you into our program and allowed you to come to Mars despite them.”
Grimly, Carleton said, “That’s got nothing to do with the question at hand. Will you allow me to use some of the people returning from the Hellas base?”
Chang closed his eyes again, thinking, It is a good stratagem. People returning from Hellas are due to be shipped home. A few of them can stay here at Tithonium and work with him. Waterman is urging me to help him. This is how to do that without wrecking all our other work.
“Well?” Carleton demanded.
Opening his eyes, Chang said mildly, “You may ask personnel returning from Hellas. If any of them volunteer to remain here instead of returning to Earth, let it be so.”
Carleton took in a deep breath, as if he’d just accomplished an incredibly difficult feat. “Thank you, Dr. Chang,” he said, his voice low.
“How many hands will you need?” Chang asked.
“Six, for now. More than that and we’ll just get in each other’s way. But later on, as things progress…”
“Six,” Chang repeated. “We can accommodate six additional people here without straining our resources.”
“Five, actually,” said Carleton. “Ms. McManus has already volunteered to work with me.”
“The nanotechnologist? She has her regular duties.”
“She says she can spend at least half her days working on the excavation.”
Chang couldn’t help asking, “And where will she spend her nights?”
Carleton’s face froze. After several heartbeats he replied tightly, “That’s her business, not yours.”
Southwest Airlines Flight 799
As he rode the jet airliner back toward Albuquerque Jamie desperately tried to think of some way, some method of raising support for the Mars program. I’ll have to see New Mexico’s senators, he told himself. Maybe get the people running the spaceport down in Alamogordo to put pressure on the politicians.
I can go to the media, he added. Get Dex to put together a TV special out of all the virtual reality tours we’ve done on Mars. Do a VR show on the fossil Carleton’s discovered! That ought to bring in public support. Maybe we can start a public drive for funds, get ordinary people to contribute to keeping the Mars program going.
He leaned his head against the seat back, planning, thinking, hoping. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the land sliding past, endless miles of dry brittle brown where once there had been green fields of grain as far as the eye could see. The greenhouse warming had cruelly brought both drought and flooding to America’s heartland. The nation’s breadbasket was withering away.
Jamie closed his eyes, feeling overwhelmed by what was happening to the world, to two worlds, to him and everything he cared about. He closed his eyes and immediately found himself on Mars.
In his mind he stood at the edge of the tranquil sea, beneath a clear sky of perfect turquoise blue, while the Sun’s warmth baked into his bare shoulders. The gentle waves lapped at his feet and the water stretched to the horizon and far beyond. Strangely, Jamie felt no misgivings at seeing so much water on Mars. It’s not very deep, he told himself; nowhere near as deep as the ocean basins on the blue world. Then it struck him: Mars was once a blue world, too!