"I don’t think you can say that Mikhail or Dmitri are here because some Russian politician outslicked his American counterpart," Connors objected.
Sliwa hunched his shoulders. Vosnesensky was glaring at the Pole.
Ivshenko glanced at his compatriot, then said, "The Soviet Union has made some sacrifices for this privilege of providing leadership. No Soviet scientist was selected for the ground team, even though we have many men — and women — who are highly qualified in the fields of planetary sciences."
"Same thing with the States," added Connors. "We have astronauts on all four teams, but no scientists on the ground team except for Jamie here."
They all turned toward Jamie, who forced himself to remain silent. I’m here by accident, he told himself. They all know that. And back in the States I’m only half American, whichever way you look at it.
"Perhaps we should change the subject," Reed suggested. "This kind of argument will get us nowhere."
Jamie was tempted to ask Reed to explain how he could sneak sex-suppressant drugs into their food or drink. But he thought better of it. No sense starting a real fight, he told himself. So he remained quiet while the others stared at one another, unable or unwilling to find a new topic for discussion.
"Well then, perhaps we should get some sleep," Reed said.
Vosnesensky nodded vigorously. "Yes. A good idea. In ten hours or so the radiation levels should be low enough for us to leave this shelter. Then we will have to check the ship’s systems and all our equipment thoroughly to assess what damage the storm has done, and then repair it. We should sleep now."
It was an order, not a suggestion. No one argued, not even Ilona.
SOL 8: EVENING
Jamie and Vosnesensky had started as soon as the morning sunlight made the ground around them visible. All the previous day they had taken turns driving the rover at breakneck speed along the broken, rugged badlands country, heading north by east, away from the faulted canyons of Noctis Labyrinthus, away from their base camp. Breakneck speed, for the rover, was not quite forty kilometers per hour — almost the speed limit in a school zone.
Still they were exhausted by the time the sun had finally dropped behind the ragged horizon at their backs and the dark cold shadows of night overtook their vehicle. Two straight days of continuous driving, much of it detours around ridges too steep to climb or crevasses too deep to traverse, had sapped them physically and emotionally. They ate a sparse dinner in moody silence; then Vosnesensky checked in with Dr. Li and the base camp. Everything was going smoothly at the base, and to Jamie’s continuing surprise and delight, Li still did not order them to turn around and return to the domed camp.
"The mission controllers haven’t vetoed our excursion," he said, leaning back on the bench that would later unfold to be his bunk. Vosnesensky sat across from him, the narrow folding table between them.
"Not yet," said the cosmonaut, like a man waiting for the ax to fall.
Feeling something between guilt and embarrassment, Jamie said, "I’m sorry I had to go over your head about this."
Vosnesensky shrugged his heavy shoulders. "It was your right to do so." He looked into Jamie’s eyes and added, "My responsibility was to stick to the mission plan until higher authority changed the plan. I was only doing my duty. I was not objecting on personal grounds."
A tendril of relief wormed along Jamie’s spine. "Then you’re not angry?"
"Why should I be? Do you think you scientists have a monopoly on curiosity?"
Jamie smiled broadly. "That’s great! I was afraid I’d made you sore."
The Russian grinned back at him. "Not so. Once Dr. Li took the responsibility of allowing this change in the traverse, my objections vanished. I would like to see this Grand Canyon too."
Jamie slept soundly, dreaming of Mesa Verde and his grandfather.
They awakened after their third night aboard the rover at the first eerie light of dawn, the faintest pale pink brightening of the sky along the flat eastern horizon. Jamie pulled his coveralls over his briefs, then set up the folding table between their bunks and popped two precooked breakfasts into the microwave while Vosnesensky was in the lavatory. The Russian, already in his tan coveralls and soft slipper-socks, spooned down his steaming oatmeal while Jamie took his turn at the toilet.
As Jamie was washing up he heard Vosnesensky shout, "Jamie! Look at this!"
He ducked out of the narrow lavatory and saw that Vosnesensky was up in the cockpit. Squeezing past the table, Jamie hurried there.
Vosnesensky had pulled back the thermal shroud. The plastiglass bubble canopy was twinkling with faintly glistening little glimmers that winked on and disappeared like fireflies. Jamie felt his breath catch in his throat.
"Dewdrops," Vosnesensky said. "Morning dew."
"It condenses on the glass." Jamie reached out his fingers to touch the bubble. It was cold but dry inside. Even while he watched more tiny droplets appeared and flickered out, evaporating before his eyes, vanishing so quickly that he would have missed them altogether if others had not glimmered into brief existence. Like tiny diamonds they sparkled for a heartbeat and then were gone. After a few minutes they stopped completely. Jamie realized that he would never have suspected they had been there if he had not seen them himself. Mikhail caught them at just the right moment.
"There is moisture in the air here," the Russian said. "A little, at least."
"Frost," Jamie murmured. "Must be ice particles that form in the air at night. They melted on the warm surface…"
"And evaporated immediately."
"Where’s the moisture coming from?" Jamie asked. Turning to the Russian, "Mikhail, how far are we from the canyon?"
"An hour’s drive, perhaps a little more." Vosnesensky slid into the pilot’s seat and punched up a map display on the control panel’s central screen. "Yes, about one hour."
"Let’s get going! Right away! I’ll drive."
"I will drive," said Vosnesensky firmly. "You are too excited. You would drive like a cowboy, not an Indian." Then he chuckled deep in his throat at his own wit.
Jamie blinked at the Russian. Humor, from Mikhail? That’s even more rare than morning dew on Mars.
Now the rover lurched and swayed as Vosnesensky threaded between rocks and over ridges, every ounce of his attention focused on his driving. He had the throttle full out and the segmented vehicle was making its best speed across the rusted desert. To Jamie, sitting at Vosnesensky’s right, the rover was a large metal caterpillar inching its way across the Martian landscape. The dusty red ground was strewn with rocks, as everywhere, although craters seemed to be much fewer than farther west. Boulders as large as houses lay here and there, making Jamie itch to go out and investigate them.
But they stayed inside the rover, comfortable in their coveralls, and stuck to their low-speed dash toward the Grand Canyon of Mars. Jamie gripped the stone fetish in his pocket. There’s moisture in the air in the morning, he kept repeating to himself. It must be coming from the canyon. Must be.
He worried in the back of his mind that Dr. Li’s approval might be countermanded by someone in the chain of command on Earth. He wanted to be at their destination when such a signal came in — or so close that they could do some exploring before they had to obey the command to return to base. Mikhail seems to want it too, Jamie thought. In his own way he’s as excited as I am.
"I have never met an Indian before," Vosnesensky said abruptly, without taking his eyes from his driving.
"I’m not much of an Indian," Jamie replied. "I was brought up to be a white man."