The cup came to Jamie. He put it to his lips, handed it back to Ilona with a curt nod, and said, "I’ve got to get to the comm console. Excuse me."
At last some semblance of order had returned to the orbiting spacecraft, thought Li Chengdu. The scientific staff was back to its normal routine, the astronauts and cosmonauts had finished the thorough check of all the ships’ systems demanded by mission control back in Kaliningrad. A purging ritual, Li thought. The death of Dr. Konoye was exorcised by checking each and every component of the two spacecraft, all their systems, supplies, and equipment. Konoye did not die of an equipment failure, but the controllers in Kaliningrad and Houston insisted on the meaningless checkout.
Now we are twelve, Li said to himself, instead of thirteen. That should assuage the superstitious among us. Which included himself. He realized that he had been vaguely uneasy whenever he had remembered that there had been thirteen men and women assigned to the Mars 2 spacecraft.
Everything is back to normal now. The Russians and Americans have set up their equipment on Deimos to test their plan for baking water out of its rock. The explorations on the planetary surface are proceeding smoothly. The research teams here aboard the spacecraft have recovered from the shock of Konoye’s death and settled back down to their work.
He sighed deeply. And James Waterman is back to causing trouble.
Li leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on the restful silk painting of misty mountains and graceful, slim, blossoming trees. Waterman wants to return to the Valles Marineris to investigate what he claims is a cliff dwelling. Patently absurd. They have not found even a trace of life and Waterman thinks there was once an intelligent civilization down there. Ridiculous.
On the other hand, it would help the politicians to forget about Konoye’s death if we found something spectacular. The remains of an extinct civilization! That would be stunning.
Li frowned to himself. On the other hand, he thought, suppose I allow Waterman to lead a few scientists back to that site and they find nothing at all. The politicians would be furious. Suppose I allow them to go back there and one of them is injured. Or killed.
He sat bolt upright in the relaxing chair. No. That must not happen. Waterman must not be allowed to ruin this mission.
The intercom on his desk buzzed, its yellow message light blinking. Li reached out a long lean arm and touched its activating button.
"Dr. Li," said the voice of the astronaut on duty in the command module, "we are receiving a transmission for you from Dr. Brumado."
Li told the man to pipe it through to him.
Alberto Brumado’s friendly, slightly harried face appeared on the desktop display screen. Li stepped over to the desk and peered down at the image. Then he realized that Brumado was talking about James Waterman and the Vice-President of the United States.
Li could feel the weight of responsibility lifting off his shoulders. He pulled his chair over and sat in it before the display screen, smiling like a Cheshire cat.
The lighting in the dome had been turned down to its low nighttime level. There were no voices to be heard, no tapes playing, only the faithful hum of electrical equipment and the faint keening of the wind outside the darkened dome.
Jamie paced along the dome’s perimeter, his heavy slipper-socks noiseless against the thick plastic flooring, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, his mind churning the same argument over and over again.
You know it’s a natural rock formation; it can’t be buildings. Why are you so goddammed stubborn?
But it might be artificial. It just might be. What the hell do we really know about this world? How much would a Martian scientist learn about Earth if he landed in the Sahara Desert and looked around for a couple of weeks?
The chances of those rocks being actual dwellings are a zillion to one. Why are you alienating everybody? What are you trying to prove?
What are they afraid of? For Christ’s sake, we’re here to explore the planet, to find out what’s really here. You can’t do that by sticking to a schedule they wrote back in Kaliningrad.
"Jamie? Is that you?"
He looked around, realized he was next to the wardroom. Sitting there in the shadows was the tiny form of Joanna Brumado. The only light in the area came from the softly glowing guide strips along the floor and the steady red eye of the always-working coffee machine.
He padded to the table where she sat, her hands wrapped around a big steaming coffee mug.
"What are you doing up at this hour?" Jamie asked, sitting next to her.
"I could not sleep."
"So you’re having a cup of coffee?"
"The Brazilian tranquilizer," she said. He could hear the smile in her soft voice even though her face was deep in shadow. "I need the warmth. It always feels cold in here to me. Especially at night."
Jamie wore a dark blue sweatshirt bearing the discreet rocket emblem of the British Interplanetary Society and softly faded jeans instead of the project-issued coveralls. In the dim light he saw that Joanna was in a bulky turtleneck sweater and corduroy slacks.
"Why can’t you sleep?" he asked.
"I could ask you the same."
He wanted to laugh, but there was no laughter in him. "I asked you first. Besides, you know why I’m pacing the floor."
"You are waiting for an answer from Dr. Li."
He nodded, realized she probably could not see the gesture, and muttered, "Uh-huh."
"Are you so certain that what you saw really was a village?"
"Hell no! That’s the whole point: I’m not certain at all. That’s why we should go back and see it close up. Touch it. Smell it. Taste it, even. All the fancy instruments and equipment we use are just tools for giving us sensory information. Before we can decide just what that pile of rocks really is we need more information."
She took a sip of her coffee.
"But you haven’t told me what’s keeping you awake," Jamie said softly.
"Oh… many things. Loneliness, for one. I lie in my bunk and listen to the wind outside and remember that we are nearly two hundred million kilometers from home."
"Does that frighten you?"
"No, it just makes me feel alone. It’s strange. During the day we are busy and the dome feels crowded sometimes. But at night…"
"I know," Jamie said. "There’s either too many people leaning over your shoulder or you’re entirely alone. It’s a weird feeling."
"You feel it too?"
He scowled in the darkness. "Joanna, I am alone. I’m the outcast here."
"No, that is not so."
"That’s the way it looks to me. It’s not just this business of the cliff dwelling. I’m a substitute, a last-minute replacement. None of the others really accepts me as part of the team."
He was surprised at himself for telling her so. For a long moment Joanna said nothing. In the shadowy lighting he could not even make out the expression on her face.
"I had thought," Jamie heard himself say, speaking very low, almost whispering, "that you wanted me on the mission because of what happened at McMurdo. Now I realize that you didn’t want me here as much as you wanted to get rid of Hoffman."
"Jamie…"
"It’s okay," he said quickly. "I can understand how you felt. I know that Hoffman bothered you."
She grabbed at the cuff of his sweatshirt and shook it slightly, like a schoolteacher trying to get the attention of a heedless student.
"Jamie, there were five other geologists that I could have recommended. They all had excellent qualifications. I asked my father to get you."
"Because I helped you at McMurdo."
"Because of you, yourself. Because you are a talented, stubborn, sensitive, lonely man. Because you were kind to me instead of resentful. Because when I ran away from you, you let me run without pursuing me."