"I have no strong opinion, scientifically speaking," said the physicist. He lowered his voice to the point where DiNardo had to lean close to hear him over the buzz of the crowd. "But I can tell you that our mission directors have already convinced the politicians to let the American go back to Tithonium."
"Really?"
Grechko nodded, his ever-present smile temporarily replaced by something close to a scowl.
DiNardo mused, "I wonder how the Americans feel about it?"
"There is Brownstein, we can ask him."
Murray Brownstein was taller than the Italian priest and the Russian physicist by several inches, yet his back was so stooped that he looked almost small, slight, in his gray jacket and off-white chino slacks. His face was California tan, his once-golden hair now graying and so thin that he combed it forward to cover as much of his high forehead as possible. Where DiNardo looked like a swarthy overaged wrestler and Grechko resembled a pleasantly puzzled old man, Brownstein had an air of intense dissatisfaction about him, as if the world never quite managed to please him.
He saw Grechko and DiNardo coming toward him and immediately flicked his eyes toward an empty corner down the corridor. Without a word the three men fell into step and walked away from the crowd at the refreshment table: Grechko with a glass of tea in his hand, Brownstein holding a can of diet cola, DiNardo empty-handed.
"What do you think of all this?" Brownstein spoke first as they reached the corner. His voice was low, tight, like a conspirator who was afraid of being overheard.
DiNardo made an Italian gesture. "Brumado has given our colleagues a chance to vent their anger, but now even he is growing short-tempered."
Brownstein said bitterly, "It’s all a frigging waste of time. Our government’s already made its decision."
"You are not pleased?" asked Grechko.
"I don’t like scientific decisions being made in Washington and then rammed down my throat."
DiNardo said, "But perhaps the decision is a good one. After all, the canyon is an extremely interesting environment. If I had been allowed my own way, the teams would have been landed on the canyon floor."
"Much too risky for the first mission," Grechko said flatly.
"I disagreed then, and I disagree now," DiNardo said, without a trace of rancor.
"The science may be okay," Brownstein said. "It’s the politics that rankles me. If we allow the politicians to override our decisions…"
DiNardo interrupted, "But that is why this meeting was called. So that we scientists could make our decision and then inform the politicians of it."
"Doesn’t matter what we decide. That damned Indian is going to Tithonium whether we like it or not."
"You mean Dr. Waterman, not Dr. Patel."
"Yeah, right. Waterman."
"But if the sense of this meeting is opposed to changing the mission plan," Grechko said, "that will force the politicians to reconsider."
"No it won’t. The Japs are going along with the new plan."
"They are?"
Brownstein nodded grimly. "Tanaka was in the same plane with me. He happened to be at CalTech when this meeting was called. He told me Tokyo has agreed with Washington to okay the Tithonium diversion."
"Without consulting their own scientists or mission directors?" Grechko seemed shocked.
"It’s a done deal," Brownstein said. "All we’re doing here is jerking off."
DiNardo raised his eyebrows slightly.
"Unless," Brownstein added, "we decide to make a fight of it."
"No," said the priest.
The two other men stared at him. Brownstein almost snarled, "You’re willing to let some ignorant bunch of politicians tell us what to do?"
"In this case, yes."
Brownstein shook his head, more in anger than in sorrow. Grechko asked, "Why?"
"There are at least two very powerful reasons not to oppose this decision."
"Damned if I see even one," Brownstein said. "If we let the politicians win this one, next thing you know they’ll be telling us how to tie our fucking shoes!"
"As a geologist," DiNardo said, with hardly a wince at the American’s language, "I agree with Waterman. The canyon is the best place to go, considering the limitations of time, equipment, and supplies of this mission."
"And skip the volcanoes entirely?" Grechko asked. His little smile seemed to irritate Brownstein.
"If we are forced to make an either — or choice, I would say, yes, skip the volcanoes altogether. However, I believe we can at least make a preliminary reconnaissance of Pavonis Mons. A few days, at least."
"That’s your professional opinion, is it?" Brownstein asked.
"Yes. As a geologist I agree with the politicians."
"You said there were two reasons," Grechko prodded.
"The second reason is political. Actually," the priest said, making himself smile at Brownstein, "a mixture of science and politics."
He hesitated until Brownstein asked impatiently, "Well, what is it?"
"I don’t believe it is wise to try to fight the politicians when they have made a decision that is reasonably sound, scientifically."
Before either of the other two could say a word, DiNardo went on, "Besides, the most likely place for our team to find traces of life is in the canyon. I am willing to take the chance that they will find something there. Something that will force the politicians to agree to further missions."
Brownstein started to shake his head, but Grechko mused, "Certainly it would seem that the canyon is a better environment for life than the volcanoes. It’s like comparing the jungles of Brazil to the mountains of Tibet, isn’t it?"
"The Martian equivalent, yes," DiNardo agreed.
"I still don’t like it," Brownstein muttered. "If we give in to the politicians on this one, we’re opening a can of worms that’ll ruin everything in the long run."
"Then we must not appear to be giving in to the politicians," said DiNardo. "We must convince our colleagues to insist on the excursion to Tithonium — while keeping as much of the earlier mission plan as possible.". Brownstein grimaced. "That’s a tall order."
"It can be done," DiNardo said quietly. "I am certain that Brumado will be in favor."
Grechko’s smile widened perceptibly. "Then you can get up on your feet and try to convince the rest of them."
DiNardo smiled back. "Oh no. I will convince Brumado. Then he will convince all the others."
"Spoken like a true Jesuit," said Grechko.
Brownstein snorted, but said nothing.
The crowd was beginning to stream back upstairs. The three men started back to the auditorium.
God grant me the strength to succeed, DiNardo said to himself. Then he thought, And God grant James Waterman good hunting on Mars.
SOL 22: AFTERNOON
Ravavishnu Patel stared at the broad, regal cone of Pavonis Mons. The volcano filled the horizon like a reclining Buddha, like a slumbering Shiva, destroyer of worlds — and their restorer.
"It’s a shame Toshima is not with us." Abdul al-Naguib’s soft voice broke Patel’s nearly hypnotic spell.
The two men were leaning over the empty seats in the cockpit of the rover. Jamie and the cosmonaut Mironov were outside, placing geology/meteorology beacons on the rock-strewn ground.
"Toshima?" asked Patel, feeling slightly puzzled.
Naguib smiled. "It would remind him of Fujiyama, don’t you think?"
"Oh. Yes, perhaps. Although this volcano is very much larger. And there is no snow at its top. And the slope is quite different."