No answer. Jamie kept plodding forward, panting, until he heard Joanna in his earphones. “Go on.”
“First Man and First Woman… put the stars in their places,” he said. “They had… all the stars… in a blanket. Wanted to put them… in the right places… in the sky. Harmony is beauty. Order and… harmony.”
The cable was sticking again; it was harder to pull it along. Jamie leaned all his weight into the harness.
“What happened then?” Joanna asked.
“Old Coyote came by… saw what they were doing. He grabbed… the blanket… swung it around and around… then he hurled the whole blanket… full of stars… into the sky. That’s… what made… the Milky Way.”
“Oh!” said Joanna.
“Coyote ruined… the harmony of the sky. He’s always… messing things up.”
“A cosmological myth,” Vosnesensky said.
“Kind of.” Jamie wondered how Coyote had tricked Man Maker into making Mars so cold. So utterly damnably cold. Then he realized that Coyote had tricked him, had tricked all of them, into coming to this dead world. This world of death.
But it’s not dead, a voice in his mind said. You found life here.
Jamie blinked sweat from his eyes. Strange to find life on a world where we’re all going to die, he thought. Strange to be sweating while you’re freezing to death.
He staggered forward another few steps, then sank to his knees. His legs refused to move any farther. His arms felt as if encased in ice. Far in the distance he could see the tiny running lights of Vosnesensky’s rover. Close enough to see. Close enough to reach.
Jamie tried to push himself to his feet, but he hadn’t the strength to do it. Cold freezing numb. He crawled on his hands and knees, hearing the voice of his first mission instructor warning, “Even the smallest tear in your gloves, the tiniest leak in a seal or a joint, will kill you within minutes out on the surface of Mars.”
Totally spent, he sprawled on the hard rocky ground. With a last supreme effort he managed to turn himself on his side and tried to struggle up into a sitting position.
He failed.
Lying on his side, half propped up by the bulky backpack and harness, Jamie looked up at the cold solemn stars glittering in the darkness. He thought he saw Coyote up there, laughing next to the Hunter.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I can’t go… any farther. I’m done…”
“Jamie!” Joanna shrieked. “You must go on! You must! For me! For all of us! Please!”
“I tried…” The pain was ebbing away. His entire body was becoming numb, floating in nothingness like the Buddhist nirvana.
He heard Joanna sobbing and the muttering of voices in his earphones.
“Listen…,” he said, his voice sounding weak, far away, even to himself. “Tell them… it doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter… that I died. That all of us die. Everyone dies. Not important. We’ve learned so much… and there’s so much more… to find out.”
“You must not die, Jamie! You must not!”
He felt no pain. A profound sense of acceptance spread over him, as if he had always been meant to be at this place. He remembered his grandfather telling him of Chief Seattle, who had said long ago that the Earth does not belong to man, but man belongs to the Earth. We belong to Mars, too, Jamie realized. Now we do. Now we do. And to the sun and all the worlds, all the stars. That’s why we want to see it all, explore it all. It’s our heritage. Our birthright. It’s worth dying for.
I understand, he said silently, marveling at the clarity of his vision. Finally I understand who I am.
The whole universe of stars hung up in the darkly glittering night sky and gazed down at the small frail figure of a man lying helpless and alone on the frozen windswept slope of an ancient avalanche on Mars.
From far, far away he heard voices, but they meant nothing to him. They faded into the silence of eternity.
He understood now that Man Maker and Life Taker are one and the same, just two different aspects of the single creator. I’m ready, Jamie said silently. I’ve done the best I could. Now I’m ready for you. He heard Coyote laughing in the crystal darkness of the frozen night.