Li did smile, thinly. Waterman is thinking only of the technical side. To him, the political ramifications simply are not of importance. I wonder if he thinks of them at all.
“Dr. Li, you understand the principles of geology…” And without hesitation Waterman launched into a lecture about the rock formations on Mars.
Li listened with one ear while another part of his mind felt amused at the scientist’s earnestness and the unthinking arrogance of this enthusiastic young man lecturing his elder.
The young fool simply does not understand that he is on terribly shaky ground politically. He honestly believes that science is all that matters. Li wished he could live such an uncomplicated life, have such unhampered enthusiasms, pursue knowledge without worrying about those who controlled the purse strings-and the honors.
On the other hand, he reasoned as Jamie continued his nonstop recitation, suppose he kills himself down there? He will become a hero, automatically. And cease to be a problem. He would most likely be killing Vosnesensky also, but that could not be helped.
Li shook himself when he realized where such thoughts were leading him. My task, he said sternly to himself, is to direct the exploration of Mars and allow the scientists to conduct that exploration with as little interference as possible. Waterman wants to go farther and faster than we have planned. The politicians will be angry if anything goes wrong.
It took him a moment to realize that Waterman had finished speaking and was gazing expectantly at him from the display screen. Like a child asking his father for permission to take a new step toward adulthood, Li thought.
He blinked his eyes twice, then heard himself reply, as if from some great distance, “Go ahead with your plan. I will expect you, Commander Vosnesensky, to call an immediate halt the instant you reach the critical point in your fuel supplies.”
The camera down below swiveled back to Vosnesensky. “I have calculated the fuel reserves we need to get safely back to base and added a twenty percent emergency factor.”
“When you reach that point you must return, no matter where you are or what you are doing. Is that clearly understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dr. Waterman?”
He heard Waterman’s voice reply, “Clearly.”
“Very well then, proceed.” Li reached for the keyboard to end the transmission. He hesitated, though, long enough to add, “And good luck.”
“Thank you!” The two men’s voices rang back in unison.
EARTH
KALININGRAD: In the early days of the Soviet space program, when secrecy born of Cold War fears dominated everything, the locations of space facilities were kept as concealed as possible. The major Soviet launching base, for example, was said to be at Baikonur, a city in the middle of the Kazakh SSR, a land where Mongol hordes and the fierce horsemen of Tamerlane once rode.
Actually the launch center is near the town of Tyuratam, more than three hundred kilometers southwest of Baikonur, on the main rail line from Moscow to Tashkent.
In those days of suspicion there was no public mention of Kaliningrad, the mission control center from which the earliest manned space flights were directed. Gagarin’s pioneering orbit of the Earth, the thousands of man-hours of flight aboard a dozen space stations, and finally the first expedition to Mars-all were directed from the center at Kaliningrad, about six kilometers northeast of the outermost circular motorway ringing metropolitan Moscow.
The protocol for directing the Mars mission had been decided upon long before the various spacecraft had even begun to be assembled in Earth orbit. Knowing that there would be a communications lag of ten minutes or more between Mars and Earth, the mission planners placed full authority in the hands of the expedition commander, Dr. Li Chengdu.
There was no need for Dr. Li to check with mission command at Kaliningrad before making a decision. The day-to-day operations of the teams in orbit around Mars and on the planet’s surface were his responsibility.
That did not mean, however, that he could not be overruled.
Having given his assent to Vosnesensky and Waterman’s unscheduled dash to Tithonium Chasma, Dr. Li routinely reported the change in the excursion plan back to Kaliningrad. Routinely, in this case, meant that he waited until the end of his day, as usual, before filing his report. The rover team’s diversion to Tithonium was given as item number seventeen of his customary daily report. Seventeen of twenty-two.