The media secretary headed for the bar. Todd tried to return his boss’s angry stare but failed; he turned away and focused instead on the painting he had arranged to have hanging in the office: an original Bonestell starscape.
“I can think of a better time for him to announce his support,” said the media secretary as she poured straight bourbon into a tumbler full of ice cubes.
“You can?”
“When they land back on Earth. Everybody will be watching that. And you won’t have to compete with Martians for the media’s attention, either.”
The Vice-President’s angry expression softened into a thoughtful scowl. She sipped at her drink. Todd cast an utterly grateful look at the media secretary. She smiled at him and mouthed silently, You owe me one.
SOL 38: AFTERNOON
“What’d I tell you?” Connors puffed. “Light as feathers.”
The astronaut and Jamie were shoveling away the red dust that had piled up against the rover’s side. Jamie thought that the stuff was so light they could engage the electric motors and the wheels would churn right through it. But Connors insisted that they take no chances, or at least as few as possible. So the two of them dug, despite their weariness, despite the pain that shot through their arms and legs, despite the growing nausea that was surging through Jamie’s gut in hot sickening waves.
The morning mist was almost entirely gone, merely a few wavering tendrils clinging to spots along the cliff wall where the sun did not reach. The cliffs themselves stood towering over them, immense rugged fortifications that blotted out half the sky and marched beyond the horizon both to their right and to their left.
The orange streaks of the lichen stood out sharper than ever against the red rocks. Jamie wondered if the lichen colonies on the ground had some method of shaking off the dust that now covered the canyon floor to a depth of several inches. We won’t be here long enough to see, he knew. And we don’t have a remote TV camera to set up here and watch them for us, dammit.
The dust billowed up as their shovels bit into it, rising in strangely soft, slow clouds that drifted dreamlike on the gentle wind wafting down the canyon. Jamie saw that Connors’s suit was covered with the rust-colored dust almost up to his armpits. He looked down and saw that his own blue suit was similarly splashed with rust.
“One good thing,” Connors was panting, “about this stuff…. It doesn’t… cling to your… visor.”
Jamie nodded inside his helmet.
“On the moon… damned dust sticks… it… gets charged… with static… electricity.”
“Save your breath,” Jamie said.
“Yeah…”
The two women were inside battening down the lab modulo for the trip. Their precious specimens of lichen were already safely protected in insulated containers. Ilona had worried that the lichen might die for lack of sunlight until Joanna pointed out that they obviously could lie dormant for long periods without light when sandstorms covered the rocks for days or even weeks on end.
“I think… that’s… good enough,” Connors panted as Jamie dug around the rearmost wheel on the logistics module.
“Think we’ve got… enough traction?” Jamie was gasping too.
“Yeah…. Looks okay.”
“Let’s try it.”
They trudged back to the airlock, utterly weary, and clambered inside. Jamie would have left his shovel outside, but Connors insisted that they stow both shovels in their proper place in the outside equipment bay of the lab module. Pete hasn’t lost his sense of detail, at least, Jamie thought. Must be his astronaut training.
It took more than an hour for them to squirm out of their suits and vacuum them clean, even with Joanna and Ilona helping them. Ilona was not much help; she was very weak. We must look pathetic, Jamie thought. I’m glad Mikhail isn’t here to see us.
“Get some food into you,” Joanna said, looking ashen herself.
Jamie’s insides were boiling. “I don’t think I could keep anything down.”
“Energy bars, at least. The glucose will do you good.”
Ilona slumped on the bench in the midship area, her eyes barely open.
Connors pulled the refrigerator open. “Maybe some juice…. I feel like I’ve got a hangover. A bad one.”