Taking a deep breath, Jamie began, “First, I don’t see it as an either-or situation. We can work on the greenhouse problems and explore Mars, too. They’re not mutually exclusive.”
“Everyone else seems to think they are,” said Stavenger.
Shaking his head, Jamie went on, “The greenhouse crisis is being used as an excuse to kill the Mars program.”
“Used as an excuse?” Edith asked, her blue eyes widening. “Who by?”
“The fundamentalists. The New Morality and their people in government. They don’t want us to learn more about the Martians. They want to bury everything we’ve discovered, forget about it forever. They’ve got control of the government, they’re scaring the big money into lining up with them. Everywhere I turn to, there’s this big invisible enemy all around me, stifling me, pushing me down. I feel like I’m drowning.”
Stavenger looked at his wife for a moment, then turned back to Jamie. “So you’re asking Selene to take up the funding burden for you?”
“I don’t think of it as a burden.”
“A poor choice of words. But you need financial help, don’t you?”
Jamie hesitated, then admitted, “Yes. It boils down to funding.”
“Always does,” Edith murmured.
Stavenger reached up and scratched at his dark brown hair. The gesture made him look suddenly boyish.
“Look,” he said. “Selene isn’t prosperous enough to spend billions on something that won’t bring us any return.”
“It won’t cost billions,” Jamie said.
“No?”
“Basically, what we need is help with transportation. I plan to ask the men and women on Mars to stretch out their stays an extra year, so we can cut our transportation costs just about in half.”
“Except for life-support supplies,” Vijay interjected.
Jamie suppressed an urge to scowl at her. “Supplies are a major part of it, yes.”
Stavenger asked, “How much of your life-support requirements do you generate from Mars itself?”
“We take oxygen and nitrogen from the atmosphere to make breathable air,” Jamie replied. “Water from the permafrost. We grow some of our own food hydroponically.”
Nodding, Stavenger said, “But you need protein, medical supplies, that sort of thing.”
Impressed with Stavenger’s understanding, Jamie said, “Right.”
“We’ve been there. We’ve worked damned hard to make Selene as self-sufficient as possible. We use aquaculture to raise protein: fish, shellfish, frogs.”
“Gives us a lot more protein for the energy inputs than a herd of cattle would,” Edith added.
“Or even rabbits and smaller land animals,” said Stavenger.
“You understand what we’re up against, then,” Jamie said.
“Yes,” Stavenger replied, “but the question that needs to be answered is still, what’s in it for Selene? We can’t afford to be philanthropic.”
“We’re talking about exploring a new world!” Jamie said, trying to keep his tone even, reasonable. “A world that once bore intelligent life.”
“I know that. But that exploration costs money. That’s why you’re here.”
“Yes,” Jamie admitted.
“I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you,” Stavenger said. “But I’ve got to bring something reasonable to our governing council.”
“Reasonable,” Jamie muttered darkly.
“If there was some hope of a payback, some kind of return on our investment—”
“Exploring Mars isn’t a profit-making operation,” Jamie snapped. “Science doesn’t give you a payback, not right away.”
“I know that, but still—”
“But still, you’re going to sit on your backside and let them close down the Mars program. The same people who tried to take over Moonbase, the same know-nothings and power brokers who’ve banned nanotechnology, who sat there for fucking decades and let this greenhouse disaster roll over them, you’re going to let them shut down the exploration of a new world without lifting a finger to help us!”
Jamie realized he was on his feet, standing in front of Stavenger, glowering down at him, while Vijay pulled at his sleeve.
I’ve got to apologize, Jamie told himself. I lost my temper. I shouldn’t antagonize this man. I shouldn’t be yelling at him.
But before Jamie could force a word past his lips, Stavenger smiled up at him.
“That’s what I needed to see,” Stavenger said, his voice mild, pleased. “I needed to see some passion. You’re entirely right: this isn’t a matter of profits and money. It’s part of the struggle between knowledge and ignorance, between those who want to push back the frontier and those who want to control people.”
Jamie stammered, “I didn’t mean to…”
Vijay tugged harder at his sleeve and Jamie sat down on the sofa beside her with a thump.
Edith was smiling too. “I told you it was in his blood,” she said to her husband.
“So I see,” Stavenger murmured. Looking across the low table at Jamie, he said, “The frontier is where new knowledge comes from, whether it’s the intellectual frontier of a laboratory or the physical frontier of an unexplored territory. Selene is a frontier nation.”
“So you’ll help us?” Jamie asked.
“Let’s see just how much I can coax out of the governing council.”
Jamie stared at him, openmouthed.
“Thank you,” Vijay said for him.
Stavenger’s smile thinned a little. “Just don’t expect a lot. Don’t hope for miracles.”
Boston: Trumball Trust Headquarters
This is stupid, Dex Trumball said to himself. I’m acting like some asshole sneak thief.
It was past midnight. The offices of the Trumball Trust, on the top floor of the Trumball Tower in Boston’s financial district, were empty and dark. Even the cleaning crew and their busy little robots had gone for the night. Everything was dark and quiet, except for Dex’s office.
His office was unlit except for the big smart screen on the wall opposite the drapery-covered windows. The screen showed an image of the Grand Canyon in Arizona.
Sitting in the shadows behind his desk, Dex muttered to the silent image, “You’re nothing but a little scratch in the ground, pal. Put you on Mars and you’d be just a minor alleyway compared to the real Grand Canyon.”
But there was a complex of buildings on the rim of the Arizona canyon, and a spidery bridge arching across the chasm. People paid good money to visit and goggle at the canyon and drive across that bridge. They paid for rides on muleback down to the canyon’s bottom. Good, steady money.
The desk phone said, “Mr. Kinnear on line one, sir.” Dex realized he was biting his lips. He opened his mouth, hesitated a heartbeat, then said, “On screen two, please.”
Roland Kinnear’s round, pleasantly smiling face appeared on the wall next to the picture of the Grand Canyon. He looked youthful, but Dex knew that was from cosmetic therapies. His hair was still light blond, and seemed a bit thicker than Dex remembered from their last meeting. A pencil-thin moustache adorned his upper lip.
“Hello, Dex,” said Kinnear amiably. “It’s been a long time.”
Dex smiled back at the screen. “Hi, Rollie. Going on seven years, according to my files.”
Kinnear laughed. “Still writing everything down, are you?”
“I guess,” said Dex, trying to look relaxed. He had known Kinnear since they had attended Harvard Business School together, decades earlier.
“Must be past midnight in Boston,” said Kinnear.