“It’s a coup,” he was saying, grinning happily. “A gift. From the Vatican, no less.”
Jamie leaned back in his little chair and watched Dex pacing across his office, gesturing with both hands as he spoke. The distance between Mars and Earth defeated any chance of holding a true conversation. Dex talked and Jamie listened.
“He’s a priest, Jamie. A Jesuit! We can get plenty of media time with him before he goes. He can counter those pious sonsofbitches who’re trying to slit our throats. He can tell the people what we’re doing, show them that there’s no conflict between religion and science. It’s a godsend, I tell you!”
As Jamie listened to Dex chattering on enthusiastically for almost half an hour, he was thinking, DiNardo’s older than I am. He must be older than Carleton, even. Will it be safe for him to come here? The fusion ships make the flight fast and easy, but how will DiNardo handle the low gravity here? The whole environment? What will Chang think of having DiNardo here? Will he think I’m trying to subvert his authority? First Carleton horns in on the operation here, then I pop in, and now the priest who was originally picked to lead the geology team on the First Expedition. Chang’s a geologist, for god’s sake. He’s not going to like this.
Dex was actually feeling slightly out of breath when he finally wound down and ran out of words. He was on his feet, in the corner of his office where the big windows met. Out there it was a sparkling blue New England afternoon. He could see planes landing and taking off at Logan Aerospaceport and sailboats cutting through the whitecaps of the bay and even the masts of Old Ironsides at its pier in Charlestown, across the harbor.
It’ll take Jamie at least fifteen-twenty minutes to get back to me, Dex thought, even if he picked up my message as soon as it arrived at Mars. I ought to get back to work.
He returned to his desk and sat down, but couldn’t concentrate on the tasks before him. Wheedling contributions out of increasingly reluctant donors. Dealing with half a dozen government agencies that want to stick their fat asses into our program so they can slow us down even more. Budgeting. That was the most depressing thing of all. How to stretch the funding they had without endangering the people working on Mars. Dex leaned back in his customized leather chair and stared at the ceiling.
But if I can swing the Navaho president onto this tourist idea, and start quietly soliciting funding from a couple of friendly bankers, then maybe… just maybe, we can put this program on a sound financial basis. Maybe even make a few bucks of profit. The Navahos would like that.
But how to get Jamie to agree to it? He’s as stubborn as a jackass. Thinks Mars is his private preserve. No, worse. Jamie thinks it’s his sacred duty to protect Mars. Keep it pristine. No visitors, except for scientists.
The chime of his phone broke into Dex’s thoughts. “Dr. Waterman, from Tithonium Base,” said the synthesized voice of his second wife.
Dex snapped to an upright posture and said crisply, “Open message.”
Jamie looked wary. Not suspicious or unreceptive, really: just guarded, cautious. He was smiling, but it was the smile that Dex knew he used when he was trying to cover his true feelings.
“Dex, that’s great news about Father DiNardo,” Jamie began.
Monsignor DiNardo, Dex corrected silently.
“But I’m worried about a couple of things. First, he’s kind of old for Mars, don’t you think? What kind of physical condition is he in? And what’s made him decide to come out here all of a sudden? If we take him, we’ll have to make sure he’s checked out very carefully. We’ll need the best doctors we can find to give him a very thorough physical.”
“No problem,” Dex muttered, knowing that Jamie couldn’t hear him.
“Second, if he comes here it’ll probably disturb Dr. Chang. I mean, he’s the mission director and a geologist. DiNardo’s a geologist, too, and he’s older and he was originally picked to head the geology team for the First Expedition. Chang’s going to feel like DiNardo’s breathing down his neck. That wouldn’t be fair to him.”
Jamie’s smile turned warmer. “On the other hand, I agree that having a priest from the Vatican join us here could be a great public relations move. The fundamentalists have been working against us, and Father DiNardo can show that a deeply religious person can still be a scientist who wants to learn about Mars and the Martians.”
Dex found himself nodding vigorously.
“So let’s proceed carefully,” Jamie went on. “It would certainly be great to have Father DiNardo here. I like the man and he’s a good geologist. His presence here will create problems with Chang, but I’ll try to smooth that out. Above all else, though, we’ve got to make sure that DiNardo’s in top physical condition. So don’t start beating the publicity drums until he’s passed all the exams. Okay?”
“Okay,” Dex replied immediately. “I’ll have him checked out sixteen ways from Tuesday. And then we’ll have something to stuff under the noses of those psalm-singing bastards!”
Tithonium Chasma: Excursion Team
Itzak Rosenberg stared at the fireball billowing up from the hopper. It quickly dissipated into the thin Martian atmosphere. He felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs.
“Our supplies,” he said weakly.
“Blown to hell,” Hasdrubal muttered.
“What could have caused it?”
Hasdrubal was already on the comm link. “Base, this is Excursion Three. We got troubles.”
The excursion controller was one of the astronauts. Her slim lace, framed with short dark hair, looked puzzled. “The readouts here look screwy,” she said.
“Damned hopper blew up!” Hasdrubal snapped.
“Blew up?”
“Exploded! There’s nothin’ left out there except some smokin’ wreckage.”
“That’s why the readouts cut off,” said the controller. In the tiny screen on the control panel she looked almost relieved.
“What the hell happened?” Hasdrubal demanded.
“Are you two okay?”
“Yeah. No damage to the camper.”
“None that we can see from inside the cockpit,” Rosenberg corrected.
Hasdrubal shot a glare at him.
“You’ll have to go outside and look your vehicle over for possible damage,” the controller instructed.
Nodding, Hasdrubal muttered, “Guess so.”
“It’s going to be dark in another hour,” said Rosenberg.
The controller nodded back. “Then you’ll have to make your damage inspection right away.”
“Okay, we’ll go out right away. But what the hell happened? Why’d that bird blow up?”
“We’ll have to go over the diagnostics and get back to you on that. Meanwhile, you check out all your systems and do the exterior inspection.”
“Right,” Hasdrubal agreed.
“Keep this link open,” said Rosenberg, with some urgency.
“Will do,” promised the controller.
Rosenberg blurted, “Did the seismometers record the blast?” It was an idiotic question and he knew it but it just popped out of his mouth.
“I’ll ask the monitors,” the controller said. “Call me back when you complete your inspection.”
“Don’t shut down this link,” Rosenberg repeated.
“Right. I’ll keep it open.”
Hasdrubal got up from his seat and headed back toward the airlock. Over his shoulder he called, “C’mon, get into your suit.”
“I’m staying inside,” Rosenberg said, his voice quavering slightly. “I’ll check all our systems while you do a visual inspection outside.”
Hasdrubal stopped at the narrow closet where their nanosuits hung. For a moment he said nothing. Then, “Go faster if the two of us look her over.”