PREDAWN: SOL 64
JAMIE KNEW HE SHOULD HAVE FELT SLEEPY, BUT HE WAS WIDE awake. Grimly awake.
He sat in his coveralls at the desk in his quarters, the glow from his laptop screen etching his face and throwing a dim, lumpy shadow across the back wall. I wonder what time it is in Boston? he asked himself.
The image frozen on his screen showed Darryl C. Trumball at his desk, staring into the camera, his face frozen in an angry scowl, a jewel-tipped pen in one hand. Jamie was studying Trumball’s image, trying to find the soul beneath the hard exterior. What does he want? Jamie asked himself. Why does he want to get rid of me?
Jamie had sent a simple message to Trumball more than an hour earlier:
“In the interest of harmony among the ICU board members, I am willing to step down as mission director,” he had said, “providing that Stacy Dezhurova is named to the position in my place, and an excursion to the possible cliff dwelling in Tithonium Chasma is inserted into our mission schedule.”
The words harmony among the ICU board were a code phrase, aimed at assuring funding for the next expedition. Trumball had threatened to hold up the funding unless Jamie was removed from his position. Without putting it in so many words, Jamie was offering his head for an assurance of funds. And a promise to allow him to investigate the cliff dwelling.
Now he sat and waited for Trumball’s reply, watching a still image of the old man taken from one of his earlier messages. He opened a window on the screen and checked the current time in Boston. Twelve minutes past two P.M. Trumball should be there; if he wasn’t, somebody should have responded with that information by now.
No, he’s thinking it over. Or maybe he just wants to let me stew in my own sweat for a while. That would be like his kind of man, the power-trip; all ego and no consideration for anyone else.
Maybe he’s trying to talk it over with Dex, Jamie thought. But as he stared at Trumball’s image on the little screen he realized that this man doesn’t talk things over with anyone. He makes up his own mind for his own reasons and steamrollers anyone who objects. Or tries to.
Jamie had spent a bad hour or so after Vijay stormed out of the galley. He wondered how the others would feel if he resigned, wondered what Dex would do, in particular. I’m not doing Stacy a favor, he told himself, putting her on the hot seat.
But it’s got to be done, he realized. Trumball will just make so much trouble that the next expedition will never get off the ground.
That was what had decided him. There has to be a third expedition. And a fourth and a fiftieth and a five hundredth. We have a whole world to explore! I can’t let my own ego get in the way. I’d be just as bad as Trumball.
He had paced back and forth in his tiny cubicle for miles, four steps at a time, from the bunk to the accordion-fold door and back again, for hours. Worrying, balancing, tearing himself apart trying to find the right path. At last he realized what it was, what it had to be.
This isn’t a contest of wills between Trumball and me. It’s not a battle of alpha males between Dex and me. This is about the exploration of Mars, nothing more. And nothing less.
The decision freed him. Calmed him. He sat at his desk, opened the laptop, and sent his message to Trumball.
Now he waited for the old man’s response.
And realized, down deep where the hollow tremors of fear begin, that he had lost Vijay. Lost her respect. Lost her love.
The message light on the laptop began to blink, like a yellow eye winking at him.
Jamie touched the key and Trumball’s still image seemed to come to life. There he was, behind the same desk, with a different pen in his hand, looking at Jamie with a gruff expression on his cold, grim face.
“I got your message,” Trumball said, his voice rough and gravelly. “I’ll see to it that the board accepts your resignation. I presume you’ll transmit a similar message to each of the individual board members.”
Trumball shifted uneasily on his massive, high-backed leather chair, fiddled with his pen, then continued, “About your recommendation of Ms. Dezhurova, I don’t know. Will the other scientists up there with you accept her, or will they want another scientist to be named mission director? I’d like to know what they think.”
Jamie felt surprised that Trumball was not insisting outright that his son be named director.
“As far as your request to go out and look at your supposed cliff dwelling, it’s all right with me if it’s all right with the rest of your people. You’ve got an extra rover vehicle, thanks to my son. Use it to go out there and take a look. If it’s real, it’ll be the greatest tourist attraction since the Crucifixion.”
The picture winked off. Trumball had had his say, he’d gotten his way. Jamie sat there feeling as if a heavyweight boxer had just punched him in the gut.
A tourist attraction. The greatest discovery in the history of the world, of two worlds, and all he can think of is a goddamned tourist attraction!
Jamie wanted to leap to his feet and scream. I’ll be working for him! he realized. If the cliff dwellings are real, I’ll be leading him to them so he can build a fucking Disneyland around them! I’ll be a Judas goat! A traitor to everything and everybody.
He sank his head in his hands. He wanted to cry, but knew that he couldn’t.
The sun was already up at Ares Vallis, and Dex was driving the rover while Craig ate breakfast. They had decided to eat in shifts now, rather than stop the rover for meals.
The comm screen flickered, then Jamie’s dark, somber face formed on it. With just a glance, Dex saw that Jamie looked terrible, as if he’d been up all night, red-eyed and wrinkled.
“I assume I didn’t wake you,” Jamie began, his voice tight, almost hoarse.
“No, we’ve been percolating along for nearly an hour,” Dex chirped happily.
Without further preamble, Jamie said, “I’ve just told your father I’m willing to step down as mission director. I recommended Stacy take over the job.”
Dex felt a clutch of surprise, then heard himself ask, “What’d my father say?”
“He said it’s okay with him as long as the rest of you agree.”
Son of a bitch, Dex thought. Dear old Dad wouldn’t recommend me for the job, not him. He doesn’t think I could handle it.
He said to Jamie, “What’s everybody back there think about this?”
“They don’t know about it yet. It’s too early for them to be up.”
Craig came up to the cockpit, chewing on a piece of precooked omelet, and slipped into the right-hand seat.
“They won’t have any objections to Stacy,” Dex said, trying to keep his seething anger from showing.
“Do you?” Jamie asked.
“She’s not a scientist,” Craig said.
Jamie nodded solemnly. “But she knows what she’s doing and she understands what we’re doing. I think she’s the best one for the job.”
“Obviously,” Dex snapped.
Craig said, “I got no gripes with her. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
“I’d like this to be unanimous, Dex,” Jamie said.
“Sure. Why not?”
“You agree?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“Okay, okay. Thanks.”
“For nothing.”
Once Jamie’s image winked out, Craig leaned over and grabbed Dex’s shoulder. “You think the job shoulda gone to you?”
Dex grinned at his shaggy-bearded partner. “To tell the truth, Wiley, I think Stacy’s better for the job than I’d be.”
“Sure you do.”
“I do, honest! But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be the boss.”
“You’re pissed at Jamie for not namin’ you?” Craig probed.
“No,” Dex said, shaking his head. And he found that it was the truth. He felt no anger at Jamie. The redskin was only doing what he thought was best for the mission.
But dear old Dad, Dex thought, his insides raging. The old sonofabitch wouldn’t lift a finger on my behalf. He doesn’t think I could handle it. He doesn’t trust me with any responsibility at all.
Dex leaned on the accelerator harder. I’ll show him. I’ll show them all.
How, he did not know. But Dex felt a steel-sharp determination hardening inside him. It doesn’t matter if Jamie’s in charge or Stacy or the friggin’ Man in the Moon. I’m going to be the head of this expedition, one way or the other.
Jamie saw the strange, almost feral look on Dex’s bearded face before he cut the comm link to the rover. He’s angry; pissed as hell. He wanted to be the director and he’s furious that he’s not getting the job.
He got up from his little desk and stretched, letting tendons crack and vertebrae pop.
I’m free of it now, Jamie thought. Now I can concentrate on getting back to Tithonium and seeing just what that cliff structure really is.
Stacy’s going to have a tough time of it, he knew. Dex will be running up her back the minute he gets here.
He shook his head. That’s not your problem anymore. Now you’re free to do what you came here for. Just one more task, and then you’re a free man. All you’ve got to do now is tell Stacy the joyous news. And the others. They’ll all agree that Stacy’s right for the job. It’ll be unanimous, no sweat.
All you’ve got to do is tell them about it.
And tell Vijay.