They were starting the cemetery behind Mars City.
Boot Hill.
The cairns were nearly complete. Raoul finished and they laid the bodies to rest, wrapped in white parachute fabric. They stood and watched the backhoe push the ruddy dirt over the first humans to lie beneath the soil of another world.
When he was done Raoul handed two flat rocks to Claudine, who placed one at the top of each little tower. Through her helmet plate she looked dazed. She was probably cold, too. Cold, and in shock. As she stood up the sun slid below the sharp horizon. A dust devil churned across the dunes to the north. Mars went on in its endless cycles.
They all stepped back and tidied up the rock circle. Marc put a hand on Claudine’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get something hot to drink.”
“I have something hard, too,” Viktor said. “Right time for it.”
They returned to the hab, showered down, dressed warmly in cotton sweats, and headed for the round metal table in the common room. Raoul and Marc were the first there, preparing five mugs of steaming cocoa. They all knew what was coming.
Julia relished the comforting sweetness of cocoa. They had sat here hundreds of times, eating, working, talking, arguing—even making love when Raoul and Marc were away in the rover, she recalled somewhat guiltily. Now suddenly she was aware that it was all coming to an end, that this was one of the last times they would be here. Already the feeling had changed, with the addition of Claudine. Soon this whole immense experience would all be reduced to memories.
Viktor stared at the steam lazing up from his mug. “Well, what next, eh?” He gave a short sharp laugh. “Mars is full of surprises once again.”
Marc looked solemn. “Right, what happens now?”
Claudine shook her head. “I’ll have to return with you. Forfeit the prize, of course. Airbus has lost.” She spoke slowly, struggling to control her accent.
They exchanged glances as a pause extended itself.
Raoul was tracing imaginary circles on the table with his fist—somber, even grim. Julia saw that he took the ERV failure as a deep personal rebuke and was too embarrassed to speak.
Claudine sat woodenly.
Julia tried to assess the extent of her shock. She didn’t seem to be grasping the situation very well. Had she forgotten that the ERV couldn’t fly?
“Bottom line is, we can’t lift off, you can’t crew nuclear rocket alone,” Viktor said carefully. “No mission is going home.”
“Yeah,” Marc said wryly. “A real Martian standoff.”
There was another pause. They looked at each other around the table: dusty, worn, ragged, all.
It came to her in a flash, then. “No, not a standoff, a Martian solution. We have to combine forces.”
Viktor looked skeptical but supported her with, “Is obvious, yes, but how?”
“Well, for starters, at least one of us has to stay here,” said Julia.
“What!”
“No.”
With a waving hand she cut off the beginning protests. “There’s no other way and we all know it. We’re still too many for the available transportation.”
Claudine looked alarmed. “But what about food?”
“There are more than enough supplies—the ERV is fully stocked for six people for a return trip of seven months. And there are two extra people’s supplies on the nu—on the Airbus ship.”
Claudine cut in, “Gerda’s and Chen’s.”
“Right, in your larder. We even have all their extra gear. So no problem there.”
Claudine said slowly, “Sums to…forty-two person months of supplies on your ERV, plus twenty-four person months on my ship. Which we use if three people return.”
“But you said one person has to stay,” said Marc.
“One person is too vulnerable.” Julia looked around the table.
“I agree,” said Claudine. “One, he would die out here.” She said slowly, “But how long do they have to stay?”
“Until a…a rescue mission reaches them.” Viktor was not liking the idea any better this time.
Julia took a deep breath. “Earth can launch another ERV in three months. It can be here six months later with fresh supplies—if needed.”
“Will need,” Viktor said. “Stuff wears out.”
“Right. But we can’t lift off for Earth for another twenty-six months from now, at the next minimum fuel window.”
Raoul said sourly, “Hell of a note. The rescue ship is too small to carry the survivors.” He laughed mirthlessly, a sharp, dry chuckle.
Claeudine looked up sharply. “You know all that was not our idea. We were never a rescue mission, never wished you to have trouble. Maybe some at Airbus, but”not us. No one asked the crew before…before somebody started that idea. It was Airbus managers talking, and maybe not even them. They claim not to know who started it.”
“Well, they were right after all,” said Julia. She looked deep into her empty mug, as if the solution could be found there.
Finally, Marc said slowly, “I accept your argument. Three go back, two stay.” He looked around the table. “How does anyone else feel about this?”
