And here came the big moment: Julia traded turns with Marc videoing the handshakes, greetings and exchanges in Chinese, Russian, French, German, and English. Once performed for the domestic audience, as usual, the only useful shared tongue was broken English.
She was shocked by Lee Chen’s lean, lined face. He had grayed a lot since she had last seen him, in Texas during mission training. His hairline had receded, and he seemed slightly stooped. She wondered if the trip had been difficult. “You’re looking great!” she lied.
“You, too,” he lied back.
Two years into the mission, and she knew it would take her a week in a makeover salon to look presentable. “We’ve got plenty to discuss,” she said. “The only two biologists within fifty million miles.”
“I have memorized your papers in Nature, of course.”
His polite, professional formality, despite their knowing each other half a dozen years, now made her uneasy. But the BIG discovery, I can’t tell you…
“You’ll be able to do plenty of backup work around here…” What an understatement! How to get the conversation away from this?
Marc turned to Claudine. “Ah, good to see you again.”
She was French, and on this mission, pilot and medic. Julia and the Consortium crew had known all the Airbus crew from NASA training, but not always well.
Alongside Claudine, Julia always felt like a rough-cut Colonial. The Frenchwoman was remarkably self-possessed, her long ash-blond hair controlled, today in a bun. Her gestures were graceful, and she moved with economy. To Julia she had always represented old-world manners. She was astronaut-short but with a slender build. Like all the astronauts, she was good-looking and photogenic, with regular features.
She nodded. Marc pressed, “You’re staying here? Not just stopping to drop off the mail?”
Laughs, a little nervous. “We plan to stay here,” Chen answered. “Your site intrigues us.”
He’s the designated talker, thought Julia. She shot a quick glance at Marc, who was keeping his face carefully blank.
Chen was pouring a ritual sweet drink—plum wine.
“To the first social event on Mars,” Julia said.
They all toasted the moment. She videoed it.
What do we talk about next? Are we companions in space or competitors? And how do they feel about Marc? Residual bitterness?
“So, what d’you think of the scenery?” asked Marc. “A bit skimpy on landscaping, but then we’ve been busy.”
Claudine smiled, “It’s like all the videos you hav’ sent back. You are quite ze celebritees now, you know.”
Julia searched for undertones, but the French woman had been impeccably correct, gave away nothing. Julia remembered now that while Claudine’s mouth smiled easily, her wide-set hazel eyes often did not.
Julia smiled ruefully, gestured with her minicam. “Welcome to Mars TV, the series. Condition of our employment, I’m afraid.” She felt, somehow, like a bull in a china shop.
Chen said, “We hope to profit from your many explorations.”
Soon enough the seven formed groups. Captains Chen and Viktor conversed as they moved through the narrow passageways, with Julia coming behind.
Raoul and Gerda Braun, their engineer, traded lore. Julia remembered her as a determined-looking woman with a somewhat chunky build. Today her round face was all smiles. Her light brown hair was braided and on the top of her head, and the effect was oddly Tyrolean. She seemed solicitous, worried by the myriad repairs Raoul had been called upon to perform.
Julia remembered that Marc and Claudine had done their heavy-duty training together in Germany and China; they paired off quickly, she showing him ship details. With more time to plan, Airbus had some niceties, like built-ins. Claudine seemed unusually focused on Marc, though, her expression more animated.
Mars has a lot of past, and so do we.
Finally, Raoul could restrain himself no longer. “Say, about that mail…”
Laughs again. The repair kit was a foam-steel box that Raoul cracked immediately after Chen ceremoniously presented it. His eyes flew over the parts. He nodded, smiled. “Just the ticket.”
“Ticket home, I hope,” Viktor said.
Chen insisted on giving them a “tour” of the ship, if that was the right term for seven people crowding around each other in the narrow passageways, low ceilings and general cramped air of the living quarters and small bays. Their staging area had held the rover they had already deployed, workbenches, cabinet stores, a machine shop that Raoul instantly inspected with gleaming eyes. He asked for one or two tools and Gerda gracefully offered them up.
“I would be happy to assist, if need be,” she said in a flawless English accent.
Raoul looked at her intently. Julia remembered that her crewmates had not seen another woman for two years, and Gerda was somewhat similar in appearance to Katherine. She was quick and intense, and gestured a lot with her hands. Her dark brown eyes were set a bit too close to her prominent nose, but the overall effect was handsome. “I would certainly appreciate that. Let me get you on your back when I do.” His face froze. “I, I mean, let me get back to you when I do. Need some help. I mean.”
Julia had never before felt an entire room of people hold their breath. Smiles all round, but nobody said anything.
“Ah, and over here…” Chen led them away to another wonder of the Airbus design.
Julia started breathing again.
On the trip back they all got a huge laugh out of it, of course.
They were quite merry, and Raoul took his ribbing well.
Airbus had treated them to a sumptuous lunch—a chicken dish frozen from a fancy Beijing restaurant, Chinese beer, a sticky German pastry desert. “Not really better than our grub,” Marc said, “but, thank God, different.”
“They sure outclassed us on the dress code,” Raoul said.
I noticed you appreciating the women, for sure, Julia thought.
