choice; I’m just a substitute.
Yes, he heard the whispered voice of his grandfather. But you’re here, on Mars, and the Anglo priest is not.
Jamie almost smiled, To his grandfather even a Jesuit from the Vatican was an Anglo. He was glad that he was here among the first explorers, yet that very emotion stirred a latent sense of guilt. He had won this privilege at the expense of other men’s pain. A true Navaho would fear retribution.
Vosnesensky pushed himself away from the table and stood up.
“Time for sleeping,” he said gruffly, as if expecting an argument. “Tomorrow we must be ready for the arrival of the second team. And before we sleep we must clean the suits and store them properly.”
No one argued, although Tony Reed muttered something that Jamie could not catch. They were all tired but they knew that the hard suits had to be properly maintained. Tomorrow’s schedule would be just as punishing as this first day’s. The tensions and hostilities that had grown during their nine-month flight had not evaporated simply because they had set foot on Mars. Maybe in the days to come, Jamie thought, when we’re busy working and we can roam around outside, maybe then things will change. Maybe then.
After vacuuming the dust off his hard suit and hanging it properly in the storage rack by the airlock, Jamie passed Ilona Malater’s quarters on his way to his own. The accordion-fold door to her cubicle was open. She was taping a tattered old photograph to the partition beside her bunk.
She noticed Jamie and said over her shoulder, “Come in for a moment.”
Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Jamie hesitated at her doorway.
Ilona whispered throatily, “I’m not going to seduce you red man. Not our first night on Mars.”
Jamie hung by the doorway, not knowing what to say.
“Would you like to see my family album?” Ilona asked, with a wicked smile.
There was only the one photograph taped up. Jamie stepped in closer and saw a tall, tired man in a dirty soldier’s uniform standing in a street choked with rubble, his hands raised over his head, half a dozen soldiers in a different uniform menacing him with submachine guns.
“That is my grandfather in 1956,” Ilona said, her voice suddenly louder, brittle. “In Budapest. Those are Russian soldiers. The Russians hanged my grandfather, eventually. His crime was to defend his country against them.”
“We’re on Mars now,” Jamie said softly.
“Yes. What of it?”
Jamie turned and left her cubicle without another word. Ilona would keep on deviling Vosnesensky, just as she had all during the long months of the flight here. She thought she had a reason to hate all Russians. All during the years of training she had cleverly hidden her hatred. And nursed it. Now it was coming out into the open. Now, when it might get us all killed.
We bring it all with us, Jamie said to himself. We come to a new world with words of peace and love, but we carry all the old fears and hatreds wherever we go
Feeling completely spent, Jamie tumbled onto his cot without bothering to undress. Nearly an hour later he lay still awake on the spindly cot in his cubicle, worrying about Ilona. The dome was dark now, but not silent. The metal and plastic creaked and groaned as the cold of the Martian night tightened its frigid grip. Pumps were chugging softly and air fans humming. The psychologists had decided that such noises would actually be comforting to the lonely explorers. If the machinery noise suddenly stopped it would alert them to a dangerous situation, just as the sudden cutoff of a plane’s engine starts the adrenaline flowing immediately.
As he lay on his cot, though, Jamie heard another sound. A rhythmic sort of signing that came and went, started and stopped. A low whispering, almost like a soft moaning, so faint that Jamie at first thought it was his imagination. But itpersisted, a strange ghostly breathing just barely audible over the background chatter of the
Yes, he heard the whispered voice of his grandfather. But you’re here, on Mars, and the Anglo priest is not.
Jamie almost smiled, To his grandfather even a Jesuit from the Vatican was an Anglo. He was glad that he was here among the first explorers, yet that very emotion stirred a latent sense of guilt. He had won this privilege at the expense of other men’s pain. A true Navaho would fear retribution.
Vosnesensky pushed himself away from the table and stood up.
“Time for sleeping,” he said gruffly, as if expecting an argument. “Tomorrow we must be ready for the arrival of the second team. And before we sleep we must clean the suits and store them properly.”
No one argued, although Tony Reed muttered something that Jamie could not catch. They were all tired but they knew that the hard suits had to be properly maintained. Tomorrow’s schedule would be just as punishing as this first day’s. The tensions and hostilities that had grown during their nine-month flight had not evaporated simply because they had set foot on Mars. Maybe in the days to come, Jamie thought, when we’re busy working and we can roam around outside, maybe then things will change. Maybe then.
After vacuuming the dust off his hard suit and hanging it properly in the storage rack by the airlock, Jamie passed Ilona Malater’s quarters on his way to his own. The accordion-fold door to her cubicle was open. She was taping a tattered old photograph to the partition beside her bunk.
She noticed Jamie and said over her shoulder, “Come in for a moment.”
Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Jamie hesitated at her doorway.
Ilona whispered throatily, “I’m not going to seduce you red man. Not our first night on Mars.”
Jamie hung by the doorway, not knowing what to say.
“Would you like to see my family album?” Ilona asked, with a wicked smile.
There was only the one photograph taped up. Jamie stepped in closer and saw a tall, tired man in a dirty soldier’s uniform standing in a street choked with rubble, his hands raised over his head, half a dozen soldiers in a different uniform menacing him with submachine guns.
“That is my grandfather in 1956,” Ilona said, her voice suddenly louder, brittle. “In Budapest. Those are Russian soldiers. The Russians hanged my grandfather, eventually. His crime was to defend his country against them.”
“We’re on Mars now,” Jamie said softly.
“Yes. What of it?”
Jamie turned and left her cubicle without another word. Ilona would keep on deviling Vosnesensky, just as she had all during the long months of the flight here. She thought she had a reason to hate all Russians. All during the years of training she had cleverly hidden her hatred. And nursed it. Now it was coming out into the open. Now, when it might get us all killed.
We bring it all with us, Jamie said to himself. We come to a new world with words of peace and love, but we carry all the old fears and hatreds wherever we go
Feeling completely spent, Jamie tumbled onto his cot without bothering to undress. Nearly an hour later he lay still awake on the spindly cot in his cubicle, worrying about Ilona. The dome was dark now, but not silent. The metal and plastic creaked and groaned as the cold of the Martian night tightened its frigid grip. Pumps were chugging softly and air fans humming. The psychologists had decided that such noises would actually be comforting to the lonely explorers. If the machinery noise suddenly stopped it would alert them to a dangerous situation, just as the sudden cutoff of a plane’s engine starts the adrenaline flowing immediately.
As he lay on his cot, though, Jamie heard another sound. A rhythmic sort of signing that came and went, started and stopped. A low whispering, almost like a soft moaning, so faint that Jamie at first thought it was his imagination. But itpersisted, a strange ghostly breathing just barely audible over the background chatter of the
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