Boundary 1: Boundary (43 page)

"Oh," Mayhew said, in a very small voice. Her pale, plump face was pink with embarrassment. "I've been very busy," she protested.

Hathaway shook his head. "Nobody thinks you're lazy, Jane." He glanced at A.J. "But in a lot of ways you're just like Wonderboy over here. You get so preoccupied with your work that you forget about everything else. Fortunately for him, A.J. developed good workout habits years ago, so he never slips too far. But you—"

He sighed. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Jane. Really, I don't. But I'm the commander of this expedition and I would simply be remiss in my duties if I let you go on this trip. I'm not too happy about sending Rich, to be honest, given his age. But we need a linguist and—being blunt again—he's in better physical condition than you are even though he's eighteen years older. He
does
stick to the exercise schedule."

Apparently not knowing where else to look, Mayhew gave her fellow linguist a look of appeal.

Skibow looked away for a moment. "I do wish you'd start exercising. I've begun worrying about your health myself. Not here, so much, in this low gravity. But once we get back . . ." His eyes came back to her, looking very warm. "I'd miss you, Jane. I really, really would."

After a moment, she smiled. "All right, then," she said. "I will."

Without looking away from Skibow, she said: "I withdraw my objection."

"Fine." Hathaway cocked an eye at Madeline. "Any further questions?"

She shook her head.

"Anybody?" The captain waited a moment and said, "Then let's get to it."

"Not to sound pessimistic and all, Ms. Fathom," Bruce said dryly, "but you do realize that no one's alive who's actually done a landing on Mars? Plenty of simulations and all, but believe you me, that's not the same thing."

"I do. I've also been doing the simulations. Since no one else has, I guess that makes me the copilot. God help us all. But you do have actual experience in reentry landings, Bruce, even though the atmosphere here is a lot thinner."

"Yes, I do. No, you don't." Irwin was looking at her very skeptically. "And why in God's name has a security specialist been practicing flying a spacecraft anyway?"

She grinned at him. "I like to learn new things. And I already know how to fly a plane."

He maintained the skeptical look.

"I do! Okay, a small one. And, uh, okay, not very well, I suppose. On the other hand—" She drew herself up stiffly. "Unlike you,
I've
never crashed any sort of aircraft, either."

Bruce snorted, and gave Joe a glance that was even more skeptical. "You've never been on a flight with our very own Typhoid Mary, either. Now you'll have your chance—don't say I didn't warn you."

"Hey!" Joe protested.

Irwin ignored him and went over to study the map spread across the table. "Where will we be landing?"

Helen pointed. "The base is located here, in the southern portion of the Valles Marineris named the Melas Chasma. If you look at this image"—she put up a photograph on the screen—"you can see that the Bemmie base is located about where this chevron-shaped white mark is, close to the edge of this secondary valley or canyon. There appear to be several flat areas not too far from it, well within range of the pressurized rover."

Bruce studied the image. "At first glance, you look to be right. But I'm going to go over it carefully with A.J., get him to do some models of the approach and all. We're going to have to do a powered landing at the end, since there's not enough atmosphere for a pure glide-and-land. May be able to set us down right close."

"I'll get cracking on those models for you, Bruce," A.J. said, standing up. "We've got a lot of work to do, and I still have to go over the reconfigurations for my Fairy Dust. I hadn't expected to be bringing any to Mars quite yet."

After A.J. left, Helen turned to the rest of them. "Jackie and Gupta are selecting the equipment to bring with us, Joe, but you need to make sure you're fully checked out on whatever's sent. You'll be our only engineer. Dr. Sakai, Dr. Skibow, please go over the equipment listings as they're generated and make sure we have everything we need."

Joe nodded. "The lander has quite a bit of capacity—fifty tons mass plus passengers—but the rover's going to eat up thirty-five of that. And I'd prefer that most of the equipment be able to fit into the rover's maximum carry of ten tons. We don't know how close Bruce will be able to land us or how far we'll have to carry stuff, and you can bet the excavation equipment will take a big bite out of that. Plus food, water, and all the other necessaries. So be selective about what you take, okay?"

Madeline was the only one not given an immediate task. After everyone else had left, leaving her alone on the bridge with Hathaway, she cocked her head at the captain.

"Tell me why, Ken. Do you
really
think there's much danger? I shouldn't think there would be, myself. The technology is all tested, we are all very well trained, and we've been operating here in space for months with no problems at all beyond piddly stuff."

He shrugged. "No, I don't. But who really knows? And
that's
why I want you there." He gazed for a moment at the entrance to the bridge, through which the others had recently departed. "Those are all fine and wonderful people, each in their own way. Jane Mayhew, too. But what they aren't—not one of them—are soldiers."

"Neither am I."

He gave her that dark-eyed stare. "Yes, you are, in the one criterion that matters the most. Danger is something you take for granted. Something you've trained for. Something you
expect.
Which they don't."

He looked up at the huge viewscreen, which now showed the great reddish orb of Mars. "Remember what it's named, Madeline. And remember that this planet destroyed more unmanned probes than all the other planets of the Solar System put together. They still make jokes about the Martian antispacecraft defense network. We'd be damned fools to assume that the first humans to land on the face of the god of war won't encounter any grief. And if they do, I want you down there. I'd go myself, but I can't."

She gazed up at the planet. It did look ominous, in point of fact. Mars always did.

"I understand. I'll leave you the codes before I go, Ken. In case something happens to me."

He turned his head to look at her. "You sure?"

"Yes. Three reasons. First, because I have to. It's possible, if you don't have the codes, that the program might malfunction and scramble all transmissions. It was designed by security freaks, don't forget. I don't really share that mind-set, but I understand it perfectly. 'When in doubt, suppress.'"

Ken's eyes widened a little. "Huh. I admit, I hadn't even thought of that."

"The second reason is that I trust you. If something happens to me, just continue monitoring the transmissions the way I have and use your own judgment as to what's okay to send and what isn't."

He nodded. Madeline was silent, for a while, her eyes never leaving Mars.

"And the third reason?"

"It will be an immense relief," she said quietly. "I'm
tired
of that burden."

She brought her eyes down and smiled suddenly. The full-bore Madeline smile that was hers alone.

"Instead, I got nothing to worry about except Martian monsters. For which—"

The fast set of katas she went through had Ken Hathaway howling within seconds.

"Take that, you nasty green thark!"

"SSTO
John Carter
ready for launch to Mars surface landing."

"All clear,
John Carter
. You may launch when ready, Bruce."

"Acknowledged. Stand by." Bruce Irwin looked into the screen showing his passengers. "Everyone ready? All strapped in? It'll be a couple of hours before we land, so get comfy."

"We're all ready, Bruce. Let's get this show on the road!"

"I didn't ask just you, A.J., now shut up. Everyone strapped in and ready?"

The others replied with various affirmatives.

"Right. I'll do my best, but it's a fair dinkum ride and no one's ever done this before. So it's probably going to get a mite bumpy, especially the last few minutes."

He switched back to the transmitter. "This is
John Carter
, launching in thirty seconds. Locks disengaged. Bay doors open."

Bay doors on the side of
Nike
's ring allowed
John Carter
to be launched by the simple expedient of using the ship's own rotation. The SSTO shuttle would slide along tracks until it reached the exit and then fly free. Once clear of
Nike
, Bruce would initiate a burn to set them in an orbital course for eventual deorbit and landing.

"Wheee!" A.J.'s voice came over the systems as he felt the slow, speeding, curved vibration of the shuttle's track-based launch. "Here we go, guys!"

He knew that Joe shared his excitement. It wasn't that there hadn't already been about a thousand wonders to appreciate, a million things to learn. But
this
was the real dream—the dream the accident had stolen from him, and that he'd been haunted with ever since they arrived: to set foot on the Red Planet itself.

"
John Carter
is now clear of
Nike
," Bruce stated. "Beginning orbital insertion for Melas Chasma landing site."

The orbital shift for this purpose wasn't huge, but had this been Earth they would have had to take considerably more time for the purpose—and probably used ion engines. However,
John Carter
could—barely—achieve single stage to orbit on Earth. Here, dealing with a gravity well only thirty-eight percent as powerful, it had deltavee to spare.

The rockets roared for a few seconds, pushing everyone into their seats with a force that felt immense. Glancing with concern at the telltales, A.J. saw to his surprise that it was only about two gravities.

"Damn, I'm out of shape," he heard himself say, his voice slightly strained. "I thought we were doing four or five g's there."

"It does feel out of whack, doesn't it?" Bruce commented. "That's what months of soft living in a third gravity do to you. Don't worry, though. I'm not planning on anything more than three all the way down."

"I practice in the high-g rotor every week." Madeline's voice was serene. "It feels just fine to me."

"Thank you, Ms. Jane Bond. The rest of us have things to do rather than working on our mah-velous looks."

"Her looks don't need any work. And she puts as much time in the med department as anyone else does on their job."

"You, my friend, are prejudiced."

"You really should exercise in the high-g area more, though," Helen said. "You've been slacking off lately, A.J."

He took a deep breath and prevented himself from an instinctively defensive retort by biting his lip. "Yeah, I know. But you guys have been keeping me awful busy, you know."

Conversations drifted rather like
John Carter
for a while, as the shuttle headed for a particular point in time and space. "Okay, mates, can the chatter," Bruce finally said, as the time approached. "I'm about to take us down, and I don't need any distractions."

A.J. clamped his mouth shut.

"
Nike
, this is
John Carter
, we are about to begin deorbit burn."

"This is
Nike
,
John Carter
. You are about to begin deorbit burn, we copy."

"Burn starting in five, four, three, two, one—"

Once more the rockets roared, vibrating the shuttle with the power of contained explosions. The great red planet began to swell.

"Return all your trays to the upright position, please. We're about to experience a spot of turbulence."

"Breathe, A.J.," Helen said quietly.

He suddenly realized that he actually had
not
been breathing, as though he'd hold his breath the entire way down. "Jesus. But, well, Helen, this . . ."

"I know."

A faint vibration tickled at the edges of the senses, then grew. A keening whine began. Suddenly, for the first time since they'd arrived in orbit, Mars seemed to be
down
instead of
up
or
over there
. The pink-red-orange-brown surface was starting to look like a landscape instead of a globe.

John Carter
was in the atmosphere now, its meteoric speed being slowed by friction that heated its outer shell, turning it to a glow which those on
Nike
could easily detect. Ionization cut out all exterior communications as the ship was briefly enveloped in a sheath of blazing fire.
John Carter
shuddered, Bruce preparing to take full control of the shuttle as they dropped to atmospheric speed.

THUNK
.

"What was that?"

"Bloody hell."

"I said, what was that?" Madeline repeated, with more urgency. Sitting in the copilot's seat, she could see the telltales rising on Bruce's suit.

"Left wing extension buggered. And I'm getting poor response in the rest. Joe, no offense, mate, but this is the last bloody reentry I'm doing with you on board." Bruce's voice was light, but an undercurrent of tension made his words serious.

"
Shimatta
," Dr. Sakai said, calm resignation in the Japanese curse.

"What caused it?"

"Sorry, no way to tell right now. Bad parts, heating got to one of the joints, micrometeor, gremlins, the much-feared Martian Anti-Spacecraft System, take your pick. I gotta get us down in one piece first, then we can bloody well worry about the whys."

"You'll do it," Joe said.

"Mate, I didn't do it last time. We punched out, remember?"

"Well . . ."

"There's no ejection pod in
this
bird, I remind you," Bruce continued relentlessly, as if he found some peculiar solace in contemplating the worst. "Parachutes are no use in atmosphere this thin. I've got to put her down somehow so she doesn't completely come apart on us."

A.J. finally forced himself to grasp that they were in a genuine crisis. By reflex, he brought up all of the sensors and tied in.

"Look, we have—
damn
. Yeah, you're losing controls, Bruce. I can feed you some more data, though.
Nike
, this is
John Carter
, we have an emergency situation here. Clear everyone out of the satellite feeds, we need all the info we can get now."