Journey Between Worlds (17 page)

While our candle burned we opened the presents. There were thrilled gasps from Paul Junior, Tim, and Charlene, though they didn't have nearly as many packages as children usually do and they didn't have any illusions about Santa Claus. Even the adults found something exciting in exchanging gifts, something that's lacking, maybe, when all people do beforehand is to load up at a shopping mall.

The Conways gave me dress material, which I later learned Kathy had ordered for herself almost two years before and had only just received. From the Prestons there was a fabric-lined box to keep my beads in, as well as homemade candy; they had some for everyone, and I know it took a good share of their sugar ration. My gift from Dad I'd received earlier that morning: a small portrait of Mother that he'd carried in his wallet for many years.

Alex's gift was another book, well-worn and with underlining, since it was one of his favorites. (There are few actual books on Mars; normally people go to the library and download the electronic version.) “I hope this is a more suitable choice than the last one,” he told me, smiling. It was. It was Robert Frost's poems. When I got back to Earth, I vowed to myself, I'd send him a new copy no matter how much the shipping charges were!

Later that evening, when the candle had burned down to the last blob of wax and all the presents had been admired and ahhed over and put carefully aside, we decided to go to the Star Tower. Everyone went, even the children; a look at the stars was a rare treat for them. We walked all the way across the dome along the Champs-Elysées before going down into the subway, just because it seemed like a nice thing to do. It was odd not to have the air crisp and cool, though, on Christmas night.

“I have a suggestion for those fabulous new cities of yours,” I told Alex. “Turn the thermostat down once in a while! Seventy-two may be ‘ideal,' but it's tiresome.”

“It might be a good idea,” he agreed, “if we had warmer clothes. Not that I'll ever have anything to say about it.”

“You will have,” Alicia bantered. “When you're a city councilor or a governor or something.”

He turned fiery red. “Come on now, Alicia—”

It was the first time it occurred to me that Alex might have political ambitions, but when I stopped to consider it, I knew that it would be perfectly natural if he did have. Much as he might want to run his own business, it was quite obvious that he had the ability to go beyond that eventually; for Mars really was going to have new cities, and it would be people like Alex, who'd put their hearts and souls into the Colonies, who were going to be the leaders. Standoffish as I was with those I'd met through Dad, I could see that politics wasn't the same kind of game in New Terra as it usually is on Earth. Governor Matsumoto, for instance, wasn't a “politician” in the sense I'd always thought of one; he was the sort of man that people just naturally look up to. Like Alex would be, grown twenty or thirty years older.

The Star Tower was crowded; a lot of people had had the same idea we'd had. The place was full of noise and laughter and the exhilarating ring of recorded Christmas music. We didn't take a table but went right upstairs to the dome. It was unlighted except for a glow around the circumference, and above, spattered across blackness, were the stars.

I leaned back against Alex's shoulder and craned my neck to stare upward. We saw them as they were never seen through Earth's atmosphere, or in the
Susie,
either, when she was under spin. White and pure and unblinking, they shone like a thousand Christmas Stars at once. There was one that was much bigger and brighter than the others, though; a disk more than a point.

“What's that?” I asked. “Alex, I think it's moved since I've been watching!”

“That's Phobos.”

“The little moon, you mean—the one that goes around Mars in only seven hours or so?”

“Yes. Say, that's another thing you ought to do, Mel—go to Phobos. I'll have to see what I can arrange.”

“Don't you dare!” I protested, laughing. I was beginning to be wary of Alex's ideas about what might be good for me to do. “Can we see Earth?” I asked, to change the subject.

“No, not now, it's too close to the horizon. It's an evening star or a morning one, you know, because it's closer to the sun than we are.”

I gazed out at the glittering arc of the Milky Way. All those suns, less widely spaced near the center of the galaxy, and lots of them with planets—according to Alex, according to Paul, even, planets where humans will someday walk. Below in the restaurant, caroling had replaced the recorded music. “Hark! the herald angels sing, glory to the newborn King!” The volume increased as the singers came up the stairs. “Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth. . . .”
The sons of Earth,
I thought.
Even now, more than two thousand years and fifty million miles away from Bethlehem, we are all the sons and daughters of Earth. We always will be, no matter how far from it we go.

Alex reached for my hand and for a moment gripped it tight. “Mel—”

“Yes, Alex?”

“I—well, I—”

I turned to see his face, then quickly pulled my hand away and stepped back. He was not looking at me as if I were Alicia now.

“I'm sorry, Melinda,” Alex said. “It's nothing. No, maybe there is something. Look, are you getting married just as soon as you get back to Earth?”

“Married?” Somehow I hadn't thought much about it recently. “Yes, I guess so. Sometime during the summer, anyway.”

“That's definite?”

“Yes, it's what Ross and I have planned ever since our junior year.” And I must tell Dad, I resolved. Why hadn't I told Dad during all the time we'd been together? He wouldn't object, he'd be happy for me; and he must have guessed anyway, since I wouldn't date anyone else.

“Well, look,” Alex persisted, “if you were ever to change your mind or anything, you'd let me know, wouldn't you?”

“Let you know? But Alex, I'll only be here another three weeks.”
Three more Sundays,
I thought suddenly. “I'm not going to change my mind before that. That is, I'm not ever going to change it—oh, you know what I'm trying to say!”

“I know,” he said softly. “It's just that, well, I hope I'll hear from you to know you've made it safely back to Maple Beach and all, and—and I wouldn't want to send you a wedding present if you weren't getting married.”

Three more Sundays. Of course I could hardly wait to get back home, and yet it was impossible to believe that after three more Sundays I would never see the Prestons or the Conways again. I would never see Alex again. What would it be like to look at this red planet from my window at Maple Beach, and imagine all of them still living on it?

 

 

Those three weeks went even faster than the three before my final exams, I think. I was nearing the end. There was no need to be homesick so near the end. I could even relax a little, the way Alex was always telling me to, and not bother to worry over anything. And maybe that's why I gave in at the very last minute and went Outside.

Dad and I were going home on the
Susan Constant,
which had made a round trip while we had been on Mars, although several other ships had arrived during our stay. And, by the same alphabetical scheme that had put us on the first trip down when we arrived, we were assigned to go up on the first scheduled shuttle.

It takes more than a day to load a departing liner because Mars has only a few shuttles. That means that the first people to board have to leave a day early, and we were going on a Saturday morning. A few days before, during our last dinner at the Prestons, Alex said to me casually, “It's a pity you aren't going to be here Saturday, Mel. Alicia has to go Outside to finish a school project, and I promised to take her. It would be the ideal opportunity for you.”

“Ideal from whose point of view?” I said lightly, though I knew perfectly well what he meant.

“Mel,” Alex insisted, “you'll be sorry when you get home. Your friends will ask you what Mars looks like, and you won't be able to tell them.”

“That's not why you want me to go.”

“Maybe it isn't. But it will be fun, Mel. Remember how I had to talk you into trying zero-g, that first week on
Susie
?”

I did remember, and I remembered that he had been right. I also remembered that if he went Outside on Saturday morning, he wouldn't be able to see us off at the spaceport. And surely nothing could happen to me on my last day! Feeling very reckless, I said, “All right. If we can change our shuttle reservations, I'll go with you.” That put it nicely into the hands of fate, I thought.

Changing our shuttle reservations proved to be easier said than done, however; lots of people had reasons for wanting an extra few hours on Mars. There was only one seat left on a flight late enough to do me any good. Dad said, “Take it, Mel. I'll keep to the original plan and meet you on board
Susie.
”

Early Saturday morning, after we checked out of the hotel, I kissed him good-bye at the monorail station on my way to the airlock to meet Alex and Alicia. We stood talking for a few minutes, waiting for the train to arrive. “When is the firm going to open its office here?” I asked him.

“In a year or so. These things take time to arrange, but I've done all the groundwork. There's no question about its being both feasible and desirable. That's what I've said in my final report, the one I transmitted yesterday.”

“Dad—do you want to head up that office?” I finally came right out with the thing that had loomed in my mind for some time as a distinct possibility.

“It's not a question of my wanting to. They will choose someone younger, Mel. You can't turn back time, and my time for pioneering is long gone.” He smiled at me. “It's not a thing to feel sad about, honey. I've been offered a vice presidency! And when it comes to Mars, I can contribute more back on Earth just by my influence.”

The train was ready to board. Though we were only going to be separated for a few hours, I hugged him tight. Just before he stepped into the car, Dad turned back to me. “Has it been as big a thrill for you as it has been for me? Mel, honey, have you enjoyed being on Mars?”

I knew what he wanted me to say. “Of course I have, Dad,” I told him. “I'm awfully glad I came.”

The last, at least, was true.

The seasons aren't noticeable in New Terra, but Mars has them: spring, when the frost of the polar cap melts, sending rivulets of moisture down the arid rills; summer, when the usual drought returns, and dust storms often haze the otherwise cloudless sky; fall, which is summer only more so; and winter, which is similar but colder. Not that even summer is warm, but in winter the temperature is always far, far below freezing.

The day we went Outside was a glorious late summer one, without a dust cloud in sight. People can walk around on the surface of Mars in pressure suits, but I drew the line there! We went out in a pressurized groundcar that was rented by the hour. There is a complicated ritual for checking equipment and emergency supplies; Alex went through it matter-of-factly with the airlock attendant while I tried not to watch. Then we got in and Alex checked the seals on the car door while the attendant closed the inner door of the lock. Soon a low, nerve-jarring whine started; they were pumping the air out. I pressed my lips together, sorry that I wasn't on the shuttle with Dad.

“Relax,” Alex told me firmly. “You're holding your breath! You aren't going to feel anything.” And we didn't; when the lock pressure was low enough, the outer door simply opened, and we drove out onto a well-worn track in the red sand.

Alicia's school project involved photographing the city from the outside for a classroom display. She thought it a fine assignment; they had literally drawn them out of a hat and most of the class was stuck with things that could be done inside the domes. I was merely thankful that she hadn't drawn rock collecting, for which we would have had to use suits.

We headed in the direction of a ridge a little way off where Alex thought we would get a good view. There was no danger of getting lost, since we would never be out of sight of the domes, but we had to stay in radio contact anyway; it's a requirement that groundcars be tuned in to the Ground Control frequency at all times.

“Think of all that virgin territory out there,” Alex said, pointing off in the distance. “Most of it's never been seen, let alone driven through.”

“Never seen!” I asked. “After all the years the Colony's been here?”

“The part within range of these groundcars has been covered fairly thoroughly,” he told me. “But since the atmosphere won't support aircraft, there's no way to go any farther except in one of the shuttles, and that's an awkward business. A shuttle can only make spot landings, and it can't be gone when there's a ship in port.”

“The terrain's been photographed from orbit, though,” Alicia said.

“Yes, and from the research station on Phobos, but that's not the same thing as surface exploration. Mars has about the same land area as Earth, allowing for Earth's oceans, and it will take a long time to explore it all.”

He swung the car around so that we would get a good close-up of the domes and stopped. “There, Alicia. Try it from here.” She knelt on the seat and pressed her camera close to the window to snap the first shot.

“Can I download a copy to keep before I leave, Alicia?” I asked.

“Sure, Mel.”

“I want one, too.” Alex said. “But I want to take my own.” She nodded and handed the camera over to him. But it wasn't at the view that Alex pointed it, nor was it at his sister. I might have fixed my hair better, if I had known beforehand.