Mars

MARS ORBIT

It was damned annoying to be a sage.

Li Chengdu stared at the blank comm screen and still saw James Waterman’s stubborn face. An honest face, slightly square with broad cheekbones and just a hint of distant Asian ancestry in the shape of his eyes. Piercing black eyes that were an open pathway to the young man’s soul.

I should not have lost my temper with him, Li scolded himself. I was angry because he is down there on the planet and I am forced to ride in this celestial tin can without ever setting foot on Mars.

There was more to it than that, he knew. Russians, Americans, Japanese — nineteen different nationalities living cheek by jowl a hundred million kilometers from Earth. If there isn’t a mental breakdown before we return home I’ll be surprised beyond words. Not even the Japanese were meant to live this close together.

The engineers had anticipated all the physical problems of the Mars mission, but they had studiously ignored the worries of the psychologists. No, rather, they had passed over all those worries by ordering the psychologists to pick “well-balanced” personalities who could remain stable even under the pressure-cooker conditions of this mission. Li did not know whether he should laugh or weep. Remain stable under these conditions! How does a man remain stable when he is supposed to deny himself sex for nearly two years? This mission should have been planned by Polynesians, not Russians and Americans. The two most prudish peoples in the world.

And now this American Indian has his government upset with his foolish words. That is something none of us had planned for.

At least the crowding had eased now that half the ship’s complement had departed for the surface. Li leaned back in his softly yielding chair. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the ruddy curve of Mars float past in his compartment’s round window. The orbiting Mars 2 spacecraft was still tethered to its Mars 1 twin, five kilometres away, the two of them still rotating about their common center to maintain a feeling of Martian-level gravity. If it became necessary to send one of the backup personnel down to the surface, he or she could go instantly. They were all acclimated to the gravity of Mars.

Li was grateful that their long voyage had not required them to live in zero gravity for any length of time. He always became nauseous in zero gravity; even thinking of unending months of it made him feel queasy.

Sighing heavily, he pushed his chair away from the comm console and stood up, almost six and a half feet tall, lean as a broom handle. The tightly buttoned collar of his coveralls hid the old scar on his throat, a reminder of the riots during his student days in Shanghai. The only decoration on the olive drab outfit was his name tag on the left breast and the shoulder patch of the First Martian Expedition.

Silly of the Americans to be troubled over a few words, he thought. Yet they have never fully resolved their problems with the Indians. Li frowned. No, they did not call them “Indians” anymore. Native Americans? Amerinds? Words are important, he realized, especially in a nation ruled by its media.

As commander of the First Martian Expedition, Li Chengdu had both absolute power and absolute responsibility. Two dozen human beings were under his charge, their very lives in his hands. Half of them, the envied half, were down on the surface of Mars. Waterman was not the first choice among the geologists, not even the second. But the young man is down there on the surface of Mars; his Tao is so powerful that it shapes and transforms the paths of all others who come in touch with him, even my own.

Those of us remaining up here, coasting in orbit, secretly consider ourselves second-rate. There is important work for us to do here in orbit, but except for the few who are going to probe the tiny moons, the scientists here would gladly commit murder for the chance to replace any one of the men or women down on the planet’s surface.

I am being melodramatic, he sighed to himself. These are all adult human beings, the healthiest and most stable men and women who could be selected out of the thousands who sought positions on this expedition. The best of the best. They have their problems, naturally. We all face stresses and emotional tensions. It would be foolish to expect otherwise. My task is to reconcile these problems and make certain that they do not interfere with the performance of our mission.

But how healthy and stable was it for that American to speak Navaho to the world’s media? How healthy and stable is it for anyone to want to fly off to another world, risking one’s life for the thrill of setting foot where no one has stepped before?

Ah, said Li to himself, perhaps that is a form of madness that is divine. The human beast is an explorer, a wanderer, and always has been. Young Waterman’s ancestors would never have roamed from Asia to America if it were not thus.

Dealing with two dozen such wandering souls while simultaneously trying to keep their overseers back on Earth placated — that requires the patience of a Confucius, the intelligence of an Einstein, and the guile of a Machiavelli. I am none of them.

Yet as far as these young men and women are concerned, as far as the mission controllers in Kaliningrad and Houston are concerned, I am all of those things and more. And so I must continue to appear to them. If for no other reason than to protect them from their politicians back on Earth. Even when I really want to pursue that slender young blonde who is running the cartographic cameras. Such a tempting smile!

Li sighed heavily. Damned annoying being a sage.