"I want to offer my personal congratulations to you all, and to assure you that this administration will do everything in its power to support the further exploration of Mars." She lowered her eyes modestly for a moment, but her voice remained sharp and strong as she added, "And if the people of this great nation choose me to lead them in the next administration, we will support continued missions to Mars as well as the economic development of cislunar space."

Connors huffed. "I wonder if she knows what cislunar means?"

"One of her aides does," Jamie said. "That’s good enough for now."

Brumado’s face came back on the screen, announcing that the President of the Soviet Federation would now say a few words.

The two-way radio buzzed. Jamie leaned between the two women, turned off the sound on the TV altogether, and flicked the answering switch.

"Li Chengdu here." The expedition commander’s voice issued thinly from the radio speaker. "I am afraid that there is a long line of politicians waiting to appear on television. It would be more useful if you prepared your vehicle to leave the valley rather than watching their orations. We will tape everything here so that you may see it when you have the time."

Jamie turned to glance at Connors, who nodded agreement. "Yessir," he said. "We’ll contact the dome when we’re ready to move."

"Very good."

Ilona got up slowly from the right-hand seat and straightened to her full height and stretched her back, catlike. "Call me if they get down to the Israeli prime minister."

Jamie laughed and reached for the switch to turn off the radio.

"One further question." Li’s voice froze them all. "What is the status of your physical condition?"

Glancing at their tired, wan faces, Jamie replied, "Whatever it is, we’ve all got it. Aches, weakness — it’s slowing us down."

"I have decided to send Dr. Yang down to the dome. She will arrive within a few hours to assist Dr. Reed. It is imperative that you return to the dome within forty-eight hours so that you may be given medical attention."

"But what is it?" Jamie asked. "What’s wrong with us all?"

For a long moment there was no sound from the radio speaker except the faint crackle of static. Finally Li said, "We do not yet know. But based on the rate of deterioration of your health, it is urgent that you reach the dome for treatment quickly. As quickly as you can."

Jamie started to ask what would happen if they couldn’t reach the dome in the next forty-eight hours. But he held his tongue. He did not really want to hear the answer.

WASHINGTON: The Vice-President’s smile disappeared the instant the last of the camera crew left.

It was unusual for the media corps to swarm into the Vice-President’s office, but this had been a very unusual day. A news conference from Mars. And that damned Indian had weaseled out of his end of the bargain.

She glared at the two aides who remained in the room. Her media secretary was at the little cabinet that served as a bar. Harvey Todd, her aide for science and technology, was fidgeting nervously as he slowly paced in front of the curtained windows. He’s got a lot to be nervous about, the Vice-President said to herself. She got up from the small sofa where she had dealt with the reporters and stalked to her desk. It was a tiny, delicately curved desk of gleaming dark rosewood, beautifully proportioned to the Vice-President’s own slight frame.

Her media secretary handed her a frosted glass of vodka citron as the Vice-President sat herself in the maroon swivel chair behind the desk.

The Vice-President took one small sip of her ice-cold drink, then said to Todd, "Well?"

He looked startled. He was the small, nervous type, his hair thinning despite the fact that he was barely into his thirties. He looked soft, but inwardly he was sharp as a razor; he carried degrees from Princeton in political science and management. His favorite author was Niccolo Machiavelli.

He swallowed hard and tried to smile. "I thought the conference went very well, didn’t you?" he asked the media secretary, a note of desperation in his voice.

She nodded but did not smile.

"That goddammed Indian never said a word about backing me," the Vice-President snarled. "I went out on the limb for him and he just talked about frigging Martians!"

"Well, he is a scientist…"

"Bullshit!"

The media secretary sat herself on the sofa that her boss had just vacated and crossed her legs primly. "We have his written statement," she said. "You can release it whenever you choose to."

"He should have said he was going to support me," the Vice-President insisted.

"I’m not sure that this particular hookup was the right time to make such an announcement," Todd said timidly, rubbing a forefinger across his round chin.

"What the hell did they teach you at Princeton?" the Vice-President fairly screamed. "What would be a better time, with the whole frigging world watching on TV? An endorsement from Mars, for god’s sake! What could make a bigger impression on the voters, you jelly-brained imbecile?"

The media secretary headed for the bar. Todd tried to return his boss’s angry stare but failed; he turned away and focused instead on the painting he had arranged to have hanging in the office: an original Bonestell starscape.

"I can think of a better time for him to announce his support," said the media secretary as she poured straight bourbon into a tumbler full of ice cubes.

"You can?"

"When they land back on Earth. Everybody will be watching that. And you won’t have to compete with Martians for the media’s attention, either."

The Vice-President’s angry expression softened into a thoughtful scowl. She sipped at her drink. Todd cast an utterly grateful look at the media secretary. She smiled at him and mouthed silently, You owe me one.

"What’d I tell you?" Connors puffed. "Light as feathers."

The astronaut and Jamie were shoveling away the red dust that had piled up against the rover’s side. Jamie thought that the stuff was so light they could engage the electric motors and the wheels would churn right through it. But Connors insisted that they take no chances, or at least as few as possible. So the two of them dug, despite their weariness, despite the pain that shot through their arms and legs, despite the growing nausea that was surging through Jamie’s gut in hot sickening waves.

The morning mist was almost entirely gone, merely a few wavering tendrils clinging to spots along the cliff wall where the sun did not reach. The cliffs themselves stood towering over them, immense rugged fortifications that blotted out half the sky and marched beyond the horizon both to their right and to their left.

The orange streaks of the lichen stood out sharper than ever against the red rocks. Jamie wondered if the lichen colonies on the ground had some method of shaking off the dust that now covered the canyon floor to a depth of several inches. We won’t be here long enough to see, he knew. And we don’t have a remote TV camera to set up here and watch them for us, dammit.

The dust billowed up as their shovels bit into it, rising in strangely soft, slow clouds that drifted dreamlike on the gentle wind wafting down the canyon. Jamie saw that Connors’s suit was covered with the rust-colored dust almost up to his armpits. He looked down and saw that his own blue suit was similarly splashed with rust.

"One good thing," Connors was panting, "about this stuff… It doesn’t… cling to your… visor."

Jamie nodded inside his helmet.

"On the moon… damned dust sticks… it… gets charged… with static… electricity."