'Piss off. Not
a relation of Armour Dillow?'
'If by that,'
said Dillow, 'you mean Space Security Commander Lance Dillow, I'm
his daughter.'
Misty laughed.
'I should take a picture of you carrying conc hooch for his
records. Come on. Let's go have a feed.'
Cragg and
Dillow followed Misty down the ramp to the eight-wheeled buggy,
putting the hooch on the back seat. The monster pod lifter was
waiting to unload the freight pods off the cradle. High up in the
lifter's cab, the operator could just be made out. 'Scotty. That
you?'
'Hi, Craggy.
All the pod locks off?'
'You got green
lights?'
'Nope.'
'Then the locks
are on. When do you want to unload?'
'The pod
carrier is delayed at the mine,' said Scotty. 'We'll be moving
these pods tomorrow.'
'We'll come
back and work with you tomorrow, then.'
Leaving Scotty to organise the unloading
of the four pods for the following day, Cragg got in the front seat
of the buggy, and sat next to Misty. It was a short drive through
the red oxide sand to Base Three. Misty worked the airlock doors
with the control panel and entered the base. She parked up and they
took off their helmets. Cragg grabbed Misty and planted a kiss on
her lips.
'Gross,' said
Dillow.
'Ignore her,'
said Cragg. 'Her generation seems to think anybody older than
eighty shouldn't have a love life.'
'Hey,' said
Misty. 'Who are you calling eighty? I'm seventy three, if you must
know.'
'Sweetheart. I
know you're seventy three. You've been telling me that for the last
ten years. Any chance of a feed and a beer?'
'Beer?' said
Dillow.
'The Martian
equivalent. An acquired taste,' said Misty. 'She's a bit up
herself, Craggy.'
'Tell me about
it. Try months of being stuck in a can with her. Forget the bloody
beer. I need a serious drink.'
A big voice from a big man burst out.
'Hey. Craggy. I thought there was a bad smell in here.'
'Frosty. Try
cleaning your teeth. It might go away.'
The big black
man hugged Cragg, lifting him off the ground. Cragg said, 'Tell me
you have my cigars or I'll kiss you.'
'The very best
for you, Craggy. We had a bumper crop.'
'Good. I have
customers on Moon lining up for them.'
Dillow
shuddered. 'Cigars? Don't you realise that's another death penalty
offence.'
Cragg laughed.
'It is? Then it's a good job they can only kill me once.'
Dillow looked
anything but amused. 'Do I really have to remind you that the
growing of any plant for anything other than food is strictly
prohibited?'
Cragg and
Frosty shared a look. Cragg said, 'Spoken like a true daughter of
the security commander. So what's wrong with cigars? They're made
from vitamin T. Tobacco.'
Frosty laughed.
'Craggy. How long have you been sober?'
'Three very
long months. It got so bad at one stage, I was tempted to drink the
conc. If I don't get shit-faced tonight, I'm going home.'
'I think we can
manage that. This way, my friend.'
As the two men
walked off, Misty had a word with Dillow. 'A friendly word of
advice. Pull your head in, sister. People might actually like you,
if you do.'
'I will. So
it's true. What happens on Mars, stays on Mars.'
Misty grinned.
'Hang on to that. It'll make for a pleasant stay. Come and get a
decent feed.'
The Mars Base
Three was a fully contained ecosystem. One thousand metres by five
hundred metres, one hundred metres in height at the highest centre
point. One half was generally referred to as “the jungle”, where
lush green foliage, trees and flowers provided the oxygen and much
of the fruit, not to mention tobacco for home consumption and black
market trading with Moon.
Biodegradable
waste was recycled and composted, worms brought in a decade earlier
from Mother Earth, aerated it and the compost fed the jungle. A
wallowing pool was surrounded by trees, for recreational use. There
was accommodation for up to seven hundred and ninety men and
women.
Water from deep
bore wells entered Base Two, the water treatment plant, to be
filtered and sanitised. It took a lot of effort to run the deep
drawn water through the massive banks of neutralisers and filters.
The hydroponic garden and fish farm were also in Base Two. All
power to run the colony came from solar panels, and a half million
litre storage tank of water was always kept in reserve.
Base One was
for vehicles and heavy duty equipment storage and maintenance. Air
for Bases One and Two was piped in from Base Three. It was a small
settlement of hard working people, the pioneers of colonisation of
the planet, intended to be the saviour of the human race when the
blue planet finally died.
On one wall of
the Base Three communal dining room was a slide show of changing
images of people showing a fresh one every ten minutes. Frost had
been called away on work duties so Cragg was spending time getting
up to date with them. Mars Base Commander Tagg Potts had finally
made an appearance and he hadn't wasted a minute sampling the
alcohol, conc diluted by one hundred to one, to give the desired
forty proof strength. He passed out drinks on the rocks to Cragg,
Misty Rivers and Fawn Dillow.
Dillow was
naturally shocked that the Mars Commander, the man in charge of the
planet, was casually drinking booze, one of the most serious
offences on Moon that at least would get him a prison sentence, or
possibly even the death penalty. That she couldn't recall a time
that had actually happened was a testimony to strict laws which
worked. Revelations of an underground black market in all things
illegal shook the very foundations of her sheltered life.
Potts had an
American heritage. His family was from a place once known as New
York. The hydrogen wars had left it a desolate and empty reminder
of how humans had once been masters of their environment, the
crumbling towers wrecked and filling what had been busy, vibrant
city streets.
Too many dead
had been left by the survivors to crumble like the buildings, not
even scavengers around to help clear up the remains. Time and the
elements had eventually done the job and their dust had combined
with the city dust, fittingly becoming one with it. Any sadness and
bitterness Potts felt were buried deep and he had dedicated himself
tirelessly to creating a safe place to live.
'Save some
booze for Frosty when he clocks off,' said Cragg.
'I'm sure we
won't drink it all tonight,' said Potts. 'Fawn. You don't have to
drink it, if you don't want to.'
Dillow sniffed
it, then cautiously sipped it. 'Jeez. That would strip paint.'
Potts laughed.
'Just never accidentally drink the conc. Not unless you're tired of
living. That's why there are skull and crossbones on the labels.
How's yours, Craggy?'
'Hitting the
spot, Pottsy. Who is this guy?' he asked, nodding at an unfamiliar
face on the slide show.
'Ah. Joe Dogg,
One of the foremen on the mining gang. Died in an accident four
months ago.'
'Mine
collapse?'
'Not this time.
A hydraulic hose burst under pressure. It whipped back and smashed
his visor. Not a nice way to go on this planet. Remember this guy?
Andrew Foreman, the GenMop man?'*
'Him?'
'That's the
one.'
'He died?'
'No. This is
just to make sure he's not forgotten here.'
'He's only a
couple of years older than I am,' said Cragg. 'I wonder what he's
up to these days?'
'The last I
heard he's on Earth still looking after genetically modified
primates, the GenMops and other animals, what few are left. He
still has Monkly the GenMop's offspring with him. Hardly any of the
wildlife primates survived the wars, but the GenMop's in the
laboratories survived, and such rare creatures are sources of
wonder. He does okay, I heard. There's talk of him paying a visit
here one day.'
'Fantastic.
Still active at his age. He's like me. Got years of useful work in
us. Ninety is the new middle age.'
Misty said,
'Craggy. Let it go. Retire gracefully.'
'Easy for a
youngster like you to say, Misty.'
'Hardly a
youngster. But I do feel ancient next to this lovely young
woman.'
Dillow guessed
Misty's age to be about the same as Cragg's, but she had worn much
better. Misty, working with Marcia Potts, Tagg's wife, was in
charge of supplies to keep the people fed, clothed and provided
with the basic comforts of life. On a world so underdeveloped, that
was a challenging occupation, and having seen troubled times on
Earth looming, they had begged, bartered and traded anything and
everything they could lay her hands on from there, and had built up
a significant inventory.
This had been a
blessing others had often dismissed, but when Misty's and Marcia's
prophecies of harder times to come finally arrived and their
foresight had made everyone's life more bearable.
Misty was kept
slim by the largely vegetarian diet supplemented by the farmed
fish, and the energetic way she applied herself to her work and
everything else. Dillow could imagine Misty being a stunner fifty
years ago. Her light brown eyes shone with affection whenever she
looked at Cragg.
Misty asked,
'Are you excited about your first visit to Mars?'
Dillow said, 'I
suppose so. I'm keen to see the technology used here, before I make
the return trip.'
'No poetry in
her soul,' said Craggy. 'Hopefully a condition she'll grow out of
in time.'
'She'll be just
fine,' said Misty. 'Fancy a dip in the pool, everyone?'
'I never
thought to bring a swimming costume,' said Dillow.
'No problem,'
said Cragg. 'It's traditional we skinny dip in here.'
Potts laughed
at Dillow's face as her chin dropped, horrified at the idea of
sharing a pool with three naked wrinklies. 'Relax, Fawn. Craggy's
just yanking your chain. We have plenty of spares. Come on.'
After changing,
Potts led the way from the restroom, across the sealed road that
divided the accommodation from the jungle. There were several well
worn and tended paths through the jungle and they followed one to
the wallowing pool.
They passed a
small crop of marijuana that was cultivated for “scientific
experiments” and could be obtained in small doses. Alcohol was a
rudimentary beer from root crops, and wine made from various
fruits. The illegal concentrate on Moon was brought in by Cragg and
used to trade other things.
Smoking,
illegal on Moon, was allowed on Mars. Not condoned or encouraged,
but not frowned upon, either. But there was a special fireproof
room where smokers could relax and indulge, their smoke extracted
and vented outside so as not to mix with the regular air.
It wasn't a
defiance of Moon's draconian ways. Not really. It was in some ways,
a simple compensation for the harsh conditions of working on Mars.
People were treated like human beings, not machines. Twelve hour
days in space suits working the mines and a hundred and one other
outside duties, was a telling way to make a living. The dope and
booze provided a vital release of tension.
Abuse was
strictly controlled by the security officers, and anyone guilty of
either missing work duties, being intoxicated on the job or
disturbing the peace spent forty eight hours in a solitary cell,
and fined a months salary. They usually got the message after
that.
True, the
prison sentence for life and the death penalty still existed on
Moon, but it was a hangover from the very early years, when booze
was smuggled in with deliveries from Earth. A few incidents
involving heavy equipment and people dying had meant serious
measures had to be taken. A fire in a workers quarters had resulted
in two deaths and serious injury to three others and damage to
vital equipment.
One smuggler
had been found guilty of causing the death of three men by
supplying hard liquor to a construction gang. As an example to
others, he was sentenced to death. He was driven to the other side
of the moon and abandoned, left to walk alone until his air ran
out. He was the only one to suffer such an end, but the law still
stood and was enough of a deterrent to at least keep illegal
smoking and drinking in check.
By the pool was
a well made wooden bench. It had a brass plate on it which stated,
“
This bench is in recognition of Andrew Foreman. GenMop trainer.
Mars Base pioneer from 2069-2074
.” They settled in the pool,
and let the warm water wash over them. They had only just got in
when a warning bell rang for five seconds.
'An emergency?'
Dillow asked, ready to dive out of the pool.
'Relax,' said
Misty. 'That's the twelve hour shift change. It goes off one hour
before the actual change of shift. You two are on a week's vacation
until you are due to go back to Earth.'
Dillow eased
her body in the pool, determined to relax and enjoy whatever Mars
had to offer. 'I think I can handle that. Cheers.'
Cragg had been
impressed with the change in Dillow. She was no longer trying to
act cool and professional to impress him with a view to him giving
her her tickets to qualify her as a freighter captain. Out of
uniform, she literally let her hair down, and even wore a little
make up.
'Sleep well,'
asked Cragg, pouring them both a syncoff. He was sharing a table
with Misty.
'Fantastic. I
think it's having twice the gravity of Moon that's done it. The
extra effort to move about must have tired me out.'
Cragg chuckled.
'Or the booze you got through before you staggered off to bed.'