CHAPTER 1
	SPIN
	
	Mars Habitat
	Mars Year 0, Day 1, 3:50am
	(November 21, 12:16pm)
	
	As Anna floated through the cloudless blue sky, time lost all meaning.  Warm updrafts helped her soar to new heights.  All that existed was the warmth above, the lush landscape below, and the gentle breezes between.
	With a sudden rush, she swooped down to the garden below, where other bees were playing little games.  Anna joined them as they hid behind bushes and chased each other through groves of spindly trees.  Bathed in tranquil sunlight, she enjoyed the lazy summer day to its fullest.
	Becoming aware of the fragrent flowers in her dream, she quickly lost interest in the other bees.  Tantalizing scents drew her ever closer to the ground.  Drunk with heady aromas, she landed on a particularly large sunflower and was surprised when it collapsed under her weight.  She fell clumsily.
	As she touched the soil beneath, she regained her human form.  Her delicate wings were gone.  Immediately, she mourned her loss, longing to return to the sky to soar, dance, and play with her friends.  But she could never return.  She was human now.  Heavy, naked, and alone.
	The other bees noticed her transformation.  Their peaceful droning turned deeper and more menacing.  They had been infiltrated by an outsider, and they weren't happy to see her true form revealed.
	With frenzied movements, the swarm grouped and held council.  Anna's fate was being decided, and she was powerless to affect the outcome.  Fearing a guilty verdict, she slowly backed away.  After a few steps, she turned and ran as fast as her human legs could carry her.  Now more than ever, she longed for the freedom that her wings had given her.
	The bees pursued.
	Gone was the tranquil sunlight, blotted out by ominous storm clouds.  Day instantly morphed into twilight, and bitter cold replaced warmth.  Stiff winds bent the trees all about her, yet Anna could feel nothing, and the trailing bees were unhindered.
	A dark chasm loomed ahead.  From her vantage point, she couldn't tell if it was a five foot gully or a five hundred foot cliff.  The swarm behind left little choice.  Her best hope of survival was to proceed onward.
	Buzzing filled her ears, but she resisted the urge to look back.  Her leg muscles burned as she sprinted the final yards and launched herself into the abyss.
	Fortunately, the gully turned out to be of the shallow, five foot variety, so her flight was a short one.  She hit the bottom and rolled in the mud, coming back onto her feet in a graceful, effortless maneuver, never breaking stride.  Her human reflexes had returned.  Years of gymnastic training during her childhood had allowed her to accomplish this acrobatic maneuver by instinct.
	The swarm was not impressed, nor was it inconvenienced by the gully.  It closed in on her from behind.
	The other rim of the gully was a gentle, muddy incline.  Ooze clamped around her ankles, sucking her feet down and causing her to lose precious seconds as she clambered to reach the top.
	A sharp pain in her left shoulder told her that the first bee had reached its objective.  More would surely follow.
	Beyond the gully was a barren plain.  A shiny, modern trailer was parked a few steps to her right.  Its open door invited her to rest inside.  At last, she had found a place of refuge.
	Now that her desperate dash had a goal, the final yards seemed like miles.  Jagged rocks hindered her progress, tearing at her vulnerable feet.  As she reached the trailer, she felt three more bee stings on her back.  Driven by the pain, she leaped inside and slammed the door shut.
	The sturdy trailer had no windows or cracks to let in sunlight or bees.  The interior was pitch black, but Anna didn't care.  She was protected by a solid, impenetrable shell.  That was all that mattered.
	Buzzing filled the air outside, louder than ever.  Bees began to pummel the trailer like hailstones, but they couldn't reach her now.  She turned her back upon the sturdy door and slumped to the floor against it, her weary legs collapsing, her sigh of relief long and luxurious.  She was safe.
	After a few moments of rest, she became aware of new dangers.  Her bee stings had already swollen into throbbing masses of agony, and she could feel their venom in her blood.
	Where is my portable medical kit?
	Of course it wasn't here.
	She tried rising to her feet, but nausea forced her back onto the icy floor.  She shivered, cold, so cold.
	The bees continued their assault on the trailer.  They pounded at the sides, the roof, even the underside of the floor.  An eternity passed, and the pounding became infrequent.  The swarm hypnotized her with its buzzing, and she became aware of another sound, a barely audible, wheezing noise.  Repeating steadily, it slowly gained in volume, as if its unknown source was moving closer.
	When she recognized the sound for what it was, shallow, raspy breathing, a new stab of fear pierced her even worse than before.  She knew with dead certainty that she was not alone in the trailer.
	Was this newcomer a human or an animal?  A friend or a foe?
	She had no friends here.
	From the darkness, a voice whispered,  "You should not be here."
	She recognized the voice but couldn't place it.  The familiarity, if anything, exaggerated her raw sense of danger.  She desperately wanted to escape, but she couldn't move.  Her whole body was paralyzed by fear.  She couldn't even close her eyes.
	The buzzing of the bees grew louder, intermittent, and more demanding.  They were calling to her.  They were almost inside her head.
	Mercifully, a tenuous thread of consciousness wrapped itself around her and began to pull her up from the depths of her nightmare.  Anna slowly realized that her terrors were only minions of the subconscious world.
	Then the thread broke, leaving her trapped in that soft place between dreams and reality.  Cold darkness continued to smother her.  In an effort to protect herself from the perceived threats around her, she curled herself into a tight ball of fragile humanity.
	Her mind continued its upward struggle toward greater levels of consciousness, assisted by the buzzing of the alarm in her ear.  She had never been a bee, but she was flying faster than any bee could ever imagine, soaring higher than the warmest draft of air.
	The trailer was also an illusion.  In reality, her refuge was a tiny space capsule, traveling five kilometers farther away from the Earth every second.  She was a human bullet, speeding through a vast void toward an impossibly distant target.
	The planet Mars.
	She began to wonder about other things.
	Why was I sleeping on the floor?
	Pondering this simple question provided her with another lifeline, a faster escape from her unpleasant dream world.  She recalled yesterday's exciting launch activities, multiple rocket boosts, and breathtaking views of the receding Earth.  Later, she had retired to her cabin, hindered by near weightlessness.  That was all she could remember.
	She must have fallen asleep before hooking the zero-G safety netting around herself.  At least the blanket on her bed was slightly crumpled.  Hopefully, she had slept under it for part of the evening.  Like most of the clothing in her wardrobe closet, the blanket was infused with Demron-4, a material that partially blocked several types of low energy radiation.  She reached over, grabbed the blanket, and pulled it tightly around herself.
	Gravity now anchored her firmly to the floor.  Gravity was a comfort.  It was good, it was normal, it was her best friend.  But wait!  It wasn't normal at all.  Something was wrong - it's grip was far too weak.
	Ah, yes.  Mars gravity:  38% of Earth-normal gravity.
	The presence of simulated Mars gravity reassured her struggling mind that the next steps of their flight plan were complete.  The ship had probably reached its peak velocity of five kilometers per second, relative to Earth, over four hours ago.  At that time, the mission plan called for separating their empty fuel tanks from the life support habitat.  A spider's web of tethers, hundreds of meters in length, would maintain a firm connection.  Thrusters on the habitat would set the configuration spinning.
	Mathematics and physics were not her strongest subjects, yet she could readily appreciate the results of the engineers' centrifugal force calculations.  She and the other two crew members would live and work in a comfortable, simulated Mars gravity for the remainder of their six month journey.
		The last few hours must have been tense ones for her fellow travelers, even though both were skilled engineers who had practiced the spin-up procedures thoroughly ahead of time.  In reality, those maneuvers had been performed only once before, on an unmanned test vehicle.
	Since Anna was a biologist, EMT, and a hastily trained doctor, she would have been worse than useless to the engineers.  She probably would have gotten in their way and increased their stress level by worrying over every little sound and vibration.  For those reasons and more, she had slept while the others worked.  If they had needed a doctor, which was very unlikely, they would have awakened her.
	So all was well in her new world... except that her sleeping quarters had an overpowering new car smell, and she kept hearing a light buzzing noise in her ear.
	The alarm ... they ARE trying to wake me up.
	She lurched to her knees and reached for her cabin's computer console, with its adjustable plastic display and micro camera for two-way video communication.  Just in time, she recalled her current state of disrobement and disarray.  Video would be a bad thing right now.
	Fortunately, the tiny receiver in her ear also contained an audio transmitter and microphone.  Touching the device activated it, and the buzzing stopped immediately.  With her finger in her ear, she whispered, "I'm here."
	The microphone should amplify her voice adequately.  By whispering, she hoped to avoid waking up Evelyn Day, the commander.  If Evelyn was following her schedule to the letter, she should now be asleep in her cabin on the deck below.
	Waking up the commander on the first night of their voyage would not be a very smart thing to do.  Anna couldn't hear any noise from the other parts of the ship, but she didn't want to take any chances.  The floor beneath her was made of a light-weight, plastic composite that conducted sound a bit too well.
	While Anna's mattress was located near the floor, the mattress in Evelyn's cabin on the deck below was close to the ceiling.  This arrangement made for poor acoustics, but it minimized the crew's exposure to radiation while they slept.  The volume of the two sleeping areas was surrounded on five sides by several feet of radiation-blocking food and water supplies.
	If Evelyn was asleep as planned, then her caller had to be Dr Oliver Randall, the primary geologist and backup engineer.  Sure enough, Ollie responded immediately, in his thin English accent.
	"Good morning, Anna!"
	Startled, she realized that his voice had been in her dream.  It was the menacing voice from the darkness.
	Oh, great, my next psych session with Kahuna is going to last for twenty years.  I'll be old and gray before she is through with me.
	"Sorry to page you," continued Ollie, oblivious to Anna's distress.  "It's time for your shift to begin.  So get your cute bum up here.  I need some sleep."
	Though she wasn't feeling very social yet, Anna couldn't pass up the opportunity for an easy comeback.  "Why, Grandpa Ollie, was that a compliment that I just heard?  I might start to think you really do notice my anatomy.  You're ruining your reputation."  Risque jokes and innuendos had always been safe around Ollie, due to his sexual orientation.
	"Oh, I notice many things," he said.  "Like I notice that Mission Support has sent you some wake-up music to hurry you along.  It's a nice choice, too.  Someone back on Earth must be proud of you."
	"OK, please put it on my ear receiver.  I'll be up in a minute.  Cheers."
	Trying to be as quiet as a mouse, yet also trying not to think about the dreadful possibility of mice living on spaceships, quiet or otherwise, she released the clasp on her wardrobe closet, removed a shirt and shorts, and dressed to the muted sounds of regal music.  Back in the 19th century, this beautiful German march had been reserved for the Kaiser.  The music from her homeland didn't match her mood, however, so she turned the volume down further.
	She wanted to look her best today because her schedule included several video sessions with the news media in America, Brazil, Australia, and Russia.  Later, as daylight spread to that part of the Earth, she expected to talk to the media in her native country and elsewhere in the European Union.
	Satisfied with her attire, she retrieved one of her two wigs from the closet and fretted over the shoulder-length blond locks.  The hairpiece had the same look and texture of her natural hair, which had been sacrificed to the barber shears before their final quarantine period prior to liftoff.  Unfortunately, her ends tended to curl up in a familiar, but annoying manner.
	With a whimsical chuckle, she wondered what would happen if she showed up for the media sessions without wearing her hairpiece.  Doing so would certainly cause quite a stir back on Earth.  Her primary audience of love-struck teenage boys would probably never recover from the shock.
	On the other hand, appearing hairless on television would certainly be more honest.  It might also steer the discussion toward some important issues, like water conservation.  At some point in the dialogue, she could point out that their water supply was very minimal during the outward voyage.  People might understand that she and her fellow crewmates would rather be drinking their water allocation than using it to wash their hair.  Or they might not understand at all.
	In her mind, she started to rehearse her script.
	Mention that we intend to find plenty of frozen groundwater a few dozen meters beneath the surface of Mars.
	On second thought, perhaps it's best not to say too much about our expectations and assumptions.  Reality often has a way of interfering with the best of plans.  Don't openly tempt Murphy's Law.
	If the groundwater under the surface was unreachable or unusable for some reason, they would have to ration and recycle every drop throughout the entire mission.  That was not a pleasant prospect.
	While the playful side of Anna still toyed with the idea of going wigless, her practical side refused to even consider the possibility.  She was a media personality now, and she had certain obligations.  One of those obligations was to be careful about her physical appearance, as much as it might irritate her to do so.  Her appearance was a powerful ally in promoting her message.
	Minimizing her femininity had always seemed easier and more sensible to her than spending hours tediously painting, combing, and primping.  She inspected her 26-year-old face, with its striking features and clear complexion.  Her long deceased mother had never used any makeup, so neither did Anna.  Even the thought of being seen on television by a billion people wasn't enough to change her mind.  Knowing ahead of time that she might be tempted, she didn't bring any cosmetics.
	But wait, did she see a wrinkle in the mirror?  No, it was just a trick of the dim light.  Someday, as her youthful appearance transitioned into middle age, her aversion to cosmetics might change... or perhaps she would die on Mars, wearing the face that God gave her.
	She looked around the cabin, checking that everything was tidy and clean.  Ollie was a neat freak, and he would soon be sleeping here.  Having her own personal quarters during the transit to Mars would have been a great comfort, but the habitat was just too small.  She mentally marked off one day, the first of a hundred and eighty days that they would share the cabin, plus a few extra days once they reached Mars.  They would need time to rearrange enough supplies so Ollie could occupy the third sleeping cabin.
	With a sigh, she flipped down Ollie's sleep pad.  At least they wouldn't be sharing the same mattress.
	Finally ready to interact with the world, she left her cabin and reached for the ladder that connected the three levels of the ship.  She called, "Up ladder!" as loudly as she dared before ascending to the upper level, an open crew lounge and kitchen.  The rest of her day would probably be spent on this level because the crew lounge also served as their primary media and operations center.
	The new car smell wasn't as strong on the upper level of the habitat, and she quickly forgot about it.  Light music was playing in the background, a delicate piano piece by Chopin, she reckoned.
	She found Ollie sitting on an inflatable chair near the middle of the round room, with his back to the kitchen area.  He greeted her again, easing her fears by adding, "All is well.  We fixed a few problems last night, but nothing serious.  I'm just finishing up my logbook entries now."
	Then he returned his attention to the huge OLED computer display, which occupied most of the wall space in the lounge.  The display contained nearly a billion organic diodes embedded in a flexible plastic polymer that snugly fit the rounded contours of the outer wall.
	During their early training, Anna was always a bit uncomfortable using the main computer.  After some practice, however, she had learned to tolerate the powerful system, as well as the oddly curved geometry of the display in the lounge.  Now, flat displays seemed strange.
	Gaining familiarity with the wireless keyboard and infrared pointer device had taken her even longer, but Ollie had always used them like they were extensions of his own body.  She watched as he pointed and typed with reckless abandon.
	She returned Ollie's greeting with a warmth that she didn't feel yet.  Then she entered the small kitchen area, hoping a cup of instant decaf coffee would give her the extra jolt that she needed this morning.  Finding the cabinet that contained the coffee mix was a shell game with three choices, and she found it quickly enough.
	When he asked how she had slept, she waffled, replying that their cabin was quiet and comfortable.  Ollie deserved the prospect of a good night's sleep.  By now, he had been awake for nearly thirty hours.  The crew's rigid duty schedule required someone to be awake at all times.  Since too many critical engineering tasks were crammed into the first thirty hours of the mission, Ollie and the commander had both been working overtime.
	She chose not to mention her nightmare, especially since his voice had played such an integral role.  Under the ever watchful eyes of the psych team, some things were best left unsaid.
	Ollie scowled.  "Our overly compassionate commander has tweaked tomorrow's schedule to give me a few hours of extra sleep.  How kind of her."
	"She changed the schedule?  What did Mission Support say?"  Such an arbitrary change, on the first day of the mission, was surprising.  Perhaps the commander was making a statement about crew autonomy.
	Ollie waved his hand.  "Who knows."
	During their two years of earnest training, Commander Day had often been strict and demanding, but was usually fair in her assignments and judgments.  On this mission, it would be her way or the highway.  Anna could tolerate that.  If she had any serious issues with the commander's style, the support psychologists would have left Anna grounded back on Earth.  Hopefully their support team back on Earth could tolerate that style, too.
	Still, she really did like Evelyn as a person, and Ollie's remark had sounded almost like an open criticism.  It didn't sit right with her.  She recalled a training course in basic human psychology where the importance of the relationship between the commander and her small crew was emphasized.  This relationship was critical to the success of the mission.
	Ollie had attended the same training course, yet on occasion, he had made other subtle remarks about the commander behind her back.  Anna didn't understand why the psychologists allowed this behavior, not that there was much they could do about it now.  Perhaps they weren't even aware of it?
	Though it would be challenging at times, they needed to make every effort to get along with each other smoothly.  Avoiding either of her companions during their mission was simply not an option, even if it made any sense to do so.  The three decks of their habitat, each with only a ten foot radius, contained less than 1000 square feet of total living space, the size of a small apartment on Earth.  Almost half the floor space was currently taken up by equipment and supply storage.  After a few months of being cooped up together, their meager living space would undoubtedly seem even smaller.  That was a frightening prospect.
	Since Evelyn was asleep, Ollie was her only subject of study.  From where she stood  in the kitchen, she noticed that his posture was unusually slumped, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.  Minor psych issues aside, he was usually very proper in his bearing and mannerisms, the living stereotype of an academic Englishman.  His attitude was normally much more cheerful, too.
	"Are you doing OK, Ollie?" she asked.
	"Fine.  Tired, is all.  I haven't pulled an all-nighter since Yemen in '05."
	Ollie rarely talked about his personal background, except for occasional references to the exotic places he had visited.  When Anna reached 54 years of age, would she have similar tales to tell?  Certainly, Mars would be the experience of a lifetime.  Yet Ollie's 5'8" athletic body already emanated lifetimes of experience.  He just seemed to have a natural way of doing things, of making difficult tasks seem trivial.  Despite her own athletic prowess, she always felt clumsy and inept around him.
	She sought to put some of her thoughts into words.  "Ollie, I'm really looking forward to seeing Mars through your eyes.  I hope you'll be patient with my naivete'."
	"Yes, well, nature reveals its secrets slowly, so a good geologist learns to be patient.  As does a good engineer, though most of the blokes in that profession haven't figured that out yet."
	Anna took these words to heart, and forgave his mild arrogance.  She recalled an old quote from an egotistical baseball player:  "It ain't braggin if you can back it up."  Ollie could certainly back up his confident words.  His geology and engineering skills were top notch.  He seemed equally adept with hardware and software engineering, as was the commander.  The two of them appeared to get along well in their working relationship.
	"Well, I do appreciate it.  I doubt whether Irena would have been very patient with me."  As Anna made this comment, she instantly regretted it.  Old wounds were better left closed.
	Despite his mountains of experience in terrestrial geology, Ollie was a relative newcomer to the whole Mars exploration effort.  During most of their lengthy training interval, he had been the backup geologist.  The top spot had been filled by a Russian woman named Irena Groskoya, a reknowned expert in Martian geologic processes.  Irena was also a capable engineer and a fully trained medical doctor.
	Anna recalled her pre-Ollie days of training with some nostalgia, but mostly with regret, and ultimately, shame.  She and Irena had not gotten along very well.  Irena was an idealist with a major Messiah complex.  She firmly believed that by exploring Mars, she would be "helping to save mankind from itself, while restoring the glory of Mother Russia."
	During the various training exercises, Irena's attitude had been a constant source of stressful conflict.  While Anna usually held her tongue, Evelyn often did not, which led to some fierce arguments.  Since Anna's potential crewmates both had very strong personalities, perhaps conflict was inevitable.  Anna sometimes tried to mediate, but more often, she just stayed out of the way.  Drawing inward was her nature.
		Six months ago, the situation changed abruptly.  While scaling cliffs with the other geologist candidates at Zion National Park in Utah, Irena's line broke, and she plunged a thousand feet to the valley floor below.  The dreadful accident was followed by a tear-filled funeral and the onslaught of Anna's own regrets.
	She knew her own personality better than anyone.  After losing most of her family at an early age, she tended to distance herself from others and avoid conflict.  How much of her inability to bond with Irena had been her own fault?  Now that Irena was dead, how could Anna ever resolve her own feelings of remorse?
	Ollie commented, "No, she wouldn't."
	At first, Anna couldn't follow his comment.  She was so lost in her painful memories that she couldn't recall her initial comment about patience.  Then she remembered, and felt a new wave of regret.
	As if sensing her mood, Ollie added, "Irena probably wouldn't have made the final psychology cut, anyway.  She would have been watching this mission from back on Earth.  Forget about her, and what might have been.  Focus on what is."
	"I'll try."
	Ollie's little tidbits of wisdom were often harshly pointed, but helpful.  After Irena's accident, he had stepped onto the mission team like he had been there right from the start.  As a geologist and an active environmentalist, he had gone through tougher training and lived in worse conditions quite often during his thirty-some years of active fieldwork.  He described his journeys in vivid detail, trips to places that Anna didn't even know existed.
	Soon, they would have a whole planet to explore together.
	Perhaps due to her unresolvable issues with Irena, Anna had made a stronger effort to befriend Ollie, superficially at least.  Though Ollie acted like a loving grandfather toward her, she could never be completely at ease with him.  She could never be completely at ease with anyone.  Her inner walls were too high and thick.
	Ollie interrupted her thoughts again, this time by rising to his feet.  He placed the keyboard and pointing device onto a small shelf near the video display.  "All done," he announced, with a sigh of relief.  "I'll see you when I wake, love, in about 80 hours or so..."
	Anna laughed.  "Sleep loose, Ollie."
	He moved to the ladder and methodically, rung by rung, descended toward the deck below.  His movements didn't seem to benefit from the lighter gravity.
	Just as his shoulders disappeared from sight, the lounge lights dimmed and a klaxon sounded.  The ship's main computer spoke in a loud, monotone voice over the intercom:  "Alert!  Alert!  Cabin pressure is dropping!  Alert!  Alert! ..."
	Anna froze, watching Ollie pivot on the ladder to face her.  In a rare moment of sleep-deprived hesitation, his body seemed unsure of itself.
	As the message repeated, leak-seeking balloons noisily inflated from the ceiling.  The combination was a one-two punch that she felt deep in her gut.  Something was terribly wrong, and she needed to act.  Yet even the balloons hovered indecisively, mocking her own inertia.
	Ollie recovered his wits a moment before she did.  "To the EVA room!  Now!"  Then he turned and descended the ladder, not waiting to see if she would follow.
	Leaping in two strides across the small room, she reached the ladder and dropped rapidly, checking her speed by hitting every third rung with both feet.  If the ship was losing air pressure, every moment was critical.  They needed to reach the Extra-Vehicular Activity room on the lowest level, the place where the pressure suits were stored.
	She imagined the hiss of their precious air supply as it escaped into the void, never to return.  Indeed, the air pressure in the habitat did seem to be dropping, slowly, but noticeably.  Her ears popped.
	This can't be happening, not on our very first day!
	Reaching the EVA room, Ollie helped her close the pressurized hatch that sealed the room from the rest of the ship.  The hatch allowed the entire room to be used as an airlock, but the door closed inward, so the pressure seal was on the wrong side.
	She prayed for the seal to hold.  Even if the rest of the ship depressurized, they might be safe for the next few minutes... unless the air leak was in the EVA room, of course.
	Unfortunately, most of the EVA room was being used as a storage area for supplies.  They fumbled their way around some boxes to the pressure suit storage area along the inner wall.  From a shelf labeled "Ollie", she grabbed the lower part of a Honeywell mechanical counter-pressure suit, a lightweight, elastic leotard with a dense polyurethane membrane.
	Ollie hastily stripped down to his underwear, and Anna helped him put on the durable two-piece leotard.  They had each practiced donning the counter-pressure suits alone, dozens of times, but it always seemed to work much faster with a second pair of hands to help.  The zipper around the waist was especially tricky to seal alone.  Since the suits were custom fitted for each wearer, putting them on was always a tight squeeze.  This time, the process took longer than it should have.  They both seemed to be all thumbs.
	The elaborate "neck dam" component was stored on the same shelf.  Anna reached for it, but paused.
	"Where's Evelyn?" she asked.
	"She's probably trying to locate the leak."
	"But did you see her?  If she had left her quarters, we should have come right past her!"  Images flashed through her mind of the commander on the other side of the pressurized door, struggling to find the air leak, gasping for air, and finally collapsing to the floor.
	She activated an intercom outlet near the doorway.  "Commander Day, please respond.  Evelyn!"
	No response.  They listened to silence for several moments.
	"We've got to help her.  I'm going back out there."  She reached for the large, circular handle on the door, and Ollie roughly pulled her back.
	"No!  If you open that door, you'll depressurize the EVA room.  That would kill us all!  We've got to put our suits on first."
	Her head felt like it was floating above her body, unattached.  After a few moments, the logic of his reasoning became obvious to her.
	She grabbed the neck dam and clipped it over the neckline of Ollie's suit.  Then she helped him lift an integrated head bubble, respiration unit over his head and shoulders.  The bubble locked into the neck dam, providing an airtight seal.
	The next step of the procedure was to connect an oxygen cylinder to the respiration unit.  Suddenly weak, it took all her strength to lift a cannister and snap it into place.
	The final step was to verify that all of the suit subsystems were working properly.  A tiny computer in the neck dam would verify this, but she couldn't quite remember where the test button was located.
	Why can't I concentrate?  Of course!  Not enough oxygen in the room!
	Finally, she found the test button, and the neck dam displayed green lights for each major subsystem.  She gave him a weak "thumbs-up" signal.  Though the mechanical counter-pressure suits had never been intended for operation in a pure vacuum, Ollie should be protected for at least thirty minutes.
	  Now it was time to repeat the entire process, for Anna.  The room was spinning madly about her, yet she felt happy and content as she slumped to the floor.  All was well.  Far off in the distance, someone was shouting at her, telling her to get up, trying to pull her shirt over her head.
	Who is that rude person, and why is he yelling at me?
	She didn't care.  She was floating in a tranquil sky.  Not even the distant sounds of thunder could disturb her peace.  She vaguely remembered something important that needed to be done.  Whatever it was, she would sleep first and do it later.
	
	
	CHAPTER 2
	RELATIVITY
	
	Boulder
	Mars Year 0, Day 1, 4:47am
	(November 21, 1:15pm)
	
	Brutally cold winds roared into downtown Boulder off the Flatirons mountain range.  Winter was officially still a month away, and the frigid air knifed through many unprepared pedestrians on the outdoor Pearl Street mall, driving them indoors.  The BookEnd Cafe, cozily attached to the Boulder Bookstore, was a warm haven for some.
	David Debacco and his two out-of-town guests were at the BookEnd because they had actually planned to meet there.  His sister Cassie frequented the cafe, back when she lived in Boulder.  Now that she had returned for a brief visit with her husband Ben, the BookEnd had seemed like the right place to meet for a quick coffee.
	They ordered warm drinks from the bar.  By the time their order was filled, so too were all the indoor tables.  Cassie gestured toward a small seating area outside, as if to prove that a year of married life in southern California hadn't thinned her blood.
	Her suggestion drew a skeptical look from Ben, but no objection.  Ben was a California native who probably didn't even own a heavy coat.  His trendy sweater and light jacket would be no match for the elements today.
	"Why don't we just take our drinks back to my apartment?" asked David.  "We're going to hang out there later, anyway."
	"I wanted to have a little chat with you here, first," replied Cassie.  Her tone of voice implied that the matter was not open to negotiation.
	David sighed, and gave in to his sister's wishes, recalling too late that the BookEnd wasn't just an ordinary meeting place.  It had also been their special place for weighty, difficult discussions.  Cassie was acting quite moody today, as if she was upset about something.  It seemed like she was always anxious about something.  Perhaps she would feel more comfortable talking about it, whatever it was, in these familiar surroundings.
	He and his little sister had always been very close, and he could read her moods well.  Now that she lived a thousand miles away, they talked less frequently, but he still felt the same emotional bonds.  He still regarded her as one of his closest friends, confidantes, and supporters.  In fact, she was the only member of his family that he could really talk to.
	Meeting her at the BookEnd brought back a lot of memories.  Some were painful, while others were joyous, like the time she told him about her engagement to Ben.  They were sitting at the square table against the faux brick wall, just over there.  He would never forget the contented glow on her face as long as he lived. 
	As they maneuvered through the crowded tables toward the outside seating area, he noticed that his sister still possessed her graceful stride.  She might have lost a few pounds since he had seen her last, not that she had much to lose.  As a psychologist, Cassie was usually a pillar of strength and confidence for her clients and friends.  However, her own self esteem seemed to falter at times.  She was always on some fad diet or another.
	Wincing at his own hypocracy, David considered whether he should go on a diet too.  Over the past three months, he had gained ten pounds, hardly a cause for alarm, yet an uncomfortable trend.  Too much pizza was probably the main culprit, amplified by the inevitable approach of middle age.  He still exercised strenuously when he could, but his regular sessions had dwindled down to once a week.  His waistline had grown half an inch, and his weight now topped 230 pounds.  Fortunately, most of his mass was still muscle, and his 6'3" frame gave him plenty of room to spread any flab around.
	Once outside, he discovered that the wind had died down a bit.  Diffuse sunlight bathed the north side of Pearl Street, making the conditions almost pleasant.  Icicles hung from awnings and from the trees in the middle of the mall, reflecting the dim light in complex, sparkling patterns.
	Ben chose a table and held a chair for his wife.  David took a seat across from them.  Made of a strong metallic mesh, the chairs and table were freezing cold to his touch.  At least they were free of snow.
	David studied the happy couple before him.  Both were fit and energetic, but his six foot tall sister towered over her husband by about six inches and fifty pounds.  For some reason, they contrasted more than usual today, perhaps because Ben wasn't wearing a heavy coat.
	Ben, an engineer at NASA, was a lanky, perpetual whirlwind of motion.  His protruding nose, light complexion, and piercing blue eyes gave him an intense appearance, quite handsome in its uniqueness.  Cassie's hair and features were darker, more like his own, though softer and rounded in all the right places.  She couldn't match David's bulk, nor would she want to, but she also shared his laughing green eyes and impish nature.
	Cassie was silent for a while, evidently still contemplating some weighty matter, but Ben seemed quite cheerful today.  He happily engaged David in some shop talk, while a group of shivering shoppers lurched by.  They kept their voices lowered.
	"So, David, it must be quite a challenge to run Mission Support for the Mars mission.  How do you like your new job as a terrorist?"
	David laughed.  Ben and Cassie both knew about his position within the ultra-secretive Mars movement.  He had only held the job for six months, and as far as he was aware, no other outsiders even suspected his involvement.
	"Me, a terrorist?  Very funny."
	Though he was sure that Ben was only teasing, David would be the first to agree that his team used methods pioneered by terrorists to keep their identities secret.  Maintaining a large, secret organization wasn't easy within this day and age, when individual liberties and personal rights to privacy were under attack from all directions.  Yet ever larger terrorist movements proliferated by using untraceable communications technology and carefully woven organizational cells to bypass the ever watchful eye of governments and the media.  These techniques had worked for David's team too.  They had eluded detection, so far.
	He looked around, making sure that the shoppers had moved on.  "The time commitment has definitely cut into my social life, not that there was very much to cut into."
	Ignoring a grunt from Cassie, he continued.  "It was even hard for me to get away and meet you this afternoon, though I do have some good helpers who watch the shop while I'm away.  Still, despite the time commitment, this job is exactly what I need right now.  It's a good, meaningful job.  It even pays well for a change."
	This was another old topic.  David had often bemoaned the lack of jobs within his chosen fields of interest.  Though he had earned dual PhDs in history and philosophy, his degrees were of marginal use outside the world of academia.  Since completing his second degree, he had moved from one temporary contract position to the next without finding work that he could feel passionate about.  Until now.
	"Not to mention, it's a very responsible job," commented Ben.
	"Yeah, finally."
	Ben seemed to be intentionally pushing all of David's hot buttons today.  David often railed against the general lack of responsibility within society, while seething at his own inability to stand out from the crowd.  People never took responsibility for anything.  Yet these same people would look down upon him, perceiving his inability to find a nine-to-five job as a sign of irresponsibility.  The world was upside down.  It was an epidemic.
	"Your parents would be happy to learn of your new job.  Too bad you can't tell them about it."
	With that comment, Ben had crossed the line.  He knew all about David's stormy relationship with his parents, who constantly pressured him to give up his dreams and aspiritions in order to conform with their own ideals of employment safety and security.  David scowled at his brother-in-law across the table.  He forced himself to relax by taking some deep, calming breaths.
	"If my parents knew about my job, the local newspaper back in Northfield, Minnesota would know all about it two minutes later."
	"Would that be such a bad thing?"
	"You know it would.  All this job secrecy is a real pain, but it beats the alternatives.  My new work requires constant attention, and quite often, I'm just totally swamped."
	"So?" asked Ben, leading him on.
	"So, the last thing I want right now is a bunch of reporters snooping around, doing their best to get in the way... not to mention wacko psychopaths, industrial spies, hackers, and whomever else is out there.  Even the sympathy of well-wishers would probably smother me right now."
	"But that's not the real reason all for the secrecy, is it?"
	"No, probably not."
	
	
	
	The conversation lapsed into silence.  Thinking about his parents had really soured David's mood.  To keep his self-esteem intact, he visited them rarely.  Separation was best for everyone, in the short term, though he hoped the relationship would improve over time.  After all, he did have a good job now, one that he thoroughly enjoyed, believed in, and alas, couldn't reveal.
	Ben and Cassie were his family now.  Despite living so far away, they filled a void in his life.  They had even been the people who convinced him to apply for the Mars job, after Ben heard about it through the underground at NASA.
	"You know, Ben," said David, after a while, "I'm not sure if I ever told you how surprised I was to receive the phone call from the ISSES employment committee."  ISSES, the International Solar System Exploration Society, was the public, non-profit organization that was "running" the current mission to Mars, as far as the public was concerned.
	"Why so surprised?  I told you right from the start that you had a lock on the job."
	"You know that I've always had a deep interest in space exploration, but I wasn't even a member of their society.  I always intended to join, but I just kept putting it off, leaving it to other people to keep the dream alive.  When I applied for the job, I just assumed they would choose one of their most loyal members.  At least I followed the progress of their simulated missions over the internet, whenever I had time.  Maybe that counted for something."
	"They made a good choice," growled Ben.  "They couldn't ask for anyone more creative or energetic, and with your education to boot.  If I were in their shoes, I'd pick someone with a fresh perspective and no baggage, too."
	"That's hard for me to accept.  The ISSES people couldn't have known much about me, ahead of time.  My past job experience hasn't been stellar.  Surely there were more qualified people available.  So why was I chosen?"
	"Is that a rhetorical question?" asked Ben.
	"No.  I would really like to know.  This question keeps me awake at night."
	Ben sipped his espresso and leaned back in his chair.  After a few moments, he said, "As I see it, you do have some other qualifications.  But you know that I have nothing to do with ISSES, so I'm completely guessing here."
	"What other qualifications?"
	"I hope you take this the right way."
	David muttered, "Will you hurry up and spit it out?  Why am I so qualified?"
	"Because you're a faceless nobody."
	David hesitated, surprised, and more than a little dismayed.  That wasn't one of the answers he was expecting.
	"I'm a faceless nobody?  Don't mince words.  What do you really think?"
	Ben stiffled a laugh.  "I meant it in the best possible way.  Look at yourself in the mirror, my friend.  Socially, you're a loner.  You have no spouse or steady girlfriend.  Until six months ago, you had no job of consequence.  Yet you're extremely intelligent, capable, and idealistic.  You're a classic example of someone who would be recruited by a terrorist organization.  They gave you a purpose, and then sent you off in the right direction, a direction of their own choosing.  When you disappeared from the ranks of normal society, nobody missed you."
	"I'm not sure I like what I'm hearing.  Are you really serious?  What about my friends?  Wouldn't they miss me?"
	"You do have many friends," agreed Ben.  "But casual friends are easy to fool.  Don't you think that terrorists have friends?"
	"I guess I never thought about it."
	"Well, think about it!  And compare your situation to that of other capable people, like me, for example.  Maybe I could be a good Director of Mission Support, or maybe not.  It doesn't matter.  If I were to drop out of society suddenly, my colleagues at NASA would become suspicious.  Word would get around.  Cassie would be a 'loose end' too.  Also, my salary demands would be higher."
	"You think that salary has something to do with it?"  David was starting to regret his insistence that Ben be so open about his thoughts.
	Ben leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, staring David squarely in the eyes.  "Look, I don't know how much you're being paid, but I guarantee it's a tiny fraction of what an experienced, senior management executive would demand.  You're cheap, David.  Cheap and expendible.  Why would they pay someone ten times more, when you can do the job just as well?"
	David pondered Ben's analysis, searching for flaws.  Usually, his job was fairly simple, though it took a lot of time and energy.  He was a central point of contact, someone to make high level decisions, interface with the ISSES steering committee, and act swiftly if an emergency situation arose.  Perhaps fanaticism, disguised as total personal commitment and availability, really was the most essential qualification that he brought to the job.
	Still, he desperately wanted to believe that he contributed a lot more to the mission.  Mankind's first manned attempt to explore Mars had major historical and ethical ramifications.  Wouldn't ISSES value someone with a strong background in history and philosophy?  Sure, his technical knowledge was weak.  But were his areas of strength merely a coincidence?
	During the training process, he had quickly come to accept that his lack of technical experience was only a minor liability.  The Director's position was not a technical job.  He operated more like a shepherd, keeping watch over the flock of local support wizards.  Others on his support team, real engineers, knew their systems intimately.  The Director's main function was to address mundane, Earthly issues that the techies couldn't be bothered with.
	"I'll need some time to think about what you've said, Ben.  And I do appreciate your honesty.  If you're right, and that's the main reason I was chosen, I'll be real disappointed.  But in the end, their opinion is irrelevant to me.  I'm still going to do the best job that I can.  Three lives are at stake, and history is hanging in the balance."
	"That's my David!" Ben said, enthusiastically.  "Nothing knocks you down for long.  That's probably another good qualification you bring to the job."
	"Yeah, it's hard to knock down a nobody.  A faceless nobody."
	"So now it's your turn to be open and honest, David."  Ben took another sip of espresso.  "After six months on the job, you must have heard some things on the inside.  What's the real story?  Why all the secrecy within your organization?"
	"That's another question that has kept me up at night, more than once."  Even if David wanted to reveal the reasons for the shroud of secrecy surrounding his Mission Support team, the funders, and the planners of the Mars mission, he couldn't.  He didn't know the reasons.
	Ben was persistent, however.  "You said earlier that you don't want any personal attention.  I doubt the people who really hired you care much about that.  The ISSES is just a loose collection of dreamers and technomages with the expertise to put the Mars mission together.  If they had any real money or power, they would have done it years ago.  Who's calling the shots behind the scenes?  Who's paying for the mission?  Why don't they reveal themselves to the public?"
	"I don't know.  I don't even know who sends me my paycheck.  It comes from some weird company in Colorado Springs that I've never even heard of."
	"And I'll bet my next paycheck that company doesn't even exist," said Ben.  "Media hounds have been trying to track down the mission planners and financiers for months, without any luck.  So you don't know who they are, either?"
	"No clue.  My support team is secretive, but the actual mission planners and financiers are downright paranoid!  In fact, there's even a clause in my contract clearly stating that my job will be terminated if the media learns of my position.  I believe that's true for most of my colleagues, too.  Even the best technical experts."
	"Amazing.  You're right - that's downright paranoid."
	"Totally.  All I do know is that I'm going to be real careful.  Like I said, I need this job, and I want this job.  This is probably the first truly important thing that I've done in my entire life!"
	Realizing he had raised his voice a bit too far, David looked around.  The street was still deserted.
	"Careful, huh?"  Ben seemed to be quite disappointed.  "So you can't tell me anything?  Or you won't?"
	"Well, there is one little thing that I've overheard," said David, after a moment of thought.  "You have to promise not to spread it around, though."
	"Of course," said Ben, eagerly.
	"Most funding secrets are closely guarded, but twice, I've overheard some ISSES steering committee members talking about the mission costs.  Both times, they referred to a billion dollar budget."
	"That's all?  No way!"  Ben glanced around.  Lowering his voice, he added,  "Just building the rocket would cost more than that.  Are you sure they weren't off by a digit?"
	"Pretty sure.  Like I said, I heard the same figure twice, from different people."
	A strange look crossed Ben's face.  It was quickly replaced by a soft laugh.  "Look, trust me on this.  Whoever's spreading that figure is talking nonsense.  Don't listen to them."
	At that point, Cassie interrupted their conversation.  "This is all interesting, but I would like a few words with my brother about another matter."  As she uttered these words, a melodramatic gust of wind whipped through her hair.  She blasted David with a frosty stare that matched their surroundings.
	Uh oh, here it comes, the real reason why we're sitting out here freezing our butts off.
	David stirred his remaining coffee with a spoon, even though he always drank it black.  He shifted his weight in his chair and looked out onto the frozen street again.  None of these things made him invisible, however, which was what he needed the most.  He slumped a bit in his seat, but that didn't work either.
	If Cassie noticed his discomfort, she gave no indication.  "You know, I really admire the way you seduce women, David.  What did you say to my friend last night that sent her home practically in tears?"
	So that's what this was all about.  The farcical events at the Mars launch party came flooding back to him.  Since Russian ground controllers were subcontracted to perform the actual launch, David had taken a few hours off to enjoy a celebration on the CU campus with his friends, as an anonymous member of the public.
	Thinly disguising her attempt to set him up on a blind date, Cassie had invited Stacy Weaver, an old college classmate, to attend the party with them.  At least ten thousand other people, mostly students, had shown up to celebrate the Mars launch, too.  The place was a jungle of  happy confusion.  He and Stacy were soon separated from Ben and Cassie.  They had found a quiet place to sit and talk, but after that, things went downhill quickly.  Stacy left, and David enjoyed the rest of the evening, solo.
	Perhaps he and Stacy weren't alone last night after all.  Cassie always seemed to have an uncanny psychic ability to monitor relationships, especially when David's social life was involved.  Her observational talents probably served her well in her blossoming psychology career.
	David put on his best "I'm hurt" face.  "Is that the only reason you wanted to meet this afternoon?  Just to talk about her?  What about the party last night?  Wasn't it great?"
	"Don't change the subject!"
	Obviously, feeble attempts to distract his sister were not going to work.  Cassie could also be extremely persistent - a focused, unstoppable force.
	He didn't want to spend the last day of her visit arguing with her, but conflict appeared to be inevitable.  The only way to halt an unstoppable force was to become an immovable object, something that he was not very good at.  He liked to consider himself to be a flexible tree, one that would bend with the wind, but would always remain firmly anchored to its roots.
	Unfortunately, if a freight train were to jump its tracks and hit a tree, the tree would lose every time.
	"Look, Cassie, I do appreciate your attempt to set me up on a date."  David reached across the table to take her hand.  "I know you did it because you care about me, and I'm touched.  Really.  But next time, please don't bother.  I'm happy by myself, for now."  He emphasized his statement with a squeeze of her hand, just before Cassie yanked it away.
	"So you're content to just crawl into a hole and disappear.  What kind of a life is that?"
	As if to help make her point, David sank even lower in his seat.  "Ben said it well, earlier.  Relationships are loose ends.  I can't let myself be distracted from my new job right now, especially by someone with no long-term vision."
	He should have scored some points with this line of reasoning.  His sister knew the importance of his job, and she fully supported the Mars mission.  In fact, David had recently convinced her to volunteer her services on the mission's psychology subteam.  He knew that he should have left out the last part about "no long-term vision," but he couldn't resist.  It was true, and he admired truth in all things.
	Cassie frowned and looked down into her cup of hot chocolate.  David could detect an almost physical transformation in her.  She was shifting into her psychoanalytical persona.
	This was bad.  He would rather have faced her wrath directly.  As a freight train, she would simply run over him.  As a skilled psychologist, she had the ability to uproot him first and then run over him.
	"David, just because someone doesn't share your view of the world doesn't mean you should shut them out of your life.  Stacy has a lot of qualities that would complement yours.  Are you searching for a carbon copy of yourself?"
	He shot up in his chair.  Trying not to raise his voice again, he said, "Let me quote your friend.  'This whole Mars thing is a big waste of time and effort.  These people should get out in the real world and do something useful with their lives.'"  He injected as much sarcasm into his voice as he could.  "She's trying to tell someone with PhDs in history and philosophy what the real world is like?  Someone should buy her a vowel.  She thinks the real world is where you work a 9-to-5 job in the good ol' U S of A, sip coffee every morning at Starbucks, absorb the propaganda in the newspaper, and buy a whole bunch of things on credit that you don't need.  What a good little western consumer!  What a life!  What perspective!  What long-term vision!"
	Having failed to keep his voice low, he slapped his palm on the metal table for added emphasis.  Then he continued his tirade, a bit more muted.
	"Imagine Stacy Weaver as the first sea life that struggled up onto the land.  She would have immediately turned back because life was easier in the water.  And she wouldn't have been the only one!"  He motioned to the nearly empty street with a sweep of his hand.
	Much of his pontification was probably wasted on Cassie, who dealt with similar outbursts from her clients every day.  "Calm down, will you?  Look, I know you have better long-term vision than most people, but give others a chance!  People can learn and change.  You can't expect everyone to view things exactly like you do.  Sharing different views, attitudes, and ideas are some of the things that can make a relationship between two special people so wonderful!"
	"I don't have time for her.  I have more important things to worry about.  There's plenty of time for someone like her later."
	"Later?  When?"  Cassie lowered her voice and flashed him an overly analytical stare.  "David, why are you alone?  You're the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.  You're also intelligent, sensitive, and fun to be around.  You're a good person, and you have so much to offer.  Compatible women flock to you, yet you always find some excuse to push them away.  Why?"
	"Why not?"  David had tired of the conversation.  If he wanted someone to control his life, he would go call his parents.
	"Don't you want to give yourself to someone?  Care for someone?  Feel complete with someone?"
	"Why should I care for only one other person?  I care about everybody."
	"But what do you want for yourself?  Don't you want any personal meaning in your life?"
	"Drop it, Cassie."  This remark, growled by Ben, surprised both of them.  They turned to stare at him, as if noticing for the first time that he was there.
	Ben and Cassie were an odd mixture of personalities.  Though physically energetic, Ben was usually a very quiet, thoughtful person, almost to the point of introversion.  In fact, their earlier discussion had been quite atypical.  Ben seemed to go out of his way to avoid conflict, especially with Cassie.  His graduate degree from CalTech and career at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) supported the stereotype of a typical computer geek.
	But David knew differently.  Ben had a powerful personality, with many non-academic interests.  He never seemed to argue with Cassie, but that was probably by intent.  Undoubtedly, he had learned to choose his battles wisely and hold a lot inside.
	Ben shifted in his seat before continuing his interruption.  "David has plenty of satisfaction in his life already.  He doesn't need a steady relationship to give his life meaning."
	"Everyone needs companionship," countered Cassie.  "It's not healthy for him to live in denial!"
	"I don't hear him denying anything.  I hear him setting priorities.  I hear him putting off relationships temporarily, so he can focus on other things that are more important to him."  He looked up at the cloudless sky, a wistful expression on his face.  "And to be truthful, I really envy his ability to do that."
	The effect of his words on Cassie was probably the same as if Ben had thrown his espresso into her face.  With her hand quivering, she carefully placed her hot chocolate back on the table.  "So... does that mean... you don't think our own relationship is very important, either?"
	Cassie the victim was much worse than Cassie the inquisitor.  Ben slapped his forehead with his right palm and held it there for a few moments, a portrait of a thinking man.
	"Our relationship is the most important thing in the world to me," he finally said, struggling visibly to find the right words.  "...but it's not the only important thing in my life.  I have so many responsibilities now, to you, to my work, to our families and future children, to our cats, to our mortgage company, and to others.  Where does it all end?  Life used to be so much simpler, and in some ways, better.  I do miss my carefree lifestyle a bit, so a part of me envies David.  He doesn't have much tying him down."
	"Well thanks, I think," mumbled David, though he was getting tired of hearing what a "nobody" he was.
	Defeat was rare for his sister, but the fight had left her eyes.  A wave of sympathy washed over David, dragging him out to the sea in the undertow.  He felt compelled to make her a peace offering, and he knew what it should be, but he just couldn't work up the courage to say the words.
	After his flippant dismissal of Cassie's intrusion into his personal life, how could he tell her about the other reason that he had pushed Stacy Weaver away?  He couldn't even admit it to himself yet.  Was he really infatuated by another woman?
	If he said anything about this to Cassie, he would also be forced to reveal that this other woman was out of his league and barely even knew he existed.  She was even out of reach physically.  Anyone could see that their relationship was doomed from the start.
	Cassie would jump all over him.  She would claim that this other woman was a fantasy, enabling his avoidance of relationships.  Or she would crow that this proved his need for companionship.  An even bigger argument would follow, one that would frustrate them both and wouldn't solve anything.
	He opted for the cowardly way out, an innocent sounding half-truth.  He told her that when his job with the Mars mission was over, he would try to settle down, marry a woman that he loved and respected, buy a little house, fill it with 2.2 kids, find a long-term job, shop for stuff, sip coffee at Starbucks, and live the rest of his life in western capitalist bliss.
	His empty promise seemed to satisfy her, at least for now.  With a mischievous smile and wink, she pointed out that one of her new friends in California might be a good match for him.  Then she tugged on his arm, leading him into a gentle hug across the table.  They took their seats again and endured an embarrassed silence for a while.
	Finally, David's curiosity got the best of him.  "So, what did you guys think about the party last night?"
	
	
	CHAPTER 3
	PRESSURE
	
	Mars Habitat
	Mars Year 0, Day 1, 5:00am
	(November 21, 1:28pm)
	
	As in her earlier dream, Anna floated for a while before abruptly crashing.  This time, she ended up with a dull pain between her ears.
	Perhaps I fell head first?
	The pain helped clear away the mental cobwebs dulling her senses.  She opened her eyes and found herself on the floor of the EVA room, with her back against the exterior wall.  Ollie was sitting next to her, in his pressure suit.  His bubble helmet was removed.  She remembered helping him into his suit, but things were fuzzy after that.
	She was surprised to find Commander Day towering over her.
	"Sleeping on the job?"  Evelyn's voice was strangely muted.
	Anna swallowed, and her ears popped.  Her hearing improved immediately, and most of her headache disappeared as well.  The air pressure in the habitat had obviously increased.
	"Commander!  I'm glad to see you're OK!  Were you able to patch the leak?"
	Rather than responding, Evelyn started to pace the EVA room.
	Ollie answered her question, without enthusiam.  "There was no leak."  She strained to hear him add, "She faked the whole bloody thing."
	"What?"  She carefully rolled her head sideways to look at Ollie.  His head bubble was resting on the floor nearby.  He looked like he was a hundred years old.
	"There was no bloody leak."
	Evelyn Day was not a large woman, but even during normal times, she projected a powerful presence.  From Anna's vantage point near the floor, the commander appeared to be ten feet tall.  Her pale face and nearly bald head made her look even more imposing.  She was dressed in her standard attire, shorts and a loose fitting shirt.  A logo on her shirt proudly proclaimed, "My best friends are Poly, Ethyl, and Ene," an advertisement for the chemical in the outer hull that helped reduce their exposure to cosmic radiation.  Her left hand grasped a silver chain tightly, dangling a familiar pocketwatch.
	"No leak, this time," Evelyn admitted.  "You were never in any real danger during this drill.  But if the air leak had been real, you and I would be dead now, and Doctor Randall would have a lonely voyage ahead.  Needless to say, I'm very disappointed."
	Anna searched for a good response, but couldn't think of one.  Ollie also remained silent.
	When asked if she felt well enough to hear a brief lecture on crew safety, Anna hesitated, then nodded.  She felt fine now, and she had learned a lot from Evelyn's frequent lectures in the past.  The commander was usually a fountain of knowledge, an expert problem solver who could find a creative solution to almost any puzzle.  She also oozed relevant experience, having served for five years as chief engineer aboard a US Navy nuclear submarine.
	Evelyn cleared her throat.  "I would like to see the surface of Mars before I die.  To do that, I'll need your help.  We must all be alert for the earliest signs of danger, no matter how small and insignificant they might appear to be.  Mission Support will soon be too far away to make any difference during a real crisis.  This little drill might not have been the best way to get your attention, but we have a boring, six month journey ahead of us, and boredom breeds carelessness.  Just because we made it through all the simulations and training back on Earth doesn't mean we can relax and let our guard down.  Once a crisis is upon us, we need to react to it, quickly, intelligently, and efficiently.  For example, the minimum recorded time for donning a pressure suit is just under a minute.  Your time was over four minutes."
	Her last statements were so unfair that Anna found the courage to interrupt.  "The oxygen levels had dropped, and we couldn't concentrate.  How could we have done any better in that situation?"
	"A good diagnosis, and a fair question.  How, indeed?"  She studied her pocket watch intently, as if it was part of the problem or held the answer.  "First, you were sealed in a room full of oxygen tanks.  By opening the output valve on any of them, you could have increased the oxygen level in the EVA room."
	Anna couldn't believe that she had overlooked that solution.  It was so simple, so obvious, and it had never even occurred to her.
	"Second, as I watched you on the video surveillance camera from my quarters, I noticed that you started a debate in the middle of the crisis.  Even worse, Anna, you almost opened the EVA room door!  I appreciate your concern for my safety, but I would ask that next time, don't kill yourself in a foolish attempt to save me.  In such a crisis, trust that I'm off doing my job, and be sure that you do yours."
	Anna resisted the urge to ask questions.  Better to be quiet and get her verbal lashing over with.
	"Third, in their internal design notes, the pressure suit architects express a belief that the human body can survive exposure to vacuum for several minutes if the flow of oxygen and pressure to the head is unimpaired.  For obvious reasons, this has never been verified.  I suggest that at some point during your studies over the next few months, you brush up on space suit science.  Don't just read the advertised literature - read everything else you can find, too.  We have an extensive library.  Use it.  Once we reach Mars and begin to explore the surface, our space suits are our lives.  In an emergency where every second is critical, you might consider donning only the neck dam, head bubble, and respirator.  This is not a safe procedure, and if anyone back on Earth asks, I did not recommend it.  But it could cut your reaction time in half, or more."
	Her pacing brought her near the EVA room door, where she paused.  "I'll leave you now to store the suit components and go about your day.  Oliver, get some sleep.  You need it."
	Evelyn pivoted crisply on her left heel, in military style, and marched out the doorway.  A moment later, they heard her cabin door click shut.
	"Thanks for your concern," Ollie muttered after her.
	Not trusting her legs yet, Anna crawled over to Ollie and rolled onto her back, using his lower leg for a pillow.  The two of them rested like that for a minute, gathering their strength.
	Since Anna was still fully clothed, Ollie hadn't gotten very far in his attempt to dress her in a pressure suit.  When she asked him about that, he explained, "No time.  When you started acting all weird, Evelyn burst into the room, clucking like a mother hen.  What a loon."
	"Me, or her?"
	"Her, of course."
	"But she's right about putting the suits on," said Anna, feeling a need to defend the commander.  "We didn't do very well, or rather, I didn't do very well.  If the leak had been real, I would have been a goner."
	"Yes... well, she's still a loon."
	Anna smiled at him.  "You know, lots of people back on Earth think that all three of us are loony.  I have to go on television soon and persuade them that we aren't.  If they could see us now, they would be convinced it's true.  Here we are, Doctor Oliver Randall and Doctor Anna Schweitzer, two-thirds of the brave, highly skilled Mars exploration crew, pinned to the floor by a simple emergency drill.  Are we complete losers, or what?"
	They shared some much needed laughter while helping each other to their feet.  After carefully removing and storing his space suit, Ollie retreated to his cabin for some well earned sleep.
	Then she was all alone.  For the first time of many, Anna had the entire ship to herself.  As she fully realized that she would soon be the only conscious person within more than 300,000 kilometers, disturbing images flashed back to her from her dream and the alert.  She shivered and tried to dismiss them, but they wouldn't go away.
	The EVA room had enough open floor space to attempt some simple stretching exercises.  After a short, light workout, she assumed a lotus position and tried to meditate for a few minutes.  Exercise and meditation usually chased her demons away, but they were more resilient this time.  Eventually, she was able to enter a shallow state of relaxation where the dark creatures, though unconquered, were banished to peripheral shadows.  She cherished the few moments of peace because they would probably be her last all day.
	
	--------------------------------------------
	
	Boulder
	Mars Year 0, Day 1, 6:29am
	(November 21, 3:00pm)
	
	Like a heat seeking missile, David rocketed into his apartment, with Cassie right on his heels.  He blew warm breaths onto his frozen fingers, but it didn't help much.  The six block walk from the cafe to his apartment, with a stiff headwind the whole way, had felt like a sixty mile death march.
	Cassie beelined straight to the thermostat and turned the heat up, while David started a pot of coffee brewing in his small kitchen.  Their warm drinks at the cafe were a distant memory.
	As David surveyed the contents of his apartment, he noted with satisfaction that everything was in its usual state of spartan disarray.  He had never been very good at collecting material possessions, and he didn't entertain guests very often.  The small studio adequately met his needs.
	His basic requirements were a modest kitchen with a small table, a television set, and a couch that pulled out into a sofa bed.  The 36-inch television set was an ancient, bulky monstrosity that must have weighed nearly twenty pounds.  A bay window facing south gave the living room plenty of natural sunlight.  Lighter computer equipment on a wobbly table occupied the rest of the meager space.  His beige colored walls were drab and unadorned.
	Considering the minimal furnishings, he almost laughed aloud at the irony of his present situation.  For the next two years, with this tiny apartment as a base of operations, he would be performing one of the most critical tasks of the Mars mission.  A NASA analogue to his Mission Support headquarters would have been a large control room in Houston filled with banks of expensive equipment and dozens of scurrying people.  Using only a high speed internet connection and some customized software on a mini-notebook computer, he could direct his support team from almost anywhere, even this apartment.
	David's support team was fairly small, but very experienced.  After supporting simulated missions for many years, the Mars Society had built up a distributed core team, along with a much larger army of on-call academic and engineering experts.  Four years ago, ISSES had been formed in a merger of the Mars Society, the National Space Society, the Planetary Society, and Red Colony, four non-profit organizations with compatible goals.  The merger had greatly increased the financial health and talent base of the resulting organization.
	Though relatively small in numbers, David doubted whether his support team would fit into a larger NASA control room.  However, they had infinite space for interaction in a maze of virtual rooms on a network of secure servers somewhere in cyberspace.  With only basic internet access, each worker could support the mission from anywhere in the world, just like David.
	Leaving her coat on, Cassie plopped onto the couch and fiddled with the unfamiliar remote control for his satellite television system.  They were alone, for now.  Ben planned to rejoin them, after taking an insulin injection back at his hotel room.
	"Did you buy Ben's excuse?" asked David.
	Cassie laughed.  "Sometimes he can be hard to live with, but inside, my husband is a prince with a heart of gold.  He knows we have a lot of catching up to do."
	David was grateful because he wanted to ask Cassie some questions that might have been embarrassing in front of her husband.  Now was a perfect opportunity.
	"So Cassie, how are you and Ben doing after your first year of marriage?"
	"Just fine."
	Uh-oh.  That was an automatic response, devoid of feeling, far too easy.
	David felt like the psychologist now.  "Any good arguments lately?"
	 "We do have a few minor differences of opinion, now and then.  Ben doesn't ever argue with me.  But sometimes we disagree on things."
	"Such as?"
	"Such as where we want to live and how we want to plan for children someday."  She sighed, and drooped her head.  "Little things like that."
	"Where do you want to live?"
	"Longer term, we both want to live in the mountains near Pasadena.  It's beautiful there, and it reminds me of happy times here in Boulder.  But houses cost so much there!  We can't afford to spend a million dollars on a one bedroom cabin with a quarter acre of land.  I think we should rent an apartment for a while and save our money. "
	David resisted the urge to comment that some people with student loans who had been trapped in low paying contract positions, namely himself, couldn't even save any money while renting an apartment.  Instead, he asked, "And what does Ben think?"
	"He wants to buy a house right now, even if it pushes us way over our heads into debt.  I just don't understand it.  He's usually the one with all the financial smarts.  I know we both have good jobs, but what happens when we have children?  I'll want to cut back on my work hours, so I can stay home with the kids.  Ben just seems to shrug that off.  He says the future will take care of itself.  Then he acts like he did at the cafe this afternoon, saying how concerned and committed he is.  It's like he's another person sometimes, and it drives me crazy."
	"Maybe he's planning on getting a promotion at work?"
	"Not likely.  He could have been promoted three years ago, after his previous manager died in a car accident.  Unfortunately, he doesn't wear the 'management material' label.  He's too good a technician.  Since the aerospace field is hot now, he could probably get a better paying job somewhere else, like here in Boulder.  If we bought a house, we might end up selling it in a few years, anyway."
	David agreed that sometimes Ben's quirks and inconsistencies could be frustrating.  He wished that he could give his sister some good advice, but she and Ben earned more money each year than he had earned in his last five years.  He had never even seen the inside of a million dollar house.
	When the new pot of coffee was ready, he contributed to her thought processes and emotional stability by bringing two steaming mugs over to the couch.  They both took a few cautious sips, and it was just how he liked it, strong and black.  Cassie appeared to have some trouble with the taste, but she didn't complain.
	"Eureka," said Cassie, as she finally located the USNN channel on the television.  USNN, a popular cable news network, was scheduled to air a special program about the Mars mission soon.  Cassie and David were both looking forward to watching it, and Ben had mentioned it earlier, too.
	On the current show, a Catholic priest, Jewish rabbi, and Muslim cleric were debating the role of space exploration in God's plan.  Surprisingly, these men of faith seemed to agree on many things.  The discussion was relaxed and interesting, rather than firey and divisive, as he would have expected.
	During a commercial break, Cassie switched the channel over to CUSA, and then quickly to Lynx and a few other news stations.  Since Mars was the topic of the day on every news channel, David didn't care which one they watched.  She finally changed the channel back to the religious discussion on USNN and turned the volume lower so they could continue their conversation.
	David glanced at the time, and brought his coffee over to his rickety table.  Still listening to the extended version of Cassie's tale of woe, but with one eye on the television and the other on his 50-inch, wrap-around OLED display, he entered the virtual Mission Support center by running a client program on his computer.
	As he roamed through the rooms of the support center, he quickly gathered status information from various repositories.  Fortunately, Cassie muted the television and asked what was going on with the mission.  Her question allowed him to devote his attention to one activity, rather than three.
	"There's not much happening right now.  Commander Day staged a surprise drill, and she's not very happy with the results.  I wouldn't want to be anywhere near her for the next few days."
	"Yes, you would, and you know it," said Cassie.  "You would give your left arm to be on that ship right now."
	David sighed, and looked up at the ceiling, which was the only decorated surface in his apartment.  He had taped several rolls of Christmas wrapping paper to a section of the ceiling, black paper with tiny dots of random color and location.  The effect was similar to looking up at a clear, dark sky full of stars.
	"OK, you caught me.  I would give almost anything to be out there," he said.
	"It should be a boring journey, though."
	"Maybe, maybe not."
	"Let's hope it is!" said Cassie.  As he turned to look at her over his shoulder, she added, "On the psych team, one of our goals is to alleviate the crew's boredom.  I'm looking forward to the challenge."
	David said, "Officially, media sessions, training, and exercise will take much of the crew's time.  Anna will also be running some biology and medical experiments.  But yes, the psych team's job is critical," he agreed, "at least on the outward journey.  Once they reach Mars, there should be plenty of excitement."
	"And what will you be doing?"
	"While my support team monitors the habitat equipment, looking for early signs of trouble, I'll be monitoring the support team.  I'll also watch the crew, the media, the general public, and anyone else that becomes involved."
	"Speaking of the media, the crew interview on USNN should be starting soon.  That tardy husband of mine has been looking forward to it all day.  I wonder why he's not back yet."
	David glanced at his watch.  "He's still got plenty of time.  I'm sure he'll stagger in, about two minutes before show time."  He winked at her, and they shared a laugh at Ben's expense.