First Landing

Townsend made a chopping motion with his right arm. "Dr. Sherman, that will be all. Since you scientists ca

"You can count on it, Colonel," said McGee.

Rebecca was enraged. The first rover sortie, and she wouldn't be on it. But at least Luke wouldn't be either.

Trying to be conciliatory, the mission commander said, "We have a year and a half here, people. You will all have an opportunity to pursue your pet projects. Very well, you two hop to it."

As Townsend returned to the control console, Gwen and McGee eagerly exited the galley to prepare for the trip. Rebecca looked across the table and noticed that Luke was staring icicles at her. Same to you, pal, she thought.

Gwen eased up on the throttle, and upon reaching the top of the hill, shifted the rover into neutral. She set the parking brake and sca

Beside her, McGee picked up his camera and chattered wildly into his minicorder. With half an ear Gwen listened to his narrative while continuing to admire the view. It was obvious that the professor was awestruck as well; too bad he couldn't drop his academic baggage and simply take it all in.

"We've just reached the crest of a hill looking down the north flank of the Coprates Chasma," McGee said. "We can see a vast system of interco

Gwen turned away from the canyon to look at him. "You've done some rappelling, Professor? I thought you weren't the military type."

He interrupted his monologue. "No, I'm not. My father was in the Army in World War Two, saw some combat, and advised me to steer clear of it. He said it was a very disappointing experience, not at all like the movies."

He smiled sheepishly at her. Not a bad smile, she thought. You should try it more often, Professor. You might make some friends. She decided to return it. "Oh, your daddy was right about that. I had my fill in the Desert War."

"So I hear. I saw the newscast when you brought that damaged copter filled with wounded GIs through the lines."

Gwen's mind raced back to that day: the dead pilot beside her, the burning copter filled with screaming soldiers. Iraqi bullets shattering the windshield, ripping through the fuselage. Blood everywhere. The noise, the smell, the terror. She shivered.

"It's not something I'd like to try again." How old had she been? Early twenties—barely out of her teens. It seemed like a million years ago. It seemed like yesterday.

McGee looked at her as if he understood. How little he knew.

"Anyway, my rappelling experience is strictly recreational. I used to do a lot of climbing in the Cascades. That's where I taught school."

Gwen smiled. "Ah, the mountains. I grew up in the mountains you know, in North Carolina. My daddy mined coal, just like his daddy did, and his granddaddy did back in Wales. I loved the mountains, but I couldn't stay and become a coal-miner's wife, watching my husband cough out his lungs, and when he's gone watch my kids go without shoes."

"So... you joined the Army?"

"Yep. And only regretted it that one day during my entire life. Still, I'd sure like to see those mountains again, smell that clean frosty air in the morning, and listen to the crickets chirp at night." She couldn't stop herself from asking, "Do you think we'll make it home, Professor?"

"Sure, how can we miss? We've got the ERV at the base, and if we really need it, we've got the backup return vehicle already landed on the floor of Valles Marineris, not sixty kilometers from here. The whole mission is checking out fine, isn't it? We'll get home, no sweat."

How can we miss? McGee clearly didn't know a damn thing about quirky machines. "I sure hope so. This place is incredibly beautiful in its way, but..."

"There's no place like home?"

"Yeah, that's it." Was she like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, both ready and lost? She noticed the light dimming in the canyon. "Professor, it's getting dark. We better be heading back to base."

She shifted the rover into gear and began driving downhill. McGee put down his camera. "The light is too dim for filming." He paused. "Gwen, I've got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"This morning, when Rebecca and Luke were arguing, you jumped in with a remark that there couldn't be life on Mars, because the Bible says so. Now I've read the Bible..."

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Good for you."

"And it doesn't say anything about the issue one way or the other." He looked at her hard.

Gwen blushed, but managed a bashful grin. "Okay, so I was bluffing a little."

McGee smiled his nice smile again. "Bluffing?"

"Yeah, McGee, you know, I'm just a country girl, and where I come from, a lot of folks think like that. I'm not sure if I do; there's a lot of ways to read the Scriptures, and maybe by searching here we'll find out the truth. So I guess I was out of line. It's just that that lady rubs me the wrong way. She always seems so sure of herself, and so ungrateful for everything that God and a world full of hard-working people have given her."

Again McGee nodded his sympathetic nod. But of course he could never really understand. He would never know what it meant to grow up being laughed at by the rich girls from town because you didn't have proper clothes, and then to struggle up from nothing, and at the end of it all still be looked down on by someone who had it all given to her on a silver platter. Someone who laughed at the beliefs that gave strength to those who grew the food she ate, mined the coal that powered her city, or fought for the flag that protected her rights to life, wealth, freedom, and ingratitude. Someone who scorned a God who had blessed her with the looks of an angel.

Someone who had once owned horses.

When Gwen had been a girl, the one thing she had wanted more than anything else was a horse. Of course, her family's poverty had made the dream impossible. As a teenager, though, Rebecca had owned two fine Te

A tear formed in Gwen's eye. If she ever had a horse of her own, she would know its name until the day she died.