broken down for use in manufacturing. I make it sound technical, but it’s… not pretty.”
“Say no more.”
The inside of the skiff was quiet, as if everyone was waiting for someone else to speak. After far too long, Donovan smiled at Sal and asked, “So what do you say?”
“To what?” she asked.
He had a confused look on his face, as if the answer were as plain as day. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said, “I have a bit of trouble with what has and hasn’t been said sometimes.” He gave the interface on the side of his head a quick tap.
Sal had a sense she was being seduced, but into what she wasn’t entirely sure. As far as she knew, she’d been brought aboard to take a look around and help them design weapons. Or something.
“This facility has astronomical potential, but in order for that potential to be fulfilled, it needs someone to run it. It needs an inventive mind to give it purpose and direction.”
The answer dawned on her, and her eyes went wide with surprise.
“I’d like you to run the factory,” Donovan said. “It would more or less be yours.”
“This is too much,” Sal said, and she started to wave her hands in front of her. “I’m just a wrench jockey. I fix things that are broken, Doctor Donovan. I don’t run factories.”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I know you’re much more than that. Your work is inspired, and you know it, too.”
The woman physician, Doctor St. Martin, waved Donovan off. “Christ, you haven’t a subtle bone in your body, Marc. You’re putting too much pressure on her.”
St. Martin had a warm smile and sharp, inquisitive eyes. Sal suspected this woman was their voice of reason, and the voice of reason went on, “Why don’t we put the skiff down and find some dinner? We can give Ms. Saladin a proper tour, and maybe show her some of the ongoing projects tomorrow. Does that sound alright?”
Sal thought about it for a moment. “Everything’s so damn weird, I’m not sure what’s alright anymore. But I guess that’ll do.”
With that, the skiff headed back toward the launch bay, and no one spoke of Donovan’s offer for the rest of the night.
Chapter 26:
The Weight
Marcus Donovan was floating in the middle of his quarters. The walls were in crystal mode, as he’d taken to calling it, revealing the stars all around and the rust colored planet below. This was how he spent his down time; it was the closest he could get to the pure freedom experienced while reliving Legacy’s memory, back when she first plugged the interface into his head. He ached for that feeling, and the ache filled his thoughts and dreams. He just didn’t know how to make his longing a reality.
While rooting around inside her mind, he often tripped other memories, but they were only faded images and dim sensations in comparison. They weren’t the rich, sensory complete experience he had that first time. He literally lost himself and became her, and it was the single most transformative moment of his life.
Now, she resided permanently at one edge of his consciousness, a friend and confidante, but whole, separate and complete. There was no commingling, no question where one ended and the other began.
Sometimes, Legacy wondered why Marcus was so eager to be rid of himself. She thought Eireki were the most beautiful things in all of creation, and the desire to escape that existence totally baffled her.
Truth was that being out among the stars was all Marcus had ever wanted, though, and he just couldn’t ever explain it quite right. When it came right down to it, he wanted to be a ship. He consoled himself with the fact that for one titanic battle, he’d lived his dream. It was more than most people could say.
It still wasn’t enough.
He watched the stars and identified constellations for a while, until Legacy told him Amira Saladin was awake and inside the factory. The fact that Amira had trouble sleeping wasn’t surprising. Most people had some difficulty their first night aboard, thanks to the heartbeat rhythm audible throughout the ship.
“She’s in the factory? That’s a good sign,” he said out loud. “She’ll come around. I promise.”
Legacy told him again how excited she was by Amira’s presence. The woman had a vibrant imagination, and saw possibilities wherever she looked. Her thoughts were different somehow, radiant like a bright light amid darkness. She was more like the Eireki of old, and Legacy found that especially invigorating.
She told Marcus to go give Amira a nudge in the right direction.
“You’re not going to shut up about this, are you?”
The whole of Legacy’s being communicated the word “No.”
“Fine,” he said, “but let me talk to her alone. Really alone. No eavesdropping.”
The ship reluctantly agreed.
Marcus floated back down to the floor, threw on a shirt and some loose pants, and headed out the door. At the end of the corridor was a landing pad and transit tube, which carried him several kilometers to the factory where Amira Saladin was silently looking over the machinery. She had the look of someone thinking heavy thoughts.
She was leaning against a railing that overlooked an assembly line. The manipulator arms and their panoply of tools were at rest, just waiting for a job to occupy them.
Marcus walked across the empty floor and took a spot next to her. She didn’t react to his presence at all, but couldn’t have missed him. She would talk to him when she was ready, he assumed.
And after an eternity, she did. “The future never quite works out how you expect, does it?”
“Not as far as I’ve seen. Life would be pretty dull if it did.”
“Maybe. It’d be nice for a change, though. I mean, when I was a kid, before my family came to Mars, I never ever would’ve guessed I’d become an engineer.”
“You had something else in mind?”
She laughed. “Yeah. Artist, all the way. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have paint on my hands. And my clothes. And my face. My mother still has all the goofy little pictures I made.”
“So what happened?”
“Mars happened. For my parents, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. The kind of offer they couldn’t refuse, and me… Well, I came along. That’s the only choice a teenager has.”
“There are only a couple constants in the universe, and one of them is that being a teen sucks. So, I take it there’s no market for art on Mars?”
“I dunno. Thing’s change, so maybe. Probably stupid landscapes. There wasn’t back then, though. Art’s a luxury, and when we first made planetfall, life was hard. A lot harder than anyone expected. We all worked our fingers to the bone in the early days, adults and kids alike.”
“And that’s how the painter became a wrench jockey.”
“More or less. I had small hands, and I could reach where other people couldn’t. I hated it. I hated it so bad that whenever I fixed something, I made sure it stayed fixed so I wouldn’t have to fix it again.”
They both laughed for a while. When the silence returned, she spoke again. “How about you, Doctor Marcus Donovan? What did you want to be?”
“Me? I just wanted to be on Mars.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Completely serious. There wasn’t anything I wanted more. Rocketing through space, traipsing around alien worlds and meeting little green men. That was the dream, and Mars my first target. It was the only planet close enough to be realistic. The only one with the possibility of becoming more than a stupid kid’s fantasy.”
“If it’s any consolation, you really didn’t miss anything. There was nothing on Mars but rocks and hard work.”
“I know. I’d still have given my eye-teeth just to hold one of those rocks, though. I had to make due with a crappy telescope, and by God, I kept my face glued to it from sunset to sunrise, just dreaming about all the places I’d go if I got my chance. If you look close, I’ve still got a dent on my cheek from the eye-piece.”
