Patron of the Arts

from icerock.

His eyes went quickly from my face to hers, again scanning for information. Then he grunted, nodded wisely, then shook his head.

“Come on, doch, climb aboard before we freeze these cleanboots!”

“Dvigat, dvigat!” he snapped at the last two aboard. “Move!” He hopped into the seat and motioned Nova next to him. I sat in the back, next to a Marine who was already cursing his assignment, oblivious to the wonders of being on another planet.

On another planet.

On Mars.

I grinned to myself and scanned the horizon for John Carter as we bumped over the road toward the bubble complex of Ares Center, thinking that those first explorers had not forgotten the heritage of their youth. Since a few things had been named by astronomers, some were named for what happened, like Touchdown, where the first ship landed. Some were named for the way they looked, like Redrock and Mano Rojo and Icemountain. One place was optimistically named because someplace on this planet had to be named that, but so far Marsport was a tiny outpost with only a small landing field.

Pride of discovery had made early explorers pretty well ignore the fancy Latin names like Mare Hadtriacum and Syrtis Major and Amazonis and just use those labels they thought they had a right to affix. Wells.

Bradbury, where they discovered the great Star Palace.

Grandcanal City, which had no canal.

Burroughs, with some of the finest relics and walls yet found. The Rille, Grabrock, and Northaxe, where they found that most ancient of archaeological finds.

In a range of mountains named after John Carter what could you call the first mine of rare crimson diamonds but the Dejah Thoris?

Arlington Burl, who had been on the Balboa with us, had named his twin mines Enyo, goddess of battle, and Eris, goddess of discord, who have been described as sister, mother, wife, and daughter of Ares. His sons, Phobos and Deimos, gods of tumult and terror, fly overhead. But too much fantasy can blind you to reality. A hard bump threw me against Pelf, who had not annoyed me especially on the trip once I became involved with Nova. He grinned, and shoved me back helpfully. I nodded my thanks and squinted against the dust toward the domes and towers of Ares Center ahead. Newly manufactured air from the fusion torch’s mass accelerator poured out of the stack, creating a permanent wind that flowed away in every direction, spreading the new atmosphere over the planet. But my mind was not on the terraforming project, but that nagging concern about Pelf that I couldn’t shake. I still felt that Pelf was spying on me, but perhaps he spied on everyone. I have grown used to being spied on, directly and indirectly, electronically and by computer-directed dossiers that are supposed to predict my future performance by past records. I have grown used to it but I have never liked it. I had erected a wall between us a month long and higher than he could jump. I was hoping it would hold.

We trundled into the long, segmented zome and I noticed how skillful they had gotten with the sand- silicon sprayfoamed over the complex of balloon structures. The lock cycled and we went on into the oldest dome, now chipped and discolored, but kept serviceable. Johann pulled up to the largest structure in the center of the dome, a four-story building of rosy blocks of fused sand. Most of the older buildings were built in a similar fashion.

“Here you are,” he said, killing the engine. “I’ll go back out and fetch your cargo when they land it,” he added. Several men in worn warmsuits and one in a shiny new one came out of the building and approached us. Some were known by my fellow passengers and there was a general conversation, hubbub, chaos, and party. Nova was snatched away and wondered at and kissed and hugged and lusted after and passed from one man to another or snatched away with good natured desire to be marveled over.

Johann stood nearby, thumbs stuck in his harness belt, admiring Nova as she laughed and kissed the welcoming throng. From time to time I felt him eyeing me and at last our eyes met.

He nodded his head toward Nova. “She certainly grew up fast and fine.” I agreed, waiting impatiently for her to return to me. Johann dug into one of his zippered pockets and pulled out a pouch, offering me a pinch of what I recognized as Cannabis sativa Ares III, which was fantastically expensive on Earth. I shook my head and thanked him. I intended to keep all my original impressions clear. Time enough to stretch my senses when I wished to explore other aspects of this world. Two slightly drunken men in pale blue warmsuits were carrying Nova around on their shoulders and she was yelling at them happily. On the backs of their warmsuits there was stitched a large red sunburst with a golden apple in the center.

I ignored Johann’s continued inspection of me, and I don’t think even Raeburn’s computers ever dissected me more deeply. I simply waited until Nova would be “mine” again, though I may not have waited with very good grace. Jealousy was a surprising emotion and I resented being surprised.

Finally Nova writhed back down to the ground and broke free, running to me, flushed and happy. She pulled me forward to introduce me to a group of what the vidtabs are fond of calling Nuvomartians. They were none too enthusiastic, especially with Nova hanging on my arm, but they restricted their reaction to glances among themselves. I shook hands with Iceberg Eddie, D’Mico, Endrace, Big Ivan, and Little Ivan. I had my hand mauled by Kum Ling, Jalisco, and a hulking