“We may be able to get some money from NASA,” Jere said, finally.
“You’re in?” Evan said.
“How long’s the flight?”
“To Mars? Three months. We’re going to do it?”
“Then we can definitely get food and bev sponsors. Perfect, too, start on the holidays when everyone’s home and be ready for sweeps in Feb.”
“We’re doing it?”
Jere nodded.
Evan did a little jump and victory dance.
Jere cleared his calendar with a few quick touches and stood up. “Let’s go to lunch. I need to know how you intend to pull off this stunt.”
Evan’s eyes sparkled. “It’s Russian tech. You know, the stuff they do, the $250k packages to orbit for a week.”
Jere paused at the door. “That’s why I know people will die.”
“Pull it out! Come on! Pull!” Sam Ruiz shouted through their local comm. Mike Kinsson and Juelie Peters tugged at the shattered plastic shell. Suddenly the whole side twisted off, and all three ended up in a tangled heap on the dusty ground. Mike Kinsson noticed absently that the Disney and Red Bull and Wal-Mart logos on Juelie’s suit were covered in dust, and reached out to brush them off.
“What are you doing?” Sam said, yanking Juelie to her feet.
“Dust…” Mike said, and trailed off. It was stupid anyway. Why should he worry about their sponsors? Why should he worry about anything? They were dead.
Sam’s team had been given the easiest Overland Challenge, nothing more than a fast run over rocky ground, because they had been assigned the toughest rolling and flying part. Soaring over a tiny edge of Valles Marineris was part of their air journey, partly to make it more dramatic and partly to bring back some great images.
But after their brief Overland, they’d bounced up to the scene of a disaster. Their transpo pod had smashed on a huge boulder. Its smooth shape was now twisted into something that more resembled a crushed basketball.
“Junk,” he said softly, as Sam and Juelie began pulling out bundles of bent and sheared struts and shreds of fabric.
“Are you going to help?” Juelie asked.
Like a robot, Mike went and helped them pull out the contents of the pod. He noticed that the big Timberland and Kia and Cessna logos emblazoned on the outside of the pod had survived intact, and he had to suppress the urge to laugh. Some of the last pieces had been wedged into the rock and wouldn’t come out-including the engine that powered the Wheel and Kite.
“Where’s the rest of it?” Sam yelled.
“Stuck.”
Sam glared at him and crawled inside. When Sam crawled out again, sweat was running down his cheeks and there was a strange, faraway look in his eyes. Mike looked around at the twisted pieces strewn around them and shook his head. Sam saw it and grabbed him.
“What?” he said. “What are you shaking your head for?”
“We’re dead,” Mike said. “It’s over.”
“No! We can make something! We can do some hybrid thing, like a wheel.” He began rooting through the wreckage, frantic.
“Powered by what?” Mike said softly.
“We can power it! Or we can make skis! Or we can…”
Juelie went over to Sam and laid a hand on his shoulder. As soon as he felt her touch, he stopped. He stayed still on his hands and knees, looking down at the rocks and dust, panting.
“Mike’s right,” Juelie said. “I saw the engine.”
Sam stood up. The pale sun reflected off his shiny bronze face. He looked from the wreckage to the horizon and back again. “I don’t want to give up!” he said.
“Why?” Juelie said. “We can’t win.”
Sam looked at her for long moments, as if trying to decipher a strange phrase in an unknown language. Then he slumped. All the tension left him. He sat on a boulder and hugged his knees. Something like a wail escaped him. Under the cloudless alien sky, amidst a red desert unrelieved by water or leaf or lichen, it was a chilling sound.
“What do we do?” he said finally. “How do we get to the Returns?”
“We don’t,” Mike said, standing carefully away.
Sam just looked up at him.
“Walk overland,” Juelie said. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes.”
“There’s not enough food and water,” Mike said.
“We’ll eat less!”
“We can’t cross the Valles Marineris.”
“Why not?”
“Mile-high vertical walls.”
Juelie was silent for a while. “They’ll have to come rescue us,” she said finally.
“No,” Mike said.
“We’ve lost,” Sam said.
“Wait,” Julie said. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“They can’t just come down and get us,” Mike told her. “Other than our drops and the return modules, there’s no way to get down here and back again.”
Julie looked confused.
“They can’t rescue us,” Mike said. “They don’t have the capability.”
“Then what do we do?” Sam said. “Sit here and die?”
Mike looked away. Even he knew better than to answer that. Juelie walked over and offered Sam her hand. After a moment, he took it, head hanging low. Mike edged away from the two, not wanting to be part of any coming outburst. Sam had been driven by a single purpose since the start: to win his share of the thirty million dollars. That’s what he wanted. Nothing more, nothing less. He hadn’t disguised it, hadn’t hid it. But now that was taken away. And more.
Mike tried to make himself feel something, but he couldn’t. It was too far away, too remote. They had maybe five days worth of food and water in their packs. Five days, and then a couple of days for the recycling to stop working, or some other suit malfunction.
