Mission Mars by Janet L. Cannon

now. Quarterly cargo shipments are launched from here, and we can lease shipping containers from them. It’s ours for the taking. If we start work on the liner and at the same time send a team to Mars to establish this Ultimate Resort, we can show profits in three years.”
    â€œThree years?”
    â€œDo you see enough profit here?” Lewis waited for any reaction from the director.
    After a moment, Ramirez grunted. “I’ll give you the go-ahead.”
    â€œExcellent. Now I have a list of candidates to head up the operation.”
    â€œNo,” Ramirez said emphatically, “you’ll be directly accountable to the stockholders.” Ramirez emphasized the word “stockholders” with the same dread tone as if he had mentioned the Tong or the Ukrainian mafia. “You will spearhead this mission.”
    â€œI can’t go!” Lewis protested. “I’m an ideas man. Here. Back on Earth!”
    â€œWho else would have the same personal interest in seeing this project through to a profitable end?”
    A single phone call from Ramirez’s desk put Lewis in charge of the Ultimate Resort Project. No longer a matter of profit shares, the project had become a point of survivalfor Lewis. He would have to work a miracle on Mars like he had in Manitoba or else his career would be over.

    â€œThis landing area is nowhere near the UN research station?” Lewis asked as the captain guided the lander toward the ruddy surface of Mars. He strained forward against the straps to see the schematic display of their descent on the control panel.
    â€œYou’ve kept out of the way so far. Don’t screw it up now,” the captain replied. She was a square-jawed woman who exuded a military disdain for civilian executives. “We’ll be landing where we agreed.”
    Lewis wanted to point out that he had personally selected her for this position. He was responsible for her opportunity to go to Mars and for setting up the bonus schedule for the crew. But he knew by protesting that he would only show how useless he really felt, so he sulked in his flight couch for the rest of the landing.
    They set down on Sinai Planum, within walking distance of Valles Marineris, the largest known canyon system on any visited planet. Lewis didn’t join the rest of the crew on their excursion to the lip of the canyon. He feared actually seeing the landscape would dull the mystic edge he planned to use for copy on the advertising campaign. It was just a big hole surrounded with red ground after all.
    Once out of the lander and in the dilute Martian atmosphere, Lewis faced a world of total desolation. Earth, as a reminder of life existing outside of carbon compositeand metal suits, would never glow its blue and white face in the night sky. Earth now was lost, nothing more than a bright speck among other anonymous bright specks. Lewis had wagered his entire future existence on this wild venture. Unlike with Derb Town on the Moon, no subculture had grown here that would accept him should he fail. This planet was truly a frontier. All that would exist here was what they could construct. He climbed back inside the lander when his feet became cold.
    â€œMr. Kosmatka?” asked one of the crew less than an hour later. “Could you move your stuff into the shelter?”
    Lewis looked up from his flight couch. “You’ve got it set up already? Rad hardened and reinforced?”
    â€œYeah,” the crewman said. “It’s a little design we picked up from Derb Town.”
    The lander ferried the engineering teams down to the makeshift habitation. Lewis shot PR footage of the construction of the temporary base, keeping out of the work. His job of selling the concept to the glitterati would begin soon enough. He smiled to himself. Who could refuse a personal call from Mars?

    â€œWhat do you mean the water extraction plant is behind schedule? Look, we’ve got very