you that,” Trumball insisted. “His scientific accomplishments have been zero. He’s a political choice, nothing more.”
Trumball went on for a while, in a lower tone, his words too muffled now for Jamie to make out.
Jamie sank down on his bunk, feeling empty inside, drained, defeated. He’s right, Jamie realized. I haven’t contributed much to the field. I got onto the first expedition by a fluke and I’m here as mission director because I campaigned for it.
He tried to sleep. But he could not. Is this what the rest of them think of me? Are they just tolerating me because I was on the first expedition? Or because I’m older than any of them?
Then he heard the woman giggle. Dex shushed her. Jamie tried not to listen, turned on his bunk and covered his head with the slim plastic pillow. Silence for a while. Then a soft moan, almost a sob. Jamie squeezed his eyes shut, tried to will himself to deafness. She moaned again, louder. It went on for what seemed like an hour.
Jamie could not tell for certain who was in there with Dex, but the woman sounded to him like Vijay.
It took several days before he could look her in the eye again. Before he could look at any of them without wondering what was going through their minds.
And he could not look at Trumball at all. Until the evening when he and Dex flared into open conflict.
Fuchida and Hall were giving a seminar to the rest of the scientists about the latest findings from Earth. Everyone was crowded on the benches that lined the one long table of the galley. The display screens along the curving bulkhead showed photomicrographs of the Martian lichen samples that had been returned to Earth by the first expedition.
“We knew before we took off,” Trudy Hall was saying, standing at the head of the table, “that the Martian lichen are remarkably like terrestrial lichen in several ways, but decidedly unlike in others.
“Like terrestrial lichen, they are colonies of algoids and fungoids living together in a symbiotic relationship that—”
“Without benefit of marriage?” Trumball cracked.
Unfazed, Hall replied, “They reproduce asexually.”
“That’s no fun.”
“How do you know if you haven’t tried it?”
Jamie leaned his forearms on the table and said softly, “Let’s get buck on the subject, please.”
Hall nodded and resumed, “The most interesting thing is that their nuclear material contains double-stranded molecules that are remarkably like our own DNA.”
“Their genetic programming,” Fuchida took over, getting to his feet lo stand beside Hall, “appears to be very similar to our genetic code.”
Pointing to a computer-graphic representation of a twining double helix, Fuchida said, “Their genes are composed of four base units, just us our own are.”
Jamie thought Fuchida’s voice was trembling slightly. Excitement that he was trying to suppress?
“You mean we’re related to them?” Shektar asked, wide-eyed awe in her tone.
“Not necessarily,” answered Fuchida, raising one hand slightly. “Their base units are not the same composition as ours. We have adenine, cytosine, guanine and thymine. The Martian base units are remarkably similar in function, but of different composition chemically. No formal names have been assigned to them as yet. They are known simply as Mars One, Mars Two, Mars Three, and—”
“Let me guess,” Trumball interrupted. “Mars Four?”
Fuchida made a miniaturized bow. “Yes, Mars Four.”
“Well now, that’s almost poetic,” muttered Possum Craig.
As Fuchida and Hall took turns showing how the Martian DNA worked, Jamie’s mind began to wander. Same system for passing genetic information from one generation to another, but different chemical structure. Are we related? Could Earth’s life have originated on Mars? Or vice versa?
The others were already arguing the same point, he realized.
“Had to be Mars-to-Earth,” Craig was insisting stubbornly. “Couldn’t be the other way
Trumball went on for a while, in a lower tone, his words too muffled now for Jamie to make out.
Jamie sank down on his bunk, feeling empty inside, drained, defeated. He’s right, Jamie realized. I haven’t contributed much to the field. I got onto the first expedition by a fluke and I’m here as mission director because I campaigned for it.
He tried to sleep. But he could not. Is this what the rest of them think of me? Are they just tolerating me because I was on the first expedition? Or because I’m older than any of them?
Then he heard the woman giggle. Dex shushed her. Jamie tried not to listen, turned on his bunk and covered his head with the slim plastic pillow. Silence for a while. Then a soft moan, almost a sob. Jamie squeezed his eyes shut, tried to will himself to deafness. She moaned again, louder. It went on for what seemed like an hour.
Jamie could not tell for certain who was in there with Dex, but the woman sounded to him like Vijay.
It took several days before he could look her in the eye again. Before he could look at any of them without wondering what was going through their minds.
And he could not look at Trumball at all. Until the evening when he and Dex flared into open conflict.
Fuchida and Hall were giving a seminar to the rest of the scientists about the latest findings from Earth. Everyone was crowded on the benches that lined the one long table of the galley. The display screens along the curving bulkhead showed photomicrographs of the Martian lichen samples that had been returned to Earth by the first expedition.
“We knew before we took off,” Trudy Hall was saying, standing at the head of the table, “that the Martian lichen are remarkably like terrestrial lichen in several ways, but decidedly unlike in others.
“Like terrestrial lichen, they are colonies of algoids and fungoids living together in a symbiotic relationship that—”
“Without benefit of marriage?” Trumball cracked.
Unfazed, Hall replied, “They reproduce asexually.”
“That’s no fun.”
“How do you know if you haven’t tried it?”
Jamie leaned his forearms on the table and said softly, “Let’s get buck on the subject, please.”
Hall nodded and resumed, “The most interesting thing is that their nuclear material contains double-stranded molecules that are remarkably like our own DNA.”
“Their genetic programming,” Fuchida took over, getting to his feet lo stand beside Hall, “appears to be very similar to our genetic code.”
Pointing to a computer-graphic representation of a twining double helix, Fuchida said, “Their genes are composed of four base units, just us our own are.”
Jamie thought Fuchida’s voice was trembling slightly. Excitement that he was trying to suppress?
“You mean we’re related to them?” Shektar asked, wide-eyed awe in her tone.
“Not necessarily,” answered Fuchida, raising one hand slightly. “Their base units are not the same composition as ours. We have adenine, cytosine, guanine and thymine. The Martian base units are remarkably similar in function, but of different composition chemically. No formal names have been assigned to them as yet. They are known simply as Mars One, Mars Two, Mars Three, and—”
“Let me guess,” Trumball interrupted. “Mars Four?”
Fuchida made a miniaturized bow. “Yes, Mars Four.”
“Well now, that’s almost poetic,” muttered Possum Craig.
As Fuchida and Hall took turns showing how the Martian DNA worked, Jamie’s mind began to wander. Same system for passing genetic information from one generation to another, but different chemical structure. Are we related? Could Earth’s life have originated on Mars? Or vice versa?
The others were already arguing the same point, he realized.
“Had to be Mars-to-Earth,” Craig was insisting stubbornly. “Couldn’t be the other way
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