She turned back to the simulations. "Damn. It all comes down to . . . well, to coming down. We can get it out of orbit, and get it through the atmosphere, but we can't land it intact. Are you sure the rockets won't work?"
"No, I am not sure. But that is precisely the problem. They may work well. However, they may fail at some point, and if they fail at the wrong point . . ." He sighed. "I can guarantee a firing of a simple rocket for a short time, but this will not be so simple. There will not be time for extensive testing; perhaps only one, very small, preliminary design to be test-landed before we must land the supplies for real. A vehicle to be landed by rocket needs fine control, especially if we have no time for long prototyping. But we lack the resources of people and materiel to, as one might say, throw money at the problem, and if that control fails . . ."
"Yeah. Maybe we need to put in another call to Earth, bounce some ideas off of them, see what they . . ." She trailed off.
A poke brought her back to awareness. "Jackie? What is it? You stopped talking. Have you an idea?"
"Almost, I think. But I'm trying to figure out what it is."
What was it? Something about what I just said. Talk to other people. Bounce ideas off them—
Bounce?
The idea was at once so obvious and absurd that she burst out laughing. "I've got it, Doctor! It'll take a lot of the lining fabric in some of the holds, a hell of a lot of sealant, some carbonan reinforcement— probably have to rip some suits up for it—but we can do it!"
Gupta looked at her, one eyebrow raised in an expression of expectant amusement. "And, what, precisely, is it that we can do?"
"The third Titan probe! And what was it, um, Mars Surveyor? Cosmic bubblewrap, Doctor! We'll surround the thing with airbags and bounce it to a safe landing!"
The dignified engineer stared at her for a long moment. Then, startlingly, gave a high-pitched whoop and swung her around. "Yes! Yes indeed, yes! That is exactly the sort of thing we need! Design it well, design it strong, and it almost cannot fail. With a few rockets— of the simple sort—yes, Jackie! That will work!"
"Defacing the environment of Mars, sure enough," Joe stated, with all the grim satisfaction of a Cassandra. "I now have proof that we are conscienceless exploiters of this helpless planet."
Madeline smiled. "I demand to see your evidence, tree-hugger."
"Behold, o closet robber-baron." Her HUD lit up with images from Thoat's rear-facing cameras.
"Oh, wow," she said involuntarily. Thoat was crossing a flat area that looked dark gray from ground level, making its closest approach to the looming wall of the Valles Marineris. The cliffs here jutted out in a spur that Thoat had to skirt on its way to Target 37. The great towering ridge, scarcely a kilometer distant, threw back the sun's light diffusely, making the entire region brighter except for the dark sands.
But where Thoat's wide-treaded wheels had dug in, bright salmon-red-orange ridges and scalloped lines marred the ground. "Wow," she repeated.
"Interesting," Helen said. "That dark stuff is just a thin coating on the surface, it looks like. Maybe airborne dust from something else?"
"Or there could be alternating layers—maybe seasonal."
"True. Maybe the next expedition—you know, one that doesn't crash—will be able to look at it and figure it out."
"I'm sure there will be a lot of expeditions," Madeline said. She looked out the forward port. As usual, Bruce was driving, focusing most of his attention on the nearby features so as not to run into any surprises.
She raised her gaze, looking farther out. "What is that?"
The others looked up.
"Bugger me," Bruce said calmly.
A towering yellowish column swirled in the distance, huge, misty, threatening. As they watched, they could see it was approaching. Dust roiled about its base.
"That looks like a tornado!" The tension in Helen's voice was that of someone who had more than once found themselves in Tornado Alley during peak season.
"Sort of," A.J. said, his eyes viewing the scene through satellite and sensors. "It's a dust devil. Peak wind speed of this one appears to be about one hundred and eighty kilometers per hour, and she's about five kilometers high."
"A hundred and eighty kilometers per hour?" Bruce said. "Bloody hell."
Madeline felt the same way. Winds that fast could—
Both Joe and A.J. started laughing.
"What the hell's so funny?" Bruce demanded. Madeline glared questioningly at the two former Ares members—then at Rich, as he joined in the laughs. All of a sudden, Bruce started laughing also.