BOUNDARY(143)

"We're in the home stretch, luv. Judging from the maps and all, we've got about fifty klicks left and we're knocking on the front door."



"So we'll be there sometime tomorrow?"



"Right around six, local time."



"Then day after tomorrow we'll be looking for the base."



"As long as we don't get in any more trouble. Keep your fingers crossed."



Madeline almost did cross her fingers, even though she was generally even more sarcastic about superstition than Helen was. But there really wasn't any reason to do so, that she could see, even if she were so inclined. Since their desperate juggling of rockets and fuel back at Pirate, they hadn't encountered any significant problems. The accurate intelligence from both ground and orbital sensors allowed Bruce to follow a carefully plotted course with minimal major obstacles. All he had to do was make sure he didn't run them into a gully or a too-big rock, and he was more than good enough to manage that even on the slightly hairier parts of the trip so far.



She decided a celebration was in order. "Then I say if we do make it all intact, we open one of Joe's special dinners and throw ourselves a party. It's been one hell of a trip, and we're going to be living pretty frugally for the next few months."



"I'm up for that," Joe agreed cheerfully. He took advantage of the thaw to snaggle Madeline's hand back.



His concussion had apparently had no lasting effects, fortunately. He no longer suffered from excessive sleepiness or dizziness, and the leg was already showing some signs of healing. Dr. Wu was a bit concerned about how strong the bone would wind up being, since it would be healing in one-third gravity throughout. But, obviously, there wasn't anything that could be done about that. At least Joe would be contributing to science in the process, being the first human bone injury healing in low gravity conditions.



"I think that's got a unanimous 'yes' vote coming, Madeline," A.J. said. "Especially from those of us who're going to be working lots of overtime."



"Then put it on your social calendars. First official rest day on Mars."



"I hope I can find a date."



"Oy, don't taunt those of us who know we won't get one," grumbled Bruce.



"Don't complain; you're a flyboy. Your problem's trying to get away from them."



"Right. Tell that to Tammy, would you? Make sure you do so from a distance. She throws a mean skillet."





A couple of hours later, darkness forced Bruce to stop for the night, still not far from the kilometers-high wall of the Valles Marineris. "Time for a bit of dinner, and then the last run tomorrow."



Joe distributed their strictly limited rations—enough to live on, not enough to get full on—and they ate. Madeline was deliberately slow in her eating. She wanted to give her body the maximum chance to realize that, yes, it really was getting fed, even if it wasn't getting as much as she'd like.



Joe had finished already and was looking out the south-facing port. Suddenly, he stiffened. "Hey, Bruce, kill the lights."



"Why? What's up, mate?"



"Just do it."



A chill ran down Madeline's spine. What did he see? There couldn't be anything out there that cared about lights.



Could there?



Reflexively, the hand she still had free went to where, in times past, she'd have kept a gun.



If she had one now, which she didn't—and a fat lot of good it would do even if she did. Was she going to shoot through the port, with nothing out there but very, very thin air, almost all of it carbon dioxide?



The lights went out and they were plunged into pitch blackness, only a faint glow to the west marking where the sun had gone down.



"What is it, Joe? What'd you see?" A. J. demanded. The tone of his voice showed that he, too, found the situation unsettling. "There's nothing out there!"



"Not quite. Take a look."



As her eyes adapted to the darkness, Madeline suddenly realized that it was not totally dark through the port. A phantom glow shimmered in the distance; then, seemed to move toward them.



"Holy . . ." she breathed, and heard some of the others mutter something similar.



"What the hell is it?" asked Helen tensely.



But Joe's answer seemed simply fascinated. "Look carefully."



Now Madeline could see several glows, like immensely tall distant columns, flickering faintly with a violet radiance.



Violet . . .?



"It's like the dust devil. But what's moving at this time of night?"



There was a sound of a hand smacking a forehead. "Dust falls! Of course! Dammit, Joe, don't scare us like that!"