The Martians(61)

Actually he is enjoying following Eileen up the difficult pitch. She has a quick rhythm of observation and movement that reminds him of Dougal, but her choice of holds is all her own—and closer to what Roger would choose. Her calm tone as they discuss the belays, her smooth pulls up the rock, the fine proportions of her long legs, reaching for the awkward foothold: a beautiful climber. And every once in a while there is a little jog at Roger's memory.


Three hundred meters above they find the lead climbers, out of the Gully and on a flat ledge that covers nearly a hectare, on the left side this time. From this vantage they can see parts of the cliff face to the right of the Gully, above them. “Nice campsite,” Eileen remarks. Marie, Dougal, Hannah, and Ginger are sitting about, resting in the middle of setting up their little wall tents. “Looked like you had a hard day of it down there."

“Invigorating,” Dougal says, eyebrows raised.

Eileen surveys them. “Looks like a little oxygen might be in order.”

The lead group protests.

“I know, I know. Just a little. A cocktail.”

“It only makes you crave it,” Marie says.

“Maybe so. We can't use much down here, anyway.”

In the midday radio call to the camps below, Eileen tells the others to pack up the tents from Camp One. “Bring those and the power reels up first. We should be able to use the reels between these camps.”

They all give a small cheer. The sun disappears behind the cliff above, and they all groan. The leads stir themselves and continue setting up the tents. The air chills quickly.


Roger and Eileen descend through the afternoon shadows to Camp Two, as there is not enough equipment to accommodate more than the lead group at Camp Three. Descending is easy on the muscles compared with the ascent, but it requires just as much concentration as going up. By the time they reach Camp Two Roger is very tired, and the cold sunless face has left him depressed again. Up and down; up and down.

That night during the sunset radio conversation Eileen and Marie get into an argument when Eileen orders the leads down to do some portering. “Look, Marie, the rest of us haven't led a single pitch, have we? And we didn't come on this climb to ferry up goods for you, did we?” Eileen's voice has a very sharp, cutting edge to it when she is annoyed. Marie insists the first team is making good time, and is not tired yet. “That's not the point. Get back down to Camp One tomorrow, and finish bringing it up. The bottom team will move up and reel Camp Two up to Three, and those of us here at Two will carry one load up to Three and have a bash at the lead after that. That's the way it is, Marie—we leapfrog in my climbs, you know that.”

Sounds behind the static from the radio, of Dougal talking to Marie. Finally Marie says, “Aye, well you'll need us more when the climbing gets harder anyway. But we can't afford to slow down much.”


After the radio call Roger leaves the tents and sits on his ledge bench to watch the twilight. Far to the east the land is still sunlit, but as he watches the landscape darkens, turns dim purple under a blackberry sky. Mirror dusk. A few stars sprinkle the high dome above him. The air is cold but still, and he can hear Hans and Frances inside their tent, arguing about glacial polish. Frances is an areologist of some note, and apparently she disagrees with Hans about the origins of the escarpment; she spends some of her climbing time looking for evidence in the rock.

Eileen sits down beside him. “Mind?”

“No.”

She says nothing, and it occurs to him she may be upset. He says, “I'm sorry Marie is being so hard to get along with.”

She waves a mittened hand to dismiss it. “Marie is always like that. It doesn't mean anything. She just wants to climb.” She laughs. “We go on like this every time we climb together, but I still like her.”

“Hmph.” Roger raises his eyebrows. “I wouldn't have guessed.”

She does not reply. For a long time they sit there. Roger's thoughts return to the past, and helplessly his spirits plummet again.

“You seem . . . disturbed about something,” Eileen ventures.

“Ehh,” Roger says. “About everything, I suppose.” And winces to be making such a confessional. But she appears to understand.

She says, “So you fought all the terraforming?”

“Most of it, yeah. First as head of a lobbying group. You must be part of it now—Martian Wilderness Explorers.”

“I pay the dues.”

“Then in the Red government. And in the Interior Ministry, after the Greens took over. But none of it did any good.""Because," he bursts out—stops—starts again; “Because I liked the planet the way it was when we found it. A lot of us did, back then. It was so beautiful... or not just that. It was more overwhelming than beautiful. The size of things, their shapes—the whole planet had been evolving, the landforms themselves I mean, for five billion years, and traces of all of that time were still on the surface to be seen and read, if you knew how to look. It was so wonderful to be out there.”