Free Olympus Mons by William Walling Page A

establishment of an additional enclave was discussed with Vonex Chairman Armin Korasek, the astute, enlightened executive to whom Burroughs owes such an inestimable debt. Experts in Geneva and New York wholeheartedly concur on the viability of such a visionary prospect, confident that any of the three volcanoes crowning the Tharsis Ridge will be excellent sources of water.”
    â€œNot in my lifetime,” I whispered.
    Hearing the magic word, Jess perked up, snorted indignantly and whispered, “With zip to drink, your lifetime’s measured in E-months.”
    â€œSo’s yours,” was my snappy comeback.
    The director interrupted his oratorical binge long enough to award us whisperers a stern, reproving glance. He began wearing down, but not before congratulating us Marsrats for pulling together in a united effort, for pitching in and doing our utmost to make the Vonex executives — read self-serving, tax-dodging bureaucrats — and the United Nations leadership — read self-serving, tax-gobbling bureaucrats — proud to be charged with ensuring the continuing growth and prosperity of the Martian enterprise our pioneering efforts were striving so diligently to bring to ultimate fruition.
    ***
    By this time small groups and bunches of Marsrats had either nodded off, or quietly ooched out of the partitioned meeting area. A smattering of light applause went around the meeting hall, if only a smattery, halfhearted smattering. I think the bo’s and their ladies were rewarding the director for shutting up, not for whatever it was he’d had to say.
    Scheiermann beamed at his flock, bestowing dollops of fatherly pride on one set of unsmiling faces after another, then in a different voice he tried to wind up the extraordinary council session on an upbeat note. “Ladies and gentlemen, before we adjourn I have an announcement of great interest to all of us. The adult population of Burroughs is about to grow by a factor of eighteen percent. Sixteen recently Mars-rationalized transportees, eleven men and five women if I correctly recall the tally, have for months been in trajectory from the Earth-Luna System. In four or five E-weeks we shall be welcoming sixteen new colleagues and companions into the enclave.”
    â€œHope they’re not thirsty,” I whispered.
    Jesperson’s underlip curled. “Rotten timing, but no matter. Sixteen more mouths won’t do much to shrink the months we have left.”
    â€œYou saying they won’t help drink us dry?”
    â€œBasics are basics. By the time the threat becomes imminent, we’ll either have found a way to repair the aqueduct, or be getting prepared to all go together when we go. Tough tittie for us and them if no solution shows up. Make no mistake: the water dilemma is a real-world problem with real-world consequences. Even so, not much change will occur by adding sixteen thirsty mouths to the overall tote.”
    At the time, Jess had no way of knowing one of the “immaterial” newbies would become special to him in a special, real-world way, with very special real-world consequences. Dr. Glorious Gloria Steinkritz was among the new arrivals now in trajectory, although neither of us had any inkling of it at the time.
    Scheiermann tapped his gavel to quiet a stir of murmurings. Getting set to wrap things up, he never suspected what was lurking in the bushes when inquiring, “Now then, any other old or new business?”
    Jesperson pounced, casually lifting his hand.
    â€œUh, yes? Mr. Jesperson, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes, Mr. Director. I’m told the Olympus Mons aqueduct is no longer functioning. May I asked what’s being done to correct the situation?”
    â€œDone . . ?” The director’s spade beard wiggle-waggled. He pursed his lips, cut a brief sidelong glance at Dr. Yokomizo, harr-r-rumphed! again and said, “That particular problem has only recently come to light.