One Way To Mars

Chapter 6

Foreman sat by the small pool,his feet dangling in the cool water. Monkley offered him a banana,which was declined.

'Right now, is when most selfrespecting human would get totally hammered. That's one thing thebrass thought not to send here. Booze. Not a priority. Boy. They gotthat bit wrong.'

'Andy not happy.'

'Hmm. You got that right, pal.'He sighed. 'What the hell is going on down there? The communicationscentre is usually manned twenty four seven by teams of eight. We geta cadet, desperate to get out of the damn place. Shit. I hope the kidmade it. You know something? For once in my life, I'm in the rightplace at the right time. We got all we need to live out our livesright here. No rent to pay, no boss on our backs giving us grief.Heck. We don't even have to worry about the damn weather.' He stoodup. 'From now on, pal, this our little world. Come on. Lets goexploring. See what the hell we got to work with.'

Together they explored thesection of fruit trees. There were three types of apple, two bananatrees, three types of citrus, lime, orange and lemon. Two peachtrees, and one pineapple. Some of them had produced self settingoffspring on the rich soil. Foreman knew as much about horticultureas he did radios. He was pretty sure some thinning would be needed toensure all maturing trees had sufficient nutrients. In the wellstocked food storage area, there was a huge variety of processedfoods, all sealed in the biodegradable packaging. By his estimation,enough to last him and Monkley for years.

Clothing would last him forever,but some thought had to be given to laundry chores. Even he hadlimits on how bad he would allow himself to smell. Toiletries werewell stocked. With the toilet serving as a bidet and drier in one,toilet tissue wasn't an issue.

Medical supplies were adequate,and enough in the right hands to deal with most emergencies. He had aterrible vision of Monkley with a scalpel in one hand and a manual inanother, with himself writhing in agony with an appendix about toexplode. Motto to live by and note to self. Stay healthy.

The base control centre with thecontrols for the entire base was at least simple to read. Each gaugewas clearly identified and as far as he could tell, everything readnormal. What the hell he would do if something suddenly wasn'treading normal, he managed to put out of his head. Bridges to crosswhen they needed crossing. He would try to figure things out beforeanything went pear shaped, though.

'Now, this could be fun, pal.'

The six wheeled all terrainexplorer could seat six people, suited, because it was uncovered.Battery powered and solar charged, it had a top speed of thirty milesper hour and a range of two hundred miles on a full charge. Six hugeindependently suspended wheels were made of Luxotral, like ninetypercent of the vehicle. It was housed in its own bay next to the mainairlock. The controls were basic enough that an average eight yearold could drive it with minimal instruction.

The hydroponics section wasunused, the nutrient dosed water in continuous circulation to keep itfresh. All it needed were the seeds to be added and cultivated. Astorage box next to the unit had a huge variety of seeds,hermetically sealed and well labelled. Starting that off would behigh on the list. Stay healthy. No Monkley with scalpels.

Basic gardening tools were storedin a small shed. The prolific growth of the trees and bushes meant alarge part of his work would involve maintenance to keep some kind ofcontrol over it. Already, the perimeters of the “jungle” wereovergrown to the extent where it was impossible to move throughwithout a machete to hack with. Just to try out his skills, he pickedup the machete and began hacking away. To do a proper job of it, hewould have to hack and thin out, collect everything up and pile it onone of the four composting sites. The one creature brought in fromEarth was the humble worm. The lushness of the jungle was in no smallpart to their vigilance. Without predatory bird life, the compostheaps positively heaved with activity.

Clearing a path through to onecorner, Foreman stopped in mid hacking. Before him was a site sounexpected, he dropped the machete.

'You beauties.'

Thriving well in a small patch,hidden behind several larger trees, was a miniature plantation ofMarijuana plants. Most plants were taller than he was.

'Monkley. I just died and woke upin heaven. I'm guessing this isn't authorised by the I S F, pal.' Hecaressed one of the spiky five pronged leaves. 'I'm thinking someforward planning wag brought along a few seeds and when nobody waslooking, accidentally dropped a few. Remind me to build a smallshrine in his honour, pal.'

'Andy Happy.'

'I'll be more than happy, pal.Now. It's a popular misconception that the plants are grown for theleaves. This is what we need. These buds, see?'

'Buds.'

'Right. These are ready forharvesting. A sort of reddish brown. Don't ask how I know about this,by the way. Let's just say I knew some useful people back in mystudent days. I'll just grab a few of these. Come on, pal.'

Foreman went to his sleepingquarters. 'All I need to do is leave this in here,' he said, openinga small cupboard, 'Say for a day or two, until it's dried right out.Strictly speaking, and for the purists, it should then be cured,which could take a couple of weeks. That improves things, but itisn't essential. Time for that later. This is about stress release,so tomorrow night, I'll be relieving my stress, big time. I now thinkI have a reasonable chance of hanging on to my sanity. Hungry?'

'Monkley hungry.'

'Okay, pal. You go and eat andI'll grab a snack.'

Monkley ran off to help himselffrom the jungle, and Foreman raided the food store. Choosing apackage of some synthetic protein base, he nuked it in the microwaveand ate it with little enthusiasm. All he could think about was theradio call. Explosions in the I S F complex meant big time trouble.And whatever had been going down had stranded him on Mars for theforeseeable future, if not indefinitely. He was pretty sure he couldlive with that. Although a reasonably personable individual, he washappier when he was on his own, keeping busy, learning anddiscovering. People he could take or leave. Animals he preferred forcompany, and Monkely filled that job description. Hell. He could evenhold a rudimentary conversation. The limits of the GenMop's abilityto learn and reason had never been satisfactorily pushed as much asthey should have, he was beginning to suspect. Damn it, Monkley hadmanaged to turn the radio on, when he'd drawn a blank. Perhaps inthis new environment, Monkley could learn heaps more stuff.

He'd finished the meal withouteven realising he had been eating it. His mind was all over theplace. There was one thing that as a human being, he just had to do.