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Back Green Mars Save as PDF
Chapters (68)
  1. Title Page
  2. Dedication
  3. Contents
  4. Map
  5. Part 1: Areoformation
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. Part 2: The Ambassador
  13. Prologue
  14. 1
  15. 2
  16. Part 3: Long Runout
  17. Prologue
  18. 2
  19. 3
  20. Part 4: The Scientist as Hero
  21. Prologue
  22. 1
  23. 2
  24. 3
  25. 4
  26. 5
  27. 6
  28. 7
  29. Part 5: Homeless
  30. Prologue
  31. 1
  32. 2
  33. Part 6: Tariqat
  34. Prologue
  35. 1
  36. 2
  37. 3
  38. 4
  39. 5
  40. 6
  41. Part 7: What Is to Be Done?
  42. Prologue
  43. 1
  44. 2
  45. 3
  46. Part 8: Social Engineering
  47. Prologue
  48. 1
  49. Part 9: The Spur of the Moment
  50. Prologue
  51. 1
  52. 2
  53. 3
  54. 4
  55. 5
  56. 6
  57. 7
  58. 8
  59. Part 10: Phase Change
  60. Prologue
  61. 1
  62. 2
  63. 3
  64. 4
  65. Epilogue
  66. Temperature Comparisons
  67. Bantam Books by Kim Stanley Robinson
  68. Copyright

He held it out for her to look at, but she only gave it the briefest glance. He sat down and got out a sample bag from his thigh pocket, and put a small strand of algae inside, then stared at it through his 20Âyen; magnifying lenses. The lenses were not powerful enough to show him all he wanted to see, but they did reveal the long strands of dentritic green, looking slimy as they thawed out. His lectern had catalogs with photos at similar magnifications, but he couldn’t find the species that resembled this one in every detail. “It could be nondescript,” he said. “Wouldn’t that be something. It really makes you wonder if the mutation rate out here is higher than the standard rates. We should work up experiments to determine that.”

Phyllis did not reply.

Sax kept his thoughts to himself as he continued to search through the catalogs. He was still at it when they heard scratchy squeals and hisses over their radio, and Phyllis began calling out over the common band. Soon they could hear voices on the intercom, and not long after that, a round helmet filled the hole overhead. “We’re here!” Phyllis cried.

“Wait a second,” Berkina said, “we’ve got a rope ladder for you.”

And after an awkward swinging climb they were back on the surface of the glacier, blinking in the dusty fluctuating daylight, and crouching over to meet the gusts of wind, which were still powerful. Phyllis was laughing, explaining what had happened in her usual manner—”We were holding hands so we didn’t lose each other, and boom, down we went!”— and their rescuers were describing the brute force of the strongest gusts. All seemed back to normal; but when they got inside the station, and took off their helmets, Phyllis gave him a brief searching glance, a very curious look indeed, as if he had revealed something to her out there which had made her wary— as if he had somehow reminded her of something, down in that crevasse. As if he had behaved down there in a manner which gave him away, without hope of contradiction, as her old comrade Saxifrage Russell.

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