They spent several days testing the miner, and deploying an array of solar panels to power it.  In the long evenings after dinner Ann would climb the ice wall, ostensibly to take more borings, although Nadia knew she just wanted away from Phyllis and Edvard and George.  And naturally she wanted to climb all the way to the top, to get on the polar cap and look around, and take borings of the most recent layers of ice; and so one day when the miner had passed all the test routines, she and Nadia and Simon got up at dawn-just after two AM-and went out into the supercold morning air and climbed, their shadows like big spiders climbing before them.  The slope of the ice was about thirty degrees, steepening and then letting off time after time as they ascended the rough benches in the hill's layered side.

It was seven AM when the slope laid back and they walked onto the surface of the polar cap.  To the north was a plain of ice that extended as far as they could see, to a high horizon some thirty kilometers away.  Looking back to the south they could see a great distance over the geometric swirls of the layered terrain; it was the longest view Nadia had ever had on Mars.

The ice of the plateau was layered much like the laminated sand below them, with wide bands of dirty pink contouring across cleaner stuff.   The other wall of Chasma Borealis lay off to the east,  looking almost vertical from their point of view, long, tall, massive:  "So much water!" Nadia said again.   "It's more than we'll ever need."

"That depends," Ann said absently, screwing the frame of the little borer into the ice.  Her darkened faceplate turned up at Nadia:  "If the terraformers have their way, this will all go like dew on a hot morning.   Into the air to make pretty clouds."

"Would that be so bad?"  Nadia asked.

Ann stared at her.  Through the tinted faceplate her eyes looked like ballbearings.

That night at dinner she said, "We really ought to make a run up to the pole."

Phyllis shook her head.  "We don't have the food or air."

"Call for a drop."

Edvard shook his head.  "The polar cap is cut by valleys almost as deep as Borealis!"

"Not so," Ann said.  "You could drive straight to it.  The swirl valleys look dramatic from space, but that's because of the difference in albedo between the water and the CO2.  The actual slopes are never more than six degrees off the horizontal.  It's just more layered terrain, really."

George said, "But what about getting onto the cap in the first place?"

"We drive around to one of the tongues of ice that drop to the sand.  They're like ramps up to the central massif, and once there, we drive right to the pole!"

"There's no reason to go," Phyllis said.  "It'll just be more of what we see here. And it  means more exposure to radiation."