A wave of relief swept over her. She was free of fear and the world was luminous, crisp, full of momentary meaning. Could this be what Fraq termed the “harmony of moment”? She sat back and enjoyed the rest of the ride to the habitat.

They got out and lined up at the processing lock. Zuminski ordered the SETI Team in first. Rachel wrestled off her harness and secured it to the racks in the lock. A cycle sequence began with a gurgling shower over their suits. That swept away the peroxides and perchlorates, converting their stinging energies into fresh oxygen. The mud residue went into a basket beneath their boots for use in the hydroponics domes. Oxygen whistled into the lock from half a dozen recessed ports, and they all shucked their suits.

A chime sounded; full pressure, 90 percent Earth normal. Then they each stepped into side shower stalls. Off came her parka, leggings, and, finally, her jumpsuit. She shivered as she stepped out into the chill: she had actually been sweating on Mars—a novel experience. Another shower to freshen, and she redressed in the undersuit.

A prickly itch crawled over her face and neck, though. Despite the showers, the fine, rusty dust heavily laden with irritating peroxides had already sandpapered her skin. Their suits had the latest features—a scent catcher, cool-water spigot, full digital displays, inboard smarts, self-warming meal dispenser—but to Rachel it still felt like carrying around a lobster shell. She had to remind herself that unlike Luna, where she’d felt at home after some years, this was a world that was always trying to kill her.

She was dressing when the translator, Xiaoling, came out of the shower. “What?!” Rachel said. Xiaoling’s pretty, fine-boned face was now eggplant-purple. One black eye peered out through a slit.

“I got slammed around by that damn water,” she whispered in a dead, fat-lipped voice.

“You should’ve said something!”

“Not my way. Nothing to do until out of suit.”

“Damn! Let’s get you to the med unit.”

Xiaoling nodded and limped with Rachel into the corridor outside. Fraq was there, surrounded by Marsmat people, silent behind his stoic scowl. His eyes found Rachel’s and she whisper-chirruped to him. Later, will explain. He trilled assent.

The meds took nearly an hour. Rachel left Xiaoling in her compartment to sleep, aided by a sedative. Rachel was starting to feel jittery aftereffects from the descent. What had gone wrong? Sleep would be impossible.

2.

Fluffing her now short and bulky auburn hair, she went down the snaky corridor to the “mess hall” for some coffee. She’d looked up the term and found it was leftover military jargon. Prophetically it was… a mess. It did have a luncheonette-via-art-deco décor, but nobody had “policed it up” (another military phrase) on this watch.

Nobody in the mess right now, no sound but the chuffing of air circ. She was all dressed up in a clingy thing, just because—and nobody to show it off for. She missed Kane, wondered if she could get him sent out on the next Cycler. A gal needs support….