“I’ll need a day or two to consolidate the data we have about the planet; make sure all of it’s mapped,” Paul said. “Though we could spend years mapping and measuring, and scientists on Earth would still want more. The first detailed observation of an Earth-like exoplanet.”

“It probably won’t be the first,” Dustin noted. “They’ll have had fifty years to explore nearer Earth.”

Paul laughed. “I hope you’re right. There ought to be robot probes all over the place.”

I pulled gecko slippers out of the rack by the air lock and followed Snowbird into the Martian quarters. Not too cold for a short visit.

She was inspecting the racks of mushroomlike plants. “Hello, Carmen.”

“Hello, Snowbird.” I didn’t know what to say. “You will be lonely?”

“Only for a short while, if what Spy said is true. I may be on Mars soon.”

“That will be a comfort.”

“Neither Fly-in-Amber nor I ever expected to see it again.”

“I will miss him,” I said. “Though there hasn’t been time for it to sink in, him or Moonboy.”

“Don’t feel sorry for Fly-in-Amber. This is the best possible outcome for him. He was extremely happy when we left.” She turned slightly, to face me. “We will never know about Moonboy, I suppose. He may never know what’s happened to him but just die.”

“Probably.” Though what his chill reincarnation might be like, we could only guess. No worse than dying, we could hope.

I shivered. “You’re cold,” she said. “I’ll see you later, in the compromise lounge. I’m sure there will be a meeting.”

“There always is,” I said.

I went back to our room and changed clothes. Funny to think that the old ones would sit there for a quarter century before being cleaned. My mother would just shake her head and say “typical.”

Would she be alive still? She was born in 2035 (three years older than Namir) and we would be back in 2138. She has good heredity for long life, but did I really expect to see her at 103? Did I want to?

Well, who knows. With a half century of progress in cosmetic science, she might look my age. Younger. That would be too creepy.

Paul came in over the intercom and asked for a meeting in a half hour, in the compromise lounge. Snowbird would smile, if she had a human mouth.

I got there a bit early, which was fortunate. Namir had found a jar of Iranian caviar, which we cautiously slurped with two spoons, and some dexterity in midair retrieval.

Paul joined us in time to help scrape the bottom of the jar. He’d also had the foresight to put some alcohol in the freezer, half and half with water, so we could wash the fish eggs down with ersatz vodka.