for Juan to pick up the pace. We headed down one wall of the warehouse and exited out onto the radial street.
A horn sounded—not as loud as the one on Juan’s buggy, but still jarring; we’d come out onto the road in front of a tram. “Come on!” I said.
We ran the short distance to the tram stop, passing a few other people as we did so: a dour middle-aged male prospector dragging a wagon that had nothing in it but mining tools; a teenage girl who glared belligerently at me, but then thought better of starting anything; and a thirty-something woman who was dressed like a banker or a lawyer—encounters with either of which usually spelled trouble for me.
We got on the tram. There were five other biologicals onboard and one transfer. The biologicals were staring at little screens; the transfer was looking off into space—or, more precisely, I suspect, was watching a movie or something that only she could see. It was generally better not to sit on the filthy tram seats. Juan knew that, but he was so shaken he plunked himself down. We were soon passing the Windermere Medical Clinic.
I managed to get Juan, who was still mostly out of it, to change trams at the appropriate point, and when that tram reached the stop closest to the shipyard, I tapped him on the shoulder. He got up, and we headed over. But Juan was still shaky, and he looked nauseous. “Take a few minutes,” I said. “There’s a kybo over there.” I pointed to the outhouse past Bertha’s shack. “Join me when you’re ready.”
He nodded and headed over to the small structure. I hustled over to the descent stage and clambered back aboard the cylindrical vessel.
“Can I be of assistance?” Mudge asked as soon as I was inside.
“Yes,” I said, to Mudge, “you can be of assistance.”
The computer sounded awfully pleased. “What can I do for you?”
“Has anybody entered since I last left?”
“No.”
“Good. First things first, then: you flew here from the Alpha Deposit.”
“Yes.”
“So you must know the way back.”
“Of course.”
“Display written instructions for returning there, please.”
“That information is locked.”
“I’m sure it was locked. And I’m sure it isn’t anymore.”
“Well, well, well,” said Mudge. “I’m surprised.”
There were four monitors in a row along the curving outer wall. The far left one lit up with black text on a pale green background. If Mudge hadn’t been so old, there’d probably have been a way to transmit the instructions to my tablet computer, but I didn’t have time to fool around figuring out how. Instead, I just pulled out the tab and took a picture of the text, checked to make sure the photo was legible, then slipped the device back in my pocket.
“Okay,” I said. “Now, erase that information—permanently.”
“Are you sure you want me to do that?”
“Yes. Wipe it. Use the strongest possible erasure method.”
“Done.”
I blew out air. “Good. Now to the matter I asked you about before. Denny O’Reilly was marooned here on Mars. Correct?”
“Yes,” said Mudge.
“Simon Weingarten took off without him. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“On purpose?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“How long did O’Reilly survive after being marooned?”
“He turned me off to conserve power for the life-support systems after seven days. I don’t know how much longer he lived after that.”
“Why did Weingarten abandon O’Reilly?”
I was leaning back against one of the walls of the wedge-shaped room. I’d expected the answer to be the prosaic one: “He wanted all the money for himself.” But what Mudge said surprised me. “The love affair between Simon and Denny had taken a turn for the worse.”
“Love affair?” I repeated.
“Yes.”
I was down on the lower floor; I stepped into the central shaft and did a quick three-sixty: there was indeed no second bedroom down here.
“What went wrong?” I asked.
“Denny had promised to leave his wife when they returned to Earth, but Simon had discovered that Denny was involved with another woman on Earth, and that he had a young son by her and intended to take up with her upon his return.”
“And who was the other woman?” I asked.
“Katsuko Takahashi.”
I nodded. Reiko’s grandmother. “Why didn’t O’Reilly blow the whistle on Weingarten?” I asked. “All he had to do was radio Earth and blab that he’d been left behind.”
“Sending a radio signal to Earth is a tricky matter,” said Mudge, “and, as onboard computer, I was in charge of such things. Before he left, Simon programmed me to not allow Denny to send any such messages.”
“Are you aware that this ship’s ascent stage was destroyed