Not in Kansas Ch. 01

A dazzling blue-green ball, floating like a jewel in space, holding all of human history, everyone who's ever lived...

Yeah, yeah. But home for me is dusty red, sandstorms scratching at the skin of the pressure dome like a million crazed ants. If I squint, I can just see the blackened silver shell of the ship that brought us here a decade ago, and every ninety minutes the orbiter passes overhead, ready to relay -- what? News of a middle-aged man's aches and pains as he does what's needed to keep the terraforming plant chugging out oxygen, tailored bacteria. In a hundred years I'd be able to step outside, breathe air as good as I'd get in the Andes.

In the meantime I'm stuck in my bubble with just the cat for company.

Cat?

Sure. Damn thing stopped meowing to go out after about six months, now we get along fine.

Was there a wife, a girlfriend?

Yes and yes, and a good job they didn't find out about each other. Hah -- only kidding -- had you going there, didn't I. Married, but she bailed on me before Starship was even a thing. Something to do with having my head in the clouds.

Well, I got a hell of a lot further than the clouds, didn't I.

No going home, though -- that was the deal. But I still think I got the better part of the bargain. Two moons, one chasing the other, if you wait long enough they meet, or you see one or other cross the Sun. You don't see that in Kansas.

What? No, I'm not American. You ever see The Wizard of Oz?

Anyway, not much to do except read, watch those crazy moons, pet the cat. The hydroponics pretty much takes care of itself, and the plant -- well, I'd like to pat those engineers on the back. It's been a couple of years since I saw a warning light, and that was just to let me know the oxygen concentration was higher than expected -- must have been a weather system, or what passes for weather on Mars.

If I get itchy feet, I can put my suit on, take a walk. The hardest part is getting the damn sand out of the airlock afterwards. But it's worth it, once in a while.

There'll be another ship in a few months -- bunch of scientists, probably. Well, good for them. Sure as hell there are no Martians to find, unless I count by now.

Maybe they'll bring that bottle of decent whisky I've been hankering after. Strictly for special occasions -- the cat's birthday, things like that.

Talking of which -- I'd better feed him. Planet's first vegetarian cat, and no shortage of sand for his litter tray, anyway.

What the --? OK, slow down, take a deep breath. That was never on Elon Musk's drawing board. Saucer-shaped, no flames, no backwash. Somebody page Area 51, looks like someone hotwired their prize exhibit for a joyride.

Seriously -- it's setting down, hatch opening. One small step for -- well, two legs, two arms, a head, anyway. Coming this way. Do I even have a doorbell? Hah -- why do they call it an airlock, it doesn't have a lock. Outer door closing, sealing.

In for a penny, in for a pound -- pressurise the lock, wait for the green light. Yes, you can unlatch your helmet now.

My God.

She -- well, it's hard to tell through a spacesuit, right -- she -- long red hair, green eyes.

Why is the handle on this door always so stiff? Same as my vocal cords -- no, I don't talk to myself. "Come --" have to clear my throat -- "Come in, make yourself at home."

"Thanks."

She's looking around -- damn, if I'd known I was having visitors I'd have tidied the place up. Baked a cake. Something. "Ah, I'm Jack."

"I know, Jack. Everybody knows -- first man on Mars, one way trip. I'm Sarah."

"Well... Sarah. Want to explain that handy little runabout you parked just over the way?"

A shrug. "The smart guys at JPL had an idea. Gravity drive, zero point energy."

I'm an engineer -- sort of -- but that's way over my head. "So..."

"So the trip takes days, not months, now. Next launch is heavy lift, colony ship for the northern lowlands. I'm here mostly as a courtesy to you, let you know you'll be getting company."

Another glance around. "Also that you can take a holiday back home, if you want."

"I --"

"You don't have to decide straight away. I have other things I'm supposed to do --"

So I was right -- a scientist. "You'll be staying a while, then."

"If that's OK. They told me the dome's rated for two."

Cat chooses this moment to wind around her legs. "You're in luck," I grinned. "Two and a cat, if the cat likes both of you."

"OK if I get out of this suit?"

"Sure."

Usual coveralls underneath -- not named cover-all for nothing, but at least now I get a hint that she really is female, human... Damn.

"You all right?"

Another throat-clearing. "Sure. Let me show you the spare room, hah."

Good job I'd cleared the junk out of the room. Built-in bunk, and, ah, necessary facilities. Even a shower -- water from the plant, solar cells. Definitely my desert island luxury.

"Thank you." A smile, even. "Now I know the natives are friendly, tomorrow you can help me unpack the -- what did you call it, my runabout? I brought you some goodies, seems only fair when I've landed on you unannounced."

"If one of them is drinkable, I'll go down on one knee."

A grin. "The director told me to bring a couple of bottles of Glenfiddich, you can go down on both knees if you want."

I decided it was only my dirty mind and lack of company that heard more than she said. "So, it's local dinnertime. Hungry? I do a mean carrot lasagna."

"Mm, perfect."

Dinner in the microwave, two seats at the table. "Not bad."

A treat for the guest -- damn, nearly at the bottom of the coffee jar. Maybe she brought that, too. I feel like a kid the night before Christmas. "We should get some sleep."

"Sure -- and thanks for dinner. Sleep well."

Door closes behind her, and I'm alone again.

Did I just dream all that? No -- very real spacesuit in the corner, scattering of red sand.

Bed for me too -- sleep, not so quickly. Cat curls up in the corner -- nothing fazes him. Tin of tuna, maybe.

Drifting off, tomorrow's another day.