bearable.
Misty was kept
slim by the largely vegetarian diet supplemented by the farmed
fish, and the energetic way she applied herself to her work and
everything else. Dillow could imagine Misty being a stunner fifty
years ago. Her light brown eyes shone with affection whenever she
looked at Cragg.
Misty asked,
'Are you excited about your first visit to Mars?'
Dillow said, 'I
suppose so. I'm keen to see the technology used here, before I make
the return trip.'
'No poetry in
her soul,' said Craggy. 'Hopefully a condition she'll grow out of
in time.'
'She'll be just
fine,' said Misty. 'Fancy a dip in the pool, everyone?'
'I never
thought to bring a swimming costume,' said Dillow.
'No problem,'
said Cragg. 'It's traditional we skinny dip in here.'
Potts laughed
at Dillow's face as her chin dropped, horrified at the idea of
sharing a pool with three naked wrinklies. 'Relax, Fawn. Craggy's
just yanking your chain. We have plenty of spares. Come on.'
After changing,
Potts led the way from the restroom, across the sealed road that
divided the accommodation from the jungle. There were several well
worn and tended paths through the jungle and they followed one to
the wallowing pool.
They passed a
small crop of marijuana that was cultivated for “scientific
experiments” and could be obtained in small doses. Alcohol was a
rudimentary beer from root crops, and wine made from various
fruits. The illegal concentrate on Moon was brought in by Cragg and
used to trade other things.
Smoking,
illegal on Moon, was allowed on Mars. Not condoned or encouraged,
but not frowned upon, either. But there was a special fireproof
room where smokers could relax and indulge, their smoke extracted
and vented outside so as not to mix with the regular air.
It wasn't a
defiance of Moon's draconian ways. Not really. It was in some ways,
a simple compensation for the harsh conditions of working on Mars.
People were treated like human beings, not machines. Twelve hour
days in space suits working the mines and a hundred and one other
outside duties, was a telling way to make a living. The dope and
booze provided a vital release of tension.
Abuse was
strictly controlled by the security officers, and anyone guilty of
either missing work duties, being intoxicated on the job or
disturbing the peace spent forty eight hours in a solitary cell,
and fined a months salary. They usually got the message after
that.
True, the
prison sentence for life and the death penalty still existed on
Moon, but it was a hangover from the very early years, when booze
was smuggled in with deliveries from Earth. A few incidents
involving heavy equipment and people dying had meant serious
measures had to be taken. A fire in a workers quarters had resulted
in two deaths and serious injury to three others and damage to
vital equipment.
One smuggler
had been found guilty of causing the death of three men by
supplying hard liquor to a construction gang. As an example to
others, he was sentenced to death. He was driven to the other side
of the moon and abandoned, left to walk alone until his air ran
out. He was the only one to suffer such an end, but the law still
stood and was enough of a deterrent to at least keep illegal
smoking and drinking in check.
By the pool was
a well made wooden bench. It had a brass plate on it which stated,
“ This bench is in recognition of Andrew Foreman. GenMop trainer.
Mars Base pioneer from 2069-2074 .” They settled in the pool,
and let the warm water wash over them. They had only just got in
when a warning bell rang for five seconds.
'An emergency?'
Dillow asked, ready to dive out of the pool.
'Relax,' said
Misty. 'That's the twelve hour shift change. It goes off one hour
before the actual change of shift. You two are on a week's vacation
until you are due to go back to Earth.'
Dillow eased
her body in the pool, determined to relax and enjoy whatever Mars
had to offer. 'I think I can handle that. Cheers.'
Chapter
3
Cragg
Heidi Murkoff, Sharon Mazel