One Way To Mars

Chapter 14

Hard work helped Foreman keep ittogether. He put in twelve hour days, clearing the jungle, takingcuttings, turning over compost heaps, cleaning. When he wasn't doingthat, he exercised, jogging back and forth along the central pathbetween the jungle and the quarters. A small gymnasium had some basicequipment, and he had at least one workout each day.

Monkley contributed by takingcare of the laundry, basic food preparation, working alongsideForeman and generally being there to support. Several hours each day,he would take to the trees, swinging from branch to branch, eatingand sleeping. In the evening, they would sample the wine and have asmoke. Feeling slightly stoned, he jumped down off his hammock andjoined Foreman on his.

'Story. Happy story.'

'Not sure I'm in the mood, pal.'

'Story.'

Foreman stroked Monkley's head.'Remember when you were a baby? You could be a bit of a handful. Yougot out your cage one night. Boy. Did you make a mess. My old bosswas not amused. She said, “That GenMoP is more trouble than he'sworth”. She never called you Monkley. You were on thin ice, I cantell you. But I knew it was because you had a lively mind. You gotbored easily. So, that night, we made a deal. If I told you a story,you would be a good boy. So I did. Every night, I'd make up somestupid story and then you'd yawn and sleep like a baby.'

'Story. Happy.'

'Okay. There was a cute littlechap named Monkley.'

'Monkley.'

'And one day, he went up in thesky all the way to Mars.'

'Mars.'

'We'll skip the landing part.Anyway, we found this jungle, with lots of trees and cool things likebananas.'

'Oooh.'

'And Monkley became the king ofthe jungle. And he would play and climb trees and eat and sleep.'

'Hmm. Monkley.'

'And he had a best friend calledAndy.'

'Monkley.'

'But he wasn't king of thejungle. Monkley was king of the jungle.'

'King.'

'King Monkley, yeah.'

Foreman spoke softly and in notime, Monkley was fast asleep, and they lay together, Foreman tryingnot to dwell on the events, trying not to feel angry. Out there inthe Martian sand, three people, bright, young and supremely talentedwere nothing more than charred remains. If it had been an accident,mankind pushing everything to the limit, he could have accepted that.He also knew it was entirely possible, he and Monkley could diemillions of miles from home, never knowing why somebody wanted themdead. He felt helpless and vulnerable and there was nothing he coulddo about it.