June 2001: — and the Moon Be Still as Bright

           ItwassocoldwhentheyfirstcamefromtherocketintothenightthatSpenderbegantogatherthedryMartianwoodandbuildasmallfire.Hedidn’tsayanythingaboutacelebration;hemerelygatheredthewood,setfiretoit,andwatcheditburn.

           Intheflarethatlightedthethinairofthisdried-upseaofMarshelookedoverhisshoulderandsawtherocketthathadbroughtthemall,CaptainWilderandCherokeandHathawayandSamParkhillandhimself,acrossasilentblackspaceofstarstolanduponadead,dreamingworld.

           JeffSpenderwaitedforthenoise.Hewatchedtheothermenandwaitedforthemtojumparoundandshout.Itwouldhappenassoonasthenumbnessofbeingthe"first"mentoMarsworeoff.Noneofthemsaidanything,butmanyofthemwerehoping,perhaps,thattheotherexpeditionshadfailedandthatthis,theFourth,wouldbetheone.Theymeantnothingevilbyit.Buttheystoodthinkingit,nevertheless,thinkingofthehonorandfame,whiletheirlungsbecameaccustomedtothethinnessoftheatmosphere,whichalmostmadeyoudrunkifyoumovedtooquiddy.

           Gibbswalkedovertothefreshlyignitedfireandsaid,"Whydon’tweusetheshipchemicalfireinsteadofthatwood?"

           "Nevermind,"saidSpender,notlookingup.

           Itwouldn’tberight,thefirstnightonMars,tomakealoudnoise,tointroduceastrange,sillybrightthinglikeastove.Itwouldbeakindofimportedblasphemy.