Mars Prime (27 page)

"Nothing good," Martin replied levelly. "The rebels decimated the forces you sent to meet them and gained access to the dome when sympathizers opened the main lock.

"Security forces, reinforced by loyal colonists, rallied at a number of key spots. Hydroponics, the maintenance shop, and the science section. All were defeated and the rebels are headed this way."

"Damn."

"Yeah," Martin agreed. "That about sums it up."

"All right," Jopp said wearily. "Thanks for what you did. Find a place to hide. You thought the executive council was hard to get along with? Well, wait until Sharma has been running the place for a while. You haven't seen anything yet."

Kim felt a popping sensation as Jopp pulled the plug. Her spirits plummeted. Much as the editor disliked Jopp, she had relied on the military officer to produce some sort of a last-minute miracle, and it wasn't going to happen. The realization came as a tremendous shock, and made her miss Rex even more.

Slowly, reluctantly, Kim pulled the jack from the side of her head, and made her way out into the hall. The gun hung heavy and useless by her side. They were dismantling the main barricade by the time she got there. Rather than lose more lives and antagonize the victors, Peko-Evans, Fornos, and Jopp had decided to surrender.

The weapons were collected and placed in a single pile. And then, based on orders shouted from the other side of the ever-dwindling barricade, the defenders put their backs to the walls and placed their hands on top of their heads.

And so it was that the duly authorized government of Mars Prime fell and a little-known technician named Barbu Sharma took over. He sent Dubie Long and some other followers in first, just to make sure that it was safe, before entering himself. And when he did it was slowly, deliberately, nodding to the prisoners that lined both sides of the corridor as if they were an admiring crowd, lifting a hand to acknowledge their imaginary cheers.

Finally, when he had reached the end of the corridor and was face-to-face with Peko-Evans, he spoke.

"So, what's for dinner?"

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

 

Corvan looked around. The shaft was shiny with some sort of lubricant. It wouldn't, couldn't, shouldn't be here. He asked himself the same question over and over again. What the hell was going on?

"Are you okay?" Redfern sounded worried.

"Yeah, so far so . . ."

Corvan was still talking when something whirred and pushed at his chest. He ducked and a hatch closed over his head. He looked up. Light gleamed off bare metal. Claustrophobia pushed in around him. He fought it back.

". . . good."

"Corvan! Can you read me?"
 

"Loud and clear."
 

"What's going on?"
 

"I'm doing my nails."
 

"Cut the crap."

"I'm in a lock of some sort, or the barrel of a huge gun, or who the hell knows?"
 

Corvan felt something move beneath his feet.
 

"Uh oh."
 

" 'Uh oh' what?"

"Uh oh, the bottom's about to drop out from under me."

"Brace yourself, flex your knees ..."

Redfern was still giving advice as Corvan fell. He didn't have far to go. Two, maybe three feet at the most. Low gravity reduced the impact to nearly nothing. The shaft ended just below his waist. He dropped to his knees, felt his E-suit scrape against metal, and ducked. His helmet hit the rim and came free. He looked around.

"Corvan?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah. This is weird."

"What's weird about it?"

"Come see for yourself."

"That's a roger. Here I come."

Corvan got to his feet. He was in a small womb-shaped room. Lights spiraled around the ceiling, strands of what looked like dried-out vegetable matter hung there and there, and his suit was signaling a breathable atmosphere.
Inside
Deimos.

One possible explanation came to mind, but it was
so
weird,
so
strange that it couldn't possibly be true. Could it?

A chill ran down Corvan's spine. What if it was? What if Deimos was a spaceship of some sort? That would mean aliens, a technological treasure trove, and the biggest story ever broken! But where were the little green men if any? Dead, he guessed—a long time ago, judging by the look of things.

Something touched his arm and he almost jumped out of his skin.

"Whoa, big fella. It is I, your loyal companion."

Corvan laughed but it sounded forced. "Glad to hear it. Is this strange or what?"

"It is definitely strange," Redfern said solemnly. "Any signs of Dr B?"

Corvan felt suddenly guilty. He'd been so preoccupied with his surroundings that Dr. B had slipped his mind. He looked around. The floor was covered with bits and pieces of dried-out whatever it was. And there, off to the left, scuff marks were visible where someone had walked through the stuff. Dr. B!

Corvan pointed to the trail. "Look!"

"Yeah," Redfern agreed. "Let's see where it goes."

Corvan led the way. The scuff marks wandered back and forth a bit but generally headed up-slope toward a circular passageway. The reop saw that while Dr. McKeen might have been able to duck-walk through the hole, he'd be forced to crawl.

So, based on the design of the ship's lock, and that of the upcoming passageway, it seemed safe to conclude that the original owners had been shaped like large worms. The thought caused him to look over his shoulder. He saw Redfern but no worms. Good.

Corvan stopped at the passageway and got down on hands and knees. He felt his tank module scrape the top of the tunnel as he moved forward. It was dark inside. The light projected from his helmet wandered back and forth over smooth walls. The reop saw an opening up ahead. Strands of the dried-out seaweed-like material hung down to obscure the room beyond. It brushed over the top of his helmet and back along the sides of his suit. He sensed rather than saw some sort of antechamber and knew that the real room lay beyond that.

Good though the E-suit was, it was bulky and difficult to handle from a kneeling position. The reporter reached out, found something to hang onto, and pulled himself forward. Whatever it was came loose, fell towards him, and hit his chest.

Corvan saw a visor, and beyond that, a screaming face. It followed him down. The thing's eyes bulged, its lips were pulled back to expose bone white teeth, and its mouth gaped horribly open.

Corvan wanted to scream but couldn't find enough air. He was working on it when Redfern appeared over the thing's right shoulder, grabbed the E-suit under the armpits, and pulled. The face disappeared. Corvan rolled over and fought his way to his feet.

Redfern was matter-of-fact as he propped the suit up against the wall and read a name off its chest.

"Well, look what we have here. George Imbulu. One of the two people that disappeared while working outside of Mars Prime. Poor bastard."

"Make that
both
of the people," Corvan added grimly. "Here's number two."

The other suit, a woman's this time, had been off to the right. Light from Corvan's head lamp had been reflected off the high gloss artwork on her chest plate and caught his eye.

A quick examination revealed that her face bore an expression similar to Imbulu's. It wasn't pretty.

"How the hell did they get here?" Redfern asked wonderingly. "And what happened to them?"

"Beats the heck out of me," Corvan replied. "But judging from their expressions it wasn't much fun."

"Look!"

Redfern had aimed his light back into the darkness. Corvan did likewise and saw a pile of junk. There were chunks of loose rock, pieces of pipe, lengths of metal framing, and wait a minute, something the size and shape of an oversized garbage can. Twisted things stuck out from the object's side, things that looked like solar arrays. Solar arrays similar to those found on satellites. And not just any satellite, but the
missing
satellite, unless Corvan missed his guess.

Someone, or something, was stealing things and stashing them away in this underground hoard.

A light appeared out of the darkness. Corvan felt his heart stop then resume beating as a small robot rolled out to greet them. Its voice crackled over the reop's helmet speakers.

"Hello. I am Weld Inspector 47. Due to a processor problem, or other malfunction, I am lost. Please direct me to a Class IV maintenance facility, or call one and have me picked up."

Redfern laughed. "No can do, little buddy. Not right now anyway. Put yourself on standby and we'll deal with you later."

The robot's light snapped out as the machine followed Redfern's orders.

Corvan shook his head in wonderment. "This gets more bizarre every moment."

"That's for sure," Redfern agreed cheerfully. "Come on. Let's see what else this place has in store."

The security officer led the way and Corvan followed. There was no way to tell what Dr. B had thought of the room, or its contents, but her scuff marks led down a slight incline and through another small opening. There were lots of marks now, as if the scientist had come and gone numerous times, dragging things behind her.

Redfern got down on his stomach and crawled. Corvan did likewise. Darkness turned to light as Redfern emerged from the other side and moved out of the way. Seconds later the security officer said "holy cow," in such awed tones that the reop expected to meet one, and static flooded his helmet. Something, a rather powerful electronic something, was very close by.

Corvan pushed his way out of the tunnel, scrambled to his feet, and found Redfern staring upward. It was easy to see why.

The entire ceiling, and the upper portions of the walls as well, were covered with an ever-shifting mosaic of video images. And like a mosaic, the pictures came in a variety of shapes and sizes, all of which were slightly out of focus as though intended for non-human eyes.

Which Corvan reflected, they undoubtedly were.

He saw some other things as well, including four kidney-shaped constructs that hung from the ceiling and some strange harness-like arrangements. There was plenty of the streamer stuff too.

"Look!"

The urgency in Redfern's voice, plus his rigidly pointing arm, caused Corvan to look at a large triangular picture. What he saw amazed and astounded him. It was a full color shot of the Mars Prime mess hall! The room was packed with people, many of whom looked familiar, and they were listening to some sort of speaker. What the—?

But there was no time to consider the picture further because a weak, and almost inaudible, croak managed to make itself heard through the static that rumbled in their ears.

"Hey! Over here! Behind you!"

Both men turned simultaneously and searched for a body to go with the voice. Redfern was the first to see her. He pointed.

"Look! Over there!"

Corvan saw what looked like a pile of scrap metal, and beyond that, a headless E-suit. And that was all he saw for a moment, until he thought to activate the eye cam and zoom in. The geologist sat to the right of her space suit, with her helmet on and one leg propped up on a pile of the dried vegetable matter. Dr B was alive!

It was a race to see who could get there first. Redfern won. He helped the scientist remove her helmet.
 

"Dr. McKeen I presume?"
 

"One and the same," the geologist croaked.
 

"Hey, Doc, what happened to your leg?"
 

The geologist peered into Corvan's visor. "Corvan? Is that you? Open your visor for God's sake. You're wasting suit oxygen. And give me a drink. My suit ran dry about twenty-four hours ago."

The reop opened his visor, pulled two feet of drinking tube out of its storage module, and handed the free end to McKeen. She grabbed it and sucked greedily. Thirty or forty seconds passed before she relinquished the tube and wiped her mouth with the back of one hand.

"Damn. I never would've thought that recycled piss could taste so good."

Corvan chuckled. "You haven't changed a bit."

The scientist grinned. "And neither have you. There isn't another sonovabitch on the planet dumb enough, and stubborn enough, to come find me."

Corvan nodded toward Redfern. "He did."

"And I'm much obliged," McKeen said soberly, "but whose idea was it?"

Corvan grinned. "Mine."

The geologist nodded. "I rest my case. Don't tell me—let me guess. The first search party came, took a look around my camp, and split."

"That's about the size of it," Redfern agreed ruefully.

"Well, you're here, and that's the main thing," McKeen said, "and a good thing, too. We've got trouble."

"No kidding," Corvan responded. "You saw the bodies? And the other stuff?"

"Damned right I did," the geologist answered. "That's how I broke my leg. See those kidney-shaped constructs that hang from the ceiling?"

Corvan glanced upward. "Yeah, they're kind of hard to miss."

"Right. Well, each one of them is a control panel, and the third one over governs the transporter system. I can't prove it, but I think the system was dormant for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years, until something triggered it. One of our radio signals, some radiation, who the hell knows. Then, obeying God knows what instructions left eons ago, it starts to pluck samples off the surface of Mars. Some of them human. I'm not sure what killed them—the trip itself, or pure undiluted terror."

The geologist gestured towards her surroundings. "I think Deimos is a survey ship, kind of like Darwin's
Beagle,
only bigger.

"Anyway, I hauled some of the junk out here, jury-rigged a scaffold, and climbed up there. My plan was to find the equivalent of an ignition switch and turn the damned thing off. It took awhile to figure out the controls, but I had a pretty good handle on it when the scaffold collapsed and I fell. I came close to getting off scot free, but a piece of pipe rode me down, and I broke my leg. And that cramped my style, to say the least."