Mission Mars (29 page)

The murders weren't the only deaths, either. The mob-mentality seemed to take over, If someone couldn't account for their whereabouts during one of the murders, the general populace seized the opportunity and killed them. Three people had been killed in this way, including Hopkins, as I'd found out after the fact.

Finally, only one person—Alex—remained from Edgar's team. He began to stay in his room or public places as often as possible. As much as I disliked it, the only way I could see to find the murderer would be to catch him in the act. And that meant that, rather than trying to directly protect Alex, he had to be the bait. And I had to follow him around when possible and hope to catch the killer in the act. Or before, preferably. Which meant lurking around the promenade where Alex spent most of his now-plentiful free time. My lurking generally consisted of me loitering behind a tree or pretending to nap on one of the benches

After hours of nothing, during which time I fought falling asleep, I finally caught a break. I was lying on one of the benches still pretending to sleep when the clock struck eleven. Only Alex and I were left in the promenade as the birds slept above us. Then, after a quick suspicion-filled glance to ensure I was still asleep, he got up and walked over to the restricted doors. He entered his pass code, the doors cycled open, and then he was gone. Knowing that this was my best chance to
find out the murderer's identity, I disregarded some of my own advice and ran as fast as I could to the set of bushes closest to those doors, crouching down out of sight behind them in a small hollow.

For about ten minutes I saw or heard nothing. Alex didn't leave the lab, and nobody else went in. Then I heard one of the doors further down the promenade open, and the sound of slow, confident footsteps echoed throughout the empty hall as someone made their way toward me. With the lighting set to simulate a new moon, it was hard to see exactly who it was. Everyone tended to wear some variation of the same whitish jumpsuit, so that wasn't a distinguishing factor. It was a woman, however. That much was definite—and she was blonde. But that, in and of itself, wasn't definitive either. Half of the women in the arcology were similar in height and also had blonde hair. So, until I could see her face, I wouldn't know for sure who she was.

This definitely had to be the killer. Of that, I was sure. After all, who else would walk around in the middle of the night with a knife?

I was afraid to move. Movement after all, drew the eye, which could mean the difference between living and dying. So, it was with baited breath that I watched the woman advance to the door, enter a code that opened the door, which then remained open. That definitely wasn't usual. All doors automatically closed after anyone went through them. After a minute passed, I decided to risk it and go in.

The decontamination chamber on the other side of the door was inactive, its exit swung wide open at the slightest touch. Inside, most of the lights were off, the glass-walled
workstations dim and silent. Except for one, where a single female figure hunched over the terminal. It seemed I was too late to save Alex.

Even walking as silently as I could, the killer seemed to hear me. Or maybe she just saw my reflection. Whatever the case, she whirled around with the knife held like one of my old military buddies taught me. As the light fell on the face of the woman as she turned toward me, I faltered.

“Well,” Marie laughed, “I guess I underestimated you.” There wasn't a trace of her accent, which had been getting progressively stronger over the last few weeks. “I'm surprised you actually caught me.” She tipped the knife toward me. “You probably have a bunch of questions now, right?” She laughed and said, “Ask away.”

“Why? Why kill them? What's in it for you?” Blunt and to the point.

She whistled. “You really don't waste time on the small things, do you? Unfortunately, that's going to take more time to explain than we have here.” She paused and brushed her hair back. “I'll sum it up, though. Basically? I lied to you about everything. Well, almost everything. The ‘off-duty me' you came to know—before all of the killings happened—that's the real me. I really am a geneticist specializing in bioengineering crops. Thing is, I also happen to be ex-military and Chief of Security for the corporation that funded this place.”

“I knew you had some kind of intelligence background that first day,” I replied, trying to ignore the cooling corpse and the pooling blood by Marie's feet. “Still, why the lies? Why kill your own people, and why drag me into this?”

“The lies? We needed someone we could trust to oversee
Atlantis from the shadows. That someone was me, and I wasn't going to spell everything out for you. As for getting you involved? Consider it a test. We don't even consider employing people that haven't proven themselves, and you're under consideration for further advancement. If you accept, that is. We had to be sure you really did match the records we'd pulled from your past.”

“That doesn't explain why you killed your own people,” I accused.

“Oh, don't be so prudish. It was sanctioned by the entire board of directors. Edgar's division had overstepped its bounds by ordering the production of a bioweapon when we had asked for vaccines. They were intending to sell it to those Red Mars wackjobs to deploy in the big habitats. Six deaths, as opposed to tens of thousands. A fair trade off, wouldn't you say?”

“Maybe, but murder is never the right answer. I worked for years to protect people, and it goes against my personal code to let something like this happen when there's a nonviolent path.”

“And was there one?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“There's always the law. It's there for a reason,” I retorted.

“Oh, so we should have just turned in six scientists who'd been producing an illegal bioweapon under our noses to the authorities? There's the problem that this entire arcology, and everyone in it, is on Mars illegally. And it's not like we have a jail here, or that their sponsors wouldn't be able to bail or break them out of other jails so they could finish the work where we couldn't stop it.” She shook her head. “No, this was the best solution overall.”

“I see your point, even though I don't like it,” I grudgingly admitted. There was a cold logic behind her statement and her actions, now that I'd linked everything together.

“Now, since you passed my test with flying colors, what do you say to further employment on the security division? You'd be amazed at some of the things we've got coming up the pipeline, I'm sure.”

“And if I refuse? I suppose you'll kill me, too?” I asked cynically.

She shook her head. “Nope, not this time. The official release on this is going out tomorrow, and I'm transferring back to Earth on the next ship. You'll come with me for further training, if you accept. If not, you'll be staying here. But you don't have to decide right now; the shuttle isn't due for another two months.”

I weighed the pros and cons. On the one hand, she'd just offered me what—for all the world—sounded like my dream job. Security in a high-tech company with major benefits and actual work, rather than just paperwork, like at Areo Corp. On the other hand, they openly condoned murder, and a situation might come up that required me to participate in it. But, if they had the same morals that Marie had demonstrated so far, it would only be done for good reason. The choice seemed rather easy, honestly.

“I'll do it,” I told her, offering my hand to shake. She smiled and shook it.

“Welcome to Icarus then, Mr. Avenici.” Unsurprisingly, considering all of this, she didn't use my first name.

“So, uh … what about all the other stuff? The, you know….” I trailed off, my cheeks reddening. I might complain
in my head about how needy she'd been acting, but I really did like her. I wouldn't mind things going further.

She just laughed. “Now, why would I spoil the fun by telling you?”

And then she walked up, kissed me on the cheek, and sashayed away. I could just imagine the smug smile on her face as she left me standing there, stunned.

“Uh … Marie? What am I supposed to do with the body?”

Her only reply was another laugh.

A tinny voice erupted through the ship's communication system, waking Deacon and April.

“Earth Year: 2319. Earth Time: 0800. Hawking's barrier at full capacity. Doors will open at 0900. Updates will be sent to your wrist coms regularly. Welcome to the first day on Mars, Colonists.”

Mars. The great Red Planet. It was a venture their peers and families deemed foolhardy and ridiculous. But despite that, it was now their reality, and their new home. Joy and anticipation knotted in her stomach. April yawned, sat up on the edge of the bed, her joints aching and creaking as she stretched her long arms and legs to release the kinks. She bundled her blonde curls on her head with a clip and smiled at her husband lying next to her. How could he still be so handsome with a face creased from sleep and laying on the rough sheets? His messy dark curls pressed flat against his head.

Deacon slid his smooth fingers down her arm, sending a shiver down her spine. “We'll prove them wrong, Blossom.” His grin eased the discomfort in her belly.

“How are you always so sure? It drives me crazy.”

He raised up and reached over to kiss her neck. “Because I'm always right.” A smirk spread across his face.

April watched Deacon roll out of bed, touch his toes, reach up like a bear and roar. Stiff from their long sleep, he lunged and stretched out. The standard dark blue scrubs issued to the crew fit so well on him they could be custom, but he had one of those lean shapes that clothing designers loved. Catching her staring at him, he smiled, his dimples growing, his blue eyes twinkling. He muttered to her between squats, “Get moving, lazy bones. We have work to do.”

Her muscles throbbed, her joints stiff, April groaned as she stood. Seven months in hyper-sleep took a toll on the human body. In any other circumstances April deplored all forms of exercise, but Deacon was right. The lower gravity combined with the amount of work they had to do would require them to push their bodies harder to stay fit.

And while he didn't need a bigger head, she agreed with Deacon on the other point, too. They had to prove everyone wrong. Their research was not pointless or science fiction. They knew it was fact—they had seen the math and drawn the right conclusions. Gone as far as they could with their research. All they needed now was PROOF. Somehow April knew humanity's survival depended on it. April began a round of stretches, grimacing as her muscles reluctantly pulled.

After suiting up and double-checking their gear and directions, they stood at the door, side-by-side, watching the
readout display 0855 earth time. “Argh. Thank God it's only a few more minutes. My arms are killing me already,” she groaned. Her survival suit drooped at the pockets on each side from the overabundance of measuring lasers, trowels, flags and the smaller laser tools that she'd shoved there.

Deacon looked down at her, eyebrows raised. “Stop whining. I am the one carrying the heavier equipment. You think these screens and tablets are light? We might be leaving them in the trunk of the rover, but we still have to get them there, love.”

April's face flushed with guilt. Admittedly, that thought hadn't occurred to her. A sheepish smile crossed her face. “Well, you do make it look easy.”

Weeks before leaving Earth they'd plotted their first dig sites. Now all they had to do was the hard work, and it couldn't come quick enough for April.

At precisely 0900 hours, the door to their sleeping quarters slid open. They marched enthusiastically through the tight halls of the mother ship, greeting others briefly on their way to their own destinations.

“Don't you think it's a little crazy to think all those billions of people on Earth are depending on a few scientists, a couple of attractive archeologists, and some military personnel to get Mars to be an inhabitable planet?” April whispered.

Deacon shrugged. “We of all people know that mankind always finds a way to survive. We've done so for thousands of years. We are a bit like a virus.” He threw her another of his killer grins. “And if we're right, they might have had help. We might get help now—if we're lucky. But only if you hurry and get to the hanger before someone steals our rover.”

Leaving the hanger, April caught sight of Lieutenant Whitman, the head of Mars Central Security Division. Last time she had seen him, his head had been mostly brown, like dirty water; now it resembled a fluffy cloud. He returned her gaze, frowned, and waved them out the door.

The rover bounced over the orange-red rocks and skipped across the sand of the alien landscape. April held on tight, her thoughts drifting back across space to the tiny dot in the Martian night and the friends and family they'd left behind. Her heart twisted when she thought of her niece Ella; the closest thing to a child she and Deacon would ever know. No one knew exactly how much time Earth had left, but it would be short, and it was borrowed time. April's stomach lurched as she thought of how the human species had raped, violated, or ruined every natural resource on Earth. Now, the few left were paying the ultimate price. That thought pushed April to get to the first dig sight faster. Soon, we will get there. Really soon.