Moving Mars (49 page)

No distance. Thieves stealing from the galactic treasure house.

Areologists, I think, Lieh said.

Right. Structural engineers for the stations. People we can trust, but well have to lower our standards a little. People are going to know soon enough.

The meeting will have to be held in the flesh, incommunicado, Lieh said. Everybody involved will have to stay sequestered until weve moved.

Oh? I asked, still listening to my enhancement.

The greatest danger is a leak to Earth. They may take action at any hint were working on something so drastic.

Yes, I said, letting her think for me, for the time being, letting her stretch to envelop the concept.

This will take a lot of planning, she said.

Twenty experts, no more, I said. Well need a safe meeting place.

This is as safe a place as any, Lieh said.

All right. I suddenly dreaded the thought of staying in this room where I had learned of Ilyas death. Ask the Olympians what theyll need to build several large tweakers. Ask them how soon they can have them ready.

Ill wake you in eight hours, she said, and she left.

I closed my eyes.

When the grief came, I screwed up my eyes until they hurt, trying to keep back the tears, trying not to lose control. I could not accept I could not believe. Adult sophistication meant nothing against that need spread through to my child-self. I kept seeing my mothers face, gone before this all began; lost to me, lost to my father. I would not wear my fathers grief, not lose my inner self. I could not recall Ilyas face with much clarity, not as a picture. I picked up my slate and searched for a good picture and yes, there he was, smiling over a mother cyst at Cyane Sulci, and here on the day of our ceremony, uncomfortable in a formal suit.

It seemed to me that I had never told him enough about my love and need. I cursed myself, so spare with words and revealed emotions to those I loved.

I rubbed my eyes. My insides felt like shredded rubber. For a moment, I considered calling in a medical arbeiter and plucking out this overwhelming pain. I told myself I could not let my emotions get in the way of duty. But I had not done that for my mother, and I would not do it now.

I forced my body to relax. Then, without warning, I fell asleep, as if a small circuit breaker had tripped inside my head, and the eight hours passed instantly.

Part Six

2184, M.Y. 60

Preamble

Im going to be in the goo for at least three more weeks, Ti Sandra said, allowing herself to be seen only from the shoulders up. She appeared pale but more animated. She had just come out of intensive reconstruction, three more days unconscious and at the mercy of her doctors. I took her call in my small office at Kaibab, weary from days of conferences. Memory cubes piled high on my desk carried station designs and reports from manufacturers, shippers, and architects.

Ive convinced the doctors to move me to Many Hills. Theyll take me over this afternoon by shuttle. I can start seeing visitors and be rolled into committee meetings Ill be able to take over that part of the job.

Thats a considerable relief, I said. I moved her image a few centimeters in the projection space to make room for incoming text reports from Point One on project security.

I cant come to Kaibab, obviously. Youll have to build our little project by yourself for the time being.

Its building, I said.

You sound flat, Cassie.

Im keeping on keeping on, I said, never able to hide my feelings from Ti Sandra. In truth, in the past week, since hearing of Ilyas death, I had become an automaton. It was the best thing that could happen to me. No time to think of my grief, no time to contemplate the future beyond a few brief weeks, lists of jobs to do that took me eighteen or twenty hours a day, and the worst times of all, those few minutes before exhaustion compelled me to sleep

Whats your goal, honey?

I dont understand, I said.

We have to keep goals. Even sacrificial lambs should have something to look forward to.

Somehow that suggestion seemed obscene. I turned away, shaking my head. Survival, I said.

Ti Sandras face wrinkled with concern. Were going to talk at least once every day. Weve both lost our rudders, Cassie. Ill be your rudder if youll be mine.

Deal, I said.

Good, she said. She took a deep breath and the top of her head rose briefly out of frame. Tell me about Kaibab.

I outlined what had happened in the few days since we had last spoken. From around Mars, cargo and passenger shuttles had arrived by the score at the secret station on Kaibab Plateau. Half-finished tunnels had been given quick cosmetic touches. New quarters had been opened and supplied with rudimentary comforts. The main laboratory had been finished and construction of the main tweakers had begun.

Kaibabs population had expanded quickly: two hundred, three hundred, four. The ice lens could supply water enough for a thousand people. Other Point One people arrived daily. Soon I would have a miniature capital working within the cold tunnels and chambersa backup to Many Hills.

The tweaker project and the Kaibab laboratory had been given the same code name: Preamble. The ultimate goal of Preambleto provide the President with an option in case of extreme emergencywas known only to a very few. That the option loomed large as a real possibility was known only to Ti Sandra, Charles, Leander, and myself.

Two more OlympiansMitchell Maspero-Gambacorta and Tamara Kwanghad flown in to join Charles, Stephen Leander, Nehemiah Royce, and Vico-Persoff. Pincher and Yueh Liu remained at Tharsis Research, working on a backup tweaker and overseeing the growth of more thinkers.

I finished my report. Ti Sandra bit her lower lip, nodding approval. Youve done great, Cassie, she said. I tell you what. When this is all over, well have a family party. Ill wear the brightest gown youve ever seen, and well celebrate being secure. Thats my goal.

Its a wonderful goal. Welcome back into the loop, I said, and we signed off.

I stared at the desk for a moment, lost in contemplation.

Mars was still deep in the dangerous woods. We could mount big guns, but that was alland there was still a question as to whether we had the will to fire our big guns. So long as that question remained, we were far from secure. But our most obvious and insidious danger was internal.

The Republic would not long stand the strain. Martians rebuilt, installed more robust backup systems for life support And still lived in fear of another Freeze, or worse. Rumors swept the stations as government agents fanned out to old mining claims, searching for evidence of locusts. Even Cyane Sulci was searched from the air. The search was futile. A factory seed no larger than a fist, disguised as a rock, would be almost impossible to uncover. But for the destruction at Melas Dorsa, no signs were found.

The locusts had struck Melas Dorsa with extraordinary cunning and efficiency, first sending small units into the deserted station to reconnoiter and knock out com, then big destructors. Or so the speculations went for we had no record of what had happened there, other than the mute evidence of breached tunnels, destroyed equipment, and the shattered remains of arbeiters.

We maintained a tentative date for elections, but that date was six months awayand nobody knew what would happen or where we might be by then.

As accusations flew, heads of state within the Triple exchanged messages, offered reassurances, scanned all available diplomatic channels for signs and symbols of actions to come

And found nothing. The channels were jammed with posturing and denial. I had never seen the Triple in such a state of absolute confusion.

None of the Earth alliances would admit to having given the go-ahead for war on Marsbut all were demanding full disclosure of Marss newfound powers. The Moon and the Belter BMs were if anything even more shrill about the Martian threat. The Republic Information Office and all diplomatic agencies worked to reassure the other members of the Triple of Marss peaceful intentions, but could not tell them precisely what had happened or what we might do next.

Most Martians demanded full disclosure as well. Opposition inside the government was still too disorganized to mount a full effort against Ti Sandra and myself, but clearly the pressure would increase in weeks or months until it became unbearable.

We were contemplating a game of baboons asses displaying the colorson an enormous scale. In this game, however, for one contestant to even blink while making preparations to depart the field

Disaster.

Point Ones extensive com net returned to full operations. Everything was cobbled together, with human rather than thinker oversight. Martian thinkers were still in very short supply; fewer than twenty had been grown and initiated at Tharsis Research and of those, only ten could be pulled from civilian purposes for the Republics needs. Many Hills received three, Kaibab, sixthree of them QLs with built-in interpreters, to guide the large tweakers.

Lieh Walker had become spymaster. Day by day, she expanded the Republics solicitation of outlaw data gleans buying information at great expense from sources that were not particular about their methods. We should have established extensive spy networks months beforebut we had not foreseen a time when there would be such serious disharmony between Earth and Mars. Now, perhaps too late, we became more ruthless.

We added dozens of new data fliesoperatives who coursed the Earth nets, tapped cable transmissions, fed from the sweet attractions of private GEWA and GSHA connections. Some of the data we gleaned we sold to other sources to help finance our own operations.

When Lieh asked me to authorize the funding of twenty additional agents on Earth and in the Belt, I asked what their status would be. Well-paid, she said. Expendable. GEWA and GSHA had already swatted a few of our fliesa usually fatal punishment that transferred corrosive evolvons to the data-coursing enhancements the flies used in the nets. If I need to know any more, I said, tell me. Its on my back, she said. Youve got enough to carry now.

By which she meant, I was carrying the lives of every Martian, herself includedand I never knew whether she approved or not. I suspect she didnt.

Still, some good news came. Stan had been released by Cailetet. Crown Niger had kept Stan and his wife and child in detention at Kipini Station in Chryse for a total of ten weeks, preventing any communication with the outside. I had two text letters from Stan after his release; there was time only for a brief reply, and of course I could not tell him where I was, or what I was doing.

I made a few quick calls and got him a post at Many Hills, where he could use his experience with Cailetet to work on some diplomatic patchwork. I had heard little from Crown Nigers camp; they were lying low after the Freeze, wisely enough, hoping to weather the storm. Ti Sandra created a special task force to deal with the dissident BMs and regions. Stan, I thought, could join this task force.

Charles and I met frequently, sometimes alone, more often with Stephen Leander and others present. Our discussions revolved around practical aspects of moving large objects with the tweakers.

He spent hours each day immersed in the QL thinker, preparing, exercising for another trip. The effort took its toll. After long sessions connected to the QL, Charles needed several minutes to begin speaking coherently. I feared for him.

Six attended the first conference on Preamble, two weeks after Ilyas death: myself, Charles and Leander, areologist Faoud Abdi of Mariner Valley, architect and engineer Gerard Wachsler from Steinburg-Leschke in Arcadia, and a newly initiated Martian thinker, who had just the day before chosen her name: Aelita. Aelita would act as Preambles main thinker, coordinating all the stations and projects activities.

The experts convened in the laboratory annex, still unfinished. As we seated ourselves, nano paint crept along the walls, hissing quietly and forming geometric decorations. The ever-present smell of yeast was particularly pungent here. We seemed to live always in a vast bakery.

Faoud Abditall, sharp-featured, with large, languid eyeswas the first to speak. He wore a neat white jallabah, slate and books making prominent lumps in the robes large pockets.

I have been told to consider an impossibility, Abdi began, standing before us with his back to a small data display. I have been told to research the effects on Mars of a brief period without Solar System gravitational pull. I am told this is purely theoreticaland so I must assume that we are all going to do something drastic with Mars, perhaps what happened to Phobos. Unless Phobos is theoretical as well. He regarded us dubiously, received no reaction to his humorif humor was intendedand sighed. I must tell you why Mars is stable now, and discuss popular theories of Marss areological decline. Is this what you wish?

Thats fine, I said.

I once worked with your husband, Madam Vice President. He was a fine man and we shall all miss him.

Thank you.

He was concerned, as am I, about the death of Mars hundreds of millions of years ago. But in fact death is a misnomer, for Mars is not completely cool inside. There is still areological activity. However, the plumes rising within the mantle have stabilized and no longer produce lateral pressure on the crust of Mars.

In the past, there were never more than twelve crustal plates, and now those plates have frozen into one. No lateral pressureno migration of the old platesno fracture and subduction of plate boundariesreduces volcanism. The last volcanoes active on Mars were the shield volcanoes familiar to us all, the Tharsis trio by main example, and Olympus itself. Without plate movement, mountains stopped building, and without volcanism, outgassing ceased, and Marss thin atmosphere simply evaporated into space, not to be replaced. Marss biosphere died within a few hundred million years of the end of tectonics. Now, stability

Balanced flow, Leander said.

Precisely. Aelita, please bring up Dr. Wegdas deep soundings of the Martian crust and mantle.

Aelita complied. Behind Abdi appeared a diagram familiar to alla cross-section of Mars, rotating to provide a three-dimensional view of the interior. You see, there are sixteen cyclic plumes rising and sinking, but they have assumed a dimpled inverted form, rising on the outside and sinking on the inside. The net force conveyed to the crust over these plumes is zero, though local areological effects are evident. The stability is really too delicate That is, Mars should shift at any time. But this has not happened in three hundred million years. There is much we do not understand.