Season of Passage, The (10 page)

Lauren found herself waiting for them to be opened.

Final y the president cleared his throat. Lauren leaned forward expectantly. He was going to tel them something.

'Contrary to what you may believe from TV,' the president said, 'I'm not a man of many words.' He stopped and straightened his tie. 'Have any of you

any idea why this meeting was cal ed?'

Lauren shook his head. Jim remained silent. Gary alone spoke. Thankful y, after a word from Jim - just a word, Lauren thought - Gary had changed

into decent clothes. Gary said, 'Are you here to tel us what became of the Russians?'

The president smiled faintly. 'Do you think I know?'

Gary shrugged. 'You're the president.'

'I spoke with their president last May,' the president said. 'He had nothing new to tel me. I believe he was being sincere.'

'Did you question him specifical y on the loss of their orbiting cosmonaut?' Jim asked. 'Supposedly they were in communication with Carl Bensk for

days after their lander fel silent.'

'He had nothing to say, except that they just lost communications with Bensk, for no reason.'

'Was Bensk in good condition when this happened?' Jim asked.

'I would assume,' the president said.

'Why?' Jim asked.

'Why not?'

'Because he never came back,' Jim said.

The president frowned. 'Your questions are appreciated, Professor Ranoth. What we have to show you tonight may throw some light upon their fate,

or at least upon the fate of those who died on Mars. One point about my talk with their president, something that testifies to his sincerity - we have

been given permission, and every assistance, to dock with their orbiting Gorbachev. Obviously, they are as anxious as we to discover what

became of their men.'

'Please tel us what you do know, sir,' Gary said.

The president signaled to Dean, who opened the black attaché case and removed a sealed envelope. He passed the envelope to Gary through a

pressurized drop on the far wal . Accepting the envelope was a break in quarantine, Lauren thought, unless, of course, the contents had been

sterilized, which she figured must be the case. Gary tore open the envelope. Inside were two colored slides. Fol owing instructions from Dean, Gary

placed the slides in a projector that they often used to display diagrams for the press.

'Lights,' the president said. The room fel dark. On the screen appeared a photograph of the Martian landscape: salmon-pink slopes and orange

sky, plus plenty of rocks -the planet's trademark. From the terrain, Lauren recognized it as a picture relayed to Earth by the Martian Rover. The

Rover had landed on Mars in 1996. It was an enormous mobile vehicle with two inflatable wheels twenty feet high. It had an instrument package -

containing TV cameras and experiment platform - suspended safely between its wheels. On the way to Mars, each wheel - made of sixteen

separate pie sectors of kickass plastic - had been deflated. But once on Mars the Rover was able to drive itself over the plains by sequential y

inflating and deflating the sectors of its wheels. The Rover was able to cope with rocks up to three feet high and had radar to warn it of approaching

holes. It had worked beautiful y for two days, driving about the Utopia Planitia region, taking excel ent pictures, and digging up and testing numerous

soil samples.

Then it had stopped transmitting. Its builders theorized it had accidental y driven off the side of a cliff.

Lauren studied the picture and noticed nothing remarkable.

'This photograph was returned to us in the summer of 'ninety-six,' the president said in the dark. 'This was one of the last pictures the Rover sent us.

This picture, and others

like it, are the reason you are going to Mars.' He paused to let his words sink in. 'Do you notice anything peculiar?'

A lengthy silence ensued. Lauren looked harder but wasn't sure what she was looking for. Gary stirred restlessly beside her. Final y Jim spoke.

'That series of impressions that cuts across the foreground,' Jim said. 'Is that what you're referring to, Mr President?'

'Yes, yes,' the president said, sounding strangely relieved. 'Very good, Professor. Few people notice the impressions at first. You usual y have to

stare at them for a while before you appreciate their significance.'

Jim stood and moved closer to the screen. Lauren's understanding final y began to blossom, and she trembled inside. She told herself it couldn't be

true, but the more she looked, the clearer it was that the president was right. The impressions weren't just stupid holes.

They were footprints.

Yes? No?

At least they could have been footprints.

'Jesus,' Gary whispered beside her.

'Exactly how I reacted, Major,' the president said, 'the first time I saw them. Please switch to the next slide.'

Gary clicked the projector. What fol owed was the identical photograph, but magnified three times.

'How big are those?' Lauren heard herself ask.

'Two feet long, one foot across,' the president said. 'Each impression fans out at the top, where the ... toes would be.'

'But the foot that made them need not have been as large as the tracks,' Lauren said quickly.

'True, Dr Wagner. When we walk across sand, we leave tracks bigger than our feet. However, here the surface dust is thin. Experts who have

studied these photos feel that the feet in question are much larger than our own.'

'Or the claws in question,' Gary muttered.

'Perhaps, Major,' the president said. 'Have you anything to say, Professor?'

Jim continued to stand near the screen and study the picture. 'This blow-up is not as impressive as the original,' he said.

'No doubt some resolution was lost in the magnification,' the president said.

'Maybe,' Jim said. He faced the president. 'I would like to see more of these slides.'

'I didn't bring any more. I felt these two were enough.'

Jim looked disappointed. Lauren did not understand his reaction. He should have been excited. Her own heart was pounding. Aliens. Martians.

Monsters. Al her knowledge of Mars had just flown out the window. She suspected it was going to take a while to assimilate what they were hearing

and seeing.

'Would it be possible to study other photos before I leave?' Jim asked.

'You're leaving in the morning,' the president said.

Dean spoke hastily. 'Couldn't that be arranged, Mr President? Professor Ranoth is an expert in his own right in many fields.'

'Security in this matter is very strict,' the president said. 'We have no way of knowing how the public would react if this discovery leaked out. The

lights, please, Major Wheeler.' The projection of Mars faded. The president added without enthusiasm, 'But I'l see what I can do.'

Jim crossed to the projector and pointed to the slides. 'May I take these with me tomorrow?'

'No,' the president said.

'The Nova is more secure than any place on Earth,' Jim said.

'The security in this matter has already been set,' the president, said. He was far from at ease, apparently not only because of security. Yet Jim

continued to hammer at him, which in turn was uncharacteristic.

'You say these pictures are the main reason we're going to Mars tomorrow,' Jim said. 'And they were taken in 'ninety-six. Yet project Nova was not

started until 'ninety-seven.'

The president spoke crisply. 'The significance of these pictures was not appreciated at first.'

'What does that mean?' Jim asked.

'No one noticed the footprints,' the president replied stiffly. 'It's incredible in light of their unnaturalness. Plus financing had to be arranged, and that

took some doing.' He attempted to smile. 'Few Americans are worried about Martians.'

Jim smiled himself, briefly. 'Are you worried, Mr President?'

'I'm not sure I understand your question?'

'Do you consider this discovery a matter of national security?'

'In a sense. A matter of future national security.'

'Did the Russians get a look at these pictures?' Jim asked.

'No,' the president said.

'Yet they started their own project Gorbachev at approximately the same time,' Jim said.

The president was uncomfortable. 'They had sent remote probes to Mars. In 'ninety-three, for example.'

'But they did not start a crash program to reach Mars until 'ninety-five,' Jim said. 'Why do you think they delayed?'

'I have no idea,' the president said.

'When you spoke to the Soviet president, did you discuss these pictures?' Jim asked.

'I believe I have already answered that question,' the president said. 'No, I did not.'

'But you do believe their remote probes discovered something that inspired project Gorbachev?' Jim asked.

'Yes,' the president said, growing impatient. 'What is your point, Professor?'

Jim, who had been pacing slowly, stopped and leaned against the back of his chair. 'I have traveled to al parts of this globe. It's funny, but when you

live in the city, you think the whole world's crowded. It's only when you travel in the country, or sail across the ocean, that you realize the world is

mostly deserted. I find it amazing that our probes, and the Russian probes, should each come across evidence of life. No, not just life, but extremely

evolved life - an animal of some sort. Don't you agree, Mr President?'

'The evidence speaks for itself,' the president said.

Lauren interrupted. 'Do the experts who have studied these pictures feel the creatures who made the footprints are intel igent?'

'They consider it highly unlikely,' the president said. 'You al know the reasons why. There is absolutely no sign of civilized life on Mars.'

'There's the canals,' Gary said with a laugh. They al laughed, except Jim.

'But the Martian environment is hostile,' Jim said. 'Biologists agree evolved life could not have developed there in the last few mil ion years.'

The president spread his hands. 'I'm not a scientist. But I have learned over the years that the universe is a strange place that doesn't always fol ow

scientific laws.'

'That is true,' Jim agreed, thoughtful y. He fingered his shirt pocket.

'Perhaps this species evolved when the conditions on Mars were much different,' Lauren suggested. 'Then adapted.'

Jim nodded. 'It's possible.' He let go of his shirt. 'We know our own climate was greatly different in the distant past.'

'You can see why you were only informed of these pictures now,' the president said. 'Earlier, and you would have been too preoccupied with

constructing theories to concentrate on your program. But I hope you are satisfied, Professor, with what you have seen tonight. There is another

issue that we need to discuss before I return to Washington. For the first time in history, we are dealing with an alien life form. The question arises:

do we have the right to protect ourselves? What would you say, Major Wheeler?'

Gary answered immediately. 'If they are not intel igent creatures, sir, I would say yes. If they are intel igent, I would have to think about it.'

The president nodded. 'Professor Ranoth?'

Jim was displeased. 'Protection at what expense? If there are such creatures, they may not be intel igent now, but who can say about the future? Or

even the past. It is their planet.'

Lauren respected Jim's answer, but did not like it. She had her own reasons, the most significant of which was that she didn't want to be eaten

alive.

'What do you say, Dr Wagner?' the president asked.

'If they are only animals,' she said, 'and they attacked us first, I would feel justified in protecting myself.'

The president nodded. 'Wel , I got two out three votes. My decision matches the majority. You are to protect yourselves. I wil not send you to Mars to

be kil ed.'

Jim sat down. 'We would be the invaders,' he said.

'Oh, Jim,' Gary said. 'Don't be so idealistic. If they're only animals and can't think, what difference does it make if we have to shoot a few?'

Jim's face flushed, and Lauren thought he might be angry. When he spoke next, however, he sounded only hurt. 'Maybe they can do other things

besides think.'

'I am giving you an order,' the president said firmly. 'Al of you. Defend yourselves at al costs. If they are intel igent, they wil not attack you.'

'If they came here,' Jim asked, 'what would we do to them?'

"This debate can go on al night,' the president said. 'I don't want to have to keep repeating myself.'

Jim leaned back in his chair. He looked weary. 'Are you so sure, Mr President, that we can protect ourselves?'

For the first time since showing his slides, the president seemed to stand on firm ground. 'Yes,' he said. He motioned to Dean who carried the bulky

suitcase to the pressurized drop. Gary accepted it on their side, compromising their quarantine for a second time. The threat of the footprints

suddenly hit closer to home for Lauren. Inside the suitcase was a laser rifle. Lauren had seen pictures of experimental models, but none as

compact as this one. Gary whistled with excitement and swung the weapon to his shoulder. Mostly silver in color, the rifle was stubby, with a short

barrel that culminated in a translucent ring. Nevertheless, it looked heavy.

First Martians and now ray guns.

'Careful, Major,' the president said. 'I've been told it isn't charged, but let's play it safe.'

Gary's eyes glowed. 'What can it do?'

The president treated them to a movie this time instead of slides. The clip came out of Dean's attaché case. It showed a white-coated technician

pointing the laser at a four-foot-thick brick wal and simply blowing it away. They learned the rifle weighed thirty pounds, and had to be recharged