Pressure Man

by Zach Hughes

  “Any one of a dozen facilities could have broken radio silence,” Doris said.

  “Or someone in Washington could have known in advance about Benson’s bomb,” J.J. said. “Someone at a high level had to be involved to get a bomb into Canaveral for that first attempt, and ditto to getting Bensen assigned to load the water.”

  “Admiral Pinkerton?” Neil asked.

  “He has only a couple of years to go before retirement,” J.J. said. “He’s had a good career. I don’t see him as a traitor to the service.”

  “That’s the problem,” Dom said. “Who can we trust? There had to be a relatively high-level traitor at DOSEWEX to arrange the raid there.”

  “We have one advantage,” J.J. said. “We know we’re fighting for survival, not only for the space program but for all of humanity. I seem always to be giving pep talks, but what the hell. It all boils down to seven people, us. We bring back the bacon or that’s it for space. The Kennedy will make a few Mars runs and then she’ll be scrapped. The Mars stations will be closed. Eventually even the moon will be closed and we’ll all be down there breeding ourselves into starvation. What follows will make the Dark Ages seem like an era of enlightenment.”

  “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Jensen asked. “Sometimes I think what we need is a man on horseback, a real leader.”

  “A military takeover of the government?” J.J. asked sternly.

  “What government?” Jensen snorted. “That bunch of idiots in Washington?”

  “Are you saying that you feel democracy has outlived its usefulness?” J.J. asked.

  “There never has been true democracy,” Jensen said. “And certainly not in recent years. Not with terrorists depriving people of their right to live, their right to make their own decisions.”

  J.J. nodded grimly. “There have always been criminals among us, but when the cities grew too large to be governed properly the criminals were more free to act. Sensible citizens locked themselves in their apartments when they were deprived of the right to walk the streets in safety, and the early efforts to remedy the situation were one hundred eighty degrees off target. The bleeding-heart school of sociologists said that the criminal was merely a product of his environment, that he was to be pitied. Criminal penalties grew steadily less severe. A man can commit murder now and either walk free or serve no more than three years in a government detention home which is much like a country club. When the bleeding hearts finally pushed through anti-gun legislation and confiscated all firearms from lawful citizens, they left enough arms in the hands of criminal types to start a revolution. Then the terrorists gained a foothold in the twentieth century. At first there was no international condemnation, because certain groups of terrorists had the secret support of certain countries. The individual had no protection against violence. Government failed to live up to the obligation to protect the people. Sensible men refused to remember that since the beginning, force can only be countered by force. Man has always been a predator, merciless to his fellow men. And when the majority lets a minority composed of predators control policy and topple governments, it’s all over.”

  “You’re saying that most of us have become overcivlized,” Doris said.

  “Or soft-headed.” J.J. sighed. “Sure, it’s humane to feel pity for the unfortunate and to help when it is possible. It is damned well not possible to give to every individual in the world the luxuries which, in the past, were the rewards for achievers. Take one absurd example. There just isn’t enough gold in existence to give every person on earth a gold ring. There isn’t enough of several commodities to give every woman a washing machine, a dishwasher, a toaster, a television set. The world was not meant to support so many people. And I think there is an overall design in the basic reality that the world alone cannot provide the ideal life for eight billion people.”

  “The old argument for space,” Ellen said. “It is man’s destiny to go into space, since his small world can’t satisfy his needs.”

  “I think man’s place is in space,” Neil said, “but I don’t believe in some predestined force. I think the stars are just there and it’s immaterial to the universe whether man reaches them or not.”

  “There are still those who think we’re going to come face to face with God out there in space and be blinded,” Art said.

  “Let’s get back to Paul’s suggestion of a man on horseback,” Neil said. “Suppose a leader did arise. Suppose he built an organization which could take over the United States. If he had one goal and one goal only, and that was to restore law and order, what actions would he take, and how far would people like us back him?”

  “I’d want to know that sooner or later we’d return to a form of democracy,” Doris said.

  “I’d grab a weapon and enlist in his force,” Paul said.

  “I’d try to become an intimate of his and have a say in things.” J.J. laughed. “But then I’ve always thought that a benevolent dictatorship was the finest and most efficient form of government.”

  “As long as I’m the benevolent dictator,” Dom said. “But I’d back the right man, I guess. I know that things look bad, but we’re not finished, not yet. Like Doris, I’d want to return to being a republic, not a democracy. No heirs to the great man allowed, to give power time to corrupt.”

  “I can think of a dozen men who’d handle things better than the politicians,” Paul said.

  “The sad thing is that the revolution, if there is one, is being run by the wrong people,” Dom said.

  “Perhaps, if we finish our mission, there won’t be a revolution,” J.J. said. “What we’ll bring back will be revolutionary, but for the better. But Neil asked a good question. How far would we be willing to go, how many personal freedoms would we be willing to put into storage, in order to restore a bit of sanity in the world? Would we send armed soldiers to break up Earthfirster rallies and kill hundreds?”

  “Would it be a loss?” Paul asked.

  “I’d send them with fire guns,” Neil said.

  “I would first give them a chance to disperse peacefully,” Ellen said.

  “Hell, exterminate them where you find them,” Neil said.

  “My husband met force with force,” Doris said. “He died.”

  There was a moment of silence. “We’re a fine, bloodthirsty crew,” Dom said. “If I decide to start a revolution I’ll recruit all of you.”

  “Would it be inhumane to kill the terrorists in order to have peace?” J.J. asked.

  “You’re being very persistent with that question, aren’t you?” Ellen asked.

  “I’m curious,” J.J. said. “Is it wrong to put the welfare of the race ahead of temporary considerations of personal freedom? Would we be labeled monsters by history if we killed thousands in order to make life better for millions?”

  “That question is too big for me,” Dom said.

  “Because it could come to that,” J.J. said. “You may be forced to take sides, to fight. Space and future hope, or Earth in isolation and slow rot. The future or the present. A loaf of bread for each citizen before starvation or some starvation now and plenty later.”

  “I can hope for a loaf now and more loaves in the future,” Dom said. “I can hope that that alien on Jupiter has a sublight drive and we pull him out and he shares his secrets with us. I can hope that we’ll build a fleet of starships and start sending out colonists to grow good wheat so that every man does not want for bread.”

  “I can go with that,” J.J. said. “But what if the bogie is not a sublight ship? What if it is merely an unmanned probe which has been traveling for centuries? Sure, a sublight drive would solve all our problems, provided that there are rich, uninhabited planets out there. But what would solve our short-term problems and give us an opportunity to develop our own starships?”

  “That’s simple,” Ellen said. “Food.”

  “Food,” J.J. said. “All our recent efforts have been directed toward providing more food. We’re going to Jupiter to try to sal
vage an alien ship in the hope that it will enable us to move the race to a new food supply. Food is the key. The man, or group of men, who provide the world with food can control the world without armed revolution. Do you agree?”

  “Meaning that if we, as you say, bring home the bacon, the service will have a strong voice in policy?” Doris asked.

  “Shouldn’t we?” J. J. countered.

  “So we’re going to Jupiter so that we can tell other men what to do?” Doris asked.

  “Hell, no,” J. J. said. “We’re going to Jupiter to get a few loaves of bread.” He spread his hands. “But when it comes down to it, who would you rather have running things, service people or men like the senator from New Mexico?”

  “Knowing some high-ranking service people, that’s not much of a choice,” Dom said.

  “Flash, you wound me,” J.J. said. He smiled. “There’s been a method behind my madness in this discussion. I mentioned the gentleman from New Mexico. As of this morning, Pacific time, he announced that he has been the controlling force behind the Earthfirster movement. Further, he said that he has effected a union of all radical forces, with the two main groups being Firsters and Worldsavers, and that he intends to take over sole control of the government, either by peaceful means or by armed force.”

  “My God,” Doris said.

  Dom felt a cold chill run up his spine.

  “There will be civil war,” J.J. said. “When we return, well have to take sides.”

  “If it isn’t over when we get back,” Neil said.

  “Who the hell will fight them?” Art asked. “Not the government in Washington.”

  “The Department of Space Exploration has joined with all branches of the service to declare loyalty to the government,” J.J. said.

  “The government is riddled with Firsters and Worldsavers,” Dom said.

  “The radicals walked out of Congress, declaring it an instrument of totalitarianism. There’s no one left in Washington but the President, a few members of his cabinet, and a few very brave liberals.”

  “What a choice,” Neil said. “The terrorists or the bleeding hearts.”

  “It’s the only choice we have,” J.J. said, “but you can easily see that if we muster enough force to beat them, we’ll be running things when it’s over. I mean the combined services.”

  “Has fighting actually started?” Ellen asked.

  “It’s fairly unorganized, for the moment.” J.J. sighed. “There is a main force of radicals pushing eastward from California, picking up recruits as they move. Their target is probably DOSEWEX. A couple of the southern bases, one army and one naval base, have been taken. But mainly the losses have been in the northeast. The southern army and sea marine bases are furnishing most of the loyal troops. There’s a defense line being drawn up running roughly from Chicago to the Texas gulf coast.”

  “Can it be held?” Neil asked.

  “That remains to be seen. As it looks now, the services, with the exception of the space arms, which have a higher percentage of loyalty, seem to be divided about fifty-fifty.”

  “We could newk the bastards and get it over,” Paul said.

  “And poison our own country,” J.J. said.

  “Leave it so battered that the overseas radicals could walk in,” Neil said.

  “Right now we’re fighting a limited war,” J.J. said. “It’s tough to slaughter your own people. You don’t use nuclear weapons on your own country. You try to hold the damage down and pray that old John Q. Public will come up right, as he so often does. The unwashed masses. Sooner or later they’re going to pull their heads out of their TV sets and realize that someone is shooting at them. The way John Q. moves will decide it. Right now there are two relatively small armies shooting at each other.”

  “The public will decide the issue on very intelligent thought,” Paul said. “Like which side has the most photogenic generals and the prettiest uniforms.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” J.J. said. “One of the first results of the war will be the destruction of the distribution system. People will be scavenging for edible weeds in the fields. When that happens, we’ll get right down to the nitty-gritty. If we can convince the public that hunger is the result of a war started by the radicals, they might come in on our side. Our mission takes on a new importance. Because if we can go back and promise them the stars—”

  “And once we’re in control give them the stars,” Neil said.

  Dom was numb. He kept hearing that phrase in his mind. Once we’re in control. It was almost as if—but it was Doris who voiced his suspicions.

  “J.J., you knew it was coming, didn’t you? Your whole plan was built around a coming revolution.”

  “I can say this,” J.J. said. “We are important, very important, and we have the support of what’s left of the government and of all the services.”

  Chapter Ten

  The approach to Mars was always an exciting experience for Dom. The negligible atmosphere of the planet allowed a clear view of the surface. A dust storm was blowing in a cyclonic pattern west of the Hellas plains in the southern hemisphere. The film of ice deposits in the northern polar area gleamed, a white jewel atop the globe. Doris was by his side, keeping an avid eye on the viewers, since it was her first trip to Mars.

  Although she was arid, cruel, deadly to an unprotected man, Mars was Dom’s second home. In recent years he’d spent as much time there as he had on Earth. He was proud to be a part of a service which made human presence on Mars possible, and he was bitter because events on Earth now threatened, more than ever, the developments which had been scratched and dug out of the planet at the cost of much labor and some human life.

  During the days in which he watched the planet grow from a bright star into a disc and then into a huge, dominating sphere hanging over the Kennedy, he talked with Doris about his feelings. Mars policy was made on Earth, and it was contradictory and confused.

  “Take the Kennedy,” he said. “For what she cost we could have supplied plenty of water for the entire planet for all time.”

  He pointed out the ice deposits at the north pole.

  “There’s enough water there to change the face of the planet,” he said. “If all the water in the ice deposits could be released, the planet would be covered in water to a depth of ten meters, about thirty feet. That’s a theoretical figure, and it would be accurate only if the planet were a smooth globe. The point is, we’ve spent billions building this ship to carry water out here and all the time there’s plenty of water already here if we had the money and the manpower to develop it.”

  Mars was anything but a smooth planet. The huge shield volcano, Olympus Mons, showed on the horizon. Even from height and distance Olympus Mons was impressive.

  “Two and a half times as high as Everest,” Dora said. “Fifteen miles high.”

  “Quite a mountain,” Doris said. “I don’t think I’d want to try to climb it.”

  “It’s not all that tough,” Dom said. “Remember, it’s less than half Earth gravity. The only tough part of the climb is in lower altitudes, because of the winds. I’ve seen winds of two hundred miles per hour on the lower slopes. But no one climbs the thing. It’s too easy to take a jumper and set it down on the peak. If we find the time I’ll take you up. I think you’d enjoy it.”

  From space, Mars looked like a planet stripped down to its skeleton. An ancient riverbed, with tributaries branching out like small veins from an artery, lanced across a flat plain pimpled by meteorite craters. The effects of the Martian wind could be seen in the dark tails extending outward from the craters, marking the deposit of bright dust particles. As the rotation of the planet brought the canyon area into view, Doris was, again, impressed. The giant rift covered an area as long as the distance from New York to San Francisco. The main chasm, Tithonius Chasma, would have made the Grand Canyon of the Colorado look like a small creekbed. The stark and terrible beauty of the planet misted Doris’ eyes. She leaned against Dom, her hand on his arm.


  “I once hated her,” Doris said.

  “Why?” he asked, not thinking.

  “Because she took you away from me.”

  “That was a long time ago,” he said.

  “I can understand why she draws men,” Doris said. “I can see why, once you’ve seen her, you have to come back.”

  “There are ten thousand people down there,” Dom said, pointing out the high volcanic plains in the Elysium area. “They live in quarters which would give most Earthlings claustrophobia. They breathe reconstituted air which they’ve made themselves by breaking down the oxygen from rocks and what little water can be pumped from the ground. They’re dependent on Earth for most of their food and manufactured materials. There are marvelous things on Mars, minerals, jewels, metals. She’ll never have to worry about overpopulation, because she wasn’t meant for man. But she can give to man. There’s enough raw material there to ease a lot of shortages back on Earth. And what do we carry when we send a ship back? Fertilizer.”

  “I’ve always thought Mars policy was penny-wise and pound-foolish,” Doris said.

  “We have the technology right now to change the entire Martian environment,” Dom said. “We could use the hydro engine to shift the two moons just a little, just enough to change the motion of the planet to give more sun heat at the poles. The caps would melt and the planet would be wetter, warmer, and that would make her almost self-sustaining.”

  “Can you imagine the screams from the nature worshipers?” Doris asked, with a laugh. “Can you imagine the lawsuits which would be filed if the department announced that it was going to change the sacred ecology of an entire planet?”

  “The battle cry would be, ‘Lichens Have Rights,’ ” Dom said.

  The Kennedy’s huge powerplant was thrusting against her motion, slowing her. Mars hung over the ship, huge, red, beautiful. Landing preparations went smoothly. Although the ship was huge, she had the power to go in and come up on her own in the light gravity of Mars. Neil put her down as if he were handling a scout ship a fraction of her size. Men began to offload the water, which would strain the storage capacity of the tanks. It would be a long job, since existing pumping facilities had been designed for much smaller quantities of water.