—At his touch on her cheek, Kinna was wholly awake. She sprang to her feet. "How much have you seen and heard?" he asked.
"I fell asleep early on, I'm afraid," she said, stretching cramped muscles. "I'm no roboticist."
"Nor I." Who was, really, except the cybercosm? "But I've gotten somewhere."
She caught at his arm. "What is it?"
"I've worked around to where the machine will accept setting the secrecy directive aside. It'll download everything from the lenses that it hasn't already—the forbidden stuff, in other words."
Glory flared. "Fenn, you've won!"
He lifted a palm. She read the haggard face before her and fell silent.
"That means everything," he said heavily. "You see, I can't tell what any of it signifies, so I have to demand it all. A scientist would, and I got myself passed off as a scientist allowed the information. But downloading into a card we carry away with us doesn't square with secrecy. I couldn't insist. The robot could so easily have started—wondering—and checked its security system and found no entry about our arrival nor any aircraft sitting on the landing strip. Well, I fumbled my way ahead to where I can cancel the directive altogether. But then it only makes sense to download straight into the public database, doesn't it? Anything else would look odd and likely touch off a security check or a call to the main sophotectic brain on Mars, or both. As is, I've taken a chance by logging off again, breaking the robot's contact with us, while we decide. I said I'd have to consult my superior." He smiled on one side of his mouth. "That means you."
"No—What are you waiting for? Go ahead!"
"You've been asleep," he sighed. "Take a minute and think. We've talked about this enough, the responsibility involved, the possibility that the cybercosm's right and this should not run loose. We meant to smuggle the truth out for a few people like us to consider, before we went any further. But we can't. It's all or nothing, everybody or nobody. That could make world felons of us, you know. I expected the Lahui Kuikawa would be grateful and use their influence—freedom-of-information argument, damage claim against the Synesis—to get us off. But maybe they won't care to."
Whatever happens, I'll try to take the whole blame, he thought. I'll try to hide your part in this. I doubt I can. I doubt you'll let me.
She clenched her fists. "Why should ... I decide?"
"Me, I'd go ahead," he told her. "But I know I'm reckless and inconsiderate."
"You are not! You're the kindest, most generous—"
"Like death I am. I'm throwing the whole burden of this onto you. We've nobody else, and time is bleeding away from us, and either way, the guilt is mine; but you are a better human being by a thousand orders of magnitude and your guess is more likely to be right than mine is."
She stood mute for a while before she raised her eyes to his and said, quite calmly, "I don't think there are any real rights or wrongs here, Fenn. There is truth, though, and the freedom to know it. You go ahead."
They left the compound side by side. The stars stood at well past midnight. Travel would be tricky indeed, but two people helping one another could make a slow way forward, and finally the sun would rise to light the rest of their way back to camp.
24
WHEN THEY REACHED the sealtent, they were fit only to go inside, wash, throw some food together, eat it without paying much attention, and collapse into sleep. Thus they woke well before the next sunrise made further travel practical. What they murmured as they lay there in the dark became, Fenn thought, more than ever nobody else's flaming business, nor would it ever be.
In the early morning he let Kinna finish packing while he went offside and buried the lock deceiver under loose rocks. He took some trouble making the pile look natural and covering what faint trail he'd left going there and back. Once they learned what had happened, the authorities would immediately guess the how of it, but why make them a free gift of the evidence?
Originally he had taken for granted that his role, and now hers, would come out into the open, unless the decision was to keep the information suppressed. In such a sensational business, with basic Covenant principles at issue, he felt reasonably confident of their legal defense. None less than Manu Kelani had told him that the Lahui Kuikawa were prepared to strike a bargain, charges against their agents dropped in exchange for suits not pressed against the Synesis and its trustees. "It is a measure of the breakdown throughout society, this division and conflict, is it not?" the kahuna remarked sadly.
As things had worked out, though, everybody was going to be confronted with a suddenly accomplished fact. No doubt there would be strong suspicions as to the identity of those responsible, but in the uproar and upheaval, would tracking them down seem worthwhile, let alone wise? Fenn was fully content to stay anonymous, and more than content on Kinna's account. If the Lahui afterward decided to punish him for having so grossly exceeded their mandate, she would be safe on Mars.
All this was assuming they wouldn't be traced and apprehended here on the mountain. Concealment was out of the question. Observer satellites must already have spotted and reported them to occupation headquarters. They would not have seemed important. But if suspicion stirred, an aircraft or two would come for a closer look.
Landing spots were few. No matter. If need be, constables who were trained for it could bail out and come down on jetpacks. What resistance could two travelers on foot offer? What would they? Fenn wasn't about to shoot at any law officers, not under any circumstances.
Trudging and scrambling along between Kinna and the robot, he concluded that since nothing of the kind had occurred, nothing would. Nobody in charge of public affairs appeared to be particularly interested in Pavonis Mons, despite the attack on the station; despite the possibility, which she had confirmed, that bands of Inrai returned from time to time; despite—everything. Strange, this indifference, this downright carelessness.
Or was it policy? Fenn remembered what Chuan had said about not avenging the outrage at the earavan. The guerrillas had done and suffered their worst. Best hereafter was probably to ignore them. That might break down their morale and their support among people in the Threedom faster, more thoroughly, than an active campaign. Or so the cybercosm had maybe reasoned, through Chuan, its human aspect on Mars.
The idea didn't feel quite human, though. Too patient, if nothing else. Did the commanders of the occupation force agree with it? If not, had they protested to the House of Ethnoi? The cybercosm advised; it didn't govern. Legislatures could overrule it whenever they chose. Evidently they had not chosen, to date at least. Well, the cybercosm was almighty persuasive. Fenn decided to ask David Ronay about it when he got home.
Home.... He looked ahead to Kinna, her helmet shining under the vast indigo sky, Kinna striding homeward with him.
His mind went back to the puzzle, like a dog worrying a bone. The tension and toil of entry were past. After a good, long sleep and a chance to think further—
"It went so uncannily easily," he said to her when they stopped for a rest.
"I wouldn't call it that," she replied. "Could anyone alive but you have pulled it off?" Her laughter trilled, clear and bright and out of place in this grim landscape. "No, us."
They sat precariously on their suitstools. A cindery jumble extended before their eyes to an abrupt edge against empty air. At their backs, the mountain slanted upward in blocks and heaps, which soon cut vision off in that direction. Dried sweat prickled his skin, he inhaled the reek of it, hunger had begun to stir in him. They didn't eat on the trail. He sucked a mouthful of tepid water and grumbled, "Oh, I didn't expect we'd have no chance, else I'd never have set out. Obviously. Still, I was surprised not to hit a couple of safeguards I'd have had there. And now, harking back, half a dozen more occur to me. Why didn't they occur to the big sophotectic mind that designed the setup?"
"I daresay they did, and it decided they were unnecessary. Remember how the station did ... defend itself." Kinna grimaced.
"But the idea o
f a sneak invasion was dismissed? That's sloppy."
"No one I know has accused the cybercosm of sloppiness." Kinna pondered. He watched her, wishing they didn't have to have all this gear on them. She sighed, smiled a bit, and said low, "But in its gigantic way, it's innocent."
"Hm?"
"The sophotectic mind is good, Fenn. Like an ancient Buddha's. It's serene, it isn't capable of hate or anger or greed or any of those beast emotions, it exists—lives— for enlightenment and it wants nothing from us but that we'll accept its help—and someday its teaching, as far as we're able to."
"Um," Fenn grunted. He wondered how much of her earnestness stemmed from her affection for Chuan.
"I don't know how well it can understand the criminal mind," Kinna went on. In immediate confusion: "Oh, not that you—I mean—"
"Sure, I see what you mean." His gloved hand patted hers. "But security systems are essentially an engineering problem. Why didn't the cybercosm do a better job of engineering?"
"Look, you speak of 'the' cybercosm, but you know that actually no such thing was involved. Humans and one or two particular sophotects were. The human input may have been larger than you think. Why shouldn't it be? This was a question of guarding against humans." Kinna's voice picked up the eagerness of insight. "The defense that broke the Inrai was intended against meteorites, not armed men. Trouvour, the old evils are so long behind us, we've lived so long in peace and trustfulness, that most likely nobody dreamed of any serious try at breaking in."
We've lived in nothing of the sort, and less and less every year, Fenn thought. Before he could utter it, she went on:
"What I'm fretting about is what comes next. Does the, well, I'll say cybercosm anyway, does it know yet that the secret's become available?"
"We agreed that probably it doesn't," he said, "and we haven't been hunted, which I'd expect if it had made the discovery."
She nodded. "Right. It doesn't monitor entries into the public database. Too many of them, every second of every daycycle. And most likely no one's come across these data, or they'd shout-it out loud to the whole world. Wouldn't they? Do you think anybody will before we get back?"
He shrugged. "Don't know. Sooner or later some astronomer or something, retrieving related information, will stumble on it." If that something chanced to be sophotectic, then no doubt access to all such data would clamp down at once, till the file had been cleared. But scientific nodes of the cybercosm generally used their separate memory systems, didn't they? "Mars hasn't got many such people."
She leaned toward him. "So there's a good possibility, isn't there, that we, you and I, will be the first to download it? And we can take it to somebody who can interpret it, and then decide what to do, same as our original plan."
"What if we decide it should not get out?"
"Why," she replied, as simply as a child, "I'll tell Chuan and ask for his forgiveness."
He had foreknown that answer and wondered how he should respond. While he searched, not only after words but after his own feelings, suddenly she leaped to her feet. The seatsticks contracted and disappeared from view. Her arm lifted into the upland wind that he could neither feel nor hear. "Yonder!" she cried.
He looked aloft. Sunlight flashed off metal. Distance dwarfed the shape, but in this air broad wings, gaping scoops, and insectlike body were knife-sharp to sight.
Fenn's nerves shrilled. He reached for his rifle, let his hand fall, and croaked, "Constables?"
"No-no. Not official. The shape, and no markings. Private. Like hundreds in these parts."
The aircraft looped around and swung lower, above them. "Not a, a jaunt, either." Kinna's voice stumbled. "Who would, nowadays? But Inrai. They do need flitters to get here and back in reasonable time, three or four of them aboard."
She raised the amplitude on her transmitter. He was about to tell her to stop when he realized that that was pointless. The riders aloft were inspecting them. Kinna turned her face upward, as if this were air in which humans could breathe and shout. "Hola, hola! Kinna Ronay calling! I'm known to Scorian, I'm a friend of Elverir from Belgarre, come in, come in!" She went into Lunarian he could not follow.
The vehicle climbed, flew off, vanished behind the upper horizon.
Fenn laid a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe they were being cautious." His words sounded mechanical to him.
"Well—" Her tone gained firmness. "Yes, of course. They've come like others, to recover a cache or to scout or—or to be undefeated. Naturally, they're wary. Two unmistakable Terrans, how do they know what that means, if it's a trap or we're the forerunners of a movement against them or what? They'll want to survey around, make sure, find a safe place to set down and camp. After that—But I suppose we'll be gone before then."
"We hope," Fenn said.
She stared at him. "You're taking this hard, aren't you? Why?"
"Suspicious by nature," he snapped. "I could be wrong, and it makes no practical difference at the moment, does it? Come on, we'd better be marching again."
Too late had it occurred to him what booty they represented. He didn't want to tell her. Useless, useless. With luck, they'd just reach their own aircraft tomorrow and start for home.
But from then on, he paid close heed to the terrain over which they passed. An ambush would be hard to arrange in this bare barrenness. However, if he saw a place ahead where it might be done, he'd get her to steer them wide of it. Meanwhile, he noted every spot they could defend.
They sat for a spell in the sealtent after they had eaten and before they lay down to sleep-. Ignoring energy efficiency, now that they were near journey's end with ample reserves left, she kept a glowcoil going on the cook unit while turning off other illumination. It made the interior a little warmer than the thermocircuits alone did. Its dim, ruddy light brought her softly into his vision, out of enfolding shadow. "Like a fire," she said.
He heard the wistfulness. She'd never known a hearth-fire or campfire, except in simulation. He'd have to do something about that, when he showed her around Earth.
He thought of making a promise, but then thought that if he said anything intimate, his tongue might go too far before he noticed. She wouldn't resent it, but her spirit could shy off. He wanted to play by her rules. They were hers.
"Well," he said lamely into silence, "tomorrow we'll be in the air."
She smiled. "And the next evening, in our rightful beds."
"The rightful bed—" Death! His cockiness had gotten away from him after all. "Sorry," he mumbled.
He couldn't tell in the rosy dusk whether she blushed or not, but her look held steady upon him. "Soon, my dearest," she said low.
Better change course, back into safe waters. "Regardless, I'll be matua glad to see civilization again."
"If that means 'very,' me too." Kinna paused. "And yet I won't be as glad as I am that we came here."
"M-m, it's been a, uh, an experience, yes."
"It's been something we did, hard and risky and mattering a great deal—we did together." Tears glimmered in her eyes. "I'm so happy because of that. Together. Always."
At sunrise they packed, loaded the robot and themselves, and set forth anew. About noon, they came to what was waiting for them.
25
THEY TOPPED A ridge of boulders and looked downward across a kilometer to the ledge where their aircraft sat. It shone fiercely under the indigo sky and the high small sun. Fenn lifted a shading hand, squinted, and jarred to a halt.
"Oh-oh," he muttered. " 'A'ole maika'i."
Dismay nauseated him. It swept away before a tide of fury. That this should have happened! That those skulkers dared! The feeling froze into starkness. "Not good," he repeated himself to Kinna.
She had already stopped and unshipped her optic. Silent, white-faced, she handed it to Fenn as he joined her. Through the magnification he studied a low wall of rocks heaped on this side of the craft, the four skinsuited forms behind it, and the rifles in their hands.
"They went ahea
d to meet us here," he said flatly, needlessly.
He and she were all too visible on their height. A radio voice barked in their earplugs, male, Lunarian-accented. "Aou, you pair. We would speak with you."
"Then why the death are you holed up like that?" Fenn flung back.
"We must needs have care. We know not who you are nor what you do."
"I, I think you know me," Kinna answered. Her tone evened out. "I called to you yesterday when you flew over, didn't I? Kinna Ronay of Sananton, near Eos. A friend."
"Truly?" It sounded sarcastic.
"No enemy. You should know, if you're Inrai." (What else could they be? thought Fenn.) ”Elverir of Belgarre—"
"Elverir!" The man spat the name, contemptuously. "Come nigh," he ordered.
"Like rot we will," Fenn snapped. He glanced at Kinna. "If we do," he told her, "they'll have us covered from behind that barricade, helpless." To the Lunarian: "You can come to us if you want. Make it peacefully."
"Scarce are you in a position to set demands," replied the other. "Take warning."
There was no flash, nor sound to be heard in this ghost of an atmosphere, but chips flew off a clinker nearby and light glistened where the bullet fell.
"A shot," Fenn said to Kinna,. lest she not know it for what it was. "Back! They are desperados for sure."
He pushed at her. She responded with a jump. Together they scrambled down the way they had just taken. "Come along," Fenn commanded the robot. "Follow me." He went in the lead.
A hundred meters or so onward they entered a sort of hollow, where boulders lay piled around three sides of a space about ten meters wide, itself littered with lesser stones. The fourth side was an overhanging black bluff of lava. It was so heavily shadowed that a deeper darkness at its base lay half lost. Fenn urged Kinna to it. She saw a shallow cave, perhaps two meters high and three deep, formed by some gas bubble or differential contraction when Pavonis Mons poured up from the bowels of the planet.
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