MARS UNDERGROUND

by William K. Hartmann

  "But..." Annie started.

  "Don't worry"—Lena glanced at her—"you'll get your story. The discovery, the early data—everything's documented. You're the first person from the media to get here. You'll have the greatest story in the world."

  "Lena did call me," Stafford continued. "Maybe that was a mistake from your point of view, Ms. Pohaku. You probably feel she should have called you. Or one of your colleagues. Called in the press right away. Of course, science doesn't usually work that way. There's always a period of gathering data before you publish or put out your first press release. Even in the most routine research."

  Now Annie was fully into the conversation. Her eyes darted from one person to another. "But this isn't routine. This is alien artifacts! And you said nothing? After everybody's been looking for something like this for two hundred years?"

  Carter kept trying to send thought waves at her: Cool it, let them tell their story. Suddenly, watching Annie press her case, Carter felt detached from everything. This woman of all women, whose skin he knew, whose aroma he knew, in this room she was just another person, wearing clothes, focused on a task, focused away from him, like a different species from the one he had known. The whole world was full of surprise and paradox.

  "The thing of it is," Stafford continued, "it wasn't clear from the start. At first, all we had was an unknown something, at depth. Something harder than our drill bits. You'll learn more about that tomorrow. As they began to map it and Lena made me realize how strange it was, I remembered something that not everybody knows anymore. For better or worse." He winked again at Sturgis, who was looking impatient. "Before I came to Mars, we were all given a heavy load of indoctrination, especially me. See, we were all looking for life on Mars in those days. The hope was to go beyond the fossil microbes that had been reported at the turn of the century—maybe find existing Martian life, or evidence of ancient advanced organisms; conceivably, even ancient intelligence. People started saying maybe the evidence for Martian life is buried, since the surface gets sterilized by solar UV. You look at the polar sedimentation rates from global dust storms—whole cities could be buried.

  "Anyway, when the big franchises were let to build Mars City, one of the backroom justifications for government subsidies was that we might find something revolutionary—alien viruses or ancient technology. Your genetic engineering firms were big movers in this, because of the weird amino acids that were already turning up in comets. There was talk of alien viruses that could lead to nanoengineering breakthroughs. Anyway, Congress and the corporate CEOs were really pushing this project to keep the taxpayers' money flowing into their districts and companies." Stafford grinned. "Don't know if anybody believed in it, of course. But the selling point was that if anybody found ancient Martian technology or current Martian life, it might give the discoverers tremendous power to leapfrog over ordinary science.

  "You have to remember, too, it was right after Sviridov's flight. There was the whole Russian-American thing. They wanted to get together and rule the world. They were terrified of Europe and China and Japan and Brazil. Russia had the untapped resources and the big boosters, and America had the industry and management. So they made a deal. Today you hear about the U.N. mandate over the Mars colony, but the Americans and Russians always regarded U.N. mandates as pretty words to be interpreted later. So they made this separate agreement, a secret protocol. They wrote it up as a condition of the first joint missions. Before we left, we got private briefings. Just like when the presidential candidate is elected and he gets his first secret briefing from the spooks, about all the state secrets, and how perilous everything actually is. They told us if we found any evidence of ancient technology, it had to be reported through certain channels. Not public. Then the U.S. and Russian governments would examine the data first. You understand: We had to agree as a condition of the flight. Nobody was wild about the idea, but nobody was going to turn down the chance to go to Mars. The vice president himself talked to us. Hell, none of us actually believed we would find anything at the level they were talking about." Stafford's eyes gave off their sad and secret twinkle. "You have to realize, too, the level of national paranoia about technological secrets. Culturally, the Japanese had already taken over Hawaii, as I'm sure you know, Ms. Pohaku. In terms of the cyber-economic grid, Europeans were busting out all over the world. Intercontinental missiles were still being built by one little fundamentalist country after another. Everybody tends to forget this stuff, today....

  "Anyhow, that's what we agreed: Report through channels if anybody found anything. I was under oath. That's what I remembered when I realized they had something odd at the pole. So that's what I advised Lena. For better or worse. Nobody outside the Polar Station knew about it. We reported it just the way I'd been told, not through the press or even the Mars Council, but directly to security back home. I thought it would be just a formality that would make everything legal. I figure paperwork never makes any difference, anyway. Just keeps up employment for lawyers and bureaucrats, so the authorities have something to get you for if they think they need to.

  "But it turned out, they seized on it. Like kids with candy. Turns out they had a lot of their people already in place here, in case something like this happened."

  "But that's outrageous," Annie burst in. "The press has a..."

  "Hear us out," Sturgis interrupted.

  "It may seem outrageous to you by standards of the present world— the period you grew up in. But the Central Security Agency"—Stafford snorted—"they're hooked into the old Russian/American way of looking at things. You wouldn't believe how governments can unearth old legal-isms if it suits their purpose. None of us expected the protocol to be invoked. We gave up on the idea of discovering technology on Mars years ago. You know as well as I: my own work here had become a standing joke, an example of a dead end in science. You fly all the way to Mars to confirm a bunch of dead germs they already had detected in meteorites anyway. When people embark for Mars now, nobody even tells them about this stuff. But for better or worse I followed the rules I had agreed to. We sort of reactivated the system. It was terrifying to behold. All these people, like our friend Sturgis here, came out of the woodwork." He smiled disarmingly at Sturgis.

  Carter: "What do you mean, you reactivated the system?" "We were under orders to keep everything secret. The bottom line is, under the old protocol, we're supposed to keep the lid on this for ninety days to allow a preliminary investigation. That was the wording in the original agreement. Just ninety days. That figure was a compromise between scientists and the security people back in '10. The scientists were against secrecy but they already had a ninety-day deadline for publication after receipt of new data on space projects. Anyway, I had waited a lifetime to find something like this; by the time we knew what we had, it was already several weeks after the initial problem with the drills. Ten or eleven more weeks to investigate before going public didn't seem like such a bad thing. At least that's the way I rationalized it. Well, the good news for you guys is that we're past seventy days already. So it's really no big deal for you, Annie. Just two and a half weeks to go. If you just build your story for a couple weeks, you'll have a fantastic scoop; everything will be smooth and easy. For all of us. You don't have the frustration of waiting as long as Elena and I did."

  Carter: "But why the crazy stunt of getting lost in the desert?" Elena: "Once we had agreed to keep the whole thing secret, we had this problem. We couldn't just fly Alwyn down here for the remaining eleven weeks, it would attract too much attention. You know how everybody watches what Alwyn does. They always think he's on some magic quest that will bring back the Holy Grail. He was the guy we needed, but he was also the wrong guy in terms of public attention. We flew him back and forth for short trips a few times as things were coming to light. But more and more people started asking questions.

  Sturgis piped up. "Even you were asking questions, Mr. Jahns, if you remember. And my job was to keep it secret. The first few week
s for me were hell. As we brought more equipment here, more people were involved, it looked like the cover was going to break wide open. Our people told us that rumors were starting to circulate in Mars City about massive excavation projects at the pole. The early workers in the tunneling didn't know what they were involved in, but once we began to expose the artifact, we had to quarantine the base, of course. None of the workers could transfer back to Hellas or Mars City. Our people were still worried. The psychodynamicists predicted the story would break out like a virus in another few days. We were running out of time, and I'll tell you frankly we were frustrated we couldn't crack this thing. We just kept saying, 'If we have a little more time... ' Then, on top of everything else, you show up on Mars, Ms. Pohaku. First major network reporter in a long time. Our people were tracking you. You weren't as experienced as some other reporters I've controlled in similar situations on Earth, but you were the most worrisome person on Mars. Our people had predicted you would arrive here at the pole days ago to ask questions about excavation if we didn't do something fast." He smiled, knowingly. "You're a little late.... Anyway, to make things still worse, around the time you were arriving in Mars City, the field team turned up higher-than-normal concentrations of organics in the soil layers around the machine. Ms. Trevina here went nuts. Everybody wanted Dr. Stafford down here full-time, in the lab, ASAP. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here, charged with orders from the highest level to keep a lid on this thing for the prescribed period. God, what a headache." Sturgis had a way of emphasizing "highest level," Carter noticed. He was enjoying himself, enjoying his tale of tribulation. "I had nightmares about what would have happened if we publicly transferred Mr. Stafford here. I could just see the stories you would have written: FAMED BIOLOGIST OF MARS SPENDS WEEKS AT POLE ON MYSTERY MISSION. Things were already too hot. So, the idea was to create a diversion, to divert attention away from the pole, just for that last month. That's where the disappearance came in."

  "It only made sense," Stafford added, "after you bought into the philosophy of it all."

  Sturgis interrupted, "The philosophy was sound. It was my idea. Remember, I was brought down from the foreign affairs office on Phobos as soon as Washington got Dr. Stafford's report. We were operating by the book. The discovery was to be kept as quiet as possible, and evaluated for possible consequences to the world balance of power. I can tell you since you're in the midst of it: We're gonna keep it covert. My job is to enforce the policy. It would be the same thing tor UFOs. If something anomalous turns up, our side better know about it first. That's the whole idea behind it."

  "Our side?" Philippe said.

  Sturgis looked at him blankly.

  "Who's the other side?"

  "Why, everyone else. The people who aren't on our side. It changes from decade to decade of course. Democratic governments are unpredictable. That's the way the world is. I mean, can you imagine what will happen if we really break the technical codes embedded in this thing? Or to put it the other way, do you want this to burst on the world without any control? Do you want some third world corporation to dominate world technology just because they decipher it out first and get to the U.N. patent office first? Just imagine that for a while."

  "But somebody has to figure it out first."

  "It better be us. I'm sorry about your European background, Mr. Brach, if you see it differently. But the whole stability of the world for the last century has been because of our American policies. And it's up to us to keep it that way. Besides, we found it."

  "But you're already sharing this with the Russians. You said..." Philippe sounded incredulous.

  "That's a question of national policy. All above my head, Mr. Brach. I'm just supposed to enforce the security arrangement here. Right now, I represent the protocol for the good of both parties."

  "And you put together this idea of having Stafford disappear?" Carter asked.

  "Yes," Sturgis said proudly. "This was no ordinary operation. This is like the goddamn second coming. I mean, we've discovered alien technology here. You do whatever is necessary, it's a military operation." His eyes were gleaming. "So we put together this cover story of Stafford being lost in the desert. It was great. It worked. Everyone forgot about us. You should have heard our psychodynamics team. Our ratings dropped to zero. Zero! At least for a while. Bought us complete obscurity during the final weeks of the investigation. Like he says, sorry it caused you grief, but it was a routine cover operation."

  Carter: "You can say what you like, but we've arrived on your doorstep. I wouldn't say it worked."

  "Ah, but nobody knows you've found anything here."

  "But I need to file my report. What are you going to do about that?"

  Sturgis made an uneasy glance at Stafford. "Look, everybody's problems disappear if you just accept the pressure we're under, and the importance of keeping this news from getting out for just these final two weeks."

  Annie: "Stafford said two and a half weeks."

  Sturgis: "Whatever. By then, all the formalities will have been met. The highest authorities can decide what to do next...."

  Annie: "So what you're telling us, Mr. Sturgis, is that this whole thing is some plan of yours, justified by some secret policies that none of us ever heard of?"

  "Not just a plan of mine. I can show you the papers and the authorization. It comes from the highest levels. It's been in place for years. If you knew who I work for...."

  "You can quit trying to impress us. I think we all know who you work for...."

  The meeting dragged on and on.

  Annie walked down the claustrophobic hall toward Sturgis's office. After the meeting, she had asked Carter, "Why the hell don't you get mad?" He had said, "No need to, yet." She couldn't understand that. He was always too controlled.

  She had told Carter and Philippe she had to go off to think. It wasn't quite true. Wasn't true at all, not to put too fine a point on it. Sturgis had asked her to meet him. She couldn't pass up the chance.

  "I'd like to talk to you alone," he said. He would be on the make, of course. They were all on the make.

  When she left her room, she looked up and down the hall. Seeing it empty, she pulled out one of her dark hairs, fixed it with a dab of gel between the bottom of the door and the floor. Then she put a piece of tape slightly more visibly between the door and the jamb; a red herring. She wanted to test Philippe's paranoia; if Sturgis's people really were spying on them, it would be good to know.

  "Of course, you realize what a fantastic opportunity this is for you."

  Sturgis had invited her, unimaginatively, to meet him in his own office, a lab that he had commandeered two doors down the hall from Elena Trevina's office and the conference room. It was after lunch. Carter and Philippe had gone off with Stafford to his chem lab. She'd have liked to have gone with them. But Stafford, she could reach anytime; Sturgis ... If she blew this chance she might not have another.

  "Sorry," he said when they entered his office. "There's not much of any place nice to take you, here at the pole." Then he closed the door.

  The office was as clean and sterile as an operating room. The screen in the corner had a sign taped onto it, printed in large type: PRIORITY SAFE. As she read it, he laughed. "I don't really know what it means, but it sounds good." So, he was going to ply her with his self-deprecatory mode. The desk was bare. A few notebooks thrown carelessly on one gray shelf. One said PROTOCOL. "It doesn't mean I don't do anything, the empty shelves," he said.

  "You seem to do quite a lot."

  "I know you don't think much of me. We represent opposite needs of society, in a way, but peaceful coexistence between us is possible."

  "I'm sure."

  "You created quite a problem for us, but there are ways we could handle this that would be to the advantage of both of us. There's no need to compromise your principles."

  "As long as I don't report what I know."

  "Two lousy weeks. All right, two and a half. Look, there's no question about your right t
o this story. Your job may be to report, but my job is to keep you from reporting temporarily, and I'm running things here, so that relieves you of the responsibility. Nothing goes out until our deadline on March 22. That's a given."

  "Eighteen days."

  "After March 22 ... you can do whatever you want."

  "As long as still higher authorities don't veto it."

  "I doubt if that will happen."

  "So..."

  "Things can either be pleasant or unpleasant."

  "What's your idea of pleasant?"

  "We work together. You agree not to make trouble for us. I feed information to you. When the time is up, you have a tremendous story. It's win-win. Furthermore, it will encourage trust between the media and the researchers who will be coming in."

  "You realize, of course, we reporters get unhappy being 'fed information ...' That's not a nice phrase."

  "I mean I'll help you get the information."

  "What if my concept of the story includes the word 'cover-up'?"

  "It's national policy. You can't embarrass us, much as you might like to. Of course, I might appreciate a positive slant on it—how we upheld the law, gave the country a head start."

  "The law? An old, secret agreement nobody's ever seen, to suppress the truth? You call that the law?"

  "Yes. It's a safeguard our country put into effect. Your country. You know, I never figured out why you guys in the press have to look at everything in the worst possible way. And run down the leadership. Is it some kind of psychological compulsion?"

  "Mmmm." She paced around the room, wondering when to change tactics. She wanted to break through his posturing, to get at the real man. She paused at the long thin window. Outside, through the thick glass and the thin air, the sun was screened by haze and some spacesuited figures were walking across the landing field, small and lonely in the dim light. "It seems to me I already have the basic information. You guys are running the usual sort of good old boys' secret game, and you cloak it with highflying rhetoric. And you're keeping us prisoners so that your game isn't spoiled. I don't buy it."