Martian Knightlife

by James P. Hogan

  Marissa was following intently. This was clearly a subject that fascinated her. As an imaginative and clearly far from stupid, doted-on daughter, Kieran could see how she could be an influence on Hamilton. "But not just as individuals," she said. "We're social animals too, right? So we create ways of steering collectively."

  Kieran sat forward and nodded emphatically. "But . . . there was a culture of old that could shape their future in more ways than just by their collective policies and actions. They were able to manipulate the probabilities of physical reality to favor outcomes that they deemed desirable. Do you see what that means?" He allowed a few seconds for effect. "To anyone who didn't know what was going on, it would appear as if chains of improbabilities and unlikely coincidences were conspiring to drive events in unlikely directions. Strange happenings; inexplicable accidents . . ." He gave her the most gurulike glare that he could muster, intense and fixating, and let her think about it.

  The blue eyes widened and rounded. "Accidents happening to people who interfered. Strange `curses.' " Marissa's voice fell almost to a whisper. "Plagues . . ."

  Kieran nodded gravely. "Except that they wouldn't be curses or anything mystical. Just misinterpretations of a deeper working of reality . . . And the Ancients left the power behind them in their works. That's what your father's agents in the desert are up against. And the consequences will spread back to those who sent them if the warning is ignored."

  Marissa was sold. It wasn't so much that anything Kieran had said would withstand rigorous scrutiny or a skeptical demand for evidence. But as a result of the very aimlessness that much of her life entailed—doubly frustrating for an active mind like hers—it was something exciting for a change, something that she wanted to be true.

  "What do you want me to do?" she asked.

  "We need to help your father gain the same insight that you have begun to glimpse," Kieran told her.

  Back in the Khal's room, Kieran found that the package containing the solution of nano-synthesizer assembly molecules from Pierre had been delivered. Since he still had time to spare before he was due to meet Leppo, he ordered a grilled mahi salad with a half carafe of chablis and ate it in the room while reviewing published information on Zorken's management structure and key people. Then, donning his cloak again and putting the bottle of solution, the white work coat, and the box containing the Martian Cross in a plastic laundry bag from the room's supplies, he took the elevator back down to the lobby level and wandered through to the room he had been in the previous evening, where the flowers for shipment were being prepared and packed. He found Marion at a desk, checking lists on a screen and singing out instructions to relays of white-coated assistants and hotel staff, coming and going. She didn't recognize him.

  "Ah! You must be the madam to whom I was guided. I am told you are the one to speak with here. I have just arrived today from afar."

  Marion took in his appearance and garb, and suddenly she was all attention. "You must be the person who was with Marissa Gilder this morning. I heard about you."

  This was even better than Kieran had hoped. "The same," he acknowledged graciously. "We are old acquaintances."

  "It's Mister . . . ?"

  "Khal. Strictly, it's the Khal, but I am easy about these things."

  Marion nodded knowingly. "So, what can I do for you?"

  "I have a gift for her to take with her, naturally. But it would be incomplete without a floral tribute to our friendship. Could you oblige?"

  "But of course. Do you have the gift with you?"

  "In my room upstairs. I can be back with it in a few minutes."

  "Sure, that would be just fine."

  Kieran smiled in a way that was mildly apologetic. "I will probably need some help in choosing the right arrangement. It isn't exactly my field of expertise, you understand."

  "I'll be happy to take care of it personally."

  "Would you be able to wrap it too?"

  "Certainly."

  "You are too kind, madam."

  "The least I can do."

  * * *

  Kieran appeared in the lobby just before 2:00 to find it busy with wedding guests checking out and meeting in lunch groups, or leaving early for the spaceport. Leppo was already there, standing in front of the store near the reception desk; so was Casey, Kieran noted—watching from one of the seats inside the main entrance. Kieran ambled over to stand nonchalantly a few feet away. Leppo glanced at him briefly as he approached, then took no further notice. Kieran joined him in scanning the throng of faces. After a minute or more he murmured quietly, "Two rules if you're going to be working with me, Sol, old chum. One, I'm always on time. Two, be prepared for the unexpected."

  Leppo's head jerked around. He still had to stare for a second or two before he could believe it. "I don't believe it," he blurted, all the same.

  "You've got the syringe?" Kieran asked him.

  Leppo patted a bulge in his coat pocket. "It's here, cleaned and working."

  "How did the practice go? Have you got it pat now?"

  "Every time."

  "Fine. Here you are, then." Kieran extracted the box with the Martian Cross from the laundry bag that he was carrying, leaving the coat and the solution inside, and passed the bag to Leppo. Leppo nodded, tucked it under an arm, and walked away in the direction of the men's washroom. Kieran, carrying the box, headed back toward the rear of the lobby. Casey was half in and half up from his seat, staring uncertainly after the bizarre character who had appeared from nowhere, whom his partner had talked to. Kieran left him to make what he could of it. Marion was waiting for him when he came back.

  "It's beautiful!" she exclaimed when Kieran showed her the cross. "A Martian design. I take it that's a native rock?"

  "More than just that," Kieran said. "It has emanations. I believe it reradiates the influence of associations from long ago."

  "Really?" Marion allowed a moment of hushed reverence. "So, did you have any particular kind of arrangement in mind?"

  "For the flowers? I leave that entirely to you."

  Marion cocked her head to study the sprays and bunches arrayed around them. "Let's see . . . I think first, a crystal vase like that one to build it in . . ."

  "Splendid."

  "And a white motif for a wedding. Something a little exotic . . . ? White orchids with Casablanca lilies, maybe with some snapdragon too."

  In the background, Leppo, wearing the white coat, came into the room behind another of the assistants. He identified the table of lilies that Kieran had briefed him on and moved casually over to it. "Not too pale," Kieran said. "To me that would carry suggestions of a deathly shade. We should have a touch of color."

  "How about a blush of Bridal Pink Rose?" Marion pointed. "And variegated ivy with white and green in the leaf, like that."

  "Perfect! And a background of more green to set it off."

  Leppo had turned his back on the room and begun working rapidly, his shoulders hunched.

  "Mixed ferns for body and support: maidenhair and Ming," Marion pronounced.

  "Could we add some of that?" Kieran pointed. "What is it?"

  "Yes, lily grass. A spray to flow and move with the trailing orchids. An excellent choice. You must be a natural."

  "It's really you. I pick up influences too—like the rock."

  "Now you're being flattering. . . ."

  * * *

  Mullen reported the latest to "Mr. Z," one of two "expediters" from the Firm, who were being sent to oversee the situation in Lowell and recover the lost quarter billion inner-system dollars. They were still a day or so out, inbound for Phobos.

  "He went back to the Oasis and met up with his buddy, then kept an appointment. But it wasn't with Thane. It was some Ali Baba screwball in a pyjama suit that showed up there this morning—seems like he knows the Gilder girl."

  "No connection with Thane?" the face on the screen checked.

  "Nah. He's still out in the desert with the professors . . ." Mullen turned his he
ad to mutter at Balmer, who was following disconsolately, "like I said all along."

  "How is the recruiting progressing?" Z inquired.

  "They'll be up to strength by the time you get here. Two troop carriers and a gunship, loaded, plus command car." The other thing Mullen had been doing was raise reinforcements to go back to Tharsis for Thane. If the other side wanted to play it tough, that was fine with the Firm. He went on, "I figure Leppo knows the score out there. He set us up. He's at the Oasis now with his partner. I've got Brown and Black there with three soldiers. What do you want us to do?"

  Z considered the situation for a few seconds. "Where is this force being assembled?" he asked.

  "A warehouse at a place called Stony Flats—that's a few miles outside the city. The flyers will leave from there to go out over the desert."

  "Leppo and the other are serving no useful purpose loose and could pose a risk," Z pronounced. "Grab them now, but keep them there where you are for a while to cool off. Then bring them out to Stony Flats when we arrive, and we'll all have a talk."

  "You've got it." Mullen treated Balmer to a satisfied look as he cut off the screen and clicked in the code to make a call. "Sorry, Doc, but your guess didn't pan out. We're playing it our way now. And this time, you and Leo can come along for the ride too. I wouldn't want you two to think you were missing out on anything."

  * * *

  It was done. The doctored lilies had been packed and were being consigned to carry their message, and the final groups of wedding guests were departing for the shuttles up to Phobos. There was little more for Kieran to do now until they arrived at Asgard, and the ceremony and reception took place, which wouldn't be until the next day. With the more immediate things taken care of, his concern turned back to Hamil and the people out at Tharsis. He had planned to go next with Leppo and Casey to Alazahad's to check what progress Mahom had made in raising a protection force.

  Still arrayed as the Khal of Tadzhikstan, Kieran arrived at the elevators on his way to the lower parking level, where they had arranged to meet. It was one of those rare times in life when everything seemed to be going smoothly, he reflected as he waited for the car to arrive. And that in itself was enough to keep him on guard. It had been his experience that events never continued in such a manner for long; such deceptive calms were inevitably the prelude to the sudden bursting of a storm.

  The reaffirmation that little in life ever changed came as soon as the doors opened. Two of the three men inside were none other than "Mr. Brown" and "Mr. Black," whom Kieran had last seen in the conference room at the Zodiac Commercial Bank. The third's face was unfamiliar, but he was obviously with the others and of similar ilk. "Gentlemen," Kieran acknowledged, stepping inside and smiling pleasantly. The button for the lower parking level was lit. Kieran pressed the main lobby button and turned to face the doors as they closed.

  All the way down, he could feel Black's eyes traveling over him like the beam for a body scan. He could read the thoughts from behind as if they were being transmitted telepathically: There's something familiar about that guy. Where have I seen him? But obviously it didn't click.

  On the lobby level, Kieran got out and headed for the stairwell down, at the same time tearing his comset from his pocket and thumbing Leppo's code. "Hel—" Leppo's voice began, but Kieran cut him off.

  "Sol, it's the Knight. Watch out. There are bad guys here, and they're heading your way. It could be a coincidence, but I don't . . ."

  The connection had gone dead.

  As Kieran moved cautiously out from a stairwell door to a landing overlooking the parking level, he saw why. The three men from the elevator had joined two others, who were with Leppo and Casey in one of the rows between the vehicles, and from their positions and attitudes, Kieran guessed, holding them at gunpoint. Even as he watched, keeping well back in the doorway, the captives were bundled into a shiny black Metrosine. Two of the others squeezed in after them, the remaining three up front. The car backed out and left in swishing display of opulent engineering and luxury. Kieran could do nothing but watch as it disappeared down the exit ramp, heading for the tunnel onto Gorky.

  20

  Mahom Alazahad looked Kieran up and down with a wide, approving grin. It was getting late in the afternoon. "Well, I'll be . . . It took me a second to be sure, but, yep, it's you all right, Knight. So what's going on? Looks like you decided to come over to the sophisticated side of the race."

  "Special effects, Mahom. I've taken it on as a new vocation to become the spiritual savior of the chief of Zorken Consolidated."

  Mahom looked appalled. "The big construction outfit? You're kidding! But, no . . . you're not kidding. Don't tell me you're thinking of taking on a Zorken army with those troops you asked me to rustle up. I thought they were supposed to be just standby protection for these friends of yours out at Tharsis."

  "Don't worry," Kieran told him. "I'm not into the interplanetary war business yet."

  "So what gives?"

  As they walked to the office, Kieran added as much as was pertinent to what he had told Mahom when he called from the Oasis the previous evening. Mahom poured two coffees from the pot by the window while he listened. Kieran finished with a summary of the latest developments, including what had happened to Leppo and Casey.

  "Sol has this way of rushing into things, like a lot of kids with ambitions," Mahom said. "But he's okay. Do I take it our first priority now is to find where he's at and bust him out?"

  Kieran nodded. "The light wasn't too good, and I was at the wrong angle. I couldn't get the car's registration."

  "Probably fake, anyhow," Mahom grunted. "But that shouldn't be a problem. There aren't that many snazzy black Metrosines in this city. And if these are guys from some off-planet syndicate looking for a wad of loot that went missing like you think, it'll either be a rental, or registered with an owner on a pretty narrowed-down list. If we come up with a probable, we can find it if we get its locator code out of the security company's database." Mahom winked. "Otherwise it might depend on eyes out on the streets."

  There was little Kieran could do but wait. He had thought that after the wedding party left, he might risk showing himself at June's, but with the syndicate out and almost certainly looking for him he decided against it. He was on his way back to the Oasis, when Pierre called to say he had obtained a multiplex modulator of the kind Kieran had specified, and they needed to get together to rehearse how they would use it. Since there was no point in advertising Pierre's involvement by having Kieran go to where he was, they arranged to meet at the hotel.

  Pierre had with him an artificial culture of cells containing the assembled protein synthesizers and molecular-circuit receivers for activating them, along with portable equipment to analyze the codes picked up by the receivers and how the synthesizers responded. Through several hours of trial-and-error testing, they called the room's number from a pocket comset fed by the muxmod and established the settings needed to generate the required external field pattern. By the time they had gotten it right, they could call the room, and under cover of an innocuous regular connection, transmit a protein-director code to the synthesizers inside the cells of the culture sample placed close to the receiving screen. To be sure it wasn't an accidental result due to all the equipment being in the same room, Kieran took the muxmod down to one of the public booths in the lobby and made several calls from there, which proved successful. As a finale, he routed a call through Pierre's comset, with the muxmod attached. Hence, they could piggyback the codes onto a call from a third party being routed through to the called number. The call carrying the code to the target didn't have to originate from the phone that the muxmod was connected to.

  By this time, a new possibility had suggested itself to Kieran's ever fertile mind. "Let's put it to a live test before we go active with Asgard," he said to Pierre upon returning to the room. "Can you set up codes to deactivate the synthesizers that we initiated among those guys out at Troy?"

  "Deacti
vate them?" Pierre looked mystified.

  "Yes. I want to test the effectiveness in selecting a target subject." Kieran meant the individual who would be actually at the receiving screen, as opposed to others who might be close by. "And it will add to the image. Hasn't one of the best ways of turning nonbelievers around always been a demonstration of mystical healing? We're about to expand the business."

  * * *

  A half hour later, Kieran was looking at the frightful, green-purple visage of Justin Banks at the Troy site. Banks was still in the Mule transporter but outfitted in a lightweight suit as if he were about to leave; also, there were figures in the background who looked like medics. It seemed that Kieran had caught them just as they were about to be moved to the hospital at Lowell.

  "Who the hell are you?" Banks demanded, taking in the garish, smiling form that had appeared on an incoming message screen.

  "Profoundest greetings to you. I am he who is known as the Khal of Tadzhikstan, at present in Lowell, who only as recently as this morning had the honor of an audience with your Lady Marissa." Kieran glanced across the room at Pierre, who was juggling numbers on a screen plugged into the muxmod, which in turn was feeding into the room system's data port.

  "Oh God, not another one," Banks groaned.

  "Who is that?" Kieran heard one of the doctors mutter in the background.

  "I'm not sure. I haven't seen him before. We've been having trouble from—"

  "I have come at the behest of the seer Keziah, who is with the party nearby to you in the desert. Deserts are no stranger to me. Neither is the affliction that you suffer. But the tidings I bring you are joyous! Your transgressions were committed out of ignorance and not malice, and are therefore to be forgiven. I bring to you the healing powers from our Earthly home of the spirit."

  "Isn't there ever going to be an escape from you people? Look, for the last time . . ."

  Pierre was nodding and sending a thumbs-up. Kieran responded in kind, his hand below the viewing angle from the screen's pickup. "Whether you believe or not at the present time is immaterial. You will." He pointed a quavering finger, at the same time fixating with a mystical stare. "To give proof, I have selected you, Justin Banks, to be the sole receiver, for now, of relief from the curse that is known as the Plague of Akhnaton. Thy skin shall henceforth be restored and its blemishes vanish. The sickness shall be gone from thy stomach and thy bowels. The aches that have blighted thee shall ease and fade. Thy—"