Martian Knightlife

by James P. Hogan

  "I saw him at the Oasis," Black told everyone. "I knew I'd seen him somewhere."

  "He met Leppo there," Mullen said. "Dressed up like a genie. Looks like he came back into town for the wedding party."

  Balmer looked at the two arrivals from Phobos. They were both tanned, unsmiling, athletically built, and expensively dressed in dark suits with white shirts. The syndicate upper hierarchy was picky about appearances conforming to position. Only the topmost levels sported lighter shades, some individuality in adornment and style, and an allowance of color. "Well, that's over with now," he said. "They'll be going back to Tharsis. That's where Elaine and the other Sarda will be too . . . and the key to finding your quarter-billion dollars."

  The two expediters conferred briefly, then spoke to the leader of the backup force. "Board your men and let's get out there," the one who was in charge said.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, in the upper atmosphere, the vessel from Asgard began its braking maneuver to descend from orbit. It was of a fast, robust design capable of landing on the Martian surface, making it unnecessary to transfer to a shuttle at Phobos. Aboard, in the forward lounge, Hamilton and Achilles Gilder, Thornton Velte, Mervyn Quinn, and Slessor Lomax stared woodenly with greening, blotchy countenances at the wall screen showing a view of the surface. Marissa sat anxiously with the others who had accompanied them. There would be no fooling around with the doctors at Lowell, who had accomplished nothing. The only person to show any understanding of the affliction and demonstrate a successful cure had been the Khal, but the Khal had since vanished. But there was another who had tried to warn them: the eccentric but seemingly equally capable Keziah Turle, with Professor Hashikar's scientific group at Tharsis. Very well, Hamilton had decided. Then they would descend directly to Tharsis.

  24

  At Cherbourg, Kieran and Mahom disembarked from the APC with Leppo and Casey just inside the lock. While the APC shunted across to the outbound lane to gain immediate exit with the next lock cycle, they took an elevator down a level and hurried to where the Guardian Angel was parked. Within minutes, Leppo and Casey had the Angel up to flight readiness. They taxied back up, left after a short wait, and were soon climbing into the strange, pink-blushed Martian sky with the Cherbourg plateau and its spaceport, and below it, Lowell nestled in the folds of the Valles Marineris canyons, shrinking amid an expanding vista of wilderness.

  "Sure handles smooth and easy," Mahom complimented, giving Leppo an approving nod. "Solid on the drive, too. Seems like maybe you did pick up a few useful things after all."

  "These are gonna be big one day," Leppo promised him. "You sound like maybe you're angling for a share of the action."

  "I'll take whatever's going," Mahom said unabashedly with a shrug.

  It seemed that Leppo had decided he was back in the security business again.

  A call from Trevany confirmed that Everit and his force had arrived and were preparing positions around the expedition's camp. Chas Ryan's crew was digging slit trenches away from the vehicles as a precaution. So far there had been no hostile appearance. Trevany had barely finished saying this, however, when Harry Quong interrupted to say that three blips had appeared on the Juggernaut's radar, heading their way—one leading, and two close together following a few miles behind. Moments later, Everit's pilot reported the same contact from the APC. Everit ordered the APC off the ground, to take up a low-level circling pattern behind the mountains bordering the valley on the far side from the plateau.

  But it soon became apparent that the approaching craft were heading not for the expedition's camp but for the Troy site, where the Mule transporter that had brought Banks and his group, along with the eviction squad's Venning troop carrier and scout car, were still standing by the two original Zorken shacks. Until a medical team arrived to begin checking through the vehicles, the site was deserted; but presumably the incoming force, who had to be the syndicate's heavy team from Stony Flats, didn't know that. This seemed confirmed when the leading blip swooped down in a dive following the plateau edge toward the shelf.

  "Rudi's got it via Gottfried," Trevany reported. "It looks like they're attacking."

  "Patch it through," Kieran told him.

  The cavorting, intermittent view from the robot high on the cliff showed a dark arrowhead that could only be the gunship they'd seen in the satellite image coming in on a low-level run. It released two missiles, followed up with a burst of heavy cannon fire, and broke off to go into a climbing turn above the valley. The missiles struck above the shelf, causing a minor avalanche of rock and debris to tumble down around the shacks and the vehicles. The cannon shells traced a line of smaller explosions along a line below, across the zigzagging approach road. It was a warning, demonstrating the firepower available. If anyone down there wanted to play games this time, the message said, the next ones won't miss. There was no responding fire. In fact, there was no response at all.

  * * *

  "No return fire," the gunship c-com/weapons operator reported to the command flyer holding fifteen miles back behind the two troop carriers. "Nobody's coming out. Looks like they're staying holed up."

  "It means we've got them rattled." The strike commander, Colonel Sedger, came in from the lead troop carrier. "It's the right psychological moment. They weren't expecting anything like this. It's a steal. If we go down now, we'll be able to walk right in."

  In the command flyer, Mullen looked at the two expediters from the Firm, their impeccable dark suits now overlain by light-duty EV suits. In the seats behind, Sarda and Balmer waited tensely.

  "Do it," the senior of the two ordered.

  Then the gunship CWO came in again. "Alert all. Unidentified contact on bearing one-one-zero—coming in from direction of Lowell."

  "How far out?" the strike commander asked over the circuit.

  "ETA seven minutes."

  "Cover us while we go in. When we're on the ground and secured, break off and investigate the intruder."

  "Roger," the gunship pilot acknowledged.

  * * *

  "Radar interrogation signature," Casey announced, eyes on his console screens. "They've picked us up."

  "It had to happen," Kieran said neutrally. Then, to the screen showing Trevany at the expedition's camp, "What's happening at Troy?"

  "We're not sure. Gottfried isn't behaving. Its vision's out, and it seems to have started wandering. Rudi's having trouble trying to control it. He thinks one of those missiles might have damaged something."

  Just what they needed, Kieran thought. Suddenly, no eyes at the center of where everything seemed to be happening.

  "From radar, the two blips that were together are going down," Harry Quong said. "Losing them . . . they're going under my horizon. Looks like they're landing."

  "Confirmed," Casey said, in the Angel, in front of Kieran and Mahom.

  "What's that gunship doing?" Kieran asked tensely.

  "Climbing, turning . . . oh shit. Coming this way, chief. They're checking us out."

  Kieran bit his lip, thinking frantically. "Head east," he told Leppo. "Lead them away from Hamil's camp. They don't need to know about that."

  The Angel veered away, but the gunship rose, accelerating onto an interception course. Leppo turned away again. The gunship pursued.

  "They're closing," Leppo said, consulting a readout.

  "Weapon designator scanning!" Casey shouted. "Christ, they're not fooling!"

  "Use your ECM," Mahom called from behind.

  Casey flipped switches feverishly. "Already am . . . Lock on! Pod ejected. Break! Break!" Leppo threw the Angel into a sickening downward turn; an instant later, a plasma bolt flashed by, hissing pink and violet streamers. The Angel climbed; the gunship twisted ten miles back to follow. "They're lining up for a missile launch," Casey said.

  "You have rear-firing missiles, right?" Kieran said. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but the opposition weren't giving much choice.

  "Arming and activating now," Ca
sey said. "Target acquisition . . . Steady up, baby. That's it. . . ."

  The two craft dipped to go into a high-speed, hide-and-seek chase among the peaks and ravines of the Martian landscape. It was a game of nerves not unlike an old-time pistol duel. Cracking first and missing would let the other close for a virtually clean shot. Kieran had no measure of how skilled Leppo and Casey were. Against a professional military crew, he didn't care to guess the chances. He felt his throat going dry but said nothing. There was little he could contribute now.

  Then Casey threw out another decoy pod, gambling on the momentary confusion it would cause, and announced, "Firing!"

  But nothing happened. Instead, a tattoo of malfunction lights appeared on the c-com and flight engineer panels; at the same instant, Kieran felt the limpness in the craft's responses that came with flight systems losing power. Desperately, Leppo pancaked into a flat, lifeless glide, summoning enough thrust at the last moment to just clear a line of low crags ahead.

  "It's that voltage compensator!" Casey yelled at Leppo. "I told you the boost suppressor needed more smoothing."

  "And I'm telling you it tested out ok—"

  Mahom cut in, "Would you two please talk about that later? We're sitting ducks."

  Which was true. Mustering maybe half power, the Angel clawed its way upward into clear sky. Behind it, the gunship closed for an easy kill. A warning of target designator transmission locking on sounded from Casey's console. Throttling back to little above stall speed, Leppo ejected a crimson distress flare and flipped his mike to the universal emergency band. "Mayday, mayday. Okay, you've got us cold. Our power and weapons are out. We're dead in the water here. Will follow instructions."

  A gloating voice replied. "Well, that's too bad. I guess it just ain't your day. You should have stayed home."

  Casey's face was dripping perspiration. Leppo looked back at Kieran in a wordless appeal for help. Kieran did the only thing he could. Tilting the cockpit video pickup to point at himself, he looked into it squarely. "Maybe you should check with your bosses before you do anything hasty," he said. "Yes, recognize me? I'm the person you want. You've probably found out already that there's nobody down there at the camp. I'm all you've got. Lose us, and you'll never know where the money went."

  The circuit went quiet. Leppo eased into a gentle turn to avoid highlands ahead. The gunship moved up to position itself a few hundred yards astern and to one side. After several agonizing minutes, the voice came back on again. There was a distinct note of disappointment in it. "Okay. Continue the turn onto a course of two-seven-three degrees back to the site. There are two desert-camouflaged troop carriers on the ground there, next to some other flyers and shacks. Put down in front of the carriers. We have a missile homed on you. One sudden move and we fire."

  "Understood," Leppo replied.

  * * *

  The view on the wall screen in the forward lounge of the incoming craft from Asgard showed the shelf high on the plateau side, where the Zorken survey camp had been sited. The Mule transporter that had borne Justin Banks and his team was there, along with the two vessels left by the military support unit. But now there were two more carriers as well, painted in brown and pink blotches. "I don't know who they are," the flight commander's voice said over a speaker from the front cabin. "It was supposed to be empty there. The thermal signatures on the ground say they've only just shown up." The original intention had been to land at the archeological expedition's camp, which from high altitude had been spotted a few miles away across the valley floor. Radio contact with the leader there, the Professor Hashikar who had tried unsuccessfully to plead his case with Banks, had revealed, however, that Keziah Turle was not present at the camp. Nobody there knew where he was. And so, as the vessel continued its descent, attention had shifted to the Zorken site not far away.

  Achilles stared at a hand mirror that he'd had with him all through the trip. "It's getting worse!" he lamented. "We've got to find him. I can't stay looking like this."

  "It isn't your livelihood," Mervyn Quinn reminded him. Throughout, the flight had been a contest between them of whose vanity was the most injured.

  "Oh stop, both of you," Marissa said wearily.

  "Turle might have gone back there for some reason," Thornton Velte said. "At least there are obviously people there who might know something. That's more than can be said for any of those scientists."

  Gilder gave orders to the flight commander to redirect descent to the Zorken site on the plateau side. The flight commander responded that he had just received a radio contact from there, demanding identification. Gilder told him to connect the channel through and requested a repeat.

  "My name is Colonel Sedger, acting ground commander," a none-too-friendly voice informed them. "Identify yourselves and state your purpose."

  "This is Hamilton Gilder, chief executive and president of Zorken Consolidated. We own that entire area, Colonel. I don't have to justify myself or my purpose to you for anything."

  There was a short pause. Then, "Land at your convenience."

  As the ship lined up tail-first to make its approach, two more craft appeared from the east, coming in slow. The first was an unusual looking blue-and-white flymobile that seemed to be in trouble and went straight in for a landing, drawing up alongside the two desert-camouflaged transporters. The other, a gunship that appeared to have been escorting it, made a slow circle around the area while the vessel from Asgard landed. As the engines died, Gilder's flight commander reported another inbound radar contact.

  "What in Hell's going on?" Gilder asked the others bemusedly. "Half of Mars seems to be coming out here."

  "At least, someone in all this should know where Turle is," Slessor Lomax muttered.

  But further interest in Keziah Turle quickly evaporated. They didn't need him anymore. The screen showed four figures getting out of the blue-and-white flymobile and being surrounded by troops with leveled weapons. Two were white, one large and black, and the fourth, in a red EV suit, a shade of brown. An instinct made Gilder have the flight commander zero in on him with a zoom view of the head inside the helmet. It was as something had told Gilder it would be: the figure in red was the Khal of Tadzhikstan!

  "Incoming vessel identified," the flight commander's voice reported. "Military pattern command car."

  So, the Khal's disappearance from the Oasis was explained, if not yet the reason for it, Gilder told himself. But why were he and the three people with him being detained by soldiers . . . ?

  * * *

  Kieran turned to look back at the ship that had descended to the shelf while the Guardian Angel was making its run in. It was a light transfer vessel, suitable for fast travel around the vicinity of Mars and capable of surface landings in thin atmospheres. It also carried the logo and markings of Zorken Consolidated. Somebody sent to check up on Banks and his crew, who were no longer here, was the only guess Kieran could hazard.

  "Don't make any fast moves. Keep your hands away from belts and weapons," a voice said over the local channel. Mahom and the others looked at Kieran questioningly. Kieran could only shake his head and return a shrug—which probably wasn't visible outside his suit. A figure with officer's insignia, obviously the speaker, stepped forward from among the troopers.

  "And to whom do we owe the pleasure?" Kieran inquired.

  "I am Colonel Sedger, acting ground commander."

  "And by what authority do you command anything here?"

  "I just follow orders. You can ask them in a few minutes." Sedger gestured with an arm to indicate the direction to Kieran's rear; at the same moment, Kieran became aware of the swelling sound of engines. He turned and saw that yet another craft was coming in to land. He identified it as a scout/reconnaissance type, painted desert camouflage to match the two carriers that had brought Sedger and his force. Typical, Kieran thought to himself. Now that the action was over and the area secured, the management in charge from Stony Flats was showing itself at last. Brown and Black would no doub
t be there, itching to meet him again; possibly some high representation from the syndicate, too. He wondered if Sarda-One and Balmer had come out of hiding also to crow at the last act. The craft came down near the far end of the clear section of the shelf and began rolling toward them. Kieran raised both arms high and wide as he stood facing toward it. It was partly a reaction to the soldiers behind, showing that he and his companions were unarmed; partly, it simply acknowledged his acceptance of the situation. But to Gilder and the others watching from the ship that had just landed, it looked as if the Khal, facing his enemies serene and unperturbed, was invoking the intercession of Higher Powers.

  Far above, Gottfried, responding erratically to Rudi's attempts to reestablish control, gyrated in a wobbly circle and then toppled over a lip of rock to land on an unexploded charge left from the pilot borings made during the Zorken survey. Although small, the resulting explosion was enough to dislodge one of the lesser rocks wedged under the Citadel and preserving its balance on the plateau's edge. The huge rock tilted, slid, tearing loose more rocks and debris, and then tumbled noisily and terribly, collecting sand and rubble to become a minor avalanche bearing down upon the shelf. It hit the command car broadside, engulfing it, and swept it over the edge to spill across the valley floor far below amid a pall of red-brown dust.

  25

  "And that was enough for Hamilton—and the rest of them, as far as I can gather. I mean, they saw it! All of the ringleaders and prime movers of those who threatened armed violence against the Khal, wiped out before their eyes. The obvious lesson was that the ones who had initiated violation of the ancient site would be next. Hamilton dictated a directive renouncing all claims on the area right there and then. Couldn't sign it fast enough. It's all Hamil's now. He sounds as if he's planning on setting up an archeological city there."

  It felt good to be back at June's. She sat in her favorite pose, draped along the couch with a glass of vodka tonic. Guinness, by now over his excitement at having his master back again, was sprawled contentedly in the kitchen doorway with Teddy actually curled up close alongside, enjoying the warmth.