Joe Haldeman SF Gateway Omnibus

  "So Red's language is more like a human one?" I said.

  "It's also the only one that has a written form. If you asked him nice, do you think he'd give you a sample?"

  "If you twisted his arm—or all four of them?"

  "When I asked him back on Mars, he said it wasn't possible—not like ‘it's not done’ or ‘it's illegal,’ but just not possible, like walking on the ceiling."

  "Not possible for you to read," Josie said, "or not possible for him to show to you?"

  "Both. They weren't ‘his’ to show—even the records he wrote belong to his family, not himself—and if I did look at them I wouldn't see anything that looked like writing." I took a long sip of ersatz wine. "He just laughed when I tried to press him on it. I couldn't even get him to write a sample down, though he writes human languages well enough. You can't write it with a pencil or pen or brush, he said. And then laughed some more and changed the subject."

  Paul came scrambling down the ladder. "Thought I might find you here." I'd left my phone in the room. "You were talking about Red?"

  "Red and languages," Oz said.

  "There's some news." He plopped into a chair. "Five or six minutes ago. The Martians are mating! Joan has a cube of all but the first few minutes."

  "Martian porn?" I said.

  "Whatever works for you. But what's interesting is the buds aren't being grown to replace dead Martians, but rather the ones that are here in New Mars."

  "Wait. Not Red."

  "Even Red." He shrugged. "In fact, it was apparently Red's idea. Can't wait to hear his side of it."

  I checked my wrist. "I have an appointment with him in less than an hour. Come on along. You too," I lamely added to Oz and Josie.

  "Too crowded," Oz said. "You can catch us up later." He stretched. "Think I'll take a little nap and sleep off all that booze."

  "Me too," Josie said, and slid her half-full glass over to Paul. "If you don't mind my germs."

  "Love your germs," he said.

  9

  Betrayed

  I knew that Red was going to be busy with some Chinese xenobiologists up until our meeting at 1800, so I didn't check in early. I called on the hour, from outside his door, and said that Paul was with me. Red said he was welcome.

  We'd dressed warmly, of course. Over his Corporation uniform, Paul wore a threadbare wool cardigan, souvenir of New Zealand, and a knitted wool cap with incongruous snowmen that he'd won in a poker game on Mars. I just had an extra shirt and wore jeans over my exercise shorts and had made a cap out of a bandana, the way Dad had taught me when I did Halloween as a pirate in the fourth grade.

  The temperature dropped more than twenty degrees when we slipped into Red's quarters, closing the door quickly behind us.

  It took a few moments to become accustomed to the low light. Red had the Martian equivalent of an indoor garden, trays of mushroomy things growing under dim bluish-gray light. The wall cube that he'd been using with the Chinese still had a slight glow.

  There were cushions of various shapes and sizes, all a neutral gray, scattered in front of the cube, for human visitors. He gestured in that direction. "Carmen, Paul, it is good to see you. Please have a seat."

  I wondered whether he ever considered the psychological advantage he had, always standing over his guests. Of course he did.

  "We just heard about the blessed event," I said as we sat down, "on Mars."

  "An interesting euphemism. So often otherwise, on Earth."

  "You're requesting a replacement for yourself," Paul said. "Do you expect to die soon?"

  He shrugged slowly. "Like you, I could die anytime. But the reason for me to rush my replacement is less philosophical than economic.

  "I've come to realize that I will never go back to Mars, and nor will any of the other Martians here. It's expensive, in terms of redundant life support, and there is no way my leaving would profit the corporation. On the contrary. No one else can deal with the Other as efficiently as I can.

  "And it's inconvenient for Mars, to have their leader so far away. Simple yes-or-no decisions can be delayed by more than a half hour."

  "Used to be half a day," Paul said.

  "Yes, I'm grateful for the repeater satellites. Still, the families should have a leader who is not absentee."

  "What will your status be," I asked, "after he's matured?"

  "'She,’ in this case. I suppose I'll play an advisory role for a while. But I'll probably be more involved with the Other than with Mars."

  "This will be the first time there have been two Reds alive at the same time."

  "Ha ha. It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

  "What I mean is, in all of your history you've only had one leader at a time."

  "And that will be her, once she learns what she needs to know. Which might be twelve ares, like me, or a couple of ares less or more. And then I will just be the old guy who went to Earth."

  "Who incidentally knows the secret language and speaks to creepy aliens and such."

  "True enough. I won't forget the language. I don't know whether it's possible for us to forget a language."

  A chime rang and Red made a kissing sound at the cube. A small square appeared in the middle with Dargo Solingen's face. The background showed that she was standing outside the door.

  "What may I do for you, Dargo?"

  "I just heard about the ... creation of your replacement and wondered if I could talk to you."

  "Carmen Dula and Paul Collins are here."

  "I know that. I have no objection."

  Red inclined his head toward me and I shrugged.

  She came in dressed in regular short-sleeved coveralls. At least she wouldn't be staying long.

  She dove right in. "This may seem trivial, but some people have expressed concern about protocol. Does this ... budding mean you are no longer the leader of the Martian people?"

  "That was always a simplification, as you know. And we aren't exactly people. But it's true that the formation of another individual with my characteristics makes it less simple. If a parallel were to be drawn with human history, I suppose I am a regent now, ha ha, as much as a leader. The new Red will take over when she knows enough and is strong enough."

  "Physically strong?" she asked.

  "She will be, but no. You would say ‘she has leadership qualities,’ though I think it's more definite with us. The things that she reads while learning her language, mine."

  Dargo stared intently at him, perhaps deciding what to say. "I don't know whether Dula has told you. I was able to decipher the secret conversation you had with her."

  "I hadn't gotten around to telling him yet."

  Red was louder than usual. "You are allowed to do that?"

  "No rules cover it. As no rules cover what kind of music you have in the background when you—"

  "That's bullshit," Paul said. "Space law is an extension of international law. If we had a jail we could put you in it."

  "I don't think you could, but it's moot." She looked at Red. "Your claims about what the Other could do to us ... I don't understand why you would entrust that knowledge to these two, but not to the authorities."

  "Trust," Red said. "Your word. I should have trusted you?"

  "Yes. If you had trusted me ... nothing would have happened."

  The cold air got heavier. "So what happened?" I was almost whispering.

  "To extract your actual conversation from my recording, I had access to tools that drew the attention of security authorities. They asked me to cooperate and presented a World Court subpoena for all the material on which I'd used those tools."

  "We're not on the World, Dargo," I said.

  "My god," Carl said. "What if it gets out? You may have killed us all."

  "Don't be so dramatic," she snapped.

  Red shook his head. "He may be right. I suppose it was only a matter of time, but I'd hoped it would be after my time.

  "Did you stress the need for secrecy—I mean the pos
sible consequences if the Other learned of this breach of confidence?"

  "They have heard exactly what you said, including the fantastic threats."

  "Here is a fantastic threat," he said, with a gesture I'd never seen: all four arms extended straight out and trembling. "Would you like to be the first human being to be killed by a Martian?"

  He took one step toward her and she made for the door with unsurprising speed.

  She left the door open. I closed it softly. "What should we do, Red?"

  He hugged himself in thought. "I wish I knew more about the Other. We have ancient traditions about their nature. But about this particular individual, you know about as much as I do ... well, there is one thing. It's not reassuring."

  "What?"

  "You know the Others on their home planet are technically immortal. That is, actually, they spend most of their lives as dead as a rock. But they are revived every now and then. Do something and then return to the dormant state.

  "This one is not that way, because it has to stay on the job until the job is done. The ten-to-the-seventh seconds figure, that's how long it has lived. Continuously, for 27,000 years.

  "And it envies its relatives for their periodic rest."

  In the dark cold, I broke into a sudden sweat. "It wants to die?"

  "To die, or to return to where it can have its long rest. I'm not sure quite which state it was referring to. Or whether it feels there is much difference."

  Maybe that was why Martians have such an ambiguous attitude toward death. It might reflect the attitude of their makers.

  "Should you prepare it for the possibility of exposure?" Paul asked.

  "As I say, I'm not sure. That might just make it push the button—or it might have been lying about that.

  "Let's not take the chance," I said. "Let's hope her ‘authorities’ are more cautious than she was."

  Paul nodded, but his expression told how little hope he held out for that.

  10

  Trojan Horse

  It took less than half a day. Unable to sleep, I got up around four and occupied myself answering mail that had piled up from family and friends. I was writing a note to Card when the screen chimed and a red exclamation point started to strobe in the upper right-hand corner.

  I asked for news but then toggled Life Today rather than the Times. Inch-high letters as red as the strobe: TRITON MONSTER THREATENS EARTH DOOM!! Martian Go-Between Reveals All!

  I started to read the story, but it kept blurring. How could they do this?

  The phone pinged and it was Paul. "Sorry to wake—"

  "I'm awake. I saw."

  "Jesus. What do we do now?"

  "I think the question is what is it going to do now."

  "Yeah. Damn. Meet me down at the coffee?"

  "There'll be a run on it." I dressed in a hurry and pinned my hair out of the way.

  He was waiting for me with a cup. I got one sip and both our phones went off simultaneously.

  It was Ishan Jhangiani, the Earth side Science Coordinator. "This is a general announcement. I want everybody, human and Martian, to be at Earth A, on Mars side, or Assembly A, on this side, in forty five minutes, at 5:30. I'm afraid this is a matter of life and death."

  The combination of tepid coffee on an empty stomach and bad news sent me rushing to the head. After I'd emptied that out I felt better, but my skin was cold and greasy and my hands were trembling.

  Paul came out of the other head, and he didn't look much better than I felt.

  I looked into my cup. "I'd like to have one cup of coffee that was actually hot before I die."

  "Better do it now.’ He sat down heavily. "Sorry."

  "Gallows humor's better than no humor at all." I looked at my wrist. "We've got forty minutes." I nodded at the ladder.

  "No, I couldn't. Thanks, but I couldn't.

  "Me, neither, actually." I rubbed tears away. "I could kill that bitch!"

  "We should've grabbed her and thrown her to Red."

  "Yeah." I laughed, but it didn't sound like a laugh. "Not that it would change anything.

  Speak of the devil—my phone pinged and it was Red. "Carmen—comm says there's a message coming in from Triton. I think we should be at Earth A as close to now as possible."

  "We're down at the mess," I said. "Beat you there." Paul nodded and stood and followed me up the ladder.

  Only Oz and Moonboy were there before us. Oz gave me a wan smile. "Josie will be along. She takes a few minutes to wake up."

  The cube was on, but it was a blank blue. "Red said they're getting some communication from Triton."

  "Maybe it will be ‘Send me the head of Dargo Solingen.’"

  "Wonder if she'll be here."

  "No. Jhangiani invented ‘house arrest’ and put her under it. She's locked in her room with no contact with the outside world. Josie or I come by every three hours to take her to the head and give her bread and water."

  "She'll sue. If any of us live through this."

  "Let me be a character witness," Moonboy said. "I've been her special little project for about ten years." I wondered how many of us there were.

  Ishan Jhangiani appeared on the cube and looked at us. "No Martians yet?"

  "Red's on his way, Dr. Jhangiani. He said there was a message?"

  He nodded. "It started five or six minutes ago. We're recording—" His image suddenly dissolved in a shower of static, and the room lights flickered.

  Paul crouched instinctively. "Shit. What's that?"

  "Hello?" Jhangiani's voice came out of the swirling white noise. Then his image returned. "That was..." He inclined his head and touched an ear. "Oh my god ... do we have a picture?"

  The cube went black and then showed a familiar sight, the Hubble planetary camera's view of Neptune, an almost featureless blue ball accompanied by the tiny pale circle of Triton and specks of light that were Nereid and a couple of other small satellites.

  Then Triton exploded.

  The pale circle suddenly was a ball of intense white, that grew brighter and brighter, and then the screen went white with static.

  It darkened again and an unfamiliar voice said, "This is real time."

  The view was the same as before, but the dot of Triton was surrounded by a glowing circle, visibly expanding as we watched.

  Red was standing in the door. "What's happening?"

  "Maybe you can tell us," Paul said. "The Other evidently did something interesting."

  Jhangiani came back into the cube. "That explosion reached a brightness of—27 magnitude. For a moment, it was slightly brighter than the Sun."

  "Forty times as far away," Paul said. "So for a moment, it was putting out 1600 times as much energy as the Sun. How could it do that?"

  "Perhaps Red can tell us," Jhangiani said. "This is the message it sent, a few words of English and then the slowed-down Martian." He nodded at someone. "We've sped up the Martian for you."

  The David Brinkley voice again: "I monitor your news broadcasts, of course, and the most recent ones have forced me to make a decision. I am sorry. You already know too much." Then there was about two minutes of accelerated Martian. And then static.

  Red didn't say anything. "What did it do?" Jhangiani asked.

  "It ... went home." He hugged himself. "It may have literally returned to its home system. Or it died. The words could be the same. As if, if someone goes to Earth, he could be going to a planet or being buried.

  "On going home, it destroyed every trace of its technology that was on Triton. It didn't want to risk humans finding it and copying it."

  He paused and continued in a halting monotone. "It did this even in the knowledge that soon there will be no humans alive on Earth. The hundred on Mars will presumably live."

  I swallowed back bile. "What's it going to do, Red?"

  "It's already done." He rocked back and forth. "I'm sorry. I swear I didn't know." He shook his head.

  "Didn't know what, Red?" Oz said. "Is there anything we can d
o?"

  "I'm a time bomb. A Trojan Horse. The Other wanted me on Earth, or nearby, before it turned on the beacon that started all this. So that ... if things didn't work out, I could be forced to put an end to it."

  "How can that be?" Paul said. "Even if all your mass was turned into an explosion—"

  "I mass about a hundred kilograms. By em-cee-squared, that comes to nine times ten to the eighteenth joules. That's equivalent to twenty hundred-megaton nuclear weapons.

  "Earth could survive that, since we're 22,000 miles away from the surface. But fusion doesn't begin to describe the forces involved. Could fusion have accounted for the Triton explosion?"

  "I guess not?" Paul said. "No, of course not. Did it say how big ... how destructive you could be?"

  "Enough to boil away the ocean on the side of the globe we're facing. Blow off a lot of the atmosphere."

  "When?" I asked.

  "Days." He shook his head. "Maybe two, maybe three.

  "The energy doesn't come from here. It's bleeding off a thing like a black hole in an adjacent universe. We've been using it domestically since we first came to Mars."

  "The mysterious power source for all the machines," Oz said. "The light for the hydroponics."

  "I suppose. I knew nothing about it until today. But the Other says it had another thing like me on Triton, and it only drew off power for a couple of hours, concentrating it for the explosion. This will be orders of magnitude more."

  "With all due respect, Red," Moonboy said, "we should lock you into the shuttle right now and fling you as far away as possible."

  Red agreed. "That might be the most practical course. Or you could kill me, or I could kill myself, in case the collection process requires me to be alive.

  "But the Other didn't say anything about either possibility. It could be that I would explode prematurely, automatically, if I died or left the vicinity of Little Mars."

  "Which might be desirable," Sophie said, "if it caused an explosion with less force. We ... would die, but the Earth might be spared."