Buried Deep Part 35

56.

Hauk Rackam watched the wall screens in his office, staring at the hundreds of s.h.i.+ps still leaving Mars's...o...b..t. Hundreds of s.h.i.+ps, all because he hadn't closed the ports. His a.s.sistant, Zayna Columbus, kept reporting the Disty death toll to him, mostly to rub it in. She had disagreed with him all along. He had made one executive decision, and she hated the fact he hadn't taken her complete advice.

He had no idea how many dead there would have been in the ports if he had closed them when she had suggested, all those hours ago. He knew quite well that the colliding and exploding s.h.i.+ps were his fault, just like the saved lives-the fact that only Wells and Sahara Dome were affected-were also his fault.

And Columbus's idea.

Rackam closed his eyes, rubbing them with his thumb and forefinger. When this was all over, he was going to resign as incoming leader of the Human Governments of Mars. He had thought it a ceremonial position-he had even checked the bylaws: It was was a ceremonial position, except in the unlikely event of a governmental vacuum. a ceremonial position, except in the unlikely event of a governmental vacuum.

Which had happened. He made sure he had recorded everything: the unavailability of the Disty High Council, of the Death Squads, of anyone who could give him advice. He even had Wyome Nakamura collate everyone's notes on the events of the past day, so that when the inevitable trial came-and it would-he would have evidence to present that someone had to act, and his a.s.sistants convinced him that someone should have been him.

That knowledge didn't help his conscience, though. He had a feeling that if he had been smarter or perhaps less focused on his own fear, he might have made a better choice.

He hadn't been made for this kind of decision. He had no training for it, no mind for it, and obviously no stomach for it.

It would haunt him for the rest of his life, even if no one brought charges against him for all these deaths.

"Sir?" Columbus was at his door again. She seemed even more grotesque to him, with her lack of concern about her appearance, her too-intelligent eyes always seeing everything, that narrow and disapproving mouth.

"What is it now?" he asked, letting the weariness he felt into his voice.

"We've finally heard from the Disty."

A drop of sweat ran down the side of his face and settled on his chin. "And?"

"They have a solution, sir, and they want us to make the arrangements with the governments of Wells and Sahara Dome. They'll take care of their own people, but there are humans to be decontaminated as well."

Solution? Humans? Decontaminated? Could he be so fortunate?

"What do we have to do?"

"A Death Squad will arrive in Wells in two days. The squad will use its own ritual to decontaminate the Dome as well as the humans inside it." She tapped a chip on the back of her hand. "I have a list of instructions. The humans of Wells are supposed to do all these things to prepare."

Rackam wiped the sweat off his chin. "What about Sahara Dome?"

"It's more complicated for them. The Disty want several members of Sahara Dome's human government to go to Wells for decontamination so that they can then meet with some of the ranking Disty. Apparently, what has to happen in Sahara Dome is long and involved, and the Disty don't trust the news of it to a go-between."

Rackam stared at her for a long time, parsing her words. He was to make sure everything happened in Wells, and then it was out of his hands. "Did they say anything about us? About culpability? About the ports?"

"No," Columbus said, "and I'm not about to prompt them. So much has happened, they might ignore some of the smaller things."

Lost s.h.i.+ps and lost lives were smaller things?

He knew sometimes the Disty didn't care about their own people at all. He had just figured that was the Disty's business. Now it had an effect on him.

Everything had an effect on him.

He sighed and looked at those s.h.i.+ps, still leaving the ports.

"Fine," he said to Columbus. "You talked to the Disty, you may as well talk to Wells. Tell them what they have to do. Make sure they do it. Okay?"

"You don't care what 'it' is?" Columbus asked.

He didn't look at her. "Am I ordering more death?"

"Not from what I understand. This is actually a solution."

"Then I don't care about their d.a.m.n rituals. I just want this whole thing to end."

"It looks like it will, sir," Columbus said. "Barring unforeseens, of course."

Rackam shuddered. Unforeseens. This entire event had been unforeseen. He didn't want to think about any more unforeseens.

"Just see that this gets done," he said to her.

"Yes, sir." She bobbed once, then left the room.

He folded his arms on the table and hid his face in them. Someone else was going to handle everything from now on.

He just wished he knew a way to forget the past twenty-four hours. Forget them for the rest of his life.

57.

Flint sat in his c.o.c.kpit, arms crossed, listening to the vote. At first, he tried to count the voices weighing in, but he couldn't. He wasn't familiar enough with them. He wasn't sure if Norton voted at all. Since this wasn't a formal vote, no one had made little ballots or asked people to raise their hand.

Instead, they simply declared themselves, all of them-to Flint's surprise-in favor of going. Then they discussed how difficult the next few weeks would be on themselves and their families. Vajra suggested that this might help them deal with the ma.s.sacre itself. The others quietly agreed-all except Norton.

He let out a small bark of a laugh. "You think you'll ever get over that? It's not something people recover from. We'll wear its stain for the rest of our lives."

"Maybe we'll be able to deal with it better," Vajra said.

"You mean bury it, don't you?" Norton asked.

The others shut him down, but Flint shuddered, just a little. The man told enough truth to make him difficult. Flint hadn't liked him. Having him in the same room during this decision process had probably been hard for all of them.

When the group elected Weiss to tell Flint their decision, Flint shut off his overhead speakers. He kept monitoring the conversation on an internal link.

It took Weiss a while to find the c.o.c.kpit-a good sign, Flint thought. These people weren't as familiar with s.h.i.+ps as Flint had worried they were. That gave him an advantage too. Ever since he'd discovered that they'd been coerced into coming here, he had worried about them. He didn't want them to take out their anger and frustration on him.

Weiss knocked on the open c.o.c.kpit door. Flint swiveled his chair as if he were surprised at having a visitor. Weiss seemed even rounder as he stood there, his arms folded across his jutting stomach.

"We're going to do this thing," he said.

"Good." Flint didn't invite him in. He wanted the c.o.c.kpit to remain his alone. "I think it's the right decision."

"It's the right decision for us," Weiss said. "But we are worried about how this'll go. Will you be staying in case we need to leave?"

"No," Flint said. "I'm just supposed to deliver you."

He almost told Weiss that the Emmeline Emmeline wasn't even going to land on Mars, but then decided against it. The less they knew, the easier the trip would be. wasn't even going to land on Mars, but then decided against it. The less they knew, the easier the trip would be.

Weiss sighed, his rounded shoulders going up and down, although the rest of him didn't seem to move. "That's going to be difficult. What're we going to do if things go wrong?"

"There are humans on Mars," Flint said.

"Will we be dealing with them?"

"I don't know." Flint held up a finger, then turned toward the console in front of him. He downloaded some background files on Mars into the game room.

Then he swiveled his chair toward Weiss again.

"The only onboard computer systems you all can use are in the game room." Flint had locked them out of the more elaborate systems in the bedrooms. He didn't want to go through the ha.s.sle of limiting access and worrying about what they were doing behind locked doors. "But you should be able to find the names of all the major human representatives on Mars. I'd suggest you each download that information into a chip, so that you have backup help. I also suggest that the seven of you network together, in case you're separated."

"What're they going to do to us?" Weiss asked.

"It's some kind of ritual. Apparently, Disty family members go through it all the time after someone dies, so it can't be too strenuous."

Weiss frowned. "They're not built the same way we are."

Flint knew that. He wished these people weren't so good-hearted. He hated fudging information. "They're as fragile as humans, though. Maybe more fragile, given their small size. If they can go through this easily, we probably can too."

The we we was disingenuous. He wasn't going to go through anything. was disingenuous. He wasn't going to go through anything.

Still, the words seemed to comfort Weiss.

"You've been pretty nice about this," Weiss said. "And this s.h.i.+p is absolutely amazing, not to mention expensive. You say you're not getting paid. This is your s.h.i.+p, right?"

Leave it to the man who wore his wealth all over his body to notice the traces of money around Flint.

"Yes," Flint said. "It's my s.h.i.+p."

"I can't believe you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

Flint gave him a slow smile. "You are."

"After they more or less arrested me. Did they do that to you?"

Flint shook his head. "I knew one of the early victims of this whole mess. It started small-the discovery of a skeleton above the ma.s.s graves, someone not related to the ma.s.sacre -and I was helping figure out who that skeleton was."

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" Weiss's question didn't seem pointed. Only confused.

"No," Flint said. "I used to work in computers, and I have a background with the police. I had the needed skills, and I was getting paid for that job."

He didn't want it to sound like he simply did people favors for no reason. Over the years, he'd learned that people distrusted others who did a lot of things for free.

"I don't understand how that connects to this," Weiss said.

"I found myself in possession of a lot of information other people didn't have. I let a friend of mine in authority know, and here I am."

Weiss nodded. He took a small step away from the door, then he stopped.

"You tell your friend in authority, whoever it is, that we might have been a lot happier if we'd had a choice. This strong-arm stuff, I think that's what scared most of us. We've been hauled out of our homes before and lost our entire families. The police brought that all back. You tell everyone that, okay?"

"I will," Flint said, although he didn't know what good it would do.

"Thanks," Weiss said, and walked down the corridor.

Flint didn't move for a long moment. Then he sighed and turned toward the console. He would turn on the overhead sound as soon as he knew that Weiss was out of hearing range.

"My, my, my, aren't we just the nicest nicest people." people."

Flint jumped and turned.

Norton had come all the way into the c.o.c.kpit. He seemed bigger than he had in the game room. He was taller than Flint and broader too, but his thin arms told Flint he was weaker. If Norton's arms were any indication of the length of his s.p.a.ce travels, his bones would either be elastic (if they'd been modified) or they would be brittle from a lack of proper weight-bearing exercise.

Still, Flint's heart pounded.

"May I help you, Mr. Norton?" Flint asked.

"It was just like I said." Norton leaned against the door in such a way that his body blocked anyone from getting in-or Flint from leaving. "Six voted to stay and one voted to go."

Flint couldn't argue with him without letting Norton know that Flint had been listening.

"I thought it was unanimous," Flint said. "Mr. Weiss seemed to think so."

"Of course he did," Norton said. "Because they decided that I was unimportant. I was too cynical, too mean. I'd come around."

Had they had that discussion while Flint was talking to Weiss? He didn't remember those words. But then, Flint was beginning to wonder how reliable Norton was.

"I overheard you telling that pompous a.s.s that someone had found a skeleton on the ma.s.sacre site. Did you ever find out who that skeleton was?"

"Yes," Flint said.

Norton nodded. "Then you know that this ma.s.sacre is the gift that keeps on giving. First we lose everyone, nearly get murdered ourselves, get thrown out of our homes and the Dome itself, and then sent to places we never even imagined-"

"I know the story, Mr. Norton."