Mars Prime Read online

  "The medical section is closed. Come back later."

  "My name's Corvan. They sent for me."

  Implants were expensive, and therefore rare, but like most of the Outward Bound's crew members the woman had one. A wire ran from the radio on her belt to the jack in the right side of her head. It was a cosmetic model. A circle of tiny blue lights flashed on and off around it. The combination of radio and implant allowed the officer to communicate with the rest of her team via thought. Her eyes never left Corvan's. She nodded.

  "Colonel Jopp wants to see you."

  Corvan raised an eyebrow. The colonel was personally involved. Interesting.

  He pushed against the bulkhead and sailed through the entranceway. There were two security people in the waiting room. One ran some sort of scanner over the walls while the other read a magazine. The one with the magazine looked up and nodded toward the double-wide hatch. "Go on in."

  Corvan did as he was told, using the podium-styled console to launch himself in the right direction before rebounding off the hatchway and entering the corridor. Four people were clustered around a fifth. He wore a white ship-suit with a red cross embroidered over his left breast pocket. Tears drifted away from his eyes and a string of mucous hung sideways from his nose. A security officer handed him a Kleenex. It was second nature for Corvan to activate his implant and record what he heard.

  ". . . So I called for Dr. Henry and heard no answer. That's when I came down the corridor. And there he was, just like you saw him, beaten to death."

  A security woman said something Corvan couldn't hear, gestured up corridor, and helped the technician toward the waiting room.

  Corvan slid past the security people and into the office. Cops were universally weird. "Shoot this, don't shoot that." They made up the rules as they went along. That was one advantage of the eye cam. There was nothing on your shoulder to give you away. Not unless you toted the robo cam around all the time, and Corvan didn't. He had parted company with the device along the way, knowing that it was perfectly capable of returning to the com center all on its own.

  The body was there all right, fastened to the bulkhead with silver utility tape, looking like a high-tech mummy. Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to immobilize the doctor before killing him.

  The reop glanced around, looking for a murder weapon, or other obvious evidence. There wasn't any.

  Corvan used the computer console to pull himself down, tried to see the victim's face, but saw little more than reddish pulp. There was blood too, a cloud of it which had drifted away from the body and come to rest in a corner. Some of the smaller drops had already made the transition from liquid to solid. The rest would follow.

  "Messy isn't it?" The voice was hard and flat. It came from behind him.

  Corvan turned and found himself face-to-face with Colonel Mary Ann Jopp. He'd met her only once before and that had been by way of a rather brief interview. The air force officer hung motionless in the doorway as if suspended there by invisible strings. She was attractive in a thin-faced sort of way, with big green eyes, and hair so short that she was almost bald. She looked very military, very practical, and very cold. It added to her somewhat intimidating presence.

  "Yeah," Corvan agreed. "Murder usually is. Who was he?"

  "Dr. Henry Havlik, Mission Psychiatrist."

  "Who killed him? A lover? A patient?"

  Corvan saw her eyes narrow. They seemed to drill right through him.

  "We're working on that."

  Corvan nodded. "Okay, I'll get to work. Interview you, talk to security, the usual stuff."

  "No," Jopp replied evenly, "you won't. You are the Mission Information Officer, and you'll do what I tell you. And I want this story killed."

  Corvan felt a rock grow in his gut. He clenched and unclenched his fists. "You can forget that, Colonel. My job is to collect and distribute information. And I'll do it in whatever way that I see fit."

  "Wrong again," Jopp said calmly. "Your job is to control the flow of information. Not hand it out whenever you happen to be in the mood. Now listen carefully. This ship is scheduled to break orbit less than three hours from now. A surface-based murder investigation might take weeks or even months to complete. And the longer it takes, the longer we have to travel, with all the risks attendant thereto. So from this moment on you will do everything in your power to keep the story within the hull of this ship. Do you understand?"

  "I understand," Corvan replied tightly. "I understand that you're exceeding your authority and breaking the law! You have a murderer running loose on this ship and people have a right to know. So you can take your orders and shove them straight up your ass!"

  Jopp's expression didn't change one iota. She simply looked at him, shook her head sadly, and moved away from the hatch. The security officers had been waiting. They came through the doors in pairs, bounced off the walls with the expertise of Olympic gymnasts, and hit Corvan as a group.

  The reop struggled for a moment, tried some of the things the Special Forces had taught him, and discovered that they didn't work in zero-G. It took the security team no more than fifteen or twenty seconds to place restraints on his arms, hands, thighs, and ankles. After that it was a simple matter to tow him out into the corridor where Jopp was waiting. Her expression conveyed neither anger nor regret.

  "You'll find that the Outward Bound has a well-equipped brig. Let me know when you're ready to do your job."

  Corvan wanted to reply, wanted to tell Jopp what he thought of her, but someone slapped a piece of tape across his mouth. He was still trying to break free from the restraints when the security team took him out into the main corridor and headed down-ship.

  Crew members and colonists alike hurried to get out of the way. Some looked concerned, but their frowns disappeared when one of the security officers smiled and pretended to drink from a bottle.

  Corvan saw this and tried to protest, but his words were blocked by the tape. Then it occurred to him. This was stupid. He could communicate with Kim via his implant. More than that, he could send her video and get the story out in spite of Jopp.

  He activated his implants and waited for Kim to acknowledge his presence. A buzzing sound flooded the interface. Not the static that sometimes interfered with transmission, not some sort of noise from Kim's end, but the steady uninterrupted sound of electronic jamming. Jopp, or someone on her security team, had anticipated his move and taken steps to block it.

  Corvan swore, renewed his attempts to break free from the restraints, and was dumped feet first into an access shaft.

  Inertia carried him downward. A security officer steered him past some surprised looking colonists and out onto D-deck. It was a short trip from there to the Outward Bound's state-of-the-art brig.

  There were eight small cells, each scarcely larger than a standard telephone booth, lining both sides of the corridor. The doors were made of clear shatterproof plastic. The interiors were almost completely bare, except for the usual velcro patches and a blower-type stainless steel waste disposal unit. Corvan saw no sign of other prisoners and assumed there were none. Not too surprising at the very start of the voyage.

  The bonds fell away at the touch of a black wand and were collected for reuse. The tape was ripped from his mouth and he was pushed into the nearest cell. The door slid shut with a solid thud. The security officers talked to each other for a moment or two then left the area.

  Corvan tried the implant. Nothing. He forced himself to relax. There was nothing to do but listen to the hiss of incoming air and the echo of his own thoughts. Damn.

  "Rex?"

  Corvan's eyes flew open. "Is that you, Kim?"

  He'd been asleep. The cell, the corridor, everything was the same. Everything but the interlace. It was suddenly and miraculously open. Her thoughts flooded around his.

  "Yes, it's me. Who else would bail you out?"

  Corvan looked around his tiny cell. "I don't want to seem ungrateful or anything . . . but the/ fact is
that I'm still here."

  "Not for long," Kim answered confidently. "They'll turn you loose within the next ten minutes or so. I called to make sure that you wouldn't say or do anything stupid."

  "I didn't 'say or do anything stupid,' " Corvan replied stubbornly. "I tried to do my job, that's all."

  "That's a matter of opinion," Kim said evenly. "Do me a favor. Don't blow the opportunity to get out. Try compromise instead of confrontation. Or, spend the rest of the trip in the brig. The choice is up to you."

  The interface disappeared with an angry snap. Kim was pissed. There was no doubt about that. Her pragmatism and his idealism had come into conflict before. And she'd been right sometimes. Was this one of them?

  Wait a minute. What had she said? "The rest of the trip?" The ship had broken orbit. They were headed for Mars. Lock, stock, and murderer!

  Corvan pounded on the plastic. "Hey! Let me out of here!"

  The guard appeared as if by magic. She was slightly overweight and wore her hair in a top knot. She had bright red lips and fingernails to match. The door hissed open. She motioned him forwards.

  "Out? Yes, sir, three bags full, sir. I hope you enjoyed your stay, sir. Now, if it's convenient for Your Royal Highness, we'll head for B-deck.''

  Corvan ignored her sarcasm. "B-deck? Why?"

  The guard did her best to look surprised. "Why? So Your Highness can consult with the F-man. Why else?"

  The F-man? She meant Fornos. Corvan frowned. First Jopp, now Fornos. What the heck was going on? Was it all part of some deal that Kim had negotiated on his behalf? There was no way to tell. His wife wasn't speaking to him. Not at the moment anyway.

  The guard turned her back on him and pushed off. The message was clear: "I'm leaving, and if you're smart, you'll do the same."

  Corvan gave a shrug, pushed off, and followed her rather sizeable rear-end up corridor. This trip was a good deal more pleasant man the last one had been. Some of the colonists had adjusted to the lack of gravity by now, and though somewhat clumsy, felt well enough to point at him and whisper to each other.

  Corvan felt what he always did when people recognized him: pleasure mixed with annoyance, mixed with guilt. Like reops everywhere, Corvan had worked hard to build a reputation for credibility and the following that went with it. To do that, and feel annoyed when people recognized him, seemed more than a little stupid.

  B-deck housed the snip's command and control center, administrative offices, computer spaces, and communications facilities. It was busy here, with lots of traffic flowing in both directions. The people had a sense of purpose. The ship was underway and there was work to do.

  Colonists weren't allowed on this level unless accompanied by a crew member, so everyone was an expert of some kind and fully acclimated to zero-G.

  The mission administrator's offices were huge by shipboard standards, at least twenty feet square, and featured a tiny reception area complete with live receptionist. He was Velcroed to the bulkhead and had a wall-mounted keyboard pulled in front of him. A wire connected his head-jack to the keyboard and hinted at a wealth of capabilities. He had black skin, a serious expression, and a British accent. His name tag read "W.K. Julu."

  "Yes?"

  The security officer seemed suddenly less sure of herself. "Prisoner Corvan to see Administrator Fornos."

  The receptionist nodded toward the guard. "You may return to your duties. Officer Corvan, if you would be so kind as to wait a few minutes, Administrator Fornos will be right with you."

  The guard wasted little time leaving the office and heading for more familiar territory. Corvan wished he could do the same.

  The fact was that Fornos had authority verging on that enjoyed by 19th-century sea captains. While he couldn't eject Corvan from the main lock without a trial, he could impose any other punishment he wanted to, up to and including continued imprisonment. The ties with Earth and Earth law were broken now, and concepts like freedom of the press were just that: concepts. Something Kim had instinctively understood and Corvan had just started to assimilate.

  What was the penalty for disobeying a direct order anyway? It had been quite severe in the Army. He'd meant to read all the rules and regulations but never quite got around to it.

  "Administrator Fornos will see you now."

  Corvan nodded his thanks, peeled himself off the velcro patch, and pushed his way toward a now open door. It closed behind him.

  The first thing he saw was Fornos floating on his back looking up at what Corvan thought of as the ceiling or overhead. It was packed top-to-bottom and side-to-side with monitors, read-outs, extendable keyboards, and other pieces of gear too esoteric to be understood with a single glance. All were somewhat recessed to protect against collisions.

  The administrator glanced his way. He had a small cherubic face, and it was immediately transformed by an almost beatific smile. Fornos had charm, there was no doubt about that, and Corvan felt himself smile in response.

  "Corvan! Good of you to come. Sorry about your stay in the cooler. Terrible misunderstanding and all that. Your wife is charming, absolutely charming, and beautiful to boot. A little tall for the likes of me, but very attractive. Here—take a look at this." Fornos pointed to a color monitor.

  Disarmed by the other man's friendliness, and silenced by the avalanche of words, Corvan pushed himself toward the overhead. Once there it was a simple matter to maneuver into position. The monitor had a shot of what was obviously Earth. Smaller now that the ship was underway but large enough to fill most of the screen.

  "Say goodbye to her, Corvan—we'll be a lot older when, and if, we see her again."

  The picture, plus the thought, brought a lump to Corvan's throat. Fornos was right. They were leaving Earth, and the reality of that brought a flood of emotions that he hadn't expected to feel. And while there was the possibility of two-way travel someday, it was extremely unlikely that he or anyone else in the crew would live to see it.

  Fornos nodded as if privy to the other man's innermost thoughts. "Hard to believe isn't it? Well, that's where you come in. Seeing is believing, and your reports will go a long way toward building support for future missions, and this one for that matter."

  The reop pushed his emotions into the background. He must be careful here. Fornos was a master psychologist. He had demonstrated that by the ease with which he had played on Corvan's emotions. Corvan chose his words with care.

  "Yes, sir. And I look forward to providing those reports. But they won't mean much unless they're true. And the truth is that you have a murderer onboard. And not a 'get drunk and get into a fight' murderer, either. The person who killed Dr. Havlik picked the moment with care, brought tape to tie him up, and cleaned up afterwards. The crew and passengers aboard this ship have both a right and a need to know about information like that. More than that will know, because you can't control word of mouth, and someone on your security team will tell. The result will be rumor, exaggeration, and unnecessary fear."

  The words had spilled out almost of their own accord and Corvan wanted to pull them back. He'd been too shrill, too insistent, and inadvertently confirmed whatever prejudices Fornos had. It would be a long trip in the brig.

  There was a pause while the administrator blinked, smiled, and opened his mouth. His words were completely unexpected.

  "I couldn't agree with you more. Truth is the foundation of good journalism and an important aspect of the democratic process. And your prediction has already come true. Rumors about Dr. Havlik's death have spread throughout the ship. Some are quite fanciful. Vampires have been mentioned, along with aliens, homicidal robots and satanic cults."

  Corvan opened his mouth to say something, but shut it when he realized that Fornos had managed to preempt his ground. The man was good, very good indeed.

  The administrator shook his head indulgently. "Don't hold it against Mary Ann. She means well but has a rather military turn of mind. Hut, two, three, and all that. No, throwing you in the hoosegow was the w
rong thing to do, but grounded in the best of intentions."

  Fornos looked momentarily serious, like a school master confronting a naughty child, explaining the purpose behind a punishment.

  "But Mary Ann was right about one thing. A surface-based investigation would have delayed our departure and threatened the success of the mission. It would have been nice if she had offered the possibility of compromise, and if you had been willing to listen, but such was not the case. Though well-intentioned, you are often impulsive, a fact that your psychological profile makes extremely clear."

  Corvan felt blood rush to his face. It had been a long time since someone had dressed him down and he didn't like it. Didn't like it and didn't have a word to say in response.

  "So," Fornos continued, "let's see what sort of arrangement you and I can come to. One that provides shipboard personnel with the information that they need and respects the political realities at the same time."

  The ensuing conversation went on for twenty or thirty minutes and ended in a clear-cut set of ground rules: Corvan could do pretty much as he pleased aboard the ship, and later when they reached Mars, but would consult with Fornos and Jopp as he did it. All reports intended for Earth would have to be cleared before they were sent.

  Corvan fought the last agreement tooth and nail but was eventually forced to give in. He did manage to obtain one concession, however. All the reports sent to Earth would include a key that read "Content cleared by mission command." The more intelligent viewers would read the qualifier and know they were looking at a sanitized version of the news. The agreement was less than perfect but better than nothing.

  Corvan felt the other man's attention shift elsewhere the moment that negotiations were complete. He considered asking Fornos for an interview, rejected the idea as premature, and accepted the administrator's outstretched hand.