Lakes of Mars

by Merritt Graves

  “Healthy fear. Perhaps your boy Rhys should’ve had more of it,” said Simon.

  “I’ll be a lot tougher to hang on to than Whistler, just so you know,” said Daries.

  “That kind of sounds like a threat,” said Simon.

  “It’s not kind of anything.”

  “Guys, come on,” said Pierre. “We’re all tired. We’re all pretty screwed up after what’s happened lately. We just need some time to process everything.”

  “We might not have long,” Eve said. “Something’s happening. Classes are getting canceled. Professors are having long meetings every other day.”

  “One of the last things Sebastian said to me was that it looked like they were building a diode array—they had built one near his planet to break up an asteroid. So maybe they’re doing the same thing here, only harnessing the nebula’s ionized gases into a beam instead of a lightwall like the colonists did, so they can punch through,” I said. “That’s why no one’s been down there. That’s why they made up the excuse about how dangerous it is.”

  “And by the looks of things, the array’s almost done,” Eve added.

  Fingers nodded.

  Pierre put his hand over his mouth. He’d always been a good listener—the kind of kid who would look right at you while you spoke—but this was the most focused I’d ever seen him.

  “Back up a second,” said Whistler. “So you’re saying the Verex were some sort of accident that Mars is trying to cover up?”

  “Worse,” said Eve.

  “How could it be worse?” asked Brandon.

  “Maybe the experiment went right. Maybe they got exactly what they wanted.”

  “Oh, no; here we go with the maybes again.”

  “Shut up, Simon,” said Daries.

  “Or what?”

  “What do you mean, Aaron?” asked Pierre. “Why would they create the Verex?”

  “I don’t know, but having the antidote to something threatening puts you in a strong position,” I explained urgently. “And especially if that thing’s venom modulates, so new versions are perpetually needed. I mean, how many Fleet ships have you seen here, checking up on us? We have no oversight. No audits. They have to have an inkling that something’s going on with all the scientists, the construction, and the nebula interfering with the Mylan Chips—they’re not stupid—but do they really want to crack down on the place that’s keeping us in the game? It’s best to look the other way, right? At least until the Rim War’s over. They have to keep their troops safe. And that’s the other reason why the Fleet wouldn’t want to shut this place down; it’s a factory churning out officers during a conflict with an incredibly high mortality rate.”

  “And you said Commander Marquardt’s dog with the Verex DNA was nine years old, right?” asked Fingers.

  Eve nodded.

  “So, guys, just think about this. Think about how the Verex were discovered,” Fingers continued, coming alive in the same way he did when talking about hacking. “On Boral. By miners who thought it was uninhabited. But the only reason they were there and the planet hadn’t been turned over to the Colonization Corps for research and feasibility studies was because of the bad data. And because the data was so far off, everyone figured it just had to have been falsified, even if it didn’t seem like that was the kind of crew that would falsify data.”

  “Oh shit . . . I see where you’re going with this,” said Pierre.

  “Yeah, yeah. They didn’t falsify it. The data was different when they came back eight months later because it was actually different.” Fingers continued. “The instructor for my freaking intro geology class is one of the biggest terraforming experts in the universe, and I could never figure out why the hell he was here teaching us. Well, now we know. They fucking terraformed the planet to suit the Verex and then plopped ’em down, knowing there would be unsuspecting miners arriving shortly.”

  “We hadn’t even thought about that,” said Eve.

  Whistler ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head.

  “Okay, so there was enough nebula interference here on the station for them to engineer the Verex without tripping their chips, but how much planetary interference are we talking about on Drieus?” asked Pierre.

  “Gotta be four—five times as much with all those storms,” answered Fingers, his hand twitching. His eyes flitted around the room, as if he were looking for a lightpanel he could start making calculations on.

  Pierre looked disturbed. “And so that’s why they’re going to all the trouble of trying to get down there?”

  “That and they’re scared of the colonists ratting them out with that distress signal,” I said, thinking about all the articles on the Dyalonians I’d read.

  “Which must be why the Pulsar’s here, too,” said Pierre grimly, his face turning whiter and more saturnine every second. “I always wondered why they’d need an armed ship that fast at a training academy. Well . . . it could be to run down any shuttle the colonists send for help.”

  “Right,” said Daries.

  “Sounds like you’re just pissed about them being tough on you, and you’re not alone. I think we’re all—” Simon started.

  “The Reds are letting kids kill each other. They let Caelus kill Rhys. They let him kill Sebastian!” Fingers cried, his freneticism congealing into the same anger I’d seen when he’d been balled up in the corridor after the suit malfunction. Eve and I had been concerned about his increasing volatility, but we knew that he and Daries were two of the only people here who might actually believe us, and convincing just one of them would give us a lot more credibility with the others. “Think about that for a second. Think about how fucked up that is. It’s been hidden behind all the points and the rules and the blocks and the wings and the Challenges, so it seems almost normal to us now, but it’s not normal—it can’t be normal! And in truth, we should’ve done something sooner. We didn’t need any of what they just found to tell us this is an evil place!”

  “But—”

  “No! No, no, no! You’ve just been here longer so you’ve been lulled to sleep, but you can’t justify it. You just can’t. That’s the bottom line!” Fingers’ eyes were getting moist. He wiped a little spittle from his lip. “And how they’ve run this place tells you something about what they’re going to do next. People create in their own image, and if they’re free to make anything they want . . .”

  “Then there’s a new sheriff in town,” said Daries, completing his thought.

  “The Fleet goes from being a confederation of equals to vassals,” continued Fingers. “Mars’ vassals. And fuck that! They’re a bunch of elitist, misogynistic plutocrats who think they’re outside the rules somehow, even though they’re the reason we have them in the first place. And you’re right, it adds up: The array construction. The scientists. The distress signal. The Verex DNA. The terraforming.”

  I looked around at people’s faces. I was glad that the discovery was being taken seriously, but I was beginning to feel my stomach turn at just how vehement Fingers was sounding. This was incredibly important, but it was also incredibly fragile, considering how vigilant the Reds were. There wasn’t any margin for recklessness.

  “What it adds up to,” cried Simon, “is a conspiracy theory. The latest in a long line pushed by distressed people looking to settle the score and make up for their own shortcomings. And you are distressed; aren’t you, Fingers? And you too, Aaron, not just because of what happened here; you came to us that way. A little birdie once told me that you crashed a shuttle carrying your entire family and you’ve been harboring suicidal thoughts ever since. In fact, you were so intent on doing yourself in that you signed up just to get sent off to the Rim. That’s why you flubbed your tests. You kind of ‘surprised’ people. But none of this is a surprise now. I’m just asking that if you want to commit suicide again, don’t take any of us with you.”

  For a second I imagined running across the room and stabbing him with the briefing pointer. I had known Simon was
jealous of Eve and me, but this was far beyond that. He could ruin everything.

  “That little birdie only told me about all that because he was worried about you, Aaron, just like I am, just like most of us here are, I suspect. The only reason I’m bringing it up now is because what you guys are talking about could get a lot of people in trouble. I wouldn’t otherwise, man. I swear. I do think an awful lot of you—all that stuff I said in the Ship Room was true—and I trust you want to do the right thing, but . . .” Simon paused and looked around the table. “But given your state of mind, I’m not sure you’re the best judge of that anymore.”

  “Simon! I’m not proposing anything—just that we talk this out!”

  “But we’re not supposed to be talking about any of this!”

  “Why the hell not?” asked Daries, leaning in. “And I think him and Fingers both losing their best friends makes them the perfect judges. It helps make them feel the things we should’ve been feeling all along.”

  “And let’s just say Aaron is as unstable as you say, Simon. Even if he’s removed, the evidence stays,” said Pierre.

  “You can’t just remove the evidence from the person gathering it. You’re smarter than that.”

  “I’ve seen all the evidence, too,” said Eve.

  “And you’re also infatuated with him,” said Brandon with a leering sideways glance. “I’m with Simon; this all sounds freaking crazy, if you ask me.”

  “Which no one did. You just showed up, which you seem to be making quite the habit of lately,” said Daries.

  “Fuck you.”

  “No, fuck you, man!”

  Brandon shook his head. “Aaron’s got that inquest coming up, so this would be the perfect time to get out of here, before they lock him up. That’s gotta be a reason, too!”

  “Inquests don’t matter,” Daries cried. “They’re all for show.”

  “Tell that to Captain Rapshaw,” Brandon shot back.

  “He deserved it,” Daries said.

  “That’s beside the point, you freaking idiot. The point is they sometimes ice you!” Brandon shouted.

  “Aaron, is there anything you’ve done investigating this that the Reds might’ve flagged? Any possible reason that they would want you out?” asked Pierre.

  “Uh, I don’t know. We’ve been really careful since I recognized the eyes, but . . .”

  “But . . . ?” asked Brandon.

  “But after Eve and I heard the message back on the Pulsar, I started researching the colonists in the library archives to see if I could find anything that would make the message make sense. They just seemed like regular people who were unsatisfied and wanted to try something else. I guess I didn’t think anything of it because it’s all public knowledge.”

  “That’s got to be it. Fuck!” cried Simon. “Now they’re going to see us with you and assume we’re all in on this.”

  “In on what? What are we doing?” asked Pierre.

  “We’ve definitely got to do something,” exclaimed Fingers. “That’s for damn sure.”

  “See?” Rather than Simon looking pleased with himself for preempting him, he just looked sick. “I showed up for a one-versus-one and now I’m chest-deep in a treason plot.”

  In a seeming attempt to neutralize Simon’s critique of his earlier emotional display, Fingers tried to compose himself, leaning back slightly in his chair and putting on his most reasonable-sounding voice. Speaking softly and slowly, he said, “Simon, no one else knows about this, and that means it’s our responsibility to do something. And given what it looks like they’re up to, it’s a big one. Of course we’re all upset about Rhys and Sebastian, but just because horrible things happen doesn’t mean you throw your hands in the air and quit.”

  “There’s also overcorrecting,” said Brandon.

  “Of course there is. That’s why we’re laying it all out for us to talk about,” I said, trying to dampen my tone as well.

  “Oh, let’s cut the pretense of talking about it, Aaron,” said Simon. “None of us can opt out now. Are you kidding me? There’s no way you’ll let one”—he paused and looked at Brandon—“or two of us just go on our way. You might miraculously be too naïve to see this, but Daries isn’t. You’ve already committed us.”

  “Simon, we had to let you know,” said Eve.

  “Because of my Logistics Access Permit. Of course.”

  “I’m being serious,” Eve snapped.

  “That’s exactly what I was afraid of,” Simon replied. “The problem is all your evidence is circumstantial. All of it! You’re inferring that Mars created the Verex. You’re inferring that the distress signal was from a phantom colony. You’re inferring that they’re going to murder the colonists and stage a coup against the Fleet.” Simon was shouting now, obliterating the calm of the previous minute. “That’s not a smoking gun. Not even close. And the thing I don’t understand is if they’re able to research things without setting off their Mylan Chips, why not just make weapons to take out the Fleet directly, instead of all this roundabout stuff with the Verex? Huh?”

  I hesitated, attempting to keep my voice even. “I . . . I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers yet.”

  “Well, maybe you should.”

  “I imagine they weren’t building the Verex off a blueprint, just throwing things they thought might work together, which is a lot easier than de—”

  “You imagine? You imagine?” Simon interrupted Eve, his face disbelieving. “You want to talk about imagining things and I want to talk about facts. And don’t pretend I’m a coward for pointing them out.”

  “You’re not a coward for pointing them out, but you are if you need a hundred of them—with a hundred percent certainty. Because you’ll never get it,” Fingers snapped. “Name one fucking thing in history that was a sure thing everyone agreed on beforehand.”

  “Maybe with some things you can get away with that, but not this thing,” said Simon, growing more desperate, his eyes canvassing the room.

  “Especially this thing. The kind of proof you’re looking for doesn’t exist; I’m a tech, so I should freaking know,” Fingers shouted. “We can’t just go to Admiral Kerr and Commander Marquardt and be like, ‘Hey, this all looks pretty bad, but I don’t want to do anything hasty, so what’s really going on?’ No, we weigh the evidence and when it gets so heavy we can’t ignore it anymore we do something.”

  “And just what is it you want to do, Fingers?” Brandon asked.

  “I think it’s pretty clear . . .” Fingers paused. “We get Fin to turn the scale-model IED she’s making for class into a working one, blow up the array, and then commandeer the Pulsar and go warn the nearest Fleet ship we can find. She said the bomb’s designed to take out Verex hard-shells, so it should be strong enough to punch through the station plating and take out the array.”

  Fin winced.

  Everyone else looked either stoic or disbelieving until Simon cried, “See, I told you this was fucked!”

  “Watching this happen!” Fingers fired back. “That would be fucked!”

  I was horrified at the sudden turn and felt like I was drowning in the silence that followed. We needed to do something, but this was insane—too destructive to even contemplate. It felt like my insides were liquefying, but part of me was simultaneously firmed up, relieved that Fingers had been so tactless and crazy-sounding, lacking the kind of finesse that Caelus had when convincing people.

  But when I saw heads being raised, people starting to look at each other instead of the floor and actually seeming to consider it, a new, larger wave of nausea swept over me. And I supposed it wasn’t so crazy, either, given what Mars had put us through: The abuse. The suffering. Letting us kill each other. For me, it had just been a couple months, but for some it had been years. Now part of them probably wanted revenge.

  I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to backtrack, but Fin spoke first, looking haunted. “Okay, okay, but you gotta know that yeah, I can make the bomb, but I couldn’t p
lant it. At least not anywhere that wouldn’t destroy the entire station. My student permit only gets me as far as Chemlab Two, on the eighth level of the Inner Ring. It’s not on the schematic, but the array is on level fifteen, by the way it looks out the window.”

  “My clearance is only for level four,” said Daries.

  “I’m level seven,” said Whistler.

  “Wait, what?” cried Simon. “We’re not actually considering this, are we?”

  “Just shut up for a second, Simon. Brandon, what level’s your pass for?” asked Daries.

  “No, I’m not goi—”

  “I said shut up, Simon!” barked Daries. “Brandon, what level’s your pass for?”

  “Level ten,” said Brandon, blankly. “Where all the main shuttle bays are. But let’s not ju—”

  “And what level’s Main Lab C on, Eve?” asked Fingers.

  She hesitated a second before saying, “Level fifteen.”

  “There you have it,” Daries said.

  I felt dizzy and thought I saw little pixelations emerge in the table and on the wall and on people’s faces. I knew Eve worked near where the array was, but when Fingers had mentioned the bomb a minute ago, I hadn’t put it together that it would be her delivering it. I opened my mouth to try to give a reason why it couldn’t be her, why we shouldn’t even be pondering this, but she stopped me with a slight shake of her head.

  “I guess that’s what I’m proposing,” Fingers said finally, after a long silence. “We should think it over, but quickly, since the construction’s almost complete and we don’t know the next time we’re going to get a storm like this.”

  “I’ve already thought it over,” said Daries.

  “This is pretty fucking hasty,” I said, my throat barren and scratchy, still astonished at how quickly this had spun out of control. I’d worried about Brandon and Simon—justly, as it turned out—but I should’ve been the most worried about Fingers. Something inside him had come unhooked when Rhys had died. I’d seen it in his eyes. And I would know, too, because I was feeling the same way since Sebastian’s death. I understood this was a horrible place and something had to be done about what we’d found, but an IED—that was just too big of a leap.