“Margo wanted to rush down to him, and it was all we could do to restrain her so we didn’t end up with another casualty. Carefully we rappelled and climbed down to him, taking nearly five minutes. Thanks to his suit’s automatic seals and med systems, he was still alive; but the doctor shook his head. He said the professor needed emergency surgery immediately.
“And that just wasn’t possible. We had to descend another thirty meters to a ledge large enough to set up a Mars tent. Despite our best efforts, the climb inflicted further injuries. Then we had to set up the tent, pressurize it, and get the professor out of his suit. Dr. Ivanovitch set up for emergency surgery, and Gale and I assisted. The doctor gave his best effort, but it was far too late.” Tracy swallowed drily. “The professor died twenty minutes after the start of surgery. He had never really stood a chance.”
I was puzzled but impressed. The old Tracy would often be overwhelmed by her empathy. Sometimes I thought she used the camera to put up a layer between her and the suffering she observed. But now she was distraught, but she reported the incident in full, maintaining her composure for the most part. She had grown stronger—but not, I hoped, less empathetic.
As I thought on this, Tracy continued, “With the professor dead, Gale assumed command. Oh, Margo might have contested that if she had tried, but she was in no shape to make any decisions. We bundled the professor back into his suit for transport, and Gale led us back down the slope. There we had to rest for another night. We were physically and emotionally spent. The next day we double-timed it back to the camp.
“The rest is in my reports and covers the remaining month and a half until your pickup. We did our best to continue exploring and sampling, trying to salvage what we could for our objectives. Margo slowly regained enough energy to argue about who was in charge of the expedition. Legally she had the stronger case, but Gale kept arguing that we needed a professional in charge.”
Nick nodded. “You did. Too bad all you had was Gale.”
Tracy almost smiled at that. “The camp was pretty small, so their arguments made the place very unpleasant, with different members of the expedition lining up with her or with him. Dr. Ivanovitch and I eventually managed to calm things down by appealing to Azevedo’s memory. His personality had united the expedition in the first place, and it was enough in the end to keep us alive until you arrived. Like I said, the rest is in my reports.”
Tracy took one last drink of water and then set her glass down on Nick’s desk. “So that’s my summary. Is that what you need?”
“Yes, if you’ve told me the whole story, then we’re done here.”
“I wouldn’t keep anything secret. That’s against mission protocols.”
“Ms. Wells, I have learned in my command career that people keep all sorts of things secret when they’re trying to protect their own careers and their own reputations. If they have a guilty conscience or they think perhaps they contributed to some mistake, they keep secrets, and they lie. I’ve learned to ferret out details that people would rather hide. I won’t be lied to on my ship.”
“You will find that my reports are complete in every detail and as factual as I could make them. I did everything I could, but I lacked the authority to override Professor Azevedo’s decisions.”
Nick looked over his comp. “I wouldn’t have expected it, but it does seem that way. So considering everything, I have to say that perhaps your training wasn’t wasted. You mastered the protocols, which is more than I can say for your leadership.”
Tracy stared blankly at Nick. I did as well. He had just come very close to complimenting her, at least by Nick’s standards.
But she quickly recovered. “Then if you don’t mind, I still have videos to edit before we get to Earth.” Tracy stood to leave, but she stopped and turned at the door. “Good-bye, Anson.” And then she left.
After Tracy was gone, I turned on Nick. “You never once asked her about the cable and the nanos! The murder!”
“I didn’t need to.”
“What?”
“I heard what I needed to hear. Now I know the basic outline of the trip and Azevedo’s death: who was present, what their roles were, and so on. I’ll talk to her again later if I need more details.”
I knew better than to push Nick. He would keep his secrets until he saw a need to reveal them. Besides, I had something else on my mind. I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking: “Did you have to be so hard on her?”
“Yes, Mr. Carver, I did. I have my reasons.”
“And you had to drag me into it? What was the point of that?”
“Carver, I am conducting a criminal investigation. Didn’t you ever read mysteries? Means, motive, opportunity: those are the classic requirements for solving a crime, and a key part of that is motive. I have to understand the people involved and what drives them. So I had to know where she stood in regard to you and in regard to that expedition. I had to know everything about her.”
I was in no mood to be mollified. “You just can’t resist picking at old wounds, can you?”
“Your wounds or hers? I’m not convinced she has any.”
“What did she do to deserve that?”
“What did she do? You ought to remember. Are you going to let her do this to you again?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You are! You’re going to let her just use you for whatever it is she’s up to: chew you up, spit you out, and leave you crying in your beer. Again!”
“It’s not like that.”
“It’s always like that.”
“Look, just because your wife and your kids aren’t talking to you anymore doesn’t mean it’s like that for everyone.”
“It was last time.”
“It wasn’t like that last time either. Relationships just sometimes . . . They just sometimes end!”
“Yep, it ended when she got what she wanted.”
“That’s not fair. She had the chance to go to Mars, and she took it. I did the same thing when I had the chance. I can’t blame her for that.”
“Uh-huh. You went with me. She went with Azevedo, and now he’s dead. That was mighty poor judgment on her part. She’s lucky she’s still alive.”
“That’s not fair. You heard her. She studied. She learned your mission protocols. She did everything possible to ensure the success of that expedition.”
“Yes, she did, didn’t she? I have to admit, that surprised me. A chemistry degree? Surprising, yes.”
Nick sat in silence, clasping his hands and staring at his fingers. I realized he had gotten to me again. He always probed for weakness, always had to know where someone might fail him. I stood, fuming but patient, determined not to give in to his testing.
At last Nick looked up. “All right, Ms. Wells has given her report, and that’s a start. But I need another perspective. Carver, express my condolences, but bring me Margo Azevedo.”
I found Mrs. Azevedo alone in her cabin. She had it to herself, a luxury we normally couldn’t spare even for important passengers such as her. But on this trip, I had triple-berthed some junior crew to open up a private cabin for her. I figured she deserved some solitude if she needed it. The ship might be too damned crowded for her otherwise.
When I signaled at the door, it took Mrs. Azevedo almost a minute to open it. She was a tall, dark-toned woman with dark hair that showed some gray. In her pre-mission photos there had been no gray, but hair dye was just another luxury not to be found on Mars. Despite the gray, she still looked much like the fashion model she had been in her youth, back before she turned her earnings into shrewd business investments and a major fortune.
Her once-elegant face was lined with grief. She wasn’t red-eyed from crying like she had been earlier in the voyage. Five months of travel from Mars had gotten her past the deepest grief. But she still looked very weary, and I felt guilty for having to disturb her. But guilty feeling or no, Nick had his reasons and I had my orders.
Mrs. Azeved
o summoned the energy to speak. “Yes, Chief Carver, can I help you?”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am. I hate to disturb you, but I have orders from the captain. He has sent me to request that you come to his office. He has some matters to discuss.”
“What’s it about?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not at liberty to comment on the captain’s business.” That was a lie, of course, but I didn’t want to explain to her that someone had killed her husband. And I didn’t want to even consider that she might be a suspect. But as we walked through the ship, I realized I had an obligation to prepare her for Nick’s investigation. “Ma’am, you know that Captain Aames can be a bit brusque.”
“Brusque hardly goes far enough.”
“Ma’am, I don’t think you understand.”
“Please, Chief, don’t treat me like a china doll. This is a rough time for me, but believe me, I’ll get by. I’ve been making my fortune the hard way since before you were born: first on the fashion runways and then on the spaceplane runways. And I saw plenty of ugly corporate battles in between, I survived all of them, and I triumphed. I’ve faced opponents far ruder than Captain Aames.”
Despite myself, I grinned. “There’s no one ruder than Captain Aames.”
She laughed, and for a moment I saw the charm she had used to win the backing for this expedition. “Nick Aames can be a smug, self-righteous asshole, no doubt. I appreciate your concern. But don’t worry. I’ve handled Nick before, and I can handle him today.”
“Of course.” I knew the basics, so she didn’t have to explain; but she seemed to need to talk, like the silence was too much for her.
“Nick was Paolo’s first choice for the Corps liaison for our expedition. I thought it was a done deal, but Nick and Paolo couldn’t agree on terms. Nick insisted on rewriting the entire mission plan to his exacting standards.”
I nodded. “The captain would do that.”
“But his standards were too exacting. Too much redundancy, too much expense. Paolo wanted a streamlined mission—still a safe mission—so that we could keep to an affordable budget. He said a mission to Nick’s standards would never get launched; and Nick said that was fine with him, and he hoped Paolo’s mission would never launch either. He said the Civilian Exploration Program couldn’t afford to have its first expedition go wrong, and that that would undermine support for it. And now I fear he’ll be proven correct.” Her face darkened, and I looked discreetly away. “Nick cut us off that day, and we had to hire Lieutenant Gale instead. Gale is a fine officer, and he gave us none of Nick’s troubles. But rest assured, I know Nick’s moods, and I’m ready for him.”
“I hope so, ma’am.”
We arrived at Nick’s outer office. We entered the command office in the middle of a samba tune. Nick stood to the side of the desk, absently bouncing to the beat. If we had been alone, I would’ve told him what a lousy dancer he was, even in one-quarter G. That’s a common jibe in our ongoing duels (and also unfair: Nick’s a far better dancer than I). But I would never disrespect an officer in his official capacity.
The song soon ended, and Nick sat down. I pulled out the visitor chair for Mrs. Azevedo.
Nick leaned on his desk. “Ah, Mrs. Azevedo. Much as I wish otherwise, I’m afraid I’ve opened an investigation into the tragic incident on your expedition. Some information has come to me about your equipment, and it’s very troubling.”
Mrs. Azevedo started to speak, looking agitated; then she paused and regained her control. “Captain Aames, are we going to discuss this again?”
“I have some concerns.”
“Yes, Nick, I’m well aware of your concerns from before.”
“And now you can see that I was right, and Paolo’s carelessness has gotten someone killed. At least it was him, not someone who trusted him.”
“Nick!” I couldn’t help myself. That was over the line, even for Nick.
But Mrs. Azevedo wasn’t disturbed. “No, Chief, he’s just trying to provoke me. I won’t let him do that. Yes, Captain, you predicted a disaster, and it happened. But none of your dire predictions came to pass. What happened was something you never foresaw, a freak cable accident and nothing more. I stand by my original decision that your fears were groundless, and you were afflicted with your usual excess of caution and your pathological need for control.”
“And I stand by my original decision. I wanted nothing to do with your poorly planned vanity expedition. Only a fool would take your offer, and I’m no fool. But you found one in Gale, didn’t you?”
“All right, Nick, if it makes you happy: I wish you had taken our offer. Maybe if you had been our liaison . . .” She trailed off, but we all knew what went unspoken: Maybe Nick could’ve gotten Azevedo safely back to shelter in time to save his life. Or maybe Nick would’ve prevented the accident in the first place.
Nick’s face turned more serious. Perhaps his conscience was tweaking him just a bit. “I’m sorry, Margo, that would never have happened. I can’t take a mission I don’t believe in.”
“And so you stayed here instead?” Mrs. Azevedo leaned forward. “I know there are some in the Corps and in the Initiative who will never forgive you for the second Bradbury mission, even though the review board ratified your every decision. There were many who told me I was crazy for wanting you for liaison for this expedition. I wanted you anyway. Okay, you turned me down, you explained your reasons. But then, to take this job . . . Nick, you’re throwing away your talents here. You’re better than this. You’re more than a glorified subway conductor. If you didn’t want to be on my mission, you would’ve been invaluable in program management.”
“And work with fools like Frank Knapp? Not a chance.”
“Judgmental as always, aren’t you? Everyone in your eyes is a loser or a fool.”
“No, not everyone. There are fifteen billion people back there on those two worlds. They’re not all losers. About 90 percent of them are ordinary folks, minding their own business, going about their day, not causing me any trouble. And there’s maybe half a dozen people worth actually spending time with. But that leaves that 10 percent—one and a half billion—idiots, jerks, losers, and psychopaths.”
“And so you’ll lock yourself up here with only a few.”
“Yep. My chosen few, and I’m smarter than all of ’em. And I’m in charge.”
“All right. You’re the captain, you’re in charge here. Are you happy now?”
Nick paused. When he started again, his tone was lower and more reserved. Nick can be respectful when he chooses. “Margo, I know we clash. And I clashed with Paolo too. It’s my nature, not anything to do with you. I call them like I see them, and sometimes I neglect how people might feel. So please accept my condolences. I didn’t agree with Paolo’s plans, but it wasn’t personal. He was a good man. I’m very sorry.”
Mrs. Azevedo stared down at the floor, but she nodded. “Thank you, Nick. That means a lot. Chief Carver says you have questions for me?”
Nick hesitated again. “This will be difficult, I’m afraid. But I need to hear about the trip to Chronius Mons.”
“It’s in our reports.” Mrs. Azevedo’s tone was flat.
“I know. It’s important that I hear it in your own words.”
She nodded, and then she started slowly retelling the story. She echoed Tracy’s version, but without Tracy’s critical judgments about mission protocols. In fact she made every effort to portray her husband in a positive light. On the subject of Terra Cimmeria, she saw the site selection as a great success: “Oh, we didn’t find evidence to decide among the competing theories, but we have radically improved on the precision of the orbital data. Now we know exactly where we should plan new expeditions to definitively rewrite the geological history of Mars. Paolo already submitted a paper on that before the accident.” She similarly saw the carbonate data as eliminating a lot of possibilities, pointing the way to new research.
And then she got to a crucial point: the reasons for th
e Chronius Mons trip. She saw it very differently than Tracy had. “That was in the back of Paolo’s mind all along. That was why he insisted on bringing Wells on the expedition in the first place: he wanted to show humanity the grandeur of Mars, the grand vistas and the sweep of the unknown. He wanted to excite people, ignite their sense of adventure.”
“Yes,” Nick agreed, “he was a visionary. Or that’s how he saw himself, which is visionary enough. It’s what worried me about him: that vision blinded him to flaws in his plans. He had this sense that destiny would see him past any problems.” Mrs. Azevedo didn’t answer, but her face turned down. “And he would tackle any obstacle, follow any path for that destiny. How fortunate for him that he married into enough money to fund his visions.”
“Nick!” Again I was stunned that even Nick could be so callous; but before I could say more, Mrs. Azevedo held up a hand to stop me. She glared at Nick.
“So that comes up again.” Her tone was bitter. “You said as much during expedition planning. You think he married me for money?”
“Well, there are always many motivations that lead into a decision like that. You were young and attractive, and you bought into his vision. The money was just an added benefit; but as it happened, it was a crucial benefit in order for him to succeed.”
When she answered, she spoke slowly, restraining her emotions: “I know you’re a cynic, Nick. I know you will never understand what Paolo and I had. But to question it now . . . I didn’t think even you could be that cruel.”
Nick leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “You call it cruel, I call it diligent. I have to get some answers.”
“Fine, here are your answers. I loved Paolo. He loved me. We had problems, everyone does, but we shared so much more than just Mars plans.”
Nick looked down at his desk. “So noted. My apologies, but I have to be thorough. Please, continue.”
The Last Dance Page 27
