The Martian Pendant

by Patrick Taylor

  She asked, “What’s going on? Until now, you seemed in fact to enjoy the blandest of foods, and would even carry on a conversation. And what might be the purpose of the submachine guns? Pirates worrying about being pirated in turn?”

  The Captain, who had grown to respect Diana during their month at sea, put his fork down, nodding to his fellow officers, and then replied, “I’ve decided to let you in on our secret. We’re concerned with the possibility of hostile boarders who would frustrate our plans, which include scuttling this vessel when the time, or I should say, when the place is right.”

  She dropped her fork with a clatter, exclaiming, “What? And lose this precious cargo? All the work of our expedition is to come to nothing? People have already died for this discovery. You must have lost your minds!”

  “No, my dear, we’re quite sane. This is just another way to fulfill the Pope’s original plan. We had to have the help of a neutral government to refuel us in secret in order to make this long voyage. To secure their participation, the Vatican promised to deliver the alien technology to Japan, on the condition that they isolate this cargo for a hundred years, until such time when the concept of ‘Mutually Assured Destruction’ is history. There, the alien secrets would be safe from the prying of Cold War adversaries. Currently we’re concerned about the Soviet Union and the United States, but for the future, what about China?

  “According to the treaty made in secret between the Japanese and the new Papal Nuncio to Tokyo in September, they would not be free to release the material to their scientists to unlock the secrets until the year 2058. Now, radio intercepts tell us that GeoSat has detected us, allowing Americans to pinpoint our course toward Japan. We also have evidence that certain militarists among the Japanese plan to unlock all these secrets immediately for their own expansionist ambitions.”

  Her response came only after a long pause. “What of the anthropological specimens? Can’t we unload that part of the cargo? Surely the fossil remains are harmless, aren’t they?”

  “Militarily, yes, but from a strictly religious point of view, they’re poison. Acknowledging that human beings from outer space exist would completely discredit Genesis, as set forth in the Old Testament, wouldn’t it?”

  “But,” she said, “beings of advanced intelligence did come from another world. The very presence of that spaceship is certain proof of that. How does that fit into religious teaching any differently than Cro-Magnon man already has? The Bible does state that creation took place on earth in six days, but that doesn’t exclude simultaneous duplication on Mars, or for that matter, on a million other planets in the Universe.”

  “You have a point, Miss Howard, but you’re missing the most important one. The Papal plan is to rid us of the dangerous alien technology, as well as anything that could upset God’s law here on Earth. And I have to agree, the evidence that the Martians were human, as you tell me is the case, and that they may even have been our ancestors will prove too much for the people’s beliefs in the status quo. And I don’t merely refer to Christians. What about our nearly billion Muslims?”

  “Then you intend to send everything to the bottom? What of the Impervium fragments already being studied in the U.S.? And the photos of the fossils we’ve mailed home?”

  “Well, my dear, it’s unknown what knowledge will emerge from all that. But I do know that your fellow paleoanthropologists are going to be skeptical of everything until they can study the actual fossils. You can’t isotope date photographs, can you? And the metallurgy? They’ve had that material for months, and our sources inform us that nothing has been forthcoming. We know from them that your people have been unable to do anything except cut it. At this rate, it may be a hundred years before anyone on earth will be able to understand any of the secrets.”

  Diana envisioned almost all her life’s work being lost because of the religious convictions of others. It was then that she decided to transfer what specimens and photos she had in her trunk to one of the lifeboats. She wasn’t sure which one the Captain would assign her to, but she was certain that when her cabin was searched, and no sensitive material was found, she would be suspect. She thought of dividing the specimens, putting half into each boat. From her experience in the lifeboat drill, she knew of plenty of places aboard them for hiding bones and packets. After some deliberation, she decided to keep the collection together, and take her chances at being assigned to the boat she planned for her discoveries. One complete skeleton would be hard for even the most skeptical of her colleagues at home to ignore.

  The safety of the fossils, her photographic evidence, and the book containing insights into the Martian language had, on that side of the world, become almost her whole life. The thought did occur to her that she might not even be taken aboard either lifeboat as the ship sank. They may have needed her as a hostage when they first took over the ship, and for that purpose they might still need her for their escape. It didn’t occur to her that she hadn’t been sent ashore because she was a very attractive woman, as the First Officer, Lopez, had noticed.

  During the next two nights, Diana made furtive visits to the starboard boat, gaining access by lifting a flap of canvas covering the partially open craft, and then secreting fossil bones beneath the canned provisions stowed under the seats and under the little foredeck. The jawbone and her linguistic book, along with her photos wrapped in plastic, were then carefully stuffed into her life-vest, from which some of the kapok flotation material had been removed. She really wanted to include the skull, but its bulk would betray her. No one would be the wiser, the way she did it. She was worried about the loss of the vest’s buoyancy, but planned to have an extra life preserver on hand just in case. Everyone leaving the ship would already be wearing flotation, and wouldn’t need a spare vest, a fact that helped her with her conscience. As dedicated as she was to her discoveries, she didn’t want more lives to be jeopardized for those dead relics.

  The freighter had picked up speed during the second night on their westerly heading, in hopes that a few extra knots would help them elude discovery. That night at supper, the Captain was absent. She asked the First Officer why he wasn’t presiding over the table.

  Lopez, evidently delighted at having her to himself that evening, replied, “He’s in the wheelhouse plotting our final course with the Navigator. We’re only a day from our destination, south of Guam.”

  “Wait,” she responded, “Guam is a U.S. military base, and there will be air patrols everywhere!” As she said that, she hoped that her tone would imply that she was on their side, perhaps afflicted with the Stockholm syndrome, where captives sometimes begin to empathize with their captors. “I’m afraid that if we’re stopped by the U.S. Navy, they’ll arrest me along with all of you. How will our little lifeboats escape capture and trial for piracy? You know the penalty for that.”

  Lopez drew close to her, and whispered, “Yes, I’m fully conversant with Marine Law. But if you stick with me aboard the starboard motorboat, which I will pilot, we’ll have a good chance to escape in the dark. Our fuel supply and the emergency sailing gear will be sufficient for us to reach Ulithi Atoll in the Carolines, eventually making our way to Palau, the capital of that non-aligned island nation. It’s as idyllic as any tropical paradise can be.”

  Relieved that she had intuitively stashed her specimens advantageously, and seeing her opportunity, she adopted a conspiratorial manner, asking, “But what about the Captain? Won’t he insist on my accompanying him? He seems quite happy with me, at least here at the table.”

  “I think not,” Lopez replied. “He won’t need you any more as a hostage, and is so dedicated to this mission that he won’t chance anything going wrong. Despite the phenomenal luck we’ve had, until now going almost undetected, and with a promise of achieving our rendezvous with fate, he still can’t rid himself of the sailor’s superstition that having a woman aboard is bad luck. That sort of thing comes easily to one so devout. He’ll be convinced that whichever boat is without you will
fare much better.”

  She gave him a smile. “What of my fossil bones and other findings? I can’t have my discoveries thrown overboard. If he has his way, they’ll be given the deep six along with the cargo in the hold. Do you feel the same way?”

  “You mean about his religious fanaticism regarding this material from Mars disrupting the monotheistic religions? Not I. But there is a realistic concern over what could happen to the ties of brotherhood, however strained, between Christians, Muslims and Jews, if Genesis is debunked. Much of the core beliefs of those faiths have to do with their mutual creation myth, and this commonality may be all that is keeping them from going for the proverbial jugular. Myself, I couldn’t care less. I’m more interested in what you’ve said about the connection between your Martians and our ancestors. I think you’re on the right track, and I’ll do what I can to help you get home with your proof.”

  Although relieved, she was still concerned about his motives. Perhaps, she thought, all she had to do now was cool his ardor on the way home. She spent much of the last day on deck at the rail, as they churned at full speed through the bright blue sea, again accompanied by an escort of porpoises, and a frequent flying fish, breaking the surface, and gliding parallel to the ship for fifty or more yards. What predator, she wondered, had flushed them from the deep, the same waters they would be braving soon in the small boats. She had readied her gear for boarding the lifeboat, but hadn’t found her hat, an essential item in the tropics. Raul noticed her at the rail and joined her there.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  “You can pay me by giving me one of your caps,” she said, as she squinted, despite her dark glasses, in the glare of the sun, “And that would answer your question as well.”

  “Yes, I see, sunburn can be a problem in an open boat, but you needn’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he replied. “You won’t have to be exposed like the common seamen, because you’ll be my guest in the cabin.”

  She detected a hint of a leer on his face. “I’m sure you’ve noticed this ring,” she said firmly, holding up her right hand. “As a war widow, to me it means loyalty and commitment. If you can’t handle that, I’ll take my chances with the crew.”

  “The war ended thirteen years ago! Surely you miss having a man to share your bed. And in regard to the crew, don’t be so rash. You must know you may need my protection.”

  “Oh, indeed, protection from the coyotes by the wolf? No thanks.”

  “Would it change your mind if I promise to be a gentleman, and pledge that I will do anything you say?”

  He said that in a tone that added to her distrust of him. She thought she could probably protect herself from the advances of one man at a time, but what of the four men in the lifeboat crew?

  That evening, supper was sandwiches and tea. The Captain showed up late, in dungarees, absorbed in conversation with the Navigator at the foot of the table. She thought it odd that he had not approached her about what had happened to her fossils. Her cabin had again been searched, as had the bags containing the personal things she had readied.

  Lopez nudged her, whispering, “I told him that the search crew had thrown them overboard at my orders, in anticipation of your trying to smuggle the material aboard the lifeboat. He’s so preoccupied with finding the right water to scuttle the ship in that he isn’t thinking of much else.”

  Exactly one hour later, everyone was called back to the mess. The Navigator described the precise work needed to fully realize their plan.

  “In another hour, it will be almost dark, and we’ll be over the deepest known place in any ocean, the southern end of the Mariana Trench, which extends offshore to the west for the length of that island chain. We’re now 170 miles southwest of Guam, which is the southernmost island in the Marianas. Our destination is what is known as the Challenger Deep. Soundings have shown the water there has a depth of just over 36,000 feet. Our plan is to sink the American Traveler into that trench. Our course will bring us to within less than a mile of the deepest point, and wherever she hits, the steepness of the walls of the declivity leading to the bottom, combined with gravity, should do the rest.”

  The Captain got up. “The course the lifeboats will follow is southwest to the Yap Island group, the closest being Fais Island, 180 miles away. A larger atoll, Ulithi, will be our goal 50 miles west of that. I’ll be leading in lifeboat one, with our Navigator here. Lopez, as First Officer, will be in command of lifeboat two. We’ll be able to communicate by wireless, but only if we have an emergency, so as to evade American radio surveillance. Take what extra food and water you can carry after you stow your bags. While we have ample supplies stored in each boat, our voyage may take longer than expected. When the winds are right, we’ll use our sails in order to conserve our fuel as long as possible. As you must know, our range under power is quite limited, but the engine will be important in approaching any island.” Looking briefly at his watch, he added, “Now it’s time to lower the boats.” Turning, he said, “Mister Lopez, make it so.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Scuttled

  In the Navy’s search headquarters on Guam, the radio operator reported to the officer of the day, “Sir, our air patrol has located the American Traveler. They’re about 200 nautical miles south of us, on a heading northwest at what looks like full speed for a freighter of that type. What instructions do you have for the fly-boys?”

  Looking at his watch, and then at the chart spread out on his desk, the officer, a Captain, replied, “They are to keep shadowing them until dark, and then return to base. Our destroyer patrol is proceeding at flank speed to intercept them.” Turning around, he found another radioman standing behind him, who handed him a paper.

  “Sir, we have another message just in from Pearl. Their cryptographers have decoded it. Here’s the printout.”

  Snatching the strip of paper, the Captain hastily read it. “Send this out, ‘Quarry heading north, not east of the Ryukyu chain, but to the west, aiming to slip into Nagasaki in exactly forty-eight hours.’ It’s OK, in the clear.”

  As the radio operator turned to comply, the Captain muttered, half to himself, “Can you beat that? Their communication was in one of their Second World War military codes. Does that say anything about who’s orchestrating this whole thing?”

  Just then, the message was received from their aerial surveillance that two lifeboats were being launched. The officer exclaimed, “That means they intend to scuttle! Get on the horn to our destroyers, in the clear again. Tell them to close for boarding with all possible haste.”

  “Sir, they’re already full out, and even at forty knots they couldn’t possibly be in a position to board for another three hours, could they?”

  Merely shrugging, the officer said, almost as an afterthought, “Well, we can still intercept the lifeboats. At least we’ll have the pirates then, with what information we can get from them about this whole thing.”

  * * *

  In the Buell office above the computer room, an analyst was going over the GeoSat intercepts of the previous few days, displayed on the wall the way that had helped Diana to originally interpret the significance of the data from East Africa. Turning to a co-worker, he remarked, “Hey Julie, look at this. When we first saw this hot spot, we thought it represented nuclear fallout, but when it moved 750 miles in eighteen hours in the wrong direction, we knew it had to be from a ship. Well, look closely at these blow- ups. Do you see one or two foci of radiation now?”

  She studied the sheet closely for a minute, then said, “I see two, definitely, and looking over at the first image, there is a difference. Could this mean that the ship GeoSat found has picked up a tail? I heard that the Navy confirmed they had no nuclear vessels in that part of the Pacific, but nothing was said about some other country’s Navy. Maybe it’s a Soviet sub!”

  * * *

  The launching of the boats went reasonably well, although rust for a time threatened to jam the mechanism of the aft davit lowering Di
ana’s boat. No real lubrication was available, so one of the crew emptied the contents of a water-can on the balky bearing. That did it, and aside from an unsettling screeching, the stern reached the water almost as soon as the bow, easing their concerns. Tensions again mounted as they awaited crew to rejoin them after opening the seacocks and setting the timers for the explosive charges.

  * * *

  Just then, a submarine, resembling a huge black whale, surfaced in a rush of compressed air and a mound of white water not a hundred yards away. For a moment Diana thought it was American, but as the foam fell from its conning tower, a large red star was revealed.

  “Quickly, men,” Lopez shouted, “into the boat!” Then, gunning the engine as the last of the seamen boarded, he piloted the craft along the freighter’s starboard side and turned away from the submarine and its crew, who were just appearing through hatches on the conning tower and on the foredeck. As they passed the other lifeboat on the port side of the ship, he shouted through a bullhorn.

  “It’s a Soviet nuclear submarine! They’ll be putting a salvage crew aboard the Traveler to save her from sinking, and then we’ll be next. We can’t hope to escape them!”

  As he pushed the throttle forward on the other lifeboat, the Captain said, “That’s why I put Lopez in charge of the number two lifeboat, and chose you, my Navigator, to accompany us. Cool heads are essential at times like these. You see, it’s twilight now, and at these tropical latitudes it won’t be long before it will be pitch dark, with only the stars as light. Even with night-vision glasses, it will be difficult for them to follow us, especially since we are distancing ourselves as I speak.”

  “But what of their radar, sir? Surely that will be enough to pinpoint us and sink us with their fire, even in the blackness.”

  “You’re right about the radar, Rodriguez, but they’re low in the water and so are we, and if we keep lifeboat number two directly between them and us, our combined shadow will confuse them enough for one of us, at least, to escape.”