Miranda's Demons

by Ian Miller

  When they finally reached the InterMars, only dust remained. The jammer could at last lock onto Phobos, and the order could be carried out. But it did not seem to matter; the two vehicles made no attempt to send messages. Haruhiko ordered the two tanks to pursue at maximum speed, then, as an afterthought, he ordered the second tank not to fire unless they received a direct order from him to do so. He could easily deal with two non-armoured vehicles himself.

  The procession was travelling west, into the sun, into the dust. Haruhiko could see very little on his viewer, the tank behind would see red. They followed the strip in the road, in the reasonable expectation that if the vehicles left the road, the dust would stop. Pursuit gradually became less interesting, but attention was kept on the navigational computer. After a little over one hundred kilometers, the two vehicles would have a decision to make. To the south of InterMars was a complex of craters, and if the shadowers wished not to use InterMars they would have to go to the south of the complex, a detour of several hundred kilometers, and still without any easy climb up to the high plateau. If they stayed with InterMars, the tortuous road meant they could drive straight into an ambush and never see it. Of course they could extend the detour and hope to meet the convoy much later when it came back down from that plateau, then with plenty of cover. Haruhiko suddenly realized he might have a decision to make also.

  As it turned out, he did not. The choice came shortly after dusk, the vehicles elected to follow InterMars, and they followed without turning on lights; Haruhiko also kept his lights off. There was no problem about keeping to the road, but he had to keep track of the vehicles, which now could be seen clearly on his viewer. As the night fell, he turned the viewer to maximum intensity. They had driven for approximately half an hour in the dark when the road swung around to the north and entered a small valley where the road climbed up to a pass between two craters. The extra power of the tanks meant they could maintain their speed, but with the rising ground the quarry began to slow. Slowly, in the viewer, their size began to increase. Then, just as the walls of the two craters were closing together, the tanks must have been seen for the two vehicles suddenly began to accelerate, then they turned and made a desperate attempt to leave the road. The ground now rose steeply on both sides, and was littered with huge boulders.

  Haruhiko moved into the gunnery seat, and pressed the activation button. A cross-hair appeared in the middle of the screen, but the image had moved to the centre of the road, the direction the gun was pointing. He moved the two toggle switches, and swung the view across to the right. A huge boulder passed into view, then there was a bump, and a graunching roar. The crew were flung forward, and a scream of pain came from the one member who had not followed the order to strap in.

  "Watch where you're going!" Haruhiko roared. He knew what had happened. The driver was more interested in what was happening with the gun, and had driven into a boulder.

  The tank reversed, then took off again. The ground was now quite steep, and the two vehicles were making slow progress. The leading one passed behind a boulder, and Haruhiko moved the gun sight around to where it would re-emerge, then he signalled the direction to the driver. Suddenly, there it was. The cross-hair was right in the centre of the vehicle. Haruhiko's finger moved to the firing button, then he paused. Better to question these creeps! They just might know something of use! He moved the cross-hair to a boulder twenty metres in front of the vehicle, and fired. A cloud of small stones peppered the vehicle, and reluctantly the two vehicles stopped. The two tanks moved up to cover the vehicles, as the pressure-suited men stepped from their vehicles.

  The outcome was better than either party expected. The men were representatives of some miners who had set up an independent base in the Noachis. They had heard something of the uprising, and this small party had been sent out to assess the situation. They had been heading for Chryse when they had seen the convoy, and they had been shadowing it, trying to decide what to do. When stopped by the tanks, desperation set in; when they found the tanks were friendly they became so excited it was surprising a pressure suit visor was not broken. Haruhiko was very pleased he was in a pressure suit; it was very good for hiding his embarrassment. For some time he would sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, with an image of a crosshair centred on the miner's vehicle, his hand being dawn irresistibly towards the firing button.

  Misako was overjoyed when she was told. Immediately, extra supplies were given to the miners, and a radio scrambler was provided in order that they could contact their friends. It was suggested that they contact all the miners they could, and they were promised that, if they wished, they could join the settlers, or, if they wished to stay out, they could act as observers. If they did the latter, the location of supply dumps would be given. The exact location of the caves was not provided; instead they were requested to contact the settlers, and further instructions would be given as required.

  * * *

  As the road swung to the north and began to climb, it became more and more tortuous, and sleep became more difficult. By the time the plateau was reached and the overall direction of the road had swung around again to the southwest it was nearly midnight and tempers were near boiling point. When the sun rose next morning, the convoy was speeding across the plateau, and about to turn north. By the time the road again swung west and the crater of Bouguer could be seen clearly to the north, few in the party could care. People were rubbing grime into their eyes, people were swearing about the dirt, swearing at each other, and the drivers themselves were becoming more erratic. At one point, a driver almost sent his vehicle off the road.

  The land cruisers were marvellous pieces of engineering, but they were simply not designed for so many people. Even with the dehumidifiers working at full power, water was condensing on metal surfaces throughout the vehicles. The air purifiers were straining to keep down the levels of carbon dioxide. The smell of unwashed bodies was all-pervasive, small pieces of food that had escaped were slowly decomposing, and the toilet facilities were hopelessly inadequate, with the result that their stench was spreading throughout the vehicles. Only one thing was working well, and that was the heat insulation. Despite the bitterly cold Martian nights, sleep had been difficult through the accumulated heat from dozens of bodies. They sweated, they stank, and they were beginning to become dehydrated because water replacement was difficult on their allowance. The water purifiers were working to full capacity, but it was just not possible to keep up with demand.

  It was noon when the convoy had to head southwest again, down the tortuous road off the plateau. Misako sent very stern warnings that any driver leaving the road would be most severely punished. Then, as the vehicles wound down the road, a new problem arose; travel sickness. People were being sick, the smell of vomit became mingled with the other stenches, and tempers became even more frayed. At the bottom of the pass was the small settlement of Sabeus, which had been deserted after the M'starn had arrived on Mars. It was just past fourteen hundred hours when the convoy approached the settlement, and even though this would cost over eighteen hours, Misako ordered the convoy to stop. The dome was checked, and found to be still pressurized. The pressure pumps were started to operate the air locks, and for the first time since leaving Hellas the settlers, after giving their vehicles a thorough clean out, were allowed to enter a dome.

  There was luxury. Everybody started with one of the more unique Martian habits, a sand bath. It was quite remarkable how the basic grime of travel could be removed by the jets of very fine sand. There was ground to run on, stillness and silence for sleeping. The engineers restarted the recycling facilities, and also began checking the vehicles. The more powerful recycling facilities of the settlement also allowed the backlog of wastes from the land cruisers to be reprocessed. With true Martian ethical concern, every gram of waste brought into the settlement was accounted for, and no additional fresh material removed. War or no war, water and air would be left for the next visitor, enemy or friend.

  "T
he tragedy is," Misako observed, "that if we can have neutral zones, and concern to leave air and water, even for the enemy, there should be no need to fight in the first place."

  "That is very true," Lieutenant Griffith, who had overheard her, remarked. "It was also true on Earth, when medical personnel were not deliberately targeted, and when there were conventions not to use certain types of weapons. Once you can agree that life has some value, and agree to respect that value, war becomes illogical."

  "Then why did you join Defence?" Misako asked.

  "Maybe I'm illogical," the officer smiled. "Maybe I thought there'd never be a war. Maybe I thought that someone has to defend civilization against terrorism. Maybe I thought it was honourable. Maybe we should have a meal, and get some sleep."

  "No maybe on the last point," Misako replied.

  * * *

  The next morning, the value of the stop was apparent. Good sleep, a sand bath, and space led to a resurgence of spirits, and they restarted with the whole convoy singing. Good speed was maintained, and by mid-afternoon, the rim of Bakhuysen was passing to the south. A prepared talk on the difficulties endured when constructing the InterMars highways quickly helped pass the afternoon, and also helped raise spirits. Somehow, it seemed churlish to grumble when accounts of the real hardships endured by the pioneers were recounted. Statistics of the number of accidental deaths, through nothing more sinister than the owner of a pressure suit forgetting to regularly test the valves on his oxygen supply, or to ensure the carbon dioxide removal system was working correctly, helped to bring a sense of almost luxury to the current travellers.

  * * *

  As the sun began to make its presence felt on the Sabeus Sinus, the convoy was emerging from the long shadows cast by the crater Wislecenus, or to be more correct by another crater imposed on its northwest corner. As the InterMars began to turn again to the west, Misako rotated her chair to look backwards, to glimpse the first of the day. To the rear was the great column of red dust raised by the convoy. For those at the back, travelling in the convoy was very similar to travelling in a dust storm. She had already received a complaint from Mr Groza on the subject, thinly disguised as a proposal that, since he had more experience than most at Martian navigation, he should lead the convoy. Misako had at first reacted angrily, and had been on the verge of confronting him again, and had only refrained from this because she was so angry she could not think of what to say. It was then she had a better idea; when she calmed down she took pen to paper and drafted out her reply. She thanked him most profusely for his offer, and she pointed out the most difficult navigational problems would arise at the rear of the convoy, where the dust was greatest. Consequently the command would be most appreciative if he could make his services available there, to ensure the convoy stayed intact. She showed the letter to Lieutenant Griffith, who took one look at it, laughed, then took a pen and wrote heavily below Misako's neat writing, 'This is a military command, not a request. Griffith.' So Groza was now in the depths of the dust, no doubt fuming.

  To the northern side of the highway, most of the view was filled by the great dunes of Mars, with the eastern slopes glistening red in the rising sun, and with the harsh black shadows streaking westward. The foreground was littered with rocks poking through the ubiquitous sand. The sand itself frequently formed small dunes, which again formed the red and black curves of light and shade; frozen waves on seas of reddish sand. Two small reddish columns of sand stood in the distance, where two small whirlwinds were playing. To the north was a small range of hills, flattened at the top as if by a giant knife, the sides glistening red beneath the pink sky where the sun struck. The near vertical cliffs glistened harshly red and black, but two of the huge rockslides glistened a more uniformly dull red where they climbed half way up the side of the mesa. A tongue of pink cut into the mesa, showing the presence of a pass or valley. Red, pink, grey, black. Mainly red.

  Misako stared at the pass. A dust plume indicated another small wind disturbance. Red dust, always red dust. Silver! A glint of silver. There and gone. Again! Misako reached for her powerful binoculars. Nothing but dust, red soil, red dust. But again, a glint of silver. Sunlight reflected off a non-Martian surface.

  No consideration was given to a change of direction of the convoy. So far they had been lucky. There had been no dust storms, and it was hoped they could continue with this luck for the duration of the journey. But should one come, the value of the InterMars highways would become more apparent; in the highways were iron strips and it was possible to navigate even in the densest storms. But leave the road, and a dust storm could immobilize the traveller until the storm cleared, and that could take weeks, and sometimes months. Progress might seem frustratingly slow on the highway, but an attempt to cross the chaotic terrain off the highway would slow the convoy to a mere crawl. Even if they crawled and adopted the most stringent precautions, on this part of the planet it was quite likely that at least one of the transporters would crash through the roof of an underground channel.

  As the day progressed, all eyes were peeled to the north. Nothing could be seen. Then, almost at noon, InterMars swung to the north, and they had to follow this direction for over one hundred kilometers. Still they saw nothing. Once again they swung to the west, as the road made its way across the cratered surface. All eyes were peeled, but no sign of another vehicle could be found. Eventually dusk fell. The one advantage of this exercise was that it had kept the settlers occupied, and another day had passed without too much notice being taken of the slowly increasing stench level.

  Throughout the night watch was kept, but nowhere could any lights be seen. Again, on InterMars, lights were not needed, but off the roads there were sufficient channels, depressions, and other obstructions to make travelling blind a considerable hazard. Following a general council of war it was concluded that either Misako had imagined her glint, or the convoy was being escorted by some scout vehicles from Syrtis Major, and that these vehicles would be following a path parallel, but to the North, of the InterMars.

  "I did not imagine it! I saw them," Misako protested.

  "It's all right," Griffith replied, without any conviction in his voice. "I believe you."

  "Then where are they now?" someone asked.

  "If I were them, I'll tell you what I would do," Haruhiko said emphatically. There was no doubt in his voice that Misako had seen something. "I would wait for the convoy to pass, then I'd follow on InterMars. You'd see the tracks if the convoy left the highway."

  "Then why weren't they doing that in the first place?" someone asked.

  "To avoid the situation similar to that of the miners," Griffith said softly. "If they were to do what Haruhiko suggested, and we left an ambush, we'd leave it on the road, and they would sooner or later drive right into it."

  "But we're not, are we?"

  "They don't know that," Griffith said, "and even if they were to do that, think how much more dangerous it would be at night. If we stopped for any reason, they could drive right into us without noticing."

  "Then we just keep going," Misako said. "They'll never catch us now."

  "If they're prepared to take a small risk they could," Griffith said. "Tonight we'll have to head back to the south of the fifteenth parallel again, because the highway takes the easy route to the south of Beer. If they were to go around the north, they'd catch up with us when the InterMars heads north. They effectively know our route until we reach the Phoenicus Lacus turn-off."

  "Assuming we don't leave it," Misako said. "We could leave InterMars and head west."

  "We could, and that may not be a bad idea," Griffith said.

  "But suppose someone's following?" Haruhiko interjected. "Once we leave the InterMars, they can follow our tracks."

  "We can cover them," Griffith said without conviction.

  "If the pursuers didn't know where to look you might get away with it, if there was a good wind, perhaps," Haruhiko countered, "but with a convoy of this size, I'd bet anything you
like there'd easily be enough tracks for anyone who knew roughly where to look."

  "It's true that if anyone's following, I'd like to get rid of them," Griffith conceded.

  "Then how about an ambush?" Haruhiko demanded.

  "Suppose there's nobody there?" Griffith countered.

  "Then the ambushers have to catch up with the convoy," Haruhiko snorted. "They could also make a series of false tracks all over the place so any trackers would very quickly give up!"

  "I'd hate to have to explain why I'd gone off and left the enemy free to attack the convoy," Griffith went on dubiously.

  "Why would they attack now?" Misako asked curiously.

  "They might count the tanks," Griffith pointed out.

  "They're not close enough to count anything," Misako said, "particularly with the amount of dust we're kicking up."

  "I don't know. I've been ordered to stay with this convoy," Griffith muttered. It was rapidly becoming obvious to all there that he was not going to leave the convoy.

  "Then let me go!" Haruhiko urged.

  "I don't know," Griffith shook his head. "If you lost the tanks . . ."

  "Lose them?" Haruhiko shrieked, clearly insulted that anyone could think that he could possibly lose their tanks.

  "It happens in battles sometimes."

  "There're no craft on Mars with anything like the fire power of these tanks!" Haruhiko snorted.

  "And you don't know how many the M'starn gave the Brownshirts."

  "No, but we've a pretty good idea. And if they did, so what?" asked a slightly frustrated Haruhiko. "We'd have the element of surprise, and we only attack if we can succeed."

  "You never know you'll win," Griffith shook his head.

  "Well, you should have a pretty good idea," Haruhiko snorted derisively.