"Of course," Skuba replied sympathetically. "Both Fornos and Jopp have been warned."
"Good. Is everything ready?"
Skuba looked at a silver-haired Lt. Colonel, received a nod of assent, and smiled. "Yes, Madam President. Everything is ready."
The President nodded, pulled a mirror out of her pocket, and checked her makeup. Something less than perfect, but what the hell. She still looked better than a lot of women who were years younger. The President summoned up the smile that had won the hearts and minds of so many Americans. "All right then. Let's go."
C-deck occupied the middlemost slice of the sphere-shaped ship, and in spite of its vast size, was packed bulkhead to bulkhead with free-floating humanity. They were everywhere, drifting into each other and throwing up with almost monotonous regularity.
All of them had plastic bags, and most were able to make use of them, but some missed and left globules of vomit to drift through the air. And due to the crowded conditions, the normal "You barf, you clean it up," rule had been temporarily suspended. The smell was sickening.
Huge metal ribs arched down along the bulkheads. Nylon ropes connected them together and gave the colonists something to hook onto. Rows and rows of them were already in place. But the latecomers, along with those who couldn't seem to control their bodies, were still drifting around.
Blue-suited crew members yelled, cajoled, and pushed the colonists into place. They wore light-weight backpack propulsion systems that allowed them to maneuver without having to push off from bulkheads or other solid surfaces.
Rex Corvan watched a burly power tech push a woman into place and gesture toward the yellow rope.
"Grab the rope! Hook on! Don't move!"
The woman nodded gratefully, hooked her utility belt to the rope, and proceeded to upchuck into her bag.
Corvan had taken up a position near the "B" Corridor Lock, or "BCL" in the parlance of the ship's crew, all of whom considered themselves a cut above the more than two thousand colonists. And, while some of the superiority was imagined, some of it was quite real. Many of them had been preparing for such a mission most of their lives.
Though technically part of the crew himself, Corvan's sympathies lay more with the colonists and their troubled stomachs. Though well past the upchucking stage himself, he remembered what it felt like and knew what they were going through.
"Audio check please.''
Kim's voice was cool and professional inside his head, available because of his implants and some state-of-the-art electronics. It was nothing like the softer voice that had whispered things in his ear only hours before. Corvan grinned. Zero-G sex was anything but routine.
Kim entered his mind once more. Her thoughts were prim, proper, and tinged with pleasure.
"Keep your mind on business. I need an audio check."
"Yes, ma'am. One audio check coming up."
Corvan cleared his throat and spoke out loud. "This is an audio check. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . ."
Corvan was something of a celebrity on Earth, and might have attracted some attention under normal circumstances, but most of the colonists were too ill to care who he was.
Kim was back. "Thanks. Security informs me that the President has entered the main lock and is headed our way. Let's take a look at the wide shot."
Corvan sent a thought to the robo cam and it took off. The device was cylindrical in shape with a set of skids under its belly and a high resolution zoom lens located in its nose. Although this robo cam looked similar to the units that Corvan had used on Earth, it was actually quite different.
It had a more powerful propulsion system for one thing, a modification made necessary by the red planet's thin atmosphere, and larger fuel tanks. The wings that had provided lift within Earth's thicker atmosphere were gone.
Not only that, but the new robo cam was equipped to function in a total vacuum if necessary, and had been equipped with a pair of small manipulator arms. The manipulator arms made it possible for the robo cam to lift and transport objects weighing up to ten pounds. A capability that Corvan hadn't asked for but the tech types had given him anyway.
The robo cam dodged a crew member and turned. The wide shot showed Corvan in the foreground, colonists to either side, and the BCL in the middle. Within a minute, two at the most, the President of the United States would step through the lock and into the picture.
In the meantime a small group of VIP's had gathered around the lock. Kim caught a glimpse of Dr. George Fornos, the World Peace Organization's point man and the mission's head cheese. He was a small man, whose Buddha-like composure hid a mind like a steel trap and a passionate desire to succeed.
And there, floating just beyond him, was the tall graceful figure of Air Force Colonel Mary Ann Jopp. If Fornos was fire, then she was ice, as cold as a winter day and just as friendly. She was the mission's executive officer and a lifelong member of the Exodus Society.
The World Peace Organization, aka the business establishment, had long opposed colonization and only recently come around. The Exodus Society, aka the people who wanted to turn, everything upside down, favored colonization but didn't control enough resources to make it happen.
The result was an uneasy truce. A truce that kept Fornos and Jopp from going for each other's throats. Gossip had it that the two of them disagreed on everything, but Kim had seen nothing to support that.
Kim wished for a cigarette, remembered that smoking wasn't allowed, and popped a breath mint instead. She forced herself to the task at hand.
A three-dimensional representation of the robo cam's shot floated in Kim's mind. She checked it carefully. Definition was close to perfect. Much better than the video produced by Corvan's previous robo cam. It had been grainy compared to the high resolution eye cam that had been surgically implanted into his skull.
There were numerous computers and computer-driven devices at her command, but the Grass Valley Ultima sat at the very top of the electronic hierarchy. This was a newer model than the one that Dietrich had destroyed during the Matrix Man fiasco, but she liked it less. "Val," as her previous computer had been known, had been a personality, a co-worker, and a friend.
This computer, unnamed as yet, was too new to have an identity of its own. Still ... it was cooperative enough, and when Kim asked for a video analysis, the displays appeared a fraction of a second later.
The displays were rectangular in shape and consisted of a light green grid, with a series of darker green lines zig-zagging across their surfaces. A single thought was sufficient to superimpose the two displays. They were almost identical. The audience would be unable to see a difference in quality as she cut back and forth between them.
She gave her husband a once-over, searching for the messy hair, unzipped pocket, or other flaw that might detract from his appearance.
Corvan was a big man, with brown hair, and a camera where his right eye should be. A camera that was wired directly to his brain and controlled by thought.
Kim knew that superconducting wires acted as transducers between the chemical and electronic actions of Corvan's brain, sending signals to the tiny bio-chip video recorder implanted at the base of his skull, where they were stored or transmitted live to her receiver.
His left eye was blue and, more than that, filled with intelligence. The kind of intelligence that likes to look under rocks, find the wriggly things that live there, and drag them kicking and screaming into the light. A characteristic that made her proud at times and angry at others. Kim felt there were enough problems in the world without uncovering more. Besides, there were other reporters out there. They could and should do their share.
A metal guard rested on Corvan's left shoulder. It mounted a six-inch antenna, a flat place for the robo cam to land, and battery packs front and back to hold the guard in place and balance each other out.
He wore a blue ship-suit with his name imprinted over the right-hand breast pocket, a utility belt, and a pair of the black high
-top sneakers issued for shipboard use. He looked handsome in a rakish sort of way, and she liked that.
Kim smiled, thankful that her thoughts had been directed inwards and were inaccessible to her husband. His ego was sufficiently large already.
"Is everything okay?"
Corvan's question brought her back to the situation at hand. The displays vanished as the wide shot zoomed forward to fill her inner vision. "That's a roger. Stand by while I check the bird."
Thoughts flickered, electrons responded, and the Ultima delivered its response. "Comsat NN 2068 is in geosynchronous orbit over the United States. We have full redundancy via Comsat NN 2067. Both satellites report all systems green.''
Kim didn't bother with the networks. Each and every one of them were taking the feed and waiting for the President to appear. All of them had requested permission to send their own man cams and all had been refused.
Neither Fornos nor Jopp wanted a bunch of reporter-operators running all over the place interviewing sick colonists. The funding for subsequent missions would depend on the success of this one, and the brass wanted everything to look perfect. Never mind the air leaks, the hydroponics problems, or the mysterious booming noise that no one could figure out. Those were minor problems that would be handled soon. Or so they said. No, the mission must be flawless, or at least seem that way.
And that's where Corvan came in. Due to the fact that Corvan had broken what came to be known as the Computer Coup story, and survived the resulting investigations, his credibility was legendary. If he said something viewers believed it, and the networks had no choice but to go along.
It was of course why Jopp and Fornos had hired him, why Kim was on a space ship bound for Mars, and why the two of them had this story entirely to themselves.
Kim sighed. It was too good to last. The suits thought her husband was bought and paid for. She knew better.
A female voice filled, C-deck, passed through Corvan's hearing, and flooded Kim's mind. It came from the ship's PA system.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. The President of the United States has entered the BCL and will join us momentarily."
The murmur of conversation died away. The resulting silence was nearly complete, interrupted only by the sounds of sick colonists and the syrupy music that filled the PA system.
Corvan, secure in the knowledge that the networks had already introduced him, began his report. He addressed himself to the robo cam knowing that Kim would go to an establishing shot first.
"Welcome to C-deck of the spaceship Outward Bound. The President of the United States will appear any moment now. I think most of you will agree that this is a truly momentous occasion.
"Other ships have gone where this ship will go. And, if those who lead this mission have their way, others will certainly follow.
"But this is the first colony ship to depart Earth for another planet, and these are the first settlers to leave with no intention of coming back."
Kim saw BCL start to iris open and said so. "Here she comes."
Corvan turned in one smooth motion, knowing that Kim would cut his eye cam, careful to maintain a medium shot. Wide enough to make out what was going on, but close enough to see the President's face.
And an attractive face it was. Attractive enough to win a beauty pageant, lock up an anchor job with one of the networks, and win a seat on the Seattle city council. The first step on a ladder that led to the mayor's office, the Senate, and the White House, the last advancement being hurried along by her predecessor's assassination. An assassination that had gone undetected until Corvan and Kim discovered the existence of the Video Matrix Generator and a plot to take over the world.
But, while physical beauty might have helped the President achieve national office, the real reason for her success lay behind the big blue eyes. The President had an I.Q. of 136, an almost magical ability to change people's minds, and an indomitable will. Though little respected prior to her predecessor's death, she had blossomed since and earned wide-ranging respect.
Fornos, Jopp, and some other shipboard notables moved forward to shake hands with the President. Words were exchanged and they moved back again.
The same voice flooded the PA system once again. "Ladies and gentleman ... the President of the United States!"
The colonists applauded, their stomachs momentarily forgotten, caught up in the importance of the moment.
The President pushed herself out of the lock, grabbed hold of the line rigged for her convenience, and did her best to stay vertical. "Vertical" being defined as the same relative position that her audience maintained. The bottom of her stomach tried to leapfrog her throat. She forced a smile.
The applause continued. Kim cut to the robo cam. Audiences all over the world saw the President and the multi-national crew all floating in zero-G. It was great stuff and would be replayed for weeks to come.
The President knew that and allowed her eyes to skim the audience. She made eye contact with a man, nodded, found a woman, nodded again, and kept on going. She knew that each one of them would feel touched, would remember the contact for the rest of their lives, would vote for her in the next election. Assuming they were American, assuming the ship made it to Mars, and assuming that they survived long enough to vote.
She waited for the applause to die down, and when it had, waited a little longer.
The silence built, focused attention on her, and added weight to the words that followed. She wore a wireless mike and it fed her words to the ship's PA system.
"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Earth, this is a momentous occasion. I come before you not as the president of a single nation, but as the representative of all your various countries, bringing with me their admiration for your courage, prayers for your success, and hopes for the future.
"Your presence here signals a new era of peace and cooperation on our planet. Although you come from many nations, and from many lands, you have but one goal: the peaceful colonization of Mars."
The President paused, felt her feet start to drift out from under her, and pulled upwards on the rope to force them down.
"I wish that our history was different. I wish that our ancestors had been wiser. I wish that our purpose was less urgent. How nice it would be if this mission was motivated by scientific curiosity rather than an urgent need for additional space and resources."
The President smiled wistfully. "But we do have a need for more space, and we do have a need for more resources. So like it or not this mission takes on added significance. The men and women of this ship are nothing less than pioneers. Blazing paths for the rest of us to follow . . . opening a frontier for us to settle . . . building a home for us among the stars."
It was good stuff, written by Charlie Skuba the day before and memorized by the President in transit. The applause was close to deafening.
The President had another paragraph or two, more material in much the same vein, but decided to drop it. "Know when to quit." That's what an old mentor had told her and it was good advice.
The President signaled a Secret Service agent with a glance, waved to the crowd, and used the rope to push herself off. She was slightly off target, but a surreptitious nudge from Skuba put her back on track, and the lock opened before her. Fornos, Jopp, and the other dignitaries closed in behind and she was lost to sight.
Corvan held the shot on his eye cam until the BCL had closed behind them, turned toward the still hovering robo cam, and knew Kim would cut wide.
"So there you have it. The President is making her way back to the main lock, where she will board Air Force One and return to Washington. In the meantime the men and women of Outward Bound have a lot of work to do. There is last minute cargo to stow, systems to check, and a multitude of problems to solve. Small things mostly, but necessary nonetheless, and made all the more so by the fact that departure is only hours away."
Kim used the robo cam's 20:1 zoom lens to go in tight. Her husband smiled. "As the Outward Bound's
Information Officer, it will be my responsibility to bring you regular reports on the mission's progress, up to and including completion of a domed city called 'Mars Prime.' Eight hundred men and women are already there, starting construction and preparing the way for the rest of us."
Kim readied the pre-produced three-dimensional graphic and gave certain directions. A map of the solar system appeared on billions of television sets. Earth and Mars were shown orbiting around the sun while slowly approaching each other. A delta labeled Outward Bound appeared near Earth and made its way outward. Corvan supplied the voice-over.
"As many of you know, Mars has a diameter roughly half that of Earth's, about forty-two hundred miles, and has an orbital period of six hundred and eighty-six days. The distance between Earth and Mars varies anywhere from forty-nine million to two hundred and thirty-five million miles depending on the time of year. That's why it's so important for Outward Bound to break orbit during the next few hours. By leaving now, the ship can take advantage of the shortened distance between the two planets, and trim months off the length of the journey."
Kim dissolved from the animation to a shot of Corvan. The reop looked her in the eye. "Mars is still a long ways off, though—so far away that it will take up to fifteen minutes for each one of my reports to reach you."
Corvan glanced around, saw the colonists being herded toward the locks, and started his close. "But regardless of how long it takes our reports to make the journey, we will look forward to sending them your way, and hearing back from you. This is Rex Corvan, Information Officer for the vessel Outward Bound, reporting live from Earth orbit.'' Corvan killed the outgoing signal and breathed a sigh of relief. Things had gone very smoothly. He sent a thought toward Kim. "That's a wrap. Coffee's on me. See you in the mess hall."
There was a pause, as if Kim's thoughts were somewhere else, followed by a grim message. "Sorry, Rex. Security has a murder on their hands. They want to see you right away."
Chapter Three
The medical section was completely sealed off by the time Corvan got there. Security types came and went. Some held hurried conversations, some carried boxes of equipment, and all looked grim. A woman with the look of a weight lifter drifted out to block his way. She wore a ship-suit, a combat harness, and a needle gun. If she recognized Corvan she gave no sign of it.
Mars Prime Page 2
