“We have worked the plan carefully,” she replied instantly. “It is imminently possible.”
“What would a personal meeting solve that a virtual meeting cannot, Ms. Dimitriov?”
“It is Colonel, Dr. Traynor. And I can assure you that since the dawn of civilization, a personal meeting of national ambassadors has been essential.”
Peter paused. “I’ll have to consult my professional staff before I can commit to this,” he said guardedly. “I do not take risks like this lightly.”
“There is little risk,” Dimitriov pressed. “We plan to meet your emissary on the southern plains of Amazonis at a predetermined coordinate. You will be able to leave your vehicle and return to Shturmovoi in ours. We will return your ambassador to your vehicle after the discussions with enough fuel for the return trip back to your base. You see, it is easy. It is safe. It is, in fact, essential that we meet face to face.”
Peter did not reply as he thought about the plan, a growing uneasiness building inside of him.
“We have no time for delay,” she snapped, as if to her own subordinates, breaking the silence.
Peter instantly caught her tone and his anger flared. But he checked his voice just as he spoke and did not betray his feelings. The he said, “I understand, Colonel. That is why you must send an emissary to BC1. If your vehicles are more capable, it just makes mores sense,” Peter responded, thinking on the fly.
Silence followed his question. The thin sound of interplanetary static cut through the air as they waited.
Finally Dimitriov’s voice returned. “Dr. Traynor, please understand the safety of this journey is best assured by your emissary making the trip to meet our vehicle. Safety is paramount for your personnel and ours. If you will evaluate the life support and loading you will see that two persons cannot possibly return to BC1 in your smaller vehicle from anywhere near the halfway point. Therefore, only the trip to Shturmovoi is possible under the circumstances. We have already evaluated that contingency. Indeed it was our first option to come and meet you at your base.”
“I’ll get back to you tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM. Good evening, Colonel,” he replied as Gorteau pulled the switch and cut the transmission.
“Excellent, Peter, excellent!” Gorteau said.
“I’ve dealt with used car salesmen before,” he replied. “Now I need time to think.”
he deliberations over whether BC1 would send someone were fierce and filled with strong emotions. In the end, it was decided in a very close debate. Francis argued furiously that no one should be sent as it was obviously a trap. He reasoned that since they were setting up for war, any damage inflicted to BC1 or Shturmovoi would doom that colony and probably the other as well. Ashley argued that unless someone was sent, every human on Mars would surely perish. The argument was so close, in fact, it was agreed on the weight of Gorteau’s logic that to avoid dangerous colony schisms, the decision would be left up to Peter as the final authority and one who was ultimately responsible for the welfare of the colony.
Peter weighed the arguments carefully one against another. Then he decided. Someone would have to go. Even if they were lost during the mission, the risk of survival was too great and the possibility of war was ultimately weighed on too many hunches. In the final analysis, the known factors would have to outweigh the unknowns. They knew they were probably all going to die without help, however, and they only suspected a trap. The reality of mass death won over the illusive fear of conflict and war and the risk to a single individual.
Peter announced that the emissary would be selected the next sol and preparations for the journey began immediately.
t was Leonid Kravchenko who personally pulled Kirov from the vent, and he did so with such violence that the edge of the metal vent sliced deeply into Kirov’s arm. As Kravchenko roughly tossed Kirov across the conference table, his wounded arm smeared blood over the desktop. Kirov was in near shock from fear at being discovered, but upon being slammed down onto his back across the tabletop, he felt the pain in his arm for the first time. As soon as his fingers touched the warm, sticky blood he knew that the crimson swath on the tabletop came from him. As he attempted to sit up, Kravehenok struck him with the back of his balled fist across his face and Kirov fell back again.
“Enough,” Colonel Dimitrov barked to Kravehenok, as if to a dog. Then with slow deliberation, she approached Kirov.
His fingers still grasped the deep wound, instinctively, to stop the bleeding, even though he was about to loose consciousness. He fought the darkness and struggled to focus on the dreadful face of Dimitrov staring down at him. He witnessed her visage, her thin lips and derisive expression.
“Just as I suspected,” she said. “I knew you were a traitor all along, you and your staff. My worst concerns are justified. Now, all of you must pay the most severe penalty for your actions, in a most deliberate way…”
These were the last words Kirov heard before the merciful blackness shielded his mind and consumed his fear altogether.
fter an immeasurable passage of time, Kirov’s first thought was that he had died and slipped into a silent, dark and frozen hell. There was not a cell in his body that did not ache. The cold was so deep and overwhelming, he was beyond even shivering. He was afraid to open his eyes for fear that he would see the snarling face of Kravchenko peering down over his broken and bleeding form, ready again to crush his face and body with repeated blows. But there was complete silence here in this cold, and quiet anguish covered him like a smothering blanket.
He tried to open a swollen eye. Only blackness. He attempted to open the other. Utter darkness. Then he forcefully tried to open both eyes into the ocean of empty night. His frostbitten fingers reached up to his face and he felt a sheen of semi-dried blood caked over swollen eyes and matted in his hair.
In horror he suspected the brutal Kravchenko had blinded him. Reflexively he sat up in an onrushing wave of panic and vertigo. As he did, his head struck a barrier just above him and he fell back, consumed by even more pain. With both arms he painfully reached his hands to his right and left and his pulsing fingers were met with a cold metal barrier.
They had buried him alive in a metal box, he concluded. They had buried him alive! He was overcome by a wave of terror and crushing claustrophobia whose net effect was whole, systemic shock. Just as he marshaled enough strength to scream, Kirov’s barely functioning mind was sucked back into a vortex of absolute unconsciousness, surrounded by the hideous laugh of Kravchenko from the darkness just outside his box.
29
eter and Francis met alone in a tiny laboratory adjacent to the MAT hangar. They literally stuffed themselves between equipment and carts as Francis closed the door.
“So who is it you have in mind for the trip?” Peter asked, with some unreserved skepticism, reacting to Francis’ urgent request for a meeting. After all, he had led the furious debate against the plan to begin with.
“There is only one resume’ in this colony that fits the bill for this assignment,” Francis replied confidently.
Peter allowed the moment of dramatic silence to close without interrupting. He just blinked to show his impatience.
“Suzanne Nikifortune,” Francis said flatly.
“Forget it!” Peter replied abruptly, his voice hardened with obvious skepticism, his eyes shifting to those outside the MAT hangar who were wondering about the purpose of this private meeting and information lockout.
“She’s the only colonist who speaks fluent Russian. Her family is Slavic; it’s her second language if not her first,” Francis persisted.
“How do you know this?”
“I ran a detailed profile of every colonist last night,” Francis confessed.
“Why?”
Francis eyed him back. His eyes shifted to those looking in from outside, then back to Peter. “I was trying to understand the Covenant problem and whether there may be a link,” he said.
“And who are your suspects?” Peter asked with cont
empt in an uncharacteristically hard voice.
“Everyone, anyone….” Francis replied, not shifting his eyes away from Peter, matching his tone.
“Why Suzanne?” Peter continued. “We both know Gorteau has a working knowledge of the language. And if she’s so genetically connected, then why does the problem not extend deeper? Why isn’t she a prime suspect?”
“At least three good reasons… First: Suzanne has a deep knowledge of the language and will hear things anyone but an accomplished linguist would never hear. Two: they won’t know this and may let information slip as they talk between one another. And three: frankly, we can afford to lose an Administrative Assistant, however capable, but NOT our best physicist!”
Peter’s eyes flashed into an instant, unhidden anger.
“Wait,” Francis said. “Before you speak, think about it. We – all of us – are in a contest for our lives. We can’t afford to make a mistake about even the smallest of issues, this one included. If you’re willing to give up your own life for the others, then as our leader, you must make judgments for the good of all, even if those judgments are sacrificial. Besides, once you decided someone had to go, you offered up a possible sacrifice for us all. And since no one person is more or less important than the other, ANY name I would suggest should be of equal value to the rest.”
“Everyone has value,” Peter said sharply, uncertain of his next response.
“Yes. Everyone has infinite value,” Francis agreed. “But not everyone carries around the same bag of tools. Peter, this isn’t about what Suzanne doesn’t have, but what she does have; and that would be counted as a great deal more than Gorteau’s insufficient abilities on this point. We need Suzanne’s keen ear and keen eyes there. Likewise, we need Gorteau’s brains working overtime right here at BC1.”
Peter squinted his eyes and turned away from Francis to think. He knew that Francis was right about it all. There was no flaw to his reasoning. “I guess you’re right,” he replied, feeling the awesome, crushing weight of leadership.
But he would have to face her lover alone. Peter was never concerned about Suzanne’s reaction to the plan, but Kerry would be a different matter. Strategically, in order to hold the whole fragile mess together, he would have to be told first.
inutes later, Peter invited Kerry into his office and closed the door while Francis waited outside. He explained the plan as forthrightly and as quickly as he could to prevent Kerry from interrupting. Kerry allowed a full two seconds of dead time to elapse after Peter had finished, his eyes boring into Peter’s. Neither of the men backed down. Finally Kerry spoke in that steady, strong voice each man knows from all others.
This was going to be the hill to die on.
“Over my dead body, Traynor! Now you come up with another idea, then we’ll see. But NOT this one! You’re totally insane if you think for one minute I’m going to stand by while you send her alone over two thousand kilometers across uncharted deserts no human has ever crossed before in a vehicle that’s not even designed for the trip. If ANYTHING at all happens to that vehicle, she’s DEAD! No! Forget it! You’ve completely lost your mind.”
Peter allowed another two seconds to pass, then replied into Kerry’s unblinking stare.
“I know the risks, Bob. But I also know the effort will…”
“Effort? You think of this as an “effort”? No, it’s not an effort, or an experiment, or a research study – it’s suicide. I’ll go; send me! But not her!”
Peter looked away with compassion as Kerry’s face reddened.
“Bob. You’re not qualified for this…” Peter began.
“The hell I’m not!” he more spat than responded.
“Do NOT interrupt me again, Bob,” Peter ordered, looking back in anger. “Unless you’re prepared to take my position by force, this is the way it’s going to be. Now I appreciate your love for her and what that means here, but unless we’re especially creative and take big risks, we’re all going to die on this desert. If this were the Donner party on the slopes of the Sierras, that would be one thing. There would come a time when another group of humans would come along and discover the bodies of the unfortunate explorers. But as far as anyone knows, we’re the only surviving humans remaining anywhere. That places our acceptable risk-taking at somewhere near the top of the charts.
“Now, I’m ordering you to back off. Don’t try to talk her out of this. Don’t get in the way. Don’t make trouble in the colony. Get a grip on your anger by directing it toward survival scenarios. If you make trouble for us on this venture, I swear I’ll toss your arrogant pilot’s butt out the airlock in your skivvies.”
Kerry responded with force. “I’ll just bet we wouldn’t be considering this option if it were Ashley we were talking about,” he said, scoring a definitive blow.
Peter turned his back on him and looked at the wall. It was more of an act to keep Kerry from seeing the real pain in his eyes than an unspoken power-play.
“Screw you…” Kerry said, walking out and slamming the door behind him.
A moment later a voice spoke behind Peter. “I guess that could’ve gone better,” Francis said softly.
“Leave me alone for a minute, please” Peter responded, touching his forehead against the wall in silence and closing his eyes.
Bob Kerry disappeared somewhere in the colony. Three hours after the confrontation with him, Peter and Francis called Suzanne to the conference room and explained the issue as clearly as they could, ultimately giving her the option to make the trip or not. She instantly agreed in an extraordinarily even manner, which surprised Peter.
“Don’t you even want to think this over?” Peter asked. “Why don’t you sleep on it and we can discuss it first thing tomorrow.”
“No need. I’ve already have given it a lot of thought.”
“How?” Francis asked.
“Bob and I discussed it at length. He wasn’t too keen on it, but I wouldn’t be either if it were him going. Yet, we also agreed that I could decide. And we also agreed that it was quite important to all of us. So I’ll do it.”
Peter nodded slowly, feeling a surge of emotions he found hard to place. In the end, if they survived at all, the real heroes were to be Suzanne, Bob and the rest of the colony who viewed personal sacrifice for one another as a routine event. It was a stunning, overwhelming and powerful force.
ate that night, somewhere in the deeper, less traveled steel paths of the colony, far back in the silver-lined, dark corridors, Bob Kerry and Suzanne Nikifortune met all alone. They closed themselves into a storage closet simply titled, “AKA 432”. By the light of a single luminescent strip, they stood and faced one another in the quiet, near darkness.
After long minutes of silence, as their cold breath curled around them in the unnatural light of the green strip, Suzanne spoke first, looking down and away from the man who she knew loved her more than his own life.
“Bob, I’m sorry,” she spoke softly. “I hope you’ll forgive me for this.”
“No need… I know you feel you have to go and do this. I just don’t want to lose you. Ever,” he said truthfully. “That’s all. I just still can’t believe it’s you who has to do this. Why not me? Why not one of the others?”
She looked into his eyes, framed by his golden hair, and brows knit together in worry. With a confident smile, she pushed his boyish locks out of his eyes with her gloved fingers. She then began to speak in fluent, unaccented, flawless Russian.
“What did you just say?” he asked, both surprised and amazed.
“You’ll never lose me, ever. You can’t! Because I love you more deeply than I ever thought possible. You’re a part of my very soul,” she replied.
“Then marry me! Now!” he said bluntly in a deep, commanding whisper… compellingly. “Be my wife – tonight – now!”
Her dark eyes betrayed the instant shock of the moment. “What?” she asked with surprise and incredulity.
“You are supposed to say, ‘Why, of course I wi
ll!’” he replied, now smiling. “My darling Suzanne, when you ride over that red horizon, I want you to take part of me with you. No matter what happens, I want that more than anything else,” he replied, his lower lip trembling and betraying a wave of emotion.
She smiled and looked at his lips, full and soft, then she said softly, “Of course I’ll marry you…”
Kerry held her tightly as if he would never let go. Then he kissed her; passionately – then softly – then deeply - then softly again. As he pulled away from her, he smiled his best catbird grin.
“Let me guess,” she responded, knowing her husband-to-be all too well. “I get proposed to in a broom closet and you have a plan bigger than interplanetary space...”
“You’re astonishing,” he replied, hammering on the door with three sharp knocks.
When he did, the latch turned from the outside, and there stood Chaplain Gates, Peter and Ashley, all smiling. Gates was holding his Bible between his hands and Ashley was holding three artificial roses she had made. Peter looked at Kerry’s smiling face and said, “Well then, I guess we have a wedding!”
With one glance at the roses, Suzanne burst into tears and began to hug a weeping Ashley while the men stood by completely mystified.
The wedding took place an hour later - after midnight, in the dining hall. It was announced only by word of mouth, but not a single colonist failed to attend, save the still missing Covenant and the Command Center watch, who viewed it remotely.
Peter was asked by Bob to be his best man and Ashley gave Kerry her mother’s ring as a wedding present to give to his bride. It was a simple affair, with the bride and groom repeating the traditional vows. But by the time the ceremony was over, there was not a single dry eye in the entire colony. The ensuing party began just as the bride and groom retired.
Yet, the workday commenced at 8:00 AM that morning without a pause. Peter ordered that, party or not, every life was on the line and there would be no excuses from anyone. And so, as the sun rose over the red skyline, no one was late for duty, least of all Suzanne and Kerry. They ate their breakfast alone and silent, holding hands, staring at one another with red eyes in silent pride, love and the look reserved just for newlyweds on their first morning together.
Mars Wars - Abyss of Elysium Page 34
