Martian Knightlife

by James P. Hogan

  Kieran nodded. The region lay about nine hundred miles to the west of Lowell City, a little north of the equator. "What are you up to out there?" he asked curiously.

  "Are you much into Martian geology?"

  "Some."

  "Basically, we're part of a revisionist school that's challenging the orthodox thinking about Mars and its history. It all got bogged down in the same dogma that held everything up on Earth for a couple of centuries: the conviction of slow, uniform change—that everything can be explained by the same processes we see going on today, at the same rates, if you extrapolate them back far enough."

  "So I take it that you and others in the business don't think so," Kieran said.

  Trevany shook his head. "Everywhere you look, the evidence is staring you in the face that the whole planet was torn up by violent upheaval in the recent past—tens of thousands of years, thousands maybe; not billions. It used to have oceans and a denser atmosphere. What happened to them? Even by the orthodox establishment's own figures for meteorite infall, wind erosion, and dust transport, the water channels and most of the craters should have been erased long ago. They're new, not even begun to be worn down in a lot of places. Even the place we're in right now is part of a floodplain. And look at the systems of crustal cracks and fissures. Something jolted the whole planet, maybe wrenched it into a different orbit."

  "Do you think that could be connected with the catastrophe that some scientists say hit Earth around twelve thousand years back . . . whatever it was?" Kieran asked.

  Trevany looked surprised, as if he hadn't expected such a question. "Nothing's proved yet. But what do I think?" He bunched his mouth and nodded. "If I had to bet, I'd say they were both part of the same thing."

  "So, what about the advanced culture that existed before then?" Kieran asked.

  "The Technolithic."

  "Yes. Where do you think it originated?" Besides the form that the cataclysm had taken and exactly when it had happened, that was another aspect that different schools of opinion clashed and debated over. Some accepted this early culture as having been native to Earth; others, less inhibited and more iconoclastic, believed that it had come from elsewhere.

  "I'd say the jury is still out on that one," Trevany said. "But you never know. Things that turn up in places like this, for instance, could throw more light on it." Kieran got the feeling that the geologist could have said more. Suddenly, he was curious to know what the expedition to the Tharsis region was hoping to achieve and what was going on at the base camp that Trevany had mentioned. But Trevany halted things there with a shrug. "Anyway, that's not what you came here to talk about. Do you want to come inside, out of the noise? Maybe you could use a cup of coffee or something?"

  "Sounds good."

  They began walking toward the row of offices. "So what kind of a problem has Leo been having?" Trevany asked. "Sarda, you said his name was over the phone, right?"

  "That's right. How much did he tell you about what he does?"

  "Not a lot. It sounded like some kind of biological research."

  They came into the office. There was an empty desk, a table strewn with folders, drawings, and papers. Maps and charts filled the walls between shelves full of oddments and boxes. A girl working at a screen shifted her eyes to nod at them perfunctorily. Trevany led Kieran across to a side table with a coffee maker, fixings, and some snack offerings.

  "He's with a sunsider outfit," Kieran said as Trevany poured two cups. "They're into a line of neurological work—figuring out how memory, behavior, and things like that are coded. It involves probing around in the brain with fields and imagers, seeing what you can extract and change." Not quite accurate, but it sounded like the kind of thing a doctor would be into. Trevany nodded in the way of someone who had heard about such things but couldn't contribute much, and offered one of the cups. Kieran took it, declining cream or sweetener. "It seems that some of Sarda's memories have been affected. We're trying to map the damage and see what can be done to fix it."

  "What a strange situation to be in," Trevany commented.

  "It's a strange kind of work," Kieran said.

  "Very well. So how can I help?"

  "By answering a few questions, if you can. They may sound odd, but we have our reasons for asking them."

  "Okay."

  Kieran paused, indicating with a movement of his eyes the girl working at the screen. Trevany nodded that he understood and led the way into a smaller, empty office at the end, closing the door.

  "You said you met Sarda there before?" Kieran resumed.

  "Yes, in the bar at the Oasis, right outside the restaurant. I'd seen them at breakfast too, although we hadn't spoken then."

  " `Them'? You mean him and this woman he was with? You said her name was Elaine."

  "Elaine, right. We were at close tables in the bar one evening. I recognized them as guests too, and started talking. You know how it is—new here; it's natural to want to get to know people."

  "Sure. How did they seem? Sociable? Friendly enough?"

  "He did—as much as you'd expect. But the woman seemed reluctant to talk. Kept drawing him away. That was why I was surprised when he acted the way he did in the restaurant."

  "Hmm." Kieran pondered on the information. "Did they say what they were doing there?" he asked finally.

  "Just that they stayed there sometimes. It's not exactly the kind of situation you quiz people about when you don't know them."

  Kieran paused for a moment, then said in the tone of someone finally deciding to share a confidence, "We're trying to find this Elaine. Sarda has blanked out completely, and we think she can provide us with important information. Can you describe her as best you can remember?"

  Trevany thought hard but couldn't add much to what he had said previously. "She was tall and slim-looking, black hair, curly—up high, off her neck, not long. Kind of a pointy-nosed face."

  "What was she wearing?"

  "Seemed to like black. Shiny pants, tight. A black top with it. It could have been a shirt, coat, or sweater. I can't really remember."

  "Anything else?"

  "Nope. I don't think so. That's about it. Sorry . . . I don't think I can have been a lot of help."

  "I appreciate it anyhow. . . ." Kieran paused to think back over what had been said. "Actually, you have helped—quite a lot. What date was it when you talked to them in the bar? Can you remember?"

  Trevany frowned. "Can't recall the exact day. But it was during the second week I was there. So it would have been between the thirteenth and seventeenth . . . somewhere in there."

  Kieran produced a calling card and handed it across. It bore just his name with the initials KT emboldened, a General Net personal code, and a cartoonlike figure bearing a sword and shield. "Would you let me know if you think of anything else?"

  "Sure." Trevany studied the card curiously. "What kind of a doctor is this?"

  "It's an old symbolic representation of the hospitaler Knights of St. John. The tradition goes all the way back to the crusades. Very prestigious."

  "Oh yes. I think I might have heard something about that."

  "Very possibly," Kieran agreed, smiling enigmatically.

  * * *

  What Trevany had said that Kieran found interesting was that Sarda and Elaine had been hotel guests. That implied they were more than just casual acquaintances. Yet that afternoon, at Kieran's urging, Sarda had gone through his records and belongings but could find no trace of any Elaine in his life: not a picture, address, phone number, memento. But then again, if his original self had been part of the conspiracy, he would have removed all such traces, Kieran supposed.

  However, hotel guests have to pay the bills. If Sarda was keeping a low profile at the time, as Kieran guessed would have been the case, then in order not to leave any paper trail that could point to him, there was a good chance that Elaine would have covered the charges. So even if evidence of her existence had been removed from Sarda's personal environment, it mig
ht still be in the hotel's records. "Worth a try," he told Guinness as they drove back through darkening shadows down the twisting canyon road into Lowell. "If you don't buy a ticket, you don't get a prize. Isn't that right, now?" Guinness blinked, yawned, and returned his attention to watching the landscape outside.

  Once inside the pressured zone, Kieran followed the highway along Gorky and turned off at the Cherbourg tunnel exit leading beneath the plateau to the underground levels of the spaceport, its service facilities, and the Oasis hotel.

  12

  Kieran and Guinness arrived at the Oasis bar to find business warming up for the evening. Patti, whom he and June had met at the pool in Nineveh three days before, was on duty as he had hoped, and recognized him as he slid onto an empty bar seat. She had auburn hair tied in a ponytail and was wearing a white top with shorts. "You did! You remembered!" she exclaimed, looking down over the bar. "Hi, Guinness! Did you come all this way to see me?" Guinness thumped his tail on the table behind, read the tone, and returned a look that asked how she could ever have thought otherwise.

  "You're lucky," Kieran said. "He was practically adopted by a gang of kids over in Nineveh."

  "We don't have any stout—see, I remembered. What else can I get for you?"

  "Let's see. What haven't I tried before?" Kieran scanned his eye along the shelves and settled for a glass of a local brew called Olympus.

  "So is that where you live, Nineveh?" Patti asked as she poured. "It's a nice area. I had a boyfriend out that way not long ago."

  "I'm staying there. Visiting," Kieran said.

  "With that person you were with—June?"

  "Uh-huh. Her cat and Guinness are in the process of disputing territorial claims."

  "I liked her." Patti frowned and tried to remember, but had to give up. "Sorry. You're . . . ? I know it started with a K."

  " `Kieran' to most people who like me. All kinds of things to the rest. Some of the names, you've never heard of. Shouldn't want to, either."

  "Kieran, that's right." Patti set the glass down on a coaster. Kieran tried a taste and nodded. "So what brings you to Mars?" she asked. "What do you do?"

  "Oh . . . a bit of whatever needs doing. Right wrongs; slay dragons; rescue damsels; vanquish villains . . ."

  "And check out bars," Patti completed. Kieran waved a hand to say "whatever." "I'm a cat person too," Patti said. "What kind of a cat does June have?"

  "All black, kind of in between long-hair and short. Mean and ornery most of the time. I prefer them that way. A real cat—not rubbing up all over you all the time."

  "A he or a she?"

  "A she. Her name's Teddy."

  "Teddy?"

  "Well, it's actually Nefertiti. But June says she could hardly go around calling her Titty, could she?"

  Patti stifled a laugh and looked away, shaking her head. Two more customers had come in and were waiting a short distance away. "I'll be back in a moment." She straightened up and moved along the bar to serve them.

  Kieran took a handful of peanuts from a glass and flipped one to Guinness. "So I think we'll use you for the bait, will we?" he said as the dog gulped it out of existence and waited for another. "Yes, it's about time you did something to earn your keep again. We will, so. Look your best—pitiful and appealing, now."

  Patti came back and watched as Guinness caught another couple of peanuts. "Would you like to take him off my hands for a few hours from time to time—out somewhere for walks or something?" Kieran asked nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the dog.

  "Are you serious?"

  "Oh, sure, why not? I'm here on business, so he has plenty of spare time. I get the feeling you'd enjoy it."

  "Could I really? That would be terrific!" Patti looked down over the bar, still seeming unsure if it was a joke. Guinness looked back and blinked, doing his best to look pitiful and appealing.

  Kieran let his voice fall. "If I said okay, then is there a chance you could do me a little favor that I'm in need of?" he said.

  A flash of suspicion crossed Patti's face, then cleared as she realized it wasn't a proposition. "What kind of favor?" she asked.

  "At the pool the other day, you said you were a trainee here—rotating around to get some experience at all the jobs."

  "That's right. What about it?"

  "Have you done the front desk yet? Taken care of the accounts and so on?"

  "Sure. That was the last thing I worked before the bar. Why?"

  Kieran straightened back onto the bar seat to lean closer. "There was a couple staying here about a week ago—between the thirteenth and seventeenth. I only have the woman's first name. I need to locate her. She might have paid their bill. If so, it'll be in the accounting records."

  Patti looked uneasy now. "What are you asking me to do?"

  "Check the payment slips between those dates and see if any of them match her first name. Let me have the details of any that do."

  "But that's confidential. You could get me fired."

  "Then I'll make sure you're better off than you would have been if you weren't fired."

  "What are you? Some kind of investigator?"

  "You could say that." Kieran's tone was serious now. "Look, this guy is a friend of mine. The woman has embezzled quite a sum of money from him. If we recover it, I'll make sure that your part is generously appreciated." He waited, read the uncertainty still lingering on Patti's face, and added, "And he's a good friend of Guinness's too. If the thought of a healthy lining in your bank account doesn't grab you enough, then do it for him. Look at those eyes. How could you refuse a face like that?"

  Patti wrestled inwardly for a few seconds more, then gave up with a sigh. She looked around instinctively to make sure no one was within hearing. "I'm not promising."

  "I never asked you to. Just see what you can do."

  "What's the name?"

  Kieran took one of his cards and wrote Elaine on the back, and the dates in question. For good measure, and just in case he was mistaken in his guess, he added Leonard Sarda too. "Either of them," he said. "Call the number on the other side if you come up with anything."

  Patti took the card, glanced at it quickly, and put it away in a pocket of her shorts. Guinness looked up at her and thumped his tail trustingly in a way that told her he knew she'd do what she could.

  * * *

  When Kieran checked with Sarda later, the problem had been getting worse. Charges that he knew nothing about had been mounting on various of Sarda's accounts. On trying to use one of his cards, he had been told he'd instructed its cancellation and replacement that morning. The bank was beginning to doubt his stability. He couldn't make an issue of it for fear of stories getting out that might adversely affect confidence in the project.

  13

  June looked at Kieran reproachfully over the dinner dishes on the table in the apartment. "You used Guinness? What a deplorable debaser of young innocents you turn out to be. You'll be pimping next."

  "Shameless," Kieran agreed shamelessly. "Although I think the demand on Mars must be pretty near saturated already. Ah well, not to worry. Now I can always be a geologist." He had summarized his conversation with Trevany and the work that his team was engaged in.

  "What do you think of all these different accounts we get of what happened to Earth twelve thousand years ago—and now Mars, by the sound of it?" June asked him. "I've heard, let's see . . . the giant-comet-that-became-Venus theory; the some-other-comet-but-not-Venus theory; wobbling crust; unbalanced ice caps; war between alien visitors; ancient civilization that screwed up in a big way . . . And I'm sure there are more. Which one do you subscribe to? Any?"

  "They're like religions: I love 'em all." Kieran emptied the last of the wine into their glasses. "Diversity is a sign of health and vigor. It's appropriate to the way things are happening out here. Obsession with conformity in everything, and trying to impose it—that was what stifled Earth."

  They collected their glasses and took them over to sprawl facing each other f
rom opposite ends of the couch, legs intertwined comfortably. "So how's Mahom these days?" June inquired.

  "Still in one piece, strangely enough. He's got a whole arsenal out back there. It wouldn't surprise me if he's made customers out of those heavies who tried to put the squeeze on him a while back."

  June took a drink. "So what do you think of the Kodiak?"

  "Impressed. I'll be interested to see this new range from Luna that he talked about. . . . The only thing, though, it looked blue. But when you get out in the sun it's more of a hideous French-hooker-panties color—kind of a dark purple."

  "And how would you know what color panties French hookers wear?" June asked.

  "Purely by repute. Didn't you know? In any case, I'm extraordinarily well and widely read."

  "I heard somewhere that there isn't a word in English that rhymes with purple," June said distantly.

  "Nonsense. A modicum of ingenuity and erudition produces rhymes with anything," Kieran assured her.

  "Go on, then. Give me one," June challenged.

  Kieran lifted his glass to hold it poised between fingertips, contemplated it with a faraway expression for some seconds, then looked up and offered:

  "When you're choking, turning purple

  A hearty slap and one good burp'll

  Usually fix it."

  "Kieran, you're impossible," June sighed. "Okay, they say the same thing about `silver' too. I bet—" A tone from Kieran's comset interrupted.

  "Always, just when you've gotten comfortable." He got up from the couch and crossed to the breakfast bar, where he had put the unit. "Hello?"

  "Hello? Is this Kieran Thane?"

  "Hi, Patti," he answered, recognizing the voice. "That was quick. Don't tell me you've got something already?"

  "I was right here, so I figured maybe there was something in the bar tabs. And there was."

  "You'll make a professional for sure. And?"

  "There was nothing on the guy. But I got two for the woman's name that you gave me. The card details were all I could get from here. I copied them into my phone. Can I download them?"