“That isn’t what’s bothering you,” Benz said, as he examined her.
Vela searched his eyes. She was going to have to play this closer to the vest, but she was going to have to be more honest, too. Benz was too cunning to do it any other way.
“You’re right,” Vela admitted. “The secret police—” She shook her head. “You of all people should realize how much secret police frighten me.”
Benz had gone into the secret police headquarters on Earth and rescued her from their tender tentacles. The things they would have done to her—Vela shuddered whenever she thought about it too much.
Benz searched her eyes.
“I suppose I can understand,” he conceded roughly. “Yes. That makes more sense than this speech nonsense. You want to stay behind?”
Vela nodded.
“You’d better hurry off then,” Benz said. “We’re leaving in another minute.”
“Let me know as soon as you’re successful,” Vela said as she stood. “I’ll add that to the speech—”
“Why wouldn’t I be successful?” Benz asked.
Vela shook her head.
“You don’t think I’m capable of this?” he asked.
“Frank—”
“No,” he said, waving a hand and then rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Now she really knew that something was wrong with him. Frank Benz never apologized about this sort of thing. She had to get to work right away. If she could figure out a counter measure for what was bothering him—
Vela reached down and touched a forearm.
“Good luck, darling,” she said.
Benz grunted.
Vela hurried off the shuttle. Once she was in the hangar bay, she began to sprint for a corridor flitter. She had to get to a laboratory as fast as she could. She thought she finally understood the reason for this difference in him.
-9-
Benz rubbed his forehead as the shuttle exited the hangar bay.
What had really been wrong with Vela? She’d seemed fine one minute and then suddenly she’d become worried.
No. That wasn’t exactly right.
Benz massaged his forehead. His mind felt foggy and he didn’t know why. His thinking seemed slightly off. Certainly, his emotions were getting the better of him lately. He still couldn’t understand why he’d gotten so angry with Hawkins. That wasn’t like him.
Benz sighed, sat back and then sat up, pulling out a hand monitor. He clicked it on so he could watch the convoy’s progress.
The Red Planet spread out below them, while the Gilgamesh was already behind them higher in orbit.
The convoy headed down toward a light reddish region. It was the customary color of Mars. The reddish color came from ferric oxide—rusted iron! The rust indicated minute particles of water mixed in the sandy soil.
Benz noticed a large dust storm to the west of where they were heading. Some of the Martian dust storms could become global and dangerous. For his purposes, this one wasn’t going to be a problem.
He couldn’t miss the huge canyon, Valles Marineris. The chasm was an amazing 5000 kilometers long, the length of the old United States. In some areas, the chasm was 500 kilometers wide. The convoy would go down into the canyon to the capital city of Athena on the bottom. More precisely, they were headed for the secret police headquarters in Athena Dome, for the Alamo.
Once he got there, would Franco continue to insist on holding the alien? One hundred and fifty armored space marines piled in Franco’s outer offices might be a convincing argument.
Benz grinned while thinking about it.
At that point, Franco would be more concerned with keeping his life than holding onto the alien.
Benz exhaled sharply as he continued to watch the hand monitor.
He’d stayed aboard the Gilgamesh all this time because the cybership was the seat of his power. He was also safer while aboard. He certainly wasn’t as safe in a shuttle. A single missile could take him out.
But if a man never took any risks—
Benz cocked his head.
That seemed like an odd thought. He’d taken plenty of risks in his life. Why would he think a shuttle ride was dangerous? That didn’t make sense.
Benz chewed that over and finally shut off the hand monitor. He began to ready himself mentally for the coming confrontation with Franco.
***
The shuttle and dropships came down from space, heading for the Valles Marineris Canyon. The chief pilot supplied the correct codes to the Planetary Watch, and the vessels soon skimmed the Martian surface, went over the lip and down into the shadowy canyon.
Soon, Athena Dome appeared. It was a vast structure near one cliff and housed over fifteen million people.
The shuttle and dropships slowed as they approached the giant dome. Missiles and laser batteries tracked them. That was common Martian practice. If the shuttle and dropships strayed too near a dome, missiles and heavy lasers would take them out in order to protect the dome’s integrity.
Terrorists had taken down Martian domes before. This was an old precaution against possibly hijacked vessels.
Finally, the shuttle and dropships landed at a military airstrip many kilometers from Athena Dome. Benz transferred to a ground effects vehicle, as did his security detail and the 150 space marines.
The convoy took off for the distant dome.
They headed toward a military entrance, using a military route instead of the public tube system. Benz’s convoy waited ten minutes at the gate due to clearance problems. Benz might have solved the problem by showing himself and demanding immediate entrance. That would give away his presence, however, something he wanted hidden for just a little longer. Finally, the convoy entered the great dome.
Athena was in shadow. It was most of the time. Great sunlamps shined down from the ceiling. The dome was at a little past noontime. It appeared that most of the day workers had already returned to their offices from lunch.
Athena had little car or flitter traffic, but thousands of bicyclists. They headed for the large, square-shaped Alamo.
Benz rode in the back of his larger-than-average GEV, secured in place in case they had to use violent maneuvers.
His security chief looked up, touching the bud in his ear. He glanced at Benz.
“Trouble?” asked Benz.
“There’s a call from Rafael Franco,” the security honcho said.
Benz felt a slight queasiness in his gut. Did the secret police chief know he was in the city?
The Premier unbuckled, went to a desk and flipped on a comm screen. This was a commander’s GEV and thus outfitted with command and control tech.
In a second, the screen showed the intense face of Rafael Franco. The man did not look down or aside this time, but directly at Benz.
“Premier,” Franco said stiffly. “You’re in the city.”
Benz did not reply.
“You appear to be on a direct route to our security facilities. Are you going to pay us a visit, Excellency?”
“Do you have anything to hide?” Benz asked.
“On the contrary. I’m pleased you’re coming. I have a—” Franco rubbed his forehead. “I have—” He rubbed his forehead more and frowned, as if he wanted to say something but could not.
“I should be there shortly,” Benz said. “First, I want to stop off at the Grand Assembly.”
“Oh,” Franco said. “We still have a few hours until you arrive at the Alamo?”
Benz smiled good-naturedly. He was lying. The convoy was headed directly for the Alamo. He didn’t want to give Franco any extra notice if he could help it. At this point, though, Benz didn’t want to lie more than necessary either.
“Does…umm…this have anything to do with the alien?” Franco asked.
“How is she faring?” Benz countered.
Franco shrugged even as he massaged his forehead again.
Benz was beginning to believe the gesture implied
something. Franco’s intense stare also meant something, but he wasn’t sure what.
“The alien is weak,” the secret police chief was saying. “We might lose her before we can finish our interrogations. That would be…unfortunate.”
Benz frowned. Why hadn’t Franco said anything about this earlier? “I’ll want more details once I arrive.”
“Yes, Excellency,” the secret police chief said.
“I have to go,” Benz said.
It almost seemed as if Franco grinned ever so slightly. That must have been an illusion, though. What would the man have to grin about?
The screen went blank.
Benz sat at the console, thinking. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. Was the secret police chief about to outmaneuver him?
For a wild moment, Benz almost ordered the convoy to turn around and head back to the dropships. The Premier suddenly felt naked and exposed down here.
I should have stayed on the Gilgamesh.
Benz was on the verge of ordering a turn-around…when he rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache.
With a sigh, he moved back to his original seat. What could go wrong? He’d be in and out with the alien in his custody. The snatch operation should work like clockwork. He had nothing to worry about.
-10-
It turned out that Benz had plenty to worry about. He had indeed made an error in judgment concerning the secret police chief.
Twelve minutes and thirty-seven seconds after the screen went blank, the convoy ground to a halt before the Alamo.
The building was larger than the secret police headquarters on Earth. It stood higher, although just as broad, covering an entire city block. That was more impressive in Athena Dome on Mars, where city space was at a greater premium.
A strange event occurred as each GEV passed tall pylons on the street leading to the Alamo. The engine in each vehicle stopped running as it passed the twin glowing pylons. What’s more, the battery power also drained away and thus no longer allowed the occupants to open the hatches.
That shouldn’t have been a problem for the space marines. They wore Martian battlesuits. Even though the Martian suits weren’t as heavily armored as Neptunian battlesuits, each marine should have been able to easily hammer his way out of the GEV. Like the GEV engines, the battlesuits experienced an immediate power drain. That meant the marines were stuck in the battlesuits, as even the override commands no longer worked. The suits acted as individual prisons, nullifying Benz’s supposedly surprise advantage.
In moments, arbiters in black uniforms raced out of the Alamo. They hurried to the command vehicle. Other lesser individuals wheeled what looked like heavy cannons, aiming them at the command GEV.
The arbiters drew handguns, aiming at the main hatch. The tallest of them nodded.
Men switched on the cannon-looking devices. They whined eerily. One of them beamed power into the batteries. The others beamed sonic rays at the GEV.
Seconds later, the main hatch opened. Men staggered out of the command vehicle. Each of them clapped his hands over his ears. Each of the individuals, including Premier Benz, were in considerable pain.
The tallest arbiter chopped an arm.
The techs at the sonic cannons switched them off.
The Gilgamesh people gingerly took their hands away from their ears and each collapsed onto pavement as arbiters shot them with quick-acting dart guns.
The tallest arbiter led his companions to Premier Benz. The Premier looked up at them slack-faced. The dart contained a stun drug, allowing the target to remain conscious.
“Bring him,” the tallest arbiter said. “The Chief is waiting.”
Arbiters dragged Benz to his feet. As a group, they turned and headed for the dreaded Alamo, Benz’s feet dragging across the pavement as they carried him.
***
Benz’s mind began to function again as the arbiters moved down a long ramp leading into Martian bedrock. No doubt they were taking him to the interrogation chambers deep below the Alamo.
Benz almost knew despair. He had badly miscalculated Franco. Coming down to Athena Dome had been a terrible mistake. He was glad Vela had felt something wrong. She was his hole card. She had power with the Gilgamesh. But she would have to act quickly. If the interrogators broke him and he began issuing the wrong kind of orders…Vela might not be able to maintain command of the cybership.
Could the alien’s capture be a giant fraud? Had Franco studied him from afar and realized that was the needed enticement to get the Premier down here? At this point, that seemed all too possible.
Fear began to take over in earnest as the arbiters passed through a hatch into a huge chamber. Something about the place reeked of pain and torture. Benz closed his eyes, although he refused to give up just yet. He had his wits. He—
Benz frowned.
Did he have his wits? His brain had been feeling foggy lately. What would account for that? Why would—?
The sound of boots striking marble ceased.
Benz opened his eyes and raised his head. The company of black-clad arbiters stood before a great door.
“Release him,” a man said in a commanding tone.
Benz swayed as his captors let go of his arms. He glanced back and saw that it was the tallest arbiter who had given the command.
Benz studied the closed faces around him. These were serious people used to wielding fear and power over others. They would not hesitate to do the chief of secret police’s bidding. The last few weeks of Martian mass hysteria—
Hysteria I engineered for what I thought was my benefit. I wonder if Franco desires the premiership. I should have studied his dossier more carefully.
Benz scowled. He should have seen this coming a kilometer away. What had happened to his vaunted brainpower?
The door opened soundlessly. A big bruiser of a man in a scarlet uniform stood there. The man did not look Martian at all. He was beefy and muscular like a Jovian power-lifter.
The sight of such a man down here gave Benz even greater pause.
“Go,” the tallest arbiter told Benz. “The Chief wants to talk to you alone.”
Before Benz could say a word, the arbiters whirled around and headed away, their combined shoes striking the marble.
Soon, it was just Benz and the red-clad guard. With a shrug, Benz headed toward the man. That would be better than the bruiser having to carry him.
After Benz passed the large door, it closed behind him. The bruiser turned and headed down. Benz wondered why the man didn’t say anything to him.
He decided that it didn’t matter as he hurried after the fast-striding bruiser. Soon, the big man reached an elevator. He pressed a button and a door slid open. The bruiser went inside, turned around and stared at Benz.
The Premier entered the elevator. The door closed and the car slid down at speed.
“Where are we going?” Benz asked.
The bruiser tilted his head to look down at him, but said nothing.
Soon, the elevator halted, the door opened and the bruiser shoved Benz so he stumbled out. The hall was narrow, almost suffocating. It was made entirely of stainless steel. Small hatches stood to either side.
Benz must have been walking too slowly, as the bruiser shoved him again from behind. The walk intensified Benz’s uneasiness. This was undoubtedly the dreaded lowest level of the Alamo. Here, the worst tortures and incarcerations took place. Is this where Franco was holding the alien?
Will I end my days screaming in agony down here?
A sheen of sweat glistened on Benz’s forehead and cheeks despite the coolness of the stainless steel hall. If that wasn’t bad enough, Benz’s tongue turned dry and his courage began to wilt inside him.
“If Hawkins can brazen it out, so can I,” Benz muttered to himself.
Yet, he wondered about that. Maybe the dome rat from New London was the tougher man between them.
Benz inhaled deeply, trying to maintain his calm. The game wasn’t over ye
t. He still had his wits. Maybe—
“Stop,” the bruiser said in a harsh tone.
Benz halted, glancing back at the killer.
The man gave him an icy stare. Then he pointed.
Benz looked. A hatch had silently slid up before him. It was dark in the chamber. Were they simply going to lock him away?
Benz attempted to take another deep, and hopefully, calming breath. As he attempted that, the bruiser shoved him through the hatch and into darkness…
-11-
Benz stumbled through the darkness, struck an object with his lower shins and fell headlong, barely catching himself in time. As his palms hit the floor, the darkness vanished.
The Premier lay on the floor panting. He looked back and saw Secret Police Chief Franco lying on the floor behind him. That’s what—whom—he’d tripped over. That didn’t make any kind of sense.
The chief of secret police opened his eyes. He did not smile as if he’d played a practical joke. Instead, Franco looked at Benz blank-eyed. The small secret police chief climbed to his feet, adjusted his gun belt and nodded politely.
Benz checked. The secret police man had a gun in the holster. The Premier could see the black-matted butt underneath the enclosed flap.
Franco wore a black arbiter’s uniform. He now stepped beside Benz and bent down to give him a hand up.
“What’s wrong with you?” Benz whispered. “Why were you lying on your side in the dark?”
Franco shook his head.
Benz scowled. Was he still drugged? He looked around. The room was empty. That didn’t make sense. That—
Benz froze because a realization struck him. It came as a flash of intuition, and it was also the only thing that made sense given all the facts. The Premier of the Mars Unity nodded even as he withdrew his arm from the secret police man’s grasp. He knew what was going on.
Benz grasped the smaller man, pulling him to his chest. At first, Franco did nothing. Then, abruptly, the smaller, weaker man began to struggle. Benz wrestled with him. The Premier tore the holster flap open, grabbed the gun and began to draw it from the holster.
A.I. Battle Station (The A.I. Series Book 4) Page 14
