Martian Rainbow

by Robert L. Forward

  "She has a perfect right to do that," Gus replied. "I tried to make that clear in my speech on Independence Sol. The last thing I want is a disgruntled employee. Is she going home or staying?"

  "She said she wants to stay," Fred said. "But you'll have to send her back," he continued, his voice becoming more agitated and rising in volume. "We can't allow her kind to stay on Mars!"

  "What on Earth are you talking about, Fred?" Gus said, puzzled. "Who is this person?"

  "Her name is Rose Wood. And she's become a ... a ..." His voice failed him.

  "Ah-hah!" Gus said with a loud, relieved laugh that took Fred aback.

  "I've met your Rose," Gus said, slapping him on the back. "Just recently, on the commons." He walked into his office.

  "Then you're going to send her back?" Fred asked, following along behind, relieved that he didn't have to explain.

  "Why?" Gus replied, stopping beside his desk. "Just because she's a prostitute?"

  "A-a-a—" Fred stammered, both shocked and bewildered.

  "Is she not supplying a service? A badly needed service on a planet with six men for every woman?"

  "Well, yes," Fred admitted.

  "And is not everyone who comes to Mars checked to make sure they're free from venereal diseases?" Gus continued. "So no one can accuse her of spreading disease."

  "Yes," Fred admitted.

  "And is she not making enough money to support herself, so that she is not a burden on society?" Gus continued.

  "At a polar a trick, she ought to!" Fred exploded. "She makes more a day than I do!"

  "Well, the price will come down once she gets some competition," Gus said, sitting down at his desk console and opening his message file.

  "You mean you aren't going to do anything?" Fred exclaimed in exasperation.

  "If the governor of Mars or the mayor of Olympia is foolish enough to want to pass, then attempt to enforce, blue laws to prohibit victimless behavior like prostitution and gambling, then they are welcome to try," Gus said, looking up. "But I'm counting on the general good sense and intelligence of those who have been selected to come to Mars to keep such activities in perspective in their lives."

  He got up from the desk, came over to Fred, put his muscular boxer's arm tenderly around Fred's thin, sloping shoulder bones, and slowly escorted him to the door.

  "Y'know, Fred," Gus suggested as they walked, "you've been under an awful lot of pressure lately and been getting very tense and uptight. Perhaps ... maybe ... you should consider a visit to Rose yourself?"

  He gave Fred a friendly slap on the back as he pushed him gently through the doorway, then closed the door on the wide-eyed, open-mouthed, speechless face.

  CHAPTER 11

  Defiance

  CHRIS CAME into Gus' office to tell him the latest news. Gus, eyes red from lack of sleep, just glared at him.

  "I don't want to know," Gus said irritably. He had been deliberately avoiding the news about his brother, somehow feeling that he was partly at fault.

  "It only took fifteen days, but it's all nice and legal," Chris said. "Your brother is now 'president-in-perpetuity', and the new regent took over this morning."

  "Regent?" Gus asked.

  "You don't expect the 'Infinite Lord' to be bothered with the petty duties of being president, do you? He'll let Di Perkins take care of those details. Some say it was part of a deal he made with her before the elections. They call her regent because she isn't elected, but appointed by your brother to run the country in his place."

  "Appointed! What happened to the Constitution?" Gus blurted.

  "The Constitution is still there," Chris said. "But parts of it got drastically amended by the overwhelmingly pro-Alexander Congress. Almost all of the new House of Representatives are Unies, and they've got a large majority in the Senate, enough so they can elect the Senate majority leader and control committee appointments. Using that power, and with Vice-President Di Perkins controlling the floor, they rammed the amendments past the few raw-throated filibustering senators who dared to oppose them. Their constitutional amendments were ratified in record time by more than enough equally intimidated state legislatures. Even the Supreme Court admitted that they couldn't stop it, since every step along the way was allowed by the old Constitution."

  Gus grimaced and gave a sigh.

  Chris continued. "So they've changed the executive branch and even renamed the old U.S. of A. the 'Unified States'. The government will run very much like it did before, except that the regent has veto power over everything, and her veto can't be overturned. Her appointments can't be blocked, either. To keep individual civil servants and congressmen under control, the regent has line-item veto power in budgets. She can not only eliminate support for a congressman's district, she has the power to line out an individual's salary."

  "That explains this, then," Gus said, his fingers moving over his portable flatscreen. "But I don't want you to worry about it." He searched through his message file, then handed Chris the flatscreen with the short message on it.

  Pending review, further support is canceled for Sagan Mars Institute Research Grant NSF 33-1087, "Seasonal and Altitude Air Composition Models for the Martian Atmosphere", Principal Investigator, Christopher Stoker.

  Chris' stomach sank. Being governor of Mars was no longer a lark. The new U.S. secretary of state had warned him that Alexander was pretty annoyed when he learned that the governor of Mars was inviting the Russians back to the planet that he had just kicked them off of. Then, to top it all off, just this morning Chris had received a message from the Russians saying they were backing out of their agreement to send a large contingent of scientists. Something about the shortage of antimatter for their spacecraft and surface transporters because of the Russian military building up its stockpiles.

  "Sir?" came a voice from the doorway to the office.

  "Yes, Fred?" Gus said, looking up.

  "I hate to bother you and Dr. Stoker, sir," Fred said hesitantly. "But an important message just came for you. You might want to read it while Governor Stoker is here."

  Gus took back his flatscreen and pulled up the most recent message.

  The government of the U.S. Protectorate of Mars is hereby put under the control of Dr. Augustus Armstrong, director, Sagan Mars Institute. All local elections are hereby voided and all local officials are dismissed. Dr. Armstrong is directed to detain all non-U.S. citizens in quarters and prepare a schedule for their removal from the planet. The Sagan Mars Institute budgets are suspended pending review of alien citizen removal schedule.

  By Order of The Infinite Lord and President-in-Perpetuity:

  Di Perkins,

  Regent of the Unified States

  "She can't do that!" Chris said. "The Territory of Mars is a protectorate of the United Nations."

  "Yes, but it's supposed to operate under United States laws, and in the new Unified States, Alex's every whim is law. My brother never did like sharing the spoils with the other nations, much less letting any Russians stay behind. I figure he is counting on my concern for the Sagan Institute to force me to help him renege on the independence agreement the old United States government made with the Reformed U.N. and the Territory of Mars."

  "What are you going to do, Gus?" Chris asked, concerned. "You might be able to protect me from budget cuts, but you can't protect the whole institute. You'll have to go along."

  Gus leaned back pensively in his chair. "It isn't what I'm going to do, Governor Stoker, it's what the people of the Territory of Mars are going to do. My brother is too used to being a military commander. I can't carry out his orders without cooperation from the people here. Are the people of Mars going to cooperate with this new dictator? Or are they going to fight back?"

  "I'll have Seichi call an Olympia town meeting," Chris said. "But I'll have him schedule it late so most of the other bases can join in via video link and we can turn it into a Territory of Mars meeting."

  THE BOSTON Commons was packed with a huge bu
t strangely silent crowd. The beer vendors moved among the tarps, folding chairs, and inflated pillows, but many sitting there just waved them away. This was no time for relaxing. Seichi Kiyowara, the mayor of Olympia, opened the meeting as soon as both moons were over the horizon.

  "We'll be making some decisions today," he said. "So I shall officially open this town meeting of Olympia. Anything decided here by a substantial majority of the people will become a law of the city of Olympia, subject to the usual appeal and approval process. I'd now like to turn the floor over to the governor of Mars, Chris Stoker. Chris?"

  Chris took Seichi's place in front of the video camera. "I'll wait a few minutes while the mayors and conveners of other bases formally open their town meetings," he said. "Turn on your attention switch when you're done."

  Chris looked over at the bank of flatscreen sets showing the pickups from the other bases in and around Mars. Each had superimposed across the top of the screen the name of the place, Phobos, Deimos, Boreal Base, Australe Canyon, Hellas Plains, Mutchville, Isidis Basin, Melas Canyon, Sinai Springs, Tharsis Saddle, Elysium Saddle, and Solis Lacus—twelve isolated communities trying to comprehend and gain control over an unknown, untamed planet. One by one the red attention lights blinked on at the upper right of the screen. Chris returned to the video pickup. When all the attention lights were on he started to speak again.

  "I have asked the cities and bases to call town meetings simultaneously so we can all hear and discuss what has happened recently and come to some joint decision as to further action. If you want to speak on an issue, go to your mayor or convener and have him blink the attention light.

  "I want to reiterate that anyone, U.S. citizen or not, has a right to speak and vote. You all know that, but why I'm emphasizing it now will become obvious later.

  "You are all aware of the news that has come in concerning the restructuring of the United States of America into the Unified States under the control of President-in-Perpetuity Alexander Armstrong and his appointed regent. This has affected some of us personally already. Now it threatens to affect all of us here. I would like Dr. Augustus Armstrong to read us a message that was sent to him a short time ago."

  Gus got up and slowly read the message from the regent from his pocket vidofax. The mutterings from the crowd grew as he went along, and when he got to the phrase, "... directed to detain all non-U.S. citizens in quarters ..." he had to stop because of the noisy protests.

  "Who does she think she is!" came a voice from the crowd.

  "It's not her, it's that egotistical bastard, Alexander the Greatest."

  Gus waited until they had quieted down, then continued to read. When he got to the phrase "... Institute budgets are suspended pending review ..." the crowd became deathly still. By the time he had finished the ending he could hear the echo of his voice bouncing back from the Deimos pickup.

  Almost immediately people were on their feet at the Boston Commons, waving their hands for attention, and attention lights started blinking on the bank of remote video pickups. Chris came up beside Gus and spoke.

  "Before I open the meeting for debate, let me clarify the issue before us. We were established as an independent territory under the protection of the United Nations—"

  "Some protection they are!" someone yelled from the audience.

  "But we are supposed to operate under the laws of the United States," Chris continued. "Now, things have changed and it's the Unified States. The question is, shall we knuckle under to the new regent and send our friends packing, or do we resist?"

  "We can't win a war!" someone said. "They'd smother us with nuclear warheads."

  "Doesn't have to be a war," Gus said, stepping forward again. "Could be just a little civil disobedience. You know, the civil kind of civil disobedience you learn in the civil service."

  A laugh rippled through the crowd.

  Chris started recognizing speakers, trying to alternate between those on the floor of the Boston Commons and those behind the blinking red attention lights on the flatscreens from other bases.

  "I can live without a salary," a researcher said from Boreal Base.

  "I can't!" a tech shouted from the commons. "I have a wife and kids back in the States."

  Boris Batusov waited politely with his hand raised, and Chris finally noticed him and gave him a chance to speak. The crowd hushed as they waited for the famous Russian Nobel Prize winner to speak. "I don't think we non-U.S. citizens should ask our American friends to sacrifice their careers just to keep us here," he said.

  "I think there is a more fundamental question," Max MacFadden said. "Are we going to accept the domination of Alexander and become part of his Unified States, or are we going to assert our independence? Even if it means losing the support that allows us to carry on pure research."

  "Forget about research," Ernest Licon said from the Boreal Base pickup. "I don't think we can even survive for long without massive support from the U.S."

  "I cannot speak for my country," Ozaki Akutagawa said from the Elysium Saddle pickup, "but it would seem likely to me that under the circumstances, Japan's support could be increased in those areas where you need supplies that cannot be locally fabricated, such as electronic components and antimatter."

  "All we have to do is hold out until someone shoots him or he dies," a belligerent tech in the front row said. "Even if he is president-in-perpetuity, the bastard can't live forever—maybe he's one of those kind with a weak heart that pops off at forty-five or fifty."

  Gus walked to the microphone. "I believe I might have something pertinent to say along those lines."

  The crowd quieted, and the tech who had made the comment blurted out an apology. "Sorry, Gus. Didn't think ..."

  "It's all right," Gus said, waving his left hand as he took the microphone from Chris with his right. For some reason, the mangled fingers on the left hand seemed especially noticeable in the floodlights bathing the platform.

  "Our father died at fifty-eight. Heart attack—didn't believe in doctors. But our mother is still healthy at sixty-eight. We are both forty-three and in general good health, but I have high blood pressure which I keep controlled with some medicine." He turned to look at Tanya. "What is it, Tanya?"

  "Atenolol—a beta blocker," she answered.

  "Something else we can't produce here on Mars," Gus reminded. "If Alex takes his pills and avoids bullets, he could easily last another twenty-five years—or more."

  The discussion went on until way past midnight at Olympia—with everyone allowed to say his piece. Finally, there was a call for a vote. There was no question of the result.

  "Okay, it's decided then," Chris said. "We will attempt to make it on our own, with help from our friends in other countries on Earth. Those that don't agree and want to return to Earth have five days to close down their affairs here. The next crew rotation ship arrives Thursday of Week twenty-one." Gus came forward at the last to take the microphone.

  "In the meantime," he said, "I can recommend a couple of good stories to download from the library into your vidofax. Read The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress and Revolt in 2100, both by Heinlein."

  The following Thursday the Unies, those with families trapped under the new dictatorship, and a few others crowded onto the crew rotation ship that had been in transit out to Mars during Alexander's takeover, and went back to Earth.

  The Regent Perkins next demanded the return of the three remaining Yorktown class space transports that had been left in orbit about Mars. But their engineering crews kept finding serious problems with the propulsion systems that seemed to require many months to fix. Meanwhile, some of the kilograms of antihydrogen ice remaining in their storage tanks were extracted and used to fill up the storage canisters in the hopiters, crawlers, and orbital shuttles needed to keep the transportation system on Mars going.

  Chris and Gus were very busy the following weeks pleading for support from Japan, Australia, the EEC, Brazil, and other countries. The responses they got were sympath
etic, and soon they had received "foreign aid" gifts and loans that allowed them to bring in the medicines, precision equipment, electronic components, and antimatter needed to keep the planet going. The Russians, however, deathly afraid of Alexander and his paranoid anticommunism streak, retreated behind their borders and raised their defenses.

  INDEPENDENCE Sol finally came again. The laser fireworks show was just as spectacular as before and the speeches had a flavor of defiance in them, but the crowd had to go to bed early, for many now had to carry on their scientific work on the side, after they had worked on their "Independence Task".

  The already-existing factories that produced raw stocks of metal and plastic from the Martian soil and atmosphere were now expanded in size and diversity of output. A Marsuit factory had been started to make replacements for the major components of the suit that received the most wear, but there were critical components, such as valves, that had to be salvaged from the old suits and hand-reworked to restore them to safe operation. One of Chris' best foreign "handouts" was a computer-controlled minimill that could cut any 3-D shape in metal directly from a computer-generated drawing.

  Chris and Gus, whose Independence Tasks were administrative and full time, stopped by Gus' office after the celebration to check for messages. Fortunately, there were none, so they both could relax for a while.

  "Do me a favor, Gus?" Chris asked.

  "Sure," Gus said.

  "We're off to a good start. But I noticed today that people are getting tired of the grind. They need pepping up. You're their hero and can do that, but video won't really do the job. I need you to go around to all the bases, meet the people, show you care, slap them on the back, and send them back to work. Will you do it?"

  "If you'll come with me," Gus said, getting up and heading out the office door. "You're their governor."

  "Great idea!" Chris said, draping one lanky arm around Gus' broad, muscular shoulders. "The two of us together—like Damon and Pythias ..."