Gus looked around. The Sun was behind the cliff, and in the shadow, the coil of fiber was glowing with multicolor flashing laser light leaking out due to the curvature in the optical guide.
"They're trying to communicate with us," Gus yelled. He ran to the crawler. "Where's the end?" he asked.
"I'll make you one," said a tech standing there. He quickly grabbed a loose strand of bright fiber and looped it expertly between his thumb and forefinger. Suddenly a large segment of the coil went dark. He handed the still-glowing end to Gus, who put it up to the laser unit on his forehead.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello ..." the voice from the fiber repeated. It was an almost perfect rendition of his voice.
"Communicating."
"Here," Gus said, holding the fiber up to the laser unit on the tech's helmet. "Say something to it until I get inside and raise the computer gang at the institute. We need to get that Lineup talking with our neural net computer with a language learning interconnection program set up in it."
"What'll I say?" the tech asked, bewildered.
"Sing to it," Gus suggested. "But while you do, climb to the top of the crawler until you can stick the end of the fiber into our optical comm link. Hold it there until someone relieves you with a piece of tape."
"What shall I sing?" the tech asked, starting to climb the ladder up the side of the crawler, while holding the glowing fiber to his forehead laser unit with one hand.
"Anything!" Gus said out the closing airlock door.
"Oh-h-h," the tech started, "Mamie minded Mama till one day in Singapore ..."
WITHIN less than an hour, the instructional link had been set up. Gus thought things were going well—but obviously the Lineup didn't think so.
"Needing/cogitation/increase."
"SOMETHING is happening," Chris said from where he had been watching the nearly motionless single Lineup crouched beside the airlock door, one of its lower eyerods hooked over a fiber that passed through the frame. "The five other segments are coming over here. I'll be! They just plugged back into the single Lineup like pop beads."
"What happened out there?" came a voice over the common suit link. "Our neural net computer is now reporting a huge jump in learning speed for the Lineup."
"Get ready for more jumps," Chris said. "Here comes a seven-segmenter and two more fives."
THE LANGUAGE lessons stretched on for hours. Finally Chris had enough. He crawled back down the tunnel and cycled out. Viktor, who was planning to go back to take Chris' place and install a permanent monitoring camera, was just starting to crawl up the slope when he heard through the thick air in the tunnel the sound of claws tick-tacking on a diamond floor. He backed out rapidly and was through the airlock before the Lineup got down to the bottom.
Everyone gathered around at a respectful distance as the single Lineup segment expertly manipulated the hatch doors in the airlock with the six prehensile fingers in its snout and climbed out the circular door, which just fit its long cylindrical body. Gus and the others tried to talk with it using their laser communicators, but it just ignored them.
The Lineup felt around with its snout where the four fibers came through the door, and when it was finished, there was a fifth fiber attached to the door, glowing slightly from scattered laser light. Spinning out more diamond fiber from under its snout as it went along, the single Lineup started off down the canyon, following the tracks of the crawler.
"It's replacing the fiber you wound up," Gus said to Red. He paused and gave an apologetic cough. "You might say it's mending the telephone lines after the Storm has passed."
After the Lineup had left, Viktor tried to open the outer hatch door. It would not rotate.
"Locked," he said with a shrug.
A group of scientists followed the Lineup on foot, while others made arrangements to leapfrog ahead in hopiters to take their place. At the first rendezvous the Lineup arrived way ahead of the predicted time, with only one human, a former marathon runner, able to keep up the pace.
"It's getting faster as it goes," the marathoner said, panting. "It grabs mouthfuls of snow and dirt as it moves along and eats them. It has already grown a full set of wings, and the larger the wings got, the faster it moved. I don't think the wings are just for heat rejection. I think they are its energy source—that animal is solar powered!"
The Lineup moved swiftly over the kilometers, never stopping or resting, and continuously spinning out diamond fiber. Now that its wings were grown, it stopped eating so much, and only snacked occasionally on carbon dioxide snow.
Chris and Tanya were together at one hopiter landing site and managed to keep up with the fast-moving Lineup for a mile before tiring out. They were lucky enough to catch the Lineup in the process of eliminating.
"I definitely caught the emission of oxygen," Chris said, looking at the indicators on his air composition analyzer. "The creature must be breaking down the carbon dioxide in the snow and turning it into carbon and oxygen. The carbon is used to make the diamond fiber." He looked at Tanya. "Find anything in the stuff it eliminated?"
Tanya looked at the loose pile of dry granular material in the sealed bag she held in her glove. "I'll take a good look under the microscope when I get back to the crawler," she said. "But this is not the waste of a biological creature."
Her later analyses backed up her first evaluation.
"There is no organic material in it whatsoever," she reported to the investigating team. "The creature eliminates nothing but aluminum oxide, silicon oxide, and iron oxide—sand—very clean sand with every bit of usable minerals and nourishment taken out of it."
AFTER THREE sols the Lineup came to where Red's crawler had started to pick up the fiber in its wheels. The Lineup went a few kilometers beyond that point, then started to dig with its powerful, clawed feet. The rusty sand flew in all directions as the trench grew deeper. Suddenly the Lineup stopped and picked up a buried strand of fiber. It did something with its snout, then climbed out of the trench and headed back the way it had come. A tech slid down into the trench, uncovered the reconnected fiber, and looked it over carefully. He was unable to determine where the joint had been made.
The fiber continued south.
How far south, no one yet knew.
BY THE time the fiber-laying Lineup returned to the entrance to the underground cavern, it had reabsorbed its wings.
"They just got smaller and smaller, and then they were gone," Tanya said in amazement.
"How are the language lessons going?" she asked Gus.
"Fairly well. They use a strange form of grammar, but had no trouble learning English. And they must've kept adding more segments, since toward the end they were reading videobooks from the library as fast as we could transmit them.
"Now I guess it's time to get to know them better. I hope this one's been keeping in touch with its fellows." He walked over to where the single Lineup was standing outside the hatch door, its fiber-coupler eyerod hooked over the fiber that the Lineups used to talk to the language computer.
Gus activated his helmet laser communicator. "Now that we can converse, we should get to know each other. My name is Gus Armstrong. What is your name?"
"Belonging to this segment is name Badepi."
"We would like to come inside your remarkable home, Badepi."
"Surviving of Gus Armstrong outside is possible."
"Yes," Gus admitted. "But—"
"Going of Gus Armstrong inside is not necessary."
The Lineup turned and ran its snout around the periphery of the hatch, somehow unlocking it, then, using its six-fingered nose, easily unscrewed the door and started inside the airlock.
"But we need to talk, get to know each other better," Gus protested as the Lineup screwed the door into place. Fortunately the laser link went easily through the transparent material.
"Continuing of tasks on inside of importance higher," Badepi responded firmly.
The Lineup spent some time going around the periph
ery of the circular hatch door with its snout. It looked almost as if it were erasing the fine line between the circular door and its frame where they screwed together with a six-turn thread. Tanya leaned down to look closely.
"It's welding that diamond door shut with those fine feathers under its snout-fingers!" she exclaimed.
The Lineup went through the next hatch door and welded it shut, too. As Badepi started up the long sloping tunnel its rear eyerods gave one last burst of light.
"Communicating terminated," Badepi said with finality.
GUS STOOD there in a daze, shaking his head. Red Storm went over to the now-solid diamond wall in the cliff face. She stuck her fingers in the six outer finger holes and gave a fruidess twist, then kicked viciously at the base.
The crowd of scientists and techs finally realized that everything was over. Picking up their instruments and tools, they started back to their vehicles. A note sounded at the back of Gus' helmet and he switched the comm channel to the secure one Fred Whimple used to contact him with confidential messages.
"I thought you ought to know right away, sir," Fred said. "There was a series of coordinated coups around the world this morning. The leaders of most of the major countries on Earth that weren't already in the Unified States have been replaced with regents who pledge their loyalty to Alexander, the Infinite Lord." There was a long pause.
"That's not all," Fred continued. "He is now demanding the closing down of all lunar and planetary bases and the immediate return of everyone back to Earth."
CHAPTER 14
Rescue From The Moon
BY THE time Gus and Chris got back to Olympia, their message files were full and people were lined up outside their offices. They decided to handle them together, since the future of Mars and the future of the Sagan Institute were now inseparably entwined. The highest priority item on Fred Whimple's appointment list was a video call from Dr. Ozaki Akutagawa, the head of the large Japanese contingent at Elysium Saddle. Japan was one of the major financial supporters for both the institute and the Territory of Mars.
"My government has called upon me to return and it is my duty to do so," Ozaki's emotionless face said.
"But it is no longer the same government," Gus protested. "You should feel no sense of duty to some regent put in place by foreign forces."
"The new regent is not a foreigner, but a young Japanese politician who was well known to be next in line for prime minister—after the old one had died or lost his influence," Ozaki said. "And if recent rumors about the old prime minister's behavior with young men are true, he would not have had his influence much longer, anyway.
"Also," Ozaki continued, "you did not see the television broadcasts from Japan, showing the mobs overrunning the diet and the offices of the prime minister, as I did. The faces under the Caps of Contact were all Japanese. If this is what the people of Japan want, then I must go along."
"If you insist," Gus said.
"I have already initiated procedures to close down the Nippon Mars Volcanic Studies Institute and transport our contingent back home. The last of our contingent will be going up to our transport ships in two sols."
"No, they won't!" a voice interrupted, and the face of a young Japanese scientist leaned over Ozaki's desk to look into the viewer for the comm link. "These old ones with their traditional ways may feel obligated to go along with everyone else, but I and a lot of others aren't about to return to that insanity. We want to stay here. I know you have more volcanists than you need, but I worked my way through college at a sushi bar and won't be a burden. Can we apply for Martian citizenship?"
"You've got it," Chris said. "But I'm sure we can find a better use for your talents than running a restaurant."
"You may go now, Yoshida," Ozaki said, only mildly perturbed by the interruption. After the young man had left, Ozaki confided to the viewer. "The young ones are probably correct in their decision," he admitted. "But I must return to add my voice of age and reason to the discussion, for though it may take years, or even centuries, we must return the misled people of Japan to the old ways." A slight smile formed on his round face and his eyes twinkled. "Besides, the Territory of Mars will certainly need people they can trust inside the Unified States. I, of course, having once been on Mars, will always be under suspicion. But I can identify people who would be sympathetic to your cause and put you in touch with them."
"A fifth column!" Gus said. "Just what we'll need! Why didn't I think of that?"
"Because we're trained as scientists, not politicians," Chris said. "We'll just have to sharpen up our devious streaks."
"It won't do to recruit people if we can't talk to them," Gus said. "I'm sure the Unified States will soon shut down all communication links between Earth and Mars."
"I believe I may have a partial solution to that problem, also," Ozaki said. "Because I will have showed my loyalty by returning, and because of the strong respect for age and authority in Japan, I expect to retain my position as director of geophysical studies at Tokyo University. We have at the university a roof-mounted laser radar system capable of ranging off the Moon. It should be relatively simple to convert it into a low data rate communication system to Mars. You will want to establish other links, of course."
"To be sure," Gus said. "But you, of course, must remain unaware of them, just as Chris and I will tell no one else of your plans."
"You are rapidly learning to become properly devious," Ozaki said with a slight smile. "Look for my transmissions after midnight Tokyo time at the time of the new moon. The students will be asleep and the laser will not be in use for measuring the orbit of the Moon."
"We will miss you," Gus said. "I enjoyed our trip up over Olympus and the delightful walk through your garden."
"We have decided to leave our garden intact as a gift to the people of the Territory of Mars in thanks for the hospitality they have shown us," Ozaki said. "Unfortunately, that will be the last gift you can expect from the state of Japan of the Unified States of Earth."
"Your continued friendship is gift enough," Chris said, surprising himself with his diplomatic tongue.
THEIR NEXT visitor was a nervous young computer programmer, Bill Boswick, who had hopped in from Austral Canyon. Gus wasn't sure but that Fred hadn't sent him in just to get rid of the incessant clinking from the stack of yellow vikings the man was continually riffling between his fingers. As Bill came into the office, he dropped the stack of coins into a pocket of his rumpled overalls. Ignoring the chair in front of the desk, he started pacing back and forth. Soon one hand was back in his pocket and he was fooling with the coins again as he talked.
"I hate to do this," Bill said. "But I gotta go home ... I got a spacegram from my wife saying she's been a Unie for nine months, how wonderful it is now that the world is unified, and asking me to come back." His pacing became more agitated and his voice started to crack as he continued.
"She's also pregnant ... and I've been here for twenty months ... slaving away ... trying to earn enough money so we could start a family ... and now she's pregnant ..." Tears started to pour down his face. "She calls it 'her blessing from the Infinite Lord incarnate' and isn't even ashamed!" He suddenly pulled the stack of coins from his pocket and threw them viciously at the far wall, yelling, "How I'd love to smash that bastard's face!"
He collapsed into the chair in front of Gus' desk, face in his hands, sobbing.
"If only there were some way to bring him down ..." he muttered through his tears.
"There is a way," Gus said. "But it will take calm and patience, not anger."
"What?" Bill said, looking up with hope. "I'd do anything!"
"Even becoming a Unie yourself?"
Bill hesitated for a second. "Sure—if I had to. But how will that help?"
"We need people we can trust in the Church of the Unified. I know we can trust you. Would you be willing to swallow your pride, accept your wife and the baby that isn't yours, and not only join the Church of the Unified with a glad
smile, but become one of its most devoted followers?"
"You're asking an awful lot," Bill said, hesitating. Gus kept silent. "What do you want me to do once I get in and accepted?"
"I don't know yet," Gus said. "We've only begun our long-range planning. But if you can be our white knight, overlooked in a notch among the black pawns, ready to assist at the right time ..."
"I'll do it," Bill said, brightening. "How do I keep in touch?"
"Don't call us. We'll call you," Gus said. "Do you have a relative other than your wife and parents?"
"Sure, Uncle Dave—David Boswick, my father's brother."
"Good. Once every few weeks or so, you'll get a telephone call from 'Uncle Dave'. That's your signal to blab on about everything you have been doing in the Church since the last call, so we can monitor your progress. We'll also set up a drop where you can send information that can't go over the telephone. Other than that, keep moving up in the Church and volunteer for everything that sounds interesting. When we finally have something for you to do, we'll simply write you a letter.
"So, if you ever receive a letter from Uncle Dave, never open it up while you are wearing your Cap of Contact. Smuggle it into the shower to read ... and then read the small print on the inside of the envelope."
"I'll be waiting eagerly for Uncle Dave's every call and letter," Bill said, a grim, determined smile on his still tear-marked face as he shook hands good-bye. Fred, annoyed, carefully picked up every viking coin before he ushered the next visitor in.
RED STORM was one of the last they talked with.
"I've sorta been asked to be an ambassador of sorts," Red started apologetically. "When I heard the news about Alexander taking over the Earth, I borrowed your deep-space dish to make contact with some of my friends out in the belt. Theyd already been talking together and asked me to talk to you." She looked down at her feet and then looked up again, lips firm.
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