Gateways (56 page)

“Of course not. It’s a common enough pattern. We can check with the instruments. Forget it.” He kicked the rock with his heavy boot.

Doran seized his arm and tried to drag him away. “Destroy the evidence? You jealous bastard!”

Gadramm swung the lever and caught his opponent in the ribs. Doran doubled up.

Krike, one of his team, intervened. “Give me that lever, Gad. You must be goddamn crazy!”

“Stand back or you’ll get it too. . .”

They stood there in that alien place, the only life on Mars, hating each other.

Fadrum sat by himself in the galley, a bowl of lentil soup in front of him. He had felt lonely before. He was wondering if it was possible to feel more lonely on Mars than on Earth. Maybe he could invent an instrument to gauge the volume of loneliness suffered by individuals.

He thought of Snooks. That pitiable little body was tightly sealed in a plastic box, ready for shipment back to Earth for medical examination.

He thought too of Cauley—his mother lonely in her room. Longing overcame him.

He left the soup and began cautiously up the flights of stairs. Somewhere, a small group of men left behind from the Hecades expedition were singing in chorus an old traditional song:

. . . why did I decide to roam?
gonna take a sennimental journey . . .

The song covered the creak of the stairs.

Reaching his mother’s room at the top of the house, Fadrum crept in without knocking.

The room was pitch dark.

“Mother?” said in a whisper.

“Faddy?” A whisper in response. “You naughty boy! Come here to mumma . . .”

“Where are you?”

“In bed, of course. Come to me and let me comfort you.”

He did not hesitate. He knew no pleasure as great as his mother’s kind of comfort . . .

Night on Mars held majesty. Unimpeded by atmosphere, the stars took on brilliance and the great drifts of nebulae took on color, eclipsed only by the mighty shingles of the Milky Way. No intelligent creature gazing outward at the spectacle of the universe could help feeling himself or herself dwarfed by its immensity, and yet also exhilarated by the sensation of being part of it.

So thought Gadramm, lying only half-asleep in his tent. He regretted that, in taking command of the human outpost, he had neglected his wife, just to guard the exit. So it was that among that lawless group of men someone had seized the opportunity to cuckold him.

And so he had not been the father of the famous baby. That would surely have ensured his fame. And now that baby was one with all the other dead things on this dead planet. Of course there had been no fish. Or had there once been stone fish?—A different course sentience had taken?

Such matters troubled his sleep. And now came another intrusion. Gadramm propped himself up on one elbow. It was no illusion. He could hear a stealthy noise.

He slept in his clothes and kept his lever by him. Clutching it, he unzipped his tent flap and stared out. Torchlight flashed nearby. He could make out figures of men. It could only be Dak Doran and his team. Up to no good.

In a fury, Gadramm climbed out of his tent. He ran forward, shouting.

Doran’s voice returned to him. “Keep your hair on, buster! We’re off back to barracks.”

“No, you’re not. We’re under Tampa orders to explore this region. Get back in your tents, you men!”

Doran came up to him, shining his torch in the other’s face. “You stay here if you flaming well want. We’re going back. No sense in hanging ’round here when you deny the evidence of your eyes.”

“Will you get that cocksucking light out my face!” He strove to keep his temper. “Look. Come daylight, we’ll get an analysis on your so-called fish and then you’ll see. Meantime, we have to go along with Tampa’s instructions. Doran, try to figure it out. I’m as keen as you to find traces of life. It will mean cash in the bank for us. To give up now . . .”

Doran interrupted with a roar. “Fer Chris’ sake! Tell Tampa what you like. Make up what lies you like. We don’t give a toss for you.”

“Tha’s right,” said a man standing by Doran. “We don’t give a toss. It’s back to barracks for us.” He sniggered. “Home comforts . . .”

“We have to draw up a map,” said Leen, rather feebly, to defy Doran’s man. Despite his anger, Gadramm could see no way of stopping them. And then Doran said, slyly, almost coaxingly, “And if you stay put here then one of us might get the idea of having it off with your missus, like they done before . . .”

The lever came swinging up to catch Doran under his jaw. It swung a second time, across the skull as Doran fell. He flung up his arms with a choked cry and fell backward, his body hitting rock.

“Oh jasers,” cried Doran’s man. “You’ve done for him!” He turned and ran, his companions with him.

Gadramm had dropped his lever. His group dragged him away, cursing.

“It was him bonked my wife,” gasped Gadramm. “It was him—him—him . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

They pulled him back to his tent, Leen and Syril and the others, leaving Doran’s body where it lay on the lifeless rock.

The conference on Martian Mortality was in session. The American delegates had opened the occasion, to be followed by the Chinese and Asian delegates, and then the English and European delegates.

There was now a brief discussion concerning the nature of the Martian colonists and their remuneration.

Eddie Skelton explained that the prevailing recession, reinforced by the uncertain climatic changes, had increased the numbers of the unemployed. Studies by an independent body showed that a number of men and some women would volunteer to live on Mars if a certain wage were paid into an American bank account. This wage was provided by various universities provided the new Martians were set a program of scrutinizing the red planet’s surface. The scheme was satisfactory to all parties until the question of infant mortality had arisen.

The Chinese minister, Lee Quang Ju, claimed they had the better system, in that their explorers (to use his word) did not pioneer for monetary reasons, as under the capitalist system. Instead, brave pioneers of both sexes traveled for reasons of patriotism and the greater glory of the human race. The scheme was working well, despite the handicap of infant mortality.

Roger Stillby Hayes, speaking for the European contingent, said that their Martian pioneers combined elements of both systems as so far explained. Volunteers had been sought from explorers and scientists, and these were reinforced by the unemployed who had graduated at the postprimary stage. Questions of expense bore heavily on the Exchequer but, he admitted, Martian infant mortality was a problem of a different order.

While these speeches were in progress, Skelton found his mind wandering to the question of intimacy with Niccola Bell, his second secretary, who sat close to him in the great hall. She was dressed in a one-piece black costume, which concealed but emphasized her figure. As for her beautiful face, that cute little chin—

But now there was a brief break in proceedings. Candidates circulated. Skelton found himself next to Lee Quang Ju, whom Skelton knew of old, and knew to be a genial individual. Between them they agreed to announce for the first time the number of deaths caused by lighter gravity on fetal bone structure.

This proposal was agreed upon.

The European secretary said that as far as they knew deaths of this kind numbered seventy-one, of which possibly sixty had been stillborn.

The Chinese gave the number as forty-seven. The number was low because there were few women who saw it as their patriotic duty to go to Mars.

Skelton’s team put the number at about sixty. Not all premature deaths had been announced and, despite the birth of Snooks, and the excitement he had briefly caused worldwide, women had become increasingly reluctant to undergo pregnancy.

Next came the question of what should be done to halt this virtual epidemic. Unless the problem was solved, all agreed that permanent settlements on Mars were out of the question.

As had been stated, women were increasingly reluctant to risk pregnancy if the result was to be only death and sorrow. It could be anticipated that shortly no women would wish to visit Mars under any circumstances.

“In which case,” said a voice from the American contingent, “men will be equally unlikely to want to visit Mars!”