“It’s okay,” the first one said, looking back at the others. “Go back to the ship. I’ll bring Ebert back with me.” They stood their ground, watching him go inside. Only when the wheel had stopped spinning again did they turn away, making their slow way back between the rocks, stopping now and then to look back, wondering if they would see their brother again.
“it’s come,” Elechi, the encoder, said, twisting in his seat and handing Echewa a printed message.
“That’s DeVore’s code?” Echewa asked, scanning the words quickly. “Sure is,” Elechi answered, looking up at his chief. “Why? Do you think they’re not genuine?”
Echewa shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just that the story the small Han tells is odd. He says they got a message from Ebert—that they actually saw him on their screens while they were in orbit—and that simply cannot be. Ebert’s been in that cell all the time. And even if he hadn’t, there’s no way he could have transmitted such a message. No. Something strange is going on. I want you to try our friend DeVore again.” “But what if the code’s been broken? What if they’re intercepting our messages out?”
“Then tell him this. Tell him that I won’t release Ebert and the girl until I get a satisfactory explanation. Right?” “Right. I’ll get onto it.”
“Good.” Echewa turned, making his way quickly through the labyrinth of narrow tunnels until he came out in the meeting room again. They were all there, waiting for him—Ebert, the Han, and fifteen of his best men, all suited up and ready to go. Looking at the Han’s face he felt close to laughing. The man still hadn’t got over that first moment when he had come into the room and seen sixteen black faces staring back at him. Aluko looked down, forcing back the smile, then crossed the room, seating himself next to Ebert, facing him on the bench. “So what’s happening?” Ebert asked, meeting his eyes.
“I’m making checks, that’s what.”
“You think something’s wrong?”
Echewa smiled. “Let’s just say I’m being cautious. There’s something about your friend’s account that doesn’t make sense.” “Shen Li? You think he’s lying?”
“It’s possible, isn’t it? I mean, for all you know he may have been a plant. That whole thing in the bar could have been a setup.” Ebert shook his head. “No. That was real. Bates. . . well, I had to kill him. There was no other way.”
“So how do you explain the rest of your friend’s account?”
Ebert frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He says he saw you, while they were in orbit. He says that your face appeared on their screens. That you called to them to help you, and that they followed your signal here.” Echewa laughed. “So what did you do, my friend? Did you conjure up a double of yourself and slip out through the solid rock? And once outside, in the dust and cold, what did your double do then? Did he make himself a transmitter from the wind and point it at the spacecraft? No. Something’s wrong, and I’m going to find out what it is before I decide what I’m going to do.” Ebert was looking down, the furrows in his brow much deeper than before. He made to talk, hesitated, then looked up at Aluko again. “It’s true. I did call out. In my mind. Not to Shen Li. Not to anyone, really. But”—he sighed—“well, when you came in and told me that he’d come I—I wasn’t surprised. I thought, yes, he’s answered me. He’s come.” Echewa was staring at him, his eyes wide in his jet-black face. All about him the others were watching closely, their dark faces leaning in toward him, listening.
“You called!”
Ebert nodded.
There was a buzz of excited talk among the Osu, strange words in a language Ebert had never heard before, and then Echewa stood, raising a hand for silence.
“You are right, brothers. The way is clear. We must help our friend, even if it means leaving here tonight.” He turned, looking across at the Han, his eyes narrowing. “But answer me one thing, Shen Li. Is that really your name?”
The small man stared back at Echewa, then shook his head. “No, Chief Echewa, my family name is Ishida, my given name Ikuro. And before you ask me, it is not a Han name. It is Japanese.” Ebert laughed. “Ghosts! I am surrounded by ghosts! Black men and Japanese.
Whatever next!”
But Echewa was looking at him intently. “And you, Hans Ebert? Are you so different, then? Ikuro here, and me, and you yourself, we have this much in common, neh? We are all dead men ... in their eyes.”
he unfastened the chains, then stood back, watching her rub at the welts on her wrists and ankles.
“Will you come?” he asked.
“Come where?”
He looked down, abashed. “I don’t know. Away from here, anyway. Away from DeVore.”
She was silent a moment. “I don’t understand you. You had me, back then.
Had me in your power. You had only to do what he said. So why didn’t you?
What stopped you?”
“It wasn’t right,” he said quietly.
“Not right? When did that ever stop you in the past? I mean, what game is this? What are you trying to do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why don’t you look me in the eyes and say that? Why do you skulk there like some. . . creature? What has he done to you? Cut your balls off or something?”
He looked up at that, the slightest flare of anger in his eyes. She saw it and laughed.
“Ah ... So you are in there, after all, Hans Ebert. I was wondering for a while if a shape-changer hadn’t taken your body over. Or whether you were some clone made up in one of DeVore’s factories.” He stared at her, surprised. “You know of that?” “It was one of my father’s pet theories. He wanted to send Karr here to find out if it was true, but the Seven would never let him. But he was right, wasn’t he? This is where he was, all the time. Here, on Mars, directing things like some venomous puppet-master. And you, Hans Ebert. . . what are you if not one of his puppets?”
Ebert shook his head slowly. “Not now. I promise you.” “Promise me?” Her laughter was cold, mocking. “When were your promises worth more than the air in which they were uttered? No. What do the Han say? Ah, yes: A snake sheds its skin, but it’s still a snake. That’s true, neh?”
He stared at her, something strange going on behind his eyes, and then he shuddered.
“Okay. So you don’t believe me. That’s fine. I can live with that. I deserve it. But if my promises mean nothing to you, let what I do stand for what I am. Not what I was, for I am that man no longer. You see, Jelka Tolonen, I shed not just a skin, but a self, when my father died. I didn’t kill him, not physically, and yet I was responsible.” He took a long breath. “The night he died, he tried to kill me. To choke the life from me. My own father, the man who loved me more than anyone in the world, who cared more for me than for all of the vast commercial empire he had built up. I was blind. I couldn’t see that love. Not until it was too late. All I could see was my own greed, my own selfish desires. You saw that. I know you did. I could see it in your eyes, the day of the betrothal, and I—“ “Words,” she said harshly, interrupting him, standing to face him. “What’s any of this but words?”
“Yes. . .” He turned, looking away from her. “Will you come, though?”
“Where?”
“Tien Men K’ou? They say your father’s fleet has come. They say it’s searching for you.”
He turned back. She was staring at him now, her eyes half lidded.
“Are you serious?”
“If that’s what you want.”
She hesitated, her eyes searching his face, and then she laughed. “What have I got to lose? If you’re lying, then I’m no worse off. And if you’re telling the truth . . .” Again she hesitated, but when she spoke again her voice was quieter, softer, than before. “Well. . . let’s deal with that as and when it happens, neh?” tien men k’ou spaceport was on fire. Beyond it the great dome of the City was in darkness.