As the craft drew nearer he ordered the pilot to circle the station from two li out. The five huge chimneys of the atmosphere generator dominated the tiny settlement, belching huge clouds of oxygen-rich air into the thin and frigid atmosphere. Beneath them the sprawl of settlement buildings was swathed in green—hardy mosses that could survive the extreme temperatures of the Martian night. Farther out, the red sands were rimed with ice that formed a wide, uneven ring of whiteness about the Station. The generator itself was deep beneath the surface, its taproots reaching down toward the core of the planet to draw their energy. Like thirty other such generators scattered about the planet's surface, it had been pumping oxygen into the skies of Mars for more than one hundred and fifty years. Even so, it would be centuries yet before Mars had a proper atmosphere again.
Karr made a full circle of the settlement, studying the scene. There were four transports parked to the east of the pipeline, in an open space between some low buildings. At first, in the half light, they had seemed to form one single, indistinct shape—a complexity of shadows—but through the resolution of field glasses he could make out individual markings. One was a craft belonging to the settlement; another two were Security craft from out of Kang Kua in the north. The fourth was unmarked. A small, four-man flier, the design unlike anything he had seen before on Mars.
He leaned forward and tapped out that day's security code, then sat back, waiting. In a moment it came back, suitably amended, followed by an update.
Karr gave himself a moment to digest the information, then nodded to himself. "Okay. Set her down half a li to the south of those craft. Then suit up. I want to be ready for any trouble."
The young pilot nodded tersely, setting them down softly on the southern edge of the settlement. While the pilot suited up, Karr sat there, staring out at the settlement, watching for any sign that this might yet be a trap. "Ready?"
The young man nodded. "Good. Wait here. I'll not be long."
Karr took a breath, then released the hatch. As he climbed out, systems within his suit reacted immediately to the sudden changes in temperature and pressure. It was cold out here. Cold enough to kill a man in minutes if his suit failed.
There were five buildings surrounding the craft: three domes and two long, flat-topped constructions, the domes to the left, the flat-tops to the right. The pumping station itself was the largest of the domes, straddling the pipeline like a giant swelling. It was one of eight similar stations—situated at two hundred li intervals along the pipeline—that pumped water from the sprawling Tzu Li Keng Seng generating complex in the south to the three great northern cities of Hong Hai, Kang Kua, and Chi Shan.
Karr walked toward the huge hemisphere of the station, the tiny heat generator in his suit clicking on as he moved into the shadow of the giant pipeline. As he came nearer a door hissed open and unfolded toward the ground, forming steps. Without hesitation he mounted them and went inside, hearing the door close behind him.
He went through the air lock briskly and out into the pressurized and heated core of the station. Two Security men were waiting for him, at attention, clearly surprised that he was still suited up. They looked at him expectantly, but he went past them without a word, leaving them to follow him or not, as they wished.
He took a left turn at the first junction into a corridor that bridged the pipeline. As he did so an officer, a fresh-faced young Han, hurried down the corridor toward him.
"Major Karr. Welcome to Feng Shou. Captain Wen would like . . ."
Ignoring him, Karr brushed past and turned off to the left, taking the narrow stairwell down to the basement. Guards looked up, surprised, as he came down the corridor toward them, then stood to a hurried attention as they noticed the leopard badge of a third-ranking officer that adorned the chest of his suit.
"Forgive me, Major Karr, but the Captain says you must. . ."
Karr turned and glared at the junior officer who had followed him, silencing him with a look.
"Please tell your Captain that, as his superior officer, I've taken charge of this matter. And before you ask, no; I don't want to see him. Understand me?"
The young soldier bowed deeply and backed off a step. "Of course, Major. As you say."
Karr turned away, forgetting the man at once. These stations were all the same. There was only one place to keep prisoners securely. He marched down the narrow dimly lit passageway and stopped, facing a heavy paneled door. He waited as one of the guards caught up with him and took a bunch of old-fashioned metal keys from inside a thick pouch; then, as the door swung inward, he pushed past the man impatiently.
Hasty improvisation had made a cell of the small storeroom. The floor was bare rock, the walls undecorated ice, opaque and milky white, like a blind eye. The four men were bound at wrist and ankle.
Berdichev was sitting slumped against the wall. His gray uniform was dusty and disheveled, buttons missing from the neck; his face was thinner, gaunter than the Security profile of him. He hadn't shaved for a week or more, and he stared back at Karr through eyes red-rimmed with tiredness. Karr studied him thoughtfully. The horn-rimmed glasses that were his trademark hung from a fine silver chain about his neck, the lenses covered in a fine red grit.
He had not been certain. Not until this moment. But now he knew. Berdichev was his. After almost five years of pursuit, he had finally caught up with the leader of the Dispersionists.
Karr looked about the cell again, conscious of the other three watching him closely, then nodded, satisfied. He knew how he looked to them. Knew how the suit exaggerated his size, making him seem monstrous, unnatural. Perhaps they were even wondering what he was—machine or man. If so, he would let them know. He lit up his face plate, seeing how the eyes of the others widened with surprise. But not Berdichev. He was watching Karr closely.
Karr turned, slamming the door shut behind him; then turned back, facing them again.
He knew what they expected. They knew the laws that were supposed to govern an arrest. But this was different. They had been tried in their absence and found guilty. He was not here to arrest them.
"Well, Major Karr, so we meet up at last, eh?" Berdichev lifted his chin a little as he spoke, but his eyes seemed to look down on the giant. "Do you really think you'll get me to stand trial? In fact, do you even think you'll leave Mars alive?"
If there had been any doubt before, there was none now. It was a trap. Berdichev had made a deal with the Captain, Wen. Or maybe Wen was in another's pay—a friend of Berdichev's. Whatever, it didn't matter now. He walked over to where Berdichev was sprawled and kicked at his feet.
"Get up," he said tonelessly, his voice emerging disembodied and inhuman through the suit's microphone.
Berdichev stood slowly, awkwardly. He was clearly ill. Even so, there was a dignity of bearing to him, a superiority of manner, that was impressive. Even in defeat he thought himself the better man. It was how he had been bred.
Karr stood closer, looking down into Berdichev's face, studying the hawklike features one last time. For a moment Berdichev looked away; then, as if he realized this was one last challenge, he met the big man's stare unflinchingly, his features set, defiant.
Did he know whose gaze he met across the vastness of space? Did he guess in that final moment?
Karr picked him up and broke his neck, his back, then dropped him. It was done in an instant, before the others had a chance to move, even to cry out.
He stepped away then stood there by the door, watching.
They gathered about the body, kneeling, glaring across at him, impotent to help the dying man. One of them half rose, his fists clenched, then drew back, realizing he could do nothing.