‘They wanted us all to die,’ said Lopomac. ‘They planned for us to die as quietly and quickly as possible, using up as few resources and causing as little damage as possible, so as to leave this place intact for later reoccupation.’
‘You have proof of this?’ asked Martinez.
Var shook her head. ‘No direct proof, but the most basic study of resource usage, which I have transmitted to your computers, allows us a lifespan here of five years, maybe a little longer. All living here now are essential, and without them, things would break down a lot quicker. Reduce the personnel and you don’t stretch resources over a longer period, you just kill the base faster.’ After this introduction she went on to tell them the rest: how she herself had killed Inspectorate personnel; how Kaskan had killed the two in Hydroponics, and about his subsequent sacrifice. She noted some angry looks as she detailed the cutting of power to lure Ricard out, but, of course, as a result they had all been left sitting in the cold and dark waiting to die. She then bluntly informed them how she had killed Ricard, sensed their approval, realized that some were now looking at her with something approaching awe, or even fear. Finally she called up video footage recorded from around Earth.
‘Whilst the three of us were preparing for Ricard’s attack,’ she continued, ‘we found evidence of some sort of disturbance going on around Earth. Since then, it seems the action there has escalated. Here is recorded footage from over twenty hours ago.’
‘Mother of God!’ Carol exclaimed.
‘What the hell is this?’ Martinez demanded.
Before answering, Var scanned the shocked faces around the table, let them take it in, begin to absorb the implications. ‘The Argus satellite network,’ she eventually explained, just as another ground-based explosion flared down on the night side of Earth. ‘When I recorded this, about half of the network was already gone. Someone’s been dropping the satellites onto Earth. Something major is happening there.’
‘War?’ Lopomac queried. ‘I did wonder —’
‘Who with?’ Gunther interrupted. ‘There’s revolutionary groups down there, we know, but none of them has the resources to achieve something like this.’
A spear of light cut across the night side, terminating in yet another blast.
‘Civil war,’ declared Lopomac. ‘It’s the only possible answer.’
Var nodded, for that seemed to make sense. ‘A schism must have developed within the Committee. They’re fighting each other.’
Such huge events laid out there for them to witness, yet they had only one crucial point of relevance to what must now happen here on Mars.
‘There’s something else too,’ she said. ‘I’m not really sure what to make of it.’
She flicked to another recorded view showing an object at extreme range but drawing rapidly closer.
‘Argus Station,’ said Lopomac.
‘It’s on the move,’ said Var. ‘Someone must have fired up the Traveller engine on the surface of the asteroid.’
‘They’re going to drop that thing on Earth?’ said Carol, her voice hushed.
Var glanced across at her. ‘It doesn’t seem so. Last time I checked, it was on a spiral orbit moving outwards from Earth. In fact that path should have intersected with the Moon’s orbit some hours ago.’
‘They crashed it on the Moon?’ gasped Carol. ‘I don’t know,’ said Var, vexed that she hadn’t checked the same feeds again this morning. But how important were they? Her co-workers had just seen enough that was of relevance to them, because it showed the truth of their own situation. Of course, she understood the concern of those here who still had family back on Earth. Her own brother might still be alive somewhere back there. There was just a chance that he hadn’t ended up in an adjustment cell for, if anyone truly fitted the description her political officer had once applied to herself – too dangerous to live, too valuable to kill – it was her brilliant sibling, Alan Saul.
‘But, in light of all this,’ she said acidly, ‘it seems likely that the rebuilding of Mars Travellers has been postponed way beyond the prediction of fifteen to twenty years. There might not be further missions heading out this way for centuries, millennia . . . or ever.’ She paused for a moment, realizing that none of them knew about Chairman Messina’s private project, none of them knew about the Alexander – that massive spacecraft under construction out beyond the orbit of the Moon. It had been kept very secret, and the construction station it sat within was EM-shielded and invisible from Earth. Whatever, with the events occurring on Earth the project had almost certainly been shelved, if not destroyed.
‘How can you be sure?’ asked Gunther.
‘Last night I ran a rough analysis on those same images,’ she replied, ‘and what you are seeing is not random. Someone is dropping those laser satellites directly onto Inspectorate HQs all around Earth. When I last looked, all seven thousand satellites were on the move. I’m guessing it’s finished now. Someone just annihilated most of the Committee power base on Earth.’
‘I can confirm that,’ said Rhone, of Mars Science, a man so pale that, without the Martian rouge ground into his skin, he would have had an albino complexion. ‘We’ve also been picking up some Govnet chatter, though most of Govnet now seems to be down. It goes beyond what we’re actually seeing. Some kind of computer attack has turned readerguns and military robots against the Inspectorate all across Earth, and even dropped government scramjets and aeros out of the sky. Prior to this, it’s also worth noting, the satellite lasers fired on Minsk and then on each other. There was also a big launch of space planes from a hidden spaceport in central Australia towards the Argus Station. A lot of them didn’t make it, as they got fried by the Traveller VI engine.’
Var stared at him. Here was someone who had been accessing data she hadn’t even noticed. Best to keep a close eye on him. Then she felt a sudden irritation with herself. That was unfair; that was Inspectorate thinking.
‘Any speculations?’ she asked.
‘We’ve picked up nothing on Alessandro Messina or the Committee delegates – probably now hiding in a bunker somewhere.’ He paused, looking thoughtful. ‘I don’t know who or what did this, but it seems likely to me that it’s based aboard the Argus Station.’
It was Martinez who got down to the practicalities. ‘But where does that leave us now?’ he asked.
Rhone was about to add something else, but he desisted, just dipping his head. She watched him for a moment, then turned her attention to Martinez.
‘It leaves us completely and utterly on our own.’ Var scanned the faces all around her. ‘We now have to make this place work, all of us.’
‘And how’s that going to be?’ Martinez asked, studying her intently.
‘We repair the damage,’ she said. ‘We locate resources, finish building the Arboretum, graft damned hard and very cleverly to make sure we can continue surviving here. We have to make this place self-sufficient or it’s our tomb.’
Rhone raised his head. ‘I don’t think that’s the question Martinez was asking. I think he wants to know who’s in charge now.’
‘I suggest I retain my present position,’ said Var. ‘The command structure the Committee established here had its faults, but most of those are now lying on a flatbed trailer outside. Remember, I was chosen for the position of technical director here. You all know my qualifications in all branches of science, and that I am the best synthesist you have.’ She paused for a moment, focusing her attention on Rhone. ‘Does anyone else have suggestions?’
‘I agree,’ said Rhone. ‘You are the best one for the position, and have ably demonstrated the ruthlessness the position may require.’