Prisoners of Tomorrow (101 page)

“Never say you don’t get anything back for your taxes.” Colman was sitting next to her, grinning faintly in the brief glow as one of the others lit a cigarette. But she had gone for so much of the day without speaking that she was unable to answer immediately. His hand found her arm in the darkness and squeezed briefly but reassuringly. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured. “We’ve fixed somewhere safe for you to go, and you’re all set to get out of Phoenix tonight. I’ll be coming with you into Franklin.”

“What about Veronica?” she whispered.

“One of our units at the base is expecting her. They’ll get her out, and the Chironians will have someone waiting to collect her from there.”

Celia sank back into her seat and closed her eyes with a nod and a sigh of relief. One of the figures in the darkness wanted to know how come somebody called Stanislau knew how to fly something like this. Another voice replied that his father used to steal them from the government.

Colman stared at Celia for a few seconds longer. He still didn’t know why Celia should have been so anxious to get away from Sterm or why she should have been in any danger. Life couldn’t have been much fun with somebody like Howard, he could see, so the thought of her gravitating toward a strong, protective figure like Sterm wasn’t so strange. And it didn’t seem so unnatural that she should have stayed near Sterm after Howard was killed. In such circumstances it would have been normal to provide her with an escort down to the surface too, for her own security; but having her watched all the time and not allowing her contact with anybody made no sense. Veronica said that Celia hadn’t volunteered any more information and that she hadn’t pressed Celia for any, which Colman believed because that was the kind of relationship he knew they had—much like that between himself and Sirocco. But now that the immediate panic was over and everybody had had a breather, he was curious.

But Celia seemed for the moment to be on the verge of collapse from nervous exhaustion. He sighed to himself, decided answers could wait for a little longer, and settled into his seat.

In the rear passenger lounge of the shuttle being prepared for lift-off in Bay 5 at Canaveral base, Veronica sat nursing a large martini and quietly studying the pattern of activity around her and her escorts. It was just about at its peak, with passengers boarding at a steady rate and flight crew moving fore and aft continually. But most of the faces had not yet had time to register. The matron had evidently not considered it part of her duties to assist in packing or carrying anything, but had maintained her distance as a purely passive observer; there was no reason why she should change that role now.

Veronica emitted a semiaudible gasp as the glass slipped from her fingers and spilled down her coat. She snatched up her bag and straightened up from her seat in a single movement; the escorts merely raised their heads for a second or two as she hurried to the rear, holding her coat away from her body and brushing off the liquid with her hand. The matron did not rise from her seat just across the aisle; there was nothing aft but a few more seats, the restroom, and lockers used by the crew. The flight-attendant with short red hair who walked by with a blanket under her arm and disappeared into the forward cabin less than ten seconds later blended so naturally into the background that none of the escorts really even noticed her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Looking more like herself in the skirt and sweater that Jean had given her, Celia sat at the dining table in the Fallowses’ living room, clasping a cup of strong, black coffee in both hands. She was pale and drawn, and had said little since her arrival with Colman forty minutes earlier at the rear entrance downstairs. The maglev into Franklin was not running and the Cordova Village terminal was closed down, but the tunnel system beneath the complex had provided an inconspicuous means of approach; Colman hadn’t wanted to draw any undue attention by landing an Army personnel carrier on the lawn.

“Starting to feel a little better?” Jean asked as she refilled Celia’s cup. Celia nodded. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to lie down somewhere and rest for half an hour before you leave? It might do you a lot of good.” Celia shook her head. Jean nodded resignedly and replaced the pot on the warmer before sitting down again between Celia and Marie.

Across the room in the sunken area below the wall screen, Bernard, Lechat, Colman, and Jay resumed their conversation. “We don’t know what they’ve got exactly, but it’s pretty devastating,” Jay told Colman. “We figure they’ve already tested it. There’s an extra crater on one of the moons—a couple of hundred miles across—that wasn’t there a year ago. Imagine if whatever did that was to hit the ship.”

“You think that’s really a possibility?” Colman asked, looking concerned and doubtful at the same time.

“It’s how the Chironians have been working all along,” Lechat said. “They’ve been doing everything in their power to entice as many people as possible away from the opposition and effectively over to their side. Haven’t they done it with us? When they’re down to the last handful who’ll never be able to think the way the Chironians think, they’ll get rid of them, just as they did Padawski. That’s how their society has always worked. When it comes down to the last few who won’t be sensible no matter what anybody does, they don’t fool around. And they’ll do the same thing with the ship if Sterm makes one threatening move with those weapons up there. I’m convinced of it. The Chironians took out their insurance a long time ago. That would be typical of how they think too.”

Colman frowned and shook his head with a sigh as he thought about it. “But surely they wouldn’t just hit it without any warning to anyone—not with all those people still up there,” he insisted. “Wouldn’t they say something first . . . let Sterm know what he’s up against?”

“I don’t know,” Bernard said dubiously. “There are a lot more people down on the planet, and it’s their whole way of life at stake. Maybe they wouldn’t. Who knows exactly how the Chironians think when all the chips are down? Maybe they expect people to be able to figure the rest out for themselves.”

Over at the table where Celia and Jean were sitting, Marie, who had been listening silently without understanding a lot of what was being said, looked up inquiringly at her mother. Jean smiled and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “So what is it they’ve got?” Colman asked again. “Missiles wouldn’t be any use to them, and they know it. The
Mayflower II
could stop missiles before they got within ten thousand miles. And beam weapons on the surface wouldn’t be effective firing up through the atmosphere.” He spread his hands imploringly. “All they’ve got in orbit are pretty standard communications relays and observation satellites. The moons are both out of range of beam projectors. So what else is there?”

“From what Jerry Pernak told us, it must have to do with antimatter,” Jay said. “The Chironians are into a whole new world of particle theory. That means they can produce lots of antimatter economically. With that they could make matter-antimatter annihilation bombs, super-intense radiation sources, guided antimatter beams, maybe . . . who knows? But it has to be something like that.”

The mention of antimatter reminded Colman of something. He sat back on the sofa and cast his mind back as he tried to pinpoint what. It reminded him of something Kath had said. The others stopped talking and looked at him curiously. And then it came to him. He cocked his head to one side and looked at Bernard. “Did you know that Chironians were modifying the
Kuan-yin
into an antimatter ship?” he asked.

Bernard sat forward, his expression suddenly serious. “No, I didn’t,” he said. “Is that what they’ve been doing to it? How did . . .” His voice trailed away silently.

Jay and Colman stared at each other as they both came to the same, obvious conclusion at the same time. “That’s it,” Jay murmured.

Bernard’s expression was grave and distant. “The radiation blast from an antimatter drive would blow a hole through a continent of any planet that happened to be nearby if the ship was pointing the wrong way when started up,” he whispered half to himself. “It’s been up there in orbit, right under our noses all the time. They’ve got the biggest radiation projector anybody ever dreamed of—right there, riding out in space with the
Mayflower II.
They put kids and comic robots on it, and we never even noticed it.”

A long silence went by while they took it all in. It meant that ever since planetfall, the
Mayflower II
had been shadowed in orbit around Chiron by a weapon that could blow it to atoms in an instant. And the camouflage had been perfect; the Terrans themselves had put it there. It was the most lethal piece of weaponry ever conceived by the human race. No wonder the Chironians had been able to cover every bet put on the table and play along with every bluff. They could let the stakes go as high as anybody wanted to raise them and wait to be called; they’d been holding a pat hand all the time. Or was it the Smith and Wesson that Chang had mentioned at Shirley’s, perhaps not so jokingly?

“We might not be the only ones who’ve noticed there’s an extra hole on Remus,” Jay said at last. “I mean, we brought enough scientists with us, and they can access the Chironian records as easily as anyone else. The Chironians aren’t exactly secretive about their physics.”

“They could have,” Bernard agreed. “But have they? It doesn’t add up to the way Sterm’s acting.”

Jay shrugged. “Maybe he figures he’s got a better than even chance of outshooting them. Maybe he’s just crazy.”

Lechat had digested the implications by now and appeared worried. “Maybe the Chironians have given a warning, but nobody realized it. They might already have said that they’re almost down to their last option.”

“How do you mean?” Colman asked.

Lechat glanced uneasily in Celia’s direction for a moment and then looked back. “Howard Kalens,” he said in a lower voice. “Couldn’t that have been a final warning? Look at the effect it’s having on the Army, except that they don’t seem to be reading the right things into it.” He looked at Jay. “I can’t see that they’ve got it all figured out. They can’t have.”

Bernard sat back and drew a long breath. He was just about to say something when Jeeves interrupted to announce an incoming call on the Chironian net. It was Kath, calling from her place in Franklin. “I’ve heard from Casey,” she said when Bernard accepted. “He’s collected his package with Adam, and they’re on their way home with it. I just thought you’d like to know.”

Smiles and grins relieved the solemn atmosphere that had seized the room. From the direction of the table, Jean emitted an audible sigh of relief. Bernard grinned up at the screen. “Thanks,” he said. “We’re all glad to hear it. Talk to you again soon.” Kath gave a quick smile and vanished from the screen.

“Veronica made it!” Jean exclaimed delightedly. “Steve, I don’t know how you handled it all.”

“It pays to have friends,” Colman grunted.

“Congratulations, Steve,” Bernard said, still smiling. “I wonder what those guards are doing right now.”

“I’m very pleased,” Lechat murmured. Jay grinned, and Marie smiled at what was evidently good news.

Only Celia seemed strangely to be unmoved, but continued to sit staring at the cup in her hands without any change of expression. Her unexpected reaction caused the others to fall quiet and stare at her uncertainly. Then Jean said in a hesitant voice, “You don’t seem very excited, Celia. Is there something wrong?”

Celia didn’t seem to hear. Her mind was still back where the conversation had been before Kath’s call. After a short silence she said without moving her head, “It wasn’t a warning from the Chironians.”

The others exchanged puzzled looks. Jean shook her head and looked back at Celia. “I’m sorry, we’re not with you. Why—”

“The Chironians didn’t kill Howard,” Celia said. “I did.”

A silence descended like steel doors slamming down around the room. Those two simple words had extinguished all thoughts of the
Kuan-yin
’s weapons, and antimatter instantly. Every head turned disbelievingly to Celia as she sat staring ahead. Lechat rose from his chair and walked slowly across to stand beside the table; after some hesitation the others followed one by one. Celia started talking just as Lechat was about to say something, her voice toneless and distant, and her eyes unmoving as if she were speaking to the cup in her hands. “I couldn’t have spent my life with a man who had closed his mind to reality. You can’t know what it was like. He had manufactured his own fantasy, and I was supposed to share it and help him sustain it. It was impossible.” She paused to gulp some of the coffee. “So, the thing with Sterm . . . happened . . . Howard learned about it . . .” Celia closed her eyes as if she were trying to shut out a memory that she was seeing again. “He lost control of himself completely . . . there was a fight, and . . .” She left the rest unsaid. After a few seconds she opened her eyes and stared blankly ahead again. “Maybe I wanted him to find out—provoked him to it. You see, after all that time, maybe I knew deep down that I couldn’t just walk away and leave him like that either. What other way was there?” Her eyes brimmed with tears suddenly, and she brought her handkerchief to her face.

Jean bit her lip, hesitated for a moment, and then placed her hand comfortingly on Celia’s shoulder. “You mustn’t think like that,” she urged. “You’re trying to take all the guilt upon yourself and—”

Celia raised her head suddenly to look up at Lechat. “But I only shot him twice, not six times as the soldiers found. And the house hadn’t been broken into when I left. Don’t you see what that means?”

Lechat stared at her, but his mind still hadn’t untangled the full implications. Beside him Colman’s jaw clamped tight. “Somebody faked it to look like the Chironians did it,” Colman grated.

Bernard’s jaw dropped. “Sterm?” he gasped, then looked down at Celia. “You did tell him?”

Celia nodded. “That evening, as soon as I got up to the ship. I think I must have been hysterical or something. But . . . yes, I told him.”

Lechat was nodding slowly to himself. “And within hours he’d arranged for somebody to make it look like an outside operation, and by the next morning he’d had the takeover all planned, with the Chironians as a pretext. Everything fits. But who would have done it?”