The Martian Viking Read online

  Ryan said goodbye to the two party androids the Sect had sent over. He would be billed for the time and any maintenance fees incurred from overuse. It would be costly, but he thought the androids well worth the price.

  He'd heard about erotic androids before, but he'd never actually used one. Only Conglom-approved religions like the No-God Sect were legally licensed to procure such wonderful machines. Of course, there were plenty of bootleg operations, but that wasn't the way Ryan did things. It might have been cheaper, but only if he didn't get caught. A roll in the hay with two supple beauties wasn't worth joining Beeb on Mars.

  Besides, he thought as he slipped out of his robe and into the shower, this wasn't about sex. It was about living with Ronindella. He couldn't join that cockamamie Video Church, even if it was Conglom sanctioned. He was far too much of an intellectual for that.

  The chemical spray slapped his skin and invigorated him, waking him from the lethargic afterglow of sex. He thought about taking some exercise, but he kept thinking about Ronnie. How was she reacting to what she'd seen on the phone? What if she went into a terrible depression? She always said that visits to the Video Church cured that. What if this stunt only drove her back to those hyenas at the Church?

  He shut off the spray and grabbed a towel, telling himself that Madame Psychosis wouldn't screw things up that badly.

  Would she?

  Rubbing his hair dry, he went back into the bedroom, stark naked, thinking for the first time that it was possible for Madame Psychosis to have her own hidden agenda. For example, what if the Conglom was observing all this? What if they had decided that he wasn't productive enough at work, and were looking for an excuse to terminate his job? He would be sent to Mars, or Luna, or even worse, to the asteroid belt.

  He'd never come home again.

  Sitting on the bed, he found his hands shaking. He tried to convince himself that they had nothing on him, but he couldn't be sure. There might be a Pre-Emptive Agent lurking just outside his apt. After all, the No-God Sect might not have been condemned by the government, but they were hardly at the top of the charts. No, not like the Video Church, which told the government exactly what it wanted to hear, and voluntarily gave a tithe to the Conglom. Separation of church and state was something Beeb used to talk about, but it was a thing of the past—if it had ever existed. Ryan might be in trouble already, with such subversive ideas floating around in his head. He consciously suppressed all thoughts questioning the government. Instead, he told himself what an upstanding citizen he was.

  Well, once Ronindella agreed to see Madame Psychosis, everything would be all right. They'd soon both belong to the New Age Church, which was indeed near the top of the charts. They'd have most of Beeb's pay coming in, and maybe Ronnie would get a real job, instead of depending on the Church to bail her out when she got into debt. It seemed to Ryan that she worked harder for them than if she were employed, and got a lot less out of it. Only her status as a mother saved her from going to the moon, as far as he could see.

  Should he call to see what Ronnie was doing now? See how she was taking it? In some ways, she was pretty fragile.

  No, he had to trust Madame Psychosis. She knew best, with the accumulated knowledge of mystics through the ages stored in her memory droplets. He had to be patient, to wait and see what happened.

  If he just bided his time, everything he wanted would come to him.

  TWELVE

  "WE'VE CROSS-REFERENCED data from the archecoded onees," Angel Torquemada said, "and, as a result, we now know where the enemy is hiding."

  Johnsmith had been daydreaming, but that comment focused his attention on the lecture. In fact, most of the people in the underground meeting room stirred at the same moment as him.

  "Are there any questions?" Torquemada said.

  "Yes," Frankie Lee Wisbar said. Frankie was one of the many new people at these meetings, since the entire onee supply had been contaminated, and everyone at Elysium now hallucinated about Viking ships every time they touched an onee. "How did you cross-reference this data?"

  "Simple. We looked for semiotic clues about the Arkies in the hallucinations that our people suffered."

  "Semi-what?"

  "Semiotic. It's the science of understanding signs. It's been around for a long time, but it's only recently been adapted to onees."

  "How does it work?"

  "We look for variations in the hallucinations that subjects report while under the influence of onees. We file these and look for symbols that recur. We then cross-reference these, looking for unconscious clues that previous users have left imprinted in the onees' matrices."

  "Previous users?" a thin man named Smedley asked from the back row.

  "Yes, these bootleg onees are generational of necessity. The technology to mass produce them is apparently unavailable to the Arkies."

  "Then how do they make them?" Felicia asked.

  "They imprint them directly from the human nervous system," Torquemada said.

  Johnsmith recalled the effect his onee had exerted on Alderdice, that first time his friend had used an onee. He had noticed that Alderdice picked up some of the same imagery Johnsmith had enjoyed. His assumption had been that it was coded onto the onee in the factory, but that might not have been the case. Torquemada was saying that onees picked up some imagery from everyone that used them.

  "Factory images, unmuddled by repetition, can be perceived perfectly only by the first user. It is the intention of the Arkies to insert subversive imagery onto otherwise harmless onees."

  The prisoners took that in, a few of them nodding in understanding, the rest just looking puzzled.

  "But why?" a woman asked. "What's the purpose of this subversive activity?"

  "Nothing less than to disrupt the government of the Conglomerated United Nations of Earth."

  It was one of the few times Johnsmith had heard anybody use the full name of the government since he was a schoolboy. It sounded kind of formal, and yet strangely nostalgic at the same time, in a sick way. He didn't feel like singing the International Anthem, that much was for sure.

  "But we've outsmarted this criminal element," Torquemada said, grimacing with pleasure.

  Johnsmith wondered if Torquemada thought he was smiling, and if he realized that, technically, by Conglom law, they were all part of the same criminal element he was condemning.

  "Now we're going to seek them out and destroy them in their lair," Torquemada said, his voice rising with something like emotion. "We're going to search out and destroy the entire Arkie operation."

  "We are?" asked an incredulous Alderdice V. Lumumba. "But how?"

  "Through a military operation that will be carried out with surgical precision."

  Audible sounds of understanding sounded throughout the room. This was not only the reason they had been trained, then, but also the reason their reactions to onees had been so thoroughly documented. They had not only been the semiotic bloodhounds through which the Arkies were to be ferreted out, but now they were going to be sent to kill or be killed by guerillas so skilled in survival that they could live in the wilds of Mars and penetrate the heavily guarded Elysium compound.

  And to think that Johnsmith had been happy he wasn't sent to Luna or the Belt.

  "An expedition will be mounted at oh six hundred hours tomorrow morning, with the following personnel armed and suited for an extended stay on the outside."

  Johnsmith sank as far down into the uncomfortable plastic chair as he could manage, irrationally hoping that he would somehow not be called.

  "Fulci," Angel Torquemada read from a clipboard, "Barenko, Wisbar, Smedley, Eddleblute . . ."

  Johnsmith closed his eyes, imagining how bad a military adventure on Mars could be, especially after the disastrous firefight he had been in already. They had only ventured a few hundred yards from the compound and a handful of people had been killed; the fact that Torquemada had not revealed where the Arkies' camp was located made him think that this was going to
be a major undertaking.

  " . . .Eaton, Sandke, Lumumba . . ."

  Oh shit, Alderdice had been picked, thought Johnsmith; better him than me, though. He felt slightly ashamed at that reaction to hearing Alderdice's name called.

  " . . .Kassoff, Wu, Biberkopf . . ."

  There it was. He was going to be sent out to die in the morning. Great. Johnsmith swallowed, feeling his adam's apple move almost painfully in his dry throat.

  He didn't hear the rest of the names on the list. It depressed him so much to think of what was going to happen to him tomorrow that he couldn't think of anything else . . .except for Smitty II. The poor kid wouldn't have a father anymore. Well, it was better than having a convict for an old man. He hoped that Ryan was a better example to the boy than he'd been, but that was a dubious proposition.

  It occurred to him that Torquemada was no longer talking. Their fearless leader was gathering up his notes and getting ready to leave.

  "Mr. Torquemada," Felicia said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "you didn't call my name."

  Torquemada looked down at her, but said nothing. Everyone in the room was watching Felicia.

  "I'd like to go along on this expedition," she said.

  "We need reserves," Torquemada said with an air of finality. "Not everyone will be able to go." He stepped away from the podium and started toward the door.

  Felicia bit her bottom lip. "I'd like to volunteer to go in someone else's place."

  Stopping in mid stride, Torquemada turned toward her. His death's head grin spread across his gaunt features. "Why, that's commendable," he said. "Commendable, Burst."

  "Then you'll do it?" Felicia asked. "I really want to go, to see some action."

  "May I ask why?"

  "I want to pay them back for the way they attacked us that night," she said. "And I want to prove to myself that I've learned how to be a good soldier since I've been at Elysium."

  Torquemada stared at her intently. Was he buying this? Johnsmith wondered; it was doubtful. It seemed likely to Johnsmith that Felicia was hoping to get a chance to go over to the rebels. But the way she was acting lately, who could tell?

  "What do you say, sir?" Felicia asked.

  "You'll get your chance," Torquemada said. "But not this time."

  "Please," Felicia said.

  But Angel Torquemada was already out the door.

  "Felicia," Johnsmith said, as the grim prisoners rose and followed Torquemada. "What brought that on? This little outing could turn out to be very dangerous."

  She turned to him with soulful eyes. "I want to be with you, Johnsmith Biberkopf," she said. "I want to be with you all the time."

  "Well, that's nice, sweetheart," he said, genuinely touched, "but I don't think you should risk your life."

  "It doesn't matter," she said. "The time that we live isn't what's important, but the way we live during that time. That's what really counts."

  Johnsmith wasn't so sure about that, but kept his doubts to himself. At least she wasn't going along on the expedition to be used as particle beam fodder.

  "Do you know why they didn't select me?" she said, with a touch of her pre-onee bitterness.

  "No."

  "Because of my family. They're giving me preferential treatment."

  "But you want to go on the expedition, and Torquemada won't let you."

  "Exactly, you naif. They're afraid of the consequences if I get killed or wounded . . .or captured by the enemy."

  "I knew it," Johnsmith said. "You want to go over to the Arkies."

  "Shh." She pressed her index finger against his lips and said softly, "I want us to go over to them, not just me."

  "Us?" he whispered.

  "You and me, guerillas together for the rest of our lives. And maybe Alderdice, too."

  Johnsmith was moved and appalled at the same time. But all he said was: "Alderdice's obedience implants would probably prevent him from going over to the Arkies."

  Felicia leaned close to him, close enough for him to kiss her. He did so, impulsively and deeply. It felt good, as if he had a new understanding of Felicia. Perhaps she was misguided, but she had a generous and giving spirit underneath the bitterness and resentment . . .sometimes.

  She didn't give her love easily, but once she did, she gave all of it. It was just too bad that she had such crazy ideas.

  But even while he was kissing her, he wondered if it was really crazy to think about defecting to the Arkies. Could it be any worse than this tedious nightmare of an interplanetary prison? At least the Arkies were free, living on the outside, not under the command of an imperious prig like Angel Torquemada.

  "Well, it looks like we're going to see some action tomorrow," a woman's voice said from behind Johnsmith.

  He turned and saw Frankie Lee Wisbar smiling at him. She smiled at Felicia, too, but Felicia looked away.

  "You seem happy to be going into combat," Johnsmith said.

  Frankie shrugged. "I might be killed," she said, "but so what? It's better than this living death." An expansive gesture indicated the entire compound.

  Johnsmith was slightly startled to hear her say what he had been thinking; not in so many words, perhaps, but the sentiment was the same. Quiet desperation was the rule of thumb at Elysium, apparently. And those who had been here longer didn't like it any better.

  "In combat, you're really alive," Frankie said. "It's something a pacifist could never understand."

  "I've only been in combat once," Johnsmith said, "and I found it confusing and frightening."

  "It won't get any better," Frankie Lee Wisbar replied, "but you will."

  She walked away, leaving Johnsmith with a plainly resentful Felicia.

  "She's after you," Felicia said.

  "She's just trying to help," Johnsmith said, wishing to avoid an unpleasant scene.

  "Trying to help!" Felicia shouted. "She's going off with you tomorrow, and I may never see you again."

  "Felicia, this isn't going to be a romantic tryst tomorrow. We're going off to fight a war."

  But Felicia wasn't listening. She got up, kicking over her plastic chair, and stalked out of the meeting room. Johnsmith was left alone with his thoughts. He wondered what had made Felicia so angry. Perhaps it was his defense of Frankie. After all, Felicia probably thought that marching off to war was a highly romantic proposition, especially if the goal was to join another band of revolutionary guerrillas. She was so screwed up, but he loved her anyway. Maybe he was crazy, loving a woman like that, but that was the way things had worked out . . .at least for now.

  Frankie Lee Wisbar was packing her gear. She was the only one at Elysium camp who knew where they were going in the morning, besides Torquemada and Sergeant Daiv. Still, she was packing exactly what she'd been told to, and gave no indication that she possessed more information than any other prisoner.

  The slightest suspicious action on her part might lead Torquemada to suspect that she was an Arkie. She had to keep that in mind at all times.

  A light flared brilliantly, and a continuous roar sounded immediately afterward. Frankie Lee's muscles tensed and she dropped the pack. How could the Arkies attack without her knowing it?

  She realized after a moment that it was only the Interplan ship's engines. Prudy the co-pilot was testing them, as she had done many times since the Captain had been captured by the Arkies, marooning her at Elysium as a result. It happened every few days, and she had learned to pay little or no attention to its thunder and fire. Tonight she was jumpy, thinking about what was going to happen tomorrow. There was no way to warn the Arkies about the imminent attack. What was worse, she would be one of the aggressors.

  Maybe she could divert Torquemada and Sergeant Daiv long enough to let her compatriots know what was in store for them. It wasn't likely, but it was the best idea she could come up with on such short notice.

  "I'm frightened."

  She turned to see Alderdice V. Lumumba, sitting across the aisle from her on his bunk, packing his
gear.

  "That's okay, Alderdice," she said, ignoring the disapproving looks from the combat veterans bunking on either side of her. "Everybody is when they go into battle."

  "I was completely ineffective during that first firefight," Alderdice said. "I was so scared I could hardly move."

  "It's not unusual, especially the first time out."

  Alderdice looked down at his bootless feet, plucking at one of his socks. "I don't think I'm any braver now than I was then, to tell the truth."

  "You'll be okay." Frankie smiled at him. This poor man would probably get killed, she thought. He was just the sort to freeze up and present himself as an easy target. But there was no sense in scaring him. "Try not to worry."

  "I will." Alderdice frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder why they're doing it?"

  "Doing what?" Frankie went over and sat down on the edge of Alderdice's bed.

  "The Arkies. I wonder why they're disseminating these special onees. I mean, I could understand it if they were raiding Elysium for food, or for other supplies. But what is it about these Viking hallucinations that's so special?"

  "I don't know," Frankie Lee Wisbar lied.

  "And why here at Elysium, the most heavily guarded military installation on Mars?"

  Frankie shook her head innocently.

  "Of course, they might be attacking every human habitation on the planet, for all I know," Alderdice mused. "But that still doesn't explain why they're doing it."

  "No, I guess not."

  Brow furrowed, Alderdice said earnestly, "You've been here a lot longer than me, Frankie. You must have heard something by this time. What do you think?"

  "Torquemada doesn't tell us much," she said.

  "No, I guess not. Still, there must be some reason for their behavior."

  "Maybe they're trying to show us something," Frankie said. "Teach us something."

  "In some misguided way, maybe," Alderdice allowed.

  Frankie shrugged. "Who can say?"

  "I guess it's hard for me to understand why anybody would do such a thing," Alderdice said.

  "Why?"

  "Because of my obedience implants. I used to work for the government, you know."