Part 9 (1/2)
”The early years with the Disty were rough,” he said. ”I've heard that there's a lot that happened that never made it into the official histories.”
She shook her head. ”These can't be victims of the Disty. These corpses are intact.”
”At least the first three,” he said.
”It doesn't matter,” she said. ”They don't kill like this.”
”Even in battle?” he asked.
”Especially in battle. The Disty have always preferred distance weapons, things that incinerated, so that the area would be purified and no part of the corpse would remain. The Disty could build here then. Otherwise they wouldn't have been able to.”
”Not even if the information was lost?” Batson asked.
”I don't think the Disty would lose this kind of information,” she said. ”But this is all speculation. I have no idea what killed these three or how long they've been here, or even if they all died of the same thing. I need to work in my lab. I need good people to disinter the corpses, and I need to work with the evidence.”
”How about training us?” Batson asked. He was sincere, but she could hear the reluctance in his voice. He wanted her to say no, even though he would do the work if she agreed.
”Maybe,” she said. ”But I can't supervise you, and frankly, I'd worry that you'd be doing things wrong. Besides, how're you going to keep this secret-eight people coming to work at this site every day, digging up the dead? Eventually, someone will investigate.”
”What do you suggest?” he asked. ”We can't let the Disty learn of this.”
”Why not?” she asked. ”What'll they do? They emptied out three square blocks for one human skeleton. What would they do for this many corpses that have been here this long? Evacuate the Dome?”
”Maybe,” he said.
”And that would harm us how?” she asked.
He looked at her. She could see the thought penetrate, then he blinked, frowned, and shook his head.
They'd been afraid of the Disty for so long that they couldn't imagine life without them. What would happen if the Disty left the Dome? Humans could reclaim it.
”Mars is theirs,” he said. ”I doubt they'd abandon any of it.”
”They abandoned these blocks fast enough.”
”And demanded that we fix this,” he said. ”It's the fixing that scares me, Sharyn. They could incinerate the whole Dome, purify the place somehow, do something to the ground, and kill us all. Who'll argue with that? It fits into their laws.”
”Does it?” Her voice remained calm, but she shuddered just the same. She didn't know how their laws worked on something this extreme. All she knew was that she was trapped here now, facing an even more uncertain future.
”What do you suggest?” he asked. ”I'm out of ideas.”
She slipped on her gloves, then picked up a handful of sand. Who knew that it hid so much?
”I don't think we should make the decision,” she said after a moment. ”I think we take it to the chief.”
Batson was shaking his head even before she finished her sentence. ”There's too much corruption in the SDHPD. They'll tell the Disty.”
”Maybe they should tell the Disty. Maybe they should insist that the Death Squad get involved.”
”But the Death Squad wouldn't touch fegen. They're not going to get near this.”
”We don't know.” Scott-Olson was pouring sand from one hand to another. The repet.i.tive motion was almost hypnotic. ”If they already knew about this, they might.”
Batson continued to shake his head. ”I'm not going to the boss.”
”Everyone'll find out. No matter what we do, Petros. Better to control the outflow of information.”
He was silent for a long moment. Then he said, ”What about the mayor of the human section of Sahara Dome? What about the Dual Government?”
”The Disty laws take precedence with them.”
”They'll take precedence with the Alliance too. The Alliance always goes with local laws.” Scott-Olson balled her hands and pressed them against her knees.
”No,” Batson said. ”The Alliance goes with the laws prevailing at the time of the act. If you can show that this occurred before Disty took over Mars, then we might have a shot.”
”I don't know if this occurred then.”
”Lie,” he said.
She looked up at him. She had never lied about her work. Not once. Her stomach muscles tightened. The hunger turned to nausea. ”What if I get caught?”
He turned toward her, his eyes bright. ”It won't matter. We'll be news by then. The entire solar system will want to know what happened to these humans. If the Disty mistreat the investigators, we might get protection. Or a place to go. We won't be at their mercy.”
”Unless we're needed to clear the contamination.”
He froze. He knew about those strange rules as well. And unlike Aisha Costard, he hadn't flinched when he heard what would happen to them if the relatives weren't found.
Scott-Olson stood. ”I'll work. You go upstairs. You tell them that this happened before the Disty took over. If you're wrong, no one'll care.”
”And you can deny that you told me.”
”Yes,” she said. ”Don't let them come to me until they decide to help.”
He looked at her. She saw hope in his eyes for the first time in weeks. She wished her eyes reflected the same thing. But she didn't feel hopeful. She felt overwhelmed and strangely sad, as if all these corpses, all these former living and breathing humans, had infected her with their great tragedy.
She had been right: In the end, the work mattered most. She wanted to know what happened here. She wanted to know how many were dead and who caused it, and why it happened.
Batson stood. His hand brushed her shoulder. ”We're going to get out of this.”
He sounded like he believed it.
She was glad he did. One of them had to.
15.