Part 35 (1/2)

56.

Hauk Rackam watched the wall screens in his office, staring at the hundreds of s.h.i.+ps still leaving Mars's...o...b..t. Hundreds of s.h.i.+ps, all because he hadn't closed the ports. His a.s.sistant, Zayna Columbus, kept reporting the Disty death toll to him, mostly to rub it in. She had disagreed with him all along. He had made one executive decision, and she hated the fact he hadn't taken her complete advice.

He had no idea how many dead there would have been in the ports if he had closed them when she had suggested, all those hours ago. He knew quite well that the colliding and exploding s.h.i.+ps were his fault, just like the saved lives-the fact that only Wells and Sahara Dome were affected-were also his fault.

And Columbus's idea.

Rackam closed his eyes, rubbing them with his thumb and forefinger. When this was all over, he was going to resign as incoming leader of the Human Governments of Mars. He had thought it a ceremonial position-he had even checked the bylaws: It was was a ceremonial position, except in the unlikely event of a governmental vacuum. a ceremonial position, except in the unlikely event of a governmental vacuum.

Which had happened. He made sure he had recorded everything: the unavailability of the Disty High Council, of the Death Squads, of anyone who could give him advice. He even had Wyome Nakamura collate everyone's notes on the events of the past day, so that when the inevitable trial came-and it would-he would have evidence to present that someone had to act, and his a.s.sistants convinced him that someone should have been him.

That knowledge didn't help his conscience, though. He had a feeling that if he had been smarter or perhaps less focused on his own fear, he might have made a better choice.

He hadn't been made for this kind of decision. He had no training for it, no mind for it, and obviously no stomach for it.

It would haunt him for the rest of his life, even if no one brought charges against him for all these deaths.

”Sir?” Columbus was at his door again. She seemed even more grotesque to him, with her lack of concern about her appearance, her too-intelligent eyes always seeing everything, that narrow and disapproving mouth.

”What is it now?” he asked, letting the weariness he felt into his voice.

”We've finally heard from the Disty.”

A drop of sweat ran down the side of his face and settled on his chin. ”And?”

”They have a solution, sir, and they want us to make the arrangements with the governments of Wells and Sahara Dome. They'll take care of their own people, but there are humans to be decontaminated as well.”

Solution? Humans? Decontaminated? Could he be so fortunate?

”What do we have to do?”

”A Death Squad will arrive in Wells in two days. The squad will use its own ritual to decontaminate the Dome as well as the humans inside it.” She tapped a chip on the back of her hand. ”I have a list of instructions. The humans of Wells are supposed to do all these things to prepare.”

Rackam wiped the sweat off his chin. ”What about Sahara Dome?”

”It's more complicated for them. The Disty want several members of Sahara Dome's human government to go to Wells for decontamination so that they can then meet with some of the ranking Disty. Apparently, what has to happen in Sahara Dome is long and involved, and the Disty don't trust the news of it to a go-between.”

Rackam stared at her for a long time, parsing her words. He was to make sure everything happened in Wells, and then it was out of his hands. ”Did they say anything about us? About culpability? About the ports?”

”No,” Columbus said, ”and I'm not about to prompt them. So much has happened, they might ignore some of the smaller things.”

Lost s.h.i.+ps and lost lives were smaller things?

He knew sometimes the Disty didn't care about their own people at all. He had just figured that was the Disty's business. Now it had an effect on him.

Everything had an effect on him.

He sighed and looked at those s.h.i.+ps, still leaving the ports.

”Fine,” he said to Columbus. ”You talked to the Disty, you may as well talk to Wells. Tell them what they have to do. Make sure they do it. Okay?”

”You don't care what 'it' is?” Columbus asked.

He didn't look at her. ”Am I ordering more death?”

”Not from what I understand. This is actually a solution.”

”Then I don't care about their d.a.m.n rituals. I just want this whole thing to end.”

”It looks like it will, sir,” Columbus said. ”Barring unforeseens, of course.”

Rackam shuddered. Unforeseens. This entire event had been unforeseen. He didn't want to think about any more unforeseens.

”Just see that this gets done,” he said to her.

”Yes, sir.” She bobbed once, then left the room.

He folded his arms on the table and hid his face in them. Someone else was going to handle everything from now on.

He just wished he knew a way to forget the past twenty-four hours. Forget them for the rest of his life.

57.

Flint sat in his c.o.c.kpit, arms crossed, listening to the vote. At first, he tried to count the voices weighing in, but he couldn't. He wasn't familiar enough with them. He wasn't sure if Norton voted at all. Since this wasn't a formal vote, no one had made little ballots or asked people to raise their hand.

Instead, they simply declared themselves, all of them-to Flint's surprise-in favor of going. Then they discussed how difficult the next few weeks would be on themselves and their families. Vajra suggested that this might help them deal with the ma.s.sacre itself. The others quietly agreed-all except Norton.

He let out a small bark of a laugh. ”You think you'll ever get over that? It's not something people recover from. We'll wear its stain for the rest of our lives.”

”Maybe we'll be able to deal with it better,” Vajra said.

”You mean bury it, don't you?” Norton asked.

The others shut him down, but Flint shuddered, just a little. The man told enough truth to make him difficult. Flint hadn't liked him. Having him in the same room during this decision process had probably been hard for all of them.

When the group elected Weiss to tell Flint their decision, Flint shut off his overhead speakers. He kept monitoring the conversation on an internal link.

It took Weiss a while to find the c.o.c.kpit-a good sign, Flint thought. These people weren't as familiar with s.h.i.+ps as Flint had worried they were. That gave him an advantage too. Ever since he'd discovered that they'd been coerced into coming here, he had worried about them. He didn't want them to take out their anger and frustration on him.

Weiss knocked on the open c.o.c.kpit door. Flint swiveled his chair as if he were surprised at having a visitor. Weiss seemed even rounder as he stood there, his arms folded across his jutting stomach.

”We're going to do this thing,” he said.

”Good.” Flint didn't invite him in. He wanted the c.o.c.kpit to remain his alone. ”I think it's the right decision.”