The Martian Viking (22 page)

Torquemada, carrying the conch like a baby, glared at them both. "Carry on," he said. "I'll see Mr. Pease in an hour."

Johnsmith watched him walk off. He wanted to be relieved, but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that he was off the hook. He turned to Jethro Pease, who stood looking back at him.

"I think we've had enough exercise for today," Johnsmith said. "Let's shower and go to the mess hall."

Pease smiled, revealing a gap-toothed set of almost green teeth. "Sounds good to me," he said.

"Yeah." As they walked out of the gymnasium, Johnsmith's legs trembled almost uncontrollably. He couldn't have forced himself to run another lap. It was all he could do to make it to the showers. He was profoundly frightened by what had almost happened. If Jethro Pease had mentioned that note to Angel Torquemada . . .

He reported his failure to Frankie the next morning.

She looked glum. "I don't know about this," she said. "Maybe it's a fake. If Pease convinces Torquemada that he's a defector, or deserter, or whatever, then he would be able to move around a lot more freely than he can now."

"Yeah, I thought of that."

"And he didn't mention the note to Torquemada, did he?"

"No, he didn't."

"Well, then . . ."

"But maybe he just thought it was part of the treatment," Johnsmith said.

"The treatment?" Frankie stopped working and turned toward him.

"Yeah, interrogation, physical abuse, and all the rest of Torquemada's shit. Maybe he thought it was some kind of trick."

"If so, why wouldn't he report it to his supervisor, who is, after all, Angel Torquemada? That way, he wouldn't be in trouble, would he?"

"Not right away," Johnsmith agreed. "But if it turned out to be nothing, then he'd have me to deal with. And for all he knows, I'm one of these guys with the temperament of the late Sergeant Daiv."

"Well, he didn't know Sergeant Daiv," Frankie said, returning her attention to the wieldo.

"Maybe not, but he knew someone like him at the polar camp. And a guy like that could make life pretty miserable, if you got on his bad side."

"I guess so."

"You know what I think?" Johnsmith said. "I think we'd just better wait. They're not going to probe him or brain slice him, or anything like that, so if we're patient . . ."

"We'll get our chance."

And they did get their chance, but it took several weeks. Eventually, Pease just became another prisoner, once Torquemada had all the information he could squeeze out of him. Johnsmith and Frankie didn't know what he had told Torquemada, but if he was sent by the Arkies, it couldn't have been much. If he wasn't, on the other hand, they could be in a lot of trouble.

One day Jethro Pease was sent out with a construction crew, which included Johnsmith. Frankie wasn't there, but Johnsmith knew that he had better make an attempt to communicate with the guy.

Johnsmith offered to show Pease how to use a wieldo. Apparently, Pease had never been on one before.

"Ever driven a seeder?" Johnsmith asked.

"Yeah, at the pole." Pease seemed to regard him with suspicion.

"Well, it's not that much different using one of these." He pointed to the wieldo, "You sit here, and fit your fingers into those holes. After that, it's mostly just a matter of hand-eye coordination."

"Uh huh."

"You want to give it a try?"

"Why not?"

Pease sat down and stuffed his fingers into the controls. He wiggled them tentatively, and seemed surprised when the extensors mimicked his motions precisely.

"Pretty soft duty," Johnsmith said. "Especially for a guy who was an Arkie a month or so ago."

Pease said nothing, but continued to cautiously manipulate the wieldo.

"Just get used to the controls for now," Johnsmith said. "There's plenty of time."

"Okay."

"So you deserted the Arkies, did you?" Johnsmith asked, trying to sound as though he were making casual conversation. "That's never happened before."

"Oh, yeah?" Pease didn't sound as if he much cared if it ever happened again.

"You're the first," Johnsmith persisted. "And maybe the last, for all I know. But tell me something . . . ."

"What?"

"Is your helmet communicator on short range?" Johnsmith coughed, hoping that if anyone overheard his question, they'd think nothing of it.

"Huh?" Pease glanced at him sidewise through his face mask. "You mean helmet to helmet? I guess so."

"Good, because I have a few things I want to talk to you about in private."

Pease removed his hands from the wieldo. "Such as?"

"Such as, did you really run away from the Arkies?"

"Well, as I keep telling Mr. Torquemada, I left of my own free will. What he didn't seem to understand was that nobody tried to stop me."

"What?"

"People have been leaving Olympus for a while now, and it's not something they try to stop you from doing."

"I don't think I follow you." Pease seemed to be saying that he hadn't defected. Of course, Angel Torquemada would interpret his actions that way, for propaganda purposes.

"There's a day coming," Jethro Pease said simply.

"A day coming? What are you talking about?"

"There's a day coming on Mars. If we can figure out where it's going to happen, we'll be there. I just trusted in fate to take me to the right spot, if I went out wandering."

"So the Arkies didn't send you."

"No."

Johnsmith still didn't know if he believed Pease. But surely the guy must have known that Johnsmith was one of the two Arkie spies . . .unless he was telling the truth, in which case he might not have known anything.

"See, there's going to be a . . ." Pease seemed to be groping for words. " . . .a change."

"A change in what?" This was getting very strange. Johnsmith began to think that Jethro Pease just might be schizophrenic.

"A change in this planet, in the solar system." Pease's eyes were wide. "Maybe even the whole galaxy."

Was there some bizarre religion starting up here on Mars, affecting even the Arkies? God knew that there had been more than enough of them on Earth in recent years. It reminded him of the ancient Romans, with their myriad mystery cults—one of which had been Christianity.

"What kind of a change is it?" Johnsmith asked gently.

"It's the one predicted by the Sacred Archecode," Pease said. "The sailing Ship with a serpent's head, carrying men with metal heads through the ocean of worlds."

"But it's just a Viking ship," Johnsmith said.

Pease didn't seem to hear him. He was entranced by the vision of the Arkie prophets. Ignorant of history, he neither knew nor cared what a Viking was.

"When it comes sailing into our world, this Ship of time and space and God and the devil, it will change everything," Pease said.

"And you told Angel Torquemada all this?"

"I tried to," Pease said sadly. "But he wasn't interested in anything but the layout of the Olympus hideout."

Johnsmith felt the goosebumps rising underneath his pressure suit. "And did you tell him what he wanted to know?"

"Oh, sure. What difference will it make after the Ship sails into our universe?"

This meant that Angel Torquemada undoubtedly was planning to deliver a crushing blow against the Arkies at this very moment. He had to tell Frankie, and together they had to warn the Arkies. Every last one of them would be killed or captured, or run out onto the desert to perish, and then there would be freedom for nobody on Mars, ever again.

"We'll all go sailing when the Ship comes." Pease's reverential tone suggested that the word "Ship" must be written in upper case, befitting a venerated object. "The deserts of Mars will be transformed, and we'll transcend this miserable existence, once and for all."

Johnsmith listened politely to the man's ranting. As soon as Pease calmed down, Johnsmith said, "Maybe we'd better get back to work, at least until the great day comes. What do you say, Mr. Pease?"

"Okay," said Jethro Pease, who went back to the wieldo in a desultory manner.

This changed everything. Johnsmith had to talk to Frankie right away. But it was so difficult to be alone with her, especially in light of Felicia's jealousy.

The wind died down for a moment, and Johnsmith had an idea. It almost seemed absurd, but it was the only way he could be in intimate circumstances without arousing Angel Torquemada's suspicious mind.

He had to sleep with Frankie.

At mess, he knew that Felicia was waiting for him to sit down next to her and make conciliatory noises. Instead, he sat with Frankie.

"Will you sleep with me from now on?" he asked.

"What?" Frankie said, sucking on a nutrishake.

"I asked you if you'll sleep with me from now on."

Frankie looked a little surprised. "From now on? Don't you think that's quite a lot to ask?"

"Well, just for tonight then. And then we'll see how things work out."

Putting down her glass, Frankie said, "You don't know how often I've hoped you'd ask me this, Johnsmith Biberkopf."

"Then you accept?" Johnsmith said, feeling his heart beat a little more strongly than he might have expected.

"I don't know." Frankie chewed her bottom lip. "Aren't you afraid this might hurt Felicia?"

"She's been acting too possessive lately," he said, surprised at how accurate this statement was in regard to his feelings, in spite of the element of expediency involved. "Not only that, but I really don't feel the way I used to about her. A lot has happened in recent weeks, and I feel that we've grown apart. I need a change."

"So I'm just a change?"

"I like you a lot, Frankie," Johnsmith said in all honesty. "Are you sleeping with anybody?"

"No, my guy was killed a few months before you arrived here, and I haven't had the appetite for sex since then."

"I'm sorry," Johnsmith said, feeling like a shit. "I didn't know, Frankie."

"Of course you didn't." She reached over with her right hand and squeezed his fingers. "I guess it's about time I started living again."

She was going to do it! He was aroused quite a lot by anticipating sex with her. He had felt betrayed by Felicia deep in some secret place, ever since he returned from the Olympus raid. She couldn't have known that he had come back on account of her, of course. But her jealous rages had finally made him fall out of love with her, once and for all. Maybe Frankie could fill the void left by his disappointment.

But there was the immediate situation to consider now.

That night, he went to Frankie's bunk instead of waiting for her to come to his. He didn't want to chance Felicia's having a change of heart and showing up in his bunk. Judging from the way she had refused to look at him on his way out of the mess hall, he didn't think there was much danger of it, but he had to make sure he talked to Frankie tonight. There was no way of telling how soon Torquemada planned to strike.

"I hope your neighbors down at this end of the barracks don't mind if we make a little noise," he said.

"They often make noises of their own," Frankie said, opening her arms wide as he pulled back the covers to lie down with her. "They won't mind."

She wore nothing, and her skin was smooth and warm. As they began to touch one another, Johnsmith found that he thought of little else besides Frankie's lean, lithe body. He rubbed her and squeezed her, and she stroked him with gentle, loving hands. Their intensity rose slowly, purposefully, until Johnsmith thought he would burst from the sheer force of his desire.

He kissed her from head to toe, unmindful of anything but her lovely body. She ran her fingers through his hair as he descended upon the sweet tasting essence of her femininity. She came to climax rapidly, then. He was wildly aroused by her orgasm, but he would have given her more, had she not pulled him to her.

"I want you now," she said simply, as he nuzzled her neck.

He entered her, and at first they barely moved at all. But the pace gradually quickened, until they were like some beautiful two-backed beast, sharing a single heartbeat, rising to a celestial music all their own. It was as if they would never descend.

They came together.

Afterward, as they lay in each other's arms, their sweat mingling under the blankets, Johnsmith whispered in her ear that Jethro Pease had told Torquemada all about the Arkie's Olympus camp.

Her eyes gave away nothing as she asked him how much Torquemada knew.

"It's hard to say. Pease is crazy, a follower of some weird Arkie cult."

"You mean the Ship?"

"Yeah, I guess you heard about it."

"When I was living at Olympus—that was before I assumed the identity of a woman who had been captured by the Arkies—I went to some of the Ship meetings. There were some people who believed in the Ship as a kind of religion. We all believe that there is some liberating force behind the archecoded onees. Somebody has
seen
that Ship, Johnny."

Johnsmith was silent. Religion made him uncomfortable, but Frankie was not saying anything as irrational as Jethro Pease. It wasn't as if she were an advocate of the Video Church or anything like that. Still, the idea that a certain onee showed the way to the Truth and the Light. Well . . .

"We have to get out of here right away," Frankie said. "Once we've warned them, the Arkies can move their base of operations to some other part of Mars."

"Is that possible?"

"There's been some talk about it in the past. I don't know how complete the evacuation plan is."

"It doesn't matter. They've got to get away from Olympus before Torquemada wipes them out."

Frankie kissed him. "You're a
mensch
, Johnny."

He smiled at her, and kissed her back. "Thanks. You're pretty special yourself."

They slept together every night after that, planning their escape from Elysium after making love. Frankie had spoken with a number of Arkies who had escaped from Elysium; it was part of her training.

"The best and easiest way is to steal a minicarrier while we're outside."

"That won't be so easy," Johnsmith said.

"Well, there are two minicarriers in a hanger, and I knew how to reprogram the sentry."