Chapter 42

"This is the Ark calling Earth," said Cromartie into the ship's communicator in a voice filled with feigned weariness and desperation both. "I repeat, this is the Ark calling Earth. Jesus, man, can anybody hear me yet, anyone at all?"

He'd been making such calls now at intervals for the past several hours over a deliberately weakened communications link, its signal so suppressed that even though the ship was by now well inside the orbit of Mars it would barely carry the comparatively short distance. He was intentionally broadcasting only on SES' private command channel; the conspirators wanted no outside interference, however well-meant it might be, with their plot.

By this point only a single thruster was firing to brake the ship. MacPherson had deliberately plotted a slightly arced course to bleed off most of their accumulated speed before the vessel would be near enough to Earth for possible detection; it had added three days to their inbound trip, but allowed them to finish deceleration and achievement of Earth orbit on only the one thruster. The intent, of course, was to simulate a crippled ship barely limping home, to which the reduction of communicator transmission strength was also intended to contribute.

"You're putting us into orbit, Mac," Cromartie had said firmly. "I don't do that on one engine." MacPherson had laughed but agreed.

The transmissions were the first stage in implementing their program. After letting another half hour elapse Cromartie repeated the call yet again.

"This is Earth responding to your call, Ark, " came the reply. It was, of course, fully audible; there'd been no need to cut the reception as well. "We hear you."

"Thank God!" exclaimed the mate. Sitting with him on the bridge in a wheelchair they'd cobbled together on board, Meiersdottir shook her head sharply and motioned to him to tone his voice down. Cromartie had, they'd all noticed in his numerous rehearsals of the part he'd play, something of a tendency to overact.

"Earth, the Ark is coming in," he said in a more subdued manner. "The computer says we're only a couple of days out. But I need to talk to Director Mallet urgently."

"Say again, Ark, you're breaking up."

MacPherson, sitting nearby, nudged up the transmission gain almost imperceptibly.

"Director Mallet," repeated Cromartie. "I have to speak with him. Quickly, it's urgent."

"Wait one, Ark, " they heard from the communicator. They could also clearly pick up some extended muttered discussion away from the unit on the other end. Finally they could hear an exasperated voice saying "Well, call him, you jerkoff!" In another minute the same voice returned at full volume. "Ark, Director Mallet is being contacted. Where the hell have you been? We'd about given up on you."

"We copy on Director Mallet being contacted," said Cromartie. "Have him contact me when available. Transmission ends." MacPherson immediately toggled the switch to cut off the communicator.

Meiersdottir breathed a sigh. "Well, it's in motion," she said. "Now, Warren, remember, don't over-dramatize. You're still shocked by what happened, but you've had weeks and weeks to absorb it. Make it tired but not panicky. You've stepped up to the plate and saved the ship, you have to show the guts that let you do that."

"I know, Amanda," he said with a smile. "I'll do it the way you've coached me."

"You're the key man right now," she reminded him. "We're all counting on you, and so are they"—she gestured toward the Edenform bay.

"I still wonder if all this is really necessary," the mate said. "I mean, this whole elaborate hoax. There are simpler ways to get the big lander here, and that's really all we need."

"The lander's not enough," she said. "We've discussed all this. We need Eugene himself here, he's too dangerous to leave on the loose down there while we're unloading. Don't start waffling on us now."

He nodded. "Yeah, you're right, I know. I've just got a little, well, stage fright I suppose. Make sure the script rolls on the monitor as I talk." The words he'd be saying when Mallet came on had been carefully scripted and were prominently displayed in front of him. For the most part he'd simply be able to read them; but, since Mallet's end of the conversation was of course unknown, they'd had to use multiple variations and contingencies. Heisinger would control the display based on what she heard over the communicator.

It was two hours later that the receiver reactivated. "This is SES Executive Director Eugene Mallet calling the Ark, " came in Mallet's distinctive intonation. "Ark, please respond."

Cromartie pointed to MacPherson, who toggled on the transmitter. "This is the Ark, First Officer Warren Cromartie, Mr. Mallet," he said.

"Welcome home, Ark!" said Mallet effusively. "Tell me about your trip."

"Sir, I'd like to ask that you clear the communications room on your end and go to scramble," Cromartie responded.

"What? What the hell? Where's Captain MacPherson, get him on here."

"Captain MacPherson is ... unavailable, sir," said the mate; the artful hesitation had been built into the script. "This is for your ears only, sir. Will you please do as I asked?"

There was an extended delay. Finally Mallet's voice returned. "All right, it's done. Full scramble, only me on this end. Now will you please tell me what the fuck's going on?"

"I'm trying to avoid a major embarrassment for SES, sir. I don't think you'll want any risk of this getting out."

"OK, OK, but what's 'this?' And where's MacPherson?"

Cromartie drew a breath. "Mac's dead, sir. So are Dr. Meiersdottir, Mr. Igwanda, Dr. Heisinger, hell, just about everybody but me. It's me and Mo Umbyoto and Dr. O'Bannion and that's all, and Mo and the doctor are pretty bad."

"Jesus!" he heard Mallet exclaim. "What in God's name happened?"