Erica looked at the map, then pointed. "Take us out into the Basin. Right there."
She pointed at a rise about a kilometer from where we'd hidden Aunt Ellen. It was straight away from the Rim, not in the direction either of the Federation groups had gone. I thought of the tractor with Sarge in it getting away toward Hellastown, and the other two approaching Ice Hill. "Why?"
"Just do it. I'll tell you on the way.
"All right." I started the tractor and began picking a way through the boulder fields. There was no road or track. The map had been made by satellite photograph; I doubt that any human had ever been this way before. "Okay, why?"
"Because it will be in line of sight to Ice Hill. I think. It looks high enough."
"Dust is pretty thick—"
"If we can't get through with the photophone we'll use the radio."
"All right." I tried for more speed, but there were pits and rocks everywhere, and the dust made it hard to see. When summer comes, the dry ice on one polar cap boils off" rather than melting—and blows all the way to the opposite pole. That raises big winds in Hellas. "One good thing," I said. "There's so much dust that they'll never see us out here. We can't be stirring up enough more to matter."
It took a good half hour to make that one kilometer. The hill she'd indicated was a mound about 250 meters high, a big bubble that had formed when Hellas was a lava field a billion years ago. When we reached the top, we were above a lot of the dust storm. I turned the telescope onto the Rim east of us, and searched for Ice Hill.
"There it is," I said. "I can just make out the photophone target."
Not all tractors have talking-light units, but Sarge kept Aunt Ellen better equipped than most Rimrats can afford. The sight was built into our telescope. I trained it onto the white photophone target at the top of Ice Hill, then used the joystick to get a precise adjustment. The system uses a modulated laser beam and has to be aimed just right. The advantage is that nobody can listen in unless they're in the exact line of sight, and you can see along that.
"Ice Hill, Ice Hill, Ice Hill. Mayday. Answer by photophone only. We are on Hill 252, Basin Sector Green eight. Mayday." Erica said that several times. We waited.
"Sis! That you? I can hardly hear you."
"Perry, get Dad. Quickly."
"What's that?"
"I said get Dad. Now!"
There was a long delay. "The dust is interfering with the beam," Erica said.
"Just be damn glad we can get through at all."
"I am. Have I told you I love you?"
"Not often enough."
"Erica, what is happening? Why have you two left the road? What are you doing in the Basin?"
"Dad, listen!" She managed to cut him off. If we'd been using radio and had to wait for him to say "over" and switch from transmit to receive, we might be there yet.
She told him what had happened at Windhome. "And two tractors full of Federation Marines, with that officer, Bielenson, left Windhome toward Ice Hill an hour ago," she finished.
"So you think they are coming for me?"
"I don't know," I said. "But they blew up Windhome and arrested Sarge."
"It is possible. It even makes sense," Sam said. "With Sarge and myself arrested and our stations ruined as an example to others, the boycott might well collapse. Yes, I think that is what they have in mind. But it is very late in the day. There is barely enough sunlight for them to reach us in time. Perhaps they will wait until morning—"
"Dad, you've got to get away!" Erica said. "Get away? Run? No, Ricky. If they come to destroy my home, they must take it from me." I didn't know it then, but that very second marked the beginning of the Martian War of Independence.
We cut off so that Sam could organize his family to fight. As with Windhome there was no way we could help. We couldn't get there; we had barely enough sunlight to get to the road.
"At least you're safe," I said. "Now what can we do? Try to follow the tractor they put Sarge in? They'll have a long start."
"Yes." She wasn't really listening to me. She was looking out at the Rim to the west.
"I suppose we'd better find a good place out of the wind. We'll be out here for the night—"
"Garrett! That's Zeke Terman's station up there!"
"Yeah. And he can see the road. At least we can find out what the cops are doing." I slewed Aunt Ellen around and aimed the telescope. It was much easier this time; we were a lot closer to Zeke's place than we were to Ice Hill.
Erica lifted the mike and went through the calling routine: "Zeke Terman, Zeke Terman, Zeke Terman, Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Answer by photophone only. We are on Hill 252, Sector Green-eight. Mayday." She repeated it three times. We had to give our location, because the transmitting laser must be aimed at the receiver.
Finally we got an answer. "Mayday, this is Terman. What the hell are you doing out there? Who are you?"
"You'll recognize my voice," Erica said. "Are you alone? Are you all right?"
"Why the hell shouldn't I be all right? Of course I'm alone, think I've got crew to take off work and chat on the goddamn phone?"
"Zeke, this is an emergency. Please answer a silly question. It's important that we can be sure you're alone and all right. What does Henrietta call her cat?"
There was a moment of silence. Then Zeke said, "Ricky Hendrix? That you? Henrietta calls the silly animal 'Titwillow' because of something you said. What's going on?"
We told him.
"Son of a bitch! Okay, I'll relay the word down the west Rim. Where did they take Sarge?"
"They put him in a tractor and headed west on the Hellastown road about an hour ago," Erica said.
"Wait one," Zeke told us. He left the mike open, and we heard him shouting. "Bonnie, get the boys up here! Get everybody. Come running!" Then there was silence for a while, and he came back on the line. "Okay, I've got the tractor spotted, I think. Bright yellow?"
"Right!"
"Not makin' very good time with all this dust. They're still a good half hour from Iron Gap. I'll get the boys and be to the Gap before the cops get there. A couple of sticks of 40 percent and they'll not be getting to Hellastown tonight."
"By God!" I said. "We can get Sarge loose!" I took the mike from Erica. "Thanks, Zeke."
"That you, Garrett? Thanks, hell. That's my son-in-law's sponsor those bastards have in that tractor. You want in this fight, you'd better hurry to the Gap!"
Mars is at the inner edge of the asteroid belt, and has very little atmosphere. When a big chunk of rock hits, as frequently happens—frequent meaning every hundred thousand years or so—the impact raises ringwall craters that stay until another rock breaks them down, or the wind slowly grinds them into dust. There's no rain to erode the mountains.
The crater that became the Wall was formed by a meteoroid a billion years ago. Countless other rocks smashed into the old ringwall, until only one stretch was left, and that was cracked down the center. This cracked wall lies directly across the road from the eastern Rim stations to Hellastown. The crack is called Iron Gap, and it's no more than twenty feet wide in some places. You don't have to go through the Gap to get to Hellastown, but the quickest way around takes five hours of travel through the boulder fields, or even longer if you try to climb the Wall with a tractor.
I looked at it on the map but didn't start the tractor.
"What are you waiting for?" Erica demanded.
"Your father will kill me if I take you into a battle."
"You let me worry about my father. Do you think I'm fragile? That I can't take care of myself? I may not be as strong as you are, but you're not going to leave me out of this!"
"All right, all right. I'm sorry. But I've got about a million years of instincts that say I shouldn't do this." I started the tractor, and headed toward the Gap.
"Instincts be damned. Mars is more my home than yours! Oh, I'm sorry, Gary. I don't really mean that. We both live here."
"You don't have to be sorry. I was never very interested in the independence movement. I'm not now. But Sarge is my friend, and the Feddies won't let us get out here and live, they've got to mess everything up. And ruin the only home I've ever been happy in—"
I couldn't finish. Thinking about Windhome as I'd last seen it brought tears, and I needed to see as well as I could to get through the boulders and dust.
After we reached it, I decided to chance the road. Daylight would be gone in less than an hour, and we'd never reach the Gap across country. I'd never had Aunt Ellen going this fast before.
"Reckless Garrett, The Terror of the Martian Roadways," I said. "Whoopee!"
"You like this, don't you?" She was very serious.
"Like it? My home's in ruins, my buddy's been taken by the cops, we may both be killed, and—"
"And you love it. It's all right, Gary. But you do. You want to fight. I think all men do. I wonder if women ever feel that way? I never did. Is it something instinctual, or do you learn it, or—"
"Good Lord, girl!"
"I'm sorry. I'm scared, that's all. No, don't slow down, I'm going with you. And I love you."
"I didn't start this fight."
"No. Some men learn to control that love of combat. But you're not sorry it has started. You'll cry for Windhome, and for friends who are killed, and you'll be glad when it's over, but you're not sorry it started."
"You're a nut."
Sure.
We rounded a curve, and suddenly the Gap was in sight, about ten kilometers ahead. I drove on. Then, 250 meters above the Gap floor, there was a startling spurt of dust from one of the straight-walled sides. Something big dislodged and fell into the Gap, sealing it.
"They'll not get through there before sunset," I said. "They must not have reached the Gap yet! Zeke wouldn't do that if they were already through!"
"I wonder how far ahead they are?"
"Don't know, but I'm not going to stop to talk," I said. The sun was almost to the Rim ahead of us. Soon we'd be in shadow, and after that we'd be on battery power.
Erica began fiddling with the radio. She didn't turn on the transmitter, but swept through all the bands, listening—
"Four Love Victor, this is One Dog Niner. Four Love Victor, this is One Dog Niner. Mayday. Mayday. Over."
"The cops," Erica said.
They went on calling.
"They can't raise Hellastown. They're in the shadow of the Wall!" I said. "They're on battery power, and out of line of sight to anywhere! The cops are cut off."
We'd run out of sun pretty soon, too. "Okay," I said. "Try to raise Zeke. I don't care if the cops hear us now. What can they do?"
"Right."
"Just a minute, Hon. Listen!"
The cop was still calling. There was a plaintive note in his voice. Then I heard it again: a big booming laugh.
"Shut up, Wechsung, or we'll shut you up!" the cop said.
"Sure." Sarge's voice was faint, too far from the mike to hear distinctly. "You boys are in big trouble. Maybe you better let me talk to my buddies out there before they roll rocks on top of this thing."
"Shut up, Wechsung. Four Love Victor, Mayday. Mayday!
It was pitch dark before Zeke guided us to where he and his sons had stationed themselves. He had two tractors, a big pressurized trailer with a portable powerpack, and oxygen-hydrogen fuel cells in another trailer. The police would have to rely on their internal batteries, but we had power to burn. We hooked Aunt Ellen into Zeke's system and went into his trailer.
Zeke was there with one of his sons, Ezra. John Appleby was there as well. They had a coffee pot going, and food.
"Cops have been callin' us," Zeke said. "I think they're scared. They keep tellin' us how Sarge doesn't have a helmet on. We haven't answered em yet.
"Think they'd let Sarge loose if we promise to leave 'em alone?" I asked.
Zeke shrugged. "Could be. Garrett, I haven't talked to 'em yet, because they don't know I'm in this. Might be a good idea not to tell 'em. Anyway, I thought I'd wait for you and Johnny here. You two got the biggest stake in this game—"
"They already want me," I said. "May as well let me do the talking. John has a pregnant wife. No point in getting you involved, John."
"Yeah, but—"
"If you have to be, you will be," Zeke said. "I was hoping you'd say something like that, Garrett. I blew out the road, and I'll go in after the bastards if that's what it takes. But I don't mind sayin' I'd as soon not see my station blown up the way Windhome was."
"What are we up against?" I asked.
John Appleby answered. "I've seen it. The tractor's no tank, but they've got a machine-gun turret mounted on top, and they've got thick plate on it. We could take it, no question about it. They've moved off into a clear space—they're going to be damned cold by morning if they stay out in the wind—so we can't drop rocks on their heads, but we could probably get close enough to throw dynamite. But I don't see any way we can get inside that thing without killing Sarge."
"Expect reinforcements?" I asked. Zeke shrugged. "Don't think they got a message through. Hellastown isn't going to be anxious to send out a force in the dark. Never get tanks through the Gap anyway, they'd have to go around, and they won't do that at night. My other boy's watchin' from up on the side of the Gap, and he'll tell us if he sees lights comin', but I think we've got till morning for sure."
"Yeah. Well, let's talk to them. Worse comes to worse, we'll offer a trade." I drank the coffee Zeke had given me, then went over and sat down in front of the radio. The trailer was big and cozy. Zeke used it as a mobile prospecting camp. "One Dog Niner, are you listening? Over!"
"Yeah, we're listening. You bastards better let us go! There'll be two battalions of marines with tanks out here by morning!"
"This won't last until morning," I said. "You've got troubles, fellows. Now let me hear Sarge talking."
"Why?"
"Because any time I ask to hear him and I don't, I'm going to assume he's dead, and there won't be any reason why we shouldn't be throwing dynamite. Clear? We've got more power than you have. You can't run away from us, so don't waste batteries. Just put Sarge on." There was a pause. Then, "Hey kid. You're doin' okay."
"You all right, Sarge?"
"Sure. Look, don't let 'em talk you into nothing, they're—"
"That's enough," the policeman said. "He's all right."
"Good. You keep him that way. I'll be back in a bit. Out." I switched off the transmitter.
"The trouble is," I said, "they think they can wait for sunlight and just take off. With that machine gun they know they can put any tractor we've got out of action. And there probably will be reinforcements before noon. We need a way to convince them we can disable them without hurting Sarge—"
We thought for a moment. Then I had an idea. "John, you said you can hit them with dynamite. Can you hit them with paint?"
"Paint?"
"Yeah. In a plastic bag. If we splatter paint on their windscreen and solar cells, where are they going in the morning?"
"Be damned," Zeke said. "Ezra, get on the photophone and tell your mother we need some paint down here. Paint and some bags." He turned back to me. "She won't like that. Damn bags are expensive and we can't make 'em."
"It's for a good cause. Maybe we won't need many."
"I'll throw," John said. "If I can't talk, I ought to be of some use."
It took half an hour to organize, and I let the cops stew for another half hour. We were in no real hurry. By now it would be getting cold in their tractor, even with the heaters going. Then John moved into position.
"Okay, ready," he said.
We had two radios, so we could keep John on one and use the other to talk to the cops. I called them.
"Yeah?"
"Let me hear Sarge."
"Still okay, kid."
"Good," I said. "Now. What's your name, whichever of you is in charge?"
"What's that to you?"
"I don't really care, but I ought to call you something—"
"Call him Stinky," Sarge said in the background.
"Shut up, Wechsung. My name is Larkin."
"All right, Larkin, watch close now." I switched to the other radio. "Let her fly!"
There was nothing for a moment. Then John's voice came through. "Right on target! Hit the windscreen."
"Beautiful." I called Larkin again. "Get the message? How far will you get in the morning with the solar panels covered with black paint? Oh, and don't try moving the tractor. You'll waste power you're going to need before the night's over, and there's no place you can go that we can't get upwind of you."
"He's shooting hell out of the rocks," John reported. "I wonder what he thinks he can hit?"
"Can you whap him again?"
"Sure. Here goes."
I called again. "Well, Larkin? How much air have you got? Think your relief can get through the Gap before you run out? Ready to give up, or should we paint the whole tractor for you?"
"Damn you! It's Pittson, isn't it? You're in trouble, Pittson. Let us go and we can straighten it out. Nobody's been hurt yet—"
I laughed at him.
He was off for five minutes. We waited. Then he came on. "Okay. You win. We'll turn Wechsung loose in the morning, if you hold off the paint until then—"
"Crap. You're no Marsman. Our word's good. Yours isn't," I said.
"Attaboy!" Sarge shouted in the background.
"Shut up, Wechsung. Pittson, if we let him go, will you leave us alone? Nobody around in the morning?"
"What about it, Sarge?" I asked.
Take 'em up on it."
Roger.
Appleby brought Sarge into the trailer a few minutes later. We got his helmet off. "You okay?" I asked.
"Few bruises. Nothing to worry about. Damn good to have friends. Thanks."
"Sure."
"Sandwiches and coffee here," Zeke said.
'Thanks." Sarge wolfed a sandwich and washed it down with black coffee. "But we got more troubles. Erica, did you kids get through to Sam? I think they went after him—"
"Yes," she said. She told him what we'd done. "Dad said he'd fight. I'm worried—"
"He'll be all right for now," Sarge said. "By now he'll have plenty of friends there. Okay, Sam's taken care of. Zeke, can you get through to Chris Martin's place?" Martin's station was on the other side of the Gap, toward Hellastown from us.
"Sure. Want me to patch you in from here?"
"Please. And get some night traveling gear together. I have to walk across the Gap tonight."
"Tonight?" Erica demanded. "Why?"
"Only way to connect with Chris and get a tractor to Hellastown," Sarge said. "They've got the Skipper in the jug, and I've got to get him out. I could use some help. Any volunteers?"
He was looking directly at me.