responsibility and morality. Why did you bring him to Mars? He’s interested as hell in the dome, I’ll tell you that.” She pushed the butt out of her cigarette holder. “I guess to a primitive, Mars must be mind-swamping.”
Paula cleared her throat. They passed through the wall of the dome, from the subdued natural light to the brilliant green of the Nineveh Club. They flew over an arm of a golf course, a patch of dark trees, another long strip of lawn. She sat up straight, looking forward over the driver’s shoulder. Surrounded by lakes, the hotel stood in a long white wedge among the trees in the distance.
“There’s the river,” Cam was saying. She pointed past Paula’s shoulder. “Every drop of water manufactured in Barsoom.”
The car circled once and lowered toward the front of the hotel. They swooped over a swimming lake, formed into round coves and little inlets framed in trees.
“How long has he been here?” Paula said. Probably Cam had pitched to him, too.
“The Akellar? Since yesterday. His ship is parked in orbit. If he’s taking a look at Mars, I can tell you we’re taking a good look at
“What has he been doing?”
Cam gave Paula an oblique look. “You’re single-minded.” The cab was parking. Trim as a bugle boy, a man in a wine-red uniform rushed up to open the door. When Paula slid out to the pavement, he reached for the satchel, and she held it around behind her out of his range.
“Take the luggage to Room 2017,” Cam said. “Pese-pese.”
“Yes, Dr. Savenia.”
Paula let Cam marshal her through the hotel’s main doors. The lobby spread out around her, hushed and elegant. The walls were set with glass boxes, back-lit, displaying hats and jewels. A woman and a man in golf knickers passed her.
“Straight ahead,” Cam said. “You have to register. The Styths don’t do much, except at night. Then they want everything in the place. They beat up a waiter who made the mistake of talking back to them.”
Paula said, “The light here is much brighter than they’re used to.” She went between two rubber plants to the registration desk.
“So they maul people? Why didn’t the Committee send a man?”
“The Styths requested me.” Which meant they weren’t serious about negotiating, a minor obstacle. The desk clerk approached her, his gaze directed over her head, as if he didn’t quite see her.
“May I help you?”
“This is Paula Mendoza,” Cam said, behind her.
“Yes, Miss Mendoza.” The clerk snapped like a soldier to his work. He put a voice box down in front of her. “Your suite is ready. Second floor overlooking the gardens, near our other interplanetary guests.” Paula said her name and the Committee’s name into the flat box. It whirred and a pink card popped up from the top. The clerk said, “Now, if you’ll give us your thumbprint—”
She pressed her thumb against the patch on the card.
“Come on,” Cam said. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
Paula followed her across the lobby, the satchel in her left hand. “Come up to my room. I have a bottle of Black Label.”
“I never pass up an invitation like that.”
They went up a flight of steps. On the second-floor landing, the corridor branched off in three directions. Cam led her off down the middle. Two old people crept toward them, the woman leaning on two canes. She gave Paula a look focused three feet beyond her. Cam took her by the arm again.
“I think you’re—”
A Styth was walking down the corridor. Paula stopped, and Cam bumped into her. The Styth ignored them. He sauntered past, black as a stone in the white plastic Martian world. He disappeared out the door to the stairs, ducking his head to miss the lintel.
Cam said, “They walk like a bunch of women. It’s funny to see all those huge men pussyfooting around.” She strode across the corridor to a door. “Try the lock. It ought to be working by now.”
Paula set her thumb on the white patch on the door, and it slid back into the wall. The lights in the ceiling in the room beyond came up bright as sunlight. She walked into a room as big as the public room in her commune. At one end was a bar with three stools; at the other end a massive brick hearth, set up with logs and a revolving phony fire. She went around the couch to the long draped wall opposite the door and pulled at the curtains until she found an opening and looked out at a broad garden, laid out in curves and squares of hedge.
“Do you like it?” Cam said.
“It’s fantastic,” Paula said. She turned around again. The wall beside the door was an aquarium four feet square. She went toward it, drawn by the flight of red fish.
Cam said comfortably, “You pride yourselves on your poverty.” She opened the door behind the bar. Paula followed her into the next room. Her suitcase lay open on the rack at the foot of the bed. She put down the satchel and stepped out of her shoes. The carpet was deep enough to sleep on.
“Here.” She took out one bottle of the Scotch and gave it to Cam. “Go pour while I take a fast shower.”
“Fine.”
Cam went back to the opulent front room. Paula looked quickly around. The cushioned furniture and draped blue walls offered a dozen hiding places for spy devices. Cam had always been fond of gimmicks. She peeled off her clothes, stiff from travel, and found the washroom.
There was a sheet of fancy paper tucked into the mirror. “For Our Single Guests.” While she was turning in the dryer, she read it. “The Nineveh provides a wide range of excitement and self-discovery for the man or woman with sophisticated tastes.” Call girls, call boys. Press a button and we’ll send up an amputee. She remembered this had been Dick Bunker’s idea.
“Paula?”
“Yes?” She went out to the bedroom.
Cam turned, brisk, saw her, and averted her eyes. She scratched quickly at her upper lip. Naked people made her nervous. “The Akellar is on the videone. Not literally, they’ve disconnected the camera. He wants you to come up there now.” She glanced shyly at Paula’s body.
“I don’t want to do that,” Paula said. She took her long robe out of the suitcase. “Tell him my respects and I’d like to get some rest first.”
“Right-o.” Cam went out. Paula put the robe on and dug around in the suitcase for the belt. She heard Cam’s voice in the next room, rising with temper, and started through the door.
Cam stood over the videone in the far corner by the hearth. Her face was stained pink across the cheekbones. “Now, you listen to me, tough guy—” Paula went up to the videone and shut it off.
The Senator stepped back, her face smooth. They stared at each other a moment. Finally Paula went past her toward the bar.
“Tell me why you’re here, Cam.”
The bottle stood on the countertop, unopened. She circled the bar and squatted to take a glass from the shelf below the cold drawer. The bar was stocked with mixers and soft drinks.
“I don’t think you understand what this confrontation is all about,” Savenia said.
Paula straightened up. She poured Scotch into her glass. “Tell me.”
“The Styths are our enemies, Paula. They can never be anything else. They’re mutants. They’re genetic pollution.”
Paula took a bracing sip of the Scotch and licked her lips. She had heard that phrase before. Cam stalked across the room. “I can help you. I know a little bit about Styths, and about this Styth in particular. You are a sacrificial lamb, baby. Jefferson and Bunker have set you up.” She was a gifted speaker, all fire no matter what she was saying. She marched up to the bar. “He isn’t really human, Paula. Sometimes I don’t think the Committee is human either.”
“Have you ever heard of the Sunlight League?” Paula asked.
Cam’s face twitched. She put her white hands on the bar. “Are you listening to me? Because—” She backed up in a rush, startled, her eyes aimed beyond the bar.
