"Interesting," said Hawkes.
When the seconds continued to drift by in silence, Jarolic asked, "Excuse me, but is that it? Is that all you wanted? I mean, I do have duties to attend to."
"Not for a while, you don't," Hawkes told him. "I've requested that you be released from your duties to assist me for a while."
"What?" Jarolic almost came out of his chair. Although he kept himself under control, both shock and anger could be heard in his voice. "What do you mean? Who do you think you are that you can do this?"
"Who do I think I am? Governor of this planet. Until someone succeeds in killing me off, I can do anything I want. And what I want to do right now is prove your theory. I want to find out who it is that's trying to kill me, and to prove that they're doing it because, for some reason that probably only revolves around money, they want to keep the population of Mars indentured slaves forever." The ambassador stared at his guest, his face hard.
"From our discussion on the Bulldog, I got the feeling you were the kind of man that would be sympathetic to such a goal. Having fought alongside you, adding in the fact that you saved my life, I figure I can trust you at least as much as anyone else around here. Now, if you don't have any interest in helping these people, or if I can't trust you . . . well, then, say so now, and go back to those duties of yours."
The environmentalist took a moment to pull himself together. Actually giving his answer a moment's thought first, he finally answered Hawkes, telling him, "No . . . no, sir. I would like to help these people. And, yes, you can trust me."
"Well, then, that's settled," responded the ambassador, standing up from behind his desk. "So, let's get going."
AN HOUR LATER, THE TWO MEN FOUND THEMSELVES fast approaching the surface of the planet. As they ascended in the same elevator Hawkes had taken with Martel a few days earlier, Jarolic said, "Almost there." When the ambassador seemed surprised, Jarolic reminded him that his work had already taken him to the planet's surface. Hawkes turned his attention to their security detail. As he prepared to don his helmet, he told the well-armed pair, "We're going to go out to inspect the collapsed dome. Don't remind me that the League and RP management have already looked things over. I'm the one someone was trying to kill out there—I'll take my own look, thank you." As the elevator slowed to a halt, he finished, "I want you two to stay here at the elevator door and guard our backs. I'm not making the same mistake twice. Contact us through the coms if you need to tell us anything."
The security people nodded, then unpacked the sole weights they had carried for Hawkes and Jarolic, and began sizing up the refurbished surface bunker for the best places from which to stand their watches.
As the two security officers attended to that, Hawkes and Jarolic did up each other's helmet tabs, started their oxygen flows, and then stepped into the weights laid out for them, all four of which snapped easily into place. The pair then tested not only the boot connections, but all the points on their pressure suits that could possibly be breached. Then, once they were both satisfied, they headed for the recently installed emergency lock.
The new air passage was a much simpler affair than the old compression door. It had been installed not as a permanent fixture, but only as a temporary necessity to allow access to the outside for the security teams that had combed the area. The doors were multiple layers of plastic membrane reinforced with embedded magnetic strips. Anyone visiting the outside would slide himself between the membranes as quickly as possible to prevent too much of the bunker's atmosphere from being lost as he passed through.
Once the two men were outside, Hawkes directed Jarolic's attention to the remains of the ruptured dome. As they made their way across the planet's rough surface, their weighted boots forcing them to drag their feet through the sand, the ambassador cued his com to Jarolic's wavelength, then asked, "So, tell me, what do you think of the Resolute?"
"Excuse me?"
"The Resolute. The Mars First group—the terrorists— the unionists—the underground that's been trying to get things jumping here."
"I'm not sure you can call them all of that."
"No?" questioned Hawkes. "Well, then, what parts would you say applied?"
"Why me?"
"Just making conversation." To prod the environmentalist, Hawkes added, "It's a long way to the dome in these boots."
After a moment, his companion answered, "I wouldn't know, really. I'd say it's possible they were behind some of the attempts on your life—before you got here no one really knew which way you were going to go—but, I must admit, from what I know about them I think that they have Mars's best interests at heart."
"But are Mars's best interests everyone's best interests? Mars's and Earth's combined?"
"I . . . I don't . . . I guess I don't know," stammered Jarolic. "Aren't you here to smooth things out for Mars?"
"No, of course not," answered Hawkes. "I'm here to smooth things out for everybody. What would be in Mars's best interests would be to make Mars the center of the solar system and shift all power away from Earth."
"Reversing the way things are now," Jarolic interrupted.
The ambassador smiled, admitting, "Blunt, but not incorrect. Earth now has too much power, and Mars too little. To reverse the situation simply reverses the problems. No, what I have to do
