Staring forward, his eyes filled with unbelieving shock, the environmentalist whispered, "Do you mean growing it . . . or destroying it?"
"You tell me," answered Hawkes.
As the two men moved forward, Jarolic muttered, "This is unbelievable—this is impossible." As the environmentalist stared at the wrecked remains of the once-lush garden, he said, "I hadn't heard about anything like this being on the surface. Who could have done this?"
The ambassador watched the other man's body language. Even through the bulky pressure suit, he could tell that Jarolic was truly surprised. Tapping the man on the shoulder to break his fascination with the ruined plant life, he said, "I don't know, but I wish I did."
"I can tell you this," answered the environmentalist, "I don't know who tried to kill you and your aide, but I can't imagine the Resolute allowing something like this to be destroyed, no matter what the gain might be." Hawkes said nothing, waiting for Jarolic to continue.
His voice afire with trembling anger, he said, "Plant life on the surface of Mars—I mean, this would have proved their case—that the domes were a viable place to live. You can tell just from the remains that whoever planted this had already attained a viable ecosystem."
The environmentalist moved farther into the dome, pointing excitedly. "Look," he shouted. "Up along there—you see that streaking on the inner curve of the bubble? This place was generating its own moisture. There was enough plant life here to offset a full-time community of at least fifty people. Easily. Perhaps a hundred.Especially if they introduced a further range of growth in their own personal areas. Lawns, flowers—you understand—for the oxygen/carbon dioxide ratio . . ."
"I understand," Hawkes said softly, implying more than he admitted to. Turning back toward him, Jarolic approached the ambassador, his arms moving wildly for emphasis.
"This is a terrible crime. Life—life growing on the surface of Mars—plants pushing down roots, going to seed, dying, decomposing, giving birth to new life . . ." The man's voice was wild and excited. His hands clutching Hawkes's shoulders, he said, "It was all starting. Someone had taken the first step. Moved toward . . . toward getting people up out of that damned hole in the ground back there. Up to the sun, to the sky."
"Yes," agreed Hawkes sadly. "And someone else destroyed it."
Suddenly, Jarolic went rigid. His mouth straightened out into a thin line. His eyes narrowing, he demanded, "Show me."
Hawkes led the environmentalist back to where he had first seen the oxi-candle used to destroy the dome. After a few minutes of searching, the pair found the remains of the device that had been used to put Dina Martel in intensive care, and had almost killed Hawkes as well.
Jarolic was well acquainted with the mechanism. He had used similar candles to light many an underground site where their by-product of heat was as welcome as the light they produced. The oxi-candle was still in place where it had been planted, its securing spike deep within the loose Martian soil. Jarolic suddenly moved away from it. As he stared down at the candle, he said.
"Ambassador, when you noticed the candle before . . . was it on the inside of the tunnel?" When Hawkes asked what Jarolic meant, the man simply said, "You humor me this time."
"Well, to be perfectly honest, I don't know. It appeared to have been set to burn a hole through the tunnel wall. By the time I got back to this point, the hole had stretched up, down, sideways. What's your point?"
"Okay. First, the trigger is pointing outward. That would mean whoever set off the candle shoved the trigger up against the wall. Much harder to reach that way . . . if they were on the inside." Hawkes blinked, his mouth opening in surprise. Before he could say anything, his companion continued in an excited voice.
"Second, look at the line created by the bracing beams to either side of the initial hole. If you look closely, you'll see that the candle wasn't set up inside that line."
Hawkes dropped to his knees. As he studied the scene, he had to admit that the environmentalist was correct. But then, even as he worked his pressure suit erect again, Jarolic noticed something else. Pointing frantically away from the tunnel, he shouted, "Look! Look at that." As the ambassador stared across the broken, empty plain, the environmentalist moved away from him, pointing at the ground as he did so. "Look," he ordered again. "Don't you see them?"
It took Hawkes a moment to note what Jarolic's trained eye had spotted. Eventually, though, he said in hushed amazement, "Tracks."
"Exactly," said the excited Jarolic. "Leading up to the tunnel from the other side of the bunker, and then back again that way—out into the desert." Bending down to examine the ground more closely, the environmentalist added, "This is why you never heard anyone. Whoever tried to kill you didn't do it from inside the tunnel. They were outside."
And then, before Hawkes could say anything, the first shots flew silently in front of his helmet.
27
"RUN!" SHOUTED HAWKES, PUSHING JAROLIC BACKTOWARD the dome. Several more shots tore through the thick plastic of the runnel, showing the environmentalist in no uncertain terms what had started Hawkes moving.
Jarolic reached out and
