Mars Rising (Domeworld Saga Book 1) Page 5

  "Then report me." She shoved past him. "I'll see you back in town, Constable."

  Max watched her go, red hair bouncing in a ponytail, shoulders stiff and proud. It was a wonder the scientists ever bred redheads. He hadn't known a one to avoid an argument or back down from a fight. Scarlett had been his deputy for four years, and she hadn't liked him for a single one. He didn't much like her either, but he still respected her. Not that it mattered much. Respect wouldn't keep her alive. She wouldn't last a month as constable.

  Max walked behind Scarlett all the way back to town, carrying his branch. Not a word was spoken. He had plenty to think about and too much worrying to do without dealing with her. Scarlett, for her part, didn't even look back at him. Max figured she was out of words to tell him how low she thought he was, how hypocritical it was for him to only rise to the occasion when it was his own blood on the line.

  When they got back to Central, Scarlett went into the station and slammed the door shut behind her. That door had seen a lot of slamming today, Max thought. It probably had plenty more abuse coming.

  For the first time in a long while, Max was tempted to saunter down to the saloon for a drink or two. He'd never had much use for swill and found it made him feel more depressed if he had too much. Today, he needed something, anything, to calm his nerves, but swill wouldn't do. He knew Sarah left some meds at his place—he'd tucked them in the rickety corner cabinet in the bathroom. Maybe she had something to calm him.

  The thin presswood door at home scraped the concrete, leaving more chips on the floor when he opened it. He dutifully scooped up the pieces and dropped them in the recycle bin, then went toward the bathroom. He stopped and stared at the picture of his family. Mom smiled big, holding baby Sarah and Dad holding little Max.

  Their parents looked happy, and maybe they really were. The scientists were real finicky when it came to selective breeding. They'd paired up Mom and Dad as an ideal genetic match, and it'd just so happened they liked each other, too. The lab coats couldn't tell people who to love, but they sure had a say in everything else.

  For the first time in a while, Max noticed the look of adoration in his Dad's eyes as he looked at Mom. Max had tried to forget how much Rick and Claire loved each other. How they spent most of their free time with Max and Sarah out at the farm. How proud they were when Max passed the law exams and became a deputy constable.

  The picture blurred and Max didn't try to clear his vision or hold back. He gripped the picture, sat on the floor, and cried.

  When at last the sobs stopped shaking his body, he slid the picture from the frame and pressed it to his heart. "I won't forget anymore, Mom and Dad. I promise."

  Six Years Earlier

  Max watched Rick and Claire pull on their feeding suits while marshals supervised from outside the inner airlock. Max hadn't seen this coming, not for a minute. In his short tenure as constable, he'd had absolute faith in the rule of law. Now he didn't know what to think, what to believe.

  "No!" Sarah appeared at the door, arms held fast by one of the marshals.

  "Let her in," Terrence Alderman said from outside. "They have a few minutes to say goodbye."

  Sarah rushed inside and buried her face in Dad's chest. "Why?" she sobbed. "Why is this happening?"

  Mom met Alderman's gaze through the airlock door, then looked away. "We can't say, sweetheart."

  "Tell me now!" Sarah's face, red with anger, wet with grief, quivered under the weight of too much emotion.

  Max blinked the blur from his eyes. "They can't, Sarah. Anyone they tell faces a feeding." He took a deep breath. "Say goodbye and make it count before the marshals make you leave."

  She gripped her parents around their necks and pulled them into her. Mom looked at Max, her eyes red, a single tear pooling in the corner and trickling down her face. Mom and Dad had been brave, but Sarah was testing them with her unrestrained sorrow.

  They'd done something—something awful—to deserve this punishment. He'd had to lock them in the vault last night, both wearing silencers on their necks, and wonder what in the hell landed them there. Dad was a farmer and Mom a lab coat. Max didn't understand why Mom's position hadn't protected her. He didn't understand how a farmer had gotten wrapped up in treason charges.

  Now the clock ticked down to the end, to the last time he'd see the people who'd brought him into this world under the dome. The last time he'd see the love in his mother's eyes, or feel the weight of his father's hand clapping him proudly on the back. His family was the only right thing in this tiny world, and now he was being told it was all wrong.

  "Science knows what's best," the lab coats always said. But does science know what's right?

  "The law is the law," Max mumbled under his breath as daggers pierced his heart over and over. "The law is the law." The mantra gave him no strength.

  Robb Alderman entered the airlock and grabbed Sarah's arm. He patted Dad on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of your little girl."

  Dad's jaw went rock solid, and his eyes blazed. But he didn't say a word. Didn't dare do anything to jeopardize the lives of his children. He kissed his daughter on the cheek. Mom kissed Sarah's forehead, her nose, her cheeks, like she did when Sarah was little.

  "Come on," Robb said to Sarah as he dragged her outside. "I'm sure they've had enough of your histrionics."

  "Time to get on with it, Constable," Governor Alderman said. "Do your duty."

  Max nodded numbly. He checked the single-piece suits, making sure the zippers were all the way up and sealed, the hoods tight around their heads. The suits were the same color red as the sand outside and fit like children's pajamas with gloves at the ends of the sleeves—all the more fitting for the eternal sleep just minutes away.

  Mom kissed his cheek. "I love you, Max. Take care of your sister and live a full life."

  Dad gripped his hand. "I'm proud of you, son. Don't ever for a minute feel that this is your fault."

  "Don't feel guilty for doing your job," Mom added.

  Max bit down to keep his chin from trembling. "Forgive me," he whispered.

  Dad shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive, son. We do this willingly."

  "Maybe one day the lie will reveal itself," Mom said, quickly shutting her mouth as if she'd said too much.

  "Masks," Alderman said, still outside the door.

  Max hadn't seen the governor enter the airlock for a single feeding. He handed his parents the clear plastic facemasks. The few puffs of oxygen they held might keep his parents breathing for a few seconds before they asphyxiated in the cold, airless void. They put them on. As he turned to walk outside the airlock, Max tried to look brave, like a man who knew he was only doing his duty. He couldn't bring himself to say the three words that mattered, because they would completely undo do him.

  Instead, he bottled them inside and stepped out of the airlock. With one last look at his parents' faces, Max shut the door.

  "You son of a bitch!" Sarah broke free from Robb and slapped Max hard in the face. She slapped him again and again. "You killed them!"

  Max let her hit him until he tasted blood in his mouth, until Robb grabbed her from behind and hauled her away. Right then, Max regretted not telling his parents how much he loved them. How much he'd miss their talks and the visits to the farm. I didn't even tell them goodbye. More than anything, he wanted to open the airlock door again, rush back inside, and tell them how he felt. Dying with them would be better than this.

  Looking brave for these people was bullshit! He looked at the faces of those sitting in the stands. Some looked eager for the show. Others wore looks of dull acceptance. The spectacle would be broadcast on monitors all over the city to remind everyone what happened to traitors.

  Governor Alderman went through his speech about the founders and duty to humanity and how this little speck of a dome contained all that was left.

  "Before humankind destroyed itself, it launched a mission to the nearest planet, Mars. We are the seed for
a new world. We are all that is left of a once great civilization. Sacrifice and hard work will help us reach that goal again. All it takes is one blighted mind to destroy everything we worked for. To that end, we feed these husks back to the daughter, or to the father that provides our new home. Our father is hard and merciless, but he will forge us into something great. Today, he is fed, that we all might survive."

  While he spoke, Max imagined what was happening this very moment—the second airlock door opening and barbs of electricity driving his parents forward into the outer airlock.

  Alderman looked across the crowd, his eyes dark, soulless voids. "The past is gone!"

  "The future remains," the crowd chanted.

  "May our sacrifice nourish the father," Alderman said and drew a line across his neck.

  The great monitors flickered on, revealing the red barren landscape, the high dunes a hundred yards in the distance.

  Rick and Claire appeared, their backs to the camera, chalky red dust rising around their feet. They walked hand-in-hand toward the dunes, never once looking back, even when the spasms hit them. They made it halfway to the red hills before Claire collapsed in Rick's arms. He lowered her gently to the ground, then lay beside her. His body shook violently at the end, sending a cloud of dust into the air, but his hand never left his wife's.

  Alderman's lips peeled back from his teeth as he watched. He pressed a button and turned off the video.

  Max realized the governor was angry. For a moment, he dared feel proud. Alderman might have ordered them to their deaths, but they kept their dignity.

  Unfortunately, Max lost his soul to the machine only months later.

  Chapter 6

  Present Day

  When Max's vision cleared, he noticed a slip of paper on the floor next to the picture frame. Real paper was rare outside of Science Division. Most civvies used magpads for notes since they could be cleared and reused indefinitely. The paper was slightly yellow around the edges, meaning it hadn't been put in there recently.

  He unfolded it and found nothing but unintelligible equations. The only notations he could understand were, grav ratio, rotation, annual cycle, mass. It was some sort of physics equation, probably something of Mom's.

  What was this slip of paper, this peek into the past? Mom had hidden it in the only item of true value in the house, had put it there for a reason. Before her death, she'd said something similar to what Sarah told him a few weeks ago. The truth to the lie was probably scrawled on this very bit of paper, in plain sight, but undecipherable by someone like Max.

  He wasn't sure what to do with it, so he put it and the picture back into the frame. The only person he could safely ask was secure in the vault, and the token that opened it in the hands of Administrator Barnes.

  For now, he had to think about what came next.

  What ideas Max had were crushed and fragmented by the weight of what was to come in a few scant hours. He couldn't muster any sort of plan outside what Sarah had already provided for him by blinking her eyelids. Here he was, a lawman, a supposed detective with a clue close at hand and years of experience hunting down troublemakers who chose to hide, yet he couldn't think of a single way to save his sister.

  Maybe it was because he knew all the hiding places, knew there were few places to go, he felt so hopeless about mounting any sort of resistance. If only he knew more about Sarah's plan with the suit. If only she could talk—he stopped the thought right there and rolled it around in his mind.

  "Maybe she can talk," he murmured.

  Max gathered himself, going into the bathroom to make sure his face showed no traces of crying. Looking back at him, he saw a man with a youthful face, but old eyes that had seen too much. The longer he stared, the more lines he counted, each one adding more years to that face. How many more lines would he add before his final day arrived? Perhaps this was the final tally. If Sarah died, he would be all alone. Why hold on to an empty existence?

  He spared a splash of water for his face, certain a machine somewhere counted even the tiniest amount and deducted it from his allowance, then he squared his shoulders and let his face go flat. The water was all the drug he needed to make things clearer. It was time to talk with Sarah.

  Scarlett lifted her head from her desk when Max entered the station.

  "I reckoned you were down at the saloon," she said, eyes measuring his every move. "Figured you'd hit the end of your rope and given up."

  "What more do you expect me to do?" Max said. "I spoke with the governor and he said no. The facts are classified, so I got no foundation for a hearing."

  "I'm not faulting you, Max." She stood and shook her head. "Not this time. I just hope you're there for the next person." Scarlett walked across the room and poked a finger into his chest. "You feel that little spark in there? That's compassion. I sure hope you can remember what it feels like, Max. Maybe the next person faced with a feeding will have a chance."

  Max pushed her finger away and poked his at her forehead. "Maybe you need to get it through your mind that once the lab coats decide you're guilty, there's no such thing as having a chance." He walked over to his desk and shuffled through the complaint forms. "Looks like the Henderson boy is causing trouble again." He looked at the next one. "Seems someone might be stealing eggs from Farm Six."

  "As you well know, I just came from the farms." Scarlett's cheeks turned pink as she set her arms akimbo. "It can wait 'til tomorrow."

  Max shrugged. "Fine, but looks like you got plenty to see to right here in town."

  "Trying to get rid of me again?" Scarlett looked toward the jail cells. "If you want some alone time with Sarah, you just come out and say it. I got no problem giving you some privacy."

  Max dropped the forms back on the desk. "I'd like some time alone with my sister, Scarlett."

  Her arms dropped to her sides and the pink in her fair cheeks faded. "That's all you had to say." Scarlett walked over and sorted through the magnetic forms, picked out a couple. "Guess I'll tend to these while I'm out."

  "Thank you." After his deputy left, Max opened the door to the cells. After reaching the vault, he dug into dusty old memories and tried to revive what little he remembered. Using his badge, he tapped the vault door quickly four times then twice. Hi.

  A faint muffled slapping replied. The padding inside the vault would make it hard for Sarah to reply, but maybe he could get some answers.

  "I found equations hidden in the picture frame," Max said aloud.

  Sarah tapped back, From Mom.

  "You knew all this time?"

  Yes.

  "What does it mean?"

  The response came after a long pause. Wrong numbers. Kearns has different numbers.

  Max thought back to what Robb had said. "Robb said he'd sent you a file from Kearns's computer."

  Sarah made an angry animalistic sound, then pounded back an answer. Yes. Tricked Robb. Real file classified.

  "Why would a gravity chart be classified?" Max didn't know much about physics, but he knew what held him to the ground.

  Not nine point eight.

  "I don't understand."

  Three point seven.

  Max leaned his forehead against the cool metal. "What does that mean?"

  Sarah made an exasperated sound. Gravity.

  "You mean the gravity here is three point seven, but the chart said it was nine point eight?"

  Real chart said Mars three, Earth nine. She was apparently tired of pinging out the decimal points.

  Max didn't know what to do with these figures. If gravity on Earth was higher than Mars, so what? He'd been born and raised here, so he wouldn't know the difference unless he somehow ended up back on Earth.

  Sarah pounded out another phrase. Genetics wrong.

  "For what?"

  The next tapping came much fainter. Arms tired.

  Slapping the padding over and over apparently took a toll. "You rest. I'll be back soon."

  Max went to his desk and wrote the number
s down on a magpad. Even with his meager math skills, it was obvious that gravity on Mars was a lot less than Earth. Only kids who tested well for the science path actually went on to learn about it. The rest learned what was applicable to their field.

  Growing up on the farm taught Max a lot about the physical world, but not much about the theoretical one. His testing revealed strength in analysis and logic, but he was told his aptitude result for science fell short. Sarah missed the mark too, but Robb Alderman had an interest in her, and that was all the aptitude she needed. At first she'd been happy to avoid a life in mechworks, but grew to resent her life in Science Division.

  Max wondered what else the tests revealed about a person. They were all taken by computer, the subject monitored closely. All the civvies were just lab rats in a big maze. Unfortunately, he didn't have the imagination or the scientific education to guess the purpose.

  Ignorant—that's what he was, what they all were. The lab coats kept everyone in the dark, put each person in their own little silo with a tiny little slit so they could see only what was right in front of them. The only kind of mingling between the different classes of civvie workers happened at the saloon. The lab coats probably had their own drinking hole on campus.

  Max erased the numbers from the pad. Whatever Mom had seen in them, whatever made Sarah doubt this life, was invisible to Max's limited frame of reference. He had to stick to the hard facts in front of him.

  Lunchtime came, but he couldn't make himself eat. The front door creaked open and a middle-aged man in a lab coat stepped inside. Max had seen that face many times over his years as constable and he grew to dread it more every time. The man was a lab coat, but primarily the investigator for the administration.

  Investigator Oswald Simmons nodded. "Always a pleasure, Constable."

  Max definitely couldn't say the same. "How can I help you, Simmons?"

  The investigator's bushy brown eyebrows pinched together. "I'm here to feed the prisoner and get her last meal request." He held up the token for the vault.