Regan's Planet

ELEVEN

Helmeted, carrying their atmosphere on their backs, the three intruders entered the cave. Regan’s flesh crawled. He had a sensation of being an archaeologist, of entering Tut-Ankh-Amen’s tomb only to find the Pharaoh alive and waiting for him.

The mustiness of the tomb hung over the cave. It had the stillness and the dryness of death. Regan had seen films of these caves-the world had gone wild over the Old Martians, of course, when they had been discovered less than two years back. The first known extraterrestrial life! It had been the greatest scientific sensation since the beginning of the space age. But the films were nothing like the creepy reality. Regan stood at the cave mouth, narrowing his eyes and squinting into the dimness, and the millennia seemed to roll back as the Old Martians came out to view the visitors.

There were six of them. They looked like gnomes, no more than three feet high, their gray skins dry and leathery, their arms and legs fragile, pipestem-thin. Large hairless globular heads seemed to be on the verge of toppling right off the flimsy necks. Two enormous eyes, a tiny nose, and a slit of a mouth comprised the Martian features.

They stared impassively, showing little sign of interest. Curtis advanced and said something in a clicking, guttural language that sounded like the scraping of insect wings. The Martians did not reply for a moment; then one who seemed to be the leader inclined his head and said-in unmistakable English-“We do not mind.”

‘Come on,“ Curtis said. ”They’ll let us look at the cave.“

A row of tiny steps led downward a few feet, and the cave swung around at right angles to go deeper into the rock. Curtis led the way, Regan and Nola following, silent as two babes in Toyland. Small chambers carved from the living rock branched of! from the main passageway. They were furnished simply, with little beds of plant fibers, Japanese-fashion on the floor. Some of the rooms were decorated with wall paintings, the pigment pale, the designs abstract and incomprehensible.

Each room contained a pot in which grew a grayish plant. The broad leaves gave off a faint yellowish glow. “Biolu-minescence,” Curtis whispered. “They don’t have electricity. This is how they light the caves.”

‘And their air and water?“ Nola asked.

Curtis pointed, indicating stubby whitish plants with thick drooping leaves. “The plants give off oxygen. Enough for the Martians, anyway. We’re studying them. We hope to put in big plantations of them all over the surface.” He nodded at another plant, in a different chamber of the cave. A great many ropelike stems grew from the center stem, and at the end of each was a swollen pod, about the size of a child’s fist. One of the Martians nodded to Curtis, who picked up a stem and pinched the pod from its end. Droplets of water ran out. Curtis gave the pod to a Martian, who put it to his thin-lipped mouth and squeezed it.

‘But where does it find water?“ Regan asked.

‘There are underground springs here-a hundred, two hundred feet down. The plant’s roots go right down there. It stores water in the pods. Not much, but the Martians don’t need much. They’re adapted to get along on a couple of ounces of water a day.“

‘And food!“ Nola asked. ”What do they eat?“

‘Other plants. They’re completely self-sufficient. But marginal. They’ve got exactly what they need to survive, no more. It’s probably the only pure Malthusian community that ever existed. They don’t dare expand their numbers, or they’ll die of starvation and thirst.“

Regan glanced at the Martians, who accompanied them unobtrusively, slinking along like phantoms. The wonder of their survival stirred him. This was the counterpart to that other wonder, the growth of the Earth colonies on Mars. Over there was energy, dynamism, all the qualities Regan valued most highly. Here was the resignation, withdrawal, age-incredible age-fragility. Youth and age sharing the same world, the dying race and the coming breed of masters.

The Old Martians fascinated him. And an idea was sprouting in his fertile mind.

‘Curtis?“

‘Sir?“

‘Do you think some of these Martians would mind making a little trip?“

‘Sir? I don’t understand.“

‘We’re having a World’s Fair, Curtis. Perhaps you’ve heard. Next year, to celebrate Columbus’ discovery of the New World.“

‘Yes, sir. But-“

‘You may know that I’m the head of the Fair. I’m trying to make it the greatest show the world has ever seen. A kind of summary of five hundred years of progress in the Western Hemisphere. Now, it just struck me that a Martian pavilion at the Fair would be an extremely desirable thing to have.“

The face behind the helmet sagged in an astonished gasp. “You mean-take Martians to Earth, sir?”

‘Not to Earth. We’re building a special satellite to house the Fair. We’ll set the Martians up there-say, half a dozen of them, in their own little section, duplicating their atmosphere exactly. A little bit of Mars, you might say. We’ll copy this cave down to the nth degree, paintings and all.“

‘Claude, you can’t-“ Nola began.

‘Quiet,“ he said. ”Curtis, would that be feasible?“

The anthropologist stared. “You aren’t serious, sir?”

‘Of course I am.“

‘The Martian’s won’t even leave their caves to visit each other. You don’t think they’ll let themselves be taken from Mars, do you?“

‘It’s worth a try. Can I put it to them? Will they understand me?“

‘The leader will. But-if you’ll pardon me, sir-I don’t think you even ought to bring it up. It’s a pretty fantastic idea. It’ll cost you a mint, first of all-“

‘Let me worry about that.“

‘And it’s not really safe. There are so few of them left that it’s not right to risk them, Factor. Disturbing them, moving them around-even five or six of them, that’s a sizable fraction of the whole Martian population!“

‘We will exercise every precaution,“ Regan said, inflamed by the idea now. ”Listen to me. You can’t understand how interested the people of Earth are in these Martians. It’s the biggest thing to bit Earth since the first space satellites. But it costs thousands of dollars to come to Mars. There isn’t one person in a million who can afford to see these creatures- these people-in their native habitat. On the other hand, if we bring a few Martians down to the Fair, where nearly everyone can see them-why, it may be the only chance humanity will ever get to see them in the flesh!“

Curtis shook his head. “It’s really not proper, sir.”

‘But if they’re willing to go-“

‘Try it and see, then. Talk to them. I’ll be your interpreter, if you like.“

By the time Regan finished explaining to the Martians what he had in mind, he was dripping wet, and trembling from the strain of communicating. It was no go, of course. The few English-speaking Martians had listened unblinkingly to Regan’s awkward sales pitch, bolstered by occasional interjections in Martian by the anthropologist. And finally, when the whole proposition had been made clear, the answer came, unambiguous, unarguable: “We do not wish to leave our homes.”

Regan gave it the old college try. He explained how eager the people of Earth were to meet their Martian friends. He offered huge sums to make the Martian caves more comfortable. He suggested a tour of Earth itself, painting the neighbor planet in glowing colors.

The Martians were unimpressed. They had not the remotest desire to go anywhere, neither to Earth nor to the World’s Fair, not even to the cave a hundred yards away. And so alien were their values that no persuasion Regan could use would change their minds.

He talked himself hoarse.

‘We do not wish to leave our homes,“ they answered.

After the visitors had left the cave, Curtis said, “I knew they wouldn’t go for it, sir.”

‘Well, it was an idea,“ Regan muttered.

He was disgruntled at its failure. To have Martians at the Fair would be the making of the Fan-, he knew. But, still, they had said no, and that was that. He hadn’t really expected them to agree to be rocketed off toward some distant world. They weren’t the type to travel.

Back in Marsport, Regan settled down for a few days of observation and rest, before returning to Earth and getting back into harness. But he found himself edgy, unable to relax. He bubbled with half-understood needs. Here was Mars, the old Mars and the new, and he longed to do something with it. To harness all this vigorous energy, and to make some use of the wistful alien beings. But what? What could he do with Mars and the Martians? No answer.

There was something here, something that powerfully captured Claude Regan’s imagination. But the Factor was at a loss to put it to use. His first idea-bringing Old Martians to the Fair-had died aborning. And he was unable to evolve any other concrete plan dealing with the Mars of the colonists or the Mars of the Old Martians.

The day before departure seemed to him as good a time as any to broach a certain topic of discussion with Nola. They had been out for a drive in the desert, in a chauffeured sand-crawler provided by the local Global Factors office- and, on busy Mars, chauffeurs were greater luxuries than caviar. Now, as they returned to the dome, Regan glanced at his wife and said, “I had a talk with your brother Sid just before we left.”

‘Really, darling?“

‘Really and truly. You know that he was part of the group that tried to oust me last month.“

Nola frowned. “I’m sure that’s not right.” “He signed Uncle Bruce’s petition calling for a special meeting of the Board. If he had said no, there wouldn’t have been any meeting. But he said yes.”

Nola turned away, stared languidly at the desert. “I’m sure he must have had some good reason for doing it, darling. Maybe he thought it was for the best” “Nola?” “Yes, dear?” “Look at me, Nola!”

‘But it’s practically my last chance to see Martian scenery. I can look at you later.“

His hand shot out, clamped around her wrist “Look at me,” he said in a voice quivering with rage. “You’re hurting me!” “That’s a pity. Look at me!” “All right. I’m looking. Stop squeezing my wrist.” Regan glared at her. He said bluntly, “Sid signed that petition because Bruce offered him a thousand shares of Global stock to do it.“

‘Is that so?“

‘That’s so. Considering that I’ve made that ass a millionaire, it seems pretty ungrateful of him to try to sell me out for a lousy hundred thousand.“

‘Maybe he’s had reverses,“ Nola suggested. ”You know he likes to gamble. A bad week at the track-“

‘Nola, Sid also told me that he discussed the whole deal with you beforehand. And he said that you advised him to go ahead, sign the petition, take the stock.“

There was a nicker of anger in Nola’s glittering eyes. “He said that, did he?”

‘Yes.“

‘He was lying!“

‘I don’t think so, Nola,“ Regan said. ”Sid doesn’t have the guts to lie to my face. You do, but he’s not you. You advised him to take a step that might have dumped me out of control. Why did you do that, Nola? Is that the way a wife is supposed to look out for her husband’s interests?“

Nola shrugged. She looked now like a little girl caught stealing from the candy bowl. “I didn’t think the meeting could hurt you, and I didn’t see why Sid shouldn’t take that stock if it was offered.”

‘Wouldn’t it have hurt me if I got dismissed from my post?“

‘You’d still be rich as Croesus, darling.“

‘Money isn’t power,“ Regan snapped. ”If all I wanted out of life was money, I’d have retired three years ago. I’d spend all my time sleeping in the sun, getting up just to clip my coupons. I need more than a fat bank account to keep going. You know that. Yet you advised Sid to help get me dumped.“

Nola’s expression was serene again. “All right, Claude. I plead guilty. I conspired against you with Sid, at the urging of your Uncle Bruce. Bruce would like to get back on top, and he’s not at all pleased with the way you’ve been running the company. He asked me for help. I decided that you were ruining your health working this hard, and so when Sid came to me, I told him yes, sign the petition. It would enable you to take some time off and rest.”

‘Very considerate of you. How much did Uncle Bruce offer to pay you for stabbing me in the back?“

‘Never mind.“

‘He did pay you, of course. And you put the money in some private bank account of your own, just in case our marriage should split up and you needed a few spare millions over and above what I’ve given you already.“

‘Are you filing for divorce?“ Nola said sweetly. ”There are no grounds, you know. I lead a blameless life. I did go to the Moon with Rex Bennett, but he’s very old, and I’m sure a medical report on him would show-“

‘No, I’m not divorcing you,“ Regan said. ”It’s not very jolly to share my bed with a snake, but I’ll go on doing it. God only knows why.“ He glared at her. ”It’s been a long time since I was in love with you, Nola. But I never realized before how much I hated you.“

The spaceliner hovered in orbit, and descended Earthward. Below, the tawny expanse of the Nevada desert waited for the kiss of the rocket flame. It seemed to Regan that he had been moving endlessly from desert to desert lately. Compared with Mars, though, Nevada was a lush tropical jungle.

He was in Denver two hours after touchdown. There were loose ends to tie up. It was getting into summer, now. Months were moving by. The Factor lingered in Denver long enough to familiarize himself with all that had taken place in his month-long absence. It was heartwarming to see the way Tim Field was growing into the job there. After his first uncertainties and hesitations, Field was beginning to look very much the executive. It eased the strain on Regan to know that Global Factors was in such capable hands while he was preoccupied elsewhere.

Three days in Denver proved enough. He went over the accounts, looked through some reports. Field was full of en thusiasm. “We’ve turned the corner on the working capital problem,” he said. “Those bonds still have us over a barrel, but we’re profiting from the general pickup in business conditions.”

‘I’m sure Uncle Bruce is sore about that,“ Regan said.

Field grinned. “I don’t see much of him. Since that Board meeting, he’s been keeping away. Licking his wounds, I guess. Poor fellow.“

‘I bleed for him,“ Regan said. ”Listen, Tim, how soon can you get yourself free for a month?“

‘Why?“

‘I’d like you to go up to Mars. Have a look around. It’s worth the trip.“

‘Well, I don’t know, Factor. We’re only just starting to get organized here.“

‘I want you to get a look at New Dome. It’s quite a place. Wave of the future, all that kind of thing. There’s scope for investment there. I’d like to divert as much of our capital as possible toward investment in Mars.“

‘In New Dome, or in Marsport?“ Field asked.

‘Both. But it’s tricky, both places. At Marsport we’re up against the legal restriction on one company having more than a thin slice of the operation. Got to lobby for a relaxation of that. And over at New Dome, there’s the problem of their willingness to take our money and their unwillingness to let us get any kind of share in ownership. Work on it, Tim. Those colonists up there have big plans. I’d hate for Global Factors to be left out of the Mars boom. I want to be in it to the hilt.“

The cherry blossoms had come and gone, in Washington. The city thronged with high school students, visiting the national shrines. Damp, muggy heat blanketed the whole eastern half of the country.

Regan plunged back into the complexities of the 1992 Columbian Exposition.

Somehow, now, the Fair had palled on him. It had come to seem an irrelevancy, simply a responsibility that he had taken on and had to discharge. It no longer engaged his imagination and enthusiasm as it once had. Up there, the red world glowing in the night sky-that was something worth getting excited over, he thought! Thriving, restless new cities sprouting on the tired soil of an ancient world. But a Fair? A Punch-and-Judy show for the amusement of mankind’s swarming millions? It dismayed Regan to think of the expense of spirit that he had involved himself in, the outlay of energy.

A day or two back in harness, though, and his mood changed. Mars was forty million miles away; the Fair was here, and represented an immediate challenge. The news, he learned, was mixed. Eighteen nations and seven corporations were definitely committed to exhibit, now. Leases had been signed, binders had been paid over.

‘That takes care of about a hundred acres of exhibit space,“ Lyle Henderson told him. ”We’ve still got two hundred acres to fill. Then the concessions and the accommodations, and we’re done.“

‘How do we stand on tentative commitments for those two hundred acres?“ Regan asked.

‘Fine. We’re overbooked by a hundred fifty- acres at the moment. But nothing’s signed. Countries keep changing their minds all the time. The list is different from one day to the next.“

‘Get them nailed down,“ Regan ordered. ”We’ve only got fifteen months left. Those pavilions have to be constructed and finished by next October 12, or else. How are you doing with the concessions?“

‘Fifty-fifty,“ Henderson said. ”It’s moving along.“

‘And the satellite itself?“

‘The shell will be finished on August 15. Construction of the shuttle line is right on schedule. We can begin moving workmen in to start building the pavilions themselves by September 1. Martinelli is up there inspecting the place right now. There’ll be eleven months for pavilion construction, and that should be plenty.“

Regan nodded. “Have you checked into the cost of insuring the Fair?”

‘Uh-huh.“

‘And?“

‘It makes me feel sick to tell you,“ Henderson said. ”I’ve got a brochure. It’s going to cost a million bucks a week for the first six months, and then they’ll knock a hundred thousand off the premium each six months thereafter.“

Goggling, Regan said, “Is that the best you could do?”

‘The very best. They point out that there’ll be thousands of people in the Satellite at any one time, and that an accident could lead to damage suits totalling up in the billions. On an actuarial basis-“

‘Did you get an estimate from Stellar Casualty?“

‘No, sir. Stellar’s a Global subsidiary, and I thought you had decided we weren’t going to deal with Global except where unavoidable.“

‘It’s unavoidable here,“ Regan said. ”We can’t afford to fork out fifty million a year for insurance. Talk to Mike Dominick at Stellar. I’ll talk to him too. We can get that premium down to ten, twenty million, I’ll bet.“

‘If you say so, sir.“

‘I say so.“

Regan turned away. He felt slightly queasy. If some lunatic decided to blow up the World’s Fair, it would result in the biggest insurance claim in history. Did he really want a Global subsidiary on the hook for that kind of risk? Wasn’t Global in deep enough as it was?

He moistened his lips. The Fair couldn’t afford outside insurance. Stellar, meaning Global, would underwrite it. Let Stellar off-load the risk somewhere else, if it wanted to. The solvency of the Fair came first. And if the Fair blew up -well, Regan thought, Stellar would have to pay off, Global would be strained to the rivets, and Factor Claude Regan would-well, he preferred not to think about that. If the Fair blew up, he’d have to trust to luck that he went up with it. There wouldn’t be much room on Earth for him after that.