Voices

Chapter 20

Talia screamed, along with hundreds of others, as she staggered to the floor. She saw a flaming refreshment cart go rolling down the middle of the mall, spewing great clouds of choking, black smoke. The security guard was trying to hold back a panicked line of passengers while yelling into his link, and he wasn’t paying any attention to her. She jumped to her feet and dashed through the smoke.

She bumped hard into a strange man, who wrapped his arms around her. Talia shrieked at his bizarre appearance, but then she realized he was a regular man wearing goggles and a breathing mask. She looked closer and saw his long white hair, like the mane of an old lion, and the devil-may-care smile under the mask.

“Hiya, Talia!” said his muffled voice.

“Uncle Ted,” she gasped, and she dissolved into a coughing fit.

“This gas won’t last forever,” he warned, grabbing her arm and yanking her down the corridor. She staggered after him, her senses overcome by the smoke, shouts, and noise. Then a competing voice sounded in her head.

“Talia!” it called. It was a real voice, yelling above all the others. “Wait for me!”

She pulled away from Uncle Ted and whirled around. A telepathic voice popped into her head, saying, “Do not panic, Talia. It’s Garibaldi and a friend.”

Her uncle regained a grip on her arm and tried to pull her along. “What’s the matter with you!” he growled.

“Stop!” she demanded. “I’m not alone!”

Two men came charging out of the smoke, hands over their mouths, coughing. A Psi Cop rushed by in the other direction, waving his PPG. Uncle Ted drew his own PPG and looked as if he was about to blast Garibaldi and Gray.

“No,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Please wait.”

“I don’t want to shoot them!” He pulled on her arm, but Garibaldi reached her that same moment and started to pull on her free hand. The bare contact sent a shock of distracting intimacies through her mind.

There was no time for greetings or explanations, and Talia knew it. She pulled her hand away and saw the shock of the contact register in Garibaldi’s eyes. “We’ve got to go with my uncle now,” she told Garibaldi. “Don’t speak, just follow.”

“But …”

She let her uncle drag her away, and she barely had time to glance over her shoulder to make sure Garibaldi and Gray were following. They were! As she and Uncle Ted approached a clearing in the smoke, he whipped his mask off and stuck it into the pockets of his greatcoat. As always, she marveled, he was quite a dashing figure. Even in his sixties, he had that handsome boyishness that had always gotten him into trouble. She hoped that she would age that well, although she felt as if she were aging fast at the moment.

Uncle Ted whipped out a cardkey and got them into a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Talia stopped to hold the door open for Garibaldi and Gray. When the two men tried to talk, she put her fingers to her lips and glared at them. The telepathic message she sent them wasn’t subtle either—it said they could follow or not, but they were not to stop her and Uncle Ted.

Garibaldi followed without question, and Gray looked around like he needed some encouragement. But with the others rushing away from him, he sprinted to catch up. The strange caravan of a dashing figure, a frightened woman, and two confused men swept through a sweltering kitchen where workers were baking doughnuts. The bakers glanced up from their work with minor interest, as if they were prepared for such intrusions.

After they rushed out another door, the group found themselves in a gray, unfinished corridor full of conduits and ducts for ventilation and life support. Uncle Ted suddenly pulled his PPG and pointed it squarely at Garibaldi.

“Honey, I wasn’t expecting you to have friends from Earthforce.”

Garibaldi just tried to ignore him. “Listen, Talia, we caught the real bombers—we all know you’re innocent.”

Talia scowled. “Oh, now you know! And I see what happens when you ‘catch’ someone—shot to pieces all over the sidewalk.” Self-consciously, she pulled on her gloves. Garibaldi’s eyes followed the action with fascination. She turned to Gray. “Are the Psi Cops still after me?”

“Yes,” admitted the telepath.

“Then I’m still running.”

“Please, we’ve got to talk,” begged Garibaldi. “Let us come with you!”

“Out of the question,” declared Uncle Ted.

“If you come with us,” said Talia, “you’ve got to swear that you won’t turn us in.”

“I swear,” he answered. “Besides, I know your Uncle Ted.”

The flamboyant man squinted at him. “From where?”

“Here. It was almost two years ago, and I arrested you for creating a public nuisance, remember? You were railing against the new emigration rule—good speech. I was supposed to rough you up, if you’ll remember, but I let you go with a warning.”

“Yes, yes! Thank you!” beamed Uncle Ted. Then he frowned. “Those were the days when I could still speak in public. So, are you with the movement?”

“Not exactly,” admitted Garibaldi. “But I’m not gonna let your niece out of my sight again. We have to talk somewhere about what to do next, and it might as well be at your place. Right, Gray?”

Mr. Gray looked stricken with fear at the thought of continuing with this dangerous group, but he didn’t say no. Uncle Ted motioned for them to follow, and he took off at a jog down the dimly lit corridor. Talia could hear nothing but a rush of air coming from the ducts overhead, plus their pounding footsteps, echoing between the narrow walls.

Uncle Ted stopped at a large hatch in the center of the floor and motioned to Garibaldi. “Help me with this.”

The security chief put his back into it, and the two men managed to twist the wheel enough to open the hatch. They threw back the cover, and Uncle Ted took a small flashlight out of his pocket. He turned it on and blinked the light three times into the hole. There was an answering beam of light that flashed three times across what looked like a river of coffee at the bottom of the conduit.

Talia leaned farther over the edge and peered down. She saw the flashlight beam sweeping eerily over the black water, and it was followed by the noses of three inflatable rafts gliding into view. The first raft had a young woman in it, and she was steering the other two rafts with her hands.

“With two people in each raft,” grumbled Uncle Ted, “we’ll probably all get wet. Don’t worry, it’s clean water. Or as clean as recycled water gets on Mars.”

A metal ladder descended from one side of the cavity, and Uncle Ted started down. The woman floating below carefully positioned an empty raft underneath him, and he dropped into it with hardly a splash. He motioned for Talia to come down, and she did so without question. What was her fear of caves and tunnels anymore, when hundreds of Psi Cops were chasing after her?

She wasn’t as adept at getting into the raft as Uncle Ted, and water came sloshing over the sides, coating the seat of her pants. Thankfully, it was warm water, almost the temperature of bathwater, although it did smell strongly of chemicals. Garibaldi came down next, and the young woman expertly guided the last empty raft underneath him. He alit in fine shape, only swamping it a bit. He grabbed a paddle and began to position the raft for Gray.

“You!” called Uncle Ted to Gray. “Shut the hatch before you come down. Don’t worry about getting it tight.”

Gray did as he was told, getting the hatch closed with no problem. He descended the ladder cautiously, doing everything right, but Garibaldi overshot him as he tried to position he raft. Gray landed half-on and half-off the inflated rubber, and he finally gave up and slid into the water when he realized how warm it was. He treaded water until Garibaldi extended the paddle to him and pulled him aboard, swamping the raft and getting both of them soaking wet.

“Earthlings,” muttered Uncle Ted.

The young woman laughed heartily and said, “You’re lucky. A lot of Martians don’t know how to swim.”

“Keep your voices down,” ordered Uncle Ted as he put his paddle in the water and angled the raft into the current.

With powerful strokes he took off, and the others followed, trembling flashlight beams leading the way. Soon the only noise in the darkness was the sound of paddles slipping through liquid and the steady drip of condensation over their heads.

After about an hour of steady paddling, it began to get extremely warm in the conduit, and the air was thin and dry. “Don’t worry,” Uncle Ted told the strangers. “We’ll get out of the aqueduct before all the air is gone.”

“That’s good to know,” said Garibaldi. “Does this aqueduct go outdoors?”

“Yes,” answered Ted. “It’s just a short stretch, and it’s well insulated. Or we’d be cooked. We’re getting out just before the turbines.”

“Was that a real bomb you set off?” asked Gray with disapproval in his voice.

“Not really,” answered Uncle Ted. “It was mainly sound and smoke, although I think we used one concussion cap. I’m not into violence anymore.”

“Uncle Ted,” said Talia, “I want you to know I’m innocent of that bombing on Babylon 5.”

“Of course you are, honey,” answered the charismatic figure with a toss of his leonine hair. “I’m innocent of sedition, or perdition, or whatever they’ve accused me of this week. But that doesn’t matter—they have to have their villains.”

He slapped his paddle on the water and said, “I plead guilty to wanting a Mars that is free from Earth’s government and their greed. What are they to us? Do they know us? Do they care about us? Or do they want only what they can take out of our soil and our sweat?”

Uncle Ted chuckled. “Stop me before I start making a speech. I’m a Jainist now, a follower of Gandhi, and I truly have disavowed violence Gandhi is sort of ancient history, and you young people probably don’t know who he was.”

“I do,” said Gray. “If you are really following the precepts of Mahatma Gandhi, I salute you. Many Martian revolutionaries do not.”

“Yes, I know,” muttered Ted. “But we can’t win by fighting Earthforce. We can only lose people and lose the moral high ground. What I do is organize nonviolent protests and tell my followers to resist passively. But it’s hard being passive, when people are trying to kill you.”

He turned and smiled at his niece. “Sweetheart, I know what it’s like to be in hiding, to run from every shadow. You and I can never be free, but then none of Mars is free. Maybe one day, you and I—and every Martian!—will be able to walk in the sun, free citizens.”

His lady friend lifted a fist and chanted, “Power to Mars!”

“This is Moira,” said Uncle Ted. “She keeps me together.”

“What do you know about the Free Phobos movement?” asked Garibaldi.

“Nothing!” said Ted with a scowl. “I never heard of them before now. But those two stupid bombings sure brought us a bad crackdown and a lot of biased media coverage. I’d like to have a word with this Free Phobos bunch, before they do a third bombing.”

“A third bombing?” asked Garibaldi

“Yes, Free Phobos released a statement this morning that they’re planning a third bombing soon.” He chuckled. “I have to admit, the threat of a real bombing made my little smoke bomb at the dock all the more effective.”

“We know who’s behind Free Phobos,” said Garibaldi. “If we put the right guy in jail, Talia can go free.”

“Right,” muttered Ted sarcastically. He shined his flashlight on a grating that protected a line of pumping equipment recessed into the side of the aqueduct. They could hear a cascade of water somewhere in the darkness ahead of them, plus turbines churning. Uncle Ted steered his raft toward the pumps.

“Tie up on the grating,” he ordered. “There’s a narrow footpath—just try to follow me. Remember, we have to take out the rafts and deflate them, so don’t let them get away. We can’t leave anything that will give us away.”

“Talia,” said Garibaldi, “Arthur Malten is behind all of this. We’ve got to find him to clear you.”

She looked back at him, stunned and hurt. Maybe she didn’t want to hear that Arthur Malten had set her up to die, but he couldn’t spare her the truth. Talia lowered her head and appeared to be thinking about it. After what she must have been through, thought Garibaldi, could anything surprise her?

“It’s good to see you,” she said finally.

“You, too,” he admitted.

Uncle Ted grabbed the grating and hoisted himself onto a narrow ledge in front of it. He tied up his raft and helped Talia step out, then he caught the other two rafts and tied them at the grating. After everyone was safely on the ledge, hanging by their fingernails to the grating, Ted and Moira dragged the rafts out of the water and deflated them.

Very carefully, they skirted the narrow ledge. Through the soles of his shoes, Garibaldi could feel the heat rising up from the metal. They squeezed through a gap cut in the grating and walked carefully among the high-compression pumps, kerchunking away. Finally they reached a secured doorway, and Uncle Ted produced another keycard that opened the door.

They went through and found themselves in a storage room lined with shelves containing pipes, washers, fittings, and tools. There was a spiral stairway leading upward, and the air and temperature in the room were normal, or at least as normal as they got on Mars.

“I think this room is as far as I’m going to go with you boys,” said Uncle Ted. “You can talk to Talia here.”

For emphasis, he took his PPG out of his pocket. He studied the weapon for a moment before handing it to Moira. “I’m a pacifist, but I would fight to protect my Talia, after what they put her through.”

“Believe me,” said Garibaldi, “we came here to save her. In order to do that, we have to find Arthur Malten—he’s the key to this Free Phobos group and everything else. Does anybody have any ideas?”

Gray stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Do your people have the ability to send out press releases to the media?”

“Of course,” answered Ted, “that’s about the only way I can make myself heard these days.”

“Then let’s expose him. Tell the press that Arthur Malten of the Mix is the man behind Free Phobos and the bombings. Coming from you, they’re liable to believe it. Besides, it happens to be the truth.”

A smile crept across Garibaldi’s face. “That won’t make Mr. Bester very happy. He wanted to keep that a secret.”

“Well,” answered Gray, “let’s make them both unhappy, shall we? Once Malten is exposed, there’s no reason for Bester to keep blaming Ms. Winters and the separatists. And Malten won’t have to set off another bomb just to give his sham terrorist group some credence.”

“What is this all about?” asked Talia wearily.

Briefly, Garibaldi told her, Ted, and Moira about Malten’s attempt to privatize Psi Corps and have himself installed as head. They listened in rapt attention as he explained about the secret Senate bill, the fate of Emily Crane, and how closely the coup within Psi Corps had come to happening.

“In fact,” said Garibaldi, “it might still happen if we don’t move on it. I’d like to see Psi Corps disbanded, not fall under another tyrant.”

“I’ll be damned,” muttered Uncle Ted. “Hey, I’ve got to tell this story right away, the whole bloody mess. And I think it’s better Talia come with me, until she’s officially absolved.”

“Fine,” agreed Garibaldi, turning to the blond woman in the dirty beret. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe, and that you knew we were trying to help you.”

Talia stood up and gave him a grateful hug, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder for a moment. That made it all worthwhile for Garibaldi.

“Give us five minutes,” said Uncle Ted, heading for the staircase. “Then come up after us. You’ll find yourselves in a factory up there—just ignore everyone and keep climbing stairs until you find a monorail stop.”

“Okay,” said the security chief. “Give ‘em hell.”

Uncle Ted shepherded Moira and Talia up the stairs, and the weary telepath looked back one last time to give Garibaldi a smile. He waved until she was out of sight.

“What an experience she must’ve had,” observed Gray with sympathy. “It’s like she can barely talk.”

“She doesn’t need to talk,” answered Garibaldi. “Just the way she is, I would walk across Mars for her.”

“I know what you mean,” Gray sighed. “Well, shall we go somewhere and wait for Mr. Bester to call us? He won’t be very happy.”

The two men grinned at one another.

With nowhere else to go to wait, Garibaldi and Gray took refuge in a nearby canteen devoted to military personnel from Earthforce. They arrived just in time to catch the news.

The newscaster raised an eyebrow as he reported the story, but he got it essentially correct when he said, “There has been a dramatic development in the Psi Corps bombing story. Noted Martian revolutionary Theodore Hamiliton is claiming that the Free Phobos terrorist group is actually one man—Arthur Malten, founder of the Mix!”

“According to this report, Arthur Malten was poised to take over the leadership of Psi Corps with the passage of a privatization bill in the Senate. Details of this bill have now been verified by independent sources in the Senate. According to Hamilton, who is also Talia Winters’s uncle, the bombing on Babylon 5 was really an attempt by Arthur Malten to rid himself of political opponents within Psi Corps.”

In the canteen, there were gasps of surprise and an occasional “I told you so!” Everyone put down their Ping-Pong paddles and pool cues to listen to the gruesome details, which included two fatal bombings, dozens of deaths, and the murder of Emily Crane. Garibaldi frowned, because the report stuck it to the bad guys, but it didn’t clear Talia. With Ted being her uncle, the news reports made it seem as if the information was coming from her. Public opinion would still figure her to be in the thick of it.

He looked at Gray and asked, “Are you sure Bester knows where we are?”

“I was very clear about it,” answered the telepath.

The commlink on the wall buzzed, and the closest officer answered it. After a moment, he called out, “Is there somebody named Gray here?”

“That’s me!” called the telepath.

“There’s a shuttlecraft on its way for you,” reported the man, and he returned immediately to watching the news.

Gray and Garibaldi smiled at one another.

Because of Mars’ thin atmosphere, every shuttlecraft had to dock with an air-lock, and most small shuttlecraft had a hatch at the bottom for that purpose. So Gray and Garibaldi had to climb up a ladder through the air-lock in order to board the black shuttlecraft through its underbelly. If Mr. Bester was surprised to see Garibaldi, he didn’t say so, and Garibaldi certainly wasn’t surprised to see him.

“I hope you two are proud of yourselves,” he sneered. “I ought to arrest you for collaborating with the enemy.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Garibaldi. He and Gray looked innocently at one another.

“Thanks to you, there is no way we can handle this quietly now. The whole Alliance will know… .”

“That you made a mistake,” offered Gray. “That you’re fallible.”

“No,” muttered the Psi Cop, “that Psi Corps is vulnerable to attacks from within. That’s the one place we fear the most, attacks from within. And that’s why we Psi Cops are so important to the Corps.”

“Aren’t you forgetting one thing?” asked Garibaldi. “If it hadn’t been for me and Gray, by this time tomorrow you would’ve been out of a job! I’ll have second thoughts about that for a while, I can tell you.”

Bester narrowed his eyes angrily. “I know what you want from me, and I’m not going to give it to you. Ms. Winters will remain a suspect and a rogue telepath. I imagine she will soon go on the list of known Martian terrorists.”

Garibaldi nearly jumped out of his seat to strangle the pompous twit, but his inner voice warned him to keep calm. This was the only man who could remove the most damning of the charges against her—rogue telepath.

“I will testify in Ms. Winters’s behalf,” vowed Gray. “And when we capture Malten, he can testify.”

Bester chuckled humorlessly. “Do you think I would let Arthur Malten go on the stand to testify? His trial would become a trial about Psi Corps itself, and the Mix would get destroyed in the process. To save us all a lot of embarrassment, we’re negotiating with Arthur Malten.”

Garibaldi sat up in his seat. “You know where he is? Why don’t you bring him in?”

“Yes, bring him in!” echoed Gray.

“Well, we don’t exactly know where he is. Mars is a big planet, and he’s very clever. The Mix has a private underground transmitter, and we’ve been communicating over that. So we have a vague idea what area he’s in.”

Gray was sputtering with anger. “How … how can you negotiate with Malten? The man tried to kill you, remember, and he succeeded in killing two dozen innocent people!”

Bester scratched his nose. “There is that, of course. But we have some things we need from Mr. Malten. We need him to sign a confession, thanks to your loose lips. It’ll have to be worded carefully to make it clear that he, Emily Crane, and those other two were the only telepaths involved from the Mix. His supporters in the Senate will have to officially condemn him. Then Malten will have to address the Mix employees—give them a pep talk and appoint a successor. We have several good candidates in mind.”

The Psi Cop paused in thought. “In exchange for saving the Mix, there will be a plea-bargained conviction, and he will be paroled to some distant planet.”

“Then you’ll kill him,” said Gray.

Bester smiled but did not correct that assumption.

“What about Talia?” insisted Garibaldi.

Bester was distracted by his pilot, although she hadn’t moved or said a word. “What did you just receive?”

“Finch is reporting that Malten broke off negotiations. He may be running. There was an echo on his last transmission, and we think we may have pinpointed his hideout. I have coordinates—we can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Go!”