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by the prospect of exploring a strange new world and seeking out new life and
civilizations?"
Grant picked up a plastic, blunt-pointed knife. He pointed it at Sindri like
an accusatory finger. "Come over here, and I'll show you how fucking excited I
am."
Sindri made a tsk-tsk sound of disapproval and strode quickly to a wall
switch.
"Perhaps you need visual aids. A dining room with a view ought to stir the
blood."
At a touch of the switch, the walls of the room seemed to vanish in yard-wide,
floor-to-
ceiling incre-ments. By segments, the room became transparent.
Outside they saw a low collection of buildings, nearly all of them domed and
made of a dull, lusterless metal. They were interconnected by tubes composed
of the same material.
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James Axler - Parallax Red
"Cydonia Compound One," Sindri announced. "A poor place, but mine own and
hopefully for not much longer."
Beyond a fenced-in perimeter spread a seemingly endless desert of orange-red
sand.
Low ridges rose na-ked from the desolate landscape and grew into a dis-tant,
barren mountain range.
Miles to the west rose a vast bulk of stone, a smoothly contoured formation
that resembled a slightly squashed mesa.
"Be calm," said Sindri. "Accept. You are now thirty-five million miles from
the planet of your birth. The temperature outside at noon will be a balmy
fifty degrees Fahrenheit and around two hundred degrees below zero at
midnight.
"The surface gravity is less than half that of Earth, and its atmospheric
pressure is about eight millibars. The air is composed mainly of carbon
dioxide. If we were not safe inside this pressurized habitat, we would all die
within minutes."
Sindri paused, grinning crookedly. "So, as I hope you understand, regardless
of the current conditions on Earth, they are far and away superior to that of
Mars."
Kane tore his eyes away from the vast panorama of desolation and focused them
on
Sindri. "All right, we understand you want to leave. You claimed you needed to
leave."
Sindri's grin twisted, molding itself into a grimace. "I also said my reasons
defied the limitations of de-scriptive language. Do you three feel strong
enough to undertake a little walking tour?"
Before any of them had the opportunity to respond, Sindri flourished his cane
in a grand gesture. "Excel-lent. Let us be off."
Chapter 22
Flanked by the retinue of trolls, they followed Sindri out into the
tunnel-like passageway. Walking back-ward, facing them, he said, "I know what
you want to ask."
Affecting a childish, ingenuous falsetto, he stated, '"But, Perfessor Sindri,
if we is on
Mars, how come we can breathe so good an' we ain't floating around, losin' our
breakfasts on the ceiling, how come?'"
Reverting to his normal tone, he announced, "This section of the compound is
equipped with a network of small, synthetic-gravity generators. The field is
cre-ated by a controlled stream of gravitons. That hum you hear is produced by
the generators.
"Atmospheric processing units are located through-out the compound,
maintaining a breathable mixture by removing carbon dioxide and other waste
gases. It is recirculated through the system of processors."
He darted into a wide, outward-bulging niche in the tunnel wall, touched a
button and a
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James Axler - Parallax Red shutter slid up, affording them another view of the
compound. It was just as dreary as the first one. Rust-hued sand spread
listlessly, piling up in drifts at the bases of the domes. A few of the
habitats were larger than others, their exteriors faintly etched with window
lines.
Sindri said, "There are the barracks, the manufac-turing facilities, the
nurseries."
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"Nurseries?" echoed Kane. "For what?"
"Children," Sindri replied disdainfully. "Not plants."
Lowering his gaze, Kane saw a small object squat-ting on the ground between
two of the tube tunnels. Flat topped and suspended by an assembly of
tread-enclosed rollers, it looked vaguely like a toy version of a Sandcat.
He pointed to it. "What's that? One of the children's playthings?"
Sindri chuckled. "Actually no, but it became one. That is the Mars Pathfinder,
landed here by NASA in the late 1990s. It was quite the public-relations coup
for them, since it helped to quell rumors they were deliberately concealing
facts about Mars from the
American citizenry."
He sighed a little sadly. "As a child, I spent many a happy hour romping
around with the old Pathfinder. I'd put on an environmental suit and sit on it
for hours, imagining it was taking me to all sorts of exciting places. Like
Earth."
"That's what you brought us to Mars to see?" Grant growled.
Sindri barked out a laugh, turning around and leav-ing the niche. "Hardly.
Come with me. We'll start out slow, just for you, Mr. Grant."
As they followed Sindri down the tunnel, Kane stepped close to Brigid. "You
okay, Baptiste?" he whispered. "You haven't spoken a word."
She shook her head. "Not now, not while he's around."
He didn't argue. Her entire stance telegraphed ten-sion and a barely leashed
fear. When she said "he" there was no disguising the loathing in her voice.
They passed many of the irislike hatches. More than one bore plastic signs
red-
imprinted with the exclam-atory notice, Warning! Low Grav And Atmo Condi-tions
Beyond! Transadapts Only!
After seeing several of the sign-adorned hatchways, Kane asked, "What are
transadapts?"
"A euphemism," retorted Sindri.
"For what?"
"For my people. Those doors lead to their living areas. You would find them
most
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James Axler - Parallax Red uncomfortable, not very far removed from the worst
conditions aboard
Parallax Red
."
He walked a few more yards down the passage and stopped before a hatch on the
right-
hand wall. It opened, and he stood by expectantly ushering the three
outlanders and the trolls through with waves of his cane. After the last troll
had entered, Sindri stepped in and the iris sealed behind him.
They found themselves in a room like a small the-ater, with two dozen chairs
grouped in a double circle around an elevated stage. An array of what appeared
to be light fixtures hung above it.
"Take seats anywhere," Sindri instructed.
"Why?" demanded Grant.
"Entertainment and education, a blend that cannot be beat."
Reluctantly they sat down in the chairs, the trolls seating themselves behind
them.
Sindri climbed to the stage, standing in the center of it. They saw he held a
small remote-control box in his left hand, and his thumb pressed one of its
buttons. He was instantly cast in a halo of light from one of the overhead
fixtures.
Clasping his hands atop the silver knob of his cane, he cleared his throat and
stentoriously announced, "What you are about to see is a presentation made
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midway in the year 2000, for the oversight funding committee of Overprojects
Excalibur and Majestic. Crafted by state-
of-the art holographic artists, its sole aim was to impress visiting
dignitaries so they would increase the operational budget of the Cydonia
Com-pound. I'm not sure if they ever saw it.
"Certainly, I know it by heart. After you've sat through it, hopefully you
will know my
heart and find it within yours not to judge my actions too harshly."
He bowed his head humbly for a moment. Kane wondered if he was waiting for a
round of applause.
As Sindri left the stage, shimmering veils of multi-colored light sprang up,
expanding to encompass its entire length and breadth. The light shifted in
color and shape. One moment the stage was empty, and in the next a man stepped
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