Code of the Lifemaker By James P. Hogan

gifted with some abnormal abilities.” He eyed Massey for a moment as if the rest

should have been too obvious to require spelling out. “Well, I think Zambendorf

is part of a classified Western research program to match the Soviets in

harnessing paranormal phenomena … or maybe even to counter the Soviets. That

could be why they’re sending Zambendorf to Mars.” Massey stared at him

glassy-eyed, but before he could say anything, Wade added triumphantly, “And

that would explain why the military is here—to secure the project from possible

interference from the Soviets at Solis Lacus. Have you heard about that yet?”

Massey nodded. “We were told they’re coming with us to do some training under

extraterrestrial conditions . . . that the Pentagon bought some places on the

ship at the last moment or something.”

Wade shook his head. “Cover story. Do you know how many there are of them? There

were three shuttle-loads disembarking when I came aboard—U.S. Special Forces, a

British commando unit, French paratroopers. That’s not a few seats bought at the

last minute. That was scheduled a long time ago . . . And they’re docked at the

stem, which means they’re unloading heavy equipment.” He produced a lighter and

watched Massey over his pipe while he puffed it into life. “In fact it wouldn’t

surprise me if the idea was to provoke a confrontation with the Soviets at Lacus

in order to take their base out. Maybe our people are onto things that you and I

haven’t even dreamed about.”

Massey slumped back and looked away numbly. Surely nobody at the Pentagon or

wherever was taking the nonsense about the Soviets that seriously . . . But then

again, large sectors of the government and private bureaucracies were dominated

by political and economic ideologists incapable of distinguishing sound

scientific reasoning from pseudo-scientific twaddle, yet commanding authority

out of all proportion to their competence. If they listened to kooks like Wade,

they could end up believing anything. Surely the insane rivalry that had

paralyzed meaningful progress over much of Earth for generations wasn’t about to

be exported to another world over something as ridiculous as the “paranormal.”

Massey stared again at the blue-green image of Earth with its stirred curdling

of clouds. Somehow the human race had to get it into its collective head that it

couldn’t rely on magical forces or omnipotent guardians to protect it from its

own stupidity. Man would have to trust in his own intelligence, reason, and

ability to look after himself. The decision was in his own hands. If he chose to

eradicate himself, the rest of Earth’s biosphere—far more resilient than popular

mythology acknowledged—would hardly notice the difference, and then not for very

long. And as for the rest of the cosmos, stretching away for billions of

light-years behind Earth’s rim, the event of man’s extinction would be no more

newsworthy than the demise of a community of microbes caused by the drying up of

a puddle somewhere in Outer Mongolia.

9

“AH, LET ME SEE NOW . . . WHEN I WAS A BOY OF ABOUT SIXTEEN, it must have been.

‘Pat,’ me father says to himself. ‘With them Americans walking around on the

Moon itself and flying them hotels up in the sky, that’s the place you should be

for your sons to grow up in.’ So we ups and moves the whole family to Brooklyn

where me uncle Seamus and all was already living, and that’s where the rest of

them still are today.” Sgt. Michael O’Flynn of the NASO Surface Vehicle

Maintenance Unit reversed his feet, which were propped up on the littered metal

desk in his cubbyhole at the rear of a cavernous cargo bay, and raised his paper

cup for another sip of the brandy that Zambendorf had produced from a hip flask.

He had a solid, stocky body that seemed as broad as it was long beneath the

stained NASO fatigues, and his face was fiery pink and beefy, with clear blue

eyes half-hidden beneath wiry, unruly eyebrows, and a shock of rebellious hair

in which yellow and red struggled for dominance, each managing to get the better

of the other in different places. O’Flynn spoke through pearly white teeth

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