Mars Prime Read Free

up-ship, he allowed himself to be displaced by the others. He felt drained and temporarily at peace. A few weeks from now, a month at most, it would be necessary to kill again. Necessary to protect the body, to feel the freedom, to exercise the power. But that was then, and this was now. Otis fell asleep. Kathy took over and the body continued on its way.
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    Chapter Two
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    Air Force One made gentle contact with the Outward Bound's number one lock, shuddered slightly as the maglocks cut in, and settled into place. The President of the United States heard voices as Secret Service agents gave orders and the crew pressurized the lock.
    She looked around. Three members of her staff were present and all of them had found reasons to look elsewhere. They knew how nervous she was and were doing their best to make it easier.
    The President gritted her teeth, hit the release button on her harness, and floated free of her chair.
    She had spent twenty hours jacked into a zero-G simulation program, had foregone the last two meals, and still felt like throwing up. Not too surprising since the gravity-induced cues that normally told her vestibular system which way was up had all but disappeared. The President grabbed a convenient handhold and did her best to stay perfectly still.
    Charlie Skuba was her chief of staff. Eternally handsome, neat, and unperturbed, his sky blue jump suit looked as though it had been spray-painted onto his body. He'd spent eighty hours in zero-G simulation and appeared completely at ease. His expression contained just the right amount of concern. Nothing superior, nothing patronizing, just a genuine interest in her well-being.
    "Are you all right Madam President?"
    "Hell, no," the President replied sourly, "but I'll make it. Keep it short that's all. In, out, and gone."
    "Of course," Skuba replied sympathetically. "Both Fornos and Jopp have been warned."
    "Good. Is everything ready?"
    Skuba looked at a silver-haired Lt. Colonel, received a nod of assent, and smiled. "Yes, Madam President. Everything is ready."
    The President nodded, pulled a mirror out of her pocket, and checked her makeup. Something less than perfect, but what the hell. She still looked better than a lot of women who were years younger. The President summoned up the smile that had won the hearts and minds of so many Americans. "All right then. Let's go."
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    C-deck occupied the middlemost slice of the sphere-shaped ship, and in spite of its vast size, was packed bulkhead to bulkhead with free-floating humanity. They were everywhere, drifting into each other and throwing up with almost monotonous regularity.
    All of them had plastic bags, and most were able to make use of them, but some missed and left globules of vomit to drift through the air. And due to the crowded conditions, the normal "You barf, you clean it up," rule had been temporarily suspended. The smell was sickening.
    Huge metal ribs arched down along the bulkheads. Nylon ropes connected them together and gave the colonists something to hook onto. Rows and rows of them were already in place. But the latecomers, along with those who couldn't seem to control their bodies, were still drifting around.
    Blue-suited crew members yelled, cajoled, and pushed the colonists into place. They wore light-weight backpack propulsion systems that allowed them to maneuver without having to push off from bulkheads or other solid surfaces.
    Rex Corvan watched a burly power tech push a woman into place and gesture toward the yellow rope.
    "Grab the rope! Hook on! Don't move!"
    The woman nodded gratefully, hooked her utility belt to the rope, and proceeded to upchuck into her bag.
    Corvan had taken up a position near the "B" Corridor Lock, or "BCL" in the parlance of the ship's crew, all of whom considered themselves a cut above the more than two thousand colonists. And, while some of the superiority was imagined, some of it was quite real. Many of them had been preparing