The God Mars Book Two: Lost Worlds Read Online Free PDF

Just know that our priority is to get an accounting
of the situation from the ground and to send you supplies as soon
as we can get them assembled and launched. I regret that we haven’t
had much of a space program in the last several decades—our global
priorities had shifted elsewhere, as you will learn soon
enough.
    “We will transmit the information you requested as
soon as it can be formatted for your receiver: The disposition of
your loved ones, recent news, and at least some kind of condensed
history of the last half century…
    “I am very much looking forward to meeting you all in
person one day. I’m sorry to tell you that my grandfather passed
back in ’79, but he spoke of you often and with great respect. Be
assured that help is on the way. End message. Out.”
    “So, why did he get the job of talking head again?”
Matthew cuts, shaking his head incredulously. “Did he actually tell
us anything?”
    “Only that we’ve scared them maybe as much as we’ve
made them happy,” I consider. Then I chime to Anton: “Did we get
any attached files with that incoming?”
    “Nothing sir,” he tells me with an edge of weary
disappointment. “Just the video clip.”
    “Are we sure it’s authentic?” Matthew repeats his
earlier concerns, but this time with wry skepticism. “Thomas
Richards speaking well of us?”
    “People always seem to say nice things even about
people they hated after they die, Colonel,” Rick answers him with
his best smartass grin. “Remember what a great president Dubya Bush
was at his funeral…”
    I key up MAI for a reply video, this time just a shot
of my head.
    “Melas Base to Earthside. This is Colonel Ram.
Looking forward to whatever you can send. Please keep us updated.
Will send our reports as soon as they can be compiled. Curious as
to why it took so long to receive a reply—we have been transmitting
for sixty days. Is there a problem receiving? Please advise.
    “To General Richards: Hopefully we will indeed get to
meet in the flesh soon. End message. Melas Out.”
    “And I’m going to assume you want it sent sans
attachments?” Anton asks conspiratorially.
    “Transmit as is. I think it may take me some time to
get what they want composed,” I excuse dryly.
    “This is just too weird,” Matthew sighs. “Exciting—at
least we got through. But still: Very weird.”
    I look at Tru, who looks haunted, not excited at all
anymore.
    “Something is really wrong,” she says shakily.
     
    Carrying on a conversation that has indefinite pauses
(guaranteed to be at least nine minutes) between talking and
listening gets maddening almost immediately. I realize I can’t even
ask them to tell me when I should expect the next message because
I’d have to wait who-knows-how-long for an actual answer. Matthew
tries to make me feel better by telling me how much the delays
would drive him nuts if it was him trying to do the talking.
    I doze off in my chair before the next message comes
through. Kastl has to wake me. Matthew has gone. Tru is asleep in
her own seat, and doesn’t stir despite the sudden activity. I can
barely see that it’s 05:30.
    The face on the screens this time is not General
Richards. It’s a well-groomed and maternal-looking woman with a
warm smile, round olive features, big dark eyes, and black hair
pulled tight into some kind of bun. She wears what looks like a
gray business suit. The UN symbol is behind her.
    “Greetings from Earth,” she begins like she’s making
a heartfelt but highly scripted speech. Tru stirs and opens her
eyes, sits up. “I am Bennezir Satrapi, Secretary General of the
United Nations. I cannot begin to express the elation the people of
this planet are feeling. All of our hopes and prayers are with you,
and I assure you that assistance will be arriving as soon as all of
our resources can make it happen.
    “We have reviewed the files you sent us, and are
sending along some of the information that you have requested about
your