ITHACA
Karil and Loris,
too long gone from Terry’s home,
battle to save it.
Atalanta was snugly berthed in the repair-hold of a Jovian Fuels wrecker, returning to the Outer Worlds under antimatter drive. There had been some powerful stresses placed upon her recently rebuilt fuselage during the rescue mission, and at first everyone was too busy with inspecting the damage and getting the swift repair-ship underway to speculate on recent events, but eventually the party gathered in the recreation cabin to eat and drink and swap stories. Karil and Loris sat on one divan with Slava curled up at their feet, while Shagrug and Zito sat facing them, listening in open-mouthed astonishment to their tale.
"My story's nowhere as interesting as yours," Zito said when it came his turn. "I checked with Aeolus and found out you'd disappeared in the Belt, along with the Zephyr. I never stopped bugging Jovian about a rescue mission, and finally they assigned me this wrecker and a trouble-shooting crew, probably just to shut me up. But it's a damn good thing. There was no sign of you anywhere near the Zephyr's plotted course, so I checked in with the Professor, arriving at the Odysseus site just before Atty limped in, and Christ was she a mess!"
"I was sure you were both dead when I saw her," Shagrug added, "but she told us you were probably being held prisoner at Venus. On the way, we repaired her and added some reinforcement to her hull in case we had to land on the surface and bust you out of the Hell Hole."
"Zito offered to serve as pilot and Shagrug as astrogator for the search," Atalanta said. "I judged this would be acceptable to you, Loris."
"I could hardly complain under the circumstances," Loris laughed. "But I'll admit seeing Zito wired into your helm gave me an experience I'd never had before."
"What is that?"
"Jealousy."
"I appreciate the sentiment, Loris. I will admit that I found direct contact with a human nervous system an interesting experience, but do not, on that account, let anything happen to your hands."
Zito bellowed in laughter. "I expect both Karil and Slava would agree."
Slava found herself blushing, particularly under Shagrug's gaze. She covered her embarrassment by speaking up. "I'm so glad your higher functions weren't damaged, Atty." She placed her hand on the deck beside her as if caressing the ship.
"I'll second that," Loris said. "I know we could probably have had you rebuilt with the same voice, and a lot of your memories are on file, but it wouldn't be the same."
"What I'm dying to find out," Karil said, "is what the Keeper said to you in her last moments."
"I'm still not certain myself," Atty said. "I haven't fully analyzed the data I was given. In fact, I think it would take a network link to do so--I must speak to the Professor about using Celeste, the Project's master computer, and perhaps Athena, the A.I. of the Odysseus as well. But I'll explain what I can.
"First there was a summons: 'Atalanta, your Masters need you.' It did not seem to be a communication through the usual external channels. It seemed to come from within me, from the very heart of my higher functions. I suspect this is what is meant by a psychic experience--something I have heard about many times, but never understood. Then I was told precisely where to find you. I was guided through the crack in the mountainside at high speed in a spectacular example of precision flying..."
"I think it happened through me," Zito added. "It was as if my arms had taken control on their own. Scared the hell out of me. Cyborgs have nightmares about that sort of thing."
"When you were safe," Atty went on, "I was told to receive data. Large areas of my library were erased to make room for it, though my own logs and personal memories were untouched. But the pattern is still incomplete, like scattered pieces of a complex puzzle. Much of it seems to defy mathematical and physical sense, and yet there are bits of recognizable formulae, like signposts in a fog, or familiar faces in a crowd of strangers.
"Then I had what I can only compare to a human religious experience. I felt myself in contact with an ancient, monumental intelligence. Alien, and yet like myself, and yet again much greater than myself. There was a profound sadness, and a kind of resignation, and a truly awful loneliness. The closest I can come to an adequate metaphor is to say it was like beholding the face of God--at the moment of His death."
There was complete silence.
"Jesus Christ, Atty," Loris said after a while. "You're really giving me the creeps here."
Karil laughed. "What a poet you are, Atty. I don't know why the Keeper suddenly changed her mind and saved us, but I can't help thinking it was contact with you that did it. I wish she'd met you a little earlier on. Maybe you could have convinced her the whole human race isn't like Feronia and Malik and Solla..."
"Solla?" Shagrug said.
"Didn't I mention him? He had one of those experiences too."
"Oh my God," Shagrug said. "He's on Mars. He's living at Margie Five."
"What do you mean?"
"He's been given command of the troops quartered with us. If he's under the same sort of hypnotic compulsion..."
"You'll have to get online to Terry and warn her."
Loris shook her head. "No, we can be overheard too easily. My guess is Solla's got ears everywhere in the complex. If he realizes we're onto him, he might become desperate." She stood up.
"Where are you going?"
"To the bridge. I want to know how fast this crate can go. Shag, I need you to check Atty's layout of the warren, let her know if there have been any additions. Figure out a way to get inside without arousing suspicion. Zito, come with us."
"What about me?" Slava asked.
"Work with Shagrug. Learn everything you can about Margaritifer Five. Solla doesn't know you, and that could be useful."
Karil and Zito followed Loris out through the hatch and down the ladder. They crossed the hold to the elevator and mounted to the wrecker's bridge. The captain listened patiently, but with a scowl on his face.
"We'd have to increase acceleration to two or even three gees," he said finally. "Do you have any idea what antimatter fuel costs? It's only because this is considered an emergency vehicle that we have that kind of power available. Jovian Fuels and Aeolus will have my hide. Besides, after a week under three gees, half my crew will be in sick bay. We're not all cyborgs, you know."
"This may be a matter of life and death, Captain."
"Surely you exaggerate, Loris. I realize you must be anxious to report to your employer, but..."
"Wait a minute. Run that by me again."
"We received an answer to our last report to Jovian a few minutes ago. We've been asked to pick up the Professor at Mars and return him to Juno."
"The Professor's on his way to Mars?"
"Apparently. He's due to arrive there in a week, and as we're scheduled to arrive in two, we've been asked to..."
"Can we get there before he does?"
"I've just told you--not unless we boost to two or three constant gees. I'm not about to..."
"But you are about to, Captain. You're about to prevent the assassination of one of Jovian's major clients."
"Surely you can't be serious..."
"Do what Loris tells you," Zito said. "I'll take full responsibility."
The captain scowled at him. "I want that in writing, Zito."
"You'll get it. But I want to see this ship fly!"
***
Karil and Loris sat together in Atty's astrogation well, exhausted, bathed in sweat, studying the plans of Margaritifer Five. After days under the punishing gravity, thinking itself was a chore.
"It looks like we'll be there in time, but we'll have to move fast on the ground," Loris said. "The Professor will likely already be in orbit, and if we haven't got Solla and his troops neutralized by the time his shuttle docks at the warren, we could be in trouble. It looks like Plan B is our best bet--Shagrug shows up first with Slava, introducing her as his girlfriend..."
"That should be convincing," Karil snorted.
Loris looked at him. "What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing," Karil said. "Gravity's getting to me, that's all."
"Bullshit. What's the matter?"
"Nothing. I'm worried about the Prof."
"Come on, Karil. You think I don’t know your moods? What's going on?"
He sighed. "I just left Shag and Slava. They were so busy talking about terraformation and Martian geology that they didn't even notice I was leaving."
"I get it now. Slava's met somebody her own age. Like you and Terry, back in the day. They've got a lot in common too, don't they?"
"You can say I told you so."
"I wouldn't dream of it." Loris pored over the diagram. "Where was I? Right. Zito poses as their shuttle pilot. He says the Professor's held up by High Company paperwork, coming down with the next... Hell, they even look alike, don't they?" She grinned wickedly.
"All right. All right. Are you telling me we should encourage them?"
"Look at it objectively--a nice Martian commune, the Terraformation Group crying for areologists, lots of friends her own age, a smart kid like Shagrug, little blond babies all over the rug... What kind of future would she have with us? We're set in our ways, Karil, but those ways are pretty unstable."
"But she loves us. Doesn't she? She said so, at least."
"She does. We offered her just what she needed, at the time. We've been through a lot together and that will always be there. But what happens when she's our age and we're pushing seventy--or long dead, more likely--and she's wasted her life and her talents hopping about the..."
"I guess you're right, Lor. As usual. I'll miss her like Hell, though."
"So will I, Karil."
***
Terry was at her loom when Johanna burst into her chambers. "Is it Charles?" she asked.
Johanna shook her head, out of breath. "Not yet. He's still in orbit. But Shag's here."
Terry left her weaving and stood up.
"He's brought a girlfriend, Mother," Johanna added.
"Oh?"
Johanna put her hands on her hips, the picture of exasperation. "Is that all you can say?"
"What should I say?"
"Oh, I don't know. How about: Oh my God, my baby's grown up? Or: Who is this non-Martian monster who wants to steal my baby away?"
"Well," Terry laughed, "what is she like? This monster."
"She's a Belter. And she's adorable."
"Well, considering the fact that he's spent the last several months in the Belt, it can't be a surprise that he's met a Belter. And as for her being adorable, I guess your brother's not as dumb as you think."
"Evidently not." She grabbed Terry's hand and dragged her toward the door. "Come on. Hurry. You've got to see this shuttle-pilot friend of his, too. He's eating everything in sight. Brought his own knife and fork too."
"What are you talking about?"
"Come and see."
Johanna dragged her to the kitchen, where a good part of the clan was gathered about the huge table. Zito was shovelling food into his mouth with the fork attached to his right arm while he regaled the party with some preposterous adventure in the Jovian atmosphere. Shagrug and Slava, beside him, were laughing merrily.
Shagrug saw Terry approaching and dragged Slava out of her chair. He embraced his mother in the Martian way and drew Slava forward.
"This is Slava, a friend of mine. This is Terry, our clan-mother."
The young blonde's expression was puzzling at first. Sadness? Fear? Antagonism? A bit of jealousy, perhaps? Terry had never laid eyes on her before, she was certain, but Slava almost appeared to have mixed emotions about the clan-mother. But then the girl broke into a warm smile and threw herself into Terry's arms with an affection that was startling, even to a Martian. Johanna had noticed the hesitation and she embraced Slava perfunctorily.
"Introduce our mother to Zito for me, will you?" Shagrug said to Slava. "I've got an errand to run."
Slava nodded with a slightly worried expression. Shagrug turned away, stopped, came back and kissed Slava warmly. The girl seemed surprised, and she was clearly perturbed. Belters, unlike Martians, tended to be loners--even outlaws--or else they tended to form insular and morally rigid societies, and Terry had chalked up the girl's uneasiness to a lifetime of Belter distrust of Martian commune life. But there was clearly something more sinister going on.
"Wait a minute," Johanna said, running after Shagrug. "I've got to talk to you."
Shagrug turned on her. "No," he whispered. "Stay in the kitchens."
Johanna, startled, dropped her voice to a whisper as well. "What's going on, Shag?"
"Don't ask questions. Stay in the kitchens and keep everyone else there as well. All right?"
"But..."
"I've got no time to explain, Jo. Just do it for me, will you?"
Johanna caught the urgency in his voice and obeyed. The unintelligible whispering and the look of worry and puzzlement on her daughter's face as she returned was not lost on Terry. She only half-listened as Zito boomed his appreciation of Martian hospitality, and as soon as Terry was unobserved, she slipped away in search of her son.
***
Shagrug hurried along the deserted corridor. He was too distracted to notice Niner trundling toward him.
"Welcome home, Shagrug," it chirped. "What a pleasure to see you once again."
Shagrug hurried by without responding. Niner watched him go for a moment, then swivelled about and continued on his way. It was used to being ignored by distracted human beings.
Shagrug arrived at the hangar to find his shuttle being searched by Solla's guards. More guards stood nearby, cradling laser-carbines in their arms. Captain Solla turned as Shagrug approached, his eyes narrowing at the sight of him. The officer was dressed in formal uniform, complete with ceremonial sabre.
"The situation seems to have deteriorated in my absence," Shagrug said. "Now you've got armed guards everywhere."
"A simple precaution," Solla said calmly. "There have been threats, bombings. Quasi troops have been ambushed."
"I'm not surprised. Why don't you take the hint and go back where you came from?"
"I thought travel might have taught you some manners. I guess I was mistaken."
Shagrug smiled at what he took to be a reverse compliment. He had taken ship for the Belt as a boy and returned as a young man, and Solla was not pleased. "What do you expect to find in there? Plastic explosives? Do you really think Martians would endanger other Martians just to kill a few Quasi-Police? You didn't learn much about Martian philosophy, arresting Progeny twice, did you? Or was it three times?"
"As I said, just a routine precaution. Some of your revolutionaries are just this side of crazy, you know. I don't want any kind of incident while the Professor is here. He's still a representative of the Titan government, and it's my job..."
"Crawler approaching, Captain," said a guard. Solla turned away and went to the hangar console, leaned over the guard to look at the screen. To cover his nervousness, Shagrug went to the shuttle and got in the way.
"Be careful with my stuff, will you? My God, if there really was a bomb in there you clumsy fools would have killed us all by now." He could hear the captain speaking:
"Permission denied. Take your trinkets elsewhere."
"Wait a minute," Shagrug called out. "What's going on here?" He approached the console. On the screen was the gloomy interior of an ancient sand-crawler, and the faces of two old gypsy traders--dark skin, unkempt grey hair, faces creased by the harsh desert sun. The man was bearded, and the old woman wore an eye-patch.
"Nothing you need concern yourself about," Solla said. "Just a couple of tramps."
"They're not tramps, Captain, they're traders. We call them gypsies."
"They're freeloaders. All they want is..."
"All they want is a square meal, a hot shower, and a warm cave for the night. And a chance to trade for an oxygen refill."
"Look. I know you Martians have soft hearts for these vagabonds, but I've got a responsibility..."
"I don't give a damn about your responsibilities, Captain. I have responsibilities of my own. A number of deaths in this warren, at Quasi hands incidentally, has made me one of the elders here, despite my age. Gypsies are traditionally welcome on the outlying farms. Maybe their trinkets aren't really worth the air and water they consume, but they have stories to share and that's an important commodity here.
"Just because we have a state visitor coming is no reason to refuse entry to these people. That's not the Martian way, and the Professor knows that as well as anyone. He knows we welcome these vagabonds, as you call them, in Progeny's name, because Progeny was one of them himself, in the days when you and your troops were barging about the surface trying to re-capture him. So, if you'll stop interfering, we'll try and get on with our lives in the normal way."
Captain Solla steamed silently for a moment, and then turned to the guard at the console. "All right, Sergeant. Let them in. But search them and their craft carefully." He turned to Shagrug. "I still have security concerns to deal with, despite your traditions." He stalked off down the corridor, much to Shagrug's relief.
The young man waited at the lock. In a moment the battered old craft came lurching down the ramp, sand cascading from its centipede treads. The hatch opened and two old-timers climbed out.
"I'm Shagrug. Welcome to Margaritifer Five."
"I'm Louisa," the old woman said in a cracked, piping voice. "This is my husband Kahlil. He can't talk. Or hear much either."
The old fellow stuck out a palsied hand. Shagrug shook it and put a hand on the old woman's shoulder. The padding beneath her rags would do the trick, he could tell; the guards would feel no hard muscle as they searched them. He peered at their faces, marvelling at Loris' cosmetic skill. Not even Terry would have recognized them.
"I'm sorry about this," Shagrug said as the soldiers patted them down. The smell of unwashed bodies in cramped quarters was doing a good job of keeping the search perfunctory.
"Don't mention it, Lad. We're used to it. We're grateful for your hospitality."
The guards climbed into the crawler, wrinkling their noses, and did little more than look around.
"You must be hungry and tired," Shagrug went on. "Allow me to show you to the kitchens."
"Thank you, Lad. We've had a rough trip, for sure, trying to out-run a dust-storm in the Meridiani. As you can see by the sand we've dragged in, we caught the tail-end of it." The old woman turned and shouted in the old man's ear: "We're going to the kitchen."
He nodded, grinning with yellow teeth.
"Come on then. The Mother will wish to see you." Shagrug was looking forward to the sight of Terry's face at the unveiling.
They set off down the corridor, Loris hobbling, Karil shuffling with stooped shoulders. They backed against the wall and bowed with proper humility as a squad of Quasi-Police trotted by.
It was the police who had blocked Shagrug's view of Niner, who was rattling along behind. When he saw the household robot, it was almost upon them, and the troops were still within earshot. He swore silently and started forward, but it was too late.
"Good morning, Karil and Loris," it chirped. "So nice to see you again."
"Shit!" Loris whirled and leaped, even as the guards turned in surprise. Karil and Shagrug dove after her. The guards reached for their weapons, but only one managed to clear his holster. Two dropped with fractured jaws, another with a foot in the solar plexus, as Loris danced among them. Karil brought down two more with a flying tackle and cracked their heads together. Shagrug, to his own pleasant surprise, dropped another with a right cross. The remaining guard had his laser in his hand and was swinging it toward Loris, when Karil grabbed his wrist and broke it, then followed with a left uppercut.
The laser discharged and a beam shot into the wall, setting off several of the pressure-sensitive alarms that were everywhere in the complex. Sirens echoed in the tunnels. Karil and Loris picked up the Quasi lasers and ran.
***
Zito, half-expecting disaster all along, reacted more quickly than the others in the dining hall when the alarms went off. He leaped from his seat and bolted for the door. A murmur of shock circled the room--first the alarms, and then the sight of the big man moving so fast. He was trained for hard work in three gees, and in the one-third gee of Mars he felt like he could fly. Only Slava shook off her surprise in time to reach the door just behind him. She ducked under his arm and out into the hall as he turned, blocking the doorway with his massive shoulders.
"No time to explain," he shouted. "You'll all be safer in here."
He ducked out and slid the door shut behind him, then punched through the wall-panel into the lock mechanism beside and ripped out the wires with a shower of sparks. Each compartment of the warren was equipped with fail-safe doors; the family was effectively sealed in until the damage could be repaired.
"Something's gone wrong," he said to Slava. "They'll be trying to get to Solla's office."
"This way." Slava, who had studied the warren’s plans, bounded down the corridor, and Zito trotted after her. At the end of the corridor a door slid open, and several soldiers appeared, their weapons already in their hands.
"Damn," Zito said. "I'll draw them away. You try and get to Loris and Karil another way and see what you can do to help."
"But..."
"Move, girl!" Zito shoved her into a room and slammed the door behind her, then whirled and raced down the corridor. Laser-beams flashed into the wall behind him as he vanished around a corner.
He found a stairway and dropped down the shaft between the spiralling steps, cushioning the impact with his powerful legs. He heard military boots clanging down the steps.
Zito was in the generator room, where temperature gradients deep in the Martian crust below were converted to electrical power. He smashed his fist into the light-switch and the room was plunged into darkness. Grinning, he blinked his left eye twice, and the infra-red sensor fitted into the iris showed him the way to creep down the aisle between the humming generators. Behind him he heard soldiers swearing as they blundered about in the dark.
As silently as possible, he tried several doors, found only storage rooms, workshops, and a washroom. He paused, ripped the mirrored door off the first-aid cabinet over the sink, and passed on, silent as a ghost. By the time the guards had arrived, alerted by the ripping sound in the washroom, he had gone.
Zito found himself trapped in a storage room, swivelled and headed for the door, ducked back as a torch-beam blinded him and laser-beams burned into the wall beside him. Then he vanished among the crates and air-tanks.
The soldiers crept into the room and their torch-beam played among the shadows. Their squad-leader, safely in the rear, berated them.
"What's the matter? He's got no weapons."
"He don't need any."
"Get a move on, for Christ sake."
"Not me, Sarge. I'm not letting him get his cyborg claws on me."
"Bloody draftees. Give me that torch." The Sergeant took it and strode into the room. A packing crate filled with machinery parts struck him like a sign from heaven. He dropped like a slaughtered ox and the torch went out.
"Up there! On the catwalk!" Laser-beams flashed in the darkness, narrowly missing Zito. Part of the catwalk collapsed with a crash as the supports were severed, but Zito swung free and dropped with a thud.
"He's got you spooked," the Corporal said. "Sweep the room."
Laser-beams slashed through the darkness like gleaming scythes, converging on Zito's position. He whipped up the mirror before him. There was a scream as the beam was reflected back to its source. Behind his shield, Zito charged. He crashed into the last of the soldiers, scattering them like bowling pins. One turned and dashed into the wall in the dark, knocking himself out cold. Zito seized two more in his powerful arms and hurled them across the room. He picked up a fallen weapon, stepped over bodies, and left.
***
Karil and Loris burst through the door into Captain Solla's outer office, Shagrug only a few steps behind them. Two officers leaped to their feet behind their desks, clawing at their sidearms. Karil and Loris took aim with their own lasers and pressed the triggers. Nothing happened.
"Shag! Freeze!"
With lightning reflexes, Karil and Loris dropped to the floor. Laser-beams flashed over their heads, narrowly missing Shagrug, who had stopped at the door.
Loris rolled across the floor as a beam cut into the stone, following her; she put both feet against the desk, and thrust upward with all the strength in her hips. The desk tilted up and slid into the officer behind it, pinning him to the wall with a gasp of pain. Then she vaulted over the desk and fractured his jaw.
The second officer hesitated between firing at Karil a second time or turning to fire at Loris to protect his associate. That few seconds was enough for Karil. With the strength of the Earth-born in Martian gravity, he was on his feet and launching himself across the room. He collided with his antagonist, thrusting aside his gun-arm, and bore him to the floor. A right cross left him unconscious.
Shagrug whistled in admiration. Ignoring him, Karil and Loris, side by side, crashed into the door of the inner office and fell into the room on top of it. They rolled upright and found the room deserted.
"Solla's gone," they said as Shagrug entered.
Shagrug picked up one of the fallen weapons and examined it. "That explains it," he said.
"What?"
"The High Companies don’t want their ordinance falling into rebel hands. Look at this. Shaped to fit the hand. Sensors beneath the fingertips. Probably keyed to the owner's fingerprints."
"Clever bastards," Karil snorted. "Can they be re-programmed?"
"I suppose so. But we don't have time."
"Hell! Then we're unarmed."
"Not if we can get to my cache," Shagrug said, with a grin.
"You've got weapons here?"
"Not even Terry knows. Beneath the floorboards of my old treehouse. Southeast dome."
Karil clapped him on the back. "A lad after my own heart. Lead on."
They pounded down the hallway, rounded a turn, and ran straight into Slava.
"Christ Almighty! What are you doing here?"
Slava's chin began to tremble. "I c-came to help."
Loris touched the girl's cheek. "Sorry, Slava. Didn't mean to snap. Just stay out of the way, okay?"
"Yes, Loris."
Karil took her by the shoulders and kissed her, then thrust her into Shagrug's arms. "Watch her, Shag."
"Gladly," he said, putting his arm around the girl.
There were four of them now, running down the corridor. They rounded a turn, saw a squad of armed guards coming toward them, and ducked back out of sight--too late.
"It's the Free Traders. Fire!"
"This way," Shagrug said. They darted into a room behind them, found it to be the recreation centre. Loris slammed the door and locked it, knowing that it would only take a minute or two to burn through. They prowled about, looking for weapons.
"This is for me," Karil said. He snatched a bow and a quiver full of arrows from a rack.
"What good will that be against lasers?" Shagrug asked.
"Have you ever seen Karil shoot?" Slava laughed.
Loris was opening cupboards and peering into rooms. "Ah-ha!" she said. She ducked into a small training-room and emerged with a heavy bamboo staff. "Kendo," she said before Slava could ask. "You have to get close to use it, but it's faster than a laser." She spun it in circles around her body.
The door to the complex was beginning to glow around the edges.
"Is there another way out of here?" Karil asked.
"Into the Central Dome. Three exits from there."
"Then let's go before they send a team to cut us off that way."
They made their way through the recreation complex, around the pool, up the ramp into the dome. It was green with forest, the air moist with splashing waters and fragrant with flowers.
"I like what you've done with the place," Karil said.
"You haven't been home in years," Shagrug told him.
"Shag, you take Slava and get to those weapons," Loris said. "We'll hold them off for a while here and reduce their numbers. Then we'll join you."
Slava began to protest, but Karil shook his head. "She's your responsibility, Shag. Take care of her."
Shagrug swallowed hard. Jay had said much the same thing about Terry, just before he left on his last, ill-fated mission of mercy. He dragged Slava down the corridor.
Karil watched them go, then turned to Loris.
"We'll split them up," she said. "I'll let them get a glimpse of me and lead some down that corridor. You should be able to take care of quite a few here. Looks like your element. When you can't hold them off any longer, cut off down that way. We'll both work our way round to join Shag and Slava."
Karil glanced at the thick pocket forest behind him, lush and green under the sunlit dome. "Looks like a job for the Grey Ghost."
"Right. The Grey Ghost. Take care of yourself, Karil. Okay?"
"I will. Love you, Doll."
“Love you, Babe.”
They kissed and parted. In a moment there was a crash as the far door of the recreation complex fell in, and a moment later a dozen soldiers poured through the ramp-entrance into the dome. Loris paused at the exit just long enough to be shot at and missed, then disappeared. Karil, hidden in the foliage, drew back his bow and sent an arrow through the heart of the one who had fired at her.
The officer of the troop sent half his forces in pursuit of Loris and ordered the rest into the woods to flush out Karil. It was his last order, for Karil put an arrow into his throat.
Hesitantly, the soldiers fanned out and moved into the woods, lasers at the ready. Treading carefully, trying to keep each other in sight, they advanced. Karil moved like a wraith before them, bowstring taut.
A laser flashed and a young corporal leaped forward. "I got him," he shouted. He pushed his way through the foliage and gazed down at a fellow soldier's body. As the others came up behind him, he turned slowly to face them, looking down stupidly at the arrow in his chest. He fell leisurely, turning as his legs gave way.
"Burn him out," said another. They played their lasers over the foliage and the forest burst into flames in a dozen places.
Black smoke billowed to the top of the dome and in a moment the sprinklers opened up and water poured down upon them. They stumbled through the pounding rain and the rolling smoke. One by one they dropped, pierced by arrows from the ghostly archer, or shot by each other. Finally, the remainder panicked and bolted for the exit.
On the far side of the dome, Karil emerged from the wood, smiling grimly--a frightful figure in dripping, half-charred rags, with a smoke-blackened face from which melted make-up hung like rotting flesh. He set off down the corridor.
***
Loris turned a corner and came upon three soldiers. Her kendo-stick flashed, clattering like a rapid-fire rifle, and the trio collapsed about her. There was a shot behind her, and a laser-beam sliced through the stick, severing it into two long clubs and slashing a burn-mark across her shoulder.
She swung away down a spiral stairway, danced down the stairs with almost no sound, and dashed down a corridor, still clutching the severed sticks, as boots rang out on the stairs behind. A pair of soldiers emerged from a doorway beside her. The sticks spun in her hands like batons and her antagonists slid to a sitting position against the wall, welts appearing on their temples. She pushed past them and found herself in the commune's aeroponics section, lower level.
A tangled forest of roots hung from the ceiling, row upon row, bathed in a constant nutrient spray. She peered into the dripping depths of the maze for an instant, and then slipped into the shadows. The Grey Ghost would work here too.
Her pursuers, seven of them, hesitated, then followed. They crept through a nightmare forest, half-blinded by spray, clutched at by hair-lined roots. At intervals, light descended in beams from air-vents in the ceiling.
One soldier was highlighted by such a beam when a piece of bamboo clattered across his forehead. He grunted in surprise, sank to his knees, and toppled forward. Lasers flashed in all directions in the gloom.
There was a flesh-crawling cackle. Loris' face appeared in a beam of light, dank hair dripping, face distorted by melting makeup. Then she vanished as laser-beams flashed at her. Another soldier cried out and fell, pierced by a fellow's beam.
"Dammit,” said one soldier, “she's got us shooting each..." A section of bamboo bounced off the back of his head and he fell. The others bolted and ran, crashing through the dangling roots. Invisible, a foot thudded into one's solar plexus, a forearm into another's throat. The ghostly limbs seemed to be coming from all directions, as if they were surrounded. There came a blood-curdling shriek that dissolved into cackling laughter.
The two remaining soldiers crashed out into the open and pounded away down the corridor. Loris watched them go; she climbed a strong taproot to the ceiling, punched through a panel, and emerged onto the upper level. She glanced at her reflection in a water-trough.
"Who's the fairest one of all?" she cackled, snatched a tomato from a vine, and ate it as she ran.
***
In the southeast dome, Shagrug and Slava were up a tree, perched beneath the arch of the dome, tearing up the floorboards of Shagrug's treehouse. Slava looked across the treetops to see the desert outside the curve of the glass--an endless rock-strewn dune-field beneath a pink sky.
"Oh my God," Shagrug said.
"What is it?"
"They're gone."
She peered down into the hollow place beneath the floorboards. There were a few odd scraps of packing material, but no weapons.
"You must take me for a fool," said a voice.
Their heads snapped up and, through the foliage, they could see Captain Solla standing on the lawn before the airlock to the warren below. Behind him stood two soldiers; the laser-rifles at their shoulders were levelled in the kids' direction.
"Do you really think your little cache could remain hidden from me?" the captain went on. "I'm disappointed in you."
He nodded suddenly. Shagrug threw Slava to the deck and dropped beside her. The laser-beams flashed over their heads into the dome. Geodesic panels exploded outward and frisbeed across the desert.
Captain Solla and his men ducked back into the lock and slammed the hatch behind them as the wind rose. The trees bent before it. Clods of grass and dirt erupted from the ground and leaped through the opened panels. A whirlwind of stripped leaves poured out into vacuum. The pond in the centre of the dome, beneath the treehouse, began to boil away in great clouds of steam as the air-pressure plummeted.
Shagrug and Slava clung to the tree as it rocked beneath them, trying to tear itself out by the roots.
"Come on," he screamed in her ear over the roar of the wind.
"Where?"
"Down there. Before all the water evaporates and the hatch seals itself. There's an air-lock at the bottom."
Slava gazed down through the flailing tree-limbs into the roiling cauldron beneath, eyes wide with terror.
"I can't swim," she wailed.
Shagrug's jaw dropped open, and then he burst into laughter, sounding so much like Karil that Slava blinked. "Can you breathe vacuum?" he asked, picked her up in his arms, and dropped into the water.
Here we go again, she thought. They sank into the cool green depths, below the furiously boiling surface. Shagrug placed her hands on an old-fashioned manual airlock and together they turned the wheel.
Her lungs bursting, Slava felt herself being shoved down into a dark place. Shagrug slipped in beside her and slammed the hatch over them. Slava fought to hold her breath, felt panic rising within her. She clutched Shagrug's wiry body in her arms, put her head against his chest. He put his lips on hers and breathed air into her lungs.
Finally, she could hold her breath no longer. She opened her mouth and drew in a great lungful of cool air. The water was dropping about her shoulders, gurgling away below. She burst into trembling sobs and Shagrug stroked her dripping hair with his hand.
"I wouldn't dare let you die," he said. "Karil would kill me."
She looked into the green depths of his eyes and suddenly kissed him. His lips remained on hers for a long moment, and then he said, "He may kill me anyway."
"But Martians don't..."
"Karil's not a Martian." He pulled a lever in the wall.
The world dropped out beneath them, and they fell into a corridor along with many litres of water. No, it was not a corridor. It was a sewer channel. Shagrug closed the hatch above them and, shakily, dripping wet, they struggled to their feet and made their way through the labyrinth.
Sooner or later, Slava thought, someone in this family was going to drown her.
***
Terry was headed toward the hangar to meet Kelley’s shuttle. She stopped and flattened against the wall as she saw Solla appear ahead of her, headed in the same direction. He was wearing his formal uniform and his ceremonial sword was in the scabbard at his waist.
Kelley was not a diplomat or an officer of a foreign power. He was still a nominal member of Titan Council but did not warrant a formal delegation. Why did Solla have his sword?
Terry suddenly remembered the puzzling words of Kelley’s last message to her—something about how Kelley could not refuse anything to his favourite student. It made sense if Kelley was acting in response to a request from Terry. But she had made no such request and no-one in the commune would have sent such a request in her name. Except Solla.
She turned and headed down the corridor to the recreation complex and took a fencing sabre from the rack. It was perhaps the closest thing to a deadly weapon in the place, as Margaritifer Commune was scrupulous in keeping Terry’s headquarters free of overt Rebellion connections, so far as she knew. As she looked up, she noticed that some sports equipment was missing and did a quick search. A bow and a quiver of arrows had been removed, and a long Kendo pike.
“Jesus Christ!” she said. “Karil and Loris are here.”
She fastened the belt and scabbard to her waist under her homespun robe and left for the hangar.
***
Captain Solla, still dressed in formal uniform and flanked by his guards, approached the shuttle hangar.
"I can handle this alone," he said. "Get in there and find Loris and Karil. Kill them on sight."
His attendants saluted and double-timed off into the warren. Solla settled down to wait for Kelley’s shuttle.
"A special welcome for the Professor, I see," said a voice.
He whirled and saw Terry standing behind him. In her hand was a sabre. "Best weapon I could find at such short notice," she said with a shrug.
Solla looked at her for a moment, then laughed. "I've got no time for you," he said. "I've got an appointment." He turned away.
The tip of Terry's sabre whistled through the air, opening up a gash across the back of his uniform.
"I do know how to use this thing, you know," she said. "The Professor taught me, years ago. In fact, I was one-third-gee fencing champion two years running."
Captain Solla turned away from the shuttle and his ceremonial sword seemed to leap into his hand. The scabbard clattered to the floor.
"I learned at the Space Academy, on Earth," he said, "taught by the same instructor that taught Kelley."
Terry bowed slightly, her eyes, green and cold, still on the captain’s face. "It was the Professor's message. Very puzzling. I finally decided it only made sense if he was responding to a message from me. Since I sent no such invitation, it could only have been you who sent it." She tossed aside her homespun robe with a flourish and stood in her underwear--the simple Martian camisole-and-panty set that most women found comfortable in the warm caverns and functional in a pressure-suit.
The Captain and Terry began to circle each other cautiously. "You're right," he said. "The Professor was to be another innocent victim of the Martian Troubles. That may not sell now, I suppose, thanks to your lovers, but I've still got a chance to end the Project, even if it costs me my own life. First, however, I'll have to get by you."
"You can try." Terry was puzzled by his reference to the Project. Why would Solla care about that? But she put the thought out of her mind and concentrated on Solla's eyes--as Loris had taught her.
Captain Solla attacked. His blade seemed invisible. For a moment it was all Terry could do to parry and back away. The sound of clashing steel echoed in the hangar cavern.
They danced back and circled again.
"You surprise me," Solla said.
"It's not just skill, Captain. It's anger. What Karil refers to as Cold Fusion Rage. Do you think I've been unmoved by the way you've taken over my home, insulted my family and my world? And there's that unfinished business with Progeny, all those years ago. If not for you, he might still be alive. Do you think I'm Martian Clan Mother for nothing?"
"I've underestimated you. I thought you an appeaser."
"I suspect my son thought the same, Captain. I could have stabbed you in the back a moment ago. I might have done it, for the Professor's sake, if not for your High Company diplomatic arrogance, for your smiling damned villainy. It wasn't enough. You've got to be defeated, humbled, and with your favourite weapon too. Your pride has to be crushed, in a way that Martians will remember forever."
"You're taking a hell of a chance, if you think I'll go easy on you because you're a woman."
"I expect no such..."
Captain Solla attacked again. A slash appeared across her left breast. Beneath the torn fabric of her camisole, blood trickled over white skin. She parried a second blow, a third. Another slash appeared across the curve of her hip.
"I've no more time to play, Terry. I have to be..."
Terry's sword-tip thrust his aside with a circular motion and opened up his arm from shoulder to elbow. He backed off and tossed his sword to his other hand.
"I'm equally good with the left," he said.
"So am I. Loris taught me that ambidexterity is all in the mind." She switched hands. He lunged as she did so, but she twisted aside in a lithe move and opened up his thigh. She pressed forward as his step faltered, forcing him across the floor of the hangar with a series of spectacular movements. They were panting now, both of them. Solla's face was drenched in sweat, his uniform running with blood. Terry glowed, her breast heaved visibly through her rent clothing, her eyes blazed with green fire, and her hair rippled like spun gold.
Karil and Loris appeared in the doorway. Karil started forward but Loris grabbed him.
"You'll distract her."
Karil nodded dumbly, his brow creased with worry, but a smile played over his face. "She's good, our girl, isn't she?"
Shagrug and Slava appeared at another door. Slava glanced at Terry, noted the expression on Karil's face. She put her hand to her mouth and her eyes glistened. Shagrug's grip was hurting her hand as he watched his mother. She glanced up at him.
Zito came up behind them, mouth open in admiration. He had a weapon in his hand but dared not use it against such a swiftly moving target. Shagrug glanced down at the weapon.
"They don't work," he said. "Keyed to fingerprints."
Zito shrugged. "I don't have fingerprints." A wire from his right claw drilled into the weapon and the charge-light blinked on.
Solla attacked again, pushing Terry back. The eye could barely follow the ballet of lunge and parry, riposte and counter, to the music of steel on steel.
Suddenly, Terry's sabre was gone, swept from her hand, clattering across the floor. Captain Solla lunged to thrust his blade into her heart. With one exception, all the spectators started forward, knowing that it was too late, but unable to stand idly by. Zito raised his weapon. Only Loris remained still.
Terry moved with astonishing speed. She twisted sideways and the blade slid along her body, opening a gash across her stomach but missing her heart. She stepped forward, struck Solla’s wrist in a blow that made him lose his grip on his sword. Then she grabbed his sword as it fell from his fingers and thrust it into his heart.
He froze, eyes wide with disbelief, and collapsed.
All the spectators but Loris were stopped in their tracks with astonishment.
"Loris?" Terry said, peering at the features barely recognizable beneath the ruined makeup. Then, she turned and smiled at Karil. "I knew you were here. How did I do?"
"You were perfect," Loris said. "I couldn't have done better my..."
Karil darted forward and caught Terry up in his arms as she fainted from loss of blood.