SEIGE’S END

 

The Pavonis Accords actually took place on High Mars, in the great ballroom of the Capability Brown Manor House and were beamed all over the planet. The Martians were fascinated by their first glimpse of High Mars and thought the fact that the Martian Delegation had been invited there was a good sign.

Seated on one side of the table were Terry, Honorary Clan Mother of Mars, Brandy, now in charge of the Margaritifier Commune, and Chi-Chi Li, clan-mother of the Hé Ping Kasei Commune. Li was much bandaged, bruised and scarred from the War, and Terry’s pregnancy was showing. They were commonly referred to, not only on Mars but on Earth, as the Three Widows, much to the chagrin of the High Companies, who didn’t stand a chance in the publicity war. Under their auspices, Jay’s ashes were scattered into a planet-wide duststorm, as Progeny’s had been. The same honour was given to Aaron Ben David, the first non-Martian to receive it. Arachne was repaired, but her higher functions had been damaged so extensively that her memories could not be restored. She returned to duty in Jupiter’s atmosphere, keeping the aerostats in repair.

On the other side of the table were Satin Almak, somehow still Governor of Mars, Major Alexander, who was walking with a cane, and the new Commander of the Quasi-Police, because Armand Solla was in the Hospital at High Venus. A number of matters had already been agreed to. Grim-Visaged Ares was to be renamed Mars Vigila. The Poseidon Earthshaker was going to become a civilian ship, a fuel tanker in fact. The Mariner Maglev train was to be completed, with stops at the largest communes, and perhaps eventually expanded to the entire planet. It and the Spaceport were opened up for Martians as well as well as High Companies citizens, and High Mars was available to Martians for leisure and business.

Right now, they were debating a Quasi-Police proposal to establish a police presence in every major commune. This was extremely unpopular with Martians and had probably been proposed by the Quasi-Police to be rejected out of hand, because most Martians had been treated badly by Quasi-Police, and there was considerable push-back in the communes when Terry spoke in favour of the proposal. But she suggested that it would help bring the opposing forces together. The Quasi-Police might come to understand the open and friendly Martians instead of automatically thinking of them as criminals, and the Martians might come to accept the homesick Earthers as peacekeepers instead of tyrannical conquerors. She wanted to add a clause about Martians joining the force and future investigations performed by one Martian and one Earther as partners.

If the miners themselves had a stake in the profit-making interests on the planet—minerals and water, etc.—there would be no need to indulge in theft, smuggling, hi-jacking, or sabotage, and political crime should disappear. The Quasi-Police might even be looked on as protectors, eventually. She insisted that by allowing Mars to share in the profits, the High Companies would make more money, not less. And if there was a partnership with the Belters, it would be even better.

The High Companies balked at this, until their number-crunchers proved that she was right. The Quasi-Police balked at practically everything, but they were actually employees of the High Companies and pretty much had to do what they were told. High Venus would no longer be a prison for Martians. In fact, it was being sold as a profit-making enterprise to Feronia Industries and the Martian prisoners would be coming home. Most were political prisoners anyway, not actual criminals, and a new justice system tribunal of both Earthers and Martians could arrest those actually convicted of crimes on Mars and hold them locally. Most crimes on Mars had been crimes of rebellion, and the communal lifestyle was not conducive to crimes of greed or violence.

In the popular imagination, Terry was the Progenist thinker, while Brandy on one hand was the soft-spoken good cop, and Li on the other was the bad cop, prone to sarcasm and angry outbursts. But one outburst by Brandy was a deciding factor when the Quasi-Police were being stubbornly negative toward every idea:

“You know, we are still in control of the spaceport, both capital ships, High Mars, and the planet-wide communication system. What are you going to do about it? Are you going to try to take it all back and start the war all over again? Do you think the High Companies will find this profitable? You do in fact work for them, and if they want to disband the Quasi-Police and fire your ass, they can do it. Or you can agree to our perfectly reasonable proposals, and we could all—Martian and Earther alike—start making money.”

It appeared that the High Companies were listening, because the Quasi-Police became much more agreeable after that. There was even talk of amnesty for Free Traders, but the Galilean kept their silence on that matter. There was talk of the two civilisations dividing up the Asteroid Belt, with Earth and Mars claiming the Inner Belt and the Galilean the Outer. Of course, it was the Belters who didn’t like that idea. They naturally wanted to trade with everybody without restriction, and figured they deserved something after helping to win the Rebellion. It all went on for some time, the Quasi-Police creeping toward fascism every now and then, when they felt they could get away with it, provoking demonstrations and work-stoppages until the High Companies began to lose profits and put an end to it. But gradually, the spaceport opened under dual control, High Mars opened for business, the Maglev construction-vehicles came back, the miners went back to work, and the trade in water, meteoric metals, asteroids, and human skills returned. To all intents and purposes, the Martian Rebellion was over.

***

There is great joy in watching someone discover Jupiter for the first time. As the weeks passed, Baby Snakes marvelled at the beauty of the swirling cloud-bands and hurrying red and white spots that raced around the enormous planet in its ten-hour day. Then, as the huge world seemed to grow swiftly in the viewport, the details became clear, the billowing clouds three-dimensional. Sometimes, Snakes could look right down into the depths of the great storms, flickering with lightning bolts bigger than the Earth.

The moons themselves were fascinating. Callisto was cratered from limb to limb like a plague-victim’s face. Ganymede seemed translucent sometimes, looking like a dragon hidden in a scryer’s crystal. Europa was like cracked glass, the planet-wide ocean flooding up out of the long cracks in the icy surface. And Io was like a glimpse into Hell, blazing volcanic gases erupting far above the black-and-orange mottled plains, looking like the surface of a rotting fruit.

Baby Snakes, who had been born in a cult, lived hard as a runaway, and fought her way up through the ranks of a barbarian tribe in the deserts of Kansas, was barely literate, and had seldom even seen pictures of the Outer Worlds. Every incredibly beautiful sight she saw was a revelation to her, and often tears of joy ran down the snakeheads on her cheeks.

Then there was Ganymede City, which she only knew as a legend about castles and caverns in the ice. Even the rough and often dangerous Rim District seemed like a romantic pirate kingdom. The corridors were filled with people from every world in the Solar System, babbling in what seemed like a thousand languages, and dressed in clothing of every possible colour and brevity. It was difficult for Karil and Loris, who at least tried to keep a low-profile, to get her to wear anything at all. Then they realized that everyone they saw wanted to pore over her illustrations and tended to ignore both Karil and Loris, impressive as they were. Cyborgs in particular, however frightening their aspect, loved to look at her and listen to her herpetological discourse. Even by Ganymede standards, Baby Snakes was a sensation.

***

The waitress at the Shipyard Tavern was told,” There’s a beautiful couple out there who won’t be served by anyone but you, lucky girl.”

She made her way through the lunchtime crowd, and halfway to the table she realized who it was and stopped dead. Loris beckoned to her with a commanding gesture and Karil’s handsome face lit up in a grin, which somehow seemed more frightening than a frown. She came up beside their table, poised to flee or reach for her hidden weapon. As they turned to face her, she eyed the lasers in their holsters.

“We want to thank you for the vacation tip,” Loris said sweetly. “It was very eventful. I was whipped and tortured.”

“I was tortured too,” Karil said. “And my father tried to kill me, until he was shot dead. That doesn’t happen every day. And I was almost eaten by a tiger, which never happens.”

“And then,” Loris went on, “we spent a few weeks on Mars, where half our friends died.”

“But we helped,” Karil said, “to overthrow your bosses, who have apparently withdrawn their protection of you. Galilean Security has inquired, and the Quasi-Police say they don’t even know who you are. What do you think, Lor? The shrimp cocktail?”

“Always good here. And the Pinot Grigio, I think.”

The waitress made notes and nodded in fear and made her way back to the kitchen. She ripped off her apron and ducked out the service door in the back. The alleyway was uncharacteristically empty. The only person there was a bizarre little figure, covered in tattoos, holding a bamboo stick.

The waitress reached for the laser beneath her skirt, but the stick struck her wrist. Her hand went numb, and she dropped her laser on the alley floor. The stick swept it out of reach. She attacked the diminutive, nearly naked figure and received a rain of blows about her body. Her arms and her legs went completely numb, and she fell to her knees. Another few blows upside her head and she was stretched out on the ground, gasping and moaning.

“I don’t know what you fight for,” Snakes growled. “I’m an Earther and I fight to stay alive. You almost killed two people I love, so I’d be happy right now to beat you to a pulp, but I promised not to.”

“That’s enough, Baby,” said a female voice. A gorgeous blonde woman appeared out of the shadows. “We need to interrogate her.” An enormous cyborg followed her, picked up the victim with one steel hand and threw her over his shoulder.

“Give my love to Karil and Loris,” Inger said to Baby Snakes with a gleam in her big blue eyes. “Give Karil a big one for me.”

“A big what?

“Whatever he likes.”

Baby snakes laughed out loud. “He likes everything.”

Inger joined in on the laughter. “Then give him one of each.” She turned and spoke to the barely conscious figure hanging off the cyborg’s shoulder. “Come on. Galilean Security has a lot of questions for you.” And they vanished into the shadows.

Baby Snakes joined Karil and Loris at their table.

“How was it?” Loris asked, with a smile.

“It was fun. Do you do this all the time?”

“Too much, I think,” Karil said. “Want to try the shrimp?”

Later, as they lay snuggled in their huge bed, and Atalanta hummed a tune in the background, Baby Snakes said, “I have to go home sometime, you know.”

“I know,” Karil said. “Corridors are not wonderful forever. After a while, you miss open skies and sunshine and real weather. And if you spend too much time in one-sixth gravity, you won’t be able to go back to Earth at all.”

“I love you,” she said, and kissed Loris’ shoulder.

“We love you too,” said Loris. “Right, Atty?”

“Of course, we do,” the ship crooned.

“Perhaps,” Karil said, “we can visit you now and then, to get our Earth-legs back. He slipped his hand between her thighs, and she gasped. “You damn well better,” Baby snakes said.

***

A man and a woman, accompanied by armed guards, showed up at Camp Mars on High Venus. A meeting was called in the dining hall, and they spoke to the assembly.

“You may have heard about the Martian amnesty,” the woman said.

“News of that has gone through High Venus like wildfire,” an Elder said.

The man was setting up a computer on a table. When he was done, he switched it on and said, “We have census records of the communes on Mars, past and present, and we have arrest records. By collating these, we can determine who you are and where to send you.”

“So not everyone is going to be returned.”

“Many prisoners here are actual criminals, but very few of those are Martians. Acts of sabotage have been declared political acts and those who committed the acts are political prisoners and may be freed. Political prisoners from other planets, however, like Earth, are not subject to the amnesty. But according to the records, you have people living here who are not Martian but still qualify under the amnesty agreement.” He scrolled down the list. “A Professor Daedalus, his wife, and two children named Orrin and Eleanor.”

“Professor Daedalus has passed away,” a voice said. “I’m Orrin. When he heard the news about Iphigenia’s sacrifice, he blamed himself. He was never the same after that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman said. “His daughter—they call her Genia—is considered a Hero of the Rebellion.”

***

Many Martians were returned home. The process took weeks. Of course, as Progeny once said, even when governments do the right thing, they manage to make an ordeal of it. The Martians were often rousted out of bed and rushed to the ships, leaving most of their property behind. Some were passed over. Some genuine criminals gamed the system and escaped.

Orrin and Eleanor rode the elevator to the hangar-level. They passed by Armand Solla on his way to the Hole. He and a number of Earthers who had displeased the High Companies marched down the corridor and were taken aboard the thickly armoured surface shuttle, which unlike other more flamboyant Earth-ships, had no classical name. Only a number. But there were three of them, and the prisoners called them Cerberus I, Cerberus II, and Cerberus III.

The ship dropped from High Venus and plunged into the poisonous clouds below. The powerful cooling system roared into life and nearly drowned out the sound of the drivers. Blazing floodlights pierced the gloom. The Dome of Hades appeared out of the darkness, flickering in the lightning and visible in the glow from the furnace-hot surface. With a clang, the shuttle mated, and the prisoners marched into their forever home. Solla was greeted with catcalls and jibes.

“Welcome back, Solla!”

“Hail the Conquering Hero!”

“Instant Karma’s gonna get you.”

As soon as he had settled in, he asked a reasonably friendly guard to take him to Malik.

“Malik’s gone.”

“Really? I thought he was indestructible.”

“No, I mean he’s gone. He killed a guard and stole a crawler. Then he set out across the lowlands. So, he’s dead too.”

“No, he’s not. Not Malik. He had an escape plan of some sort. I’m sure of it.”

About a week later, when Solla was no longer such a celebrity and not constantly watched, he stole a crawler himself and took off across the burning hellscape.

***

Atalanta sat in a meadow with the sheep, a dozen of the silly, bleating creatures resting or cropping the grass in her shade. Above, there were castles in the clouds of High Mars. Just over the hedge, Loris, Karil, and Terry sat in a garden filled with a riotous mass of flowers in every conceivable colour, darting butterflies, and singing birds. A committee of sparrows argued over a dust-bath, then flew in a mass to another spot, and argued over that place too.

Johanna was becoming restless. Terry picked her up out of the cradle and put her to her breast.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am,” Loris said, “that you named her after my Johanna.” That had been her lover and astrogator before Karil, cut down in Ganymede years before.

“Well, I couldn’t very well call her Genia, could I? There are almost as many of those on Mars as Aarons and Jays. And there are even a few Arachnes.”

“I can’t get over how much she looks like Jay,” Karil said. “Shagrug has your hair and your eyes and your temperament. He’s going to be a heartbreaker. But she’s going to be tall and svelte and impressive, even for a Martian.”

“Tall, dark, and handsome,” Terry laughed. “And smart. Maybe too smart. She’s already a handful.”

“Good that she’s got the whole Margaritifer Commune to look after her,” Loris said.

“So how was the trip to Earth?” Terry asked.

“We dropped Baby Snakes off in Montreal. She’s working with the Underground Railroad. They’ve got her on weapons training. She loves it.

“What are you going to do now?” Terry asked.

“We’re thinking of working for the Professor on the Odysseus Project. A number of Free Traders are doing that. He could use our help. Our contract with Galilean Security will be ending soon. How are the peace talks going?”

“All over but the bureaucratic marginalia. Brandy’s taking point on that. Li’s running the Kasei Commune on the side. Grandfather is still alive, believe it or not, but she’s become his favourite great, great granddaughter. Alexander has quit the Quasi-Police and joined an expedition to Neptune and the Outer Planets. He’ll be gone for a long time. Has anybody heard anything about Malik and Solla?”

“Not a word. Another mystery on Venus.”

It was getting dark. The local farmer came, and his border collie herded the sheep back to the fold. Atty observed with admiration how the man and the dog conversed with whistles and body movement. She remembered Arachne.

Karil and Loris picked up the cradle and brought it into the thatched cottage, where the fire had already started in the great stone hearth. After dinner and another feeding for Johanna, they retired to the big bed beneath the rafters and snuggled under the counterpane. 

“We’re still personae non-gratae in the High Companies,” Karil said. “We’re still wanted for smuggling and being a nuisance, and they still think I killed my father. The Galilean, quite rightly, doesn’t want to admit that one of their secret agents did the deed. So, when we come to Mars, we’ll still have to sneak in.”

“The Martians will help you, as always,” Terry said, “The reconstruction talks will be going on for a long time, but someday there’ll be an amnesty for Free Traders, and you can stay as long as you... What are you doing? Oh, My God. I love you.” Terry surrendered to the ecstasy of their touch.

                                                  THE END

 

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