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2

The last time Kieran Thane was on Mars, he had come posing as a green arrival from Earth, interested in land parcels in the Elysium region that an aggressive marketing company was pushing to young immigrants flush with hard-earned savings. Some suspicious relatives had engaged him to look into the claims of mineral rights potential that would pay back the investment many times over in years to come. The values had turned out to be artificially inflated, based on fraudulent reports by a geological consultant who was in on the deal. Kieran had contrived to salt some of the company's more recent drilling samples with platinum, hence bringing things to the satisfying conclusion of watching the marketeers pursue their customers in order to buy back the tracts at several times what had been paid.

That had been a little over half a year ago (mean standard year, equal to one Terran year). The surface had sprouted visible changes, even since then. Kieran studied them in the view being presented on the cabin display screen of the shuttle descending from Phobos, the inner of Mars's two moons—itself transformed from the cratered knob of rock that astronomers had once described as a "diseased potato" into a gleaming composition of domes, berthing structures, and metallic geometry as the main transfer port for long-range vessels from Earth, the various Belt habitats, the Jovian system, and beyond. The area creeping onto the screen as the planetary outline expanded off the edges was the Tharsis end of the vast system of gorges and canyons flanking the three-thousand-mile equatorial rift of Valles Marineris—three hundred miles wide in places and up to four miles deep. Domes had appeared over more of the craters, enclosing circular cities or orchard farms, with their tiers of housing climbing inner walls reminiscent of steep Mediterranean shorelines; more vehicles dotted the highway west to the mine workings below 50,000-foot-high Arsia Mons; and what looked like a new rail link, already flanked by new excavations and greenhouse constructions, extended southeastward in the direction of Syria Planum and Solis Planum. In the canyon complex itself, a frost of silver and white beads was spreading between the roofed-over parts of the shadowy depths and across the ramparts of crumbling orange rock separating them.

In a seat opposite, Ibrahim, one of the Iranian couple that Kieran had met in the transfer port on Phobos, squeezed his young wife's hand as they gazed down at the scene. They had just arrived from Earth, he a plant geneticist, she a teacher. Kieran shifted his eyes from the screen and grinned across at them. "I suppose all the sand down there could make it feel something like home. A bit short on beaches, though, I'm afraid."

"Give us time, Mr. Thane. Give us time," Ibrahim answered.

"And in any case, this is home now," Khalia said.

Such were the kind of spirits that Mars was drawing away from Earth. That was what new worlds and new visions were built from, Kieran told himself.

The shuttle came out of its aerobraking trajectory to enter the final, vertical phase of its descent, and the view stabilized on the jumble of interconnecting domes, roofs, and terraces that formed Lowell, filling the intersection of two canyons and resurfacing on the overlooking heights as clusters of buildings and roadways that looked from altitude like lichen mottling the pink-orange landscape. As these surroundings in turn expanded beyond the edges of the screen, the view centered on the spaceport of Cherbourg, perched on the open plateau north of the main valley. The scene gradually resolved into domes, service gantries, and turrets bristling with antenna arrays, and then closed on the landing bay, its covering doors open. There was a glimpse of metal-railed access levels bright with lights, umbilical booms and hoses swung back to admit the shuttle, and then the rest was blotted out by braking exhaust. The ship bounced mildly as the landing-leg shock absorbers disposed of the remaining momentum, and the engines cut. They were on Mars.

Life returned to the cabin with an outbreak of murmuring and a few strained laughs to relieve the tension that had taken hold. After several minutes' wait, an announcement cleared the occupants to disembark. Kieran collected the jacket, briefcase, and carry-on bag that he had stowed, and moved nearer to a burly, red-bearded figure in a dark parka who was closing a duffel bag resting on one of the seat arms. He was a construction foreman who had just arrived from Earth on the same transporter as the Iranians.

"Good luck, Serge. Who knows, I might bump into you again out there one day. Let's hope your plans work out." Wages on Mars were up to ten times the rate back home for comparable skills, which with bonuses could enable a man to retire after a reasonably short stint, or alternatively make enough to bring a whole extended family out.

"You too, Knight," Serge grunted.

"Will you guys be staying together from here?" Kieran nodded past Serge to indicate the three others traveling with him.

"Yep. We're all on the same contract."

Kieran moved a pace closer to press something into Serge's hand. His voice dropped. "Let them have this back when you get a chance."

Serge glanced down to find himself holding a folded wad of several hundred-dollar bills in U.S. currency. "What's this?" he muttered. "You don't owe anything back." It was the winnings that Kieran had relieved the four of them of in a poker game during the eight-hour wait on Phobos.

"Sure I do." Kieran kept his voice low. "Nobody has that kind of luck. I was robbing you under your noses. Learn to look out for yourselves here. There are a lot of people around who'll take your shirt if you let them."

"Are you telling me you're a card sharp too?"

"Let's just say I have a lot of hobbies and amusements."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. They will too." Serge punched Kieran softly on the shoulder by way of acknowledgment. They moved to follow the other passengers, shuffling slowly toward the exit.

* * *

The port too had grown and gained more facilities, Kieran noted as he sauntered down the stairs from Arrivals, ignoring the escalator and elevators—the thirty-eight percent normal gravity and enclosed living meant that people generally took all the exercise they could get. The signs and animated maps indicated that three more launch bays had been added to the complex, one of them still to become operational. A wide, white-tiled corridor that hadn't been there before led from the mid-level concourse to an equally new hotel called the Oasis—apt enough in a heavy-footed kind of way that went with marketing mindsets, Kieran supposed. And, this being Mars, of course there were storefronts and stalls, robot hucksters, and ad displays placed to catch new arrivals straight off the ship, offering currency exchange, accommodation and real estate, vehicles and surface gear, drugs and narcotics, and all manner of human services ranging from legal representation and insurance to sex partners and tour guides. They also bought electronics, optronics, holovids, and other technologies in high demand from Earth or the lunar concessions. For those used to the effects of controls and regulations back home the rates looked unbeatable, and everyone parted happy.

Kieran stopped to scan over the shelves of a candy kiosk and bought a pack of beef jerky before continuing on down to the Freight and Baggage level. He found the office of Two Moons Shuttle Lines ("And Anywhere in Orbit")—enlarged and moved from its former cubbyhole to a new, more prominent position facing out across the floor—and arranged for his checked bags from Phobos to be forwarded c/o Ms. June Holland, No. 357 Park View Apartments, Nineveh. That taken care of, a clerk directed him to the counter where animals, wheelchairs, bicycles, dune hoppers, and anything else in need of special handling were claimed.

Guinness was waiting patiently in one of the company-provided shipping cages, enjoying the attentions of an admiring female Asian counter agent and one of the baggage handlers from behind the scenes. The dog sprang to alertness as his radar picked up Kieran's approach, tongue lolling from a strong mouth, tail thumping against the cage's wire sides. He was mostly black, with tan flashes at the chest and chin, and had a long, broody face with floppy ears.

"Is he yours?" the girl asked Kieran, as if there could have been any doubt.

"That's some intelligent dog," the baggage handler complimented. "I swear he understands everything we say."

"Actually, he's really not that smart," Kieran said. "Languages confuse him. He does it by telepathy." Guinness's brow knitted. He blinked and turned his eyes toward the spaceport workers as if in silent appeal.

"What is he?" the girl asked as Kieran presented the claim document and a card to verify receipt.

"Part doberman, part labrador. The doberman came out in the coloring. The face and the temperament are all lab." Kieran took the leash from a pouch in his bag and stooped to unlatch the cage door. Guinness bounded out and treated him to a slurp of affection across the nose before Kieran diverted him with a strip of beef jerky from his jacket pocket.

"Guinness," the handler read from the transaction details that appeared on the screen, while the girl ruffled the dog's ears. "Are you Irish?"

"Oh, there's some lurking back in the ancestry somewhere, sure enough. But with a color scheme like that, what else could you call him in any case?"

"The trip doesn't seem to have bothered him the way it can some animals," the girl said. "Did you come in on the Earth ship?"

"No. From Urbek Station, near side of the Belt. Before that, places around Jupiter. But he's used to all that." Kieran scratched the center of Guinness's forehead. "Aren't you, boy, eh?"

The girl studied Kieran: tall, broad and powerfully built, with lean, tanned features, wavy brown hair, clear blue eyes, and a smile that came easily. His clothes were casual for traveling, but good quality. "Do you two travel around a lot, then?" she asked.

Guinness looked at Kieran expectantly. The jerky was gone. Kieran tossed another piece, which the dog caught expertly. "We get around, sure. There's a lot out there to see. I've always been insatiably curious."

"So where's home?"

"Oh, a place here, a place there. Maybe I'll check out some possibilities on Mars while I'm here. It's getting more interesting. I suppose you could say the Solar System is home now."

* * *

Two levels farther down, a maglev car riding the field trough between two induction rails carried them from the subterranean part of the spaceport, out from beneath the plateau and into Gorky Avenue, one of the three main canyon-bottom arms of Lowell City. The surroundings resembled a curious mixture of multilevel mall, residential units, and recreation spots spread through a confusion of interconnecting spaces separated by normally-open pressure locks. From a grotto of rocks and palm fronds forming a ledge below several rows of office windows, a man-made waterfall cascaded between a restaurant terrace and a children's play area to an artificial beach washed by breakers from a mechanical wave maker. Farther on, the track ran above a sinuous lake with leafy banks and reedy shallows, winding its way around sandbars where wading birds preened beneath steel piers supporting the upper structure. Guinness stood with his front paws up on the window ledge, missing nothing. Everywhere was busy, colorful and vibrant with people—an expression of the thrusting, restless culture that had taken root in and was now rising from the red sands. Yes, Kieran told himself. The time was about right here for a little real-estate investment to tie up some surplus funds.

On the far side of Gorky, the track entered another tunnel to pass through concrete galleries excavated under the mesa, filled with plant and machinery, before exiting into Nineveh, beyond—the other arm of the branching Y of canyons containing Lowell. Nineveh was greener and more suburban than the metropolitan setting they had left in Gorky. Algae cultivated in the aquatic radiation shield between the outer layers of the domes and roofing gave its sky a peculiar pale-lime color. Prospect Park lay out toward the end of the roofed-over section, ending at the access lock out to the surface. It contained flower and plant nurseries as well as irrigated slopes of grass with a few trees, and was also a zoo. Near its center was a crescent-shaped lake with an island in the widest part. Opposite the island on the outer curve of the lake, a complex of apartment units rising in terraces overlooked a bathing area next to a parking strip for regular road vehicles. Here, the maglev car halted by an automated cafeteria and shop.

Kieran got out and stood for a moment to take in the view, while Guinness sampled and registered the world of new odors, sights, and sensations. Then they walked up two levels of the terraces to Number 357 Park View, which formed the central section of the complex. June had redone her front door in orange and added a trellis with red and white roses to one side. Kieran nodded approvingly. "The feminine touch," he remarked to Guinness, who pricked his ears up in response but remained unenlightened. Kieran produced a magnetic card bearing the code that June had forwarded and inserted it in the door. The lock disengaged. Kieran led Guinness in and put his carryon and briefcase down in the hallway.

There was a nice, feminine touch to the interior too, as Kieran would have expected—but with the professional, pragmatic feel about it that befitted somebody like June: not too much satins and pink; not too frilly and lacey. The living area had acquired a comfortable-looking couch of eggshell blue that complemented the pale lilac wall at that end, along with a few other knickknacks that Kieran didn't remember seeing before. June had added to her collection of designs, prints and paintings: space views and Mars-scapes; architectural studies; some interesting abstracts; and of course, cats.

No sooner had the observation registered, when a fit of spits and hisses erupted from the passage leading to the back rooms. Teddy was arched to twice her height, fur standing out like the rays of a symbolic all-black sun, yellow-green saucers of eyes fixed on Guinness. The dog looked back amiably, tongue lolling, and sat on its haunches as if to dispel alarm. "Hello, Teddy," Kieran sighed. "Oh, we haven't got to go through all this again, have we? We're long-lost friends back again, you silly animal." He closed the door and ambled across to the kitchen area, with Guinness getting up to follow. At the dog's movement, Teddy shot back to the far end of the passage in an inelegant display of rear end framed in fur, and about-turned to glare defiance from the bolt-hole of the half-open bedroom door. Kieran punched an order for a coffee into the autochef and filled a dish from one of the closets below the sink with water for Guinness. While the dog lapped appreciatively, Kieran unclipped the leash, took his comset pad from an inside jacket pocket, and slid out the handpiece to call June. She answered a few seconds later.

"Hi there. So you made it okay? How was the trip?"

"Smooth and uneventful. About the greatest excitement was fleecing four riggers in a poker game at the layover on Phobos. But I was a good boy and gave it back before we got off the shuttle. You know I only cheat cheaters."

"Of course—you've always had that soft spot."

"Just keeping my hand in. Anyhow, what kind of a welcome is this, when a man comes a hundred million miles and no one shows up to meet him? Things like that play havoc with this delicate complex that I have."

"Sure. Right," June said with just the right note of mock sarcasm. "Kieran, you know we had something big going on here yesterday. You just timed your arrival a couple of days too late. There was no way I could get away." That was evidently as much as she was prepared to be overheard saying in her working environment. Kieran interpreted it as meaning that a crucial experiment he knew Quantonix had been working up to over the past few months had gone ahead.

"How'd it go?" he asked, dropping the flippancy.

She paused just long enough to convey prudence. "Just fine."

"Okay, then I guess I'll have to wait to know more. It's too bad I couldn't have made it in earlier. You know, sometimes I think that Triplanetary plans their schedule just to frustrate me." Triplanetary Spacelines was the carrier that had brought him from the Belt to Phobos.

"And sometimes I think that God runs the rest of the universe just to suit you. . . . Anyhow, I take it that Guinness is well?"

"Of course. In fact, right now, slurping and drooling over your kitchen floor."

"What about the princess who owns the place?"

"Throwing a fit and hurling death threats, preparing to defend the last bastion of her realm at the bedroom door."

"Oh dear. Well, she'll get over it. . . ." There was a pause as June seemed to take an interruption from elsewhere. "Look, Kieran, I have to go. Maybe you could use some time resting up. I should get away, I'd say, between six and six-thirty. Maybe we could meet for dinner out somewhere?"

"How about the restaurant of that new hotel that they've added to the spaceport—the Oasis? Have you tried it yet?"

"No, I haven't. It's only recently opened. Sounds good."

"How about seven?"

"Seven, it is. I've got some quick meals and a few snacks in the apartment if you need them. Or there's some salad, cheese, and a bit of leftover pasta that's not bad. Help yourself. I got some dog food in too—under the counter left of the sink."

"Fine. So I'll see you later."

Kieran put the phone back in its slot, the comset back in his jacket pocket, and looked down to find Guinness watching attentively. "Yes, that was Aunt June. You know she was talking about you, don't you?" Guinness wagged his tail, then looked toward the closet below the counter. "You're right. I could use a bite too. Come on, then. Let's see what she's got for us."

 

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