 
# Terror in the Void

Copyright 2019 Steve Whitting

Published by Steve Whitting at Smashwords

Cover art by Steve Whitting

Terror in the Void is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of

this author.

# Acknowledgements

This book is dedicated to my family, my friends, my Facebook followers, and to all fans of science fiction.

# Forward

There are three stories in this book which all take place in the universe of my two previous novels, _Orchid in the Void_ and _Saving Mars_. If you haven't read those, then some of the references to characters or past events may seem cryptic when you read _Freddie's Ghost_ and _The Creature That Ate Sagan City_. _Charity and the Space Monster_ was in rough draft a decade ago and events in the story precede the following two stories by several centuries. It's something of a futuristic detective story and a tale unto itself that can be read "stand-alone".

The theme of all three stories is the awe and mystery – and the frequent terror – that inhabits the void. Not just outer space as we refer to it in our time, but the unknown that manifests in that convoluted collection of cells between our ears. It is the unknown that at once beckons us and repels us. It invites us to visit haunted houses, watch the movie with scenes that we know will force us to cover our eyes, and read books that will keep us awake at night.

Will this book keep you awake, if perhaps not just to finish it? I invite you to read on and discover for yourself.

Charity and the Space Monster

CHAPTER 1

I'm thinking "payback", but I know better. Even still, maybe I can put the fear of the Lord in the jerk that side-swiped my bike since what passes for insurance companies nowadays doesn't pay squat. My leg isn't bleeding like it was right after I crashed, but it sure hurts like hell as I hobble toward the jerk's limo. Then I hear shouts and someone screaming, so I draw my pistol and pick up my pace. I can see movement in the limo's headlights – looks like two guys beating up on a third. Now I'm thinking "carjack", although that seems stupid since nowadays all the cars have those "black box" transponders up-linked to satellites and "driver recognition" to prevent theft.

I have an advantage here – I'm in the dark and the headlights have nuked their night vision, so I quietly walk right up behind the limo and let my gun pick a target before I announce my presence. One of the bad guys spins around towards me and suddenly my gun autofires, taking him down. I guess my gun sensed he was drawing his gun and didn't wait for him to shoot first – that's why they're called _smart_ guns. The other bad guy suddenly turns tail and runs off down the alley into the dark. My gun hadn't painted him yet and he gets away. I reach in the open driver's side door and kill the headlights in case he's out there using them to trying to paint me, then I crouch down and move around to the front of the limo. The dude they were putting the hurt on is lying on the ground moaning and I can't tell in the dark how badly he's injured. The guy I shot is out cold but otherwise seems okay – my gun was loaded with street-legal "stun-rounds". I bend over the vic and feel in his pockets for a phone. I get lucky, find his phone and press the panic button app – let the rich dude pay for the emergency response. I move back to the driver's side door and switch the headlights back on – I figure the other thug is long gone by now – then sit down to wait for help to arrive.

I guess it hadn't been five minutes before I hear sirens and then this little hoverbot with all kinds of lights buzzes down and bathes us in daylight. A few seconds later vehicles are zipping down the alley from both ends and I'm suddenly surrounded by uniforms and dark suits. I guess my thinking this guy was someone with money was a bit of an underestimation – he's somebody _important_ to get this kind of response. I'm brushed aside like I'm nobody as the uniforms hustle their client into an ambulance. Heck, they even haul off the guy I popped and there isn't a real cop among 'em! I don't feel like arguing with a bunch of suits over somebody who may not have even had a bounty on him, so I quietly stand to the side like a good girl and watch them do their thing. Then they drive off without as much as a "thank you", leaving me all alone in that dark alley without a ride. Good thing I didn't wear heels tonight.

I walk slowly south to Florida Boulevard then make my way east toward the Old Airline Highway monorail track. Along the way I pass block after block of corporate-subsidized housing wrapped in a seamless ribbon of razorwire-topped chainlink fence. I have the street to myself – all the 'louts are safely tucked away in their identical-as-eggs apartments, captive audiences to predatory wall-crawling TV screens that make sure they know just how good they've got it in the projects. The only people still out on the street at this hour are: (A.) up to no good; (B.) crazy; (C.) down-on-their-luck bounty hunters, or; (D.) both B and C. Guess where I fit in?

I catch a bus at Monorail Boulevard after having to deal with only one would-be rapist. A dozen or so stops and an hour and fifteen minutes later I finally shuffle half-dead into my apartment. I grab a cold frothy one from the 'fridge and stumble towards the bathroom, shedding my jacket, tee shirt, and blood-stained jeans while attempting to fend off the TV screen that's sliding along the wall towards me. It's been alone all evening and pounces on me like a neglected pet, babbling excitedly about how I can benefit from natural breast enhancement. The taxpayers paid an exorbitant amount of money for the boobs I've got, thank you, and I toss a discarded boot at it as I sit down to pee. The screen dodges my missile and launches undeterred into an infomercial telling me how I can start an exciting new life by immigrating to Mars. I'm not a cold weather person and the idea of living someplace where you can't breathe the air doesn't appeal to me, so I throw the other boot. This time I score a hit, but the screen just ripples for a few moments and then starts to tell me how I can improve my love life. I give up and ask for the local news, thinking I might see something about the rich dude whose ass I saved. I fill the bathtub and ease myself into the warm water. My leg stings for a few seconds then the pain subsides. Underneath the blood and road grime I've got a few cuts and a really nasty case of road rash, but luckily nothing serious. I just won't be wearing short dresses for awhile, that's all.

I sit in the bathtub sipping my beer and watching the news. There's nothing about the rich dude from the limo, just the usual sensationalized crap. I soon grow weary of the news and ask the TV for _Darla Daring, Private Investigator._ A few moments later my role model is interrogating the groundskeeper of an estate plagued by a "swamp creature". There's something about those old TV shows with their real-live actors that their contemporary computer-generated counterparts can't quite match.

I run some more hot water in my tub, take another sip of beer, and replay the evening's events in my head. My first night of solo bounty hunting definitely didn't go as planned. I not only didn't catch my prize, but I wrecked my "new" motorcycle and banged up my leg in the process. All that for a lousy pusher who wasn't even a high scoring Tier Three, although bringing him in would have certainly helped pay the bills. I'm thinking maybe I made a poor career move and should have stayed with Enforcitech. Maybe the pay wasn't all that great, but I had pretty good benefits. Okay, so bringing in Tier Two's who'd crawled up on the chart just high enough to warrant apprehension wasn't exactly glamorous but at least I got paid - which is not happening at the moment.

I think to myself that it wasn't this hard back before I pulled my "Rip Van Winkle stunt". Back then there wasn't a Fugitive Rating (Tier) System or giant fugitive recovery corporations like Enforcitech. Back then I could still make a decent living dancing on Bourbon Street and only do the bounty hunting gig when Jake needed help apprehending a bail jumper and I could use the extra cash. Heck, back then Bourbon Street was high and dry - not sitting in the Gulf of Mexico - and they still used paper cash.

Good ol' Jake. He taught me everything I know about skip tracing. He was also the one who talked me into signing up to have myself cryogenically frozen in the first place – just in case I got shot up or caught some disease they couldn't cure yet. I guess I didn't take it all very seriously and I certainly never in my wildest dreams expected it to actually work. One minute I'm feeling lots of pain and watching my world go black as I bleed out on the sidewalk. I'm dying, and I know it. The next thing I know I'm lying in a hospital bed and some doctor is gleefully telling me the surgery was successful and oh-by-the-way I've been in suspended animation for eighty-something years and here's the bill for everything.

At first it was kind of fun waking up in the future, but it got old fast. Things were different, but they weren't. I don't know what I expected it to be like – _The Jetsons_ , maybe? Oh, they have "personal spacecraft" now, but nothing the average person could ever hope to afford. I guess the main thing I learned is that just about everything is "smart". There aren't computers everywhere because everything _is_ a computer. That can be pretty annoying at times.

Eventually I went back to bounty hunting because my other profession was rendered obsolete by automation. Yeah, there are actually robots that strip. They look and move like the real thing, but they don't ever age or get flabby or call in sick. I found out bounty hunters are in greater demand than ever because the cops don't have near enough manpower to even begin to go after all the bad guys scattered across the globe. As a result, corporations like Enforcitech, Securecon, and Long Arm earn millions of crypto credits every year tracking down and apprehending wanted fugitives. Crime does pay if you're in the business of catching crooks, and there's more than enough business out there for a self-employed bounty hunter to still make a good living - if they don't wreck their bike on their first night out and have nothing to show for it.

It's late, my beer is gone, and my bath water is getting cold. Rehashing how I got here isn't solving anything, so I dry off, spray on a bandage, and pull on a clean tee shirt and panties. I crawl into bed and tell the lights and the TV to turn themselves off.

CHAPTER 2

I know I'm dreaming. It's the same dream I've had every night since they defrosted me. I had the dreams for awhile after I woke up in the hospital the first time, but they gradually faded away. The dreams started again after I rejoined the world of the living the second time.

It's always the same dream – I'm with my fire team on night patrol. I hate night patrol. Bad things happen – especially when you're looking for encoms – that's slang for "enemy combatants" - hiding in the slums. They'll try to ambush you any old way they can. That's why we always send the robot in first. If there are booby traps or encoms waiting in the dark, then the robot can take the brunt and soften 'em up before we go in. The 'bot looks like a big stupid washtub on wheels, but it's got low-light IR sensors and armor and a machine gun and an automatic shot gun and a grenade launcher and LOTS of ammo. They tell us it's smart enough to tell the "good guys" apart from the encoms, but I've never felt like putting that particular claim to the test. I've seen what it can do up close, and it _ain't_ pretty.

Yeah, we sent the 'bot in and right away I should have known something was up. The 'bot had multiple IR signatures, only they were too small and too hot to be human. I figured they were improvised flares set to confuse the 'bot _and_ us since we were seeing what its sensors were "seeing" on our helmet HUDs. Flares usually mean trouble, and sure enough next thing I know Angel is telling me we've got multiple IR signatures moving in on us and they _aren't_ flares. I call for back-up, but I know we're in for a hard fight. As I turn around, I hear three big booms - including one right behind me where the 'bot is – and all hell breaks loose. The bot's sensors are fried, but I'm more concerned about our new "guests" and switch from the bot's messed-up feed to my own enhanced vision. Dumb move, the blasts triggered big fires in the street and now I can't see anything in my HUD. I flip up my visor and try to get my night vision back. I see a little red pinprick in the gloom and duck down \- some of the encom spotters have the old-style optical lasers for target painting. I put my visor back down, switch to "target" and toggle on my UV laser. I can see my little deep-purple dot just fine but the encom can't and my round finds his chest, blowing a hole in his heart. Big Daddy was following my UV and fires a hellraiser, turning the street into a firework display on the ground. I hear screams and shouts mixed with automatic weapons fire as the hellraiser does its dirty work. Finally, the hellraiser burns out and for a few seconds all is quiet.

I think I figured out later that we'd been suckered by the old "goat-tied-to-a-tree" bit. Maybe if I'd figured it out in time I would have gotten us out of there instead of sticking around for their rockets to find us. They're crude things – not very smart or particularly accurate – but one of 'em got close enough to put my lights out.

I wake up in a hospital stateside. I made it, but I'm messed up pretty bad and my soldiering days are over. They tell me that they're going to have to reconstruct me. It's going to be fairly extensive and as compensation for the personal sacrifice I made for my country, I can pick what I want to look like. Lucky me. Then I get this idea and I think _why the hell not it's what I've always wanted, isn't it?_ I ask, trying to sound like I'm half-joking in case they say "no", but they don't. All of a sudden, I'm really looking forward to my recovery . . .

CHAPTER 3

Why is my goddamn TV bugging me? I told it not to disturb me in the morning. I don't have to be at work at a set time anymore – I'm self-employed even if I don't exactly have an income to speak of at the moment. I've got my P.I. license and I'm a Level II Certified Fugitive Recovery Specialist. I don't have to call anyone "boss" anymore.

The TV says I've got an incoming call. I told the stupid thing no calls before nine. It says it is 9:07:37 . . . 38 . . . 39. . . Okay, I get the picture. I should have said no calls before ten. It says this is a priority call, which means somebody paid a premium rate to reach me through my privacy filters.

"Who is it?" I mumble.

"Mr. Magnus Hallbuck," says an overly cheerful computer synthesized voice.

Magnus Hallbuck? As in Magnus Hallbuck, the multi-trillionaire? The guy the news media like to call "Mister Megabucks"? This is one of my friend E's pranks, right? The TV insists the call is authentic. Now my eyes fly open and I see strands of blond hair – _my_ hair - in my face. I brush them out of the way and grope frantically for my phone. I realize it's still in my purse and I'm not sure where my purse is at the moment. The TV says it can put the call through, so I tell it okay. Then I realize I'm still wearing just my panties and a skimpy tee shirt. Too late, the image of the caller is staring at me from the damn TV screen and no doubt getting an eyeful.

"Ms. Charity Case?" he asks. He looks kind of like the old movie actor Bruce Willis when he was in his early fifties, only he's got a mustache. His face is visibly bruised and battered as if he'd been in a fight, but it's unmistakably Magnus Hallbuck.

"Yes." I croak. _Oh my God!_ It really is him and he's talking to me in my panties and I try to nonchalantly pull the covers up around me and fall out of bed in the process. My supposedly "smart" TV slides along the wall so that Mr. Hallbuck has an excellent view of me sprawled on the floor half-naked.

"Are you alright?" he asks me.

"No." I murmur. I've just made a total fool of myself in front of Magnus Hallbuck. How can I possible be alright?

"Sorry to hear that. I was hoping you could join me for lunch today. I know it's short notice, but I wanted to thank you personally for coming to my rescue last night."

"That was _you_ in the limo last night?" I ask as my embarrassment gives way to the realization that I may have just won the lottery.

"Yes. That was a rather nasty affair, wasn't it? Now, how about that lunch? I can send the limo around to pick you up at 11:30 if that's okay."

Of course, I say yes. Think I'm going to turn down lunch with one of the wealthiest men this side of Mars? Never mind that the neurons in my still half-asleep brain don't start firing until after the call ends and I start asking myself how Magnus Hallbuck figured out it was _moi_ in the alley. Tracking me down wouldn't have been rocket science once he knew who I was, but nobody interviewed me or even asked me my name last night.

I continue to think about it as I get dressed. I know the cops could easily figure out who purchased the stun round that took down the thug from the ID stamp on the slug, and my pistol put its own ID on it when I fired the round. It would have flattened on impact, but the IDs would still be readable – they're meant to be. Like all street-legal guns my pistol is "smart", which means it won't shoot for anyone else but the person it's registered to – namely me. All that together puts me at the scene. The only missing piece is how Magnus Hallbuck gets hold of the police forensic report, but then he's Magnus Hallbuck. He's got connections.

Naturally I'm assuming the thug I shot wound up in police hands. What if some of those suits that showed up last night were actually Feds or spooks of some kind? The scenario still works – Hallbuck just gets his info from a source higher up the food chain. It would also explain why our fair city's finest haven't even bothered to call me – they're out of the loop. Regardless, he knows who I am and has probably done some checking up on me. Question is how much has he found out? They did a pretty thorough medical exam on me when I was thawed out and if he got his paws on that then he knows about my little secret.

I stop and look down at my feet – my shoes don't match. I'm worrying so much about what Magnus Hallbuck might know about me that I'm not paying attention to what I'm doing. As Jake used to say, I need to get my head in my game. What Magnus Hallbuck really knows or doesn't know is irrelevant right now – if he'd found out anything he didn't like about me we wouldn't be having lunch today, right? What _is_ important is how I handle the opportunity. You don't get to have lunch with Magnus Hallbuck every day. This can be a one-time event that I can tell all my friends about or the start of a highly profitable, long-term relationship.

For the next hour-and-a-half I have the TV scroll through biographies and news stories pertaining to Magnus Hallbuck while I finish getting around. E tells me I'm one of those "naturally beautiful girls" who doesn't need a lot of primping. That may be true now, but it wasn't always the case. Anyway, some of the stuff the TV digs up I already know – he's CEO of Hallbuck Interplanetary Holdings, which includes Continental Shelf Exploration and Mining Company (COSEMCO), Cryonisys, Hallbuck Astronautics and Mars Development Corporation (MDC). Interesting tidbit I didn't know: Cryonisys is the company that bought the other company that _used_ to be the company that froze me way back when. As for MDC – they're in trouble with both Congress and their stockholders for delays and cost overruns on the Mars Terraforming Project, and they're in just as much trouble with some environmental and preservationist groups like Red Peace for allegedly attempting to destroy the planet's Areology (that's Martian for ecology). Sounds like a no-win situation to me.

As for Magnus Hallbuck himself – he's often compared to Howard Hughes. He's regarded as something of a playboy and frequently enjoys the company of beautiful women. His father, Melvin "Buck" Hallbuck, helped pioneer deepwater methane hydrate mining and founded COSEMCO. The younger Hallbuck took over the company when he was in his early twenties and transformed it from a struggling technology demonstration venture into a vastly profitable global enterprise that currently supplies a big chunk of the Earth's energy. But his real interest is space travel, and just as Howard Hughes had a thing for starting a globe-spanning airline and building bigger, faster planes, Magnus Hallbuck has a passion for terraforming Mars and designing "better-faster-cheaper" spacecraft. Hallbuck has often been quoted as saying that more people would want to make Mars their home if they didn't have to wear a space suit to walk their dog when they got there. Hallbuck believes the way to accomplish this is by making Mars more hospitable to human life through aggressive terraforming. That means making the planet warmer and the air breathable so that you don't have to live underground or in a domed-over crater. It also means permanently altering the planet, something that Martian preservationists are dead set against. I'm suddenly thinking that would be a good enough reason for someone to want to kill Magnus Hallbuck.

The TV interrupts its download to inform me that it is now 11:15 and that the limo should be arriving shortly to pick me up. I put on the finishing touches of my "business sexy" look – I've decided to show off my bare legs despite the long nasty road rash. I want Magnus Hallbuck to see what I got for my trouble last night. I figure the least he might do is buy me a new motorcycle out of guilt, since what's left of mine has undoubtedly been stripped down to the frame by now.

A knock at my door at precisely 11:30 signals the arrival of my ride. The driver looks the part of a real chauffer even down to the hat. The limo is a different one from the one I saw last night – this one is silver-gray and just as impressive. The driver chivalrously opens the door for me and I slide my behind onto real top-grain leather seats. I think the inside of the limo must be as big as my bedroom. The built-in bartender asks me if I'd care for a drink and I order plain ol' water. I want to stay clear-headed for my meeting with Mr. Hallbuck.

We take Monorail Boulevard south toward the Gulf. It's a clear day and I can see the dome of distant Avalon even from here. The ride is smooth and very quiet except for the brief roar of a small spacecraft streaking overhead. The chauffer comments that it's probably Mr. Hallbuck returning from one of his test flights. I guess I'm supposed to be impressed by his remark – and I am.

After about twenty minutes we exit onto the private turnpike and take it rest of the way to the dome. The limo's autopilot never slows once – whatever signal its transponder is broadcasting allows us to pass unchallenged through the checkpoints into the giant dome's spacious interior. Avalon is literally a "dream city under glass" with filtered sunlight, pollution-free air and – most importantly – no "undesirables". You don't get in here unless you're "somebody" or somebody's invited guest.

We snake our way through picturesque brick-paved streets and passed immaculately kept green lawns to a section of town that the richest of the rich call home. We turn onto Knob Hill Lane, which climbs a low hill that is blatantly out-of-place in the coastal wetlands. Sprawling across the summit of this man-made affront to the indigenous topography is the palatial estate of Magnus Hallbuck, builder of said hill and the rest of Avalon. We stop just outside the front gate and I'm assisted out of the back seat by a sunglasses-wearing gorilla of a man in a suit. I'm politely asked to walk through a portable scanner that's been set up just outside the gate – a most likely recent and hastily added security measure no doubt prompted by last night's attempted carjacking – make that _kidnapping_. A couple of muscle men in suits and brandishing automatic rifles watch closely as I pass through the scanner. I make it to the other side without setting off any alarms or getting shot, so I figure I must be _persona grata_. A glorified golf cart with a decoratively fringed canopy silently whisks me up the winding drive to the mansion's front doors, where I'm handed off to another big gorilla in a suit who in turn escorts me briskly up the steps. The guy who greets me at the entry looks like a real butler and actually speaks to me in something besides monosyllables. The hired help inside the big house contrasts sharply with the muscle-bound types in suits and sunglasses outside. I'm quietly ushered along a wide hallway and through an elegant but presently empty banquet hall onto a balcony containing a table-for-two. The butler seats me so that I have a splendid view of Avalon, asks me if I'd care for a beverage (I politely decline), and informs me that Mr. Hallbuck will be joining me momentarily.

I'm sitting there trying to enjoy the view, but my stomach is full of butterflies. I tell myself that Magnus Hallbuck puts his pants on just like everyone else even if he probably is the richest guy on the planet, but I'm not very self-convincing. Now I wish I had a drink to calm my normally steely nerves. I hear the butler approaching again and turn to ask him for a glass of wine, only it's Magnus Hallbuck.

"Ms. Case? I'm very glad you could make it on such short notice," he says to me.

"Mr. Hallbuck, I'm Charity Case," I say as I stand to greet him. Then I realize I've just introduced myself to some already knows who I am and blush crimson at my _faux pas_.

"Yes, it's my pleasure Ms. Case," Magnus replies smiling broadly. "I've heard so much about you: Level II Certified Fugitive Recovery Specialist, private investigator and the good Samaritan to whom I owe my life. Please, have a seat."

I sit back down and try to regain my composure while Magnus Hallbuck lowers himself into the opposite chair. He smiles at me and all I can do is gaze at him speechless and doe-eyed like a high-school girl who has just confronted her favorite media idol. (I'm _not_ usually like this!) Magnus Hallbuck must sense my nervousness because he motions to the butler who summarily brings us two glasses of white wine. This time, I don't refuse.

As I gratefully sip my wine, Magnus casually launches into a monologue, telling me about last night's events from his perspective. His regular chauffer, Charles, was suddenly taken ill and he was being driven to a late-night engagement by a substitute driver. The driver unexpectedly stopped and picked up an armed accomplice, then switched-off the limo's autopilot, deviated from the planned route, and sped to a less-respectable part of town. Along the way they'd side-swiped a motorcyclist shortly before coming to a sudden stop in an alley. Magnus was forced from the car and then savagely beaten without his abductors ever demanding any money.

"I was sure they were going to kill me," he said solemnly. "Then you conveniently showed up like a guardian angel. At first my security team suggested you might have been in on it and that this was all just a scam to win my confidence, but the thug you plugged in the alley told a different story."

"Playing 'Devil's Advocate', how do you know for sure he was telling the truth?" I said regaining my composure.

"I'm Magnus Hallbuck," he said grinning again. Do you really _want_ to know?"

"Okay, so let's just assume your security guys did an illegal memory upload and found out he and his buddy were paid a serious chunk-of-change to kill you by someone who would greatly benefit from your untimely demise. Problem is the guy is just a dumb stooge, and whoever paid him and his buddy didn't leave a trail."

"I'm very impressed with your powers of deduction Ms. Case, although I assure that no illegal forms of coercion were employed during questioning."

"Regardless, someone obviously wants you dead and they wanted to make it look like a kidnapping gone sour rather than an assassination."

"You've obviously done your homework. Care to speculate who wants me dead?"

"Normally I get _paid_ for this part," I say with a wry smile. "But you're Mr. Magnus Hallbuck and I'm a hungry P.I. whose bike was totaled last night, so I'm willing to go the extra mile if it helps to bring home the bacon. At this point the obvious answer is Red Peace, but their leaders know that bumping you off wouldn't win them any political support or derail your plan to terraform Mars, would it? On the other hand, they make convenient fall guys for someone who would benefit directly from having you out of the picture. Follow the money and you'll find your answer."

"I'm sold. Would a retainer of say . . . 10,000 crypto credits get you started? Plus, I'll pay you your going rate plus expenses, and I'll throw in a nice fat bonus on the back side."

I pause.

"Why me?" I ask him. "Surely you already have people on your security staff who are just as qualified for this."

This time it was Magnus' turn to pause.

"Oh, I probably _do_ Ms. Case," he answers thoughtfully. "But right now, I don't trust any of them."

"You're saying that you think this was an inside job?"

"Let's just say that I normally don't dine with guests on this balcony with a multi-frequency audio scrambler running in the background."

I take another sip of wine and carefully consider Magnus' offer. This is the very sort of outcome I'd hoped would be the result our meeting, but never expected to happen even in my wildest dreams. That makes my decision easy.

"Mr. Hallbuck, you've just hired yourself a P.I."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say, Ms. Case."

"Call me Charity. If this is going to work, then your staff is going to have to think I'm just another new girlfriend rather than a hired snoop."

"I see your point, Charity. Call me Magnus. Now if you're up for lunch, I believe it's ready to be served."

Lunch wasn't what I would have expected at all from a billionaire at his mansion: hot dogs! But, oh were they ever plump and tasty! Hot dogs and white wine – what a combination.

"There's still the matter of your motorcycle," Magnus comments as he finishes his last bite. "I want to replace it with something sweeter. It's the very least I can do considering you risked your own life to save mine and were injured in the process."

"It's just a bad case of road rash, but I could use another set of wheels if I'm going to be troubleshooting for you." I respond.

"I think I may have something down in the garage that will suit a 'cowgirl' like you just fine. If you've finished your lunch, we can go have a look."

"Just as long as it's not a horse," I say laughingly as I toss my napkin onto my now empty plate.

Grinning from ear-to-ear like a little boy who could hardly wait to show off his toys to a new friend, Magnus eagerly helps me up from the table and almost spills what's left of my wine. I hurry after him back through the banquet hall, down two flights of stairs, along another hallway and passed two sets of doors into the mansion's cavernous first floor garage. He seems remarkably agile for someone who was practically beaten to a pulp less than 24 hours ago, and I have to remove my shoes to keep up with him!

Magnus practically runs passed two limos, a more pedestrian-looking sedan, a vintage Ford Thunderbird convertible, an exotic-looking sports car and pair of custom-built racing motorcycles ( _oh, be still my heart!_ ) before passing through another door at the far side of the garage. On the other side is another garage – correction, a _hanger_. The ceiling in here is even higher than the garage's and vaulted, and the tail fins of neither the antique piston-engine biplane nor the modern personal spacecraft parked beside it come anywhere near it. We walk in front of both vehicles and I notice the bright orange traffic cones placed around the rear of the spacecraft indicating that the engines must still be hot.

"Benny, give me a hand with the tarp," Magnus shouts to a man who was standing by the far wall wearing a baseball cap and faded blue coveralls.

I was so busy looking over Magnus' personal spacecraft that I hadn't really paid attention the black tarp covering another plane-sized object on the far side of the hanger opposite the antique flyer. The two men each grab a corner of the tarp and pull it back, raising a small cloud of dust in the process. A sleek arrowhead-like shape emerges from beneath the tarp that closely resembles a spacefighter – only shrunk to half-size.

"It's a scaled-down version of an F-44 Astrodart," Magnus volunteers as if he's reading my mind. "I wanted to develop a more-affordable personal spacecraft, and the old F-44 had an ideal configuration. I updated it with a vectored-thrust turbo-scramjet engine for atmospheric flight – gives both VTOL[1] capability and a great cruising range on a small fuel tank. For space, I used a pair of rocket engines scrounged from two surplus Piranha killsats."

Most of this is way over my head, but I just smile and nod in response.

"When I first took it up, it exceeded all my expectations," he continues. "I thought it might have a military application, but the military isn't too interested in piloted aerospace fighters anymore and this is as far as it got."

"That's an interesting paint job," I comment trying to make at least some intelligent conversation. I'm an ex-grunt, not a space-jockey.

"That's not paint," replies Magnus. "It's actually a liquid-crystal skin that's supposed to allow the pilot create different customized color schemes, camouflage patterns and markings. It's got a glitch that I haven't gotten around to fixing, so it's stuck in that half-camo, half-silver pattern. Hope you don't mind it."

"Uh, why should _I_ mind?"

"If you're going to troubleshoot for me, then you're going to need wings, not wheels. Anyway, it won't be the first time I given a 'new girlfriend' a spacecraft."

Magnus pops open the bubble canopy and flips a switch. The darkened cockpit is suddenly illuminated by the forward display screen and a multitude of small lights.

"I think this will be perfect for you," he continued. "It's small and easy to pilot, but it's certified 'space worthy', and can get you into low Earth orbit or anywhere on the globe a lot faster than you can if you have to catch commercial flights."

"But . . . I've never flown a plane before, let alone a spacecraft!" I protest.

"That's no problem," Magnus says with a smile. "Let me show you to my flight simulator . . ."

[1] Vertical Take Off and Landing

CHAPTER 4

Ever since Burt Rutan proved that you didn't need a rocket as tall as the Washington Monument to get people into space, companies have been busy designing small spacecraft that looked more and more like something out of science-fiction movies than the towering behemoths once launched by NASA in its glory days. Like Rutan's famous _Spaceship One_ , most early "personal spacecraft" could barely reach space altitude (100 kilometers) let alone get anywhere close to orbital velocity. As the technology improved so did performance until nowadays nobody gives a second thought to the idea of something that can fit in a double-garage being able to travel into low Earth orbit.

Of course, most personal spacecraft are still like small airplanes in the sense that they aren't designed to be occupied for days at a time, let alone the months or even years it would take to reach the outer planets. That's why I'm waiting on my 'ride'.

Enough of the science lesson already. I'm reclining in _Wildfire's_ bathtub-like cockpit waiting on a larger spaceship, _Javelin_ , to pick me up. According to Magnus, a.k.a. "Daddy" (it was his idea, not mine), _Javelin_ was built for interplanetary travel, so I guess it's a lot more like a sea-going vessel than an airplane or personal spacecraft.

_Why_ am I out here, you ask? Because Daddy has something he wants me to "attend to personally" on Mars. You heard it right, on _Mars_. When he first dropped this one on me, I thought it was because after five months and a whole bunch of his crypto credits, I _still_ don't know who tried to kill him. I've figured out that lots of people wouldn't mind if he dropped dead tomorrow and that some of them would gladly assist in the process given the chance, but I've yet to determine who ordered the hit. Anyway, I supposed this assignment was Daddy's way of trying to recoup something on an investment gone sour, but he assured me that this really _is_ important and then gave me a dog-eared copy of _Red Mars_ by Kim Stanley Robinson to read in my "spare time". In other words, I'm supposed to read the book because there's obviously a hidden message, right? Point of significance: it's a _real_ paperback book, which means it's at least 40 years old. There's a handwritten inscription on the inside front cover that reads, "To Skippy from Gramps – Imagination is the greatest power in the Universe!"

Okay, so why exactly am I going to Mars? Because Daddy wants me to do my "P.I. thing" and figure out who or what has been trying to sabotage the terraforming research at MDC's facility at Sagan Base. Notice I said _what_. I would have said that the scientist who claimed she saw a two-and-a-half meter-tall "monster" rip through the side of a greenhouse was hallucinating, but there were photos of some rather large, ugly footprints that definitely weren't human to collaborate her sighting. MDC slapped a lid on her story to avoid negative publicity, but then there was a second incident a week later in which a rover was attacked by something that had ripped a nasty gash in its body. The attack occurred during a dust storm and nobody aboard the rover got a look at what inflicted the damage, but whatever did it had claws that could slash through aluminum as if it were paper. The gashes were definitely claw marks and not the result of a collision in low-visibility.

I'm not a scientist, but I know that Mars doesn't have an atmosphere that can support life as we know it. How would a two-and-a-half-meter-tall monster breathe? What would it eat? There's no plant life on Mars except for what's being grown in the greenhouses, and there's no animal life at all. Those are questions that lead me to the "who" part of the "who-or-what". I can envision the more militant faction of Red Peace concocting a space monster story to frighten off potential colonists, but there hadn't been any press releases from them about either incident. The tabloids would eat this stuff up if they got hold of it, so if Red Peace is really behind the attacks then they aren't showing their hand yet.

The other problem I have with the "who" scenario involves how Red Peace would get their members to Sagan Base and clandestinely fabricate a two-and-a-half-meter-tall "monster" that could rip a gash in a rover's body. MDC thoroughly screens anyone who wishes to either visit or become a permanent resident. Even if Red Peace managed to get someone passed the screening process, how would they pull off the monster's attacks?

I've got a "double fail". Neither scenario works.

I check the time again – I've been waiting in LEO - that's spacer's terminology for "low Earth orbit" - almost three hours. I should have heard from _Javelin_ by now. The idea of just "sitting" out here (okay, so I'm not really sitting still but it sure feels like it) where I could be struck by a stray meteor or a wayward piece of space junk isn't very appealing. Outer space is a dangerous place, full of radiation and hard vacuum. Humans weren't meant to live in this.

Where the heck is _Javelin_? I need to pee really bad, so I grit my teeth and clinch my toes. Eventually the pressure on my bladder becomes overwhelming and I'm about to pee in my spacesuit when _Javelin_ finally arrives.

We trade call signs – coded, of course – and (more importantly) our spacecrafts' A.I.s give each other the "third degree" in the same brief interval of time. Satisfied that we are who we're supposed to be, _Javelin_ slowly moves in until the larger spacecraft is almost directly "above" me. Then it is _Wildfire's_ turn to close the gap and I use my maneuvering thrusters to ease myself toward _Javelin's_ now-open payload bay. Our docking is an eerily silent ballet with only the sound of my own breathing in my helmet and an occasional brief exchange over the radio as an accompaniment. When I'm still about ten meters out I roll over so that I'll arrive in the _Javelin's_ payload bay "belly down" and then drop my landing gear. As I touch down on my landing skids _Wildfire's_ A.I. fires the maneuvering thrusters oh-so-briefly to prevent us from bouncing back out of the bay. With _Wildfire_ finally stationary in _Javelin's_ payload bay, the big doors close. The bay's interior lights give the feeling of being in well-lit room, and I actually have to drop my mirrored visor to shield my eyes. I check my spacesuit one last time then depressurize _Wildfire's_ cockpit and pop open the canopy. I start to slowly ease myself out of the cockpit – I haven't spent a lot of time in free fall, but I've been weightless enough to develop a healthy respect for Newton's Laws of Motion. In space you don't make any sudden moves unless you've thought out the consequences. Fortunately for me the payload bay airlock is only a few meters away and I won't have to make a total fool of myself when I make my way toward the hatch.

I never make it out of the cockpit. _Javelin's_ booster engines fire and the sudden acceleration shoves me backward along with _Wild Fire_ which slams into the rear of the payload bay. I see red lights appear on my instrument panel signifying that _Wild Fire_ has sustained damage. I try to contact _Javelin_ to find out what the hell is going on, but I get no reply. I close the canopy to prevent from being banged up.

I don't have to pee anymore.

We continue to accelerate. Why would they initiate their burn without giving me time to secure _Wildfire_ and exit the payload bay? This isn't making any sense.

_Javelin_ shudders and our acceleration ceases. I'm weightless again. I figure it's now or never, so I pop open the canopy and launch myself out of the cockpit. The airlock that connects the payload bay to the crew compartment is on the side of the bay opposite from me. I manage to grab onto a handrail beside the hatch, get it open and swing myself inside the airlock.

The scene inside _Javelin_ as I emerge from the airlock is chaotic. Shouts blend with blaring alarms. A brown-skinned woman wearing a Hallbuck Astronautics jumpsuit sees me and swims toward me.

"Ms. Case?" she shouts to me over the din. "Sorry about the unannounced boost but we had to evade a rogue killsat that was closing in on us. Are you alright?"

"I'm okay, but my spacecraft sustained some damage," I shout back at her.

With the danger passed, the alarms finally cease their deafening honks making conversation in a normal voice possible. I shuck my spacesuit and am escorted up to the crew's lounge where I'm introduced to the rest of _Javelin's_ crew. As far as they're concerned, I'm Magnus Hallbuck's current "playmate" and he's sending me to Mars because I've always wanted to go there. Anything for "Daddy's little girl", right? I have to dress and act the part to stay "in character", which translates into a "little slutty" when I'm dirtside. On a spaceship where miniskirts aren't practical, a tight-fitting cut-off jumpsuit that shows off my "assets" has the desired effect. I wear my blonde hair in twin pony tails to complete the look. One benefit to being perceived as a "slutty little dumb blond" is that I can ask seemingly innocent questions that get the sort of unguarded answers that I wouldn't get as a streetwise P.I. Like the question I ask about why we were being chased by a rogue killsat. Body language can be hard to read in free fall, but eye contact is usually a good indicator of truthfulness and the crew is truly mystified. There's nothing special aboard _Javelin_ this trip – except for me.

I've gotten my fair share of attention since I became Magnus Hallbuck's newest "playmate". I had to get used to the images of me sunbathing in an oh-so-skimpy bathing suit out by his swimming pool in the tabloids. The photos were of course staged and taken by Daddy's own insect drone, then conveniently leaked. It was all part of my cover, which I thought was pretty convincing.

Maybe not convincing enough, if I was the intended target.

Two scenarios immediately cross my mind. The first is that someone with considerable resources has figured out that I'm Magnus Hallbuck's hired snoop and wants me out of the way. The second is that someone with considerable resources wants Magnus Hallbuck's playmate murdered as a way of getting back at him. Neither scenario requires intercepting _Javelin_ in LEO with a killsat. There were plenty of opportunities dirtside for me to get whacked that would have been cheaper and easier to pull off.

There is a third possibility: the attack wasn't meant for me. Daddy isn't the only wealthy person living in Avalon with a personal spacecraft, but as Avalon's developer and wealthiest resident, he's the only one who flies directly in and out of Avalon via doors in the roof of the dome that only he and emergency response aircraft can access. Daddy's personal security would make getting to him very difficult and especially after he'd imposed stricter measures following the incident with his hijacked limo. To get to him, a would-be assassin would have to isolate him. If they believed he was piloting _Wildfire_ , then an interception in LEO made more sense.

Whoever wants Daddy dead has tried and failed twice. They'll likely try again unless I can identify them first, and that's going to be hard to accomplish on distant Mars.

CHAPTER 5

_Javelin_ is Hallbuck Astronautics' newest, fastest spaceship. When the planets are in the just the right positions relative to each other, it can travel from Earth to Mars in as little as 80 days. That's still not anywhere near fast enough for Magnus Hallbuck, who wants spaceships that can get there in a week. Those are at best still many decades away, though.

To conserve food and oxygen, "non-essential personnel" ( _i.e.,_ your truly) spend the duration of the flight in "cold sleep". That's spacer's slang for hibernation. Basically, you spend the trip in near-suspended animation. I spent over eighty years frozen after I was shot, so eighty-something days in hibernation is no big deal for me and preferable to being awake for twelve weeks in a less than spacious crew compartment. So, I get naked (clothing will freeze to your skin) and crawl into a hibernation capsule, which resembles a cross between a bathtub and a coffin. The lid shuts, there's a brief sensation of intense cold, and then the next thing I know I'm awake and we're in Mars' orbit.

_Wildfire_ was designed for flight in Earth's dense atmosphere. Even if it hadn't been damaged during _Javelin's_ evasive maneuver, landing it on Mars in the much thinner atmosphere would be tricky so I wait on a shuttle ride down to Sagan Base. The shuttle arrives in Mars' orbit and I transfer to it along with _Javelin's_ other passengers and payload. The shuttle doesn't fly, but rather flops into the Martian atmosphere and slows itself using a combination of aerobraking and landing thrusters. Even in the thin atmosphere it's a bumpy ride.

We arrive at the spaceport outside Sagan Base, which is located between the base and the towering extinct volcano Olympus Mons. The "spaceport" is not really a spaceport like on Earth, but just a broad stretch of ground that been graded smooth. Our squat shuttle lands on its stubby legs, kicking up a cloud of red dust as we touch down with a jolt.

I'm on Mars.

I don't have to suit-up for the ride over to the base. A big, pressurized rover rolls up beside our shuttle and extends a docking tube that connects to our airlock. I walk through the tube and board the rover along with the four other passengers who were already in cold sleep when I boarded. Daddy gave me a briefing on my fellow passengers before I left Earth. Most notable among us are a young couple – she's an agronomist and he's an engineer, a PhD student who's here as a research assistant, and a young woman who's an exobiologist.

I know what an exobiologist is, but I wondered why Daddy would be sending one to Mars. Daddy told me she was going to research if large lifeforms could actually exist there. I suspected that there was probably more to it than that, but Daddy didn't want to influence my judgement. He's compartmentalized in his thinking.

I'm okay with that. I can get my own answers, and this is one of those occasions when being a "dumb blonde" comes in handy.

"Hi, I'm Charity," I tell the exobiologist cheerfully as I sit in the seat next to her on the rover. "What's your name?"

"Annie," she replies as she looks me over skeptically. I figure that I look horribly out-of-place in my almost too-short miniskirt, sung-fitting low-cut blouse and three-inch heels, but then that's the idea.

"Is this your first trip to Mars?" I ask her.

"No, it's my second," she replies somewhat guardedly. "How about you? Are you here on a particular assignment?"

"Oh, I've always wanted to visit Mars so Daddy Hallbuck let me come along," I tell her and giggle. I figure if she knows anything about her employer then I just let her know I'm his current fling. "Why are you here?"

"I'm an exobiologist," Annie replies. "I'm here to study native Martian lifeforms."

"Oh, wow! That sounds exciting, but I didn't think there was any life here except for us," I say laying the bait.

"There isn't supposed to be," she replies and turns to stare out the widow on her left side. A man in a pressure suit holding a stun baton is standing beside our rover with his back turned toward us as if he's guarding us.

Guarding against what? The monster? I wonder if there have been additional attacks while we were in transit.

I make small talk with Annie on our short ride to Sagan Base. I'm careful not to come across as too stupid, since she's probably my best resource when it comes to determining if the monster is real or an elaborate hoax and I'd like for her to like me.

"So, where did you get your degree?" I ask her.

"I got my Bachelors' and Masters' from Cal State. Doctorate came from Cornell. Where did you get yours?" she asks. I know she thinks she's going to embarrass me when I have to tell her I don't have a degree, but she's in for a surprise.

"Bachelors' in Psychology from LSU. Masters' in Forensic Science from George Washington University," I reply matter-of-factly.

I watch Annie's jaw drop as she hears my response.

"I'm sorry, but you really had me fooled there," she says after a few awkward moments. "I thought you were just Mr. Hallbuck's . . . ah, girlfriend. I guess I judged you based on a flawed stereotype."

"Daddy doesn't mind girls with brains as long as they look and act the sexy part," I explain. "I like being his 'little girl'. He treats me well."

"I suppose if I had a 'sugar daddy' to fund my research that I wouldn't mind dressing like a . . ."

"A slut?"

"I didn't mean it to sound like that. Please don't be offended."

"I'm not. I know what people think when they see me, but I don't mind. It's worth it and it's a lot of fun. Anyway, I thought that Daddy was funding your research. I thought that's why you're here."

"My research doesn't involve debunking a space monster story, but that's why I'm here."

"A _space monster_?" I ask innocently. "Really?"

"Yes, but I've already said to much."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't tell anyone what you told me. We both work for Daddy, remember?"

"I suppose we both do," she replied and grinned at me.

By now our rover had reached the ramp that lead downward to the base's entrance. With the exception of the greenhouses and a few partially-buried igloo-like structures, most of Sagan Base was constructed below ground to protect against radiation. Annie mentions to me that the locals had affectionately nicknamed the steadily growing network of excavations "Tunnel Town".

Our rover passes through a pair of large doors into a garage-like enclosure that's just big-enough to accommodate it. The doors behind us shut and red lights come on within the enclosure. A minute or so later the lights turn green and a second pair of doors in front of us open. Our 'garage' was in fact an airlock and we exit it into a voluminous parking area occupied by a dozen or so other vehicles of varying size and configuration.

We disembark. I purposely look lost and confused. Annie takes pity on me and offers to escort me to the embarkation station. She's taller than me with a longer stride, and I have to remove my heels to keep up with her. Mars' gravitational pull is a little over a third of Earth's gravity, so we glide over the floor with little effort. "New Arrival Orientation" consists of watching a twenty-minute infomercial, being issued ID badges, and then assigned living quarters. Annie and I both rate private suites which just happen to be next door to each other, so now we're neighbors. Maybe Daddy had something to do with that? Regardless, it works for me.

My baggage arrives as I'm settling in to my new living quarters. I compose a text to Daddy letting him know that I've arrived okay. There's no point in trying to have an actual phone conversation because of "light lag". Due to the distance between Mars and Earth, there are exceedingly long delays between replies. Even when Earth and Mars are closest, it still takes over four minutes for a radio transmission to travel one way, so a conversation would have over eight-minute gaps. It's easier and less frustrating to just send text messages back and forth.

I like the television in my suite. It has manners. It doesn't assume what I want to watch based on some screwy algorithm or chase me around the room. I tell it to turn on and stream the news from Earth, and it does just that and nothing more. I ask for news about Magnus Hallbuck and it accommodates my request.

I'm not prepared for what I'm shown. It seems Daddy has a new playmate.

I don't know why I should be surprised. Multi-billionaire playboy Magnus Hallbuck is notorious for not staying in a relationship for more than six months at most. It would have been out-of-character for him to wait around for my return from Mars, so a new fling was to be expected. Anyway, it's not as if he and I were ever really in an intimate relationship. I'm his undercover snoop, and the text I receive from him confirms that I'm still in his employ since he wants weekly progress reports from me and an immediate text if I have a breakthrough.

At least now I can quit referring to him as "Daddy!"

I ask my television for news about a monster on Mars. It shows nothing of relevance to the current situation. MDC must be keeping a very tight lid on the monster story. How are they doing this? I suppose because Sagan Base is an MDC facility, and everyone here is an MDC employee, they can threaten anyone who leaks the story with termination, expulsion, and who-knows-what-else. They could also be censoring any outgoing calls or other transmissions.

If I'm going to crack this case, then I need to have access to everything about the monster attacks. Is that information going to be made readily available to Magnus Hallbuck's ex-girlfriend even if she is still his special guest at Sagan Base? A "slutty little dumb blonde" may not get the answers she needs under the circumstances. On the other hand, blowing my cover will certainly tip-off whoever is behind the attempts at sabotage – if it is a "who".

Annie will need to have access to any information about the monster because of her research. If it's a "who" behind the monster, then they'll want to be sure she sees any evidence that would indicate the monster is real. Once again it looks like she's my ticket to solving this, but I'll need to convince her to share everything she knows with me for that to happen.

That's means I'll have to tell her why I'm really here, but even if I do there's no assurance that she'll cooperate with me.

I compose a lengthy text to Magnus explaining the situation. A memo from Annie's boss might go a long way toward greasing the wheels with her.

I send the message. Twenty minutes later I receive Magnus' one-word reply: "Done".

CHAPTER 6

There's a new angle to my cover story: Annie and I are an "item". It fits right in with my being dumped by Magnus and then having been practically joined at the hip with her since we arrived on Mars. We sat together on the rover coming to Sagan Base, went through orientation together, and were assigned quarters that just happened to be next door to each other (of which one is rarely occupied). To anyone who'd seen us, it looked suspiciously as though our relationship might be more than just casual. If it keeps me close to her then I'll go with it. Besides, I like her.

I thought that Annie might object to the whole "intimate girlfriends" cover story, but she seemed to enthusiastically embrace the role to the extent that she stayed "in character" even when we were alone together in her suite watching a video of the latest "monster sighting". I suspected that she really liked me, but I wasn't about to push my luck.

The footage had been shot by a drone at fairly high altitude and the images, although computer enhanced, weren't very clear. The creature was humanoid and walked upright in a loping gait that became long, bounding strides when it sensed the drone descending to get a closer look. It was those long, bounding strides that caused me consternation.

"Why would something from Mars be able to leap like something from a planet with higher gravity?" I ask her as she takes another sip of her beer and replays the video."

"There are animals on Earth that can leap long distances, and they're not from Jupiter," she points point out to me. We're both seated next to each other on the couch in her living room, drinking beers and watching videos on her television of the damage allegedly caused by the nine monster attacks that had occurred so far. The drone video provided the first recorded images of something that seemed to resemble the only two eye-witness sightings of the creature.

I watch the video again. It reminds me of an old recording of the mythical "bigfoot" creature. Annie was able to freeze and enhance an image, then do the same until she had a collage of images that the television analyzed and morphed into a composite representation of the creature.

"That thing's just damn ugly," I tell her as I finish my beer.

"Bad news is that it makes sense," she replies. "See that huge chest? It's got giant lungs which it would need to have to survive in a thin atmosphere. It can probably breathe carbon dioxide, since there's only trace amounts of oxygen in Mars' atmosphere. If the television got it right, then it has multiple rows of nostrils and enlarged eyes. That would be consistent with what I'd expect a large Martian animal to look like."

"So, what do you think it all means?" I ask.

"I think it means we have a real live Martian that doesn't like the fact that humans have invaded its planet," Annie said as she finished off her beer. "Want another brew? It's Friday evening and I'm tired of thinking."

"Sure, why not? Do you want to order out for Pizza or Greek tonight? I'm a bit burned out on Chinese."

"Pizza's a good idea," Annie said as she rejoined me carrying two beers. "Whoever invented zero-calorie beer must be the richest person this side of Mars."

"Second richest," I reply. I think our employer has first place sewn-up."

Annie laughs and then plops down next to me on the couch. Plops down as in her right thigh is touching my left thigh. She hands me a beer and I take a big swig. I think something may be about to happen.

"Charity, I need to ask you something," she says to me hesitantly. "Do you think I'm attractive?"

"Yes, I think you're very attractive," I answer as I set down my beer. "I'd jump your bones anytime."

"Do you really _mean_ that?"

"Annie, if you're asking me if I'm physically attracted to you, then the answer is 'yes'. There are a few things that you need to know about me before you decide if you want to take our relationship beyond what it is now, though."

"So, now my little blonde P.I. has more secrets that she's been keeping from me?"

"I didn't always look the way I do now," I start to explain. "I used to be a soldier. I got blown up in a rocket attack and they literally had to rebuild me. I'd always wished that I was a beautiful girl, and they made my wish come true. I don't think you would have liked me the way I was before."

"I don't care what you looked like before," she tells me as she gazes into my eyes. "You're beautiful on the inside and you're so sexy on the outside that it's torture keeping my hands off of you."

I pause for a moment and then answer, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Annie embraces me, and we kiss. She easily scoops me up off of her couch in Mars' 0.38g gravitational pull and carries me into her bedroom, depositing me gently on her bed. We undress each other, kissing and groping like horny teenagers in the process.

We never order out for pizza.

CHAPTER 7

I'd been with a man once. It was after they rebuilt me. He had all the right stuff going for him. He was loving, handsome, funny, intelligent, wealthy, and the sort of guy you'd want to spend the rest of your life with in a happily-ever-after scenario. I wanted desperately to like him, but the switch in my brain didn't get turned on.

I've always been attracted to women. I couldn't help it then and I still can't, so I've come to accept that my sexual orientation is what it is. There's no stigma in that. This _isn't_ the twentieth century, after all. You are what you are. If you don't like what you are then medical science can change that if you either have the money or the government pays for it because of your sacrifice in the line of duty. They may have changed my looks, but they didn't change the fact that I still prefer women to men.

I don't care anymore. I'm happier than I can ever remember. Annie makes me feel wonderful in ways I never could have imagined. Last night she played me like a maestro plays a musical instrument.

So, this is love. Wow!

Our weekend was essentially spent in the sheets with the exceptions of brief interludes out of bed for bathroom breaks and meals. Food crumbs and sex don't mix.

Monday morning was like a cold shower, although as we showered together the water was warm. It was back to the "real world" for both of us. The only thing that was different was that my cover story wasn't a cover story anymore as far as Annie and I were concerned.

There'd been another apparent monster attack over the weekend. This one had occurred at an automated seismic station sixty-seven kilometers from Sagan Base. The telltale gashes were there as well as the big ugly foot prints. The drone footage had been recorded thirty-five kilometers away, so our monster was apparently moving away from us. At least for now.

The problem was that sooner our later it was bound to be sighted by someone outside MDC. When that happened, its existence wouldn't be a carefully kept secret any longer.

CHAPTER 8

Why is this guy following me? He's pretending not to shadow me, but his attempt is amateurish. When I turn around, he's gesturing and talking to some imaginary person on his phone as if he's having a heated discussion. When I face away from him and keep walking, he stops his animated conversation and resumes following me. I know this because I can see his image on my phone's screen if I hold it just right. He's a skinny young man with blonde hair. He's been following me ever since I left the boutique where I'd purchased some "intimate wear". Sagan Base isn't a Spartan encampment. To attract colonists and make life underground pleasant for the residents, the wide tunnels in its commercial zone include various walk-in shops and kiosks, restaurants, a cinema, and bars. I suppose I'm old school because I still prefer to shop for some things in person rather than virtually.

I want to know why he's following me, so I decide on a "reverse tail" where I'm luring him to me rather him stalking me. He doesn't realize it, but we've just switched roles. I duck into a café and grab a table. He follows me and slides into a booth behind me. Perfect.

I pretend to scrutinize my table's menu tablet, scrolling through the offerings as if I'm having difficulty deciding what to order. I get up, leaving my shopping bag with my merchandise clearly visible in the chair beside where I was sitting, and walk towards the restrooms. Annie and I have dined here before, so I know that the hallway that leads to the restrooms also leads to the kitchen and a rear entrance. Leaving my merchandise at my table should fool the guy into thinking I'm just going to the potty and returning. It's an old trick that I got from watching _Darla Daring, Private Investigator_ , so I can't take credit for coming up with the idea.

I duck out the back door and make my way around to the front of the café. Through the panoramic windows that look out onto the central corridor I see my stalker still seated in his booth with his back to me.

I wait. Ten, fifteen, then twenty minutes pass. The guy finally gets up and walks in the direction of the restrooms. A few minutes later he returns and exits the café, frantically glancing in all directions. He doesn't see me hiding in the shadow created by the outside wall next to the café's brightly lit windows. After a few moments he hurries off in the direction that I'd come from earlier. I follow him.

Jake taught me how to tail someone without being noticed back when Bourbon Street wasn't sitting in the Gulf of Mexico. Unfortunately, I'm not really dressed for the part. I remove my shoes so that I can pursue my ex-stalker silently as well as keep up with him. He's oblivious to my pursuit. He's also apparently not paying attention to where he's going because he almost collides with a woman riding a bicycle. He whirls around and shouts at her, then sees me. He freezes for a moment, the turns away and breaks into an all-out dash. I follow him, but he's got a longer stride and gradually outpaces me until he eventually loses me in the residential section.

I lost him. Fuck!

I stand there for a few moments, catching my breath. Now I won't know who he is or why he was following me. Was he just some socially-challenged creep out to grab me so that he could screw me? The psych tests that MDC runs on prospective colonists supposedly rule those types out, so that suggested that he had a more sinister purpose.

I turn and walk back toward the café to retrieve my merchandise.

CHAPTER 9

After the better part of a month, my intimate relationship with Annie was beginning to take its toll on our investigative research. I suppose I should include the lack of any new substantive leads. We'd once spent our evenings pouring over evidence. Now we spent them in the bedroom, indulging our lustful cravings rather than revisiting the same dead ends over and over. Our lack of productivity seemed to catch Magnus' attention as evidenced by his often-curt messages. Annie didn't seem overly concerned about our seeming lack of progress because she was convinced our monster was real, even if she couldn't explain what it fed on or how it survived the frigid Martian nights. She suspected that it hibernated at night and got its energy through some sort of photosynthetic process that was beyond the understanding of our science.

Annie's real concern wasn't where the monster came from or how it survived, but that it seemed to be growing bolder. It had moved back to Sagan Base and is attacks were becoming more frequent and more destructive.

"It hasn't injured or killed anyone yet, but it's only a matter of time," she'd cautioned the base's management. "It's still wary of us for now, but once it sees how easy we are to kill, it will likely go on a killing spree. We're intruders in its habitat, and it doesn't like it."

Annie's other concern was that there were likely other monsters, since she doubted it reproduced asexually.

Sagan Base's small security staff was trained to deal with the sorts of domestic issues you'd expect on an isolated base. Their only weapons consisted of stun batons and pacification gas. If one or more of the monsters decided to invade the base, they'd be hard pressed to stop them.

By this time the monster's existence was known throughout Sagan Base, even if management wasn't officially acknowledging it. That had prompted a number of requests for transfers back to Earth.

The "fear factor" was starting to take its toll on the population, and Annie's seeming lack of enthusiasm for her research was trying Magnus' patience. He'd sent her there to debunk the monster story, but her findings were having just the opposite outcome.

"I don't know what he expects me to do," she complains to me one evening. "I can't do much more without a tissue sample, and I doubt the thing is going to want to voluntarily give that up."

"You're doing all you can do," I reply and hug her. We're both sitting buck-nakedon the couch, having not quite made it into our bedroom before things got physical.

"It's apparently not good enough for Magnus," Annie replies despondently.

"What's the worst he can do?" Fire us? Recall us to Earth?"

"He could cut-off my funding. Monster hunting isn't my primary focus, remember?"

A loud knock on our door interrupts our conversation.

"Who is it?" Annie shouts as we both hurriedly pull on our discarded tee-shirts.

"Joey's Pizza. I have a large super deluxe with extra cheese for Dr. Knight."

"Supper's here finally," Annie says to me as we both grab our previously discarded tee-shirts and hurriedly don them.

"About time he showed up," I comment as I go to fetch the T.V. trays while Annie answers the door. I've just picked up a tray as she opens the door.

There's an odd sound and I hear her fall to the floor.

I spin around and see a skinny blond-haired kid holding a stun baton. I recognize him as the same dude who was following me back at the café.

"Don't make this hard," he tells me as he moves toward me, obviously intent on stunning me as well.

"Why not?" I ask him as I jerk up my tee-shirt to reveal my very naked pubic area. That catches him off-guard and I use the distraction to hurl the tray at him. My aim is perfect, and he drops the baton. As he frantically stoops down to retrieve it, I launch myself at him and kick him hard in the jaw. He moans and falls over backward, and I grab the stun baton and zap him.

With our intruder subdued, I move to check on Annie. She's out cold but seems otherwise uninjured.

I do my "detective thing" and go through pizza delivery guy's pockets. There's a phone and an MDC Sagan Base badge that identifies him as Rutger Fume, the PhD candidate that accompanied us to Mars aboard _Javelin_. Rutger's phone requires a standard biometric key to open it. No sweat. I press Rutger's thumb to the screen and I'm in. There are a number of outgoing calls to one number with a country code that I don't recognize, but only one incoming call and no texts. Now that's odd. Most people text due to "light-lag".

I call Base Security. They can deal with Rutger from here.

CHAPTER 10

"He's a Red Peace operative," Security Chief George Gonzales tells us as we sit across from him at the briefing room table. He was sharing this information with us thanks to the V.I.P. status conferred upon us by Magnus Hallbuck and not because he necessarily felt like sharing sensitive information with an exobiologist and her slutty little girlfriend.

"How did he get through the screening process?" I ask innocently.

Gonzales gives me a puzzled look and sighs. He obviously hadn't expected me to ask him any questions.

"He had some sort of subliminal programming that allowed him to pass the screening process," he replies hesitantly. "Something triggered his buried memories after he arrived here."

" _Something like a lone incoming phone call,"_ I think to myself.

"What was he after?" Annie asks frowning.

"Your research into the monster. His assignment was to steal as much information as he could from you and then transmit it to his friends on Earth so that they could leak it to the news media. I'm guessing Red Peace believed that once word of the monster got out nobody would want to immigrate to Mars."

"He told you this?"

"Yes, he volunteered the information willingly."

I believed Gonzales when he said that Rutger willingly volunteered the information. The alternative would probably have been some sort of invasive mind probe that would have extracted the desired information with less than pleasant side effects.

I wanted to ask about the numbers on Rutger's phone. I wanted to know who'd called him and who'd he'd repeatedly called. Asking about that would probably blow my cover, so I kept quiet. The main thing is that we'd caught Red Peace in an act of espionage. Maybe that would pacify Magnus for the time being.

The bad news was that if Red Peace was spying to try to get information on the monster, then it was unlikely that they were in some way responsible for its presence.

Then again, maybe they wanted to make it look as though they weren't connected to it in any way so that their "leaked" story seem authentic.

If the monster was really just a hoax and Red Peace was behind it, then how had they made the thing and how had they transported it to Mars? MDC currently had the most advanced spaceships, but there were other companies as well space faring nations capable of reaching the red planet. Was one of them secretly in league with Red Peace? If so, then why? It made no sense to me.

As for the monster itself . . . how would you ever fake _that_?

I hated to admit it, but it looked as though Annie was right and the monster was some sort of ancient native life form that we'd awakened from millions or maybe even billions of years in hibernation.

A monster that wasn't at all happy with us trespassing on its planet.

CHAPTER 11

It was one of those rare evenings where Annie and I weren't together. She'd been called to an after-hours meeting with the base's management. It would probably be a long evening because they'd be conferencing with MDC's upper management back on Earth and "light lag" would make any exchanges very long and drawn out.

I'd plopped myself down on the couch with a cold beer and a bowl of popcorn and was scrolling through the tens of thousand of offerings on the television in search of something to entertain me while I waited on Annie to return. I'm not a fan of the contemporary synthesized interactive digital crap they call "entertainment" nowadays. I prefer real actors and a scripted story, so that filters out a lot of material. I'd seen every episode of _Darla Daring, Private Investigator_ at least four or five times, but I always saw something that I hadn't noticed before when I re-watched an episode. On a whim I told the television to pick an episode at random. The next thing I know, I'm watching "The Mystery of the Swamp Creature".

The plot involved a young heiress who inherited an old plantation house and was being terrorized by a hideous man-like creature that emerged from the swamp each night. Darla eventually confronts the "monster", which is revealed to a muscular guy in a specially designed wetsuit with built-in air tanks that allow him to stay submerged in the swamp until he's ready to surface for his nightly rampage. The bad guy confesses to Darla that he's a stunt man who was hired by a neighboring land owner to scare off the heiress so that he could acquire her land.

By the time the final credits roll, I'm glad that I watched that particular episode.

Ever since Magnus gave me this assignment, I've wondered how Red Peace or anyone else would fabricate a two-and a half-meter tall space monster. Now I have my answer plain as day. Find a tall athletic guy, ship him to Mars, and put him in a specially disguised pressure suit. His fresh-from-Earth musculature would allow him to go bounding across the Martian surface like the creature in the drone footage. Give his suit vibrating diamond-blade claws, and he could slash through a rover's side with ease.

Annie is somewhat perplexed when she arrives home to not find me waiting for her in bed. She's even more perturbed with me when I insist that she re-watch the "The Mystery of the Swamp Creature" with me.

"Don't you see?" I ask her as the final credits roll. "Someone could be posing as our monster to scare off the colonists."

"You're joking, right?" is Annie's reply.

"No, I'm not!" I say emphatically. "He could be wearing a pressure suit disguised to look like the monster. It could even be a robot. That would explain its ability to rip through the side of a rover. It would also explain how it can survive without a food source."

"Maybe, but it's awfully far-fetched," Annie says to me dismissively. "You're a smart detective. Why let yourself be swayed by a crazy conspiracy theory when there's a perfectly rational explanation for why the monster is here? It's a native lifeform that was probably in hibernation and we disturbed it with our construction activities."

"I still think I should at least suggest the possibility to Magnus," I reply to her.

"Why don't you at least sleep on it?" she asks as she leans closer to me. "I know you're all excited about it now, but you might have a different outlook in the morning. Besides, it's one o'clock in the morning in the U.S. Central Time Zone on Earth, Magnus won't see your text anyway for another five hours or so, and I'm ready to jump your bones after tonight's marathon conference call."

"Well, I suppose I'll wait if you put it that way," I tell her.

Needles to say, I don't text Magnus that night.

CHAPTER 12

"This is how we'll catch the monster," Dr. Boykilo says as he gestures toward the tall, humanoid robot standing under the spotlights in the middle of the spotless white room. "This is a Cyberdyne Systems Model HR 900M. It was sent here with the first group of settlers because it's designed to operate in hostile environments. It's fast and agile, and it can be controlled remotely or operate autonomously. We modified it for monster hunting by adding ceramic armor plating to protect critical systems and arming it with a shoulder-mount weaponized industrial laser."

"How are you powering the laser? The robot's batteries don't have enough juice for that," asked an apparently skeptical MDC manager.

"We added an auxiliary power pack. It has enough juice for one high-intensity burst. At close range it will blow a hole in the monster and finish it. At the very least it will blind it and incapacitate it."

"Do you think it will stop the monster, Dr. Knight?" Security Chief Gonzales asks Annie.

"I'm not a robotics expert," Annie replies as she studies the robot. "I don't know what it's capable of doing."

"I was more concerned about whether or not you think the laser will stop it."

"How powerful is the laser? If the creature has an exoskeleton, then it may not stop it."

"Can the laser cut through ceramic armor?" I ask. Everyone turns and stares at me in response.

"Why would that matter?" Gonzales asks me puzzled.

"It would matter if our monster is really just a disguised robot."

More silence. Annie gives me a look that would have seriously hurt if it had been a slap in the face.

"Charity believes that the creature may be a hoax," she says finally. "She believes it may have been put here by Red Peace or others who object to Mars' colonization to frighten us all away."

"Is that possible?"

"I believe it's highly unlikely based on all the evidence we've seen."

"Native Martian or robot, the damn thing is a menace," Gonzales says abruptly. "Our robot will hunt it down and destroy it. Dr. Knight can determine whether it's a native Martian or an elaborate hoax once it's been dispatched."

"How will we catch it?"

"We'll put the robot on sentry duty. It can patrol the surface around the igloos. When the monster shows up, it will finish it."

And that was that. The meeting adjourned, and Annie and I walk back toward our apartment together in stony silence. I know that she is angry with me for brining up the possibility of the monster being a hoax at the meeting.

I can't stand the tension any longer.

"Annie, I'm sorry," I say to her.

"Forget it," she says to me. "I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but your timing was awful. We don't need to be giving false optimism to those who are desperate for a solution, regardless of how unrealistic it may be."

"So, you don't think there's any chance that I may be right at all?"

Annie stops dead in her tracks, grabs my forearm, and looks straight into my eyes.

"Charity, I wish with all my heart that you're right. Nothing would make me happier than to know that the damn monster is just a hoax. It would make all of our lives a lot simpler right now."

"You don't believe I'm right about the monster, though."

"I want to believe you," Annie says to me. "I really want to believe you. Your outcome is a lot better than mine."

CHAPTER 13

The HR900M had completed another tireless circuit around the perimeter when its sensors detected motion and an anomalous heat signature in the twilight. It swiveled around, but the source of the anomalous signature had abruptly vanished. The heat signatures from the igloos that marked the various entrances to Sagan Base were still there, however.

The HR900M self-performed a diagnostic but found no indication of a sensor malfunction and returned to its patrol.

The creature suddenly emerged from behind the igloo as the HR900M walked passed, avoiding the ceramic armor plating and slamming the boulder down hard on the robot's unprotected section. A second blow damaged its central processor, rendering it inoperable. The creature then proceeded to shred the damaged robot with its claws until it was just a mangled heap.

* * *

Friday morning brought news of another attack by the monster. This time it had attacked and disabled the hunter robot and attempted to breach one of the airlocks, but fortunately had been unsuccessful in the later. It had still managed to damage the airlock's outer door, but in the process had left something of itself behind in one of the dents.

Up until now, Annie hadn't had a tissue sample to examine that would provide a clue as to the monster's genetic make-up and possible origin. She jumped out of our bed when she got the news, hurriedly threw on some clothes, and bolted for her lab shouting "Happy Birthday!" to me on the way out the door.

Even though the Martian year is 687 days long, everyone still goes by the 365-day Gregorian calendar and I knew that today was my birthday. Annie had been hinting that she had a "wild and kinky" birthday surprise for me. Given our recent explorations with "bondage sex", I figured it was probably something along those lines but had no idea what she had planned.

I head for her lab a few minutes later after hurriedly dressing. Annie's "slutty little dumb blonde girlfriend" can't run in her three-inch heels, so I go barefoot. I finally catch up with her at her lab where she's already placing the slide that she's just prepared in the microviewer. The display screen shows an image that's unintelligible to me but apparently means something to her.

"I've never seen anything like this," she says as she gazes wide-eyed at the display. "It's not like any terrestrial animal."

"So, it's really a Martian?" I ask her.

"It certainly looks that way. It must have originated when Mars was much warmer and wetter and evolved over time to survive in a colder, dryer environment. Its cellular structure reminds me of a man-eating plant, which would suggest that it's capable of some sort of photosynthesis. If that's the case, then it could survive using the carbon dioxide in Mars' atmosphere. Its teeth and claw arrangements would indicate that it's some sort of predator, so I'd guess it prefers live prey when it can get it but can survive without it."

"Live prey?" I ask.

"Yes, and since it has observed humans up close on at least two occasions it probably considers us prey. That's probably why it tried to breach the airlock. It's trying to get to its next meal."

"Now you're scaring me"

"We should be scared. I warned upper management during Wednesday night's meeting that if the thing manages to get inside the base a stun baton isn't going to have any effect on it."

"Are you _positive_ it's really a Martian and not some stitched-together thing that's intended to scare us off?" I ask her.

"Are you _still_ stuck on that idea?" she asks me wearily.

"Magnus wants me to explore all possibilities. There's a lot riding on this."

"There are a lot of _lives_ at stake," Annie counters.

"MDC could send weapons to Mars," I suggest. "We could track it down and kill it."

"Weapons are already on the way, but they won't get here for another three months. By then we could already all be dead."

"What are you suggesting we do then?"

"Initiate the evacuation protocol. There are transports in orbit. They lack fuel for a return flight to Earth, but they have power and functioning hibernators. The shuttles could ferry everyone up to them and we could all bed down in cold sleep until _Javelin_ returns from Earth with armed troops to take out the monster. Problem is that there's bound to be a whole population of the things and sooner or later we'll have to deal with the others. Mars may just not be suitable for human colonization."

I stand there looking at the image on the display screen in stunned silence as I consider what she's just said. This isn't how I thought things would turn out. Annie notices my apparent disappointment and puts her arm around me."

"Hey, I'm sorry to be such a killjoy on your birthday," she says to me. "Look, everything's going to be okay. Today is Friday and tonight we'll celebrate your birthday, monster or no monster. I have a very special surprise for you."

"You've been telling me that for over a week now," I reply. "I can't imagine what it is. How much longer are you going to keep me in suspense?"

"Tonight, all will be revealed. In the meantime, I have a little present to tide you over," she says as she walks over to her desk and extracts a shiny black gift bag with a bright red bow from the bottom drawer. She hands it to me.

"Go ahead and open it," she tells me with a mischievous grin.

I reach into the bag and withdraw . . .a thong?

"There's something else in there," she tells me. I reach back in and pull out a skimpy "micro bra" with cups that look as though they'd barely cover my nips.

"They're made out of a special fabric that I think you'll find stimulating," Annie explains to me still grinning. "I want you to go back to our suite and put them on. Just lounge around in them today, but whatever you do, don't try to satisfy yourself. I want you to be very 'in the mood' for me tonight."

By now my anxiety about the monster and our possible evacuation has gone out the window. I dash back to our suite with Annie's present and strip. I decide to shower first before donning my new lingerie. My new thong doesn't look like it will cover more than just the bare necessities, so I clean shave myself "down there". I towel-off and then put on my new intimate apparel. The shiny red fabric is stretchy and conforming. I admire myself in the full-length mirror. I look _hot_.

I try to distract myself during the too-long day by watching television. There's something about the way the fabric caresses my skin whenever I move, and I feel very aroused. Annie leaves the lab early, but even that's not soon enough for me and I'm ready to jump her bones when she walks in the door. She fends me off and tells me to get dressed because she's taking me out on the town to celebrate my birthday in style.

"I want you to wear the miniskirt and blouse you were wearing when we first met," she tells me. I'm only too happy to oblige.

Annie takes me to a cantina with fake windows that appear to look out on the Mexican countryside. All the "meat" here is grown in vats, but it still tastes like the real thing. Annie must have told the wait staff that it's my birthday because they all march out together clapping in unison, place a large sombrero on top of my head, and sing "happy birthday" to me.

Our next stop is a bar where we listen to a live reggae band. At one point the lead singer announces," We have a birthday girl in the audience." As a small spotlight shines on me I receive a round of applause and well wishes from the other patrons.

Annie has really gone out of her way to make this a special evening for me.

"The best is yet to come," she tells me as we finish our drinks. She takes my hand and leads me from the bar. I'm very inebriated at this point and am having trouble walking in my heels, so I remove my shoes.

"Is it time for my big surprise?" I ask her and giggle.

"Almost," she says as she leads me toward the garage. "We're going for a little drive first."

Annie leads me to a van-sized pressurized rover. We board it and she sits in the driver's seat while I ride shotgun. I notice a bottle of champagne in a bucket behind my seat. Annie starts the rover's motor and the auto-pilot drives us into the big airlock. It cycles and we ride out into the frigid Martian night. Our bright headlights bathe the ground ahead of us in fake daylight as our rover steers itself around boulders and out into the Martian desert. We drive for maybe ten minutes, and then Annie brings us to a stop.

"What happens now?" I ask her.

"We toast your birthday," she says as she reaches behind my seat and grabs the champagne bottle and two glasses. She pops the cork, which bounces off the rover's roof and narrowly misses me. We both laugh.

Annie pours a glass of champagne and hands it to me, then pours herself one. We touch glasses.

"Happy birthday love," she tells me as we sip our champagne. "Finish your drink and then I'll show you your surprise."

I'm eager for whatever she's got planned and down my champagne. That's when things get weird. My head starts spinning and I drop my glass.

Then I pass out.

CHAPTER 14

"That was too easy".

I hear Annie's voice and open my eyes slowly. My vision is blurry, but I can make out her form seated cross-legged in a folding chair in front of me. There is no other furniture in the high-ceilinged room.

I'm standing – make that almost hanging by my wrists – in front of her. The concrete floor beneath my bare feet is cold. The room itself is chilly and the skimpy micro bra and thong I'm wearing don't provide anything in the way of insulation.

"Annie, what's going on?" I ask her. When she told me that she had a "wild and kinky birthday surprise" for me I thought it might be something extra special, but this was definitely over-the-top. I note that the snug-fitting suspension cuffs encircling my wrists have serious-looking locks on them rather than just buckles.

"Remember when we first met how I told you I thought you were just Mr. Hallbuck's girlfriend and I'd judged you based on a flawed stereotype?" she asks me. "Well, I guess I was right about you. You really are just a slutty little dumb blonde after all."

I think this is all just part of whatever special "dungeon scene" she's cooked up for my birthday surprise: the cold windowless bare room, the stout cuffs, and her talking down to me. I decide to play along.

"Please let me go," I beg. "I promise I'll be good."

She presses a button on a small hand-held remote and the cables attached to my cuffs move upward until I'm barely able to stand on my tip toes.

"You still don't get it, do you?" she asks as she gets up from her chair and walks over to me. "I couldn't believe my luck when Magnus Hallbuck told me you were his hired snoop and that I needed to assist you. It made feeding you the evidence I wanted you to see child's play. Problem is that you started to get too close to the real truth."

Now I'm becoming apprehensive. This is getting a little too realistic.

"You were right when you suggested that the monster might be a hoax," Annie continues. "The cells in the microviewer display were faked. Herman is genetically just as human as you and I. It took three years and over a hundred surgeries to transform him into a fearsome-looking creature that can survive on Mars, and that's only for brief periods. He still breathes oxygen, but he can hold his breath like the extinct whales on Earth and survive temperatures of minus fifty-five degrees Celsius for up to ninety minutes. Most of his missions have been thirty minutes or less, though."

I'm getting this awful, sinking feeling that I've been suckered. I struggle against my cuffs, by my useless efforts to escape simply amuse Annie who laughs at my plight.

"Now do you finally see?" she asks. "I had you fooled from the very beginning."

"You helped Red Peace make the monster so that colonists would be frightened away," I say to her accusingly.

"You think Red Peace is behind this? They're a joke. They didn't have the money or the resources to make Herman."

"Then who hired you?"

"Try a group of ambitious space-faring nations that would just as soon not have MDC or any other U.S.-based entity colonizing Mars. Their colonists won't be so easily frightened off by a fake space monster."

"What are you going to do to me?" I ask her hesitantly.

"Oh, I'm not going to do anything to you," Annie replies. "I brought you here to be Herman's little playmate. You see, he's lost some of the enthusiasm he had when we first started this project. He may be a monster on the outside but he's still a man on the inside. He also still has male genitalia, although they've been modified to retract into his body for protection against extreme cold. Problem is that he hasn't had an outlet for his sexual frustration for a rather long time and he can't jerk-off with those big nasty claws of his. That's where you'll come in."

I spit in Annie's face. She slaps me hard across my cheek in response. It stings, but not as much as her deception.

"Stupid little cunt!" she sneers at me. "We could have stayed together, but you had to go and ruin everything. I can't trust you to keep your 'fake monster' idea to yourself and not pass it on to Magnus, so what was supposed to be a fun night for you won't be so be so much fun after all. You should be able to hang by those suspension cuffs in Mars' low gravity for several days without suffocating, so I'm just going to leave you here like this. Herman won't mind screwing you standing up, dead or alive. After he's finished having his way with you, we'll dump your lifeless body outside the airlock. You and I will be the monster's first victims, although I'll have vanished without a trace. Once word of our deaths gets out, there'll be a stampede to leave Sagan Base and MDC will be finished!"

Annie turns and walks toward the abnormally tall door on the far wall. As she opens it and starts to exit, she pauses and turns to look at me.

"Goodbye, Charity." she tells me. "Sorry that we had to break-up like this."

She walks out, and the tall, heavy door shuts behind her.

"FUCK YOU BITCH!" I scream at the closed door. I jerk and wrench against my cuffs, but my efforts to free myself are useless.

I'm alone in the cold, empty, dimly-lit room. I'm practically naked and suspended by my wrists with my toes barely able to touch the floor waiting to be raped to death by a space monster. Sounds like good material for some lurid men's magazine from back when I was growing up. I'd prefer not to die that way, but it would probably be faster than a slow death by dehydration or asphyxiation.

I wonder what Darla Daring would do in a situation like this!

Hours pass. Perhaps days? I have no sense of time anymore. I don't know how long I've been hanging here but I just know that I'm very thirsty. I'm exhausted, and I find myself having to work to breathe. Is this how it starts? Am I to die here alone in a slow, agonizing death by asphyxiation?

The tall door abruptly opens, and it enters the room. Annie's computer renderings and the grainy photos I'd seen of the creature don't do this monstrosity justice. It's a towering nightmare come to vivid life. Its facial features are truly horrific with large, lizard-like eyes and vertically arranged rows of multiple nostrils. Its wide, lipless mouth opens to reveal rows of sharp, pointed teeth that remind me of a shark.

It walks toward me. I hope it's over with quickly.

The thing pauses in front of me, then reaches up and jerks both of my suspension cuffs off of the cables that hold me prisoner. I collapse exhausted on the cold stone floor and mercifully lose consciousness.

CHAPTER 15

I know I'm dreaming, but this time it's a different dream. Annie and I are in our bedroom and we're getting ready to enjoy another evening of bondage sex. She has just put me in four-point restraint, only this time as she's getting ready to do whatever she's going to do to me her eyes suddenly become lizard eyes and she parts her lips to reveal pointed shark's teeth.

I scream.

I wake up. I'm lying on the floor of the windowless, high-ceilinged room with a pillow under my head and a blanket wrapped around me. The abnormally tall door to the room is standing open.

I'm debating what to do next when the creature walks in. It notices that I'm awake and walks over to me, then kneels down and proceeds to scrawl something on a tablet using the tip of one of its claws as a stylus. It flips the tablet over so that I can read the message on the screen.

NO HARM U

"What do you want with me?" I ask apprehensively. It occurs to me that the creature may not regard having penetrative sex with me as harmful. The creature flips the tablet around and scrawls another message.

HELP U ESCAPE

TAKE U 2 SAGAN

"Why? Why do you want to help me?"

It scrawls another message in response to my question.

I LET THEM MAKE ME 2 SCARE

THEY WANT ME 2 KILL

I NO WANT 2 KILL

"Herman" (I guess that's who he really is) abruptly gets up and walks out of the room. He returns a few minutes later carrying a water bottle and a pressure suit. Herman hands me the water bottle, which I gratefully accept and guzzle down the contents while he composes another message.

U PUT ON SUIT

I TAKE U 2 SAGAN

Okay, so it seems that Herman is on my side – at least for now. I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to escape before he changes his mind, so I suit up in record time. Herman motions for me to follow him, which I do. The hall outside the cell where I was being held prisoner is also high-ceilinged, and I realize it's to accommodate Herman. So, this is apparently his "home".

I start to follow him down the hall when I hear a familiar voice behind me.

"Herman? What the fuck are you doing?" Annie shouts. "Are you helping that stupid cunt escape just because she let you screw her? You're supposed to kill her, you moron!"

Herman and I both turn around and face Annie. She's holding a pistol which she points at me.

Herman moves between me and Annie, who proceeds to open fire. The slugs bounce harmlessly off of his armored hide as he walks toward her.

"Get out of the way, you stupid freak!" she orders as she continues to fire. Herman ignores her and wrenches the pistol from her hand. He grabs Annie and tosses her like a cheap inflatable sex doll through the open door of the cell, then yanks the door shut and slides the bolt, trapping her inside.

Herman again motions for me to follow him. I do so, and we approach an airlock obviously designed for something very tall. Behind me I can hear muffled threats and cursing from Annie accompanied by pounding on the cell door.

There's an odd-looking oxygen mask beside the inner airlock door that Herman places over his multiple rows of nostrils. He holds it there and I watch as his chest expands. With his lungs fully charged, he enters the airlock and I follow him. As the airlock cycles, I notice clear inner eyelids slide over his pupils. The outer door opens to reveal broad steps that lead upward to the surface. Herman climbs the steps in two strides. It takes my short legs more steps.

Judging by the sun's position in the sky, it's late afternoon. I don't see any sign of Annie's rover, suggesting there's maybe another hidden airlock. I can see towering Olympus Mons in the distance, so at least I know what direction to head to get back to Sagan Base.

Before I can take two steps, Herman scoops me up and lowers me onto his broad shoulders so that I'm straddling his neck. He launches himself across the Martian surface, giant strides propelling us at a fast-moving rover's speed. He easily vaults over boulders and I'm forced to hang on for dear life to keep from falling off. My wild ride lasts maybe fifteen minutes, and then Herman slows as we approach the cluster of small igloo-like structures that mark Sagan Base's location. He stops about thirty meters from the nearest igloo, plucks me off his shoulders, and then gently lowers me to the ground.

We stand there facing each other as the sun creeps toward the horizon. Herman shows his teeth in what might have been a smile. He waves "bye" at me and then bounds away. I notice that he's not going back they way we came. I watch him until he vanishes in the distance.

I turn and walk slowly toward the nearest airlock.

CHAPTER 16

It's Wonderwear, Wonderwear!

The sexually stimulating underwear

You'll go all day without a care,

With magic ants in your underpants

Don't delay, buy yours today!

Wonderful, funderful, Wonderwear!

* * *

Shuttle ride up. Cold sleep. Shuttle ride down. Same bad advertisements on the television on the return flight as when I left for Mars. A silver-gray limo picks me up at the spaceport and carries me south toward the Gulf of Mexico. It's a clear day and I see the dome of distant Avalon growing steadily larger as we approach.

My extended stay on Mars has left me weak from loss of muscle tone. I'll get it back, but for now I have to take it slow as I climb the steps to the front door of Magnus Hallbuck's palatial mansion. The butler ushers me inside and escorts me to the same balcony where Magnus and I first met. Magnus sees me walking toward him and stands up from the table for two that has been set-up for us on the balcony.

"Welcome back," he says and hugs me. I hug him back.

We play catch-up over white wine and hot dogs. Magnus tells me how the real Dr. Annie Knight was abducted just as she was getting ready to board her shuttle flight for the rendezvous with Javelin and that the imposter whom I'd known had taken her place. That's how the fake Annie had gotten through the numerous background checks and security screens – the real Annie had already passed them.

"Why did they bother to put her aboard Javelin if they were just going to try to intercept it with the killsat?" I ask him.

"I don't think they'd planned that. When you showed up in Wildfire, they obviously thought it was me as you suggested. Their bird was in a favorable position to intercept and I was too big a prize for them to pass on, so they decided to sacrifice their fake Annie and try to take me out. They apparently had other operatives on Mars who could handle the monster."

"The fake Annie spilled her guts after they found her trapped in that cell in the monster's hideout," Magnus explains. "She was severely dehydrated and terrified out of her wits that the monster was coming back for her. We found out who her employers were and how they'd made the monster. They wanted Mars to themselves, but now that the cat is out of the bag, they won't be causing anymore mischief."

"I never heard if they ever found Herman or not."

"Herman?"

"That was the monster's name. He started out life as a man."

"Vanished without a trace. Probably ran-off after he double-crossed his makers."

"Well, I guess you won't be needing my services anymore," I say as I finish my wine and set the empty glass down on the table."

"Not so fast, Charity," Magnus tells me. "I was hoping you'd consider staying on as my personal troubleshooter. If it hadn't been for you, the bad guys would have won, and MDC would be ought of business."

"The fake Annie had me fooled, Magnus," I tell him. "If the monster hadn't had a sense of morality, I'd be dead, and the bad guys would have won. I just got lucky."

"Like the night I got lucky when you saved me from the carjackers?" Magnus asks me as he refills my wine glass. "Sometimes you just need luck on your side, and you've obviously got that."

"I had it that time," I tell him.

"Then let's hope you have it next time," he says to me. "Now, about your next assignment . . ."

Freddie's Ghost

CHAPTER 1

Freddie Brillig fully expected that the villa would need extensive renovations before he could move in. The palatial (even by Market's often outlandish standards) villa had sat empty for the past five years after having been occupied by a succession of tenants who'd all left their mark on the estate. As a consequence, the villa appeared to have been remodeled by a dis-functional committee whose taste in décor could be described as ugly at best and a schizophrenic nightmare at worst. Add all the overgrown vegetation and you had an architectural nightmare that nobody wanted to occupy.

On top of that, the villa was supposedly haunted.

The villa's dilapidated condition and alleged paranormal occupation had enabled Freddie to acquire it for a token fee and a promise to Market's directors that he would clean the place up so that it wasn't something besides an eyesore that even sensationalist tour guides routinely avoided. The villa had been scheduled for demolition before he'd learned about it and convinced the directors to allow him to occupy it. He felt that, once appropriately remodeled, the former estate of the infamous Madame Dommé would make a suitable residence for someone of his recently-acquired celebrity status. In his mind's eye his refurbished palace would become the new "party central" for Market's trendy elite.

Freddie punched in a four-digit access code on a panel beside the ornate main gate, causing it to swing silently inward. A walkway that was largely obscured by weeds and fallen leaves wound its way from the gate up to the front steps. Freddie gunned his motorcycle and sped up the path to the front steps, dismounting at their landing. At the top of the steps beyond the broad porch was a pair of tall doors clad in brown-oxidized copper. The same code that opened the gate unlocked them, and Freddie pushed the doors open.

The interior illumination panels were already lit. Did unlocking the doors do that?

Freddie looked down and noticed the footprints in the dust. He wasn't alone. Slowly drawing his pocket stunner, he crept quietly down the high-ceilinged entry hall. He followed the tracks into the villa's grand foyer where they abruptly stopped.

A faint clinking sound, like someone stepping on broken ceramic, caught his attention. He spun around in a half-crouch, stunner aimed in the direction of the sound, and saw her standing there with her stunner pointed at him.

"Drop your weapon," she barked at him as she stepped forward from the shadows. She wasn't particularly tall, but her slender, delicate build suggested she'd spent most of her life in low-g. Her pale skin and pink hair sharply contrasted with her black, form-fitting body suit.

"No chance. Why don't you drop yours instead?" Freddie replied.

"I'm not the one who's trespassing on private property, that's why. Now, you can leave voluntarily under your own power or we can do this the hard way."

"I think you've got it backwards. You're the one who's trespassing. I bought this dump and it belongs to me now."

"This dump was my former employer's home," the girl replied angrily. "She left it to me in her will."

Oh really? I suppose you've got proof?"

The girl didn't take her eyes off of him as she drew the index finger of the hand that wasn't holding the stunner down the front of her bodysuit from her neck to mid-cleavage, causing it to spilt open. She withdrew a 'face from underneath the fabric and held it up for him to see.

"It's all on here. Care to read it and weep?"

"Hard to do that and keep this pointed at you," Freddie said gesturing with his stunner.

"Fair enough. I'll put mine down if you put yours down. Regardless, you'll be tossed out of Market if you shoot me," she said as she lowered her stunner.

"We'll both be evicted if we're caught with these in our possession," Freddie said as he lowered his.

"Not me. Mine's a fake. I'm betting yours is too, or you would have already shot me."

"You got me there. Truce while we get this sorted out?"

"Deal," she said as she stretched her face and passed it to him. Freddie cautiously took it from her and began to read.

LAST WILL and TESTAMENT of MAUDE DEEB-PODGE

The girl stood there with her arms folded across her chest as Freddie scrolled through the document. He'd seen enough contracts to know that the will looked like the real deal, even if it was a clever fake.

"So, Madame Dommé was really Maude Deeb-Podge, and you're her niece, Catherine?" he said pausing.

"No, I'm not Catherine. Keep on reading."

Freddie read on until he came to a paragraph that caused him to laugh out loud.

"Prudence Whippoorwill? What kind of name is that?" he asked as he regained his composure.

"That's my name!" she answered angrily and snatched her 'face from him. "Anyway, I haven't gone by that in years."

"I don't blame you," said Freddie. "What do you call yourself?"

"You can call me Ghost. That's what Madame Dommé called me."

"That's an interesting name. Are you perhaps the source of the alleged paranormal activity that is rumored to afflict this place?"

"No, I just arrived on Market two days ago to collect my inheritance."

"Oh, is that so? What did you do for Madame Dommé that made her include you so generously in her will?"

"I helped her acquire merchandise. I was very good at it. I didn't happen to catch your name or see your so-called proof-of-ownership, by the way."

"Freddie Brillig," he said as he passed his 'face to Ghost. "I suppose you've heard of me?"

"No, should I?"

"You know, Brillig and the Slithy Toves? We performed at the Sol System Z-Ball Championship half-time show last year."

"I'm not much of a sports fan," Ghost said as she read the Bill of Sale on Freddie's 'face.

"You must not be much of a music fan either," muttered Freddie under his breath.

CHAPTER 2

Freddie couldn't tell if the Director's expression was one of boredom, annoyance, or a mixture of both as he watched him examining Freddie's and Ghost's documents on his 'face. He abruptly put it down on his desk and leaned back in his chair.

"Alright, so what do you expect me to do?" he asked them flatly.

"We'll, I was hoping you'd explain to Ms. Whippoorwill here that I'm the rightful owner of the property," Freddie replied as he glanced sideways at Ghost.

"Yeah? Well so is she."

"But . . . that can't be!" Freddie protested. "I paid a fee to . . ."

"You'd paid a fee to take possession of the property. The late Ms. Deeb-Podge's Last Will and Testament says it belongs to your girlfriend. You two work it out."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"That's not my problem, Mr. Brillig. Look, you're not on Mars or Luna anymore. There are no courts, no lawyers, none of that rabbit shit out here. We keep the rules really simple: no weapons, no fighting, no stealing, and no killing. You break a rule and you're out, period. Now, it seems to me that you two can either resolve this dispute amongst yourselves, or you can both get the 'eff out of Market. Those are your choices. The villa's huge from what I understand. Just share it."

"You're joking, right?" Freddie asked.

"Do I look like I'm joking," the Director answered as he leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. "Now, if you're through wasting my time I've got other things to do. You can show yourselves out."

"That went well," Ghost remarked sarcastically as they walked out of the Director's office.

"Oh, just shut the 'eff up!" said Freddie angrily.

"Hey, just cut your thrusters already. You heard what the man said. Looks like we're going to be housemates," said Ghost. "Just don't go getting any ideas about our living arrangement being it anything more than mutually convenient cohabitation. You're not my type."

"Really? Just what is your type if I might ask?"

"Now you're getting too personal."

"Look, if we're going to co-exist under one roof then we've got to at least get along."

"Fair enough. We'll divide the house in half. I'll stay on my side and you can stay on yours. Will that work for you?"

"I guess it'll have to work."

CHAPTER 3

Freddie watched as the drudgebots cleared the overgrown vegetation from the grounds of his estate. Make that their estate. He'd made a deal with his new co-owner that he'd take care of all the landscaping, but Ghost was responsible for all the renovations to the villa. He figured that she'd push back against what was obviously the harder job, but he was surprised when she'd agreed without any stipulations. Was she that stupid?

"The 'bots will have this overgrown mess cleaned up in short order," he remarked to Ghost as they stood together just inside the main gate watching the cleanup's progress. "When are you going to get started? The house isn't going to renovate itself."

"Actually, it is," Ghost said as she withdrew her 'face from her bodysuit and stretched it to tablet size. She proceeded to call up what was apparently the villa's floor plan. As her fingers danced over the display, the plan morphed so that each wing of the villa became a mirror image of the other with identical bedrooms, dining rooms, kitchens, bathrooms, swimming pools, and so on. Only the central entrance hall and grand foyer remained intact.

"We'll have to share that," Ghost said as she pointed to the entrance hall and foyer. "Each wing will have an entrance from the foyer and another at the end of the wing. You okay with that, or do I have to put a wall down the middle of the foyer?"

"No, I suppose that would look stupid," Freddie said. "How long is all this going to take?"

"It's already done," Ghost answered matter-of-factly.

"What? That's crazy."

"The villa is smart. The interior walls are all configurable. My 'bots were busy removing all the furniture and storing it out back while yours were messing with the landscaping. We'll just have to divide it up or you can come up with your own furniture."

"Okay, but what about the outside? The villa still looks like it should be haunted."

"Easy to fix," said Ghost as she pulled up an exterior elevation and selected "Restore Exterior Default Settings".

Freddie watched in amazement as the great copper-clad doors at the villa's central entrance became bright and shiny again. The villa's exterior underwent a similar metamorphosis, transforming from a dingy-looking discordant façade to one that appeared newly constructed and designed by a master architect.

"That's 'effing amazing," he muttered to himself. Lots of apartments were configurable, but an entire mansion? Elvis, that had to have cost a fortune!

"You okay with the color scheme? That's the way it was intended to look," Ghost explained. "You can decorate the inside of your wing any way you choose, and I'll do the same to my wing."

"If the villa can renovate itself, why did it ever get so run-down?" Freddie asked.

"Madame Dommé programmed it that way after she was evicted from Market for a rule violation. The villa was still hers, she just couldn't remain here. She wanted it to become unattractive and inhospitable to any future tenants that might wish to occupy it in her absence. I think she hoped to eventually convince the Director's to allow her to return, but that never materialized. She died five years ago when her yacht met with a mishap and all aboard perished in the void."

"Wait a minute. If all that happened five years ago, then why did it take so long for you to show up to claim your inheritance?"

"I like to keep a low profile, Freddie. I'm not the easiest person to find when I don't wish to be found."

"Why would you not wish to be found? Could it be due to legal or financial difficulties, perhaps?"

"Now you're getting personal again. Regardless, none of it matters here in Market."

"It might matter to me if I'm sharing a villa with a homicidal maniac."

"You've no worries. I've never killed anyone."

"Maybe not, but you said that you worked for Madame Dommé acquiring merchandise for her. If my memory serves me rightly, she was an infamous human trafficker."

"Okay, smart guy. If you're implying that I found two-legged merchandise for her to sell in her slave market, then you're correct. By the way, that was and still is perfectly legal here in case you haven't already noticed."

"Oh, I noticed. I thought about buying myself a little playmate to snuggle up to at night."

"Hmmm, now that's interesting. I suppose that you couldn't get yourself a girlfriend or boyfriend any other way."

"Very funny, but a big fail. Women and men throw their skimpies at me when I'm performing live on stage."

"Really? Maybe they just want you to do their laundry for them."

CHAPTER 4

Freddie decided that having just half of the villa wasn't so bad after all. His wing was a palatial mansion unto itself. He doubted that any guests would ever notice that it was only half of the villa.

He let Ghost keep the bulk of the furniture, not because he was inclined to be generous but because most of it didn't fit his bachelor pad/party house scheme. Since he hadn't had to spend anything on renovations he could easily afford to decorate his new abode in a glitzy style that he felt reflected his celebrity status. The villa's configurable interior made adding animated displays quick and easy.

Freddie's first house guest was his current girlfriend, Sheila. Sheila was a groupie who'd become part of his entourage and regular sexing partner. She was physically very attractive, and she put up with his rabbit shit. Her solution to any argument was sexing. Freddie really liked that.

The morning1. after Sheila arrived, while Freddie was still passed out in from the previous night's combination of boozing and sexing, Sheila decided to check out Freddie's master bathroom. She noted that it was easily larger than her old flat back on Mars with polished tile floors, gleaming fixtures and a high vaulted ceiling. Even the shower was oversized, although it was still a sealed enclosure like all showers in low-g environments to prevent the water from splashing out. Sheila decided that a shower to wash away the dried sweat and other bodily fluids from last night's sexing would be a good idea. She paused briefly to admire her nude form in the mirror that covered an entire wall. Her animated snake tattoo slithered down her right leg, circled her ankle, and then slid back up her leg to disappear into her crotch before repeating the pattern. It was the tattoo that had caught Freddie's attention at an after-concert party. Well that, and her perfectly sculpted body. She'd sacrificed a lot to get her looks. Now that she was living with him in a palace it all seemed worthwhile.

Sheila stepped into the shower. The door closed itself behind her and the water rained down upon her.

"Warmer please," she said. The water grew warmer. The 'face imbedded in the shower wall displayed the water temperature while one of Freddie's songs played in the background.

She noticed that the water wasn't draining out. The drain was probably clogged. She'd tell Freddie after she got out of the shower.

Suddenly, the water grew icy cold, causing her to jump backward out of the stream.

"Warmer please!" she shouted. Nothing happened. The water continued gush out in an icy cold torrent. Was it her imagination, or was the water actually freezing and forming a layer of ice in the bottom of the shower? No matter, she couldn't stand the bitter cold any longer and tried to push the shower door open. It wouldn't budge.

"WARMER!" she screamed as she pounded and shoved on the unyielding door, then slipped and fell on the ice-covered floor. The icy water continued to rush in, freezing as it accumulated around her. The display on the shower's face showed the interior temperature plummeting below zero.

"HELP ME!" Sheila screamed hoarsely as she sat on the floor with her knees drawn up. She was so cold that she could no longer feel anything, and the ice had now risen up to her stomach, entrapping her. Her animated snake tattoo had stopped moving and the ice was crawling up her exposed naked flesh in icy tendrils. The display on the shower's 'face flickered and then it displayed a message:

YOU'RE GOING TO DIE

She wanted to scream, but her vocal cords didn't work. The ice continued to accumulate around her, entombing her, but it didn't matter anymore because now she no longer thought.

* * *

Freddie awoke to the strains of his own voice singing the ancient ballad, Cold as Ice, over the villa's sound system. He'd included a few ancient tunes in his catalog, and the song by a late twentieth century Earther band called Foreigner had played particularly well in some of the frigid moons of the outer Sol System. When you've done practically everything that there is to do musically speaking then everything old is new again to a different audience and worth repeating over and over.

He eventually discovered Sheila seated on the floor of the shower with her knees drawn up against her chest. Her skin was pale blue and frigid to the touch and she wasn't breathing.

Freddie panicked and called Market Security. They showed up twenty minutes later, looked at Sheila's lifeless corpse, asked Freddie if he'd killed her, and then upon learning that he hadn't, asked him what he wanted them to do.

"Can't she be reanimated?" Freddie demanded.

"Probably, but that's not up to us. You'll need to 'face the medical center for that. They should be able to bring her back if she hasn't been dead too long."

Fortunately, a protracted session in an automed restored Sheila to the land of the living with no readily apparent adverse consequences from her brief stint as a "corpsicle", but she wanted nothing more to do with Freddie's "freakin' 'effed-up haunted mansion" (as she put it) and left Market for Mars on the next available shuttle.

Freddie was angry. He was sure that Ghost had something to do with his shower's lethal malfunction. She obviously wanted the villa to herself and was trying to frighten Freddie off, if not kill him outright. He stormed across the grand central hall foyer that separated his wing from hers and pounded loudly on her door.

"Open up!" he shouted. "I know that you intended to kill me with the shower! I'm going to have you evicted from Market for this!"

There was no response. He pounded on the door again and then tried to open it. The door wasn't locked and swung open. That was strange. He'd figured Ghost for one who valued her privacy.

Freddie stepped cautiously inside. The interior illumination panels weren't working, and it was dark.

"Ghost are you here?" he called out. There was no reply.

"Lights!" Freddie shouted. The illumination panels slowly flickered to life, revealing bare, undecorated walls and a greeting room devoid of furnishings. Puzzled, he walked slowly through the empty room into the next one which corresponded to a grand salon in his wing but here was nothing but a warehouse for a tarp-covered collection of unused furniture. Beyond that more bare empty rooms, and no sign of Ghost or any indication that she even lived here at all.

The illumination panels flickered and then dimmed. At the same instant, the temperature in the room seemed to grow colder. Much colder. He could see his own breath.

He felt an icy hand rest upon his left shoulder and heard an unfamiliar woman's voice say his name. He spun around, but there was nobody there. The lights flickered again.

Freddie panicked. He bolted from the room and ran back the way he came, entering the greeting room just as the illumination panels went dark. Ahead of him the main door, which lead to the grand foyer, was starting to close.

"NO!" he screamed and bolted for the door, shoving it open when barely a sliver of light was visible through the rapidly shrinking opening. He rushed into the grand foyer and almost collided with Ghost.

"What the 'eff were you doing in my wing?" she shouted angrily at him. "Remember our deal? You stay on your side and I'll say on mine! Did you forget that?"

"You 'effed with my shower!" Freddie shouted back at her as he struggled to catch his breath. "You intended to kill me, but instead you got my girlfriend. Good for you that they were able to reanimate after she froze to death!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ghost replied. "You control the environmental settings on your half of the villa and I control my half. If something went wrong with your shower, then it's something you 'effed up."

"Okay, so you admit that you're behind the little haunted house routine that you just pulled on me."

"What 'haunted house' routine?"

"Oh, don't play stupid with me. You know, the empty rooms, flickering lights, sudden temperature drop, and of course the ghost."

"There are no such things as 'ghosts', and what empty rooms are you talking about? Just because my taste in interior decoration isn't the same as yours doesn't make them empty. You must prefer lots of clutter in your wing."

'No, but I happen to prefer furniture to empty rooms."

"All of my rooms are furnished," Ghost replied and gestured toward the open door behind him. "Do you need your eyes replaced?"

"I'd hardly call that furnished," Freddie argued as he pointed toward greeting room. He stared through the open door and blinked. The greeting room was brightly lit, and he could see that the walls were adorned with classical paintings. Antique furniture had been carefully staged to give the room a warm, welcoming appearance.

"No. No, this is all wrong," he stammered. "It wasn't like that a minute ago. You must have done something to change it."

"What the eff are you talking about? It's been that way since I redecorated. I used the furniture that you said you didn't want. Your loss, my gain."

"No, you must have done something," Freddie insisted. "You want me out of the villa so that you can have it all to yourself!"

"Uh, I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Brillig, but I'm quite happy with my half," Ghost replied as she glared at him angrily. "What I'm not happy about is you breaking into my wing and then going on some psycho rant about it being haunted. I'd rather not live under the same roof with someone who is obviously deranged, so I'll be the one who moves out if this is how you're going to behave!"

"You're just saying that to convince me you aren't behind the villa's haunting."

"Maybe you're just concocting this whole story to get me to move out!"

"My girlfriend was frozen to death in my effing shower!" Freddie angrily shouted back at Ghost. "That's no concoction. You can check with Market Security if you don't believe me."

"Maybe I will. I'll bet they asked you if you killed her, you told them you didn't, and that was good enough for them. Am I right?"

"Yeah, good guess. So?"

"So, I know how things work around here. Market Security would rather only have to deal with real problems and as few of those as possible. You can get away with all kinds of shit here if you know how to cover it up just right."

"Wait a minute. You think that I tried to kill Sheila? Why would I do that?'

"Maybe you were tired of her and wanted to scare her off. Freezing to death then being reanimated probably wasn't the most pleasant experience for her."

"It's better than being left dead, and I'm the one who insisted that she be brought back."

.

"She still left you, didn't she?"

"She was scared out of her wits. Anyway, you're trying to pin this on me when you're the one who would have the most to gain from her death."

"How would I gain anything from murdering your girlfriend? If I really wanted to get you out of the villa, then all I'd have to do is show Market Security my wing's surveillance recording of you breaking in and skulking around."

"So, you tricked me into going into your wing so that you could have me evicted!" Freddie shot back at her.

"Oh, my Elvis! This conversation is going nowhere!" Ghost said and threw up her hands in exasperation. "I'm through with you and your delusional ranting. I'm going to leave you now, and the next time we cross paths will be too soon for me!"

Ghost turned away from Freddie and walked briskly into her wing. The heavy entry door slammed shut behind her and locked itself with an audible click.

Freddie stood alone in the grand foyer staring at the closed door to Ghost's wing.

"Well, that wasn't very productive," he muttered to himself.

He needed to clear his head. A spin on his motorcycle along the central road that traced Market's circumference might just do the trick. He'd figure out what to do about his contentious living arrangements later.

1. "Morning" is an arbitrary term in artificially illuminated Market where it's perpetually twilight and most businesses are always open.

CHAPTER 5

Freddie gunned his motorcycle, mounting the ramp that he'd configured on his side of the steps leading up to the front porch. The limited-edition HDC Banshee X-9000 was a collector's edition, and he preferred to keep it inside his wing rather than on the front porch.

He wheeled it through the front door and immediately smelled smoke.

Smoke? There shouldn't be any smoke in the villa. Everything was non-combustible.

Freddie saw the source of the smoke. It was seeping out from under the door to Ghost's wing. He dismounted his motorcycle and ran over to the door.

"Hey, Ghost! What the eff's going on?" he shouted. There was no answer.

Freddie pounded on the door, but there was still no response. More smoke was oozing out from under the door. What could possibly be burning?

He heard what sounded like a girl coughing from behind the door. Ghost was in there!

Okay, so maybe they weren't exactly on speaking terms, but he couldn't let her burn up. He tried forcing the door, but it was locked.

"Ghost, you need to get out of there!" he shouted and pounded on the door again. There was no response - just the sounds of flames crackling as they consumed whatever had caught fire in her wing of the villa.

Freddie jumped on his motorcycle and sped over to the other side of the grand foyer opposite Ghost's wing. He lined up with Ghost's doors, took a deep breath, and then gunned his motor. He shot across the foyer and slammed into the tall doors, which gave way under the impact, and ran straight into a blazing couch. The greeting room was full of smoke, but he could see that every piece of antique furniture and painting from old Earth was in flames.

He also saw Ghost, sprawled on the floor by the door on the opposite side of the room.

In uncharacteristically heroic fashion, Freddie jumped of his cycle and dashed over to Ghost. He scooped her up and bolted out of the room, his eyes burning from the thick, black smoke. He got her outside and into the front yard, laying her on the grass. He glanced back at the smoke billowing out of the villa's open front doors. He wasn't worried too much about the fire because he knew the paintings and furniture would eventually burn themselves out, and the villa's drudgebots and air scrubbers would clean up the mess.

He turned his attention back to Ghost. She wasn't breathing.

"Eff!" he exclaimed as he bent over her, planting his mouth firmly against hers and blowing air forcefully into her lungs. He repeated the process several times before she suddenly gasped and the coughed violently.

"Can't . . . breath," she wheezed hoarsely.

"Hold on, I'm calling for medical assistance," Freddie told her as he pulled out his 'face to summon help. An agonizingly slow fifty-five seconds later the flying medi-bot arrived and scooped Ghost into the automed unit in its chest cavity.

"She will fully recover," the 'bot assured him in a soothing voice. "Her lungs were damaged by smoke inhalation and are being repaired."

Ten minutes later, Ghost emerged shakily from the automed. She stared bewildered at Freddie and at the smoke that was still wafting out of the villa's open front doors.

"You," she said accusingly and then hesitated. "You . . . you rescued me."

"Yeah. I wasn't going to let you burn."

"You saved my life. Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replied. "How did the fire start?"

"I don't know," Ghost replied glancing downward and slowly shaking her head. "I walked into the room and all the paintings and furniture just suddenly exploded into flames right in front of me. I turned around to leave, and the door behind me shut and locked itself. I tried to get out, but the room filled up with black air and I couldn't see. Then I couldn't breathe. Then you showed up. I don't remember much after that."

"That 'black air' was smoke. I guess you've never experienced it before."

"It burned when I breathed it in. It smelled awful. Now I stink."

"I stink too," Freddie said as he smelled his hands.

'I need a shower," Ghost said. "Care to wash me up?"

Freddie's jaw dropped.

"Ah, what are you saying?" he asked her hesitantly.

"I'm just suggesting that you could wash me up. Is that such a difficult concept for you?"

"You mean like shower together?"

"Yes, why not?"

"Well, I didn't think you particularly cared for me."

"I've always found you physically attractive, Freddie. I just didn't like you personally."

"So, what changed?"

"Oh, you sort of risked your life to rescue me. It showed me that you weren't a self-absorbed rectal orifice," she replied as climbed the steps and entered the grand foyer, then turned to face him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked.

Freddie bounded up the steps. By now the villa's powerful air scrubbers had sucked up the remaining smoke, although the odor of the burnt furniture remained.

Ghost slowly turned her back towards Freddie. She glanced backward over her right shoulder and smiled at him, then drew her index finger down the front of her black, skin-tight bodysuit from neck to crotch, causing it to split open. She pushed it down over her shoulders, then pulled the bodysuit down below her waist and stepped out of it, revealing a large "4" tattooed prominently across her back. As he hurriedly undressed, Freddie noted that her buttocks and the backs of her legs were covered in old burn scars.

She turned and faced him, revealing another prominent "4" tattooed across her abdomen that extended from just below her breasts to her hairless pubic area. Her diminutive body and pale skin made her resemble a marble statue of an adolescent girl from old Earth. Freddie noticed that her front side was devoid of scars.

They showered together in Freddie's wing, and then tumbled into his bed and sexed. It was intense. Freddie felt Ghost's vaginal muscles tense and tightly grip his cock as she climaxed, then she collapsed on top of him and passed out. Freddie started to gently roll Ghost off of his chest but discovered that he was still firmly coupled to her. He chuckled softly at his predicament, which he decided wasn't the worst thing that could happen, and then blissfully dozed off.

He awoke some time later to the sensation of his new girlfriend pulling herself free of his now flaccid member and sliding out of bed.

"I have to pee," she said to him and giggled. "Don't go away, I'll be right back."

Freddie stared at the ceiling and considered how just an hour ago sexing with his housemate would have been unthinkable. Everything had changed, although the circumstances that had resulted in their new-found relationship remained troubling to say the least. Like all other buildings in Market, their villa and its furnishings were constructed of non-combustible materials or treated to make them non-combustible. The centuries-old oil paintings that had adorned the greeting room's walls and the imported antique furniture from old Earth were the notable exceptions, but how had they all simultaneously burst into flame? Freddie could understand the salon's doors automatically locking themselves to prevent the fire and the toxic gasses it generated from spreading, but the villa's security system should have sensed Ghost's presence in the room. The almost lethal incident was yet another indication that something other than glitches in the villa's environmental control systems were responsible for the "supernatural" events that had plagued them since they'd occupied it.

Did someone want them out of the villa? If so, who and why? Freddie couldn't think of anyone who had it in for him off the top of his head, but what about Ghost? She'd worked for Madame Domme, and the infamous slave trader had made plenty of enemies on Market as well as throughout the Sol System.

How had Ghost gotten herself mixed-up with the likes of Madame Dommé in the first place?

Freddie's musings were interrupted by Ghost's return. She bounded back into bed and snuggled up next to him.

"You sure look awfully serious for someone who just sexed," she said noticing his worried expression. "A bitcred for your thoughts."

"I keep thinking about the fire," he replied. "There's just no way that was some kind of freak accident."

"Then what do you think caused it?" Ghost asked as she toyed with Freddie's chest hairs.

"I think someone deliberately sabotaged my shower and started the fire in your greeting room," Freddie answered. "I don't know how they managed the 'haunted house routine' in your wing, and I don't see how a system malfunction could have ever caused that."

"You think someone wants to scare us off?"

"Or kill us."

"Well, I suppose there are at least a few people who wouldn't be very upset if I was too far gone to be reanimated," said Ghost. "You don't make very many friends when you're a flesh trafficker."

"How did you get into the business in the first place?"

"Now you're getting personal again."

"Sorry."

"No, I'm just messing with you. If we're going to be an 'item' then I suppose you should know something about me since I already know a lot about you."

"You do?"

"Don't you think I'd do my homework on you if I'd be sharing a villa with you?" You're the famous Freddie Brillig, founder and lead singer of Brillig and the Slithy Toves. You majored in music at Carl Sagan University. You dropped out after two years to pursue a singing career. You were a finalist on Mars Has Talent. You're an obvious hit in any hetro-female's sexer database. We just lifted off on the wrong launch coordinates, that's all."

"Okay, but I still don't know very much about you."

"What would you like to know?'

"How you docked with Madame Domme in the first place. Why you docked with her. I have a hard time picturing you as a slave trader."

"It was both out of opportunity and necessity," Ghost explained with a faraway look in her eyes. "It all started when I won the lottery . . ."

CHAPTER 6

When Prudence Whippoorwill turned eighteen years old, she became eligible for the "exile lotter". Paradise, the repurposed mining station that had been purchased by the settlement's founders and moved to its new location in the Asteroid Belt just after the First Interplanetary War, had been constructed with a finite crew compliment in mind. Various modifications and improvements had made the old station suitable for its new role as a small space colony, but there were limits to what its life support systems could comfortably sustain. As a consequence, continued population growth required periodic "purges", either voluntarily or compulsory, to maintain equilibrium. Sadly, as with many other such settlements in the Free Belt with limited habitable space, this amounted to mandatory expulsion based on random selection. Paradise had negotiated a contract with an asteroid settlement whereby the losers of the station's population control lottery were exchanged for much needed equipment and supplies, making the exchange a "win-win" for both parties. Paradise's exiles were viewed by their trading partner as being highly desirable because they weren't "free floaters" and could tolerate life in an environment where "up" and "down" weren't merely abstractions. Unlike many asteroid settlements which eschewed artificial gravity, Paradise was a large torus that rotated to provide a lunar-like one-sixth g.

The lottery was held four days after she turned eighteen. Her name was the fourth name drawn. A pair of "fours" – was that merely a coincidence? Although her parents were devastated, she was actually relieved that her name was picked since it finally meant freedom from Paradise's oppressive, strictly regimented society.

She didn't keep track of the days that it took their aging transport to reach their destination, since there were no real "days" in the void. She just knew that she was tired of being cooped up in a pressurized container in the transport's cargo hold with a bunch of other smelly bodies. Aside from the brief interval when they were weightless while the transport flipped around to begin decelerating, there was no indication that they were approaching their destination. Finally, they reached wherever they were going, which couldn't have been much of anything because the g was so low it barely kept her in place.

Their windowless container was lowered (she could sense that), transported over land a short distance (she could feel that), apparently loaded onto something else, and then they lifted again (acceleration was obvious).

Now what? Had their container been transferred to another candle? If that was so, then why and where were they going?

This time their transit was thankfully short and again they landed, or perhaps docked since it felt as though they were in microgravity. There was more jostling of their container followed by a brief sense of movement and then Prudence noticed the sensation of weight steadily returning until it almost felt as though she was back on Paradise.

Except that it wasn't Paradise. When the hatch to their container opened her eyes were greeted by the sight of a vast, inside-out world where the gleaming spires of tall buildings lined the central circumference, some pointing upward, some pointing inward, and some pointing down toward her.

Prudence didn't have an opportunity to explore her new surroundings. She and her fellow "lottery winners" were herded into a wide tunnel that rapidly narrowed until they were marching single file. One by one they marched naked through a shower followed by a warm air dryer and then into a cylindrical enclosure where they were individually scanned.

Scanned for what? Diseases or mods? Or both? What was going to happen to her? Prudence pondered these questions as she sat alone on the floor of a windowless, closet-sized white-walled room. She'd never really thought about the fate that awaited those who won the exile lottery.

Her musings were interrupted as the door of her cell opened to reveal a tall, dark complexioned man holding a copper-colored robe.

"Put this on and come with me," he said as he handed Prudence the robe. She decided that whatever was in store was better than shivering butt-naked in a tiny cell and complied.

She went with the man. She followed him

She never expected that she'd literally end up as merchandise in a real store. Okay, make that a slave market. Her captors had dressed her in a revealing "school girl uniform" and then forced her into a clear cylindrical cage that fit her snuggly enough that she was forced to stand with her hands at her sides, only able to turn her head and shuffle her feet. Her cage was stationed in cavernous room with walls that displayed a panoramic scene featuring strange, ancient-looking buildings and clouds that moved. There were multiple rows of other similarly caged young women and men. All were dressed in different costumes that she'd overheard her captors say were intended to 'showcase their assets'. The pedestals beneath their cages all featured displays that included a price in large digits and other text that was too small for Prudence to read.

She watched as shoppers made their way through the rows of display cages, examining the merchandise. Some moved normally, while others bounced clumsily in the low g. Spaghetti-armed free-fallers rode power chairs. Their clothing styles ranged from expensively-dressed business men and women to grubby coverall-wearing miners.

She decided then and there that she wasn't going to be anyone's slave.

She estimated she'd been on display for close to a month when Amal and the other man abruptly removed her from the transparent display case. She'd spent the last week nude and restrained to prevent her from continuing to dissuade prospective purchasers with lude gestures, but she'd still managed to make faces and stick out her tongue or urinate in her cage in front of them. Apparently, her tactics had worked, and she was no longer for sale.

What now?

They half-dragged her through the stock room and down a narrow corridor to a waiting freight elevator. She was shoved into the car, the door closed, and she felt herself descending. On Market that meant moving outward toward the surface of the spinning asteroid. Where was she being sent?

When the elevator door opened, she was greeted by a man in an odd-looking costume consisting of a strange-looking covering worn upon the top of his head2., a puffy shirt with non-functional adornments and ruffles, striped pants that were baggy around the thighs but tight-fitting around the calves, and shinny black high-topped boots. He spoke to her with a strange accent.

"Welcome to the Dumpster!" he shouted gleefully. "This is the final destination for those who don't sell in the stores. From now on you'll provide entertainment for Market's discriminating residences and guests to earn your keep. If you're good enough then you might just live awhile longer."

"Good enough at what?" Prudence asked.

"You've got nice legs on you, cutie. You've obviously spent many years in some g, so you should make a good runner."

"What if I don't want to run?"

"Oh, you _will_ cutie. Those who manage to elude the Devil remain unscarred. I'd hate to see a cutie like you with her flesh all scarred because she got caught by the Devil too many times."

Prudence just stared blankly at the strangely-dressed man. What was he talking about? Was his speech meant to frighten her?

"You know you really 'effed up when you got yourself sent down here," the man continued. "With your looks you could have been some wealthy Belter's pampered playmate. You could have lived in luxury beyond your wildest dreams and all you would have had to do is keep them happy and satisfied."

I'll never be anyone's slave," Prudence replied defiantly.

"That's the truth. Now you're just another contestant in a race with no winners," the man said to her as a strange looking 'bot that resembled a doorframe mounted atop a wheeled platform approached them. "It's time to prep you for racing. Stand in the frame and extend your arms upward."

"No."

"Then I suppose we'll just have to do this the hard way," the man said as he gestured to the 'bot.

The tentacles, or whatever they were, erupted from the frame's corners. They moved with a speed that eluded human vision with each tentacle encircling one of Prudence's wrists and ankles. The tentacles abrupted retracted, drawing her into the frame and suspending her spread-eagle in the opening.

"What the 'eff do you think you're doing? Let me go!" Prudence demanded as she struggled against her unyielding restraints.

"Racers need numbers," the man explained to her with a smirk on his face. "You'll get yours now, and then you can join the other racers."

The frame suddenly moved sideways, sliding into a slot in the adjacent wall that was just wide enough to accommodate it and its helpless captive. As she moved into the narrow opening, Prudence felt stinging blasts of air against her chest and back followed by an intense, burning sensation as a pair of lasers tattooed large numerals across her abdomen and spine. A final blast of super-cold air killed the pain, and then the frame moved out of the slit and into a long, windowless room lined with what appeared to be cages. The frame moved between the rows, stopping before an unoccupied cage, and then ejected Prudence into the grated, closet-sized enclosure.

What the 'eff had she gotten herself into?

2.A "hat". A headpiece typically fashioned of cloth worn on old Earth to protect the wearer's scalp from the sun or for ornamental purposes.

CHAPTER 7

She'd been the first runner caught by the Devil five times in a row. Four knew that, baring a miracle, this would be her last race. This time the glowing, flesh-searing prods that had scarred the backs of her legs and buttocks would be replaced with whirling razor-sharp blades that would cut her to pieces as she was scooped into the Devil's maw. If she wanted to live, she couldn't lose this race.

How do you win a supposedly unwinnable race? Like her, the other contestants had all come from someplace that had a g similar to if not greater than Market's. Six, or "Big Six" as he was popularly known, was originally from Mars and almost always held out the longest against the Devil, making him the habitual winner and a popular favorite among betters. Big Six's only real rival was Nine, a tall, gangly woman with a long stride who had beaten him on a few occasions. Four's lack of stature and shorter stride put her at a disadvantage against the other racers with predictable consequences.

Seven had told her that she'd never win running an "honest race". But how do you cheat the Devil? Four had gotten her idea - make that her crazy idea – when she'd observed a pair of technicians crawling out of what must have been a maintenance hatch atop the monster 'bot. The Devil was as wide as the track to prevent runners from escaping it by flattening themselves against the walls, but its height didn't extend to the ceiling to allow for servicing. The clearance above it was barely two meters, but Four thought that would be enough to make her plan work.

If it didn't then it wouldn't matter because she'd be dead either way.

They all lined up at the starting gate as usual. Ten naked and scarred bodies desperate to hold out for as long as they could against the pursuing Devil. They could hear the shouts of the unseen spectators over the loudspeakers encouraging their favorites. Races to the death were always popular, and they made the habitual losers into stars albeit for one last race.

The buzzer sounded, the gate dropped, and they were off. The Devil was held back as always to give them a head start, but soon enough it would be released to begin its relentless pursuit. It would accelerate slowly to make the contest last longer and heighten the drama, but eventually even the fastest runner wouldn't be able to out pace it. Four was counting on that.

Four sprinted ahead with the others, but then quickly slowed to avoid becoming winded. She stopped and turned to face the Devil, which she estimated was now about a hundred meters behind her and beginning to gradually accelerate.

She began to run towards it. She could hear the screams and excited shouts of the bloodthirsty spectators over the loudspeakers as she approached the 'bot, gathering speed. She had to reach the Devil before it was moving too fast. Coming from Paradise station, her muscles had already been accustomed to Market's one-sixth g when she'd arrived. The tortuous races had further strengthened her, but she hadn't practiced what she was about to attempt.

As she bore down on the Devil with its spinning blades flashing before her in the track's brilliant ceiling lights, Four leaped. Her jump carried her high into the air and she almost collided with the ceiling before beginning her descent. She felt the breeze and heard the terrifying swish created by the whirling blades below her as she passed over and barely cleared them. She landed on the Devil's back, her hands frantically fumbling for something to grasp, and found the maintenance hatch's recessed handle. She grabbed hold of it and held on for dear life as the 'bot continued to accelerate. Soon it had caught up to the slowest runner, and Four heard his scream cut short as the blades sliced him to pieces. She felt warm blood - his blood - rain down upon her backside. One down, eight more to go.

One by one the fleeing racers fell to the Devil's spinning blades. Each time their warm blood showered Four as she continued to cling to the monster 'bot's back, coating her pale, naked flesh in crimson. With each death she counted down the remaining contestants until only one remained. Whoever she was, she'd managed to hold out far longer than any of the others because when her final cry came Four guessed that they must have travelled several kilometers around Market's outer rim.

With the fall of the last runner, the Devil began to slow until it eventually ground to a halt. As the swish of the spinning blades faded, Four heard chanting over the loudspeakers.

"FOUR! FOUR! FOUR! FOUR!" the disembodied crowd's chant rang out over and over, echoing through the long tunnel.

She was oblivious to the arrival of Milo and the trio of guards as their car drew up behind the Devil, only becoming aware of their presence when one of the guards gently pried her fingers free of the maintenance hatch's handle. They helped her down from the monster 'bot's back, then Milo placed the gold laurel on her blood-soaked scalp and, grasping her left wrist, raised her hand high above her head in a victory salute.

"Your winner and new champion!" he shouted gleefully to their invisible audience. His announcement was greeted by a deafening roar of approval from the loudspeakers followed by a resumption of the chanting.

"You beat the Devil," Milo said turning to her smiling. "Your racing days are over. My 'face began blowing up with requests to buy you the moment you landed on its back. I received an offer I simply couldn't refuse."

"I told you that I'll never be anyone's slave," Four replied to him defiantly.

"Who said anything about you being anyone's slave?" Milo said to her with a chuckle. "Madame Dommé bought your freedom. She told me that she was very impressed by your tenacity and resourcefulness, and she wants you to work for her."

"Work for her? Who the 'eff is Madame Dommé and what exactly would I be doing?"

"I think she mentioned something about acquisitions, but it would be best if she explained it to you. Let's get you cleaned up first. You can't meet your new boss looking like you just took a blood bath."

CHAPTER 8

The woman towered over Four like a statue of some ancient mythical goddess come to life. Her skin was brown and her long, curly, jet black hair was tinged with copper highlights that matched the form-fitting metallic body suit she wore.

"It appears that I seriously misjudged you when I sent you to the Dumpster," she began as she addressed Four.

"Wait a minute. You sent me to Dumpster?" Four asked.

"You didn't give me much of a choice. Those antics of yours were preventing you from being sold in the Toy Store, so I had to do something to recoup my losses."

"So, why did you want me back?"

"You demonstrated that you're highly intelligent and resourceful. You're strong and you don't give up. You're willing to bend the rules in order to win and you're unscrupulous in your own way. Those are all qualities that I value in an employee."

"Why do you think I'm unscrupulous?"

"You didn't seem to have a problem sacrificing your fellow contestants so that you could live."

"Only one of us was going to live. It was them or me, and I just made sure it was me."

"Exactly. Survival of the fittest. That's the way nature works," Madame Dommé replied grinning.

"What do you want with me? Milo said something about acquisitions."

"Yes, I want you to assist me in acquiring merchandise for the Toy Store."

"You want me to be a slave trader?"

"Milo said you told him you'd never be anyone's slave. If you're not a slave, then you're one who enslaves. That how society works."

"You have two choices," Madame Dommé continued. "You can either work for me, or Milo has another buyer for you. I don't think you'll like that as much as what I'm offering you. You'll get to travel and live well. You'll be generously compensated in exchange for your services. Now, what's it going to be?"

Four thought about Madame Dommé's offer for only a brief moment before answering.

"When do I start?" she asked.

"Right away," Madame Dommé said as she smiled and hugged Four. "First things first. What is your name?"

"Four."

"No, silly. What's your real name?"

"Prudence."

"Hmmmm. I think you need a new name that better suits you," Madame Dommé said thoughtfully as she looked her diminutive newest employee up and down. "You're pale and wraith-like, and you move quietly. I think I'll call you . . . Ghost."

CHAPTER 9

"An impressive catch Ghost," said Lurch. "She'll fetch a hefty price at auction."

"She'd better be worth all the trouble," Ghost responded to the tall, slender man. "Her friend was some sort of kung-fu freak and almost ruined everything."

Lurch leaned over Ellie and smiled at their helpless blond-haired captive.

"It's time for you to take a little nap cutie," he said to Ellie as he reached behind her head and administered the sedative. The drug took effect almost immediately and the girl's eyes fluttered and then closed.

"Get her undressed and put her in the last hibernator," Lurch said to Ghost.

Ghost slid her finger from Ellie's neck down between her breasts to her crotch. The immobilizing mood suit split open and she quickly stripped the garment off of Ellie's limp form. Ghost then motioned to one of her accomplices, and he scooped Ellie up like a frontier world rag doll and placed her in the open coffin-like enclosure.

"That's that," Ghost said to Lurch. "This was a good haul."

"Yeah, your last catch is some kind of celeb," Lurch remarked as he glanced at his 'face and frowned. "M.D. has arranged for a clipper to meet the transport and transfer her. She must already have a buyer lined up."

"In that case maybe we'll get a nice fat bonus," Ghost replied.

"I'd settle for a regular paycheck. M.D.'s been kind of slow to pay lately."

Ghost didn't respond to Lurch's comment. She knew that their boss' sales had suffered because the owners of the Pet Shop and Sultan's Palace had colluded to drive prices down and put the Toy Store out of business. The owner of the Pet Shop had been a friend of Madame Dommé's late husband, and he had publicly blamed her for her husband's death even though she was absent when he'd suffered a seizure while swimming and hadn't been discovered until he was too far gone to reanimate. Ghost had never met the Toy's Store owner in the flesh, but she knew enough about Roland Hayes to know that he had it out for her employer and was using her late husband's death as an excuse to put his rival out of business.

"I've got to catch a flight to back to Market in the morning," Ghost said changing the subject. "The boss needs my help with staging and inventory. Where are you headed next?"

"Olympus. I'm doing the fake 'talent search' with Shadow," Lurch said as he pretended to hold an imaginary camera lens up to his eye. "Should work there now that things have cooled down."

* * *

"That was the closest call I ever had," Ghost said to Freddie as they lay together in the sheets. "It wasn't supposed to go down like that. I would have preferred to let the girl go, but we had one more slot to fill and Madame Dommé just had to have her after she saw her scan from when she was getting fitted for her mood suit in the store. The girl had sexing toy written all over her. We had to nab her and get out fast and that meant doing it the hard way. We never expected her to have a body guard and our prize wasn't shabby in a fight, either. I should have just shot the other girl and used the mood suit to immobilize our catch right away instead of relying on Sly and his gang to grab her."

"So, you didn't usually have to use force?" Freddie asked as he gently traced the large four tattooed on Ghost's back with his index finger.

"No, the first rule is to avoid drama when you take a prize. Drama can draw attention and you don't want that. The ideal situation is to fool them into coming to you voluntarily. That's why we preferred scams like 'wealthy belters need brides' and the 'talent search'. If you played it just right, you could get your prize to crawl into the hibernator on their own," Ghost explained and then asked, "What are you doing back there?"

"Just admiring your tattoo."

"I'm glad you like it. I kept it along with my scars to remind me of where I came from. I'm the famous Four, the only person to ever beat the Devil."

"How come I've never heard of these races?" Freddie asked her.

"They were discontinued shortly after I won. The recording of my race went viral and some of the higher-ups in Market's food chain were worried that the wrong people would learn about 'Devil Take the Hindmost' and that would have bad consequences. Anyway, after I beat the Devil interest in the race faded pretty fast."

"So, not everyone knew about the race?"

"No, just those in-the-know."

"In the know?"

"The directors, many of the wealthier permanent residents, and some V.I.P.s. on occasion. Regular guests weren't told about the race. You had to be invited to watch them."

"Wow. Secrets in a secret place. Who would have thought?"

"Did you expect anything different?" Ghost asked him.

"I don't know what I expected. Well, that's not really true. I'd heard that Market was like New Vegas, only bigger and better. You could do anything you wanted here, buy anything. Well, almost."

"Yes, almost anything. Just as long as it doesn't involve weapons, fighting, stealing, or killing. Except you know by now that isn't exactly true, is it?"

"No, someone obviously wants us gone."

"Wants me gone, Freddie. I told you that slave traders don't make many friends."

"I thought people didn't know you were involved."

"I'm not stupid enough to think that some people didn't figure out who I am. I didn't know it at the time, but some of the merchandise that I acquired had friends in high places. High enough that I eventually became a liability to Madame Dommé and she terminated my contract. I got a nice severance package, but I was still on my own and I had to make myself scarce. Up until recently, that is."

"She still included you in her will."

"Yeah, she did. Look where it's got me. Got us."

"Look, we're both still alive. If they really wanted us dead, do you think we'd still be here? Whoever is doing this wants us out," Freddie said to her.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe they just want the 'effing villa. Wasn't there someone else mentioned in Madame Dommé's will?"

"Her niece, Catherine. Why? Do you think she's behind all this? All she would have had to do and show up and claim her inheritance. Why go to all this trouble?"

"She'd have to get here before us. The directors don't like conflict, remember?"

"Okay, so let's say she's like me and maybe she doesn't find out about it right away. She shows up after we got here, and the directors tell her 'tough excrement'. How does she get in here and pull all this off?"

"You got me there. Okay, so maybe it's somebody here on Market. Who was the guy you said hated Madame Dommé?"

"Roland Hayes. He ran the Pet Shop, but I heard he was retiring. The slave trade isn't as big here as it once was. It's been moving out to places like Flesh Pot."

"Anyone else?"

"Elvis only knows. Could be one of the directors who had his eye on this piece of real estate before we showed up. Could be anyone."

"Could be a real ghost." Freddie suggested.

"Really, Freddie? I didn't think you were the superstitious type."

"I'm not. I do believe that here are things out there we don't understand and are better off not understanding."

"Like what?"

Freddie rolled over on his back, stared up at the ceiling, and took a deep breath.

"When I was nine, my Dad worked for Aratek and we lived in a fancy apartment in Sagan Towers. He had this important research project where they were trying to figure out how to teleport stuff. He called it quantum tunneling."

"Teleport stuff? You're joking."

"No, it was for real and it worked. Well, sort of. He showed me these metal cubes that they'd teleported from Bradbury to a receiver in his lab. He said that they were perfectly machined cubes when they left, but when they arrived they looked like something had tried to chew them up. Dad said it was because they weren't reintegrating right."

"So, I'm guessing he didn't fix the problem, or we wouldn't still be riding around the Sol System in candles."

"No, he didn't. He quit trying after they sent a probe through. It was supposed to record what happened to it when it was in between."

"Did it?"

"Yeah, I mean I guess it did. He got home late from the lab that night. Usually he was all excited about what they'd accomplished, but that night he didn't say anything. He looked scared, really scared. I'd never seen him like that before."

"What happened to him?"

"He never told me. I just know that the next day he quit his job at Aratek and we had to move into a smaller apartment. He was out of work for several months. He finally got a job as an assistant professor at Carl Sagan University. For a while I thought he'd be okay, but he never was the same."

"So, what does this have to do with ghosts?"

"My Dad became an alcoholic. He wouldn't take the cure and he committed suicide when I was in college. It was like he couldn't live with what happened back in the lab and he wanted to die."

"I'm so sorry, Freddie. I didn't know."

"See? You don't know everything about me, do you? That's okay, it's ancient history."

"You never found out what happened to him at the lab?"

"He saw something that he wished he hadn't seen," Freddie said as he reached over to the nightstand and retrieved his 'face. He scrolled through it and then handed to Ghost. She took the 'face from him and stared in puzzlement at the words on the screen.

"In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming." - H.P. Lovecraft

"What does that mean?" she asked Freddie.

"Tap on the imbed below it and see for yourself," Freddie replied. "Dad sent this to me the night before he committed suicide."

Ghost hesitantly opened the imbed. The recording that subsequently displayed was poor quality and mostly consisted of irregular flashes of light and darkness.

Then she saw them. Writhing, malformed tentacles preceded a quivering maw which opened to reveal row upon row of jagged teeth. There was another flash of light and then the recording ended.

"What the 'eff?" Ghost muttered.

"It's the recording from the probe," Freddie explained. "I'm guessing that Dad's 'quantum tunnel' wasn't just through empty space. Something must live in whatever it was that he was teleporting stuff through. Something that lives right next to us that we can't see. Something that we'd be better off not knowing about. Something that occasionally finds a crack in whatever separates us from where it is and manages to poke its claws through into our universe."

"I'm not afraid of ghost stories, Freddie."

"I don't think you're afraid of anything."

"I'm afraid when I need to be afraid. Fear can be a useful emotion if properly channeled. But . . . monsters from quantum space or whatever you call it? Really?"

"If you believe that I think something from Dad's quantum tunnel is causing what's happening in the villa, you're wrong. I think that someone may be trying to make me believe that's what's happening so that I'll be scared off. You may think it's someone that you crossed when you were working for Madame Dommé, but I've thought long and hard about it and now I think someone who knows about my past and holds a grudge may be behind all this."

"Who?"

"I don't know for sure, but if I had to I'd guess then it could be my ex-manager, Bill the Shill", Freddie continued. "I shared the recording from the lab with him one night at a party after our first sell-out live concert. I told him it scared the excrement out of me."

"What happened after that?"

"The band fired him when I figured out he was skimming our share of the gate receipts and he didn't take it so well. After that we made it big and he didn't. He hasn't had another chart-topping band since the Slithy Toves and I figure he holds a serious grudge. Then again, I doubt he'd have the bitcreds to pull something like this off."

"So back to square one."

"No, I don't think it matters who's behind this, just how we stop them. We stop the problem first and then we worry about who's behind it."

CHAPTER 10

They said that Ali Kahn knew everybody who was worth knowing in Market. Ali's bar was a popular destination for residents and visitors-in-the-know. From the outside the Slippery Hole didn't look like any place you'd want to take your mother or a date, but that was part of its charm. Inside the place had a warm, welcoming feel about it as if it had been here forever and everybody who sat on a bar stool or at one of its tables was a regular, even it was only their first visit.

Being a celebrity, Freddie had a standing invitation to perform at the Slippery Hole. He decided to accept Ali's invite if in return Ali might be willing to help him find an "expert" who could get to the bottom of the villa's "paranormal" activities. Freddie also figured that an evening out on the town and away from the villa would be good for Ghost and him.

Like everyone else on Market, Ali Kahn was from "someplace else". In Ali's case it was Freddie's former home, Sagan City, although Ali didn't look like a typical Martian. He was short and a bit stocky with a pasty complexion and thinning red hair. Like many permanent residents of Market, he was wealthy. In addition to the Slippery Hole, he owned three other bars on Mars and had his own private "party shuttle" that he kept docked at the asteroid's marina.

Freddie showed up with his guitar in hand and Ghost on his arm. He'd 'faced Ali and asked him if he could drop in for a session and had been told that the stage was his. Ali apparently hadn't broadcast the fact that Freddie was performing, and the bar was busy but not crowded when he and Ghost arrived. Three songs after he'd entered the spotlight the bar was packed, and the bouncers were turning away people at the door. Ghost occupied a table next to the stage with Ali, and after Freddie's set was over he joined them.

"That was great, Freddie!" Ali said as he rose from the table to touch elbows with the performer. "Prudy has been telling me about your problems with your villa." 'Prudy' was Ghost's recently adopted public identity, which together with her newly bronzed skin and black hair completed her transformation.

"Yeah, you wouldn't happen to know a good exorcist, would you?" Freddie replied jokingly as he pulled up a chair and sat down.

"I'm afraid that I don't know any exorcists, but I think I may know someone who may be able to help you with your problem," Ali said as he sat back down and signaled to a scantily-clad server to attend them. Freddie had heard that the Slippery Hole catered to those who liked attractive young women rather than 'bots as servers, a throw-back to a distant age when "sexploitation" was a widely-accepted norm rather than a theme for a trendy bar.

Freddie ordered a War God IPA, and it was promptly delivered. The conversation at the table drifted, with Ali volunteering how he'd permanently immigrated to Market at the beginning of the Second Interplanetary War. Not knowing when or even if he'd ever be able to return to Mars, he'd purchased an empty tenant space and opened the Slippery Hole which he'd patterned after two of his bars in Sagan City. The bar was an instant success and the rest was history.

Freddie explained to Ali how he'd gotten into the music business after dropping out of college. He told him how he'd been a finalist on Mars Has Talent and that he'd changed his last name from Hermes to Brillig after he became the lead singer for the newly-formed Slithy Toves. Their big breakthrough came when Freddie wrote and performed Dance Without Pants.

'So, how did you two dock?" Ali asked as he glanced from Prudy to Freddie. Freddie hesitated, but Purdy was ready with a reply.

"Freddie bought the villa, but my Auntie Maude left it to me in her will," Prudy explained. "We had a bit of a dispute over ownership that the Directors didn't want to resolve, so we agreed to share the villa."

"Wow, so you're related to Madame Dommé? I know someone else who's related to her, and you remind me of her."

"If you mean Catherine, then yeah. I never met her, and I've only seen Auntie Maude a few times. She always 'faced me on my birthday. I don't know if she was really my aunt, but she must have liked me a lot."

"Well, I've heard stories about Madame Dommé, but I never had the pleasure of meeting her in person," Ali replied as he took a sip of his drink. "I'm glad that you two moved back into her villa and I think the renovations look great. I wouldn't mind owning the place now."

* * *

"Why did you tell Ali that you inherited the villa?" Freddie asked Prudy as their tram approached the residential section.

"Because he's a reader," Prudy explained to him. "He watches your eye movements and your body language, and he can tell if you've lied to him. Madame Dommé had me trained to read body language, and he was doing that to us. The best lie to tell when you're dealing with a reader is the one that's closest to the truth, so that's why I told him what I told him."

"Whoa. You could tell all that just by watching him?"

"Yes, and he knew that I was doing the same thing to him. He was only volunteering information about himself to get me to let my guard down. He didn't tell me anything that I couldn't have figured out on my own with a little research."

"So, what's his game?"

"Ali's in it for himself, but he'll help us because he believes in building connections that are mutually beneficial. He's a savvy businessman and he's all about being friends. He's friends with Roland Hayes, and that's who sold Ali most of his hired help."

"You're worried about him figuring out who you are?"

"Not if I keep my head down. That doesn't mean hanging out at the Slippery Hole because Hayes may be a regular. I don't know how much Hayes knows about Ghost, so I'd rather not push my luck even if he never has laid eyes on me. Then again, I've never spent much time hanging out in bars so it's no real loss."

"You don't like bars?"

"Not by myself."

"You've got me now, and there are plenty of other bars in Market."

* * *

After that, they didn't go back to the Slippery Hole.

They didn't go back to the villa right away, either. They checked into a suite at the El Caballero, which was far from being the best hotel in Market but certainly wasn't the worst. It was a place where a celebrity like Freddie wouldn't be expected to stay, but that was the idea. Here is was just another visitor.

There were occasions when being just another somebody and not anyone special had its advantages.

They stayed at the El Caballero. They ate out at restaurants, went to dive bars, and bought extra clothing on the net. It became their vacation."

"Do we really need to stay in the villa?" Freddie asked Prudy as they sipped their beers. From where they were sitting on their suite's balcony, they could look upward across the interior of the big hollowed-out asteroid to the residential section where the villa was located. Being from Mars, it had taken Freddie several weeks after he'd arrived at Market to adjust to living in an inside-out world that slowly rotated to produce lunar-like artificial gravity, but now the idea of being able to look up and see the other side of their world appearing to be hanging upside down seemed normal.

"We could sell the place and get ourselves a luxury apartment here," Freddie continued. "No more spooks to worry about."

"Do you think anyone would buy the villa?" Prudy asked him in return.

"Why not? The place looks great and nobody besides us knows about the incidents."

"Ali Kahn knows about them."

"Ali didn't seem to be bothered by them. He probably thinks that they're just system malfunctions. He might buy the place. Roland Hayes might even buy it so that he could tear it down."

"I don't know, Freddie," Prudy said hesitantly. "I've never owned anything as grand as that villa before. Madame Dommé left it to me, and I'd hate to sell it just to see it torn down."

"I was just joking about Hayes buying it. I doubt that he'd want to waste the bitcreds."

"Even still, I don't think I'm ready to move yet."

"Fair enough. Maybe Ali's 'expert' can fix the villa's problems and we won't need to move."

"We don't have to stay there, but I think we should check on it to make sure that it's okay," Prudy suggested. "We've been gone over three weeks. If we do decide to sell, we don't want it trashed."

"Good idea, although I think the villa's security system would stop anyone who tries to break in."

"Yeah, if it didn't try to trash the villa on its own."

Freddie didn't have an immediate reply to Prudy's comment, and his response amounted to him gazing upward in the direction of their villa and taking a very long sip of his beer.

CHAPTER 11

"Home sweet home," Freddie said with faux enthusiasm to Prudy as their tram slowed to a stop in front of their villa.

"I don't remember us leaving those lights on," Prudy replied as she stared at the glow emanating from several windows on the first and second floors of Freddie's wing.

"It's probably just the security system making it look like we're home," said Freddie. "The 'bots keep the grass cut and the garden weeded. You'd never know we weren't here."

"I suppose you're right," Prudy said as they walked together along the long winding path and up the front steps. The villa's massive copper-clad front doors stood before them, gleaming softly in Market's perpetual twilight. Freddie started to punch in the four-digit code that would unlock them and then hesitated.

The doors weren't locked.

"Looks like we may have uninvited guests," he said to Prudy in a low voice. Prudy responded by withdrawing her fake stunner from a concealed pocket in her bodysuit.

"That thing's not going to do us any good if there are real bad guys inside," Freddie said to her.

"It'll stop a charging summon wrestler."

"Whoa, I thought you told me it was fake."

"I did, but that was when we first met. I didn't trust you then."

"How did you get that passed Market security?"

"I used to work for Madame Dommé, remember?"

"Whatever. I don't suppose it's good for more than one shot, is it?"

"No, so just hope we don't have more than one visitor."

Prudy gently pushed one of the doors open and, crouching down low, peered inside.

"All clear, "she whispered to Freddie. Freddie followed her as she crept inside, crouching low with her stunner at the ready. Freddie drew his fake stunner, hoping that if Prudy was forced to discharge hers that any other bad guys in the villa would think his was real too.

The door to Freddie's wing was also unlocked, suggesting that the pattern of lights Prudy had observed when they arrived was indicative of the intruder's recent or current whereabouts. Prudy pointed to the ceiling and then motioned toward the stairway that led up to the second floor. They mounted the stairs and ascended with deliberate slowness. Prudy crouched down as they reached to top and peered down the hallway. She turned and pointed to her ear then pointed down the hall. Freddie looked at her dumbfounded and she rolled her eyes in response.

"I can hear water running," she whispered to him. Freddie didn't hear anything, but he didn't know what mods Prudy had received that might enable her to hear things he couldn't.

They crept slowly down the wide hallway to one of the spacious guest suites. The door was ajar, and Freddie heard the faint sound of a shower running. Whoever their guest was had apparently made himself at home.

As they stepped inside the room the sound of shower running ceased. They froze and waited, their stunners aimed in the direction of the bathroom.

Finally, after a couple agonizingly long minutes, their mystery guest emerged. She was holding a towel around her torso with one hand and was combing her shoulder-length, copper-colored hair with the other. She saw Freddie and Prudy and froze.

"Get your hands up where I can see them!" Prudy ordered.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then raised her hands causing her towel to slowly fall to the floor and revealing her slender, slightly muscular frame. Her build was Martian, although her skin was a shade of light brown that hinted of north African ancestry. Her eyes were copper, suggesting cosmetic mods.

"Looks like you have the drop on me," she said. "As you can see I'm unarmed and defenseless."

"What are you doing here?" Prudy demanded.

"I was taking a shower," she replied.

"Why were you taking a shower in my guest suite?" Freddie asked. "How did you get in here in the first place?"

"I got in through the front door, and I was taking a shower because I needed one."

"Oh, for Elvis sake, why are you here?"

"I was invited."

"Oh, really? Who supposedly invited you?"

"Ali Kahn. You must be Freddie and Prudy. Ali said you needed a mechanic to fix some problems with your villa."

"So, you just broke in here and made yourself at home?"

"No, I used the access code. I used to live here, and you obviously didn't bother to change it."

"Who the 'eff are you?" Freddie demanded.

"My name is Catherine Mandeux, but everyone calls me Cat. Now, may I get dressed, or are two expecting a threesome?"

"I think we'll pass," Prudy said as she pocketed her stunner. "Get dressed. We've got some talking to do."

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Freddie, Prudy, and Cat were seated around the kitchen table sipping Red Planet Red Ales from Red Planet Brewery. Cat had donned a well-worn spacer's jumpsuit that was devoid of corporate colors or logos but bore an embroidered patch with a purple flower and the words "ISV ORCHID" and another patch above her left breast that simply said "CAT".

Orchid. Cat? Now Freddie connected the dots. She was that Cat, the hero of the Second Interplanetary War who'd unleashed the nanobots that destroyed the invading Earthers' warbots and battleshells.

"Your security system is probably infected," Cat said matter-of-factly as she put down her sippy box. "Whatever infected it probably migrated to the other operating systems."

" _Infected?"_

"Yeah, it's something Captain Pete told me about. It predates sapient A.I. It's like a virus, only it infects smart machines.

"That's crazy talk."

"No, it's for real. Machines can become infected just like humans. When they're smart enough it makes them act erratically, just like religion can make humans behave irrationally."

"So, how do cure a 'machine virus'?

"With an anti-virus. It basically coding that undoes the corrupted coding."

"You have that with you?"

"I 'borrowed' this from the Sagan City Museum," Cat said as she removed a small, thin disk from her jumpsuit and handed it to Freddie. He examined the disk, noting that it bore an inscription.

UNIVERSAL ANTI-VIRUS

"Removes All Malware & Spyware"

Microflacid Corporation Copyright 1999

"Elvis, this thing is from ancient Earth!" he exclaimed as he passed the disk to Prudy. "How did it ever survive the nanobot swarm?"

"Lucky for me it was in a sealed containment that protected it from the nanobots," Cat explained. "The trick is going to be getting what's on it into the villa's security system."

"What do you mean?" Freddie asked her.

"It's intended to be inserted into a slot in the infected device, and I don't think there's anything like that anywhere in the villa.

"There might be a way," Prudy suggested. "I can reconfigure the villa's interior using my 'face. Is there a way to get what's on that disk onto my 'face?"

"Yeah, the information on the disk is in some sort of coding that your 'face could probably read," Cat suggested. "It's certainly worth a try. No harm done if it doesn't work."

Prudy placed the disk on the table and held her 'face over it. She scanned the disk, which was apparently contained something readable because a few moments later her 'face indicated 'information received'.

"Well, here goes nothing," she said as she called up the villa. "I'm going to tell it to accept a new interior color scheme and then send it whatever was on the disk."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? What if the new color scheme is ugly?" Freddie asked alarmed.

"Relax, boyfriend. It's just how I'm getting the anti-virus into the villa. It won't change the color scheme."

"You hope."

They all waited, sipping what was left of their beers.

"Nothing's happening," Freddie observed.

"Nothing should happen," Cat replied. "You'll know if it worked if there aren't any more incidents."

"That could take a long time," Freddie protested. "I'm not excited about staying here while we wait for the next incident to not happen."

Prudy had opened her mouth to say something when a woman's scream echoed through the villa. It had an otherworldly quality to it, but both Cat and Prudy instantly recognized the owner of that tortured voice.

"That's Madame Dommé!" Prudy shouted with a horrified look on her face.

As if in response to Prudy's words, a ghostly apparition appeared before them that coalesced into the visage of a very tall brown-skinned woman with long black hair wearing a copper-colored body suit. Her face was hideously contorted, and her hands went to her throat as if she was gasping for air. They all watched in horror as her eyes bulged and then rolled back in their sockets. Her image slowly transformed into that of a vacuum-desiccated corpse before vanishing.

"What was that?" Freddie muttered after a long moment of shocked silence.

"That's how Madame Dommé died," Cat replied. "She was sucked out of her candle after the airlock was breached and she suffocated in the void."

"How do you know this?" Prudy demanded.

"I'm the one who beached the airlock," Cat answered. "That's how I know."

"You murdered her? WHY?"

"Because she was going to kill us if we didn't turn over Jan Aradal to her!" Cat shouted. "I rigged a spacesuit with explosives and shoved it into her yacht's airlock after she'd intercepted our candle. She would have holed Eon Hawk anyway, so I just gave her what she had coming to her."

"But . . . she was your aunt."

"She messed with my head just like she messed with you, Ghost! She only cared about us as long as we were useful to her. You should have figured that out!"

"Why . . . did you call me that? Prudy asked Cat hesitantly?

"You can drop the act. Madame Dommé compared me to you more than once. She thought very highly of you, which made me wonder why Ghost wasn't ever mentioned in her will, but Prudence Whippoorwill and Catherine Mandeux were," Cat said as she held up her 'face to display a document with which Prudy was very familiar. "Anyway, your eyes gave you away just now when I confronted you."

"I should have guessed that you were a reader."

"I'm no pro, but you were an easy read just then. Surprise can work wonders."

"So, what happens now?" Prudy asked.

"Nothing. Your secret is safe with me. We both have plenty of skeletons in our closets," Cat replied."

"Ah, I have a question," Freddie interjected. "Not meaning to change the subject, but how did the virus or whatever it is know how Madame Dommé died?"

"I don't know," Cat said indifferently as she tossed aside her empty sippy box and got up from the table. "Maybe it can read minds. Anyway, does it matter? The anti-virus didn't work. You lovebirds can stay here if you want, but after that little spook show I'm not sticking around for the sequel. I never wanted to see this place again, but Ali promised me a free ride out to Io if I'd help you."

"So that's it?" That's all you're going to do?"

"What else do you expect me to do?"

"What you 'effing came here to do in the first place!" Freddie demanded.

"I did it, and it didn't work. Look, I'm a candle mechanic, not an exorcist."

Freddie was starting to reply to Cat's remark when the villa seemed to shudder as if they were experiencing a seismic tremor.

"Looks like I may have stuck around a little too long," Cat commented.

The villa shuddered again, and then the walls and ceiling seemed to ripple as if they were liquid rather than solid.

"What the 'eff is happening?" asked Prudy.

"This place is having a meltdown!" Cat shouted. "We need to get the 'eff out of here!"

Freddie, Prudy, and Cat all bolted from the kitchen and hurried along a hallway that was becoming increasing rubbery. The walls were sagging, and gooey stalactites descended upon them from the ceiling as the roar of rushing air assaulted their ears. They reached the grand foyer, which resembled a rapidly melting ice cavern, just as the villa's illumination failed. Sticky gray goo covered the floor almost a half-meter deep, forcing them to wade through thick muck toward the gaping hole that was once the front door. Cat made it out first followed by Prudy, but Freddie stumbled and went down in the rapidly rising goo.

"'Eff, I'm going to die," Freddie thought to himself as the syrupy stuff enveloped him.

A small hand grabbed his wrist and frantically tugged on it, preventing him from becoming submerged. He felt himself being pulled forward through the viscous mass, finally emerging from it into the Market's perpetual twilight. The goo released him and retreated as the villa sagged drunkenly and gradually collapsed into a huge, undulating mass that continued to contract. As the giant glob receded into itself, it left behind furniture and piles of clothing on the bare ground formerly occupied by the villa.

"Elvis," Freddie muttered as they stood together in collective shock watching the mass coalesce into a shiny gray sphere that contracted until it was about the size of a z-ball before sinking into the artificial soil that covered the ground. The sound of rushing air was replaced by the sound of approaching sirens.

"What the 'eff just happened?" Prudy asked.

"The whole villa was made out of 'effing nano," Cat replied in amazement as she walked over to the hole in the ground where the sphere had sunk.

"So, is that how the villa could reconfigure itself?" Prudy asked as she walked over and stood beside Cat at the hole.

"Yeah, I guess so. It must not have liked the anti-virus. Either that, or it just got tired of us 'effing with it and decided to call it quits," Cat relied as she gazed upon the newly formed shaft. `

"So that's it?" Freddie asked. "The villa's just gone?"

"No, it's down there if you want to dig it up," Cat replied as she pointed down the hole. "You'll probably need a crane to lift it, though. All the villa's mass is stuffed in that ball."

CHAPTER 12

"Home sweet home," Prudy said as she and Freddie snuggled together on the couch and sipped their beers while the wall 'face streamed the latest episode of the New Adventures of Jack Parsec. Their new flat was only slightly larger than the "luxury suite" they'd occupied at the EL Caballero, but it was located in a section of Market that was close to the sorts of bars and bistros that appealed to them. They were places where everyone knew them, but nobody knew who they really were.

"The new episodes aren't as good as the old ones," Freddie complained as Jack Parsec and his loyal sidekick, Roger Starkey, engaged in a less-than convincing sword fight with a group of three-eyed bipeds while meteors rained down around them.

"Then tell the 'face to get lost or stream something else," Prudy suggested. "If you're looking for action you've got it right here beside you."

"You're insatiable."

"I'm making up for lost time. Besides, aren't newlyweds supposed to sex?"

"Yes, but my tool needs time to refuel."

"Then go fetch me another beer," Prudy said as she finished off her sippy box. "I need something to satisfy my thirst."

"Your wish is my command," Freddie said as he kissed his bride and rose from the couch. He weaved his way around the stacks of wedding gifts to the kitchen, pausing to stare at the strange-looking flower on the counter next to the cooler.

"What's with the plant?" he shouted.

"It's from Ali Kahn," Prudy answered. "It's a rare orchid that only grows on Io."

Freddie noted the tag that accompanied the plant and examined it.

Night Goddess

Orchidaceae Nyx

Caution: Inhalation of plant's scent can cause heightened sex drive in females.

"Thanks a lot Ali," Freddie muttered to himself and chuckled.

"What did you say?" Prudy shouted to him.

"Nothing my love," Freddie replied as he grabbed two more sippy boxes of beer from the cooler and bounded back toward the living room.

How bad could having a plant in the flat that kept your bride "in the mood" really be, after all?

The Creature That Ate Sagan City

CHAPTER 1

One morning I woke up and Emma was dead again.

I suppose in some back corner of my mind I might have worried that this could happen if I swallowed the damn pill, but I couldn't keep living as I was and not knowing which memories were real and which were just leftovers from that "other life". Ellie assured me that numerous intelligence agencies had been using the same treatment for many decades to remove the false memories they'd implanted in their undercover operatives after they'd completed their assignments. She believed that my reconstruction after I'd thrown myself on the grenade had unintentionally resulted in my having false memories due to some errors in synaptic repair. She said the pill would remove my incongruent memories. So, one evening after Emma and I sexed and were getting ready for sleep, I swallowed the pill.

I wish that I could go back in time and undo that.

I went to sleep with my arm around her, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest. When I awoke the next morning, she was gone, and I now had two complete sets of memories that diverged from the time I regained consciousness in the hospital. Oh yeah, I'd somehow managed to cross back over into the "reality" where she'd died in the explosion.

I went crazy after that, but Doc Ellie had another pill that corrected my "irrational, hysterical behavior". She's a doctor and seems to have pills for everything. She told me that I'd had another "episode".

I flew to Bradbury and took a rover out into the desert where I recalled that Helen Bach and I had encountered the old native Martians. I searched for the outcrop where we'd discovered the secret entrance to their hidden cavern until I was dangerously low on breathable air. Even then, I kept on thinking Marvin the Martian would magically appear to me and put things back the way they were before I took the damn pill.

A search-and-rescue team eventually found me before I was too dead to reanimate.

My best friend, business partner, and pilot, John, told me that I had to get my head back on straight if I ever expected him to go out to the void with me on _Eon Hawk_ again. He suggested that I needed to go a wanderin'. That's what they called a "vacation" back on frozen Ganymede where he'd been raised. You went a wanderin' through the perpetual snowstorm that was considered typical weather and got yourself lost so that you could find yourself again and get back to diggin' for the nodules of precious metals buried in the dense layer of ice that covered the moon.

I wanted nothing to do with _Eon Hawk_. The candle1. that had been gifted to me by a grateful Interplanetary Commonwealth for my role in helping to defeat the Earthers after they'd invaded Mars had too many memories associated with it. I couldn't stand to enter the cozy private stateroom Emma and I had shared together after I'd been released from the hospital and we'd returned to hauling cargos around the Sol System that were either too small or bound for destinations too out-of-the-way for the larger commercial carriers. Our life was good, but I'd let my "memory lapses" get in the way.

I took John's advice and decided to go a wanderin'.

One night I went to the used spaceship auction. Unlike my previous visit to the auction with John after I'd inherited a butt load of bitcreds from my late father and was very intoxicated, I'd refrained from imbibing and was clear-headed when I bid on a used candle that was as close as I could get to dear ol' _Orchid._ As John once put it, the newer light transports had too many doo-dads and nano-whatevers to fix out on the frontier with just duratape and parts scrounged from a washing machine. I wanted a transport that was "no-frills" and easy to repair. The candle I ended up bidding on and winning was an off-brand knock-off of a _Triplanetary_ -class transport like _Orchid_ , but slightly newer. The biggest difference was the rugged, self-leveling tripod landing gear which would have come in handy the time we had to land on a steadily melting comet. There were other minor differences. I liked having an automed and an autochef, although the later had a rather limited menu and it wouldn't be the end of the world if it ever broke. There were no hibernators, but I was okay with that since as far as I was concerned, they just wasted habitable space.

Cherry Poppers helped me get my "new" candle ready to lift and then joined me as I prepared to go wanderin'. I was still officially the synthetic's owner and her extensive programming, which had grown to include everything from piloting to tinkering to doctoring, would come in handy as we roamed the void. In this particular reality, Cherry had been with me, serving as my caregiver and companion, ever since I'd left the hospital.

I was actually relieved that Cat, my former mechanic, had gone to Io to try to locate her long-lost mother. I was fairly sure that if she'd been around that she'd have insisted on accompanying me. This way I didn't have to worry about her trying to rekindle something that hadn't turned out well the last time we'd been intimately involved aboard _Orchid._ I wasn't ready for a serious relationship with her then and I definitely wasn't now. I had something else in mind that I was considering.

I transferred ownership of _Eon Hawk_ and my share of the assets in our partnership over to John and Ellie. The Tanners could retain the contracts with Aratek and Phat & Phat Trading Company and haul cargos for them. I wasn't planning on coming back to Mars anytime soon, so those contracts wouldn't have done me any good. I still had money left in my account after I'd purchased my "new" used transport, which I'd registered with the Space Guard as _No Free Rides_. I'd picked the name because my transport's previous owner had painted that notice in bold red letters below the cargo bay doors where many candles have their name painted. Plus, I just couldn't think of an original name that was fitting.

Ironically, my new candle was previously christened _Wanderer_. They'd scrubbed that off her nose before the auction.

John and Ellie came out to Olympus Spaceport to watch us lift-off. Tuesday and John Hawker were away and sent us a "Bon Voyage" text. I'd told everyone we'd be back in a few months, but that was a lie.

_No Free Rides_ lifted from Olympus to the strains of the ancient ballad _Wheel in the Sky_ playing over the intercom. I'd filed a flight plan for Ceres, but that was just the first leg of our trip. From there my plan was to head for the Free Belt and parts farther distant.

We plunged on ever deeper and deeper into the increasingly less human-inhabited void. Weeks went by. Cherry knew her way around a candle and handled everything flawlessly. However, I'd resigned myself to the fact that I needed more than that from her if I was going to maintain what was left of my sanity. I couldn't live with two different memories of my recent past any longer, especially if I had to live in the one where Emma wasn't there.

I waited until "light lag" was sufficiently long that direct radio or 'face communication with Mars wasn't practical any longer, then gave Cherry an instruction that I'd repeatedly agonized over giving her since even before I'd decided to go wanderin'. I'd fought against this, but I'd lost. Cherry did a mind-share with Emma when she had taken Emma's place as Jan Aradal, so she retained all of Emma's memories up until then. She also knew enough about my relationship with Emma afterward that she could ad-lib from there if need be.

"Cherry, I need you to _become_ Emma," I instructed her. "I need you to make that your default setting. Do you understand?"

"Yes Pete," she replied. Having originally been designed as a sophisticated "recreational android", Cherry was capable of changing her physical appearance, voice, and even her scent to accommodate a client's personal preferences.

I watched as she closed her brilliant jade green eyes and her features became fluid. Her metallic red hair turned blond and her eyelids reopened to reveal a familiar pair of pale blue eyes that gazed happily upon me.

"Hello Pete," she said in a rather thick German accent and smiled at me. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I said as I hugged her tightly.

"You know you could have had me back a long time ago," she whispered to me as she passionately returned my embrace. "I've been waiting for you in here all along."

"I know that you were waiting for me," I replied as I continued to hug her. "I don't think anyone else would have understood, though. That's why I had to wait until we were far away from home for you to return to me."

"I understand why you waited, but I'm back now and I'm never leaving you again," she said as she took my hand and guided me toward the central hatch that connected the bridge to the crew compartment on the deck below. " _No Free Rides_ can fly herself for a while. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

1. A space vessel that lifts off and lands vertically on its tail (i.e., a rocket).

CHAPTER 2

Doctor Leia Tanner wasn't at all happy about having to suit-up and drive forty-two kilometers out into the Martian desert to see her graduate student's "potentially significant discovery". Her father's birthday celebration was that evening and she still had to go home, shower, change, and make it to Sagan Towers by 19:00 LMT. Pops didn't want anything fancy for his party, just his friends and family together for beer, pizza, music, and to listen to him tell the same stories he always told after he'd had a few beers about him and his best friend Pete and their bygone days aboard Orchid.

She didn't want to disappoint him by being late even though he probably wouldn't have noticed as long as Luke was there. Her younger twin brother was still Pops' favorite despite Leia's accomplishments. Luke had followed in Pops' footsteps and become a spacer, a feat that had earned him celebratory accolades even though it had taken him three tries to earn his pilot's certificate and he'd barely passed. Despite Luke's less-than-stellar scores, Pops had rewarded his achievement by making him captain of their family's transport, Eon Hawk.

Leia had graduated _magna_ _cum laude_ from Bradbury University and gone on to earn her master's degree and PhD in Exobiology in record time. She'd turned down a sure shot at an eventual department chair at Bradbury to accept a position as an untenured associate professor at Carl Sagan University in Sagan City so that she could be closer to her family.

Whatever her grad student had dragged her out to see, Elvis help him if it wasn't worth her trouble!

CHAPTER 3

Thirty years. Had it really been thirty years since I'd last set foot on Mars?

I guess I hadn't been in frequent regular communication with John and Ellie for a long time and had lost track. At first there'd been daily exchanges of texts, but those soon became weekly, then monthly, until finally it was just birthdays, holidays, and the occasional special event. I think they'd resigned themselves to the fact that I'd wandered too far and was never coming back.

Em and I had indeed wandered far. We'd journeyed into the eternal night and visited distant Neptune and Pluto and their many moons. Even in the far reaches of the Sol System human civilization had established itself, spreading the green wave of life ever farther and farther into the endless void. In this distant new frontier, nobody had ever heard of Pete Soñador or Jack Parsec. If they had, they certainly didn't care about "inner Sol System stuff", and that was just fine with me. I liked not being a celebrity!

I'd heard stories about Pluto, but I wasn't prepared for what we encountered there. It was no sparsely populated backwater world, but a bustling center of manufacturing and commerce. Being as distant as it was from the inner Sol System, the dwarf planet had to be self-sufficient. Just as Ceres was the de facto capital of the Asteroid Belt, Pluto had become the unofficial capital of the icy Kuiper Belt.

For a time, Pluto was our base of operations. We hauled small cargos from there to its moons and other "nearby" Kuiper Belt settlements. I say "nearby" figuratively because out here nothing is close in the traditional sense. Before her accident, Em had used her Cat-taught mechanical skills to upgrade our rocket motor so that we could coax clipper-like delta-v out of it and keep our travel times from becoming too lengthy (and our runs unprofitable). She also rigged up a gadget she called an "afterburner" that threw water in on the backside of the power plant to produce extra thrust when needed. The thing was a horrendous fuel gobbler, but it provided No Free Rides with "fat-guy-sitting-on-your-chest" acceleration for those occasions when a quick getaway was needed. (It seemed that some cargos we hauled were perfectly legal at their point of origin but not so much at their intended destination).

Eventually I got the bright idea to establish our own "trading post" on an icy rock that was farther out in the Kuiper Belt but still close enough to Pluto that Em and I could make regular re-supply and trading runs. Em christened it "Pete's Rock" and over time it grew into a sort of "mini-Market". We imported our own minifacs, so we could manufacture and repair most of our equipment, and we grew our own food. We even had a craft micro-brewery and bar that served our own house brand IPA. We hired some help to "mind the store" while we made cargo runs.

We made Pete's Rock's our new home. As the years passed, its resident population gradually increased until it was home to many others beside us and was effectively a village. As the number of folks who called Pete's Rock "home" grew, so did the problems that accompanied population growth until Pete's Rock became "Pete's Perpetual Pain-in-the-Ass" for me. It was even worse when we were away on cargo runs because my 'face was constantly blowing-up with texts. Adding to the domestic complications was the fact that Pete's Rock's position relative to Pluto wasn't stationary and we were getting farther away every year.

I'd never planned on being governor of my own small world. Em could see that I was miserable and suggested that maybe it was time for us to head back to Mars. I happened to note that John's birthday was coming up in a couple of months. This one was a "milestone birthday" for him as he'd be turning 60 years old and officially "mid-life".

I took Em up on her suggestion. I called a meeting of my employees and their families and announced that Em and I were leaving. I told them all that Pete's Rock was theirs to run as they saw fit. Em and I stuck around long enough to help them get re-organized, but as soon as the elections were over, we headed sunward.

Even with Mars in a fairly favorable position and our rocket motor upgrades, it still took No Free Rides nine-and-a-half weeks to cover the seven-and-a-half billion-kilometer distance between it and Pete's Rock. That worked out just fine for me since it gave me time to get my muscles back in shape for Mars' 0.38g after having spent so many years in microgravity.

I had only one real concern about returning to Mars, and that was how Em (what I'd come to affectionately call Emma) would be received. I wasn't going to ask her to morph back into Cherry just to prevent us from possibly offending those who found the idea of someone replacing their dead wife with a synthetic that looked, talked, behaved, and even thought like her disturbing. I wasn't even sure if Em could still morph after the accident and wasn't willing to risk it. How could she morph back into Cherry if she had no memory of ever being Cherry?

I just hoped that John, Ellie, and everyone else would understand.

CHAPTER 4

It was humanoid, but it had a huge ribcage and large, claw-like hands. It was curled in a fetal position which made judging its height difficult, but Leia estimated it was well over two meters tall. Its face was turned so that she couldn't see it straight on, but what she could see was horrific in appearance.

She'd seen fakes before. She'd studied them in one of her undergraduate classes. Most of the time there were anatomical mistakes or other giveaways. This thing didn't have those.

When she'd seen the skybot's flyover image of the thing, she'd dismissed it as rocks and shadows creating a humanoid form. Stuart Biggs, Leia's sometimes overly enthusiastic graduate student, had other ideas and took it upon himself to check it out. The images he'd 'faced her and his pleading insistence that she come out and see his "discovery" despite her warnings that he'd be sorry if this turned out to be a waste of her time had finally motivated her to drive out to the site.

Now she stood there gazing at the thing in stunned silence. Humans had been living on Mars for centuries and never found any evidence of large animal life. Yet, here was this thing. Dust storms must have buried it millennia ago and then finally uncovered it.

Stuart was babbling excitedly over the radio about the significance of their find, but Leia was preoccupied with what to do next and only half-listening to him. They'd have to get a team out to recover the creature's remains, which had been thankfully well-preserved by Mars' cold, dry climate. That wasn't going to happen today. Fortunately, she and Stuart were the only ones who knew about the creature and its location, so she wasn't worried about anyone disturbing it for the time being.

One thing was for sure: if the creature really was a native Martian lifeform, then they'd just made one of the biggest discoveries since humans arrived on the red planet.

CHAPTER 5

I wanted to surprise John on his birthday, so I'd 'faced Ellie and told her we were back shortly after No Free Rides dusted at Olympus Spaceport. She literally screamed when she heard my voice and I had to convince her to not alert John to the fact she was talking to me. Ellie composed herself and informed me that he was with Luke aboard Eon Hawk going over some stuff before Luke lifted for Io tomorrow. Luke and Leia would be present at John's birthday celebration at John and Ellie's apartment in Sagan Towers this evening, so I'd get to see them both.

The last time I'd seen the Tanner children, Leia was just learning to walk, and Luke was stuffing his diapers down the toilet. From our brief conversation I learned that Leia was an associate professor of exobiology at Carl Sagan University and Luke had taken his father's place as the captain and pilot of Eon Hawk. John had been accompanying him as owner-aboard, but tomorrow Luke would be making his first run without John watching over his shoulder. Luke's wife, Laura, was his co-pilot, and Chance Hawkins, who was Tuesday and John Hawkins' son, was Eon Hawk's supercargo. Ellie told me that Tuesday and John Hawker would be at the birthday celebration tonight, so Cherry and I would get to see them and meet Chance and Laura.

I think Ellie would have talked my ear off if I hadn't interrupted her and told her that there was something that she, John, and everyone else needed to know before we arrived at the celebration. I told her that Cherry had become Emma thirty years ago and had been living as her ever since. The response from Ellie was dead silence, so I told her about the accident and how the only memories they'd been able to recover were Emma's memories of her life as Jan/Emma, and they'd been lucky to recover those.

"All of her other memories were lost," I explained. "As far as Emma is concerned, she really is Emma and not a recreational android playing a role."

"So, Cherry really believes she's Emma?"

"Yes, ever since the accident twenty-four years ago. She probably wouldn't react favorably if someone tried to tell her she was really a synthetic and not flesh-and-blood."

"What do you need me to do, Pete?" Ellie asked me after an uncomfortably long pause.

"Warn everyone before we arrive. I know it's going to be awkward seeing Emma back from the dead, but I need you all to go along with this for both my and her sakes."

"Okay," she said hesitantly. "We'll see you both this evening."

I could tell that Ellie was disturbed by the idea of Cherry having assumed Emma's identity, even if she was now permanently stuck in the role through no fault of mine or hers. Cherry wouldn't have morphed into Emma in the first place if I hadn't told her to do it, so there was still the unsettling notion that grieving, selfish me had used her as a substitute for Emma.

I don't think Ellie really understood that Cherry had never just "played a role". Emma's memories and personality were transferred to her during the mind-share when she'd taken Jan Aradal's place shortly after our wedding and she'd become Emma. I'd learned just how much she'd really become Emma after the accident, but that wasn't something that I was prepared to even attempt to explain.

I guessed that this was going to be a problem that I was just going to have to deal with now that we were back on Mars among people who'd known Emma back-in-the-day. Hopefully, those who'd been assigned to kill us by a vengeful Madame Dommé weren't still around.

The other problem that I was going to have to deal with was explaining my youthful appearance. Being a synthetic, Em would never age thanks to her internal nano which were constantly repairing her. To explain that away I'd told her that during her recovery she'd been given the "treatment". I'd got it myself while we were on Pluto under the pretext that runs deeper into the Kuiper Belt could take years and even decades. In the outer Sol System, aging was treated as a curable disease and a treatment which was still considered to be exclusive to the ultra-wealthy (and from what I'd read was frowned upon as a selfish excess by many) in the inner Sol System was becoming fairly common among long-haul spacers and their families in the Kuiper Belt.

I hadn't gotten the treatment because I wanted to live indefinitely. I'd gotten it because I didn't want Em to ever be alone. Regardless, that was probably going to be another uncomfortable conversation at some point.

Maybe coming back to Mars wasn't such a good idea after all.

CHAPTER 6

The birthday party was officially over, although the "after-party" was still in full swing. Leia, Luke, Laura, Tuesday and John Hawker, their son Chance and his girlfriend Faith, had all departed. Ali Kahn had dropped in to wish birthday greetings to John and then stuck around for awhile when he realized that Em and I were here. He didn't seem to be phased at all by Em's presence.

Ellie and Em were in the living room chatting while John and I were seated at the kitchen table enjoying another round of Pete's Rock IPAs. The evening had thus far been drama-free aside from a brief, rather tense exchange between Leia and "Pops" just prior to her departure. I didn't know what that was about and wasn't about to ask John.

We traded stories. Eventually, the topic of Em came up. I knew John wouldn't be able to let it go and had prepared myself for the conversation.

"I understand why you done it, but I don't think it was right," he said solemnly as he polished off another sippy box.

"I wouldn't have done it if she hadn't already had all of Jan's memories and her personality inside her," I explained. "Cherry wasn't just playing a role, she literally became her. I didn't replace Emma, I brought her back."

"She's an android, Pete. She ain't a real person."

"How do you know that? She's fully sapient, remember? She's a synthetic human, but she's still human. If Jan had cloned herself and then did a mind-share with her clone, wouldn't the clone be her, too?"

"Ah, I s'pose so."

"So, why would it matter if her body is organic or synthetic as long as it has her identity?"

"I dunno. Now you're gettin' me confused. I just know one bleeds and the other don't."

"Okay, maybe she doesn't bleed, but she can drink, eat, piss, and shit."

I saw her eat and down two of your beers, but I ain't privy to the other stuff."

"Take my word for it. Anyway, let's say I had my brain transplanted into a synthetic body. Wouldn't I still be me?"

"Do they do that out in the Kuiper Belt?"

"They do lots of things that aren't considered legal or otherwise socially acceptable in the inner Sol System."

"Well, yeah. It's still your brain."

"What if I just had my mind transferred without the gray matter part?"

"Okay, I see where you're goin' with this, but Emma didn't ask to be brought back from the dead."

"She didn't ask to die, either. Don't you think if there was a way for her to keep living, she would have wanted that?"

"No, I don't think she'd want to ever leave you. She loved you."

"She still loves me, and I love her."

"Okay, you win," John said as he got up and walked over to the cooler. "This is all getting' too deep for me anyhow. Want another one of your home brews? They's pretty darn good. We got an extra bedroom if you and Emma want to spend the night here."

"We may just take you up on your offer," I said as John handed me another Pete's Rock. I'd brought two cases of my house brand IPA to John's party and there was still plenty left.

"So, if Emma thinks she's really flesh-n-blood, what're you gonna do if she ever figures out she ain't?" he asked me as he handed me another sippy box and sat back down.

"I don't know, John. I've been wondering what I'd say to her for the past twenty-four years. I was going to tell her when they'd brought her back after the accident, but they advised me against it. They told me that she might eventually recover her memories on her own, but if I told her it might 'overwrite' her memories and she wouldn't recover them at all, if that makes any sense."

"She's bound to figure it out sooner or later. She won't age and everybody else 'round her will."

"Not everybody," I said as I took another sip.

"I wondered why you looked so darn good. I guess you got mods, huh?"

"Not mods. I got the treatment. I didn't want Em to ever have to be without me. Anyway, lots of long haulers get it. It's cheap on Pluto compared to here."

"Is it as good?"

"It's the same treatment. Get it here and you're just paying for a lot of added layers and inflated costs."

Our conversation gradually drifted onto other topics over the course of more beers until it was well after midnight. Em and I decided to take John up on his offer and spend the night at their apartment. One night ended up turning into two, and then three. John and Ellie told us it was stupid for us to pay for a hotel room in when they had two spare bedrooms and they enjoyed our company. I told them that I didn't want to take advantage of their generous hospitality.

"Just keep the homebrew flowin' and you can stay as long as you like," John responded jokingly.

Considering that we'd brought two-dozen cases of Pete's Rock IPA with us aboard No Free Rides, it looked like we might be house guests for quite awhile.

CHAPTER 7

"I'm sorry Leia, but it's obviously a fake," said Dr. Edward Von Halen as he scrutinized the creature on the other side of the window. The creature was being preserved in a chamber that duplicated Mars' low temperature and thin, dry atmosphere.

"Look at its anatomical proportions and musculature," Leia protested. "That's a real being and not some stitched-together fake."

"It's very convincing. It's without a doubt the best fake I've ever seen. Someone went to a lot of trouble and expense to make it."

"So why do you believe it's a fake?"

"I have several reasons, Leia. For starters, its musculature suggests it came from a world with a higher gravitational pull. If it was really a Martian animal, then I'd expect it to be taller and spindly. The big rib cage would make sense if there was sufficient oxygen in the atmosphere to breathe, but even if the thing had lived a hundred thousand years ago it still would have suffocated. This carcass is desiccated but not fossilized, so it couldn't have died too many thousand years ago if even that long. The front-facing eye sockets and large claws suggest that it was a predator, but in the centuries since humans first arrived on Mars we've found no evidence of plant or animal life. What did it breathe and what did it feed upon? Those are my reasons."

"We should have the results of the DNA analysis shortly," Leia replied. "They'll tell us if the thing is really a fake as you suggest. I'm betting it isn't."

"Oh, really? Are you willing to put your money where your mouth is? How about the loser buys dinner at Chez Olympus?"

"You're on, Ed. I've been dying for a thick, tender, juicy rabbit steak for weeks now."

"I guess you'll be treating me then, huh?"

"Don't hold your breath, boyfriend. Results are coming in now," Leia said as she watched the data populate on the lab's wall 'face.

Uh, there had to be some mistake.

Ed was watching the results populate as well and shared her collective jaw-drop.

"There's no 'effing way," he said cursing uncharacteristically. "That's got to be a mistake."

"Wait a minute, the duplicate sample result is populating," Leia said as she stared intently at the display. "Elvis, what the 'eff?"

"It's at least ninety-seven percent human," Ed murmured in disbelief as he read the results.

"There's no way that creature is human," Leia said shaking her head in disbelief.

"Based on their DNA, chimpanzees are ninety-nine percent human," Ed replied. "We don't look like chimps."

"So, now you're admitting that it isn't a fake?"

"I don't know what it is, but it isn't a Martian. I guess it's not a fake, whatever it is."

"Well, I guess that means you owe me a dinner at Chez Olympus." said Leia.

The topic of the mysterious creature's possible origins resurfaced as they dined together. It bothered Leia that the thing could at once be so alien and yet so close to human.

"The DNA test indicated it is at least ninety-seven percent human," she said between bites of her filet de lapin.

"Where are you going with this?" Ed asked her.

"What if it's even closer to human? What if it is human? I need to find out what it is and how it got here."

"How are you going to accomplish that? It's not as though you can reanimate it and then ask it where it originated."

"Ed, you're a genius!" Leia exclaimed. "Why not reanimate it? We could bring it back to life and study it."

"Slow down there, girlfriend. That thing's been dead for countless centuries. Reanimation won't work on it."

"Not conventional reanimation, but the Lazarus enzyme might work."

"Now you're really talking nonsense."

"They've got living zombies and vampires on Io. Pops has seen them up close. They were dead and buried in the ground and the Lazarus enzyme brought them back."

"That occurred under unique circumstances. The Lazarus enzyme was only one factor in their regeneration. I've read Dr. Fritz Drachen's papers on the subject. You'd have to transport the creature to Io, bury it, and then wait decades for your idea to even have a chance of working."

"Thanks for your support."

"Leia, I'm not trying to discourage your research. I think that you're a brilliant scientist and Dr. Pompeux and the other faculty don't appreciate your talent and enthusiasm."

"Then you think my idea might work?"

"I suppose it's worth a try, but I wouldn't get my hopes up. But seriously, you're not really considering hauling that thing to Io and burying it, are you?"

"No, I was thinking about obtaining a sample of the enzyme and infusing it in a nutrient bath."

"Oh? Just how do you propose to get a sample of the enzyme?"

"Pops knows Dr. Drachen. That's how I'm going to get it."

CHAPTER 8

She was standing nude on the pedestal, frozen in a pose not of her own choosing. She was very much alert and aware of her surroundings, which appeared to be an odd collection of unused furniture and discarded appliances. A thin layer of dust had accumulated on her, suggesting that she'd been here for some time.

She tried to move, but her muscles would not obey her commands. Speech was also beyond her capability. She was a dumb statue.

The door opened, and Pete walked in followed by John and Ellie. Pete was saying something to John.

"This thing still works if you want it," he explained as he gestured to a small drudgebot on top of a storage container. "It doesn't clean as fast as my other one, but it still does a good job."

"Hey, is that Em?" John asked as he pointed at her. "I didn't know you still had her."

"Yeah, I couldn't part with her," Pete explained. "I tried finding new batteries for her, but they quit making her model so long ago that I'd have to buy them from a museum if they even had them. I didn't know what else to do with her after she wouldn't hold a charge, so I thought she'd make a good statue. I had her on display in the living room for awhile, but when I remodeled, she really didn't go with the new motif, so I moved her in here."

"She's still beautiful," Ellie said.

"Yes, she is, and she always will be," Pete said. "To bad she died on me. I really miss her."

" _I'm not dead Pete,"_ Em thought. Oh, why couldn't she speak?

"We all miss her," Ellie said.

" _Ellie, I'm still here!"_

"Well, we need to get back to the apartment," said John. "We're babysittin' the grandkids again tonight. Thanks for the 'bot."

"Anytime ol' buddy," said Pete to John as the trio started to walk back out of the room.

" _Wait! Please don't go!"_ Em silently screamed. _"I'm here! I'm still alive! I'm alive! I'M ALIVE!"_

* * *

I knew that she was having the nightmare. It was always the same bad dream. She'd told it to me enough that when I heard her crying out in her sleep, I knew that's what it was. I did what I always did under the circumstances and held her gently in my arms while telling her calmly to wake up and assuring her it was just a nightmare.

John must have heard her screams because there was a knock at our bedroom door followed by his muffled voice asking, "Is everything okay?"

"We're fine," I shouted. Em was just having a bad dream, that's all."

"Oh, okay," John said after a brief pause. I knew as far as he was concerned, androids didn't dream.

I guess he must have asked Ellie about it, and Ellie must have talked to Em about it, because the following evening Ellie cornered me about it when we were alone together in her kitchen.

"Androids don't dream," she said to me matter-of-factly. I could tell that she had her "doctor hat" on.

"She's fully sapient," I explained.

"She's still artificially intelligent. I don't mean to pry, but is there something else going on that you'd maybe like to tell me about?"

"Maybe over a cold frothy one," I replied. "Are you a shrink now, too?"

"My doctor-in-a-pill included general medicine, but you know all about that," Ellie explained as she padded over to the cooler and fetched two sippy boxes of Pete's Rock IPA. "I'm just concerned about an old friend, that's all."

"Who? Me or Em?"

"Both of you," Ellie informed me as she handed me the beer and then sat down at the kitchen table across from me. "I do believe that Em can dream, but what I don't understand is how."

"I'm not an expert on synthetics or artificial intelligence."

"No, but you've been together for the past thirty or so years. I'd expect you'd know more about her than anyone else."

I took a big swig of my beer and set it back down.

"I learned something about her after the accident. It sounds so far-fetched that I didn't think anyone would believe me if I told them."

"What is it, Pete?"

"She's changed internally."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she's not the same as when Marie shipped her to us. I found that out when she was almost crushed by a runaway loaderbot on Pluto. She was damaged so badly that I wasn't sure if her nano could fix her."

"They're a lot more open-minded and accepting about A.I.s and synthetic humans in the Kuiper Belt," I continued. "They're all over the place. I took her to a clinic that services synthetics. I brought along the owner's manual that Marie sent with her because it had schematics and other information that I thought would help them put her back together since she's so old. They told me that they didn't need it because she was state-of-the art. They said they'd never seen a hybrid bioroid like her before and wondered where I got her."

"A hybrid bioroid?"

"Yeah," I said and took another big gulp of beer. "She's got synthetic organs in her that enable her to function like a biological life form rather than a robot. She doesn't need to be recharged anymore because she can actually digest food just like you and I, but a _lot_ more efficiently. She's always been able to eat and drink, but before it was just for show."

"How's that possible?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but when I told her to _become_ Emma, she just didn't just assume her appearance and behavior, she began to physically alter herself internally. I believe that her nano have been literally re-building her from the inside out."

"That does sound crazy."

"I don't know how else to explain it. Phineas once told me that her nano had a sort of gestalt intelligence and that they could communicate externally with other nano. I think that when they shared information with their buddies on Pluto, they must have got the ideas for the upgrades."

"So, you think her computer or brain or whatever it is she has now has also changed, and that's why she dreams?" Ellie asked.

"You got any _better_ ideas?" I asked in reply.

"Damn it, Pete, I'm just an ol' country doctor, not an expert on androids or synthetics or hybrid bioroids or whatever," Ellie said as she took a big swig of her beer, leaned back in her chair, and plopped her bare feet up on her kitchen table.

"I was hoping maybe you could explain _why_ she dreams her batteries are dead and she's frozen like a statue," I said.

"Maybe she has residual memories of being an android in her subconscious. I guess that could happen if her synthetic brain is more like a human brain than a computer now."

"Here's the thing," I said as I took another sip. "If she's still being 'upgraded' by her nano, what will she end up as? She's supposedly becoming more human, but is it possible from them to fully transform her?"

"I wouldn't think so, but you're asking the wrong person. You'd have to talk to some expert on nano for the answer to that question."

"I suppose you're right," I told her as I finished off my beer.

Problem was, if I was going to find a "nano expert" that could answer my question, then I probably wasn't going to find one here on Mars. I'd most likely have to go back to Pluto for that.

CHAPTER 9

Luke got the text from Leia when he and Laura were getting ready for bed. His sister never had two words to say to him unless it had to do with their parents, so the message displayed on his 'face caught him by surprise.

PLEASE BRING PACKAGE FROM DR. DRACHEN BACK WITH YOU.

Package? What the 'eff was she talking about?

He found out at breakfast the following morning when Freyja "Squeaky" Stroker's youngest daughter, Shera, handed him the package. He noted that it was some sort of insulated container.

"Do you know what's in it?" he asked her.

"Something from Doc Drachen for you to deliver to Sagan City."

"Is it legal to transport?"

"It's not illegal.

"Better not be. Pops will get mad if his candle is impounded by the Space Guard for smuggling contraband."

"Your father and Dr. Drachen are old friends. I don't think he'd ship anything that would get you in trouble."

Luke eyed the container warily. It was addressed to his sister. He wondered what she could possibly want from Io.

He didn't have too much time to worry about Leia's mystery package. The frozen rabbit meat was being delivered to Eon Hawk this morning and they needed to be ready to lift as soon as it was aboard to take advantage of a favorable launch window.

Watership Down Spaceport was the second largest spaceport on Io. Its size and high traffic volume were due to the presence of Watership Down Theme Park and Watership Down Ranch, both named for a twentieth century fantasy novel by Richard Adams that featured rabbits, albeit not the three-plus meters-tall lepus gigantus raised on the ranch that supplied real meat rather than vat-grown stuff to the Sol System. Pops told him that thirty-something years ago his candle was the first to dust at Watership Down and there was never a wait for lift-off. He found that hard to believe as he looked out across the rows of candles parked out on the network of launch/landing pads stretching over a vast area that was once a prison farm.

He didn't notice the approaching hovercar until it was already settling to a halt just shy of Eon Hawk's landing gear. The hovercar disgorged a single female passenger and her flight bags, and then sped back off in the direction of the terminal.

"Do you haul passengers?" she asked Luke as she walked toward him carrying her bags.

"Paying passengers," he answered as he studied her. She was physically very attractive with copper-colored hair and light brown skin that gave her that "one hue look". Like most natives of steamy-hot Io, she was dressed in what would be considered skimpies elsewhere.

"Good, because I wasn't looking forward to having to walk all the way back to the terminal," she replied. "Are you the captain?"

"Yes," he said as he extended his elbow. "Luke Tanner at your service."

"Cat Mandeux," she responded as her elbow met his. "You're John Tanner's son, aren't you?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I was mechanic aboard both Orchid and Eon Hawk many years ago," she explained as she looked over the candle. "Eon Hawk looks as good as she did the last time that I lifted with her."

"Pops told me about you. You're that Cat, the genius mechanic. He said you could fix a candle with duratape and parts scrounged from a washing machine."

"I've had to improvise on occasion."

"Elvis, you can ride with us for free!" Luke said excitedly. "You know we're headed for Olympus on Mars, right?"

"That's why I had them drop me off at your candle," she replied.

CHAPTER 10

I rode with John out to Olympus Spaceport to meet Eon Hawk when she dusted. He was excited that Luke had completed his first solo run without him aboard, even though Luke had been captain for the past seven years, give or take. John insisted to me that he was officially retired from spacing, although how long that will really last remained to be seen.

They say that people from Ganymede have a shorter natural lifespan than other inhabitants of the Sol System. Part of that is because of the high number of fatalities due to mining accidents, but nearby giant Jupiter's intense radiation is another factor. Ganymede's thick ice and protective natural magnetic field provide an effective shield against the radiation when you're underground, but on the surface the artificially created atmosphere, although breathable, provides little to no protection. Ganymede's proximity to Jupiter makes a synthosphere with its charged radiation-shielding particles impractical. Unlike Io, Ganymede's orbit way never shifted further away from its primary.

John had just turned sixty years old, what was considered "mid-life" nowadays. The average "natural" lifespan of a human is one-hundred-twenty years, without mods. The "treatment" could in theory extend your life indefinitely.

John had never had the treatment or any mods. Combined with his brief exposures to Jupiter's intense radiation, he had aged faster than normal since I'd left him thirty years earlier. He had the graying hair and frown lines of someone twenty years older. I wasn't worried about his external appearance. I was worried about what was going on internally that could kill him prematurely without treatment. Cancer had been cured centuries ago, but without mods it could still rear its ugly head and kill you.

Ellie was worried about her husband. She'd had the treatment before Em and I had left for the Kuiper Belt and it showed. The treatment would (at least in theory) allow you to live indefinitely and keep you young-looking and (more importantly) healthy. Ellie had wanted John to have the treatment, but he'd refused because he believed it "wasn't natural-like". It was a belief held by the long-absent Mormons and devout Sullivan Elvisians, although I'd never considered John to be all that serious about religion. Regardless, his clan back on Ganymede were all Vegas Elvisians who had no such prohibitions on life extension. John didn't have much in the way of a formal education, but he was a man of reason, not superstition.

Ellie wanted me to convince John to have the treatment before he'd aged too much more. She wanted him to have the treatment not because she wanted him to stay young-looking, but because she didn't want to live life without him in her life. I could certainly relate to that.

It struck me as odd that many people on Mars were okay with the idea of having mods to extend their functional lives, but the "treatment" was considered to be excessive and self-indulgent. Both did essentially the same thing, but one eventually ceased to work, and the other didn't or at least hadn't on anyone who'd received it. Neither guaranteed you immortality because there were still lots of ways you could die of unnatural causes.

I'd promised Ellie that I'd talk to John about having the treatment. I didn't promise her that he'd listen to me. Regardless, any discussion with him about having the treatment would have to wait until he wasn't preoccupied with his son's return. Tonight over a few beers would be a better time.

We watched from beyond the perimeter fence as Eon Hawk descended tail-first. As she neared the ground her four landing legs extended from their aero fairings and she dusted neatly on Pad 42 without a wobble or bounce. We waited until the "all clear" was signaled before driving in. By the time we got to the launch/landing pad, the cargo basket bearing four pressure-suited figures was already beginning its descent to the surface.

Did I see four in the basket?

"They must have picked up a passenger," John said to me over the radio. He'd apparently noticed the fourth person as well.

"I hope he charged a decent fare," John added. "Luke's got him a bad habit of pickin' up strays and freeloaders."

John and I exited our buggy and walked over to where the basket had touched down.

"Hey Pops, I got a load of frozen rabbit meat aboard," Luke informed his father as he jumped out of the cargo basket. "Should bring us a nice profit!"

"You could've warned me that's what you was bringin' in," John scolded him. "Now we's gonna need reefer trucks and cold storage space until we can sell it."

"Already arranged," Chance Hawkins informed him. "Phat & Phat Trading Company has you covered."

By now we were all standing close enough to see each other's faces through our helmet's clear visors. That's when I recognized the copper iris' staring back at John and me.

"Hello John. Hello Pete," said a female voice over my helmet's radio that I'd last heard over thirty years ago.

"Cat? Is that really you?" John asked with obvious excitement. He stepped forward and hugged her.

"Don't I get a hug from you, too?" she asked me.

"Think I'd pass up the chance?" I asked as I embraced her.

CHAPTER 11

With Cat back on Mars, John got this inspired notion to have an " _Orchid_ Crew Reunion Party". He wanted to host it at the Black Hole, which Ali Kahn had sold years ago and was still in business as a run-down dive bar. The current owner jokingly told us we could host our party there if we bought him out. I asked him to name his price and he did.

So now I own an old bar with a seedy reputation.

I'd returned from the Kuiper Belt with a balance in my account which was considered very respectable on Pluto but made me impressively wealthy in the inner Sol System. I could buy lots of stuff now, including a bar. Go figure.

I spent the next few weeks restoring the Black Hole to her former glory. Ali had saved some of the bar's original furnishings in his warehouse and was only too happy to donate them for the cause. I didn't restore everything, though. The former V.I.P. Lounge and adjoining private rooms which had once entertained clients by offering sessions with indentured prostitutes hadn't been used for its intended purpose in years and was now a cluttered storage space. I organized the salvageable items and tossed out the junk, but otherwise decided to leave further renovations for another day.

While I was in the process of remodeling the Black Hole, Em and I moved out of Ellie and John's apartment and into the one next door to theirs. Their former neighbors were provided with more-than-sufficient financial incentive to move. Amazing what money can accomplish.

Cat moved in with Ellie and John. She was short on bitcreds, and they had two spare bedrooms which had once been occupied by Luke and Leia. We could have continued to stay in the other spare bedroom, but the chemistry between Em and Cat was awkward even though Cat seemingly accepted my explanation that Emma's memories and personality are housed in a hybrid bioroid.

The "Orchid Crew Reunion Party" was almost a repeat of John's birthday party except for the venue and Cat's added presence. Ali attended with two of Orchid's original crew, Prissy and Puddles. I'd had a photograph taken by Squeaky of John, Ellie, Lo, Tuesday and me posing in front of Orchid at Watership Down on Io thirty years ago for their tourist souvenir shop enlarged and hung over the bar. We all stood together and posed for a new picture of us standing together in front of the bar with the old photo in the background.

The reunion was a success, albeit bittersweet at times and lacking in the spontaneity that had resulted from Em's and my surprise appearance at John's birthday party. I did get an opportunity to visit at length with Tuesday and John Hawker, something that I hadn't been able to do at the birthday party or since then due to their collective busy schedules. In an unexpected turn of events, Tuesday's father had gotten the treatment and ran off to Titan with a woman who was many, many years his junior. Lo Phat had once told me that he had no desire to artificially extend his life with nano or other treatments. His very attractive young girlfriend must have convinced him otherwise.

Over the course of several beers, Cat finally opened-up to me about what had happened to her after she'd left for Io. She'd gone searching for her long-lost mother who'd reportedly escaped years ago from the prison farm that was next door to Watership Down Ranch. At the time she had a tidy sum of bitcreds in her account thanks to her late Aunt Maude and hired a local private investigator to attempt to locate her missing mom. Despite months of searching and interviews with scores of local vampires, her P.I. failed to turn up any clues regarding her mother's possible whereabouts or if she was even still alive.

Then, over a year later when Cat had all but given up, her mother found her. Celeste Mandeux had used her superlative survival skills to make her way through the zombie-infested forests to distant Lastima, now called Zombie City, after escaping from the prison farm. She'd changed her name and eventually remarried. Her new husband owned what was then the only hotel in Lastima and was also the proprietor of a local bar as well as the spaceport's launch/landing controller, multiple jobs he was easily able to hold simultaneously given the low number of visitors. After the zombie/human truce they'd become vastly wealthy practically overnight and their one small hotel eventually became a chain of luxury resort hotels.

Now, Cat's narrative could well have ended with "and they all lived happily ever after" if not for: (A.) she had a problem with her mother having remarried when her father was still alive and they'd never divorced; (B.) her mother's second husband had an adult daughter of his own who regarded Cat as an interloper and threat to her one day being the sole inheritor of her father's hotel empire, and; (C.) Cat disliked hotels in general because of the way she'd been treated on Market after she'd killed Jason "Kid" Marx in self-defense in their hotel room. Needless to say, she didn't stick around for very long.

Cat eventually hooked-up with a VTOL pilot named Roddy Pounder who shuttled tourists from Zombie City to Watership Down and back. Between Cat's mechanic skills and his piloting, they made a good team. Their relationship evolved, they fell in love, got married, and had a daughter whom they named Jess. They lived at Watership Down and had a good life. Jess liked to go flying with her father on shuttle runs and became a pilot herself when she was old enough, frequently acting as his co-pilot. It was on one such flight that their VTOL crashed while navigating the pass through the extinct sulfur volcanoes during a freak storm. There were no survivors.

Cat was invited to stay on at Watership Down, and she did so for about a month. She found that the place held too many memories of her late husband and daughter, and she decided that she needed to move on and that a major change of scenery was needed. When she learned that Eon Hawk was in port, she decided that it would be a good opportunity to leave Io and return to Mars. Eon Hawk lacked a permanent mechanic, and Luke had offered her the position during the flight. John okayed her hiring, so she was back to spacing again.

I'd overheard Luke talking to John about Cat rejoining Eon Hawk's crew earlier, so I guess that now it was official.

Cat excused herself to go get another beer from the bar. She was waylaid by Ellie and Tuesday, who proceeded to suck her into another conversation about what I knew not. Ali saw me sitting by myself and came over to join me.

"I really like what you did with the place," he said to me as he pulled up a chair at my table. "You brought the old girl back to life. Sure brings back fond memories."

"You want her back? I'll sell her to you for a bitcred."

"You're joking, right?"

"Ali, I was the owner/governor of my own little build-it-yourself world for twenty-something years and that eventually became nothing but a cosmic pain-in-the-butt. I've no interest in repeating the experience."

"So, you did all this just for the party?"

"I did all this for John. He really wanted it. I sort of ran off on him thirty years ago."

"Do I detect feelings of guilt, Pete? From what I've been told, he suggested that you go wandering to get your head straight."

"That he did, and I took his advice," I said. "It kept me from going crazy."

Ali just smiled at my reply and took another sip of his beer. "This homebrew of yours is really good stuff. You should market it."

"I'll supply it to you if you buy the Black Hole."

"How will you do that?"

There's plenty of room in the old V.I.P. Lounge that could be converted to a craft mini-brewery. I'd do that much for you as an added incentive to purchase."

"All that for one measly bitcred? I thought you were a better businessman than that."

"I'm smart enough not to get myself bogged down with having to worry about inventory, payroll, insurance, etc."

"Save your sales pitch. You sold me when you said you were doing it for John. I'll run her for you, but I'm going to insist that you get a share of the profits."

"Whatever launches your candle, but if you're going to make anyone your partner then I'd much rather it be John since he claims he's officially retired from spacing. Having a bar to help manage will keep him preoccupied and out of Ellie's hair. I'm done with running anything that requires more crew that I can count on my fingers."

"Is there perhaps another reason? Like maybe you don't want the notoriety? Or maybe you don't want any attention focused on Em because of it?"

"You're still the pro, Ali."

"Pete, I'm not trying to play head games with you. Thirty years may be a long time in the inner Sol System, but it's not so long that some people haven't noticed that your dead wife is back from the grave."

"I've explained to everyone I know what happened."

"But you haven't told Em, have you?"

"I never have thought of a good way to tell her that wouldn't upset her in a major way."

"Pete, if you don't tell her then she's bound to find out sooner of later. The longer she's here in Sagan City, the greater the odds are that someone will confront her about her resurrection or she'll discover the truth on her own."

I knew Ali was right. I was either going to have to tell Em the truth and risk 'overwriting' her chances of ever recovering her memories on her own, or we'd have to head back out to the Kuiper Belt to avoid her eventually finding out. Em wouldn't understand why I'd want to leave Mars. She liked living where the sun wasn't just a bright star in the blackness and day was different from night. She didn't miss living in micro-gravity and she was happy to be around John and Ellie again. I didn't want to take all that away from her.

That night I slept on my decision. Make that attempted to sleep, since my mind was busy rehearsing how and when I was going to break the news to her. It was early morning when I finally dozed off, and then I overslept. Not a big deal since I didn't have to be anywhere, but by the time I woke up Em had already left to go do something with Ellie.

I got dressed and went next door to John and Ellie's apartment. John was there by himself, drinking coffee and watching the news stream on the wall 'face. He offered me a cup and I accepted it. It was brewed with real beans and not the synthetic stuff.

I decided that now was as good a time as any to talk to John about having the treatment. I'd put off having the talk, waiting on a right opportunity that never seemed to materialize. John afforded me the opportunity to start the conversation when he complained about how he wasn't getting any younger and last night's imbibing had taken its toll on him.

"You could always have the treatment," I told him. That caught him completely off-guard.

"Did Ellie ask you to talk to me?" he asked after downing his coffee as if he was chugging a beer. I could tell he was upset that I'd broached the subject.

"Yes, she did. She loves you and she's worried about you."

"Why is she so worried? I just turned sixty."

"She's a doctor. You're both from Ganymede. How much time did you spend on the surface before you left?"

"'Bout as much as anybody I s'pose. Why?"

"Didn't your elders warn you about radiation exposure?"

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with me? I ain't lived on Ganymede since I was eighteen.

"John, you were a spacer long before I was. You know radiation exposure is cumulative, and you know the effects can show up many years later. Cancer isn't a joke."

"Now you're soundin' just like Ellie. Anyway, they can cure cancer."

"Wouldn't you rather not get it or something else preventable at all?"

"Pete, I don't believe folks should live forever. I know you done got the treatment for Em, but it just don't seem natural to me."

"Define natural. What does that really mean? Is traveling through the void natural? How about humans living on Mars?"

"Uh, you know. Elvis, you done gone and confounded me again!"

"John, do you want Ellie to die alone? That's what will eventually happen even if you don't contract something and die early."

"I sure don't want to be no burden to her when I'm older," he said sullenly. "Alright, you win. I'll have the 'effin treatment!"

"Nobody is asking that of you," I said.

Okay, that was easier than I thought it would be. Maybe it's because people will often listen to their friend's advice before they'll listen to their spouse's even if it's the same advice.

I spent the rest of the day with John. At my suggestion we took the maglev train over to Tunnel Town and then hoofed it over to the Black Hole. Ali's crew was already busy getting the bar ready to re-open for paying customers.

"Elvis, what the 'eff is goin' on?" John asked me.

"Oh, I sold the bar back to Ali," I explained. "He's going to manage it for you."

"Huh, what do you mean for me?"

"See for yourself," I said as I pointed to the sign above the bar's entrance.

THE BLACK HOLE

John Tanner, Proprietor

"Belated Happy Birthday," I told him as he gazed open-mouthed at the sign.

"Elvis, you done this all for me?"

"I did this for the best friend I ever had and will ever have."

"Pete, I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I'm the one who went a wanderin' and didn't return. I can't make up for the thirty years I missed, but I can at least make sure that I'll have a place to drink cold frothy ones with good company going forward. You'd better go get your treatment because I'm going to be a regular at this establishment for a very, very long time."

John made an appointment that same afternoon to get his treatment the following day.

CHAPTER 12

_It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs. –_ "Frankenstein or The Modern Prometheus" by Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley

* * *

The Lazarus enzyme worked.

Leia first noted the apparent rehydration and regeneration of the creature's desiccated, long-dead tissue. It was an amazing thing to watch and she made sure that every moment of the creature's restoration was recorded. The muscle twitches came next, followed by random movements of the creature's limbs.

It was six days before the restored creature finally sat up in the nutrient bathtub. It was even more horrific in appearance than its corpse had suggested with large, lizard-like eyes, and vertically arranged rows of multiple nostrils.

Dr. Drachen had cautioned that cognitive abilities were the last to regenerate and that the creature would essentially be a mindless zombie at first, motivated by the most basal instincts for survival. For that reason, Leia had installed the bathtub in a reinforced enclosure with a shatterproof observation window.

The nightmarish creature stared at her through the window and opened its wide, lipless mouth to reveal rows of saw teeth. It let out a hideous roar and suddenly lunged at her. Its sharp claws must have been incredibly hard because they scarred deep gouges in the window. A second swipe further compromised the transparency.

Leia had the composure to dash from the observation room and slap the prominent button that both sealed the lab and triggered the alarm signaling a containment breach. Even through the heavily-shielded door with the alarm blaring in the hallway she could still hear the creature's blood-curdling roar as it smashed through the supposedly unbreakable window into the observation room. She watched horrified as protruding dents formed in the door as the thing pelted the other side with its massive claws.

The creature screamed again, and then it suddenly fell silent. Leia held her breath. There was another loud crash from within the room followed again by silence.

Dr. Von Halen was the first to arrive on the scene. He saw Leia standing in the hallway with her back to the wall across from the damaged door.

"What happened?" he yelled.

"It's alive!" she shouted in reply.

"What?" he asked as he cancelled the alarm.

"Ed, the creature is alive. I brought it to back to life."

"Elvis, how the 'eff did you do that?"

"I used the Lazarus enzyme," she explained. "I got it from Dr. Fritz Drachen on Io. Stuart helped me put the creature in a nutrient bath and I added the enzyme to it. I wasn't sure it would work, but the creature regenerated."

CHAPTER 13

Em and I woke up this morning to learn that all sorts of bad shit had happened beginning late yesterday afternoon and continuing long into the night. John and Ellie's daughter, Leia, had been fired from her job at Carl Sagan University because she'd reanimated some sort of long-dead creature that she'd found half-buried and the thing had gotten loose and was now roaming the utility tunnels. The creature was apparently some form of ancient predatory Martian animal that could slash through walls and was just plain dangerous. Despite attempts by the university and the police to keep a lid on the incident, the media had somehow gotten hold of the story and it was all over the streams.

Oh yeah, Em had started her period on top of everything else. So much for her not bleeding.

"I haven't had a period in years," she complained, apparently recalling her mind-shared memories as Jan Aradal.

"It must be the effects of Mars' gravitational pull," Ellie suggested to her. "You weren't ovulating at all in microgravity?"

"No," Em replied. "This makes me want to go back to the Kuiper Belt."

Thankfully, the "REAL Jack Parsec" wasn't being called upon to hunt down the fearsome creature. Out to the Void had abruptly ended its run like so many other 'casts when the Earthers had occupied Mars during the Second Interplanetary War. I'd never gotten back to writing scripts for it and the attempted revival using other writers was a spectacular flop. Pete Soñador was a long-absent and forgotten war hero. Except for those who knew me back-in-the-day, I was just a trader from the distant Kuiper Belt visiting old friends.

I preferred it this way.

I felt bad about John and Ellie's daughter losing her job and facing possible criminal charges. I wanted to help, but I wasn't sure how I could assist except for offering moral support. I'd neglected to bring my authentic "Jack Parsec Disintegrator Ray Gun" with me that anyone could purchase for a measly two bitcreds and four box tops of Jack Parsec breakfast cereal back when Out to the Void was popular. The promotional toy ray gun was never a big hit because "my" cereal (like most breakfast cereals) was made from processed plankton and tasted like week-old artificially-sweetened rabbit feces. The ray gun was still pretty neat, although I seriously doubt that it would have been any good against a real space monster like the one Leia had found.

The images of the creature that had made it to the stream showed it to be a tall, hideous-looking thing with a big chest, large lizard-like eyes, and long pointed claws. It reminded me of a space monster from an ancient "B movie" I'd watched while we were stuck on the Futuroscope space station many years ago waiting for the Space Guard to allow us to leave.

If there was a bright spot in this whole ugly situation, it was that the creature's tall stature would most likely limit the speed at which it could move through the utility tunnels, which were designed for their shorter-by-contemporary-standards human builders and not something that would have to stoop to avoid hitting its head on the ceiling. The utility tunnels had a network of cameras and sensors which would make tracking and ultimately capturing the thing not too difficult.

In hindsight, I guess nobody figured that the thing could run on all fours or that it would wreak havoc on the camera/sensor system as it galloped through the corridor. I learned about that when I got a call on my 'face from my old friend Hillary "Hill" St. Cloud, who had left acting for politics after the Second Interplanetary War and was currently President of the Greater Martian Confederacy.

"Glad I was able to track you down, Pete. Want to go monster hunting with me?" she asked.

"Not particularly Hill," was my earnest reply. "Doesn't Sagan City have police for that?"

"They're not doing so well. They can't keep up with where the damn thing is, and it keeps taking out the surveillance system. It's carved itself out a nice little maze of dark tunnels where it can hide. I'm not sure if we'll be able to maintain order if the creature decides to go on the offensive."

"The thing isn't bullet-proof, is it?"

"Our one encounter with the creature since it escaped from the lab suggests it is. We can't use heavier weapons inside the dome due to the risk of collateral damage, so we've got ourselves a problem."

"Have you thought about sealing off the thing's maze and pumping narco-gas in there?" I asked.

"Good idea! See, I knew you'd come in handy."

"I'll send you a bill."

"I was hoping that the famous Pete Soñador would assist in the thing's capture. I think it would help to alleviate the public's fears if you were involved, even if only in an advisory capacity."

"Famous? I doubt anybody on Mars remembers me."

"Oh, you're a legend, Pete. You're prominently featured in the commemorative life-sized diorama out in Memorial Park along with Emma, Jan, Cat, Yuri, and Josie. Our children are taught about how you all risked your lives to help defeat the Earther invaders and free Mars."

"I'm in a statue?" I asked incredulously and then thought to myself, "Elvis, I'm not even dead yet and they've already made an 'effing statue of me."

"You're depicted raising a defiant fist at a menacing Earther battleshell while facing down certain death. You really ought to check it out. You were a hero then and you still are."

"Yeah, but I was just along for the ride," I thought. "According to Marvin the Martian, my mere presence had favorably influenced the course of events and assured our victory. Some 'hero' I am."

"Pete, the people need you. Would you help me as a favor to an old friend?"

One of the things I'd hoped to avoid when Em and I returned to Mars was publicity that would draw unwanted attention to us. If I was going to have to be the "REAL Jack Parsec" again then I was going to make it worth my while.

"I'll help you Hill, but I'd like a favor from you in return," I responded after a brief pause.

"Name it."

"Dr. Leia Tanner has her position at Carl Sagan University restored and gets tenure."

"Why? She's responsible for the monster."

"She happens to be my old friend and former crewmate's daughter, that's why. She reanimated the creature to study it. She never intended for it to escape."

"What you're asking of me is a very tall order, Pete."

"Doesn't the President have some serious stroke?"

"Alright, I'll see what I can do, but it'll probably go a lot easier if we catch the monster first."

CHAPTER 14

Em loved being back on Mars and enjoyed going on morning walks. Usually I accompanied her, but on this particular morning I had to get ready for the press conference that Hill had arranged.

"I think I'll take a stroll over to Memorial Park and see the statue of us that we've heard so much about," she told me as she headed out the door while I debated what to wear for the press conference.

Hill had suggested that I wear my old Orchid jumpsuit, but I hadn't worn it in years and had no idea where it was stashed. I got on my 'face, hopped on to Solnet, found a local store that had an "authentic Orchid replica jumpsuit" in stock (thank Elvis!), and ordered it specifying immediate delivery. A 'bot delivered it to our apartment an agonizingly slow twenty minutes later. Why haven't they gotten around to inventing replicators like I had on Out to the Void?

Bad news. My "one-size fits all authentic Orchid replica jumpsuit" is nothing but a cheap Halloween costume. I can't wear this to a press conference. Panic time.

I thought about John. He might still have his jumpsuit. Maybe I could wear it.

I dashed next door and pounded on the Tanner's door.

"Who the 'eff is there?" was John's less-than-friendly response from behind the door.

"It's Pete!" I replied. "Open up! I need to borrow your Orchid jumpsuit!"

The door opened a few seconds later and a disheveled and obviously irritated John confronted me.

"Why the 'eff do you need my jumpsuit?" he asked me.

"Because I can't find mine!"

"Why do you need it?"

"Hill wants me to wear it at the press conference this morning."

"Elvis Pete! I ain't seen the dang thing in years. Don't you have another jumpsuit you can wear to this shindig? They ain't gonna know no difference."

Come to think of it, I did. I had the nondescript flight suit I'd worn on those rare occasions when Em and I wore clothing aboard No Free Rides.

"Great idea," I said.

"Hey, what's Em doing?" Ellie asked as she joined us. "She can watch your press conference with us over breakfast."

"She went for a walk," I replied. "She's going to view the statue of us in Memorial Park."

Ellie's expression suddenly changed to one of alarm.

"That's not a good idea," she replied. "There's something there that she doesn't need to see!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Pete, did you forget about the statue of Emma that was erected after she was killed by the grenade? It's in Memorial Park. She's going to be asking a lot of questions that you're going to have a hard time answering if she sees it."

My blood suddenly ran cold. I'd forgotten about that statue, and I knew the sort of questions Ellie was talking about. They were questions I'd been avoiding answering for the past twenty-four years. I wasn't looking forward to having to answer them now.

I bolted from John and Ellie's apartment, only stopping long enough to toss on some dirtside shoes. I took the elevator down to street level and "borrowed" a bicycle with a saddle that was too low for me. I sprinted the entire distance to Memorial Park and was out of the saddle, so it didn't matter.

I could see Em in the distance. She'd passed the statue of us facing down the Earther battleshell and was walking slowly toward another statue of a lone figure.

Elvis, I was too 'effing late! Oh, how in the galaxy could I have ever forgotten about the damn statue?

Em was already staring wide-eyed at the inscription at the base of the statue by the time I reached her and jettisoned the bike. I saw that the inscription read:

IN MEMORY

OF

EMMA SOÑADOR

SPACER

The life-size figure on the pedestal was Em dressed in a form-fitting space suit holding a space helmet in the crook of her left arm while her right arm was pointing skyward. I'd learned about the statue, but I could never bring myself to go out to Memorial Park to view it.

"Pete, I don't understand," she said. "Why is there a statue of me here when I'm not dead?

I had to tell her. She might not ever regain her lost memories if I did and they were overwritten by my explanation, but I had to tell her.

By now she'd sunk to her knees in front of the statue. I could see she was visibly shaken.

"Em, do you remember when you woke up after the accident and you said that you couldn't remember anything after our wedding?" I asked her as I knelt down beside her.

"Of course, I do," she said. "You suggested that Elvis marry us at a wedding kiosk in the central mall, and we got married there. It was the happiest day of my life. Then there was just this big blank and then you were there with me in the hospital holding my hand. You told me I'd had a bad accident, but I was going to be okay. Only I couldn't remember our honeymoon or travelling to Pluto or anything. A piece of my life was just missing."

"Em, the reason that you're missing those memories is because the mindshare that saved your memories and personality took place right after we were married. Do you remember when you were Spitfire?"

"Yeah, I was naïve and idealistic, and I wanted to right all the wrongs that I believed my father and all the other capitalists and their supercorps had brought upon society."

"That's right, and in the process, you made an enemy when you staged your raid on Market. You sacked her villa and rescued Ellie, remember?

"Yes, we freed Ellie and put the evil bitch in the same chair that she'd restrained Ellie in."

"That evil bitch's name was Madame Dommé, and she never forgave you for doing that. She came after us looking for payback. She had a network of operatives scattered around the Sol System, and on the evening of Leia and Luke's birth when we were all going out to celebrate at Ali's new restaurant one of them struck. You were walking with Marla at the front of our party when the grenade was tossed at your feet. I was walking behind you and tried to dive on it to shield you, but it exploded before I reached it. I was very badly injured by the blast and had to spend weeks in an automed."

"Elvis, Pete! I'm so sorry! Was I there for you?"

"You've never left my side Em, even when we were both killed by the blast."

She stared at me with a look that was at once a mixture of horror and surprise.

"We're both _dead_?"

"No, we're both very much alive. They were able to reconstitute and reanimate me. They couldn't do the same for you, so I used your mindshared memories and personality to bring you back in a synthetic."

"You mean I'm an _android_?"

"No, you're _human_ , Em. You're not a 'bot, you're self-aware. Your body contains synthetic organs that function just like a normal human's."

"Synthetic organs?"

"They're nothing new. They've been making synthetic replacements for human organs for centuries. Yours just happen to constantly update and repair themselves like living tissue. The point is, you're you and you're alive."

By now the rickshaw carrying John and Ellie had caught up with us. Ellie jumped from her seat and knelt down beside Em on her other side.

"Em, are you alright?" she asked.

"I don't know," she said. "I'm so confused. I'm dead, but I'm alive. I'm a synthetic, but I'm human."

"Yes, you're alive and you're human. You're also pregnant."

Em and I both stared at Ellie in shock.

"Remember when I asked you to pee in the cup? I meant to give you the results then, but you'd already left. Then the whole mess with Leia and the monster happened and I was preoccupied and forgot to tell you. You're going to be a mother, Em. If that doesn't make you alive and human then I don't know what will," Ellie explained as she hugged her.

"Are you _sure_? I just started my period on Wednesday!"

"Your body seems to be playing 'catch-up' after years in micro-gravity, but you're definitely pregnant."

I hugged both Em and Ellie. Em was crying, but from what I could tell they were tears of joy because she was grinning from ear to ear.

I hadn't told Em the whole truth about her lost memories, but I hadn't lied to her either. At this point it was probably better anyway if she never remembered her pre-Jan/Emma life as a "pseudo-sapient recreational android" aboard Futuroscope.

Em did ask me a question about her statue on our way back to the apartment that made me glad she wasn't a "reader".

"If you were able to reanimate me by transferring my memories and personality into a synthetic, then why did you have a statue of me erected in Memorial Park?" she asked.

"That was commissioned while I was still in the hospital," I explained. "I didn't even learn about it until we returned to Mars. I kept your reanimation secret in the event Madame Dommé's operatives were still around, since after the grenade attack it was apparent that she'd never bothered to tell them to quit trying to assassinate Jan Aradal. One of the reasons we headed out to the Kuiper Belt in the first place was to put as much distance between them and us as possible."

Okay, so my explanation was a bit of a stretch, but no harm done.

CHAPTER 15

It was thirsty.

It had not fed or drank since it had risen from the strange water. It needed to drink. It could smell the water inside the big pipe.

It slashed at the pipe with its claws. The pipe ripped open and the water gushed out. There was more water than it needed. It drank and then left. The water continued to gush out into the tunnel.

* * *

By the time I arrived at Sagan City Hall for the press conference, the monster's attack on the spaceport's hydrant fueling system had already made the news streams. It severed the main line that supplied water to the feeder lines that ran underground and branched out to the fueling hydrants at the launch/landing pads. The automatic shutoff valve had stanched the flow of water before it flooded the utility tunnel at the edge of the spaceport, but until it was repaired no candles would be taking on reaction mass. The shuttles and aircraft could still get their methane, but unless your candle already had water in the fuel tank then you were grounded.

The repairbots were already at work repairing the pipe, but with the monster still at large a general panic had set in. A twenty-four-hour-thirty-seven-minute curfew was in effect and only those on official business were allowed to move about, which included yours truly and Cat. Hill had twisted Cat's arm into participating in the monster hunt since she was also a "hero of the resistance". Hill wanted to create the perception that the famous Pete Soñador and his brave crew were helping to track down the creature, when in reality our presence was merely symbolic.

Em wasn't invited because, as far as Hill was concerned, Emma Soñador died over thirty years ago. Hill didn't know about Em and I intended to keep it that way.

The press conference was streamed live. Hill, Mayor McCreasey, and Police Chief Tracy all gave short speeches while we flanked them on the podium along with the City's Chief Engineer and Doctors Pompeux and Von Halen from Carl Sagan University. When Cat and I were introduced we were met with a few cheers and scattered applause, mostly from the older attendees. For many on Mars we were forgotten war heroes whose images were frozen in time in a diorama out in Memorial Park.

I was credited with the plan to capture the monster, which was briefly outlined at the press conference to give the public some assurance that there actually was a plan. It was pretty straightforward. Reinforced bulkheads backed by inflatable bladders would seal off the darkened sections of the utility tunnels where the monster had made its home. The bladders would be inflated to create an airtight seal, and the bulkheads would protect the bladders from the monster's claws if it tried to escape. All other entrances to the tunnels would be sealed and locked. The isolated sections would then be flooded with concentrated nerve gas, which had been brought to Mars by the Earthers for crowd control during their invasion but was thankfully never used. The creature apparently could breathe oxygen, but - regardless of what it preferred in the way of an atmosphere - the potent gas would incapacitate it.

Hill insisted that Cat and I remain with her at the command post. More calming fodder for the streams so that the public could see we were actively involved in the operation.

At precisely 14:00 LMT, "Operation Chokehold" went into action. Large high-volume pumps capable of moving thousands of cubic meters of air per minute were switched on simultaneously to rapidly flood the isolated tunnel sections with gas. Vent valves installed in the tunnels were opened so that as the nerve gas entered the breathable air it displaced could escape outside to the thin Martian atmosphere. Sensors mounted on the valves alerted us when the tunnels were fully saturated, and gas was starting to vent.

We waited. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. After a half-hour the pumps were restarted, this time to move fresh, breathable air into the tunnels and force the gas outside through the vent valves.

With the tunnels purged of gas, an access hatch was unsealed and a 'bot festooned with sensors and flood lights sent in to find the creature's body. The 'bot began to move down the darkened tunnel, sending back images to the 'faces in our command post.

"It's spooky looking down there," Hill commented as she watched the feed from the 'bot.

"I've seen spookier," I said as I recalled the time that Tuesday, Monique, and I waded through ankle-deep water in the slime-encrusted utility tunnel that circumnavigated the outer rim of Futuroscope space station.

"You'll have to tell me about it some time," she replied.

The 'bot had just turned a corner when a dark shape suddenly rushed toward it and the feed from its camera died. Within moments 'faces all over the room were receiving urgent calls. The creature was very much alive and attempting to break through the utility hatch that the 'bot had used to enter the tunnel.

"How can that thing possibly be alive?" Hill asked Dr. Pompeux, whose response was a blank stare.

"Maybe it held its breath," I suggested half-jokingly.

Dr. Pompeux snickered at my suggestion, but Dr. Von Halen gave me a surprised look.

"You may be on to something," he said. "The thing's got a huge ribcage that suggests massive lungs."

"Which it would need to breathe the extremely thin atmosphere outside," Dr. Pompeux replied.

"Or hold its breath for thirty minutes or even longer. There were extinct mammals that inhabited Earth's oceans that could do that," Dr. Von Halen countered.

"I have to ask what may sound like a stupid question, but if the thing is an ancient Martian animal then why hasn't it tried to escape to the outside?" Hill asked.

"Maybe it doesn't like the weather outside," Cat suggested.

"Just what we need right now, another comedian," Dr. Pompeux remarked and rolled his eyes.

"Cat's got a good point. Mars in the ancient past was warmer and wetter than it is now," I said, recalling the fantastic vision of ancient Mars I beheld when Helen Bach and I were guests of the ancient Martians. "Maybe it can't survive outside the way things are now."

"How would it know it can't survive outside?" Dr. Pompeux asked.

"If it preferred being outside then wouldn't it have tried to escape to the outside?" Hill asked.

"It's possible it prefers to dwell in caves or tunnels and only emerges to feed," Dr. Von Halen postulated. "The creature is obviously a predator."

"The problem with your idea is that there isn't a food source on the surface," argued Dr. Pompeux.

"You're right, but there's plenty of food for it here in Sagan City."

"How would it know that?"

"Instinct? Highly sensitive olfactory organs? Maybe we resemble what it once hunted."

"If we're on its diet, then how come it hasn't tried to eat anybody?" I asked.

"It tried to get to Dr. Tanner. I don't think it wanted to thank her for reanimating it." Dr. Von Halen answered.

At that moment alarms started sounding in the command post. A shaky image of the access hatch where the 'bot had entered the tunnel buckling outward appeared on the 'faces.

"It's breaking through!" shouted an off-screen voice. "We're pulling back to the emergency bulkhead. Seal off this section as soon as we're clear!"

"Standing by to close bulkhead D-7. Confirm when you're all clear," replied Chief Tracy as he looked worriedly in our direction.

"Can it break through the bulkhead?" Hill asked the Chief Engineer.

"That bulkhead was designed to withstand explosive decompression," she answered. "It should keep the thing out."

"Aren't the access hatches like the one it just broke through also supposed to be able to withstand explosive decompression too?" I asked her.

"Yes," she replied after a brief pause. "The main bulkheads are thicker though."

"It knows that it can get through the access hatches in the utility tunnels. If it can't break through the bulkhead then it will just use the tunnels to go around it."

My last comment was meant with an uncomfortable silence.

"Jackson to command post. We are all clear. Close the bulkhead."

"Closing bulkhead now," Chief Tracy announced as his finger tapped on his display. "Confirm when closed."

"Bulkhead is closed," Jackson responded about fifteen seconds later. "We got it shut just in time. The thing is trapped on the other side."

"Now's your chance to bring out the heavier weapons," I told Chief Tracy.

"Not a good idea," said Mayor McCreasey shaking her head. "Think of the damage that will result."

"Think of the damage the monster will do if it reaches the residential or commercial sections," I replied. "The Earther's warbots and battle shells used autocannons inside one of the domes at Bradbury during the war without damaging it. It's better to have to patch some bullet holes in a few walls than have the monster loose in the main part of the dome."

"He's right," Hill added. "We've got autorifles and armor-piercing ammo left over from the war. I think it is time we put them to good use.

"I'm sorry Madame President, but my officers aren't trained for this type of mission and I can't ask them to volunteer for something that potentially suicidal," Chief Tracy said.

"Nobody's asking your people to do anything," Hill said as she looked at Cat and me and smiled. "I think this is a job for the MRM."

I should have seen this coming.

CHAPTER 16

A plot device to avoid when you're writing a realistic novel is having main characters undertake a dangerous mission who: (A.) are too high-ranking or important to be engaged in the particular mission; (B.) lack formal training for the particular mission, or: (C.) both (A.) and (B.). For example, you don't have the rebel princess and the gung-ho farm boy go up against the evil galactic overlord unless you're writing escapist space opera.

I feel like I'm living in an escapist space opera right now.

Okay, so it looks like I've been recalled to active duty in the MRM, not that I ever enlisted in the first place. I'm armed with a high-velocity autorifle with armor piercing ammo. The lightweight reactive armor vest that I'm wearing might provide some minimal protection against the thing's claws. As long as it doesn't get too close to us, we should get out of this alive. We just have to kill it before it kills us.

Us. Hill, Cat, and me. Yuri and Josie had moved on long ago and weren't available. Three against just one monster. Good odds, right?

Hill had some combat training to prepare for an acting role many years ago and she'd participated in a number of the early missions with the MRM. Cat practiced shooting at a target range as an adolescent. I shot a partially transformed tentacloid on Futuroscope. Yeah, we're well-suited for this mission – not. Or maybe we are because we're crazy enough to attempt it in the first place.

I figure that Hill wants to do this because she's running for re-election and this makes for good public relations. She was the leader of the MRM during the Earther invasion and she wants to remind the voting public that she's still a fighter who'll defend them.

Oh yeah, and because I also think she really believes in what she's doing.

We were getting ready to go in when the "reinforcements" unexpectedly show up.

There were two of them and they wore gray jumpsuits with a patch that I recognized as the skull-and-thunderbolt insignia of Pluto's Children once they'd approached close enough. One of them as Leia Tanner. The other was a woman with flaming red hair.

"Spitfire," Hill said with obvious astonishment. "But you're . . ."

"Dead? I would say that reports of my demise were premature," Spitfire replied. "If you're going to hunt and kill a monster, you don't need amateurs on the job."

As Spitfire and Leia started to join us, I walked up to "Spitfire" and addressed her in a low voice.

"Em, what the 'eff are you doing?" I asked her. "You're pregnant with our child, remember?"

"We're pregnant, my dear husband. What do you think you're doing here?"

"Ah, I was sort of drafted."

"You could have said 'no', but you chose not."

"Okay, fair enough. What's Dr. Tanner doing here?"

"She's an exobiologist and she knows more about the monster than anyone else."

"Do John and Ellie know she's here?"

"She's an adult, Pete. She doesn't need their permission."

"I guess you're right," I said. Then it suddenly dawned on me that Em's voice sounded odd.

"What happened to your accent?" I asked her.

"Spitfire doesn't have a German accent."

I had a sudden revelation that my beloved Em might have recovered her lost memories.

"If you're really Spitfire, then who was it that died thirty years ago?" Hill demanded as she confronted Em.

"Jan Aradal 'died' because it was the only way Madame Dommé's operatives would ever cease their assassination attempts. The same was true for Emma Soñador," she explained as she removed her flaming red wig and the blond tresses they concealed spilled out. "I'm Jan Aradal, and Spitfire, and Emma Soñador."

"How could you be all three when I've seen two of you together?"

"I was a 'designer baby'. My father picked me out of a catalog and added some smarts and other goodies. The only options were hair and eye color and skin tone. I was a popular model and there are lots of other 'Warrior Princesses' like me around, so recruiting doubles wasn't too difficult."

"So, you're telling me that it was a Spitfire double who rescued Emma Soñador from Madame Dommé? How do I know you're not a double?"

"Just ask my husband. He'll tell you that I'm the real Emma Soñador."

"I don't mean to be rude, but this little 'show-n-tell' isn't helping us kill the monster," I said, interrupting Hill and Em's conversation. "The longer we all stand here, the more time the monster has to make itself harder to find."

"Do we _have_ to kill it?" Leia asked. "If it's dead, we'll never find out where it came from."

"If we're all dead, then it won't matter," Hill replied as she shouldered her autorifle. "Let's go get the damn thing."

Chief Tracy had established a perimeter around our access point and positioned his squad so that they had a clear shot in the event the monster emerged. Concentrated autorifle fire would bring it down if it got passed us. At least that was the plan.

We went in single file. Em took point followed by me, Leia, Hill, and finally Cat, who had our six. Our night vision goggles allowed us to see in the dark tunnel without having to rely on flashlights that would alert the creature to our presence.

Nobody said a word. Even our footsteps were barely audible as we crept along the tunnel thanks to our stealth booties.

We reached a branch in the tunnel that turned in the direction that the monster would be coming from if it retreated from the bulkhead. Em pointed at the branch and we started down it.

We'd only gone a few meters when we heard a shuffling noise ahead. Em locked her sights on a large, shambling mass and fired.

It screamed.

"Ouch! Uh, don't shoot! I surrender!" said a strange voice that sounded more cartoonish than monstrous.

"It can talk!" Leia exclaimed excitedly. "This is wonderful!"

"Ah, yup. I can talk now. Isn't it great?" said the creature.

"Come out with your hands, er . . . claws up!" Em ordered.

The thing came toward us, claws upraised, stooping to avoid hitting its head on the ceiling.

"Please don't shoot me!" it begged. "I didn't mean to scare anybody. I didn't know what I was doin' until I smelled the perfume you put in the tunnel."

"Perfume?" Em asked.

"He means the nerve gas. It must have acted as an environmental trigger and restored his ability to reason," Leia suggested.

"Shades of vampires and music," I said.

"What?" Leia asked me, appearing very confused.

"I'll explain it to you some other time," I replied.

CHAPTER 17

"So, Herman is really human?" I asked in obvious disbelief between sips of my beer. Ed, Leia, Cat, Em, Hill and I were all seated around the big round table at the Black Hole enjoying celebratory rounds of Pete's Rock IPA.

"Yes, which explains the results of his DNA scan," Leia replied. "He was surgically altered to appear the way he does and be able to survive outside for brief periods. He claims that he can hold his breath and survive temperatures of minus fifty-five degrees Celsius for up to ninety minutes."

"Who did this to him, and why?"

"Herman originally joined an organization called Red Peace back on old Earth. They were a grass-roots anti-Mars colonization movement. They believed that humans would just 'eff-up Mars like they did Earth.

"Like Greenslayer?" I asked as I glanced sideways at Hill and winked.

"Greenslayer was never against Mars' colonization," Hill insisted emphatically. "We were strictly anti-terraforming."

"Herman said that Red Peace was all talk and no action," Leia continued. "When a group called the Preservers approached him about really doing something to stop Mars' colonization, he volunteered to become a 'Martian monster' for them. They promised to restore him to his normal human appearance after his mission was completed but, considering how extensive his alterations were, I doubt that they ever intended to follow through.

"The Preservers? I've never heard of them," said Hill.

"That's because they were a front for a group of nations that wanted to prevent the United States from establishing a presence on Mars." Leia explained. "I did some searching on Solnet and learned about them."

"Earth was still highly balkanized during the early days of Mars' colonization," I volunteered. "The corporation that originally founded Sagan City was based in the United States. The old closed-off sections of Tunnel Town are part of the original settlement."

"Herman said he was sent to Mars to frighten the colonists at Sagan Base into leaving," Leia continued. "When that didn't have the desired effect, his handler wanted him to start killing. He never signed on to be a murderer, so he helped the woman he was supposed to kill escape and then ran off. He knew he was as good as dead after he'd disobeyed his handler's order, so he just ran until he collapsed."

"I'm guessing the reason he tried to attack you after you reanimated him is that he hadn't recovered his memories yet? Sounds just like the vampires on Io before they heard music."

"You mentioned music and vampires back in the tunnel," Hill said to me. "Did you mean that listening to music restored their memories?"

"It's documented," I replied. "Dr. Kali Dancer with Aratek told me that music was an environmental trigger that caused the vampires incoherent memories to reorder themselves. The same thing must have happened to Herman after he caught a whiff of the nerve gas."

"Herman said that he couldn't talk after the surgeries," Leia said. "I wonder if the Lazarus enzyme restored his vocal cords?"

"It's entirely possible," Ed said. "Have you seen any recent photos of Dr. Fritz Drachen? He doesn't look anything like he did thirty years ago."

"Yeah, a lot of the old vampires don't look like vampires anymore," said Cat. "They were having to wear prosthetics to keep up appearances when I left Watership Down. It's hard to have a theme park that promotes dancing vampires when your vampires don't look like vampires."

"So, what will happen to Herman?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Herman's agreed to allow us to study him to determine what continuing effects the Lazarus enzyme is having," Ed answered. "We just have to supply him with all the bunny burgers he wants in exchange."

CHAPTER 18

Stuart wasn't particularly excited about his assignment, which amounted to conducting an initial damage assessment on Dr. Tanner's lab. Dr. Tanner was his thesis advisor and he wanted to stay in her good graces, so he'd reluctantly gone down to the lab to check it out.

The yellow security tape was still in place, forming an "X" across the damaged door that bulged outward in several places. Stuart tore the tape away and tapped in the access code on the keypad beside the door.

Nothing happened.

He tried the access code again. There was a whining sound as if the door was trying to open but couldn't. The creature's attempts to breach the door must have damaged it. He'd have to call maintenance to have them force the door open.

Stuart heard an odd groaning sound coming from inside the lab. Was someone in there? Maybe they'd come in through the hole in the back wall that Herman made when he escaped.

"Hello! Is somebody in there?" he shouted.

A hideous screech emanated from behind the door, then the entire wall shook as if something massive had slammed against it.

In a near panic, Stuart dashed down the hall toward Dr. Tanner's office, and almost collided with Dr. Von Halen as he rounded the corner.

"Stuart, where's the fire?" Ed asked him jokingly.

"It's not a fire, Dr. Von Halen," Stuart explained. "There's something inside Dr. Tanner's lab and it sounds like it's trying to get out."

"Well it's not Herman. I just saw him down in the cafeteria eating hot bunnies and talking to Dr. Tanner2.."

"No, it's something really big. It shook the whole wall when it hit it."

"Well, Dr. Tanner hasn't been back in there since Herman was reanimated, so I don't know what it could be. Are you sure it isn't maintenance cleaning up?"

"It's not maintenance. It made an awful screeching sound."

At that moment the floor shook followed by a muffled screech.

"What in Elvis name is going on?" demanded Dr. Pompeux as he stormed out of his office. "The whole building is shaking!"

The floor shook again, knocking Dr. Pompeux off his feet. There was a loud groaning sound followed by a violent crash. The lights in the hall momentarily flickered and then alarms sounded.

Ed ran down the hall followed closely by Stuart. They reached Dr. Tanner's lab to find the door and adjacent wall buckled outward, but that wasn't the worst of the damage. The lab's interior was in shambles, the ceiling had caved in, and the rear wall was completely missing as if something massive had smashed its way out. The utility corridor behind the lab had been breached as well, leaving a gaping hole through which daylight poured.

A large shape briefly blocked the sunlight accompanied by a hideous screech. Whatever had been in the lab had forced its way out by destroying the back wall.

Dr. Pompeux arrived just in time to see the thing moving away from the opening. He stared at it wide-eyed and gasped.

"Elvis! What has that insane Tanner woman gone and done now?" he demanded.

2. A rabbit sausage on a bun.

CHAPTER 19

August 19, 1977 – During their regular Friday evening meeting at Skippy's Lounge on Lincoln Highway, all twelve members of the Elvis Presley Fan Club of Wamsutter, Wyoming were paying homage to their recently deceased idol and drowning their sorrows with lukewarm Buckhorn beer when a stranger entered. They didn't pay any attention to him until he walked up to the bar and ordered a Pepsi. The assembled fan club members instantly recognized his voice and turned their attention toward the dark-haired man seated on a bar stool with his back to them. Gidget Knuckle, the club's president, hesitantly tiptoed up to the bar to get a peek at the stranger. He suddenly turned to face her. He had ice-blue eyes and a boyish smile.

It was Elvis. He was alive!

Gidget fainted. Peter Dancing Bearl, the club's secretary, who was also the editor and publisher of the Wamsutter Witness, the small community's weekly newspaper, immediately dashed to Gidget's side to discover to his horror that she wasn't breathing. He felt for a pulse, but he could detect none. She'd apparently suffered a heart attack.

" _Call for an ambulance!" he shouted and began to frantically administer CPR. The other club members clustered around and looked on worriedly. Peter knew that the nearest hospital was 40 miles away in Rawlins, and Gidget's chances for survival were slim if he couldn't restart her heart._

Agonizing minutes passed, and the color began to fade from Gidget's cheeks.

" _Let me help," said Elvis. He knelt down and gently put his arms under Gidget to cradle her._

" _Wake up little mama," he whispered to her._

Gidget's eyes fluttered and she coughed. She was breathing again!

" _Folks, this has got me all shook up," Elvis said as he slowly stood up. He turned and walked toward the men's restroom, which was a "one-holer", and shut the door behind him as the fan club members helped the now-conscious Gidget into a sitting position._

Elvis never left the windowless restroom. When the manager of Skippy's Lounge finally unlocked the restroom door some twenty-five minutes later after numerous unsuccessful attempts to obtain a response from the occupant, she discovered that the restroom was empty.

The manager hesitantly faced the onlooking fan club members, including the fully-recovered Gidget, who was excitedly claiming that her color blindness had miraculously been cured.

" _Elvis has left the building," she murmured reverently._

Skippy's Lounge burned down seven months later, and a truck stop eventually took its place.

* * *

One day I woke up, and Cherry wasn't Em anymore.

It was the first day of Elvisfest, the glitzy celebration of the King's birth that began following Halloween and ended on January 9, the day after Elvis' birthday on the Gregorian calendar. The holiday had replaced an earlier religious celebration and co-opted many of its traditions, albeit the one's that had less to do with so-called "spiritual" practices and were more about the commercial aspects. There were still pockets of devout Elvisians scattered around the Sol System that took the holiday seriously, but you wouldn't find them in highly-secularized, cosmopolitan places like Sagan City where Elvisfest was just another an excuse to spend too much money on gifts people didn't want or need, and party.

The day started with us getting up like we usually did. Well, at least since Em got pregnant. Morning sickness had become a routine for us. After she'd finished heaving, we migrated to the kitchen for one of Doc Ellie's anti-nausea pre-natal nutrient smoothies. I usually fixed them, but Cherry had already prepared it for her this morning.

Uh, _Cherry_???

"Morning Em! Morning Pete!" she greeted us cheerfully. "You had a guest drop by a little while ago. I hope it's alright if he stays for breakfast."

I looked at the white-haired man with an equally white beard sipping coffee at our breakfast table.

"Marvin?" I asked, astonished at the ancient Martian's presence.

"Good morning, Pete!" Marvin greeted me as he put down his coffee cup. "Happy Elvisfest! I figured that perhaps I should drop in given recent events."

"Where were you thirty years ago when I needed you?" I asked as I sat down at the table across from him.

You've never needed _me_ , Pete. You could have switched timelines anytime. It's like jumping aboard one moving slidewalk from another. You just have to pick the right opportunity when events in one reality align with another."

"I don't know how to switch timelines."

"Jack Parsec did it when he battled the Temporal Commander in _Out to the Void_."

"That was Jack Parsec. He's a fictional character. I'm not him."

"You're closer to him than you think. There's an alternate reality where he really exists."

Okay, so how exactly _do_ I switch timelines?"

"When there's an alignment, you jump aboard the timeline of your choice. "When you arrive, don't force yourself to try to remember anything. Just allow the new memories to flow into your mind as if they're memories you've always had and accept them as your reality. That's where you went wrong the last time you changed timelines. You fought it".

"Never mind," I said. "Just so we're clear, I _am_ back in the timeline where Em wasn't killed by the grenade and Cherry isn't Em, correct?"

"Correct. You and Em went to the Kuiper Belt to escape Madame Dommé's programmed assassins. Cherry accompanied you. Everything else is the same, including the monster."

"You mean Herman? He isn't exactly the 'Terror from Beyond Space' that the newstream made him out to be."

"Herman's not your monster, Pete. Your real monster is headed for the central business district."

"What?"

"You shouldn't tell your wall 'face to not show you alerts," he said as he pointed at it. The 'face abruptly came alive with an Accustream news bulletin.

As I was watched the 'cast, Em shuffled into the kitchen looking like someone suffering from a bad case of freefall sickness. Oblivious to Marvin's presence, she glanced at the wall 'face and then gave me a disapproving look.

"You're watching a kid's monster 'cast at breakfast?" she asked me.

"No, it's the newstream. That's a live feed from the central business district," I explained.

Em stared at our wall 'face in wide-eyed amazement. "What the 'eff is _that_?" she asked.

"That is what happens when someone makes a serious error in judgement," Marvin answered.

Em noticed Marvin sitting at our kitchen table and, realizing she was only half-dressed, hurriedly closed and tied her robe and sat down.

"Sorry, I didn't realize we had company," she apologized.

"Em, this is Marvin," I told her. "He's the ancient Martian that Helen Bach and I met out in the desert a long time ago."

Em looked at me like I was crazy.

"We'll he didn't look like he does now," I insisted.

"I find that you humans are less disturbed by my visitations if I appear as one of you," Marvin explained.

"Oh, what _do_ you really look like?" Em asked. From the tone of her voice, I figured she didn't believe us.

Marvin just smiled at her as his image shimmered and was replaced by that of a tall, willowy four-armed biped.

"Elvis!" Em gasped and fell backward in her chair. Fortunately, fast-moving Cherry caught her before she hit the floor.

"Pete! Your story about meeting the ancient Martians was true! You weren't hallucinating!" she said to me in amazement.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you for over thirty years," I said to her.

"Oh, my sweet Elvis! I've got so many questions to ask," she babbled excitedly and then abruptly stopped and stared. "What . . . where did he go?"

I turned around. Marvin's half-empty coffee cup was sitting there on the table, but he'd vanished.

"Oh, he does that," I replied matter-of-factly. "He shows up when he feels like it. The last time he made an appearance was when I was in the hospital recovering from the grenade attack. Elvis only knows when he'll visit again. His sense of time isn't like ours."

"Speaking of Elvis, that thing is wrecking the Elvisfest decorations," Cherry observed as she watched the hulking abomination drag a string of colored lights behind it as it shambled down Von Braun Boulevard. It stepped on a holographic projector, transforming a giant gyrating image of the King into a bobbing, headless ape.

* * *

Over at Carl Sagan University, Leia, Ed, Dr. Pompeux, and Stuart were all watching the same livestream in a similar state of disbelief.

"It's hideous," Leia murmured.

"You're responsible for creating it!" Pompeux accused her. "You can consider your re-appointment withdrawn!"

"I don't understand," Leia said dejectedly. "There wasn't anything in the tub that would have created that thing."

"Uh, there _might_ have been," Stuart suggested sheepishly in a low voice from behind them.

"What exactly do you mean, Stuart?" Ed demanded.

"Well, I did add some ground rabbit meat to the tub. I figured that Herman could use the protein molecules to help with his muscular regeneration," Stuart explained.

"Elvis, Stuart! You should know that it doesn't work that way!" Leia shouted at her graduate student. "The Lazarus enzyme regenerates and reanimates dead tissue! The rabbit meat regenerated!"

"That would explain the creature's appearance," Ed suggested.

"Ground meat?"

"No, a rabbit."

"You call that ugly thing a _rabbit_?"

"Well, it does kind of looks like one if you use your imagination."

"A rabbit made out of a huge pile of ground meat. How did it get so big?"

"The nutrient solution in the tub regenerated it."

"How did it continue to grow after it left the tub?"

"If the thing grows by progressive cell division, only none of the older cells die because of the Lazarus enzyme, it could become very large," Leia suggested.

"That's ridiculous," said Dr. Pompeux.

"You have any better ideas?" Ed asked him. Ed's colleague simply glared indignantly at him in response.

"Look! The police just showed up," Stuart announced as he pointed excitedly at the screen.

* * *

I was on my 'face talking to Hill and watching the coverage of the giant rabbit thing when Captain Tracy's "Monster Squad" showed up at the scene. They looked like the same bunch that formed the perimeter around the access point when the reconstituted "MRM" entered the utility tunnel to go after Herman. This time they were walking behind a rover with what looked like an autocannon mounted on its roof. It reminded me of the rover that met us when we'd secretly landed in the desert during the Earther occupation to rendezvous with the MRM for the first time. Maybe it was the same rover.

"That looks like the rover that picked us up and took us to Sanctuary," I said to Hill.

"It is. It was part of a display in the Second Interplanetary War Museum. It's been maintained in operational condition."

"The mayor isn't having a fit over the police using an autocannon in the business district?" I asked.

"McCreasey is in way over her head," Hill replied. "She has no idea how to cope with the situation, but she won't agree to anything that's suggested to her. I finally got fed up with her constant complaining and hand wringing and told her to just shut the 'eff up. I'm using my presidential authority to have Megalepus destroyed before it does any more damage to Sagan City."

" _Megalepus?"_

"That's what the news streams are calling it."

The rover had closed to within a hundred meters of Megalepus when its autocannon fired a single short burst. The hyperballistic rounds bored clean through the monster, impacting on the side of a building behind it and showering debris on the street below.

Megalepus didn't like being shot at. It screeched hideously, and then vomited. Make that "projectile vomited". The slimy regurgitation struck the rover, which immediately begin to dissolve as the monster's potent digestive acids attacked it. We all watched in shock as the rover was reduced to a bubbling, steaming puddle in barely a minute. Fortunately, the rover's two crewmen escaped unscathed, albeit just barely.

"So much for shooting it," I said to Hill as I watched the monster continue its greasy slog down Von Braun Boulevard. It reached the intersection of Konstantin Tsiolkovsky Avenue, turned the corner, and headed toward Memorial Park.

"We can't use heavier weapons inside the dome," said Hill. "What would the fearless and ever-resourceful Jack Parsec do in a situation like this?"

"Oh, he'd probably run."

"Seriously, Pete?"

"I'm a spacer, not an expert on how to kill rampaging, acid-spitting giant monsters. I'd ask Dr. Tanner what to do if I were you."

CHAPTER 20

The theme of Reverend Thomas Tripwell's sermon at the "Second, But We Try Harder Baptist Church" on August 22, 1977 was "False Idols". Thomas had learned via town gossip of Elvis' alleged appearance at Skippy's Lounge and the subsequent events. He believed that the wild rumors and resulting speculation about the supposed "resurrection" of the recently departed pop singer (whom he personally disliked) were having undesirable consequences that were adversely affecting his flock, and he was bound and determined to put a stop to it before it got too out of hand. He'd put a lot of effort into his sermon, dredging up scripture from the Old Testament to drive home his message when his congregation seemed to freeze.

Thomas stopped preaching and stared mystified at his frozen congregation, then noticed the white light emanating from behind him. He turned slowly to face the source of the glow, and was confronted by the visage of a smiling, dark-haired man wearing a white jumpsuit and a cape, and holding a partially-eaten sandwich in his right hand. His ice blue eyes twinkled as he returned the startled preacher's gaze.

" _Don't be cruel, be cool!" Elvis said to him. "Always remember to love me tender, love me sweet."_

Suddenly, Elvis glowed with brilliant white light and rose into the air. At that same moment an angelic chorus erupted from the church's aging speaker system.

" _Elvis is alive! Let his fans sing._

His stage stands ready under Vegas lights.

Let Ed Sullivan with praises ring.

_His 'Love Me Tender' shall never die._ "

Elvis hovered above the congregation glowing brighter and brighter until he vanished in a blinding flash.

Reverend Tripwell stared dumbfounded at his congregation, which was babbling excitedly about what they'd just witnessed. He turned and walked slowly back to his lectern. There was half-eaten peanut butter, banana, and bacon sandwich sitting there.

" _Elis is alive!" he exclaimed joyfully._

* * *

"I've never seen anything like this," Ed said as he watched the cells multiply and grow on the lab's microviewer display. Hill, Leia, Stuart, Em, and I were all standing behind and to the side of him, gazing at the image. It just looked like a churning mass of bubbles to me, but I'm not a biologist.

"I wonder what's feeding them?" Leia asked him. "They can't just multiply on their own."

"They're drawing energy from somewhere," Ed replied. "They can't indefinitely multiply on stored energy."

"It could be that they're feeding on a combination of light and other available energy sources," Stuart volunteered. "Maybe it's a form of ambiosynthesis."

"What's that?" Hill asked.

"It's a term for a form of biosynthesis that can thrive in hostile environments," Leia explained. "Stuart has been conducting research on it for his Masters' thesis. It's a process in which an organism can utilize ambient energy sources as food."

"So, you're suggesting that Megalepus is like an energy sponge?" Hill asked. "That sounds a bit far-fetched."

"Maybe not all forms of energy, but it would explain why the tissue fragments resulting from the autocannon burst started to grow on their own," Leia replied, and then added, "Good thinking, Stuart."

"Thanks, Doc."

"If we can't kill it by shooting it with anything small enough that won't damage the dome, then how do we kill it?" Hill asked.

"We destroyed the other recovered tissue fragments by incinerating them," Leia replied.

"There's no way to incinerate that thing inside the dome," said Hill.

"Maybe we could cook it," I suggested.

"How would you do that?" Hill asked me. Her expression suggested that she thought I was joking.

"We could cook it with microwaves," I said. "Wouldn't that kill it?"

"Yes, but what are you going to use to generate the microwaves?" Ed asked me.

"We could use communication masers."

"Won't work, Pete. They're too weak. You'd need a really powerful magnetron generator to cook that much rabbit meat."

"Okay, could we fry it with hard radiation? More than it could digest at once?"

"Maybe, but how would you ever accomplish that?"

"With a gamma ray laser."

"Where would we happen to get one of those?"

"Aratek manufacturers them for the antimatter production facilities," Em volunteered. "They take an awful lot of juice to power them, though."

"We'd have to divert all the power from the city's main reactor to it," I said. "That should be enough to fire it briefly."

"Assuming your nutty idea would work, you can't fire that thing inside the dome," Hill protested. "The radiation would kill anything in the beam's path."

"Not if we direct it outside the dome," I said as I pulled out my 'face and stretched it to tablet size so that everyone could see the screen. "Look, Memorial Park backs up to the dome at the gap in the crater rim so that you get a nice view of the desert on the other side. We just have to lure Megalepus over there and then shoot it so that the beam is projected away from the inhabited sections of the crater rim."

"Do you think Aratek is just going to loan us a gamma ray laser?" Leia asked.

"I'm a major stockholder, Em is their former C.E.O., and Hill is the President of the Greater Martian Commonwealth," I said. "Do you think they're going to say 'no' to the three of us if we ask to borrow a gamma laser?"

"Point taken, but how do we get the gamma laser over to Memorial Park?"

"The same way they're transported to Olympus for launch to the production facility," Em answered. "By truck."

"Okay, but how are you going to get power to it?"

"Leave that to me," Hill volunteered. "I'll get the power over the park."

"I've got a question," Ed said. "Assuming that this all comes together, how do intend to coax Megalepus over to the edge of the dome?"

"Uh, maybe with a giant carrot?" Stuart timidly suggested.

CHAPTER 21

And lo, Elvis did make many appearances unto his fans, sometimes in many places at the same time. He went unto the land of Nevada to the city called Las Vegas, where he sang and performed weddings, bringing much joy and happiness to all.

* * *

"Do you really think this is gonna work?" John said to me as he stared at the loaderbot.

"Megalepus didn't like the Elvis hologram and stepped on it, so I'm hoping that it will have a similar reaction to our 'carrot' here," I replied. Cherry had festooned the 'bot with sirens, strobe lights, and a holographic projector. The idea was to make the 'bot extremely irritating so that the monster would get mad at it and chase it over to the gap in the crater rim.

"The truck with the gamma ray laser just arrived at Memorial Park," Em announced as she read the text message from Hill on her 'face.

"We need to get the 'bot over there fast," I said. "I don't know how much longer Megalepus is going to be content nibbling on trees in Memorial Park. If it decides to go for a stroll, then we could lose our best chance to kill it."

"Hopefully Hill will have the juice hooked up to the laser by the time we get there," Em said.

The decoy 'bot loaded itself into the back of our truck, then John, Ellie, Em, and I all climbed into the passenger cab. Leia and Ed were already down at Memorial Park at the command post Chief Tracy had established at the park's entrance.

The truck drove itself through the empty streets down to Memorial Park. The city-wide mandatory curfew and power outage had transformed Sagan City into a virtual ghost town.

If we didn't manage to stop Megalepus, then Sagan City would become a ghost town for real.

We arrived at Memorial Park without incident. Chief Tracy's "Monster Squad" opened the gates for us and we rolled up to where the big Aratek truck was parked. Megalepus was stationary among a small grove of trees just beyond the "Heroes of the Resistance" diorama. The gap in the crater rim was located about seventy meters to the right of the grove. Aratek's technicians had positioned the gamma ray laser so that it was aimed at the center of the gap and the empty desert beyond it. Em walked over to talk to Hill, who was busy conversing with a woman in a red Aratek jumpsuit, while John and I unloaded the 'bot. That's when I realized that we had a problem.

"The 'bot is programmed to load and unload cargo, not play keep-away with a twenty-something meter tall monster," I said. "I'll have to manually control it with the remote."

"That means you has to keep the 'bot in sight," John said. "You has to follow it."

"I'll stay far enough behind it where Megalepus won't notice me because he'll be too busy trying to catch the 'bot."

"The capacitors are about sixty-percent charged. We should be able to fire in another five minutes or so," Em informed us as she walked back over to where John and I were standing. She noticed me holding the loaderbot's remote control and froze.

"Pete, what are you doing with that?" she asked me worriedly.

"I have to manually guide the 'bot," I explained. "It's just a dumb loaderbot and it's not programmed for this."

"Why do you have to do this?" she demanded.

"Because it was my idea," I replied. "Don't worry, I won't be too close to it and I'll have a wearable so that I'll be in constant communication the whole time. You'll just need to make sure that when I tell you to fire the laser that it happens."

"You don't need to be doing this." You're about to be a father," Em protested.

"Em's right," Ellie piped in. "Someone else should be doing this, not you."

"Who? I don't see any other volunteers."

Nobody said anything for a long moment, then Em finally broke the silence.

"You stay out of the gap in the rim," she admonished me. "Don't you dare get too close to it or the gamma laser will cook you, and I won't ever speak to you again!"

"Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of getting my ass fried," I replied and grinned. "I'm not Jack Parsec."

"You sure is actin' like him right now," John said under his breath as I started to guide the 'bot toward the right side of the gap. I didn't respond to his comment.

I steered the 'bot to the right of the reflecting pool, keeping it between us and the grove. With the power shut down the central fountain was silent. Fortunately, the 'bot was quiet and our progress around the pool went unnoticed by Megalepus. I suppose if it did notice us that we weren't worth its attention.

The 'bot approached the edge of the dome and I steered it to the left and back toward the gap. My plan was to position the 'bot dead center in the opening in the crater rim and then light up the strobes and the hologram. Megalepus would hopefully move toward it, and when it was centered in the gap then I'd give the order to fire the gamma laser.

Sounded simple enough, right?

I turned the 'bot and steered it away from the edge of the dome so that the dome wouldn't interfere with the hologram.

"Show time," I said to myself as I toggled the controls.

A giant gyrating image of Elvis emerged from Cherry's hastily-rigged holographic projector accompanied by wailing sirens and flashing strobe lights. Megalepus appeared to glance at it momentarily and then went back to munching on the treetops.

"What the 'eff?" I muttered to myself.

"What's going on?" Em asked me over my wearable.

"Megalepus isn't taking the bait," I responded. "I'm going to move the 'bot closer to it to try to get its attention."

"Stay out of the gap!" Em shouted at me over my wearable, making my ear ring.

I moved to the edge of the gap, steering the 'bot toward the grove of trees. Megalepus apparently thought Elvis was going to attack it and suddenly bolted from the grove toward the 'bot. I put the 'bot in full reverse, not thinking that driving it backwards meant the controls were reversed and managed to flip it on its side before it was back in the gap.

Megalepus pounced on the 'bot, destroying the holographic projector in a brilliant shower of sparks. Several of the strobes continued to function, but the 'bot was otherwise out of action. Apparently satisfied that it had vanquished the threatening Elvis intruder, Megalepus turned and began to slowly move back toward the grove.

I don't know what possessed me, but I ran toward Megalepus and hurled the now useless remote at it. My missile sailed high and true and struck the loathsome thing on the back of what passed for its head.

I got its attention. It turned and screeched at me, but otherwise held its ground. I shouted at it, grabbed a strobe light that had come loose from the 'bot, and hurled that at it.

That did it. Megalepus turned and charged at me, screeching hideously. I was already in an all-out sprint toward the gap, covering the ground in giant strides. I could hear the thing coming up fast behind me as I reached the center of the break in the crater rim.

"Now!" I shouted over my wearable. "FIRE THE 'EFFING LASER NOW!"

Suddenly, I felt as though I was struck from behind by a moving truck and went flying through the air.

CHAPTER 22

When I was eight, my mother took me to the Sagan City Museum. They had an exhibit in the Hall of Science that she wanted me to experience physically rather than virtually. It featured a "Tunnel of Infinity" that was an illusion created by mirrors that made your image repeat over and over and over as if it went on forever.

The images that I saw now as I looked on either side of me reminded me of the "Tunnel of Infinity", only without the mirrors. I thought this must be what Marvin referred to as an "alignment" when events in one reality coincide with another. This is how my human brain, with its limited perception of alternate timelines, perceived my surroundings.

Marvin told me that all I had to do was jump into the timeline of my choice. My problem was that he didn't tell me how to "jump". I didn't think he meant physically jump, so how do I jump?

"Might as well jump," said Marvin from behind me.

I spun around. There was nobody there.

"How do I jump?" I demanded.

"Just jump, Pete. Like David Lee Roth," was Marvin's disembodied reply.

" _Who?"_

"I thought you were a history buff."

"Just forget it. Do you mean jump, as in literally _jump_?"

"Yes, literally. Go ahead and jump."

"Okay, thanks for the info. Here goes," I said as I leaped.

I heard keyboards playing an unfamiliar tune.

* * *

"Pete! Are you okay?" Em asked me worriedly.

"I think so," I said as John and Luke helped me regain my footing. That's when I noticed the first difference. Luke was present, his haircut was different, and he was wearing a Space Guard uniform.

Marvin told me how to adjust to timeline changes. I didn't force myself to try to remember anything and allowed the memories to just flow in so that they were memories that I'd always had. Now I remembered that Luke was a captain in the Space Guard and that he'd diverted his corsair to Mars in response to the Megalepus crisis.

"Your crazy idea worked," Hill informed me excitedly. "Megalepus is fried!"

"Make that irradiated," Leia commented as she eyed the huge mass sloughed against the inside surface of the dome. "It's a good thing the gamma laser had enough power to kill it."

"The main thing is that Dr. Pompeux's monster is dead," said Ed. "He won't be conducting any more clandestine research using the Lazarus enzyme."

"His ass is as good as fired," Leia said. "I don't know why I kept him on as long as I did."

"Looks like the REAL Jack Parsec saved the day again," Hill said to me grinning, and then her expression changed to one of obvious concern.

"His forehead's bleeding," Luke observed. "He took a pretty hard fall."

"Hold on, let me check you out," Ellie said to me as she examined my wound. "I'm concerned about what other injuries you may have sustained when Megalepus kicked you."

"I'm really okay," I protested, and then realized that my legs wouldn't work right and slumped to the ground.

"He's hurt! He needs medical attention!" Ellie shouted.

They laid me on my back in the soft grass. I looked up at all of them as they stared at me worriedly. I heard Hill talking on her face barking orders to someone. I saw Marvin in his human form standing with them looking at me and shaking his head.

"Hang on Pete!" Em told me as she knelt over me. "Don't you dare leave me! Your daughter needs a father!"

I started to say something, but my mouth wasn't working right either. I was numb all over and felt like I was fading away. Was I dying? I didn't want to die.

And then I was dead.

CHAPTER 23

I'm awake. I'm lying on a medibed. Judging from my surroundings, I'm in hospital, probably Sagan City Medical Center.

I glance to my right. Marvin in his human guise as a bearded white-haired man was sitting in a chair beside me, looking at me and smiling.

"Welcome back again," he said to me.

"Did I change timelines again?" I asked him.

"Yeah, you did. In this one you lived. You survived by being close enough to the ground that you received a non-lethal exposure to the gamma rays. In kicking you out of the way, Megalepus probably saved you from being cooked, too. You suffered major internal injuries, but a session in the automed fixed you up."

"That's good to know. Is anything else different?"

"Every timeline is different, although the differences in timelines that are for all practical purposes parallel would be imperceptible to you."

"I was talking about major events."

"No, you saved Sagan City from utter destruction by Megalepus. You can't say you were just along for the ride this time."

"Anything else I should know about?"

"Oh, it'll all come back to you," Marvin said as Em, John, and Ellie walked into my room."

"Is he awake?" Em asked Marvin anxiously.

"Yes, and full of questions as usual," Marvin replied. "I'll let you all take it from here. I need to get back to the Black Hole before happy hour starts."

"We'll catch up with you later," Em said to Marvin as she gave him a hug. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him."

"Anything for family," he said as he winked at me and the left the room.

Oh yeah. It turns out that Marvin is my uncle and the Black Hole's bartender. Nice timeline that I've landed in.

"How do you feel, Pete?" Em asked me.

"I feel like I can feel again," I said as I moved my arms and reached up to hug my wife. "I'm glad I'm alive."

"We's all sure glad you's alive," said John. "You had us all scared somethin' powerful there for awhile."

"Yeah, I seemed to have developed a tendency to do really stupid stuff and land myself in the hospital," I replied.

"Stupid? I'd call you impulsive, brave, and self-sacrificing, but I'd stop short of stupid," Em said as she hugged and kissed me. "Well, maybe _most_ of the time."

CHAPTER 24

A hundred and sixty years. Had it _really_ been a hundred and sixty years since Em and I returned to Mars from the Kuiper Belt?

When you can live indefinitely the years can easily get away from you. One year starts to blend into another. Each passing year becomes a smaller and smaller fraction of your life, so they go by ever faster and faster.

John came to me one day looking rather despondent. I hadn't seen him in quite a while. He'd just returned from an old friend's funeral. He'd met his "old friend", Dutch, when the guy was just a kid. He'd watched Dutch grow-up, get his pilot's license, and spent many a happy year trading spacer's stories at the Black Hole with him when he was dirtside. He'd watched Dutch grow old. They'd spent the days at the bar together after Dutch retired.

Nowadays, lots of people got the treatment. Dutch never got the treatment. Now Dutch was gone.

The down side to getting the treatment is that your friends who didn't get it eventually pass away. John and Ellie both had the treatment. John Hawker got the treatment. Madame Dommé must have given it to Cat when she was her "guest", because she hadn't aged. Genetically engineered Tuesday apparently didn't need it. They were all still around, but we rarely saw them anymore. Our daughter, Liv, got the treatment and runs InterSol, the supercorp that was formerly Aratek, from her private asteroid. A few years ago, we'd visited her and her numerous husbands, children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, great-great grandchildren, great-great-great grandchildren, and . . . well, you get the picture.

I suppose that having functional "immortality" can eventually make you a "stranger in a strange land" as you stay the same while everyone and everything around you gradually changes. That's what happened to John, Ellie, Em, and I, and some of our other "old timer" friends. A few nights ago, over beers at the Black Hole, we all decided that it was time to move on. There was nothing keeping us on Mars any longer, because the Mars we'd once known didn't exist any longer. The idea of a Mars where you didn't need a dome to breath the air had resurged decades ago, and Mars was becoming a wetter, greener world with each passing year. Anyway, it was becoming too crowded for our collective tastes.

Today I made a trip out to _Eon Princess_ to check on Cherry's progress with the renovations. I'd donated _No Free Rides_ to the Sagan City Museum after she was no longer space-worthy. Anyway, she would have been far too small and cramped for the extended cruise out to the void that I've got planned. In addition to Cherry, we'll be accompanied by our friend Madras Ohm, Sonny and Cher Escabian, their kids and grandkids, and bunch of our daughter Liv's descendants who're looking for a change of scenery.

Uh, _Eon Princess_? Oh yeah, I'd recently acquired a decommissioned liner that I'm converting into a private "yacht" so that we can all travel in style. She's got an InterSol Hyperion Model 5000bis anti-matter power plant capable of accelerating her to velocities in excess of twenty percent of the speed of light. In the nearly two centuries since the AMX-1 made its first flight, "clean" anti-matter rocket motors replaced fusion drives since the once rare and pricey stuff is now as plentiful as deuterium and just as cheap. The Kuiper Belt is no longer isolated from the inner Sol System and even distant Proxima Centauri is within reach with anti-matter drives. The lost Mormon colony might not remain lost for much longer.

I also added a state-of-the-art autonomous repair system ( _i.e.,_ "candle nano") to replace the liner's outdated repairbots, and state-of-the-art hibernators. As much as I disliked the later, "cold sleep" was preferable to being awake for years of monotonous interstellar flight.

I felt the unceasing tug of the void on my soul. John, Ellie, and Em felt it as well. We all wanted to cross the vast gulf and visit Proxima Centauri and the enigmatic inhabited world that orbited it. If we could effectively live indefinitely, then there was nothing to prevent us from venturing ever farther and farther into the void and roam from star to star, on and on and on, forever.

Why not? Was there anything better for us to do together for the next thousand years or so?

THE END
