“Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we can’t run away from our past,” he said. “Eventually it catches up with us, and we have to face it. Just happens that in this case, your past is a little bit more… complicated, than everyone else’s.”
“I’ll say,” she told him. “Sometimes I just want to crawl into some cave in the Outlands, and simply disappear. Like Veil tried. But I know that eventually I’ll be hunted down. Just as I hunted down Veil. So this is the only option for me, as much as I’m afraid of it.”
She gazed at the portrait her fan had made. “I just hope I have what it takes to end this. I just hope I can be that brave, heroic woman again.”
“You don’t have to be that brave woman,” Will said. “Because you are her already.”
She looked at him, and smiled wanly. “Am I? Sometimes, I’m not so sure.”
“Yes, but when it matters, you are sure,” he said. “That’s what I like about you. When the crap hits the laser array, you’re always the first one to stand up and fight. You’ll do good, on Mars. I know you will. You’ll find a way to stop Khrusos, even if that means killing him.”
“Sadly, that’s what I’m afraid of most,” she said.
“What, that you’ll have to kill him?” Will asked.
“No, that I won’t be able to stop myself,” she replied.
Rhea enjoyed the final few days on Earth, and she was almost disappointed when DragonHunter called to announce that Targon was waiting in orbit.
The personal shuttle craft of the rich SubverseTube subscriber arrived. It was a big, chunky thing, with ostentatious wings and big gold lettering on the sides that had been partially plastered over to make the words ineligible.
“I wonder what that once said?” Horatio asked.
“‘Welcome To Your Doom,’ probably,” Renaldo said.
“Let’s go, before Aradne security arrives to investigate,” Rhea said.
“What, you think it’s suspicious that a personal shuttle would be landing next to a pipeline for no apparent reason?” Will asked.
“We can send a transmission, tell them the passengers had to take a pee,” Brinks said.
The shuttle had landed next to the green zone beneath the pipeline, so that when the door hatch flung upward, the green extended all the way to the ramp, shielding Rhea and the others from the prying eyes of the satellites as they loaded up. That would probably only further draw suspicion to the craft. She hoped they wouldn’t be stopped in orbit.
The shuttle departed a moment later. True to DragonHunter’s word, the vehicle was unmanned.
She gazed through the cabin windows, searching the horizon for signs of Aradne forces, but saw none.
“Rhea, the rentals,” Will said. He and the others were standing near the opposite cabin wall, where the assemblies of several spacesuit rentals hung from pegs.
She joined them, and together they helped each other don the provided rentals, as required by protocol.
Rhea didn’t need a spacesuit, of course, since her nano machines could form a translucent pressurized dome around her head; also, she suspected the same machines had reinforced her body with the equivalent of BNNTS—hydrogenated Boron Nitride NanoTubeS—to protect her sensitive internal circuitry from cosmic radiation. But she would follow the necessary protocol, if only to appease Targon, who likely wouldn’t let her board if she tried to enter without one of the rented suits. She’d likewise have to be suited up when she debarked on Mars, as per the decon procedure, which involved an intense scan for contagions. She’d done it before on Ganymede and doubted the red planet would be any different.
The shuttle continued to accelerate, finally entering orbit without issue. The craft proceeded toward their rendezvous with Targon’s transport.
It arrived after half an hour and lined up with the Molly Dook’s personnel hatch. The cabin shuddered, and Rhea turned toward the aft section, where the shuttle had a matching hatch. She watched it slide open.
She unbuckled and shoved off from her seat. As she passed through, Targon was there to greet her, also in his suit. He wore his usual jetpack.
“Hello again,” she transmitted, forcing a smile. It was customary to transmit when suited up, because the external microphone-internal speaker system combinations built into the helmets gave sound a tinny quality.
“Hello.” He returned. He didn’t bother to smile at her from behind his faceplate. He seemed agitated, more than anything else. “Get aboard. And be quick about it! Got customs coming to do a search!”
“Can’t you just leave orbit?” Brinks asked.
“Not unless I want me engines shot out!” Targon broadcasted. “Now get aboard!”
Will met Rhea’s eyes. “Guess they thought our shuttle was a little suspicious after all.”
She nodded. “Looks like I’m going to get arrested whether I like it or not.”
7
Rhea entered the cargo hold, crowding inside with the others.
Meanwhile Targon sealed the hatch that led to the shuttle, so the craft could be off.
“I just finished talking with the shuttle AI,” Targon transmitted. “It’s agreed to intercept the customs vessels. They’ll be wanting to board it, too, so that’ll buy us some time. Now someone come out here and help me.”
Rhea couldn’t reach the outer hallway—the others packed into the hold with her blocked the way. Horatio was closest to the exit, and emerged to assist Targon, who wasn’t visible from Rhea’s current position.
She requested permission to access Horatio’s cameras, and the robot accepted, allowing her to observe from its viewpoint.
Targon applied some sort of rod device to the deck and twisted. A panel lifted from the floor, and he left it floating in place in front of him. He proceeded to the left a pace and similarly removed another panel. He tossed Horatio a second rod, and the robot helped detach more floor pieces. Alcoves big enough to hold a human being lay beneath each—well, a folded up human being, anyway.
When Targon and Horatio had revealed six such alcoves, Targon transmitted: “Get out here and pick a cubbyhole!”
The Wardenites emerged from the hold in
