During one of those sleepless nights, Horatio floated next to her sleeping bag and strapped himself to the deck.
She turned her head toward him, and said, with a volume loud enough only for his sensitive hearing: “How did you know I was awake?”
He matched her soft volume. “I could see your eyes open in the dark.” He paused. “Your play style has worsened these last few days. That first game you gave it your all. But not so much in subsequent sessions.”
“I’m too distracted,” she said. “I can’t get my mind off what lies ahead. I’m sorry, I’m not the best teammate to have in Robot Wars at the moment”
“Don’t be sorry, I’m sure it’s making our host happy,” he said. “Still, I can understand. You’re only human. Or your mind is, anyway.”
“Was that a compliment or an insult?” she asked.
“A little of both,” Horatio admitted. “You’ve come a long way… becoming so much more than the mind-wiped, helpless cyborg whose torso we found lying atop a rubble pile outside Rust Town.”
“I have, haven’t I?” She gazed at the virtual portrait she’d positioned on the overhead directly above: the heroic painting of her standing atop a bunch of dead Hydras. She’d set the portrait to glow so that she could see it regardless of the actual light levels: one of the benefits of AR tech.
“I just hope I can continue to live up to the high expectations you all have of me,” she continued.
“You will,” Horatio said. “We’re worried that we ourselves won’t live up to your high expectations.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” she said. “Because I don’t have any. I plan to face Khrusos alone.”
“You know we won’t let you,” Horatio said.
“This is something I have to do myself,” she said. “You’re welcome to accompany me to the palace. But I’m afraid that I’ll be going in on my own.”
“We shall see,” the robot said. “When this is over, you plan to return to Earth, I assume?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Probably. Why?”
“I think it might be interesting to stay on Mars for a while,” Horatio told her.
“You’re welcome to,” she said. “Assuming the government lets you.”
“Well, considering the Martian government seems to be inexorably tied to Khrusos at the moment, something tells me it will be a mess by the time you’re done.”
“Really, what makes you say that?” she asked, letting innocence fill her voice.
“Oh, just a hunch,” the robot replied sarcastically.
Miles watched as the eyes of his companions defocused and they all entered Robot Wars. He smiled and got up. Let them play their stupid game. He was done playing.
He unstrapped himself from the deck and shoved off toward the exit. He reached the hatch, and opened it, cringing at the loud moan of metal. He glanced over his shoulder, but no one had noticed, immersed as they were in that game. His eyes fell on the woman.
She was no longer the Warden to him, though he might still call her that openly. No, to him she was simply the Ganymedean, now. The traitor.
She had participated in the Great Calming and might have even been directly responsible. She had admitted as much in the cave after defeating Veil, when she had stated the black container in the tunnels beyond had been part of her vessel: an invasion ship from Ganymede that the people of Earth had shot down.
He felt no remorse over what he was about to do. None at all.
He exited the cargo hold and left the door open, not wanting to risk closing it and causing that metallic groan again.
He shoved off and headed down the corridor in the opposite direction of the cockpit, toward the aft hatch. He wanted to make sure there was as little hull between him and outer space as possible, and that hatch was his best bet.
He landed on the bulkhead next to it and retrieved his portable transmitter. He tuned it to an open channel and placed it next to the hatch. Then he hit the “transmit” button.
“My name is Miles Falasthorn, ID 548245,” he said. “I’m sending this transmission from the Molly Dook, a merchant class vessel from Earth, bound for Mars station Hongton. Though the passenger manifest is empty, you might be interested in knowing that in addition to myself and several other passengers, there is also a woman known on Earth as the Warden. ID 845146.”
With that, he ended the broadcast. He hid the transmitter once more, feeling like a great burden had lifted from his chest.
Now he could enjoy the rest of the voyage in complete relaxation.
Now he was free.
Your days are numbered, Ganymedean.
Rhea accessed the external cameras as they approached Mars. With Targon’s permission, of course.
To the starboard side, she could see the small grey dot of the massive satellite the Chinese had placed at the L1 Lagrange Point—a location of gravitational equilibrium that allowed the satellite to remain between Mars and the sun at all times, with zero fuel expenditure.
The satellite generated a powerful magnetic dipole that kept the solar radiation away from the planet, preventing the solar wind from stripping away the atmosphere the Chinese were slowly restoring. The device essentially functioned as an artificial magnetosphere, playing a similar role to the ring network that once protected Ganymede. When the Martian atmosphere built up further, it would also contribute to the planet’s protection, blocking galactic cosmic radiation courtesy of the water molecules in the air—there was a reason hydrogen was chosen as the major constituent of BNNTS fabrics, after all, interspersed as it was throughout the nanotubes.
Until then, the populace would remain inside the many geodesic domes scattered across the planet. The biggest such dome was Hongton, the Molly Dook’s destination. It also happened to serve as the capital and was the seat of the Chinese government.
The red planet loomed in the distance ahead, and it became bigger by the hour, until it dominated the view in front
