Chapter Thirty-Two
Vivian squinted out the rover’s narrow window as their destination appeared on the far horizon. “Is there something wrong with it?”
The structure coming into focus was the size of a basketball stadium, if lower in height. But two-thirds of the building was covered by a bright orange seal.
August frowned. “Intelligence, what can you tell us?”
“Chancellor River did not see fit to mention this detail to the Council,” Xavier said. “Catena must have realized terraforming is a pipe dream after all.”
August made a side-to-side motion with his hands.
“Making the Martian atmosphere hospitable for humans will take a thousand years,” he explained to Vivian.
“The Catena dome was originally formed fifty years ago by those who believed we should be putting our resources into terraforming the planet at a faster rate.”
Xavier snorted. “Moving the timeline from a thousand years to three or four hundred. Still far beyond our lifetimes. We need to focus on the quality of life for our current residents first.”
“We completely agree, Xavier,” said the Intelligence.
“Terraforming won’t scale up fast enough to justify the investment.
A twenty-fold investment in terraforming would result in a projected timeline of three hundred and sixty-two years and ten days until the first humans could live on the surface of Mars without protective gear.
Under our guidance, Wim has advised Secretary Yarrow to direct Martian resources to other areas first.”
Xavier jerked his head back to stare at the orb, and Vivian suspected he was startled to find his AI adversary agreeing with him.
“Isn’t that why they needed water?” Vivian asked. “Because they were putting too many of their resources in terraforming?”
“Indeed. Imagine, humbling yourself before the dome you spurned, begging for water. Water!” Xavier scowled.
“I would die of shame if I couldn’t provide my people with adequate water.
Who would be foolish enough to sink resources into this massive facility before investing in the basic infrastructure to ensure the dome’s survival? ”
“Martian Fundamental Rights,” Vivian murmured.
“Just so.” Xavier gave her a half smile. “Have you been enjoying my present?”
“I—” She’d assumed he’d given her the book of law out of mockery.
Hadn’t she fantasized about just such a moment?
She’d dreamed of having the chance to demonstrate all she’d learned and throw his cruel joke back in his face.
But the man she’d thought he was wasn’t anything like the true Xavier Dorsey.
“I think the book is marvelous. How did you know it was something I would enjoy?”
“Delilah didn’t tell you?”
“Delilah? What would Delilah know about Martian law?”
“At the Hayes ball, she told me about your history organizing the women at the Sumter Refugee Camp. I thought you might appreciate the Martian approach to resource development and distribution.”
“I tried, at the camp.” Vivian touched her throat involuntarily. “In the end, I was unsuccessful.”
“Nearly there,” August remarked. “Suit up. And let’s hope the Intelligence’s stealth shielding has held.”
“Our shielding will hold.” The orb gave an irritated beep.
“Why did Silas bring Delilah out here anyway?” Vivian wondered. “What could he want at a half-finished terraforming facility?”
Xavier shook his head, his mouth a grim line. “I’d rather not speculate.”
“If you have a theory, tell me.”
“Very well.” Xavier rubbed one large hand across the back of his neck. “If this place is abandoned, it’s a perfect location for handling something delicate. Something that requires no interruption. Something you’d rather doesn’t become public.”
“Oh.” Vivian felt sick.
Xavier handed her a silver suit from a rack on the wall of the rover. “We’ll do what we can.”
With shaking hands, Vivian slipped her legs into the suit.
Designed for a Martian build, the suit bunched uncomfortably on her thighs.
When she finished fastening the top and gloves, Vivian picked up a round helmet.
She stared at her reflection and was shocked by her stark, grim appearance.
Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun with a cord of rope she’d found in August’s pack, and her face appeared washed out without cosmetics.
She’d gotten used to seeing another woman in the mirror.
A woman adorned and dressed to please the gaze of a potential husband.
She touched the helmet with one gloved hand.
This is the woman I want to be.
Daring.
Bold.
The one who does the rescuing.
“Ready to bring Delilah home?” asked Xavier, his voice distorted through the helmet. He lifted the surface plate and met her eyes.
He sees me, she realized. All of me.
“Ready.” She fastened her helmet.
The rover opened with a whoosh, and Vivian stepped down onto the surface of Mars.
The walk was only ten feet, but each step was a challenge as she navigated gingerly around brown and red rocks, seeking stable footing.
The Martians seemed at ease in their suits as they crossed the distance with long, confident strides, the Intelligence leading the way.
The doors to the facility slid open at their touch, and they waited in the pressurization chamber as it filled with air.
August had warned them to stay silent, lest their voices be caught by the militia’s comms equipment.
The Intelligence might be able to fool the cameras, but it couldn’t mask their noises. Vivian held her breath.
The inner doors slowly widened into an empty corridor. Instead of walls, only silver studs framed a path. Dim bulbs hung in yellow cages from the open ceiling, casting shadows on the rough, unfinished flooring.
August and Xavier opened their face plates and removed their suits, hooking them onto the frame. Silently, Xavier helped Vivian to detach her gloves. He touched one clammy hand to her own in a brief reassurance.
Vivian watched Xavier buckle the scabbard around his waist and draw his sword. His posture seemed to ease when he held it. He rummaged in his pocket for the bottle of painkillers and popped one into his mouth. Could he handle himself, despite his injuries? She wasn’t sure.
Without sound, the Intelligence projected a map of the facility on the floor, displaying heat signatures.
Three orange pulsating dots were positioned in the laboratory.
Two were centered in the command center at the far side of the facility.
And one blue dot with one orange dot pulsed in the equipment room.
An Earther heat signature.
Delilah.
August lifted his sword and gestured in the direction of the equipment room.
They strode through the empty open halls, the Intelligence’s orb bobbing along with them at Martian eye level.
The equipment room had real walls in place and a steel door with a handle. Vivian cautiously pushed it open and stepped inside. The large room was packed with crates, a pile of tools, and large machines. And Delilah—lying on an elevated cot, an IV attached to her arm.
By her side sat Chancellor River Hawk.
Vivian froze at the doorway.
“History will remember your sacrifice, Delilah.” River’s hand was on top of Delilah’s. “Today is a great day for Martian independence. We will speak your name and remember it. You’ll be the only Red Mother to go down in our history books.”
Delilah watched them warily, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Don’t cry. Think of the number of Martian children who will now be born ready to populate Mars. Think of what we will do. You’re part of the new world, Delilah.”
“Chancellor River,” August said, holding his sword aloft. “We are here to take Delilah home.”
“Delilah is home,” River said calmly. They rose from their seat.
“Vivian?” Delilah blinked up groggily at her. “Vivian? What are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d come back for you.”
Delilah reached one hand to the other arm and clumsily extracted the IV from her skin, wincing at the pain. “You’re too late.”
Vivian shouldered River out of the way and went to her sister’s bedside. “What did Silas do to you?”
“It didn’t hurt.” Delilah’s voice shook. “Not really. I didn’t fight. I—it didn’t hurt. I have cramps. Bleeding. I’ll be fine. I’m fine.” She swallowed. “They’re running tests on my b—on the specimen now.” She pulled herself to the side of the bed.
Vivian couldn’t keep the disgust off her face as she looked at River. “How could you do this to her?”
River’s serene expression did not change. “Great acts require sacrifice.”
“Indeed they do.” Vivian turned to see Silas with a knife held to Xavier’s throat. “Drop it, X.”
Xavier opened his hand, and his sword clattered on the unfinished floor.