Page 9 of The Mars House

“I have come prepared,” she intoned, and put another bar into his pocket.

At the head of a comet-tail of journalists, bodyguards, and aides, Senator Gale came slowly. It was, perhaps, to give the waiting line of managers time to think before anybody had to bow or start the complicated politeness of welcoming someone important; but it looked regal. Nobody else had the time to walk as if they were moving underwater.

Grudgingly, January could see why everyone was so keen. Gale was elegant in the way only sixth- or seventh-generation Natural people could be. They made all the Earthstrongers look like Neanderthals; a clear foot taller, athletically slim, hair like black glass, built of air and sharp poise. They must have come straight from the Senate, because they were dressed with the beautiful austerity that seemed to be required there, coat hem brushing the floor. Navy blue; heavy fabrics, velvet and sheening against the bitter winter.

“And these are some of our wonderful rig engineers,” the supervisor chirped, smiling the desperate smile of a person willing nobody to do anything disgusting.

There were all the ordinary hellos and how-are-yous, in such interchangeable Mandarin, Russian, and English that January couldn’t tell which Gale preferred. All three sounded equally cultured. Their voice exactly matched the rest of them—a caramel voice, half smoke, and loaded with the promise of third-degree burns.

Around them, people swirled. Gale was the only still point. Camera drones flashed and glowed as everyone took pictures or filmed, the light strobing across Gale’s sleeves. Each drone was a single perfect glass ball, and from a distance, it looked like Gale was surrounded by curious stars.

“Senator! Senator!” It was a semi-unified yell from what must have been twenty different journalists. One shouldered to the front. “Senator, is the storm affecting electricity production at your solar fields?”

If Gale minded being shouted at by a mob, they didn’t show it. “No. The technology we use to store the energy is the same as on the lunar colonies; it can supply power for up to two weeks. No storm since terraforming has lasted longer than four days.” Their Mandarin was so precise that January could understand every word.

“After your experiences at Gagarin Square, how is it to be here surrounded by uncaged Earthstrongers?” someone called in Russian.

January flinched.

Puffins puffins puffins.

“Fantastic. I love places like this. Industrial processes feel magic, and everyone who works in them always tells brilliant stories.” Gale smiled, managing, incredibly, to sound honest, even though it had to be a lie. In Russian, they had a sophisticated St Petersburg accent that suggested palaces and winter dances.

January tried to slink away, but then the glossy press officer was there and gripping his arm, not at all worried that he wasn’t wearing a cage. He froze, not daring to move. He had a vision of prison jumpsuits and barred doors.

And the thing was, you got that kind of prison if you were lucky—if the court decided you had hurt someone, or killed them, absolutely by accident, then it was twenty-five years in medium security here in Tharsis, ready to be drafted into a labour colony if you misbehaved. If there was any sense it was deliberate—no. Murderers went to the hulks around Jupiter. Not many came back.

Instantly he was much too hot: panic heat.

“Please let go of me,” he tried.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” they told him happily. “All right, everyone, the apocalypse isn’t happening, back off.” Then they glided up to Gale, nearly as tall. “Let’s have a quick interview with a couple of rig engineers?”

January looked away. All of this was only happening so that when other senators accused Gale of being cloistered and never having any contact with the people all their horrendous legislation targeted, they could say no, actually, I do go out and meet them before I shove them into naturalisation centres, look: footage. He hoped there was a special place in hell for politicians who pretended to be friendly with normal people.

“Of course,” the supervisor said, fluffing up with importance. “Who would be best? Someone experienced and—”

“You and you,” the press officer said immediately, collaring January and another victim about his age. The two of them looked, January realized uncomfortably, exactly the way Natural people expected immigrants to look. Short, broad, rough; or at least, to eyes trained on Mars. “Superb. This way please.”

“But I—” January started, not sure he understood what they wanted. Everything they had said so far was Mandarin, and he had caught most of it, but he was worried he’d dropped some important bits.

“You’ll be splendid!” the supervisor ordered him. And then to Gale, “Although might they have a minute to get back in their cages?”

“No need,” Gale said. “This isn’t affecting your insurance, I walked in here knowing there would be uncaged Earthstrongers. It’s only surprise uncaged Earthstrongers who are a legal problem.”

The supervisor laughed in a way that January hoped they’d be embarrassed about later. “Well, yes, but—you’re sure?” A flicker of a look to the Senator’s left leg. Gale wasn’t using crutches any more, but if you knew to look for it, they did walk with a limp. Of course, everyone knew to look for it. The day they’d come out of hospital with the new prosthetic last month, there had been nationwide news coverage.

Knowing full well he was being mean and stupid, January wondered if they didn’t exaggerate it just a tiny bit in front of cameras.

“Of course,” said Gale, like it was funny, the way soldierly people always were with too much sympathy.

As January went by, the supervisor caught his arm and spoke close to his ear. He wished people would stop touching him while he was out of the cage. “Just for God’s sake remember to say they like a normal human, and not he or she like you’re about to stab someone behind a drug den. Pretend to be, you know, civilized, for fifteen minutes, or we’ll be put on some sort of register.”

“I would never say that to someone Natural,” January protested, dismayed. “And—how would I know?”

The supervisor looked queasy in the face of all the possibilities. “And don’t swear.”

The eddies of people shifted and somehow January was right by Gale, in the middle of everything. Standing bolt upright, he only reached their shoulder. Even though he was the one who was three times stronger, out of his cage, he had a stab of wariness, one he hadn’t felt since being a child. From nowhere, the tight unease of watching his father, a bull of a man, slinging open cupboard doors and breaking things flashed up over everything like an unhelpful advert. That was the last time he’d been this much smaller than someone else, right up close. He didn’t know anyone Natural, just naturalised.