[ Watashi ]

[ Tomodachi ]

[ Saint Seiya ]

[ Clamp ]

[ Fanfiction ]

"That's one hell of a dust storm!" Cain Zwilling whistled between his teeth. "I know it's the middle of summer in the southern hemisphere, but still...."

"Yeah," I replied in an absentminded voice, busy trying to reach a decision. We were descending toward Mars in a slow spiral, and we'd reach Planitia Borealis spaceport within a half-day. Then, my and Cain Zwilling's ways would part. He'd start on a long journey south through storms and battlefields, and it didn't feel right to let him face those dangers alone.

In the nine days since our first encounter at Freedom's docks, I had started to like the prideful man. His was a sharp, brilliant mind, and he had a passionate heart to go with it--all hidden beneath thick layers of irony and contempt for everything and everyone. He was harsh and unforgiving, and gifted with a very nasty sense of humor. But the stark sincerity that could sometimes be glimpsed in the tone of his voice or in the light of his catlike eyes, I couldn't help but admire. Here was a man who acted on his beliefs, and that should be respected instead of thwarted by petty delaying schemes like the one that had sent us to Planitia Borealis.

It might be that he was mistaken, misguided even.

It mattered little. I had decided to give him the benefit of the doubt at the beginning of the journey, and I saw no reason to change that now.

"Cain."

The grey-haired head jerked away from the screen, and I managed not to laugh at the abrupt reaction. Despite appearances--and his request that I use that form of address--he seemed uncomfortable with my use of his first name. It was funny to observe, and also rather rewarding after having been the butt of his mean-spirited humor for days. "There's something I think you should see before we land," I told him quietly.

The secondary monitor and console came to life as I released the security lock on them. "Maps," I asked of Loki's voice command system, "index thirteen A to twenty-six. Up on secondary viewing screen, and release control to subsidiary console." Cain Zwilling gave me a questioning look, but I ignored him and made a show of focusing on Loki's descent. With a very well feigned, long suffering sigh, he stepped over to his seat and leaned over the monitor next to it.

Then he cursed.

Loudly.

"What kind of stupid game is this?!" he spat, clearly rattled by the little surprise I had prepared for him.

"They're high precision maps of Mars," I shrugged. "I thought they might come in handy. Feel free to download them to one of your computer pads, or to just ignore them. You can banish them, I've released control to your console," I finished with the ghost of a smile hovering on my lips.

"High precision maps, complete with troop locations and current movements, straight out of Olympus Hall's database!" he hissed. "You're insane, Cendre!"

I blinked. It was the first time he'd called my name. For some reason, he had always managed to avoid to do so--perhaps because he found that as uncomfortable as my calling his own name. He was angry, even furious. It was in the set of his shoulders and in the way his hands had grasped the console. "Yeah," I retorted evenly. "Anyway, if that access is misused, it'll be cancelled, and I'll get another. That's all there is to it."

It was warm.

I smiled at the main screen and its display of inbound and outbound traffic from Planitia Borealis. His voice sounding my name felt warm and right.

"No, that's not all there is to it," he said at last, his tone low and intent. "You could be giving a terrorist group the keys to strike at United Earth Corps' heart. Your naivete and folly could be the cause of many people's deaths!"

He was truly furious. Unbidden, laughter bubbled up my throat, but thanks to some kind god, I managed to stifle it. Why were people so complicated? The access to the constantly updated maps would help him win a lot of time, as well as make his journey less dangerous. He needed them, we both knew it, so why the fiery resentment I could feel spilling from him? With a sigh, I replied, "That could happen, yes, but you're an operative of Planetary Aid, and your objective is to help people. You hate this war, and you have no love for either side, even if your dislike for the United Earth government is, shall we say, more pronounced. You won't misuse those maps," I concluded with quiet confidence.

Something that might have been a growl rose in the air, but no other intelligible response came from him. Reassured that I wouldn't be bothered with a pointless argument, I focused on the data coming from the spaceport, and opened a communications channel. "Planitia Borealis, this is the freighter Loki, incoming from Freedom. Please confirm our landing clearance."

"Clearance confirmed, Loki," a voice replied almost at once. "Instructions are being uploaded into your system. We're putting you on a low decreasing, stand-by orbit, time for a cargo train to leave the access ramp. It should be no more than a twenty minutes' delay."

"Roger that, Planitia borealis, and thanks." With that, I severed the direct communication link, and shot a quick look at the landing data. I pursed my lips, finding that they had told us the truth: we had a twenty minutes' wait of slow spiraling down toward Mars, and then we'd be planet-bound within minutes. Good.

Hands rested upon my shoulders.

Violently I froze, drawing air inside my lungs in a sharp hiss. It was all I could do not to stand up and snarl at him. He'd sneaked up on me unnoticed. I hadn't felt him, as if he'd been--the wind. It was the second time he'd managed that, and it was the same thing my mind had brought up to explain the impossible lapse in my awareness of my surroundings.

The wind.

"You're a fool, and that generosity of yours will betray you one day," Cain Zwilling said softly. The pressure of his fingers on my shoulders increased as he whispered, "But thank you." The he released me, and went back to his console without sparing me a single glance.

Cold.

Indifferent.

As if he had never been moved to come to me and express his gratitude.

Dragging in a shuddering breath, I closed my eyes. The frantic beatings of my heart were so loud that they must echo on Loki's bridge, drowning the chatter coming from Planitia Borealis.

The woman's fingertips brushed against the lights control panel and at once a stark, much too pale light splashed the room. "Fade," she hissed softly, lifting a hand to her brow in order to shield her eyes from the painful glare in the same time I did. "Earth filter spectrum," she added, and the light mercifully darkened enough to become bearable. "Well, that's it," she said even as she faced me.

We were standing in the middle of what looked like a spacious studio, right in front of a great bay window opening on the outside. The curtains were drawn, which gave a rather uncomfortable feeling of confinement to the place. "It'll do fine," I told my guide with a nod. "Thanks, captain."

"It's not much," she shrugged, "but space is limited aboveground. Concerning the curtains," she gestured toward the bay window, "give a try at opening them, but there's no guarantee you'll be able to cope. Some people never adapt to the sight of Mars' environment and can't bear to bare themselves to it night and day." Turning away from the window, she strode over to the adjacent wall and squatted down, revealing a power and communications outlet. "This node will interface you to Planitia Borealis' internal network. Given sufficient credentials, you can request an access to the main gateway and reach Mars' global network. Earthbound communications must transit through universal data carrier waves, and channels can only be opened after being scheduled by the provisional administration. Priority is given to official transmissions, then to soldiers contacting their families, and then to civilians."

"Duly noted," I told her with a smile. "It must be tedious to always repeat the same thing to every official visitor you get on Mars."

She stared at me, blinked, and then smiled back. "Well, I suppose it would be, if we had lots of visitors. Traffic to and from Mars is mostly limited to the transport of troops and materials. Some tech crews come and go, but that's about it. Most of the exchanges with Earth go through universal data carrier waves."

"It feels lonely," I murmured as I set my travelling bag down on the sofa set in the middle of the room, "as if all of you were separate from Earth."

"All of us," she retorted in a quiet voice, her green eyes set on me. "And, yes, we are cut out from Earth here, Mr. Aries. We're several millions of miles away and trust me, sometimes it's one hell of an abyss."

With that, she turned her back on me, and stepped to the door. As she was about to go out, she paused, her right hand resting over the handle, and said above her shoulder, "Remember we're meeting at Plume's in two hours--that should leave you ample time to unpack. The pub is right across the street from the complex. You can't miss it."

"I'll be there," I nodded at her, and then she exited the studio.

Pivoting on my heels, I threw my bag a disgusted glance, and decided that unpacking was a useless nuisance. I wouldn't stay long in Planitia Borealis anyway. I went to the small kitchen, and whistled in appreciation when I saw it had a percolator as well as a tiny reserve of genuine coffee. That bit of luxury might be very much welcome at some point. For a moment, I toyed with the idea of celebrating my arrival on Mars with a cup, then discarded the childish whim and turned away from the worktop.

In front of me, the curtains were drawn, blotting out the light of day.

On impulse, I walked up to them and pulled them open. Before my eyes, the town that had developed around Planitia Borealis' spaceport didn't spread far, its buildings strangely small compared to the average heights of skyscrapers on Earth. It was because human settlements on Mars plunged their roots deep below the ground, I remembered. It was a necessity due to the harsh environment. As I looked up, I saw a reddish haze that dulled the daylight and blurred my vision. It seemed to hover some hundreds of meters above the highest building--a silent ghost, I thought as I opened the window slightly and focused on it.

Dust.

I blinked, then reached beyond the great energy field isolating the city from the outside.

Dry winds.

Hostile.

An atmosphere so thin it couldn't sustain life. There was still a weak magnetic field coming from the planet's core, but it wasn't strong enough to protect anything.

It was dead.

It hadn't always been so; traces of moisture remained among the clouds of dry ice. Mars' heart was still beating, but it was failing--agonizing, had been agonizing for millions of years.

It was alien.

As I touched it, it drew on me, and I snatched myself away, flinging myself backward and hitting the wall behind me in the process. It wasn't Earth. I closed my eyes tightly shut, and focused on the rhythm of my breathing. It was ancient and cold and dying--a dry, gnarled hand embracing the poor, puny creatures crawling upon it, who in their insanity thought they were safe behind their insignificant force-fields--in their cities where they duplicated Earth's atmosphere and climate in miserable attempts to pretend they felt at home.

Tapping into the power of Mars' withering heart.

Shuddering, I willed the sensation to fade, and shut myself to the feeling of the red planet. I shouldn't be here. I knew that with a clarity of perception so sharp and so bright that it assaulted my spirit, battering against the walls of my soul.

None of us should be here.

Humanity was intruding on a dying world, speeding up the process with its mines and blades cutting through to the planet's core and sucking out what little strength it still retained--killing it.

Killing themselves.

One day, the giant generators powering the force-fields that enclosed the human cities in small bubbles of makeshift Earth would simply stop. In three, four generations of men, it didn't matter. It would happen, and how the people who had decided that Mars would be settled by humankind and used for its mineral and energy resources could ignore something like this, I didn't understand.

Unless they hadn't given a damn--no. I pushed myself away from the wall, and went to the door on instinct. I couldn't think about this. To delve along those lines would lead to madness--to things I refused to envision. Leaning the palms of my hands against the door, I bowed my head and drew in a deep breath. Now I understood the female officer's warning.

Yes, the vision of the outside could be unbearable, but I'd cope with it, there was no alternative. I bit my lower lip, and made myself focus on the reality of the here and now. I'd meet with the young captain in a bit less than two hours. Taking a look at the studio's living room and the bay window beyond it, I decided I wouldn't wait here.

Watching the blurred, bloody sun declining on the horizon.

Feeling the giant, transparent barrier shielding human lives from Mars' lethal environment flicker, as flashes of instability in the energy stream lit imperceptible sparks here and there on its surface.

Mute cries of pain of an agonizing world while humanity's metal roots drilled through its heart.

Delusion though it was, I needed to feel warmth and to listen to the music of people's voices filling the air around me.

The quiet notes of a piano were gliding through the establishment's main room--soft, discreet pieces of old jazz melodies. Plume's was a classy lounge which enjoyed the patronage of military officers for the most part. Its atmosphere was peaceful, and the air in it was pure--the opposite of Athens' cafes where people spoke in loud voices, arguing from table to table and constantly smoking cigarettes. Tobacco was banned from Planitia Borealis, something to do with oxygen recycling and the absolute necessity to preserve the complex machines that processed the air.

Leaning back against my chair, I took a sip from my glass of Metaxa and closed my eyes, focusing on the drink's strong perfume and on the feeling of its burning its way through to my stomach--liquid fire. I chuckled to myself. The beautiful sounds of a saxophone joined the piano, and I exhaled an almost inaudible sigh.

Home--the illusion would have been perfect, but for the fact that a part of my awareness was focused on blocking out the perception of the alien place I had come to. With a snort, I sent those thoughts aside, and took another sip from my drink, allowing the low echoes of people's voices to lull me into a slight trance.

He must be securing vehicles to transport his gear southward--provided he'd won through the military security that had been waiting on the other side of our docking berth's airlock. Most likely he'd leave at dawn, anxious to reach his destination as soon as possible.

Draught.

Snapping out of the nap-like trance, I opened my eyes to see a tall, grey-haired figure stop by the bar three steps away from me, turn toward me and freeze. Cain Zwilling paused for the time of a heartbeat, then walked up to me, a wide smile on his lips. "This must be the last place on Mars where I expected to stumble upon you!" he laughed.

"Same here," I retorted in kind. "I thought either you'd be battling your way through customs, or getting everything ready for the rest of your journey."

Something dark flickered in the amber eyes, and then was gone. "Can't," he gave me a non-committal shrug. "There's a small matter I have to take care of first." The weird yellow gaze met mine. "How are you coping with Mars?"

I stared at the glass I was holding in my right hand. "It's different. Alien," I replied in a voice carefully devoid of emotion. Then, getting ahold of myself, I looked up at him and indicated the other seat. "Care to join me?"

"Sorry but no," he sighed. "I won't be here long. I'm waiting for someone--"

"Cain Zwilling!"

We both winced as the muffled, outraged exclamation reached our ears. The female officer who had been assigned to be my guide on Mars had just entered the lounge. In quick, brisk strides, she came to my table and threw my companion a baleful glare. "Leave him alone!" she growled. "Don't you have tastier and easier preys to ensnare?"

The light in the gaze he turned toward her was icy and flat. "Es-si-ah," he sing-songed her name. "Essiah, Essiah, Essiah. Don't fret so much, girl, you look like a mother hen fussing over her first hatchling!" he grinned at her. "Cendre has nothing to fear from me. I'm not here for him." Giving her a mocking bow, he added, "Since you're here now, I'll leave him into your tender care and go about my business." With that, he straightened, turned his back on me and left. Beside me, captain Essiah Jacarande cursed under her breath.

"What was all that about?" I asked her while watching Cain disappear in the thickening crowd of patrons. The sun must have set by now, and people were starting to gather. A pair of green eyes met mine.

Murky.

"There's no nice way to put it," she drew in a deep breath. "Cain Zwilling is a whore."

The piano's notes were too loud.

Their melody dissonant.

"It's not as if he was trying to hide it or keep it a secret," she continued in a strangely detached voice, "which is why I'm telling you. He aims for the pretty young officers fresh arriving from Earth, and gets them in bed--all that in exchange for safe-conduits and clearances that allow him to go beyond the Rim!" she spat that last bit. "How the bastard unerringly knows how to choose those who're getting assigned to security, we don't know. We tolerate him because we know there are people in need of help, lost in the deep south, and because we're not the evil he likes to claim we are," she finished, bitterness and irony warring in her tone.

"Clearances?!"

She stared at me. "He has the necessary clearances!" I hissed between clenched teeth, "There's no way he'd have brought all that gear from Earth if he wasn't sure it could reach its destination!"

"I'm confident he'll have them soon enough." She shrugged. "He's an expert at manipulating people--no!" she exclaimed, interrupting herself, eyes wide. "Don't tell me he seduced you!"

I had to laugh. Somewhere, very far away, my right hand hurt. Looking down at it, I saw that it was still grasping the glass of Metaxa--grasping it so tight that its knuckles were white. Reflexively I brought the glass to my lips and drank a long swallow.

Disgusting!

I grimaced, barely managing not to spit out the drink. The sour, bitter taste had filled my mouth and triggered a wave of nausea. "No," I told the young captain in a flat voice. "No," I repeated in a sigh, meeting her gaze and shaking my head, "but we talked a lot during the journey from Earth, and I thought I had gained a small insight into his heart." My lips were frozen in a lopsided smile.

"Don't mistake me," she replied quietly. "Unlike most of my colleagues, I do like him, but he's like one of those beautiful mountain cats back on Earth: you can't ever trust him. He has enough madness and courage to do whatever it takes to carry out his plans. He's as ruthless and harsh as they come, and even though we try to warn the younger ones against him, he still manages to catch them in his web."

All of a sudden, people at a nearby table stood up and left, clearing the view. Cain was leaning against the counter, his right arm encircling the waist of a very pretty looking young man.

He was laughing, his amber eyes sparkling with mirth.

I looked away, feeling heat come to my cheeks. Shit, it wasn't any of my business, and I had no right to judge--no right to be upset. It didn't matter that I couldn't understand how someone so proud could abase himself--sell himself like this. What kind of strength did it take? No, I had no right to judge.

"Concerning your schedule for the following days--" Essiah Jacarande was saying softly, having enough brains to focus on what mattered, contrary to me.

"I'm going south," I cut her off in an even voice. "My aim is to reach the Rim within two weeks' time while stopping here and there to get a feel of the situation."

"We cannot be held accountable for your safety," she objected, tense. "If you stumble into a battlefield, a rebel-made trap--if they attack you, we won't risk our troops for you."

"I'm not expecting you to. I'm not a fool, captain. Look," I told her, setting the palms of my hands on the table, "we both know my presence isn't welcome, but that I have high security authorizations that I will use. Leave me alone, and you'll never hear me asking for a rescue. I'm completely capable of fending for myself."

"Let's drink to that!" she smirked, reaching for a glass of what looked like port that had just been brought to our table. I lifted my own glass in the same time she did.

The Metaxa's taste was horrible.

Iron and ashes in my mouth.

I sat back and rested my right cheek against the glass, looking out at the darkness and its faint shadows of light. So far, the landscape surrounding the wide speedway that tied small settlements and mines together was more depressing than even the sight of the Piraeus could be. It was laid at the bottom of Valles Marineris, an impossibly deep chasm akin to a blade's cut inside Mars' body that would have stopped only when reaching the bone. The gigantic canyons system went so far below the surface that the weak sunlight could only touch its bed in ghostly threads which shrank and retreated before the surrounding night. The bullet train I had embarked upon was the only way of travelling on the planet--except for the military or those rich enough to afford private transportation means. Those could go on the surface, built to resist the furious battering of the dust storms, but using them was no more pleasant than this. At least down here the train was protected against the storms.

There remained the steep changes in atmospheric pressure that tore at everything.

Unpredictable.

Erratic, like the old planet's failing heartbeats.

It had been almost a week since I had left Planitia Borealis. Six long days during which I had allowed Essiah Jacarande to guide me through military hospitals and Earth-owned mines. I had had ample time to witness the pain and incomprehension of soldiers who had lost a limb to cleverly hidden mines--the weapons of the poor and the cowardly.

Weapons sold by companies sponsoring the United Earth government. Companies which had used their powerful influence for years so that they could keep manufacturing and selling those horrors, helped in that by despicable ruling bodies that didn't care about anything but getting enough money for the next election campaign and being re-elected by voters who were too stupid to even envision choosing candidates on something other than the pomp in their political meetings and the names of the network stars they managed to surround themselves with.

Employment rates were at stake, the weapons' industry kept arguing--the hypocrite's argument. Profit margins were much too high for those poor company leaders to even consider a redeployment in other domains of activity. The ironic result was that it was United Earth Corps soldiers who blew up on Earth-made mines, so that nameless figures could harvest greater and greater benefits.

Filthy criminals, worse even than the Mars rebels they sold their weapons to. The rebels were at least fighting for something, putting their lives on the line--the weapons' dealers and manufacturers just sat back and enjoyed the show, smiling at the picture of their ever-increasing profits.

Despicable merchants of death.

Essiah Jacarande had mistaken my fury at seeing the atrocities caused by the mines for anger directed at the rebels, and I hadn't tried to argue. Let her believe what she willed, it had caused her to relax a bit her surveillance and I was glad for it. This war was rotten, as were all wars where one side closed its eyes and allowed its weapon industry to sell arms to an hopelessly outmatched other side, so that they could keep on fighting and killing. It was all breaking down--the whole society, people's lives. It was falling around their ears, and they didn't seem to realize it.

Trapped in their conflict.

Ensnared by their constant struggle to survive beyond the next moment.

It was their choice--their freedom, as Gabriel had claimed. But this time, it had carried them too far. I had watched the young soldiers, younger than I was, weeping and calling for their parents in miserable children voices.

Broken dolls.

Impossible to fix or mend.

I had walked the endless corridors drowning with pain and despair, then I had walked the mines. All showed signs of bombing and devastation. They had been attacked, again and again, and countless miners had died, buried under tons of rocks--their remains forever a part of agonizing Mars, lost to their loved ones. Rebels sent advance warnings, my guide had told me, her face distorted by rage, they sent advance warnings, aware that they wouldn't--couldn't be heeded.

Because Earth desperately needed the supplies sent from Mars.

Because Earth's consumer society had gone mad and had grown into a hideous monster unable to so much as pause in its race toward self-destruction.

Blind.

Deaf.

The exploitation of the mines couldn't be stopped, and so miners went down to plunder Mars' resources. They died and were replaced by others who went down and died in their turn. After an attack, workers' teams had no more than a day to secure accesses to the site, and accidents had started happening, more and more often.

It was hell.

A part of me wished I were back in the Sanctuary, wished I were more like Taka and trusted Gabriel on blind faith alone. But Gabriel felt like someone forced to watch everything crumble into dust around him, clinging to millennia-old laws and principles as if they were his last anchor to sanity. He refused to open his eyes and I could no longer keep mine closed, no matter how I longed to still be able to.

Spark.

Flame flickering in the deep.

I looked out the window, trying in vain to discern anything in the darkness. The perception refused to go away. It was faint, but clear--and growing closer. This was no ghost conjured by a weary mind, I was certain of it this time. On impulse, I plugged in my small computer pad into the connection node set in the back of the seat before me. "Maps," I called in a low voice even though I was the coach's only passenger. "Interface with this train's guidance system and show me a detailed view of the area we're currently passing through." There was a few seconds' delay, time for the bullet train's guidance system to access Planitia borealis' distant databanks and verify my clearance level. Then the pad's small screen came alive before my eyes.

Styx.

It was a small independent mining site, but it was marked as sealed off. It must have been important despite its size, for there was a cargo docking station dedicated to it along the track, just a hundred miles ahead. Checking with the bullet train's archived schedules, I saw that it had once been a regular, once-a-week stop on the Planitia Borealis-Via Azura line. Now both station and mining site were closed, abandoned by humankind.

And the perception that had drawn me out of my gloomy reflections lingered, nagging at me. An independent site, neither owned by an Earthbound company nor by one of the powerful families among Mars' first settlers. It might prove interesting, it might even provide me with a glimpse of the truth of the Martian situation. Making my decision within the time of a heartbeat, I used the train's costly communications facilities, and made a call.

"Yes." The weariness in the voice was mirrored in the drawn lines of Essiah Jacarande's face.

"Just warning you I'll be arriving a bit later, captain. No need to wait for me at Via Azura station this evening. There'll be a bit of a delay--a day at most. I'll contact you upon arrival so you won't have to waste time waiting for me uselessly."

"Delay?" she shook her head. "Wait a minute, you should be on the bullet train by now, and there's no way it'd stop on its way through unsecured territory--" she paused, looking down at something, then scowled at me, hissing, "you *are* on the bullet train...shit! What--"

"See you tomorrow, captain," I told her gently before terminating the call. Now she would worry. She'd go wait for the train's arrival in Via Azura. She'd fret, then she'd get angry, then she'd try to investigate--in vain.

With the beginnings of a smile tugging at my lips, I stood up from my seat and stored the pad into my backpack before shouldering it and going to the restrooms. There were cameras everywhere but there--the last shred of privacy left to the people living on Mars, or so it seemed. Once there, I closed the door.

Then I stepped into Styx station.

There was a breathable atmosphere here, even if the air felt a bit stale. While striding toward the single magnetic rail that led to a wide docking area, I listened to the echoes of my steps in the tunnel leading from this station in the bottom of one of Valles Marineris' canyons to some unnamed place deep into the rocks. I directed my torch-light toward the ground, and froze as I noticed scattered pieces of paper lying there. Reflexively I squatted down and reached out to the closest ones.

An expedition form for various ores.

A sales note to a Merchanter from Planitia Borealis.

Carefully I set them down, then stood up. This place felt gloomy; it was as if everything had abruptly stopped here--torn outside of time and reality. This was a place of ghosts and unfinished things. Strange that it still retained an earthlike atmosphere, as if upon sealing the docking port for the last time, someone had hesitated and then went away, stopping short of shutting down the power completely and leaving it on stand-by. As if frightened to sentence this place to die--or as if they knew they'd come back one day.

And the spark I had felt was still there. It beckoned, coming from somewhere down the tunnel plunging into the planet's crust. "Will-o' the-wisp," I whispered, and the stones shivered with the sound of my voice. Then, following the whiff of life, I stepped out of the abandoned train station.

The place I came to had light--a light that felt warm and gentle and safe. I blinked and looked around at what seemed to be a huge natural cave. Like the station, it had an atmosphere, but here I could hear the low hum of engines powering the air-recycling machines. On my left, rows of boxes were neatly piled along the cave's wall. Supplies, by the look of them. Intrigued, I walked up to them, and saw that they were indeed imperishable food supplies, enough to last a group of ten people for many months. There was sugar here, salt and rice and flour. It meant that people indeed lived in a place that was supposed to be sealed off.

Next to the far end of the rows of boxes, I got a glimpse of an opening in the rock, as high as the giant cave and a good thirty meters wide. It wasn't the tunnel leading back to Styx station; that was behind me.

Closure.

I started. As soon as I had focused my attention on it, I had felt a dense stream of power blocking my perception. A shield, I thought while walking toward it, or perhaps a locked door.

Presences on my right.

For a fraction of a second, I closed my eyes and visualized the three people coming my way from another, much smaller opening in the far right corner of the cave. Feigning ignorance of their approach, I continued my walk toward the wall of energy barring the access to a tunnel plunging even deeper below the ground.

"That's the mine's mouth, but it's been sealed." The voice was old and felt like sand grating over glass. Unhurriedly I pivoted and waited, while two men and a woman came into view in the strange, daylight-like light of the cave--thin shadows with dangling limbs, their movements slow and weary.

Armed.

Unbidden, a smile came to my lips when I saw the muzzle of a gun pointed toward me. All three people were old, well beyond sixty. I gave them a quiet nod. "Yes, it fits with what's written on the maps. What's more surprising is the presence of people down here despite that."

The one holding the gun snorted, and lowered his weapon. "We're here because we live here, boy. Styx is our home--has been since the beginning. It's them bastard United Earth Corps that sealed it," he spat, "against our will."

"Why?" I asked, disbelief plain in the tone of my voice. "Why would they dispose of civilian property like that?"

The man laughed. "He said you'd ask stupid questions!" A smile lit his face. "Welcome to Styx, stranger," he added, coming to put his gun on the closest box of food.

"He?" I stared at the old man's stark blue eyes, and saw the flames of laughter still shining there. He was relieved, immensely so. With a sigh, I waved my question aside. There were too many mysteries gathered in this place. "Why did the military shut down your mining site?" I asked again, unwilling to be distracted.

In an instant, the fire in the pale blue eyes died. "They came three cycles of the sun ago--close to six earth years. They said we harbored terrorists, and searched the whole mine. When they didn't find anything, they claimed we were selling part of our uranium supplies and our ores to the Elefteros family, thus helping the rebellion despite the ban on all trade with the First Ones. Ridiculous!" he hissed, coming to stand the invisible wall barring the way to the mine. His gaze lost in the contemplation of the gaping maw of blackness, he went on in a low voice, "We're a small clan, we Gaitanises, and even though we have Greek origins as well, we're not related to the Elefteroses in any way--or to any of the First Ones. We came years later than they, a full generation, and we settled in land they had declined to claim. They taxed our metals for passage, and there was no love lost between us." He shook his head, in a slow motion, and continued in a whisper, "They behaved as if they were the kings of this red world. Why would we have risked bringing the wrath of Earth on our clan by selling stuff to them?" As he turned to face me, I saw a joyless smile twist the corners of his mouth.

"Enough, Dominique," the woman intervened in a soft voice, sorrow and pain spilling away from her like poison.

Head bowed, he heaved out a sigh. "Yes, Catherini, you're right." Then, slowly, he looked at me and added, "The truth is, young man, that they wanted this mine under Earth control. After the suicide-bombings began, they decided that they couldn't trust anyone. The war started like a campaign against the First Ones and their decision to stop all Earthbound trade in a bid for more power and a suppression of taxes on oxygen and water supplies," he said, his voice toneless. "After the first two bombings in Planitia Borealis, United Earth Corps decided that all the Mars-born were the enemy." He nodded at me. "Since they hadn't enough personnel to work and secure our mine, they sealed it off. Are you satisfied with the answer?" he challenged, his clear blue gaze set on me, unwavering.

"No," I replied, fighting down the urge to look away from those eyes. "No, I'm not satisfied, but I'll take your answer nonetheless." It was the truth, what he had said. It swirled around him like angry storm clouds.

It was insane.

Had United Earth Corps' so finely tuned machine so badly blundered? Had all those fine minds been so stupid and short-sighted that they'd chosen to alienate the Martian population by seizing "sensible" territories like the mines, and by declaring them under the provisional administration's jurisdiction, confiscating land? I dragged in a breath and filed that information for a later analysis, then I went on to the next riddle to solve.

"You didn't seem so surprised to see someone appear in here, even though the place is closed to everyone. Why is that? And why and how can you stay here with your source of income cut away from you?"

"He said someone might come," the woman named Catherini said, her gaunt face lighting with a smile. "Obviously you're he. Now," she went on, waving toward the other end of the cave, "let's go talk somewhere more comfortable. We only use this place as a storage hangar. It's stark, empty, and the feeling of Mars' thick rock crust above our heads is enough to make me sick."

Looking up at the high ceiling of the cave, I focused on the stones above, and nodded. Yes, I could see how she could feel the pressure of billions of tons of rock weigh heavily upon her heart.

It was in a natural opening of Mars' thin crust not unlike this one that I had bidden the Aries Cloth to remain hidden. It had no need of human shields against the lethal drops in atmospheric pressure or the cold that would freeze the bone and kill within moments--nor did it require breathable air. It would be safe there until either I called out to it, or until I left this old, withering world to return to Earth--to where I belonged.

We left the cave to walk down a long, narrow corridor artificially dug into the rock. The same gentle light was filling it. It felt familiar, and it made me want to reach out to it. "This light," I told them on impulse, "it feels like the sun on Earth. It's warm," I smiled. "How do you manage it?"

"Questions!" the man named Dominique cackled, "Cain said you'd be full of them, but don't expect us to give you the miners' most precious secret!"

I froze in my steps.

Cain.

That name echoed in the corridor, rebounding on the walls, taunting me--mocking. "Cain!" I spat, shaking my head.

"He said not to shoot you outright, that maybe you were salvageable and should be allowed to live so you could pester people with your stupid questions."

"How?" I hissed between clenched teeth.

"I'm thinking he might have been right after all," he continued jovially, oblivious of my interruption. "He must care about you, that one. He never showed interest in anyone or anything unless they--"

"Cain Zwilling doesn't give a damn about me!" I drew in a deep breath, attempting to control the almost imperceptible trembling of my shoulders. I clenched my hands into tight fists, and called to mind the image of the man leaning against Plume's counter, his arm around a young officer's waist and his amber eyes glinting--alight with the terrible mixture of joy and lust that predators had when they were about to devour their prey. "He used me, he manipulated me, and then he went on his way."

I had tried not to think about it.

I had tried telling myself I had no right to judge.

I had been too cowardly to think back on our journey together, and reanalyze it using the knowledge given me by Essiah Jacarande. Ridiculous. It was my own fault for having been stupid and presumptuous enough to think I had managed to somehow grow close to that wild cat--as if I had thought I could tame the wind and make it my friend. Cain Zwilling was driven by his hopeless, endless fight to bring assistance to the victims of the civil war. He did whatever was necessary to reach that goal, and he gave more than anyone had the right to ask. Then he took--he snatched away with frightening efficiency and ruthlessness. I couldn't fault him for that.

I could only fault myself for gleefully diving headlong into the trap.

"Pfeh!" the man snorted. "You--" The woman named Catherini laid a hand on his left forearms, and gave a single shake of her head, her gaze set on his. For the time of a heartbeat, they confronted each other, then he nodded back at her, and resumed his walk down the corridor, saying in a gruff voice, "Let's go, we've left Dimitri and Sophia alone for too long already."

As I followed after him, I willed my hands to unclench. "I'm sorry," I whispered to Catherini as the old woman fell into step with me.

"There were twenty-six of us when United Earth Corps came and sealed our mine--four generations of our family," she told me in a distant voice, her gaze turned inward. "The younger ones went south, beyond the Rim. They hoped to find a place far beyond the reach of Earth, where the family could be safe and start again. It was almost six years ago." She heaved out a faint sigh. "It was a terrible, harsh decision, but it was the right one. It hurt them to make it, and to leave their home behind, but we--" the ghost of a smile touched her lips, "we were too old, even then. We didn't have that strength, and so we returned here using hidden galleries known only to us. We waited in the dark until the soldiers from Earth went away and we could reclaim our home. Cain came shortly after that," she added in a soft voice, thick with memories, "sent by our sons and daughters. They begged him to convince us to leave, and he came to us through the Martian desert above. He's a legendary figure south of the Rim," she chuckled. "The Earth-born madman who challenges his own to help the Mars-born scum. Bright and strong enough to outsmart the military and find a way to get us everything we need...." She shook her head, allowing her voice to face into silence.

"He thought that getting us south with him would be easy," she looked at me, all of a sudden. "And he had every reason to: he's trusted by the miners, and he's a charmer with a gift for words." I sustained her steady gaze, refusing to flinch. "but he could only fail. Our roots here run too deep." She bowed her head. "We wouldn't survive if we had to leave. We told him so, and he believed us. Since then, every time he's been going back south with supplies, he's always stopped by Styx to share a moment with us, check if we didn't need anything--and leaving gifts hidden so we couldn't find them and return them before he had time to disappear. Extra-dark chocolate and genuine coffee beans," she said warmly, "insignificant trinkets, he calls them--priceless presents for old, stubborn fools like us."

"Our uranium generator will take another thirty years to die," Dominique intervened, "and so here we are: illegal squatters in our own mine." There was a defiant grin splitting the old man's face. In silence, I nodded at him and kept walking, hoping we'd eventually get somewhere.

What they had told me fitted with what I could glimpse of the complex puzzle that was Cain Zwilling. But it didn't--

Pain.

It rushed at me, flooding the gallery--a shrieking shadow that smothered the light and drowned the air I sucked inside my lungs.

Beside me, Catherini stumbled.

In a slow motion, I pivoted toward her and reached out to her--touched her. I let out a sharp hiss, even as I held her back and supported her, as gently as I could. She was the source of it. "This is the other reason why we couldn't leave here," she whispered between clenched teeth. Her gaunt face was contorted with pain. Unable to help myself, I focused on her fragile shape.

Snake.

Coils crushing her spine.

Spears piercing through her skull.

As I watched the gnarled hand embracing her, I felt my heart wrenching with pity. I should have sensed it as soon as I had laid eyes on her, but I had been too intent on understanding who and what they were, on listening to what they could tell me about Cain--that, and she was hiding it with fierce determination.

"It has spread from the bones to engulf me completely," she said. "It won't be much longer before it can claim victory over this wizened old woman--and a proud victory that one will be," she added, summoning a smile to her lips.

Sweet Goddess, what kind of strength did it take to bear with this? She must feel it draining her with each heartbeat, she--no.

I closed my eyes, and called to the stars within. Then I mentally reached out to Catherini, and embraced her pain. Come, I willed it, and it obeyed. Gritting my teeth, I drew it from her, hunting for it like a religious fanatic would a sinner. I couldn't heal her, I had no right to, even if it hadn't been too late, but at least I could give her a shield against the torture she must endure. Denying the excruciating pain and exhaustion that savagely battered at me, furious to find themselves bereft of their prey, I gathered the fragile starlight and shaped it, wove it into a Wall of glittering Crystal--a mantle of light I closed around her. Then I withdrew.

From very far away, I felt myself take a faltering step back in order to keep my balance. Funny how it was always so much easier to destroy, to hurt and to kill. To heal, to give demanded so much more strength. It was so much harder to help people, to rebuild than to be a soldier fighting a war. That understanding always came as a surprise, as if I couldn't hold this essential truth in my hands and had to relearn it every time I was confronted with it.

"Lord!"

The muffled cry brought me back to reality. Catherini was staring at me, the fingers of both her hands pressed against her mouth.

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

She knew. Even though there was no way for her to have felt my intervention, she knew I was the one who had pulled her pain away from her. I looked away, unable and unwilling to confront her questions or to dash what false hopes my action might have sparked to life in her heart, but she laid a hand over my right arm and gave a fierce squeeze. "Come," she whispered huskily. I followed after her when she drew me toward the gallery's closest wall. She came to a stop beside the rock and reached out to a thin, almost invisible vein of crystal inside it. In the same time, a small vibration shook the ground beneath my feet, and an opening appeared in the wall, twenty steps further on the right. Then a whiff of perfume hit my nostrils.

Jasmine.

I knew that sweet, subtle scent: Shiva had given me one years ago--a stray plant that had managed to steal a small spot among the Royal Demon Roses set along the great Stairs beyond the House of Pisces. It was jasmine. I blinked. Jasmine, and grass, and moisture in the air!

"Go," Catherini murmured. The single word was like the releasing of a spell. I ran, unheeding of anything but the impossible perception which kept brushing against me.

Green.

The tickle of a leaf against my left cheek.

The gentle sway of reeds caressed by an almost imperceptible breeze.

The music of water running over stones.

The tingling, overwhelming sensation of *life*--life, deep below the ground, close to Mars' agonizing heart. It couldn't be. I hugged myself. I just couldn't be! This world had no strength left, no soul left to share!

"This is the most cherished secret of the miners' clans," Catherini said as she came to stand beside me. I didn't hear her, lost in the sight of the forest spreading before me. "When you dig this deep, you can sometimes stumble upon huge veins of pure ice woven with the rock. They're remains of a distant past, when it's supposed Mars could sustain life."

"When the first generations of miners found them, more than a hundred years ago," Dominique's voice came from close behind us, "they worked in secret to develop a way to produce this gentle light that feels like the sun's, and they also came up with a way to give life back to these frozen waters. It's a simple cycle: the water runs back to itself, either released by the plants and gathered by instruments, or at the mouth of that small stream you see." There was quiet pride in his voice. "How do you think the mining families managed to survive generation after generation, locked deep beneath the surface in the darkness, without going mad?"

"It's beautiful," I whispered. I bit my lower lip, struggling to ignore the lump in my throat. "It's so beautiful." It was an illusion, a dream, so finely wrought that it felt true.

"'You'll see,' he said," Catherini murmured, her gaze set on me once more, "'He'll be young and stupid and naive, and as fair as a new dawn. If there's a veil over his eyes, bring him to your garden. That's the only thing I ask.'"

Cain.

Again, I blinked. Nothing made sense--the life pulsing all around me, the sounds of that name, or the closeness of the people around me. Perhaps it couldn't make sense, perhaps it was mad. Perhaps it didn't matter.

"When I was a little girl, my great-grandmother told me stories of her childhood in Agios Ioannis. In that small village, lost in the mountains south of Athens, she told me a man sometimes came from a hidden, sacred place. He was a holy man who walked among the villagers and blessed them with his presence, healing or chasing the pain away from those who hurt. He belonged to the Old Gods, she claimed, and I laughed because I didn't believe her. I was a fool," Catherini finished softly.

For a moment, I looked at her in silence, wondering what I should do. She mustn't know--nobody must know of our existence...but they had shared this place of magic with me.

They had bared their hearts to me.

"A myth," I eventually replied. "Nothing more than a myth." I drew in a deep breath, and released it in a shaking sigh. With infinite gentleness, I reached out to them and their forest, and embraced them.

Fragile candle lights.

Flickering in the wind.

I closed my eyes and shared the magic of it all with them. I let them feel, as no human being ever could, the true wonders of this place hidden deep in the darkness of a withering world.

Then I touched their minds.

Then I whispered to them, and they knew that they were dreaming a dream that would stay with them and sustain them for as long as they lived. And they remembered I was indeed the nice, foolish young man Cain had described and nothing more; a naive guest quickly sent on his way before he brought the attention of United Earth Corps on Styx.

Then I was gone, my vision blurred by senseless tears.

End of chapter 3.

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