Drifting Away

by

Stefano Costantini

to my parents

Table of Contents

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Interlude I

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Interlude II

Eight

Nine

Ten

Interlude III

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Interlude IV

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-one

Interlude V

Twenty-two

Twenty-three

Twenty-four

Twenty-five

Twenty-six

Twenty-seven

Twenty-eight

Twenty-nine

Thirty

Thirty-one

Interlude VI

Thirty-two

Thirty-three

Thirty-four

Thirty-five

Thirty-six

Thirty-seven

Thirty-eight

Thirty-nine

Forty

Forty-one

Forty-two

Forty-three

Forty-four

Forty-five

Forty-six

Forty-seven

Forty-eight

Forty-nine

Interlude VII

Fifty

Fifty-one

Fifty-two

Fifty-three

Fifty-four

Fifty-five

Fifty-six

Fifty-seven

Fifty-eight

Fifty-nine

Sixty

Sixty-one

Sixty-two

Sixty-three

Sixty-four

Interlude VIII

Sixty-five

Sixty-six

Sixty-seven

Sixty-eight

Sixty-nine

Interlude IX

Seventy

Seventy-one

Epilogue

Prologue

A synodic period.

This is the amount of time that elapses between the two instants when Earth passes in between Mars and the Sun. When this happens, an observer on Earth would see Mars in the opposite direction from the Sun. This is called opposition. About seven hundred and eighty Earth days go by between two oppositions. This is the length of a synodic period.

When this happens, Earth and Mars are as close as they can be during that synodic period. On average, that's forty-nine million miles.

Earth's orbit around the Sun is almost circular. But Mars's isn't. It's elliptic. This means that the minimum distance between Mars and Earth varies from one synodic period to the next. Plus or minus nine per cent. More or less. That is, plus or minus thirteen million miles. From as little as thirty-six million miles. To as much as sixty-two million miles.

Synodic period: start from when Earth and Mars are at their closest. Next synodic period: Earth and Mars are a little further apart. Another synodic period: a little more. And another one or two more. Now Earth and Mars are as far away from each other as they can be.

But then things start going the other way. At the end of each synodic period, Mars and Earth are getting a little closer. In three to four periods, they are back to where they started.

Altogether, a round trip takes between fifteen to seventeen years.

It's not so regular though. It would be if the orbits of both Earth and Mars were absolutely fixed. But their orbits, like those of every other planet, are subject to small changes. They are called perturbations. They are caused by the gravitational pull of other planets.

Over time, perturbations tend to cancel each other. Not completely though. Perturbations affect the eccentricity of a planet's orbit. Sometimes they make it more elliptic. Other times they make it more circular.

This happens to Mars too. Over millions of years, its orbit swings from being perfectly circular to being elliptic, or eccentric.

And the more eccentric Mars's orbit gets, the smaller the distance at the closest point, every fifteen to seventeen years.

Mars and Earth have kept on getting closer for the last twenty thousand years.

Due to irregularities in the respective orbits, this approach is not smooth. A few steps in one direction. Then a few steps backwards. But eventually Earth and Mars will get as close as they have been in the last 50,000 years. There have been a few close encounters in recent times. On August 18, 1845. On August 23, 1924. The 2003 opposition was very close.

The next closest opposition will be soon.

On August 28th 2287.

In fact, it will be the closest opposition in 50,000 years.

One

May 16th 2287. 6.30 a.m. UTC.

The alarm went off, like every morning. Every weekday morning. And this one was the worst of them all: Monday. The weekend had been good. On Saturday night, Harry Strickned had gone dancing. He wasn't a dancer, but a few colleagues had managed to drag him along anyway. He had danced until the small hours of the morning. No longer having the energy of his twenties, he had spent the whole of Sunday in his flat, recovering. A full day of complete relax. But the start of the week had proven to be as painful as usual.

- Now, if only the sun wasn't up so early - Harry thought.

The sun was actually up in the middle of the sky. Not really the best thing, early in the morning.

- If only we dropped this stupid idea of staying synchronised with the Greenwich Mean Time. - he thought.

Most people on Mars didn't quite remember what Greenwich actually was. And, after a while, the time had lost any relationship with where the sun was. It took the Sun twenty-four hours, thirty-nine minutes and thirty-five seconds to get back to where it was. A day. Which didn't have anything to do with the time on Earth.

Harry went for a shave. They were nicer on Mondays, especially after not shaving for more than two days. While shaving, and then showering, he felt he was slowly waking up. Energy levels building up.

- Ready to face the day. - Harry thought, - as they say.

The radio was playing the morning show, with the usual mix of news and gossip. And Harry didn't pay too much attention to what they were talking about. But it was nice having that in the background. It made him feel a little less alone.

Just before going out, he picked up a copy of the Aaltrin Gazette. Nothing actually worth writing about had happened. Still, once again they had managed to fill the paper. Just the usual discussions about the public budget and the fact that there was never any money to go around. So taxes would have to go up, to avoid cutting even more social services.

There were already too many people in the streets. He switched to the hyperlocal edition. The District 9 edition. The paper was full of gossip and small-time stories. Secretly, he had always found those entertaining. They gave him a sense of belonging. But, really, it was just wasted space.

He decided it was time to go to work. He didn't want to be late at the start of his second week at the District 9 Precinct, Aaltrin Police Department.

Two

Martina Fernandez was used to being alone. Just her and Tony. Already eleven Earth years since Jonathan had left.

At the beginning, she had thought they were perfect together. And, perhaps, but only just perhaps, so had he.

But the plan hadn't worked out. Jonathan had moved out soon after Tony's birth, leaving Martina on her own. Too much pressure, he had said. Apparently he wasn't ready to start a family.

At least, not a family with her. Because a few months after their break-up, Jonathan Singh had relocated to Kitron, to start a new phase of his life. With his new partner, who was already pregnant.

- So much for being honest to each other, - Martina had thought. - And to think that until three months ago we were even talking about getting married.

She had suffered at the beginning. She just hadn't expected it. But, over time, her life had started getting back to normal. Now the old wound didn't burn as much anymore. After all, she wasn't the first woman on Mars to be left by her partner. And she was actually managing better than most.

Jonathan had left, but his family had stayed.

Before Jonathan's departure, Martina hadn't quite got to know her potential in-laws. It wasn't customary, in the Martian Republic, a country founded on the values of individualism and independence. Still, Jonathan's family turned out to be much more traditionalist than she had thought. They had felt ashamed about what had happened. They still did. And they had sided with Martina from day one.

She had raised Tony by herself, of course. Working hard to earn enough money not to deprive him of anything. But the Singhs had given her a little help here and there over the years. It had never been life-changing. But it had lifted her out of the hole Jonathan had thrown her in.

Little things, like advancing some of Tony's school tuition, when Martina was skint, as it happened from time to time. And slightly bigger ones, like giving Tony the chance of a lifetime: a trip to Earth.

Marcus Singh, Jonathan's brother, worked for the Earth Association. He was responsible for the exchange programme that every year sent several children from the Martian Republic to spend some time on Earth. The demand for places on the programme was high, and the waiting list very long. But, thanks to Marcus's interest, Martina had managed to get Tony a place.

And so, the previous year, Tony had spent a few weeks on Earth. In Innsbruck, in the Alpine region. He had stayed with a local family, the Eberharters. Maria, Anton, Anna and Andreas Eberharter. Tony had told her that they had a big house with several guest rooms.

Tony had loved his time there, forging bonds with Anna and Andreas. And Martina, despite never having been to Earth, had exchanged several messages with Maria Eberharter, developing something that she almost dared to call a friendship. Martina had told Maria about her broken relationship with Jonathan and the daily struggle she had faced. Despite the fact that they had never met in person, they had become closer.

Now Tony was back, and he was thriving. He was healthy. He was doing well at school. Martina had started looking at the future in a more optimistic way. Recently, she had also found a job that paid her a bit more. Court clerk: it wasn't the most exciting job on Mars, but at least it gave her enough money and the flexibility she needed to continue to take care of Tony.

- We definitely deserve to celebrate how thing are going, - she thought.

They were having lunch at the Singhs. A small family gathering on Tony's birthday.

- This is all delicious, - Martina said.

- Thank you, it's really nothing special, - Vega Singh said. - You just chuck it all in the mixcooker, and out it comes, ready to eat. I'm really lazy: if I didn't have that contraption, there's no way I would prepare these meals.

Martina wished she had a mixcooker herself, but it was way out of her means. Not to mention the ingredients that Vega used. Still, she got to eat delicious meals at the Singhs at least twice a month.

Vega was Jonathan's and Marcus's mother. She was still ashamed for the way in which her son had treated Martina.

- Well, Vega, mixcooker or not, I still love coming here for lunch. And Tony likes it too.

- It's a pleasure, Martina, - Marcus said.

- I really wanted to say how much I appreciate what you're doing for us, - Martina said. - I don't think we would manage as well without you.

- Sure you would, - Marcus said. - But we're just happy to help a little, if this makes life a little easier. You know what we think of my brother's behaviour.

- I know.

For a few seconds, Martina felt their shame.

She continued.

- I'm of course very grateful with what you've done for us. And continue to do. But please do not feel you must help me at all costs. You've already done enough.

- Sure. We do it only because we want to do it, - Vega said. - Talking of which, I know things are looking better for you right now, but if there's anything we could do for you do let us know.

Three

At that point, Marko Slavik wasn't quite sure he had made the right choice.

He hadn't thought about signing up for too long. After all, it was just a job. And, at that time, he had needed one.

- If I don't like it, - he had thought - I can always give up.

But he knew he would not have been able to do it. Not this time. Not again. He had to show that he could start something and take it to the end.

He had to prove that to himself.

At least once.

It was hard, though. Very hard. Just that day, they had already done two hours of free weights and one hour of cardio conditioning. And it was only ten in the morning. It was still two hours to their lunch break. After that, and a quick shower, they would spend the afternoon in various technical training sessions.

- What for? - Carlos Figueroa said.

It wasn't the first time he was complaining about the training.

Marko couldn't stand him when he was that way.

- Come on, Carlos, stop it, do me a favour. Just this time. You know we have to go through this training. Anyway, you did read the fine print before signing up, didn't you?

- Yeah, yeah, you're right. I'll shut up.

- Good, because listening to you gabbing on just makes all this training harder. We just have to do it. I know it doesn't make sense.

- So, you agree with me then?

- Of course I do. We're going to spend weeks and weeks in freefall. Fine. I can accept we need some training for that. Learn the exercises and stuff. Prevent loss in muscle mass and bone density. Blah, blah, blah. But at the end of the day, we're just going to sit on our asses for most of the time. We won't have to pilot that ship.

- Certainly not. Unless there's an emergency, that is.

- Sure! - Marko said. - If there was an emergency, we'd be the first ones to be in the way.

- That's the spirit, Slavik.

The instructor had heard them. He would not have taken it kindly. It wasn't the first time it happened.

- As your morale level is a little low, you are going to come back here for a supplementary session this afternoon, after you finish your technical training. Understood?

- But...

- Understood, Slavik?

- Yes, sir. - Marko said. - Your wish is my command, sir.

- Less of that attitude, Slavik. And work harder.

Within a few weeks of signing up, Marko had already developed a robust dose of cynicism towards the role that the marshals could have. But, despite the punishing training, the job sounded interesting enough.

He was going to stick with it for a while.

In 2251, one of the Earth to Mars spacecrafts was hijacked. It quickly turned out that the hijackers were Separatists. The Separatist movement had started at the end of the 2220s, with the objective to speed up the process of separation between Mars and the Earth. Everybody knew it was already happening on its own. But somebody believed that it was going too slowly. Since their beginning, the Separatists had been largely successful in accelerating what many thought would be eventually inevitable.

The hijacking of the Phoebos liner had been one of their most extreme acts. This was one of the spacecrafts that ferried passengers between Earth and Mars on a regular basis. The hijacking had ended in catastrophe: the terrorists had hurled the spacecraft against three satellites orbiting Earth, destroying them. The ship had then plunged into the atmosphere, after a close shave with one of the orbiting hotels, which at the time was hosting nine hundred guests. Upon entering the atmosphere, the ship had started to burn, but, given its size, it had not dissolved completely. Large pieces of the relic had fallen over a vast area of the South African Confederation. Luckily, the area was only sparsely populated, so the damage on the ground had been minimal. But the whole rescue process took months. The ships nuclear engines had contaminated a large area. Rescuers had to work long shifts in boiler suits to recover body parts and any salvageable equipment.

Following this incident, the spacelines decided that each spacecraft would carry a team of at least ten ship marshals. The idea was that the marshals would be able to overwhelm a team of hijackers. Since the introduction of ship marshals, there had not been any other incidents. Though it wasn't clear whether this was due to the marshals or the enhanced ground security checks. Marshals were generally disguised as passengers, though a careful observer could have made them out. They were all males, in their late twenties. And, after months of service in space, none of them exhibited the symptoms of discomfort that were so typical in occasional passengers.

In theory, the job carried a significant risk. Facing a group of fundamentalist hijackers would have been an extreme challenge, even for trained marshals. In practice, after so many years without any Separatist attack, no one even remembered exactly what the marshals were supposed to do. They were required by current regulations, to which each country abided religiously. Each shuttle departing for the orbiting spaceship carried one or two marshals. As a result, each trip brought together people from various countries, which then spent the trip watching recorded videos, playing games and drinking beer together.

At the time of signing up, Marko thought that it would be a pretty good life, so he was willing to give it a go.

He took a brief pause between two sets of lung busting exercises.

- And, - Marko thought - At least I will finally see Mars.

Not as much as he would have liked to. They would not disembark, as there was no time for that. A week or so in a holding orbit, just enough to resupply the ship and get a new batch of passengers on board.

But he would see the planet from up close.

He wondered what his first reaction would be.

Interlude I

It had taken them a while to get used to the gravity. Ten Earth days to be precise. And that's because they were athletes. Otherwise it would have taken them at least twice as long, just to be able to walk around. With a tolerable pain level.

This would be their team's last trip to Earth. Everybody was beginning to surrender to the now obvious fact that all this just didn't make any sense. Spending several weeks on a spaceship, having to get used to freefall conditions. And then the adaptation period on Earth. Their bodies could cope, sure, but their team would never have any chance of winning. Every run down the pitch felt like walking through mud. Even the ball felt too heavy to kick around.

On Mars, they were elite athletes.

On Earth, they were worse than a bunch of amateurs.

They always came last. And then, when Earth players were visiting, they were so strong that there was really no point in playing.

Just as well, this was meant to be the last league grouping together teams from Earth and Mars, under the delusion that their new planet was just an extension of the old one. And that they should be kept together as much as possible.

For quite some time, sport had been a vehicle to keep the Martian Republic close to Earth's nations. But the plan was falling through.

Given that at last the whole experiment was coming to a close, and this would definitely be his last trip to Earth, Jaq thought that they might as well enjoy it. They should play it to the best of their abilities.  This would not change things much, probably, but they wanted to go out with a bang.

Also, already the trip hadn't turned out to be a complete waste of time. On the ship over to Earth, Jaq had started chatting with Zoë. She was a sport journalist, on her way home from Mars where she had covered the latest international handball games. The last ones, actually. All interplanetary sports events were going to stop that year. All of them. Another link between Earth and Mars was going to disappear.

Jaq had found Zoë interesting from the very first moment. With her, the conversation flowed. He had even enjoyed the rare gaps. He had never got nervous, as it always happened to him when he was talking to a woman. They had used Standard English, although Jaq couldn't help slipping in a few Martian neologisms. Most of the times, Zoë had understood the gist of what Jaq was trying to say. In some cases he had had to explain the meaning of a word.

- I love that! - Zoë had said on a few occasions - I think I'm going to use it from now on.

- But no one is going to understand what you mean? They will think you're one of those crazy Mars-lovers.

- Trust me, there's not so many of those left. Mars is less and less popular these days. People just think it's a waste of resources.

- Thanks! - Jaq had said. - Let me remind you that we're actually human. A society, with people, families, hopes and dreams.

- Sure, sure. Relax. No one is going to dispute that. At least not me. I support the Martian Republic. I think we on Earth should help it more. Mars is a stepping stone to further colonisation of the solar system. But go tell that to my parents. They think Mars is just a black hole.

- Technically, it's a planet.

Jaq had regretted his stupid joke as soon as he had made it.

Zoë had kindly ignored it.

- You know what I mean, Jaq. For several decades, people on Earth were generally fine with providing Mars with aid. Almost all governments said the Martian Republic had to be helped and they thought it was the right thing to do. But now people are losing interest. There hasn't been any real development in space exploration since then, and the Martian Republic is increasingly seen as a leech, sucking resources that could be used for other purposes.

- So your parents support this view, don't they?

- They do now, although they used to think differently. Maybe it's because they're getting old. But I haven't stopped dreaming. You have my support, although I don't know how much it helps.

- Not much, I'm sorry to say. But thanks anyway. I think this will be the last trip to Earth I take. Playing sports with Earthlings is not much fun. It must be boring for you too, as a journalist. It always goes in the same way.

- Pretty much. But I like coming over to Mars. I can say I'm a veteran. I've been there four times now. Shame this was the last trip for me too.

- A shame indeed.

They had chatted several times during that trip.

And getting to know each other had led to something more. During the last two weeks of the trip, they had spent a few nights together. The lack of gravity had been a challenge, which they had happily taken on.

Jaq had known this would not lead to anything. A guy from Mars and a girl from Earth. Ancient stuff, now almost lost in the memory of great-grandfathers. It was just for fun, after all.

Yet, even after getting to Earth, going through the acclimatisation process, and the extra training session, Jaq had not stopped thinking about Zoë. It had been the first time in ages that he had met someone he could open up to so freely. His mind kept on going back to her.

He kept on pulling it back. He thought that there would have been no way for that to work.

He was twenty-nine, but with many injuries, his sporting career would come to an end soon. It was time to think about what to do next. To be focused on something more tangible. There was no point in wasting his time with a girl from Earth.

He would go back to Mars soon. Never to come back.

And yet his mind kept going back to Zoë.

Four

Since the start of the colonisation, the new society on Mars had shown signs of being different from the traditional ones on Earth. The main difference was that the colonists seemed reluctant to form stable families. It was down to the character of the first people that decided to leave Earth. Happy to leave behind its norms and rules, these people tended to be independent and self-reliant. They knew they could achieve what they wanted on their own and they didn't need a society to prop them up. They had left a society not to be constrained by it. And, once on Mars, they didn't want to be burdened in a similar way.

Despite being a pack of loners, the first pioneers managed to get along with each other. They started building the new colony based on their guiding principles. The embryonic state was designed to be as light as possible, providing just those services that could be efficiently supplied only by a central government. These included road building and maintenance, traffic control, education, healthcare and the emergency services. As since the very beginning there was only a single country, the Martian Republic never developed a proper army. A war on Mars was extremely unlikely. And an attack from Earth, especially if moved by more than one large country, would have been impossible to defend. Resources were limited: there was no reason to waste them on setting up an army with all the trimmings.

Over time the Martian society had lost some of its more extreme characteristics. As the Martian Republic had grown to become a fully-fledged state, its complexity meant that the state bureaucracy had started to resemble the classic Earth model. Government institutions had expanded, in number and complexity. The central government had started branching out into local government institutions which, in turn, had been broken up into smaller ones once they had become too big.  In parallel, people had started forming families and generally setting up smaller communities, dense with social interaction rules.

But the descendants of the first pioneers never quite forgot the original desire for individuality and independence. For this reason, people were still reluctant to settle. Couples formed all the time, but, compared to what happened to Earth, these relationships rarely resulted in marriages and stable families. On Mars, after a few years together, pretty much all couples tended to break up. These break-ups were often amicable, but they left behind a vast number of single parents. And, in most cases, these were single mothers. Because of the unwritten principle of independence, there was no proper legislation that obliged fathers to actively contribute to the maintenance of their offspring. Everything was left to the goodwill of the individuals. In a few cases, these arrangement worked well. In most cases, men moved on as soon as they found a new partner and had new children, leaving their old families behind. Many children growing up on Mars had never met their fathers.

The single mothers of Mars accounted for 67% of the adult female population. No country on Earth had ever got close to that. This created additional pressures on the Martian Republic government. The country was deeply reliant on all citizens working. The lack of resources meant that it was particularly problematic to run an effective system of benefits and childcare that would allow single mothers to play an active role in society while being able to care for their offspring. While a welfare system was actually in place and politicians never got tired of praising it, it was struggling and, in practice, it was leaving many single mothers behind. They found it difficult to get a job as they couldn't afford childcare. And in turn, not working meant that it was increasingly hard for them to make ends meet and escape poverty.

Five

Harry's life had changed. A lot. And in the space of a few months.

It felt like a year, but he could easily cast his mind back to the events that had led to him moving to Aaltrin.

At the time he had wished it could be less traumatic. But here he was. And he was sure he had made the right choice.

Lisa's first reaction hadn't been the one he was expecting.

- I can't believe you're going to do that, - she had said.

- I come home and tell you that I've just got promoted, and this is this the first thing you can say? I wasn't expecting a celebration with champagne and oysters, but at least you could have ventured a pat on the back.

- Sorry. You're right, - Lisa had said, not too convinced. - But you also know what this means?

- Well, I do. If I were to accept the promotion that would mean having to leave Grenlund and find a job at another Police Department. In Kitron, or, more likely, in Aaltrin. That's the policy, and there's no way around it.

- So you've accepted it.

- No, I haven't. I wanted to discuss this with you first.

He had actually accepted it on the spot. He hadn't quite expected it. He knew his bosses were pleased with his performance, but he thought they wouldn't consider him for a promotion for at least two more years. In theory, there had been several others in front of him. He was sure that they hadn't taken it so well. Oh well, he had come out first. And he had loved it from the very first moment. He couldn't have turned it down. But he still felt he should have talked about it with Lisa. Should worse have come to the worst, he would have turned it down later. It wouldn't have looked good at all, of course. And he would have given up the opportunity to be promoted again. Ever.

He had been sure he could persuade her.

- I appreciate that, - Lisa had said, - but I'm pretty sure you've already decided, haven't you? I know you too well. I know how important your work is for you. In the three years we've been together, you've never come home at a decent time. I can just have you on weekends, when I'm lucky.

She had been right, of course.

From the first day at the Grenlund Police Department, he had wanted to do well. To exceed everyone's expectations. Now he had done precisely that. And he couldn't have turned it down.

- To be precise, I have only indicated that I might accept, conditional on discussing the matter with you. They understood, of course.

- Good, how understanding your bosses are! I guess they count on the fact that you will convince me. I bet you told them it would be straightforward.

- No, I was quite realistic about that. I know you have some doubts about this.

- Some doubts? - Lisa had said. - I have much more than that: I just don't want to go.

- Lisa, this is irrational. What difference would it make? And Aaltrin is a great city. Lots of opportunities there.

- I'm not so sure about that. I've read that things haven't been going so well there. Crime levels are high, for example.

- Only marginally higher compared to Grenlund. And don't forget that I'm joining the police department there: crime levels are bound to fall pretty quickly.

Lisa had managed to squeeze out half a laugh. Maybe he had started to win her over.

- Seriously, Harry.

Probably not.

- I like Grenlund, - Lisa had continued. - It's the right size. Life is not stressful here. And we have our parents nearby.

- For me that's another good reason to move to Aaltrin, - Harry had said, not resisting the urge to make another joke.

Lisa hadn't liked that.

- I am not joking, Harry. Having our families nearby could be handy when we start our own family.

Children.

Lisa had been going on about that for quite some time. Harry hadn't been that sure. He liked Lisa. A lot. He even loved her. But settling down? Having children? He hadn't felt ready for it at the time. And he still wasn't.

- Then there's my job, which is as important to me as yours is to you, Harry. I don't want to give it up just like this. Why should we move just to follow your own dream? What about me?

- I thought that, as a physiotherapist, you could find a job in Aaltrin too. Lots of painful backs to fix over there too!

While talking with her, he had started to realise that at that point he would not have managed to persuade her to leave Grenlund. His confidence had waned.

- Listen, why don't we park this for now. I don't need to get back to them with a definitive answer for a few weeks. Let's both think about this and then see if we can find a solution.

Lisa had got tired of discussing. She had nodded curtly in agreement.

At that point he had known that he had only managed to stall the issue for a while. The problem had not been solved.

Harry thought that perhaps he should have tried to be more persuasive. Perhaps by talking about the great life that the big city would have offered them. Aaltrin gave people whatever they wanted to grab. Nothing like Grenlund, a small provincial town. Comfortable, yes. But nothing like having all the opportunities you wanted on your doorstep.

Harry started to dress. The police-issued second skin layer would protect him from radiation, in case he had to venture outdoors for long periods of time. It was a shame that these were not issued to the general populations too, because they would have increased the average life expectancy on Mars by at least twenty years. They were too expensive for most people to buy. And the government didn't have any money for that. It was slightly too warm for his taste, but there was no way around it. At least it fitted him perfectly, as it adapted to his body automatically, taking into account any variations in weight since the last time he had worn it. He put the rest of his clothes on quickly, without paying too much attention to whether the colours he had chosen matched at all.

He worked in a police station, after all.

Six

Until that point, Tony Singh hadn't yet spoken. He was busy enjoying the food that Vega's mixcooker had prepared. They didn't get to eat this well on most days, so whenever they got invited by the Singhs, it was always a feast.

- You could get me another ticket to Earth, uncle Marcus, - Tony said.

- Tony! - Martina said. - Don't you think you're asking a little too much?

- That's quite alright, Martina, - Marcus said. - So Tony, would you like to take another trip to Earth?

- Very much, uncle. I miss Anna and Andreas. I don't like to do video, it's not the same.

- No, of course it's not, - Marcus said.

Live video communication between Earth and Mars was impossible, and relaying asynchronous messages took all the spontaneity away. Marcus thought that Tony would get tired of writing to them fairly quickly. Any child would. Keeping in touch with Earth was something that only adults could bear to do. Some of them at least.

- Tony, there are other children that deserve to go to Earth, don't you think? - Martina said. - You've had your chance, now it's their turn.

- But it's not fair. I want to go.

- Of course it's fair, - Martina said. - Besides, are you sure you'd really like to go through another two long trips, out and back?

- Yes, I am sure.

- And what about the time it took you to get used to Earth's gravity?

Tony looked at her, slightly puzzled. Martina continued.

- Yes, Tony, you remember that during the first couple of weeks you felt very tired, don't you? You told me that all your body ached. That's because your muscles had to get used to walking around on a bigger planet.

- Ah, yes. I remember. But it wasn't so bad, mum.

Tony had clearly forgotten when he had started crying, unable to understand what was going on. That alien sensation of not being able to move around with the same ease he was used to. It hadn't lasted long, children generally got used to Earth's gravity quicker than adults. It had been painful for him, but he had forgotten about it. The pain had been overshadowed by the fun he had had after that.

- That's great, Tony, - Martina said. - But going back to Earth is not possible right now. Many other children need to go.

- I want to go, I want to go, I want to go.

Tony had started being difficult.

- Tony, behave! Otherwise we're going home right now and you can forget your slice of Vega's cake.

- But, mum!

- Now, I've had enough. Be quiet. What would Vega and Marcus think if you keep on behaving like this? They'll think you're spoilt. Would you like them to think that?

Tony had stopped crying. He looked up at her.

- No mum.

- That's good. Now, why don't you go and play a little with the Sensemax? Take a little break from eating. Make space for some dessert.

Tony wiped his nose on his sleeve. He smiled and darted off to activate the Sensemax. They had a few gaming devices at home, like almost everybody else. But they weren't equipped for sensory gaming, and Tony couldn't wait to play every time they were over at the Singhs.

- Vega, Marcus, I'm so sorry, - Martina said, once Tony had gone to the other room - I don't know what was with him.

- Don't worry, Martina, - Vega said. - It's really ok. He's a child.

- Of course, - Marcus said. - And besides, I'm quite happy about this. That means he really enjoyed his time on Earth, and developed some sort of attachment to it. Our programme seems to be working. Of course, there's still plenty of work to do, but this makes me optimistic.

- Yes, he enjoyed his time there very much, - Martina said. - I think it's a good thing that he's developed a relationship with Earth. And I have too. I'm regularly in touch with his host family. I wouldn't have thought that possible. Before this, my family hadn't had contact with Earth for generations. If it hadn't been for you, I would have never thought of sending Tony over. Not just because of the cost. That clearly matters, but I have to say that until then, Earth hadn't really been on my mind. Well, apart from getting annoyed by GMT synchronisation, that is.

- That's brilliant, - Marcus said. - A double success then. We should celebrate this.

Martina and Vega grabbed their glasses.

- Uh, well, of course, - Marcus said. - Let's have a drink. But I wasn't actually thinking about that, you know?

Martina and Vega looked puzzled.

- I was thinking that we should send Tony to Earth again.

- What?

- You've heard me, Martina. He enjoyed it so much. And it really makes me proud of the work we're doing at the Earth Association. In fact, if you don't mind, I'd like to use his story as a case study, to demonstrate the results that our programme is achieving.

- Sure, but...

- It's decided, - Marcus said.

- If you say so, - Martina said. - I mean, thanks. Thank you so much. But are you sure this is not going to be frowned upon. I feel a little uneasy about taking someone else's place? I know the demand is very high.

- It's true, but I think that this time we can make a little exception. Maybe someone won't like it, but if you leave it with me, I'm sure I can get Tony to the top of the list again.

- If you don't mind doing it, I'm sure Tony would be ecstatic.

- I don't mind at all. I think it's well worth it. Why don't we tell him now?

Seven

It was the last day of training. They would get their certificates soon. And their first trip aboard the Phoebos liner would start in a couple of days. He just had his time to pack his stuff, to move to the pre-departure quarters, where he would go through the final batch of medical tests.

Marko wondered how his first day on board would be. As he was picking up his stuff, Marko surprised himself thinking about another First Day.

That day had been a tough one. But he had known the drill.

- Hey you! - A blond kid had shouted at him, as soon as he had entered the classroom. - Who the fuck are you?

The kid hadn't looked friendly from the start. Probably, he had been the unofficial class leader. Marko had been used to this. Not pleasant, but somehow he had managed to find the strength to be friendly. He would have had to stay in this place for a while.

- Me?

- Yes, you. Are you deaf?

- No, I've heard you. - Marko had said. He had tried to be conciliatory. - Hi, my name's Marko. Marko Slavik.

- Hello, Marko Marko Slavik. Weird name you have.

A few kids around the blond guy had started sniggering.

Marko had knows the procedure by heart. He had gone through it several times already. Once more, he had decided to let go. He had already learnt his lesson.

- Just Marko. My parents have just moved here. And they sent me to this school. Nothing I can do about that, I'm afraid. But I'm glad to meet you.

Marko had offered his hand.

It had been rejected. Of course. As expected, like a script.

He had known his part well.

- Come on, you know better than me that there was nothing I could do. I didn't choose to come to this class. And don't worry, I'm not going to bother you. I just have to be here, but I'll be quiet.

- You'd better, Marko Marko Slavik.

He had to accept they would make jokes for a while. Not reacting was the best thing he could have done.

Sooner or later they would have got tired of it, and they would have left him alone.

He had also found that in most cases, within three to four weeks the other kids would get used to having him around. And he had often managed to get accepted, eventually.

He had made a few friends over the years.

Unfortunately, he had had to leave them all behind.

Every First Day had been like this. Always.

Marko had experienced many of them. Over and over. His parents had to travel extensively for work and never stayed in the same place for a long period of time. Marko had attended schools in various countries, getting in touch with people with different backgrounds. That hadn't always been pleasant, as his memory promptly reminded him.

Marko Slavik was 29. He was originally from Prague, Bohemia, in the Eastern European Union. His grandparents had told him of a time before the Unification, when they were citizens of a country called the Czech Republic. A country with a long tormented history, like many of its neighbours. But the political process had reached a stage where it only made sense for all countries within the European Union to surrender their sovereignty to a central federal government. The larger former countries had become federal states within the Union, and retained their central government, now declassed to state government. Smaller countries, like the Czech Republic, had merged with some of their neighbours. It had happened the same to Portugal, now together with what used to be Spain, and Austria, now part of the same German speaking region which included what used be Germany and Switzerland. There were some exceptions, like Catalonia, which had actually exploited the unification to reinforce its separate identify, albeit as a non-independent federal state.

Because of his background, Marko had never cared so much for politics and national identities.

Over time, however, he had developed a taste for exploring what different cultures had to offer. As soon as he had got old enough, he had started travelling the world on his own. He had spent some time in the Northern United States of America, a political entity that had been created after the South, now under the control of the Christian Right, had pulled away from the former union. Then he had moved to South East Asia, where he had spent for a few years, moving from job to job.

Marko had enjoyed his vagabond life too much to settle in any place, to build a family with a partner and get a proper office job. However, eventually he had realised that he would need to get back on track. His parents were getting older and soon they would have needed his help back home. Despite working all their life, they were far from rich, and Marko knew that he had to start saving if he were to give them a comfortable retirement.

But, despite his rational mind telling him this, he just didn't feel any attachment to any place in particular. And least of all, his birth place. It was so remote. And it played no role in his life. It had never done so. Marko often felt wrong to be feeling this way. He wanted to feel differently. He knew he would have to focus, at some point. And if the feeling didn't come spontaneously, he would force it through.

In a way or another, he would have to go back there.

Marko had been in Hanoi when he had spotted a job advertisement for the Marshals Corps. An imposing name for a job that really sounded like a walk in the park. Yes, there were three months of training to do. And getting used to freefall. And learn how to prevent muscular and skeletal degeneration. This would be hard work. But the job sounded easy and adventurous at the same time.

Marko had never been in space. Until the point of signing up, he had doubted that his meagre savings would ever allow him to visit Mars on his own. And sooner or later he would have to go, anyway.

He had decided to apply.

Interlude II

- This thing is never going to work, - she thought.

Zoë was frustrated. She had been trying to live chat with Jaq for a while. Live chat. That was pushing it a bit too far. The chat could have never been live like it was when she was chatting with people of Earth. There was an eight-minute delay for her messages to reach Jaq. And another eight minutes for her to get his messages back. If he was quick to reply. And he never was for some reason.

A sixteen minutes round trip. Every time they exchanged a message. That wasn't a way to speak. By the time she got his response back, what she had wanted to tell him in the first place had lost its momentum.

Emails were ok. They exchanged a few every day. Asynchronous communication worked pretty well, but the extent of their connectivity stopped there. As soon as they tried to have something that resembled an actual conversation, they failed. She was beginning to resent having to wait for messages.

Zoë remembered having read about people that had successfully managed to keep long distance Earth-Mars relationships alive. By email only, pretty much. The occasional video message. She wondered how they had managed to do that. This was the first time she was going out with someone that wasn't from her town.

- You don't know half measures, Zoë.

Tara wouldn't stop teasing her.

- First you say you don't care about expanding your horizons. You say you're perfectly fine with the locals. And then all of a sudden, you start going out with a guy from Mars!

- What can I do, I like extreme situations.

Zoë accepted the banter. Most of the time.

- Anyway, in theory I'm going out with him. Well, virtually at least. But I haven't been back to Mars since January. It's already been six months. Quite a long time, if you ask me.

- Not too bad, though. Considering it's another planet! Lucky you, your parents helped you with the money.

- Indeed. Now that I don't have a chance to go over with my job, I had to buy the ticket myself. It was worth it, though. This was the first time I could actually start getting to know what Mars is like. What the people are like. Before I was there as an outsider. It's so much better with a local. We had a great time.

- I can hear wedding bells! - Tara said.

- Don't be ridiculous, how could it ever work?

Zoë didn't have a clue how it could work. It just didn't make any sense. She could have a much easier life, if she wanted to. Other options to choose from. She could see that. And yet, she knew that was the right thing to do. She knew she would go ahead with it.

She was scared though.

- So tell me how they are? - Tara asked.

- What do you mean? They are just like us. They're humans, you know.

- Come off it! Sure, they're humans, but they've been separated from us for so long. On another planet. And, to be fair, the first ones that went over there must have been a bit weird to start with.

- They were daring, that's for sure. Starting a new country from scratch, with all the challenges of making another planet suitable to human life. But this was long ago. If you went there you'd be surprised how similar to Earth you'd find it.

- You mean, with the sun up in the sky in the middle of the night? And without being able to walk outside without choking?

- I admit the landscape is a bit different, and this persistence in staying synchronised with Earth time is a bit odd. I guess it makes them feel more connected with Earth. It's true you can't walk around outside for long, but you should see their malls. They're like cities. There's no need to go outside.

- Lovely! - Tara said. - I think I wouldn't be able to spend all my life indoors, but if you like it I'm not going to stop you. Well, maybe I will visit one day. As long as travelling there remains a possibility.

- So you've heard? They're cutting down on the frequency of connecting services. Too expensive. Actually, they're cutting down on a lot of things. Earth countries now see Mars as an expensive luxury.

- Yep. I've heard quite a few people say that we should stop wasting our money helping Mars.

- You've heard that from my parents, - Zoë said.

- Your parents, and many other people. It's a popular opinion.

It was a popular opinion, Zoë had to agree. And, during her last trip to Mars, she had noticed that it was somehow shared there too. More and more people on Mars, at all levels in the society, were beginning to express their disagreement with being so tied up to Earth. Foreign aid came with obligations. They had to show how the money was invested. Earth donors preferred to see their money used for short term projects, which delivered quick results they could show off back at home. But Mars needed long term investments. In infrastructure. And in reforming a society that was gradually falling apart, leaving many people behind. Then there were other things, like keeping the time synchronised with Earth. Minor things, but they annoyed people. And now that the sports were gone, there was one link less keeping them together.

She decided to stop worrying about it for now.

- Anyway, enough of this, - Zoë said. - What do you want to do now?

It was mid-morning.

- I could do with another coffee, - Tara said. - We got home a bit late yesterday, and I still haven't woken up property.

- Sure, let's go and grab one.

They walked for a while without exchanging a word.

- Actually, do you want to know something that is really different on Mars? - Zoë asked.

- I'm all ears.

- Their coffee sucks.

Eight

The Earth Association was founded in 2175. At the time, the Martian Republic, as well as the Northern United States and the European Union, felt that the link between Earth countries and Mars was getting weaker.

Travelling between Mars and the Earth, despite having got much faster over time, was still a pretty cumbersome affair. And, even with Government subsidies, tickets were very expensive. For this reason, very few people on Mars actually travelled to Earth on a regular basis, or even took occasional holidays there.

For Martian Republic citizens, the trip also involved the additional burden of getting used to Earth's gravity, something that could be painful during the first few weeks.

Communication links between Earth and Mars had been in place since the very beginning. Mars's internet was connected with Earth's internet via a permanent link, accessible by everyone, businesses and residential customers alike. In theory, voice and video calls should have been possible, but the delay in communication (between five and twenty minutes, depending on the relative position of the two planets) made those types of connections unusable.

As a result, the people of Earth and the people of Mars were growing apart. Even family ties were getting weaker. After a few generations, this was inevitable. Thankfully, people from various parts of the Earth had moved to Mars, ensuring that the new colony had a varied genetic makeup from the start.

The Martian Republic had always been intended to be the only state on Mars. Dividing such a small colony into more than one country would have not made any sense. And would have increased risks of wars. As people had come from many different Earth countries, the first parliament had chosen a variant of English as the single language for the new country. It was called Martian Standard English, and it used the original English spelling for all words. Since then, however, Martian Standard English had evolved. New words had appeared. People on Earth would have not understood their meaning. A new slang had taken shape too. It introduced several Martianisms, and other expressions that people on Earth could not grasp. Whenever they had to communicate with Earth, despite being aware of the differences in language, people on Mars had to put extra effort into their writing. It just didn't feel natural. For the Martians, writing in Earth English felt like walking through quicksand.

The Earth Association had been set up to counteract all this. It fought to keep Earth and Mars close to each other. To keep sharing a common cultural base. To do so, it organised regular exchanges between Earth and Mars, especially providing funds for Martian Republic citizens to travel to Earth. It also ensured that people on Mars had constant access to all cultural and artistic production on Earth, which was now entirely digital going back to the nineteenth century and therefore more easily transmissible.

Unfortunately, despite its best efforts, the Earth Association was struggling. The two planets were slowly growing apart. And the relatively recent separation of the sporting events had not helped.

One of the Earth Association's main concerns - not one that it shared in public - was the fact that Martian and Earth humans would eventually grow apart, not just culturally speaking, but also from a genetic point of view.

In practice, mixed Earth-Mars couples were extremely rare. And it had actually been the case since the start of the new colony. As a result, after two hundred years, some people worried that the first small genetic differences between the two people were beginning to emerge. In particular, due to the absence of many pathogens on Mars, Martian humans were thought to be less resilient to some common Earth ailments. No one had done a proper study on this yet. As a result, no one had any clues on actual extent of these alleged mutations.

It would have taken some time before the Martian humans could be considered another race. But no one actually knew how long. For this reason, the Earth Association had started a research programme on Earth to carry out a definitive study on the subject. It hoped that a comparative study of the Martian DNA would help shed some light on this.

Children, as the very latest generation born on Mars from Martian parents, were the ideal candidates for this study. However, most parents would have objected to their children undergoing DNA profiling and other testing procedures. For this reason, the Earth Association had launched an exchange programme whereby Martian children would spend a period of time with an Earth family. The parents were told that, during their stay, their children would also receive regular check-ups to make sure they were coping well with Earth's gravity and, in general, with an environment they were not used to. These check-ups were of course the perfect excuse for DNA testing. Not entirely ethical, but harmless enough. By 2287, the programme had been running for fives years. And it had been very successful from the start. So far, five hundred children had spent periods of between twelve weeks and eight months on Earth. Everyone had come back full of enthusiasm and actually invigorated by Earth's gravity

And the Earth Association had been collecting the data it needed for its research.

The exchange programme was run by people that firmly believed in the objectives it aimed to achieve. At least, that was the face it presented to the world. Inside the organisation, things were a little different, and increasingly so. Some discordant voices, that had always existed, had become louder in the last few years. They were against the amount of resources that, according to them, was being sinked in the exchange programme: a lot of money just to ship a few kids over to Earth. In their opinion, a drop in the sea. They thought it would be better to invest the Earth Association's limited resources on the dissemination of culture, that could be shared at low cost between the two planets.

Then, alongside these voices, there were the rumours. Rumours that some people had acquired enough power to start influencing the direction of the Earth Association. But these were just rumours, and the Earth Association's chairperson herself had dismissed them on several occasions.

Nine

Marcus Singh was an idealist.

He believed that Mars and Earth should proceed as one. For him, what some people on Earth and Mars thought was isolationist nonsense. The entire history of humankind showed that isolationism had never brought anything good. Just separation, a closed mind, hatred, and lack of progress. All in the name of an unjustifiable sense of inward-looking security. No, Marcus didn't agree. The colonisation of Mars was humankind's greatest achievement. So far. It should have opened the way for much more: the stable colonisation of the solar system. Then the galaxy, and beyond. Long-term, of course. These were just baby steps. But if it wanted to survive, humankind could not stay on Earth, in its cradle. Earth was just a speckle in the universe. Already living on borrowed time. Waiting to be wiped away. Expansion was a priority. And keeping Mars and Earth united was a necessary condition for humankind to continue to progress. Marcus thought that separation would mean the end of humankind, sooner or later.

His idealism had got him where he was now: running the Earth Association's exchange programme. He had already been working for the Earth Association for some years when he had been chosen. After all, he had been one of the initial proponents. Perhaps the most fervent. He could have not asked for anything better. He had started working with enthusiasm since the beginning and, in a short period of time, the exchange programme was up and running, with several Mars children spending periods of time with Earth families.

Until then, it had been a success. In addition to allowing the collection of DNA sample, which for Marcus was a secondary objective, more and more Mars children were beginning to form strong bonds with their Earth host families. And not just them. Also their families on Mars had started to develop close relationships with the parents that were hosting their children on Earth.

Strong bonds led to more integration. Marcus often hoped that eventually the programme would lead to more mixed couples and mixed Earth-Mars children. There had always been too few of them.

Marcus knew that, even within his own team, not everyone fully agreed with him. In various occasions, several colleagues had suggested that their resources could be used more effectively. For example, to produce cultural content that encouraged the integration of Earth and Mars. Marcus disagreed: being there in person was much better as it provided a first-hand experience of the fact that, after all, people on Mars and Earth were very much alike. True, fewer people would live this experience, but Marcus was sure that they would share it with many more. And this would generate the momentum they needed.

They just had to keep at it. In Marcus's plan, the next step would be sending adults across. Perhaps parents together with their children. After that, it would have been the turn of children from Earth to spend some time on Mars.

He passionately believed that it could be done. He loved Mars, it was his home. But he loved humankind more. Humankind as a whole, spanning the two planets. Today. Spanning the solar system and the galaxy, tomorrow.

He didn't care if they called him a Earther. Mars independentists were beginning to gather strength. They loved the Mars way of life. And they said they channeled the need for independence of the first pioneers, which, in their opinion, had been lost.

Until recent years, most of the population had been indifferent to the issue. But now, it was beginning to be polarising. 'Earther' was the derogatory term that the Mars independentists had started using to call their opponents. They were getting stronger. They had started leveraging the strength of the equal and opposite movement that was gaining strength on Earth. A movement that pushed for Earth nations to stop supporting the Martian Republic, claiming that it was a waste of resources. Ironically, some people claimed that an Earth-Mars clandestine organisation was operating across the two plants to separate the two societies for good.

Marcus didn't believe that it had got that far. Yet. But he felt that they were getting close to a tipping point. Sooner or later, the Martian Republic would need to make its choice. Either it would become a staunch supporter of independence, killing any hope of a bright future for humankind, or it would finally become convinced that staying together was the only way possible.

Ten

Harry walked the short distance between his front door and the tunnel that linked it to the communal walkway. The sun was shining through the glass cover. A couple of shops were already open. Coffee shops. There used to be many more, once. By now, though, coffee had become an expensive luxury. Most of it had to be imported, because the limited agricultural space available had to be dedicated to high-yield crops.

Despite having just been promoted, his salary was still low, especially compared with that of his former classmates in Grenlund. Still, he felt he could afford a cup. A cup of the watery one. The cheapest.

After grabbing his coffee, Harry walked quickly to the mass transit station. The whole system was quite old, as it had been re-built 70-odd years earlier. Luckily, the planners had built in some extra capacity, as the population of Aaltrin had been expected to grow many times over in the following few decades. That turned out to be wrong. Aaltrin's population hadn't grown. Still about five million people altogether, give or take. A dismal outturn, for some. But at least the mass transit system had plenty of space. Harry found a seat easily, like every morning.

Harry wanted to finish reading. He got his polymer paper out and unrolled it. It unfolded perfectly, with no creases.

He selected the news application and continued reading where he had left off. Sport section. Grenlund had played with the Milton Rangers over the weekend. It had been a struggle, but they had managed to score the goal they needed during the last five minutes. He only wished that football wasn't so boring. It used to be gripping, and his father had told him all about Grenlund's past successes. The team had managed to win the Globes Cup four times. But now the Republic's teams would soon stop playing in these competitions. Away games required way too much travel and preparation. And, in any case, getting used to the stronger gravity always proved tricky. Even the best athletes on Mars struggled under the crushing force of 1G gravity, while Earth athletes greatly enjoyed their first few weeks on Mars. At 0.38G, they felt super human. But soon, their muscles adapted to the lower gravity and got weaker. Going back to Earth always meant going through weeks of crushing pain. And so, the competitions had grown apart, with Martian Republic teams soon playing exclusively in the domestic league.

- It's a real shame, - Harry thought, - but at least the competition will be fairer. And there are all the other sports, especially the indoor ones.

Harry had shelved his plan to go on holiday to Earth. He didn't have the money and the thought of having to spend three weeks getting used to Earth's gravity - not to mention the length of the trip - had discouraged him.

- Well, they can come over anytime they want. It's easier for them, - he thought.

Like most people of his generation, he had never been to Earth.

And now he didn't have any plans to go.

Interlude III

He could admit it now. He was happy.

Things with Zoë were going well. Sure, the long-distance relationship hadn't been ideal. But somehow they had managed and now they were talking about living together. About getting married.

Zoë would come to Mars. It would be easier than the other way round. They had agreed on that.

Of course, there would be obstacles. Zoë's family to start with. She had told him that they were against Mars. They thought of it as a failed experiment.

- How can they? - Jaq thought.

Mars was his home. He was happy there. But, more than that, it was about humankind going forward. How could they not care?

Mars was the right place to start a new family. It was a tough environment, Jaq could accept that. But it had the right attitude. It was all about being daring and going beyond. Besides, there weren't enough mixed-couples. And there weren't enough mixed-couple babies.

He said that to his friends.

- Being daring and going beyond? - his friend Eke said, waking him up from his daydreaming. - Do me a favour and try being a little less romantic, Jaq.

- What's your point, Eke?

- Well, we've all grown up here. We like it here. It's fine. It's great, even. But I wouldn't go on talking about being daring and going beyond. You talk like one of those late twenty-first century romantics. That time came and went, Jaq. Yes, colonising Mars was a great feat, we all know that. At least, we believe in it because we've been indoctrinated at school. But, you'd agree with me that the whole thing has kind of lost its momentum, hasn't it?

- What are you talking about, Eke? - Johy said.

Johy had always been a strong believer in the idea that Mars and Earth were on a mission together. More than that: Mars was a natural extension of Earth.

Johy continued.

- This defeatist attitude is precisely why the momentum, as you say, has been lost. True, Earth seems a little less interested in Mars, these days. Things are changing. Take the cancellation of inter-planetary sports tournaments, for a start. But we need to fight against all this. I fear that we're at an intersection now. The public opinion is still indifferent, but it won't take long before they become a bunch of provincial isolationists. Just like you, Eke.

- Please! You know better than me that the differences are just too big now. Maybe at the beginning this kind of rhetoric would have worked. And, indeed, I'm sure there was plenty of it, if you look at the stuff they teach at school. Earth and Mars: humankind across two planets. Our first stepping stone to the stars. A home away from home, they said, to encourage people to move. But I know it's not the same. And you know it too. There's no point in wasting resources to chase this impossible dream.

- And what do you want to do once you've got your little planet all alone? Do you know how small we are? We are dependent on Earth for so many things. Do you think we could manage by ourselves?

- Of course we could. We'd be free from Earth's influence. We'd finally be able to do things our own way. Now they're just telling us what to do, even if we all pretend they don't. But what's the point: they don't even come here anymore! Our planet may be small, but it's a great place. We can run it better ourselves, with no external influence.

- Sure, and then we'll be a happy forgotten lump of rock in the middle of a peripheral star system within a little-known galaxy. Just as Earth is. Don't you understand that we need to be together if we want to stand a chance at having a future as a species.

- Shut up, you Earther. These are just dreams. Who cares about what is going to happen thousands of years from now? We need to focus on the present. Make our lives better.

- You call me Earther? You know, to tell you the truth, I've never considered myself so extreme, but now that I think about it I'm proud to call myself that. At least I worry about more important things than just our own backyard. And it's better to be called an Earther than being a provincial idiot like you.

- How dare you call me that? - Eke said.

- Come on, we know what your family thinks, - Johy said. - And especially your father. You can't have an independent mind, can you? Besides, I'm sure you're familiar with the rumours that are going around at the moment.

- What rumours? - Jaq asked.

He had no idea. Like many people his age, he never really thought much about politics. Johy was right. Most people didn't care one way or another. But the decision point was getting close. And the opposing factions were getting louder by the day.

- It's nothing, Jaq. All lies. Don't listen to him, - Eke said.

- You'll listen, instead, - Johy said. - There's a rumour that the isolationists are getting serious at trying to sever any links with Earth. And, to tell how ridiculous all this is, they working together with isolationists on Earth. All to achieve their stupid objective. But you should ask Eke's father, the Supreme Court judge!

- This is just nonsense, - Eke said. - We can have a different opinion from the majority, but no one is plotting in secret to break apart from Earth. On the other hand, you Earthers are wasting resources by clinging to a stupid idea.

Jaq had enough. He didn't want to argue.

- Guys, guys, that's it. I've never wanted to talk about politics. I just wanted give you the good news. Perhaps you should just say that you're happy for me and take your discussion somewhere else.

He knew that things would change at some point. People would have to decide.

He had decided. By starting a family with Zoë he would naturally side with the Earthers. He had not thought about this in these terms before.

Now he was committed.

Eleven

Tony was elated, of course.

- If it keeps going on like this, - Martina thought, - he's going to become even more spoilt that he is now. He asks. He gets. That's not a bad life, is it?

A mere two months after they had spoken, Marcus had finally managed to get Tony a spot on a trip to Earth. Martina had felt it was way too soon. She had mixed feelings about her son going back there. Clearly, Tony getting attached to people on Earth was a good thing. But at the same time, he was a citizen of the Martian Republic. Born and bred on Mars. And his future would be there. No way around it. She hoped that Tony wouldn't get too projected towards Earth.

- Once he's back, - she thought, - we're going to have to start thinking about what school he should go to.

People on Mars tended to choose their profession early in life, and select a school accordingly. Normally, parents took that decision. That's why the Martian Republic hosted generations of lawyers, doctors, policemen. And that's why there were so many people happy with their jobs.

Martina was also concerned about the trip itself. Going to Earth had become much safer in the last twenty years or so, but it still carried some risks. She thought that she would have felt better if Tony had decided not to go.

But it was too late now. Tony was leaving the following day, and she still needed to make the final preparations. Pack his bag. Make sure he learnt properly his daily routine of strengthening exercises. Tony would have to do the exercises on his own, sticking to a strict daily routine, if he wanted to adapt to Earth's gravity relatively quicker.

She had also got in touch with Maria Eberharter, telling them that Tony would be back. She had told her she had not expected it as repeated trips were rare, but that they were all looking forward to seeing Tony again. Her children had developed a strong bond with Tony and, Maria had said, they were talking about Mars all the time.

Martina thought that the Earth Association's programme was working well.

Twelve

There had been a time when they really wanted to go to Earth. It would have been their big holiday. Perhaps even their honeymoon, even though they had never talked openly about getting married. They had been enthusiastic about the trip.

Those were the early days of them living together in Grenlund. They had met one year earlier, introduced by mutual friends. They had started off quickly. As soon as Lisa had finished her training programme in physiotherapy, and Harry had graduated from the police academy, they had moved in together. A small flat, but thanks to their combined salaries, albeit low for Grenlund's standards, they had managed to pick one in a good part of town, close to the largest mall complex in town. They rarely needed to venture very far.

Those had been days full of excitement. For their new life, and the possibilities it offered. And for their future together. Perhaps a family, one day.

Then the daily routine had set in.

Harry's job had started off well. But his private life had disappeared. Busy on most days. Including most weekends. He hardly ever got home before 10pm. And often, after a fourteen hour long day, Harry struggled even to speak to Lisa.

He had realised it was wrong. That it would have damaged their relationship. But he had felt compelled to excel at his work. He came from a family of successful police officers and he had felt the pressure to do even better.

Despite Harry's job, they had managed to keep it together. The relationship had seemed to be working. Perhaps because neither of them had wanted to scratch the surface.

Until the moment they had had to take a decision.

They both had known for a while they needed to discuss it again. Harry could not have waited any longer. His new job at the Aaltrin Police Department would have started in three weeks, and he would have had to find some accommodation over there. With Lisa, hopefully.

But, day after day, the topic hadn't come up.

One day at breakfast, he had had to speak up.

- Lisa, listen. We need to make a decision.

- About what?

- Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, Lisa.

- Come on, you've already decided, haven't you.

- No, I told you the other day that I would take this decision with you. It's a decision about our future. Our future together. And I want both of us to be happy about it.

- I think you want yourself to be happy, primarily. Your job comes first. Then if I follow you, as a loyal partner, all the better. But don't tell me otherwise. I won't believe it. Not after all those weeks when you just came home to sleep and eat.

- Lisa, what are you saying?

She had stared at him for a while. Harry had felt that she had been struggling to accept what she had been about to say. As if she couldn't have believed it. He had seen it in her eyes.

- Maybe what I'm saying is that it's time to call it off, Harry. There, I said it.

Harry had been expecting it for some time.

- So you just want to give up? Throw away all that we have, just like this?

- What do we have, Harry? Take a look. We have no children. We have no plans. I'm just here supporting you. You get home late, too tired even to talk to me. You have your work. I have nothing. So if you're not prepared to stop putting yourself first all the time, then I have to walk away. And find someone who really wants to build something with me.

- You're blackmailing me, Lisa.

- What, blackmailing you? You have some nerve, saying this. I don't think there's any need for me to tell you again what I had to endure.

- Endure? Please! As if you didn't enjoy the fact that I've been successful at my job. That I've been bringing home good money. Money that you surely enjoyed spending.

As soon as he stopped speaking, he knew he had overstepped a line.

- You're accusing me of being a gold digger? I think you overestimate yourself just a little too much. I could do much better, you know?

- So why did you stay with me, during all this time?

- Because I love you, Harry. Or at least I thought I did.

- You don't love me anymore?

- I'm not sure now.

- Come on, Lisa. Think about what we have. What we've managed to achieve together. You don't want to destroy a winning team like ours, do you?

Harry had ventured a smile, hoping for Lisa to reciprocate.

She hadn't.

- Listen Harry, I'm going to make it really simple for you, otherwise we keep running in circles. It goes like this. Either you stay, and we build something together. I'm willing to give it another go. Or, you go to Aaltrin to chase your career dreams. But then you can forget about me. Get your priorities right, for once.

At the time, Harry thought that she was being unfair. How could she ask something like this? He felt that they should have worked out a solution for the two of them.

The move to Aaltrin had been too enticing for him. He would have rapidly gone up the ranks. And probably one day he would have been able to come back to Grenlund. Why hadn't Lisa understood that?

- Lisa, I think you're asking me to give up too much. If I stay, I can say goodbye to having any career whatsoever. This is not the life for me.

- You might not have a career, but you would have me. Isn't that enough for you?

As she was speaking, Harry knew that no, that would not be enough for him.

Thirteen

The day had arrived. Tony was going to Earth, for the second time.

As the surface metro train was silently taking them to the Aaltrin spaceport, Martina looked at her son. She could see that he was nervous.

But he wasn't backing down. He had asked to go to Earth and he had got another chance. Scared or not scared, he was going. She would have preferred him not to leave, but she was proud he was so determined.

They alighted at the spaceport stop and started walking the short distance to the main building, where they were to meet with the Earth Association's representative responsible for this trip.

Once they got there, Martina relaxed a little. She immediately recognised his face. He was the same guy that had led Tony's group the first time around. As things had gone even better than expected then, she felt that she could trust him.

- Everything will be fine, - she thought. - And then we will start thinking about our future on Mars.

There were already a few other children in the building, crowding around the designated meeting point. Around them there was a mixed bunch of luggage and worried parents. Martina knew that each of them was quietly wishing that their child hadn't been selected for the exchange programme. At the same time they were proud, just like her. Most of them had never been to Earth, and they wanted the best for their children. A subdued murmur was filling the room.

Suddenly, it stopped.

- Good morning, everyone! I'm Rich Borisov, of the Earth Association. I will be the person responsible for this trip. I will look after your children from now on, from when they board the shuttle to when they reach their designated host family on Earth. I've done this several times, so you can be confident that your children will be comfortable for the whole trip. We're due to start the boarding procedure in the next hour or so. If you have any questions, I'd be very happy to answer them now.

Martina didn't have any questions. She had done this before. She was a veteran.

- Will my son feel spacesick on board? - one father asked.

- There's a chance that, during the first few hours of freefall, children may experience some nausea. In some cases, it may lead to vomiting. This is normal. And it's a temporary condition. It normally never lasts more than forty-eight hours. Children generally feel better much sooner, as their body adapts quicker than that of adults. There's nothing to worry about, and in case the discomfort is too much, we also have medication on board we can give them.

- How many days will it take for my daughter to get used to Earth's gravity? - Another parent asked. - Sorry I'm asking, but I've never been myself and you read the weirdest things.

- No problem at all. We generally factor in a two-week adaptation period. Children spend this time already with their host families, so they get to know them as well as their surroundings. Again, children tend to get used to the new conditions much quicker than adults. After a couple of weeks, they are already able to walk and run around. Is there any other questions?

No one else spoke. Martina knew that they were all anxious, but they wanted it to start. The sooner they went, the sooner they would be back.

Almost departure time. She approached Tony, who was speaking with some other children. He seemed quite relaxed now.

- So, Tony, time to say goodbye, - Martina said.

- Hey mum, you know that I've found some other children that are going to be in Innsbruck?

- That's great Tony. It looks like you're already there with your mind. I just wanted to say goodbye. Come on, give me a kiss.

- In front of everyone? I don't think so.

- Okay, then.

Martina was a little hurt. She pulled a face.

- Mum, don't worry. Everything is going to be fine. I can't wait to meet Anna and Andreas again. And I will be back soon.

- Sure you will. Enjoy yourself.

Martina wanted to keep it short. She felt she could cry from one moment to the next. And she didn't want Tony to see her.

- Look, they're calling you. Now go.

- Bye mum.

So Tony ran to join the growing group of children past the gate to the boarding station. Soon he would be on his way to Earth.

Martina sighed. She had told herself that everything would go well, and she still wanted to believe it. It was hard though.

Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed Marcus approaching. He tapped her shoulder. That startled her.

- Marcus! What are you doing here?

- Hi Martina, I thought I would come down to see how my nephew was doing. But it looks like I may be late.

- You've missed him by five minutes, Marcus. Shame. He was happy, though. A little nervous, but really keen to be back on Earth.

- That's great, - Marcus said, smiling.

- Thanks for everything you're doing for us, Marcus. I think Tony will have a deep sense of gratitude towards you for many years to come.

- Do not exaggerate. By the way, something tells me you're not happy he's going, are you?

- No, I am. Of course I am, don't get me wrong. I'm just a little worried, that's all. For the trip itself, and also for his future. His future is on Mars, and I wouldn't want this to distract him from that.

- I don't think it will. Our objective is to make sure people build stronger ties with Earth, because we believe that only in this way they can contribute to the Martian Republic's success in the best possible way. We live on another planet now, but we should not forget our roots.

- Of course not.

Marcus continued.

- As for the trip itself, I can imagine you may be a little nervous. It's normal. But I think I have found a way for you to feel a little more relaxed about it.

Martina looked puzzled, waiting for Marcus to speak again.

- What would you say if I told you that I've managed to get you a subsidised ticket to Earth?

Fourteen

No wonder he didn't feel connected with any country.

He remembered the day they had told him, as if it was yesterday.

- Marko, could you come here for a second?

- What is it, mum? I'm on my way out.

It had been one of those weeks when he was back at home with his parents. A short break in between his trips. He hadn't yet decided where to go yet, so in the meantime he had been enjoying his time off. He had also managed to arrange to meet up with some of the few friends he still had in town.

- Please, Marko. It won't take too long. Your father and I need to tell you something.

That had sounded serious from the start. His friends could have waited a little longer. He never saw them anyway. They would have not missed him too much.

In the living room, his parents were sitting on the sofa, waiting for him. The room was full of light. Almost midday. Marko had taken a seat on the armchair opposite the sofa, facing his parents directly.

- Mum, dad. What is it? You're worrying me.

They had looked at each other, before his father had replied.

- Marko, it's now time you know something your mother and I have wanted to tell you for a very long time.

- You're breaking up? Well, thanks for waiting until I'm old enough to process it and avoid thinking it's my fault.

- You're always jumping to conclusions. That's not what we want to tell you at all. Besides, your mother and I are not getting a divorce.

- At least, not yet, - her mother had said, with a smirk.

- Always the joker, - Marko had thought. Or at least he had hoped she was.

- So, what is it then? - he had asked.

- Well, Marko, this is not easy for us to tell you. Before I tell you the whole story, just remember that whatever you hear from today should not change the way in which you think about us. And your life too. It would have been the same no matter what.

- What do you mean, no matter what? What is there about my life that I don't know?

- You do know most of it, but you don't know the truth about how it started.

At that point, Marko had known straight away what they had been about to tell him. Besides, he had never told them, but a while back he had actually started suspecting something. Time to check whether he had been right.

- I was adopted, wasn't I?

- Well, yes, Marko. Well done for getting it so quickly. You've always been an intelligent boy.

- Thanks. I didn't get that from you, did I?

He had regretted saying that as he had been speaking. Too late.

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. But you would agree this is quite a piece of news.

- It is indeed, Marko. We understand. But you must know that our love for you would not be different in any case. You were, you are, our son. And always will be.

Marko had known that. Apart from being taken around the world, from city to city, his parents had given him a good life. He couldn't blame them for anything. But at that point he had felt his curiosity mounting.

- So who are my real parents? I think I'm entitled to know.

His parents had looked at each other for a couple of seconds. Then his father had replied.

- I'm very sorry, Marko, but we don't have the details.

- What do you mean?

- When we finally adopted you, we were desperate for a child. We had been trying for long. And we had also been in the waiting list of several adoption centres for years. At that point, we were ready to do anything. And we did.

Marko had not been able believe it at first.

- Do you mean you stole me? What kind of people are you?

- No, no, Marko wait. We didn't go that far. We would have never done something like this. But we did follow an unofficial route.

- Which one?

- Well, we were put in touch with an organisation that helped single mothers which faced economic difficulties. That organisation was not officially recognised and, technically, what they did was illegal. But the local government was facing an increasing problem with single mothers and their finances were already stretched. So they were happy to pretend that what this organisation did was legal. And you were regularly registered as our son.

- So you had to pay some money? You bought me?

- Well, let's say that we provided some financial aid to your natural mother. Of course, adopting you should have made her life easier.

- Who was she?

- The agreement was that we would never meet her, nor would we get to know her name and other details. There was no way for us to find out who she was. And of course we can't provide you this information now.

- But that's incredible. Which government would do this? Trading children out of the country this way. It's inhuman.

- I know, Marko. At the moment, we thought what we did was wrong. But then we were so happy to have you, that we left this memory behind. But we've felt you would need to know at some point. Now is the time.

- Gee, thanks. So kind. Anyway, I want to find out more. Maybe my natural mother is still alive. What country did you go to? Perhaps I could try to search for her. It could be the next place I go to.

His parents had looked at him for a few seconds, without speaking. Then his father had continued.

- Marko, you haven't understood it yet?

- What?

- Marko, you were born on Mars.

Marko remembered that at that time he hadn't felt anything. Until that moment, Mars had never played any role in his life. Of course, it was there. Everybody was aware of that. But it was a distant place. A place with which Earth had increasingly weaker contacts.

Now, he was going there. That had been one of the main reasons he had decided to join the Marshals Corps.

Now, he was on his way to his birthplace.

Interlude IV

They should have all been on her side. Her parents. Her brother.

Instead, she was alone.

It was her fifth trip to Mars, she was almost a veteran of this kind of trips. This time though, she didn't have any immediate plan to come back to Earth.

She was going to start a new life with Jaq.

Exciting.

And scary.

She had been to Mars a few times before, so she knew what to expect. When she had gone the previous times, as a sport journalist, she had dealt with it well. But this time it wasn't going to be a temporary change. It was going to be her new life.

They would not have an actual wedding. Not without her family. They would just register their partnership and start a new life.

Her family should have come, though. They could have afforded it. But they had decided to stay behind to make a point. She knew they were against Mars. She didn't know they would take their disagreement to the point of not approving of her daughter's wedding.

Her mind kept on going back to the conversation they had had a few months back.

- Are you kidding me? - Her father had said.

He had been angry. Furious. She had never seen him this way.

- There's no way I'm going to let you do that with your life.

- Let me? - Zoë had said. - Last time I checked my life was mine. And I can do what I damn well want with it.

- Zoë, be reasonable. Listen to your father.

Her mother had had something to say too.

- Moving to Mars. Listen to us. It will destroy your life. This thing was fine as long as it was a fling. And, honestly, we do think this Jaq is a nice guy. But this is another matter. This is serious. It's about your future.

- A nice guy? How can you say that? - Zoë had said. - You've never taken any interest in him. You didn't even try to get to know him a little bit.

Her mother had lowered her eyes. But her father hadn't finished.

- Sure, your life is yours. And all the efforts your mother and I have made during all these years don't really count for nothing.

- Dad, don't be ridiculous. You know I'm grateful for all you've done. This doesn't have anything to do with it.

- It doesn't? By taking this foolish decision you're also deciding to leave your mother and I behind.

- Don't be dramatic. I've travelled to Mars a few times. We will still see each other. We can keep in touch.

- Sure. And you know better than me that it's so easy to do. You struggled to communicate with this guy. And now you want to put us through this. But it doesn't matter, does it? We'll only be fifteen weeks away from you after all.

- You're being too extreme, dad. There are ways around this. And I hope you will come and visit and stay for a while.

- Zoë, forget it. You'll come back to visit. There's no way your mother and I are going to set foot on Mars. That bunch of leeches. They're there just because we keep on paying for the luxury of living on an unviable planet.

- Dad, they're brave people. Life on Mars can be tough. They're resisting and keeping humankind's dream alive. I'm honoured that I will be able to share their effort.

- Zoë, please. Do me a favour and forget this dross. Maybe at the beginning it could have made sense. Colonising a new planet, making it a new home, the first stepping stone to the stars, blah, blah, blah. Wake up! The experiment has failed. If they want to stay there, they should pay for it themselves. We do have more pressing problems here. Take nuclear fusion. Or the recent famine in North America.

Zoë had to concede that point. Nuclear fusion had not been mastered completely. Some power station were running, but not reliably. There had been incidents. And famine had hit the Southern United States again. Some ten million people had died in the last year alone. Those were valid arguments.

- I know resources are scarce, dad. But what about ideals?

- Ideals don't solve problems, Zoë. We need to focus on what is important for us. Humankind's home is on Earth. We need to take care of that first. We were never meant to get out of it. We should stop being proud and learn the lesson. And, trust me, more and more people every day are learning it.

It was true. The humans of Earth, which had supported the idea of colonising new planets for a long time, were beginning to turn inwards. To focus on the problems close at hand. If the trend  continued, the links between Earth and Mars would become even weaker.

Going meant turning her back to Earth. She knew that.

But she also knew she was meant to be with Jaq. That it was the right choice for her. It was a step she had to make.

The conversation had finished. Of course, no agreement had been reached. Finding one would have been impossible.

Zoë had chosen her new life. There was no going back now. At her farewell party, she had said goodbye to her friends, promising to visit them soon. Some of them suggested they might come over for a visit at some point.

She knew she was leaving them behind for good. They would have gone their own way, some settling down to have normal, straightforward, viable Earth families.

Not her.

But life was also about making choices. And she was happy with the one she'd made.

She settled in her ship berth, ready to take on the fifteen-week long trip. After a few trips back and forth, she knew the freefall-induced nausea would go away in a couple of days. She just had to resist for a little longer. Then it would just be a matter of whiling the time away.

Fifteen

Like many other illnesses, measles starts with flu-like symptoms.

First, fever. Possibly spiking up to forty degrees. And then a runny nose, red eyes and cough. This lasts for four days, sometimes five. If you look inside your mouth at the right time, you may see some red spots on the palate and the inside of your cheeks. But they only last a day and they're easy to miss. After a few days, you get a rash. First on your head, and on your face. Then it spreads to the whole body. It may itch. It will take about eight days to go, give or take. As time passes, it stains, from bright red to brown. That means your skin is healing.

Generally, you will survive measles. Some complications, ranging from trivial to serious, will likely occur. If you're lucky, you get diarrhoea for a day or two. If you're less lucky, you'll get an ear infection. Some get pneumonia, certainly less pleasant, but treatable. In the worst cases, one out of a thousand, you can get encephalitis. In half of these cases, there will be some permanent damage.

Measles is a serious disease. Up to the second half of the twentieth century, people assumed it was something all children got. That they had to get. But people didn't know it could kill.

At the start of the twenty-first century, in the developed world, less than one in a thousand children who contracted measles died of it. In poorer countries, mortality was around ten per cent, raising to thirty per cent if combined with other ailments or in patients with a weakened immune system, for example because of malnutrition.

But, by the end of the twenty-first century, measles on Earth had almost become a thing of the past. The introduction of widespread obligatory vaccination earlier in the century had contributed to eradicating the disease. Almost. Every few years without any reported cases, occasionally there would be a small outbreak. Starting in 2080, a campaign sponsored by the World Health Organization contributed to making measles vaccination commonplace in poorer countries too. Fewer and fewer children got ill. While cases were still being reported, measles was now relegated to the memory of great-grandparents.

Since its colonisation, there had been no measles on Mars. During the first few years, the lack of a public health service made keeping any statistics difficult. However, since official records had begun, not a single case of measles had been recorded in the newly-born Martian Republic.

This was strange, as all the other known diseases had followed humans to their new home. But it looked like measles had failed to make the jump. For Martian Republic citizens, it was as if it had never existed. Soon parents protested against having to vaccinate their children for a disease that did not exist.

At the start of the twenty-second century, measles was officially removed from the list of compulsory vaccinations for all newborns.

So the people of Mars forgot all about it.

Sixteen

That side of town wasn't too bad, but it had got worse in recent times. A few muggings had taken place during the last few months. Not just people walking in the dark and empty walkways. Those had always happened. The difference was that now they had started happening when the sun was up in the sky, whether day or night it didn't matter.

Keeping in sync with Earth.

Recently, homeless people had started showing up. In the covered walkways, they were protected and warm. Still, they were sleeping rough. And it was a clear sign that things were getting worse. Until twenty years before, everybody had a right to free accommodation. Now that the funds were limited, the local government had cut down on this service, making eligibility requirements much more stringent. Society was unravelling, at least in the big cities. And some people, for a variety of reasons, had started falling through the cracks.

It wasn't like this everywhere. Grenlund was doing fine, and Kitron too, to some extent. Harry had never lived in a big city. He knew that larger cities tended to attract all sorts of people and experienced problems that smaller communities didn't have to face.

Despite what he saw everyday on his way to work, Harry wanted to believe that Mars's society was still strong. Even if it required constant help from Earth, Mars was an example of what humankind could achieve: leave the planet where it had taken its first steps on the ground after climbing down from trees, and colonise a new planet. A new home, millions of kilometres away. Humankind's first stepping stone to the stars. Still worth making it better. Still worth fighting for it.

He was doing his part. It might have been small: he was just a police inspector after all. But he felt useful.

Harry sat at his desk and started reviewing old reports. He hadn't been assigned to any new case yet. He had only had a quick meeting with the APD's chief, who hadn't seemed too interested in him. But Harry had convinced himself it had just been his impression. Soon there would have been some real work for him to do.

In the meantime, he was catching up on the recent work that his new colleagues had done at the APD. He wanted to learn their methods. Find out who was responsible for what. After reading a couple of reports, he had already convinced himself that he could have done much better. That was his style back home. He would do the same here, if not better. It was just a matter of time.

Thinking of Grenlund brought his mind back to when he was about to leave home to go to the police academy. He would be staying in the same city, so it would not be a big change, at least for the moment. At the same time, his adult life was starting then. It was a big step.

Harry was a third generation martian. His family had arrived to Mars in the second half of the twenty-second century. They hadn't come to run away from life on Earth, as many others had done during the Great Migrations. They had come because they believed in the project. They wanted humankind to continue to progress, not to look inwardly at their own problems on Earth. There would always be problems. But this was not a good reason to stop.

His family had managed to pass this conviction down the generations. They had always supported the idea of a strong independent Martian Republic, albeit with solid links with Earth. They had raised Harry in this way. Making him proud of being part of the group of pioneers that were furthering humankind, while at the same time remaining connected with Earth's culture. Two planets, same home, they used to say.

Harry had grown up firmly believing in it. And he had never questioned it.

His parents were about to retire. Now it was his turn to continue their mission.

- Harry, tomorrow is an important day, - his father had said, on the eve of his first day at the academy.

- I know, dad. I'm looking forward to it.

- It will be hard to see you leave home, even though you're staying in town. But I'm also proud of you because you've chosen to continue the work your family has done over the years.

- Thanks dad.

- Mum and I count on you. But I don't think I need to tell you more. I know you'll do well.

- I'll do my best, dad.

Harry had felt some pressure then. During all his life up to that point, he had never really thought he might want something else for himself. Sure, occasionally he had had some doubts. But he had always pushed them away. He knew he was doing the right thing.

Harry surprised himself day-dreaming. He pulled himself back.

He paused for a second, before going back to work.

After all these years, he knew he had done the right thing by going to the academy. And, even though it still hurt him, he knew leaving Lisa had been for the best. She just didn't understand what he was supposed to do. She didn't care about having a higher purpose. She just wanted to live a quiet life. With no ambition. This wasn't for him.

Now he was more certain than ever. He would put all of himself into his work, to continue his family's legacy.

He took a sip of office coffee. Almost undrinkable, as always. Still, it was managing to keep him awake.

He went back to his reading. He had quite a few reports to go through before the day was over. And maybe he would start working on something soon.

He knew it was just a matter of time.

Seventeen

What else could she have said?

Marcus had offered her a subsidised ticket. She had had the opportunity to buy one the first time Tony had gone to Earth, but at the time she could not have afforded it, despite the discount. This time around, technically she wasn't entitled to one, as this was Tony's second trip. Very few children were allowed to go back to Earth on the programme, and certainly there weren't enough resources to send their parents too.

But Marcus, using his contacts, had managed to get her a place on the ship that left twenty weeks after Tony's departure. She had been doubtful. And possibly a little scared. But this was too good an opportunity to miss.

She had accepted.

Despite the ticket being subsidised, it was still a significant expenditure. Her current job paid better than the one she had at the time of Tony's first trip, but she still had to scrape the bottom of her savings. To feel better, she had convinced herself that, once back from Earth, she would adopt an aggressive saving strategy.

As soon as she had agreed to go, she had got in touch with Maria Eberharter to let her know the news. Maria had been elated at the idea of meeting her friend in person. She had replied to Martina's request for information regarding local hotels with an offer to stay in their home. It was big enough, she had said, and it would have been great if they could all have spent some time together.

Martina had also started a regular exercise regime. As with Tony, this was intended to prepare her for the trip in freefall condition, first, and then for the first days on Earth. She would have to stick to this routine on the ship. Three hours of exercise every day, to prevent muscle wastage and loss of bone density.

The first few days on Earth would be though, but she was prepared.

So now here she was.

On her way to Earth for the very first time.

Her worries had bubbled up only a few days after accepting to go, when she had realised that she would be leaving her home planet. She had grown up with the thought that people on Mars and Earth were linked strongly. That they were the same people on two planets, as they said. But, after all, Mars was her home. That's all she had known up to that point. And now she was about to leave it, to go to another planet. It felt unnatural. It almost felt alien.

The journey time between Mars and Earth, for her trip, was about thirteen weeks. This was because, at that time, the distance between Mars and Earth was lower than average. At the maximum distance between Mars and Earth it would have taken twice as long. But in any case, the length of the trip implied that, now that links between Mars and Earth were getting weaker, fewer and fewer people travelled. And it was a vicious cycle. Fewer travellers meant even weaker links between Earth and Mars.

The trip between Earth and Mars required the use of low orbit shuttles to get people on board a long distance spacecraft. Passengers would reach the spacecraft on shuttles from various locations on the planet. The spacecraft waited for its passengers in a low orbit. There was no way for such a large spacecraft to land on either Earth or Mars. It had been built directly in space, out of either planet's gravitational well. The low orbit holding pattern lasted about an Earth week, during which the spacecraft was also resupplied and refuelled.

Shuttle flights were much more gentle than they used to be. They took off just like normal aircrafts. The trip was slightly less comfortable though, as passengers had to strap themselves to their seats to avoid floating around once they reached micro-gravity condition. Shuttles took turns to dock with the spacecraft. At the start of their trip, passengers migrated from the shuttles to the ship via one of the several airlocks.

Martina had enjoyed the day-long shuttle trip from the Aaltrin spaceport. Despite this being her first experience with microgravity, the first few hours had passed without any symptom of nausea or other types of discomfort. Getting used to moving in microgravity hadn't been that easy though. The shuttle cabin was equipped with plenty of grab handles, but Martina had bumped around a couple of times. While the ship was padded, this did not prevent her from getting a few bruises. It was a common occurrence for first time passengers. And everybody got the hang of it after a day or so. She imagined that Tony would find it much easier. The advantages of young age.

Once the shuttle docked, passengers began the transfer procedure, completing it within two hours. Passing through the airlock hadn't been the easiest of exercises but Martina had managed to go through without too many problems. Once on board, crew members had guided her towards her berth and had given her some instructions on how to operate the bedding facilities, the entertainment system and, importantly, the zero-gravity bathroom controls.

Before getting settled into her berth, Martina had looked out towards Mars. It was closer than she had expected. The side she was looking at was getting darker at that point.

A dark red.

She could still see the ruggedness of Mars's surface. She wondered whether she could see Aaltrin's first lights, but after looking for a while, she couldn't make them out. She gave up.

- It doesn't matter, I will be back soon, - she thought, almost promising it to the planet itself.

That was her home. Her future was there.

Eighteen

The previous batch of passengers had left the ship and the new ones had now settled in their berths, waiting for departure. As always, new passengers had the same expression painted on their face. A mix of apprehension and excitement. The departing passengers, on the other hand, often looked smug. After several weeks of space travel, they probably felt they were veterans. They thought that a single trip from the Earth to Mars was enough to qualify. Marcus knew that actually they just wanted to get off the ship as soon as possible.

Beginners.

Only the space marshals knew what it meant spending months on a ship, travelling back and forth. This was Marko's fifth return trip. He was already starting to have enough. True, they had extended periods of rest in between trips. Nice holidays. But most of that time was spent recuperating. Getting their strength back after weeks in freefall. Losing muscle mass and making their bones brittle.

This new batch of passengers looked especially worried. It was always like that with people from Mars. They knew that going to Earth would not be easy for them. The trip was just the first part. If anything, the gravity adaptation period would be even more challenging. Their bodies, used to Mars's gentler gravity, would have to struggle much more than those of Earthlings on Mars.

- Anyway, they're not the first ones to go through this, - Marko thought.

With all the new passengers on board, and the ship resupplied, it was time to go back.

After a week spent orbiting around Mars, they were ready to start heading back home.

Home.

Marko wasn't quite sure what people meant with that. He didn't have any particular attachment to any place on Earth. Sure, he was attached to his parents. But, as it had been for the previous twenty-nine years, they could have been anywhere and it would have not mattered.

Then there was Mars. If things had gone differently, that would have been his home.

This was the fifth time he was orbiting around Mars. He had already been back four times, but he had never gone down to the surface. Most of the marshals never left the ship, as developing accommodation facilities on Mars would have been too expensive for the spaceline. Every year fewer people travelled between the two planets, especially now that most interplanetary sport competitions had been abolished. So they were trying to make savings on whatever they could. As marshals were not paying customers, they had been the first target for budget cuts.

Like the previous times, Marko had spent some of his spare time looking out of the ship window. Mars was so close that he could make out some details of its surface. And, at night, he could easily spot Mars's three main cities: Kitron, Grenlund and Aaltrin, the largest one.

He often wondered about the people there. They had families, jobs, daily worries and joys. He had also read and watched a lot about the planet. Despite the obvious differences, due to the need to live in an environment that was much more hostile to human life than Earth's, life on Mars had looked so similar to what he knew. Everything he had seen presented Mars as being just an extension of Earth. A brave extension, with people enduring harsh conditions to further humankind. But, after all, all the material he had seen painted Mars with a coat of boring normality.

He was aware that there were discordant voices around. People that didn't think in the same way. The Separatists, of course, whose propaganda was still available on the net. It was illegal, and in any case Marko had never really treated it as something he could even contemplate to believe in. He thought that reality was much simpler. And more pleasant to think about. He had long decided to stick to the official line.

So Mars looked pleasant. A slightly different choice, and he would have been a Martian human, born and bred. Instead, Mars had never played any significant role in his life, even after his parents had told him where he was from.

Sure, it was his birthplace. But despite knowing that, it meant nothing to him. He wasn't even sure he would have liked to go down on the surface, to see how it actually was. During the hours spent looking at Mars, he had tried to force himself to feel something. A tinge of attachment. He had even tried to think about his natural mother. He wondered where she was. Whether she had managed to get her life back on track after his parents had rescued her. Whether, every now and then, she thought about the son she had given away for money.

Still, he didn't feel anything.

Not exactly true, actually.

He was feeling guilty. Guilty because he wasn't feeling anything, while he thought he should.

He had tried many times to develop an attachment to Mars.

It had not worked.

That was it, he thought, that would have been his last trip. He had had enough of space travel. And he had failed the original objective for signing up with the Marshal Corps. There was no reason for him to keep on travelling, spending hours doing nothing and watching his body wither under the effects of freefall.

Once more, he felt he hadn't completed what he had chosen to do. But he couldn't help it. He decided that he would resign once back on Earth. They would not be surprised. Most marshals only lasted a year or two. The job sounded attractive at the start. That's what pushed people to go to the training. But after a couple of trips, the excitement usually wore off.

Marko heard the signal that required all crew members to take their seat for the initial engine burn that would place them on the course to Earth.

He wasn't far from his seat in the common area. Once he reached it, he sat down and strapped himself in.

The tenth time he was doing this.

It would be his last, he was sure of that.

Nineteen

The call arrived the following morning at 9.15am UTC.

Harry had just come back from the daily staff meeting. They had been discussing ongoing cases and other news. Like every day. The meeting had actually been a pretty boring one. They only had a handful of cases going, none of them particularly interesting or difficult. Not that they were solving any. District 9 had the worse track record of the entire APD. Chief after chief had passed through District 9. None had been able to put a dent in their bad performance.

- It's just that people really aren't that motivated, - Harry thought.

They paid them a pittance. Much less than in Grenlund. Harry now made less as an inspector than what he used to make as a constable back home.

- Just what you need to get you going in the morning, - he thought.

Harry had not been given a proper case yet. When the call arrived, he was thinking that his second week at the precinct was already shaping up to be a quiet one.

- Harry, this is John McVine speaking.

John was the current police chief. He had been with the force for over twenty-five years. He had moved around various precincts around Aaltrin. Eventually, they had parked him over here. No one thought he was that good. But he wasn't bad either. They probably thought that he couldn't make things any worse.

- Hi John. How are things?

Harry faked some confidence. Despite what he had heard about him, John was still the boss, after all. And Harry wanted to make a good impression.

- Good. Listen. I have a case for you. Everybody else's got something else going on.

It was great knowing that you're the last one in the pecking order. Just what Harry needed to hear. John continued.

- You'll thank me later. I want you to go over to a crime scene. Female, 29. Marie Grey is the name. The neighbours called the police after not seeing her for a week. A bunch of curtain twitchers. They thought it was strange she hadn't gone anywhere for a few days.

- That's the real community spirit - Harry said.

- A week, jeez - he thought - a little longer and we would have found a skeleton.

Luckily, the controlled indoor climate of Mars houses ensured that corpses there decomposed much more slowly than on Earth.

- I'll go straight away - Harry said. - Do we already know who could have killed her?

- What could have killed her, you mean, - John replied. - We found two empty bottles of sleeping pills on the bedside table. Apparently, her son died recently. He was on his way to Earth, don't ask me what for.

- I won't then.

- Anyway, he started to feel sick on the ship and died quickly. They told the mother straight away but they couldn't come back. Once committed to a high speed course, there's no turning back until you reach your final destination. It will be another fifteen weeks before the body comes back. Anyway, she wasn't married and the kid had no known father. No other relatives in Aaltrin or anywhere else on Mars.

- So, she killed herself then. Big case, thanks boss.

- But, hey, beggars can't be choosers - he thought.

And, after all, he really wanted to get started with something soon. So at least he would have something to talk about at the daily meeting. Instead of sitting there nursing an ever disgusting instant coffee.

- Great, Harry. - John McVine said. - Go to the crime scene now, take one of the cars at the back. I've sent you a message with all the details.

- I'm on my way.

Harry picked up one of the keypads from the drawer in the cabinet by the door, and left the office.

Twenty

Driving was not as fun as it used to be.

At least that's what his grandfather had always told him. But Harry had never known anything different. All cars travelled on controlled highways. You could actually control the vehicle yourself only in the stretch from the parking spot to the traffic stream. After that, the remote guidance system took over, merging the vehicle with the traffic flow. There really couldn't be any other option. Cars were completely sealed, as they were driving in the thin Mars atmosphere. To support the heavy traffic in cities, and to avoid accidents, all driving had to be centrally controlled. This had two advantages. First, there were no accidents to speak of, just some minor fender benders. In all these cases, the cars were still able to drive off to the first secure repair point. Second, you could actually pack a lot of cars, all travelling at high speed, in the same stretch of road. Traffic jams were a thing of the past.

There was a problem though: driving a car now wasn't much different from taking the bus, apart from the fact that you had more privacy. You could only choose your destination, leaving all controls to the remote guidance system.

His grandfather had told him that back in his day it was still possible to take a car for a spin around the almost empty city streets. Accidents were rare thanks to the light traffic. But there was a price to pay. If a car was involved in an accident and the secure shell ruptured, the drivers and passengers were as good as dead, especially if they lost consciousness before managing to don their breathing masks.

- On second thought, living in the 23rd century is better, - Harry thought.

While the car was driving, he started reading the case documentation. Everything looked quite straightforward. It was a start anyway.

Within twenty minutes, the car pulled out of the traffic flow and Harry got to drive the last hundred meters, looking for a parking spot. He finally found one. All parking spots had adjustable airlocks so that the driver and any passengers could safely get out of the car without the help of a breathing mask. The airlock was in turn connected with an inner walkway, running parallel to the street. All front doors opened on the walkway. Most of them were doors of large buildings, several floors tall. Others, though, were single family homes.

While parking his car, Harry had noticed several familiar vans parked outside. There was a police van. The forensics van was there too. It was probably Paul Tondelli and his team, taking photographs and various other samples, including DNA ones. Harry thought they had to be almost done with it. All samples were being uploaded in real time to the case file, which Harry could access on his device. The photographs showed a woman lying on an unmade bed, two empty pills bottles on the nightstand.

Harry walked through the door, after showing his ID to the policeman standing there. He recognised his face, he had seen him several times in the canteen. But he could not remember his name. He was still new, after all.

He spotted Tondelli talking to someone from his team and approached him.

- Paul - Harry called.

- That would be Mr. Tondelli, for you, Strickned. You're still pretty new around here. I've been around for a tiny bit longer than you. I don't care if you've just been promoted, inspector. You'd better show some respect.

Harry was taken aback by such a hostile reaction. But he decided to fight back.

- Tondelli, I'm not going to take this shit. I won't call you Paul if you don't like that. But there's no way I'm going to 'mister' you, okay?

- Alright - Tondelli grumbled. - Let's get down to business, shall we? What we have here is one of the simplest suicide cases I've ever seen in my life. No wonder they've sent you to take care of this. Well, here's the solution. She killed herself. No other fingerprints, no DNA, no signs of anybody getting into the house, no fights. Plain and simple. Here it is, you'll have my report soon. It'll be short. But you know what to say back at base.

- So it would seem - Harry said, almost to himself.

In his heart, he was disappointed that all he was there to do was rubber-stamp the conclusions that others had come up with. He only had to fill in a few forms and send them off for processing. Case closed.

- But Tondelli - Harry continued - do you know the cause of her death?

- I told you, it was those pills - Tondelli said.

He already looked annoyed.

- No, I meant - Harry said - the reason why she took those pills. Did she leave a note or something? I know that her son died recently.

- That probably did it, - Tondelli said. - It doesn't take a genius to figure it out.

Tondelli was right. This case was really simple. There was no point in getting into an argument with him. It might prove counterproductive for his time at District 9. At some point he would have to work with him again. Maybe on a proper case next time.

Twenty-one

Harry had already decided to go out and relax. To have a drink or two, at least. He just needed to find something to do.

When some colleagues suggested a trip to the local bar, he decided to tag along.

They went to the bar down the road from the precinct. Really nothing special. But it was comfortable, roomy and it even had a bit of outside space, in a domed beer garden. The temperature in the beer garden was set to be slightly colder than in the indoor section of the bar. Together with some artificial breeze, if you closed your eyes it really gave you the impression of being outside. Harry had never experience staying outdoors for long periods of time. He had been to this bar only a couple of times, but he liked the place. Nothing too pretentious and the beer was cheap.

- So, how's this week going for you? - John Frisk asked.

John was a couple of years older than Harry. He had been at District 9 all his career and was hoping to be promoted soon. Then he would have to leave Aaltrin, as Harry had had to leave Grenlund. In the meantime, it was probably the best integrated member of the team. Friend with everyone. Keeping the group together.

- Good Frisk, thank you.

Harry didn't want to complain during his first few weeks there. He knew he tended to come across as a little pessimistic most of the time. He really wasn't. Saying pessimistic things was his way to deal with the ironies of life. But he generally had a positive outlook. Problem was: it was hard for people to understand that. When he started working in Grenlund, he got labelled pretty quickly. He didn't manage to shake that off in five years. He didn't want to make the same mistake in Aaltrin.

- Got my first case here today. - Harry continued. - That women that committed suicide, you probably saw that in the paper. It's simple enough, it would seem. But it's a start. I've spent the day filling out forms and stuff.

- Yes, that's the way it is. No matter how simple a case is, it's always those damn forms that have to be filled out. It takes ages every single time. Anyway, I just wanted to properly welcome you to the team, Strickned. Well, technically I should call you boss, boss.

- Don't, - Harry said. - I really don't care about grades.

It was a lie, of course.

- You can call me Harry and I hope I can call you John - he added.

- Sure thing - John replied, smiling - welcome again.

- Hey guys, - someone in the group said - when you two have finished flirting, why don't you join us here? Have you heard about this bunch of lunatics, the Earthers? They are all about the Martian Republic getting too independent from Earth, that this is going to split the human race, that something needs to be done straight away, blah, blah, blah.

- There's going to be a demonstration tomorrow in the Central Mall. They're advocating more direct Earth control, possibly with the introduction of a UN-sponsored Commissioner with veto powers. - another colleague said.

- They'll never get that - John said.

- Wasn't this idea already being floated more than fifty years ago? We can all see that it went a long way, can't we? Besides, what's wrong if people on Mars are getting a bit more of an identity? We can't be a colony forever, can we?

- I think they're worried that almost no one, in our generation, has been to Earth, - John said. - I don't think I know anybody who has, apart from some of the rich kids. Not that I know them personally, of course. But one reads things.

- They'd better give us faster ships and cheaper tickets - another colleague said - otherwise they can forget about APD cops bothering to visit.

Harry didn't have much to add. He had never thought about this.

They switched subjects pretty soon after that. The handball finals were coming up and everybody hoped that the Starfliers would finally win the cup, after a good ten years, but without any league win. The rest of the evening passed quickly, talking about sport and drinking one round after the other.

When he woke up the following day, Harry wasn't sure how he'd managed to get home.

Interlude V

She hadn't said hello.

Again.

Nothing new, she was used to her neighbours not acknowledging her. When she was with Jaq, they greeted them. Just him, actually. But she wanted to believe they were greeting the two of them. This pretence made her feel slightly better, though it still grated a little.

- That bitch again - Zoë said, whispering. But only just.

- Ssh, you're not going to make any friends this way. At least wait until we're at home and we've shut the door.

- Oh, I'm not going to make any friends here anyway. I'm different, in case you haven't noticed.

- Don't be so negative. These are just the first few days. Give it time. This is a community that has been together for a long time. Some initial coldness towards strangers is normal.

- 'Some initial coldness'? - Zoë said. - A bit of an understatement, isn't it. I'd rather call it 'open hostility'. They don’t just ignore me. Sometimes I hear them talk about me behind my back.

- What do they say?

- How they hell should I know? They use some of your weird martian words.

Jaq sighed.

He counted to ten.

- You used to like our words, remember? You even started using some of them yourself.

- Well, that was then. Now it's different.

They didn't talk for a few minutes.

Zoë spoke first.

- Jaq, I'm sorry.

- It's okay, I know it's stressful for you.

- It is. Having been on Mars before, I thought it would be easy. But then I was here for work, just for a short time. Staying in a hotel and working all day. People were nice to me. Being over here was actually pretty exciting, and I didn't mind not being able to walk outside. After all it was just for a couple of weeks each time. It didn't feel that different from home, apart from the gravity. And the horrible coffee of course.

- I can see you haven't lost your sense of humour.

- Well, at least some of my good qualities surface again, from time to time.

The first few weeks on Mars had been weird for her.

Physically, at first. Getting used to lower gravity had been easy. Everything took very little effort. During those first days she had felt like she had super powers. Over time, her muscles had got used to having to do less work and had relaxed. She was still much stronger than all women born on Mars, and most men. She knew that gradually she would lose muscle mass, especially if she didn't keep up with her exercises. At that point, coming back to Earth would have been a struggle. Every day that passed was like adding a brick to a wall that separated her from her family, her friends, her hometown. The place where she belonged.

After the initial excitement, getting used to being on Mars had turned into more of a psychological challenge. However hard she tried, she knew that she would always be the Earthling on Mars.

But never one of them.

People on Mars were human of course. They lived in cities, just like people on Earth. They had jobs. They had families. The same dreams and hopes.

Yet, somehow, they were different.

Growing up, they always told her that the Martian Republic was just like another Earth country, the only difference being that it was on another planet.

But now, having lived there for a few months, she knew that, beyond the veneer of similarity, things were different. She couldn't point to anything specific. But the whole picture looked as if it had a strange colour cast.

Most people on Mars didn't like people from Earth, she had realised. Even with all the financial aid they provided. Zoë thought that maybe it was because of that. They felt controlled. Dependent on someone else's whims. Someone that didn't understand their challenges and their daily struggles. She had the feeling that many people there would have happily severed any links with Earth, even at the cost of making their lives more difficult.

They had found a small apartment in St. Joseph, one of Aaltrin's up and coming neighbourhood. At least that's what Jaq had told her. The place was old. It wasn't in a great condition, but, after all, it was all they could afford. After ending his career as professional player, Jaq had found a job coaching a local school's football team. But the pay wasn't great. She hadn't found a job yet, and her job hunting hadn't been too heartfelt. But she still thought she could get something, at some point.

They had re-decorated the flat during a couple of weekends and bought some cheap furniture. Jaq had spent quite a few hours assembling it. The place was small but comfortable. And the ventilation system seemed to work well. Luckily, the window inspection hadn't identified any leaks. People dying in their sleep because of a window leak wasn't unheard of in their neighbourhood. The housing stock was old, and many people could not afford to spend any money on maintenance.

But overall, the place was fine. She knew it was a flat where they could have started their family. A first step. And things would have improved from there.

Zoë took a deep breath. She felt slightly better now. More optimistic, somehow.

- Jaq, I think I just need a little more time. I will make it work, I promise.

- We will make it work, Zoë, we will do that together. You've come over here for me. You've given up a lot. Your family, your friends, your job. Moving to another country on Earth would have been hard for me. This is even more difficult, I can see that.

- I was happy to do it. I still am. And I know you'll be there for me.

- Of course I will.

Zoë turned and looked out of the window.

Early morning.

Pitch black. Of course.

Looking up to the sky, Zoë wondered for a second where Earth was. She didn't know, but now she didn't care.

Her life was on Mars.

Twenty-two

The testing programme was beginning to pay off. The database at the Martina D. Recasent Centre for Martian Physiology, at the University of Barcelona, now held the sequenced DNA of over five hundred children. All of them were at least fourth generation Martian humans, born from parents that, in most cases, had never been to Earth. All of them had been enrolled in the Earth Association exchange programme to strengthen the links between Earth's nations and the Martian Republic.

The Recasent Centre was located in Barcelona: the result of years of lobbying by that national government. Ever since the separation from Spain in 2157, Catalonia was doing the utmost to put itself on the map. In an age of expansion, smaller countries mattered even less. Despite the fact that most children from Mars were spending their time on Earth in Germany and other neighbouring countries, the DNA samples were regularly transferred to Barcelona. Their analysis, sequencing and storage kept about four hundred local scientists employed. A boon for local politicians, all of which regularly praised themselves for creating so many local high-tech jobs.

The Centre was beginning to obtain statistically significant results. In addition to DNA sequencing, which was needed to create a comprehensive electronic library accessible by scientists the world over, laboratory tests were being carried out there. In these tests, sample of Martian human cells were exposed to a variety of common Earth pathogens.

Overall, the tests had revealed that the immune system of Martian humans had not lost its evolutionary memory. It was generally able to fight off most infections, ranging from common rhinoviruses to more significant pathogens such as various influenza strains. The behaviour was consistent also for lethal pathogens. Exposure the Marburg, Ebola and other hemorrhagic fever viruses led to a speedy cellular death.

This was certainly good news. Overall, Martian humans had not become any stronger. Nor any weaker. There was definitely no signs that they were becoming a different species. These results were reassuring.

But the picture that the test results were painting was not necessarily all good. Some recent results had started showing a worrying pattern. It looked like Martian humans had lost their ability to withstand infections by a particular paramyxovirus: the measles virus. The cells of children born on Mars from third- or fourth-generation Martian humans did not appear to be able to overcome a measles infection. On Earth measles had been almost eradicated. No one died of it anymore. On the other hand, a Martian child - or an adult, for that matter - would have likely died.

This was not necessarily a huge problem. Measles was virtually non-existent on Earth. For this reason, it had not made the jump to Mars and was unknown there. But, theoretically, measles could have wiped off an entire generation of Martian humans. The risk was risible. But the consequences would have been catastrophic.

Twenty-three

- Hello John.

John McVine's ID had appeared in Harry's lateral field of vision.

- Morning Harry. I want you to attend a crime scene. It's a gym. It's called Active Fitness, the branch near the Press Association building.

- I know it. I can go soon, but I haven't finished writing the report for the other case yet.

- Yep, I did notice that. You should try to be a little faster. Anyway, we don't have any other inspector available, Harry. So I thought I'd give you a ring.

- It's good to be at the top of your priorities, John. What is it?

Harry didn't feel that great about having been picked last. Once again. But after an initial internal burst of anger, which he felt bubbling up, he quickly calmed down. He knew that he was new and he had to wait. John did trust the others guys a great deal more. That was unjustified, given how badly the precinct was performing. Hopefully it was only a matter of time before he could start being treated better than just a kid.

- It's another suicide, - John said. - Another woman. Paula Rajah, 35. It happened yesterday evening. Perhaps you've already seen that in the morning paper. You will find Tondelli at the scene, he got there pretty early this morning. I woke him up at 4am to do this. I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you.

- I don't doubt it. Anyway, I'm on my way.

Harry hung up.

He stood up to go fetch one of the car keypads from the cupboard.

- Great, another interesting case where I can be patronised by this Tondelli guy, - he thought.

And with that he left the office on the way to the garage.

Once he got to Active Fitness, he found a few unmarked police vans parked outside. He knew that was Tondelli's team. He recognised them from the previous high profile crime scene he had attended.

They were all parked outside the spaces. Actually, technically not all vehicles were outside the spaces. Tondelli's own car was in the disabled drivers' spot. He didn't have a clue how they had all managed to link into the airlocks. They were parked so badly that Harry had to leave his car in the middle of the road. He had to fetch a breathing mask and walk the short distance to the airtight covered walkway.

Once he was in, Tondelli spotted him quickly.

- There you are, Strickned. It's good to see you again. Hopefully, there will be more of these suicides, so that we can keep on meeting so often.

Harry didn't know what to say.

- It's a joke, Strickned. I'm sure even you understand this.

- You should work on your sense of humour, Tondelli. Anyway, what do you have for me today? It certainly is nice to meet you so often.

- As I said, Strickned, it's another suicide. You should pay attention. This one a little less pleasant than the previous one. She hanged herself to the pipework in the shower room. She used the string from her bathrobe. Nice job. She climbed up the pipes, tied up the string and let herself go. She was probably dead in seconds, although she was lucky she didn't get her head detached from her body. Doesn't happen often on Mars, though. Low gravity and all that. But on Earth it's all the rage.

Despite Tondelli having been there since 4am, Paula Rajah's body was still hanging from the pipework. Her blueish skin and lips looked cold under the flash light of the police photographer who was documenting the scene. The water had been turned off, but her hair was still wet. She had her gym clothes on.

- She wasn't going to take a shower, that's for sure, not with her clothes on, - Harry thought.

He thought that it was quite strange that someone would do something like this in the gym. Almost out of an impulse.

- Tondelli, for god's sake, haven't you finished with your procedures? I think it's about time your guys remove the body and take it to the morgue. Or are you going to keep this going for much longer?

- Getting there, getting there - Tondelli replied, visibly annoyed. - Take it easy, Strickned. You don't know what really needs to be done. You wouldn't know where to start. So leave it to us and go have a look at the victim's personal stuff over there. Maybe even you would be able to work something out from looking at her belongings.

- Where are they?

- On that bench over there. That's her gym bag. It's got her day clothes and a few other things. Her wallet. Her house keys. And her device. The light on top was blinking until some time ago, but I think the battery is gone now. We'll need to charge it up again and then hope that she hasn't set a PIN, or something. Otherwise it's a palaver.

- Ok, thanks. I'll have a look.

Harry was glad he wouldn't have to speak to Tondelli again for a while. He'd get his report, which he would use to write his own. Assuming he managed to finish the previous one within a reasonable time.

- Paperwork. That's what this is all about. - Harry thought.

There was nothing in the bag that could suggest a potential motive for the suicide. It was just a normal gym bag, with the usual stuff. Clothes, shoes, toiletries of various kinds. A wallet, full of cards. There was no cash in the Martian Republic. Some countries on Earth were still issuing paper banknotes, but most had ceased to do that. And as all paper had to be imported to Mars, and was very expensive, the Martian Republic had decided to forego cash altogether from the very beginning. Everything was electronic. There also was no music player, but Paula probably had aural inserts for that. They had been introduced a couple of years back. There were still quite expensive but people had started switching to them: much more convenient than an external player.

- The only thing that could give us some leads here is the device. - Harry thought. - Let's hope that it can be switched on again.

For that he would have to wait until Tondelli got back to the office, took his sweet time getting started, and got to work. It would not be before the weekend.

Twenty-four

- So, Tom Rajah had just died.

- Who is that?

It took Harry a while to understand who was calling, and, more importantly, what he was talking about.

He had spent the last week lazily writing up the report on Marie Grey's death. Everything had turned out to be exactly how it had looked in the first place. Marie had killed herself with sleeping pills. Deep sleep, and then death had come pretty quickly. It was clearly suicide. Her fingerprints were everywhere: on the bottle, and on the remaining pills. The case was bound to be archived as not suspicious.

Sad.

But straightforward.

Mother and son had died. Marie did not have any relative left who could arrange a funeral. In these cases, the city council would organise a default funeral, followed by cremation and storage in the common section. Waiting for someone to claim the ashes.

No one ever did.

Harry hated not being busy. He could have written the report in a day, revisions and all. And he would have probably done that, had he had a thousand other things to do. But the report was the only thing on his list, and it had expanded to take up all his time. He could have made a start on Paula Rajah's report, but he wanted to wait for information from Tondelli and his team.

Which now was ready, or so it seemed.

- It's Tondelli, Strickned. It's 11am. Are you awake yet? I'm calling to let you know the results of our work on Rajah's phone. You already have the photographs and the other data, so this should be the last time we need to speak. Thank god. Until next time, that is. I just hope it's going to be a while.

- Thanks Tondelli - Harry replied, pretending to be offended. But the feeling was mutual. - I had the feeling we were beginning to get to know each other. Maybe the start of something good. But I was wrong.

- You bet. Anyway, Rajah's son, Tom Rajah, had just died when Paula killed herself. Actually, we think she had just found out he had died. The actual death took place in Boppard, Germany, two weeks ago. But they wanted to run some tests first, as the cause of death was suspicious. In the email with which they told Paula about her son, they said that it had been ages since they had seen a case. Probably even a generation or so. Their message said that they had also left her a voice message, but we didn't find any trace of that.

- Who are they? And what did Tom Rajah die of?

- Well, they are the Medical Institute of Koblenz, Germany. You don't have to know it. It's not a particularly remarkable place. Tom was taken there because it was the nearest place with the right facilities. Labs and stuff.

- I see. But what did Tom Rajah have?

- You would not believe that, Strickned. Tom died of measles. Measles, can you believe it? I thought we had got rid of the fucker. You know, all those jabs and stuff should have done their job. On Mars we don't have it at all, as far as I know. In the email they said that the reason Tom died is that he was a Mars kid. Never exposed to the virus before. Nor his parents. Nor his grandparents, possibly. So his body's immune response would have been weaker, compared to that of an Earth kid, that is. Actually, they had a small outbreak in Boppard, but all the other kids are now fine. All of them, apart from Tom.

- Thanks Tondelli.

Harry didn't know what to make of that. He didn't remember any other case of measles. Not in his lifetime. Nor his parents'. He was about to ask Tondelli for more details, but he had already hung up.

Typical. He shrugged and went back to finishing the report on Marie Grey's death. But he felt he had to hurry up now. Paula's case was much more interesting. He should spend some time looking into it.

Finally.

Twenty-five

Martina had spent the first couple of days getting used to freefall conditions. It had not been easy. Upon leaving Mars's gravitational pull, she had first experienced a feeling of exhilaration. This normally accompanies weightlessness. But, soon after, she had started feeling nauseous. It had lasted thirty-six hours. She had found moving around quite difficult. Even sleeping was hard, as her limbs floated around her, keeping her awake. She had found some relief by strapping herself to her bed and drinking iced water from a straw. She had been grateful that all berths were equipped with a screen, which connected her to a vast library of video entertainment. She had spent hours watching old mid-twenty-second century sitcoms, which she had always been a big fan of.

After forty-eight hours of eating very little and sleeping even less, Martina started feeling slightly better.

She decided to venture out of her berth. Perhaps to spend some time in the common deck, meeting up with other passengers. She struggled a little to get out of her cocoon, but she managed to find her way to the common seating area.

The passengers' deck area had several revolving armchairs. Passengers were supposed to strap themselves to their seats, to avoid floating around and colliding into each other. The armchairs were very comfortable. By rotating, they allowed passengers to interact with each other, but they also offered immediate privacy if needed. Passengers therefore did not need to go back to their berth if they wanted to have some time on their own.

The ship also had a well-equipped gym. Martina had planned to start her exercise regime as soon as possible. As soon as the nausea went away, that is.

Each passenger had full access to the interplanetary net, which was formed by linking Earth's net with Mars's net. However, due to the delay in communication, any form of realtime communication from aboard the ship to the two planets was extremely hard if not impossible. The spacecraft's intranet periodically cached versions of the two planets' respective nets. It did that when it was in a low orbit holding pattern. This allowed for a large amount of content to be available, but of course, when travelling between the two planets, this could not be updated. Asynchronous communication, like email, wasn't an issue. Especially if waiting in between messages wasn't a problem.

Martina accessed her inbox at one of the terminals that dotted the ship. No devices were allowed on board to avoid interferences with the spacecraft equipment. So all passengers were required to use the fixed positions to check their personal messages. Everybody had a terminal in their berth, to ensure complete privacy. The common deck area also had several terminals. Martina was still feeling a little dizzy and really didn't feel like going back to her berth. Besides, she also didn't have any secret she wanted to keep private and she was sure that no one would really be interested in what she was doing.

That day, she had seven new messages. As always, a few of them were emails sent by some services she had subscribed to. After all, it was always good to see some new mail in your inbox, but disappointment soon set in. Anyway, seven new messages couldn't all be ads and mailing lists.

In fact, there was one message from Maria Eberharter. The Eberharters were going to put up Martina during her stay on Earth. Martina was looking forward to meeting Maria soon in person, spending some time with her and getting to know her family too. It would have been great if they'd really become friends. After so much loneliness.

But the message had a different tone. Maria Eberharter wasn't asking about the trip, whether she had tried the anti-freefall nausea tablets she had recommended, and how the selection of television shows on board the ship was.

Tony was dead.

Apparently, a few days after getting there, he had caught something. At first, it had just looked like a strong cold. People on Earth got colds. And people on Mars got colds too. No big deal. But Tony had soon started feeling much worse, running a high fever and feeling too weak to walk around, or even eat or drink. The Eberharter had called their family doctor. He was experienced and they had been confident he would have been able to find out what the problem was. Unfortunately, they had been wrong. Tom had got worse, so Anton had rushed him to the hospital. It had taken them a while to find out what was wrong with him. Finally, an older doctor had identified the remnants of some Koplik spots in Tony's mouth. These were a clear telltale signs of a measles infection. The doctor had been optimistic that Tony, with adequate care, could have made a complete recovery. They had breathed a sigh of relief.

Too soon.

Tony had lapsed into a coma within a few days. And then he had died despite all the intensive care they had provided.

Maria was writing to Martina to let her know. She had arranged for Tony's body to be shipped back to Mars. Martina could have started her journey back to Mars to accompany him as soon as she got to Earth.

There was an attachment. At first, Martina didn't pay attention to it. She was reading again what Maria had written. Over and over. Feeling numb, her brain had not yet registered that what she had just read was true. But slowly, as she was going through the lines, she felt a shard of pain gradually ripping through inside her.

A silent scream, bubbling up.

Then she noticed that the message had an audio file attached. Perhaps it provided some additional last minute information that Maria hadn’t had time to type up. Maybe Maria was telling her that she was wrong, that actually Tony wasn't dead.

She knew this was a lost hope. But she played the file anyway.

At the beginning she didn't hear anything. Then she noticed it. The volume was low, but it was growing. First, it sounded like white noise. Then, gradually, she started perceiving a waveform. Deep, but quiet. Almost like a whisper. It was fluctuating. Coming and going.

Coming and going.

Martina stood up without saying anything.

Almost in a trance.

Numb.

She started making her way towards her berth. Or so thought the other passengers that saw her. It wasn't uncommon for passengers, surprised by a sudden onset of nausea, to rush towards their private quarters.

Martina went past her berth. Just after her section of the sleeping quarters, there was one of the spacecraft's airlocks. These were automatically controlled by the ship's systems. But they could be easily overridden. There wasn't a great deal of protection, everybody could reach the override switch. This was a design flaw, but, given that since the ship had been in operation no one had tried to open the airlocks once in flight, it had never been fixed.

Martina overrode the airlock control easily, immediately triggering an alarm in the ship's command deck. Two of this ship's security personnel team rushed to investigate. An airlock malfunction wouldn't have prevented the spacecraft to continue its journey. Nor would it have endangered any of the passengers. But it would have still made the disembarking procedures more cumbersome, delaying the shuttles's rota that had already been planned.

It should have been fixed.

Twenty-six

Marko had never heard an actual alarm.

Its intermittent sound pierced through the quiet of the passenger deck. Some marshals suddenly jumped up, ready for action. The others were half asleep after a heavy lunch.

- What is it? - Julius Finnegan asked. Julius was one of Marko's new colleagues.

- Not a clue. Let me check - Carlos Figueroa replied, while checking for any messages on his personal device. Marshals were allowed to carry them, but they were shielded to prevent any interception and interference with the ship's systems. After finding what he was looking for, he continued.

- Right, here it is. Apparently, one of the airlocks is malfunctioning. A couple of us should go have a look. Marko?

- Yeah, let's go and have a look. It's probably nothing. If I remember my technical training correctly, the airlock system can throw up false alarms every now and then. We just need to check that everything is in place and let the operational team know that they can reset the system.

- Ok, I'll follow you.

Following the system's indications, they arrived at the airlock within five minutes. Apart from the alarm light flashing outside the airlock ante-room, everything seemed fine. It was only when they got closer that they noticed that the airlock was actually opened. Airlocks were not supposed to be opened in deep space, but they worked equally well there as in low orbit. The ships internal atmosphere was completely unaffected by the airlock opening.

- This doesn't look like a false alarm, - Marko said. - The airlock's been opened. It can't have happened automatically, someone must have opened it.

- Why would someone do that?, - Carlos asked. - There's really no point unless a shuttle is docked.

- I haven't got a clue, - Marko replied. - Let's have a look out of the window.

They squinted for a while but they couldn't make out anything. Just open space, with the brightest stars they had even seen. Even after four trips, looking at the open space always instilled a sense of wonderment into Marko.

- Carlos, switch off the lights around here, I can't see well outside.

Carlos went over to the next room and, using the local control, he switched off the lights in the area next to the airlock. As soon as Carlos turned off the lights, Marko started shouting.

- Carlos, come over. I can see something!

- What the hell is that?

- There's a piece of clothing stuck there. Around that probe.

- Yeah, I can see it too now?

- How did it get there?

- Come on, I thought you were quicker than this.

- I am, but I was hoping to be wrong, - Marko said. - Ok, someone has jumped off the ship. We need to find out who did this.

Carlos nodded.

- Carlos, close the airlock now, there isn't really any evidence that we can get from it anyway.

- Sure. And we need to start a roll call immediately to find out who's missing.

- You're right, I'll get on with it - Marko said.

A roll call was started immediately. There was only one passenger missing.

Martina Fernandez.

Twenty-seven

- Yes, it must be her, - Marko thought.

Who in their right mind would buy such an expensive ticket and then decide not to travel anymore. You wouldn't travel only if something really big happened. And in any case, a missing passenger would have been discovered before departure. It was one of the checks the marshals team had to do. They needed to make sure that all named passengers were on board. They would have never taken the risk of letting some luggage on board without their respective owner. Yes, it must be her. But why would she do something like this?

Marko and Carlos went to speak with the ship's captain to update him on the results of their investigation. While on board, the captain was the highest authority on the ship. He had power of arrest and needed to be aware of any developments.

But Marko didn't think anybody on the ship was responsible for what had happened. He had spoken with almost all passengers and none of them actually knew Martina. One of them could have been lying, of course, but somehow Marko felt that wasn't the case. It was a pretty self-selected group. People with means, whose main objective was visiting Earth. In many cases for the first time ever.

- This in inconceivable, - Captain Jackson Maddox blurted out when he had been briefed by Marko. - This has never happened before. That's why the airlocks were not secured. No one in their right mind would ever dream of doing something like this.

- There's always a first time, captain, - Carlos replied. - And perhaps this person wasn't in her right mind. It must have been pure desperation that drove her to do what she did. At those temperatures outside, I'm sure death would have been quite sudden. She felt she needed to end it there and then.

Maddox spoke again, more quietly.

- Yes, but a suicide on board? On my ship? And how come no one noticed what this woman was about to do. How can this be possible? Did any of the passengers know her? What are you marshals around for?

Marko kept calm.

- Well, some passengers had seen her. But she had started going regularly to the common deck to spend some time with the other passengers only in the last couple of days. Not really speaking much, but at least she wasn't spending all her time holed up in her berth. She told one of the passengers that her first few days on the ship had been terrible. Freefall nausea and stuff. She said she could barely leave her bed. Apparently, before leaving her sleeping quarters, she had spent forty-eight hours strapped to her bed watching sitcoms on the internal video system. We've all been there captain.

- Indeed. Though it's such a long time ago that I had forgotten about it - Maddox said. - Anyway, Slavik, what do you plan to do about it?

- The Marshal team is no police, captain. Our brief is to prevent violent and terrorist acts from happening on the ship. Other than that, I think we should follow this spaceline's standard procedures for crimes happening on board. Whatever they are.

Captain Maddox thought about this for a while.

- If I remember correctly, the Rule Book states that whenever a crime occurs on board, the police force of the place of departure should have responsibility for the case. I think this is because it would be easier to track back the events leading to the crime. This is a trip from Mars to Earth. So we'll need to contact the police force of the city this woman was from. Now, this time around there were no shuttle flights from Kitron. And hardly anyone flies from Grenlund anymore. This leaves Aaltrin. But we should check.

Marko volunteered to do that.

- But I think I'll need access to her personal files and to her messaging accounts, - he said. - I think that's where the information we're looking for probably is.

- I can grant you that - Maddox said. - Just be discreet and only focus on finding out what we need to know. No snooping around. And do not mess with the files and messages that are there as we'll need to give them to the police.

- Of course captain, who do you think I am?

Marshals were not universally respected on board these ships. Most crew members thought they were just some time-wasters that had found a job that allowed them to spend the whole time watching television shows and eating. In many cases they were not far from the truth.

- That's fine. You'll get the necessary account credentials in a message to your private inbox within an hour or so.

- Thanks captain. I'll let you know as soon as I find something.

After about an hour, Marko logged into his account and noticed that the necessary information had already arrived. The message only contained Martina's username and password. If it had been somewhere on Earth, or on Mars, these account details would have granted him access only to the main account, while keeping him out of the messaging account. This additional security feature was not available on the old ship's system. All passengers just relied on a single set of credentials.

- Thankfully, - Marko thought.

Marko logged out of his account and then logged into Martina's. The whole process went smoothly and soon he was able to access her messaging application. There was quite a lot of messages from various mailing lists and other websites.

- She must not have many friends - Marko thought.

The more he looked at the list, the more he thought he was right.

- Probably a lonely life. But why was she going to Earth? Just a holiday?

Then Marko got to the first message in Martina's inbox. A message from Maria Eberharter. It had been read. As this was the only message from an actual person, there was a good chance it would contain the information he was looking for.

Marko could not believe what he was reading. He thought he understood Martina's pain, although perhaps not to the point of understanding the need to jump off the airlock. Despite the tragic event, there must have been deeper reasons compelling Martina to do what she did. A complete loss of hope.

The message also had an attachment, but Marko, despite his curiosity, remembered the captain's instructions and didn't open the file. Someone should have looked into this, though.

He needed to find out where Martina was from. Luckily, amongst her messages, she had kept the ticket receipt. The message included all the details of her trip. Not just for the Mars to Earth trip, but also the shuttle trips from Mars to the ship and, for the return trip, from Earth to the ship.

Aaltrin.

Martina Fernandez had taken the shuttle trip up to the ship from the Aaltrin spaceport.

Twenty-eight

Harry hadn't managed to make any progress on the Paula Rajah case. A couple of leads had turned out to be red herrings.

He had spent the last couple of days reviewing the case documentation in detail. He had read Tondelli's report over and over. But he hadn't been able to glean any useful information. Apparently, she had killed herself because her son was now dead on another planet. And there was no one else there for her. Fair enough. This was more than despair. It was complete hopelessness. It was as if she had become immediately indifferent to dying straightaway or forty years later. Despite all the evidence indicating that, although tragic, this was just a straightforward case, Harry felt there could be more. He just had to get to the bottom of this.

Harry was also hoping to find out more information about Marie Grey, the other suicide victim. Since the very beginning, her death had been dismissed quickly. Just a suicide. Sleeping pills. These were relatively common on Mars, especially among single mothers, who were often struggling to make ends meet. And often just gave up. But Marie's case was slightly different. She had a good job and, while she wasn't exactly rich, she had been able, until then, to make sure her son Michael had everything he needed. Apparently, Michael had never been in good health, and Marie had done everything she could have to make sure he had had the care he needed. Then he had died. A tragedy, of course. But, again, that did not explain the sudden suicide.

Each of these cases, taken by itself, could be easily dismissed. And indeed, everybody had done precisely that, quickly after each body had been found. But taken together, Marie's and Paula's cases shared a pattern that suggested that something else, something darker, may be behind them. Harry was beginning to feel that there may be something big that he had to find out. He needed to understand.

But how? Paula's case did not offer any more leads. The gym log had shown that only a Tom Foley had been at the scene just before Paula killed herself. No one had arrived later. Harry had spoken to Tom, but he turned out to be a failed banker with no involvement with the case. So the whole case had ground to a halt.

Marie's and Paula's were Harry's only cases. His first two cases since joining the APD. And he wasn't getting anywhere.

He decided to get something from the vending machine.

- What's that face, Strickned?

Leonardo Westley stopped him on his way to the machine. Leonardo looked the same as always. Two-day beard, wrinkled old clothes. Half of his shirt was untucked, revealing a bulging belly rolling up above his belt.

- It's this case, Westley. Paula Rajah's. I'm sure you've heard of it.

- Of course I have. It's a straightforward case, but even so it's the only real one we actually have around here these days. You're lucky they've given it to you. A newbie. I'm sure you're happy it's keeping you busy.

- I was happy to get it alright, but things are not going anywhere. It just seems she killed herself upon learning that her son had died.

- Fair enough, - Westley said.

- Really? It seems a bit extreme to me. I can imagine her despair, but killing herself straight after getting the news. What could have motivated that?

- You've never lost a son, Strickned.

Westley had said this quietly, almost to himself. He paused. Then, a bit uncertain, he continued.

- I lost my son in a car accident ten years ago. He was twenty-three and was going away for a weekend with some friends. To Kitron. We had asked him to go there by train, as the road to Kitron is in a poor condition and the automated driving system often malfunctions due to poor weather. Two days later we got a call from the Intercity Police. It had taken them more than twenty-four hours to reach them after the vehicle had launched an automated emergency call. Too late. When they reached them, they were all dead. We got a call soon after. I would have ripped my heart out.

- I'm sorry, Westley. I really didn't know. It must have been the worst pain you've ever felt, I'm sure. But you're still here. You've decided to pull through. To have some hope in the future.

Westley protested.

- No, I've just been a coward, Harry. After a while the survival instinct kicks in and you just can't do it anymore. But I've lost my hope in the future. My will to build something, to hope for something, died that day on the highway to Kitron.

Harry didn't know what to say. He just hadn't realised what a broken man Westley was. He mumbled his excuses and went to the vending machine to fetch a cup of the disgusting office coffee. He could have just popped downstairs to get a slightly better one. But, after all, he was lazy, and he preferred to get the fake cheap ones from the vending machine.

He was still recovering from the bitter taste of the fake espresso he had just drunk when he got back to his desk. Just in that moment, his field of vision showed an incoming call. It was John McVine again.

- Hi John, do you have anything for me?

He was kind of hoping he could start focusing on something different altogether. His cases weren't going anywhere. He needed something more straightforward, self-contained. Something he could focus on, and complete. He wanted to feel he was getting somewhere. But he felt that John McVine was going to disappoint him.

- Harry, looks like we've got another one.

Twenty-nine

Harry wasn't sure he had understood what John was talking about.

- What do we have John? Don't be cryptic.

- I'm not being cryptic, Harry.

John sounded slightly annoyed.

- We've got another suicide, Harry. Another Aaltrin woman. Killed herself a couple of days ago.

- Two days ago, John? Why weren't we informed before?

- Because sometimes the communications channels aren't that fast, Harry. The woman that killed herself, Martina Fernandez, born in Grenlund but an Aaltrin resident, killed herself after learning that her son had died of measles. Her son, of course, was on Earth. He was staying with a family in Innsbruck, Austria for a period of few weeks.

- Information is instant on Mars, John. How did she kill herself? Why did it take so long for us to know?

- She threw herself out of an Earth to Mars liner, it would seem. She opened the airlock and plunged into the void. She probably died within a couple of seconds.

- Good grief.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. It must have been a horrible death. A quick one, that's for sure. But a horrible one.

- And, as to why I didn't tell you before: I've just heard about this myself. - John said. - As you know, it takes a while for communication from the ship to reach the planet. They only sync the stream a couple of times a day, and the message sat in the common inbox for a day and a half. We should really monitor that inbox more often.

Harry noticed a tinge of reproach in John's voice. He was a member of the team that was responsible for monitoring the common inbox and he had missed a couple of shifts over the last few weeks when he was dealing with Marie's and Paula's cases. Not that he had been really busy.

- Ok, John, I promise I won't miss another shift.

- Good boy. But now listen. I didn't actually call you to complain about the common inbox. They contacted us because the ship was Earth-bound and, as it departed Mars's orbit, it falls within our jurisdiction. Plus Martina actually took the shuttle up from Aaltrin.

- I see. And let me guess: Martina was a single mother and didn't have anybody left on Mars. Or on Earth. She was completely alone.

- You're kind of right, although this time it is not strictly true. We've done some initial searches already. She had some contact with her ex-partner's brother, Marcus Singh. Marcus is one of the administrators of the Earth-Mars exchange programme, for the Earth Association. That's why Martina Fernandez's son, Tony, was actually spending his second exchange period on Earth. That is most unusual. Normally, they think hard before giving the same person the right to visit Earth again. I guess that was a little favour that Tony's uncle made. Maybe he feels guilty because his brother left Martina out of the blue.

- Maybe. Anyway, I need to start collecting evidence on this case. But how do I get it? I can't of course go to the ship. And we can't wait for it come back to Mars. They'll want to use it for other passengers, of course. I think by then it will be too late to start working on this.

- Well, Harry, you can always get in touch with the ship's marshal that discovered Martina's suicide. He was the one that got in touch with us in the first place. I suspect he may be waiting for some support to understand what he could do now. His name is Marko Slavik. He hasn't done this job for long but his report was well-made and professional. Maybe he can give you a hand.

- Sure. I also don't see any alternatives. And we need to start gathering some evidence soon. I suspect that this may not be the last suicide of this type we see. If there's a pattern there, and it looks like there may well be, we need to find out as soon as possible and break it.

- So get on with it - John snapped. - I've just sent you a message with the instruction to contact Marko Slavik on board the ship. Write to him at once. I'm sure he will reply soon.

Harry thought how best he could concentrate everything he wanted to say and ask in a single short message to Marko Slavik. It would be a day or so before the message could reach him. Given how hard it was to communicate, he wanted to pack everything he had in mind in a single message.

Finally, Harry managed to get a draft of the message that seemed right. He had never been a good writer. His mind raced much faster than his hands could type. Every single time he was writing something, his mind just wandered from idea to idea. He wanted to say and ask so much. But eventually he managed to control himself, trying to ask just enough to find out the key details he needed.

Who was Martina Fernandez?

Who are the people her son was staying with?

Had she left any message before killing herself?

Harry also wanted to explain to Marko Slavik that two other women had killed themselves in recent times. Both of them were single mothers, with no other relatives on Mars. Or on Earth. Their respective sons had spent - or were en route to spending - an exchange period on Earth. All of them had died of measles. This was most unusual.

Harry re-read his message a couple of times. It wasn't very long. And he felt quite proud with the result. In few paragraphs, the message contained the key details of the previous cases and a list of questions he wanted Marko Slavik to ask around. He closed the message saying that he was waiting impatiently for his reply and, and possibly, as many answers as he could possible get.

- Let's see if this works.

Thirty

It had been a day since Harry had sent the message to Marko Slavik.

It would take a while for him to receive it, process it and get back to him with the answers he was looking for. He wished this type of communication was faster. On Mars, communication to every corner of the Martian Republic was instantaneous. Everybody carried communication devices. They could receive text and video at any given time. The same applied to Earth, where it was even more advanced. They had started first. In the last five years, the first implants had started to become popular. These devices plugged directly into the optic nerve - for image overlay - and the vestibulocochlear nerve - for sound overlay. During the first few years, there had been several cases where the installation had gone awry. Some of the early adopter had suffered either vision or hearing impairments. Sometimes both. So much for being on the bleeding edge. He had been in two minds for a long time, but eventually Harry had relented and got one installed. Now he wondered how he could live without it.

When communicating within a planet, everything felt so seamless and immediate. But this feeling came to a jarring stop when communication between Earth and Mars was involved. In this case, the feeling was that of going back to an ancient age. An age where you waited. A lot. Waiting for messages to be relayed. And waiting for answers. The fact that the communication was all electronic made it all more frustrating. People expected everything, there and then. Communicating to Earth or Mars from the other planet felt like walking through treacle. The same applied for the web. The other planet's sites were always out of date, a cached version of their content being downloaded only once every two days.

Harry thought that this was bringing Mars and Earth apart, maybe more than anything else.

The Earth Association was trying to fight all this. One of its main programmes, the children exchange programme, was in full swing and had been like that for a few years. If it had continued, it would have had a deep impact on the new generations of Martian Republic citizens. It would have made them aware of the importance of keeping a link with Earth. And it would have made them fight to preserve it at all costs.

- There must be better ways to close this gap, - Harry thought. - And preserving a common culture is certainly a good way to make that happen.

What was going on? All these women had sent their children to Earth and they had all ended up killing themselves. Their sons had all died in similar ways, killed by measles. A virus that had never made it to Mars, one of the few ones that humans hadn't taken with them when they had first come over. Killed by one of the few things that made Mars and Earth very different. It was almost a sign. A sign that martians were no longer humans, perhaps. That they couldn't live on Earth anymore. Earth would kill them if they tried to do that. Every effort to bring the two planets closer together was going to end up in failure. Did they have to resign themselves to the fact that they were two civilisations growing apart? That there was no going back?

There had been too many cases in too little time. Harry thought this wasn't natural by any means. The programme had been running for a few years and no one had got sick. At least no one had got sick in any serious way. This despite the fact that bacteria and viruses had continued to evolve on both planets, naturally taking different routes. Earth humans and martian humans were getting used to different strains now, and whenever an infection came from a strain from the other planet, the consequences were always more severe. Nothing that couldn't be overcome though. Since the creation of new antibiotics and antivirals, there really wasn't a disease that couldn't be stopped in its tracks. At least that's what had happened until then. These new types of medicines had been introduced in the middle of the previous century, a few decades after all traditional antibiotics had stopped working and no new ones were being developed. During this period, modern medicine had plunged back to the early twentieth century. Surgery had become extremely risky again. Transplants had become impossible. Average age expectancy had gone back to one-hundred and twenty-five. Finally, however, there had been a breakthrough. Not just for antibiotics, but also for antivirals. And everything had gone back to normal. If not better.

Not for measles though. As it had almost been eradicated, no pharmaceutical company on Earth had invested to develop a specific antiviral for this disease, which, after all, was generally survivable. That's why Michael, Tom and Tony had all died quickly.

Of a disease no one had caught in more than fifty years.

- Strange coincidence, - Harry thought.

Thirty-one

From: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

To: Harry.Strickned@apd.gov.mars

Subject: RE: Martina Fernandez

Dear Harry

Thanks for your message. We're all shocked here on the ship. We still can't really believe what happened. That someone could choose such a way to die.  I don't have any children, but I think I can try to understand. Yet, I can't believe that someone could decide to kill themselves so suddenly.

Based on what you were saying in your message, this seems to fit the other cases so well it's spooky. I can confirm that Martina was on her way to see her son, who was on the Earth Association's exchange programme. She was due to stay with the family that was hosting her son: the Eberharters, in Innsbruck, Austria. Apparently, she had just received a message from Maria Eberharter telling her about her son.

Based on what I could read it would seem that, apart from her connection with her ex-husband's family, and her son of course, Martina was completely alone.

She must have felt completely alone in the universe in that moment. I think I would have still gone to Earth to say a final goodbye to my son, though.

Harry, you're asking me to offer my help with the investigation. I know this falls within your jurisdiction. And that there are obvious constraints that prevent you from looking into this case properly. But I'm not a policeman. I haven't been trained for this. I wouldn't know how to help.

Please accept my apologies. I'm afraid you may need to liaise with the local police on Earth.

In the meantime (that is, until the ship reaches Earth orbit and we need to disembark in three days from now) please let me know if I can be of any help.

Regards

Marko Slavik

***********

Harry was disappointed. He hadn't really expected this.

He had hoped that Marko Slavik would agree to help him. He was convinced that this would be an interesting diversion from his usual job. He knew marshals enjoyed a relaxed lifestyle. Probably all the emotions of the last few days had given them enough excitement for the next ten years. But Marko was relatively new to the job. And so perhaps he hadn't got fully into the marshal mentality yet. He could be attracted by a new challenge, he just needed a little more confidence in himself.

Harry decided to try again. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. And time was running out.

***********

From: Harry.Strickned@apd.gov.mars

To: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

Subject: RE: Martina Fernandez

Hi Marko,

Thank you so much for getting back to me confirming those details. It looks like this is part of something big. I mean, it'd already be pretty big if it was just for Martina. But now it's clear to me that all these suicides must be connected in some way.

Of course, there is one type of connection we all know about. The sons of all these women were taking part in the Earth Association's exchange programme. Two kids were already on Earth, and doing fine until falling ill. One was on his way to Earth.

Then there's the measles. An illness that had been almost eradicated. There hadn't been cases in such a long time that the doctors that were treating these kids could not even recognise the symptoms. And clearly Mars people are particularly sensitive to measles. I bet no one has even ever had it on Mars.

So, I think there must be another link. Something hidden. The similarities between these three cases cannot be just coincidence. If there's something bigger behind all of this, then other children, and their mothers, could die.

I must find out what's behind it.

But, the problem is: I can't. There's no way I can be as effective from here as I would be on Earth. Liaising with the local police would be hard. We're so remote that even if I told them about the other cases, I suspect they may not feel too inclined to help. There are too many things keeping them occupied on Earth. And you know better than me that going to Earth is not easy matter. For a start, it would take me many weeks to get there. While you're only a few days away from Earth orbit.

Think about it, Marko. Your help in this case would be essential. I really hope you reconsider.

If you accept to go, you would have to take a shuttle down to the Alpine region, go to Innsbruck and have an initial chat with the Eberharters. We would have to start reconstructing what really happened.

I look forward to hearing from you. I know this message will get to you with some delay. Please get back to me as soon as you can, so I can know what your decision is.

Regards

Harry

***********

Marko re-read Harry's message a few times. His first reaction was to deny his help again. What could he offer? He wasn't a police officer, he wouldn't know from where to start. And, this was a Mars issue, and he was done with Mars. He had already decided that.

Many negative points. No advantage whatsoever.

And yet, Marko didn't reply straight away. That day, he came back to the message several times. Maybe that was the last chance he was getting to do something for Mars. To give something back to his birthplace. And then he would be done.

The idea kept on growing inside him. He tried to bottle it. He thought he should just go ahead with his plan. Do something about his life on Earth. That was his place. Enough of Mars.

But the idea kept on coming back to him. Like a mosquito, buzzing in his ear. It just wasn't leaving him in peace.

Eventually, he gave up. He now knew he just had to do it.

***********

From: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

To: Harry.Strickned@apd.gov.mars

Subject: RE: Martina Fernandez

Hey Harry

I don't know how you've managed to do this. I've decided to go to Innsbruck and take it from there. I agree: too many coincidences look suspicious. I want to help you find out what the hell is going on.

So, I've exchanged my seat for one on the Alpine shuttle, which will be landing in Bern. And I've already made arrangements with the Eberharters to go and see them.

One last thing Harry. I don't know why you think I might be able to help you. I'm no detective. I have no training. Don't expect too much. Actually, maybe it's better if you don't expect anything.

I'll report back after I've spoken with the Eberharters. We'll decide what's next there and then.

Speak soon.

Marko

Interlude VI

- It's not going to be easy - the doctor said.

They had wanted a baby since the very beginning. Actually, they wanted a large family. Both of them wanted this. And now things were going to be difficult.

Jaq thought that this would not help Zoë in the least. The last few weeks had been stressful for her. She still didn't have a job. She was kind of losing her patience. Jaq could feel it. Only the prospect to start a family seemed to lift her spirit. Jaq wasn't quite sure. His job still wasn't secure. His salary was pretty low. Their current situation was far from ideal. But he felt this step was vital if he wanted their relationship to work.

Some days, he understood her. Moving to another planet must have taken some significant adaptation time. Other days he just couldn't believe she was having such a hard time. After all, Mars wasn't that different from Earth, was it?

Yes, the gravity was different. But Zoë should have found it easy, coming from Earth. That was one of the main reasons they had decided to settle on Mars instead of staying on Earth. And true, you couldn't really spend any significant period of time outside. Unless you wanted to wear a breathing mask. Jaq had to admit that. While on Earth, he had spent some time outside. It was pleasant, for a while. But the thought of not having a ceiling over his head made him nervous. Almost unbalanced. Ungrounded. Zoë should have got used to Mars by now. After all, it was just like Earth. Humans had built Mars. The same humans that had built Earth.

He often had these thoughts. He tried to push them away, whenever they occurred, trying to find some comfort in the thought that these may only be temporary issues. That of course Zoë would have got used to it all. And that they could have had a happy family. Both of them working. A bunch of kids, growing up as part of Mars's next generation, but with deep roots on Earth. He wasn't asking for much, was he?

The doctor's voice brought him back.

- Excuse me? - he said.

- As I was saying, Mr. Panovsky, the tests we've run so far suggest that you might find it slightly difficult to conceive.

Exactly what Zoë and him didn't need.

- Why would that be? - he asked.

- Well, since you told us that you had tried for several months to conceive, we've run some tests. Both physical tests and genetic tests.

- Is there anything wrong with either of us?

- As I was about to say, the situation is not straightforward. The good news is that, based on the physical tests we've run, we haven't found anything wrong with either of you. Mrs. Panovsky, you're a perfectly normal woman. And you, Mr. Panovsky, a perfectly normal man. Physically I mean.

- That's a relief, - Jaq said.

- So it's genetic, isn't it? - Zoë immediately asked.

- Well, Mrs. Panovsky, we're not quite sure.

- What do you mean?

- We've run genetic tests on both of you. And we haven't found any anomaly. All mutations that we've observed are within the normal ranges. Nothing to worry about. The thing is, though, if there are no physical problems, then the issue must lie in your respective genetic make-up.

- How did you come to this conclusion? - Jaq asked.

- By exclusion, Mr. Panovsky.

- What?

- I'm sorry I can't offer a more rigorous explanation. But we really couldn't find anything wrong with either of you, individually. So perhaps it's the two of you together that don't work. It's not unheard of.

- Well, this is the first time I've heard this, - Zoë said.

She was struggling to make sense of what she was hearing. Or perhaps, she just didn't want to.

- Well, Mrs. Panovsky. Until today, I had never seen this myself. But, if I remember correctly, there are some cases reported in the literature.

- So it's happened already? - Jaq asked.

- It would seem so, Mr. Panovsky. The thing is, there aren't many mixed couples. You're the first one I see in my career, for example. The cases quoted in the literature suggest that the separation of Mars humans from Earth humans might have led, over time, to some genetic differences that could make mixed conception slightly harder. You both come from families that haven't had mixed ancestors for several generations. Maybe that's the explanation.

- That's absurd, - Jaq said. This is not what he wanted to hear. - Humans are humans. On Mars and on Earth.

- That's quite possible, Mr. Sinovsky. I'd be inclined to agree with you for the most part. But there may be an element of truth in all this. Just the other day I was reading a paper on the genetic differentiation that might occur in same-species populations that are kept apart for long periods of time. Now, their paper was about interstellar trips, taking several decades. But who knows, maybe it's applicable to this case too?

Zoë and Jaq were lost for words. Zoë felt that her world was crumbling. Jaq felt Zoë's quiet desperation.

The doctor sensed that perhaps he had gone too far.

- Now, Mrs. and Mr. Panovsky, this is just a theory. Quite far-fetched, I might add. And there are plenty of things that we can do to help you conceive a baby. You're definitely not the first couple I've seen that struggles to have babies. Plenty of couples struggle these days. Even couples where both partners are from Mars, of course. The thing is, you've tried to conceive naturally, and, for whatever reason, that didn't work. But we're just at the beginning. We have many options, starting from hormone treatment, which we can begin now. If I were you, I wouldn't worry at all. You'll see that sooner or later you will manage to get pregnant.

- It'd better be sooner than later, - Jaq thought.

He wasn't sure that Zoë would last long.

Thirty-two

The ship was ready to start the manoeuvre that would place it in a low orbit. Ready to be met by the various shuttles that would take the passengers down to the Earth's surface. The whole process took about two Earth days. As the ship now only had three docking bays with a functioning airlock, the shuttles had to queue in orbit for a while, waiting for their turn to dock.

While entering Earth orbit, the liner would need to decelerate sharply. This was the most difficult part of the trip, and it came just at the end, after weeks of lying around just monitoring things. All passenger had to be strapped in, either to the seats on the common deck, or if they preferred, in their berths. While this was uncomfortable, most passengers welcomed the feeling of microgravity that a low-earth orbit implied. After weeks of freefall, they had got used to it. But the human body had evolved to live with gravity, so even getting back a fraction of it made them cheerful.

The whole ship crew was operational. The procedure was largely carried out by the liner's directional systems, automatically. But it required constant human supervision. Things could go wrong at any time. This would have required an immediate intervention to correct the course of the procedure. And the medical crew was also on stand-by, should any of the passengers feel unwell following the re-entering of Earth's gravitational bubble.

Marko was strapped to his seat in the common deck, next to his colleagues. They were all still slightly shocked. After many years without incidents, the spaceline was beginning to doubt the usefulness of having marshals on board. During the last contract negotiations, the spaceline had managed to obtain very favourable conditions. And it was intentioned to see if it could get away with paying even less. This trip, as the first eventful one in a long time, would have surely been brought up during contract negotiations. Though Marko wasn't sure whether this would have helped the Marshall Corps obtain a better deal. When Martina was killing herself, they were all enjoying themselves in the common area. Their presence there had not been particularly helpful, either to prevent Martina's death or after the event. The ship crew could have carried out the same investigations.

But Marko was almost out of the Marshal Corps. Instead, he was too focused on what was going to happen next, on Earth, to worry about the Marshall Corps's future. The trips on the ship were relaxing, now that he had got used to freefall. But they were also a bit dull. And so were his colleagues. Nice guys, but he felt he didn't have much in common with them. He couldn't see himself doing this for the rest of his life.

Not that he was moving to a new job. He had decided to help Harry Strickned. Mostly, out of guilt. He wanted to do something for Mars. Just one thing, before his life could move on. He was somewhat excited by the idea of trying to find out what was behind these suicides. He wasn't afraid of discovering something big. He just wanted to know. But to do that, he would have to do it out of its own pocket. Harry had been clear. The APD's means were limited. As Marko wasn't a policeman, Harry would have been able to cover some of Marko's expenses, but only if he could show that he had really helped solve the case. And Marko felt they were light years from solving anything.

The ship had now completed the manoeuvre. After fifteen weeks, the passengers were getting antsy to board their shuttles and finally go to Earth. Still, they had to wait a little longer. Marko thought that after all this time on board, an extra day shouldn't really make any difference. But it wasn't like that. Those last twenty-four hours would be excruciating for most.

Marko had managed to switch his place on the Earthbound shuttle. Normally, each shuttle travelled at slightly below capacity to accommodate situations like that. Thanks to a good word from his boss on Earth, he had been able to convince the spaceline company to switch his place. He was now waiting for the shuttle to the Alpine region, which, incidentally, was also one of the last ones to dock. Fewer people generally travelled to that region, and the spaceline company gave precedence to larger groups.

Finally, after waiting listlessly for a whole day, it was Marko's turn. He, together with twenty other passengers, made his way to the airlock. It wasn't the one that Martina had used to kill herself. That was still out of order.

The transfer from the liner to the shuttle was uneventful. Marko and the other passengers just moved through, helping themselves negotiate microgravity using the big handles that were peppered around them. Once on board the shuttle, each of them was directed to their seat and strapped in. The trip to Earth would only take two hours, but it would be an uncomfortable one.

Once all the passengers were onboard, the shuttle finally undocked and started manoeuvring towards its descent orbit. It fired its engines for a short period of time, during which the passengers were kicked back into their seats. A three-minute burn. It then started to re-enter the atmosphere gradually. The re-entering manoeuvre had been significantly improved in the last hundred years. When China and India started a new shuttle programme, after the United States had terminated theirs at the start of the twenty-first century, the re-entry was still the most dangerous part of the flight. The high temperatures generated by attrition with Earth's atmosphere were difficult to control. Even a minimal damage in the thermal shield would mean losing the orbiter, and its passengers, upon re-entry. This had happened three times during the first twenty years of the new shuttle operations. Then a new design had been introduced, significantly reducing the risks of re-entry. Shuttles had also become more comfortable, allowing civilians to travel without having to wear overalls. Notwithstanding this, the deceleration they were exposed to, from 25,000 km/h to zero, was very significant and it wasn't unusual that some passengers would feel unwell and even pass out.

Marko had done this four times already. He knew what to expect. He just decided to sit back and relax, checking out the onboard entertainment system. He could fit a movie in those two hours. He always did this. It helped him take his mind off the trip.

Thirty-three

And so Marko was back on Earth once again. It had been thirty weeks since he had left Earth to start what turned out to be his last trip to Mars as a marshal.

After thirty weeks in freefall, the first impact with Earth's gravity was crushing. Not so much while he was still on the shuttle. The g-forces he was exposed to were stronger than the actual Earth's gravity, but he was expecting that and they were only temporary. Once on the ground though, every move seemed to require an incredible effort. While on board the ship, he had spent a good three hours every day training, trying to preserve his muscle tone. But despite the amount of exercise, he knew it would still take him a while to get used to gravity again.

It wasn't the first time. He knew that, thanks to the intense training programme, within a day or two he would feel better, almost back to his own Earth self. He didn't envy the passengers from Mars, most of which had never known a gravity stronger than that of their home planet. Slightly more than one third of Earth's gravity. Their muscular structure, not to mention their bones, were simply not made for that. It would take them a very long time before they could walk around again. And, often, by then it would be almost time to go back.

Once on Earth, passengers were carried around the spaceport on electric minibuses. They wouldn't have been able to walk on their own. After collecting their luggage and clearing customs, each passenger was taken to a recovery pod in a nearby hotel. Earth passengers were supposed to spend two days in there to recover their strength. Mars passengers would have to spend at least two weeks. During this time, they would have to follow a reconditioning programme to gain sufficient strength to be able to move independently on Earth.

Marko was taken to a section dedicated to members of the Marshal Corps. He would only spend a day in his pod, as marshals, especially the more experienced ones, were expected to be able to recover more quickly. Marko decided to enjoy the last night of relax he would have in quite some time. But his mind was racing. He couldn't stop thinking about what could lie ahead.

Marko had landed at the Bern spaceport. Bern was one of the main cities in the German-speaking alpine region, which included what used to be German-speaking Switzerland, Austria and parts of Eastern Northern Italy. The region had been created as an independent administrative entity some fifty-years earlier. It was well-run, but rather anonymous and boring. Skiing was one of the few attraction, but the climatic changes that had taken place during the last century, had curtailed snowfall significantly. Now the only time of the year when skiing was really viable was January.

Marko took the train to Innsbruck. The trip, via Zurich and Vaduz, only took about forty minutes. Marko had never been to Innsbruck before. But he didn't have any time for sightseeing. He took a taxi just outside the station and asked to be taken to the Eberharters. He had been in touch with Maria Eberharter during the last two days on the ship. She had agreed to meet him.

Once he got there, he found a woman in her mid-forties, waiting for him at the door. Maria did not seem particularly sad, but she seemed tired. Worn out. As if something was gnawing at her relentlessly from the inside. She welcomed Marko warmly and invited him in.

- The kids are out, at school.

- Thanks so much for agreeing to meet up with me, Maria. To be honest, I don't really know what I'm doing. I'm no policeman, but I've accepted to help Harry Strickned of the Aaltrin Police Department. And here I am, asking questions like a detective.

- It's fine, - Maria replied, in an accented Standard English. - This is a tragedy and we need to do what we can to understand why it happened. First, Tony, killed by a disease that we thought had almost been eradicated on Earth. Certainly eradicated in this region. Then Martina, who committed suicide so suddenly. You told me that it was my email that did it.

- Oh no, Maria. Your email just made her aware of what had happened. Everybody in your position would have done the same. You should not blame yourself for this.

- Well, maybe I should not have told her that while she was on board. I should have told her in person. So we could have helped her. Be near her. Prevent her from killing herself. I will not stop blaming myself for this.

- You shouldn't do that, Maria. Apart from tying them to their bed, you can't really prevent someone who wants to kill themselves from doing that. And, after seeing what she did, it almost looks like she was driven by a force she couldn't even understand. Being on Earth would have not stopped this from happening.

Marko hadn't told Maria of the other suicides. It was unlikely that she would find out about those. The Martian Republic media had only discussed them briefly, as the police were officially treating them as unrelated cases. It was better to keep this under wraps for now.

- But what was that? - Maria asked.

- We don't know, but we need to find out. We need to prevent this from happening to other people. I have the feeling this may not be an isolated case and that other ones may happen if we don't do anything.

- I want to help you, but I don't really know what I can do. Tony was fine, he was playing with my kids, he was going to school. Until one day two weeks ago, when he started feeling unwell. Within five days he was dead. And to think that when he first felt unwell we were already at the hospital. We thought it was a lucky coincidence. We thought they would be able to help him. We were wrong, of course.

- Why were you already at the hospital?

- Well, all kids within the Earth Association programme need to be tested to see how they are coping with Earth conditions. They also take DNA samples to check whether there have been mutations. We have been told they need to check this because during the trip from Mars they may be exposed to harmful radiations.

Unlikely, Marko thought. As a marshal, he knew full well that the ship was completely shielded from any radiation. That's why marshals could afford to spend such long periods on the ship at a time. Maria's comment about DNA testing made him suspicious, but he decided it was not worth discussing with her further.

- I think I need to speak with the doctors at the hospital, then - Marko said. - Could you tell me who I should contact? I suppose you were going to Innsbruck hospital.

- Yes, the hospital here in town. You should speak with Dr. Wotan Stanaszek, who is responsible for the local section of the Recasent Centre for Martian Physiology.

Thirty-four

The hospital was located in the outskirts of Innsbruck. It was a low building. Grey. It covered a vast surface. Its style must have been innovative when it opened, seventy years earlier. But it was badly showing the signs of time. It made Marko feel melancholic.

He was still slightly sore from getting used to Earth's gravity. And he was feeling fluey.

Once he got into the building, the first thing he saw was a map of where all the various departments were. Despite this not being a large hospital, the list of departments was too long to go through. The map was equally confusing. Moreover, the hospital didn't offer any data link to his visor. The only thing to do was ask at the reception.

Marko approached the receptionist in English, sure that he would understand him.

- Excuse me, I'm looking for the Recasent Centre.

- I'm sorry, but I don't think we have a department by that name.

He didn't sound dismissive. He seemed to be willing to help.

- The name doesn't sound familiar. But I've only started this job last week, so I might be wrong. Let me look it up for you.

- Sure, thanks.

After checking for a while, he got back to Marko.

- I'm really sorry, but we don't seem to have a Recasent Centre here at the hospital. Are you sure you got the right name? Were you hoping to see someone specific?

- Yes, Dr. Stanaszek, Dr. Wotan Stanaszek. At least I think that's the name.

- Let me see. Ah, yes, Dr. Stanaszek. I've found him. He's a dermatologist. No other affiliations are listed here. I can see from the record here that he should actually be at the hospital right now. Would you like to go to meet him? His office is in Wing C, 4th floor. He should be there. Perhaps he can squeeze you in between patients.

Marko thanked the receptionist and went up. Despite following the receptionist's directions, he got lost and had to retrace his steps a couple of times. He finally got to the Dermatology department and approached the reception desk there.

- Hi, my name is Marko Slavik. I would like to meet with Dr. Stanaszek if he's got any time.

- Do you have an appointment? - the receptionist asked him, without lifting her eyes from the paper she was reading.

- I'm afraid not.

- It wouldn't make a difference.

She started laughing.

- Dr. Stanaszek is not one of the most popular doctors here. Patients are not too keen on him. It should not be a problem to fit you in. But do at least pretend you're here for a mole you'd like to be looked at or something. Just to give that poor man a sense of purpose.

- I think I can do that. When could I see him?

- I do have a slot in about half an hour. For fifteen minutes. Do you want to go for that?

Marko thought that this would be as good an opportunity as any. He decided to go for it.

- Sure, I'm happy to wait a little. Thanks for your help.

- Great. Go and sit outside Room 5, down that corridor. Dr. Stanaszek will see you shortly.

Marko went through the main doors and found Room 5. There was a row of plastic chairs just outside it. No other patient. He sat there, waiting for his turn.

After about thirty minutes, nobody had left Dr. Stanaszek's office. Eventually the door opened. A corpulent, tall, bearded man appeared. He was looking at a piece of paper in his hands. Without looking up, he called Marko's name.

- Mr Slavik?

- That's me, can I come in?

- I think that's what you're here for, aren't you? - Dr. Stanaszek said while still looking at his torn piece of paper.

Marko was beginning to understand why Dr. Stanaszek didn't have too many patients. He went in.

- So, what can I help you with? - Dr. Stanaszek asked.

And then, before Marko had the time to reply, he continued.

- I see here that you have a mole you'd like me to look at. Why on earth would you like me to do that? You do know, I hope, that melanoma is 100% curable. Even if diagnosed late. Why do you think I have so few patients? They used to be good fun, melanomas. But since they found a cure twenty years ago, now all I see all day, every day, is warts. When there are actually patients.

Marko interrupted him.

- Dr. Stanaszek, I'm not actually here for a mole. Nor warts, if that makes you any happier. I'm here to ask you some questions.

- What questions? If I'm not mistaken, I should be asking you questions. To help me diagnose what you have. Let's do your history up. Just for kicks, shall we?

- No, doctor. I want to know what happened to Tony Singh. You know, the kid that died of measles the other day. Under your supervision.

- What the hell are you talking about?

- Dr. Stanaszek, - Marko said, trying to stay calm, - I do know about Tony Singh, the kid from Mars who was on Earth on an exchange programme. He died a couple of days ago. I did speak with his host family, who told me about you. You should know that Tony's mother has committed suicide upon hearing of her son's death. A measles death is most unusual these days. I would like to know what happened. In detail, please.

- Alright. I think I can tell you. This is not a secret. We just avoid talking about it when we can. We don't even have our own office space. It's not covert operation, but it helps keep things discreet.

He paused a few seconds.

- As you may already know, the children that come to Earth for the exchange programme must be tested to determine whether they carry dangerous pathogens and also whether our pathogens may be too harmful to them. So, in other words, all we're really trying to test is whether the population of Mars and Earth are somewhat growing apart, from a genetic point of view. Tony's case was quite unique, but it could be an example of this. This is what we do here. But we're a very small centre. We only have a few kids over in the Alpine Region. We're part of a larger network, though. Would you like to talk about that?

- Yes, doctor - Marko replied. - Tell me about the Recasent Centre for Martian Physiology.

Thirty-five

Dr. Stanaszek looked wearily at Marko. He had told this story many times before, to all the host families that had brought their kids over to the hospital for the routine testing, as it was required by the Earth Associate exchange programme.

- Very well, I think this information is generally available, but I can tell you all you need to know. The Recasent Centre was opened to support the Earth Association exchange programme. The intention was, and still is, to determine whether Earth humans and Mars humans were growing apart from a genetic point of view. We already know they are getting further apart, from a cultural viewpoint. Now, in genetic terms this has been a relatively short period of time, but things may be beginning to happen already. And we want to spot them early on, in the hope to be able to do something about it, if needed. The Earth Association's main mission is to keep all humankind together. The last thing it wants is having two different species in the solar system.

- I was aware of that, Doctor. What I find a bit suspicious is that the whole operation here in Innsbruck is kind of hidden. The reception staff didn't have a clue about the Recasent Centre. Yet, it is an international organisation that carries out genetic testing on Mars's children.

- I understand it may sound strange to you. But there's really nothing suspicious about it. The Recasent Centre contracts individual physicians, like myself in this case, who are willing to do this on the side. Now that skin cancer is easily curable, lots of dermatologists around Europe actually work for the Recasent Centre. It's a good way to get some extra money, now that we're not so busy anymore. And we don't need a big staff to run this operation. I have a nurse helping me with the dermatology practice, and she's happy to earn some extra money too. The tests that we do are very simple. We just get some swabs, as well as doing blood and urine tests.

- So easy, until something goes bad, - Marko said. - What was the problem with Tony Singh? What happened?

- Well, we think he was already sick when he came here for the first time. Our tests did not reveal anything abnormal, but of course we're not supposed to test for measles. It's not really a common disease anymore.

- It's almost been eradicated, hasn't it? And, if I'm not wrong, currently it's only present in Africa. The fact that a healthy Martian kid comes down with the measles in the Alpine Region makes the whole thing quite suspicious.

- I don't really know what to tell you, - Dr. Stanaszek said. - It was unlikely, but not impossible. It was bound to happen at some point, and it did. More likely for a Martian kid to get it than an Earth one. We knew that measles does not exist on Mars. And that people there might have lost the ability to fight off the disease. We had the suspicious that Mars and Earth might be growing apart, not only culturally, but also genetically. Now we have something of an initial indication. Thanks to Tony's death.

Marko interrupted him.

- Great. I'm glad you're pleased with the outcome of the whole thing.

He didn't want to tell Dr. Stanaszek that two other kids had died of measles recently. This made the whole thing more worrisome, no doubt.

- You should not think I'm cynical, - Dr. Stanaszek said. - Tony's death was a tragedy. And we tried to do all we could to prevent it. It was an impossible battle, yet we fought it to the end. But now that it has happened, at least I'm trying to find some meaning in his death. If he can help us understand a little better what is going on, we stand a better chance to prevent this kind of things from happening in the future. Just that.

Marko didn't want to keep arguing with him. He thought he'd better try to get out some information from him while he could.

- I'm just trying to make sense of all this. I was on the ship where Tony's mother, Martina, killed herself. We were all pretty shocked by this. I'm finding it hard to find a meaning for what happened.

- I do appreciate that. Unfortunately I don't think there's any hidden meaning behind all of this. Just a very unfortunate turn of events. Tony picked up the measles virus somewhere. Maybe even from someone else from Mars on the ship that brought him over. Perhaps a healthy virus-bearer. There's plenty of people like that. All we know is that he came down with it and, for his body, this was something completely new. And it couldn't fight it back.

- So you do think that Earth and Mars are growing apart, don't you?

- I used to think this wasn't the case - Dr. Stanaszek said. - But after seeing what happened, I'm not so sure anymore. There is no way someone from Earth would have died so quickly. If at all. Anyway, the guys in Barcelona will find out what the answer is. At some point.

- I think I'd rather like to find out more about this soon. I'm working on behalf of the Aaltrin Police Department, and they'll want to get to the bottom of this. Do you think there is a chance I could speak with someone at the Recasent Centre? It would be good to see if they've had similar cases of this in other countries.

- You certainly can, if you wish to travel to Barcelona. The Recasent Centre is a public institution which is used to dealing with the press and they would surely speak to you too. I can actually get in touch with them to say that you'll contact them. You'll find their details on the website.

- I think I probably will, after I get completely used to Earth's gravity again. - Marko said. - Maybe I'll spend a day or so around here. Thanks for your help Dr. Stanaszek.

- Not at all. I hope in Barcelona you can find the answers you need.

Marko left Dr. Stanaszek's office.

Dr. Stanaszek thought for a while and then decided.

He had to let Malcolm know.

Thirty-six

It was early morning in Barcelona.

District of El Poble Sec, not too far from Parc de Montjüic. Quite close to the ancient olympic site. The olympic infrastructure, and the olympic stadium itself, had been rebuilt four times since they had been used for the first time, in the late twentieth century. Or at least this was what his tourist information guide said. It was still close at hand on his device, but he had never really read it through.

Malcolm McClure had moved to Barcelona two years earlier. He still didn't know the city well. Not that he didn't like it, although summers were a little too warm for his Scottish taste. But, anyway, he was always holed up in his offices, working to a punitive schedule. He liked it that way. It prevented him from thinking about his life.

Malcolm had grown up in Inverness and had spent all his life in Scotland, before moving to Barcelona. He had gone to Edinburgh University to study medicine. Then he had started practising at the Western General Hospital. This used to be a state-owned hospital, when public health services were still in place. However, by the 2190s, most countries that were offering free health care were broke and had to stop. Several public hospitals had closed. Luckily, the Western General Hospital had been bought by a consortium of Scottish entrepreneurs which operated it successfully as a private facility. It was also a teaching hospital, and it was there that Malcolm had learnt his trade. He had specialised in tropical medicine and other infectious diseases.

Malcolm was in his late 60s. Of course, he did not remember a time when Mars was not colonised.

For everyone, this was normal.

Not for him.

For Malcolm, humankind's place was on Earth. Instead of expanding into the solar system and colonising other planets, he thought that humankind should have just focused on making Earth a better place, with fewer people and more resources for everyone.

These ideas had already been quite popular in Scotland in the early twenty-third century. After gaining full independence from the former United Kingdom at the end of the twenty-second century, and after an initial period of growth, the new country had gone through a few rocky decades. Its gas resources had started to run out. This had led to higher extraction costs, making Scottish gas incredibly expensive. Extensive fishing had depleted the existing stock. Scotland had had to go, cap in hand, to other European countries to get a bail-out. It had been rescued, but at a high price. Taxes had had to rise several times and budgets had been cut. The country had gone into a deep recession, from which it had only managed to come out in the last twenty years.

Many people in Scotland - as in many other countries across the world - were not too keen on having to support a colony on another planet. Some thought it was time to focus on Earth and make it a better place.

As a young man, Malcolm had immediately warmed to these ideas. When he had gone to university, he had been pleased to see that there were people who had the intention to do something about this. In all fields.

In Malcolm's field, biology, Professor Laird had written several papers on genetic differentiation. He had carried out studies on segregated animal populations, comparing them with control groups. He had wanted to show that, when kept separated, the two groups tended to isolate themselves into new species. The appearance of mild differences was not an unknown phenomenon. It had already happened countless times. For example, the mosquitos populating the long-disused tunnels of London's ancient metro system had evolved into a species completely different from those found above ground. It had then become obvious that the processes would take several decades before any difference would be noticeable. So far, Laird had failed to show any evidence of genetic drift.

Still, he had managed to show that isolated populations, if kept separate from the mainstream for a minimum of fifteen years, and shielded from exposure to common pathogens, would lose some of their species' natural resistance to them. Individuals infected by common ailments took longer to shake them off, and fatality rates, all other things kept constant, appeared to increase. Laird had carried out his tests only on animal populations, but in a couple of papers he had ventilated the possibility that the Martian population, if not regularly exposed to Earth pathogens, would lose its ability to fight common diseases. This theory had hit the headlines for a while, but as Earth diseases were generally present on Mars, it had been quickly dismissed.

Though not by everyone.

A small bunch of graduate students, including Malcolm, had quickly grouped around Professor Laird, determined not to let his theories go forgotten. Maybe they could be used in some way. Maybe if something had brought this back to people's minds, it would have helped Earth and Mars grow further apart.

Malcolm had spent the following twenty years carrying out research on species differentiation. He had always justified his research as a way to find out more about the genetic implications of interstellar travel, which would have involved a population of humans travelling for hundreds of years. He had managed to get repeated rounds of funding.

The key question Malcolm's research had wanted to answer was whether, once reaching their destination, that population could still be considered human or not. Malcolm had published several well-received papers on the subject, becoming a world-renowned expert in genetic differentiation. His findings showed that the resulting population would have had mutations to the extent that it might have been considered as genetically different from current humans, as the Neanderthal Humans were from the European Early Modern Humans.

This was the public side of Malcolm's research. Actually, his work had focused on understanding how any genetic differentiation between Earth and Mars could be exploited in a practical way. By the end of his time at the Western General Hospital, he had identified a handful of diseases that, while not too serious for Earth humans, would have been almost certainly fatal for a Martian. Measles was one of them.

The problem was that Malcolm's work had been based on animal experimentation or theoretical speculation. There had been no humans available to test this on.

As he was approaching the later stages of his career, Malcolm had accepted that his research would have not gone much further. Without actual human experiments, he could have kept publishing his papers, but he would not have had any breakthrough.

Then, in 2285, he had got an unexpected call.

The Earth Association wanted him. They had told him that they could think of no other candidate better suited to run the Recasent Centre. They were starting a programme to study the DNA of Mars children coming to Earth on an exchange programme.

Human samples.

But they were the very same organisation that fought to keep Earth and Mars together. How could he work for them?

Then he had understood.

He had understood that the Earth Association was a complex organisation. Many people worked for it, on Mars and Earth. A compact front, from the outside. But, speaking with them, Malcolm had realised that the situation was less straightforward than it seemed.

Perhaps he still had a chance to leave a mark. To advance the cause for which many of his colleagues, starting from Professor Laird, had worked so hard.

He could have worked with that.

Thirty-seven

Malcolm saw on his device that he had a call from Dr. Wotan Stanaszek in Innsbruck.

Stanaszek never called.

- Problems - he thought.

He was familiar with Tony Singh's case. After all, there had only been a handful of them.

So far.

He knew that soon there would be so many that he would not be able to keep track of all of them. It would be mayhem for a while.

- Hello, Wotan. What can I help you with?

Malcolm knew that Stanaszek could not handle pressure too well. Yes, Wotan was on board. And, because of a past similar to Malcolm's, he was reliable. But, under pressure, he could have said too much. He could have tried to seek approval. He could have tried to explain what they were doing and why.

They didn't need any allies. The ball was already rolling. They just had to sit back, relax and wait for things to happen. They just had to manage things through.

- Hello Dr. McClure. It's Wotan here, from Innsbruck.

- I know it's you, Wotan. I can see your ugly face.

- Ah, yes, Dr. McClure. I always forget that. Anyway, I'm calling to let you know of a potential threat.

- Here we go. - Malcolm thought.

- Go on, Wotan.

- As you know, Tony Singh died here a couple of weeks ago.

- I'm familiar with that, Wotan. I heard that his mother was on her way to Earth and, upon learning about her son's death, she decided to throw herself out of the airlock. A bad way to die, if you ask me.

- Indeed, but it must have been quick. Anyway, Dr. McClure, there is an investigation into her death going on. I think the Aaltrin Police Department is leading it.

- From Mars? I was expecting them to have other things to think about, to be honest. But in any case, I don't think we should worry too much. Carrying out these investigations remotely would be pretty tricky. And they're not going to send over anyone. Too expensive.

- The thing is, Dr. McClure, they've already sent someone.

Malcolm was truly puzzled. He was sure none of the Martian Republic's police departments would have had the resources. They certainly had no money to spend on interplanetary investigations. He had counted on that. As it would be Mars people to be affected, he had thought that some police departments over there would start investigating. They were bound to. But they wouldn't have the means to send someone all the way to Earth.

- Yes. It's not really a policeman carrying out the investigation on Earth, though, - Stanaszek said. - It's one of those marshals that patrol the interplanetary space liners. He was on the same ship as Martina Fernandez. He was involved with the investigation on board. He was on his way back to Earth. He is Earth-based so the APD asked him whether he would be interested in carrying out the investigation on their behalf.

Malcolm didn't say anything for a few seconds.

- Hello?

- Still here, Wotan. I was thinking. That's a bit unusual, don't you think?

- It is, but he seems to know what he is doing. He's determined to find out more about this. He finds the fact that someone could die of measles in this day and age quite suspicious. So I would not expect him to stop looking any time soon.

- What did you tell him?

- Well, he was asking about the Recasent Centre in Barcelona. I think he got a bit suspicious when he came to the hospital here in Innsbruck. He was expecting to find an actual medical centre, but no one at reception knew what he was talking about. So, he thought it was weird that the Recasent in Innsbruck was actually just me and my nurse. And half-time at that too.

- But you did explain our arrangements to him, didn't you? Lots of physicians work for the Recasent in this way. It's hardly a full time job. That's why we recruit so many lazy dermatologists.

- Gee, thanks. Anyway, I did explain that. He seemed to be fine about this, but he told me that he definitely wanted to know more. He wanted to get to the bottom of this story, mainly because of the measles. Too unusual to be a coincidence.

- Is this what he told you?

- I may be paraphrasing, Dr. McClure, but I think that was the gist.

- So, what did you tell him then?

- I said that if he wanted to know more he should go to the source. That is, to Barcelona. I said that the Recasent Centre is an open institution that is used to dealing with the public. I said that if he went there he could find the information he needed.

- Yep. I think it's probably the best. We should have enough time to prepare for that. We'll figure out what to tell him. After all, the Centre is an absolutely clean operation, operating on behalf of the Earth Association. A few of us use it in a different way, but there no need for him to find out about that yet, don't you think?

- Absolutely, Dr. McClure. I told him that I would call ahead to make sure you'd know who he was and what he wanted, so that you would be ready to provide him with the information he needed.

- Good. So, we'll make sure everything is ready for him when he gets here. Do you know how long he will be?

- He did say he was still a bit sore from getting used to Earth's gravity. I presume he didn't spend a lot of time in the adaptation centre, as he wanted to come to Innsbruck to start his investigation. But he told me that, before going to Barcelona, he'd like to spend a couple of days getting back in shape.

- That gives us enough time.

- It does. Although do not forget that he was born on Earth. His body is naturally used to our gravity. And he's a marshal, used to this kind of thing. From the way he moved around, I reckon he wasn't in too much pain. It probably won't be more than a couple of days before you see him on your doorstep.

Thirty-eight

Marko woke up at 6am local time. 5am UTC.

He was feeling decidedly better today. No sore muscles. Flexible joints.

As new.

A couple of days' rest on Earth was all he needed. He had managed to get back to feeling his old self. He knew that if he had been someone from Mars, it would have taken them at least ten times as long to get used to it. Everybody kept on saying that was the main reason Earth and Mars were drifting apart. Maybe it was true.

Despite having done this a few times, Marko could not believe how bad he had felt over the last few days. The worst day had been when he had gone to see Dr. Stanaszek. The first day back had been kind of fine. But the following one, the opposite. It felt as if he was walking with a huge rock on his shoulder. It reminded him of the long marches he had to do when he was in the military.

In any case, that was all gone now. Marko felt free. He could do what he wanted.

And what he wanted to be doing in that precise moment was getting to the bottom of this case and sorting it out. That was his promise to Harry Strickned and he wanted to fulfil it. In a way, it was a promise to his birthplace. For the moment. He didn't want to think about what would come next in his life.

Marko briefly considered whether to go for a jog. He hadn't been running in ages, but today he felt as if he could run a marathon. However, he knew that, without any previous training, he would not have lasted more than a couple of miles. He decided against it, promising himself that once all of this was over, he would go back to training properly. But now it wasn't the time. He had to get on with his job.

The trip to Barcelona would take about four hours on the high-speed train. The line had been completed about fifty years earlier and had been upgraded recently. Luckily the local station was on the main line. Marko walked there from his hotel and bought a ticket to Barcelona. It was pricey. He hoped that he could get his money back. Harry Strickned had been pretty vague about this point.

He only had five minutes for the next direct train. Marko got ready to board. As usual, the train wouldn't stop. Rather, all departing passengers would take their seats in a cabin, which was placed at the start of the station track. Upon the train's arrival, the cabin would be accelerated on a parallel rail to the same speed as the train and placed securely on top of it. Passengers would then walk through the train to find their allocated seats. At the same time, a cabin full of passengers willing to alight at that station would be hoisted off the train and slowly decelerated on the same parallel track. After all passengers had disembarked, the cabin would be placed at the start of the track, ready for a new batch of passengers for the following train. This technique, perfected in China some one-hundred years earlier and now widely in use both on Earth and Mars allowed running non-stop high speed trains. By avoiding repeated accelerations and decelerations, this solution shaved off a significant amount of travel time, to the point that trains had replaced planes for most types of travel, including intercontinental. Undersea tunnels criss-crossed Earth's oceans. And, on Mars, given the thin atmosphere that made flying nigh impossible, trains were really the only viable long distance travel solution.

Once on board, Marko went to find his seat. It was a few carriages away, towards the front of the train. The train was half empty, so Marko walked down the corridor with ease. He reached his seat in a couple of minutes. The window one, in a group of four seats, two and two, facing each other. Marko was quite pleased that no one else was sitting there. He sat down, started looking out of the window and quickly fell asleep.

When he woke up, it was dark outside. He felt that the train was decelerating. This meant that it was approaching its final destination, Barcelona. High-speed Class II continental trains took about thirty minutes to decelerate from maximum speed to a standstill. Anything quicker would have been very uncomfortable for the passengers, especially those seated in the direction of travel. By taking thirty minutes, the train could easily decelerate without any risk of overshooting, while guaranteeing the passengers' comfort.

Given the apparent speed of the train, Marko guessed that they were still about twenty minutes away from their final destination. After sleeping so deeply for a few hours in the afternoon, Marko felt slightly nauseous. He was having trouble getting fully awake. He went to the toilet cubicle and splashed some very cold water on his face. This usually did the trick.

By the time he was back at his seat, he was feeling much better and alert. He started to gather his stuff. He still had a few minutes left. He connected his device to the local network and started looking for a hotel where he could spend the night. Without looking for too long, he found one that could work for his needs. It was in the Poble Sec district, quite near to the Recasent Centre. Marko was planning to go there first thing in the morning. He wasn't planning to spend any more time in Barcelona than necessary and he was ready to follow any trail he could find.

The hotel also seemed to be relatively cheap.

Considering the tight budget he was under, that was a good thing.

The train came to a standstill at the Estació de França, and all remaining passengers alighted, using a more conventional way: stairs. Marko followed the crowd into the terminal and quickly found his way to the exit. It was hot and humid. Marko decided to treat himself to taxi. He went outside and flagged one down.

Thirty-nine

Marko's hotel was very close to the Recasent Centre. His driver had made that remark when he had told him the address. Not a secret operation, by all means. In fact, the Recasent Centre was one of the few points of interest in the area, the other being the old olympic stadium. All cabbies knew that, it seemed.

His hotel was simple. It was actually a hostel, occupying only one floor in a five-story building. The ground floor hosted what looked like a school, while each of the other floors was occupied by a different hostel. Marko had liked his room. No frills and very clean. He just didn't like the plastic cover on his mattress. It crunched when he was rolling in bed. But this stopped being a problem pretty quickly: he fell asleep within ten minutes of lying down.

The following morning he woke up early. The room was hot. He felt sticky. And the temperature was expected to go up. After spending so much time in a climate-controlled environment, and later in the freshness of the Alpine region, he wasn't used to this heat.

He needed a shower.

He got ready quickly. He wanted to get to the Recasent Centre as soon as possible. He hadn't called in advance, but he hoped that Dr. Stanaszek had done so. After paying for his room and returning the keys, he was on his way. He got to the Recasent Centre in ten minutes and went in the main entrance, straight to the reception desk.

- Good morning, how can I help you sir? - the receptionist said in a heavily accented voice.

Despite Standard English having been the official language on both Earth and Mars for a long time, there were still people struggling with the pitfalls of its pronunciation.

- Good morning, my name is Marko Slavik. I'm looking into the operations of the Recasent Centre on behalf of the Aaltrin Police Department, on Mars. I spoke with one of your associates in Innsbruck, Dr. Wotan Stanaszek, and he suggested I come here to speak directly with you.

- I see, sir. Do you know who you would like to see?

- I'm afraid not, but perhaps Dr. Stanaszek has got in touch with you in advance of my visit? He said he would do that.

- It's possible, sir. Let me have a look at our visitors' register to see if there is any instructions regarding you.

- Sure, thanks.

The receptionist started looking intently at her screen. She pressed a few buttons and looked at a couple of screens, before looking back at Marko.

- Ah yes, here it is, sir. Mr. Slavik. You are supposed to meet with Dr. Malcolm McClure, our director. We didn't actually know on which day you would visit us, sir, but we've been expecting you. I just need to check whether Dr. McClure has an opening today.

- Of course, thank you.

- I'll be just a moment, sir.

She went back to looking at her screen and pressing buttons. In a moment she was back with Marko.

- Oh, you're lucky sir. He seems to be free from 10am to lunchtime. Perhaps you could wait here for half an hour. It's not great, but at least we've got air conditioning in here. It's very humid out there today.

- I've noticed. Anyway, great that he's got some time soon. I'll be happy to wait here.

- Thank you, sir. Dr. McClure will be with you as soon as he can. I believe he's keen to speak to you and do what he can to help the Aaltrin Police Department with anything they may be interested in.

- I bet he does, - Marko thought. - Thanks for your help, - he said.

He went to sit down in the waiting area. Luckily on his device there were still a couple of unread issues of his favourite sense magazines. He sat down to experience them.

After approximately thirty minutes, while he was engrossed in one of the articles, Marko heard some steps coming close. He looked up.

- Mr. Slavik? I'm Dr. Malcolm McClure, the director of the Recasent Centre.

Marko liked Malcolm's soft Scottish accent almost immediately.

- Good morning, Dr. McClure. Yes, I'm Marko Slavik. Thank you for agreeing to see me.

- Not at all, Mr. Slavik. We are an open institution and always very keen to help when we can. Especially if it is a police force from the Martian Republic. As you know, our ties with the Martian Republic are very strong.

- I do know. You are basically an Earth Association operation.

- That is correct. We seek to assess whether there's any evidence of genetic drift between the human population on Earth and Mars and, if we think there may be one, we are tasked to develop solutions to prevent it. In a way, we're tackling the same problem the Earth Association is tackling with its exchange programme. They seek to avoid a cultural drift, and we seek to prevent a genetic drift. Provided there is one, of course.

- And it seems to me that now there is enough evidence to say that there is one, isn't there?

- Well, recent events seem to provide some evidence in that sense, but it is far from conclusive. And we certainly hope there isn't.

- I see. In any case, Dr. McClure, I'm here to get more information that could help me find out what happened to Tony Singh.

- Of course. I'd be happy to answer your questions. But why don't we go to my office to talk instead of staying here? I think it is slightly more comfortable than the reception area. And I can also offer you a cup of coffee.

- Sounds like a good plan, thank you.

He could have done with a good coffee.

- Great, let's go. The lift is over there.

Malcolm McClure and Marko Slavik went to get the lift to the eighth floor, to McClure's office. Marko thought that he could get the answers he wanted.

Malcolm thought that he could give Marko the answers he needed to give.

Forty

Malcolm McClure's office was on the top floor. It was spacious and full of light. One wall was made entirely of glass, looking out to the old olympic stadium. The stadium had been neglected in recent times and it was clear that it needed more than a lick of paint. But the view was still impressive. It must have been even better at night. The only problem with the glass window, Marko noticed, was that the room worked as a greenhouse. The temperature in Dr. McClure's office was uncomfortably high, as the air conditioning system was struggling to keep it down. Sometimes it was hard to believe that air conditioning on Earth hadn't really been mastered in the last three centuries, despite all the experimentation with climate control on Mars.

- Hot today, isn't it? I have to say that, coming from Scotland, I'm not a great fan of this weather.

- Same here, Dr. McClure. Hot and sticky weather does not really agree with me. I think I'll leave quite soon after this. But Barcelona looks like a great city. I'll sure come back at some point in winter to see it better.

- I wouldn't be able to tell you, Mr. Slavik. Since moving to Barcelona, I've spent all my time here. In the office. Not much time to go around, I'm afraid. But let's get back to us, - Malcolm cut the small talk short. - How can I help you, Mr. Slavik?

- Dr. McClure, I'm sure you have already spoken with Dr. Stanaszek, in Innsbruck.

- I have.

- Good. So you will know why I'm over here. I'm helping the Aaltrin Police Department to look into Tony Singh's death as well as that of his mother, Martina Fernandez. As a matter of fact, I was actually on the same ship as her.

- It must have been somewhat distressing.

- Indeed. The gravity of what happened persuaded me to help them with this investigation. I want to help them get to the bottom of it.

It had taken Marko some time before getting to that decision. But now he was committed to go ahead, and he would not stop.

- I feel the need to make a distinction, Mr. Slavik. I agree with you that what happened to Martina Fernandez is a tragedy and that we need to fully understand the reasons behind this. But I don't agree with you that what happened to her son Tony is abnormal. On the contrary. This was normal and has happened many times before. Not recently, I concede that. And I agree that nowadays it is extremely rare, but it is something that can happen. A tragedy, of course. But not abnormal.

- But you must agree that Tony's death is suspicious. - Marko said.

- I don't agree at all. Measles can be deadly. We know that. We're also beginning to understand more about genetic differentiation and pathogen resistance. It would seem that martian humans are more sensitive to certain diseases. What happened fits this finding perfectly. So, in this sense, Tony's death is not suspicious. If anything, it was just something waiting to happen.

- But no-one has died of measles in a very long time. - Marko protested.

- True. But this doesn't mean that the disease has been eradicated. At all. It could have happened at any time and it did. We're looking into this. And we're beginning to understand what happened and whether this should be a cause of concern for the martian population at large. This is not the first time in the history of humankind that something like this happened. Spanish conquistadores brought smallpox to South America. This decimated the local population. To give you another example, when Eskimos first got in contact with Western European populations, an epidemic of the common cold killed many of them. This looks similar. It has happened before. It is not abnormal, as I've already told you.

- I see, Dr. McClure. I just find it hard to believe that, given how rare measles is nowadays, Tony Singh came down with it. Especially in an area where no one even remembers a single measles case.

- I don't really know what to tell you, Mr. Slavik. What happened is consistent with a long history of measles infections. When we learnt about this we were concerned, of course, though not for the local Earth-based population. Rather, we need to understand whether this is a potential threat for the Martian Republic.

- And what have you found so far?

- I think we're coming to the conclusion that Mars-based humans have lost some of their resistance to measles. This does not provide conclusive evidence of a genetic drift, as different populations on Earth have different resistance to pathogens, despite being genetically identical. Nonetheless, Martian humans should try to avoid exposure to measles. We're also going to recommend that children get immunised from now on, albeit on a voluntary basis. Given that this was only an isolated case, and the measles is not present on Mars, we are not going to go any further than this.

- You are not?

- You've heard me correctly: we are not. We think that going any further would create widespread panic and disruption. Besides, there is no measles vaccine on Mars. It will have to be imported and the stocks are extremely low. It will take months, if not years, before we could be in a position to cover a good chunk of the population. In the meantime, the social upheaval would be extremely disruptive. Something to be avoided at all costs.

- But what if in the meantime an epidemic breaks out on Mars? There are going to be hundred of thousands of victims. Millions. It could even endanger the viability of the whole country.

- We don't know that for sure, Mr. Slavik. In any case, this is a risk that we must take. We wouldn't be in a position to provide adequate protection anyway.

- With all due respect, Dr. McClure, I think what you are doing is irresponsible. I'm afraid I will have to inform my contacts about this.

- I do understand, but I would ask you to alert them of the consequences if this was to become public. You must use caution, do you understand?

- Dr. McClure, the APD must know, so that they can take some action to prevent this. You must also review your plans. There must be something else that could be done at this stage.

- There isn't, Mr. Slavik. We are not stupid. We thought long and hard about this. It is a risk we must run. End of story.

- I disagree. We'll see what we can do. Anyway, I must go now. Thanks for your time.

- Anytime, Mr. Slavik. As you can see we're trying to solve problems and we're happy to help others solve theirs. Don't hesitate to get in touch if you have any questions. Also, I'd be happy to speak directly with your counterparts at the APD, to explain to them how things are.

- I'll keep that in mind, Dr. McClure. Goodbye, I'll see myself out.

- As you wish, Mr. Slavik. Pleasure to meet you.

Soon after, Malcolm thought whether he had said too much. He didn't think he had. He had played out the official line: being open, but not too open. The fact that the Martian police were looking into this worried him, though. So soon into the programme. He hoped it wouldn't be jeopardised.

After a while, Malcolm dismissed his worries. He wasn't quite sure about the details, but his understanding was that adequate structures had been put in place to deal with such issues. Surely, they would have taken this risk into account.

And planned accordingly.

Forty-one

Marko left McClure's office. He still wasn't sure he believed what he had just heard. The Recasent Centre preferred to keep the whole of the Martian Republic population unprotected for a long time, without alerting anybody. He should have told Strickned as soon as possible.

He knew that the synchronisation server that relayed messages to Mars and back would only work three times a day. And the next synchronisation was in a few hours. He knew what he wanted to write, so he reckoned he could kill a couple of hours walking around. He would then find another hotel for the night, and send a message to Harry Strickned.

Despite his dislike for hot and sticky weather, Marko had decided to spend some time walking around the city for a while. He didn't really know when he would be back in Barcelona. Knowing him, he would probably never come back again. He didn't like to go back to the same place twice.

After leaving the Recasent Centre, he set off to explore the city on foot. After about an hour of walking around, he knew he had made a mistake. It was way too warm to be walking around. He went into a nearby café. He sat down and ordered an iced coffee. While he was waiting for his drink, he decided to check the news on his device.

- Nothing worth writing home about, - Marko thought while browsing through the news.

Then he noticed that the Mars news had recently been updated. Out of habit, he decided to check whether something interesting had happened. He knew that the news would be at least two days old. But he thought it'd be worth a look nonetheless. Upon opening the page, a news item immediately attracted his attention.

Another woman had committed suicide in Aaltrin. The police had found the body in the lavatories of a shopping mall. Apparently she had shot herself. According to the news the place was empty at the time. As it was breaking news, it did not provide a lot of details. It did not say whether the woman's child had died recently.

Marko wondered whether it could be another measles death.

The report only said that the police believed that the woman was probably depressed.

Marko thought he must get in touch with Strickned as soon as possible to let him know what he had learnt.

Marko had finished his iced coffee. Despite it being past lunchtime, he wasn't hungry. He decided to continue his exploration of the city, taking advantage of the quiet early afternoon.

- Most people will be at home sleeping their lunches off, - thought Marko, - or working in air conditioned offices.

Marko left the café, and started walking down a narrow street, made even narrower by a long line of cars parked on one side. There was no one around.

Marko had got half-way down the street when he heard the noise of a motorbike getting closer.

- Looks like someone is about even during siesta time, - Marko thought - I'd better move to one side before they run me over.

But Marko didn't have time to finish that thought. In a second, the motorbike was next to him. He only had time to feel a sharp pain in his head before he lost consciousness and fell to the ground.

Another sharp pain brought him back from a deep sleep.

At least, he thought he had been sleeping. For a while that felt like a whole hour, Marko did not have a clue as to where he was. He was sitting on the side of the same road he had been walking down earlier, leaning against the wall. Two men were standing around him, one holding a glass of water. Marko was feeling week and dizzy, but he mustered some energy to speak.

- What happened? - He asked the people standing around.

- I don't know - one of the two men answered.

He was unkempt and gruff. But he seemed all right.

- We found you lying in the middle of the street. We picked you up or other cars would have run you over. Not that there's a lot of traffic around here, but you never know.

- Thanks. And you just found me lying there?

- Yep - the other man answered.

He was thin and scrawny. Instinctively, Marko did not feel he could trust him.

- Maybe you just fainted because of the heat. It happens.

- Sounds unlikely. I've never fainted in my life. And I was feeling fine before, I do remember that.

- Then it beats me, man. Anyway, how are you doing?

Marko quickly scanned all parts of his body. Everything seemed fine, apart from his head, which hurt. He put his hand through his hair, and it felt something warm and sticky. His head had been split open.

He didn't know what could have happened. He was desperate for a clue.

He remembered the motorcycle. He remembered that he was about to move to one side to let it pass.

Then, the pain.

He had been assaulted.

By someone that had wanted to kill him, not just scare him off. Luckily his head had proven to be stronger than the assailant thought and he had survived.

This was the proof he needed to know that he was on the right track. Someone must have not liked him looking into the affairs of the Recasent Centre. Someone thought that he suspected something and that it would be better to make him shut up. Getting rid of him would have not been too big of a problem. No one knew yet that he was in town, and he was only loosely attached to the APD investigation. After a few weeks of not hearing from him, Harry Strickned would have assumed he had got bored with the whole thing.

He had to get in touch with Harry. But first, he needed to get someone to take a look at his head, and perhaps get them to apply some stitches for good measure.

- Where can I find a hospital?

- There's one about fifteen minutes walk in this direction. Always straight. - said the scrawny guy. - You will excuse us if we don't come with you, but we'd rather not be seen next to someone with an open head. Just a precaution.

- Of course, I understand. Thanks for your help anyway.

Harry tipped the two guys.

- Have a drink on me, and not a word on what happened.

- 'Course not, sir, thank you - the gruff guy said.

And they were soon on their way.

Marko started hobbling to the hospital, hoping, if not for stitches, for a couple of good painkillers.

At least.

Forty-two

- Strickned, you're always in my way.

- Good morning, Tondelli. I'm well, how are you doing?

Harry now knew what to expect from his colleague. You could always rely on Tondelli.

Always the same mood.

Bad.

Always the same level of efficiency.

Very high.

Harry liked consistent people.

People that didn't change their mood for no reason.

Certainly, he'd have preferred someone slightly more cheerful. But in the absence of anything better, someone like Tondelli would do. With Tondelli, you knew where you stood. And there wasn't really any point in taking offence.

- Fine, - Tondelli grumbled, - considering that I spent the morning picking up pieces of cerebral matter and bone from a public lavatory wall. Not to mention the rest of the head. I mean, the part of it that was still attached to the body.  Not a nice sight. Reminded me of a date of mine once: I wasn't too picky then.

Harry decided to ignore Tondelli's tasteful comment and to focus on the case.

John McVine had called him early that morning to tell him that another single mother had killed herself. This time it had been slightly more disruptive than the other times. The victim, Noelia Kay, had decided to shoot herself in a public lavatory in one of Aaltrin's biggest shopping malls. She had done it in one of the booths. So the amount of disruption had been quite limited. At least in terms of undesirable organic matter going around. But the police had had to shut down the whole shopping centre anyway, to allow for the investigation to take place.

Harry had just woken up when he received John's call. After speaking to John he had had mixed feelings. He knew that what had happened was another tragedy, but, after the lull of the past few weeks, he was also kind of relieved to have new work. He hadn't got anywhere with the other two cases. The apparent causes behind Marie Grey's and Paula Rajah's deaths seemed clear. Because of the measles link, Harry felt that there must have been another explanation. This was compounded by Martina Fernandez's suicide. Again, another measles case, another suicide. But he hadn't heard anything from Marko Slavik for the past three weeks. He was beginning to wonder whether he would ever hear anything back.

Harry was kind of hoping that this would be a normal case instead. Just a suicide. But a straightforward one. With no mysterious links to a long-forgotten disease and certainly no links to other unsolved cases. Something plain, almost boring, as Marie's case had appeared to be in the first place. Something to take his mind off the measles cases.

Harry had not been sleeping well in the last few weeks.

Too much stress.

He wasn't making any progress at work. He had had too much on his plate, and had achieved so little. He felt he wasn't advancing within the APD. As he didn't have success stories to share, he often found himself isolated from his colleagues, who revelled in solving much easier cases. And it was solving them that mattered, not how hard they really were. It was all about filling out the right forms, it seemed.

- So, Tondelli, what do you think? Does this seem fairly straightforward? Just a suicide, right?

- Just a suicide? You're getting cynical, Strickned, - he paused. - I like that. Anyway, yes, it looks like 'just a suicide'. The door was locked from the inside, so I don't think she was murdered. The gun is still in the booth. Apart from that, nothing to write home about. If you don't count the blood and brain matter splattered all over the place. Are you sure you don't want to go in there and have a look for yourself?

- That's your job, Tondelli. I wouldn't dream of taking it from you. - Harry replied quickly.

He hadn't had his first coffee yet. And the last thing he needed to see was an exploded head.

- Any indication as to why she did this?

- I haven't found anything yet. Don't rush me. She didn't have any device on her, which is a bit strange. So I haven't been able to check whether she's left any message. I guess we'll find out in the next few hours anyway. I think now you can leave and let me work in peace. I'll let you have a report, as usual, then you can draft your stuff. I mean, copy and paste mine.

- Alright, thanks Tondelli.

Harry was relieved. He just needed to do some boring paperwork. Mindlessly write a report out of a template. He would get the feeling he was getting something done, even without using his brain.

He needed that.

Harry drove back to the office. He wouldn't have much to do before receiving Tondelli's report. But he couldn't just wait around. He decided to find out more about Noelia Kay's identity, hoping that he could find enough information to give him an explanation to her suicide. He searched for three hours.

He hadn't yet made any progress, when his phone rang. He saw that it was John McVine.

- Hello John, how are you doing?

- The usual. Have you been to see Tondelli?

- Yes, I went there earlier this morning. He thinks this is a pretty straightforward case, and I'd be inclined to agree. I'm just waiting for his report. In the meantime I've been looking for some information on Noelia Kay, but I couldn't find anything. She must have just been a depressed woman. Nothing special about it. But hopefully we'll find out more information.

- Harry, I don't think you need to look for more information. I just got a call from the hospital.

- The hospital?

- Yes, they were looking for Noelia Kay. They had been in touch with her until very recently and they needed to speak with her urgently. Not being able to find her, they got in touch with the police.

- Why did they want to speak with her? Was she ill?

- Not her, Harry, her son.

- And, don't tell me...

- He's just died, Harry. Yesterday, he was already in a coma and the doctors had no hope. But he died today. They were looking for Noelia to let her know.

- I see. So, this is another one.

- I'm afraid, so, Harry, - John paused. - Adam Kay died of measles.

Forty-three

He had almost forgotten about Marko Slavik.

Harry was trying to make sense of what was happening. Four women. They had all killed themselves. Their sons had just died. All of them of measles, a disease almost no one had heard about for the last century, especially on Mars. There was a clear pattern there. Of course, everybody could have seen that.

But what did it mean? What had caused it? Could it happen again?

Harry knew that someone should get to the bottom of the whole thing. Just to understand what was happening. Harry knew that he had to find a solution, otherwise something worse could happen. This thought sent a shiver down his back.

Marko's message had just got in.

He had told Harry everything. He had just come out of the hospital. Nothing serious, he had said. A few stitches and a night in, to make sure everything was fine. It looked like Marko had been beaten up, although he didn't have the faintest idea why this could have happened.

And then the Recasent Centre. He had already heard about this place. He had come across the name during his own investigation. He knew that this was the place where genetic research was taking place on behalf of the Earth Association.

And apparently they had found something.

There wasn't an immediate risk, as travel between Mars and the Earth was relatively limited. But the potential for a deadly pandemic was there. Sharing this information would have just created widespread panic, according to the Centre's director, McClure. Maybe he was right.

Despite the extensive amount of information they had managed to gather, Harry still couldn't understand why the four women had killed themselves.

Yes, the loss of their sons was a tragedy. But this wasn't the first time a single mother had lost her son. And they hadn't all killed themselves. No, there must have been some other motive for this to happen. Harry just couldn't work out what it was.

He decided to call it a day. Time to go home and hope that a good sleep would give him a good idea. Something to hang on to. Something to push the investigation forward. Marko was waiting for instructions. Harry felt that he wasn't done with him.

But he couldn't deal with that today. He needed a break.

- Guys, I'm off, - Harry told no one in particular in the office.

A couple of people raised their heads. They quickly put them down.

At the beginning Harry had hoped that the office would be more sociable. But despite a promising start, it had never actually been like that. Maybe it was because at the beginning he was new, and people were curious. Now the initial curiosity had worn thin. One evening during his first few weeks on the job, they had even gone out for a beer or two. But that now looked like the exception that proves the rule.

Since that evening, Harry had regularly gone home after work, grabbing a ready meal on the way. He was just too busy during the day to work normal hours and have a life outside of work. And he was never managing to arrange anything for the weekend. He basically ended up spending the time cleaning his flat and working, trying to get to the bottom of things, but getting nowhere.

Harry left the office and went downstairs to the car park. He thought he'd borrow one of the cars. He just didn't feel like another commute tonight. He got into one of the cars and made his way out of the building.

The traffic was very light that night. While the car got into the traffic flow, Harry focused on the media system, hoping to find some new content he could listen to while being driven home.

There was nothing special on. He settled for a sport programme, where the commentators were discussing a couple of football matches that had just been played on Earth. Much more exciting that the Martian League, but still the information was three days old as the programmes were relayed only during the synchronisation windows.

On the way home, Harry stopped to buy some food. He didn't remember whether he still had some ready meals at home, but he'd rather be safe than sorry. Food on Mars was very expensive, as greenhouses were needed to grow every type of vegetable. Meat had to be ruled out, as no animals were reared on Mars. Earth animals could not adapt to Mars's lower gravity. About ninety years earlier, some cattle had been brought over as an experiment, but all animals had died within a year or so. Synthetic proteins and vegetable proteins had fully replaced meat in the diet of Mars-based humans.

They didn't taste too good.

Harry continued on his way. He was feeling lonely now. The prospect of another brief evening on his own was depressing him. It had been six months since he had broken up with Lisa and moved to Aaltrin. Since then, he had only had a handful of dates, but they had all been superficial. He was beginning to regret leaving Lisa. He had heard that she had just got engaged to be married.

While Harry was married to his work.

- What for? - Harry asked himself. - To get nowhere with these stupid cases. And eating ready meals every bloody night.

Another day drew to a close.

Sometimes he feared that his life would carry on like this forever.

Forty-four

Another morning. Another commute to work. Another bad coffee.

- It can't get better than this, - Harry thought.

He hadn't slept well. His mood was unchanged from the previous evening.

Black.

Harry got to the office and started shuffling the papers on his desk. Despite the fact that each single sheet could display multiple pages and documents, it was much more convenient to have lots of them around. Harry thought that his desk wasn't too different from those shown in ancient images of 21st century office life.

He was about to start writing his report on Noelia Kay. He didn't think Tondelli would give him anything else to go on. His phone rang just in that moment. Speaking of the devil.

- Hello Tondelli, how are things?

- Strickned, what can I tell you? Same shit as always.

- I can tell you that, for once, my mood matches yours, Tondelli. But let's not indulge. What do you want?

- You could be a little less rude, you know? - Tondelli said, clearly pretending to be offended. - Anyway, I've got some news for you, Strickned. You may have to stop writing that report of yours.

Harry looked at the blank page in front of him.

- Sure, thanks for telling me so late. I was just finalising my first draft. I hope what you have to tell me is not too substantial. I don't really feel like writing it all up again.

- Knowing you, I don't think you've even started, Strickned. Which is good, because this might change what you wanted to write: I found Noelia Kay's device.

- What? Where was it?

- In a bin, near the lavatories in the shopping centre. You remember I told you it struck me as strange that she wasn't carrying a device. Everybody has a device. So I thought that either it had been stolen or she had lost it. No one would steal a device, especially given that everybody carries one. And Noelia Kay's device was also fairly bog standard. No, what happened was that she had thrown it away, just before killing herself.

- How do you know that? She might just have dropped it or something.

- You're right, it might have been so. Then someone picked it up and threw it in a bin. And you want to know why, Strickned? Because Noelia Kay's device was a disposable one. Like ours.

- I see.

Harry knew well what Strickned was talking about. All police officers had been issued with cheap devices. Once the battery ran out, after about four months, you could just throw it away and get a new one. You just needed to be careful not to save any document just locally on the device or they would be lost.

It happened all the time, of course.

- Whoever picked it up saw that the device wasn't working and couldn't be recharged. So they just threw it away. Or she threw it away herself when it stopped working.

- Good thinking, Tondelli. So you searched all the bins in the shopping centre?

- Well, I didn't have to go that far. It was in one of the bins just outside the toilets. I started from there, of course.

- Good. But how do you think this can help us? The device cannot be powered up, so in practice it's really just a brick. If you want to bring it over, I'll have a look. And I might end up using it as a paperweight.

- Strickned, it's your brain that is a paperweight. I can open it up and retrieve the information that is stored on it. Messages, pictures, voicemails. All this stuff can be stored on the device. It's solid-state memory. It doesn't need power to retain data. And, if I'm careful when I power it back on, I should be able to transfer the files and have a look at them from a different machine. It's almost as good as having an actual working device in our hands.

- That's much better, Tondelli. I think I'll stop writing my report now. It may well be that you find something useful on it, and I don't want to do the same work twice. Do let me know once you've extracted the files and taken a look at them.

- Will do. I can't do that today as I'm going to my son's graduation this afternoon. But I'll leave the device in the lab and have a look at it tomorrow first thing. Depending on how much data there is on it, I might be able to let you know something by lunchtime or early afternoon.

- That sounds okay to me. I didn't know you had a son, Tondelli. Congratulations on his graduation.

- Apparently I do. I was married, a long time ago. I don't really speak to my ex wife that much, but I do get to see Luke from time to time. He's a good kid. It's a shame he wants to become a policeman. Anyway, thanks Strickned, I'll speak to you tomorrow.

- A shame indeed Tondelli. Maybe you'll persuade him to do something else. Anyway, have a good time and let me know when you have any news.

- See you later, Strickned.

- One last thing, Tondelli. The hospital told us that they tried to call Noelia Kay to let her know about her son's death. They probably left a voicemail. We know what they wanted to tell her, but it may be worth checking anyway in case there may be any interesting detail we might have missed.

- Sure thing. Good thing you reminded me. Listening to voicemail files is one of the most boring things. I always tend to forget to do that. So I'll do it first thing and then get back to you after that in case I find anything that you should follow up. Maybe call the hospital or something.

- Cool, thanks Tondelli. Speak to you tomorrow.

Harry went back to his report. It was a good thing he hadn't started writing it yet. The only problem was that now he had to wait for Tondelli to get back to him with any news.

Harry thought that he could already write a bit of an introduction.

And he started writing, slowly, to bide his time.

He made a whole day go by. Working on two sentences.

Forty-five

The strongest headache he had ever had.

The celebrations for his son's graduation had continued long into the night. Luke had gone out with his friends, but Tondelli had continued to eat and drink with the rest of the family. A few relatives from Kitron had come down for the occasion as well.

He stumbled out of bed. As always his knee hurt badly. It had been like that for a few months now. The pain tended to go away within an hour of waking up or so. It didn't prevent him from running twice a week. But it was a clear sign that something was wrong. He should have had someone take a look at it.

- But who's got the time for that? - Tondelli asked himself and staggered in to the kitchen, looking for some ibuprofen.

- You'd think someone invented something better than this stuff in three-hundred years, - Tondelli grumbled.

He was taking too much of that stuff as his frequent heartburn never stopped reminding him. But this time, it was for an immediate reason: the pulsing headache that had appeared as soon as he had opened his eyes.

He swallowed two tablets.

He felt a tinge of happiness. He was proud of Luke. He hadn't started school in the best way, but over the years he had pulled himself together and managed to achieve good grades. He had got a place at the police academy in Grenlund. Shame he wanted to become a policeman, but certainly it wasn't the worst choice he could have made.

Luke would have left home soon. Before moving to Grenlund, Luke had agreed with his parents that he would spend some time travelling. He had worked weekends to save the money for the trip. Together with the money he had got for his graduation, he could now afford to spend three months on Earth. Tondelli knew that Luke would have wished to go for longer. Three months weren't really that much if you factored in the length of the trip and the gravity adaptation period which, for a kid born on Mars, would be at least one full week. But they couldn't really afford to spend more.

Tondelli felt his headache getting weaker. He dressed quickly and went to the office. For once, he was kind of looking forward to going to work. He was curious. Not that he was expecting to find anything special, but it was something different than usual. And it may have actually provided some useful clues. He wanted Strickned to make some progress. He actually enjoyed working with him. Of course, he couldn't tell him that.

- That kid needs some success - Tondelli thought as he was stepping out of the car.

He didn't need to wear his mask, as the car park was directly under the police building.

He went straight to the lab. He got Noelia Kay's device out of the safe which he had put it in the night before and set to work.

It was a simple model, the finishing not too refined. It didn't have any obvious opening on the back, as it was meant to be a disposable device.

He had to crack it open. No big deal.

It didn't take him too long. The glue that held the whole thing together was cheap. Tondelli only had to apply a light pressure to take it apart.

A few plastic chips came off, but Tondelli didn't really care. There was no way anybody could have put the phone back together, anyway. To be on the safe side he was filming his work, providing some commentary to each step.

He extracted the memory module. After the battery, it was the biggest component inside the phone so he didn't have any problem locating it. It was a standard CBM64-B memory module. It would plug into any computer. Tondelli only hoped that the files wouldn't be encrypted. But on such a cheap device, it was unlikely.

He transferred all the files on the system. There weren't too many. A few photos, messages and a couple of voicemail messages. He remembered that Strickned wanted him to check the voicemail first.

As the files were now on the system, they could be accessed from any machine connected to the APD network. Tondelli decided he would go back to his desk upstairs before starting to look at the files. Taking some notes there would be easier.

The ibuprofen he had taken earlier hadn't worked that well and his head still hurt.

And he wanted another cup of coffee.

Not really the best coffee, but at least it was free. He didn't want to get fleeced in one of the coffee shops in the mall downstairs. And as long as it kept him awake, and kept his hangover at bay, he was fine with it.

After grabbing his hot drink, Tondelli got back to his desk. He put on his headphones and started listening to the voicemail messages. The first one was from the hospital. They were letting Noelia Kay know that, unfortunately, her son had died. They had been quite direct on the message. It was probably because they had all been expecting it. Noelia's son had been in an irreversible coma for the last two weeks.

- Sad story, - Tondelli thought.

But despite being a father himself he still couldn't bring himself to understand why Noelia Kay had decided to shoot herself so suddenly.

He moved on to the second message.

His colleagues were not used to seeing Tondelli move quickly. He was always taking his sweet time to do everything. That's why a couple of them looked up when they saw him stand up all of a sudden. They would not forget the scene that followed for a very long time.

Before anybody even had the chance to stand up and try to stop him, Tondelli pulled out his gun. He put it in his mouth and blew his head open.

A spray of blood and brain matter stained the white wall behind him. For a second, Tondelli stood still. Then he fell face forward on his desk, knocking off his half drunk coffee cup.

Forty-six

Harry couldn't possibly believe what he had just heard from John McVine. He had heard the shot, coming from the floor below him, but at the time he hadn't thought of someone using a gun in the office. He thought that perhaps some clumsy lab guy had mixed the wrong chemicals, and that had resulted in a strange reaction. Or an electrical problem. But never a gun. Not in a police building.

Unfortunately, a gun it was. While Harry had been one of the first ones to come down from his floor, Tondelli's corpse was already surrounded by many of his immediate colleagues.

It wasn't a pretty scene.

Despite his body being face down on the desk, Harry saw that the top half of Tondelli's head was missing, taken apart by the blast. A black gaping hole looked up at Harry, who felt a sudden burst of nausea coming up from the back of his throat.

He had to look away.

- What the hell happened? - Harry asked no one in particular.

Jörg Pergola turned around from the scene. He was one of the old hands in the forensic team. He had worked with Tondelli for several years. His face, sporting a shade of green, gave away the fact that he wasn't feeling too well either.

- I don't fucking understand what happened. You're Strickned, aren't you? I'm Jörg Pergola. I know that you and Tondelli had been working together quite a lot of late. He wasn't much of a talker, but did you spot any signs that he was about to do what he did? Was he depressed or something?

- I doubt it. It's true he didn't speak much about his personal life. We only talked about work, really. But just yesterday he told me that his son would be graduating the following day. He seemed happy about it.

- And so, why the hell would he do something like that? I saw him. He just stood up, grabbed his gun and shot himself in the mouth. That doesn't make any sense.

- What, just like that?

- Yep, just like that. No one was paying attention to him at the time, but it's a small office and as soon as someone moves you notice it for sure. He was sitting quietly at his desk. Then he just stood up and shot himself. It probably didn't take more than five seconds overall.

- It just seems impossible. I guess you can never know someone completely. But what Tondelli did is inexplicable. No, I'm sure he wasn't about to kill himself. He just wasn't the type.

- And yet he did exactly that. Out of the blue. And now I'll have to call the family and let them know about this, the day after their son's graduation. Great.

- Wait a second, Pergola. We need to try to find out more before we get back to the family with this kind of news. They deserve an explanation. There may not be one, but, if there is, we should try to find it.

Pergola looked doubtful for a second.

- Okay Strickned, let's give it a go.

- Good. Now, let's start from the beginning, - Harry said. - When did you first see Tondelli this morning?

- Not a long time ago. He was coming up from the lab, carrying a cup of coffee. Nothing else. He seemed relaxed. I didn't speak to him. Normally no-one ever does that here.

- Yes, I've already figured out how things work around here.

- Hey, take it easy Strickned, remember you're new. Anyway, yes, I did see him going to his desk. As soon as he sat down, he started working at his computer. It was as if he had something urgent to do.

- He did have something urgent to do, - Harry said. - Something for me. He was going to look at some files in the memory of a device he had found.

- For you or for god, Tondelli wouldn't hurry up. He was famous for that. There must have been something that attracted his attention.

- Maybe he had found something interesting in the device. Where is it? Did he have it with him?

- No, he was only carrying his cup of coffee. But he got here quite late for his usual standards. Must have been 10.30 UTC. So, he might have gone to the lab downstairs first, extracted the files and transferred them to the network. In that way he would have been able to access them from anywhere. Maybe that's why he decided to come to his desk. The lab is a bit of a depressing place. No natural light. Not that it matters that much at the peak of this bloody asynchronous spell.

Pergola was right. It was pitch black outside.

- True. But at least he would have been a little more comfortable. Is there a chance we can take a look at his files?

- Sure, we all have access to the same case files, just in case one of us is not available. As it does seem to be the case now.

- Ok, can you show me? I think we need to have a look at them ourselves.

Pergola went to his desk and started looking around. He found the files easily.

- There's a video. It seems to be of Tondelli himself.

Tondelli had shot the video that very morning. It documented his work in taking apart the device.

- There doesn't seem to be anything suspicious with it. Just Tondelli doing his job.

- Yep, he took the device apart and transferred the files. According to this, the device should still be downstairs. I should go and fetch it.

- Maybe later, - Harry said. - But I think someone needs to start having a look at the files first. Do you have someone here who could do it?

- Sure, I can get a couple of guys on it pretty quickly.

- Great. Get them started on those audio files and then the messages. And maybe we can find out what happened.

Without a word Pergola started looking for people to do the work, while two paramedics took Tondelli's body to the morgue.

Forty-seven

It didn't take Pergola very long to find someone willing to look at the files. They all wanted to find out why Tondelli had killed himself in front of them all of a sudden.

Perhaps he had found some truth so shocking that staying alive after that would have been impossible.

But most people were skeptical. However bad it could be, how could listening to some audio message push a person to commit suicide.

Someone suggested it might have been a subliminal message. They had been used with some success on more than one occasion. In some cases, individuals had even been persuaded to commit minor crimes. And their effect had been acknowledged in court, with the result that people had been acquitted as the jury recognised that they were not acting out of their own volition.

But this was different. All previous cases had required extended and continuous exposure for the conditioning to take effect. And in no case had the acts the victims had been forced to do involved loss of life, theirs or others. In this case, they were sure that Tondelli had not been exposed to any of this before. And yet, he had committed such an extreme act in the space of a few seconds.

Svensson and Muñoz, two of the youngest members of the team, located the files that Tondelli had saved on the shared file system. They got to work, starting from the photographs.

- There doesn't seem to be anything weird here. - Svensson said. - They are just sad. Look at these.

There were a few pictures of Noelia Kay with her son. They were playing in a covered park. It looked like a good day. The sun was shining through the triple glass dome, only somewhat dimmed by it. It looked like a warm day. Which it would have been, given that the temperature was automatically controlled to make the people relaxing in the public recreational space feel as if it was late Earth spring. All year round. Someone must have been with them, taking the pictures.

The next photo wasn't as sunny.

- I guess Noelia took this in the hospital. - Muñoz said.

The picture showed Noelia's son in what looked like a fitful sleep. His face was covered in red marks. Measles, now they knew. He looked very ill.

- She probably took the photo when she was told there was no hope for him. I guess she wanted one last picture of her son.

Indeed, that was the last picture on the phone.

But, so far, nothing that would arouse suspicion. Tondelli would have not killed himself for that. That was for sure.

- Let's have a look at the messages now.

Muñoz started visualising them, starting from the oldest one. Even without reading them in detail, there didn't seem to be anything strange in them. Definitely nothing that could have affected Tondelli in such a short time.

- Bills, spam, a couple of work emails, and regular updates from her son's doctor. - Muñoz said.

- So it seems. What is that one there?

Muñoz opened the message, which seemed to contain a long text.

- It looks like a collection of articles. Let me see. Yes, indeed it is. These are all articles about the measles. They look like scientific papers. They seem pretty old.

They were scans of actual printed pages, a technique that had not been in use for at least one hundred and seventy years.

- She was probably trying to get to the bottom of it herself, - Svensson said. - It's not uncommon, I think. I've heard stories of parents that, when the doctors says that the is no hope left, they start doing their own research. A desperate attempt, but sometimes it works.

- Yep, I would do that myself. And you know you would do too, Svensson.

- I guess so. Anyway, we just have the audio files left. If there's something, we'll find it there.

- Hang on, I think we'd better look at the other files first and document what we find. Just in case we're dead in the next two minutes.

- Funny, - Muñoz said. - I don't intend to waste such a good opportunity in this way. Here's what we'll do: I listen to the files with the headphones. You watch me and try to spot anything in my behaviour that might suggest I'm about to top myself.

Svensson liked the idea. He'd never liked going first.

- Deal. Listen away. I'll be ready to catch you if you fall.

- Here we go.

Muñoz started playing the phone call from the hospital. Nothing strange. After he finished listening to it, he felt sad. Even sadder than before, if possible.

- There's nothing strange here, I'm going to give the last file a go. Stand by.

Muñoz started listening to the file. Everything seemed to be going ok. Maybe Tondelli had really been depressed.

Svensson was beginning to relax.

It was only by chance that he managed to tackle Muñoz, as he started running towards his desk, where he had left his gun.

Svensson wrestled Muñoz down to the ground. Muñoz seemed to have endless energy. He was trying to free himself from Svensson's grasp. But Svensson was much bigger than him. And heavier. They had chosen well.

Muñoz couldn't get rid of Svensson. As there didn't seem to be any way for him to reach his gun, he started slamming him own head against the floor, with a fury that Svensson had never seen before. His nose started bleeding, and he had split both his eyebrows open.

Muñoz was trying to give himself irreparable brain damage.

Svensson knew that he had to stop him. Struggling, he turned him around. And as soon as Muñoz started lifting his head up, he knocked him out with a strong punch.

- I guess we've found the culprit, - Svensson thought. - We'll need to analyse that file without listening to it. But that must have the answer.

He called a few colleagues around to help him place a restraint around Muñoz in case he suddenly woke up. Hopefully the conditioning would have gone away by then.

Forty-eight

Pergola and Svensson decided that they should look into the audio file straight away. Now they were sure that the file held the clues they were looking for. Besides, Svensson was really curious to see how that worked. Pergola had told him that in twenty-five Earth years he had never seen something like that.

- We can't listen to it again, though, - Svensson said. - I mean, I could get restrained and all, but in this way I think we would just repeat the same experience. It's not going to help us.

- Indeed it isn't. - Pergola said. - We also don't know how long the effect will last. Muñoz is still out. Hopefully by the time he comes around, the conditioning will be gone, but we won't know until then. I'm not going to risk that on you, Svensson. There's work to do tomorrow.

- Thanks for being so caring. How do we look into that file, by the way? Do you have any suggestions?

- Sure I do, and I will pretend I haven't heard you. You should know what to do at this stage. You should have paid more attention during the training.

Svensson just nodded. He knew he had got this job via his father's connections. He had flunked most of his exams. If it hadn’t been for a little help, he would not have got it. At the time, he had just wanted a job. Any job. He had felt that working for the forensic team was cool enough to go through the trouble of waking up early every morning. Most mornings, anyway. That was in the beginning. Over time, he had started to love his job. Despite this, he still sucked at it.

- Sorry, I know I have a lot to learn. Luckily I have you as my master and guide. Teach me, and I'll forever be in your debt.

- Enough, Svensson.

Pergola was getting fed up with Svensson's attitude. He knew that the guy had talent. So he didn't understand why he just couldn't be bothered to behave as he should.

He decided to give him the solution.

- The way in which we can look into the file is by looking into the file.

Svensson was puzzled.

- What do you mean?

- Oh Svensson, be quicker! I'm sure we can open up the file and see what's inside. Here, have a look.

Svensson moved to Pergola's side and squinted at the screen.

- You see, the audio and video files are actually wrappers around a set of component files, one of which is a set of instructions, called a metafile. The audio player follows the instruction to decode the audio files and play a series of sounds that the human brain can understand. Music or voice. The same for video, but more complicated, of course. So, as you can see, inside this wrapper there are two component files. One is the actual audio. The other seems to be a set of instructions, probably the code to decode the audio file.

- Cool. Can we check the audio first? - Svensson asked.

- I was about to start doing that. Here, I'm going to run the audio file through a wave analyser. This is going to graph the audio waves, rather than playing them out loud. We should be safe, if we just look at them.

They started.

- They seem very regular to me. That doesn't look like voice. - Svensson said.

- No, it doesn't. It looks like the same pattern is repeated over and over again. Seems to be consistent with a subliminal message. Almost like a hypnotic pattern. Could that really be what it is?

- We don't have a way to know for sure, but it seems pretty likely to me - Svensson said.

Pergola nodded. He was surprised it had been so effective. Tondelli had killed himself out of the blue. And Muñoz was about to do the same, if Svensson had not restrained him.

- We need to look into the other file too - Pergola said. - It may shed some more light on this.

Also this was a format that Pergola knew well. A simple script that would be activated when the file was played. Pergola was familiar with the language. He pointed the decoding protocol at the top of the file to Svensson, but that code block was followed by some extra lines.

- That shouldn't really be there.

- What does it do?

- One day, you must start learning some code.

Pergola was getting annoyed.

- Anyway, let me see. It looks like it is an auto-delete routine.

- A what?

- An auto-delete routine. - Pergola said. - A set of code that would delete the whole file after playing it. It is activated upon playing the file for the first time. It would delete the file once the play count reaches a certain threshold. It would run only on a device, it doesn't have the right privileges on our system. It is set to one.

Svensson wasn't quite sure he fully understood.

- What does that mean?

- It means that this file has been designed to self-destruct after being played once. Yet in this case it didn't.

- Perhaps because the device's battery ran out?

- Yes, of course. Good thinking, Svensson. Basically, this file never played to the end. The play count never reached one. So it couldn't self-delete. And that's how we managed to find it.

- And that's how we managed to lose Tondelli - Svensson said.

- That's true. And it's a tragedy. I do hope that at least it can help us get to the bottom of the whole thing.

- We need to pass this information on to Strickned. - Svensson said - He's waiting to hear from us and perhaps he can get things in motion now to get to the bottom of this case.

- Indeed. Why don't you start writing our report Svensson? I'll take a look at that once you're done. And if you have any questions, do give me a shout.

- Okay boss.

He knew full well that he would end up having to re-write the whole report himself.

Forty-nine

Harry was struggling to believe what he was reading.

He had already read Pergola's report three times. And each time it just seemed even more unbelievable.

Hypnotising someone with an audio file. He could believe that. He had heard about similar cases in the past.

But pushing someone to behave in such an extreme way. That, he found very hard to believe. It just didn't make sense that someone would listen to an audio message and within seconds be overcome by the need to kill themselves. According to the report, it became an almost unstoppable urge. They couldn't save Tondelli. And they had barely managed to save Muñoz.

Yet it had happened just the previous day, before his colleagues' eyes. There was no chance they would make up the whole story. Pergola had written a very detailed report. And they really had no interest in fabricating stories. On the contrary, Harry was sure that they wanted the truth to come to light. And the people responsible for this to be brought to justice.

So Harry was almost convinced. But he did feel he had to double-check. Just in case.

Before leaving Grenlund, Harry had attended some classes on technological crime. In three sessions, they had covered all the high-tech techniques that were being used at the time to commit all sorts of crimes. Most of them were for financial crimes. Stealing identities. Getting into bank accounts. But some were being increasingly used to hurt or wound people remotely. This was something new, and in most cases these attempts were successful. But, as of today, none of them had led to anybody killing themselves.

Krug ran this course every year.

Professor Sebastian Krug was the last descendant of a German family that had moved to the Martian Republic in the early twenty-second century. They had established their home in Grenlund and never moved since. Krug, now in his seventies, was a Martian human born and bred. He had never felt the desire to leave Grenlund, let alone Mars. He had never been to Earth. He was fully dedicated to make the Martian Republic an independent and strong nation. He perceived it as one of humankind's very few chances to start anew. He had worked hard all his life. He had never got into politics. He just felt that his duty was to do his job in the most professional way.

And he had got good at it, becoming the main expert on criminal forensic techniques. Not just on Mars, but also on Earth. And yet, he kept refusing any invitations to receive awards and speak at conferences there.

Harry had met Krug during his last few weeks in Grenlund, just before taking up his new post in Aaltrin. He wished he had met him sooner. The insights that Krug had managed to provide him during that brief course were staggering. Upon completing the course, Harry had been sure he would work with Krug again at some point.

That time had arrived. It had only been a few months since Harry had left Grenlund. He was sure Krug would remember him. He picked up the phone.

- Krug speaking.

- Professor Krug, how are you?

- Who's talking, please?

Harry could already feel from his voice that Krug was getting annoyed. He had always had a short temper.

- It's Harry Strickned, Professor Krug. I attended your course a few months ago, just before moving to Aaltrin.

- Ah, yes, Strickned. Of course. I remember, I remember well. What do you need? Are you already in trouble?

Krug had never been one for pleasantries. Harry could see where Tondelli had learnt his trade. And his demeanour. Tondelli had worked for a few years with Krug at the start of his career.

- Kind of, Professor. I have a question for you. Something I need to check.

- Ok, Strickned, shoot. I have five minutes before I go for lunch. You should know that I like to have lunch every day at the same time.

- I know, Professor. I remember well. I promise this won't take too long.

- Go on then. I'm all ears. For five minutes.

- Thanks, Professor. Here it is: Tondelli is dead.

Harry didn't hear a word for about five seconds.

- What? - Krug said, hoarsely - what happened?

- He killed himself - Harry said, waiting for a reaction.

None came for a while.

- I'm sorry, Strickned. Was he depressed?

- No, Professor Krug, we don't think so. He killed himself after listening to an audio file he was analysing. And a colleague of his was about to do the same too if we hadn't stopped him in time.

- It's RWP then, - Krug said.

- I beg your pardon?

- RWP, Rapid Wave Persuasion, Strickned.

- You have heard of this before? - Harry asked.

Somehow he wasn't surprised.

- Only in theory, Strickned. It's a new concept that appeared in the literature about three or four years ago. There were quite a few papers on this for a while, but then it kind of died down. It was an interesting concept and I always thought that it would be technically possible. But I wouldn't think someone could actually put it in place. It's most remarkable.

- I kind of wish they hadn't managed to do that. Tondelli would still be here. So I wouldn't use the word remarkable to describe this.

- But it is remarkable, - Krug insisted. - Putting together that file would have been challenging. Not so much from a theoretical point of view. We know how to do it. But challenging from a computational point of view. The encoding of such a file would need extensive computational power. The organisations holding the computation power to do that at this stage are very few.

Krug paused for a few second.

- It's a powerful weapon, Strickned. You need to find out who put this thing together. And why they did it of course. Nothing good can come of this.

Harry thought for a few seconds.

- Who could have done this? And why?

Now he had to find out.

- So it'd seem. Thanks for your help, Professor Krug.

- Anytime, Strickned. Now, if you excuse me, it's just about time for my lunch.

Interlude VII

- This is hopeless, Jaq, - Zoë suddenly said.

They were having dinner. Like every night. Synthetic meat again. It didn't taste good, even Jaq had to admit that. But it was cheap. The last time he had gone to Earth, some of players of an Earth team they had just played against - and lost to, of course - had tempted him with a steak. He had been about to eat it. But not having ever tried real meat in his life, he hadn't wanted to risk it at the time.

There were a few vegetables too, tonight. A rare occasion. They were normally too expensive for them, as they had to be grown in energy-intensive greenhouses. But Jaq had decided to make an exception for Zoë. He didn't know whether she missed Earth food. And possibly these vegetables, that only remotely resembled their ancestors on Earth in taste and texture, didn't do anything to make her feel any less homesick.

They hadn't spoken much during the last few days. He hated to see her like that. He had tried to do everything he could to make her happy. But he knew that the only thing she wanted, he couldn't give to her.

- What is, Zoë?

- You know what I'm talking about. We can't have a baby. We've tried everything.

- Well, we've tried a few things. Our options are not over yet. And we're still waiting for the results of the last test.

- It's easy for you to talk. You're not the one taking all these hormones. I feel sick. Sick physically and emotionally. It's very expensive, and it's just not working.

Jaq knew he shouldn’t say anything at that point. He should let it pass. Things are never permanent, he was fond of saying. But he just couldn't help it.

- What is it that's not working, Zoë? - he asked. - Us trying to have a baby or our relationship more in general?

- Why are you asking this? Do you have doubts?

- I'm not sure now. I don't think I do. Do you? You don't seem to be happy.

- Well, you know what, Jaq? If you really want to know the truth, no, I'm not happy. Life hasn't been that easy for me, in case you haven't noticed.

- Now you're being unfair. I was there too, you know?

- Sure, you were. I’ll give you that. But I don't think you understand. This is your planet. You grew up here. You didn't have to get used to anything. Like this shit we're eating every night.

She threw her cutlery onto the plate. Jaq waited for the noise to disappear.

- Zoë, you know that we cannot afford anything else on just my salary. Food on Mars is very expensive. All vegetables must be grown in greenhouses, and we've never managed to make earth animals live on Mars. If you also worked, maybe we could afford something better. Something imported, you know?

- You want to make me feel bad about this? Do you think I haven't tried to get a job here? I've tried everything. But, as you know full well, no one here wants an Earthling. Too different. Too weird. I'm a journalist, Jaq, with lots of experience you know? Would you like me to go and clean toilets? I don’t want to get just any job. I want a good one, based on what I've shown I can do. Problem is, they're not going to give me one. The last one I applied to, they told me that my CV was impressive, but that their main concern was that I wouldn't know some key Mars-specific expressions, that readers care so much about.

- Well, they have a point. If you had moved to another country on Earth, at least you would have tried to learn some rudiments of the local language. While Standard English is spoken everywhere, it's no perfect substitute. I don't see why the same shouldn't apply here.

- Don't start, Jaq. Are you siding with everybody else against me?

But Zoë knew that he was right. She should have tried harder, especially at the beginning, before getting bitter about it all.

- I'm not doing that, of course. You shouldn't even wonder. I've supported you all the way, as you know. It's just...

- What?

- Well, I think you've given up. You found it difficult from the start, I give you that. It's understandable. Maybe we underestimated how different Mars and Earth have become over the years. We just didn't know, I guess. And this thing with the genetic drift. Well, I wasn't expecting it.

- It feels like we belong to two difference species.

- Zoë!

- Come on, I know you're thinking the same. Admit it. Haven't you been thinking about this since we had our first doctor appointment?

Jaq had.

Perhaps unconsciously. But, casting his mind back to that day when the doctor had told them they might be genetically incompatible, he knew that he had started to wonder about it since then. He had kept pushing the thought away, but it had come back every now and then.

He wasn't going to give up, though.

- Ok, I admit that I might have thought about that a couple of times. But I refuse to accept this theory. It just can't be right. I'm human. You're human. And we will have a family. End of story.

He looked at Zoë, straight in the eyes. She stopped eating and looked back at him.

- Zoë, tell me, do you want to give up now or are you willing to give this relationship a chance?

Zoë looked down. Jaq noticed a tear on the table surface.

- I don't know, Jaq.

- Zoë, come on.

She looked up.

- I don't want to give up, Jaq. No, I don't. It's hard, though.

- Yes, it is. It's very hard. But we can still hope. Tomorrow we should get the test results back, and then we'll see what we need to do. Maybe it's good news.

- Maybe it is, Jaq. We really need it.

- Listen, for tonight only, let's pretend we know we're going to get good news tomorrow. Just for tonight. We can carve out a little moment of happiness for the two of us. Try to forget the problems.

Zoë wiped away another tear. She smiled at him.

He had managed to make her feel better for now.

He just didn't know whether he would be able to do it again.

Fifty

The days were getting longer on Earth.

It was already 9pm UTC and the sun was still up. Marko walked back to his cottage. He was looking forward to an evening of just sitting there, watching the fjord. Waiting for the sun to go down. Nursing a drink or two.

After the events in Barcelona, he had decided he deserved a holiday somewhere. He hadn't felt quite right for a few days after the assault.

Harry Strickned had disappeared.

He had waited to hear from him for a few days. But after a while, he had started to think that Harry would not get in touch again. Perhaps he had found some other case to grab his attention. Perhaps a case that he could have actually solved.

So Marko had decided to spend a few days in Northern Iceland. He had rented a cottage outside Akureyri, on the way to Dalvík. He was spending his days either doing nothing in the cottage or walking around the fjord. Occasionally, he did take a trip to Hrísey, a small island in the middle of the fjord. But, generally, he hadn't felt like doing much. The cottage had a hot tub out on the porch. Natural hot water. And Marko had often taken long baths, a six-pack of beers by the side.

He had used this time to think about what he wanted to do next. He had enjoyed helping out the police. He felt that was something he could live with for a while. He thought that maybe he could join a police force somewhere.

Somewhere on Earth.

His mind was wandering.

Martina, her son, the measles. And then Innsbruck, Barcelona, the Recasent Centre. It was still all in the back of his mind.

But it was all fading away.

Mars was fading away.

Marko glanced at his device. It had been very quiet recently. No one wanted to get in touch with him. The years with the marshals, the long trips, had managed to uproot him well. He was going to settle somewhere. And build his life up from scratch.

This time he would start something and achieve it. He promised that to himself.

He glanced at his device again: a message from Harry Strickned was waiting for him.

What Harry said surprised him. Marko replied straight away.

***********

From: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

To: Harry.Strickned@apd.gov.mars

Subject: RE: Tondelli

Hey Harry

Good to hear from you, and sorry for the delay. But frankly this is not the kind of news I was hoping to get. What you describe is almost unbelievable. I didn't know it was possible, and I'm still skeptical to be honest. But if you tell me you believe it, then I'm going to do the same.

I'm sorry for your colleague. It is a tragedy. But, apart from that, I agree that it looks like there is also something bigger that is going on. And it's scary. I don't think we're just talking about isolated plans here. There is a plan. Someone has a plan. And that someone has a lot of power.

I'm happy to help, if you need me. Do let me know what I can do. I'm now in Northern Iceland, on a short break. But happy to go back to Barcelona. Or anywhere else. Just let me know.

Best,

Marko

***********

Marko still couldn't believe that what Harry had written was true.

He knew that he would get a response soon. Earth and Mars were getting closer to each other. In a few weeks they would be the closest they had been in the last one-hundred and fifty years. The connection between the two nets was now working on an almost real-time basis. And it was getting better by the day. Of course, it would get worse again. Much worse. But he didn't want to think about that now.

A few days later, Marko got his reply.

***********

From: Harry.Strickned@apd.gov.mars

To: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

Subject: RE: Tondelli

Marko,

Thanks for getting back to me. And thank you for offering your help. Yes, we need to push on with this. After what happened, the APD is keen to find out why one of our colleagues died in such a horrific way. But we're struggling for resources. Also, we want to keep this under wraps as much as possible.

You already know what has happened so far. I think it would be great if you could pick up from where you left off. Something triggered your assault. You spoke with McClure at the Recasent Centre and someone didn't like that. Maybe McClure himself.

I think we should try to find out more about him. We have no proof, but what he told you makes him quite interesting.

Let me know what you think as soon as possible.

Harry

***********

From: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

To: Harry.Strickned@apd.gov.mars

Subject: RE: Tondelli

Harry,

I do agree with you. McClure sounded suspicious. We need to find out more. I'm happy to go back to Barcelona as soon as you need me too. I might be able to find out more.

Best,

Marko

***********

From: Harry.Strickned@apd.gov.mars

To: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

Subject: RE: Tondelli

Marko,

I think we need to find out more about his background. And to do that, I don't think Barcelona is the right place. McClure comes from Scotland. He did research on similar topics for a long time over there. That's probably why he got the job at the Recasent Centre.

If it's ok with you, you should try to go there. To Edinburgh. Track down some of his ex hospital colleagues. People that were working with him on his experiment. If we're lucky, we might find the type of information that we'd need.

Are you ok with this?

Harry

***********

From: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

To: Harry.Strickned@apd.gov.mars

Subject: RE: Tondelli

Harry,

I'm leaving now. I'll report back from Edinburgh in a few days.

Marko

Fifty-one

Marko had been to Edinburgh a few times.

The last time had been just before graduating, on a party weekend with some friends. It was the middle of the northern hemisphere winter. Marko remembered that he had questioned the choice at the time. Why go to such a cold place, especially given that they would have had to queue outside a few bars. But the rest of the group had pushed him. He hadn't wanted to disrupt their plans so he had given in. It had been one of the best weekends of his life.

Edinburgh had not changed much.

As the train was approaching Waverley station, he glanced at the castle, its silhouette, dark against the grey sky. They had managed to preserve it almost until the end of the twenty-third century.

He had never seen Edinburgh in the sunshine. Probably he had just been unlucky. But, in any case, the vibrancy of the city offset the gloomy weather. Marko thought that even if he would need to work during the day, he could certainly enjoy the night life. Lots of different people came to Edinburgh: the most diverse city in Northern Europe.

Since London's demise at the end of the twenty-first century, its spot had been taken by the Scottish capital. Scotland had become independent in the 2180s and, despite the economic crisis, a combination of enlightened economic and social policies had made it a more welcoming place than the rest of what used to be the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Inequality in England had grown significantly during the second part of the twenty-first century, and for the whole of the following one. The many, ever poorer, worked for the few very rich. But Scotland wasn't like this. It had become a more just society, more equal. It had attracted businesses and institutions. No wonder many people had wanted to spend some time of their life there. Many of them had decided to stay.

Marko had thought about doing the very same. His passion for travelling and for seeing new things had pushed him to other parts of the Earth and, during the last part of his career, to the ships that ferried people to Mars and back. But now, as the train was pulling up into the station, he was beginning to think that it may be the right time to settle. Edinburgh looked like a good place.

He was thinking this as the train was snaking into the station. The trip from Iceland had taken just over three hours, with brief stops in Reykjavík and at the North-Atlantic Interchange, where people could change to the services to North America. Not that many people travelled there anymore, given the political situation. Reykjavík had looked grim, but as soon as the train had reached Northern Scotland, Marko had started to relax. The weather also seemed a bit milder than what he had left behind in Iceland. He was looking forward to that.

He started gathering his stuff. In three hours on the train, he had managed to scatter most of his belongings on the nearby seats. Another advantage of travelling by train over flying. The seats were comfortable. And the train had been almost empty for most of the trip. He hadn't minded that. He wanted to relax.

He had even managed to sleep a little. Now he was fully awake, though. He couldn't wait to step off the train and start walking up one of the steep streets that would take him to his hotel. He had found a room in a nice place near the Royal Mile. The place where he had stayed the last time he was there. Quite central, yet quiet. A few hundred of metres away from the bustle of the main street.

And away from the bagpipes. The only Scottish thing he didn't quite like. Listening to bagpipes for just a few seconds was enough to make him nervous and irritable. Maybe he should not move to Edinburgh after all.

The train came to a stop and the doors slid open. He stepped out and breathed deeply. There was something in the air here that relaxed him. He knew he would sleep well that night. Somehow, and for a short while, all the thoughts about the case moved to the back of his mind. He started making his way up a steep road. He knew his way, nothing had really changed.

As he was walking, he started thinking again about the case. Something big was going on. The measles. And all those deaths. Now it seemed clear that they were more than just coincidences.

It was more than that for sure.

Someone was against Mars. Someone thought that humankind's place was on Earth, and Earth alone. These thoughts strengthened his resolve to do more. To help Harry Strickned crack this. He quickened his pace.

Soon, he got to his hotel. Just as he remembered it. Three floors only. A small family-run business. He had not been there in fifteen years. But the place looked the same. He checked into his room and unpacked his stuff. He started planning what to do the following day. He had no idea of where he could start. Perhaps he could make a start from the university. From the School of Biological Sciences.

He thought that someone was bound to remember McClure there.

He pulled out his device and started looking up the place. It was in the King's Buildings campus, a short bus ride from where he was. Edinburgh had grown since he had first visited. He remembered the King's Building campus being at the southern edge of town. Now it was almost central Edinburgh.

He went out for dinner, planning to go out afterwards. But after having two drinks with his food, he felt sleepy. He decided to wander back to his hotel. Despite the dark clouds he could not avoid seeing, he knew that he would sleep well.

If only for that night.

Fifty-two

Marko left the hotel quite early. The night before he had connected his device to the hotel system and chose to get a cooked breakfast in his room at 5.30am. Scotland had long shifted to the same time as other European countries, while England and Wales were still an hour behind. This made things a bit easier for Marko, who had travelled from Iceland the day before.

Still, it was way too early. Waking up hadn't been a real problem. He used to be a deep sleeper, but now he could not stop thinking about the case. He hadn't slept as well as he had hoped. And some people coming back to the hotel, drunk from a night out, had woken him up a few hours earlier.

The breakfast arrived on time. The usual Scottish fare of eggs, bacon, beans, sliced sausage, black pudding and tattie scones. He loved all that. He wanted to eat plenty because he knew it would be a full day. He ate quickly and washed everything down first with a glass of orange juice. Synthetic orange juice, as oranges were long extinct, after the plague that had hit all crops worldwide in 2217. Only the eldest remembered what real orange juice tasted like. The flavour had probably drifted over time, to please evolving tastes. Then he had a cup of milky tea. Soon he was ready to get a move on.

Before leaving the hotel, he connected his device to the in-room screen and started doing some research. The interplanetary net was more powerful these days, as Mars and Earth were close enough for information from both planets to be readily accessible in almost real time. As a result, the cache was getting updated more often. Shame it would only be temporary.

Marko didn't have to search for too long. Information on McClure was plentiful. He had published several papers, and the university still maintained his page with all his publications.

McClure had written most of his latter papers while still at the university, before moving to the Recasent Centre, with two assistants: Nathan Trainor and Jayden Moran. They were both still at the School of Biological Sciences. Trainor was a tenured professor, it seemed. Moran was a lecturer. On their personal pages, they also showed the papers they had co-authored with McClure. And it looked like they had kept on working together since McClure had left the university. Several publications. All around the subject of genetic differentiation of segregated human communities. Marko downloaded a couple of them and started reading. They all seemed objective and fact-based. They were descriptive, not indicating their preferences for any particular outcome. Marko found one of them particularly interesting. It was discussing the hypothetical case of multi-generation space travel, whereby a human community would have travelled for several generations to reach a distant star system. This paper, mainly theoretical and speculative, argued that after a three-hundred year-long journey, the surviving human community would have probably carried significant genetic differences compared with the original human race, to the point that these "new" humans would not have been able to mate with "original" humans. In case of conception, the resulting foetuses would have simply had too many genetic defects to thrive. The paper had been peer reviewed and published in an authoritative journal. Or at least it seemed authoritative to Marko, who knew nothing about biology.

Marko decided to pay the two academics a visit. It was now past 8am, and he hoped that he would find them already in the office. Assuming they were not away at some conference somewhere else. He set off, towards the university campus.

He got to the campus after a short bus ride and a ten-minute walk. The campus was quite large. Marko pulled up an information layer on his field of vision. His device, albeit not very new, could interface with his glasses. No implants for him. He just couldn't afford them. The augmented reality overlay provided him with directions around the campus. He instructed his device to look for the School of Biological Sciences and soon enough he started being directed to his destination. It was only five minutes before he got to the main entrance.

The automated reception asked him to speak or key in the names of the people he was looking for. He tried pronouncing them, but his accent turned out to be a mystery for the system. He typed in the names. Luckily it looked like they were both already on site. Marko asked to be announced. Shortly thereafter he was put through to Nathan Trainor's extension.

- Can I help you?

He had a plummy voice. He sounded annoyed but also somewhat curious.

- Professor Trainor, you don't know me. My name is Marko Slavik. I'm doing some research on Professor Malcolm McClure and...

- I'm not interested, - Trainor interrupted him. - Please go away.

- Professor Trainor, I would like to explain.

- I have no time, I'm sorry

- This is important, Professor. I'm working for the Aaltrin Police Department, on Mars.

Trainor sighed.

- What has he done, this time?

Trainor sounded exasperated. A brief pause, then he continued.

- I knew something would happen at some point.

- We are not quite sure, Professor. But I was hoping to find out more about him from you.

No sound came through for about a minute or so. Marko was beginning to wonder whether Trainor had finally decided that, after all, he didn't really want to speak with him. Marko didn't quite know what to do. He attempted to speak to him again.

- Professor Trainor...

- I'm here, Mr... what did you say your name was?

- I'm Marko Slavik.

- Ok, Mr. Slavik. I think I can spare a few minutes of my day to talk about the bastard. Given that it's morning and I still have to drink my coffee, perhaps I could invite you upstairs to have it with me.

- Oh, thank you so much Professor. Would Dr. Moran be there as well?

- Jayden? Yes, I thought you'd like to speak to her too. She's here. I'll call her over so that we can have a chat together. But make it short. We have plenty to do, and the less time I waste speaking about McClure, the better my day will be.

- Of course, Professor. Thank you. I'll be right upstairs.

The automatic gate opened and provided Marko with directions to Trainor's office, on the eight floor. He started making his way up, hoping that this would be the first step towards cracking this case.

Fifty-three

The coffee wasn't good. Week and watery. Not too different from a very dark tea, in fact.

- This is what we get from the university - Trainor said, after he had noticed Marko's expression. - You'd think coffee on Earth would never get to be as bad as coffee on Mars, but you would be wrong. The university cuts its budget where it can. And it can actually get away with it. People complained for a while. But you get used to everything. Sometimes when I'm travelling, I even miss this shit.

- That's dedication.

Marko added a bit more milk to his cup. It did little to mask the taste, but at least it helped reduce the proportion of coffee in the cup.

Jayden Moran entered Trainor's office and sat on the spare chair. Apart from greeting Marko, politely yet coolly, she didn't say much. She seemed slightly annoyed for having been dragged away from her office.

- Well, we do spend a lot of time here, - Trainor said. - It's almost like a second home. If not a first home, in fact. I don't get to spend a lot of time in my actual home, to be honest.

- Same here, Mr. Slavik - Moran said. - And that's because we have lots to do. So I'd be grateful if we could keep this short.

- What a pain, - Marko thought.

Since the beginning of the conversation he hadn't really felt welcome. They didn't seem keen to talk about McClure. It just looked like they were doing him a favour. And they were making him pay for it.

- I do appreciate that, Doctor - Marko said. - I'll try to be brief and steal as little of your time as possible. But I do think your contribution would be very important to help us with this case.

- Ok, go on then, - Moran pushed him.

Marko told them the entire story. There was no reason for holding that back now. The children dying of measles. Their single mothers killing themselves. The voicemail message that they had found on Noelia Kay's phone, by chance. The same message that had killed Tondelli. Marko also told them of his conversation with McClure and his subsequent assault.

- And you think McClure is behind all of this? - Moran said.

She disguised a snigger. Badly.

- We do not really have any firm view at the moment, - Marko said. - Just suspicions. I think quite a few elements point at McClure. He's the head of the Recasent Centre and the kids that died had all been in contact with the Centre, in one way or another. We think there may be something big going on. Especially since we've seen what those pre-recorded messages can do. I think all the mothers that killed themselves were exposed to them.

- And you think McClure masterminded all of this? - Trainor asked.

- As I said, we're just asking around, - Marko said. - But quite a few things point in that direction.

- You're wrong, - Moran said. - McClure did have some strange ideas. Especially towards the end of his time here. He was a brilliant academic. And the worst manager I've ever come across. He wouldn't be able to mastermind an academic seminar, let alone a plan to infect the whole martian population with measles.

- Yet he was appointed director of the Recasent Centre. - Marko said.

- Yeah, we were a bit surprised about that when we heard it. I think they were interested in his ideas, more than anything. They were a bit wonky, a bit out there. But perhaps they thought that, using the techniques he had pioneered, they could make a breakthrough.

- What do you mean?

- Well, as you know the Earth Association, which operates the Recasent Centre, works to keep the connections between Earth and Mars alive and strong.

- Indeed, - Marko said. - And I think we should support them.

Trainor sighed and looked at Marko with a hint of arrogance.

- Anyway, if you had read some of McClure's later papers, you would know about his theory of genetic drift: that two populations, kept separate for a certain period of time, would start evolving in different directions until they become different species.

- Yes, I'm familiar with this. If I'm not mistaken, you've also used this theory for your work.

- We did. And we do. We developed it together with McClure, although he never really acknowledged our contribution. In any case, the theory seems plausible. But we're talking about changes taking place over thousands of years. Not within the space of a couple of generations. That's where we disagreed.

- What do you mean? - Marko asked.

- Well, McClure was convinced that these changes, under the right conditions, could occur at a much faster pace. In fact, he thought that they should occur faster and that, if they didn't, they should have been forced.

- Why would he want to do that?

- McClure thinks that colonising Mars was an aberration. That humankind should have focused on more pressing issues on Earth. That the stars are better left alone. He's not alone in thinking this, by the way.

- And why would the Earth Association want to consort with him? - Marko asked. - He seems to stand for the complete opposite to what they are about.

- Yep. As I said, I think they were interested in McClure techniques, not his ideas.

- What techniques?

- McClure wanted to develop a technique to force genetic drift. To make it faster. But he had not got there yet. He had achieved something else though. An intermediate step: he had developed a technique to measure the extent of genetic drift. I'm sure the Earth Association was interested in that.

- I can imagine they were. I need to find out more about these techniques, though.

- We wouldn't be able to help, Mr Slavik - Moran said. - During the last couple of years here McClure had become a bit of a recluse. He had shut us out of his research completely, even if we had contributed to it deeply. So, when he went to Barcelona, his technique went away with him.

- Not exactly - Trainor said, interrupting Moran.

- What do you mean? - Moran asked, surprised.

- You forget William Donahue.

- Ah yes, you're right, he must know something about that.

That might have been Marko's next step.

- Who is he? - he asked.

- He is or, rather, was McClure's lab assistant. He worked with him until McClure went to Barcelona. Then he retired. It was about time.

- Where can I find him? I think I'd better speak to him. - Marko said.

- I would agree, - Trainor said, - but I'm afraid I don't have a clue where he may be. Once he retired, he just never showed up here at the department again. But he shouldn't be too hard to find. You can do your research.

- Yes, indeed you can do your research, Mr. Slavik, - Moran said. - And, if you don't mind, we need to get back to doing ours. Good luck with your search, I hope you can save the world. I mean, the worlds. Or whatever.

And with that, she left the office. Trainor also looked like he wanted to be left alone. Marko made his way out quickly. He knew he had overstayed his welcome.

Fifty-four

Marko wasn't quite sure where to go next. But he knew he had to find Donahue. He just didn't know where to start. Where could he find a retired university lab assistant?

Donahue had worked at the university for fifty-one years. He had retired at eighty-three.

- Still relatively young. - Marko thought.

With a little bit of luck he would have a good thirty years ahead of him to enjoy his retirement, before becoming too old and needing care, at first, and a life termination procedure later on.

Life expectancy had increased significantly during the second-half of the twenty-second century. Advances in cancer treatment had contributed to pushing life expectancy way past one hundred years. Cellular preservation therapies had managed to do the rest, keeping people youthful and energetic until then. But, after achieving these results, progress had somewhat stopped. Now, in the late years of the twenty-third century, a newborn child could expect to live easily to one-hundred and twenty. The same as a child born forty years before. Life expectancy was much lower on Mars though. Poorer nutrition, having to spend most of their life indoors, together with the effect of martian gravity on bone density meant that Martian Republic citizens had an average life expectancy close to that on Earth in the early twenty-first century.

- Fifty-one years working in the same place is a long time, - Marko thought. - Habits formed over such a long period of time are hard to break. I bet he still comes around the university from time to time.

It was already mid-morning. Marko decided to take a short break to plan the day ahead. He followed the instructions on the overlay visor to the campus cafeteria. He was keen to have a proper coffee, mostly to banish the memory of the previous one. Maybe the university would give better coffee to paying customers.

Once Marko got there, he went straight to the counter and ordered a black coffee. He paid and took a quick sip. It was passable. And miles better than the previous one.

He started looking around for a seat. The place was actually empty. Then, just before he was about to go to sit down he had an idea.

- Excuse me, - he asked the girl behind the counter - by any chance would you know a William Donahue? He used to work at the university for a long time. He retired only last year.

- Wills? - the girl asked. - I'm not sure whether this is the same person you're looking for. But a William Donahue comes here every other day. He spends a couple of hours sitting by the window. He reads a lot, a few newspapers I'd guess. Every now and then someone goes up to him to chat for a while. I think he used to work somewhere around here. He must feel pretty lonely to decide to spend so much time in this place. It's pretty dreary.

- I see what you mean, - Marko said, looking around.

He wasn't going to pretend otherwise.

- The person you described sounds like the guy I'm looking for. Do you know when I could find him?

- You can find him right now, - the girl said. - He's there by the window. He hasn't moved all morning. I'll bet he'll have lunch here and then he'll go. There's no one around anyway.

Marko thanked her, but she probably didn't hear him as by then he was already half-way down the hall, walking towards "Wills".

- Dr. Donahue? - Marko asked, once he was near the man.

- Mr. Donahue, - the man replied - I've never managed to finish that bloody PhD. Even though I could teach a thing or two to some of the doctors over there. Just biology, of course. But one has seen many things in fifty years.

- I don't doubt that for a second. Do you think I can steal some of your time? I have a few questions for you.

- The only thing I really have is time. After dedicating all of my life to this university, now I just get to spend all my time in the cafeteria. And I don't even get the coffee for free. Not that I miss that. Well, damn it, actually I do miss it a lot. Anyway, what can I do for you? You haven't told me your name.

- My name is Marko Slavik and I'm helping the Aaltrin Police Department with a case.

- The martians, uh? - Donahue interrupted Marko. - What the hell do they want here on Earth? I thought they were happy on their little red world. I'd certainly be happy if they worried about staying there instead of looking at things over here.

Marko thought he was exactly the kind of guy he was expecting to meet.

- Mr. Donahue, - Marko said - if I could only ask you a couple of questions...

- Sure, fire away, - Donahue said. - Anything to break the monotony. But keep it short. Helping martians is not something I usually do.

Marko sat down and told him the whole story, including his recent discussion with Trainor and Moran.

- Those two! - Donahue said. - Who do they think they are? They owe everything to McClure. They were going to steal his research. He was right to ditch them. They would have stopped his work in its tracks.

- You are referring to the technique to measure genetic drift, aren't you? - Marko asked.

- Yes, that. And the rest, of course.

- What do you mean, the rest? - Marko asked. - Trainor and Moran only told me about that. They told me that McClure was interested in finding ways to accelerate genetic drift. And although that is exactly the opposite of what the Earth Association would want to do, they've hired him anyway because they were interested in this technique.

- That's bollocks. - Donahue said. - McClure and I had gone further than that. We had found a way to force genetic drift. We had made different species out of a bunch of identical lab mice. It had only taken four months. They had become completely different. They couldn't breed with each other. Completely different. Of course, there was no guarantee that it would work on humans.

- And you were going to try that next? - Marko asked.

He had to ask, of course. But he couldn't believe that they would do that.

- We tried. But the department didn't even want to listen to us. They told us we were crazy and that we should drop all research immediately. So we had no way to know whether it would work on people.

- So, you and McClure were in a situation of stall. And then off he goes to the Recasent Centre.

- Yes, funny that. I would have never expected him to go to work for those people. They stand against everything he believed in. We believed in. But I guess he was worried about losing his job. And so, after working together for twenty-five years, he just drops me from one day to the next. That bastard. And of course the department didn't miss the chance. I was reaching retirement age anyway, so they gently pushed me towards it. And now, after more than fifty years of giving all of myself to them, all I can do is spend a few hours every week in this gloomy place. That's gratitude for you.

- Thanks Mr. Donahue. You've been very helpful.

- Yes, I guess.

He turned his ahead and started staring out of the window. At nothing.

- Now go. I don't want to talk anymore.

- Goodbye Mr. Donahue.

William Donahue didn't reply. Marko rose and made his way to the door. He knew what to do now. He had to go back to Barcelona. But first he had to speak with Strickned.

Mars and Earth were still near enough.

Fifty-five

Marko hurried back to his hotel.

He had to send a message to Harry as soon as possible. They had to decide what to do. All evidence now pointed towards McClure. Marko felt that they absolutely needed to do something pretty soon. Getting McClure before he had a chance to get away. And before other women, and their children, died. Or worse.

Marko wrote a long email to Harry describing his conversation with the two academics and, in particularly with Donahue. He suggested he'd get back to Barcelona as soon as possible. He wanted to confront McClure and perhaps even arrest him. But for that he needed the APD's support. He would then ask the local police force to act on their behalf. A potentially long process, and they didn't have too much time to lose.

A couple of hours later, Harry replied.

From: Harry.Strickned@nrpd.gov.mars

To: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

Subject: RE: McClure

Hi Marko

I can see that your trip to Edinburgh was fruitful. I've been busy with various things, but I was beginning to wonder when you'd be in touch. You can't believe how many other issues I had to deal with in the last few days. Nothing major, all small cases, relatively easy ones. But it almost seems like someone is trying to divert my attention away. Anyway, I know we need to do something for this case. And your email has brought my attention back to it.

I'm not that sure you should be speaking with McClure again. I think that may make him too suspicious. What if he decided to run away after speaking to you? You have no power of arrest, and neither do I. Perhaps I should just get in touch with the local police and ask them to question him. It may take a while. Anyway, I'll speak to John McVine. I'll let you know what he says. Stay put, for the time being.

Best,

Harry

**********************

From: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

To: Harry.Strickned@nrpd.gov.mars

Subject: RE: McClure

Harry,

Thanks for replying so quickly. I'm glad we can speak almost in real-time these days. This also gives me the opportunity to reply quickly to you. To tell you that I disagree with your approach. We must press on. Now. I think Donahue may try to get in touch with McClure at some point. He told me that they're not in touch any more, but he may still try. If McClure speaks with him, I'm sure he'll start manoeuvring to avoid us. Covering his tracks. We need to move as soon as possible. I'm happy to catch a train back to Barcelona this very afternoon. I could go and speak to him tomorrow, unannounced. But you must tell the local police, and I would need backup.

I do hope you change your mind Harry. Let me know as soon as possible if I've managed to do that.

Marko

***********

From: Harry.Strickned@nrpd.gov.mars

To: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

Subject: RE: McClure

Marko

This morning I met with John McVine. We had agreed that the best strategy was to take it easy, not to do anything rash. After all, asking the local police to intervene on our behalf would take days, if not weeks. Martian Republic forces have long stopped being members of the International Police Confederation. There just is no need for it. And so, John and I both thought that they'd be wary of any request coming from the APD.

Having said that, things have changed now. A few minutes after I had finished my meeting with John, we got the news of another suicide. This time in Kitron. Another single mother. She killed herself at home, by drinking bleach. Her son had died just a few days earlier. Needless to say: measles. Fingers crossed the infection doesn't seem to have spread out of the hospital.

So, the instructions have now changed. If you still can, go back to Barcelona. Straight away. And tomorrow try to get hold of McClure. Speak to him and tell him that we know. Ask him to come with you to the police station. In the meantime I'll do my best to convince the local police to give you the support we need.

I'll be back in touch with details. I'll try to move quickly, so that you get my message before you speak to McClure. If you don't hear from me before then, just go ahead. But remember that whatever you do, you won't have police support.

Good luck with this. I hope to get good news from you soon.

Best

Harry

************

Marko breathed a sigh of relief. At last, they could get a move on.

He felt a tinge of sadness, thinking that another child and another woman had to die for this to happen. But finally they could go ahead. They could try to put an end to this. Hopefully these would be the last two victims.

Marko checked the train times on his device. There was one leaving in 45 minutes from Waverley station. He could still make it.

He booked his ticket and checked out of the hotel, while packing his stuff as quickly as he could. He stuffed his bag and made his way out of the hotel. It was only a short walk, and he knew the way by heart.

Soon he was at the station. The train was already waiting. He located his carriage and jumped on board. It was empty. Midweek. It would be another quiet journey. A bit slower than the one on the way here, with a few extra stops in France.

But he should still make it in time. He would get to Barcelona quite late, but with time to spare to get a room somewhere and then go to see McClure first thing in the morning. He hoped that Harry had managed to get the support of the local police.

They had to move quickly.

Fifty-six

Senior Detective Albert Montell was tired.

It had been a long hot day. Despite being from Barcelona, and having lived there for almost sixty years, he still hated summer. Those hot sticky days, when not even the sea breeze would yield a moment of relief. On days like those, Albert always tried to spend as much time indoors as possible. He loved air conditioning. But despite all his scheming, he still had to walk outside every now and then.

On that day, he had had to attend a crime scene at the Boqueria market. He had spoken with various stall holders; listened to the reports from his investigators. The whole thing had seemed fairly straightforward. Gang crime. The victim had been stabbed in the back in an alleyway near the market. He had died straight away. And the murderer had made his way out of the market without problems. No money stolen.

- Certainly straightforward, - Albert thought, - but that still leaves me with tons of paperwork to fill out. And then I should carry out some sort of investigation. I know what happened, but the public still expect the police to do something. There's really nothing we can do with gangs. And I still have to go out and talk to people. And pretend we're working hard on the case.

Albert was 59. He still had a good thirty years of service before retirement.

He started dreaming of winter.

His phone rang.

Pep Riera: his boss. He picked up the phone wearily. Last call of the day, he hoped. He was ready to go home.

- Hello, Pep. I was on my way out.

- Hello Albert. A little early to go home, don't you think? You could surely fit in a little more paperwork, while you enjoy our superb air conditioning system.

Everybody knew Albert Montell hated summer. Like every year, he had started complaining at the beginning of May. He would probably carry on whining until early October.

- It's been a long day, Pep. Spent a few hours around the market. You know, in this heat...

- Albert, I know. It must be tough for you. The same stuff, day in day out.

Albert denoted a hint of derision in Pep's words. But he was used to this banter. And he couldn't care less. He decided to take Pep's words at face value.

- Indeed. I'm glad to see you're so understanding. So if you don't mind I'm going to make a move. I guess we can speak tomorrow morning first thing.

- Not so fast, Albert. There's something I want you to take care of. Something that I'm sure will give your day a bit of excitement.

Albert started fearing the worst. He knew Pep. Waiting until the end of the day to delegate work. It never turned out to be something quick. Already, he could see himself staying in the office until late. With the excuse that he had no family and no one to get home to, that he was 'flexible' - Pep's words, - he tended to get all these late-in-the-day tasks. Albert braced himself.

- Albert, we've been contacted by the Aaltrin Police Department.

- What? From Mars? What do they want?

- I know it's a bit unusual. These days they tend to keep to themselves. Not much business going on on Earth they would be interested in. And the same applies to us. I don't remember any terrestrial police force having any business over there.

- Yep, that's how it is, - Albert said. - It used to be different, a long time ago. And also when I started.

- Yes, that was a long time ago, indeed. - Pep said.

Pep was several years younger than Albert. He had shot through the ranks at incredible speed. Albert had no clue how he'd done it.

Pep continued.

- Anyway, this guy from Mars has contacted me. He's called Harry Strickned. Apparently, they're looking into a series of deaths that all appear to be related. Suicides mostly.

- I see, and what can we do for them? I mean, maybe people are killing themselves because they're fed up with being on Mars. Living there must suck.

- Albert, as you've never been, you should avoid talking about something you don't know. They think these are not occasional suicides. They believe that they are all related. And they believe the cause of all of it is on Earth. In Barcelona to be precise.

- Here? And what could it be?

- Well, they believe the cause is to be found within the Recasent Centre.

- What would that be?

- Albert, sometimes I wonder how long you've been living here. The Recasent Centre has been open for a few years already. It operates on behalf of the Earth Association. I believe they do medical research there. On what precisely, god knows. But I reckon it is a fairly high profile place.

- Typical of Pep, - Albert thought. - If something is high profile, he's there first.

- And what are they looking for in there? - He asked.

- They're after the Centre's director. Malcolm McClure. They want to arrest him.

- Really? But this is our jurisdiction. They can't go arresting people here and there. They should stick to their nice little red planet.

- That's why they got in touch with us. They want our support. They would like us to take McClure in for questioning. They have a person on the ground here, but he's not a policeman. And he certainly doesn't have any power of arrest. I got a message from them saying that they want to arrest McClure as a precaution. They fear that he may hear they're after him. And that he may make a move. That's why they need our support, apparently.

- And what did you tell them?

- I told them we'd be in touch to discuss the details. I appreciate their urgency but first we must satisfy ourselves that we can do this.

- Right.

- And that's where you come in, Albert. - I want you to get in touch with Harry Strickned of the APD. Discuss the details of the matter, and see if we can help.

- How should I get in touch with him?

Pep sighed.

- Do I have to tell you everything? Drop him an email. I'll forward his contact details to you. The whole conversation will probably take a day or so, as the speed of communication with Mars is slowing down again these days. So, just write the first message and then go home. It won't take you very long.

Albert sighed. Yes, it should not have taken him very long, if only he had kept his standard English up to scratch. But he thought he would never need it, working for the local police.

He knew that it would be a long evening.

Fifty-seven

Harry could not understand how McClure had managed to get the job.

- If only it were so easy to get a new job - he thought.

He surprised himself thinking about changing jobs, changing life. He felt his job was taking everything out of him. From early in the morning to late at night. And then it was too late to go out and meet people. Too late to make friends. Too late to live.

The job to which he had dedicated his life had taken it all.

- I must put an end to this, - Harry thought. - I'm just not cut out for this job. Lisa was right. All my colleagues have families to get back to. I don't know how they managed to do that.

He felt his life was passing him by. Day in, day out. He was only thirty-five. But he could already see himself at eighty-five, approaching retirement. Dreading the time where he wouldn't have anything to do. No friends and no family.

Harry tried to shake it off.

- I'm just being melodramatic, - he thought. - Once this case is over I'll give my life an overhaul. I'll try to do more. I just need to get this over with.

At first, deep inside himself, he felt he would never be able to do it. But the resolution, albeit fleeting, comforted him. He pushed himself back to his research.

Harry was looking for more information on Malcolm McClure. He wanted to find out how he had managed to get a job at the Recasent Centre. Straight to the top. Yes, he used to be a tenured professor at Edinburgh University. He had published a lot. Spoken at dozens of conferences. But there were many like him. Many academics with ideas less controversial than his. Everything he stood for seemed to go against the Earth Association's ideals of bringing Earth and Mars together. To prevent people on Earth and Mars from drifting apart. And yet, this guy who seemed quite relaxed about the opposite happening had got the job.

After searching for a few hours, Harry had managed to find out something. It didn't look right.

The Recasent Centre had advertised for the position. The job ad had been out for a few months, and then all of a sudden it had been pulled. Harry had searched the local press and the specialist journals. It wasn't a topic that would naturally draw any attention. Harry had only managed to find a short press release, published in a trade journal, which announced that the Recasent Centre had received very few applications, none of which were deemed to be of an acceptable standard. They had decided to pull the ad to re-consider the situation.

But then, with a second press release, issued after just five weeks, the Recasent Centre had announced that they had appointed Malcolm McClure, tenured professor at the School of Biological Sciences, University of Edinburgh, as their new director. They were welcoming McClure, who, according to the press release, would have started in his new post within a month.

- That was quick. - Harry thought - Too quick. And too weird. Why would the Recasent Centre suddenly abandon their open process and appoint someone out of the blue?

This made the whole matter suspicious. It was as if someone had directly interfered with the Recasent Centre's process. Someone with a lot of power within the Centre itself. Or perhaps within the Earth Association. Harry understood why they might have wanted to do that. Having someone within the organisation to deliver their plans would have been perfect. And the Recasent Centre was the perfect place for that.

He wasn't going anywhere. The search was getting slow. He was trying to access pages in real time, just in case some information had been expunged from the local cache. Because of the distance between Mars and Earth, their respective parts of the net were being stored periodically in a local cache that would give users the illusion of browsing the whole net in real time. This only really worked with static content. Which was regularly shunned by users both on Earth and on Mars. They much preferred the interactivity of their respective local nets.

Harry briefly rested his head on the desk. It was very late. 23.30 UTC. A full red sun was shining through the windows, rising. All of his colleagues had long gone home. Harry looked into the distance, towards nowhere in particular.

He had had enough. Time to go home. Sleep. And come back here. Once more.

But first he had to tell Marko. He had to tell him that he was almost sure their hunch was right. And that he feared that this was only a gate to a much bigger world that they had to get into. Maybe it was the key to understanding what was really going on. Because of that, they had to make sure McClure would not get suspicious that they were after him.

So, he told Marko to go ahead and speak with McClure. As soon as he could. That would be the first step in a long inquiry, Harry knew that.

He didn't feel he had the energy to go on. He felt he was fighting an uphill battle, with no end in sight.

Day in.

Day out.

Another day. Another step. He felt like giving up.

He didn't say that to Marko.

Fifty-eight

- I will do that - Marko thought, shutting down his device.

Harry had asked him to to go to speak with McClure and decide whether he'd need to arrest him or not. Harry had spoken with the local police which had granted support. He was to contact Senior Detective Albert Montell.

He had had enough of watching things on screens. He had spent the entire trip down from Edinburgh trying to read some of McClure's papers. For five hours. But they were too technical for him. He often got lost straight after reading the introduction. Inevitably, whenever that had happened, he had just jumped straight to the conclusions. It had turned out to be enough for him. It was now clear that McClure's ideas, put in the right context, were not just daring and controversial. They were dangerous. And now he had the power to turn them into action.

Once in Barcelona, Marko went back to the same hostel, with plastic sheets on the mattress. He didn't have the time to find another one.

He dropped his stuff down and went out again quickly. He covered the distance to the Recasent Centre on foot in less than five minutes. It was still hot and sticky, but a light breeze coming from the sea brought some relief. Despite that, he was drenched in sweat by the time he got in front of the main entrance. He just didn't care.

He went in.

The same receptionist welcomed him, in the same heavily accented Standard English.

- What can I help you with, sir?

- I need to speak with the director, Dr Malcolm McClure.

- He's very busy. Do you have an appointment, mister...?

- My name is Marko Slavik. I visited the centre last week. I had come to see Dr. McClure that time too. This is a follow-up visit. Can I go upstairs?

- Mr Slavik, yes, your details are on the system. But I'm sorry I can't let you go upstairs without an appointment.

- This is urgent. I wish I had the time to explain, but I can't speak more now. I must see Dr. McClure as soon as possible. Could you check if he's got an opening or something?

- Alright, I'll do that. But you wait here. And if he's not free, you'll have to come back some other time. I can make an appointment for you.

- Thanks, I'll wait.

But Marko didn't have time to wait. He knew the way. As the receptionist started checking McClure's diary, he made his way to the lift. Eighth floor.

The receptionist noticed him.

- Hey, what do you think you're doing?

- This is urgent, I can't wait.

- Come back here, or I'll call security.

- You call them, tell them to join me on the eighth floor. I need to see McClure now. I'll explain it to them then.

Marko pressed the button. The lift's doors closed in front of him.

When he got to the eighth floor, he found McClure waiting for him.

- Mr. Slavik. It's a pleasure to see you again. I can see that you've found the way easily. The receptionist called me a second ago to tell me that someone was insisting to speak with me. He told me to lock myself in the office and wait for security to sort out the situation. Now, they may well be on their way, but as you can see security in this building is not the most efficient.

- And I can see you decided that you were not in danger, - Marko said.

- Well, I have to admit I was curious, more than anything else. It doesn't happen everyday to have someone demanding so insistently to meet me. You will agree that people generally perceive what we do as something stupendously boring. The only lively conversation with a member of the public I've had in quite some time was the one I had with you last time. So, when I saw it was you again, I wanted to meet you properly. Not lock myself in the office. I trust you don't have aggressive intentions.

Marko was about to reply when a door burst open. Five security men piled into the corridor. They hadn't used the lifts. McClure raised a hand to signal that they could calm down: everything was under control.

- You've taken your sweet time. - McClure said. - If this had been an attack, I would be dead by now.

- Sorry, sir, - one of the guys said. He looked like the head of the security team.

- We came as soon as we could. We did follow the necessary procedures. You, however, if I may, sir, were actually supposed to lock yourself in the office. You didn't follow the protocol.

- I decided to use my judgement. Also, I have a direct link with the security camera in the reception area, as well as many other areas in the building. So I saw it was Mr. Slavik. I'm sure he doesn't have any aggressive intention. You may go now.

- Okay, we'll be on our way, Dr. McClure

- And next time, make sure you get to where you're supposed to be on time. This time everything went well. It may not be so next time around.

They turned around without a word and left the floor the same way they had come in.

- Why such a military-style security team? - Marko thought. - What was McClure afraid of?

- So, Mr. Slavik - McClure continued - shall we go to my office to talk? You didn't answer my question though.

- Which one?

- The one with which I was ascertaining that you didn't have any aggressive intensions. So, do you?

- I don't, Dr. McClure. You can relax, for now. I just wanted to talk to you about something.

- That's better.

- It is indeed, - Marko said - This however does not mean that you're going to like what I have to tell you.

Fifty-nine

They went into McClure’s office. The sun was setting, but the office windows faced west. The office was full of light. And stifling hot. It was as if the air conditioning system had decided to finally give up. Marko felt his shirt sticking to his back.

- I think I've already told you how I hate the weather here - McClure said, as they were taking their seat.

There were two armchairs in a corner of his office, a small table in the middle.

- For a Scot, used to cold weather and rain most of the time, this is torture.

- You mentioned it the last time. I wonder why you ever decided to move to Barcelona if you hate it so much. I've been to Scotland. I like the weather there too. Why did you move?

- Why? Because of the job, of course. This was just too good an opportunity to pass up.

- I don't understand. You had everything you needed in Edinburgh. You could do all the research you wanted. And you had a lot of publications in the last few years. You were respected, even if your ideas were a little controversial.

- I am still respected, Mr. Slavik. Leaving the School of Biological Sciences in Edinburgh didn't do anything to harm my reputation. On the contrary. I hold an important position, directing one of the leading biological institutes in the world. And that includes the Martian Republic too, given the debatable quality of research there.

Marko let McClure's comment pass. He wasn't from Mars after all. It was also true, probably.

- I see. Still, you haven't published anymore since you moved here. And you haven't given a single speech.

- That's because my role is more administrative here, Mr. Slavik. I just spend less time in the laboratory now. We have an extremely competent research team here.

- I'm still not convinced, Dr. McClure. You've done research all your life. I've spoken with your ex assistants in Edinburgh, including Donahue. You hadn't given any signal that you wanted to leave. And yet, you suddenly drop everything and move to Barcelona.

- Well, the opportunity was just very attractive.

- Really? So why didn't you apply in the first place, when they had placed the job ad?

- I didn't see the ad. I wasn't interested in a new job at the time.

- So, how did you bump into this opportunity, Dr. McClure? Did they contact you directly?

- Mr. Slavik, I believe this is confidential. I don't think I'm under any obligation to share these details with you. You aren't even an official representative of the Aaltrin Police Department.

Marko ignored the remark and pressed on.

- I see. Perhaps I'm right in thinking that you have something to hide. In any case, let me take a guess. And then maybe you can tell me if I'm right or wrong.

- You can say what you like, Mr. Slavik, - McClure said. - But I should warn you from the start that you're wasting your time. And, as it's evening already, I wouldn't want to keep you much longer. In other words, you should leave soon. I have to be elsewhere shortly.

- It won't take long.

- But I still won't confirm or deny anything you say.

- We'll see about that, McClure. Now please listen to me.

- Go on.

- I think you felt a little constrained at Edinburgh University. Your research was getting more controversial by the day. Your ex assistants had deserted you. Only Donahue had stuck with you. I'm sure you felt that your time there was limited. You have crazy ideas, McClure. And you needed a new venue for them.

- Now, listen. This is not correct.

- Let me continue. You said you wouldn't speak. So you were looking around for some other opportunity. But who would be so crazy to give you a chance? No university would have taken such a risk. I know there's a growing movement against the Martian Republic. I've read about that. But, despite the noise they make, it's still a minority movement. Most people would never dream to associate themselves with such crazy ideas. So your options were limited. Very limited. But then out of the blue came the Earth Association, with a directorship at the Recasent Centre.

- May I remind you, Mr. Slavik, that the Earth Association works to keep Mars and Earth close together? If my ideas were so extreme, so opposed to their mission they would have never offered me the job. And I would have never taken it, of course.

- It remains to be seen if it was really the Earth Association that put you where you are. But in any case, I think I know what attracted you so much to this job, despite the fact that you now spend less time in the laboratory and have to deal with much more bureaucracy.

- So you know everything, do you? Let's hear it, what would it be that attracted me so much to this job?

- The fact that you can finally do research on humans. Your own research. On humans from Mars.

McClure was silent for just a second. Then he spoke.

- That's simply ridiculous. The work that we do serves an important cause. Of course we're collecting human samples. We need to understand what's going on. If something is happening, then it's important for the Earth Association to know about it. I agree that my past ideas were not exactly aligned with this before, but now I'm serving this cause.

- And how would you explain all these deaths? The children dying of measles. A disease that had almost been eradicated. And the suicides?

- These are just unfortunate circumstances. We're working to understand what happened so that the medical community on both Earth and Mars can address these problems.

- I just don't believe you, McClure. I think you know a lot more that you aren't telling us.

- This is just not true. A false accusation, Slavik. You should leave now.

- I will leave now, McClure. But tomorrow, I'd like you to come to the local police station, so that we could ask you the questions that we have. The Aaltrin Police Department would like to speak to you. It's true: I don't represent any institution, officially. But if you don't come to the police station of your own accord, someone will come to pick you up tomorrow. Be there by 9am GMT. Is everything clear McClure?

- Please leave now. Or I'll call security, - McClure said.

He went back to his desk.

Marko stood up and made his way towards the door.

- See you tomorrow morning, McClure. By 9am. Remember.

And he left, leaving the door open behind him.

The office was hot. He needed a shower.

Sixty

Albert Montell wasn't happy, for a change.

He had not slept well. It was too hot. Even for someone born and bred in Barcelona. The air conditioning in his flat wasn't working well. But he was just too lazy to get it fixed. Every morning during the last month he had woken up cursing the heat. And every evening, he just acknowledged that he hadn't got round to getting the thing fixed. He had been like that all his life. Complaining about broken stuff and not doing much about it.

Including his life.

But he was also looking forward to the day a little. It would be something different.

- Today we're helping the martians - he said to himself.

The police force had finally agreed to lend the APD a hand. They had decided to offer them the use of their premises, to let their envoy on Earth speak with their suspect. And they had promised that they would be ready to arrest him if needed. On the spot. And to hold him until a solution could be found. In any case, according to local laws, it couldn't be for more than forty-eight hours.

Albert got to his office building. Someone was waiting for him outside. He knew who that was. Marko Slavik.

He had already spoken with Marko a few times, although never in person. But, who else could be waiting outside the police station, so early in the morning?

Marko seemed impatient. He was walking up and down the pavement, just outside the main entrance. As he was getting closer, Albert saw that he looked tired. More, he seemed stressed. His face was glistening with sweat.

It was already very warm.

Marko was tall, but moved slightly awkwardly, as if every single bone in his body ached.

- Marko Slavik?

- Yes, it's me. You must be Senior Detective Montell.

- Just Albert, please. Now that we have met in person, I think we can use first names, can't we, Marko?

- Sure. It's good to meet you Albert.

Albert saw Marko's face relax a little. Perhaps now he felt he wouldn't have to fight with every single person that came his way. That he had some allies, not just enemies.

- Likewise. Come, let's get out of this heat. We can get a coffee inside. It's crap, but I don't really feel like walking around getting sweaty. We can wait for your guest upstairs.

- Assuming he shows up - Marko said.

- No use in being so pessimistic - Albert said, and the front door opened in front of him, after detecting his PID microchip, which was embedded in his right arm.

They took the lift in silence and went to Albert's office. It was small, but comfortable. And cool.

- I should actually sleep here - Albert thought.

- Get yourself comfortable - he said to Marko. - I'm going to fetch the coffee.

He was back in two minutes.

- It's just instant. We have a crappy machine. Perhaps it will remind you of Mars.

And then he regretted it immediately. He didn't want to insult the martians.

- I'm not from Mars - Marko said, after some hesitation. - But thanks for the coffee.

He took a sip.

- You're right. It's crap. But it'll probably do the job. I haven't slept much in the last two days.

They were silent for a while. Albert was thinking about what to say. He was first thinking everything in Catalan, then translating it into Standard English. He wasn't coming up with anything. His guest didn't seem to mind much. Eventually Marko spoke.

- Thanks for helping us with this. I think there may be more that you could do though.

- Is there? - Albert got a little irritated. They were already doing a lot. What more could he want?

- Our guest should have been here ten minutes ago. This is really not looking good.

- Well, it's only been ten minutes.

- Where was this guy from? - Albert thought. - Why wasn't he taking things a little slower? Ten, even twenty minutes, were normal. No one was ever on time there.

- I think that if he had really wanted to come, he would have by now, - Marko said. - No, our guy isn't showing up. I shouldn't have trusted him yesterday.

- Just wait a little and we will see what happens. He might still have a change of heart.

It was still early. The coffee had not yet kicked in. And his head was hurting.

- No, I now need you to help us a little more, Albert.

Albert sighed. A little too loud. Marko continued.

- I think McClure may have decided to flee. You need to send someone straight away to pick him up and bring him in, so that we can speak with him.

- Alright.

Albert didn't want to get into an argument now. And as long as he didn't have to go out in the heat, he was fine with that. He contacted the emergency intervention team, on the ground floor.

- They're sending someone as we speak - Albert said. - You'll see that this has just been a misunderstanding. He's probably just a little late.

- Thanks Albert. I'd really like to share your optimism. But I think something big is going on and that McClure is in the middle of it all. Or at least very close to it. And he's probably got all the reasons to flee. Damn it, I should have asked you to arrest him yesterday.

- Don't beat yourself, - Albert said. - There's only so much you can do. You're not a police officer. You're not in your country. You're an unofficial envoy of a foreign police force.

- Thanks. But still. - Marko said, looking down. Albert felt he was getting stressed again.

- We'll probably hear from them soon.

In that moment, Albert's device attracted his attention.

- It's them.

Albert answered the call and then mainly listened. Nodding along. The call didn't last long.

- I'm sorry Marko - Alberto said. - They went for him, to the Recasent Centre.

- And?

- He wasn't there. They told my men that Dr. McClure had not even come to the Centre that morning. They didn't know where he was. They acknowledged it was a little unusual.

- Damn it, - Marko said, his anger growing. - Damn it. I should have taken him yesterday. Albert, now it's time to kick it up a notch.

Sixty-one

9.37pm UTC. The day was coming to an end. A red sun, glowing weakly, was up in the sky.

Harry had grown up in this way. He didn't like it, but it was part of his life. Yet, he enjoyed more those days when darkness came at night.

Rest needed darkness.

He was about to leave the office. Another day without getting much done. Just minor things. No actual developments in the main inquiry. That never left the back of his mind, but sometimes he just got absorbed in so many little things that he forgot to think about it. Then it always came back all at once. The feeling made him sink.

- Better get home and eat something. And get some rest, - he thought.

Another day. Another evening. Another night. Then a new day would start. And it would look a lot like the previous one.

Harry hadn't heard from Marko in a few days. He hoped he was doing well. And that he had managed to speak to McClure. Things had to move on.

He was ready to shut everything off for the day, when he got a call. John McVine. Again.

- John. What's up?

- Good evening Harry. I'm all for informality in the workplace, but a greeting every now and then wouldn't go amiss.

- Sorry, John. Good evening. How are things?

- Fine, thank you. I'm not a stickler for form, but, you know...

- I know, John. Don't worry. I'm just a little tired. I was going home.

- I'm afraid that won't be possible Harry. - John paused for a few seconds. - We've got another one.

- Another what? - Harry asked.

He knew what it was. But he just didn't want to admit that to himself. He was tired. Tired of the day. Tired of this case. Tired of everything.

- You know what it is, Harry. We've got another suicide. Now, we can't say for sure it's one of those, but...

- But you know that it is. - Harry interrupted him. - Let me guess. A single mother killed herself. Abruptly and unexpectedly. Her son had recently died. Her son had recently been to Earth, or was on Earth or was travelling to Earth.

- Almost, Harry - John said. - Loukia Dozhrati... yes, this is the name. I was saying, Loukia Dozhrati's son had been pre-selected to go to Earth. And he had already attended a few training classes at the local branch of the Earth Association. Apparently one day he started complaining of a strong headache as they were getting home. His mother took care of him for a few days, but, as he wasn't getting better, she took him to the hospital.

- And he died there in a few days.

- Yes, that's correct. It happened today. They informed the mother this morning, she wasn't with him. And after about four hours she had already been run over by an express train. Such was the speed that the driver only felt a small bump. He was uncertain whether to let someone know. Then eventually he decided to give us a call.

- And so you found her.

- Yes. Well, there wasn't much left to find. I sent Svensson to have a look. He managed to recover her identity chip, so that we could work out who she actually was. And reconstruct the whole thing.

- I don't imagine you were able to locate her phone or device? - Harry asked.

- What for?

- John, the audio loop. Don't you recall? That's what killed Noelia Kay. - Harry said. And Tondelli.

- And Muñoz, almost - he thought.

- Ah, that. Well, Harry, you know not everyone here agrees with your views.

Harry knew. His report had received a mixed response within the APD. Especially high up.

He was hurt though. He thought John would be on his side.

- John, I thought you agreed with my views. And Svensson was there when the whole thing happened. He helped us work out the whole thing.

- Svensson is fairly junior, Harry, and he does what he's told. You should remember that you're junior too. You should know your place better, sometimes.

Again that sinking feeling.

He felt as if his life was being sucked down the plughole.

Now wasn't the time to get into a fight with his boss.

- Ok then, if everything is under control, then I suppose I should be able to get home. Thanks for letting me know about this John.

- Don't be bitter Harry, - John said. - We're a big organisation and it's normal that some people have different ideas. The important thing is that we work together. So, I don't think it's time for you to go home yet. I'm putting you in charge of this case, Harry. You'll lead the investigation. I need a report by tomorrow evening.

- But everything seems to have been worked out already.

- Indeed. But someone's got to write that report. And given that you're already familiar with the matter, I want you to do it. If I were you I'd get started now. You can go to speak with the train driver tomorrow. And maybe someone at the hospital.

Harry sighed.

- Alright, John, I will.

- Good, thanks. Remember, by tomorrow evening.

Harry closed the communication. He didn't feel like indulging in formalities now. Maybe he was just too tired. But John's voice had seemed strained. As if he didn't want to talk too much. As if he wanted to close the communication as soon as possible.

Harry sighed. He just wanted to go home. But John was right. He had to make a start if he wanted to meet the deadline. He went to get a coffee from the machine and sat down at his desk to begin the report. He would call Svensson later on to get his views. If he couldn't sleep, then why should the others?

As he was starting his work, a message arrived. It was from Marko.

McClure had gone.

Sixty-two

- Kick it up a notch, - Albert thought. - Easier said than done.

It was years since the government had made any sort of investment in the local police force. They were already stretched for the normal day-to-day operations. Crime levels were low, and people didn't complain too much. They got by. But this was something they were not prepared for.

- Marko, we'll do what we can. But we can't deploy too many people. Two teams will have to do.

- You fail to understand how important this is.

Marko felt anger bubbling up inside him. If McClure managed to escape, it would set them back a great deal. And there was not much more he could do from Earth.

- I don't want to sound too melodramatic, but the future of humankind is at stake here.

Albert sighed.

- Why did we ever go to Mars? - he thought.

- Well Marko, if that was really your intention, I can tell you that you've just failed. - Albert said.

He tried to ease the tension with a short laugh. A nervous laugh. He suppressed it in his throat when he saw that Marko was not quite responding as he had hoped.

- Look, Marko, I know this is very important. I promise you: we're doing all we can. We're stretched. We don't have resources. And this is something we normally never have to do. But we know you're counting on us. We'll do the best we can.

- Whatever, - Marko said, sulking. - Just get your people moving. We can't keep on wasting time.

- You really know how to win people over, don't you? Anyway, they're getting started. He can't have gone too far.

- We don't know how long ago he decided to escape - Marko said. - For all I know, he could have boarded a train and he could be in the middle of Russia by now.

- Unlikely. As we were expecting him here, we had already issued a 'no travel' order. That would have prevented any automated boarding procedures. He could not have got on a train, apart from local ones.

- Good. At least you did something right. - Marko said. - That narrows the search for sure. He could have still gone by car, though.

- True. He might have travelled far enough to make the search hard. But now all our people deployed on the ground are aware of this. It should make it easier to identify him and stop him if needed.

- Let's hope so. And what should we do? We can't just stay here and wait for news.

- Well, to start with, you're not a policeman, neither here nor on Mars. If you want to keep taking part in this, you'll do as you're told. I don't care much for this attitude of yours.

- But you aren't doing enough! You just don't understand, do you? If these guys have it their way, we can just say goodbye to the people of Mars. Humankind will split in two.

- Would that be such a problem? - Albert said. - It's not that we're that connected now. They think about their lives and we think about ours. It was a nice experiment, but...

- An experiment? That was just a first step. First Mars, and then other planets and satellites in the solar system. Then, we go beyond. If this fails, it's the end of the future of humankind.

- Yes, dream on. - Albert said. - I think you spend too much time thinking big. I don't know why we're here. Who or what put us here. But whatever it is, we don't have a mission. We should just focus on making the most of our lives. On Earth. Mars was a mistake.

- I can see how much you've done with your life. Sixty years plus. Same job. Same routine. Same city. Every day. Well done. Keep thinking small.

Albert knew that he had not done much with his life. Same routine, day after day. For a while, when he was younger, he had thought that this was the right choice for him. That happiness was about enjoying the small things. About being fine with what life had given you. But over the years, he had gradually come to realise that this wasn't true. That real happiness came from striving for more. From trying to achieve something new. He had denied this to himself for a long time. He had just found it easier that way. He now knew that was a mistake. But he didn't have the courage to accept it.

- I think you should mind your own business. - Albert said.

Before Marko could reply, he continued.

- We'll help you, of course. The person you're after is suspected of being responsible for the death of several children, and possibly linked to the death of their mothers. This is enough for us to agree to help you. I don't care about any other ideas you might have. So, from now on, speak to me only when it's absolutely necessary. Otherwise, shut up. I don't care about your views. I don't care about Mars.

Marko didn't immediately reply. He just looked at him. Albert looked angry. But Marko thought he could see a hint of sadness. He knew he had hit Albert hard. Albert was right. Now it was time for him to shut up. Besides, he wasn't quite sure he believed in the things he had just said. Mars was far away. He came from there, but often he felt as if it didn't exist.

After a couple of minutes, Albert spoke again.

- I'll tell you what we'll do. As you don't want to sit around here waiting, we'll go have a look at McClure's flat. When chasing someone, this would be the last place I'd check, to be honest. But someone has to do it. It's standard procedure. So you and I will go now to have a quick look. I'm sure we'll get some news by the time we're back.

Marko nodded. It did seem a stupid idea. McClure would already be on his way, putting miles between him and his home in Barcelona. A complete waste of time. Still, it was miles better than staying there wasting their time doing nothing.

- Fine, let's go. - Marko said.

And he knew that would be the last thing he'd say in a long time.

Sixty-three

McClure's apartment wasn't too far from the police station. The traffic was crazy, though. It was already mid-morning. And the temperature had already gone up. Because of the hot weather, everybody was in their car. Sealed in. There were no pedestrians around.

Over the previous two-hundred years, the average temperature of Earth's northern hemisphere had progressively increased. No one had managed to find out why. Early explanations that attributed climate change to excessive carbon emissions had not proven conclusive. Eventually, the phenomenon had been accepted as one of the changes in climate that Earth had experienced over the millennia. It hadn't been the first. And it wouldn't probably be the last.

Year after year, people hadn't really noticed the change. Things had changed slowly enough for them to adapt. Marko had read that the average temperature during the summer in Barcelona was now 37 degrees centigrade. About ten degrees higher than it used to be in the early twenty-first century, when things started changing. Even that would have been too much for him.

To add to the pain, in the past few days, an extraordinary heatwave had brought the temperature to the mid-forties. The locals, even though they were used to the heat, preferred to stay at home or use their cars.

Marko couldn't stand it. He felt uncomfortable. Sticky. Even in Albert's car, with the air conditioning pumped up. He was still wearing the clothes he had on in Edinburgh. He just hadn't had time to change. He couldn't wait for the whole thing to be over. He wanted to go back. He wanted to go somewhere else. Anywhere. Whatever happened, he didn't care anymore. It wouldn't have changed his life. Whatever that would be.

Maybe Albert was right.

Why bother?

He surprised himself thinking in this way. He suddenly felt guilty. He still believed he was doing the right thing. He wanted to help Mars. Only, he felt he couldn’t carry on for much longer.

- This thing had better be done soon - he thought.

Albert and he weren't talking. He stared out of the side window. Empty streets. Baked in a ruthless sun. How could people live in this way?

Albert broke the silence.

- I know I told you to shut up, but you're taking that a little bit too literally.

- I was a space marshal, wasn't I? - Marko said. - I do obey orders.

- Please! Marshals are not part of the military. You do as you please. And certainly I'm not your superior. No need to be friends, but not talking just feels a little weird. So, talk now.

- Is it an order? As you wish. I'm hot. Can't you turn the air conditioning up a little?

- I don't see what you're complaining about. I'm fine. And I don't want to have too large a temperature difference between the car and outside. It's unhealthy, we could catch a cold.

- You catch a cold if you get exposed to the cold virus. It's not the temperature. And I'm sweating.

- Next time think about packing something lighter.

After this bickering, they fell back into silence. For about five minutes. Albert spoke again.

- Oh, come on. You're getting on my nerves, you know? Ignore what I said before. We're helping you. We're all on the same side. I don't like to keep on working like this.

- Fine. Let's talk. What do you want to talk about?

That was the end of it. They drove in silence until they got to McClure's flat. Albert had requested backup, just in case. His colleagues were already there, waiting. In the car, of course. No point in hanging around in the heat.

- I thought you were short of people - Marko said. - And yet, you called for backup. We could have taken care of the matter ourselves. You have a gun. I have a gun.

- I'm taking no risks, - Albert said. - And you're not supposed to have a gun, by the way. But whatever. Now let's go.

They greeted Albert's colleagues with a nod and approached the front door. No receptionist. Just an automated system. Which was fortunate, as the building was on the police's patrol list. Their passes could be used to open the front door. And the flat's door too, probably.

They went in. The air was cool.

Marko's forehead was covered in sweat. His shirt was glued to his back and his trousers felt two sizes too small.

McClure was probably already far away. Blind-chased by a couple of police cars, which had no hope of reaching him. Yet the trip had helped him take his mind off the wait. Better than sitting around doing nothing.

McClure's flat was on the top floor. A penthouse. The job at the Recasent Centre had come with all the perks.

They went upstairs.

Upon getting closer to the front door, the building security system interfaced with the pass that one of Albert's colleagues was carrying. It required an additional security check, but after one of them placed their fingertip on the reader, the flat's door slid open.

Police privilege.

It was bright. And very clean. Not much furniture. McClure clearly didn't spend too much time at home. Probably he just didn't care. Focused too deeply on his own research. Marko went to the large living room. The view was breathtaking. He could see the sea and, if he had leant forward a little, he could have seen the rolling hills at the back of the city.

- McClure's left. Now we know that, - he thought.

He stood there, waiting for the others, who in the meantime had gone to check the other rooms. He knew it would only be a matter of minutes, before they could go back to the police station.

- Marko? - Albert called him from the other room.

- What's up? - Marko asked, not expecting a particularly interesting reply.

- Come and have a look. Looks like we didn't have to go that far in the first place, - Albert said. - And yet, we're kind of late.

- What do you mean?

Marko made his way over. They were in one of the bedrooms.

Then he understood.

McClure's body was dangling from the ceiling. A note was on the ground.

- What does it say? - Marko asked.

Albert got closer to the note. He read it without picking it up.

- It says 'sorry'.

Sixty-four

- Our guys are on their way, - Albert said.

- Who? - Marko asked.

- Well, we need to get someone to take a look at the crime scene. To try to reconstruct what happened. It may give us some pointers. Although, I doubt they will be of much use now.

- Why do you think that? - Marko asked.

- Well, he's just killed himself, right?

- Right.

- You seem to have some doubts. - Albert noted.

His voice betrayed that he was getting annoyed with Marko again. The guy just kept on doubting their methods. And yet, he had no clue of what the police actually needed to do in those circumstances.

Marko was quiet for a few seconds.

- To be honest, not many doubts in this case. But you never know. Your guys may be able to find some useful indication. Although I would agree with you. It's pretty clear that he killed himself.

- I'm glad we agree on something - Albert said.

He thought that soon all of this would be over.

- What I'm not so clear about is why he would do something like that. - Marko said.

- Maybe he felt guilty about what he had done. He thought he'd killed too many people, directly or indirectly, and decided that he had to pay for it.

- Maybe.

Alberto waited a minute, but Marko wasn't saying anything else.

- Maybe you should stop being so damn mysterious! - Albert said, exasperated - I've had enough of all this. Either you talk and you tell me what you're thinking about, and maybe we can work together. Or you shut up and you let us work.

- Well, this does look like suicide. I agree with you. But McClure had set up a more complex plan. The mothers of the children he was infecting with measles died after being exposed to hypnotic messages. People don't do all that to then kill themselves when things go slightly wrong. People like that have a plan. And they don't feel guilty afterwards.

- I'm not sure I agree with you. No matter what the plan was, I can think of lots of people that did horrible things and then eventually felt guilty about it.

- Yes, they did. To ask for forgiveness. Do you really think they were really feeling any remorse?

- You're cynical, Marko.

- I've seen enough not to be.

They didn't have anything more to say to each other.

The silence between them had already lasted several minutes, when the police department technicians arrived. Albert was relieved.

- Antoni. Good to see you.

Antoni Torralba. He had started working more or less at the same time Albert had. Sixty years ago. Never close friends, Albert and Antoni shared very few things. One of them was that they were both completely fed up with their work, anxious to retire and dissatisfied with their lives. They got along well.

- Albert. You too around on a hot day like this? People should have a little respect, don't you think? Killing themselves when it's so unpleasant to go outside. This could have waited.

- So, I can see you all agree. We can go home then. - Marko said.

His voice sounded sarcastic.

- Antoni, - Albert said, - allow me to introduce my friend here. This is Marko Slavik. No affiliation, officially. But he's helping the Aaltrin Police Department. They are looking into the infamous measles deaths. You would have heard...

- Mars, eh? I did hear about the cases. Well, if this guy was running the show, now it looks like the problem might have solved itself, Mr. Slavik.

- Please, call me Marko. Yes, perhaps this is the end of everything, but I think it may be worth doing some more analysis.

- Sure, boss, - Antoni said.

He turned to his colleague.

- Albert, seriously, who's this one? Last time I checked I had a boss. And he didn't look like him. He wasn't working for the martians for a start.

- Antoni, you should be more respectful. Our police force has agreed to help the Aaltrin Police Department. And so we must co-operate, whether we like it or not. Marko is their envoy on Earth. We should treat him with respect.

- Thanks - Marko said.

- Even though we don't give a damn. - Albert added. Quietly, to himself.

- That's fine, - Antoni said. - Let's get to work then. We should be able to get this sorted quite quickly. I promise I'll write up a nice report that you can send over to your friends in Aaltrin. Everything will be clear and then we can go back to our own business.

- Sounds good to me. - Marko said.

Marko went back to the living room. He wanted to leave them to work. And he wanted to think. He stopped by one of the huge windows. A whole glass wall, from floor to ceiling. Outside, the city was simmering. He put a hand against the glass. Even though it was cool inside, he felt the air burning on the other side. Everything looked clean. Blue sky. Serene. And optimistic. Yet, this felt like hell.

How could McClure kill himself? Had he really felt guilty for all that had happened? Or was it because he had felt surrounded: he would have to stop his work anyway and therefore there was no point in going ahead. Or was he just following someone else's plan? And he had failed to deliver it to completion? Perhaps this was really the end of it. In any case, this would have closed the matter for him. No more thinking about the measles and women killing themselves. And no more thinking about Mars. For a long time. That time was over.

Suddenly, he heard Antoni and Albert speak in the other room.

- It sounds like Antoni has finished his work. That was quick. - Marko thought.

He went to the bedroom.

Interlude VIII

She was pregnant. Finally. It had cost her so much. This was what she had wanted for so long.

What they had wanted.

There had been times when she felt it was the only thing that managed to keep them together. That helped her go through everything she had to deal with.

Not finding a job.

Not being able to walk outside.

Being able to communicate with her family only via emails and video messages.

The distance between Mars and Earth, even if it was at the shortest it had been in a long time, still did not allow for any form of synchronous communication. Involuntarily, she was almost forgetting her family.

But now they had made it. They would start a family. Their family. Finally.

So, why wasn't she happy?

She hadn't wanted to admit that to herself for a long time.

But she knew.

She knew that she there was a hole in her. A hole that the objective to have a baby had kept filled for a while. But now the pressure was off, and she felt that something was missing. Something huge.

- No, no, we can't do this. I can't do this, Jaq.

Jaq was used to Zoë being in a bad mood. But it always grated on him. He wished she could be different. It was hard for him, too.

He sighed loudly.

- What is it that we can't do?

- Am I bothering you? Don't patronise me. You should listen to me, you know?

- I am listening, Zoë. You know I always listen.

Zoë looked at him, then lowered her eyes. After a few seconds, she spoke again.

- I know. You always listen. You're great, you know. But I can't do this anymore.

- But Zoë...

- No Jaq, you know I can't. I can't stay here any longer.

- We're going to start a family, Zoë. Finally. As we've always wanted.

- I thought I wanted this. I really did. But this is not a place to start a family. Can't you see? Our child will not even be able to walk outside without a breathing mask!

Jaq couldn't come up with anything to say.

Sure, he had suspected this. At times, he had felt fear bubbling up. Every time, he had tried to push it away. To feel better, he used to say to himself that what he feared was just impossible. That Zoë would have not moved there in the first place. Or at least that she would have discussed this with him, before blurting it all out.

Like she was doing now.

- There, I said it. Do you have anything to say? Come on, speak. Say something!

- What do you want me to say, Zoë? I wish you had told me earlier. We could have talked about this.

- Talk, talk, talk! That's all you can do. It's the solution for everything, isn't it? Well, listen to me: it is not.

- I can see that - Jaq said.

He couldn't win.

- So, what do you want to do, Zoë?

She looked at him without saying a word. She started crying, quietly.

- I'm sorry, Jaq.

- Why?

- Jaq, this is no place to raise a child.

- Sure it is. I grew up here. Lots of families are living and thriving on Mars. We can do it too. Make our dream come true.

- I'm afraid, this is just your dream, Jaq.

- It was our dream, Zoë. From the beginning.

- Perhaps. But it's gone away now. I can't live on Mars. I thought it would be just like another country on Earth. It isn't. Everything is different. You're different. I don't want my daughter to live here. I want her to have a future. I don't think Mars can give her that.

- Earth put us here. And now Earth is leaving us alone. But the Martian Republic is thriving. We will grow. We don't need Earth. We're going to make it on our own.

- Maybe you will, but this is an experiment I don't want my child to be involved in.

- It's our child, Zoë.

A child they had conceived after struggling for so long. She knew she was asking a lot of him, but she felt she had no choice.

- It's true, of course. But I need to put her welfare first. You will be involved with her, if you want to. We can keep in touch regularly.

Jaq saw his dream vanishing. He was angry at Zoë now. He felt weak. Powerless.

- You know the communication between Earth and Mars do not allow for a meaningful relationship to survive. If you go, our daughter will grow up without a father. She will be just your daughter. Is this what you want?

- Yes. More than anything. I'm sorry.

She started crying again.

- Zoë, is there anything I can do to make you change your mind?

Zoë looked at him again.

She had stopped crying. She had let everything out.

She didn't have anything more to say.

Sixty-five

Antoni Torralba's team was wrapping up. Nothing more to do, it seemed.

- Have you already finished?

- Yep. I think we've got to the bottom of it. Now it's just a matter of taking the body away. We've collected all the data for the rendering. You will be able to re-visit the crime scene virtually from any authorised device.

- Well, that clearly speeds up the process. - Albert said.

- Indeed, - Antoni agreed. - Makes our life a little easier. And we can clean up the mess quicker. With the lack of available housing in this city, people are generally keen to re-occupy a dwelling as soon as possible. As soon as the blood has been mopped up.

- That's quite impressive. I gather they're not put off by the fact that someone has just been killed.

- Well, it's not the best. But they'd rather have a roof over their heads than sleep in the street. I guess the building management will want to let this place again tonight, to the next people on the waiting list. And, this time, there's actually no blood to mop up.

- A clean suicide, isn't it? - Marko said.

- Well, not really. It's certainly clean, but I don't think it's a suicide. Granted, everything would point to a suicide. The fact that you could easily believe this guy was feeling chased. The written note. But think about it. How could he actually do that?

- What do you mean?

- Well, he's hanging two meters from the floor. And the roof beam he's hanging from is in the middle of the flat. Quite far away from the upper section of the flat. It would have taken him quite some time to put the rope there. Not to mention a long ladder.

- And, let me guess, you haven't found any ladder. - Albert said.

Antoni had already told him that, but he just liked to look good, when he could. Not many of his colleagues liked that.

- Indeed, well guessed. - Antoni said, ironically.

He paused for a couple of seconds. He would let it go, this time. He continued.

- As our very clever friend has just noted, we haven't found any ladder. Nor is there any sign that he actually had one. We checked with the building management company and they told us that tenants are not provided with ladders, for insurance reasons. If there's anything that needs to be fixed, even just a light strip, they are supposed to call the building concierge service.

- I see.

- And do you think someone that wants to kill themselves calls the concierge to get some help with setting up a rope? A thick one with a nice noose at one end?

- Probably not. - Marko conceded.

- And there's more. Hanging someone is actually quite tricky. You need to get the rope length proportional to both the weight of the person you want to hang and the depth of the drop. Too short, and death does not occur immediately: the victim dies slowly by asphyxiation. Too long, and by the time the noose tightens around the neck, the body's velocity is such that decapitation might occur.

- Clearly, this is not the case. I guess you checked that it wasn't the former.

- Indeed. From our first tests, it looks like McClure died almost immediately. We found some bruises on his arms that might suggest he briefly fought with someone. But once he was hanged, it was only a matter of seconds before he was gone.

- Interesting, - Marko said, - but do you think this confirms that he could have not killed himself? Maybe he had studied the subject, and worked out the best rope length. Not to mention the ladder. He could have still got one, set up the rope, and then threw it away.

- Sure, all of this is possible, apart from the bruises that are more difficult to explain. But there's something else - Antoni noted.

- What? - Albert asked.

He was getting curious now. Antoni hadn't told him.

- You don't want to venture a guess? - Antoni provoked him. He loved winding him up.

- Carry on. - Albert said. No chance he could show off, now.

- Very well. As you wish. I thought you enjoyed solving murder mysteries. But I shall continue. The answer is in the rope itself.

- What about it? - Marko asked.

He was getting fed up with this guy's attitude. He just wanted to get to the bottom of things. And this was just pushing the end of the case farther away.

- The rope was made on Mars. It's made of hylonium. Which is a fibre that was invented on Mars.

- But it could have been produced on Earth too. - Albert said. - There's no way Earth technology couldn't keep up with Mars's.

- Of course it could, - Antoni said. - But what people can't do here is breach someone else's patent. The patent for hylonium was registered in Aaltrin twenty years ago. And we've checked. It's never been licensed. There's only one factory that produces it. In Aaltrin. All hylonium ropes on Mars and on Earth are produced there.

- Well, McClure could have bought it here. - Albert said.

- Unlikely, hylonium fibres are very expensive and are used only in large scale construction projects. You can't buy it in shops open to the general public. It's probably only sold in bulk. No, whoever got hold of this must be part of a large organisation that can afford to procure those quantities.

- Well then, we'll have to find out who it was. - Marko said.

- That's also done. - Antoni said. He was quite pleased with himself now. And it showed.

- All hylonium fibres have a serial number interwoven in their molecular structure. And as this was imported from Mars, we do have records of when this came to Earth and who actually bought it.

Marko was getting annoyed with Torralba. Why wasn't he getting to the point.

- And, pray tell, who the hell bought these hylonium fibres?

He clearly wanted to mock Antoni. He had had enough of his attitude.

- Well, according to our records, they were bought, and then shipped here, by the Earth Association. I'm sure you are familiar with this organisation, Mr. Slavik?

Marko was taken aback. He paused for a few seconds.

- More than you could believe, - he said.

Sixty-six

Marko knew he had to contact Harry quickly.

It wasn't just McClure.

Things had just got much bigger.

And worse.

After all this looking, they had got very close to finding out the truth. The latest finding indicated that someone inside the Earth Association was behind all this. Someone very close to the top. They weren't attacking it from the outside. They had infiltrated it. They were inside it. And they were piloting it, exploiting the exchange programme to achieve their ends.

Whatever they were.

After getting in touch with Harry, Marko wasn't quite sure about what he was supposed to do. The core of the action was going to be back on Mars now. He wouldn't have gone there to help Harry. He couldn't have. Even if he had, just the time to get there would have made him arrive too late. In one way or another.

Mars was just too far away.

During the last ten years or so, since his parents had told him that Mars was his birthplace, he had surprised himself thinking about it, from time to time. Thinking about what it looked like. What people did. What it would have been like living there.

And it had felt familiar. Like Earth.

But, deep inside, Marko had never felt anything for Mars.

He had often denied this feeling. But now it was out in the open.

Even after looking at it for many hours from the ship, to him Mars just looked like a soulless lump of rock. A rock with people, which had never meant anything to him.

Yes, he had felt guilty about this.

Many times.

He couldn't help it though.

He knew that if it hadn't been for Martina and Harry, he would have made his way back to Earth and forgotten all about it.

What happened had provided him with a lifeline. A last chance to do something for Mars.

To atone for his guilt.

It had worked. Until that point.

But now, he knew he couldn't do anything more.

Yes, Mars was just too far.

And it was getting away from him.

Sixty-seven

Nowhere. Loukia Dozhrati’s case was getting nowhere.

Yes, it was very similar to all the preceding ones. Measles death and then suicide. But they just couldn't find any clues that would make them move an inch in any direction. And despite the similarities with Noelia Kay's case, this time they hadn't even been able to find Loukia's mobile phone.

Harry had written a first report, very similar to the previous ones. He wasn't ashamed he had resorted to the old art of copying and pasting. Everybody did that. Now he knew and he didn't care anymore. He had pretty much lost interest in the case and left it to Svensson, who didn't have a clue about how to carry on with the investigation. But he had to learn at some point.

Harry just didn't care any more. He had gone back to his own routine.

Day in, day out.

It was time to move on. Focus on other cases. Maybe something more promising, and solvable, would come along at some point. Or perhaps he had to move. Move to a smaller city. Settle for a quieter life.

Lisa had been right from the beginning.

Then Marko got back to him.

Sixty-eight

From: Marko.Slavik@marshalscorps.gov.earth

To: Harry.Strickned@apd.gov.mars

Subject: RE: McClure

Harry,

I bring you some news. Whether it is good or bad, you decide. I think it will give you some sort of lead. Possibly.

We've found McClure. Dead. Hanged. At first, we thought he had killed himself. The pressure. Feeling chased, with no escape route. (Although, if you ask me, our local friends had left him lots of escape routes).

But that didn't turn out to be the case. Antoni Torralba, the guy in charge of forensics over here, explained that, given the position of the body and the perfect length of the rope, this looked like a professional job. In other words, someone killed him.

There's also something else I'm sure you'll find interesting. The rope that was used to hang McClure is made of hylonium. Now, I'm no expert myself, but Antoni told me that hylonium fibres are produced in just one place. On Mars. And it's normally used for large construction projects. Sold in bulk.

And there's even more, the serial code interwoven within the fibre tells us who bought it. And do you want to guess who it is? The Earth Association.

Close your mouth now.

So, clearly it wasn't just McClure running this. It looks like something bigger. And more complicated. I'm not sure what you'll do with this information. I hope you'll find it useful to go further.

I feel my role on this case is coming to an end, Harry. It's time for me to move on and leave this behind. Sorry I haven't been able to do more. I've tried.

All the best,

Marko

*****************

Harry was stunned for a second. He had to admit that. He hadn't read the whole message. His mind had stopped at Marko's revelation. He wasn't certain, but based on the information available, it would now be plausible to assume that the Earth Association had killed McClure. But why do that? Because they were afraid he would speak? What had he really been hired for?

Marko was bowing out. Harry understood. He would have done the same.

Before receiving Marko's email, that is.

Now things were a little different.

He fought with the temptation to pick up the case again. He knew it wouldn't be good for him. Too much stress, too much fighting.

And all of this to go nowhere.

That fear again.

He could leave everything behind. He could just delete Marko's message and move on. John McVine wouldn't be too worried. He seemed fine with him just taking care of the various cases, as they came up. Bureaucratically.

In-tray.

Out-tray.

Done.

Next.

But he just couldn't do it. He had spent the last months of his life on this. This was important. Something was playing around with humankind. Someone was trying to split it. To make the two halves drift apart.

He felt he had to do something.

But he wasn't quite sure now whether it was for his career or for the sake of humankind.

Sixty-nine

Things were clearer to Harry.

It looked like that those who said they wanted to keep humankind together, the Earth Association, were working to split it apart. The very same people who wanted to fight the drift. Some of them at least.

Harry wasn't quite sure whether it was all of them or just some people. In any case, they had a lot of power and they were using it in a clever way.

- They're just doing the opposite of what they seem to be doing, - Harry thought. - That's the best way to hide it. All the campaigns, the investments, the research. All of that to achieve the opposite of their stated objectives.

Harry felt it was something much bigger than him, but he couldn't really let it go. He was so close to sorting it all out.

He needed support though.

He called McVine.

- John, we need to speak with the Earth Association.

- Harry? Wait a minute, what are you talking about? Why them?

Harry briefly took John through what had happened and the evidence that Marko had provided.

- Well, it doesn't seem to me your case is very convincing. - John said.

- No disrespect John, but what are you talking about? - Harry said.

He didn't care anymore. Despite everything, he felt good. He continued.

- Can't you see the connection? During all this time, we never looked at them. We thought someone was fighting against them. It seemed obvious: they were fighting for the right cause. They had an enemy. It turns out they were their own enemy.

- I'm not so sure I follow, Harry. Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions?

- Listen, John. I know it's somewhat hard to believe. But what have we got so far? Nothing. Until now, we didn't have this last piece of evidence, the hylonium fibre, so there was only so much we could do. Now the situation has changed. It may not be a smoking gun, but if you ask me this is pretty convincing.

- I don't know, Harry. The Earth Association? They won't like that. They will feel offended by our allegations.s

- John, I know you're reluctant. Lots of important people in the Earth Association. Including your boss. Our boss. I know, it'll be hard. But we have to do it. Now that we have this information, not doing anything would actually make us accomplices to their crimes.

John sighed.

- Harry, it's not just that I'm worried about. They're a powerful bunch, you know?

- What do you mean?

- Come on, you haven't heard the rumours?

- What rumours? I've heard nothing.

- You've never really socialised much, have you, Harry? Rumours are often more important than what you think are actual facts. You are an experienced policeman, you should know this by now.

Another lecture. John knew how to make Harry feel inadequate.

John sighed again. It looked like speaking cost him.

- Anyway, there are strong rumours that not everybody within the Earth Association may be thinking in the same way. As you know, the side that favours a fully independent Martian Republic has been getting stronger for a while. Now people are beginning to say that they may have infiltrated public institutions on the Martian Republic. You know, the police, the judiciary, the government and, of course, the Earth Association. It's a bit far-fetched, if you ask me, but...

- Let me guess, John, you'd rather not look more into that, just in case this rumour is true? Is this what you're trying to tell me?

John sounded lost for words for a few seconds.

- You know, Harry. I got to where I am today because I've learnt that at some point you have to stop.

- But, John...

- Don't tell me. I know that all these deaths need to be looked into. And we will continue to do so, but if there's something bigger than us going on, I don't think we should interfere. Think about it, after all, what difference does it make to you? You keep your head down and you'll go far.

Harry could not believe what he was hearing. He had suspected that John liked the quiet life. And he thought he did too. But these were not the principles he had followed all his life. This was not what had kept him in the office for so many hours. Not what had destroyed his personal life.

He had to react. He had to convince John not to stop now.

- John, please, you know that we have to do something. This could escalate quickly. It's not something we can just sit back and watch. Our lives will be affected. The future of this country. And the future of humankind. We're just a little piece of red rock in the void of space. What do you think we could do on our own? And besides, what about being humankind's stepping stone to the stars. I thought you agreed with this.

- Harry, you're speaking like a true Earther now.

- Maybe, John. Whatever. If you want to call me Earther, so be it. But now I know that this is what I have been working for all my life. To make this place better. Make it thrive. Now I'm not going to go back on that. I'd do anything I could to prevent it from becoming a failed experiment, as some people say. You wouldn't want to be part of a failed experiment, would you, John?

John sighed again.

- I suppose not. Alright, Harry. You've convinced me. Go ahead and get in touch with them. But with discretion. Don't be too aggressive. And remember, evidence or no evidence, we may still have to back off.

- Thanks John. I'll try to keep that in mind.

A new energy was growing inside Harry. He now knew he could do something.

For Mars.

But, primarily, for himself.

To find a reason for his choices.

Interlude IX

She left two weeks later.

After their last conversation, Zoe and Jaq had barely tolerated having to live under the same roof. Sharing a bed every night. They couldn't afford anything else. Zoë's family had bought her a one-way ticket.

They were overjoyed she was coming back, of course.

As she was pregnant, getting a ticket for her had not been easy. The spaceline wasn't too keen on having births on board, although a few had happened over the years. But her father knew a couple of senior executives at the spaceline and, after some pleading, he had managed to get a ticket, at a premium price.

Jaq didn't even take Zoë to the Aaltrin spaceport, where she boarded the shuttle to the orbiting spacecraft, waiting around Mars on a holding pattern.

They had promised to keep in touch. After all, Zoë was carrying his daughter. But, Jaq was sure that was the last he would hear of her. And he would never see his daughter.

A mixed child, her father from Mars and her mother from Earth. She would be one of the last ones, he was sure.

A failed experiment.

Seventy

They found him the day after. Early morning. The sun was going down.

Harry had come to work early. He hadn't been able to sleep. The energy that he felt kept him awake. He had kept thinking about his next move all night.

Go to speak to someone at the Earth Association.

Get the ball rolling.

But who would he speak to? They would just send him on his way. The Earth Association, or whoever was running this from within, was too powerful to be touched by something like this. And, despite his boss's words, Harry didn't feel that he had his full support. He hadn't sounded convinced. And perhaps he was scared.

Now he knew that John had had a reason to be scared. His body had been found in the police station's car park.

He hadn't had time to leave the car. To attempt an escape. He was wearing a breathing mask. Perhaps he was planning to run. That could have saved him. Someone would have probably seen him. But he didn't manage to get that far.

John McVine had been killed by a single shot, which had gone through his bullet-proof car window.

A penetrating shell. It hadn't shattered the glass. It had carved out a perfect, clean surgical hole in it. A similar hole, only dark looking and crusted in blood, was on McVine's left temple. Matching the hole on his right one. And the one on the other window. The bullet had continued its run uninterrupted until it had hit the wall at the opposite end of the car park, where it had lodged itself. A fine spray of dark blood and brain matter plastered the opposite car window. McVine would have died instantly. Probably no more than thirty seconds after spotting his killer.

Harry was already in his office when he had got a call from reception. He was trying to get together some sort of plan for his day. Who to call. Who to go see. The energy that he had felt the night before was quickly turning into anxiety. He didn't quite know what to do. He had started wondering whether he should speak to John again, to get some pointers.

At first, Harry couldn't quite believe what they were telling him. He had spoken to John only a few hours earlier.

Now he was dead in the car park downstairs.

When he turned away from the car he was shaking. He was barely able to control it. Somehow, he made himself walk away from the scene. He would have gone outside, if he hadn't had to wear a breathing mask. He wanted to run in the street. Run away from everything.

But you couldn't do that on Mars.

He was walking, lost in thought. Jörg Pergola approached him.

- Strickned. I wish I could meet you on a happier occasion some time.

Harry hadn't noticed Pergola approaching. He was startled.

- Pergola. I would never have expected this. I can't believe that they ended up targeting John. If anything, they should have targeted me. Like they did for our man in Barcelona. I'm the one that persuaded John to continue with the case. He just wanted to drop it. He knew it was dangerous.

- Strickned, I'm sorry to tell you this. But you don't count much. Stopping you wouldn't have done much for them. If John McVine was set to go ahead, he would have found someone else in no time. Don't beat yourself up too much about it.

- I did convince him to carry on.

- No, Strickned. You didn't. John McVine had already decided to carry on. You just gave him a little nudge. Perhaps he was afraid of something. And apparently he was right. You just pushed him a little over the edge.

- And killed him, - Harry said.

- Listen, you can think about this in anyway you want. Now keep walking.

Harry suddenly felt something pressing against his back. Pergola had a gun and he was pushing him towards a car.

- Pergola, what are you doing? Are you behind all this?

- Oh no, I'm just a pawn. Someone could say that I count even less than you do, although that may be pushing it.

Pergola nudged Harry again.

- Don't even think about stopping.

- Where are we going?

Harry wasn't scared. Instead, he was curious. He felt that finally he was about to find out what he wanted to know.

- We're just going for a little drive. I hope you haven't left anything valuable upstairs. It's unlikely you'll be back.

They kept walking in silence until they got to Pergola's car.

- You drive. - Pergola said.

- Listen, Pergola. What do you think you can achieve with this? People will see I'm not around anymore. You're not going to get far.

Pergola looked at him and just smiled.

- Strickned. You did it again. Stop thinking you're more important than you actually are. No one is going to care. They will assume you've gone on holiday. What do they care?

Harry knew he was right.

And he suddenly felt a chill. Maybe he wasn't really coming back. But at least now he would know what was really going on. It was a price he was prepared to pay.

- Ok, let's go. Where do you want me to go?

- Let's not worry about this now. Just get out of this place and drive.

Harry got in and started to drive slowly out of the building. Once they reached the main road, the vehicle took over the main controls and merged with the flux of traffic. Harry had put it in leisure mode. It would have kept on going as long as needed.

Whatever happened, he just hoped he would know now.

At last.

Seventy-one

The car had already been driving around for twenty minutes. Neither of them had spoken.

The traffic was light. Shame they didn't have to go anywhere. Harry was getting impatient. He didn't care about Pergola's gun. It was time to know.

- Do you think we'll have to carry on for a long time, Pergola?

Pergola didn't reply straight away. He had kept pointing the gun all this time. His arm must have been getting tired. He seemed to be considering an answer.

- We'll continue for as long as it's needed. I had precise instructions to keep you out of the scene for a while. Just enough time for people to build the right type of evidence around John's suicide.

- Because that's what it was. Suicide? - Harry said.

So it was all true. Many people were in on this. Within the police. They were going to make this look like suicide. And then, with John and him removed, they could have carried on as before. Letting things take the course they were meant to.

- Yes, I believe John buckled under the extreme stress of the last few weeks. And you just couldn't handle it anymore and decided to go back home. Change of scenery. A new start.

- So, this is where we're going?

- Not that far, for now, - Pergola replied. - Just to the train station. I trust you will be a good boy. You'll take the train and go all the way back to Grenlund, your beloved hometown. And once you're there, you'll stay put for a while. You'll be on sick leave for a few months and then you'll start afresh at the local police department. Same salary. Same position. All the paperwork is in place. They'll be expecting you once you recover.

- What from?

- From this.

Harry felt a pinch on his right arm. A needle. Pergola had just injected something into his bloodstream.

- What the hell's that, Pergola?

- Oh, nothing special, really. Just something to calm you down a little. Relax, I'm not going to kill you. That's not the plan. Weird, isn't it? I was surprised as well, when they told me, but there you go. I can't always have it my way.

Within a few minutes Harry started feeling much calmer. The stress that had been a constant presence in his life for the last few weeks was lifting. He was feeling at peace with himself. A sense of acceptance pervaded him. He knew that he was now under Pergola's control, but that was fine.

Pergola realised that too. He lowered his gun.

- Ok, Strickned. Here's the deal. Not that you're in a position to turn any offer down. We're going to keep on driving for a while, then we'll go to the train station. Don't worry, the effect of the stuff that is currently in your bloodstream is going to wane before you get to Grenlund. But by that time, you won't feel like coming back at all.

- That's fine, Pergola.

He felt stone cold sober. Lucid. And yet, he had to do what Pergola was saying.

- As we have some time to kill, I thought I'd fill you in on what happened.

That was the moment Harry had been waiting for. He hadn't quite planned for it to go this way. But it was better than nothing. It was the end. Finally.

- Great, thank you, - Harry heard himself saying.

- Somehow, I thought you'd say that, - Pergola said, smiling.

He continued.

- Harry, do you really think we're still the same people on two different planets? No, don't answer. I know what you think. The truth is that you're wrong. When was the last time someone from Earth even gave a shit about Mars? Do you remember when we were trying to keep up that farce? Same people. Two planets. And a huge distance in between. A gap that was getting bigger by the day. No, the truth is that we left. And Earth forgot about us. They had the right to do that.

Pergola waited a few seconds, then continued.

- Well, nominally that isn't true, of course. The Martian Republic has a seat at the United Nations. There is still some trade between us and them, mainly from them to us. Some people travel between Earth and Mars. And, politicians still speak publicly about Earth and Mars as being the same thing. But, apart from that, no one there worries about what is going on over here. And the same here. Have you asked around? Life may be hard here, but we've found a way of living on this planet. Yes, you can't walk around without a breathing mask, but we've created the best network of interlinked living spaces. The glass domes, at night, are staggeringly beautiful. And sure, you can't stay outside for too long: too much radiation. But, in exchange, we have a most pleasant artificial climate: neither cold nor hot. No wind and no rain. We're fond of this place. We've adapted. Our muscles. Our immune system. And some people think that we couldn't even mate with an Earth human anymore. Let's face it, Strickned, we've become a different species.

- I see what you're saying. - Harry said.

He disagreed. Of course he did. He wanted to shout at Pergola. But all he could do was agree with him. Pergola carried on.

- I'm glad you agree, even if not voluntarily, - Pergola said. - Maybe one day you'll genuinely think this way. Many people already do. And we're finally doing something about it. Shame that we had to infiltrate the democratic institutions of the Republic. But it was the best way to achieve what we wanted. It's a pity we couldn't get everyone on board. You and John, for example. And Tondelli, of course. He was very good, technically, but a bit stubborn. He never wanted to listen to me. He didn't even let me speak. I'm sure he knew what I wanted to tell him: he just buried his head in the sand. Eventually he discovered our little trick, but it exploded in his hands.

Harry felt comforted by the thought that at least some people still believed in a future together with Earth. They were losing, though.

Pergola continued.

- Anyway, rest assured that once all this is over, we'll go back to our place. We want this country to thrive, based on democratic principles. It will become an even better place than it is now. You'll be happy with it. You'll enjoy your new life in Grenlund, you'll see. If you'd been a bit more realistic you'd have stayed there from the beginning, but I think this experience was good for you. You'll value what you have more than you ever did.

They had now reached the station. Harry knew that he had lost. But he was feeling relieved. He felt he could only agree with Pergola. Nothing made sense. But it had a logic.

- Here we are. - Pergola said. - Now let's leave the car somewhere and get you a ticket.

Epilogue

The glow was gone.

Suddenly his surroundings took on a cooler vivid tone. The world around him looked ruthless. And cold. But this was what the world had always looked like.

To him, at least.

Harry realised that the effect of whatever crap Pergola had injected him with was wearing off.

How long had he been on the train? Two, three hours maximum. It was going at full speed, there was still some way to go. The whole trip would take about five hours. The train had not started decelerating yet, as it would have done on its final approach.

The pleasant glow that had surrounded him until that point had now vanished. It had been replaced by a strong diffused headache. He felt completely drained. He knew he should have tried to do something. Get someone's attention. And then try to go back.

He just had no energy. He knew then that it would take him some time to recover. During which things would keep moving on.

No, he should just stay there. Start his life again.

Day in, day out.

After all, it would be a better life than the one he was leaving behind. It would be quieter. No more stress. Perhaps if he just let everything go, things would get better. A little life in a little town. He would not need much more than that.

The life Lisa had offered him. Now he could have it. Without Lisa.

Minutes passed. Maybe twenty or so. It was the early afternoon: the sky was still pitch black. He could see some stars. Many stars, in fact. He painfully turned his head, resting his cheek against the cool window. He looked up.

Up there, among those speckles, was Earth. He wasn't sure where it was, or if it could actually be seen from there. He just knew it was out there. Difficult to spot. Almost invisible.

He had never felt as far from Earth as in that moment. He had never been there. Until the day before, that didn't matter. Earth was part of what he was.

No longer.

He felt alone, and yet he belonged there. Today, he was something more different than he had ever been.

He was a Martian.

A member of a new species.

Drifting away.