A large
city square. A church with a tall steeple on one side, flanked by large
houses; facing the church, a large public building, probably the Town Hall,
also flanked by houses, probably apartments; on one of the other sides,
a huge covered market place, at this moment totally deserted; facing this,
more public buildings. Probably administrative offices, police, whatever.
In the middle, a permanent platform, seems to be made of wood. Good place
for the transmat station, maybe. All I have to do is slip this device underneath,
just out of sight. Something's on the platform, hard to see from here.
First, put this in; good. Now, let's see what's making that noise.
Actually,
it sounds like someone moaning. It's a person standing in stocks, a prisoner.
A woman.
"Hello,
my name is Christina. I'm a tourist. It looks like you're in trouble with
the law. What's your name?"
"My name
is Madeline. I'm a widow, I live alone at the edge of the city. They think
I'm a witch. I have another day of punishment here, then they'll let me
go. Unless they decide to burn me at the stake."
"A witch?
I didn't think there were such things."
"Quiet,
Christina the Tourist, don't let the authorities hear you. It's blasphemy,
you know, and you might be punished like me. I wasn't always old and wrinkled
and poor; they didn't always think I'm a witch, a doer of evil, a slave
to Satan. They think I consort with the dead, with ghosts who wander in
search of their bodies. But there are no ghosts, and I am not a slave to
Satan. But you must go. Do not let them find you here talking to me. If
they think you are trying to set me free, you will be put in jail."
"Well,
I'll take my chances on that. But tell me about yourself, how you came
to be thought of as a witch."
"Once
I was the wife of a rich merchant, Peter the Draper. In those days they
respected me. But since he died in a terrible accident, and especially
since my children left Canaan and ceased belonging to the Ancient-Day Primitivist
religion, I have been shunned. People stopped coming to the store. I grew
poor as I grew old. I had to sell my house, it was just behind the Public
Building, but no one would buy it at a fair price. I took what I could,
and went to live outside the walls. I eat herbs and roots, because I have
no money to buy food. If it were not for Dr. Lebenstein, I would long since
have died."
"Madeline,
your story is terrible. How can you live with these people?"
"Quiet,
Christina the Tourist, don't let the authorities hear you. You will not
want to suffer my fate. I live with these people because they are my people.
Someday they will know they have made a mistake. I will be restored to
my community. But now you must go. At dark, I will be moved to the jail.
If they find you speaking with me, you will be jailed, too."
"Would
I be burned at the stake, too?"
"If you
are convicted of being a witch, and if you were to live here, perhaps.
But you are a tourist; you would just be deported."
"Suppose
I set you free, what would happen to you? Where could you go?"
"Quiet,
Christina the Tourist. Don't let the authorities hear you. You might return
to your home, but I live here, I would be found, and I would die."
"It doesn't
seem fair, Madeline. The authorities sound cruel."
Christina
thought she heard something at this time, but because dusk was upon them
she couldn't see very well. Was that a person ducking behind the platform?
Was it a government spy, gathering evidence against Madeline? Yes, there
seemed to be a shadowy figure lurking there. Seemed. She wasn't sure if
she was seeing or hearing things. It was all so eerie.
"Can
I do anything to help you, Madeline?"
"You
are kind to think of me. If you see Dr. Lebenstein, the pharmacist, tell
him about me. Perhaps he will be able to help me."
"How
can I find him? I am a stranger here, as you know."
"You
go past the church, on the right side of the church, and follow the road
you will be on. Up you will go, Christina, through the woods to the top
of the hill. There you will see a big stone house. That is the pharmacy.
They will take you in for the night. Beware the robbers on the way; it's
a long road. Farewell, Christina the Tourist. May we meet again."
"I sure
hope to see you soon, Madeline, and in better circumstances. I will tell
Dr. Lebenstein about your fate. Farewell."
That
noise again, like someone moving in the shadows. Is it my imagination?
Do I see someone moving through the deserted marketplace? Hmm. I'd better
keep my guard up. Well, here's the church. Right side. Follow the road
up the hill. Wonder how far it is.
The road
went straight into a now rapidly darkening wood, then twisted up a steep
rocky incline. Above, the faint light of Phobos and Deimos could be seen.
By early morning Ares will loom on the horizon. Ares. People have often
asked me what it's doing now. What I tell them is that its main function
is to maintain the density of the atmosphere, so that the planet's relatively
weak gravitational pull (only about 0.39 that of Earth) will not permit
the air to escape, as happened about three billion years ago. I don't tell
them that it's also at work producing the energy needed to keep the world
alive. With little seismic activity, Mars creates virtually no internal
heat. Thanks to Ares, underground water is created, then heated, and tapped
for energy. Even the ADP use this energy source, although they apparently
don't know it's man-made and not natural.
The low
gravity makes it pretty easy for someone not born here, and even those
who were born here and keep fit, to carry something like this duffel bag
that must weigh 20 or 25 kilos on Earth. Mustapha's right, these clothes
are old-fashioned and heavy, but I'm glad I have them on, on this chilly
evening. Tamarack, oak, pine. Some underbrush I can't make out in this
gathering darkness. What's that noise? A squirrel. "Look out for robbers,"
Madeline said. Can't be too careful, must stay alert. Dr. Stanley Lebenstein,
the pharmacist, lives in a deserted part of Canaan's area, up the hill
from town; I bet it's a good three kilometer walk. Lebenstein; pharmacist.
Not bad. It seems to have fooled a whole lot of people.
Not many
people want to move to Mars. The gravity and the climate. Maybe that's
why the Earth Government set aside these three or four reservations here,
including Canaan: one way to attract settlers, which in the long run should
relieve population pressures on Earth. This one for the ADP. Another for
rehabilitated prisoners. A third for descendants of people who had lived
in Arctic lands, when there still were such things on Earth, and who for
some reason have never been able to adapt to our tropical heat and humidity.
I can't remember what the fourth was, or if there even was a fourth. But
I do know that for most settlers, those who come to live on the main continent
instead of these island reservations, it's either a call to adventure,
or a means of escaping poverty (they get free land, I think, and a lot
of help getting set up, just like the Mesnosians did), or both.
Ah, there's
a light ahead. Strange. It's not flickering like a candle or a lantern.
Electricity? Here? If so, it has to be my Stanley. How will I greet him?
"Dr. Livingstone, I presume?" No, that pun on his alias is just too corny.
"A ghost of times past?" Or, maybe... "Ouch!"
A heavy
club fell on Christina's back, fortunately right on her duffel bag. She
staggered, then fell to the ground, quickly rolled over, and saw a man
coming after her with a pummel of some sort. She evaded his blow, then
got up and got rid of her duffel. He swung again, but hit her with a glancing
blow to the arm. She struck a blow to his stomach, which made him stagger
backwards for a couple of steps. When he recovered, he came after her again,
but this time she sidestepped and, grabbing his arm, she tossed him over
her shoulder. In this gravitational field he felt pretty light, although
on Earth he would have weighed 100 kilos at least. He grunted this time,
the first sound he'd emitted in this entire struggle.
"Give
up while you're ahead," she heard herself saying. His only response was
to mumble something she couldn't make out, spring to his feet, and lunge
at her. He appeared to be in such a rage that he couldn't think. She moved
quickly out of his path, then smashed him on the back of the neck as he
flew past her. At this he stumbled forward and turned around; she smacked
him straight in the jaw. He collapsed, unconscious. She dragged him to
a tree with the thought of tying him to it. A robber? Do enough people
come here to make it worth while for a thief? A guard? Same question. But
this guy's a sad excuse for a guard, if that's what he is. Maybe Stanley
will let me in on the secret.
The house
was only a hundred meters away. She saw the door open, a flood of yellow
light stream out from inside. Then a young man emerged, looked out into
the dark, and finally spotted her and the hulk next to her. He came rushing
down, accompanied by a very large dog that growled. "Quiet, Caesar,"he
said. He introduced himself as Det Stisreg, the assistant pharmacist.
"My name
is Christina Vasa. I've come to see Dr. Lebenstein. He's a friend of mine
from Earth. But I should tell you that I was attacked by this somewhat
incompetent thug."
"Ah,
we've been expecting you. This is not a very nice first impression of the
Canaan Pharmacy, I'm afraid. Hmm. You seem to have handled that man without
any trouble. I'll take him to a safe place for the night."
"Expecting
me?"
As his
only answer, Det picked up the man, tossing him easily onto his shoulder,
while Christina picked up her bag. They went up to the house and entered.
"Please
sit down, Ms. Vasa. Dr. Lebenstein has spoken to me of you. I'll tell him
you're here; as I've said, he's been expecting you. Meanwhile, I'll ask
my wife to keep you company. Numamba, we have a visitor, a distinguished
visitor!"
Before
Christina could object to this way of being identified, a tall young woman,
with long black hair and dark eyes, came in. Neither she nor Det was dressed
like the people in town. They wore comfortable Earth clothes, what most
of the Martians she had met in her earlier visits to the planet wore. "Numamba,
this is Captain Christina Vasa. I'll take Caesar along to the cell with
this guy. I want to see who would have dared to attack Captain Vasa. She's
done something to knock him out for this long."
"Be careful,
Det, he may be faking it."
"I'll
have the fiercest dog in Canaan with me, don't worry."
Saying
this, he disappeared into a hallway. Numamba greeted Christina with evident
pleasure, although she seemed to be concerned over her husband's safety.
Caesar's growls and gnars reassured her.
"It's
a terrible introduction to the pharmacy and to Canaan. We'll do our best
to make you comfortable. Let's get over to the fireplace and brush off
your clothes. Are you hurt? We've got excellent medical facilities here,
as you might imagine, since you've come to meet an old friend with great
medical skills."
"Oddly
enough, I didn't get hurt in the scuffle. Maybe it has something to do
with the gravity here."
"Yes,
well, I understand what you mean, and you're right. We have an Earth gravity
center down below, so we're always in perfect shape relative to the Martian
natives. It pays to keep in training. And since you've just come down from
Constellation, you must be in tune with Earth's gravity, too."
"How
does everyone know who I am, where I've been, and when I was supposed to
get here, and why I've come? It's spooky. It was supposed to be a secret.
And by the way, please call me Christina."
"Okay,
Christina. I think it might be best to let Dr. Lebenstein tell you about
that. Stanley has spoken often about you, you'd almost think he was a proud
father! How did you find him here? That was just as big a secret."
Christina's
answer never left her mouth. A bulky man who seemed to be about 40 or 45
rushed into the room, exclaiming "Captain Vasa, I presume?" There were
shouts of glee and joy, hugs, tons of questions, a barrage of information,
fine sherry, noise and happiness. Det returned in the midst of the scene,
saying that he recognized the assaulter and had locked him in the shelter
for the night, where he'd be safe from the wild dogs and the strong winds
that blow when the sun goes down and temperatures drop. They'd question
him in the morning. "You must have really given him a wallop, he's still
out cold," Det observed.
"Our
hand has never lost its skill," Christina answered, with a laugh. "One
of the things we learn at Space Academy is self defense. In this case it
was easy: an element of surprise, a quick hard blow to the back of the
head, where it meets the neck, then a knock-out punch. It's all a question
of physics."
"We've
just finished preparing dinner, and if you want, we can sit down to a meal
and talk then. You can celebrate Liberation Day with us. It's the day my
escape and all that were erased from the record, my conviction overturned,
and my name cleared. I chose nevertheless to retain my new identity. I
am a bit worried, though, Christina. I know you're resourceful, I know
you're smart, I know that the computer aboard Constellation is powerful.
I know all that. But if you could sniff me out, so could other people,
and some of them are a worry: as you know, I'm not popular with the Militia."
"But
the ADPs don't do business with them, do they?"
Numamba
answered for Stanley. "They don't, but they have adopted an open port policy:
they don't inspect travel documents, and the Militia have visited this
reservation more than once, recruiting. Unsuccessfully, let me add. But
they have come up here, and the odd chance that someone will recognize
Stanley has us worried a bit. But more of that later. Christina, let me
show you to our guest room. We'll have the table set in a quarter of an
hour. Any plans for tomorrow?"
"I'd
like to visit the city, find out something about life here in Canaan. And,
to be honest, I have some personal business to discuss with Stanley."
"Personal
business? I can't imagine what you mean," said Stanley Narb, with a wink.
"I'm just a simple pharmacist, working with herbs to cure people of diseases."
"I got
directions here from Madeline the Draper, who's in the stocks. She spoke
warmly of you, as a person who doesn't believe in witches and who might
help her out. She's in pretty desperate straights. She thinks they might
burn her at the stake."
"Nobody's
burned at the stake here. But I'll go to town in the morning. With a little
luck, we'll be able to spring Madeline from jail. Maybe it's time we brought
her here for good. Numamba, Det, you and I can talk about that over dinner.
You'll come along with me in the morning, and I'll show you around town.
But for now, freshen up, get yourself settled in. After dinner, maybe you'd
like to see our little operation?"
"My appetite
is whetted. I'm as hungry for knowledge as I am for food."
"Hmm.
Some things never change, do they? I think you said something like that
almost 270 years ago."