Xiaoling frowned. “But the bureaucrat is in charge, finally, yes?”

Zuminski grinned craftily. “Scratch Mars scientist, find fanatic.”

3.

Rachel had already studied up on Hassan’s background as Systemic Interaction Administrator—where did they get these titles?—on her way here with Fraq, some flock, and an Earther escort, on the fast-orbit Aldrin Cycler. Deep inside the spinning, hollow asteroid, she had fallen asleep over the routine Hassan biography, and woke to a moist aroma that reminded her of childhood. Somehow she still associated Hassan with that memory, and the biology her childhood evoked.

The Cycler’s deliberately warm-watery scents had mixed in her memory with the camellia bushes dripping with dew, down the bayou. There had been, too, the moldy flavor of pecan husks rotting and the damp promise of good fishing in the shadows. Just down the road, far back in her childhood, there had been whitewashed brick crypts, whose fading tributes told passersby that bloody Shiloh and Arabi lay within memory, still.

She shook herself free of that. Rachel had expected Hassan to be her major contact here, but so far had not even seen him. He spent most of his time at Clarke Central, the main landing site and supply depot for exploration. He was also rumored to have a strong role in the small terraforming program, called Marsforming here, though his title there was Head of Research.

She had liked the ever-spinning Aldrin ’roid ship, and looked forward to the return voyage on it. That Fraq and his flock had banished the Prefects from this expedition meant she had no strong advisors. Until…

She’d opened the door in a bleary fog. This was part of the recovery from the monthly wake-and-walk from pseudo-hibernation the long flight demanded. She blinked, her eyes cleared—and out of the fog, Prefect Stiles suddenly appeared.

His explanation came hard and fast: “Of course I had to be here—that is, a Prefect must be. I and some techs and even your analysis pod—all that, we got aboard the Aldrin Cycler. Carefully, you see—some bribery, yes. We have a cramped but serviceable set of quarters, carved out in the walls, hastily and crudely, by robots. We have access to exercise machines, the kilometer run, even the mess hall—during imposed night hours. We shall come down to Mars surface well after you, in a descent pod. We will live thirty kilometers away, in a mining facility.” With a vain twirl of his neck, he pronounced, “We’ve done well. Learned much, had frequent conversations with the Library, our Earthside analysts, all.”

“Uh, so, why…”

“We found old entries, Messages from early Library analysis. They refer to a Ythri visit here, to Mars. So—”

“Fraq is coming here to find something.”

“Yes. And you can discover what that is. Subtly, of course.”

“Subtle… not my strong suit.”

“We shall be here, ready to assist.

“I’ll let you know….”

When she closed the door, she leaned against it, deciding. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ring you up, Stiles.