Moving Mars

Oria

The elevator stopped. Oria

Oria

“Hello, Miss Muir,” Oria

“Hello, Ori! How nice to have visitors.” She smiled su

“Miss Muir, this is my friend, Casseia Majumdar of Mars.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the woman said.

“Do you know Miss Muir, Casseia?”

“I’m sorry, no.”

Oria

That name I had heard.

“President of the United States ?” I asked, my face betraying how impressed I was.

“Forty years ago,” Muir said, cocking her head to one side. “Practically forgotten, except by friends, and by my goddaughter. How are you, Ori?”

“I’m high pleased, ma’am. I apologize for not coming sooner… You know we’ve been away.”

“To Mars. You returned on the same ship with Miss Majumdar?”

“I did. And I confess I’ve come here with a motive.”

“Something interesting, I hope.”

“Casseia’s being jammed, ma’am. I’m too ignorant to speck what’s happening.”

Ex-President Muir leaned forward. “Do tell.”

Oria

“Certainly,” Muir said. A port thrust from the wall, and Oria

I specked the former President lying in warm sleep behind the screen, bathed in swirling currents of red and white medical nano like strawberry juice and cream.

Muir smiled and adjusted her chair to face us. The effect startled me — even ambient sound told us we were with her, outdoors. The walls of the cubicle gradually faded into scenery. Soon we, too, were in the shade of the large tree, surrounded by warm moist air. I smelled roses, fresh-cut grass, and something that raised the hair on my arms. Electricity… thunderstorms.

“You work for a big financial Binding Multiple. Rather, you’re part of the family, right, Casseia?“ Her voice, colored by a melodious southern accent, drifted warm and concerned in the thick air.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“You’re under pressure… You’ve been summoned to testify before Congress, but for one reason or another, you’ve been shunted to another rail.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“Why?”

I looked at Ori. “I really can’t reveal family matters here, ma’am. Ori — Oria

Muir tilted her head back. “Someone in the alliances has decided Mars is an irritant, and I can’t guess why. You simply don’t mean that much to the United States , or to GEWA or GSHA or Eurocom or any of the other alliances.”

Oria

My level of skepticism rose enormously; I’ve always bristled when people ask for, much less demand, trust. Face to face with a ghost, an illusory representative of someone I had never met in person, I simply would not let myself bestow trust it was not my right or station to give.

On the other hand, much of what we were doing was public knowledge — and there was no reason not to carry on a conversation at that level.

“Martians have stood apart from Solar System unification,” I said.

“Good for you,” Muir said, smiling foxily. “Not everybody should knuckle under to the alliances.”

“Well, it’s not entirely good,” I said. “We’re not sure we know how to unify. Earth expects full participation from coherent partners. We seem to be unable to meet their expectations.”

“The Big Push,” Muir said.

“Right,” Oria

“That seems to be part of it.”

Muir shook her head sadly. “My experience with Martians when I was President was that Mars had great potential. But this Big Push could get along nicely without you. You’d hardly be missed.”

I felt another burn. “We think we might have a lot to contribute, actually.”

“Unwilling to participate, but proud to be asked, proud to have pressure applied, is that it?” Muir said.

“Not exactly, ma’am,” I said.

Her face — the face of her image — hardened almost imperceptibly. Despite her warm tone and friendly demeanor, I sensed a chill of negative judgment.

“Casseia, Ori tells me you’re very smart, very capable, but you’re missing something. Your raw materials and economic force count for little in any Big Push. Mars is small in the Solar System scheme of things. What can you contribute, that would be worth the effort Earth seems to be willing to expend on you?”

I was at a loss for an answer. Bithras, I remembered, had been wary of this explanation, but I had swallowed it uncritically.

“Maybe you know something you can’t tell me, and I don’t expect you to tell me, considering your responsibilities and loyalties. But take it from an old, old politician, who helped plant — much to my regret — some of the trees now bearing ripe fruit. The much-ballyhooed Big Push is only a cover. Earth is deeply concerned about something you have, or can do, or might be able to do. Since you can’t mount an effective military operation, and your economic strength is negligible, what could Mars possibly have, Casseia, that Earth might fear?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Something the small and weak can do as well as the large and the strong, something that will mean strategic changes.

Surely you can think of what that might be. How could Mars possibly threaten Earth?“

“We can’t,” I said. “As you’ve told me, we’re weak, insignificant.”

“Do you think politics is a clean, fair game played by rational humans?”

“At its best,” I said lamely.

“But in your experience…”

“Martian politics has been pretty primitive,” I admitted.

“Your uncle Bithras… Is he politically sophisticated?”

“I think so,” I said.

“You mean, compared to you, he seems to be.”

My discomfort ramped. I did not like being grilled, even by my social superiors. “I suppose,” I said.

“Well, politics is not all muck, and not always corrupting, but it is never easy. Getting even rational people from similar backgrounds to agree is difficult. Getting planets to agree, with separate histories, widely different perspectives, is a political nightmare. I would hesitate to accept the task, and yet your uncle seems to have jumped in with both feet.”

“He’s cautious,” I said.

“He’s a child playing in the big leagues,” Muir said.

“I disagree,” I said.

Muir smiled. “What does he think is really going on here?”

“For the moment, we accept that Earth needs Mars… prepared for some large-scale operation. The Big Push seems as likely as anything.”

“You truly believe that?”

“I can’t think of any other reason.”