EFFECTS OF SECRECY / CH. 6:CLAIMS
EMBASSY COMPOUND, 12AM, WEDSOL, 20TH JANUARY
“Hi! Any news on your compensation claim?” James asked Ruth as she arrived at the compound.
“Nope. Well, not really. On the eighth, as you know it was 'we'll sort it out quickly', the following Monsol it was 'everyone's too busy with the influx, sorry.'. On Monsol of this week it was 'your complaint is in the queue, and we'll get to it really soon.' Today they said 'Really sorry, it went in the lost baggage queue, isn't that what you said? But the paperwork said differently. We've sent it to head office, we can't deal with it here.'”
“So... was it deliberate delaying tactics, do you think?”
“That's why I'm here. I need a witness or two that it was very carefully explained to the office manager, because the junior clerk who was talking to me handed me a note about there being an automatic charge for inaccurate filing of a claim, which is exactly what I need right now.”
“Alice is going to hit the roof isn't she?”
“That's what I hope, anyway.”
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MARSCORP OFFICE, 2PM
“Madam ambassador, what a surprise,” the office manager said. Strangely he wasn't 'busy all day' when Alice arrived, despite assurances Ruth had been given earlier in the day.
“I'm being a reporter today,” Alice said, getting out her notebook “it's more fun. Carry on, James.”
James said, “You do remember Ruth here and her bungled ticket?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Can you please explain why, then, when she enquired what was happening this morning she was handed this insult,” James put the 'notification of charges' page on the man's desk and continued, “rather than any form of appropriate compensation for the loss of possessions and of course three hundred kilos of transport she suffered at the hands of MarsCorp incompetence? Also, while you're at it you could explain why she was informed that you were unavailable the whole day and why her claim was reportedly filed as a missing baggage claim?”
“Please do be aware that I'm a registered truthsayer in the employ of the Mars Council,” Ruth said, “and as well as taking Her Excellency's valuable time, MarsCorp have also been keeping me from my place of work. The Council will be billing MarsCorp accordingly. Oh, and deciding to lie to a truthsayer and a journalist-ambassador is rather a jit thing to do.”
“It seems I have been placed in a difficult situation by my superiors,” he stated carefully.
“You don't say!” Alice said. “So, would you like to tell me all about it, so I can write for comment to MarsCorp legal department, copied to my editor of course, or would you like to discuss it with the Council?”
“My instructions came from someone in the legal department, maam.”
“High up in the legal department, or someone overstepping their authority?” Alice pressed, not concealing her glee.
“I don't know I can comment on how much authority people have, maam.”
“I say overstepping their authority,” Alice explained “because I'm assuming they'd need to be quite high up the corporate pyramid indeed to deliberately give the impression that the corporation is incompetent in the midst of a legal case concerning the competent operation of the corporation.”
“A legal case, Maam?”
“Didn't you even read the paperwork you were handed?” James asked.
“Not in detail, Sir, I passed it to an assistant.”
“Perhaps you should then. On the eighth of this month you were given a notice period of three weeks for a civil case before the council, in which you could prepare evidence for the hearing or to settle out of court. You were personally handed a legal summons bearing the seal of the Mars Council, I hope you haven't lost it, the council won't be impressed. You stated, in front of myself, an officer of the crown, that the case would be dealt with in the next few days.”
Alice chipped in “James's status as what you might call a roving public notary if that's a more familiar term, is recognised on Mars under treaty provisions, so you're in trouble already, and these things will come out in the hearing on Frisol week. It's at two P.M., in case you've lost the summons.”
“I'll need to contact head office, Sir, Maam.”
“Yes, well, that's what you said almost two weeks ago.” Ruth said. “See you on Frisol week.”
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RUTH'S ROOM, THURSOL, 29TH JAN, 7PM.
“Let me get this straight,” Ruth said to the MarsCorp official who'd called her, “after three weeks of stony silence, one day before the trial, you're offering me three hundred kilos in credit which I'd have to use on goods and services from MarsCorp, excluding any right to use it for transport, and fifty kilos in transport credits?”
“You could put it like that, yes.”
“And can you explain to me again why I should accept?”
“The total value of the offer is greater than the amount of your claim, Maam.”
“Assuming I was planning to buy myself two complexes, a buggy and a life-time's supply of gloop, I might be marginally interested. But I'm not in the mood to buy two complexes this weekend. This side of the influx, the waiting list is getting close to six months now, to start with, and while I'm waiting for the one complex I'll order, I'd much rather buy some hand-made furniture, cutlery, crockery, a loom and some fabrics so I can add some personality to this little sterile plastic space you call my living room. All of which are things that I had and would have brought with me had it not been for MarsCorp's incompetence. Also you seem to have mis-interpreted the amount of the claim, adding the value on Earth of the items I had to dispose of rather than the value on Mars. Offer rejected.”
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MARS COUNCIL CHAMBER. FRISOL, 30TH JAN, 14:30
“Would the representative for the defendant like to respond?” the judge, Claudia Fedira asked, after Harry had finished presenting Ruth's case and the additional testimony from James and Alice.
“On the point of deprivation of property, the claimant admits selling the items listed, so I hardly see how we can be held responsible. She could have placed them in storage,” the MarsCorp official said.
“To what end?” Harry challenged, “Commercial storage is not free, and with MarsCorp issuing her the wrong ticket, your agents informed her she would have to pay a significant amount of money to bring them with her. Otherwise, she would have done so, would she not?”
“She should have queried the ticket.”
“Your honour,” Harry addressed Claudia, “I interpret the defence case to be ultimately resting on the principle of caveat emptor, or 'if we can get away with it, we will, and if we're only caught afterwards then it's all the claimant's fault'. I acknowledge this to apply in some circumstances, but as the claimant was not the buyer, but instead the grateful recipient of services paid for by another, it hardly seems fair for her to be expected, as it were, to 'look the gift-horse in the mouth'. I feel the situation is far more like that of a company issuing a gift certificate being caught out having altered the value of that certificate between buyer and recipient, which is either gross incompetence or quite simply a case of fraudulent practice. Given the testimony we've heard, the fact that this has happened in another case also, (approximately matching the profile of today's claimant) and the admission of deliberate interference by unnamed figures of authority within the Corporation to trip up any restitution of this case, I feel that there are sufficient grounds to suggest punitive damages are the appropriate response.”
The arguments continued and James noted that Alice continued to take notes. He was pretty sure that Mars Corp were losing the argument.
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4PM, OUTSIDE MARS COUNCIL OFFICES
“Happy with that result?” Alice asked Ruth, as they were leaving. The court had awarded her a total compensation package of four hundred kilos. Negotiations had resulted in that consisting of a complex with a small living dome (suitable for a single or newly-wed couple), and a medium farming dome (Alice had warned that a small dome didn't really give enough space for experimenting or compost areas). In exchange for Ruth allowing that to be
counted at list price rather than disclosing exactly what that cost them, MarsCorp had agreed to connect it to the electrical grid for free, as part of delivery, which would be within one week of when she'd notified them where she wanted it. She'd have to find people to help her put up the dome, and get the regolith improved before the dome was delivered, but Alice had convinced her that wouldn't be hard to arrange.
The other thing that had been agreed was that the same compensation deal would be applicable to Alex, the other truthsayer who'd suffered the same fate.
“Yes, very much so. Thank you.”
“No problem at all.”
“But your article...” as part of the final agreement, Alice had agreed not to publish what she'd been writing during the negotiation over damages.
“Oh, that's written already. I started writing a new song that occurred to me, but I also wrote a shopping list and some notes for truthsayers coming to Mars. Oh, and in the middle I wrote a little note to a senior manager in MarsCorp's legal department, but that was just a warning that someone in his department was getting the department in trouble.
“You were just writing to intimidate him?” James asked.
“I find that when you put someone in a corner, it helps to give them something they can count as a victory. He needn't ever know he's got me to agree under oath to not publish my shopping list.”
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5.30PM, EMBASSY BARRACKS.
“Hi, Margaret,” James said, meeting her in the common room of the barracks.
“How did it go?”
“One unpublishable shopping list later and Ruth is a rich woman.”
“Rich, as in, lots of credit?”
“Lots of credit and a complex to be built once she decides where.”
“Oooh, envy envy.”
“You must have been able to save enough for a living dome, surely?” James asked.
“Oh, probably. I've just never really looked into getting one. I mean, why?” Margaret asked, “It's not like I can't decorate my room here. I've got my field dome, and it's not like I need to watch my crops grow every night.”
“It's probably more a factor for Ruth,” James guessed, “getting away from that featureless plastic box she can call home right now.”
“Probably. What did you mean about the shopping list?”
“Alice took an oath not to publish what she had been writing during the final negotiations.”
“Oh, right. That trick again.”
“I got the feeling she'd done it before. But I've been meaning to ask you, do you have any advice on where I should put my field dome?”
“Urm, on your claim?”
“I don't think it'll fit. It's still on paper.”
“You've not chosen anywhere?”
“Well, I did claim a little chunk of Hellas, which has a chance of becoming either a gorgeous beach-front property or a swimming pool, depending on all the normal things, but nowhere to actually plant my crops, no.”
“Well, I'd suggest somewhere close to here.”
“I was thinking that too. But, urm....”
“Yes?”
“Last week I looked at the map of unclaimed land, and found somewhere that looked like it was a good place.”
“Well, claim it then.”
“I then noticed who my neighbour would be, and thought I ought to ask her, in case it might start rumours or something which might embarrass her.”
“My plot, you mean?” Margaret asked.
“Yes,” James confirmed.
“Would rumours embarrass you?”
“Not really, it's just a pain correcting them.”
“You could ignore them,” she said.
“Well, if you don't mind.”
“I'll be able to put up with rumours, James.”
“Thank you, Margaret.”
“James,” she smiled, “as far as I'm concerned you can put your field dome as close as you like to my boundary, if we're courting rumours we might as well as do it properly.”
“Margaret, are you saying you'd, urm, welcome there being substance to rumours?”
“If that's not possible yet then I'll settle for rumours, James.”
“I don't know, Margaret. I don't want to just start going out because it's what everyone expects.”
“Does everyone include you?”
“Well, yes,” he said, blushing.
“That's all right then,” she smiled, “It includes me too.”
“I wasn't sure.”
“Now you know. Are you off duty, by the way?”
“Yes.”
“That's good. Go make your claim soon then, I certainly don't want anyone else moving in next to me.”
“Isn't the office closed until Monsol?”
“You need to get the paperwork in person of course, but you can register it on-line these days.”
“Oooh, I didn't see that in orientation.”
“It's new. Want me to show you the site?”
“Yes, please.”
It wasn't very complicated, but James let her take over the console a few times when he got stuck. Each time, he hid his thoughts as he breathed the scent of her hair, and she accidentally brushed her elbow or arm against his body. He assumed it was accidental, anyway. But it was nice to know she was interested, he was too. The way his thoughts and emotions were responding to her proximity made that very obvious to him. But... it was too soon, he resolutely decided. He needed to make some things clear to her before he spoke more of his feelings.
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EMBASSY BARRACKS, 6.30PM
Preparing food together wasn't about romance, it was practical, it was friendship, and whoever was cooking in the kitchen did the same. He had dried foods from Earth, she had fresh vegetables; he contributed what he'd have eaten, she contributed what she'd have eaten, and they had a much nicer meal. It wasn't about romance. But, James had noticed, during the previous week, that it did feel a bit more special when it was just him and Margaret cooking together. Tonight, knowing that they'd both be going to the Fiddler's arms again, indeed spending the whole evening together, and both of them were off duty, was a very pleasant thought indeed. Before his thoughts got carried away again, James raised a question that had occurred to him earlier.
“Margaret, do you know? What's going to happen to Harry's field dome, claim and everything?”
“Nothing. Well, not quite, he's going to harvest his crops, and dry them for the trip home. He's thinking he'll be back in a decade or two.”
“Oh! So, urm, why's he going back to Earth?”
“Firstly his mum is getting infirm, and he's her only child, so he feels responsible. Secondly, because he came out at practically no notice, right when Alice was starting, he left a lot of precious stuff there. The crown said he could return for a while and then come back, so why not?”
“Did I hear that you two...”
“Went out for a few months? Yes. Basically he begged and begged until I gave in, but I knew I shouldn't have, right from the start.”
“Because he was leaving?”
“No, that was just the final straw. Why carry on dating when he's decided he's going back for a decade? No, I mean, he's sturdy, reliable, but... boring.”
“He did well in court today.”
“Exactly, he's got precision lawyer written all over him. I don't know why he's in diplomatic protection, he ought to be negotiating treaties, or something.”
“You've told him that?”
“Yes. He had the grace not to disagree.”
“You don't think...? You know, Alice's start...” he shrugged.
“You're wondering if their Majesties thought he'd be a good ambassador, if Alice had decided she couldn't cope? It's possible. But he's always been D.P. He's reliably efficient at is too. And I don't think he's really flexible enough to be ambassador here.”
“Here on constantly changing Mars, you mean?”
“Yes," Margaret agreed. "He doesn't like changes much. He can cope, but Alice thrives on change. He ought to be ambassador to somewhere with hundreds of years of barely changing civilisation, like China used to be, you know?”
“But you like change?”
“Stable is boring.”
“I couldn't agree more. That's one of the reasons I left home, too stable, unchanging and boring, among other things.”
“Other things?”
“Well, other person really. Imagine, if you will, someone with the complete opposite of Ruth's personality. The sort of person to whom electronics was a new-fangled invention that wasn't going to last, and why shouldn't we still be living in caves anyway?”
“You're exaggerating.”
“Just a bit. Almost everyone, her included, assumed that she and I would be getting married eventually, because we argued so much. But actually, I didn't like her much, I was just determined, from about age ten on, to get her to admit I was right about something.”
“When did you leave?”
“When I was sixteen, she was fifteen. I'd told her I would, a couple of years earlier; she'd told me I wouldn't, of course.”
“And you broke her heart.”
“I don't think so. But I don't really know. Her last words to me were 'you're just going get eaten or cut up or something, and by the time you come back hanging your head in shame I'm going to have married your best friend'. Which shows how well she knew me, because my best friend was her little brother. That's why I spent so much time there, so I could talk about guns and rockets and such things with him. But she always invaded and started an argument.”
“She's obviously made an impression on you.”
“She did, yes. But that's probably why I'm nervous about doing what everyone expects.”
“You've just told me that you knew about guns and rockets.”
“You didn't think we did?”
“Hold hands, in case we're overheard?”
“OK. Here comes more rumour food.”
Trying to suppress the emotions he was bubbling with, get a grip James! He took her offered hand. It was a very pleasant feeling.
[I'm very confused which bits of the stories I was told I should be believing and which ones not to. I listed some to Ruth, and she said some were just stories, others were secrets of the deep. And that the deep doesn't give up its secrets easily.]
[No, it doesn't.]
[And you're of the deep, obviously, but I don't understand if that's metaphorical or literal.]
[Can't it be both? But whales are of the deep,] James corrected, [I'd say I'm mostly of the shallows, I just know some secrets of the deep.]
[But Ruth told me I'm not fully of the deep,] Margaret said, confused.
James nodded, [No one is, not fully, but she's right too. Ruth and I could play happily in the deep, at least, wearing scale we could. And we could live in the shallows or on the land. You can live on the land and maybe play in the shallows, if you're careful. Much more easily if you had scale, but... that's a different time, a different planet.]
[You mean, there have been times you let outsiders have scale?]
[Sathzakara's final change, yes. It didn't last long, about fifty years.]
[She told her grandchildren to bring her back a fish.]
[Yes.]
[I, urm, heard about what Heather said.]
[About me being a boy mermaid?] he asked.
[Yes.]
[Not the most accurate use of English.]
[Sathzakara was a merwoman, wasn't she? That's what grandad said.]
[Yes.]
[You're a merman?]
[English doesn't distinguish married and unmarried male adults, so yes. Which reminds me, something you ought to know, divorce...] he shook his head [an oath must be kept.]
[You're saying that even if I consider divorce terrible, you'd consider it worse?]
[Yes. Unthinkable, suicidal.]
[No exceptions? None at all?]
[Among my people, there have been times in the past when people have fought to the death, over a matter of honour, the law would allow it. There have been times when people were executed, the law prescribes it. A raped woman can execute or castrate her attacker as she wishes, the law allows it. Separation is terrible, a desperate state where the community would feel shame that help had not been given earlier; counseling, prayer, time with no outside requirements except the restoration of that bond — these should all happen before that stage is reached. Divorce? Adultery? They are oath breaking, and an oath must be kept.]
[What would happen to an adulterer?]
[One who wishes to cause someone to break their oath, or someone who breaks their own?]
[There's a difference?]
[Yes. The first is a dangerous shark, the second is merely a shark or sharkfood.]
[And someone who's a dangerous shark?]
[Would you let a dangerous shark near one you love? Not all sharks need killing, just the dangerous ones.]
[You'd execute them?]
[You don't execute a shark, Margaret. You recognise it, perhaps you try to make it go away, but if it persists then you deal with it to protect others.]
[You're talking about extra-judicial killing as a response to attempted adultery, aren't you?]
[I'm talking about something the law allows for, but which hasn't happened in multiple centuries, because an oath must be kept.]
[James, when I thought of mermaids and mermen, I though... interesting fashion choice. But your people are not just a group like the Amish, are you? You're not just a separatist religious group from three or four centuries back, you're more different than that.]
[Your people also, Margaret, at least partly.]
[Yes. I need to remember that, don't I? Listening to you speak.. it's such an different culture, a different attitude to life and death, everything.]
[Sathzakara's husband called his adopted people an ancient and barbaric civilisation.]
[Ancient, even what, two, three, centuries ago?]
[They met soon after powered flight had been invented.]
[Wow!]
[If ever our people stop hiding,] James said, [perhaps Harry would be a good ambassador.]
[Yeah. So, how do I put that into a report? 'Your Majesties, the ancient and alien culture from which James came to us, have been hiding for centuries but in the unlikely event they decide to let us know they exist, I'd like to nominiate...']
[You can if you like.]
[Really?]
[Hmm. Maybe not. That rather makes it clear we're not just a secretive community, doesn't it?]
[Just slightly.] she thought, then hearing steps, they broke hands.
“I still think he'd be good, in the role though,” she said.
“In that case, I'd be really tempted to introduce Harry to Lara.”
“What are you saying about me?” Harry asked, coming through the door.
“If anyone ever found where my people live, Margaret was thinking you'd be a good person to negotiate any treaties, and I said I'd introduce you to Lara.”
“Oh yes. Who's Lara?”
“Girl I ran away from. She kept on arguing with me for being too flighty, too emotional, too interested in silly things like going to space.”
“Sounds like a sensible girl.”
“Like I said, assuming she's not married, I'd introduce you, if not for vows of secrecy, etc. etc.”
“Are you taking the mickey?” Harry asked.
“No, Harry, just dreaming impossible dreams. I expect she turned into a lawyer, you did really well at that today, I was impressed.”
“So, what's she like?”
“Lara? Christian, thought-hearer, and ultra-traditionalist, at least between ages ten and fifteen. But she might have softened in the last eight years, you know, like granite does.”
Margaret laughed at his little joke, and James found himself thinking he liked making her laugh.
“When you mean ultra-traditionalist, you mean 'a woman's place is in the home?'”
“Our traditions are different, our men hunt, our women get trained by their mothers to defend themselves and the family. Think no holds barred and razor sharp knives. Quick, effective, and absolutely vicious in a fight, and pretty painful to come against in a debate too.” James rubbed his throat in the memory, “Like I said, I ran away from her.”
“Oh wow. She sounds like the woman of my dreams. What's her address?”
“Vow of silence, my friend. Sorry, a vow must be kept. She'd rather gut me than let me break a vow. Everyone assumed we'd marry, her included, but I knew she wasn't for me. Leaving home was about the only way I could work out to convince her of that. I just hope she's admitted defeat on that one, for her own good. She sure was persistent.”
“Can't you at least tell me her full name?”
“Don't get your hopes up, Harry. I left home eight years ago, remember.”
Harry said, “Yes, but you're describing the woman of my dreams here, I'm pretty sure. Did she by any chance look a bit like Margaret?”
“Urm.” James looked at Margaret, surprised, he hadn't noticed. “There is a similarity, I guess. Lara's hair was longer, her face a bit sharper.”
Harry nodded, as though he was comparing images. “Now the stupid embarrassing question. Any chance she'd ever be wearing a white blouse, a necklace with what looked like a nut with some pearls around it, and holding a vicious serrated knife to my throat while we debate whether Plato was a plagiarist? Because that's the girl I see in my dreams.”
James felt a chill go up his spine. “Six pearls, one at each side of the nut, and another in the middle of the nut?”
“Yes!” Harry exclaimed.
“It was her mother's, when I knew her,” James said, “will you show me the image, just to make sure?”
“Of course.” Harry touched James' arm and sent her image.
“That's her all right,” James confirmed.
“Where is she, James?”
“I've no idea,” James said, shaking his head, “Honestly, I've no idea where she would be that you two could meet up, and given how clear the vow I took was, I can't, mustn't even ask someone with the gift to look for her.”
“Trust in God, Harry,” Margaret said, “I didn't know you thought I was someone else, but I was pretty sure I wasn't the woman for you. I'll be praying you meet her.”
“But she's real.” Harry said, “the woman I've dreamed of marrying is real.”
“Yes. Very real, Harry. I'll tell you this for free, my friend. Among my community, oaths are sacred, irrevocably so. An oath made, must be kept, breaking an oath means you're either a danger to society or a doomed man who just hasn't met his asteroid, rampaging bear or man-eating shark yet. Remember that, and don't suggest someone break a promise, let alone an oath. Even if she's engaged but not married yet, the Lara I knew would even count that promise as absolutely binding unless her fiancé released her from it, and a marriage vow is only broken by death. So.. don't make promises you can't keep, OK?”
“James,” Harry said, his mind working on what James had told him, categorising and collating as normal, “you don't think she'd have regarded anything she said to you as a promise, do you?”
“I hope not. I know I told her that I wasn't going to marry her. But just in case I'd better give you a formal letter of introduction, hadn't I?”
“Well, if you think it'll help.”
“She's a traditionalist, Harry. Of course a letter would help if she thinks she's promised herself to me. It might help you find her too.”
“Why?”
“I'll write her name and old address on it, of course. If you wave it under the right person's nose they'll be able send you to the right part of town.”
“I'll be able to look up where you came from, too.”
“I seriously doubt it,” James said, smiling to himself, “You won't be able to read it. The thing about secret communities, Harry, is they have secret writing systems.”
“And your vow doesn't prevent you from using it?” Margaret asked.
“No. I'm going to need a sheet of paper though, Margaret. And waterproof ink, we wouldn't want it to run when Harry clutches it to his sweaty body at night, would we?”
“You're sick,” Harry accused with a smile, “How big a sheet of paper?”
“How big's your luggage?” James quipped, “You want to impress the woman, don't you? Seriously, urm, at least this big.” he indicated. “Any chance of us finding something like sealing wax, for the full effect?”
“Martian paper will heat-seal, destructively so,” Margaret said.
“Lovely. But I was serious about the water-proof ink.”
“Also not a problem.”
“That's good. Now... did I remember you saying one of those parsnips had a woody core, Margaret? It'd save some time if I had a stylus as well as a pen.”
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LETTER OF INTRODUCTION.
James first folded the paper, and carefully marked which bits would be hidden, and which exposed, and then wrote Lara's name and address on what would be the outside.
To Lara Knifetongue bnt Lydia Japathe hi Enoch Wilma, last known in the sector of the setting sun, Turnbull tower, floor ten. From James Newsbringer.
“You're writing in cuneiform?” Harry exclaimed.
“You can take it to a cuneiform expert if you like. They'll tell you it's not cuneiform and stop wasting their time. This is just how we write names and addresses.”
James turned over the page and started writing 'letter of introduction'.
Margaret looked at what James was writing, “Now that looks a bit like Greek, or Cyrillic”
“Can I write this, please?”
“Sorry.”
“Ooops, let's do this right. Harry, can you jot down your full name, your mother's full name and her parent's given names, and then the same for your dad?”
“Urm, yes. Why?”
“Because I need to tell her your full name. And you'd better know the name of all your great-great grandparents by the time you meet her.”
“If I just take my family tree, would that be enough?”
“That'd be excellent.”
Once all the necessary information had been noted down, and James had constructed Harry's full name, he continued. 'Harry is known to me as a good man, an expert in the laws and treaties of his people, and a man whose honour is clean, and whose soul belongs to God. He is neither shark nor sharkfood, and while his heart is not promised to another, he is bound to the service of his country by oath. Currently he works as a protector of diplomats, a man who counts it his duty to protect (with his life if need be) those his king has placed above him. I and others here feel he should himself be a diplomat and negotiator of treaties, so perhaps his role will change.
I come to write this letter because I was reminiscing about the constant arguments of our youth to the woman I am coming to love, and I thought aloud of how you and Harry would make a good match if only you could meet.
Harry came into the room just as I spoke his name, and he naturally wanted to know more. He then spoke of a vision of a woman holding a knife to his throat in a debate, a woman wearing your mother's necklace. He showed me the image, and I recognised your face. I write this letter with no idea how or when you'll meet him, but our God has put your face in his dreams. I am reminded of how Jacob felt no fear of Sathzakara's knife. Such is his lack of concern about yours being at his throat as you debate your favourite topics.
Lara, I do not know if you considered your declarations to me that we would marry one day as promises, but I think I usually denied them, and if you think they bind you, I write this to release you from them.
I do not know if you have married another, if you have, I wish your husband no ill will, but from what I know of Harry, and what he's said of his dream, I expect he will still be waiting patiently for you when death frees you from that vow. It is true that I have only known him a few weeks, but his honour is clear to me, so I feel I can safely say that while he waited thus, he would seek to protect your husband's life better than his own.
I would love to see who wins your first debate with this man, but perhaps that should be a private thing between you. In any case, I write this to you from Mars, where changes happen too often for my friend Harry. He says he plans to return to this planet, but I wonder if that is simply his conservatism — not abandoning his land and home here — which I see as almost matching your own. Every blessing upon you, James.'
“What did you write?” Harry asked.
“All sorts of things.”
“I noticed that.”
James sighed, “Basically I wrote about why I was writing to her in the first place, what a reliable person you were, and how you'd dreamed about her knife at your throat but that you didn't fear it one bit, that I released her from any promises she might have thought she'd made and said if she was already married then you'd wait patiently for her until her husband died.”
“And protect him if I could.”
“Better than your own life,” James said.
“Of course,” Harry agreed.
“I also said that you were thinking of coming back here to Mars, but I wasn't sure if that was really important to you, or you just thought you ought to. For the record, she hates change more than you do, and when I knew her she really liked swimming long distances in the sea, so I don't think she'd like it here much at all, on both fronts.”
“Swimming pool is no good?”
“Too man-made, too small, too flat, too modern, too sanitised, not the real thing at all.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I see her point.”
“I just can't imagine how, where or when you're going to meet her.”
“What about if took my vacations on a beach somewhere?”
“You're going to try to guess which night of the year you might find her swimming from which hundred yards of deserted coastline out of the thousands of kilometres on the planet? Bear in mind that I can't help you find her.”
“She'd be swimming at night?”
“Best time. Stars on the water, far fewer outsiders, it's easier to hide, and so on. You'd never spot her.”
“Yeah, I guess I'd do better watching an airport.”
James laughed, “absolutely not, friend. Absolutely absolutely not. 'What me, get in one of those crazy modern things with nothing underneath except open air? The wings might fall off!'”
“James, there's a massive hole in your claims. They just don't add up in any possible logical manner. I could just about, possibly, with a lot of straining, believe that there's some town hidden away under some camouflage in some rainforest or somewhere or in Siberia, or some other place where no one goes, where your community lives away from prying eyes, but you can't get me to believe that the woman I saw in my dreams regularly goes swimming in the sea off Siberia, she'd freeze, and all the coastlines anywhere near jungles are a long way from deserted. You just can't hide a town of even a thousand people anywhere near the coast. She has to fly to get to deserted coastline.”
“She couldn't, Harry.” Margaret said, “To fly she'd need I.D., a passport. Their majesties have no doubt that James' people are real, but they're really hidden too. James' DNA wasn't on anyone's database. That's one of the reasons James is here long-term: their majesties don't question his loyalty, but they don't know where else he's loyal to as well, and have no desire to put him into a position where he might be called on to break his vow.”
“It doesn't make sense.”
“If you remember, Harry, ten years ago people would have said the same about thought-hearers too. I said James' DNA wasn't on anyone's database, but there are some links. Mostly to thought-heaters, I've got some matches myself. Somewhere... maybe deep under the Vatican or something crazy like that, there's a significant community of Christians the rest of the world doesn't know about. I really don't know how much longer they can stay hidden though.”
“Me neither,” James agreed, “it might even happen in our lifetime.”
“It's just an impossible claim,” Harry insisted.
“Well, when you meet her, you can ask her about her home yourself, Harry.”
“Will she tell me?”
“If she marries you, and if you bind yourself to her people with a stern oath to protect their secrets, then yes, there is a good chance she will tell you.”
“Does that go for me, too?” Margaret asked.
“I don't think Lara would be willing to marry you, Margaret, sorry.” James said.
“Oh, you!” Margaret laughed.