WARPING EFFECTS / CH. 18:SNEAKY SISTERS

MARS SPACEPORT, THURSDAYTUESOL 2ND APRIL 2296 MID-AFTERNOON.

“Hello Maggie, welcome to Mars,” Heather greeted her.

“Heather! I didn't know you'd be here!”

“I'm here, Matthew's here, Mum and Dad are here and so are Lilly and Bob, and their son Ben, if you know them.”

“Urm... the name Lilly rings a bell, but I can't place her.”

“Your mum knows them, anyway.”

“Huh. Sometimes it feels like Mum knows everyone.”

“Lilly's a Mer-friend, if that helps. And bonjour Renata!”

“Urm,” Renata looked at Heather, “Do I know you?”

“Not yet, but Princess Claire sends greetings. I think her pregnancy's

nowhere near as at risk as it was, by the way.”

“That's good.”

“But anyway, I need to introduce you to your new home or I'd be a rubbish hostess, wouldn't I?”

“I'm supposed to meet...”

“Cecilia, yes. Sorry, blame the space-lag. I was supposed to say, Cecilia's really sorry she couldn't meet you, she was due to meet a new truthsayer on a flight that nominally arrived yesterday, but there was a problem with their docking bay and they only actually landed two hours ago. Since Maggie knows me and you know Maggie we thought it made good sense for us to meet you rather than anyone else.”

“Us?” Maggie asked.

“Matthew's around somewhere, too, but he got spotted by some autograph hunters. Fortunately they didn't spot me with him, so I could slip past and find you.”

“You're not worried he'll get lost?” Maggie asked.

“Not really. And I can find him easily enough if he does. You've got your breathers, I see. Claim entitlements?”

“Yes.” Maggie said, “Renata's even made a claim, I think.”

“Really?” Heather asked, surprised.

“Just a little one. Do you realise that loads of tourists go to watch the comet flood, but no one has any kind of refreshment stand there? Or even sells postcards? It's a total waste! I don't know how to get planning permission or some investors and suppliers, but...”

“Planning permission is not likely to be a problem,” Heather said, “For supplier-investors... talk to my little sisters tonight,” Heather said, grinning, “they're tour guides. And I know of some people who've mined themselves a little underground storm shelter-cum-bedroom, with a tent on top, as a cheaper alternative to a dome. That's much easier if you can find someone with a rock-cutter, of course.”

“Do you happen to know anyone who does?”

“It just so happens that I know quite a few people who do, yes,” Heather said. “And possibly more important, so do my sisters.”

“Why do I get the really strong feeling I want to meet your sisters?”

“Well, that's good, you'll be sharing a room with one of them.”

Several things clicked into place in Renata's brain.

“You're Heather Findhorn-Bunting? Weren't you on Earth a few days ago?”

“I was. Now back home,” Heather said. “Matthew flew us here at a constant one Mars gravity, so we're seriously unadjusted to the timezone, day-length and everything, but I love not being crushed all the time. By the way, Maggie, the clan sent a parcel of trade goods.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Bacon. They seem to think you need to be introduced to massive crowds of men asking you to marry them.”

“What?” Maggie exclaimed.

“As well as give them some bacon for free, of course.” Heather said. “I recommend preparing a sign that says 'If you really want to marry me, be prepared to buy at more than ten times the going rate.'”

“Ah. And what's the going rate?”

“Well, fresh rabbit is normally about twenty to one compared to root vegetables. Bacon still in it's Earthling wrapping and within date? That's really rare, even at this time of the cycle. Probably ten kilos of veg per hundred grammes. But, actually, thinking about it a bit more, avoid the sign, some risk-taker with bad breath might decide to take it as a promise of a date or something.”

“No sign it is then. So, I'm suddenly rich in Martian terms?”

“Well, a kilo of veg isn't quite a transport kilo, and its not quite chocolate for diamonds, either. But... I'd recommend you talk to Mum.”

“Because?”

“There might be an embassy that would like some, for instance, and your slab of bacon might win you a lot of gloop-free meals. It's still the embassies that are biggest on over-production. It's in the fridge at home anyway, so you can ask her during or after dinner.”

“But I'm not staying with you, am I?”

“Not as far as I know. But you're certainly having dinner with us unless you want me to think you've not forgiven me about Kevin.”

“I'd certainly like to discuss that.”

“I thought you might,” Heather said. “Now, I think I need to go that way, for some reason. I hope Matthew's not got that lost.”

“Should we tag along?” Maggie asked.

“Yes,” Heather said, decisively.

Two minutes later, Renata was introducing Maggie and Heather to a couple of Mer — brother and sister — she knew, in their late thirties or early forties. She didn't think to use any second names.

“You're here to work on the terraforming project?” Heather asked.

“Urm, maybe,” the Merman — Manuel — said.

“As a last resort,” his sister said, rolling her eyes, and nudging him.

“I don't suppose you know how we'd get to talk to Alice Findhorn-Bunting do you? I've got a letter of for her somewhere, but urm..”

“Manuel is a bit shy, in the sense that water's a bit wet.” Renata supplied.

“Official business?”

“No, urm. Sort of a favour,” he looked at his sister in a mute plea for help.

“Manuel gets scared easily,” Dominique said, “hence I brought him. And he's not very good explaining himself to people, hence I'm talking, too. So, mum's a friend of Karella, who wrote a letter to her friend Alice, asking her to intercede with her daughter, who Manuel is sure is far too busy to talk to him directly, to ask if there might just be a place for him on her project, even though he did come up with one of the explanations she shredded at that Academy meeting.”

“Manuel Penny Jacob?” Heather asked, “A beautiful theory, I really liked it, and very clearly presented. Much more plausible than uncle Boris's, but don't tell him I said that, he'll be upset, and he's a nice person. You're obviously a theoretician, which gives me an idea. I'll need to talk to... I don't know, practically everyone, I expect, but I wonder, with your intimate knowledge of the drive equation maths let alone forcefield mechanics, what would you think of working with the quantum computer modellers? They know their pure maths, but they've never met forcefield equations. Quite a lot of them are shy too, except when you get them talking about maths, of course.”

“Y-You're Heather Findhorn-Bunting?” Manuel asked.

“Yes. No pressure at all, but please think about it.”

“The modelling is going to be based here?” Dominique asked.

“Almost certainly not,” Heather said. “You can come for dinner, can't you? It's going to be fairly crowded, but I can't really talk official secrets here. And first we need to find my handsome prince.”

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FINDHORN-BUNTING DOME, 5.30PM

“Merfriend Lilly, let me introduce Manuel Mathfriend Penny Jacob, esteemed member of the Academy, and Dominique Penny Jacob whose achievements I'm sadly unaware of. Manuel, Dominique, if you don't recognise Lilly, she helped introduce your people to the various ambassadors of the United Nations,” Heather said.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“And then helped us deal with the dangerous shark on the Beautiful Peninsula,” Dominique added.

“It was my pleasure, and actually I believe you helped me deal with the oppressor of my people, and I thank you and your sisters, honoured warrior.”

“I would also like to introduce James Newsbringer, whom I'm told I named boy-mermaid, even before Lilly learned of Atlantis.” Heather said. “It was not by my planning we met, Manuel. Our Father in Heaven led me to you.”

“You are open about your gift, gentle seer, thank you for the trust you show us,” Dominique said.

“It's not a massive secret. Too many people know about me.”

“What are you talking about?” Renata asked.

“Except Renata, it seems. Me being a seer. It's a gift of God; I can see which way I should go, whether things are dangerous or safe, if people are lost or scared or in love, untrustworty or sick, Christians or just pretending, where there aren't any gravitons, and so on.”

“You can see gravitons?” Manuel asked.

“They're quite faint, but yes. I was fascinated with how Boris's flying chair worked, and probably pestered God into letting me see.”

“You pestered God?” Dominique asked.

“You mean you've never prayed for something so often that when He gives it to you feel a bit repentant about how insistent you were? Anyway, I saw how it worked, exactly as advertised in the maths, he's set up an equipotential gravity field around him. But when he turns on the so-called overdrive, I saw it was different. Although it's got to be related to space-time somehow, there are no gravitons involved at all in it. Have you heard that Boris has admitted his equation for that was empirically derived after he'd tweaked the circuit, by the way? So, discovery age five or so, and then working out how to explain it to people who can't see gravitons took me until just over a year ago, and even then it wasn't time to tell anyone. In other words, I've had an unfair advantage of knowing what wasn't there, and my bubbles of space-time are just a theoretical model at the moment.”

“So you've not seen what is there?” Dominique asked.

“No. But when I thought of bubbles of space time and the possibility of faster than light travel, I found my study notes telling me that when Mark's gospel talks about taking the gospel into all the world the Greek word is kosmos.”

“Mark sixteen-fifteen?” Manuel asked.

“Yes. Maggie's semi-cousin Mandy had the same verse.”

“Semi-cousin?”

“Not biological, but in the same clan,” Maggie supplied, “I guess she's your age. She used to play with code-breaking, about twenty years ago, which got her a job I'm not allowed to tell you about, but maybe Matthew can.”

“Did I hear my name?” Matthew asked.

“Yes,” Heather said, “But it might be Lilly's department too. Question one, can anyone in this room legally tell Manuel about where Mandy works, and question two, also concerning Manuel, I'm wondering if the best place for a shy top quality theoretician with lots of intimate knowledge of forcefield and drive equations would be here with the crazy bunch of experimentalists, or if he'd be better placed helping the quantum computer modelling team. And if so, what we need to talk about with them while they're here.”

“Well... urm, Luke's been working on the home-side legalities, of course,”

Matthew said, “so that's almost in place, but yes, urm, Alice, Lilly, what would we need Manuel to agree to? I think Luke's left that as 'an appropriate oath'.”

While Matthew, Alice and Lilly worked on that question, Heather bowed out, pleading that she'd promised Maggie an urgent chat.

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HEATHER'S ROOM, FINDHORN-BUNTING DOME, EMBASSY COMPLEX. 2ND APRIL 2296, 6PM.

“So, Kevin is Yvette's, they love each other lots, and I would have lost him to her eventually, I'm sure,” Maggie said.

“I totally agree,”

“So what was that you said about babies?”

“Me getting confused, jumping to the wrong conclusions, and then speaking up too soon. I'm really sorry.”

“Phew. I thought for a while there, when I heard Yvette's got this hereditary sudden death thing, you'd seen that I was going to marry Kevin after she'd died.”

“I've spoken at length to the other seers. I kept poor Matthew really busy flying me around before we left, so I could have a chat with everyone.”

“And...?”

“You told Yvette you're planning to spoil their kids, yes?”

“Yes. A sister? I've wanted a sister for years. Of course I'm going to love her kids.”

“That could be it. That sort of involvement, nurturing their kids. Another option was that what I was really seeing was how right, how important it was, that your parents be there when they met.”

“Oh, right. Yes, if they'd not been there, I'd have never heard of her, would I? Let alone have her as a sister.”

“And if she'd pulled that little stunt without them there, she might not be alive today, in which case Kevin would be in deep, deep, mourning.”

“Yes,” Maggie agreed. “So I don't need to worry that Yvette's going to die soon.”

Heather hid her thoughts, and bit her tongue.

“What have you seen?” Maggie asked.

“I cannot see the future, Maggie. Really, I cannot. But Yvette is not at all sure she'll live past twenty-five, and I see that — I spent some time with her and your mum before we came. I also see when she thinks of that, she reassures herself that if she does die then you're a safe pair of hands for the man she's loved since childhood, and the children she hopes to give him. So, for Yvette's sake, please don't reject that role for yourself quite so verbally. I'm not saying plan around that, or don't date, or anything like that, I'm just saying that while you're single, don't tell her you'd hate to take it on, she's fairly fragile. But don't ever tell her you're secretly in love with Kevin either; not unless you want her to claw your face off.”

“I'm no poacher,” Maggie said, “And I don't think I want to be in love with my brother in law.”

“I know, Maggie, I know,” Heather said.

“So, have they set a date yet?”

“Your parents are still telling them to wait until after University.”

“What does Yvette think of that?”

“Not very happy. I think she is still campaigning for marriage on her 18th birthday.”

“And Kevin?”

“No idea. But I think he wants to have a stable job before he has a wife and kids to support.”

“Sensible man. And what about you and Matthew?” Maggie asked “Is it working out?”

“I'm going to be quite disappointed if he makes me wait a year before he asks me to marry him,” Heather replied.

“You don't plan on asking him?”

“No, not unless it gets to much more than a year. I've got some pride. Plus there might be constitutional issues or something.”

“Want me to drop some hints?”

“Not yet. I want some uninterrupted dates with him first.”

“You've still not managed one?” Maggie asked, surprised.

“No.”

“You'd better go out for a walk or something.”

“I plan to, don't worry. Just as soon as there's not an active storm warning. Not to mention imminent dinner.”

“And not to mention me demanding your time, I'm sorry.”

“It's OK. Matthew's got to talk to the embassy staff, too. It's a morale thing.”

“What about your morale?”

“It's fine.... the project is coming together, we're home finally, and I'm not going to have to fight quite so hard to get Matthew all to myself. Oh, by the way, you know Kevin's family's here, don't you?”

“Yes,” Maggie agreed, “Mum told me.”

“His sister Tabitha says to say hi, and will be studying physics with you.”

“Really?”

“Yep. The four of them, Mum, Dad and the two girls, landed a month ago with some distant Mer cousins, with Mum and girls each wearing a hundred and ten grammes of Romany gold — not for sale, it's their dowries, to pass down to daughters, unless they end up really hard up. The girls also both have a Mer knife that Lara Peace-Singer Knifetongue gave them, to keep risk-takers away.”

“I don't think I know her.”

“Atlantis' head trainer in their defence corps, currently in Alaska with her husband, who knew me when I was little, apparently. There's a strong possibility that Tabitha and Lara's eldest son will become a couple, and since arranged marriage and Mer norms about getting to know one another really well before anything is certain don't really mix, Lara's asked me to have a look at the pair of them together. Which doesn't happen very often.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Oh, it is,” Heather said.

“Heather!” her sister Fern called.

“Yes?” Heather yelled back.

“Mum wants you in the kitchen.”

“Coming,” Heather replied, “Sorry Maggie, must go.”

“Don't worry, you've got other people to talk to.”

Getting to the kitchen, Heather saw that her mother wasn't there. Someone else was though. “Hi, Matthew. Have you seen my mum?”

“Yes, she said dinner would be soon, but I needed to wait here for a bit,” he said.

“Oh did she? I've just been told to come here.”

“Do you think she's trying to give us some together time?”

“And get the washing up done?” Heather asked.

“She told me not to touch it. I did offer.”

“Hmm. I see a clue,” Heather said.

“Yes?”

“See, there's a potato basket, with a note saying 'this is a subtle clue' on it.”

“We need to buy some potatoes?”

“Not quite. Got your breather?”

“Yes,” he patted his side.

“And your tent?”

“It's by the front door. We need it?”

“No, just checking.” She glanced at his feet, “You're about dad's size. Put those boots on.”

“We're going to dig up potatoes?”

“Sort of,” Heather replied. “We're going to go for a walk through some mud and there will be potatoes at the end of it. Come and have a tour of our field dome.”

She didn't tell him the potatoes were in the cellar at the other end of the field dome until they got there. She herself was surprised to see the cellar had grown a small table in the middle of it, which had been laid for two. There was a candle burning in the middle. The smells that filled the cellar, originating from the steaming casserole dishes proclaimed that they held Heather's favourite foods.

“I think, Heather, that someone has noticed we've not had any uninterrupted dates.”

“I think so too.” Heather said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I love my family.”

“I like them too. How did your mum have time for this?”

“Sneaky sisters helped I expect.”

“What's for dinner? It smells good.”

“Spiced potatoes here,” she said and lifted another lid “Oh wow, definitely sneaky sisters, this takes a lot of preparing. Welcome to Mars, Matthew.”

“I do feel very welcome, Heather. And I was thinking.”

“Yes?”

“If I understand correctly, I'm not culturally allowed to ask you to marry me until I've grown a big harvest. How long does that take?”

“About six months, once you've got enough improved soil. But big harvest is for the wedding, not the engagement.”

“Oh, so I can ask before then?”

“Yes. But not until we've had at least two uninterrupted dates.”

“Is that a cultural rule?” Matthew asked.

“No, it's mine,” Heather said, smiling. “Culturally you'd have to have first harvest. But since I had my first harvest years ago, and we're not really expecting to spend all our lives growing crops, I'm waiving that condition.”

“That's nice. Will your parents, too?”

“The day they say they won't is the day I teach you how to grow bean sprouts. First harvest is less than a week later.”

He laughed, “Does that count?”

“Why not? It's a harvest. No one's ever written what sort of harvest it has to be into law. Sprouts are nutritious and tasty, and never did need compost. Not as good for making compost as something like tomatoes, but that's not the issue.”

“No. But how will it all work? The treasury isn't going to be able to buy loads of food on Mars, we can't really import it either, surely?”

“Eventually, we'll probably do a hybrid sort of thing like labs do at the university, or here at the embassy. We could have our own hydroponics, and go fully automatic, but it makes more sense if everyone new puts in an half an hour or so a day at a combined vegetable plot we keep for newcomers.”

“I'm glad you've got that sorted,” Matthew said.

“That's the easy bit. The hard bit is going to be having a whole meal together without it ending up as yet another work meeting.”

“Sorry.”

“It's OK. I don't mind getting rid of your fears,” Heather said.

“Have you got any?” Matthew asked.

“Urm, that it'll all fall apart, that we'll get interrupted so often that we give up hope and decide it's not going to work.”

“Let's pray we don't have any interruptions, then. I want it to work.”

“Let's,” Heather agreed.