WARPING EFFECTS / CH. 4: REPORTERS, REPORTERS EVERYWHERE

CHRISTMAS DAY, CIVIL-SERVICE HOUSE OCCUPIED BY FINDHORN-BUNTINGS

“Happy Christmas, Heather. I don't suppose you ski, do you?” Matthew asked her, as he arrived.

“It's been known to happen. Happy Christmas.”

“Really?”

“One of the side effects of the comet catcher: snow falls on some high peaks when a comet gets delivered.”

“Great. My parents had an idea. Is Sarah here yet?”

“Not yet. You're early, not that I mind at all.”

“I'm afraid I need to leave early too. Official duty.”

“Speaking of official, are we going to confirm what some people know?”

“That I'm falling head over heals in love with a beautiful woman? I don't mind one bit. Are enough reporters coming today?”

“Probably, and I'm sure we can invite some more, so we don't get accused of bias.” Heather grinned.

“Oh, we can't have that.”

“Let's talk to Mum then.”

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EDITORIAL PIECE, THE ROYALIST, TUESDAY 26TH DECEMBER, 2295

You've never met anyone like Heather!

That was the conclusion I drew quite quickly, after unexpectedly being upbraided for lurking in the flower-bed yesterday. “If you want to talk to my daughter,” famous physicist dad, Simon Findhorn-Bunting asked, “Why are you getting muddy out there rather than standing on the doorstep, asking for an interview? Come on in, one more journalist won't make much difference, I expect.” It turned out that they had a house-full, and if I'd been half an hour earlier I'd have been at a press conference on the lawn. My editor didn't get the message, because his wife insisted he leave his wrist unit alone for Christmas day.

Most of the press had stayed, but the prince had left for an official engagement. Mostly there were Earth-based colleagues of Alice who'd already been on the invitation list, but other papers were represented too at a spur of the moment press-conference called by Heather and Prince Matthew. Also there were some unexpected faces: I witnessed journalist-shy multi-millionairess Sarah Williams chatting happily to Tony Randle of NWN. The parents were in one room, their offspring chatting in another. Since I was late, I got special permission to ask some questions of the adults and then join the younger people.

You might imagine that the young woman who captured Prince Matthew's heart in the middle of a scientific meeting to be the sort of boisterous person to whom everyone gravitates in a party. Nothing of the sort; according to people who know her, Heather is mostly a quiet (retiring even) young woman who, while absolutely certain of her convictions, is very willing to stay in the background and keep her thoughts to herself.

That's how I first saw her, quietly sipping some apple juice and watching while the others were chatting amongst themselves. You can't miss her, of course, since she's as tall as the prince. I had the privilege of being a fly-on-the-wall for a while, and I saw her chatting to most of the people there, but never dominating the conversation, except when she was answering questions about life on Mars. Apparently, one of the youngsters is thinking of studying there. Heather freely admitted that accepting Prince Matthew's invitation out had been a risk: “I was actually teasing him, saying he was apologising so much for not having recognised me earlier that it sounded like he was about to ask me out, and then he said 'I am actually'. And I thought, OK, I've just been given my dream job, playing research physicist in Atlantis, why would I want to spoil it by getting involved with a future king? But, well, we're both Christians, so it's not wrong, and he seemed like a nice person, and hopefully kingship will be a very long time coming, so I decided I could accept the risk that I won't have got bored of research by the time someone goes and sticks a crown on his head. And of course there's no guarantee that we'll end up more than friends, or that Christ won't return first. So, yes, it was a risk, but I'm Martian; risks are part of being alive.”

TheRoyalist: “So, you wouldn't see his title as an asset?”

Heather: “I don't mind titles, per se. The present-day Tsarina used to play dolls with me when I could persuade her to, and Hathellah, princess of the Outer Mer used to babysit me. But they can be a pain. I've read the constitution enough times to know that the crown is a heavy weight to bear, or to share.”

Teen: “You've read the constitution multiple times?”

H: “Yes, it's very different to the Martian constitution, and it makes interesting reading. The authors wanted to be very careful to avoid anyone sane wanting the role, but also for it to be hard to refuse if you think duty is important.”

TR: “And you think duty is important?”

H: “Yes.”

Teen: “Is Mars making any moves to end rule by the committee?”

H: “No. Mars is still basically a farming community. It'd be a very unusual Martian who abandoned their crops in order to make laws. And why would other Martians want to put themselves in a position to be ruled by someone that strange?”

TR: “So you don't predict a change there?”

H: “No. Nor here, either. The societies are very different.”

TR: “But you are comfortable in either?”

H: “I grew up in an embassy. My parents put a lot of effort into teaching me about avoiding giving offence in other cultures, or being offended by them.”

TR: “So you see the Restored Kingdom as a different culture?”

H: “It's not the culture I went to school in. It's not the culture my friends grew up in. It is quite close to the culture my parents grew up in, but things change all the time. When they left Earth, remember, thought-hearing and Mer-folk were fairy stories or deep, deep, secrets. Even when I was a child, people were making films about mermaids riding sea-horses, and having problems walking on land. Not to mention running away from sharks.”

TR: “Do I see a genuine Mer knife on your belt?”

H: “Yes. It was a gift from Emilia Knife-teacher, if that name means anything to anyone.”

TR: “Did she teach you?”

H: “My mother taught me to cook and sew. Emilia taught me the other things Mer consider womanly arts: making and using blow-pipes, and of course disemboweling sharks.”

Teen: “Are there sharks on Mars?”

H: “The Mer intend to re-create the entire food chain in the Martian seas. No sharks without legs swim there yet, but it's only a matter of time. Of course there are two-legged sharks everywhere.”

TR: “You have no problem thinking in Mer terms?”

H: “Mer is my second language. I also speak Russian and can get by in Chinese and Hindi.”

TR: “Is that normal for people on Mars?”

H: “I had good teachers, and good friends. I could see how they relaxed when speaking their own language, and I didn't find it that hard. Let's move to the kitchen.”

The Royalist, in the kitchen: “You didn't find languages hard, and you're now a full Member of the Atlantis Academy. Is there anything you did find hard at school?”

H: “A few things, yes. I've never liked lies, and I'm told I'm much better at spotting them than most other people. I still find it hard to watch a news report and not tell the interviewees off for lying. Or the reporter, of course, depending.”

TR: “You never lie yourself?”

H: “I remember I tried it once or twice. I was absolutely useless at it and Mum gave me a lecture on truthfulness and made me do the dishes for a week.”

TR: “You're saying you always answer truthfully?”

H: “There are some subjects I won't answer on. But I'd much rather be silent than lie. The Martian right to absolute privacy helps there, of course.”

— At this point, I admit that I made a decision concerning Heather. I also admit, it was a trial to see if she heard thoughts. --

H: “You've just screwed up your face like some people do when they're deliberately making loud decisions for thought-hearers to hear. If you want to ask something, ask.”

TR: “If I asked if you heard thoughts, would that be offensive?”

H: “I wouldn't be offended, but I might be concerned about what you were planning to do with my answer, so in the hypothetical situation that you asked me, I'd probably remind you that I've grown up on Mars, where you don't ask that sort of question, especially not as a reporter. Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

TR: “Of course.”

H: “If I notice that the person talking to me hasn't quite got her makeup right, and so it doesn't hide her black eye as perfectly as she hopes, and if I'd noticed she'd looked guilty when I'd talked about going out with non-Christians being wrong, would you say it would be good to go all-out Mer and get the dangerous shark someplace below high water for a good clean disemboweling, or is it better to report him to the police for physical and psychological abuse? Or should I just tell her to dump him because compromising her faith and hiding black eyes are not the way to form the sort of a loving stable relationship she longs for, and leave the legal options as a backup in case she bottles out? Oh, I guess another option is dumping him and a restraining order, isn't it?”

TR: “You wouldn't accept his saying that it was an accident and won't happen again?”

H: “There's still the issue of incompatible faith, which means continuing the relationship is continuing sin. I think in good conscience I'd have to tell her to end it, don't you?”

TR: “You don't think that if you did you'd be barging in where you're not welcome?”

H: “And if I didn't, I'd be an accomplice after the fact in a crime, condoning sin, and letting a dangerous shark continue to be a threat to someone. I think that'd be worse, wouldn't it?”

TR: “Have you faced that sort of dilemma before?”

H: “It happens to me quite often. Two things that weren't really mentioned earlier: I'm unusually observant, and principles matter to me. I guess I get the observant from Dad and Mum's got a bit of a reputation about standing up for principles, hasn't she? Oh, and they're both pretty tenacious too, so I probably got a double dose of that. So, actually, it's not really much of a dilemma.”

TR: “Your friends don't mind you barging in like that?”

H: “I'd rather risk a friendship than let them ruin their lives and dishonour God. But so far they've always ended up thanking me for speaking up. Eventually, anyway. I can't promise a happy Christmas, but I think your new year will be better for acting now.”

I still don't know if Heather F.B. can read thoughts; as is her right, she neither confirmed nor denied it, and gave me no sign that she heard anything from me. I am quite sure she is a good judge of character, and she knows how to use her keen eyesight, her intellect and her word-skills with surgical precision. I also found myself being introduced to a psych-counselor, and then making a phone-call that I knew I should have made months ago, the first time he hit me. But I still don't know how she spotted the flaw in my make-up, or why the Findhorn-Buntings invited me into their home in the first place. I've never met anyone like Heather; open, honest, witty, very insightful. I expect that prince Matthew decided something similar too.

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NEWS REPORT, TONY RANDLE, NWN, TUESDAY 26TH DECEMBER

Royal reports aren't normally my thing, but we seem to have let most of our royal correspondents go on holiday at the same time, and the press conference was in the middle of a party I was at anyway.

So, Prince Matthew has a girlfriend. The palace have confirmed it, and indeed the happy couple have done so too, making a brief appearance together at the above event. It's true, how amazing! As far as I've been able to determine, most males go through this stage in life several times — less than fifteen percent us are fortunate (or picky) enough that we meet our wife in the shape of our first real love. Oh, details, you want details? OK, here are some: Heather Findhorn-Bunting, daughter of Alice the reporter-ambassador and Simon of forcefield fame.

She is just under two metres tall, so she can look Prince Matthew in the eyes without getting a stiff neck, has very long (waist-length) black hair, and is a high-octane physicist. She's the youngest member of the Atlantis Academy since... no one can quite agree, but at least a few centuries ago. Well-attested rumour say she's had the feeling there was something wrong with the explanations she'd heard about how the antigravity drive works for at least a decade, and has been trying to work out how to tell Boris Gravity-Master (a family friend) that he'd got it wrong ever since. The grand unveiling of this multi-year project happened at the Atlantis Academy, where Prince Matthew was roped in along with other students there in the serving of drinks to the assembled notables. Apparently, she absent-mindedly asked if she could just have a glass of water, and totally failed to recognise him. That's OK, because he totally failed to realise that he was bringing water to the days' speaker.

Rejoicing in making contact with someone who'd treat him like a regular human being rather than going into embarrassed giggles or instantly see him as a marriage target, he tried to strike up a conversation. Apparently he said some things which he almost immediately regretted.

The next hour and a half (while prince Matthew was squirming in acute embarrassment) she showed how either there has to be a super-massive black hole somewhere as close as Alpha-Centuri (we'd notice, believe me; everyone agrees there isn't one) or all the theories of how the antigravity drive works (not just Boris') in deep space are seriously flawed. She apparently did that with such extreme tact and diplomacy — along with uncompromising analysis — that the notable Boris and other theoreticians whose work she'd just shredded voted her onto the academy. I don't mean that metaphorically, apparently 90% of them were in the audience, and the vote was unanimous. Prince Matthew, on the other hand, apologised so effusively that she jokingly accused him of winding up to ask her out. At which point he admitted that was exactly his thought. Heather told the press-conference she wasn't really that keen on the idea of putting herself on a course that might end up with her marrying into the Royal Family, but thought 'hopefully it'll be decades before he has to take up the crown, and even if we don't break up I'll have plenty of time to get the research bug out of my system and get used to the idea.' In true Martian style, she decided to take the risk.

Like all good scientific theories, Heather's paper to the academy reportedly contained some testable predictions, and if she's right, then there are some long term possibilities that come from general relativity, even though we thought they were science fiction.

So... what's the well-dressed super-scientist and royal girlfriend wearing this month? Heather Findhorn-Bunting claims she will not be making any fashion statements, unless you want to count a very strong preference for making her own dresses as a fashion statement (apparently this is another Martian aspect to her character). For Heather, the first question about a dress pattern is reportedly 'how many pockets does it have?', and 'can I put my study tablet in any of them?'. If the answer is not satisfactory, expect modification. Maybe that'll change now prince Matthew is around to carry things for her? Probably not, since on Mars you 'carry your own'.

Having said that, home-made does not seem to equate to 'sack with some holes' that someone as ignorant as me might think it does. Her dress was elegant, practical (lots of pockets), and fitted her well.

We lucky few at the impromptu press conference have been warned not to expect her to be living here in the Restored Kingdom all the time, or even on Earth. As a member of the Atlantis Academy she is expected to live and research there at least a few months every decade, if humanly possible. I have also heard plans of high level international talks to gather a team sufficiently laden with experts to put her theories to the test, and to see if science fiction is really just around the corner. While some simulation work is expected to be done at government facilities here, and the technicians of Atlantis will probably provide a lot of pieces, it is expected by everyone that the main research centre will be on Mars, where research can be carried out in greater safety than here on highly-populated Earth. Apparently one piece of test equipment is best used at least several hundred kilometers from any people, so that rather rules out Atlantis.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

There's apparently thus a high possibility that, should their relationship continue, prince Matthew could end up following her to Mars once he's finished his doctorate in Atlantis. It's early days yet though, and apparently every single time they've planned to spend time together has been interrupted by some kind of unexpected and unplanned discussion.

That all said, my impression, indeed the impression of everyone there, was that these two young people are quite smitten with each other, and are certainly thinking well beyond the next date. Both sets of parents are apparently advising them to take things more slowly than they did, on which basis we probably shouldn't expect an engagement announcement for at least the next couple of weeks. So, my royal correspondent colleagues can breathe a sigh of relief — they ought to have time to get back from their holidays.

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BLACKWOOD STATION, THURSDAY 28TH DECEMBER, 4PM.

“You mum has an excellent taste in ski resorts, Maggie.” Heather said, “It's beautiful.”

“I like it too. And I love the idea of sneaking you into the crowd of cousins. It's a perfect plan, if you ask me.”

“Except I've never skied on Earth before, and I expect it's going to be hard. So I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Lessons are available, have no fear. And the skiing isn't very challenging here anyway, not compared to most places. It's just a fun place to hang out, and have snow-ball fights, of course.”

“It's going to be challenging enough for me, I expect. And basically I can't throw here: my hand-eye coordination and reactions all expect gravity to be a third of what it is here.”

“Oh wow. That's tough!”

“But I did bring my blow pipe, which I find works just fine.”

“You're going to blow-dart people in a snowball fight?”

“No, I'm planning to fire very small snowballs right at people's necks.”

“You'd better tell Matthew's body guards. They'll have kittens, otherwise.”

“Urm, yeah, I had, hadn't I? Even then they're going to be nervous. They still don't trust me, I think. Maybe I should just stick to staying upright on skis. And taking care of my muscles, bones and tendons. Mum wasn't sure if anyone born on Mars has ever tried skiing on Earth.”

“You don't think you'll break anything, do you?”

“Does anyone go skiing and think they'll break anything? Of course not, they think the chances are really small. I on the other hand am Martian, so I just accept the risk, and will be carrying some emergency pain killers, just in case.”

“You could use a sledge instead. Generally less chance of broken bones and more sociable, too.”

“Maybe I should. But I want to ski down at least once.”

“Save it for the day after tomorrow then.” Maggie recommended. “That way if you do hurt yourself in a fall, you've enjoyed most of your time here.”

“I'll talk it through with Matthew.”

“I still don't get what you see in the guy.”

“Want a list?”

“No, that's OK. Heather, what are my chances of meeting someone on Mars?”

“If you mean what are your chances of getting a proposal from some risk-taker, a hundred percent. If you mean meeting a variety of Christian thought-hearers, very high. If you mean how many of them you're likely to fall for...”

“I'll settle for one, thanks. But I'd really love you to be around to tell me I'm not making a mistake.”

“Even if I'm not around, you can talk to my parents, you know?”

“That'd be mega-embarrassing. Hi, I want you to meet my friend's parents...”

“Dad's at the university, just arrange that you're going to meet Mr Optimistic at a certain part of the dining room and ask Dad to give the pair of you a glance.”

“Hold on, your Dad has othersight too?”

“Didn't he say? Yes, he does.”

“Oh, so that's what he meant by saying he doesn't let anyone plug in the ones that look dangerous!”

“Exactly. Now, speaking of dangerous, we've got about five minutes before the others arrive and here comes a drunk shark.”

“Dangerous shark?”

“Don't expect clear decision making, that means dangerous in my book. But he doesn't need immediate gutting, if that's what you mean.”

“I'm glad about that.”

“So am I. Just because I can it doesn't mean I want to. I'm very glad I haven't taken the dart out of my blow-pipe, though.”

The drunk staggered towards them, “'ello,” he slurred, “I don't ssppoze you ladies know the way to my 'ouse do yer? I seem to 'av lost it. 'Ere, is this the station?”

“Yes, it's the station.” Heather replied.

“It can't be the station, that's t'other way.”

“Does that explain why you can't find your house, if you got turned round?”

Heather asked.

“Mebbe. You don't want to gi' me a kiss do you?” he asked Maggie.

“No.”

“Shame, pretty girls all too fussy these days.”

“Why don't you take a taxi home?” Heather asked.

“No cash. No cash for me, nope, not any more. Used to be rolling in the stuff. I need to get home. No cash! No home, neither! That's right, they took it, didn't they? Got to go and find it.”

“Someone took your home?” Heather asked, “Who”

“The law. Just because I didn't pay no taxes! Hah, suckers! Need to find my house... dig up my little nest-egg, get some cash. Home has got to be that way, if this is the station.... Which way's that mountain? Right....” he wandered off the way he'd come from.

“So... harmless confused drunk?” Maggie asked.

“Not harmless. But he was eyeing my knife and decided I could probably use it, and it wasn't worth the risk of trying to rob us.”

“Oh. So we call the police?”

“We can't use what I heard him think.” Heather said.

“No, but we can tell them what he said.”

“Good thought, yes. I don't know what's happened to his home, but if there's someone vulnerable there... I'll call them, shall I?”

“I'm more local, I'll do it.” Maggie decided.

It didn't take long for the police to arrive. “Miss Williams, sorry you went through that.”

“He wasn't particularly threatening, but then Heather does have that rather large knife.”

“Hmm. There are laws about carrying lethal weapons, maam.” the younger officer said.

“Yes, officer. I'm not permitted to disguise the fact I'm carrying it, not allowed to use it except to protect the innocent, and so on. It is a genuine Mer blade, and I'm a citizen of Atlantis, so the law on cultural artifacts technically applies to me.”

“But only technically?”

“I'm not genetically full-blooded Mer, if that's what you mean, officer, but Mer is my second language, and I was taught how to use this until an expert Mer trainer was satisfied. The man we met spent some time studying it and although he asked Miss Williams for a kiss he evidently decided not to risk anything. He was going on about needing to find his house and dig up his nest-egg. He spoke of his house being confiscated for tax evasion.”

“Tax evasion?”

“In his exact words were 'Just because I didn't pay no taxes!'” Maggie quoted. “And then he said `Need to find my house... dig up my little nest-egg, get some cash. Home has got to be that way.'”

“He was very drunk, you say?”

“Yes, officer. Well, he couldn't walk straight, and he said this couldn't be the station because his house was the other way.”

“How old would you say he was?”

“Seventy, maybe? But fit.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Urm, that he used to be rolling in cash, and he needed to go and find it. Oh, and he called the tax authority suckers.”

The older policeman nodded. “Sounds like old Charlie Wordsworth's finally got out of jail, Bill.”

“And off to find his pot of buried treasure?”

“Probably. Shame its not there.”

“It's not?”

“Found as part of the tax probe. Very efficient, the tax authorities. Can I take your name please, miss?”

“Heather Findhorn-Bunting.”

Maggie nodded when the policeman looked at her for confirmation.

“Well done, Bill. You almost took the prince's girlfriend in for questioning.”

“Don't exaggerate, officer,” Heather chided. “I'm sure he was just making sure that I'm aware of the laws surrounding my shark-disemboweling tool here.”

“Well take care. Are your cousins all coming, Miss Williams?”

“Almost, officer. Most are on the next maglev.”

“Well, have a nice time. We'd better go and give a convicted thief a bed for the night.”

As they left, Maggie asked, “you became a citizen of Atlantis when they voted you into the Academy?”

“No. If you get past the first year, then they can't teach the second year stuff to people who aren't citizens of Atlantis. So you get non-residential citizenship as part of the course. That's what all that stuff about being unable to continue the course in the event of moral failure is about. No sharks can go into the second year.”

“So I'll be able to wear my knife too?”

“You've got one?”

“Yes, a birth-gift from Karella. Technically I was in Atlantis when they decided to end the big secret. I've had some training but I'll need a lot more.”

“Take it with you. Martian law lets you wear it, and it'll help you fit in.”

“How?”

“You're not just studying there because you've got a rich mum. You've got ties to the Mer. And with the knife, no one's going to wonder how you can swim so well.”

“Who said I can swim?”

“I know what I see, Maggie. You've had Potion, you've got Mer muscles and your mum's hearing range. Mer blood on both sides, and from three grandparents. And unsurprisingly with all that, you like swimming.”

“You can see all that?”

“I did wonder why you don't have the pain before I looked at your dad. Definite Mer ancestry. Your mother told me she had ancestry both sides.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No. Should I have? It's not like they can't find out if they thought of checking. Oh, here they come, I want to be at the fourth door.” She started moving.

“You... just looked to find that out?” Maggie asked, following.

“Not specifically to find it out, no. I looked and that door looked like the right one to wait near.”

The door opened, and it wasn't Matthew who got out, but a woman Maggie recognised as an older clan member. “Hi, cousin!”

The woman was taken aback, “Hi, urm, Maggie?”

“That's me.”

“Hi, I'm Heather. We've never met, but it seems we need to talk.”

“Errr,”

“Sorry, I need to work out how not to do that to people all the time,”. Heather said. “I don't think it's urgent though.”

“Are you staying at one of the cabins?” Maggie asked.

“Yes. Your parent's are here?”

“No, just the young-adult chunk of the extended clan. Heather's got plans...”

“Hold on, Heather as in...”

“As in where is he?” Heather said, looking up and down the platform, “ah, I spy with my little eye an approaching crowd of your relatives.”

“Heather sees all sorts of things, Mandy,” Maggie said, remembering her name at last.

“Like Mama Ng?” Mandy asked.

“Sort of,” Heather said. “I never met her, of course, but I've heard of her. But I'm not one of the fifty-something like she was.”

Mandy nodded, “Then if you see we need to talk, I expect we do.”

“Hi, Heather!” Prince Matthew greeted her, “I thought you were meeting me, not future colleagues.”

“Future colleagues?” Mandy and Heather both asked, surprised.

“Oops. I guess no one got that message yet. Potential future colleagues, as far as my parents are concerned. Hi, Mandy. Mandy gave me my first and only tour of her workplace, Heather, not that we can discuss that here.”

“I came up here to get away from it all and have some alone-time.” Mandy said wryly, “Seems I've walked into a clan gathering and can't escape work things either.”

“Hey, that's OK, we'll leave you in peace,” Matthew said, as they all started walking.

“Not entirely, Matthew.” Heather said. “How long are you staying?” She asked Mandy, “and would you like to talk tomorrow or leave it for later?”

“Could we talk this evening?” Mandy countered, “Curiosity doesn't help me sleep.”

“OK by me,” Matthew said. “We're going to be in the big cabin, Mandy.”

“There's a surprise. Clan gatherings always book the big cabin. Ever since the first one here.” Mandy thought back to that one, more than twenty years earlier, “Doesn't time fly?”

“The first one?”

“Soon after your mum bought the cabins, Maggie, but before young prince charming here's parents came up for their honeymoon. In other words, when I was your age.”

“Oh. Wow, lots of changes since then?”

“Not so many,” Mandy said, looking around, “The drag lift was just about working, I think. If I remember correctly we were some of the first customers. Anyway, shall I drop round some time after I've eaten?”

“You're very welcome,” Heather said, “But if we're going to talk...”

“OK, you come to me. I don't mind that idea one bit. I don't remember which one I'm in, but I'll send a message, if that's OK?”

“Fine. I just hope you're not on the far side.”

“No, I'm not. I do plan to do the odd bit of skiing, and being part of the clan does have its benefits.”

“Oh? Preferential treatment for clan members?” Heather asked.

“No. Preferential treatment for loyal customers, which I am thanks to clan meetings. I'm not quite in the top category, you understand. They get to nominate three weeks of the year when their favourite cabin will be held for them unless that means turning away a customer.”

“Thus encouraging them to book late, pay more?” Maggie asked.

“Not dumb, the site-manager here. They do get a small discount, but it's nothing like the premium on the last unbooked cabin, unless they wait for the last minute.”

“What do you get?” Heather asked.

“A pretty little map of free cabins. Most people can only pick the general area.”

“So you could book the cabin that's being held for an ultra-loyal customer?”

“Not quite. But for a one or two night booking I can register my preference for a held one and if they haven't booked it by noon of my arrival day then I get it.”

“I spy with my little eye a reporter,” Heather said.

“Have no fear, the cousins are here, just keep going,” Mandy said, and strode boldly up to the man who was trying to sort out his microphone and camera. “Hello, you seem to be a reporter in need of assistance. It just so happens I have a number of young cousins who know the area very well, who'd love to give you a tour for a nominal fee. We can even arrange a tour of the local police cell where reporters breaching privacy by-laws can be held, if that would be of interest?”

“Privacy by-laws?” He asked, confused. By his accent, he obviously wasn't local.

“Do you want to tell him, Maggie?”

“Oh, dear, not another one. They're clearly posted just back there, as you leave the station, and again you enter the gateway there. Firstly, you're now on private land owned by Carbon-Carbon land management, part of the GemSmith Corporation, if that means anything to you. Therefore, breach of privacy is also a breach of your license to be here and you'd be trespassing. Secondly, at the request of Carbon-Carbon, in view of both the safety issues and potential impact on the tourist trade, the local council passed a by-law when I was five making it an illegal act to pursue anyone for an interview in the area, take long-lens pictures, and so on. People skiing should not need to be distracted by a crowd of photographers aiming their cameras at them.”

“So... what am I here for?”

“To enjoy some skiing?” Maggie suggested. “Excellent ski-school and ski-hire centre just over there, if this is your first time.”

The reporter shook his head, and asked “That was prince Matthew with you just now, wasn't it?”

“Who's asking?” Mandy asked.

“I'm Kevin Stammers,” he said.

“Working for?”

“Freelance.”

“Hoping to work for?” Maggie probed.

“Pretty much anyone, within reason,”

“That desperate, eh?” Mandy asked knowingly. “Ever think of another career?”

“Look, I'm freelance here but I am a reporter. Don't I have some kind of protected rights to report on news?”

“Of course you do.” Maggie said. “You just can't bug people for an interview or ruin their holiday by making them worried about cameras.”

“But that was Prince Matthew?”

“Does it make a difference?” Mandy asked, checking that Matthew and Heather were on the ski-lift. “Yes, it was.”

“Why are you acting like he's some close friend or something?”

“He's almost a relative. I've known him since he was five,” Mandy said.

His eyes opened wide, “any chance I can interview you about that?” he asked hopefully. “I can't afford a big meal as a thank-you but I can stretch to a pizza.”

“Do you want an interview or a date? No to both, I don't date reporters, or men over a decade younger than me.” He looked about twenty.

Maggie heard him decide it couldn't have been these two women that were the answer to his prayers.

“I'll tell you all about Matthew if you like.” Maggie said.

“You will?”

“Yes. He's a bit of a pain, but then he's male so I guess that goes without saying. He's been studying in Atlantis so he wouldn't be mobbed by silly girls who believe stupid things they read in the news. That was my suggestion, actually.” She heard Mandy clearing her throat at that, and corrected herself. “OK, OK, cousin. It was really more a case of me making wild suggestions in the hope he'd disappear over the horizon and stop annoying me. He's grown up a lot while he was there and has fallen for a very nice person, so I guess I'll forgive him for pulling my hair when I was six and cheating at snap.”

“How do you cheat at snap?”

Maggie looked at Mandy, eyebrows raised.

“You obviously led a sheltered childhood, young man,” Mandy said. “Shall we go, Maggie? You don't want to get volunteered for all the worst jobs.”

“We'd better,” Maggie agreed.

“Can I have your name, to quote you, Maam?”

“Maggie Williams,” Maggie said, picking up her bag.

Kevin looked at the confident young woman in front of him, caught his breath and asked, “As in Sarah's daughter? Your mum probably saved my dad's life.”

“Stammers, as in Alaska? Maddie and Robbie's son?” Mandy asked.

“Yes.”

“You're practically clan, then,” Mandy declared. “We've certainly been praying for your family for ages.”

Maggie decided to test him, “How's Hannah's leg healing? And the court case?”

“That was deliberate, wasn't it?” he accused, “Miriam's arm is just fine these days, thanks, and yes, he's behind bars, but for some reason the judge agreed that her giving him a tract counted as provocation.”

“Does mum know you're here?” Maggie asked.

“Urm, not as far as I know.”

“Hmm, and you've just arrived?” she asked.

“I'd heard about the cabins getting really cheap...”

“If they're not full, yes. So, what's your back-up plan?” Mandy asked.

“It's not that cold, and I've got a tent...”

Maggie looked at the snow settling on her arm, and said “Not compared to Alaska, I guess.”

Mandy tapped a few times on her wrist unit, “As a regular customer, I can tell you there's is one cabin not currently booked, and... oh. It sleeps six people.”

“That'll be six times the price, won't it? I guess I'm camping then.”

“Not six times, no,” Mandy corrected, “but they won't drop the price to less than what they expect it's going to cost to heat it, clean it, and so on. So bigger does means more expensive.”

Maggie, meanwhile had been dialing a number on her wrist unit. “Hi, that reporter? Turns out he's Kevin Stammers, from Anchorage. Yes, exactly. You don't mind? Of course we've got enough food. Of course I'll tell them.”

Turning to Kevin she said, “Right, Kevin, you are invited to dinner tonight, and Mandy, unless you really want to get away from cousins, you're coming too.”

“I am, am I?” Mandy said with a faint smile.

“Kevin needs to learn how to cheat at snap, after all. And you're still the best, I bet.”

Mandy considered it for a moment, “Oh, all right. Let's see if I can still defend my crown. But I am not staying up to midnight. I've got to be alert and rested when I get back to work.”

“What is your work?” Kevin asked curiously.

“I work for the government, mostly with computers,” Mandy replied.

“That's not a very precise answer,” he said.

She shrugged. “The problem is, Kevin, you're a citizen of a foreign power, and a journalist to boot. Imprecision is good.”

“I'm hoping to fix the first one of those.” Kevin said.

“Pardon?”

“I'm first and foremost a Christian. Secondly, I'm a Rom. Alaska is third place and it's becoming increasingly uncomfortable for Christians, especially Christian Roma with no Alaskan blood.”

“None?”

“Maybe four generations back: mum's gran. But mum smiles secretively and says 'no, probably not', and the law only recognises three generations anyway.”

“So... what's the law saying?”

“If it passes, then all citizens who are counted as from recently immigrant families will have to swear absolute loyalty to the crown. It doesn't matter that my forefathers have lived in Alaska since the age of chaos, they've defined 'recently immigrant' as people under thirty who've got no grandparents who were listed on the census as one of the remaining historic Alaskan tribes or who never claimed any identity other than Alaskan. Since we're Roma, that's what's been on the census.”

“And you won't swear?”

“The king's a polytheist, most Roma are Christians. He claims he's not targeting minority groups or Christians, but that he's 'targeting people who have more loyalty to their home country than Alaska'. If you don't swear, you become a second class citizen, you pay the same taxes but are ineligible for various things like disability support, emergency medial treatment, and retirement pensions. If a court ever decides you've sworn falsely, you're classed as an outlaw, any money you have is confiscated and you get twenty-four hours to leave. Just how you do that without money, I don't know. And last I heard the way the oath is worded makes it pretty much impossible for someone to swear it and still worship Jesus as king.”

“I didn't realise it was getting that hard,” Mandy said.

“So you're considering here or Mars?” Maggie asked.

“Have you seen how much it costs to get to Mars? Too expensive by a long way. But frankly — please don't tell anyone I said this — hitching a lift with a friendly polar bear and crossing the border into Russia seems like a safer bet for me and my sisters than staying in Alaska.”

“Are there any friendly polar bears?” Maggie asked.

“Not that I've heard of.”

“I didn't think so,” Maggie said.