Julius was not accustomed to waiting for anything or anyone. He took it as an affront; timeliness was his profession. But celebrity trumped timeliness. Z was not ready to see Julius and the producer would not admit him until she was.

Inside her green room, Z hugged Patrick and picked-up the NASA case. The code number etched on the combination lock confirmed it was the model she wanted. She looked back up at Patrick. “I guess you have to take this back to NASA, today. Right?”

He nodded.

Z placed the case on her dressing table. “This will be a thrill for the audience. And great PR for the mission.” Then she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Do me a favor, Pat.” She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Bring guards.” Then she kissed him on the cheek.

Julius checked the time, peeved that they were only minutes away from her going on stage. He watched Patrick leave. Then the producer stepped out of the room and called Julius and his attendants into Z’s dressing room. When they entered, Z was seated at her makeup table, back to them. She stood and turned. Tall and once again mission-fit, her clothes draped from her shoulders but revealed the toned muscles beneath. She wore a suit of natural cloth, wide-legged and high waisted with a cross-front blouse and a flowing jacket-shawl. It echoed Arabia and Japan at the same time, but it was neither; it was the outfit worn by the Martian woman in the mural.

She smiled at Julius. “I haven’t a lot of time, but I wanted to show you the headpiece before I went on.” She took out the NASA case, opened it so Julius could see the band. His eyes fell on it lustfully.

Z saw the desire in his eyes. “Why don’t you try it on?” she offered. “You could be one of a handful of Marked people to wear the stones.”

He reached out then hesitated.

“Go on, you have to try it. How will you know if you’re on the right track if you don’t know what the real thing feels like?” Z coaxed. “You’ll be the first non-NASA civilian to wear a headpiece from Mars. Let me put it on you. I know how.”

Z looked at the headpiece, shining against the navy blue velour padding like a rocket trail across the morning sky. Now, I’ve gone too far to change course, she thought. She pinched the delicate-looking band with the thumb and forefinger of each hand and lifted it toward Julius’ eager face. He closed his eyes as it touched the sides of his head, a curiously submissive expression, Z thought.

“There will be pressure, like it’s clinging to you. And you may feel some tingling and a headache.” She placed it across his forehead and gently pressed the stones to his temples. “There. Now, do you feel anything?”

Julius’ eyes shot open and darted around, then tried to focus on her. And then his knees buckled.

Z cried out, “My God. It’s working.” She held out her arms to keep people from rushing to him. “Give him some space. This happened to me, once.” His aides waited, looking back and forth between Z and Julius. If this was the moment Julius first experienced the power of the Martian headpiece, it would become the stuff of Logisen corporate legend and they wanted to be sure they were respectful witnesses. Julius opened his eyes and looked around. Then he sat up and shook his head.

“What do you see?” asked Z, looking earnestly into his eyes.

Julius gave a blurry-eyed look back at her, then turned his attention to the room around him. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be looking for,” he said.

Z squeezed his shoulder and watched him anxiously. “Keep looking. Tell me what you see.”

Julius’ eyes shot glances around the room, then he stood up, with Z’s help. Just then, a production assistant leaned in the doorway. “Five minutes, Commander Nasri.” Then, seeing Julius’ unsteady condition, added, “Do you need me to call medical?”

Z flashed a smile. “No, this is normal.”

Julius slowly turned in a full circle, then looked at his hands.

“You must see something,” Z pleaded. “Tell me what you see.”

Julius closed his eyes. “Nothing.” Z grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him. He looked back at her. “I felt the pressure and the tingle, then I guess I passed out.”

Z nodded. “It happened to me, too, in the lab at NASA. It’s like the signal gets only so far, then is interrupted.”

“Yes, it is like that.”

“Now, steady yourself. I’m going to remove the headpiece. I have to wear it on stage.” Z reached over to gently touch the sides of Julius’ head, then delicately pulled the stones away from his temples. There, where the stones had clung, were small, red marks. She smiled at him. “You definitely got Marked. You have the red spots.” Then she stepped back from him, turned the slender wire around to face her and placed the arc across her forehead. She closed her eyes quickly, and winced. She looked down for a moment. “That’s it. That’s as far as it gets.” She took a deep breath. “Now I’m ready.” She smiled at Julius, then walked out of the room.

Julius, still feeling unsteady, exited the dressing room to watch Elizabeth Nasri walk calmly to the stage entrance. As he hobbled, yards behind her, his knees began to buckle and his assistant caught him by the elbow. He turned an annoyed look to her and she let go. The audio of the host’s introduction bounced off the walls and ceilings of the conference center and swirled around his head. The backstage was dark and there, in the wings, bathed in the wash of light from center stage, headpiece glistening across her forehead, stood the raven-haired, brown-skinned ruler of Mars.

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When she was introduced, and disappeared from his sight, Julius wobbled to where she had stood. Z strode onto the stage, calm and focused, smiling at the assembly.

From row three, Celeste saw it before it registered with the crowd. She was the first in her row to stand, then point, then gasp, and exclaim:

“She’s wearing it!”

Then those around her saw it. The man beside Celeste turned to his companion. “Is that one of them? Oh my God!” He stood and others stood and cheered. When the cameras caught the flash of the headpiece on her forehead, there were gasps at first, then a rolling effervescence of applause and cheers. People smiled as if the darts of reflected light from the headpiece shot blessings into the room.

Z stopped when she reached the center, brought her hands together behind her back, and stood quietly for nearly a minute while the audience took pictures and cheered. In all the time that had passed since they had been discovered, with all the mythology that had surrounded them since, no one had ever seen a headpiece in public. And now, bearing witness to Elizabeth Nasri wearing the silver arc across her forehead, the audience burst forth with a torrent of adoration. In the wings, Julius watched the tsunami crash on shore and smiled. He had worn It.

It was not the presentation anyone had expected. No enthusiastic tours through the ruins; no behind-the-scenes revelations about the research being done. Z stood relaxed and straight and spoke to the assembled about the mystery of the Martians and the strange path she had followed in trying to understand their story.

She described the gentleness of the Elder.

The family eating dinner with all the ruckus of playing children.

The strange light that shined through the eyes of an ancient ancestor before reaching hers.

The diseased plants in a lab.

The rush of people to the transports.

The corpse of the Elder, slumped onto his desk.

The rush of green and the smell of life back on Earth.

The joy of retelling the adventure of her mission to all of the people who loved Mars.

The amazement at finding that Martians had come to Earth.

Patrick had found his guards and now stood next to Julius, smiling with wonder at the aura that flowed from this woman with whom he had shared so many ordinary moments. The room had fallen silent, the audience absorbed by each sentence.

“I want to go back,” she said at last. Z listened to her words echo in the quiet conference hall. “And I need your help to get me on the next mission. There are important things I have yet to learn, there. But NASA still needs to be convinced. I’m asking you to convince them.”

From the wings, Patrick rubbed his temples. “Oh God, not again.” His earpiece buzzed. He considered his next choice and decided not to answer it. Z had turned and begun walking toward him, while the maelstrom she had created cheered her off the stage.

As she stepped out of the spotlight into the wings, she looked at the guards, then into Patrick’s eyes. “Pat, what are you doing here?”

He took a second to register the comment, then understood. “I’m here for the headpiece. I have to return it.”

Julius, still disoriented, shot glances back and forth between the box Patrick carried and Z’s long fingers as she gently placed her headpiece inside.

Z looked sideways at Julius and gave her head a small shake. Patrick closed the box and smiled at Z. “See you back at Space Park.” Then he motioned to the guards and walked away, past rows of lighting equipment, to the exit.

Julius shot an icy look at Z. “Do you know what I went through to be here?”

Z looked around to be sure no production people were too near. “He wasn’t supposed to be back for an hour. I told him I was doing publicity photos after the keynote. But now he’s taken it.”

Julius stared coldly at her. “You will make good on your promise or I will first rob you of Mars, then I will rob you of fame, then I will rob you of the people who are close to you.”

...

The Air and Space Museum was not the most convenient place for either of them to meet, but it was halfway between their bases of operation. Dunlap flew in from London, Z from Los Angeles. Z realized there would be hell to pay for blowing the hand-off of the headpiece. It had preyed on her thoughts the entire flight east. Would she still have a ticket to Mars? Probably not, unless she could deliver the headpiece—and that would not be easy. Getting it out of NASA West, once, was as much as she could hope for.

Z stood in front of a wall-sized enlargement of Cupid’s aerial scan revealing the City of Spirits. Hanging in front of it, twenty feet over her head, was Cupid. A tear came to her eye as she looked up at the small body and expansive dragonfly wings, supported by a web of guy wires against Earth’s gravity.

“Surprised to see you, here, Cupid. You were supposed to stay on Mars. That’s where you belong, but you became famous and now you’re a display piece, here on Earth.” Z sighed and shook her head.

“It doesn’t look good for you to be seen talking to the exhibit.” Dunlap laughed as he walked across the gallery, amid relics of the space program. Gesturing up at Cupid, he remarked “It looks good. Better than you, right now.” He enveloped Z in his arms and whispered in her ear. “I told the curator we needed a few moments to talk alone—you know, the emotion of seeing Cupid again.”

“What’s the news, Dunnie?”

“I think you know what a gentle and forgiving guy Julius is. First, he took everything personal, like a spoiled brat. Then he complained about transporting the scanners to the convention for no reason. That’s when he threw the cup across the room. Then he heaped a shit ton of blame on you for wasting his time and vowed to crush you if he ever got the chance.”

“Thanks, Dunnie. I feel better.”

“That’s when I reminded him that you work for NASA, and that when they ask for their toys back, you have to do what they say. I also reminded him that if he ever wanted a second crack at one, you were the only person who could make it possible.”

“Dunnie, even I can’t waltz out with a headpiece anytime I feel like it. It may take a while.”

Dunlap looked up at Cupid, “You’re shooting the interview with him next week. He’s giving you until then to deliver the headpiece.”

“And if I can’t do it?”

“First, he starts with me because I failed to get you to deliver, then he goes after Pat because he took the headpiece away from him.”

“Pat didn’t have anything to do with that. He was just the messenger.”

“Julius didn’t like the message. If you don’t come through, Z, we’re all going to feel it. Especially you.”