Z still felt the adrenalin rush from the conference as she entered the main lobby of NASA West. She was getting used to the attention she received in public but the preceding two days had produced something completely beyond comprehension. Infatuation. She shook her head as she walked to the elevator; she had to learn to deflect that energy or nothing good would come of it.
The elevator door opened, and Z stepped into the only place where she could reconnect with her life in the City of Ghosts. The recordings and mapping they had done had helped her revisit places and events, but with aching consistency, she felt a need to see proof that her experience was real. The only way she could achieve that was by touching the headpieces and other artifacts they had returned, and by visiting the Elder. As Z looked through a large observation window at the activity inside the artifacts lab, and thought about the meticulous cataloging of every item they had returned, she was glad she had decided to swallow the regolith. They never would have let her keep the soil in her locket.
A lot of work awaited in her office, but first she had a burning request of the Administrator.
“Let me advise the researchers working on the headpieces,” she proposed once inside Sharp’s office.
“The damn thing didn’t work on you, Elizabeth.”
“I didn’t think it would. I said so in my debrief. No receiver will work where there is no transmission. That doesn’t change the fact that only I know how they work. So they don’t operate, here on Earth, but that doesn’t mean we can’t learn the secret of how they work on Mars. I understand the effect they produce and how it latches onto the head to make a connection. And I have a better idea than anyone how to study them without destroying them.”
“You have a plan?”
“Always. We begin with a PMI analysis and then image all three. As the research team identifies their make-up and circuitry, I’ll work with a development team to try to duplicate their technology or prototype a similar design using our technology. I can be the guinea pig.”
“You’ll need to work with our partners.”
“Why? We should keep this within the firewall until we understand how they work.”
“Why? Because that’s what we do, Elizabeth. That’s why the government funds us: to share technology with partner companies,” Sharp smirked.
Patronizing asshole, thought Z. As if I don’t know why we’re funded. “We don’t really understand how the headpieces function, but even more important, we don’t understand their purpose in Martian society. We could be turning over dangerous technology to a private company. Let me keep it close: universities at the most.”
Z got a tacit agreement from Sharp and left. His condescending tone reminded her why she had originally planned to resign when she completed the mission. Despite the recognition she was receiving everywhere, Sharp continued to withhold his respect. She didn’t trust Sharp. Years ago, he had put her on what he thought was a dog of a mission, thinking that would be the end of her. But it had magically turned into a unicorn—and that gave her leverage. Unless he sent her back to Mars she would resign and, with the experience she would gain prototyping the headpieces, she would be valuable property on the open market. It wouldn’t hurt to make a little money.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
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It was actually one of the rare times Celeste and Jim were in the same room, of late. Jim was always pushing forward like a shark swimming to survive. Celeste was discovering powers she knew she possessed but had never exercised. With a single call, the two of them had been drawn to a point of origin: Chaz. Their beautiful champion had been injured.
Celeste marched through the emergency room. She was not going to wait to be told where Chaz was recovering; she would seek him out. Jim walked calmly behind, knowing that he only had to follow in her wake to eventually arrive at his son’s side.
Chaz lay in a curtained-off cube, skin red from irritant with a gash that stretched from his hairline to his eyebrow. It had been bloody, like any head wound, but inconsequential. But Celeste, on seeing her boy, head bandaged and bruised around his eye, broke into sobs as she rushed to hug him.
“My God, Chaz. Are you okay? Can you think? Are you having trouble with your eyes?”
Chaz was dismissive through the narcotics. “I’m fine, Mom. I got hit by a rock. I’m luckier than some people.”
“What do you mean? Were others hurt?”
“We saw people who had taken a full-on hit from a rock. It was not pretty.” Then Chaz turned to Julianne. “Mom, this is Julianne. You remember her. She’s in the Spirit Guide group with me.”
“Yes. I do.” Celeste smiled at Julianne and stuck out her hand. “I remember. Nice to see you Julianne.”
Chaz said groggily, “She kept me safe, Mom. Julianne pulled me out of the riot and brought me here.”
Celeste leapt across the tight space and hugged Julianne. “Thank you! I think I want to adopt you.”
Julianne demurred. “Not necessary, Ms Woodley. I’m fine with who I am.”
Jim saw an awkward interaction that needed cleaning-up. He smiled warmly at Julianne and gave her a country boy bear hug. “You listen. When this is done, I want to cook you some barbeque. Is that okay?”
Julianne nodded. “A-OK, Mr. Woodley.”
“Done.” He smiled, then turned back to the bed. “So, how are you, Chaz?”
Chaz, still in the long tail of shock, replied, “I’m okay, Dad. It was a cut and the doc says I may have a concussion, but it wasn’t all that bad.”
“All that bad?” shot Celeste. “You could have been killed by those chicken-shit animals. Now they’ve scarred you for life.”
“Mom, don’t worry.”
Celeste turned to Jim. “We’re going to get his cut treated by the best cosmetic surgeon we know. That’s it. No scars on my boy.”
“Mom…”
Celeste smiled at Chaz, then grabbed Jim by the arm and pulled him over to the door, just out of whisper-range. “Jim, I’m telling you. Those Earthers are animals and I’m going to go after them. Next thing you know, they’ll attack the school.”