“Geneering. It’s very deliberate, dates back a while. Even with terraforming we don’t have a standard atmosphere on Mars. Our ancestors decided to meet the problem halfway. As we’re a Communist society, naturally everyone got the modification to expand our lung capacity; and that was on top of the earlier adaptations we made to ourselves to survive in the Moon’s gravity field.”
“The Moon?” Louise asked, trying to sort things out in her mind. “You lived on the Moon first?”
“It was the Lunar nation which terraformed Mars. Didn’t they teach you that at school?”
“Uh, no. At least, we haven’t got to it yet.” She decided not to question him on the communism bit. Given Daddy’s opinion on that topic, it would make life a little too complicated right now.
He was smiling gently at her. “I think that’s enough history. It’s nearing midnight, Norwich time. Perhaps you’d better get some sleep, yes?”
She gave him an eager nod.
Endron coached her in the elementary movements necessary to get about in free fall. Speed was not a requirement, he insisted, arriving safely and accurately at your destination was. And you must be careful of inertia, it creates huge bruises.
With his encouragement she made her way into the life support capsule they’d been allocated: a lounge five yards to a side, made from grubby pearl-grey composite walls which were inlaid with several instrument panels with tiny orange and green lights winking below their dark glass surfaces. Plastic doors which were like a kind of solidified liquid flowed apart to reveal three “cabins” for them to sleep in (the wardrobes she had in her Cricklade bedroom were larger). There was a bathroom in the upper deck at which Louise took one look and promptly recoiled, vowing not to go to the toilet again until they were safely back on a planet.
Genevieve shot up to embrace her as soon as she glided through the ceiling hatch. Fletcher smiled a welcome.
“Isn’t this truly wondrous!” the little girl proclaimed. She was floating with her toes six inches off the decking, spinning like a ballerina. Two ponytails stood out at right angles from her head. When she spread her arms wide her speed slowed. A neat toe kick, too quick to follow, and she soared up to the ceiling, clasping a grab hoop to kill her movement. Enchanted eyes smiled at Louise. “Bet you I can do seven somersaults before I reach the floor.”
“You probably can,” Louise said wearily.
“Oh.” Genevieve’s face was instantly contrite. She levitated back to the decking until she was level with Louise. “I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”
“Fine now. And it’s time for bed.”
“Oww, Louise!”
“Now.”
“All right.”
Endron proffered the girl a squeeze bulb. “Here, it’s a chocolate drink. Try it, I’m sure you’ll like it.”
Genevieve started sucking eagerly on the nozzle.
“You are recovered, lady?” Fletcher asked.
“Yes. Thank you, Fletcher.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, unaware of Endron watching them.
One of the instrument panels let out a quiet bleep.
Endron scowled and drifted over to it, anchoring himself on a stikpad. “Shoddy components,” he muttered.
Fletcher gave Louise an apologetic grimace, mildly embarrassed. “I can’t stop it,” he said in a whisper.
“Not your fault,” she whispered back. “Don’t worry. The ship still works.”
“Yes, lady.”
“That was nice,” Genevieve announced. She held out the empty squeeze bulb and promptly burped.
“Gen!”
“Sorry.”
With Endron showing her how the cabin fittings worked, Louise finally got Genevieve into bed; a heavily padded sleeping bag stuck to the decking. Louise tucked her sister’s hair into the hood and kissed her gently. Genevieve gave her a drowsy smile and immediately closed her eyes.
“She’ll sleep for a good eight hours now she’s got that sedative in her,” Endron said, holding up the empty squeeze bulb. “And when she wakes up she won’t be anything like as hyper. Furay told me what she was like when you boarded the spaceplane. She was having a bounceback response to the hangar fire. In a way that kind of overreaction is as bad as depressive withdrawal.”
“I see.” There didn’t seem anything to add. She glanced back at Genevieve before the funny door contracted. For one whole night there would be no possessed, no Roberto, and no Quinn Dexter.
I’ve done what I promised, Louise thought. Thank you, Jesus.
Despite how tired she was feeling, she managed a prideful smile. No longer the worthless, pampered landowner daughter Carmitha had such contempt for just scant days ago. I suppose I’ve grown up a bit.
“You should rest now, lady,” Fletcher said.
She yawned. “I think you’re right. Are you going to bed?”
For once Fletcher’s sedate features showed a certain lightness. “I believe I will linger awhile longer.” He indicated a holoscreen which was displaying the image from an external camera. Cloud-splattered landscape was rolling past, pastel greens, browns, and blues illuminated by Duke’s radiance. “It is not often a mortal man is permitted to view a world over the shoulder of angels.”
“Good night, Fletcher.”
“Good night, lady. May the Lord guard your dreams from the darkness.”
Louise didn’t have time to dream. A hand pressing her shoulder woke her soon enough.
She winced at the light coming through the open door. When she tried to move, she couldn’t, the sleeping bag held her too tight.
“What?” she groaned.
Fletcher’s face was a few inches from hers, a gloomy frown spoiling his brow. “I apologise, lady, but the crew is in some confusion. I thought you should know.”
“Are they on board?” she cried in dismay.
“Who?”
“The possessed.”
“No, Lady Louise. Be assured, we are perfectly safe.”
“What then?”
“I think they are in another ship.”