Seven Against Mars. Martin Berman-Gorvine

looked at her quizzically. “See here, missy, it ain’t my business, but I wouldn’t talk like that when we get to Afro-Port if I was you. Out here in the jungle, you can say whatever you want, but in town they’re liable to drag you before Mayor Bellini for a session with the Corrector.”

      “What’s a Corrector?”

      “You mean to tell me they don’t have any Correctors on Earth? Well, let’s just say it’s one of the reasons I prefer to spend my time out here in the jungle, zapping Medusas and rescuing stupid tourists, no offense.”

      “None taken,” Rachel muttered. “A Corrector? What is this, a penal colony?”

      “As a matter of fact, Venus did start out as a penal colony, like Australia on Old Earth,” Jack said. “Thought you knew everything about Venus.”

      “Apparently not.”

      “See here, Miss Rachel, I’d love to stand around jabbering all day, but we got to get moving if we’re going to make Afro-Port within the next twelve hours. There’s a monsoon brewing that’s going to hit around then.”

      “How can you tell?” Katie asked, squinting up into the featureless gray sky that was visible through the gaps in the tree canopy.

      “Plain as the nose on your face, Miss Katie. Not that your nose is anything to be ashamed of. I once knew a girl with a nose like yours, and she won the Miss Luna 2160 contest hands down.”

      “Did he just call me a lunatic?” Katie whispered to Rachel.

      “No, Luna’s another name for the moon,” Rachel whispered back.

      “Right. I knew that.”

      “I’ll explain to you how I can tell a monsoon is coming if you help me with this gear, Miss Katie,” Jack said.

      “Deal,” Katie said happily.

      As they worked, Anya walked over to Rachel. Glided over, more like, Rachel thought enviously.

      “Rachel, I am duty bound to inform you that you if you accompany me and Jack, you will be in grave danger from the moment we arrive on Mars. In fact, Ares’ agents will probably spot us as soon as we arrive in Aphrodite Port.”

      “S’alright,” Rachel said, “they can’t be any worse than Nazis.”

      “Nazis?” The princess frowned. “What are Nazis?”

      “Something from Earth history. Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

      “But Earth history is my field! I had almost enough credits to graduate when Ares had me expelled from Wandanian University. Then the faculty and students went on strike in protest, and he got rid of them all and turned the place into a military academy.” She shut her eyes for a moment. “So much suffering on my account.”

      Rachel put her hand on the princess’s arm. “It isn’t on your account, Your Highness,” she said. “I mean, I’m sure your people love you, but they are fighting for their own rights. And you, like your father, are their leader and their symbol. You can’t give up, for their sake.”

      “You’re right, of course,” Anya said. “But tell me about these Nazis of yours. Were they one of the tribes the Aztecs subjugated?”

      “Uh, no, not exactly. Look, can we talk about this another time? Right now I need to know about Ares’ agents—what they look like, how they are armed, what we should do if we run into them in Aphrodite Port.…”

      “Breakfast, ladies!” Jack called. “I’m afraid we’ll have to eat on the run. Hope you like bananas!”

      “Bananas?” Rachel said. “We have bananas on Earth. In Warsaw, even! At least before the war, we did.”

      “Bet they weren’t anything like this!” Jack tossed something to her.

      Rachel examined the rose-colored, gracefully curved tube as long as her forearm. It had no obvious stem. “How do you peel this thing?”

      “Peel?” Jack laughed. “Earth bananas have peels? That’s funny! Just bite into it, Miss Rachel!”

      She did, and her eyes widened. “This tastes just like strawberries and cream! My favorite! I haven’t eaten that since before the war!”

      “No it doesn’t,” Katie said, matching her pace to Rachel’s. “It tastes just like my daddy’s barbecued ribs.”

      “It tastes like whatever you want it to,” the princess explained. “The technique was a Martian trade secret, but Ares II sold it to finance one of his palaces.” She made a face. “The one with a harem.”

      “What’s a harem?” Katie asked. Jack and Rachel blushed.

      The princess said, “It is a place where the tyrant keeps his female, ah, that is, his women—”

      “Oh, like par-tay time on Mars!” Katie said. “I gotcha.”

      The princess frowned. “No, I’m afraid you don’t. Not all the women are there of their own free will.”

      “Oh. Oh,” Katie blushed in her turn. “Why, that’s awful! How come you Martians don’t get together and throw the bums out?”

      “You mean, have a revolution?” the princess said. “No, I don’t think you understand Martian culture. We are a desert people. The climate on our world has been growing steadily drier for thousands upon thousands of years. People from Earth and Venus who visit for the first time often speak of the beauty of our ocher plains, but they do not remember as we do when it was all green and lush, almost as much as this planet where we are now.” She smiled at Jack. “In Martian we call this world the Jewel of the Night, it shines so brightly in our sky.” Her smile faded slowly as tears welled in her eyes. “Poets and painters travel from the outer system, from Ganymede and Titan as well as Earth and Venus, to capture something of the beauty of our world, but it is the beauty of a young girl dying before her time. And yet, we Martians are a determined people, and we would not let our world die without a fight. So my renowned ancestor Lady Wanda organized the first of the great canal-building projects. Everyone on the planet who was physically able took part. Little children carried little buckets of dirt and pebbles. Together we built the Grand Canal, a thousand miles long, to carry the sweet water from the springs on Olympus Mons into lesser branching canals that irrigate the plains. But we could not have done this without the wise leadership of Wanda, her son Lord Witold I, and his daughter Lady Wanda II.”

      “And of course, her son Prince Witold was your father,” Jack said. “Which makes me wonder how come your name isn’t Wanda.”

      “Because Ares II would have taken that as a direct challenge, and I would not have lived to reach adulthood. As it is, I’ve still got more than a Martian year—almost two Earth-years—to go before I become an adult. May I continue?”

      Jack dropped his wiseguy expression, but Katie frowned. “This is very interesting and all, Miss Anya, but I still don’t understand why your people don’t give these Ares folks the bum’s rush.”

      The princess sighed. “Any non-Martian would find it difficult to understand, but the fact is that our planet has been in such terrible danger for such a long time that the idea of overthrowing our rulers is unthinkable. If we don’t all cooperate, we will all die. Not only will our lands dry out, our very atmosphere will blow away into space. We cannot afford wars or revolutions like the people of the sunward planets.”

      “But—well—no free-born Texian would stand for that for one minute! We’d chase ’em out with shotguns and pitchforks if we had to!”

      “But my dear Katie, I heard you talking with Rachel earlier about how your people live. No, please don’t misunderstand me.” She smiled as Katie’s face darkened. “I am sure you and your parents worked harder than I could ever imagine. But can’t you see, without cooperation to build the sort of canals we have on Mars, your country will remain poor and backward—”