“The Moon went through this decades ago,” Nance said. “Since the Schism, when Earth could not afford to administer such far-flung worlds and we took our leave- — ”

“Sounds a note of history vid,” Nils said with a grin.

Nance continued after the slightest pause for a glare. “We have wrangled and tangled our way into perpetual unrest. The Moon found a solution, changed its constitution — ”

“And was reabsorbed by Earth,” Nils said. “Independent in dreams only.”

“We are much farther away,” Hettie said.

Nils would not be swayed. “We do not need order imposed from outside. We need time to find our own path, our own best solution.”

Bithras sighed heavily. “My esteemed advocates tell me what I already know, and they say it over and over.”

“When you take this suggestion for compromise to Earth,” Hettie said, “how do you expect them to believe you can make it stick in the Council? Preliminary agreement is one thing…”

Bithras’s features expressed extreme distaste. “I am going to tell Earth,” he said, “that Majumdar BM will put a hold on further Triple dollar transactions for any BM that does not sign.”

Nils exploded. “That is treasonous! We could be sued by every BM on this planet — and rightly so!”

“What court would hear them?” Bithras asked. “We have no effective court structure on Mars, not since Dauble… Our own advocates pressed suit against Dauble on Earth, not Mars. What court on Earth would hear a suit pertaining only to Mars?” Bithras stared at them sternly. “My friends, how long has it been since a BM sued another BM?”

“Thirty-one years,” Hettie said glumly, chin in hand.

“And why?” Bithras pursued, slapping his palm on the table.

“Honor!” Nils cried.

“Nonsense,” Nance said. “Nobody has wanted to prick the illusion. Every BM is a rogue, an outlaw, and the Council is a polite sham.”

“But it works!” Nils said. “Advocates negotiate, talk to each other, settle things before they ever reach court. We work around the governors. For Majumdar to put the very existence of other BMs in jeopardy is unconscionable!”

“Perhaps,” Bithras said. “But the alternative is worse. Earth will doubtless make many threats if we do not act soon. And one of them will be complete embargo. No more designs, no more technical assistance. Our newer industries would be badly damaged, perhaps crippled.”

“That we could sue them for,” Nils persisted, but without conviction.

“My friends, I have offered you a chance to make comments on this proposed constitution,” Bithras said. “You have until sixteen this evening. We are all aware of the dangers. We are all aware of the mood of Earth toward Mars.”

“I had hoped to persuade you to drop this farce,” Nils said.

“That is not an option. I am only a figurehead on this would-be ship-of-state, my friends,” Bithras said. “I go to Earth hat in hand, to avoid disaster. We are only five millions. Earth is thirty thousand millions. Earth wants access to our resources. She wants to control our resources. The only way for us to maintain our freedom is to put our house in order, concede to Earth enough to put off the next confrontation a few more years, perhaps a decade. We are weak. Buying time is our best hope.”

“They’ll force a Statist government on us,” Nils said, “and then mold that government to their own ends, and when we’re done, they’ll own us body and soul.”

“That is a possibility,” Bithras admitted. “That’s why we must stab ourselves in the back, as Nils would call it, first.”

Bithras went to the Council alone and presented the proposals he had worked out with the five top Martian BMs. The debate was furious; nobody liked the choices, but nobody wanted to be the first to attract Earth’s anger. Somehow, he managed to glue together something acceptable. Bithras sent Allen and me messages after the session concluded.

My dear young assistants,

All Martians are cowards. The proposals are agreed to.

Salve!

The trip began with a farewell dinner in the departure lounge of Atwood Star Harbor near Equator Rise, west of Pavonis Mons. Friends, family and dignitaries came to the port to see us off.

For security reasons, Bithras would board the shuttle at the last minute. There had been threats against his life planted anonymously in family mailboxes for the past few days, ever since the announcement of his departure to Earth. Some suspected disgruntled Statists; others looked to the smaller BMs, who had least to gain and most to lose.

My mother, father and brother sat in a corner of the lounge, near a broad window overlooking the port. Blunt white shuttie noses poked up through half-open silo hatches. Red flopsand formed smooth streaks across the white pavement. Arbeiters engaged in perpetual cleanup roamed the field.

We spoke in bursts, with long moments of silence in between: Martian reserve. My mother and father tried not to show their pride and sadness. Stan simply smiled. Stan always smiled, in good times or bad. Some misjudged him because of that, but due to the shape of his face, it was easier for him to smile than not.

Father took me by both shoulders and said, “You’re going to do great.”

“Of course she will,” my mother said.

“We’ll have to adopt someone while you’re gone,” Father continued. “We can’t stand an empty house.”

“The hell we will,” Mother said. “Stan will leave in a few months — ”

“I will?” Stan said. His protest carried an odd note; surprise beyond the jest.

“And we’ll have the warren to ourselves for the first time in ten years. What should we do?”

“Replace the carpets,” Father said. “They don’t groom themselves as well as they used to.”

I listened with a mix of embarrassment and grief. What I wanted, right now, was to retreat and cry, but that was not possible.

“You will make us proud,” Father said, and then, to make his point, in a louder voice, he said it again.

“I’ll try,” I murmured, searching his face. Father and I had never quite communicated; his love had always been obvious, and he had never slighted me, but he often seemed a cipher. Mother I thought I knew; yet it was Father who never surprised me, and Mother who never failed to.

“We won’t drag this out,” Mother said firmly, taking my father’s elbow for emphasis. Mother and I hugged. I squeezed her hard, feeling like a little girl, wanting her to sit me on her lap and rock me. She pulled back, smiling, tears in her eyes, and actually pushed me away, gently but firmly. Father gripped my hand with both of his and shook it. He had tears in his eyes, as well. They turned abruptly and left.

Stan stayed longer. We stood apart from the crowd, saying little, until he cocked his head to one side, and whispered, “They’re going to miss you.”

“I know,” I said.

“So will I.”

“It’ll flash,” I said.

“I’m going lawbond,” he said, sticking his jaw out pugnaciously.

“What?”

“To Jane Wolper.”

“From Cailetet?”

“Yeah.”

“Stan, Father hates Cailetet. They’re pushy and Lunar. We’ve never been able to share with them.”

“Maybe that’s why I love her.”

I stared at him in astonishment. “You’re amazing,” I said.

“Yeah.” He seemed pleased with himself.

“You’re going over to their family… ?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad I’m leaving now.”

“I’ll keep you informed,” he said. “If Dad says nothing about me, you’ll know it went badly. I’ll give you the details when the dust settles.”

I specked him running down the tunnel between our rooms when he was five and I was two and a half and adored him. He could leap like a kangaroo and wore rubber pads to bounce hands and feet down the tunnels. Athletic, calm, always-knows-where-to-go Stan. Never said boo to our parents, never gave them pause. Now it was his turn to aggravate and provoke.