My husband of just two years.

My husband.

In the darkened debating chamber, Ti Sandra and her closest opponent, Rafe Olson of Copernicus, stood behind podi-ums, bathed in golden spots. Ti Sandra looked over the audience warmly, smiling and nodding. The debates were all being held at UMS and broadcast live around Mars. Three million adult Martians watched loyally, an audience one-tenth of one percent that of the most popular freeband LitVid on Earth.

The affairs of Mars were trivial in numbers, yet significant in emotional impact. LitVid signals were already spreading over the ex net, with attached text commentary from across the Triple. The Martian election campaign was big news everywhere, the first test of a world-nation, all else being birth and rehearsal.

I had suffered through debates with my opponents, and done well enough, but Ti Sandra had no equal on Mars. She had grown into her role with such style and grace that I wondered how anyone could replace her. She accepted the pressures flexibly, and blew them away to become even stronger.

Olson was smooth and efficient and knew his stuff; I’ve often thought he would have made a good President. He might have been smarter than Ti Sandra. But leadership has never been carried out by brains alone. Olson had at least three enhancements that we knew of, two social and one technical, yet still couldn’t match her for instinct and style.

I sat in the front row, Dandy Breaker on my left, the Chancellor of UMS and his wife to my right, one thousand students in ranked tiers behind us. The scene might have been centuries old; very democratic, very human, a contest between the best Mars could offer.

The chancellor, Helmut Frankel, patted my hand and whispered in my ear, “Makes a red rabbit very proud, doesn’t it?”

I agreed with a smile. I knew Ilya was watching; I felt that communality and closeness with him. I knew Charles would be watching. Let the games begin.

The UMS thinker, Marshall, installed two years before, projected an image of a proper Martian university professor, male, melanic, perhaps twenty-five years old, distinguished by peppery spots in his hair. The image bowed to the audience, which applauded politely, then to the stage. “President Erzul, Candidate Olson,” the thinker began, “I have taken questions posed by citizens of our young Republic, humans and thinkers, and analyzed them carefully to extract those issues which seem of most concern. First, I would like to ask Candidate Olson, how would you shape the policy of the Republic with regard to imports of high application goods such as nano designs?”

Olson did not appear to pause to think. ‘The Triple must treat Mars as an economic full partner, with no restrictions on any high app goods. While our economic leverage with regard to the major exporter of nano designs, Earth, is not particularly strong, I believe we have moral leverage, as child to the parent world. Why would Earth not treat us as a full partner, with the aim of eventually uniting all the Solar System under a common alliance, sovereign states and worlds recognizing a common goal?“

“Would that common goal be the so-called Push, the move to expand to the stars?”

“In the long run, certainly; I do share with the governments of Earth the belief that frontiers are necessary for growth. But other goals are much more immediate, among them open gateways for all scientific and technological discoveries, to remove the friction of uneven technological advancement.”

Olson did not know much if anything about the Olympians, and was almost certainly referring to Mars’s complaints against limited access to Earth technology, but for me, the statement carried extra weight.

“President Erzul, your comment on Candidate Olson’s answer?”

Ti Sandra placed her hands on the podium, pausing. The silence of several seconds was significant. Politics is showmanship; Ti Sandra would not appear to give predigested answers, or take the question and response quickly and lightly.

“No nation or political body operates out of altruism in the long run, and there is no reason to expect Earth to behave as mother to child. We have our own planetary pride, our own qualities, our own goods and inventions to offer, and these will in time be very significant. We must grow as friendly competitors, and we must earn our place in the Triple, without gifts, without favors. Others may need new frontiers, but Mars is still a frontier in itself. Mars is young but strong. We can grow, and will grow, to our own maturity in our own time.”

“But should not the Triple treat us as an equal partner, for the sake of historical ties?” Marshall asked.

Ti Sandra acknowledged that this would be a good thing, but added, “We intend never to impede the growth of Earth or any other sovereign power within the Triple. All we ask, in the long run, is that the Triple not stand in our way. We welcome economic ties, we welcome all forms of open trade, but we must not rely on inappropriate expectations or emotions.”

She had thirty seconds more for her answer, and took the time to elaborate. “Mars is a rich desert, scattered with settlements filled with a tough and loving people. We have grown as independent families, cooperating to keep each other alive, trading and sharing to prosper. I believe this is the natural order of things: good will among tough-minded but loving equals, never handicapping competitors, sharing the common resources through a strong and fair central authority. Good government keeps balances and corrects those flaws that will not correct themselves. The success of a Martian government lies in not stifling our greatest strengths to fit into some grand intellectual scheme with no precedent in history as actually lived.”

Chancellor Frankel leaned over to speak to me. “Brilliantly stated and reprised,” he said, nodding vigorously. “I hope she doesn’t really believe all that.”

Marshall ’s image turned to face Olson. “The interim government of President Erzul has already shown itself to be an effect effect an iv eck — ”

The image abruptly froze, then winked out. LitVid displays around the auditorium spun through confined gyrations and went dark. A low hum filled the room, empty digits on the auditorium’s sounder, and then that, too, fell silent. Beside me, Dandy jumped to his feet, took my shoulder, and practically lifted me out of my seat. Two guards and an arbeiter leaped on stage to surround Ti Sandra, and another guard stationed himself by Olson. The auditorium’s lights went out.

“Get down,” Dandy whispered harshly. I fell to my knees beside him. The auditorium filled with concerned voices and a few shouts and screams. I could feel my body becoming frightened before my mind had time to react.

Dandy pushed my butt and urged me across the floor, still on hands and knees. He covered me like a rude lover until we were in the protection of a stairwell. Ti Sandra huffed beside me. “You there, Cassie?” she asked.

“I’m here,” I said.

“Quiet!” Dandy ordered.

A torch flicked on, half-hidden by a guard’s hand as he read a small map on a metal plate secured to a handrail at the base of the stairs. Ti Sandra’s chief guard, Patsy Di Vorno, a sharp-faced young woman with incredible arms and shoulders, slapped a thick white slab like modeling clay on my arm. I gave a little shriek as it quickly spread and covered my torso, neck, and head, bunching my hair and tugging it painfully. It left me holes to see and breath through. Di Vorno wrapped a slab around each of Ti Sandra’s arms. We were now covered with reactive nano armor. The armor was intelligent and mobile; it could sense approaching projectiles and curl us into a tight ball with muscle-snapping speed. Any high-speed projectile hitting the armor would be blown to a stop. That made us dangerous to everybody around us.