YEAR: 25

Braheton City, Central Tharsis, Mars

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Gwen slipped out of the house on the Ridge shortly after dawn via the side door that led onto the lawn, taking care to go quietly. She was sure the omniscient Rosa was already busy in the kitchen and held out little hope that her exit would go unnoticed, but she could at least avoid the house manager's questions. Cray had brought Rosa with him from Normandy and her reign over household matters was absolute. The woman for whatever reason had taken an instant dislike to Gwen upon meeting her sixteen years ago. Her attitude had mellowed only slightly with time, and thus Gwen found it best to simply not engage her. On Gwen's short list of people who had ever intimidated her, Rosa was second from the top.

Due to her early start, she arrived at Cartouche over an hour before her appointment with Matthew. She sat on one of the low couches in the waiting room for a while watching news on the Feed, but after Cray's name came up for the third time she decided to go for a walk along the river front. The wide, slow-moving Cochran River, named after an early settler, ran from the mountains to the west, around the huge mesa of Rios Ridge, and through the heart of Braheton. Cartouche had a balcony from which one could watch the pleasure craft that dotted the waters, but Gwen preferred to stroll along the exercise path that lined the river's edge. The morning breeze always tasted cleaner than the evening winds, which blew in fine silt from the desert, the scourge of all air conditioning systems on Mars. She knew one attorney who based his entire practice on negligence suits related to faulty conditioning systems.

After wandering half a kilometer or so, she took out her loke to see what kind of message load she'd be dealing with that day. Cray had frowned at her every time she'd checked it over the weekend, so she hadn't gotten much done by way of work. Annoyingly, his disapproval did not extend to Laken, who spent half her life tied up in the Feed with her friends and certainly didn't turn off her loke for her parents. "She's a kid," he'd said once when Gwen had pointed out the disparity. "Let her socialize." She had never bothered bringing it up again; it wasn't worth the argument. If he wanted to spoil Laken, that was his path to walk.

She chewed on her lip, debating whether to loke Fenton, her private investigator. Despite her instructions not to contact her until she gave the okay, he'd left her three messages, all saying essentially the same thing, that he had discovered something important and they should meet in person as soon as possible. She hadn't had the dream in weeks, and was reluctant to stir things up again. On the other hand, the practical side of her—the lawyer-soon-to-be-Administrator side—knew she would eventually have to acquiesce to his request. Pushing away the thought, she put her loke back in her purse. She would deal with it later.

By the time she returned to Cartouche, Matthew was waiting for her, carrying a small bag and looking like he'd just rolled out of bed by the rumpled state of his dress shirt and the rare hint of fatigue on his face. "Long weekend," he said as he noticed her appraisal, and left it at that as the hostess led them to their table. She guessed that he'd had trouble with his current girlfriend, but he'd never admit it to her and she'd never ask. After they'd ordered, he rubbed the back of his neck and threw her a worn out look. "How was the Ridge?"

"It was fine. A bit gestapo as always. Herr Creighton does not like his family time interrupted."

"I don't blame him. If I had a family, I'd be the same way."

She chose not to pursue that thread of conversation. Matthew didn't function well on lack of sleep, and she had no intention of picking at his emotions, or her own, for that matter. Best to stick to the business at hand. She pulled out her loke and called up the information related to the Chen case. The discovery process so far had been anemic at best, especially by Matthew's standards. She had squeezed in a cursory check of public records that morning on the cab ride into the city, but had learned nothing about Subsidiaries, Ltd. that wasn't already noted on Matthew's initial fact sheet.

Matthew showed no surprise at this. "I've had about the same luck. The only useful thing I've discovered is that there are still human beings working there. I can tell you this: Subsidiaries, Limited buys but they never sell. Not a single sale registered under their name in either Republic or Free Space. Also, they haven't been around that long. Their oldest transactions date to a little over twenty years ago. The leases we're dealing with were carried over from the previous land owner."

"So you talked to someone there?"

"Not exactly. My assistant is having no luck with their automated answering system, and when I loke them directly I get put on permanent hold. But it was the weekend. I'll try again today. At least they still exist. That's something."

"What about their Feed?"

"They don't have one. At least, not one linked to their contact coords."

Gwen found this hard to accept. "How can they not have a Feed?"

"I'm guessing they're part of a larger company. In certain situations, it's legal for a smaller business to present through the Feed of their parent company, just as a child can ride on his mother or father's Feed until the age of majority in their region."

Gwen nodded, familiar with the latter. Cray had been adamant about making Laken wait until the day she turned sixteen, and no amount of whining or pleading on her part had changed his mind. It may have been the only thing she'd never been able to talk him into. Natalie, on the other hand, had used her Feed to turn herself into a minor celebrity by the time she was ten, a situation that no doubt influenced Cray's restriction on Laken.

"Would we have better luck with the parent company, then?"

"Maybe. I need to find them first. My weekend didn't exactly lend itself to hours of research." He picked up the shopping bag from the floor and put it on the table in front of her. "I did find time for this, though. Go ahead."

She had already been through a ritual gift opening on Saturday, when Cray had surprised her with a party and Laken had presented her with a glittery gown more appropriate for a secondary school dance than a forty-something lawyer.

"You can wear it to our next function," Cray had said, fixing his infamous stern business gaze on her over Laken's head, and she'd taken the hint and agreed with much manufactured delight. If Laken saw through the farce, she didn't show it. She had never been one to cotton on to real life tension, having been protected from anything unpleasant by Cray.

She peered into the bag Matthew had given her and pulled out a small box. Jewelry, she thought, wondering how appropriate it would be and if she could wear it in front of Cray. But upon opening the box, she found instead a multifaceted crystal globe, too large to be worn as a necklace. The lights from above glinted off it, producing a rainbow effect within the globe. "It's pretty," she said, a little let down despite herself. Matthew usually chose better gifts.

"If you don't like it, you can say so."

"No, it's nice. I'll put it in my office."

A grin played around Matthew's lips. "At least try it out first before you relegate it to the knickknack shelf."

Gwen picked it up and turned it over in her hands. The glass was cool against her skin. "I don't get it. What does it do?"

"It's keyed to your locator."

Curious now, she took out her loke and switched it on. Immediately, a holo spread out before her over the table and began playing. She laughed as she recognized herself at age fourteen or so trying to keep up with her end of a G-ball simulator table. Matthew must have been on the other side. "I didn't even know you still had these. Is it all our old videos?"

"Most of them," said Matthew, clearly pleased with her reaction. "I stumbled across them a few weeks ago on a private portion of my Feed." He picked up the crystal from the table and the video blinked out at his touch. "And this I found at a tacky tourist shop in Little Spain. It will only play for us. Or our lokes, at any rate."

"I love it. Thank you, Matthew." She put the little gift into its box and dropped it into her purse. At that moment her loke sounded—Fenton again, with the same message as before. She was about to delete it when Matthew stopped her.

"Why don't you meet with him, see what he wants?"

"I don't know. I'm not really in the mood."

"Will you ever be in the mood?"

Probably not, she thought, conceding the point. "I'll set up a time. Not today, though. I have three separate court appearances. I don't know why I keep agreeing to them."

"Because you love arguing." Matthew made nice with the waiter who brought their food, then studied Gwen over his fruit waffle. "When you decide to see the investigator, let me know. I'll go with you, if you want."

"You don't need to do that. I'm a big girl, Matthew."

"Ah, but will you show up without me holding you accountable?"

As much as she hated to admit it, he was probably right. "Would tomorrow work for you? I'll have time in the afternoon."

"Sounds good." Matthew finished his breakfast in record time, then stood. "I'm sorry, Wen, but I'm way behind on work today. I have to get to the office."

As she watched him leave, she was already dreading the pending meeting with the investigator. Although she wasn't normally superstitious, she couldn't shake the notion that he'd tell her something she didn't want to hear. But knowledge is power, she told herself. Better to deal with a known unwanted quantity than to have to engage with the unknown at an unexpected moment.

The little pep talk didn't work. She was still irrationally nervous.