YEAR: 25

Braheton City, Central Tharsis, Mars

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Wendy climbed from her hiding place in the galinium cabinet and immediately slipped and fell in the dark slickness that spread across the floor. The only light in the room came from a small window set into the door some distance away. The shallow puddle she'd landed in smelled like metal, like the old treasures her father used to be in charge of at the museum, before they had to move away. She crawled along, following its slippery path, sprawling several times before she reached its source—her mother.

"Mama?" she whispered, feeling naughty under her fear because her mother had told her not to make a sound. But it seemed so long since the shouting and loud noises had stopped that she thought it must be safe now. She avoided the stun flinter in her mother's hand as she leaned close to her ear. "Mama, wake up. The bad men are gone."

Her mother moaned softly and opened one eye. The other eye was glued shut, the endpoint of a huge gash that wrapped around her skull. Wendy fought down panic at the site of the blood still seeping from the wound. She took sharp breaths in, trying to keep from crying, trying to be as brave as her mother had been lately. Mama's good eye rolled in her socket and her leg kept jumping as though it wanted to run away from the rest of her body.

She forgot to be quiet then, shaking her mother roughly, begging her to get up. "Mama, please! We have to go before the bad men come back. Mama!"

She gasped as her mother's hand shot out and dragged her close, covering her mouth. The room went nearly black—Wendy twisted her head towards the door and saw that a man's silhouette now blocked most of the window. Mama spoke, her voice gurgling and rasping, sounding to Wendy like a stranger.

"Go, baby… hide… wait for Jack… not safe…"

She shook her head no, tore her mother's hand from her mouth. "Come with me, Mama. I love you! You—"

A swath of light fell over them as the door swung open. Mama pushed her down and raised the stun flinter, but it was too late; the next instant her forehead caved in and the stun flinter clattered to the ground. Wendy stared at the charred hole in her mother's head. She could see through it, see the white of the floor underneath. As she watched, Mama's blue eye faded to a dull slate.

Something ballooned inside her chest, a mass of terror that stole her breath and her voice and her movement, so that when a man picked her up from behind all she could do was continue to stare down at her mother. The man was yelling, and other men were yelling back at him. She couldn't understand their words but she knew they were arguing—it sounded the same in any language. It wasn't until the man carried her out into the bright hallway, and out of sight of Mama, that reality crashed down on her, knocking loose her voice.

"Mama!" She struggled in the man's arms, kicking, wiggling, swinging her arms wildly at his face, but he ignored her as he continued on into a stairwell. She screamed as loud as she could, loud enough to hurt her own ears. "Mamaaaaaaaaa!"

The man started down the steps. They went around and around, until Wendy felt dizzy. When she looked up, she couldn't even tell which door they'd come through; the stairs seemed to go up and up and up forever. The man's movements jostled her. She felt like she had to throw up, and then she did, right onto his black jacket.

The man started shaking her.

"Gwen! Wake up, Gwen!"

Gwen opened her eyes to find an image of Cray swimming over her. She didn't understand the blurring until she wiped her eyes and found they were watering. She shook off Cray's arms and sat bolt upright, taking great, gasping breaths of the clean filtered air of their bedroom, feeling like a drowning victim brought back to life. Sweat plastered to her skin the filmy gown she'd worn to bed. She tugged it off and pulled on the robe Cray grabbed for her from the chair next to the bed.

"Are you okay?" He tied the sash and smoothed her hair back, his expression anxious. He still loved her. She wondered why. "Do you want me to call Dr. Blanca?"

"I'm fine. Just a bad dream."

Cray frowned. "That's some dream."

"Yes. I'm sorry I woke you. It's nothing, really." She took another deep breath. The cool air was calming. "I'll be fine," she muttered, more to herself than to him. She rose from the bed and headed for the master bath.

"You were speaking German."

The words brought her up short. She turned back to him in surprise. "I was?"

"I think that's what it was." He was watching her carefully, waiting, she suspected, for her to give up the secrets he must know by now she was hiding.

Dutch, she thought, the revelation striking her so forcefully that she almost spoke it aloud. Praetorian Dutch, no doubt. She gathered her wits and shrugged as casually as she could. "How could I speak German, Cray? You must be mistaken. It probably just sounded like that because I was mumbling in my sleep."

Cray regarded her for a few beats, his mouth flattening. "I suppose so. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes. I just need a shower."

By the time she bathed and dressed, she was relieved to find that Cray had departed. After peeking into the hallway to make sure she had no eavesdroppers, she loked Matthew. He answered almost immediately, sounding harried.

"Where have you been? You drop that bomb of a message on me and then disappear?"

"Good morning, Matthew. It's Gwen."

Matthew let out a breath. "I'm sorry. I was just worried. I haven't heard from you."

"I wasn't avoiding you on purpose. I was taking time to think things through."

"And?"

"If I go to see him, will you come with me?"

"Him, as in your brother?"

"Yes."

"Of course I will. I can be in South Braheton in thirty minutes. Where are you?"

Thirty minutes. The countdown gave the notion a substance that weighed on Gwen's psyche. "I'm at the Ridge. Give me an hour." Not much better, but somehow the extra time leant her courage.

So it was, a little over an hour later, that Gwen and Matthew stood at the entrance of a shabby six story faux brick apartment building that looked old enough to be part of Mars Base Camp A. Her brother clearly was not a man of means, and Gwen felt paranoia kicking in. What if this was all an elaborate ruse between Fenton and some stranger to wrangle some money out of her? It wasn't out of the realm of possibility for someone of her public stature; hell, now that she thought about it, she was surprised no one had tried it before. How convenient was it that Fenton had turned up a long-lost brother, one Creche hadn't even known about, at the moment she'd been about to give up on the investigation and stop pouring credit into his coffers? She was in the middle of these ruminations when Matthew caught her hand in his and tugged her along with him up the steps and through the unlocked front door of the building.

"Come on," he said. "I can tell if we stand here any longer you'll change your mind."

They stopped inside the entrance to take stock of their surroundings. A set of stairs covered in red threadbare carpet marched up to their left, while to their right stood an elevator with Sovereigntist graffiti defacing its dented metal doors. In front of them, a chipped tile hallway stretched for ten meters or so before coming to an abrupt halt at a faded construction barrier that looked like it had squatted there longer than she'd been alive. PELIGRO, it read. She tried not to take it as an omen.

"His apartment should be on the fourth floor," said Matthew, looking askance at the elevator. Gwen had no idea if it was functional, but she wasn't about to experiment. They took the stairs and walked along the barely lit hallway until they came to a fake wood door marked 402. The number two hung upside down on a single nail. Next door, 404 seemed to have had a run-in with a laser cutter that had gotten as far as the "R" in SOV WHOR before being interrupted; a strong smell of garlic emanated from the rather large gap beneath the door. Gwen was very glad she'd brought Matthew with her. He met her eyes and gave her hand a squeeze. "You ready for this?"

No, she thought, but nodded anyway. Matthew knocked on 402, and after a short wait she heard the muffled sound of footsteps behind it. A series of clicks and beeps ensued as manual locks were released, then it opened a few centimeters to reveal the man from the holos the investigator had shown her. He eyed her and Matthew with a tired sort of caution through the narrow opening.

"Yes?"

Gwen let go of Matthew's hand and cleared her throat. "Kasper Houben?"

He didn't confirm his identity, but didn't deny it, either. "What do you want?" His slight accent clipped his words.

Good question. She wanted the dream to go away, she wanted no one to spill the secret of her parentage, but what else? A family? She already had one of those, hard earned at that. She felt Matthew's hand on her back, urging her on in his gentle way. She didn't know what to say, so started with the obvious. "My name is—"

"I know who you are," said Kasper. "Creighton Mendez's wife. I've seen you on the Feed. Why are you here?"

"We have something in common, it seems."

Kasper glanced at Matthew, apparently sizing him up, then looked back at her, his gaze narrowing. "If you're talking about my fling with Trident, I settled that long ago."

"What? No." Gwen filed the tidbit away for later scrutiny. "Your parents. Were they named Kees and Else?"

Some emotion flashed in him, too quick for her to catch. He was clearly caught off guard by the question, and stood there holding the edge of the door for some time before answering. "Yes," he said at last. "Those were their names."

Gwen's heart beat faster. She reached for Matthew's hand, gripped it for support. "Do you know… I mean, do you remember if you had a sister?"

Kasper stared at her, going silent again, his eyes grim and searching. Then, unexpectedly, he swung the door wide and stepped back. "Hello, Hanne. You'd better come in."