YEAR: 25

Braheton City, Central Tharsis, Mars

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Gwen stood behind the desk in her office, swiping at the messages and documents hovering there, trying to make some sense out of them. So far, she and Matthew together had pried exactly one piece of information out of Subsidiaries, Ltd.: that Subsidiaries, Ltd. didn't release information. Ever. Gwen had sent them a letter requesting a simple remote sign-off on the leases; they had volleyed back immediately with a five-thousand-word outline delineating their rights in regards to terraforming and eminent domain, which as it turned out was not as simple as a cursory glance at Republic law made it out to be. Her next step was a court order, but with New Year's coming up she knew it was hopeless to expect to push it through before mid-January. Martians were obsessed with the holiday, and everything but restaurants, transportation, and the tourist industry shut down for a good two weeks around it. She had to admit she was looking forward to the break herself despite the hassle it would cause in this particular case. She needed some downtime.

She hadn't heard from Kasper since their first meeting over a month ago, nor had she attempted to contact him. True to his word, he'd remained silent about their parents. At least, she assumed he had. Surely she'd hear of anything the minute it hit the rumor circuit; Braheton conducted gossip at the speed of light. When she was a child, she'd always daydreamed about some long-lost relative walking into Creche to claim her. Now that the reality of a blood relative confronted her, she had no idea how to proceed. Ignoring the issue was working for the moment, but she had a nagging feeling that wouldn't do for much longer.

She scowled at the useless documents before her and was in the middle of swatting them back to her locator when the door to her office opened and her niece strolled in.

"I bypassed your secretary," said Natalie, as usual eschewing traditional greetings. "He looked terribly busy with Feed star gossip."

Gwen chose to ignore the sarcasm; the poor man had little else to do with everything going into holiday mode. "What can I do for you today?"

"How about a corner office?"

"You're lucky you have an office at all at your age."

Natalie raised her well-manicured eyebrows. "Luck has nothing to do with it."

Indeed, Gwen suspected that Natalie would have clawed her way far up the ladder in almost any corporate setting by now, and her precocious position at Trident reflected that drive. Still, Gwen thought it best to keep her ego in check. "All right, maybe the Mendez name helped out a little."

"Or the advanced degree from Kepler, or the increased revenue of the tenant fees division since I started there."

"You've been very effective, I'll give you that."

"It's my job. And getting trickier every day, I may add. These tenants are experts at Charter law, at least the parts pertaining to them. We always have to be three steps ahead of them in Assembly—the downfall of my predecessor. He didn't have the brains for it."

Or the intestinal fortitude, thought Gwen. From what she understood, the man had developed Sov-leaning sympathies, a regrettable but natural side effect after years of negotiating with them and their ilk. Natalie's advantage over her predecessor was her willingness to play hardball coupled with her near-pathological hatred of anything with the faintest whiff of Sovereigntist to it. Gwen wasn't sure where Natalie had picked that up from but suspected it might be a reaction to her father's infamous ambivalence in Assembly. Even Cray, a Norman native who placed a premium on family loyalty above all else, seemed faintly disgusted by his brother's inability to choose a side.

"You didn't come here to rant about work, did you?" Gwen was proud of Natalie for her accomplishments, but she wasn't in the mood for Trident talk today. She'd already gotten an earful of it this morning from Cray, who continued to push for his headquarters relocation, refusing to take no for an answer from a reluctant Bureau of Interstellar Business Affairs. If she heard the acronym BIBA come out of his mouth one more time she was going to lose it.

Natalie shook her head. "No, I thought we'd go shopping before the starburst gala tonight. I need a new dress."

"Shit."

Natalie grinned at her, all-knowing as always. "You forgot. What would Uncle Cray think?"

"I didn't forget. I just… all right, I forgot. I've been preoccupied." Besides, this was the third gala of the month; how was she supposed to keep them all straight? There were moments she still felt like a fraud amongst her wealthy and powerful peers, and this was one of them. The rest of them seemed to be born with the ability to memorize not only their social calendars but everyone else's as well. Gwen had no idea how they did it; maybe her brain was too full of court dates and legal duties to take in anything else. She depended on Cray for reminders, but since the two of them lately passed like starships at light speed, that hadn't happened. She fixed Natalie with a warning look. "Don't tell him."

"Of course I wouldn't tell him."

"Like hell you wouldn't." She loved Natalie, but also knew how she operated. Secrets were currency to her and she exploited them regularly to keep associates in line. One didn't climb as far and as quickly as Natalie had without stepping on a few heads.

"I promise I won't. As long as you don't tell anyone I'm going out with Reenie this weekend."

"Catarina?" Gwen tried to imagine what kind of favor Natalie must owe her ditzy cousin to be seen in public with her. The girl must have provided one hell of an alibi at some point. "What on earth are you doing with her?"

"She's trying to rope in some boy, and apparently needs the pretense of a previously established outing."

Gwen couldn't help it—she burst out laughing. "You're chaperoning a date for Reenie?"

Natalie narrowed her eyes. "It's not that funny, Aunt Gwen. Anyway, now we're even on terrible secrets. Okay?"

"Okay. We're even." She used her loke to hire a driver, then slipped it into her purse. When they'd been picked up and were settled in the back of the car, she sighed. "Why are they having a starburst gala almost a week before the actual starburst, anyway? What's the point in that?"

Natalie gave her an even look. "What's the point of any gala? It's just for people to show off their fancy clothes and prove how rich they are by publicly announcing their charity donations."

"Right." Sometimes Gwen forgot that Natalie, who played the role of a blue blood better than almost anyone she knew, had spent most of her first seven years in Creche before being adopted by Cray's brother and sister-in-law. "Anything else going on with you? Besides chaperoning dates."

"Not if I can't talk about work."

"No work talk. Please."

Natalie gazed at her, her dark eyes unreadable. "So I'm not allowed to ask if Uncle Cray is making any progress?"

"I'm sure you'll be the first to know."

"I really don't want to live in Normandy City."

Gwen threw up her hands. "Take it up with your uncle. He's the one with the bug up his ass about moving back there."

"I may do that." Natalie immersed herself in her locator, her way of sulking. However, by the time they reached their destination and entered the upscale department store via the back valet entrance, she was back to her sly, charming self. Gwen, not in the mood for shopping today, gladly let her take the lead, watching in bemusement as the shop girls ran this way and that carrying out Natalie's orders. As much as she griped about her social calendar, she didn't want to move to Normandy either. Surely Cray didn't expect her to sacrifice her political ambitions and go back to regular attorney work. Did he? She realized at that moment she had no idea, that they hadn't even talked about it. She supposed she'd better find out.