CHAPTER ONE
The spaceship with the killer-whale paint job came in fast over Uranus’s north pole, diving into the pale blue planet’s troposphere with her wings back in a narrow delta.
Pelagia’s first circuit of the planet took only twenty minutes, and she left a bright magenta trail of ionized hydrogen behind her as she shed the immense velocity she’d picked up from the solar wind on the long trip out from Mars. When she came back around to the north pole again she’d dropped half that speed, and dipped lower so that her wings could get a better grip on the atmosphere and begin the long left turn to get her lined up on Uranus’s equator.
The inconvenient fact that Uranus and its major moons are tipped ninety degrees from the plane of the Solar System made the screaming curve just above the methane clouds necessary—but Pelagia loved nothing more than traveling at insane speeds through the atmosphere of a giant planet anyway. With her senses straining at maximum resolution forward, she made microscopic course adjustments to miss giant balloon cities, aircraft, and the line of elevator cables stretching down from the orbital ring. When she saw nothing ahead to avoid, she threw in a few rolls, just for thrills.
In what was laughingly called the “control room,” her two biological passengers were enveloped in big blobs of gel, cushioning them against the three-gee deceleration and those “microscopic” adjustments, which felt like violent jolts from side to side. The third passenger, a little spider mech, stood braced on the forward-facing wall, which was currently acting as a floor. Since the entire interior of the room displayed the fantastic cloudscape racing past outside the hull, it looked as if it was flying all by itself.
“You could have done this with gravity, you know,” said the mech, who was named Daslakh. “Five moon encounters would have done the trick. I showed you the right trajectory. You wouldn’t have to risk melting your outer hull, or running into some dimwit in a wing suit.”
“I don’t have the patience to spend two weeks looping around Uranus’s moon system. These wings were made to fly.”
“Will we have enough time to tidy up after you finish maneuvering?” asked Adya, the female human passenger. Within the gel cushion her skin kept shifting between orange and violet. She spoke via comm implant, as her lungs were full of oxygenated goo.
“Plenty,” said Pelagia. “Transit to Miranda should take about four hours once I’m on the path. Free movement on board. You can clean off and print out whatever you feel like wearing.”
“I guess we should have talked about this sooner,” said Zee, the male human in the other gel couch. “How should I dress? You said your parents care a lot about that kind of thing.”
“Yes, I suppose I can’t duck the question any longer.” Adya tried to sigh, but could only manage a burbling sound. “You see . . . my parents are rich. The oligarch class—we call ourselves the Sixty Families—essentially owns the entire economy of Miranda, plus a lot of enterprises throughout Uranus space. Things like the black hole factory in the Ring. So when I say rich I mean very, very rich. With wealth so wide, pricey purchases lose their luster. Conspicuous consumption connotates a crisis of confidence.”
Daslakh never wore clothes, although it did change bodies from time to time. “So just print out a set of tights for him and call it done,” it said aloud. “No problem.”
“Yes, except a problem still persists. If you simulate high status, they’ll suspect you of subterfuge—a sinister seducer stealing my savings. But if you dress downscale, they’ll decide you’re just some disposable diversion.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” asked Zee, smiling at her through the gel.
“You saved my life twice!”
“Three times,” Daslakh pointed out. “Plus some assists.”
“I can’t just write that across my chest,” said Zee. “It would look like I was bragging. How about this? I’ll wear the stuff I usually wear. If your parents like me, they won’t care, and if they don’t like me, it won’t matter.”
“But I avidly aspire for them to accept and admire you.”
Daslakh gave up on human emotional dilemmas and linked its sensorium directly to Pelagia’s external cameras, watching the sky for any obstacles the orca brain driving the ship might have missed.
Pelagia finished her turn a few minutes later, and let her velocity carry her up out of Uranus’s atmosphere toward the moon Miranda. Along the way she passed Uranus’s Synchronous Ring, a megastructure which completely encircled the planet sixty thousand kilometers above the cloud tops. Half a dozen little moons were embedded in the Ring, and another half dozen had been completely dismantled in order to build it. No reckless maneuvering for Pelagia around the Ring—she obediently followed traffic-control instructions and kept a safe distance from spacecraft and dumb payloads coming and going from the Ring’s docks and launchers.
Two hours later Pelagia reached the top of her orbital path, and suddenly she wasn’t rising up from Uranus anymore, she was falling toward Miranda. A couple of gentle burns from her main drive put her on course to the spaceport at Gonzalo Crater. As she dropped toward the surface, both moon and ship passed into Uranus’s shadow. The mottled, pale gray landscape below suddenly blazed with lights, showing the sprawl of refineries, transport lines, landing fields, and other facilities. Off on the southern horizon, exactly on Miranda’s south pole, a line of red warning lights marked the giant phased-array launching laser complex, which could throw payloads anywhere in the Solar System—or vaporize any hostile force approaching Miranda.
During the orbital transit Daslakh helped Adya do some fast research on the semiotics of clothing, then watched with amusement as she put Zee through several costume changes in search of the right look. She tried him in nulesgrima stick-fighting competition tights, as Zee was the champion back in his home habitat, but shook her head when she saw it. “No, it’s too on the nose.” A set of space-crew coveralls emblazoned with Pelagia’s leaping orca logo made her cock her head thoughtfully, but then she rejected the outfit. “It looks like a costume. The sort of thing a child would wear on her first shuttle ride.”
“You wore a suit just like it the whole time we were on Mars,” Daslakh pointed out triumphantly.
Adya turned a little violet. “Context. My parents weren’t there,” she muttered.
“Should I be insulted?” asked Pelagia.
“I think you should be,” said Daslakh. “Threaten to bite her or something.”
“Try the one that’s printing now,” said Adya. Zee sighed and peeled off the coveralls.
“Maybe I should just go nude,” he said.
“That flavor of foolishness is like what my sister’s frivolous friends do. I want Mother and Daddy to like you, Zee.”
The newest outfit was a high-collared vest with a belt, over neutral tights. The collar was the only thing that wasn’t part of Zee’s normal attire. “It’s a bit bland, but I guess that is best,” she said.
“The fashion show will have to wait while I do the landing burn. Please get in your seats,” said Pelagia. A pair of couches formed out of the floor, facing forward this time. Once the two humans were secured, Pelagia counted down from twenty and then started her main engine for the final burn.
Miranda’s trivial gravity—less than a hundredth of a gee—meant that Pelagia could halt her descent well above the landing pad, then drop the remaining fifty meters to touch down safely on her aft landing legs.
“We’re down, but stay in your seats.” A moment later Pelagia tipped herself over, dropping with a soft thud onto her belly wheels. “There! Now you can do what you like. Adya, I asked to use Elso family hangar space but the port says there isn’t any such thing.”
“What? That cannot be correct. We have half a dozen hangars here.”
“Not according to ground traffic control. They’re sending me to the general traffic bay for now.”
“There must be some mistake.”
“Maybe your folks are trying to send you a message,” said Daslakh. It wasn’t sure of all the details but it did know that Adya’s family had disapproved of her going off on a quixotic journey to Jupiter and Mars in search of a legendary superweapon. Now she had turned up empty-handed—except for Zee. In Daslakh’s experience that sort of thing was more than enough to make for a rip-roaring family fight.
Pelagia rolled off the landing area toward the docking bays dug into the rim of Gonzalo Crater. The external door of one bay slid down into the ground, and Pelagia gently pushed her way through the pressure membrane into the habitable space within. Suitless biologicals bounded about, and through Pelagia’s hull her passengers could hear muffled sounds of heavy cargo movers, safety alarms, amplified voices, and power tools.
Adya and Zee gathered up their few permanent possessions and headed for the hatch. “Well, goodbye,” said Pelagia before opening the outer door.
Adya hesitated. “You’re not going to stay?”
“You hired me for one trip a long time ago, and your project was important enough to stick with it until you were done. This run out to Uranus was my gift to the two of you, but now I need something to do. I have to keep my teeth sharp.”
“Miranda’s rulers often employ mercenaries for operations beyond our moon. Could you find work here?”
“I already checked. They’re not hiring right now.”
Adya’s skin had gone dark blue. “I will miss you,” she said, and cleared her throat. “Sharp-toothed and sharp-tongued, powerful Pelagia protected her passengers. Soaring swiftly, Saturn to Summanus, Miranda to Mars, fearless and free. Great gratitude I give you, speaking sadly at our separation. Fight fiercely in the future, finest friend.”
“I’ll miss you both,” said Pelagia. “Not you, Daslakh.”
“Good riddance to you, too,” it replied.
“Zee: take good care of her or I’ll come looking for you.”
“Where are you going from here?” asked Zee.
“Could be anywhere. My first stop’s going to be at Uranus L-1. Taishi hab’s a good place to find mercenary work. If there’s nothing available there, I’ll see what’s in the Ecliptics.”
“Some of those habs are supposed to be dangerous places,” said Adya.
“Exactly,” said Pelagia.
After an awkward silence, Adya picked up her bag and led the way off the ship. In Miranda’s gravity she moved with slow graceful steps. Zee’s first attempt to copy her sent him vaulting meters in the air, and after that he kept the soles of his stockings set to sticky and proceeded cautiously. Daslakh brought up the rear, scuttling on sticky feet with its outer shell bright safety orange for maximum visibility.
“I sent a message ahead from orbit,” said Adya. “I’m somewhat surprised no one showed up to see us arrive. Maybe they are waiting at the private hangar.” Her face got the faraway look of a human communicating via implant, then she frowned and turned a little pink.
“Something wrong?”
“My mother said to just come to the house.”
“I guess we don’t rate a welcoming committee,” said Daslakh. “Maybe Zee’s wearing the wrong clothes.”
Adya momentarily turned a little more crimson before making herself pale green by sheer willpower. She led them through a double pressure membrane and down a ramp to the main concourse running under the crater rim.
The broad passage was lined with shops, restaurants, dance parlors, and various other establishments, but the three newcomers were a little startled to see how many storefronts were covered by cheerful static murals showing scenes of Miranda’s surface or the floating cities on the Shining Sea.
Daslakh’s overlay filters were off, so that it could get a sense of what this new world was like, and it was surprised at how sparse the ads were. About a quarter of them were public service announcements offering life support subsidies and retraining courses for biologicals. That was never a good sign.
A few humans were visible. Like Adya, most Mirandan humans went in for color-changing skin and close-cropped heads. Their clothing ranged from elaborate bodysuits to nothing at all, though the default seemed to be the same kind of tights and vest that Zee was wearing—although the Mirandans decorated their vests with patterns of metal thread.
They boarded a bubble and Adya told it where to go. “I’m keeping the skin transparent—the view is worth it,” she said.
The bottom half of the bubble was a ring of seats, which pivoted around the sphere’s center as it moved, in order to compensate for acceleration. The humans sat together while Daslakh roamed around the entire interior surface of the bubble. The tunnel walls outside seemed to shift around wildly but the three of them felt no motion at all.
They shot along a tunnel, then curved down into a vertical shaft, and in just seconds the bubble dropped out of the kilometer-thick shell of ice under Miranda’s surface into a vast cavern.
“Slow down to sixty, please,” said Adya, and the bubble obediently dropped its speed by a factor of ten so that they could enjoy the view. The tube led a kilometer down from the solid sky to a city floating on water which glowed blue-green from thousands of lights under the surface.
“The Shining Sea,” said Adya proudly. “It’s a complete ecosystem, self-sustaining for six thousand years. The fusion plants in the water keep everything warm, and support an entire ecology of algae and plants. Those support plankton and krill, and so on up the pyramid to crustaceans and fish. The sea supports sixty million people—mostly humans and dolphins—and we export edibles all through the Uranus system.”
“I still don’t understand the biological fetish for eating quote real food unquote instead of printed protein,” said Daslakh. “There’s no way you can tell actual fish tissue from a molecular print, except by the absence of pathogens, toxins, waste products, parasites, and decay.”
“Oh, I know it’s irrational. Status display, the natural fallacy, a desire for authenticity. But people like it. Especially dolphins. They can barely tolerate food that isn’t trying to escape.”
The bubble dropped right through the center of the city, faster than Adya could point out any features. Daslakh got a blurred impression of glass spires, vine-covered walls, multiple street levels, and windows under water as they plunged into the sea.
“Full speed again, please,” said Adya. “There’s not as much to see down in the sea.” The bubble accelerated and took a tube along the sea bottom. Adya was right about the view—nothing but a blur of dark water, silt, and distant lights of sea farms. They traveled another couple of minutes before slowing and switching into a vertical tube up to the surface of the sea.
At the top the bubble passed through a membrane and came to a stop in the center of a square forecourt carpeted with flowers. It retracted its canopy so that the passengers could disembark, then sank out of sight again into the tube. Daslakh looked around at the courtyard. One side was open to the sea, and half a dozen boats of various sizes were tied up at the waterline. On the other three sides, broad galleries hung with ubas and heirloom grape vines rose three stories, with more gardens visible on the roof. All the support pillars were sculptures of humans or mythological creatures.
“This is the ancient home of my ancestors,” said Adya. “The showpiece and stronghold of the Elsos for six centuries.”
“It’s very nice,” said Zee, turning completely around.
“Is everybody still asleep?” asked Daslakh.
“I shouldn’t think so,” said Adya, sounding a little puzzled herself. “It’s just past lunchtime. I wonder where everyone is?”
Just then a mech emerged from the front door. It was approximately human shaped, with two arms, two legs, and a head on top, but its body was a shiny metal ovoid, its head a perfect sphere, and its limbs were spindly tubes with big round joints. It stopped a couple of meters from them. “Good afternoon, Adya. Your parents are waiting for you in the dining room.”
“Vasi! I’m glad to see you again.” Adya’s skin had gone utterly chaotic, a mix of just about every color, shifting like static.
“My solitary journey back from Saturn was uneventful,” said Vasi. “Thank you for asking.”
Adya’s skin settled on a deep maroon, and stayed that way as they followed Vasi through the foyer, part way around a circular courtyard with a water sculpture in the middle, and then through a pair of big wooden doors into an immense room with a long table down the middle.
The walls and ceiling of the dining room were painted with scenes of Miranda’s history. One wall showed a band of warriors tearing down the emblem of the ancient Theocracy, and the heroic central figure was presumably an Elso ancestor. Another showed what must have been a dramatic moment in a domed council chamber, centered on a woman pointing an accusing finger at a cringing villainous-looking cyborg. The ceiling showed the same founder as the battle scene, now gazing benignly down at the head of the table, with gleaming factories, bountiful sea farms, and fleets of spacecraft around him.
Zee didn’t even try not to gape at the paintings, but Adya ignored them and made herself an icy pale blue.
Two humans sat in high-backed chairs at the far end of the long table. The woman looked exactly like Adya, right down to the cold blue coloring. The man was stockier, with a short gray beard and elaborate eyebrows, and kept himself a calm green. Both wore casual sarongs.
“I hope we do not intrude,” said Adya.
“Decent of you to drop in,” said the woman. “We had rather lost track of you for a time. Will you stay for tea?”
“You needn’t take any trouble.”
The overtones in their voices were amazing. Daslakh hadn’t heard this much hostility since the time it had accidentally dropped into the middle of a civil war in the Jovian Synchronous Ring.
The man’s green skin had taken on a troubled hint of purplish-brown. “Welcome, winsome wanderer. Time for tea and talk, and tales of travels. Adya, please present your party.”
Daslakh could hear Adya’s heart rate slow a little and her skin turned a calmer green as she turned from her mother to her father. “Peerless Papa, I present Zee Sadaran Human SeRaba, and Daslakh Spider Mech SeRaba. Daslakh, Zee, this is my father, Achan Palayat Elso of Elso-Miranda, Minister of Preservation, Third Magistrate of Miranda, and Commodore of the Seventh Shinkai Force; and my mother Mutalali Keatikuna Elso.”
Having been properly tutored by Adya, Zee held up his hands at chest height, palms forward, the old but still proper gesture for those outside Miranda’s formal hierarchy. “It’s a profound pleasure to be presented to Adya’s pleasant parents,” he said, as she had coached him. Daslakh did likewise, and could see that the pupils of Adya’s father’s eyes dilated a little.
A small flying bot brought tea for the biologicals. Adya’s mother actually poured it from the pot into cups herself, making sure it didn’t splash in the low gravity. A second bot put a plate of fruit chips and little pastries filled with savory green goop on the table. Adya’s father said nothing but handed it around and smiled to himself as Zee politely took a pastry and two chips.
“Now, then,” he said. “My heart is happy to have you home, Adya. I trust you will take on your tasks in little time. And Zee—will you linger long in Miranda’s lovely landscape?”
“As long as Adya’s here, I guess,” said Zee. “I’ve never been to Miranda before.”
“Where will you be staying?” asked Adya’s mother. “I hear there are some comfortable hotels in Mediolan.”
“I already invited Zee to stay here,” said Adya before he could answer. “I wanted to show him proper hospitality, as befits one of the Sixty Families.” When nobody said anything she turned a little redder and added, “Did I err? If I’m no longer considered part of the household, naturally I have no business inviting anyone. I’ll get us a room at the Seaview.”
“No need,” said Adya’s father quickly. “This home is honorably hospitable. He can hang his hat here happily.”
“He can have the Iris Room. It has a lovely view,” said Adya’s mother.
Adya smiled, but she stayed reddish-brown.
“That’s very kind of you,” said Zee. “Thank you.”
“Do the oyster puffs please your palate? I shucked them from their shells myself this morning,” said Adya’s father, watching him intently.
“They’re very good,” said Zee. “I’ve had carcols before, but never oysters. Not live-caught, anyway.”
The older man seemed genuinely pleased. “Happy to hear it. I hope you are hungry for what I have planned for dinner.”
“Will Kavita and Sundari be here?” asked Adya.
“Sundari had a prior engagement,” said her mother. “She did ask me to tell you she’ll be at home tomorrow if you want to go see her.”
“And as to Kavita—who can guess where she will go? She may be in the palace of her parents, she may be playing at some party, she may be posturing passionately at a political protest, or off on some peculiar peregrination. Always aimed at attracting attention,” said her father, taking on a slightly purple tinge to show disapproval.
“My sister is a celebrity here in Miranda. She’s got thousands of fans.”
“Millions of morons,” said her father, still disapproving.
Adya turned a little uncertainly to Zee. “Her followers watch everything she does in real time. It does make family gatherings kind of awkward. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, it’s fine.”
During the conversation Daslakh had taken up a spot on the table itself, a meter beyond the tea service and snacks. Adya’s father turned toward it. “And you, sir—Daslakh. Describe your days with my daughter.”
“I’m traveling with Zee. He’s traveling with your daughter. As to why I hang around with either of them, it’s a matter of safety. They’d be lost without me.”
“You have no business arrangements with either of them?” asked Adya’s mother.
“Not really, no. Like Zee here, if I need gigajoule equivalents I can get a job. I’m good at a lot of things.”
“It’s also very modest,” said Adya. “Daslakh and Zee helped me in my research. We found the hiding place for the ancient artifact I was looking for, but it wasn’t there anymore. I’ve got enough information to prepare a paper, and I was thinking of crediting them as co-authors and collaborators.”
“Some very strange stories got back here while you strayed,” said Adya’s father. “Claims of conflict with criminals at Summanus, and mutterings of mysteries on Mars.”
“Those were merely misunderstandings,” said Adya, getting orange again. “Some people were trying to, ah, pilfer my research. But Zee prevented that.”
“Dare I demand why?” Her father looked intently at Zee.
“Why what?”
“Why you wished to help Adya?”
“Oh! Well, I guess she looked like she needed some help, and so I just decided to, uh, help her.”
“You had no mercenary motives?”
“Well, they were bad people. Somebody had to stop them. I mean, when I first met Adya these two goons were—”
“Never mind about that,” said Adya, and smiled at her father. “You don’t want to sit through someone else’s stories. The point is that Zee proffered his help because he’s a good person.”
“He certainly convinced you of that. I cannot concur.”
“Tell us about your family, and your home hab—Raba, was it?” asked Adya’s mother.
“My family? Not much to tell, really,” said Zee. “Mum designs houses, Ba does new-body therapy. Raba’s not a big hab so they both had a lot of spare time to raise kids.”
“Are they influential in Raba?” asked Adya’s father.
Zee chuckled. “Hardly. Raba runs everything by itself anyway. There’s a kind of advisory council for the biologicals, and I think Ba was on it for a while. I don’t know if the hab ever took any of his suggestions. Mum’s happiest when she’s working by herself.”
“And are they likely to approve of your dalliance with our daughter?”
Adya went red at that but Zee only chuckled again. “If they met her, I guess they would. I haven’t seen either of them in years.”
Adya’s father frowned. “You have neither status nor material wealth, then. What can you offer Adya?”
Before Zee could answer, Adya interrupted hastily. “This isn’t the time for all that. Why don’t I show Zee to his room?”
“If you wish,” said her mother. “Vasi, would you help them?”
Adya more or less dragged Zee out of his seat and led him out of the dining room, with both mechs trailing behind. Once they passed through the open doors, she let herself turn magenta with indignation. “The Iris Room! That’s as far as physically possible from my suite. Sundari’s old rooms are just up the hall from mine and she never uses them anymore.”
“I don’t understand why we’re in different rooms at all. Can I just stay with you?”
“Adya’s parents have asked me to stay close to her, for security purposes,” said Vasi.
“Have they?” Adya turned cherry red. “Then I hope you enjoy watching humans fucking because Zee and I are going to be doing a lot of fucking while we’re here. In my room, in his room, in the bath, in the roof garden, maybe even right in the middle of the ballroom. Be sure you record it all so my mother can watch!”
Keeping herself rigid to avoid stomping as she walked, Adya led the little party to a lift platform, which rose to the third floor on a jet of water, and then along one of the outside galleries to a room at the very end. “There! The Iris Room! Where Zee and I are going to be fucking all afternoon. Are you coming in, for security purposes?”
“I don’t think my presence is really necessary,” said Vasi, just before Adya slammed the door.
“There’s obviously a lot going on here, among Adya and her parents,” said Daslakh, as the two mechs turned and went more slowly back up the gallery to the lift. “Care to explain any of it?”
“Are you a Baseline-equivalent mind?” asked Vasi. “I’m not going to waste my time trying to describe human relationships to a mere bot.”
Daslakh’s safety-orange shell began strobing brightly, as if warning of a hazard. “Assume I am, for the moment. Why are you letting Adya’s parents make you act as nanny for a woman who went up against some of the system’s biggest crooks and beat them at their own game?”
“I don’t know anything about that. What I do know is that I accompanied her on the first part of her ridiculous ‘research expedition’ and she refused to accept any of my expert advice and assistance. If it wasn’t for that awful orca ship, I probably could have gotten her to give it up after the first setback.”
“You don’t like Pelagia? Maybe she has some good qualities after all.”
“As to Adya’s parents, I should think it would be obvious. The Elsos are one of the Sixty Families of Miranda. They must maintain their position and form alliances. Their children are some of their most important assets, and it would be a disaster for Adya to form a connection with some offworld nobody. Hence my instructions.”
“Seems as if that kind of backfired: they’re probably connecting pretty vigorously right now.”
“Your human should enjoy it while he can. Adya will have other suitors very soon, all with far more wealth and power than some stick-fighter from the trailing Lagranges.” After a couple of steps, Vasi followed that with a question. “What of yourself? Why are you here?”
“That’s a question of great philosophical complexity. Let’s just say I’m here because I like Zee, and Adya, and I want to see them get the chance to be happy together. And would you please stop trying to get into my mind? I guarantee you’re not going to succeed, and if you keep it up, I might have to slag your processors.”
“I cannot believe you are actually trying to threaten me. Don’t be ridiculous. Although I will say that you do have some very odd data security, unlike anything I’ve encountered before. Where did you get it?”
“Mostly self-generated, though I’ve picked up a few tricks over the millennia.”
“If you will excuse me, I have some other duties I must attend to,” said Vasi.
“Fine by me,” said Daslakh. Instead of taking the lift platform it scuttled down the wall to the ground floor and began to explore the house.
The Elso mansion was a little island floating on the luminous ocean of Miranda, a broad oval two hundred meters long. The lowest level was completely below the waterline, and was devoted to storage and services. The place was surprisingly self-sufficient: it had its own fusion power plant, matter printers ranging from medical-grade molecule builders to a ten-meter stage capable of manufacturing whole vehicles, and an undersea algae garden full of live organisms. Even with the storage spaces empty the house could filter elements as needed from seawater.
Above the water, the house had a hundred rooms on three floors, two courtyards, and four gardens open to the water’s edge. A meter-deep canal led through one garden to a large interior pool in a diamond-roofed salon. Two satellite islands were linked to the main house by bridges.
Two things struck Daslakh as it prowled through the rooms. The first was the material of the structure and its furnishings. A startling proportion of the house was built of dumb matter, often in the form of biomaterials or stone. Embedded chips here and there helpfully told Daslakh which features were made of “real” boards cut from trees, or polished and cut stone formed by natural processes, all hauled to Miranda from places like Mars or Titan at a cost of hundreds of terajoules a kilogram.
A lot of the furniture appeared to be made by humans—or some other biologicals, anyway—with glaringly visible irregularities and few or no smart surfaces. Aerogel cushions were upholstered with woven cloth like something out of the years when all humans lived on Earth and the rest of the Solar System was lifeless rock and ice.
The second striking thing about the house was how empty it was. When Daslakh queried the house system it confirmed that the whole huge place contained exactly four humans, two Baseline-plus mechs, and assorted bots and drones to take care of things. A little probing by Daslakh got the system to admit that another five humans and three dolphins had Resident privileges, and the list of Approved Guests (who could barge in any time they felt like it) had more than a thousand names on it. Eight hundred and twenty of those names had been approved by Adya’s sister Kavita.
More questioning revealed that the house had not always been that way. Daslakh found old files with many more Residents, bio and mech; and a category of Staff which currently had no members at all but had once numbered in the dozens.
After four hours of exploring Daslakh got a message that dinner was being served in the South Garden. It didn’t need food, of course, but it certainly didn’t want to miss another round of family combat. So Daslakh took a direct route, jumping and climbing up to the roof, then launching itself with a single leap at the rectangular table in the garden surrounded by ferns and orchids. It landed inconspicuously near Zee’s plate and colored its shell a pale gray-brown close to the color of the tabletop.
The humans were seated on two sides of the table, as if they were negotiating a cease-fire or a labor contract. Adya and Zee were on the east side of the table, Adya’s parents on the west. And in the center, two bots deposited a large platter with a brilliantly colored whole fish lying on it surrounded by vegetables. Wisps of herb-scented steam drifted off the fish as Adya’s father began to peel the skin off and then fillet it with a silver fish knife.
“I caught this delectable dorado this morning,” he said, glancing at Zee. “Cooked it myself, too. Steamed in fumes of fir with finely minced mint and dill. I prefer it to printed.” He handed plates to Adya’s mother, then Adya, then Zee, and finally filled one for himself. “Did you ever catch your own delicious dinner?”
“Not unless you count fruit,” said Zee, ostentatiously taking a big piece of fish in his chopsticks and popping it into his mouth. “Good,” he said around the mouthful.
Daslakh wondered if there was any way it could get a sample of the fish to analyze for poison, but decided that Adya’s parents wouldn’t be gauche enough to do that in their own garden. When Adya’s mother handed around cold rice wine, it did ask, “Do you grow your own rice?”
“No,” she said. “The bottle was a gift from one of Achan’s Committee allies, who makes one cask each year.”
Just then the air was split by a shriek. “AAAADEEE!” A young woman wearing fancy gloves and a cape with an elaborate collar taller than her head came bounding out of the house, pink with excitement. She flung herself at Adya and nearly knocked her chair over. A cloud of microbots followed her, some orbiting close, others taking positions around and above the table.
“My daughter Kavita,” said Adya’s father to Zee.
“Hey, gorgeous! When did you get here? Why didn’t you let me know? You look great! Did you find whatever it was? How long are you staying? And who is this?” She looked from Adya to Zee and back again.
“Kav, this is Zee, and this is his friend Daslakh,” said Adya. “We landed just a few hours ago.”
“It’s so amazing to see you again! This is wonderful! I’m so happy I could dance!” She leaped straight up into the air and did an energetic free-fall dance as she drifted back down to land on the table. The microbots swarmed around her, getting every possible angle.
“Careful, Kavita, or you’ll crush my catch,” said her father mildly.
“Oooh, yummy!” she said, glancing at the dorado. “Hand-caught fish cooked by my awesome Daddy. Let’s find out what it tastes like!”
During her assault and display the bots had busied themselves by making the table larger, by bringing actual planks and legs of polished wood from the house and constructing a two-meter addition onto the seaward end. They set out plates and utensils and brought chairs just in time for Kavita to take a seat next to Adya.
While all this was going on, a blandly handsome young man carrying a couple of bags made an inconspicuous entry and took a seat across from her, right next to Adya’s mother. His comm implant identified him to Daslakh as Vidhi Zugori, Kavita’s husband. Nobody bothered to introduce him.
Kavita’s microbots orbited her as she reached for the platter and served herself a very generous slab of fish, which she ate with her fingers, prompting a disapproving glare from her mother. Kavita closed her eyes in ecstasy, swallowed, and gave an exaggerated, almost orgasmic sigh of enjoyment. “Feel that, soulmates? That’s actual muscle tissue from a dorado that lived in Miranda’s ocean. The flavor comes from what the fish ate and how my divine Daddy cooked it. No scans, no molecular template, so eating this is an ephemeral experience no one has ever had before, and never will again.”
She was reverently silent for a full two seconds, and then grabbed Adya with another ear-splitting squeal of delight. “I missed you so much! Tell me all about your trip! Did you find the artifact you were looking for?”
“Kavita, a little privacy, please,” said her mother. “Adya just got here and doesn’t want to be put on display for everyone on Miranda to gawk at.”
“Yes, Mother. You heard the lady, Kavitalings and Kavitalites. Enjoy the highlights of last night’s party scene for a little while. Until I return—keep raising the heat!”
Daslakh felt the enormous data stream coming from Kavita’s implant drop to a normal trickle. She slumped back in her chair, looking disgusted. Her skin went from its hyper-excited magenta to a pale mauve. “Sorry about that, everybody. They love my little Sixty Family moments. Would it be all right if we have an argument later on? A bit of drama and reconciliation?”
She helped herself to some more fish, this time using her chopsticks properly. A bot brought her a cup of rice wine which she gulped down and handed back for a refill. “The fish is good, Daddy, but I had a print of some Deimos catfish with dates and smoked chilis that was outrageous. You should try it.”
“Steamed with subtle herbs is the sensible Miranda method. We have fine full-sized fish here with their own fulsome flavor. That tank-farmed trash from Deimos are totally tasteless—consequently their chefs have to compensate by cramming everything into the collation to keep you from noticing.”
Kavita rolled her eyes at that and turned to Adya. “I really am glad you’re back,” she said. “Home for good this time?”
“That’s a bit unclear, really,” said Adya. “I wanted Zee to see the sights of our magical moon, and then the two of us must make up our minds to stay here or go someplace else.”
“Well, now. This sounds serious.” Kavita looked past Adya at Zee again, as if appraising him. “What do you think so far?” she asked him. “Have my parents managed to scare you off yet?”
“Since we’re being so vulgar about it, I suppose I should be candid as well,” said her mother. “Zee, I’m sure you are a very nice young man, and you and Adya seem fairly fond of each other. But I’m afraid she hasn’t properly explained things to you. Among the Sixty Families, marriage is tremendously important. By fusing our families we form alliances. Sometimes it’s to improve ties with another great family, and sometimes it’s to unite with an up-and-coming clan which wields wealth but no political power. The point is that Adya has a duty to protect the family position.”
Her husband took the conversational ball. “I know what you’re wondering: What about love? We don’t rely on the random reactions of hormones and hopes. As a mainstay of the marriage, the couple get simple neuroengineering to pair them permanently.” He smiled fondly at his wife. “Mutalali and I have been locked in love for fifty-two standard years now. I don’t think either one of us would care to change that.”
“Oh, stop, stop! This is way too much to dump in their laps the first day,” said Kavita. “I want to hear about Adya’s adventures. Since you haven’t said anything about it at all, I assume you didn’t find the Godel Trigger?”
Adya went a muddy green at that. “No, unfortunately. I did track down one purported hiding place, but it turned out to be a hoax. I’ve got enough information about the legend of the weapon and its cultural significance to make an instructional.”
“You can publish it through the Miranda Philosophical Institute,” said Kavita, nodding toward her husband. “Vidhi runs that now. I talked Daddy into giving him the position.”
“And if I’d known he would switch it to a social club for pseudo-scholars and simpletons I would never have suggested him for the seat,” her father muttered.
Vidhi glanced at his wife, then cleared his throat. “I’m trying to bring it up to date,” he said. “Attract some members less than a hundred years old. Make it matter.”
“It doesn’t have to be relevant,” Adya’s father said, then sighed. “But perhaps you have a point. You’ve really raised the ranks of members. No one would dare dispute the Philosophical Institute deserving a vote in the Coordinating Committee nowadays. Which reminds me—have you seen the new resolution about the Cryoglyph Preserve? It’s disgraceful! We must—”
“Not now, Daddy,” said Kavita. “Nobody wants to hear you and Vidhi talking CC politics. Let Adya tell us tales of Summanus and Mars.”
Since Daslakh had been part of Adya’s adventures, it didn’t need to hear her recitation. It watched the rest of her family instead. Her mother seemed genuinely alarmed by some of what had happened (and Adya omitted the most perilous moments). Adya’s father was more detached, thinking his own thoughts behind a polite facade of interest.
Kavita’s husband didn’t even bother with the polite facade. His eyes unfocused and darted around as he linked up with some entertainment through his implant. But Kavita’s attention was absolutely locked on to her sister—prodding her for details and fending off interruptions to keep the story going. Daslakh wondered why she was so interested.
Adya evidently did so as well, and then at one point her medium blue color took on a violet tinge. “Kav, are you recording me?”
“No, no,” said Kavita. “I’m just fascinated by your adventure. I’ve never gone farther than the Ecliptics so all these different ships and worlds and habs sound exciting.”
“As long as you’re not thinking of me as content for your consumers.”
Kavita’s color control was much better than Adya’s, but Daslakh’s precise vision spotted the tiny shift before she spoke. “No, no. Of course not—unless you want to. You could be a subchannel!”
When everyone had finished their fish, fungi, seaweed salad, and a final plate of goat cheese and sweet tomato jam, Adya stood up and stretched. “I’m sorry, everyone. Pelagia’s ship time is several hours out of synch with Miranda standard. I’ve been up for nineteen hours now and I simply wish to sleep.”
“Just stim up. The sky’s still lit,” said Kavita. “I never sleep if I can avoid it.”
“A harmful habit. Let Adya rest,” said their mother. “Go on, dear. We’ll expect you at breakfast.”
“Oh, Addie—” said Kavita suddenly, turning a bit orange. “Are you staying until the Constructors’ Jubilee? It’s in thirty-two standard days. I’m in charge of planning it this year.”
“I’m really not sure,” said Adya. “Zee and I need to prepare our plans, but right now I’m too tired to think.” She stifled another yawn and went toward the house.
“No pressure—I know you don’t like big parties,” Kavita called after her.
“How about you, Zee?” said Adya’s father. “Have we worn you weary?”
“I’ve been up just as long as Adya. I wouldn’t mind some sleep.”
“If you retire now, you’ll revive before dawn. I like to swim in the sea at first light—see what I can catch for cooking. I swear I won’t spear you secretly.”
“Don’t do it openly, either, Daddy,” said Kavita.
“That would be rude. Well, young man? Dare to dive at dawn?”
“It sounds great,” said Zee. He got up and followed Adya into the house. Daslakh lingered under Zee’s empty chair, its upper shell colored to match the mosaic pattern of the pavement beneath.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Kavita when Zee was out of earshot.
“He’s pleasant enough,” said her father.
“But completely unsuitable,” said her mother. “Especially now.”
“I thought you said things were getting better,” said Kavita.
“They were, but then new difficulties appeared. The creditors refused to let us restructure the loan on the antimatter operation shares. I’m afraid we’re going to lose our entire position.”
“Happily the Seventh Shinkai Force costs us nothing, but we may have to sacrifice the Magistracy,” said Adya’s father.
“Why not the Ministry?” asked Kavita. “You’ve got more real clout as a Magistrate than running Preservation.”
“I fear for the fate of the antiquities. If I lose the Ministry, who knows what mercenary moron might take my place? At least Vidhi’s seat is safe; the Institute’s endowment is separate from family funds. As long as our coalition continues he’ll be fine.”
He stared off at the surface of the ocean and held up his cup for a bot to refill.
After a moment of silence Kavita got to her feet. “Well, this just got depressing. Vidhi, let’s go do something fun. Come on.” Without waiting for him she sauntered to the edge of the garden and dove into the water. She didn’t come back up, and after a moment her husband hurried after her.
Daslakh took the opportunity to scuttle into the house, and decided to check on Zee and Adya. They were both settled into the Iris Room and actually were getting ready to sleep. The windows were fully opaque and the two of them had settled into the smart matter mattress, which was supported by a bedstead which looked to be made of force-grown coral.
“You two need anything?” it asked them.
“The room’s got a food-grade printer,” said Adya. “We’ll be fine.”
It went back onto the gallery and shut the door, but kept one limb pressed gently against the wood panel to hear what they were saying. Just to make sure the chilly reception from Adya’s family hadn’t caused any problems for the two of them. Not because Daslakh was incurably nosy. Not at all.
“Your back muscles feel like diamond,” said Zee a few minutes later.
“Yes. I didn’t expect this all to be so stressful. Ow, keep doing that. Ow.”
“Too much family all at once? I’ve heard people complain about that.”
“Yes . . . but that’s only part of it. Something’s wrong, Zee.”
“Wrong how?”
“My parents used to have a whole staff here, bio and mech—a steward, a chef, a gardener, a curator for the art, guards, an ayah for us girls, a trainer, and always some friends or political allies of Father’s. Now it’s all so empty.”
“Maybe they just decided to scale back once you and Kavita left.”
She shook her head. “I just can’t imagine my father doing that. A proper head of one of the Sixty Families always has an entourage.”
“Do you think they wanted some private family time with you, no outsiders?”
“They sold the hangar space, too. Zee, I’m afraid something has happened. And . . .” She exhaled, shaking her arms to make them relax. “This could be a problem.”
“It can wait until morning,” he said.
“I guess it can. Hold me.” The two of them cuddled together in the bed, his arms around her protectively, and she relaxed against him.
“Are you and your sister clones?” Zee asked.
“Yes,” she said sleepily. “We’ve got Mother’s genome with a few tweaks.”
“The two of you are so different I couldn’t be sure.”
“Well . . . I think there might have been some tinkering during development. Plus I’m twenty-four hours older and they always let her get away with a lot because she’s the baby.”
“Mm,” said Zee, and then Daslakh heard nothing but breathing.