“What’s the range?”
“About twenty miles.”
That’s nothing. Still, knowing the Confed, there must be a stronger emitter at one of the old terraform sites. I’ll need to find it.
But first, something else. I haven’t forgotten that movie projection she showed me yesterday.
“You showed me a Mars documentary. That means you’re receiving data somehow.”
“I don’t know how it works,” she admits. “We can access historical documentaries, music, movies. Also colony training programs—for kids, hydroponics, medical stuff. I’m a doctor, so I get extra access to medical files.”
I get it. The Confed didn’t just limit their water or their fashion choices. They cut them off from intergalactic culture. Knowledge helps people understand, compare, adapt. On the Bakartia, I could access anything—science, art, films—from any world.
Why isolate this species? It doesn’t fit the Confed’s usual approach.
“Your houses have no local storage,” I note. “If you’re receiving data, there’s a transmitter somewhere. I need to find it.”
“Should I call Kiran? My brother? Maybe he knows. I never thought about it.”
“I’ll leave that to you. What’s his opinion of me?”
I only met Neela and her brother so far. From what I recall, he wanted to tie me up just to be sure I wasn’t dangerous. Was that my appearance, or just brotherly instinct? And he didn’t know I understood him. Is he reasonable?
Neela stares into her empty cup, thoughtful.
“Honestly, you should stay hidden from the other colonists for now. It’s a tense time. People will be suspicious of you. You need to know—Mars was Earth’s backup planet. We called it Planet-B. The Polarians said our solar system would remain cutoff from all other races. But we recently found out that’s not true.”
Now that catches my attention. She’s not talking about me—but someone else.
“Go on.”
“To make it simple: the Regent of Cydonia, Vassili Porkoff, is breaking the Pact. According to Kiran, something shady is going on at the Palace. Vassili’s doing business with a lizard man.”
Bully. I knew it! That’s why my old partner was snooping around here. Not one, but two viable planets in a quarantined system? Prime real estate for illicit operations.
My brain goes into overdrive.
I found Bully.
I may have found a new trafficking network.
I have no comms. No real weapons. And I’m surrounded by idealistic pacifists.
“Neela, I need to talk to your brother.”
She jumps up and pulls an ancient-looking device from a kitchen drawer.
I can’t believe this. The Confed left them with this relic?
Neela turns the dial, and a burst of static pops from the black receiver. After a few seconds, a voice comes through.
“This is a call for Kiran. It’s Neela.”
Moments later:
“Kiran here. What’s up?”
The sound is weak, choppy. Honestly, communication over millions of miles is clearer than this. It’s pathetic that the Confed gave them such junk.
