Page 138 of The Mars House

“It’s true, it’s true,” January said desperately. He smacked the release on his cage to put the praetorians off any thoughts of snatching River back. The silver skeleton hissed open around him. “That isn’t Senator Gale, they’re just wearing filters!”

“On the floor right now!” Different praetorians were yelling it, circling them both.

January stepped in front of River.

River touched his shoulders and moved him very lightly aside.

It was perfectly still. Someone with their eyes shut would never have known there were hundreds of people in the room.

January saw the Consul realize it was no good. His heart started to lift as their whole expression fell. They looked towards the head of the praetorians, and he saw them start to say, Enough, we’re going.

Aubrey saw it too.

January was half waiting for it, which was why he noticed in time: Aubrey had a gun.

It surged through his mind that if he tackled them, he had no way of moderating the force of it. Either he jumped or he didn’t, and at full strength, he would kill them. Live on camera, an Earthstronger murdering someone, and he would go to prison forever because there was no self-defence for an uncaged Earthstronger, no clause that let you defend someone else because it was never proportionate, it was like bringing a grenade to a knife fight, so—

But you couldn’t think like that.

56

He wasn’t going to watch the election results. They had it on in the canteen, on a big screen, and everyone was watching, and every now and then there was a yell from downstairs when a new announcement came from the polls. Every so often, the warden put their head round the cell door to ask, looking pained, if he was sure he wouldn’t come down. Each time, they reminded him increasingly of one of those bendy dolls, because they didn’t just stand in the door, but leaned sideways, like they were embarrassed about disturbing prisoners. He always said yes he was sure, and stayed propped on the top bunk with some Mandarin drills instead, because it didn’t matter. Even if Gale won, nothing would change. Even if Earth invaded, won, overthrew the current government and brought in permanent cages, nothing was going to change. The law was the law. He was here for twenty-five years. He needed to learn to settle in.

There was another tap on the door.

“I know you’re being really nice, but I mean it, I don’t need to see who wins,” he said, not to the door but the Mandarin character on his screen which he definitely did know but whose meaning was fluttering around the edges of his brain, just out of reach, like an especially annoying moth. “I’ll find out in the morning.”

“You’ll find out in about half an hour, actually,” Gale said. “I think they have to come and get me, either way.”

He swung round. Gale rested both forearms on the mattress, tall enough to do that in a room for Earthstrongers without climbing on the bunk below.

“What are you doing?” January demanded. “How are—is this a publicity—you’re going to be in so much trouble! I mean . . . hi,” he trailed off.

“Hi,” Gale said quietly. “How are you?”

“Good, I . . . how are you?”

“Nervous. I hoped you wouldn’t mind. The warden said it would be all right, but—I’ll go away.” They frowned. “If you do mind, I mean.”

“Of course I don’t mind—hm.” He had to look away, towards the wall. His eyes were flooding and there was a rock in his throat, which was infuriating. Gale came to see him every week and he had held himself together beautifully every time, but that, he realized now, was because he knew when it was going to happen and he could work himself up to it.

Gale touched his knee, looking worried. “What—is everything all right, has something happened?”

“No, everything’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’m happy.” He pulled his sleeve over his eyes.

Gale stood back a little way and opened both hands. When he came to the edge of the bed, they lifted him down, so gently he might have been floating. The prison boiler suit wasn’t unlike the factory one—maybe a little better—and he felt suddenly like none of it was real, he’d just come in a loop and everything from then until now had been a bright dream that didn’t really belong to him.

Gale ghosted both hands over the ribs of his cage, and then hooked two fingertips under the collarbone. It wasn’t difficult. “This is too big for you. Where’s yours?”

“No, this is mine, I’ve just been—a bit off food,” said January, which was a lie; he’d been completely off food. Whenever he even thought about eating, he felt weird and panicky. It was an oddly not unpleasant throwback to his early twenties, when he’d had to stay light enough for the then principal to lift, despite being a fair way taller. Since then, his brain had a switch about food. In times of proper anxiety it just went clunk, and he developed an immediate horror of toast. He was amazed it hadn’t gone clunk before now.

“You’ve only been here a week,” Gale protested.

He caught their hands. “I’m fine. Anyway, haven’t you got bigger things to worry about tonight?”

“No,” Gale said, nearly as a question, like they didn’t really follow what he was talking about.

The noise from the canteen sounded louder and louder as they came down the broad corridor. There were flashes from that direction too, and in the air, drones floated to and fro. Like suddenly attentive bees, they looped down straight at him the second they noticed him. It made him jump. He sighed. It was possible the no-food thing was making him twitchy. He wondered tentatively about some rice, but the Swan King snarled that there would be no rice, only tea, shut up.