San Damien and the Red Daggers
by Brian Yapko
In the year 2990 — some 500 years after Earth’s destruction — the Martian nation-state of Xanthe is rocked when terrorists destroy San Damien, an experimental dome in which Martian leaders hoped that the two human races — Trads and Numen — might coexist for the first time. One of the 713 victims of the attack happens to be the wife of Adrian Marlow, who is Xanthe’s premier prosecutor of terrorists.
Marlow’s investigation exposes a planet-wide conspiracy. It promotes fascism, commits genocide and sabotages terraforming, thus threatening to annihilate both Mars and humanity. What can Marlow do to avert catastrophe, and how can he survive long enough to do it?
Chapter 1: Marlow’s Request
Upon receiving the hawk-splice verifying that her father’s cerebral rebuild was complete, Miranda Marlow raced to the Xanthe Military Hospital just outside Aberdeen Nova. It was now October 25, 2990, five days since Adrian Marlow had been pronounced dead from injuries received in the bomb explosion at the Ministry of Habitation Justice. But Uji Sinclair, Adrian Marlow’s friend and medic, had refused to allow death to interfere with his patient’s recovery.
Restoring the body was relatively easy. Regrowing a partially fragmented brain was harder. But new techniques — some, ironically, based on Numen research from the Beyond — allowed for full restoration in a matter of days. Adrian Marlow would not only survive. He would develop neural pathways that would afford leaps of insight likely to serve him well when he resumed his duties as Xanthe’s preeminent prosecutor of criminal negligence and terrorism. He just needed to survive any further assassination attempts.
Miranda didn’t care if her father became a master intellect. Marlow was already brilliant despite his infuriating narrow-mindedness when it came to the Numen. But Miranda was only twenty-four years old, her mother had been for dead eight months and Miranda just wanted her father back, alive and sane.
Even more than the San Damien dome disaster, this assassination attempt was the most traumatic event of her life. She had personally seen her father’s body explosively torn asunder. To now witness the resurrection of his mind and body through the miracle of 30th-century science made Miranda tremble with gratitude.
She still had nightmares. Miranda could have died with him. For months, they had been estranged over his prosecution of the Numen defendants. She and her father were finally scheduled to have a reconciliatory lunch together.
Miranda took the day off from working on her xenolinguistics dissertation. She took the train from Mareotis to Aberdeen Nova and entered the Ministry building at the precise moment the bomb exploded. That she herself was not injured was a miracle of timing. But the sight of her father’s shattered body and the hysteria she experienced would never leave her. Fortunately, Marlow had been neurovaxed earlier in the year. That bit of foresight plus the prompt arrival of the Xanthe Peace Force medics laid the medical foundation for a full restoration.
Miranda saw her father the next day, after the recon surgery was complete. Medic Sinclair warned her that Marlow would still be unconscious. It did not matter. That Marlow breathed, that his body was again in one piece meant all of Mars to her. On the second day post-recon, Marlow was conscious but incoherent. He did not recognize her.
Upon leaving his room in tears, Miranda physically — and irrationally — attacked Marlow’s guard for failing to prevent the assassination attempt. As if this XMP guard had anything to do with the affairs of the Ministry of Habitation Justice! She was escorted from the hospital.
Promising good behavior, Miranda was allowed to return on the fifth day. She notified Professor Redburn of the needed absence and jumped on the first available commuter train back to Aberdeen Nova. No holograms. She had to see her father in person. Now that Marlow’s mind was fully restored, she hoped they could have a real conversation.
An XMP guard stood outside of Marlow’s room; he was Trad and burly. Miranda was grateful President Jana herself had ordered 24-hour security in the wake of this assassination attempt. The guard — the same one she had beaten with her fists three days earlier — demanded Miranda’s ulnascan and registration as if she were a complete stranger. She hid her annoyance.
Once cleared, Marlow’s door flicked open and she entered. “Da?” she announced using the Arean-Scottish term of endearment she had been raised with. When she saw her father whole, her eyes welled up with relief. He was cocooned, alert and interfacing with a Panvision cube which was floating just over his chest.
When Marlow looked up at her, she could see the patchwork of skin grafts on his face and upper arms. He was quite bald and somewhat loopy from the medication and relentless medical treatments. But he smiled weakly and gestured for her to enter. “Don’t cry, Miranda. I’m alive,” he said beckoning her towards his cocoon. “Let me turn this infernal thing off.” He touched a button and the Panvision pixels collapsed into nothingness.
She touched him gingerly.
“Don’t be afraid, daughter. I won’t crumble if you give me a hug.”
She put her arms around him carefully and noted how thin he had become. Then she touched his exposed scalp which was normally covered in an uncombable mass of auburn hair.
“They tell me it’ll grow back as thick and red as ever,” Marlow said taking her hand. “And tomorrow I transition from the cocoon. I can’t wait to sleep in a regular bed.”
Miranda finally let her tears flow. “Da, look what they’ve done to you!”
He patted her arm. “There, there,” he said awkwardly. Marlow had always been embarrassed by displays of raw emotion.
“Da, I’m so relieved you’ve made it. But look at you! Deimos take whoever did this to you!”
“No leads announced on the Newscry?”
“No, Da. And I can’t get any information out of Habitation Justice.”
“Hm,” was all Marlow said. He looked out the window absently. His room at the Xanthe Military Hospital had an unobstructed view of the Beyond with Glencoe Buttes off to one side. “That’s only half of the problem,” Marlow said after a long pause. “Just as important: how do I prevent this from happening again?”
“Why would anyone try to kill you, Da?”
Marlow smiled grimly at his daughter. “Miranda, you know well that I have no shortage of enemies. How many malfeasants have I prosecuted through the years who’d take advantage of this San Damien matter to cinder me? Then again, it could have been Numen anarchists. Or Zantine allies of... Well, at any rate, the list goes on and on.” His eyes narrowed. “Believe me, daughter, when I get out of here, I’m going to find out.” He suddenly realized that she was still standing and motioned for her to raise a chair next to his cocoon. A sitting cube emerged from the floor, and she sat with one hand patting his weak arm.
Marlow grabbed that hand unexpectedly and pulled her to him with surprising strength. “When you leave here, Miranda, I need you to do something for me. Something important.”
She nodded grudgingly. “Anything, Da. Just tell me. What is it?”
He did not answer right away. He lifted himself up to a sitting position. “You’ve hated me these several months. What I am. What I stand for. Don’t deny it.”
“Da... please understand...”
“Don’t think I don’t. It’s the Numen.” She nodded and looked down at the floor. “Always the damned Numen.”
“Da, Mars is their home as much as ours.”
Marlow silently stared at his daughter for a moment. “No one gets out of this unharmed,” he murmured to himself.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just quoting someone I’m getting reacquainted with.” Marlow’s face grew impassive. He spoke in a low tone. “Will you do what I ask despite the crimes you think I’ve committed? Especially if what I ask you to do proves that I acted honorably?”
Miranda’s face expressed bafflement. Marlow sighed loudly. “For heaven’s sake, Miranda, I’m asking you to give me a second chance. To keep an open mind about what I did.” Weakening, he fell back into his cocoon.
Seeing anew how fragile he was, she nodded in concession: “Alright, Da. Anything.”
He put his finger to his lips and now spoke in a whisper. “I want you to go to my flat. Tell no one. You have the code. There’s a hidden niche in the wall in my office. I’ll tell you how to find it and open it. Inside, you will find my personal, confidential notes on San Damien.” He pulled her to him. “There’s information there, Miranda, that no one must know about. If you think I have enemies now, they will multiply exponentially if that information gets out. But you, of all people, have the right to see it. I want you to take the file and read it. Carefully.”
“Why? What’s in it?”
“Everything. Everything you need to know about the destruction of San Damien and the aftermath. And what happened between me and the Numen. Read it. Then destroy it.”
“Destroy it? Why on Mars would you put sensitive information on paper, Da? Why not a memstone?”
Marlow hesitated before answering. “Memstones cannot easily be destroyed, Miranda. But bamboo paper can — with some planning. I wanted my notes in print for one reason only: for you to read them someday. I had hoped that day would be years in the future. But now after this” — he gestured to his hairless scalp and banged on the side of the cocoon — “I want you to read it while I’m still alive, however long that may be.”
”Why can’t you just tell me what you have to say?”
“Miranda, forgive me but my memory isn’t all it should be after being literally blown apart. So indulge me, won’t you?” Marlow was improved enough to express some tart sarcasm. But his tone softened as he lowered his voice. “Besides, walls have ears. I no longer trust Xanthe’s government to honor my privacy. Respect my wishes on this, daughter.”
“Fine. And then I shred the documents?”
“Not good enough. They can be restored. The same if they’re burned. What you need to do is take them back with you to Mareotis. Near your school... The fjord near your dorm... The combination of biocharge and salt from the Baurean Ocean will destroy the documents almost instantly. And permanently. These papers must not be found. Promise me.”
She looked worried. “Am I going to be followed? Or arrested? Is someone after the information in this file?”
“No one knows this file exists. Yet. But they’ve reconstructed my brain. Who can say what they might have retrieved and regrown from it? I trust Medic Sinclair, but... Miranda, assume that secrets in Xanthe are no longer safe.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Promise me you’ll do what I say.”
Miranda’s pulse was racing. This was too much. And yet she had to do something. Her mother was dead and someone had tried to kill her father. She sighed deeply. “Alright, Da. I’ll do it.”
“Right after you leave here, go to my flat. And then take the first train north to Mareotis.”
“I will, Da.”
“Miranda... this file. You need to know what really happened.” Marlow’s voice started to rise. “For your mother’s sake. So you and I can start over. And so that we Martians can finally begin to stop the hate.”
A pixel nurse walked into the room through the solid, closed door. “Visiting time is over. It’s time for your restoration treatment, Advocate Marlow.”
Marlow whispered to his daughter, “Like I told you: there are no secrets.”
Miranda nodded slightly then kissed her father goodbye. “I promise, Da. I won’t fail you.”
Marlow managed a smile. “Afterwards come back and see me. We’ll have much to discuss.”
The door flicked open. Marlow could see Miranda offer her left arm to the XPF guard for a second ulnascan. Then the door flicked closed again, leaving him alone with Nurse Pixel.
To be continued...
Copyright © 2023 by Brian Yapko
