He pursed his disconcertingly full lips, pleased that he’d pissed her off. “Children can be a handful. Sometimes they can even do things that pass beyond the childish, and get in real trouble. Are you heading home soon?”

  “I don’t think that’s your business.”

  “If you’re hoping to find your daughter there, give up on that notion. She’s found herself a hidey hole. She seems to think it’s secret. Secrets can lead to trouble.”

  This was too much. Not only was she not going to get any action out of Strop, he was going to punish her for trying by implying that she was a bad mother.

  And what was even more irritating was how right Miriam Kostal had been. There would be no help in the OAKs. Whether or not there was some high-level interest in a change of regime, field agents like Strop knew better than to wander into delicate political situations. It might interfere with their digestion. So Strop would fight as hard as he could to hear nothing about Phineus.

  She pushed her chair back, ready to stand. But she couldn’t just leave. He had her, just as he intended.

  “Do you know where she is?” Dunya said.

  “In the crust. Near the Xanthus airball. Her boyfriend has run into trouble from his Green Burnings buddies, big surprise. Bodil might easily end up in the same trouble. If those kids broke into where I think they did, they’re all in serious trouble. Stop worrying about what plausible Martians might be up to and give your daughter some thought. This isn’t official advice, by the way. One parent to another.”

  “Thanks, Strop.” Dunya had to consciously loosen her jaw to speak. “I hope I can return the favor someday.”

  “Not likely, Dunya. Not likely.”

  * * *

  Her daughter was definitely a Boscobel native, Dunya thought. An immigrant like her would have tried to hide in the trees. Bodil knew the many ways of getting found there, and had instead burrowed into Boscobel’s neglected shell, which she thought of as invisible.

  Dunya looked up into the shaft above. Boscobel had a huge volume in its shell, but only the poorest lived in it. The air rumbled. Just beyond was the vast space of Xanthus, one of the pressure equalization spaces excavated after the newly expanded shell of Boscobel had cooled.

  The only illumination came from infrequent light bumps. There was no way she was going to stumble around this ridiculous space searching for her daughter. She stood in the center of the shaft and said, “Come down, Bodil. Now.”

  Before a minute was out, she wanted to say something more. She stopped herself. The silence grew as hollow as the space around her. The best way to get a client to say something was to say nothing. That conversational vacuum could suck out the most amazing things.

  There was a rustle. A pair of shoes appeared in a hole about ten meters up. Bodil slid into view and then slowly climbed down to the level where her mother stood.

  Bodil favored her father, Bryn. She was taller than Dunya, but with softer features, big eyes, and downturned mouth. She looked gentle. Maybe someday she would be.

  “It’s your fault.” Bodil spoke quietly, the way she showed she was really angry.

  “What? What’s my fault?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know!” The other way she showed she was really angry was by yelling. “You got that information about that Martian out of me, and now Unray’s been beaten. They knew it had to come from him. They hit him, momma. A lot. I never trusted them. I want to hurt them.”

  “You think that’s bad?” Dunya said. “Things are way worse than you think. Every one of us is in trouble. I don’t have time for this. You don’t have time for it. If we’re not careful, we might all end up as slaves, or refugees, or something worse.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I need your help, Bodil. I’m sorry about what happened to Unray. Probably not as sorry as you’d like me to be. But we’ve got Martians crawling around our home that might rip the whole thing apart and I don’t have time to worry about your stupid boyfriend and his lame-ass buddies.”

  For the first time in a long time, Bodil clearly didn’t know what to say. She’d hoped her mother would feel guilty and help her. Instead, her mother was asking for help herself. That hadn’t happened in an equally long time.

  Dunya realized she’d gotten up against her daughter, looking up at her, feeling like a knife pointed at her belly. She stepped back, looked around. “Isn’t this their territory? You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I don’t care what they call their territory. They don’t deserve anything. I thought … I can do something to them, make them feel it, the way they made me feel it.”

  “Well, Bodie,” a voice said from the gloom. “Good luck for you ’cause here’s your chance.”

  * * *

  Phineus had trained the Green Burnings well. They appeared all around, blocking every route of escape, while moving as casually as if just out for a stroll.

  “Eger,” Bodil said. “Eger!”

  “Yeah?” A young man slouched from the shadows. He wore a long jacket decorated with silver loops and pins. Pieces of the stolen emergency kit, Dunya thought, the parts they thought weren’t good for anything.

  “My mother doesn’t have anything to do with any of this,” Bodil said.

  Eger looked Dunya up and down, raised his eyebrows. “Doesn’t look that way to me. Like she said, this is Burnings’ territory. Doesn’t matter who’s messing with it. Or why.”

  “Why you—”

  Eger blocked Bodil’s blow with a forearm and threw her back. Dunya took a step forward, and found herself looking at a blade that seemed to reflect more light than there was in that dark place.

  Eger shook his head. “Nah, Mom. Not a good idea.”

  Bodil was puffing next to her. Dunya thought she was crying, but when she glanced at her daughter, she realized that it was the breath of rage. Knife or not, greater fighting skill or not, she looked like she was going to throw herself at Eger.

  Did she know this girl?

  “You can define your territory with respect to some other gang,” Dunya said. “Not for ordinary citizens.”

  “Ordinary citizens?” Eger was in her face. “You telling me you don’t know what’s what? You come here, know all our business, what we do.” He looked even younger close up, with smooth skin and curly reddish hair.

  “We’ll get out,” Dunya said.

  “‘We’ won’t do anything. Bodil and us got to talk.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Stop it, Eger,” Bodil said. “Don’t be an idiot. My mom doesn’t have anything to do with this. You’re the one who beat Unray. Right?”

  Eger grinned. “I got some licks in, sure. But we had to share. Everyone wanted a piece. You know what it’s like when everyone wants a piece. We share, in the Burnings.”

  Even though he was genuinely dangerous, Dunya found his leer too deliberate, like he practiced it in front of the mirror.

  “Because Unray could have taken you alone,” Bodil said. “That’s why?”

  Dunya knew that tone of lazy insolence well. It made her want to hit her daughter. She never had.

  Eger had less restraint. Bodil dodged his first, overhand blow, but he moved fast and punched her in the side. She oofed and bent over and Dunya slid away from her position, looking for an opening, even as she knew they weren’t going to get out of this—

  There was a wail from somewhere overhead, and a body came hurtling down out of the dangling roots. It hit so hard it bounced.

  * * *

  Dunya moved as if she had expected exactly that to happen. She hit Eger with her shoulder and, off balance, he fell.

  She turned to tell Bodil to run. Bodil was gone, already moving at full tilt, slashing at the face of the young Green Burning who tried to stop her. The boy dodged back, automatically covering his face. By the time he realized he still had his looks, it was too late, and she was past.

  Behind, another crash, as another scout fell from above, followed by shouts.

  Her daughter ran beautifully, also like her father. Dunya’s own legs were shorter, and she had to pump them hard to keep up. She kept expecting resistance, but the Burnings had been confident enough not to set pickets out this far.

  And if it hadn’t been for that sudden intervention, they wouldn’t have needed them. Who had flung that scout down? He seemed to have been flung with some force, by someone with muscles. Martian muscles.

  She just managed to keep Bodil in view as she dodged, first into this corridor, then that, then up a ramp, first shallow, then steep, then stairs. Stairs covered with moss and ferns. They were out, in the shadows amid the roots. Around was the rustle of leaves, the green glow, air thick with pollen. Bees flickered in the light that made it through from high overhead.

  Bodil turned and fell against her mother, almost knocking her over. She was laughing. Unbelievably, she was laughing, almost helpless.

  “Ah!” Bodil said. “Did you see the look on his face?”

  “I was too busy panicking.”

  “He always thinks he’s got it all under control. Jerk.” The savage look Bodil threw back down the black hole of the stairs was beautiful and terrifying. “I visited stupid Unray in the hospital. He talked all tough too, and blamed it all on me.”

  “Okay, it was my fault. Right now I need your mind working. Someone was above us in that shaft. She’s just a visitor, doesn’t know Boscobel. She’s going to be moving out of that area, fast. Where would she go, and can we intercept her?”

  “There’s really only one way. Come on.”

  The route turned out to be fairly simple, involving just a climb up to a living bridge between a twisted olive tree and a baobab whose hollow interior held a playground filled with shrieking children.

  Dunya grabbed her daughter’s shoulder and pointed. Below them, tall above the crowd, Miriam Kostal strolled. Dunya could sense that Bodil instantly picked her out.

  Without hesitation, Bodil jumped off the stubby branch of a baobab. Dunya followed, hitting a mossy spot that would have been softer if it hadn’t been so worn. The gravity was highest here, near the roots, and Dunya really felt the impact as she landed.

  Bodil slid ahead, and up again, on the aerial root of a mangrove. They were now ahead of Miriam, though Dunya had been in that position before, and it hadn’t helped her. Just below them was a noodle shop, Cairngorm’s, sending up puffs of aromatic steam and making her hungry. She looked down at the bubbling pots, the patrons with their heads bent over bowls. She’d never been there, but it seemed familiar to her—

  “Mind telling me why we’re after her?” Bodil plopped down in a tangled mass of vines and looked up at the hummingbirds that investigated a flower just above her.

  “Your buddies the Green Burnings are being used by someone else,” Dunya said. “A Martian. Phineus. Who happens to be one of my clients.”

  “You never talk about your clients.”

  “They appreciate my silence. You should too. But he’s kind of moved himself out of the confidential category by trying to get me killed. And you, now.”

  “Nah. I don’t know about this Phineus. Eger was on his own, just being his usual jerk of a self. Defending Burning territory. I was just hiding out there. Hoping no one would ever find me. But you did.”

  Dunya had already resolved never to tell her daughter how she had found out. It was too humiliating.

  Fortunately, Miriam rescued her again.

  “You think that was smart?” Miriam Kostal stood over them, casting more shadow than it seemed reasonable for her lean form. “Putting yourself at risk was bad enough. Putting my mission at risk might be fatal.”

  Instead of being intimidated by the other woman’s anger, Dunya found herself just as mad. “I don’t need to justify myself to you.”

  “Protecting your offspring.” Miriam eyed Bodil. “How do you feel about being defended, little girl?”

  “Don’t try to set us against each other.” Bodil’s insolence was more pleasant when applied to someone else. “That’s our own, on our own time. Nothing for you. And my name’s Bodil.”

  Miriam looked the girl over, then smiled, an expression as tight as a wrestler’s grip. “Pleased to meet you, Bodil. Have you had a chance to figure out what it is you are now involved in?”

  “No. Not that much.”

  “If I knew what your mother was up to, I might be able to fill in some of the gaps for you.”

  Bodil and Miriam turned to look at her, and Dunya found herself nettled. That had been a nice bit of solidarity with her daughter, but it was over. Now that they were standing side by side, she fancied she saw similarities between her daughter and the rangy Martian. They both had sharp jaws, and an easy stance. Assuming that Dunya was perversely withholding information seemed to be another thing they had in common.

  “Bodil. That trim Eger was wearing, some of the others. What was it? Where did they get it?”

  “Those loops? They grabbed some kind of gear from some old locker.”

  “Emergency gear?”

  “I … I don’t know. They were all excited about it, though. First real operation. Tactics, penetration of secure areas. Martian training, they said.”

  “You have information about it?” Miriam said in Dunya’s ear.

  “A friend who runs a restaurant heard about it. Someone took off with a complete emergency kit. An old one, probably ignored and forgotten.”

  “Where did they run their operation?” Miriam asked Bodil.

  “Imperial Valley. There’s an access lock there, not used much now. This was in the storage area nearby. Secure, I guess. Not as secure as the OAKs thought, though.” She couldn’t suppress a hint of pride in what her boyfriend and his unpleasant friends had accomplished. “But … what’s going on?”

  Dunya could feel Miriam waiting. This was up to her, how much to tell. “Phineus, the guy they’ve been getting their lessons from. He’s the inside man in a Martian filibustering expedition that means to take over Boscobel. He’s using them as some kind of screen.”

  “He’s using them to gain access to an airlock,” Miriam said. “A place they can make entry. And their vessel will be here soon.”

  Bodil looked at Dunya. “Momma. What do we do?”

  “There’s really no need for you two to do anything,” Miriam said.

  “Really?” Dunya had thought about how to argue this. Practicality was the best way. “Does that give you the best chance of success?”

  “Are you going to help me by going back to the OAKs again?” Sarcasm didn’t suit Miriam.

  “The theft of safety equipment is a real crime, one the OAKs can enforce without any concern about who is hoping the Martians will give him a better office. If they hold Phineus for that, it will give you some breathing space. And Bodil … do you think you could face Unray again?”

  “Sure. I have to go there and tell him we’re through. I was too mad the last time.”

  “Well, that will give you a good reason to pump him on what the Green Burnings are up to. I’ll bet it isn’t at all what Phineus thinks they’re doing.”

  “I have the perfect outfit,” Bodil said. “I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to wear it. I’ll break his heart.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “Do I get to say anything about the help I need?” Miriam was surprisingly patient.

  “I waited for that,” Dunya said. “I finally went without it.”

  “We’re making a lot of assumptions. Some are bound to be wrong. Be ready to switch direction as necessary. Keep your OAKs on the emergency kit, and leave any mention of Martians to me.”

  “You got it.”

  “I have to handle Phineus carefully,” Miriam said. “He’s got support back home, and harming him would have bad consequences. But preventing him from acting will achieve what I need. Then, maybe, Martians can start hashing out their problems with each other, rather than exporting them. It’s a dream, of course. But it’s one I share with my husband.”

  “You’re married?”

  “Don’t sound so shocked. Hektor doesn’t get to see much of me, unfortunately. While he’s trying to build a stable coalition at home, I’m usually out trying to keep each leak from turning into a blowout.”

  “I’m sure he misses you.”

  “I wish he was out here with me. He’d be better at working with people than I am.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Dunya said. “You seem to be doing fine.”

  Dunya could see that, despite herself, the fierce Martian was pleased. Dunya wanted to meet the man who could keep someone like that in his bed.

  “The sooner we take care of Phineus and his ridiculous ambitions, the sooner I can get home,” Miriam said.

  Dunya would have loved to order Bodil home, to prepare dinner and perhaps ready for a siege. That would just result in Bodil’s running off to do something on her own. She hoped she would not regret the choice that she had made.

  “See you, momma.” Bodil gave her a kiss, and was gone.

  * * *

  By this time, with the sunglobe getting red, Strop would have moved up and over and been holding court at a restaurant high up in an aromatic cedar. She’d have to find a way to get him on that missing emergency kit without getting herself arrested—

  “Twice in one day.” Phineus blocked the twisting ladder ahead of her. “How about that?”

  He was the last person Dunya wanted to see. “I’m in kind of a hurry right now.”

  “Sure, sure.” He moved as if to go around her, then leaned in, his big forehead looming. “Did you get a chance to check out my fellow Martian?”

  “It’s on my list, Phineus.”

  “I’m in danger! It’s not at all like you not to take the concerns of your clients seriously.”

  Unfortunately, that was true. He knew her too well. “I think you just made her up.”

  “Maybe I did. But was my imagination good enough for you to notice if the Martian pursuing me was a man or a woman?”

  No way she could remember how precisely he’d described who was after him. It didn’t matter. He knew that she would have checked his story out by now, and that Miriam would have done something about it. As far as he was concerned, no explanation for why Dunya was walking around healthy and alive was a good one.