Rhona gazed at the blood between her chest and knees as she traced her finger through the surface of the crimson liquid.

  “I never do this, but… I think an apology is warranted.” she said.

  “I beg your pardon, General?” Maedoc said as he stared through the corner of his eye at the edge of the bathtub, avoiding glancing at Rhona’s unclothed form.

  “I want to tell you that I’m sorry. For thinking that you were unimportant.” Her tone was almost somber, lacking the glee it had minutes earlier.

  Maedoc simply nodded, for saying the wrong thing could have flicked Rhona’s switch on again.

  “I didn’t think I needed an adjutant, you see. After my uncle Gunnar passed and I took up his mantle, I thought I was too good to have help. Even as the work piled up and things were slipping more and more from my grasp, I didn't see the use. Lieutenant General Solomon went well out of his way to help me and… I couldn’t see it. When I did eventually decide to appoint you to ease the Martial Council’s concerns, I still didn’t think I needed one.”

  “If I’m hearing this correctly, I was appointed to fill a quota?” Maedoc said, trying his best to not sound disappointed.

  “Essentially. You did an excellent job in Terra, but after what my brother did to your squad, you had to go somewhere. I thought I was the one helping you, the one doing you a favour. But after this war erupted, I truly, genuinely, understood that it was I who was being helped. So… thank you, Maedoc. Can I call you that? Only in personal circumstances, of course.”

  “You may, General Karesti.” Maedoc said after a brief silence. A smile was itching to erupt, but for the sake of the deaths he had just witnessed, he kept his lips in a straight line. He hadn’t forgotten about them, and it was clear that Rhona was trying to make him push their memories aside.

  “Thank you. And I’m just Rhona to you when no one else is around,” she said as she cupped her hands together, collecting blood in them before raising them above the surface of the liquid. “Please, drink. This is a token of my appreciation.”

  The young lieutenant colonel’s eyes squinted as he lifted them just enough to see the General’s hands.

  “I’m… not sure what this is.” he said as respectfully as he could.

  “You don’t know. That’s fine. Karesti tradition dictates that when the first blood is drawn in battle, or when an important enemy figure is executed, the head of the family takes a chalice and fills it with the blood of the dead. The chalice is offered to someone close to them to drink from. It’s an act that comes from the bottom of the heart. I know this is no chalice, but…”

  “Am I someone close to you?” Maedoc’s eyes were filled with wonder as they drifted upwards to Rhona’s face, upon which a honey-like smile was plastered, and whose remaining eye reminded him of an elder sister’s, or an aunt’s.

  “I couldn’t be where I am without you, Maedoc. I haven’t even given Fabian this honour, even though he’s my closest friend. I’m going to honour my heritage with you.”

  Maedoc glanced again at the pool of blood in Rhona’s hands, ripples formed by hardly unnoticeable tremors.

  “I accept, Rhona.” he said in a tone that hid his sadness for the deaths of Brin and Moller, now purposeless as he crossed the boundary between soldier and friend.

  --

  The atmosphere at Henrik Karesti Martian Spaceport was different right from the first step into the terminal. It was less cold, both physically and figuratively. The air was warmer, and by observing the interactions between people around her, Ninon could feel that the colony was a friendlier place than the Titanian homeland.

  “Al—Major Marcoh, this place feels comfortable,” she spoke to her disguised servant as they waited in line for security clearance. “It feels so natural. I… can’t quite describe it.”

  “This was where your mother was born, after all. There's bound to be a connection. But I’m glad you’re already starting to feel that way, this won’t be so hard.”

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  Alda stepped up first to the counter, presenting her travel documents to the officer at the desk.

  “Ah, thank you for you service, Major Marcoh!” the security officer spoke gleefully, his native Martian accent apparent as he glanced at the woman’s uniform. “I presume you’re here to join the effort on the Martian front? Or are you transiting to Terra from here?”

  “Thank you,” Alda spoke, the previous disposition she displayed as a soldier showing effortlessly. “Yes, Lance Corporal Elric and I are here to serve in the war effort. Though in support roles, not on the front line.”

  “Well, I can look at both your documents if you’re travelling together. Step up, Lance Corporal.”

  Alda’s years of tutelage went into practice as Ninon placed her forged travel documents on the counter. She kept a perfect smile while praying that its minute discrepancies from official-issue papers would not be seen by the officer’s trained eyes.

  “My apologies, Major and Lance Corporal,” the security officer lifted his head. “This is all just part of protocol. I know you’ll help cut down a terrorist or two. Through the gates behind me, you may proceed.”

  Ninon’s Detection went off at the sign of possible lying from his mouth, but it seemed that the only emotions he emanated were that of a man dedicated to his job, believing the fa?ade she and Alda put up. Although she felt sorry for deceiving him, it was better than being under Rhona’s thumb.

  Now officially in the terminal for Interplanetary Travel, Ninon was mesmerized as she witnessed travelers coming and going through gates. Families from Titan walked in droves, a given since Mars was the premier vacation destination for Titanians. Soldiers wearing the same uniform as her moved hurriedly, eager to be deployed. She exchanged greetings with them, but the fear that her true identity may have been found out still lingered deep within. She had to trust with every fiber of her being that Alda would guide and protect her, despite now being a fugitive.

  She watched as her caretaker stepped up to a kiosk, where containers filled a display shelf. The server behind the counter took out two according to Alda’s instruction.

  “We’ve got a 20% discount for servicemen and women. The least we can do for the people putting their lives on the line for our Empire.” The woman spoke, conviction brimming in her friendly voice.

  Not our Empire, Ninon thought, the words producing irk in the girl. Aunt Rhona’s Empire.

  Alda paid the discounted price via the system on her hijacked communicator which she had on her wrist, as all grown Titanians did, and the server passed a skillfully-packed bag to the woman.

  The two false soldiers found a dining area nearby. The bag was unpacked, and in it were two containers and two pouches, accommodating food and drink respectively.

  The 36-hour transit had famished Ninon, and she was ready to eat. But, as Alda had trained her, she had to inspect the contents of the meal.

  Within the containers were three dishes, consisting of a main dish, a side dish and a dessert. The main dish was a protein-packed lentil stew, known locally as spiced Tharsis. It included hydroponically grown tomatoes, Martian beef and peppers, and Terran-harvested spices. A simple, yet filling grain cake was the side dish, made from a blend of quinoa, amaranth and microgreen flour. The sweet last course was an energy bar made from dates and almond extracted from south Yeupis, coated in a layer of chocolate. The pouches contained a crimson berry tea made from a blend of Titanian florberry and Terran hibiscus extracts, a hydrating and delicious beverage at the cost of temporarily dyeing its drinkers mouth and lips red.

  Almost none of these items were commonly available in the Titanian homeland, which made Ninon think of what her people were missing out on. More importantly, she realized how heartily the people of Mars ate, unlike the inhabitants of Titan proper who ate more sparingly, fearing gluttony.

  “Eat well and slowly,” Alda told her as red tea dripped from the corners of Ninon’s mouth. “I don’t know when we’ll next get to fill ourselves properly again.”

  Once their stomachs were full, they traversed through several halls and walkways which led them to a vast parking structure. They made it to the top level, where the red Martian sky was in full view. The air was warm—hot, even. The planet was warmer than most of north Yeupis, but for a girl who had never once left Titan till that moment, it was a novel change.

  “Is that big white circle in the sky the sun, Alda?” Ninon wondered as she gazed at the distant giant, which was practically invisible from Titan.

  “Yes. Yes, it is. It’s been years since I last saw it, but that’s definitely it. Its grandeur and beauty are something else, isn’t it? Hard to believe that it was this same thing that Mother Pizna once gazed up at in awe.”

  Alda paced around the level for several minutes, trying to find the Craft with which she and Ninon would leave the premises of the spaceport. Before her stress showed, she found it at a corner where one edge of the structure met another.

  “That’s the Craft our contact left us with?” Ninon wondered, not disappointed but confused as to its mediocre appearance.

  “Well, we hired him to protect us during our stay, not to provide us with a pretty mode of transportation,” she said, opening the passenger side door of the two-person Craft for Ninon. “Please, get in. I’d like to show you around Eos before we have to meet him. I made sure to allot some time for that.”

  Ninon’s grin appeared once again, and she was awash with gratitude over the kind gesture. Alda and their mysterious contact had arranged their contract so that Ninon could experience life outside of the Royal Palace and see the environment the way an unsheltered commoner would see it.