“I needed to talk to you,” Harman said softly.

Ada nodded.

“I think it’s important that Odysseus be in the right place the next few weeks,” he said. “And I don’t think that Hannah’s mother’s cubbie is the right place.”

Feeling foolish, Ada folded her arms across her breasts. She imagined that she could feel the cold night air of the high mountains through the glass under her feet. “You don’t know what Odysseus wants to do or why,” she whispered.

“No, but if he’s really Odysseus, it may be very important. And Savi’s right . . . Ardis Hall is the perfect place for him to meet people.”

Ada felt anger coil in her. Who was this man to tell her what to do? “If you think it’s so important that he be hosted somewhere,” she said, “why don’t you invite him to your home as your guest?”

“I don’t have a home,” said Harman.

Ada blinked at this, trying to understand. She couldn’t. Everyone had a home.

“I’ve been traveling for many years,” said Harman. “I own only what I carry, except for the books I’ve collected, which I store in an empty cubby in Paris Crater.”

Ada opened her mouth to speak but could think of nothing to stay. Harman took a step closer, so close that Ada could smell the male and soap scent of him. He had also showered before coming to her room. Will we make love after this conversation? thought Ada, feeling her anger slip away as quickly as it came.

“I need to go to the Mediterranean Basin with Savi,” said Harman. “I’ve been hunting for a way to get to the e- and p-rings for more than sixty years, Ada. To be so close . . . well, I have to go.”

Ada felt the anger flare again. “But I want to go with you. I want to see this Basin . . . find a spaceship, go to the rings. It’s why I’ve helped you the last few weeks.”

“I know,” whispered Harman. He touched her arm. “And I want you to go with me. But this thing with Odysseus may be important.”

“I know, but . . .”

“And Hannah just doesn’t know that many people. Or have the space to host visitors.”

“I know, but . . .”

“And Ardis Hall would be perfect,” whispered Harman. He released his soft hold on Ada’s arm but still held her in the grip of his gaze. Ada was aware of the stars beyond the clear, curved ceiling above them.

“I know Ardis Hall would be perfect,” said Ada. She felt sad and torn between imperatives and people. “But we don’t even know what this Odysseus wants . . . or who he really is.”

“True,” whispered Harman. “But the best way to find out would be for you to host him while I hunt for a spaceship in the Mediterranean Basin. I promise you that if I find one that can get us to the rings, I’ll come get you before I go there.”

Ada hesitated before speaking again. Her face was raised slightly toward Harman’s, and she had the feeling that if they did not speak, he would kiss her.

Suddenly lightning flashed and thunder from the receding storm shook the green-glass structure. “All right,” Ada whispered. “I’ll host Odysseus and have Hannah as my helper at Ardis Hall for three weeks. But only if you promise to take me to the rings if you find a way to get there.”

“I promise,” said Harman. He did kiss her then, but only on the cheek, and only the way her father might have, Ada thought, if she had ever known her father.

Harman turned as if leaving, but before Ada could command the door to iris open, he turned back toward her. “What do you think of Odysseus?” he asked.

“What do you mean? You mean, do I think he’s really Odysseus?” Ada was confused by the question.

“No. I mean what do you think of him? Are you interested in the man?”

“Interested in his story, you mean?” said Ada. “He’s intriguing. But I’ll have to hear what he says before I decide whether he’s telling the truth about things.”

“No, I . . .” Harman stopped and rubbed his chin. He seemed embarrassed. “I mean, do you find him interesting ? Are you attracted to him?”

Ada had to laugh. Somewhere to the east, the receding thunder echoed the sound. “You idiot,” she said at last and, waiting no longer, walked to Harman, put her arms around him, and kissed him on the lips.

Harman responded passively for a few seconds and then embraced her and kissed her back. Through the thin silk that separated them, Ada could feel his excitement rise. Moonlight flowed over the skin of their faces and arms like spilled white milk. Suddenly a powerful gust of wind struck the bridge and the bubble of the sleeping cubbie swayed underfoot.

Harman lifted Ada and carried her to the bed.

20

The Tethys Sea on Mars

“I think it’s Falstaff that made me fall out of love with the Bard.”

“What’s that?” said Mahnmut over the hardline. He was preoccupied, driving the dying submersible toward the still-out-of-sight coastline at a weakening eight knots, trying to keep the ship-functions on line, watching the skies for enemy chariots through the periscope buoy, and generally brooding about the improbability of their continued survival. Orphu had been silent down there in The Dark Lady’ s hold for more than two hours. Now this. “What was that about Falstaff?” said Mahnmut.

“I was just saying that it was Falstaff that drove me away from Shakespeare and toward Proust,” said Orphu.

“I would have thought that you’d love Falstaff,” said Mahnmut. “He’s so funny.”

“I did love Falstaff,” said Orphu. “Hell, I identified with Falstaff. I wanted to be Falstaff. For a while, I thought I looked like Falstaff.”

Mahnmut tried to imagine this. He couldn’t. He returned his attention to ship’s functions and perusing the periscope. “What made you change your mind?” he asked.

“Do you remember the scene in Henry IV, Part 1 where Falstaff finds the body of Henry Percy—Hotspur—on the battlefield?”

“Yes,” said Mahnmut. The periscope and radar showed the skies clear of chariots. He had been forced to shut down the failing reactor during the night and battery reserves were down to 4 percent, giving them only six knots now, and the power was still dropping. Mahnmut knew that he’d have to take The Dark Lady up to the surface again soon: every time they surfaced he brought in Martian air for his own survival, storing it in his enviro-crèche and breathing it until it got foul, funneling all the ship-produced air down to Orphu. The submersible had never been designed to open itself to Europan “atmosphere,” and he’d had to override a dozen safety protocols to let the Martian air in.

“Falstaff stabs Hotspur’s corpse in the thigh just to make sure he’s dead,” said Orphu. “Then carries Hotspur’s body on his back, trying to take credit for killing him.”

“Right,” said Mahnmut. The MPS said that they were within thirty kilometers of the coast, but there was no sign of it in the periscope, and he didn’t want to direct the radar toward land. He prepared to blow the ballast tanks and surface again, but had the dive planes ready for an emergency dive if anything showed on the radar. “The better part of valor is discretion, in which better part I have saved my life,” he quoted. “All the Shakespearean commentary I read—Bloom, Goddard, Bradley, Morgann, Hazlitt, and even Emerson—says that Falstaff may be one of the greatest characters Shakespeare ever created.”

“Yes,” said Orphu and stayed silent a minute while the submersible shook and rumbled to the ballast tanks being blown. When the ship was silent again except for the ocean rushing over the hull, he said, “But I find Falstaff despicable.”

“Despicable?” The sub broke the surface. It was just after dawn and the sun—so much larger than the point-star sun Mahnmut had grown up with on Europa—was just breaking free of the horizon. He opened the vents and breathed in fresh salt air.