text: [Themes: sci-fi, fantasy]
  
  Dumont looks down at the table, frowning. He sighs heavily, pulls a yellow handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket, and wipes sweat from his brow. He then replaces the handkerchief and eyes you warily.
  
  "I didn't think it would come to that," he slowly says. "The men who hired Harlan said it was going to be a bloodless heist. They only wanted one item, and when they had that item, they would simply return to The Elizabeth Proctor and leave Lozano's Island."
  
  A cold chill prickles your skin. You take a deep, long breath and close your eyes.
  
  "I'm terribly sorry your parents were caught up in this," Dumont continues.
  
  You open your eyes and stare at your lap.
  
  "You weren't there when it happened, where you?" he asks.
  
  "Yes...Yes, I was..."
  
  Dumont gasps.
  
  "What were they looking for?" you ask.
  
  "A collection of documents. Specifically, a piece of film appended to one of the documents."
  
  "Film? Like microfiche?"
  
  "It would appear to be microfiche to the untrained eye. But, no, it was a recorded image. A three-dimensional image. Not a regular photograph. There was an interference pattern stored in the film. You'd have to run a compressed beam of light through the film for the image to come out. It would be a solid reproduction of the sculpture. A depth projection of the an alien artifact."
  
  "Alien artifact?"
  
  "Yes. Apparently, your father and some of his subordinates from the mining company were exploring Vulcan's Forge, the volcano near the mine--"
  
  "I'm familiar with it. I've been there, even."
  
  "Yes, well, they found a crystal head inside the crater. The creature represented looked like no species familiar to the solar system. Harlan showed me a regular photograph of it. What was important about it, though, was what could be seen on the inside."
  
  You shakily raise your teacup to your lips, take a sip of warm tea, and place the cup back on its saucer. "What...what is inside the sculpted head?"
  
  Dumont purses his lips. "My I ask," he says slowly, "how you survived?"
  
  "No, that's not your concern, sir. What was inside the crystal head?"
  
  "I'm sorry I pried. I was just shocked you were there. As to the head, inside is a series of passageways. It's like a maze. The passageways are several colors. It's sort of a labyrinth and the colors seem to be a code. The head's not complete, though. There was another section."
  
  "Oh?"
  
  "Harlan said they'd uncovered it on Mercury. Apparently, that was brought here, but it was stuck in customs. Another space jockey had brought that in but the officials deemed it potentially dangerous and decided to hold onto it until scientists could examine it."
  
  "You know about the attack on the Port Authority today?"
  
  Dumont's eyebrows arch up. "You mean the accident? I heard it was some drunk Russian pilot."
  
  "I think that's what they wanted people to think. But Esmeralda and me were at the Port Authority Building when the whole thing happened. We barely escaped. No, this was no accident."
  
  Dumont takes a sip of his tea, then blankly holds the cup in front of him, his eyes lost in thought. "You know, I'd figured Harlan was dead. I've been talking to another ship captain who's computer has come down with the flu. He needs to make a sun-ward flight to pick up some cargo from Mercury." He sighs. "I think since they found the other component on that planet, perhaps I could convince the captain to let you and your robot tag along."
  
  "Why? There's one man who survived the attack on the Elizabeth Proctor. Some middle-aged red-head name Jay. I need to find him."
  
  "Sandra, I need to let you know that this goes beyond any one man. This is something bigger. I feel remorse for what's happened, even though I was not directly involved. I'd like to make up in some way...maybe help you find the true people behind this."
  
  "So you don't know who all is responsible for my parent's deaths?"
  
  "I'm afraid Harlan only knew so much. This is a much bigger conspiracy than you realize. I would like to help you get to the bottom of this. I of course realize this means you will be continuing to risk your life, but apparently that's what you've been doing all this time, anyway."
  
  "Mistress, Sandra," says Esmeralda. "Perhaps we should see if we can talk to the Russians."
  
  You look to her. "You mean they didn't get themselves killed when they crashed their ship into the Port Authority Building?"
  
  "No. I overheard some space-men talking in the streets as we were headed to Sunrise Towers. It seems the Russians were apprehended by Port security and are being transported to Weinbaum Island to be given over to the custody of the Marshall. On the northern end of Straus's Island there are fishing boats that go out to sea to ply their trade. I'm sure with what's left of the money Andrea gave you, we could convince one of the fishers to give us a ride to Weinbaum Island."
  
  You consider your options. "Maybe those Russians could tell us something useful."
  
  Dumont sets down his tea-cup and looks at you seriously. "I really don't think those men would be very forthcoming about who they are working for. I doubt they were taking orders from the Soviet government; there'd be too great a risk of this turning into an international incident. But I do know a lot of people on Mercury and I could help you find better leads. I'm a professional computer, you know; I've got very analytical mind."
  
  Esmeralda pats your shoulder. "I shall leave this decision entirely up to you, my dear child."
  
  You chuckle dryly. "Esmeralda, you're not my keeper...well, possibly. But the decision's always mine."
  
  > head to Weinbaum Island to Interview the Russians
  "I'm sorry, Dumont, but feel like I should really follow up this lead with the Russians," you say.
  
  Dumont looks crestfallen, but soon puts on a smile. "I understand, Sandra. Before you leave, though, let me make you lunch. I'll also pack some food for your trip."
  
  You thank him for his generosity and happily accept his invitation. Since the journey will be a long one, he invites you and Esmeralda to spend the night and you sleep on a cot in Harlan Zamora's room. The next morning, you and Esmeralda say goodbye to Dumont and head out of Coventown. It's not as much of a hike getting to the northern shore as it was to the port city as the there are much smaller hills on the other side of the island. When you and your robot arrive at the beach, you find that it's rimming a large lagoon with piers and many docked sea-faring ships of wood and aluminum.
  
  You and Esmeralda ask about until you find, Leon, an old Jamaican fisherman who tells you that Weinbaum Island isn't too far off from the course he was planning on that day, and you quickly agree on a price to sail with him to the marshal's island. The old man regales you with stories about his youth in the Caribbean and about how he eventually volunteered to be a sailor in the British Imperial Space Navy to help fight in the Martian Wars. It's near the close of the day that his small ship enters Weinbaum Bay. You and Esmeralda thank Leon for the trip and the wonderful stories and head up the wooden boardwalk to the marshal's office.
  
  It's a modest two-storied building of concrete with a gabled roof of corrugated iron and bared windows. To its immediate left is a green field with two round concrete helipads-- one with a sleek black auto gyro and the other empty. Inside is a front office with light pink walls, a slowly-spinning ceiling fan, and a three old metal desks. The desk at the far end of the room is the only one occupied and the man behind it is a tall gray-haired Creole with a bushy mustache and green eyes in a long, light-brown face. He's reading an old leather-bound book and has his khaki-trousered legs propped up on the radio unit on his desk.
  
  He soon notices you and Esmeralda out of the corner of his eye and sits up and asks: "Hello, what can I do for you?"
  
  "Uh, yes," you say. "My robot and I are friends of the two Russian pilots you brought in from Straus's Island. We were wondering if we might be able to speak to them. Are you the marshal?"
  
  The man places his book on the desk and smiles, standing up to greet you. "Why, yes, young lady. I am." He extends his hand to you and you shake it. "I'm Cecil Beche. As to the Russians, they are in quite a lot of trouble right now. May I ask how it is that you know them?"
  
  Suddenly, you feel like a complete idiot for spending the entire trip here listening to Leon's stories instead of thinking up one of your own for when you and Esmeralda would get to the marshal's office. You stand there, looking foolish for close to a minute, until Esmeralda saves the day yet again.
  
  "My mistress, Sandra, is a bit fatigued from the journey and needs to lie down," she says. "Is there a place she can briefly rest while I explain everything to you, Marshal Beche?"
  
  Marshal Beche smiles and nods. "Why, of course. I'm afraid the only place you can rest would be on one of the beds in the a jail cell, Sandra. But don't worry; I won't lock you in."
  
  You chuckle. "I didn't think you would, sir."
  
  > The Revelation
  Marshal Beche leads you up a flight of stairs to the prisoners' floor. There are two rows of cells on either side of a wide corridor. Like the first floor, the walls are all light pink. You follow Beche past mostly-empty cells, but you occasionally find one occupied by a man or two. Near the end of the hall, you notice the two Russian space jockeys. They sit on their beds looking up at the barred window on the back wall of their cell. You hope for the marshal to put you in the cell adjacent to them, but he instead opts on one at the very end of the hall, which is two cells over from the Russians. He opens the grilled door and you step inside, smile at him, sit on your bed, then lay down.
  
  "I'll be back shortly," he says.
  
  "No hurry," you reply, and then close your eyes.
  
  You don't know how long you've been asleep, but you wake to a metallic clicking sound and groggily sit up. Snatches of dream still flit about your head and you recall moving through a field of tall yellow grass under a sky with two bright suns. Always, off in the distance, the sound of your mother's guitar playing Cannon in D Major...
  
  "Sandra," says Marshall Beche, "I'm glad you're awake." He stands outside the bars of your cell and makes no sign that he's about to enter the cell or open the door.
  
  You rub the side of your head and wince. "How long have I been asleep? Seems like hours."
  
  Marshal Beche sighs. "Trust me, it hasn't been very long. Your robot told me everything. About how the men came to Lozano's Island and killed your parents (my sympathies to you), about how you attacked their rocket ship, about how you failed to even attempt to report any of this to the authorities, but instead set out to try to hunt down and kill the one man your robot failed to kill."
  
  Your groggy mind suddenly focuses to a razor blade sharpness. Your skin goes clammy and your chest clenches like it's being squeezed by some malicious god. In that tightened chest is a heart pounding like a kick drum.
  
  "You expected to talk to the Russians in the hope that they would help clarify what's been going on," he continues. "Well, I'm afraid that's not going to happen." He grips one of the bars with his hand. "Sandra, you might have been able to pull something like this off thirty years ago, but Venus isn't the wild frontier world it was back then. It's become too civilized now. Men have imposed their society onto this planet, and now it's dictated by the laws of men. You're a minor with two deceased parents and no other relatives on this world. You've taken it upon yourself to become some kind of vengeance-crazed vigilante and now you're responsible for several deaths."
  
  From where you sit on your bed, you feel as if your inner self is imploding and receding further and further away from the outside world. And yet you still stare through your eyes. At this cell. At this man.
  
  A slow sigh rasps through your clenched teeth.
  
  "Why did Esmeralda give you all the details?" you ask.
  
  "She's been worried about you. As much as a machine can worry about a human. She mentioned that there have been several instances where you were almost killed." He lets his hand slide off the bar. "I don't doubt her assurances that we'll be able to find the rocket ship wreckage on Lozano. Or the remains of the men she was forced to kill to defend you."
  
  "What...what's going to happen to me?"
  
  He looks down at his shoes, twists his mouth up in a grimace, then looks back at you. "That's not for me to decide. Given the circumstances, though, I'm going to leave you here in this cell for now. My deputy will be back soon, and I'll have him try to contact the authorities on Earth. We'll see about getting hold of your next of kin. If it's any consolation, you are a minor. Also, what you experienced must have been extremely traumatic, so there's a good chance this can be seen as a case of temporary insanity. What matters now is that this is all over. You will probably be able to join your family on Earth in a while."
  
  You stand and walk to the bars where he regards you. "And until then?"
  
  "Until then, Sandra, I'm going to leave you in this cell so you can calm down and collect your thoughts."
  
  You grip the bars with your hands. "What about Esmeralda? Can I see her?"
  
  "She told me she'll come to visit you in a day. She wants you to have some time to cool off. Now, if you'll excuse me, young lady, I want to check to see if my deputy has returned."
  
  He steps away from the door and walks down the hall and disappears from sight.
  
  You don't know if you should hate Esmeralda or not. You're certainly angry with her, though. Somewhere in the back of your mind, though, you keep thinking you will have no choice in the end but to forgive her.
  
  The End