Part III: Back to Mars
It was plain that he was going. His roommates watched as he packed his things and stuffed them into his suitcases and duffle bags. He had wrapped up his blankets and a pillow, just in case the dorm bedding on Mars was not warm enough. He did not know what would be there or if he would be comfortable on that planet. All he knew was that he was given an opportunity of a lifetime and to pass it up would be the stupidest thing he had ever done. Todd was ready.
They said good bye briefly; but it was Jonathan, his old time friend from his hometown, that saw him off and helped him carry his bags to the airport shuttle come to pick him up. They parted with a hug and a manly pat. Jonathan drew in a breath watching him as he climbed in the van.
“Write us, alright?” Jon said, leaning down and peering at him.
Todd nodded and gripped his friend’s hand one last time before closing the door. The van took off into the street. Todd McLenna was at last returning to Mars.
He had never been there himself, though. Todd was born and raised in the United States and had lived there his entire life. He was what people called a whelp, and he felt it excruciatingly—that is, he was a second-generation Martian immigrant. He had known nothing about his ancestry until the invasion of the People’s Military of Mars and that revelation came to him as an insulting shock. Not that it wasn’t obvious he was related to them; he was red haired, fair skinned and freckled—the typical Martian physique. It was an insult to discover it was so because of the brutality the invasion force inflicted upon the people. And to be paired with them, regarded with respect by them because he was a Lenna, was like being told he was the heir of Hitler, and rightly so.
To be a Lenna was the curse. Newly tattooed with the Lenna family crest, Todd learned in that short time that these P.M. villains honored him as a hero—or rather his ancestor was honored as a hero. He didn’t understand the reason at first except that the invading soldiers gave him extra privileges while his classmates remained under guard. Of course this only gave Todd the opportunity to fight back where others couldn’t. Naturally the People’s Military took that as an act of treason, and they had been were dismayed with Todd, chastising him for his behavior, which was very unbecoming for a Lenna. They locked him up after that. But then Todd learned that this supposed hero he was descended from was a murderer who had killed the ancestors of his friend, Zormna Clendar—the present queen of Mars. He had found this out after the Surface Patrol of Mars removed the People’s Military from campus grounds. The soldiers harassed him at once about it when they found out he was a Lenna descendant, and this continued until Anzer Dzhon came to the university bringing him the royal pardon that Todd now carried in his wallet to protect himself.
In the beginning he had to extract this pardon daily to prove he was not an enemy of the Martian leaders—but lately it had become an item of jealousy. It was proof he personally knew Queen Zormna Clendar Tarrn and Jafarr Zeldar, the Martian president, and many did not take to that well. What right did a High Class Martian, let alone a descendant of Lenna, have being a personal friend of the Martian queen? Many people asked it to his face, and he replied as calmly as he could that Zormna had lived with his family once. Also he and the president went to high school together, and they hung out. His two friends never mentioned his family or his Lenna connection when they were together, and therefore he believed that it didn’t matter to them who his ancestor was. That was how Todd saw it anyway. He was the only person of High Class blood—if his brothers and sisters were excluded—that was allowed to return to Mars. All the others had been banished, and that was the key to all the jealousy. He could go back.
Todd’s thoughts wandered to when he first met Zormna, how lost she looked, how sad. He had not suspected she was a Martian then, but then who did? Except for nutty Darren Asher who believed in all that alien garbage and had followed Zormna’s great aunt everywhere before her scandalous death, no one placed Zormna or his friend Jeff Streigle (Jafarr) as aliens. Zormna had been taken as an Irish immigrant, and Jeff—everyone thought he was from Chicago.
But now things were different. The mood of the world was different since the invasion and the removal. People hated Martians. They called them whities to their faces, and sometimes Morlocks behind their backs. Their innocent, yet still genetically related second-generation offspring who knew nothing about what they were until after the invasion were whelps. Todd had gotten so tired of being called a whelp, but there was nothing he could do to fight back. Unlike the racial discrimination against blacks and Jews, people felt fully justified in harassing the Martian blood people. They were white—so skin color was not an issue. They were fair-haired—Arian even—that some called them Hitler’s offspring. No one felt guilt for discriminating against them, even when the P.M. invasion was not second-generation Martians’ fault. Hate towards them had become standard and acceptable.
But Todd was not fleeing Earth to escape discrimination. He wasn’t fleeing at all. He would have stayed to bear it out if that was where the opportunities for a good future led him; but he had been extended an invitation to study at the Martian university—known as the National University of Arras—and he had to take it while it still was available. The thing was, he feared more harassment on Mars.
It was his Lenna status again. He knew that going to Mars would be complicated. He learned that when encountering the Surface Patrol. They all looked upon him as the vilest of sinners, the most evil of all human beings—much worse than merely being a whelp. At least those on Earth did not blame him for all the evil of life; they gave him allowances for being merely an innocent bi-product of a greater evil. But on Mars they would see him as the dangerous heir that destroyed their peace and put them in ten thousand years of enslavement.
Todd sighed and pulled out his wallet, fingering the new identification card that his friends sent to him. His old high school photo was set in it—him grinning stupidly as a blind young teenager did, unaware of the real world before him. This was his pass to the future. How would it be?
Noticing his pardon in his wallet, still folded up and cracking at the edges now, he pulled it out. Unfolding it, he read the words written there. It declared Todd McLenna, son of Catherine and David McLenna free to return to Arras and free of all punishment binding the rest of the High Class. Further it declared him a friend of high importance to the queen and president, and said that if any harm came to him it would be considered high treason, and the perpetrator would be prosecuted by the governing heads, imprisoned, and beaten. If Todd were killed, the perpetrator would get an instant death penalty. It was harsh, yet it was obvious his friends were sincere in their wishes for his safety.
He folded it back up and put it away with his card in his wallet.
The ride to the airport was slow. They picked up four more people along the way—including a plump woman carrying her pet fox terrier in a traveling basket. Each one of them gave Todd the eye as they entered the airport shuttle, and they sat down in their places, watching him warily and keeping their distance. Of course this gave Todd more legroom so he didn’t mind it much. When they arrived at the airport and hauled out their bags, Todd climbed out last. The others left immediately without a word, and that was fine by him. They were poor company in the van, grinding their teeth and no doubt wondering what a whelp was doing all packed up as if to go somewhere. Traveling had also become complicated. People seemed to think that any traveling Martian was a spy, and whelps were no exception.
It was said one could always tell a whelp from a real Martian. Whelps were taller than the average Martian, and they had a pinker tinge to their skin—like being in the sun did them good. Most Martians did not get any taller than six feet—though there were a few scraping the ceiling of that statistic in the later years. The girls tended to get as short as four feet—if they weren’t midgets. But no one had seen a dwarf Martian…either that or they couldn’t tell them apart. In this case, Todd was an obvious whelp, taller than six feet and more pink than white.
The shuttle left Todd on the curb once he unloaded his bags. Everyone went about their business and only gave him a passing glance as he stood there, assessing his next move. Alone at the airport, he looked around for a trolley to carry his bags and pulled up the handle on his large bag so he could wheel it over. He stacked his other bags on top of it maneuvering the huge suitcase where there was a pay trolley dispenser. Dropping in the quarters and pressing the button, the rack released a cart and he pulled it forward, piling his bags on it at once. The fit was somewhat cumbersome—but he did not bring much. After accomplishing that feat, Todd looked around again—this time for a destination.
The airport had only newly installed travel accommodations to Mars that last month. They had few flights and the security was high from one end to the other. Those that ran it ranged from locally hired airline attendants to Martian Surface Patrol officers. These stood out in the crowd so Todd not only looked for the sign directing him, but also for their obvious foreign uniforms. At the far end of the hall stood two of these figures in black and green uniforms near a thing that looked like a luggage x-ray machine. Todd guessed that the machine was more than that—or rather that they did not use x-rays to scan the machine for things, let alone metal detectors. Martians tended to search for more malignant threats… like cigarettes and cough syrup.
Turning his luggage trolley that way, Todd proceeded through the hall towards the Mars travel booth. The oppressing feeling that all eyes were watching him as he progressed through the hall was enough that Todd glanced back once or twice to see if he was being followed. It was a strange feeling, especially for someone who had never been paranoid before, and he found it discomforting by the time he reached the roped off area that was quiet sparse of travelers.
Todd gazed across the ropes at those who would be joining him in this flight and saw what he guessed he would see—the young and adventurous, along with a few hardened media men with cameras and recording equipment. He stopped his cart and hefted up his bags onto the conveyor belt before the ropes that led to the security machine. Both of the guards there stared at him as he piled them on.
One approached him.
“Your ticket and passport please,” he said, eying Todd carefully.
Todd pulled out his wallet, taking a breath and bracing for the inevitable. He drew out his passport from his pocket and handed it to them first, along with his ticket. But he also took out the identity card Zormna and Jafarr had sent to him, along with the pardon. He feared a fight—or at least some severe harassment, watching the Surface Patrol officer’s face as he eyed his papers. The man looked up at Todd once he read the name McLenna. His eyes narrowed at once.
“I think you also need to see this,” Todd said, handing him the card.
The soldier took it with a brisk jerk, now glaring narrowly. But when he looked at the card, he drew in a breath and called to the other man, beckoning for a vis-pad—a machine the Martians used that was like a small computer screen with a writable surface and a limited memory. Todd had only seen one other like it, and it had been used by the People’s Military when they were organizing around the university during the take-over.
Turning back to him, the soldier said with a thick accent, “How did ya get this?”
“It checks out, doesn’t it?” Todd asked, looking over also at the other Surface Patrol officer. Both were blondes and looked nearly identical. Todd would have taken them to be Norwegians had they been taller.
Narrowing his eyes in spite, the first soldier snapped, “If you stole this, we can lock you up for…”
“Then perhaps you should read this too,” Todd answered, cutting him off and handing him the pardon.
The man snatched the old and folded paper from him. Unfolding it, he pored over the paper as if looking for flaws. When he was done reading, the man was absolutely flushed red, opening and shutting his mouth as if he was thinking of some objection to say but knew he could not make it even if he wanted to. The other Surface Patrol officer was much calmer. He eyed the paper and the card and then folded up the paper again, handing it back to Todd. He also returned the card, his tickets and passport.
With a nod he said, “Go through.”
The first officer spun around as if to argue with his partner, but the other shrugged and said something in Arrassian that Todd couldn’t make out. He had not studied enough to understand it except to get the gist—which was, that Todd was allowed to go to Mars, and they shouldn’t argue with Queen Zormna’s commands. Of course the first soldier was ready to hiss back his disdainful remarks that Todd was a Lenna… but Todd did not stay around longer to hear the rest. He waited for his bags, watched them get checked. He caught the inquisitive facial expression of the second soldier as he marked the bags safe and handed them back to Todd.
The soldier called out to him. “Do you realize the risk you are taking going to Arras?”
Todd swallowed and nodded his head slowly. “I realize I’ll be having problems…”
The soldier smiled. It was not a happy smile, but one that said he could see Todd understood his situation. He said, “A word of advice. Stick to the domes, trust only the queen’s closest friends, and focus on your studies. A Lenna has no business returning to Arras. I will make that plain.”
Todd met his eyes and could tell this man meant it. Most did.
“But if you are determined to continue on to Arras, and since it is obvious you are the queen’s friend, I share this freely with you.” The soldier took his seat and proceeded back to his work. The other still glared at him.
About to continue on, Todd turned, not sure he should say ‘thanks’ to that advice.
“I wouldn’t let anyone know you are a Lenna if I were you,” the other said.
Todd looked back.
“I also wouldn’t talk about your friendship with the queen either,” the man continued.
Glancing at the other soldier, Todd saw that man also nod.
“Many people are mighty jealous that undercity boy is guarding her, standing too close to the queen. You had best not let them know a Lenna is her friend. They’ll think history is starting all over again,” the man said.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Todd replied, picking up his bags.
“You do that,” the Surface Patrol officer snapped.
Todd glanced back several times, heading to the ticket counter before turning completely to face the line ahead of him. Second thoughts, or rather his fifteenth thought against going to Mars, passed through his mind; and looking up at the sign above him he wondered if this was a mistake.

“Next,” a nice feminine voice said.
Todd picked up his bags and placed them on the scale where the woman waited. He handed her his tickets, passport and the identity card he had, stuffing his pardon back into his wallet and his wallet back into his pocket. The woman took them and handled the card with curiosity, eying Todd for a second.
“Returning home?” she asked as she inserted the card into a machine next to her regular IBM compatible computer. Todd would have answered, but the woman let out a gasp and replied for him. “No. You’re a first timer. Special guest.”
She was watching him now with an awe he thought should be reserved for more important people, like senators and Gandhi. It seemed that she thought he was one, and she handed back his card and passport with a care not too different from that Surface Patrol officer that checked his bags.
The attendant helping her marked his bags with their usual travel coded tags and hefted them onto the conveyor belt. He urged him to put all his bags on.
“They have no carryon space for luggage as you will see when you get on ship,” the baggage handler said reaching out for Todd’s small travel bag.
Todd reluctantly handed it over. “I was hoping to read during the flight.”
The man laughed and shook his head, hefting the last bag onto the belt. “No time. Unless you are planning to read a short story I suggest you don’t bother. Flights to Mars are pretty fast and uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable?” Todd asked, now taking the seating tag from the lady.
Nodding with a strange satisfaction, the man said, “Oh, yeah. You’re not flying a straight line though space to get to Mars. They do a thing called folding—which is like getting your guts shoved into a straw, frozen and cooked all at the same time—and you manage to come out alive. Everyone I know that has flown this way says so.”
“Then you’ve never flown to Mars yourself,” Todd replied, taking in a breath of relief deciding the man was merely repeating was hearsay.
Shaking his head, the man replied, “Are you kidding? After what I heard, why would I? Besides,” he was now hefting bags of another gentleman who was listening in. Todd stood near the side waiting with others that had yet to be directed to the launch area. “My work is here, and I’m not nuts enough to go to Mars like you guys.”
“Do you really think it’s crazy?” the man whose bags he was taking replied. This man was in a suit and looked like he was going on business to Mars rather than the exchange route.
The baggage handler nodded fervently. “Oh, yeah. Fundamentally psycho. I don’t envy any one of you. I hear those that go end up having to get shots—immunizations right away for a disease they have there but didn’t tell anyone about. And then, I hear the air is so stale you end up forming a cough from dry throat—and they don’t have humidifiers there. They say it is a waste of water.”
“It is a waste of water,” one of the Surface Patrol guards said, calling out from the scanning machine, listening in.
The baggage handler immediately clammed up and hauled over the last bag, turning to see if anyone else was coming.
Todd looked around himself. The group that he had seen go through the line now were getting directions from an attendant who was standing there. She was also a local that seemed to enjoy working interface between Mars and Earth—as long as she stayed on Earth. She smiled and pointed up at the new signs that had been posted in the airport. Overhead not far off a shining metal sign directed interplanetary flights toward a back corridor that was still slightly under construction. The scaffolding remained along it and there were workers laying tile and some putting in a moving floor for tired travelers with luggage. Those travelers asking the woman for directions moved at once, and Todd followed them.

Their path was not far, or long, or all that beautiful. Not yet anyway. They could see there was a plan for making it a patriotic hall, with American flags and pictures of the Statue of Liberty, but at present all they saw where pencil sketches against a poorly painted plaster wall. The hall also opened up to a newly set glass window that showed the airport terminals and the runways. Their hall curved all the way through the back of the airport and baggage areas, and it ended at an open foyer with glass doors and a covered parking area where a small tourist cart sat parked with one bored looking driver at the wheel.
The driver at up at once when he saw the people come down the ramp. Calling out to them, he waved over with his arm for them to board. “All here for the flight to Mars.”
Todd strode over at once, climbing into a far seat and setting himself down as if to resolve those voices arguing in his head that he should turn around and go back home, forgetting this trip. The others with him also climbed aboard, but they looked at him now as if they had just seen him and recognized him for what he was. Not one of them was Martian. Of the young travelers that would be students on exchange, there were two very tan individuals, possibly Hispanic though Todd could not tell, one Asian—possibly Korean with the way she dressed—and a black woman who fit all the stereotypes Todd had ever seen on TV—including cornrows in her hair with long dread locks and beads at the ends. She looked ready to break in to a rap song, and he slightly wondered if she would with the way she was eying him—probably gangster rap about killing whelps and Surface Patrol officers. The others in the group were typically Caucasian—which really didn’t mean a whole lot since those varied like any other group of people. There were the brawny thick types that looked like they played football and enjoyed weightlifting. Then there were the stringy geeks that had color in their skin only because of their race, but lacked the vitality that arose from venturing out into the sun once in a while; Todd looked healthier than they did, but still paler. And then there were the ones that were the obvious mixed breed of American that one could not rightly guess their origins except to say the melting pot was active in their ancestry. Todd had become so aware of these things since he had discovered he was of Martian blood, and at time he felt ashamed of it. Becoming so ethnically aware made him feel he was judging people just as harshly as they were judging him.
Once the small passenger cart was full, the driver took off into the airfield. They meandered around airplanes and crossed over paths where they saw planes being loaded with luggage—and it was frightening to see how some of the bags were handled. It sent a nervous shudder through most of them as they watched, passing by. Their driver took them across the airstrip and to the far end where a lone building stood. Next to it was a newly built raised platform. On top sat a Martian space shuttle.
The shuttle was not like the ones Todd had seen when the Surface Patrol arrived to remove the People’s Military invasion force. It was longer and friendlier looking. It actually had the American flag on it with the Martian symbol, which he supposed was a sign that this was a joint venture and not an entirely Mars controlled project. As they neared it, he saw how big it really was. It could hold about fifty people if necessary—that was three times as big as the basic shuttle he had seen during the invasion. The pilot was striding across the platform, and he was also dressed in the same green and black uniform the two guards at the ticket area wore. He was a short man, nearer five foot four than five five—and he wore heeled boots, which meant he was probably much shorter and felt conscious of it. The soldier looked up when they approached and called out to another man, this one dressed in a plain suit of brown. That man was freckled all over, thin and lanky. He was nearer six feet, and his hair was a strange mix between red and blonde. It wasn’t like Zormna’s golden blonde hair that sometimes looked strawberry blonde in dimmer light. It was like he played with a dye kit and spilled it in his hair. It was patchy—but Todd knew right away that it was also natural.
The freckled man called out to them in English, speaking with a proper British accent and clasping his hands behind his back as if he were a courteous host welcoming them to a party. “Please come this way and board the shuttle. We will be launching shortly.”
They all climbed off the cart and stood at the edge of the platform stairs. Todd could see American soldiers eying them, some holding their guns as if on guard, others standing and waiting more to keep an eye on the Martian pilots. Their eyes fell on Todd, and one soldier stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest.
“Your ticket…” the soldier requested immediately.
Sighing and rolling his eyes, Todd drew it out and handed it to him, also pulling out his passport and wallet again. The plain clothes Martian watched them, eying Todd’s face also as the soldier checked over Todd’s tickets. The soldier also took Todd’s passport and examined him.
“A whelp?” the man said with obvious surprise. “I thought certain whelps were banished forever from Mars.”
Taking back his passport, Todd replied, “I prefer to be called an Arrassian-American. I am one of the lucky few who can return.”
Snorting, the man nodded, handing back his tickets.
Todd proceeded on to the doors of the shuttle and attempted to board, but the pilot stopped him also, placing his hand on his chest. With a moan, Todd rolled his eyes and pulled out his papers again. He had already tucked them back into his pockets.
Speaking in Arrassian, the pilot said to him, “Ee na tan del’om nee oomal’om nee za ooeev’narr?  Del’om nee men’om yamee ee asorrak’ever? Shea za nee’s i’nat? Na tan za nee’s viiz’nel demn?”  
This, Todd understood clearly enough. Taking his passport, tickets, and card out again, he handed them to the pilot. Ignoring the passport, the pilot grabbed the card and eyed it, glancing only once at the tickets. He then called out to the freckled man and beckoned him over. “Barrz Effron! Preevl’kai tan!”
The man, Barrz, walked over and peered at Todd and turned to the pilot. “Shea?”
“Kahl del’el sor re’noolak tregg’or ekk em’es ormassa? Veed’kai sep sor demn! O’re za ray Lenna!”  the pilot exclaimed with vehemence that Todd did not like hearing.
Barrz peered over at the card and then at Todd. He shook his head and said, “En dand’or al’m. O’re men’or yamee. Por’kai sha demn.”
“Al ‘orn tul’en sha i’nat preyken. Knapp’kai or’em ta’dal!”  The pilot bellowed in a loud voice that stirred the air. The American soldiers stared over to see the cause of the commotion and peered more intensely at Todd.
Sighing, Todd opened his wallet and drew out his pardon again.
“No bribes,” Barrz said to him. “You will have to leave right now, Lenna.”
“My name is Todd,” he replied with a snap in his voice now. “And this isn’t a bribe. I want you to read this and then check out my card. It was sent by your queen herself.”
This did not settle well with the man. He snatched the paper like all the Martians did and examined it. Blinking as he read it, the man peered up at Todd again. At once he took Todd’s card from the pilot’s hand and entered the shuttle. Todd wondered if he would ever see it again, but the man reemerged with another vis-pad, sticking in his card and pulling up the information encoded on it. Barrz stared at the screen for several minutes before speaking. By that time, the driver with the cart returned with another load of passengers, and they were climbing up the platform to board the ship.
Barrz stared at Todd, jerking out the card and giving it back to him along with his pardon. He held both now like he was touching an ancient document he didn’t want to damage.
“Get in,” he said to Todd, licking the inside of his mouth as if he had just tasted something awful.
Todd quickly stepped into the ship, also taking his passport back from the pilot’s hands.
The pilot gaped at him, snapping at Barrz as he strode over to meet the other passengers. “Nee za asork’narr o’rem da?”
Calling back to the pilot, Barrz still made a face of distaste. “Em kai’op. Thal’a’s tachemnee. O’re men’or hom klesn.”  
The pilot stared after Todd, striding over and demanding his card again. “Dav’kai en trii al’m. Al’ hooch’or viid’en en’em al’s o’dah.”
With a moan, Todd handed the card over. The man grabbed it and jammed it into the vis-pad his partner abandoned. Todd could only see the soldier’s back, but from the man’s posture he could see his reaction to the information on the card. He seemed to curse—words Todd had not learned in his class at college—and he slammed down the pad as if it would correct the information on the card. Eventually the man jerked out the card and stuffed it back into Todd’s hands. Giving him a spiteful glare, the pilot stomped over to the front of the ship as if utterly insulted by Todd’s presence, and he refused to acknowledge his existence further.
Figuring that they were done harassing him, Todd turned around to find his seat. Looking around the cabin now, he saw the ship was not much different from the inside of an airline, excluding that there was no overhead luggage space and the middle aisle between seats was wider. They had reclining seats, magazines to read and emergency pamphlets as well. He wondered if there was a space suit under each seat since life preservers were obviously superfluous. Each row was labeled in the same way as in an airplane—row 5 seat A—and there were even windows on the side, but the windows did not have sliding covers. These were tinted and there was not much to see through them unless he peered intently. His seat was near the aisle, and he sat down, taking out the in-flight magazine at once to pass the time. It was in Arrassian and English, and again the joint venture symbol of the Martian ‘eye’ and the American flag merged was stamped in every corner. It seemed that American business already made it to Mars, and Todd almost laughed at the thought. But he contained himself as the people on the plane did not seem ready to hear him laugh—as if they were expecting a sinister cackle from him for some evil plot and any old laugh would do to confirm their suspicions.
The ship loaded up full in fifteen minutes. Both pilot and co-pilot began launch procedures. Barrz closed the door and briefed the passengers on safety procedures. He also seemed to be looking through Todd as if he was not there—or wished he wasn’t. Though Todd had decided it was preferable to being harassed, it was uncomfortable to be regarded so contemptuously.  Once again he wondered if going to Mars was not a really bad idea.
But they launched. Todd bucked his seat belt and the ship hovered in the air, shooting up just a few feet like a quick elevator. His stomach seemed to be left somewhere on the platform below, and it took a while to adjust to the feeling. When he almost did, the ship suddenly zipped forward. A moan in unison came from those in the cabin. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people grabbing the airsick bags provided at the backs of the seats. But even that was nothing to the sudden sensation they felt when they broke out of Earth’s atmosphere and entered into space just minutes after. The sudden weightlessness startled many, and they too were grabbing bags. But then the weightlessness came to a sudden end as the pilot flipped a switch. The eeriest sensation pulled on them toward the floor of the shuttle. Todd never felt so heavy, so achy. It was as if the very center of his bones were being pulled into the seat. This feeling lasted the rest of the entire trip.
“Brace yourself for folding,” Barrz called out to the cabin.
And brace he did. Todd grasped the arms of his chair and swallowed, hoping the sensation wasn’t as bad as the baggage carrier said it was.
What he and the rest of the passengers felt, Todd later described as chills—chills that prickled like when his leg fell asleep and confused his nerves. He was not sure if he was cold or hot at first. But when he saw his breath in the cabin he realized he was freezing. It got colder and colder; and just when he felt that the cold was starting to burn like frost in a sharp wind, that gut squishing feeling the baggage handler described grabbed him, and they were all jerked as if through a pin hole.
Feeling as if yanked out again, the prickles returned, only this time it was like being on fire—as a heat rash. Todd considered scratching at first, but seeing the sweat on his arms and feeling it drip down his neck and on his back, the rash sensation died. The woman to his left gasped and pointed out the window.
“Look! We’re here!” she exclaimed.
“Already?” Todd said, peering through the window over her shoulder.
Barrz responded with a smug air, saying, “Yes, we are already here. Now prepare for landing. Alea Jandas will take us in. Please remain in your seats until we have completely landed.”
And they remained. All the passengers were awed by the approaching view of the planet and nearly everyone was peering out of the tinted windows. They could not see the domes at first. All they saw was the canyon below and the barren desert that was Mars. They could tell they were flying fast by how quickly they approached the planet, but in the cabin they felt only the pressure of the false gravity machine pulling them. Once they entered the atmosphere however, the feeling was different.
Despite the thin atmosphere, the sand storms that they flew through rocked the ship a great deal. The shuttle swerved somewhat on its trip. It was a different kind of turbulence than they were used to, and for a moment, several passengers went back to their airsick bags.
In a snap they were at the walls of the canyon, and a hole opened up to swallow them. The ship they were in jerked to a stop, but strangely the passengers inside didn’t feel it much. Once stopped, they peered out their windows in amazement as their shuttle was now landing in the center of a circle and several little Martians were running around the hall dressed in different colored uniforms. They saw the sand that had swirled in with them get sucked out of the room and the hair of several Martians swirling around as if they were living in a vortex—and yet they went about their work as if they didn’t care.
The shuttle doors opened.
“Unfasten your seat belts and disembark,” Barrz commanded to the cabin.
Todd unfastened his seat belt, catching his breath as many others also were attempting to do in the room. They were all winded by the landing and each earthling peered at one another as if they were seeking support for their daring venture into the unknown. Several looked at him, wondering if he knew what they would be facing. Todd just shrugged and took another breath to catch his bearings.
Their pilot and his assistant climbed off the ship, and other Martians came aboard. These looked like underlings, green uniforms and humbler facial expressions. They came aboard, attending to the controls, also beckoning the passengers to get off. One by one the passengers climbed out of the ship, and what they saw amazed them.
But they had no time to stare around. Despite the enormous size of the hall—filled with ships of many sizes and shapes, they were met at once by their individual contacts, and their attention was drawn to the present task of entering the underground city.
Their guide was a lean man with fair hair nearing his late forties. He had manners like a teacher—strict, yet not full of himself as though he wasn’t paid much. He looked at the passengers and counted them silently, his eyes falling on Todd twice before he continued on counting people. With the one sentence of  “come this way please,” he had them march out a few paces from the ship while it was being cleaned. He immediately called over a young woman who was probably in her twenties by her build. She came up promptly, and with her were two other ladies. Each woman was the same height and coloring… and blond—but each a different shade, much like a hair dye advertisement. Also each held a vis-pad in her hands. They waited, looking at the crowd with expectant eyes.
“This is Yiin Dafra—she is the university liaison that will take the exchange students to the domes where your rooms are already reserved,” the man said, pointing to the first girl.
She waved at them, grinning now like a flirtatious schoolgirl and peered through the crowd as if checking them out to see what men looked good. Her eyes also fell on Todd, but she only smiled at him.
“And this is Zormna Bently. She is a member of the Arrassian Vis-broadcasting Committee. Those with the media will go with her.” The man motioned to the second girl and then turned to the third. Zormna Bently gave a business like nod and a calm smile, looking directly at the men who were obviously in the media, armed with cameras and attitudes of explorers ready to debunk the world.
“And this is Kara Clendar. She is with the Arrassian-American Business Alliance. She claims to be meeting a few clients here.” In his voice, Todd could hear a flutter of disbelief, but his eyes grazed the crowd to see if the woman was in fact right. The businessman Todd had seen earlier strode from the crowd and greeted the woman with a handshake. They broke into a conversation at once and parted from the group. The woman led him out of the hall.
“Very well,” their guide then said, glancing up at Todd once more. “If you will leave with these ladies we’ll see to your luggage.”
The man strode away towards the end of the ship, still giving Todd the eye. Todd watched him, and sure enough saw him whispering to a soldier, no doubt to protest his presence and once again make him pull out his cards and pardon.
“Students, this way,” Yiin called out.
“Gentlemen,” Zormna Bently called her charges over to another corner.
They parted. And as they did, Todd saw that nearly a third of the group were reporters and cameramen. It was surprising since he had yet to see anything on the news coming from the inside of Mars.
“Please line up and hand me your tickets and documents. I need to verify that we have a room for you. Some of you joined late, and I’m afraid that in the last minute bustle some of you have been forgotten in the housing arrangements,” their guide said.
Getting into the single file line was easy for them, and Yiin smiled as she took each one of their tickets and slid it into the vis pad. As it turned out, unbeknownst to Todd, inside the tickets were thin magnetic strips with information recorded on them. Yiin scanned them each in seconds and returned the tickets to their owners, either telling the individuals they had a space reserved or that they had to wait a while for their room. The majority had their rooms, but a few did not and they blushed, feeling awkward for enrolling late. Then she took Todd’s ticket.
Sliding it in the vis-pad slot, she smiled at the information on the screen. She took it out and handed it back to him. “It looks like you’ve got friends here. You’re room is in the older area. It’s been long reserved for you.”
Todd flushed at once, ready to duck his head. He had feared that he had been one of those that would not have a room. He had been told in last message from his friends that they already had a room reserved for him, but he had doubted it when Yiin had spoken. Now he could see it was true. Zormna and Jeff were just waiting for him to come.
Yiin continued on and would have finished the rest had not the man that greeted them returned with three Surface Patrol officers, standing behind Todd right away and pulling him from the line.
“What is it? I already checked him out. He’s on the list and fine,” Yiin said.
The man grit his teeth and replied, “There are many tricky P.M.s out there. This is a security measure.”
Moaning, Todd felt the Surface Patrol officers grab him, rolling up his left sleeve, which of course had a fancy tattoo on it of his Martian family crest because the People’s Military during the invasion put it there. He never had the means to remove it after the People’s Military had withdrawn from the Earth and no one would remove it either. All the doctors and tattoo artists all seemed to think he deserved to be marked for life, regardless of his innocence.
“See!” the man yelled with a shriek. “And a Lenna to boot!”
At once the man broke into Arrassian and started to order the guards to take him away. They would have too, ignoring Todd’s cries for them to let him hand over his identification card and royal pardon—but as if sent at the right time, entering the hall, breathless, ran in a familiar face, and Todd was relieved at once.
“Asork’kai o’rem ooeev’or! O’re za ray kiirg’lak sru Thal’a Zormna!”  Anzer Dzhon yelled. He caught up to the soldiers manhandling Todd and rambled a mile a minute in Arrassian, pulling out a flat card from his pocket.
The soldiers dropped Todd as if he had leprosy. They even stepped back and stared at him and Dzhon. The only words in the young soldier’s rambling Todd caught were the names of Zormna and Jafarr, but he guessed the gist of Dzhon’s argument to be almost exactly with what was written on his pardon. He could tell from the incredulous facial expressions of Yiin, the man, and the soldiers; and in the end they all stared at him as if expecting something.
“Give they the pardon read,” Dzhon said breathlessly in his broken English, turning to Todd.
Nodding, Todd took out his wallet once more and pulled out the paper. He handed it over.
Snatched from his fingers as always, the soldiers and guides read it and read it and read it. Todd extracted his identification card and lifted it up. “Do you want this also?”
The man gave him a dirty look and said, “What right do you have to be the queen’s personal friend?”
Todd opened his mouth, utterly flabbergasted at such a remark—though he had heard it on Earth before. He never had an answer for it. He glanced at Dzhon. The boy was pinching the ridge between his eyes and shaking his head. Turing back, Todd replied to the man, “I have as much right as anyone. Zormna was my friend at school…”
“Queen Zormna! And you will for now on address her with the proper respect!” the man snapped at him.
This made Todd laugh. He shook his head and glanced at Dzhon. However, Dzhon grimaced and nodded to Todd. “Maybe you talk too…c…c…”
“Too casual!” Yiin spat out. She stared at Todd now as if she was at last seeing him for whom he was.
Rolling his eyes, Todd replied, “If it will make you feel better, I will call her Queen Zormna.”
“Make us feel better...? Impudence!” Yiin snapped again.
But the man peered at Todd more narrowly and said, “Hand me the card.”
Todd did.
The man took it and borrowed Yiin’s vis-pad, sticking it in.
“You know, I’ve been checked over at every stop now. Don’t you don’t trust your own soldiers?” Todd said in a rather tired voice.
Shaking his head and growling, the man ripped the card out of the data slot and handed it back to Todd with the written pardon. “No. There is no such thing as too much security when protecting the queen.”
“Do you believe me now?” Todd asked, looking at him right in the eye and waiting.
“Belief is not the issue,” the man said, “I don’t trust you.”
Todd laughed.
Everyone stared at him. Yiin looked extremely agitated, and Dzhon was wincing again as if this whole situation gave him a headache.
“Jafarr trust him,” Dzhon said at last in his defense.
Todd smiled at him and nodded.
This did not seem to convince anyone though. In fact it only irritated the soldiers who glanced at one another.
“Can I go now?” Todd asked feeling suddenly exhausted.
Yiin huffed and turned, grabbing her vis-pad back and collecting the tickets again to finish her job. The man did not leave though and stepped closer to Todd
He said, “We will be watching you.”
Todd watched him turn to leave. Though the other soldiers also left him alone, he felt the eyes of the room on him.
But Dzhon did not leave. He stepped next to Todd and hissed in his ear, “You be careful. I know you is no bad. But many see only a face, and they no understand how is Zormna you’s friend.”
Todd looked at him. It was a bit of a trial deciphering Dzhon’s broken English, but this feeling was plain.
“Many is jealous of you. You do no know,” Dzhon said. “They is jealous of Jafarr. You will see.”
Yiin’s voice called to the group, and Todd turned to go. Dzhon walked with him, still talking in whispers. “They send I meet you. I go now. I get you’s bags… just in case.”
“Just in case what?” Todd asked, turning to him.
Dzhon smiled painfully and said, “In case they try lose you’s things. You is very brave come to Arras. But people hate you. You know it.”
Nodding, Todd looked a back at the ship. Was it a mistake to come? He started to wonder if it would be better for them to take him back to Earth—but his imagination drew in a picture of them dropping him out there in space without a space suit, and he shuddered. There was no going back unless Dzhon or his friends took him home. He suddenly felt a pat on his back. Turning he saw Dzhon grinning at him.
“Jafarr will is glad you is here. Zormna also—but…” he lowered his voice to a soundless whisper, hissing, “but do no call her only Zormna with other people. They no understand.”
“I’ll remember,” Todd replied.
Giving him another pat, Dzhon turned and marched back across the hall, calling to the soldiers unloading the shuttle. Todd glanced back once and smiled. If anything, it was consolation to have such allies.