copyright ©1997 by Peter W. Prellwitz All Rights Reserved.

Prologue

So cold.

It was nearing the end of a long, dark night, though the brittle black sky had yet to show any signs of dawn. Louise had been walking since twilight, and despite the throbbing in her legs, the stabbing in her chest, she'd managed to travel nearly fifty kilometers through the red darkness of Mars' icy night. Her surface suit, among the best money could buy, was failing. It had been serving her faithfully, giving her the ability to travel further and further. But it was only a local travel suit, and not made for such extreme conditions for more than a few hours.

Louise lifted her head and took a sighting with the sounder. The echo bounced back and accessed data from the onsuit putercore. Instantly an accurate, well-lit image of the next twenty kilometers appeared. In the lower right corner of the face plate flashed a blue warning light, indicating the atmospheric temperature was forty degrees below the suit's safe limit of minus eighty. It was mid-spring, but the absence of any dust storms to hold the heat made it seem like the most bitter Martian winter night.

Louise stumbled and fell to her knees, then slumped down to her hands. The cold had so numbed her body and mind that her eyes stared at the ground for several seconds before she realized she'd fallen.

No! she screamed to herself. I can't fall here! I can make it further. Another ten kilometers, she thought, and then another ten after that. Oh, Daddy!

She began to weep, her song of soul deep sorrow slowly carrying through the thin, Martian atmosphere, blanketing the ground with its weight of grief. To die here, so close to home, wasn't right. She would prove to Daddy she was stronger than that. Mustering her failing strength, Louise staggered to her feet, her sluggish, freezing muscles feeling again the warmth of her blood and the flame in her heart. She would do ten kilometers, she repeated to herself, and then ten after that. Maybe five. Slowly, she placed one foot in front of the other. Careful not to her lose balance, Louise continued on.

A long while later, she shook her head slowly, feeling the eternal sleepiness of the cold. She blinked several times and with great effort focused her eyes.

Stars. Bright, sparkling stars filled her entire vision, with no hint of horizon. She'd fallen again, and now lay on her back. The suit readouts and her own, unresponsive body told her she had come this far and would go no further. A tear trickled down her face. The pain was gone. I'm sorry, Daddy, she thought one last time. It's cold!

So cold.

*    *    *

Chapter One

"Five.. Four!.. THREE!.. TWO!! ONE!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!" The well dressed crowd that filled the opulent and expansive living room all cheered and popped champagne corks. Maids scurried around, filling quickly emptied champagne glasses, each glassful equaling a day's wages, every bottle a week's.

There was a light popping sound and all eyes turned toward the transparent northern wall, made of aligned titanium. A spectacular fireworks display shot up from the city of Enla below and exploded at the same height of the house, located two thousand meters up the northwest base of Ascraeus Mons, in the very wealthy suburb of Enla known as Olympus Vista. Because the crystal clear metal was gently folded back to form the front roof of the extended living room, even the occasional rocket that shot above their heads could be viewed, the colorful explosion momentarily replacing the Martian star studded sky with flashes of red, blue, green and gold.

The show ended and Doctor Dittrich - Chief Surgeon and President of the Martian Colonies University Medical college - seized the momentary silence and raised his glass.

"To our hosts, Seth and Valerie Taber! A most impressive celebration!" Another loud cheer broke out, even more intense than the one heralding the new year. After all, a new year came every twenty-four months. An invitation to the home of one of the most influential men on Mars was far less frequent and far more memorable than the turning of a calendar page.

"Thank you, Alfred," Seth Taber acknowledged with a humble tone. "And thank you all for coming. I must say, my wife and I are enjoying ourselves and your company more than we'd thought possible." There was a general laugh that went up, everyone taking his comment the way it had been meant. Seth turned to his wife and held out his hand. She glowed with pride and love and placed her hand into his. Seth smiled and looked over the crowd. "Again, on behalf of my wife and daughter, we thank you. Please! The night is young!" He laughed. "Very young indeed! Enjoy yourselves!" He motioned with his other hand, spilling a little champagne on the imported Terran carpet, and the maids resumed their service, this time providing delicacies and chocolates as well as champagne and wine.

"Speaking of Pamela, where is your lovely daughter, Seth?" Dittrich asked, looking around. "She hasn't turned in yet, has she? She must be - what? - five, five and half years old by now."

"Would you believe almost seven, Alfred?" Seth said, shaking his head incredulously. "One day they're little rugrats, all arms and legs, and the next they're your big girls and you start eyeing the young men very carefully."

"So where is she, man? She's safe among us married old curmudgeons!"

"She's in her room, so far as I know. She won't be a tenager for a few months yet, but she seems bound and determined to get a jump on causing trouble now."

"Now that's not fair, Seth," his wife Valerie quietly reproved. "She's had a difficult time between school and Louise's death. We need to allow her time to adjust."

Seth smiled warmly. "You're right of course, love. I just hope she'll adjust quickly. The next quadmester begins in only five weeks."

"So you'll be sending her to MCU as you planned?" Dittrich asked, a little surprised. "I know she's gifted in mathematics, Seth, but isn't that too fast? She's only just gone to level three school this past year. It normally takes three years..."

"Yes, I know, Alfred. But as you say, she is gifted, and I want her to have the best possible chance to succeed in academics." He gave a slow smile. "And since I'm Chair for the Mathematics and Engineering colleges, she'll always have me close by to help her out." His sight drifted beyond Alfred and he nodded to someone in recognition.

"If you'll excuse me, Alfred? I see the Martian Vicar has just arrived and I'd like to greet him. Valerie?" He walked away quickly, Valerie beside him. Doctor Dittrich looked after them. A trifle blunt, he thought, but someone with so many contacts would have years ago mastered the art of ending conversation. And from what he knew and had heard, Dittrich didn’t think it likely anyone would openly object to anything Professor Taber did. Not to his face, at any rate. He continued looking after them for a moment, but then mentally shook off a brief, ugly image and blended into the rest of the merrymaking.

#

It was nearly three-thirty that morning before the party wound down and the guests all made their excuses and exits. It was another forty-five minutes before the host and hostess turned in. And another twenty-five minutes passed before the servants also turned in, the house as clean as though the party had been but an imagined fantasy.

Ten minutes after that the beating began.

Pamela lay in her bed - no, in Louise's bed - and shivered in fear and hatred. Until the previous week, she'd been in her own room, downstairs in the servants section. Father had wanted her up here months ago, shortly after Louise had killed herself, but Pam refused. She'd loved her older sister dearly and moving into her room so soon after her death was repulsive and ghoulish. And terrifying, for she knew why her father wanted her up there.

Seven days ago, Pamela came home from school and discovered her things had been shifted to Louise's room, with a new maid occupying her own bedroom. It was then that she began wishful dreaming of leaving home.

That same night, she heard the muffled thuds and stifled sobs from her mother through the wall their rooms shared and Pamela stopped wishing and began planning.

Four nights ago, her father had come for her. They had argued briefly and then he beat her, breaking her left arm. She'd gone downstairs to see Lu Chin, the family's medical ripe, and saw the accepting look in his eyes that convinced her this was the first of many such nights. He'd knitted the bone in less than half an hour, but the pain in her soul would remain for many years.

And now it was repeating, the third such sound of horror in seven nights. Would he come for Pamela again? She turned on her side and cried silently. How could he be this way? What could drive a man to be so wonderful and loving in public, yet so dark and evil in private? What could she do to stop this?

There came a harsh thump as her mother hit the wall, causing Pam to flinch in terror and curl up tighter in her blankets. She pressed her face hard into the pillow so her father would not hear her sobs and come for her.

It didn't matter whether her sobs were muffled or not; he came anyway. Pam heard his heavy step in the hall and she rolled to her back, pulling the blankets up high to her chin. She wanted to yell at the door to lock it, but knew it would only make the inevitable worse.

The door's energy plane shut off and he stood framed in the light. He was not a large man, of only average build and strength, but to Pam he was a hulking brute. He stepped in and closed the door. Just before the door toned shut, Pam saw her mother pass by, holding her face and sobbing.

"So my party wasn't good enough for you, Pam?" he said in a quiet voice, drained of emotion. It was far worse than yelling or screaming, for it meant he did these things not out of unbridled rage or in an emotional frenzy, but rather in a state of utmost control.

"No, it wasn't that," Pam said in an equally quiet voice, trying to keep his cruelty steady and undisturbed on a calm surface of conversation. "I was just not feeling well, and..."

"I told you before, sweetheart," his icy voice crept over the dark air, freezing Pamela beneath the covers. "Call me 'Daddy'."

"Yes, Daddy," she whispered, her heart racing in terror. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I should have been there."

She'd no sooner said that than she realized her mistake. Never! she yelled in her mind. Never apologize to him! That only gave him justification to punish. She tried to remain still, and continued to look at him, but was betrayed by a tear that rolled down her cheek.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he said in a soft, loving voice. He sat on the bed beside her, making her stomach knot up. "I'm proud that you're mature enough to see when you're wrong and can apologize for it." He laid a gentle hand on her face, his fingers caressing her cheek and throat.

She stared at him with widening eyes. Her mouth began trembling and her shoulders began heaving. It was only moments away now.

"Please, Da.. Daddy," she begged. "Please." She wanted to fall into her father's arms and be safe, but this creature was no longer her father. No longer her daddy. Had he ever been?

"What, sweetheart? What is it you want?" He smiled at her, his eyes turning even brighter and colder. How could they look like that? Was there something wrong with his eyes, something that drugs might do? Or was it something behind the eyes, something that had always been wrong, enhanced by narcotics or not? Pam could only watch helplessly as he slowly stood.

"Daddy... please," she whispered, sobbing silently.

"If you won't tell me what you want, sweetheart," he said, bringing back his hand, "Then I'll have to decide what it is. Is it this?" His hand came slashing down.

#

Pain. Searing, tearing pain. Pam's eyes slowly opened, flickering in the dark as she stared up from the floor and into the lit hallway. Her right eye was not working right, and seemed twice its normal size. He'd normally not be so careless in injuring visible areas - not even the medicine of the day could eliminate such evidence so quickly. But school wasn't starting for over a month, he'd explained to her calmly, so there was plenty of time for experimentation and healing. And now Pamela was partially blind.

He'd been very quiet and loving to her throughout. "You see, Pam," he said in his normal, pleasant voice as he boxed her ears, causing them to ring and bleed, "your mother is reaching the point in her life where she's healing slower now. Oh, the doctor's very good with internal bleeding and broken bones and such. I paid top cred to get the absolute best medical ripe for my girls. But she's not up to the more.. how should I put it? More rigorous aspects of our play."

He snatched her long, dark hair and savagely jerked her head back, then slugged her in the heart, taking away her ability to speak or even sob. "That's why I'm so glad to have my little girl up here now. My God, Pamela!" he exclaimed heartily as she dropped to the floor, thrashing frantically and fighting to breathe, "It's so nice to finally have you old enough for our night's fun! You remind me of Louise when she was your age!"

It was her inability to breathe that had saved her life then, for she was unable to respond to his sadistic merriment. Had she been able, she would have screamed at him and disowned him as a father. That was the one thing he never allowed. He valued his status of husband and father too much to tolerate such blasphemy. Such was her seething hatred of him at that moment, though, that she would have gladly died as payment for the release her words would bring.

She lost consciousness shortly afterwards, though she dimly remembered her right arm muscles seizing up in agony even through her blacked out mind. Dully, still lost in a fog, she inspected her right forearm and saw father had branded it again. A long woven thread of Martian iron, the self-heating brand was a quarter meter long and contained flowing patterns and many curlicues, calculated to cover the greatest possible surface area and leave a uniform mark without removing skin. Removing large areas of skin meant four or five days of noticeable scarring while it healed, and only allowed him to use it on normally covered portions of their bodies. Done this way, arms and legs could be marked at any time as well as back, buttocks and chest.

This was the only branding tonight, however, and she was grateful for that. At least...

She stopped thinking immediately. No! she thought. Don't find excuse! Don't look for good where none existed. That he hadn't branded her multiple times tonight did not make a single branding any less evil, any less humiliating. She must always keep perspective.

Careful not to groan aloud, Pam crawled to her bed and used it to weakly stand. Her stomach rebelled and she was instantly sick all over the blankets, but she felt better. She straightened her torn nightgown and turned to the door. Her vision slowly swung with her still good eye and settled uneasily on the fuzzy image of the doorway.

Pam took an experimental step and found her legs unhurt. He must have realized she'd need extensive medical attention and had left her mobile so she could take care of herself promptly.

With deliberate slowness, her mind seemed about five seconds behind her body and stuffed with cotton, Pamela walked to the doorway and into the hall. Her lungs still ached for air, so each step was a flaming agony as her body screamed for oxygen they couldn’t get.

The vast living room was spread beneath her, the stairs before her wavering treacherously in her befuddled mind. Grasping onto the rail with both hands, she winced in pain and only just stifled a scream as the broken bones in her fingers grated against each other.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and staggered across the wide living room toward the servant's section. She fell a half dozen times, but resolved to stand each time. She would not crawl to the doctor like a beaten cur. She needed his expertise, but would accept it only as a human being. If she ever reached the point where she had to crawl, Pam decided, she'd put on her surface suit and follow Louise out into the Martian night.

Her mother was still there, laying unconscious on one of the two treatment beds. The doctor was moving a sounder over her, and looked up at Pam's entrance. He set down the sounder immediately and hurried over to her side. He inspected her quickly and determined the best place to hold her, settling on her left arm.

"Here you are, Pamela," he said with perfect tone and bedside manner. "Your mother told me Professor Taber had gone into your room after he was done with her, so I prepared the bed for you."

He eased her onto the bed and began a diagnostic, using a dozen pieces of equipment to thoroughly and professionally examine her.

"We'll need to take care of your eye, first. The damage is severe but of course reparable. I am certain I can reattach the retina and align your eye as good as new. And the ocular bone is undamaged, so bruising should be at a minimum. I see by the dilated pupil in your other eye that you've sustained a moderate concussion as well, though like the eye there's no fractures.

"Your left lung is collapsed and your heart shows some bruising, but other than that, it's only a single branding, three broken fingers, and a missing thumbnail. All easily treated!" He smiled reassuringly. "Not to worry, Miss Taber! I'll have you up and ready by tomorrow morning!"

"Ready for what?" she asked dully, more to herself than to him, though he replied.

"Why, ready to be a family again! Professor Taber and your mother love you very much. Surely you know that?" he asked. At her unresponsive stare, he smiled warmly. "Yes. Well, I'm sure your concussion is handicapping your perception right now. For now, just relax and I'll start work." He snapped on a switch and a warm, cozy field bathed Pamela. She felt a pleasant sleepiness wash over and soak into her. The last thing she saw was the doctor's smiling face leaning over her.

"Good. Very good, Pamela. I'll have you patched up in no time and everything will be back to normal. This won't hurt a bit."

#

"How is she responding to her treatment?" Seth’s quiet voice was, as always, calm and controlled. The medical ripe straightened from his position over the bed Pamela lay on and turned toward his master. Seth stood in the infirmary doorway, dressed and ready for the morning which was still four hours away.

"She’s doing very well, sir," the medical ripe replied, motioning a hand at the unconscious girl. Pamela lay on her back, a reconstruction sounder clamped over her right eye and two more over her hands. A large, translucent panel hovered just above her chest, giving out a rhythmic pulse. Her right arm was bathed in a purple haze that glittered with moisture as nutrients and medication gently soaked into the irradiated skin, smoothing away the last vestiges of the branding. "I don’t foresee any complications that will delay her release. She should be as good as new by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."

Seth nodded and entered the infirmary, passing by his wife who lay in a deep sleep in the other sick bed. He gave her no thought but instead went to Pam’s side. Running his fingers gently through her hair, he gave a soft smile. How much he loved her! He continued caressing her hair for several minutes, then turned back to the medical ripe.

"She gave me some spirited resistance tonight. I very nearly lost my patience with her and I wouldn’t want to do that."

"No, sir," the medical ripe agreed. "But Pamela is a very spirited girl. I don’t imagine that will ever change."

"And that’s good," Seth said. "But I think she’s too much the hellion right now. Increase the dosage."

"I can do that, of course," the medical ripe said slowly. "Doubling the dosage would sufficiently soften her will to hasten the personality modifications you’ve chosen. But that will also substantially increase the risk of violent reaction in the weeks to come, until her body reaches saturation."

Seth considered carefully. His gaze flickered briefly to his sleeping wife. Valerie had been loving and submissive from the very beginning, even before he’d come upon this ultimate expression of caring ten years ago. But he’d lost Louise because he’d foolishly assumed what worked on his wife would as easily work on his daughter. He looked again at Pam. Asleep, she looked so young and angelic. He longed to see her looking at him like that, like Valerie did when the day was over. Seth decided. Losing Pam would be unbearable. It was worth the risk.

"Increase the dosage."

#

The first sensation Pamela had when she awoke was one of overwhelming comfort and peace. All the pain was gone. The disorientation, even the self-loathing and hatred of her father had all but vanished. Throughout her entire body was a sense of belonging and safety.

Raising herself up on her elbows, Pam looked toward her mother, but saw she was gone. It was then that she realized she could see again with both eyes. Blinking several times, and turning her head, her sluggishness was also gone. There was a soft, warm laugh behind her on her left. Twisting, and feeling no pain in her chest, Pam looked into the bright, cheerful eyes of the doctor.

"Good afternoon, Miss Taber!" he said in an equally bright, cheerful voice. "I take it you have found my ministrations to your liking?"

"I - I - can't believe it, Doctor!" Pam gasped. She was certain she'd been injured for life. Swinging to a sitting position, she pulled back the right sleeve of her gown and inspected her arm. There was no indication of the brand. Her skin was smooth and soft and uniform in color. She looked up at him, "How did you make me all better so fast?"

"Practice, young lady. Lots and lots of practice." He seemed unmoved by the situation, and Pam felt a flush of her anger shoot through her, bringing her down from her near euphoria.

"Doesn't that bother you? Don't you have some sort of code you have to follow?" she asked, hoping to find an ally. "To prevent this sort of thing?"

"You mean the Hippocratic Oath?" he shook his head. "No, I do not follow that oath. It could prove inconsistent with my duties toward my master, your father, Professor Taber."

"But you're a doctor!" she protested. "Doesn't human suffering and death affect you?"

"Of course it does!" he said. "As a physician, I'm deeply moved by human suffering. But not where your father is concerned. Don't forget, Miss Taber; I'm not a doctor, I'm a medical ripe. My soulner's mind has been shut down and my persona has been written in as the dominant. Since I'm manmade, I've been customized to be a medical ripe, owned wholly by Professor Taber. Everything else is secondary."

"You're saying my father could get away with murder in front of you?" she asked, aghast.

"Of course he could," he replied simply. "In fact, I'd gladly help him. That's what I was made for; to obey him. And my advanced medical programming gives me many tools to better serve." He clapped his hands and stood, giving their conversation no more weight than if they'd discussed the weather. "I think you'll be a little sore for a day or two, but that's to be expected. There's no reason for me to keep you, though." He helped her down and passed her some clothes. "Here. Your mother had a maid bring these down. She's currently hosting a small tea in the sun room and would prefer you dressed here. I'll give you your privacy."

He stepped out, toning the door shut behind him, and Pamela pulled off her gown. Looking into a full length mirror, she carefully inspected her body. She wasn't very impressed. Always a tomboy in build, the past year had softened her angles into curves, but not too much nor too fast. Fencing, gymnastics and long distance hiking in the mountains kept her body in shape, but it wouldn't turn any heads. And while her face didn't require a helmet full time, it wasn't going to appear in the glamour threedezines either. It had a nice length, with smallish nose and high cheekbones. "A little sister face," Louise had always described it with a playful laugh.

Louise...

Everything else was as it should be. Her eyes were green and clear, her hair long, dark. Her strong hands and long fingers were unbroken and healthy. Even her thumbnail had been regenerated and actually looked much better than her other nails, which she enjoyed painting but habitually chewed. Her chest, where Daddy had hit her, showed no bruising at all, almost as if he hadn't...

Her thought broke off abruptly and an icy spike stabbed into her. She'd thought of him as Daddy! Was this how it had started for Louise? The severe beating, followed by the euphoria of complete healing? And with the bliss of recovery, did she also feel forgiveness and acceptance? Pam's heart suddenly did hurt, but not with physical pain. Hurriedly, she finished dressing, leaving behind the reflection of a momentarily shattered girl and instead taking with her an iron resolve that she was far too young to have. Resolve and anger.

She stalked out of the office, brushing past the doctor, and ran to the stairs at the end of the hall, ignoring the greetings of several servants as she breezed by their rooms. She had words to say to her mother and could only think of them.

The stairwell's main floor energy plane cut off sight of and access to the servant's level, but meekly allowed her access to the main floor. She burst through the opaque plane and walked determinedly through the living room, library and kitchen. Beyond it was the spacious, brightly lit sun room, where mother and her guests were.

Pamela made it to the middle of the large kitchen, but was suddenly pulled back by the cook and her assistant, both fairly strong women.

"I'm sorry, Miss Taber," Yanice, the cook said, her voice truly apologetic. Unlike the doctor and the maids, who were all riped, the cooking staff were employees. "Mrs. Taber said she was not to be disturbed."

"Let go of me!" Pam shouted, twisting and turning. She was wiry enough to slip out of their grip, but was only seized again. "I'm sure that doesn't include me. Let go!" Her demand was ignored save for further apologies.

Her shouting did not go unnoticed by her mother's guests. Mrs. Graterford was sunning herself under the magnified aligned titanium that focused the sunlight onto skin and tanned it until it turned an ugly Terran brown, but raised up on her elbows and looked at the commotion. Her mother, playing a game of tennis with Mrs. Brooks against the puter on the holocourt, turned towards them. Her face clouded when she saw Pamela struggling with the staff. She said something to her partner, then set down her racket, freezing the puter's serve in midair. The simulated court momentarily shut down and collapsed the playing field into the five by ten meter area it actually was.

"Let go of me!" Pamela shouted again, unable to come up with any other command, her mind too occupied on facing her mother down with accusation.

"Release her," Valerie said calmly, having entered the kitchen and shutting off access to the sun room. Instantly the women released Pamela, then quickly left the kitchen at Valerie's hand wave. The last one shut off the doorway, blocking sight and sound.

"All right, honey," Valerie said softly, her eyes moist. "I'm sure you have a great deal to say to me. Louise did, too, at your age. Go ahead, Pamela, I'll listen to whatever you have to say."

"Mother!" Pamela cried, her breath coming in ragged gasps, less from the struggle with the staff than from the struggle with her emotions. "How could you let this happen? Daddy's a monster!"

"Is he, Pamela?" Valerie asked her. "Are you any worse this morning than you were yesterday morning?"

"Yes! Oh, the doctor fixed me up, but I remember, Mom! I remember his hits, his voice! I remember the... the pain." She began sobbing. "I remember how worthless I felt. And it hurts!"

"Pamela," she said with love. Pam looked up from the floor and saw mother's arms open. She cried and went into them.

"What are we going to do, mother?" she cried. "What are we going to do?"

"Listen, honey, it's not a bad life. Your father provides for us. We live in one of the most beautiful homes on all Mars. Our every need is provided for. Your father is liked and respected throughout the colonies, and we're the two he loves the most. We're very lucky women, Pamela."

Though she did not change, to Pam it seemed as if her mother had suddenly grown colder, less real. The loving tone, the cradling arms, the gentle swaying, were all part of his doing. Daddy was using her own mother to ensnare her.

"Stop!" Pam pushed off, both repulsed by her mother yet also wanting to feel her arms around her again. "Mother! Listen to yourself! Daddy's trapped you! He's changed you so you want to be treated like... like... some toy for him to break and fix, break and fix. How can you do this to yourself? To me?"

"It's not hard, sweetheart," she said with a smile. "You're stronger than Louise. Seth said that and he's right. You'll be able to understand. Don't worry, honey. The first few weeks are the worst, but afterwards..."

"No! Never!" Pam yelled, backing away in terror. "I'm not like that! He killed Louise! He broke her and she killed herself! And he's killing us. I'll never give in to Daddy's demands!"

"Then why are you calling him Daddy, Pamela?" She gave another smile and wrinkled her nose. "You see? Give yourself more credit, honey. You can be trained."

Rocked to her core, Pam realized she had been calling him Daddy. She'd caught it the first time, but not since then. Or was it the first time? Maybe it was only once. Feeling the horror of her life crushing her, Pamela was paralyzed into startling clarity. She saw her entire life in vivid completeness. And she hated what she could become. What she would become, for she saw herself reflected in her mother's eyes.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head slowly, "I am not you, Mother. And I am not Louise." She then turned away and walked calmly to room.

Valerie looked after her daughter, feeling so sorry for her. She'd been like that, too, though she couldn't remember precisely when. But the constant treatments to repair damage wrought the night before had slowly won her over, and now Valerie knew she was right and Pamela was wrong. She would understand soon enough, but Valerie was determined to make the change as easy as possible for Pamela. She didn't want to lose her like she did Louise, who never really understood how lucky she was.

Giving a last sigh at her daughter's back, Valerie returned to the sun room to see to her guests, and assure them that Pamela was just going through a phase.

Pam went up the stairs and into her room, locking the ghost door behind her. The maids had long since cleaned her room - and not one would ever speak about what they saw or concluded. Pam knew that now. She had always considered ripes to be part of the house. At some time in their lives, they had committed a crime or were diagnosed as insane or had simply reached a point of such total despair that having their minds wiped and rewritten was the best remaining choice. She'd even felt a sense of pride that her Daddy could afford to offer a second chance to so many who'd been cheated by life or had been rehabilitated from a life of crime. Now, she saw her Daddy's real motive; an artificial environment that he controlled utterly behind a warm smile and a generous cred account.

She knew there was only one course open to her now. She must leave, and soon. She felt a pang of guilt for abandoning her mother, but knew there was nothing she could do. Mother was too far gone, lost in her nightmare, to even consider escaping. She might even tell Daddy about...

A cold certainty washed over Pam, making her shiver. No, mother would tell Daddy... her father... about their discussion. As would the doctor. In all likelihood, her Da.. father would come for her tonight and make it impossible for her to leave. Feeling the walls closing in, Pam stepped onto her pad and entered the puterverse.

All around her, the always exciting puterverse sprang up. A creation of Chris Young nearly two Terran centuries prior, the puterverse was a whole body artificial reality that held, moved and manipulated all data in the solar system. It would probably go beyond the solar system one day as well, once man himself reached out to the stars. It was a favorite fantasy of Pam's and one she saw coming true in her lifetime. To explore! To leave behind this constricting life. To sail through the stars, looking, searching...

Shaking her head of the pleasant daydream and focusing on the problem at hand, she called for travel services. The landscape, which reached for over a hundred meters about her, swung to the right and began moving. Doors and access points, a few green and many more of them red, indicating no access, flashed by. Images of dozens of users, each a different color, appeared and receded in her motion. One, a pale blue form of a boy younger than her, caught up to her, then veered off as their search paths diverged. Data pools of silver blue tickled with red marshmallow filled much of the open space, with solid black ground and sky being the backdrop. Far ahead, beyond several horizons, flowed the mighty Quantum data river.

Her query slowed down and stopped in front of a desk. Overhead was a thick strand of data threads that glowed, "Lane's Travel Service", followed by their motto, "Lean on Lane of Enla for all your travel needs!" Below that was a final sign that said, "To make a reservation, or confirm an existing reservation, please pass hand through field." There was a small, green box floating a meter and a half above the puterverse floor.

Pam passed her hand through and moments later a jagged yellow line appeared in front of her. It quickly filled out and deepened and turned into a travel agent, who looked around, then down at Pam, smiling.

"Good afternoon, Miss Taber!" When a customer had the credit rating Seth Taber had, the agent would treat even the family goldfish like royalty. "How may Lane Travel be of assistance to you? Another trip to the Armstrong?" Pamela took frequent trips to Mars' primary orbital station, and spent hours exploring its massive decks and corridors, inspecting the ships as they docked, and just people watching.

"Uh-huh. Only I'll be spending a week or so this time. Tell me, could I also book passage to Earth?"

"Certainly! We have the luxury cruiser Tranquillity departing the station the day after tomorrow, on Wednesday, and arriving at Earth in ten days, after a three day layover at Caesar's Gambling Palace on Luna. Would that be with Mr. or Mrs. Taber?"

"Neither. I was planning on traveling alone."

The agent's face clouded. "I'm sorry, Miss Taber, but ITA travel regulations do not permit Martians under the age of eight to travel to Earth without a parent or guardian."

"I see. Well, that's okay." Pamela acted unconcerned. She didn't want to queer things up with the agent. "I wanted to go sightseeing, but since the quadmester starts in five weeks, I wouldn't have had much time anyway."

"Yes, you're right," the agent replied cheerfully, glad she wouldn't have to face the girl's anger. "I haven't been to Earth myself, but I've heard that once you get over the gravity sickness, there's unimaginable things to do there." She brightened. "You'll be eight next year, though. I'll be happy to put together a month long trip then."

"Okay, thanks." Pam said. She paid for the shuttle trip, being sure to buy a return ticket as well, and signed off. She had no intention of returning, though.

She quietly packed what little she was going to take with her, thinking through her options. She knew her... father... would freeze her cred account the moment he discovered her missing. She needed to transfer funds over into hard currency before that happened. Legally, it was impossible; her Daddy needed to approve all such transactions. But she'd thought that through, too. Among the many friends she'd made on the Armstrong, more than one had connections on the red decks. The top five decks on the station, the red decks were far more seedier, far closer to the edge of the law, and far more exciting than the rest of the ship. Pamela didn't much care for the prostitutes or pleasure ripes - they even tried to approach her - but many of the merchant marine and shop keepers knew Pam and liked her. No doubt one or more could help her circumvent the protocol locks on the account and get some hard coin in her hand. Maybe even set up her own cred account, completely free of - here she struggled again - father's.

She tried to think if there was anything else that needed to be done, but either couldn't think of anything or knew what she did think was too risky. She wanted to let a few of her school mates know - especially Adria and Janet - but feared either discovery or reprisal against them if they didn't tell. Better to be gone, then contact them in a few months.

She dug through her possessions and managed to find a little hard money, left over from her last trip to the Phobos vacuum resort. She also took the several pieces of jewelry she owned. Not really interested in decorating herself, she knew they'd have some value on the Armstrong.

She closed her shoulder pack, polarizing the material closed with the izer ribbon that circled the pack's material. Secured, she then swung it onto her back and felt the pack snuggle against her and attach to her blouse. Despite the deadly seriousness of what she was about to do, Pamela couldn't help but feel the excitement of her upcoming adventure. To be completely free!

Having acted on everything she could think of, Pamela knew the hardest part of her escape was about to start; waiting for tonight. But why wait? she thought suddenly. She felt so alive she decided right then to leave. She would simply tell mother she was going for a walk, to get her thoughts together. Once gone, she could wander the malls of Enla's shopping district, picking up anything else she might need, before heading to the spaceport. Her shuttle ticket was good for the evening's flight, some three hours off. Having made the decision, she acted on it immediately. Settling the pack a little tighter to her pack, Pam snatched up her jacket and made for the door. Taking one last look around her room, knowing she'd never see it again, she realized that she actually owed her Daddy a thank you. His putting her in Louise's room only made it easier. She glanced at the holo of Louise on the wall, wishing to take it, but knowing she couldn't.

"I'll honor you another way, Louise," she said sadly. "I'll honor you by living my life for both us. Good-bye, Louise." She turned to the door to leave.

It wouldn't open.