“So nice to be off the canal,” she said.
“It’s true.”
They talked about the campaign, and Michel shook his head. “This anti-immigration campaign is so popular.”
“Are the yonsei racist, do you think?”
“That would be hard, given their own racial mix. I think they are just generally xenophobic. Contemptuous of Earth’s problems— afraid of being overrun. So Jackie is articulating a real fear that everyone already has. It doesn’t have to be racist.”
“But you’re a good man.”
Michel blew out air. “Well, most people are.”
“Come on,” Maya said. Sometimes Michel’s optimism was too much. “Whether it’s racist or not, it still stinks. Earth is down there looking at all our open land, and if we close the door on them now they’re likely to come hammer it open. People think it could never happen, but if the Terrans are desperate enough then they’ll just bring people up and land them, and if we try to stop them they’ll defend themselves here, and presto we’ll have a war. And right here on Mars, not back on Earth or in space, but on Mars. It could happen— you can hear the threat of it in the way people in the UN are trying to warn us. But Jackie isn’t listening. She doesn’t care. She’s fanning xenophobia for her own purposes.”
Michel was staring at her. Oh yes; she was supposed to have stopped hating Jackie. It was a hard habit to break. She waved all that she had said away, all the malevolent hallucinatory politicking of the Grand Canal. “Maybe her motives are good,” she said, trying to believe it. “Maybe she only wants what’s best for Mars. But she’s still wrong, and she still has to be stopped.”
“It isn’t just her.”
“I know, I know. We’ll have to think about what we might do. But look, let’s not talk about them anymore. Let’s see if we can spot the island before the crew.”
• • •
Two days later they did just that. And as they approached Minus One, Maya was pleased to see that the island was not at all in the style of the Grand Canal. Oh there were white-washed little fishing villages on the water, but these had a handmade look, an unelectrified look. And above them on the bluffs stood groves of tree houses, little villages in the air. Ferals and fisherfolk occupied the island, the sailors told them. The land was bare on the headlands, green with crops in the sea valleys. Umber sandstone hills broke into the sea, alternating with little bay beaches, all empty except for dune grass flowing in the wind.
“It looks so empty,” Maya remarked as they sailed around the north point and down the western shore. “They see the vids of this back on Earth. That’s why they won’t let us shut the door.”
“Yes,” Michel said. “But look how the people here bunch their population. The Dorsa Brevians brought the pattern up from Crete. Everyone lives in the villages, and goes out into the country to work it during the days. What looks empty is being used already, to support those little villages.”
There was no proper harbor. They sailed into a shallow bay overlooked by a tiny whitewashed fishing village, and dropped an anchor, which remained clearly visible on the sandy bottom, ten meters below. They ferried ashore using the schooner’s dinghy, passing some big sloops and several fishing boats anchored closer to the beach.
Beyond the village, which was nearly deserted, a twisting arroyo led them up into the hills. When the arroyo ended in a box canyon, a switchbacked trail gave them access to the plateau above. On this rugged moor, with the sea in view all around, groves of big oak trees had been planted long ago. Now some of the trees were festooned with walkways and staircases, and little wooden rooms high in their branches. These tree houses reminded Maya of Zygote, and she was not at all surprised to learn that among the prominent citizens of the island were several of the Zygote ectogenes— Rachel, Tiu, Simud, Emily— they had all come to roost here, and helped to build a way of life that Hiroko presumably would have been proud to see. Indeed there were some who said that the islanders hid Hiroko and the lost colonists in one of the more remote of these oak groves, giving them an area to roam in without fear of discovery. Looking around, Maya thought it was quite possible; it made as much sense as any other Hiroko rumor, and more than most. But there was no way of knowing. And it didn’t matter anyway; if Hiroko was determined to hide, as she must have been if she was alive, then where she hid was not worth worrying about. Why anyone bothered with it was beyond Maya. Which was nothing new; everything to do with Hiroko had always baffled her.