Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Mystery fiction; Science fiction
"To keep them from asking me any questions," she said, with a small
shrug. "For all I knew, they were expecting a man with the Amnesty.
However, knowing that just having it carried a lot of weight, I gave
them the order to pick you up as soon as they approached me at the
customs booth."
"And if they hadn't believed me?" I complained.
"Well," she said carefully, "I suppose I'd have sent them a note, or
something, telling them to release you."
"Thanks for the kind thought," I muttered.
Snow ignored my minor irritation, and went blithely on.
"My next move was to go to the Port Authority, and find out just where
the _Phobos II_ was berthed before takeoff. I thought that Ted might
have left me a clue of some sort."
"You sound as if he were expecting you to traipse up here after him," I
said, dubiously.
"He wouldn't count on my coming, if that's what you mean. But Ted's a
good kid. I've practically had to raise him myself. He knew I'd worry
if I didn't hear from him. He couldn't know, of course, that IS would
send forged letters to the relatives of the missing boys. So I assumed
that, if he had the chance, he'd leave a clue of some kind for me, in
case I did come."
"An assurance of sorts, you mean?"
"Something like that. Like 'I'm okay, Snow, so don't worry,' or some
such message. So that's what I looked for at the rocket berth."
"Just a minute," I interrupted. "I used to be a boy, once, myself, and
while I didn't have any sisters of my own, I knew a lot of buddies
who did. The last thing in the world they'd expect would be for their
sister to follow them into danger! Hell, they'd feel like sissies if
they had to count on a sister for aid."
"I--" Snow hesitated. "I'm not what you'd call the typical sister,
Jery."
"Oh?"
She blushed prettily. "When you have to raise a brother, you have to
learn a lot of things, if you're going to bring him up fairly normally.
I had to teach him to play ball, to box, to ski, to--Well, I was more
like a father to him than anything. So Ted, knowing my more belligerent
side, would just about figure I'd come storming up here to find him."
"I don't know," I pondered aloud. "If you and Ted have this friendly
relationship, why the hell would he put you to all this trouble? It
seems like a lousy thing on his part to go wandering off without a
word."
"It would be," Snow agreed, "unless there was a mighty important reason
for his going. And it wasn't without a word."
"Then you did find a message?" I exclaimed.
She nodded. "After a few minutes' inspection of the berth, I found it
scratched onto one of the supporting beams."
"Funny IS didn't spot it," I remarked.
"It's in our special _code_, silly!" Snow said. "To anyone else, it'd
look like hen scratches."
"Just what is this code of yours?" I asked, curious.
Snow looked at me a moment, frowning.
"I'll carry the secret to my grave." I said generously.
She laughed, then, and said, "All right, Jery. Just a second."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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