The Patriot Page #2

								


"It should be Le Vent dans les Canals," she said. "You should title your compositions in French—they will be more fashionable."

"I don't know French," he said, munching a stick of celery. "We don't speak French on Mars."

She laughed, a laugh like the music of his playing.

"You will, my genius," she promised him. Her eyes ran over his lean face, his unkempt hair. "You look as though you could use shelter and clothing. Come home with me tonight. I shall give your genius to the world."

Cornel never had experienced such luxury as was his in the apartment Meta assigned to him in her magnificent home in Jersi. He had his personal servant. New clothes were waiting for him. A barber cut his hair when he had finished a hot, scented bath, and the big bed in which he slept was soft as down.

Meta asked no information of him until they met at a late breakfast the next morning. There, beautiful in translucent white negligee, she sipped her coffee and asked questions.

"I came from Mars to get help for my people," he said. "We need guns and supplies, food and oxygen equipment."

"You're one of the Charax rebels?" she asked.

"Rebels?" He snorted. "We're free people, fighting for our freedom. We want self-government, we want to own our land and our homes, we want the right to rule our own lives."

"That's guaranteed in the Constitution," said Meta.

"Earth's Constitution. Mars isn't Earth. The Mars Corporation controls both spaceports. It owns all business and industry on Mars. It's milking the planet dry of resources and profits, and it's set up a company government that makes the people of Mars no better than slaves."

He smiled a bitter smile.

"Earth's government protects the freedom of Earth's people," he said, "but the people of Earth don't know what's happening on Mars. The Mars Corporation has its senators and representatives, bought and paid for, so the Earth government sends troops and supplies to Mars to fight the battles of the Mars Corporation. We aren't rebels, we're fighting for our just freedom."

"If the Mars Corporation controls the spaceports, how did you get to Earth?" she demanded.

"We have three battered ships hidden in the desert near Syrtis Major," said Cornel. "It takes a long time for us to get fuel to take one of them up, but they thought it worthwhile if I could get to Earth and get help for my people."

"Why you?"

"My music is well known on Mars, and my people know that the people of Earth love music. Here on Earth, where there is peace and prosperity, people pay to hear good music and good musicians. Our plan was for me to give great concerts and at each concert ask the people of Earth to help their Martian brothers gain their freedom."

"A good way to get arrested," said Meta dryly. "You'd be convicted of inciting military action and sentenced to prison in any court of Earth."

"I didn't know that, but I suppose the Friends would have a way."
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