Meme-Free Zone

The first chapter is archived on these sites:
On Twisting the Hellmouth - https://www.tthfanfic.org/story.php?no=33872
On AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/39112812
On Fanfiction.net - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14083560/1/The-Martian

See chapter I for disclaimers.


II: Not Quite Total Recall

I used to think that Veronica Mars exaggerated how the police treat Martians, but ten minutes with Sergeant Kowalski made me realize that they were downplaying things. It turns out that even if you sounded the alarm the police are a little suspicious of anyone found standing over a body with blood on their tentacles. Who knew? Well, all right, anyone who watches TV, I guess, but Sophia's stretcher was barely out of the door when the questioning leapt from "What's your name?" to "Where did you hide the knife?"

"Didn't see one, I was too busy trying to stop her bleeding."

"Don't give me that bull, where is it?"

"Shouldn't there be a policewoman present?"

"What the hell for?"

"I'm a girl, and you're not supposed to be questioning me without a policewoman. Come to think of it, shouldn't my dad be here?"

"You're a goddamned Martian, not a girl."

My mom used to teach Martian Studies and Literature in Brockton College, so I knew the answer to this one. "Gt'ruthnik vs. New Hampshire 1997 established the right of Martians to be treated as their preferred sex. Which means that you're breaking the law if you question me without a woman present. The parent thing is a lot older."

"Bullshit."

"Call it that if you like, it's still the law." Various people have since told me that playing amateur lawyer when questioned by the police is a REALLY dumb move. My only excuse is that I still had blood on my tentacles and was freaking out worrying that I'd catch some horrible disease. That plus the whole thing with Emma and Sophia was probably going to come out, and I knew Dad would go ballistic.

He didn't look pleased. "So where's this father of yours?"

"He'll be at work. The Dockworkers Association."

"What does he do there?"

"He's Head of Hiring, pretty much runs things." Translation, he's influential. "His office phone is 603-555-7706."

"Got a mobile number?"

"No." A lot of Martians don't, there's something about the frequencies they use that makes our skin itch. "Can I get this washed off?"

"No, CSI aren't here yet."

"Do you know how many viruses and bacteria there are in human blood?"

"Don't know, don't care."

"Someone did a study, you guys are really gross." He glared at me but finally got out his mobile and started dialling. Right on cue my head started to itch.

"Mister Hebert, please... Hi, this is Sergeant Kowalski, BBPD. There's been some trouble at the Maritime Museum, your daughter wants you to come in... no, she's not hurt... no... no... okay. Come to the staff entrance when you get here, the main doors are closed." He hung up, and said "He'll be here soon."

"It'll take at least twenty minutes. Are you really going to make me stand here like this?"

"Yup. Now, while we're waiting for your dad, where's the goddamned knife?"

"I really haven't seen one. Why don't you ask the security guards? Maybe they saw something."

His radio beeped, and he listened to his earphone for a few moments then said "Okay" and ended the call. He moved to the door and said "Really not your day, the goddamned PRT are sticking their noses in. Better talk now before those bastards get hold of you."

"I already told you, I don't know who did it and I didn't see a knife. What do you want me to do, lie about it?"

"Your funeral." He stood there with the door slightly open and didn't say anything. A couple of minutes later I heard the engines of a couple of motorbikes outside the museum.

More time passed, and my skin was itching under my blood, then the door opened and two people came in; a human in blue and silver armour, who was saying something about a giant snake sighting, and a Martian woman with a flag-patterned mask and pouches and holsters strapped either side of her body. I recognized them immediately, of course, Armsmaster and Miss Militia.

"She's being uncooperative," said Kowalski, "you should throw the book at her."

"We've had this conversation before," said Armsmaster, "and I would really suggest that you return to your normal duties before I have to make another official complaint. Am I making myself clear, sergeant Kowalski?"

"Crystal," said Kowalski, walking out and slamming the door behind him.

"Miss Hebert," said Miss Militia, "are you all right?"

"I'm feeling kinda sick," I said, "he wouldn't even let me wipe the blood off. Said I had to wait for CSI."

"Let me take some swabs and that sash then go shower." She produced some plastic tubes and q-tips from one of the pouches and efficiently took samples from different tentacles, and put the tubes and my tour guide sash into evidence bags. "Here, use this." She handed me a bottle of hand sanitizer, one of the brands that's rated safe for Martians. "Wash it off as thoroughly as you can, and use plenty of this to kill any bacteria or viruses. Better use some to rinse your mouth out too, it's not toxic for us and it might help if you got any splatter in your mouth."

"Ugh..." I dashed for the showers and spent the next few minutes scrubbing with sanitizer then water as hot as I could bear. Water isn't really good for Martian skin, but given the choice I'd sooner be clean than rotting with human bacteria. At least the museum was built by union labor with Martian staff in mind, there's a whole-body air dryer that's much better than towels. We could never afford one at home.

As I came out Miss Militia and Armsmaster were watching something on a tablet, and I could hear a familiar voice - my voice - as I talked about littoral warfare and dealt with Emma and Sophia's interruption. Had to be security camera footage, though I hadn't realized they recorded sound.

"Miss Hebert," said Armsmaster, "You have an impressive knowledge of naval history and technology."

"I have a pretty good memory. Not quite total recall, but close. Mom used to teach Martian studies at the college, that got me interested in the history of the war and its influence on naval engineering. I'd like to study it properly when I finish school."

"I'll bear that in mind if it becomes relevant to any of our cases. Now, can you tell us about your association with Sophia Hess and Emma Vt'kso'zubb?" The segue from one topic to another wasn't exactly subtle.

I wondered how they knew Emma's name, but maybe Miss Militia had recognized her. "Can we wait for my dad to get here? He doesn't know what's been happening, and it's a long story. He ought to be here in a few minutes."

"That's probably a good idea," said Miss Militia. Armsmaster didn't look too happy about it, but didn't say anything. From the stories I've heard he doesn't do social interactions very well, so it made sense for her to handle that side of things. "Let's find a room that isn't a crime scene, we'll wait there. I think we passed a small conference room along the corridor."

"It isn't usually used on Saturdays," I said, "it's probably locked."

"Not a problem." Armsmaster led us out into the corridor and put a PRT CRIME SCENE seal on the door. There was a security guard outside; he unlocked the conference room as soon as Miss Militia asked, and promised to show my dad in when he arrived.

---

"Let's see if I've got this right," said Dad. "Emma Vt'kso'zubb, who used to be your best friend, one of my best friends' daughters, has her own posse and they've been bullying you for nearly two years?"

"Pretty much."

"And it just started suddenly when this Hess girl came onto the scene?"

"Yeah. With Emma and the others it's mostly been verbal abuse and mean tricks, Sophia is the one that hits me and pushes me downstairs. They slackened off in November for some reason. When I saw them today I thought that they were setting something up, then I found Sophia in my locker, so now I have no idea what's going on..."

"It just doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe I can shed some light on this," said Miss Militia. "But I'm going to have to ask you to sign non-disclosure agreements before we continue."

"About what?"

"We've been investigating reports of bullying at Winslow since November. If I tell you more you'll be able to identify our informant, and we need to keep their identity confidential."

"That's the only thing you want us to keep confidential?" asked Dad. "You don't want us to keep quiet about the bullying?"

"No. If anything, we'll do all we can to help bring the perpetrators to justice."

"So there's a parahuman involved?" She didn't answer, but I think that Dad and I were both sure - why else would the PRT be interested? "Okay, let me take a look at the NDAs, I want to check the wording before I agree to anything."

Five minutes later, when we'd both signed, Miss Militia said "Sophia Hess has been on parole for most of the time you have known her. Until recently reports on her behavior at Winslow have been uniformly positive. In November we learned that school staff and a PRT employee were covering up for Sophia's actions. When Sophia was questioned she eventually explained her behavior as helping Emma to gain revenge on you."

"What the hell for?"

"Miss Vt'kso'zubb accused you of rape."

"Let me get this straight," said Dad, "you're seriously telling us that my daughter is supposed to have raped another Martian? How the hell is that even supposed to work?"

Miss Militia shrugged a few tentacles. "Miss Hess apparently paid little attention to her health education classes, and none to the parts that were only relevant to Martian students. In particular, the concept of external fertilization seems to have escaped her attention."

If there's anyone out there that doesn't know the Martian version of the birds and the bees, the basic facts are pretty simple; when we reproduce we bud small pouches of sperm or eggs, about the size of a grape. If they get smushed together (that's not the technical term but there's not actually a colloquial English equivalent) they fuse and form a rubbery coating, and eventually an embryo develops. For complicated biological reasons a single Martian can't be mother and father of the same embryo, it takes two to tango. On Mars the embryo was usually implanted into a host animal and got its nutrients from their body; these days on Earth we go with one of the parents or use sterile synthetic nutrient gel, which is expensive but a lot more convenient. The point is that the entire process is consensual, it takes a couple of days to form the pouches, you can't be forced to do it, and there is no equivalent of an orgasm at any stage for either participant. This is one of the reasons why most Martians despise Über, tentacle rape claims have been a major racist slur ever since the Invasion and he was perpetuating the stereotype.

"So why is the PRT involved?"

"Sophia Hess is a Ward," said Armsmaster. "She started out as a violent vigilante, with several serious assaults on criminals, and has psychological issues which her handler claimed were under control. Unfortunately her handler had been bribed to ignore her behavior."

"Sophia Hess is a Ward?" I repeated. I was pretty sure I knew which one. "Why? What the heck were you people thinking?"

"That if we arrested her she would be tried and sentenced as a juvenile, and out on the streets as a villain within a few years. The Ward option was considered the lesser of the two evils, a better way to keep her under control."

"I hope you're aware that NDAs can't be used to conceal a crime," said dad.

"We don't plan to conceal anything," said Armsmaster, "but given what we've learned about Ms. Vt'kso'zubb's influence and campaign against you we're hoping that she will be allowed to continue as a ward, under tighter scrutiny and in another city, of course, once our investigation is completed."

"Our first thought was that Emma was mastering Miss Hess," said Miss Militia, "but she tested negative for that. Once we convinced Miss Hess that she'd been conned she went into considerably more detail, and became a more active part of the investigation. One thing that became clear is that Emma wasn't working alone. How much do you know about Alan Vt'kso'zubb?"

"I've known him since college," said dad. "He's a stand up guy, he's done a lot of work at cost for our members, and he was a big help when my wife died. When he finds out about Emma he'll go ballistic."

"He already knows. Initially he organized the plea bargain that led to Miss Hess becoming a Ward, which is well outside his normal legal practice. Following that he seems to have actively encouraged her continued violence. The money trail for the bribes was concealed fairly well, it took us most of the last month to prove that he was the source of the funds. We also have recordings of him talking to Emma and Sophia, claiming that it would be too dangerous to take legal action against you and Taylor because the Dockworker's Association is an Empire 88 front organization."

"Is she really that stupid? Empire 88 hate us, we don't discriminate against species, race, religion, or anything else - apart from active gang members, of course."

"Bluntly, yes. Sophia is cunning but has judgement and authority issues. Emma's claims gave her an outlet for her aggressive tendencies at a time when the PRT was cracking down on her behavior as a ward, and that seems to have blinded her to the flaws in Emma's story."

"I don't know what to say," said dad. "You think you know someone... It must have cost them a ton of money, what the hell is Alan getting out of it?"

"That's what we're still investigating," said Armsmaster. "Does he gain anything by harming Taylor, or possibly by discrediting you?"

"Damned if I can think of anything, unless it's him that's working for one of the gangs. So what happens now?"

"Officially Sophia is in critical condition," said Miss Militia, "in reality Panacea has already seen her and she's healing well. The recordings she made confirm that Emma led her to the locker room, and showed her a bottle which Emma claimed was animal blood. She said that she was going to pour it onto your property in the locker, and asked Sophia to open the door. When she had done so Emma stabbed her repeatedly and without any warning. If Taylor hadn't given immediate first aid Sophia probably wouldn't have survived."

"Bully for me," I said flatly. "That doesn't really answer dad's question. What happens next?"

"That's really up to you. Ideally we would like you to drop out of sight for a few days, and imply that you are being questioned as a suspect in the attack on Miss Hess, who for some reason isn't responding to treatment and hasn't identified her attacker. The security camera footage is poor enough that we could plausibly mistake you for miss Vt'kso'zubb. Your father could hire a lawyer, obviously not Alan Vt'kso'zubb because he isn't a defense attorney, we were thinking Carol Dallon, and pretend to neglect his other duties. Needless to say the PRT would pay all expenses. While that's going on we hope that Alan and Emma will show their hand in some way, and give us an idea what we're dealing with."

"You want to use me as bait," said Dad.

"That's not entirely wrong," said Armsmaster, "but we would arrange some protection, of course."

"What sort of protection?"

"We were thinking your sister-in-law could visit to help," said Miss Militia.

"She's in Boston," said Dad. "And I'm not sure how a translator would be useful."

"That's not exactly true," said Miss Militia, taking off her mask.

Dad looked as shocked as I was. "What the hell? Aunt Hannah?!"

"Surprise!"

TBC

Congratulations to readers who spotted that the title of the last chapter, We Used To Be Friends, was also a song by The Dandy Warhols used as the theme tune for Veronica Mars. In this universe the show depicted Veronica as a plucky Martian teenager, the show was cancelled after one season.

Update - made a couple of small changes to the last few lines, for plot purposes in later chapters.

Comments please before I post to archives. Before anyone asks, I'm deliberately using US English spelling for dialogue etc.