Defying Mars (Saving Mars Series-2) (8 page)

“You’re entirely welcome, lad,” replied Wallace.

The two argued less after that. In fact, after attracting stares and whistles at their next stop, Pavel allowed Wallace to persuade him of the need for something less visually appealing and consented to having the ship painted a dull shade of brown.

“It looks like dirt,” Pavel said sadly when they’d completed the transformation.

“Aye,” said Wallace, snorting with laughter. “So it does. Dirt. That’s something we two can agree on.”

Meanwhile, Wallace’s many connections with the underground world of activities deemed criminal by Lucca Brezhnaya’s government proved to have their uses. The Scot was not able to obtain direct assistance from Clan Wallace to break into the satellite facility. But through means indirect, the party of Brian, Pavel, and Ethan were finally equipped with scan passes, codes, and intelligence about security within the building, which appeared to have been down-graded to video-surveillance and one security guard only, if reports were to be believed.

The evening of their planned mission arrived. Ethan estimated that he needed ninety minutes to finish the work of redirecting the control of the satellites to MCC. Pavel suggested they arrive between four-thirty and five in the morning, a time night-shift guards favored for drinking the strong black Budapesti coffee known as
kávé
.

“Zussman—our butler—worked security when he was a twobody,” said Pavel. “He swore by that four-thirty cup of coffee to get you through ‘til the shift ended.”

This led to another disagreement between Brian and Pavel as Pavel steered the craft toward Budapest.

“Lad, we don’t want security distracted,” said Brian Wallace. “We want them
unconscious
.”

“That is not an acceptable first option,” replied Pavel.

Ethan stepped between the two, figuratively, suggesting that Pavel was well-informed to know what sort of drug might render someone unconscious with the least amount of damage to the individual’s person.

Wallace shrugged his agreement. “It’s more humane than striking them a blow to the brains, I’ll grant ye.”

Ethan, who had been researching medicinal methods of knocking someone out, made several suggestions and Pavel grudgingly approved one of them. He didn’t like the idea of harming someone who could have been Zussman.

“You are a healer,” said Ethan. “It would be morally reprehensible in you to be eager to cause harm.”

Pavel looked at his long fingers arrayed upon the nav-panel. He had been a healer. Now he didn’t know what he was.

He brought the ship to a halt just one street over from the satellite facility.

Quietly, they gathered the few supplies they required. Then the two walking and the one hovering made their way in a silence broken only by the sound, overhead, of large cruisers carrying commuters to or from work. The air was fresh with the nutmeg-scent of something like fossil fuels or perhaps paint thinner. Pavel, who had been hoping to smell kávé, was disappointed. At the corner of a neighboring building, Ethan stopped to wait, leaving him closest to the ship and safety, while the other two proceeded ahead of him.

Ethan had manufactured earpieces similar to those he and Jessamyn had once worn, so that the three could stay in communication with one another.

When Brian Wallace and Pavel reached the narrow food-service entrance in back, it became Wallace’s turn to stay behind while Pavel scouted out the building. Pavel proceeded cautiously around a darkened corner toward the room Ethan would need to access. Having seen no one yet made Pavel nervous rather than confident, but he gave the signal for Ethan to cross the empty lot and enter the building. Wallace remained to stand guard at the entrance.

Vaguely, Pavel wondered if Ethan would feel afraid approaching the place where he’d been captured by Red Squadron Forces. A slow minute ticked past and then Pavel heard the hum of Ethan’s hoverchair.

Shizer
, he thought. He hadn’t counted on the noise of Ethan’s mode of transport. The slight whine was a result of a modification Pavel had made to boost power to the chair. Wallace had laughed at what Pavel had done, calling it overkill. Pavel didn’t see how giving a hoverchair the ability to outpace most hoverbikes was a mistake. He’d have wanted it if he were reliant upon a chair to get around.

But the whining sound didn’t give them away; the place seemed abandoned. Ethan appeared and immediately set to work upon a flat panel lining the entire wall of the small room. Pavel consulted a chronometer and then left Ethan so as to stand guard in the hall. The building was eerily silent.

But after some twenty minutes had passed, the quiet hum was joined by the sound of Brian Wallace’s voice in Pavel’s earpiece.

“We’ve got company, lads,” whispered Wallace.

“
Shizer!
” Pavel muttered, already dashing back to Ethan.

“Visitors! We’ve got to go—now!” whispered Pavel. “This way!”

But Ethan was gliding in a different direction. “Follow me,” Ethan said to Pavel. “I have memorized the floor plans.”

Pavel nodded.

“Grab the back of my chair,” Ethan called softly.

A moment later when Ethan put the hoverchair through its paces, careening madly around corners and down corridors, Pavel understood the genius of having him ride behind. It was faster and quieter than running.

Beyond one open door, Pavel thought he saw a flash of red armor and his heart began to beat wildly.

We should be to Wallace by now
, he thought worriedly.

And then abruptly they were back to Wallace. Who was pinned against the wall by an officer in red.

10

BUNCH OF BLAMED FOOLS

The sun had risen hours ago and glided now along its summer-arc, warming Mars’s northern hemisphere to just above freezing. Jessamyn stood outside her home awaiting the arrival of her transport. Her time with her parents had left her frustrated, and she kicked at small rocks along the front of their home. When this failed to settle her, she began to pick them up and throw them as far as she could, gazing with envy at the freedom with which the rocks sailed away.

A small hopcraft arrived within half an hour and Jess repeated the unsatisfying experience of
not
being the pilot inside one of the Secretary’s transports.

Upon arriving at MCC, frustrated and disgruntled, she slipped out of her walk-out suit and was immediately ushered into the private office of Mars’s CEO.

“Good morning, Pilot Jaarda,” said Mei Lo, smiling.

“Madam Secretary,” said Jess, nodding in deference, trying to shed the frown that had taken up residence upon her face.

“I’m behind schedule as usual,” said Mei Lo. “Some things never change.” A swift shake of her head. “I need to discuss a pressing matter with you.” The Secretary rose and crossed to a small window set to overlook the Marsian desert. “In spite of your brother’s efforts, we do not have control of the satellite array.”

Jess frowned. “My parents told me everyone is saying the lasers can’t hurt us anymore.”

“Yes. We had a fine time decoding your brother’s message, I can tell you.” She pressed her lips together. “Unfortunately, that information was leaked to all of Mars Colonial and has now become a banner behind which many rally.”

“I heard about the faction who want to reopen trade with Earth,” said Jessamyn.

“You would have, with Lillian and Geoffrey for parents. They’ve been a great support.” Mei Lo sighed softly. “But merely turning off the targeting lasers solves very little and has created new problems for MCC.”

“I’m happy to tell everyone the truth about Terrans,” said Jessamyn. “The way I see it, we just need to educate the citizens of Mars Colonial as to the true nature of Terrans and that will do two things. It’ll change everyone’s mind about trade relations and convince anyone who needs convincing that we owe it to the Mars Raiders to bring them home.”

“Jessamyn, Jessamyn,” said Mei Lo, sighing. “If only things were that straightforward.”

“It’s very simple, Ma’am,” said Jessamyn, gathering steam. “You’re right that I didn’t tell you everything about my encounters on Earth. But I’m willing to lay it all out in front of you. And when I do, it will be plain as day that we do
not
want to establish relations with any member of the Terran government.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” said the Secretary. “What you don’t understand is that you
won’t
be able to convince those who are pro-trade.”

Jess scowled. “You’re right I don’t understand. But it’s pretty basic: Terrans are cruel and selfish and wasteful. What’s so hard about explaining that to people?”

Mei Lo rose and stood before the small window behind her desk. “I can’t send you back,” she said at last.

Jessamyn spluttered, attempting to begin a new argument.

“No—” Mei Lo held up a hand. “I cannot send you back
now
. If we are very careful and considered in our actions for the next twenty-three months, it may be possible to send a rescue party the next time Earth draws near.”

Jess felt her skin grow suddenly cold. “If I don’t go now, I think my brother will die,” she said softly. “He won’t make it a full annum. I just know it.”

The Secretary shook her head. “If I were to send a ship now, without making allowances for trade, the public outrage would grow beyond what I can contain. My government would fall. I’m doing everything in my power to prevent that, Jess, because if this government goes down, the one that rises in its place will be committed to changes to the Marsian way of life that will destroy us.”

When she finished, the two remained silent, the room echoing with the Secretary’s words.

“I don’t understand,” said Jess at last.

“I know,” said Mei Lo. “There are days I don’t understand either.”

Jessamyn sat still for a moment, gazing at the opaque-glass door sealing off Mei Lo’s office. Shadows passed by in ones and twos. “Do the people who say they want us to trade with Earth really mean it? They’re not just, I don’t know, flirting with the idea?”

“They believe and argue with passion that it is in Mars’s best interest to re-open trade,” replied the Secretary.

Jess didn’t know what to say. She only knew she would never, ever, want to be in a position to bargain with Lucca Brezhnaya or her government.

Mei Lo sighed softly. “I’ve managed to keep peace by promising to carefully examine the possibility of sending a negotiations team in an annum. That’s what this has come to: delay as my best option. My government has maintained that the
Galleon
cannot fly again so soon after her recent voyages. I never thought I’d say this, but there is a mercy in our having only one space-worthy craft.”

The finality of Mei Lo’s rationale sank in and Jessamyn felt as though ice ran through her veins instead of blood. “I see,” she said quietly.

“Give everyone an annum to cool this Terran fever, and perhaps we can send a mission to rescue our friends without the danger of awakening the Terran beast that will turn upon and devour us.”

“I see,” Jess repeated. But then she wondered. Did she see it clearly? Or was she simply prejudiced against the idea of interactions with Terrans because they’d captured her brother? She looked at the blurred outlines of the people walking past Mei Lo’s office. Maybe she wasn’t seeing things clearly because she’d clouded her vision with anger and hatred.

“Madam Secretary, do you think maybe … is it possible Terrans no longer present a threat to us?” asked Jessamyn.

“Jessamyn,” said the Secretary, her head shaking.

But Jess pushed ahead. “Maybe I’ve just been blinded because they hurt people I loved. I mean, they
thought
we were inciters—terrorists.”

“Jess,” said Mei Lo, more sharply.

Jessamyn looked up to see Mei Lo closing her eyes and pressing her forefinger and thumb along the bridge of her nose. “They are dangerous,” she said at last. “You know this.”

“I know,” said Jessamyn. What had she been thinking? She knew the truth about Lucca Brezhnaya. She sighed. “I just want my brother back.”

“So do I,” said Mei Lo. “So do I.”

Nessa Niedermaier bustled in. “Madam Secretary? Pilot Jaarda? We’re ready for you in studio one.”

“
Bells of Hades
,” muttered the Secretary. “Raider Jaarda? You and I will continue this discussion at a later time. Nessa, lead on.”

The hour-long interview with Mars Global Vid proved as much of a challenge for Jess as her exchange with the Secretary. The news anchor asked ridiculous questions:
Do Terrans look just like us? Were you able to understand them when they spoke?
These, she alternated with questions Jessamyn found too deeply private to answer.
What was your lowest point, personally, on the mission?
How did you find yourself able to move past the incredible sorrow of the loss of three crew members? Of the
Red Dawn
?

Jessamyn hid her anguish under a cover of irritability and allowed Crusty to handle increasing numbers of questions.

“Crustegard—we’re all friends here—can I call you Crusty?” asked the eager interviewer. “Did you encounter actual
body-swappers
?”

The mechanic cleared his throat with a low rumble Jess felt certain hid laughter. “Mighty difficult to avoid ‘em if your intention is to trade what’s in your ship’s hold for what they’ve got planet-side.”

“Hmm,” replied the anchor. “Of course. What we’re all wondering though—and I think I speak for everyone at home—is … how did you
feel
standing in the presence of someone who wasn’t even wearing the skin they were born with?”

Crusty stared at the face of the woman interviewing him. Jess saw him pause as he regarded her lack of First Wrinkle, her exaggerated eyelashes, her unnaturally colored lips. “There’s plenty enough folk here on Mars dressed in somethin’ that don’t resemble what God gave ‘em to start with. I reckon the Terran I spent my time with would fit in just fine here.”

“Well, that just about wraps it up for our time here this morning,” said the woman. “One last question for each of you. Let’s start with you, Crusty: what did you find yourself missing most?”