Authors: Cidney Swanson
And then suddenly she heard a loud shot ringing out beside her. The Galleon disappeared from view and Jess found herself staring up at a whirling sky as she was violently dislodged from the hovercart. She tried to focus on a single cloud, tried to stop the world from spinning, tried to stand and flee. Strong arms restrained her.
She heard herself screaming, told herself,
You must break free—you must!
But her torso was held fast in a manacled grip. She wasn’t strong enough. Things were too
heavy
here. She felt her legs collapse as someone tugged her, dragging her backwards. She stared in wonder at a bright bloom spreading along her left arm, a match to the crimson-clad guards who pulled her in the wrong direction, away from the Galleon. There was a sharp ache in the arm, but she had no time for pain.
“No!” she shouted. “No!” A third
no
trailed out into an anguished cry as she struggled to free herself, to race back to the Galleon and hope and the salvation of her world.
She heard shouted commands, but the world’s edges seemed to be growing fuzzy. A part of her recognized she’d been shot, which explained how she’d become dislodged from the cart. As spots danced across her vision, she stopped struggling physically and instead struggled to maintain consciousness. She focused on her feet as the secures dragged her backward along a path to the front door of Wallace’s cottage. Her feet bounced along the uneven surface and one shoe slipped free.
“Throw the prisoner over your shoulder,” said a deep voice. “She’s in no condition to fight.”
Jess watched the world tip so that grass and ash became
up,
sky
down
. She shook her head.
You will not pass out
, she ordered herself. The ash and grass dimmed and then darkened.
And then the world up-ended itself again as Jess felt herself being hurled onto something hard. A chair. Her vision spun, steadied, and righted itself. Her hands had been bound and a bandage slapped over her arm wound. It disturbed her that she couldn’t remember either of these things happening. In fact, she’d missed re-entering Wallace’s cottage altogether. But she felt awake now, and the pain in her left arm helped keep her alert.
Across from her, Wallace sat at his computer, gagged and handcuffed, rather sloppily, to the desk. He was shouting at the Red Forces officials, who looked puzzled to see him. One stepped closer and removed Wallace’s gag.
Brian Wallace twisted wild eyes at Jessamyn, shouting meanwhile at the secures. “That’s her, I tell you! She’s parked a nuclear weapon in my sheep pasture!”
A secure addressed Wallace. “She tied you up?”
“Aye,” said Wallace, wagging his head up and down, “Only minutes ago, when she found me, hiding here. I’ve been sending messages to the constabulary on the mainland for two days now about her missile, but no one would listen. You’ve seen it, haven’t you? That great bloody inciter missile?”
The two officers conferred. While their heads were turned away from Wallace, he aimed a long slow wink at Jessamyn. Her eyebrows flew up. He nodded briefly and in that gesture she saw reassurance. Whatever he was up to, it didn’t involve giving away her planet’s secrets.
Jess could play along, she decided; she bowed her own head slightly, mouthing an “okay” to him as well.
“Inform the prisoner of the charges against her,” barked the superior officer to the one who had carried her before turning himself to interrogate Brian Wallace.
“Citizen,” droned the guard beside Jessamyn, “You stand convicted of attempting to launch a nuclear weapon of mass destruction to destinations unascertainable which is an act of terrorism against the people of Earth and treason against her government.”
Jessamyn’s mind spun. She knew what came next—the part where they shot her and she collapsed unconscious.
“You are required to perform acts of manual labor to benefit the citizens you have attempted to harm. You will receive reorientation training during the balance of your years of life. Your current body will be entered into general reclamation and you will be assigned a geriatric body in which to carry out your sentence.”
Jessamyn’s breath caught, stretching the moment to an infinity, but no one raised a weapon at her.
“You’re not going to shoot me?” she asked. Hope rushed in. She was bound and she was under armed-guard, but she was conscious. The Galleon lay just outside. And Wallace was now unbound.
They believed him.
Emboldened, she spoke. “You have to take me to the … to my weapon. I’m the only one who can disarm it.” The guard watched over her, expressionless.
She clawed through the back rooms of her brain, looking for anything that would end with her aboard the Galleon. “You must release me. The fate of the planet is in your hands!”
“The Chancellor is
en route
,” reported the commanding officer, ignoring Jessamyn.
“Release me or everyone dies,” she cried. “Desolation! Destruction.”
“Seal the prisoner’s mouth,” barked the officer in charge.
As a piece of skin-heal was slapped roughly over her mouth, Jess sank farther back into the unyielding chair. She considered screaming continuously, but if the officers hadn’t been convinced by her words, stifled groans probably wouldn’t go far. In fact, based on how annoyed the secure looked at the moment, he might decide to render her unconscious. She held silent.
Through one of the windows, Jess could see the top of the Red Galleon. Everything in her strained toward the ship. Could Crusty make it alone? Her gut whispered,
No
. She had to escape. What resources did she have? She was no Harpreet with negotiation skills, obviously.
What do you have, Jess? Think!
She was conscious. Miraculously, she retained the use of her legs, unsecured—she could run if the opportunity presented itself. Jess glanced at the weapon trained on her. Outside, she heard an animal noise. A dog’s
woof-woof-woof
. She remembered their hope-filled arrival: Wallace’s dog bounding beside them, barking. And something in that memory undid her. Despair settled upon Jessamyn like a mantle ice cold and brittle. But even as she bowed under the imagined weight, she commanded herself,
You will not give up!
Another noise shook the windows: the rattle of a large hover-transport as it descended. The dog barked at an even more excited pitch. The security officers stood at attention and one opened the front door.
“Welcome, Madam Chancellor,” said the commanding officer, in tones of deep respect.
Half a dozen angry drops of rain blew in through the open door.
Craning her head, Jessamyn saw a woman who was tall by Terran standards. A middle-aged threebody. Thin enough to pass for Marsian. Her wide-set eyes looked cold—exactly as they had when Jessamyn had seen them first, in this very room, upon Brian Wallace’s video screen.
Lucca Brezhnaya
.
Wallace’s eyes flew wide.
As Pavel’s aunt stepped inside the house, Jessamyn saw the Chancellor wasn’t alone. Someone wearing physician’s garb stood behind her in the narrow entrance.
“This is the girl?” asked Lucca, directing the question to the doctor accompanying her.
He stepped from behind her so that Jessamyn was able to see his face.
Pavel
.
Chapter Thirty
A STORM
Avoiding eye contact with Jessamyn, Pavel murmured, “It’s her.”
What have you done, Pavel?
Had he told his aunt everything? And if he had, would that save her planet or damn it?
Lucca Brezhnaya spoke to Jessamyn. “Do you know who I am?”
Jess, seeing no benefit in pretending otherwise, nodded.
“Is that a bandage covering her mouth?” asked Lucca, incredulous. “Oh, for the love of …” She broke off and turned to her nephew. “Remove that.”
While Lucca berated the security officer standing beside her for overzealousness, Pavel crossed to Jess.
“I need a hot, moist cloth,” Pavel said to the other secure.
“Go on,” said Lucca to the officer. “You heard my nephew.”
The man strode briskly to Wallace’s kitchen.
“Who are you?” Lucca asked Brian Wallace who had been nodding and bowing at her since she crossed the threshold.
“Such an honor,” said Wallace, smiling at the Chancellor. “Welcome to me humble dwelling. I’m afraid the weather’s none too pleasant for the honor of yer visit.” Thunder rumbled far off, punctuating the oily greeting.
Jess hadn’t known he could sound so … unctuous.
“Now, then,” said Pavel, “Let’s see how that seal’s been applied.” After saying this, he leaned in close and whispered, so softly Jess almost missed it, “
I’ve got Ethan. Lucca thinks you’re an inciter. Don’t tell her about Mars.
”
The secure, returning with a cloth, handed it to Pavel. Wallace continued his tale (of nukes in his garden and no one paying any heed) to an increasingly irritated Lucca Brezhnaya.
“This is filthy,” said Pavel, refusing to take the damp towel. He dug through his med kit, found a clean cloth, and handed it to the security officer. “Run this one under hot water and bring it back to me at once.”
Pavel sounded like Lucca, thought Jessamyn. The thought wasn’t a pleasant one. But he was keeping the truth from his aunt, exactly as Jess had asked. Pavel caught her eye briefly and she saw the boy she trusted.
Outside, rain began to spatter the windows.
Before the security officer returned with the cloth, Pavel leaned in closely as though examining Jessamyn’s eyes with a small bright light. “
I’ll help however I can. Stall. And don’t try anything while security’s here.
” Then, taking the steaming cloth from the secure, Pavel gently dabbed at the piece of skin-seal and pulled it away. “You can question her now,” said Pavel to his aunt.
Lucca ordered the junior officer to stand guard outside.
As soon as the secure had stepped out of the cottage, Pavel’s aunt took two slow steps toward Jessamyn. Jess drew herself tall, noting she had a few centimeters on the Chancellor.
“I know all about your pathetic attempt to destroy New Kelen Hospital,” said Lucca as she stared at Jessamyn. “I know you bargained with my nephew, exchanging your release for a promise
not
to destroy the hospital. Which means I know two important things about you. First, I know you stick to your bargains.” Lucca stepped so close that Jess could see a small stain of lipstick on one of her lower teeth. “And second, I know you’re not the type to throw your life away for the so-called
greater good
.”
“Or maybe I wasn’t in the mood to die yesterday,” replied Jessamyn.
“Oh, I’m certain I could put you in the mood to beg for death,” said Lucca, red lips pulling back from white teeth in a false smile.
“Perhaps,” agreed Jessamyn.
Keep stalling,
she told herself. “This woman is your aunt?” asked Jess, addressing Pavel.
“Yes.” Pavel replied warily, his eyes narrowing.
Jessamyn spoke to Lucca. “You should be proud of him. He is incorruptible.”
“He let you go,” said Lucca.
Jessamyn shrugged. “He made a deal for the benefit of others rather than for his own benefit. Did he tell you what he turned down?”
Lucca laughed harshly. “Let me guess: you?”
“Aunt Lucca, please,” muttered Pavel.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” said Jessamyn. “But that’s not all.”
“Pray, continue,” said Lucca, seeming amused by Pavel’s discomfort.
“Your nephew turned down
butter
as well,” Jess said, landing on the first thing she could think of.
“Butter?” repeated the Chancellor, turning to the security officer. “What do we know about
butter
?”
He shrugged as he dug through Jessamyn’s bag. “Might be the street name of those potent narcotics coming out of Greenland.”
“You offered narcotics to a physician?” Lucca asked Jess. “You’re bluffing.” Her clear eyes piercing Jessamyn’s. “And you’re wasting my time.”
“He also turned down a double-kilo bar of pressed tellurium,” said Jessamyn.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Lucca. “Where would
you
get tellurium?”
“Excuse me, Madam Chancellor,” interrupted one of the security officers. In one hand he held Jessamyn’s sling pack. In his other, the thin bar of pressed tellurium from her emergency supplies.
Lucca’s mouth fell slightly open. Then she spoke in clear tones to the security officer. “You never saw this.” She seized the tellurium from him. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Absolutely, Madam Chancellor,” replied the officer.
“Where did you get this much tellurium?” Lucca asked Jessamyn.
Jess shrugged. “There’s more where that came from.”
“Hmm,” said Lucca. “Somehow I doubt that. Also, unfortunately for you, incorruptibility runs in the family.” Saying this, she tucked the bar into a case she carried and barked an order to the remaining officer. “Search her transport for tellurium. And
butter
or any other valuables.”
“With all due respect, Madam Chancellor,” replied the officer, “Perhaps you might not wish to remain alone with the prisoner?” He glanced at a window as lightning sparked outside.
“You will
not
question my orders if you value your … position,” said Lucca, her voice a soft purr.
Noting the officer glancing at the window again and seeming to hesitate, Lucca raised her voice. “I want you outside! Your armor’s not going to rust, imbecile.”
As the remaining security officer exited, Jessamyn’s heart beat faster.
“Everyone has a price, Madam Chancellor,” she said, trying to match Brian Wallace’s
oily
tone. “What would yours be, measured in tellurium? Perhaps we can come to an agreement.”
Jess saw Lucca’s pupils dilate, watched her nostrils flare. The Chancellor wanted tellurium.
Lucca walked to Jessamyn’s side. Placed her mouth beside Jess’s ear. “Whatever my price might be, you couldn’t have enough,” whispered the Chancellor. “You couldn’t possibly.” Lucca walked back to the other side of the room, crossed her arms, and gazed out the window at the darkening sky. “Now, let’s discuss your disarmament of the weapon sitting out there.”