Mars Burning (The Saving Mars Series-)

by Cidney Swanson

  “Huh,” grunted Pavel. “So, less likely to wake you up in the middle of the night if you’re kilometers from civilization.”

  “You can’t even see it from some parts of Mars. And, no, I don’t think anyone on Mars has ever been awakened by moonlight.”

  Pavel modified his position, angling right behind Jess. She sighed in content. Pavel made a much nicer backrest than any thus–far discovered part of the fishing boat.

  “You see that satellite off to the left of the moon?”

  Jessamyn saw several.

  “The big one,” said Pavel.

  “I see it.”

  Pavel didn’t say anything.

  “Oh,” she said, remembering the night they’d met. “Is that…” Her question trailed off.

  “The New Terra Space Station.”

  His voice was too quiet for Jessamyn to detect subtle shades of emotion, but she snuggled in more closely. Pavel’s parents had lost their lives on that station.

  “I wonder what they were doing up there,” he said at last.

  Jessamyn’s eyes followed the satellite, a small mobile star. “You never found out?”

  She felt Pavel’s head behind hers as he turned left–right, left–right.

  No.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, her fingers finding his, winding through them, holding a small part of him as close to a small part of her as she could.

  He exhaled. Softened. Kissed the top of her head.

  “Would you like to try and find out what they were doing up there?” she asked.

  A beat of silence, of breath held for too long. A soft exhale.

  “Yeah.”

  Jessamyn squeezed his hand in hers as the boat shifted over a larger than usual wave.

  “Listen,” said Pavel, “I have this idea. It might be crazy. In fact, feel free to tell me it’s crazy.”

  “What is it?”

  “Remember the night we met?”

  “I remember that ridiculous orange dress,” said Jess.

  “You looked amazing in that dress.”

  “I’m always adopting strange costumes around you. Does this happen to all the girls who fall for you?”

  Pavel laughed. “All of them.”

  Jess looked up, reaching for a kiss, but Pavel’s gaze was far off.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I wondered if you remembered how, the night we met, I told you I was interested in harvesting satellite trash,” he said.

  “I remember,” said Jess. She remembered everything from that night.

  Pavel nodded. “It was just, I figured I might hear something. I mean, the space stations orbit a whole lot lower than where most of the harvesters work, but you never know. Someone might’ve heard something.”

  Jessamyn watched the slow and perfectly straight progress of the New Terra Space Station as it crossed the night sky, waiting to see if Pavel had more to say. She felt a thrill course through her body—the yearning to inhabit space once more.

  “Here’s the thing,” continued Pavel. “It’s like Harpreet said earlier: there’s no place on Earth where we’re really safe.”

  “Welcome to my world,” said Jess.

  Pavel laughed softly. “So what if we were to go off–world?”

  “Mars is too far away. Even if you could find a ship, you couldn’t fuel it for the journey right now.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of Mars.”

  Jess shifted, sitting more upright.

  “I was thinking of a space station,” said Pavel.

  “Oh. That’s illegal, though, isn’t it? Not that it matters.”

  “It’s dangerous, but it gets us off the radar—literally—and the space stations that are functional have something you need.”

  “Deep–space relays!” said Jess, her eyes widening. “Of course.”

  “So, not crazy?”

  “Pavel, it’s perfect!”

  “It’s selfish, too,” said Pavel. “I always half–suspected Jumble knew something about my folks. He had this way of looking at me, like he wanted to say stuff, sometimes.”

  “‘Jumble’ is a person, I take it?”

  “He’s my friend on the Isles of Scilly.”

  There was silence for a moment and then Jess said, “You’ve been thinking about this for awhile.”

  “Yeah,” Pavel admitted.

  “Jumble—what kind of name is that?”

  Pavel laughed. “No idea. Probably a nickname. He had the messiest workspace of anyone I’ve seen. But he’s a hell of an instructor. Or was, before he retired.”

  “Is it safe to ask him for help?”

  Pavel nodded. “I trust him. When I was a kid, he let me go up past the three–hundred kilo mark with him. Wouldn’t let me pilot, though. He said that way he could take the fall if we got caught.” Pavel laughed softly. “I know for a fact my aunt paid him to report back on my whereabouts. I got Zuss to show me the records once. Jumble’s reports were full of this completely made–up shizer. Not even remotely accurate.”

  “I guess that was a good thing.”

  Pavel’s face grew earnest. “He covered for me, Jess, every time. Could’ve got himself in all kinds of trouble for doing that. I asked him about it, eventually. He just shrugged and said it wasn’t any of his business to share stuff with my aunt that could land me in trouble.”

  “An independent cuss.”

  “Hmm?” Pavel looked puzzled.

  “Just something Crusty would say. A sort of admiring nickname he gave anyone who stood on the wrong side of compliance.”

  “So, you, basically,” said Pavel, grinning.

  Jess felt the skin around her neck heating. “Yeah. In the past. I’m putting all that behind me now.”

  “So you’ve said,” said Pavel. “Can I ask why?”

  An answer was on the tip of her tongue: Bad things happen when I break the rules.

  But in the way of middle–of–night confessions, that answer seemed suddenly too simplistic. The reality was, bad things happened all the time, whether Jess or someone else or no one at all broke the rules.

  So why did it feel so important to her that she not break any more rules?

  She thought of the crew of the Red Dawn, dead because of decisions she’d made outside of the chain of command. A clawing panic raked her belly and she turned from the memory. But her mind brought back the destruction of the Galleon, of Yucca, Gran’s funeral, Renard’s murder—all because of her choices. Her mother’s grief over Ethan, Eth’s wretched twobody: the list went on and on until it felt as if her chest wall was collapsing from lack of air. She gripped the gunwales to steady herself, sucking in a breath that didn’t feel deep enough.

  I don’t want to feel that kind of pain again.

  At the most basic and primal level, that was it: she didn’t want to feel the pain of those losses ever, ever again. There lay the truth—the single bitter root, the source of her determination to never again deviate from her orders. The weight of responsibility was too great, too crushing to face again. She turned back to answer Pavel’s question.

  “You say you’re not strong enough to face your aunt capturing me again. What I feel—it’s like that. I can’t be responsible for any more deaths. I just can’t.”

  Pavel took her hand in his. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I brought it up. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

  Jess nodded, increasing her grip on the hand that held hers. She felt her breath stabilize, felt the world beginning to have enough air once more.

  “Jumble’s gonna love you,” Pavel said, smiling.

  Jess clung to the change of subject. “So how do we find this guy Jumble?”

  “Well, for one, the Isles of Scilly are small. Everyone–knows–everyone small. And I have a feeling Zuss will know how to find him.”

  “We’re changing direction,” said Jess, some inner compass of which she was hardly aware tilting ever–so–slightly.

  Pavel looked up
, watching the stars as they shifted. “We are at that,” he murmured. “We must be getting close to the freighter.”

  Jess nodded. “I want to try and sleep again,” she said. She felt as though she’d completed an uphill running course.

  “Sure,” said Pavel. “Good night.”

  The two lay quietly under the brilliant moon, drifting off to sleep at last.

  The fishing boat made a series of small course adjustments, with the result that all the remaining fugitives were shortly awake, with varying levels of seasickness. Zussman, however, was the only one to beg leave to apologize after every episode of sickness. Eventually, Brian Wallace offered Zussman a med–patch that brought color back to his face.

  “I should have thought of that, man,” said Pavel, apologetic.

  “Not to worry, sir,” said Zussman.

  “Ye’ll be better aboard the cargo vessel,” said Brian, sympathetically. “We’ll hardly know we’re at sea.”

  Zussman nodded. “Yes, sir. It will be a welcome change, sir.”

  Brian Wallace leaned in. “Ye really can’t see yer way to dropping the ‘sir,’ then?”

  “No, sir. I regret I cannot.”

  “Aye,” replied Brian. “Thought as much.”

  Pavel took advantage of Zussman’s improved state of health to ask about finding Jumble, and the two conversed quietly while the fishing boat shuddered to a near halt. The crew of the small vessel began to herd the group of fugitives to one side. Elsa, who had been missing for several hours, returned now from parts unknown, her tail wagging fiercely, and her breath smelling strongly of fish.

  The transfer from fishing boat to cargo vessel was accomplished with practiced ease on the part of the seamen, although Jess felt certain on more than one occasion that she would be deposited in the roiling sea instead of within the cargo ship. By the time she stepped onto the solid freighter, her bones felt like jelly.

  She smiled and waved to her brother, next in line to transfer out of the boat. Ethan’s brow had drawn tight, and he’d contracted his gaze to the area where his stumps rested on his hoverchair. If Jess was any judge, her brother did not want to get on the cargo vessel.

  “Oh, no,” she murmured.

  23

  Budapest, Earth

  Lucca Brezhnaya tapped her red nails on the surface of her desk as she gazed at Major Vladim Wu, standing across from her. Knowing he preferred to stand, she hadn’t forced him to take a seat.

  Careful.

  Lucca knew better.

  “Be seated,” she said, in her most authoritative voice.

  The Chancellor noted with satisfaction the slight pressing together of his lips indicating his reluctance to sit.

  That’s better.

  It was best to keep her employees uncomfortable. Kindness on her part was a symptom of putting too much faith in an individual. Putting too much faith in an individual was dangerous. It could only end badly, as she’d been reminded with her former butler’s recent defection. No, it was best to cultivate neither admiration, nor kindness, nor any other hint of relationship.

  Wu is a replaceable piece in a collection of useful items, she told herself. Use him as you would use a newly upgraded wafer.

  Still, the more she worked with him, the more she found to admire. She could grant him a small portion of approval.

  She smiled at him.

  Lucca had an unforgettable smile. It was one of the first things she looked for when contemplating a re–body. What is the smile like? Beautiful but terrifying was the look she preferred.

  “Are they really dead? The last grubby little Martians and their last grubby little sympathizers?”

  Major Wu fixed his eyes on a spot above and to one side of the Chancellor and repeated the information he’d sent in his report of the visit to the Madeiran Islands. “The island’s administrator, one Cameron Wallace, had, prior to my arrival, captured and imprisoned two individuals known to be of Martian origin—” he glanced at his report. “One called Harpreet Mombasu, the other known as Ethan, first name only. Wallace additionally detained one Kazuko Zaifa, removed from the New Timbuktu prison facility at the same time Mombasu made her escape. Lastly, Wallace held a man known as Brian Wallace—”

  Here Lucca interrupted unintentionally with a slight snarl.

  Wu paused.

  “Continue,” said the Chancellor, her tone clipped.

  “The individual sharing Cameron Wallace’s surname is the one thought to have initially brought the others to Madeira. We have determined that, by the time my team arrived, all four individuals were housed on a prison island some twenty kilometers from the main island.”

  “The one that exploded,” said Lucca.

  “Yes. It appears Wallace imprisoned the four when her cousin Brian Wallace came to her for shelter following the destruction of Yucca.”

  Lucca gave a light laugh. How well these things worked out, sometimes.

  “From what we have pieced together,” continued Wu, “The prisoners most likely lost their lives in an ill–conceived attempt to blow up a prison wall. Of course, there is still a slight possibility Lady Wallace instigated the explosion. She may have intended to apply a sort of vigilante justice.”

  “But you say she demanded a finder’s fee,” murmured Lucca. “As though she intended to profit.” Lucca shifted so that her elbows rested on the table. Her hands pressed together and her chin rested on the tips of her forefingers. She tapped her pinkie fingers together.

  Wu did not speak. She had trained him well. He knew to wait for her to puzzle things out at her own pace. She continued.

  “In your personal estimation, apart from what your people presented in this report, was Lady Wallace hoping for the bounty placed upon the criminal’s heads? Or would she have preferred some sort of familial revenge over collecting a reward?”

  Wu frowned. “The general standard of living on the islands is low. I observed several indications she desired the reward she claimed to want.”

  “But in matters of family, people often behave in ways counter to their benefit,” said Lucca. She folded her hands together, creating a more comfortable resting place for her chin.

  “It is my belief she did not order the destruction of the fugitives,” said Wu. “Her shock, upon seeing the billowing smoke, appeared genuine. Her exchanges with her chief of security also indicated genuine distress. She was not expecting her prison to go up in flames.”

  Lucca blinked slowly. “So we are left with the prisoners having engineered their own destruction. Do you think this was what they intended?”

  Wu gave a small grunt, which Lucca had learned was his closest approximation of laughter.

  “If they were attempting to blow up a door or blast through a wall, they severely overestimated the amount of force necessary. It is my opinion that only two possibilities account for the level of destruction present on the prison isle. Either someone motivated by a desire for revenge plotted their complete destruction, or the prisoners decided to end their own lives, having snuck some small but powerful weapon past their captors.”

  Lucca didn’t like loose ends. And while the individuals in question were dead, this tickled and irritated her like a loose end.

  “If they took their own lives, it might indicate they felt their work on Earth was accomplished,” she said. The Chancellor looked at Wu, her brows closing together. “I need something more conclusive. If they have indeed accomplished all they came to Earth to do, we might be overlooking something important.”

  She tapped her nails against her desk once more: click, click, click, click.

  “Wu, does it not strike you as odd that the Martians make a habit of dying in explosions?”

  The major frowned. “I am not pleased with the lack of identifiable remains.”

  “This investigation is to continue. I want to know if the Martian Harpreet and her accomplices meant to die or not. And I want definitive DNA evidence of their demise. One explosion with no identifiable remains is unfo
rtunate. Two such explosions begin to look staged.”

  “I concur.”

  “Indeed,” Lucca said at last. “Thank you, Mr. Wu.”

  She liked, upon occasion, to “forget” the correct military designations. Yes, it was a sad truth that of late, she’d allowed herself to become too admiring of the major.

  “Madam Chancellor,” said Wu, executing a stiff military bow before turning on his heel and departing.

  Now she was alone. Well, as alone as one of the world’s leaders could be. A dozen secretaries waited beyond her door, at her beck and call. Two security guards flanked either side of that same door. Lucca was never truly alone. It was a sacrifice she made without complaint, however. One of many sacrifices required in the line of her great and terrible calling.

  But she was not the only one of whom sacrifice was required. Another smile drifted slowly onto her elegantly prepared face. She was quite looking forward to this next sacrifice offered on the altar of her ambition.

  After a few frustrating setbacks, Operation Burnout was once again progressing well. Her team controlled ninety–three percent of the systems on the satellites. And all it had taken was a little motivation.

  Lucca smiled.

  She excelled at providing motivation.

  24

  The Atlantic Ocean, Earth

  “Send me back to that fishing vessel,” Jessamyn demanded of the cargo ship personnel who had just brought her safely aboard. “My brother needs help.”

  The crewman, seeing Ethan frozen in his hoverchair, offered Jess assistance. Once she was back on the fishing vessel, she called for Elsa.

  Brian Wallace’s dog wriggled her way aft to where Ethan hesitated. The dog, upon noticing Ethan (and perhaps his distress), nuzzled her wet nose under one of his hands. Ethan responded by placing his hand on Elsa’s thick fur, and his face relaxed the smallest amount. Jess took this as a good sign.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Jess said to her brother. “That cargo ship is huge.”

  “I have examined schematics which indicate that despite the large size of the vessel, we will almost certainly be confined within a small space,” replied her brother.