Mars Burning (The Saving Mars Series-)

by Cidney Swanson

  “You’ll do fine,” said his sister.

  “I will adapt,” he said, running his hand to and fro through Elsa’s coat. “But I believe I will request a diet less high in fish for Elsa on the remainder of our voyage.”

  Jessamyn laughed. “That was almost a joke, Eth.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “I meant it quite seriously. Her breath is objectionable, is it not?”

  “Yeah. But we’re all pretty objectionable at the moment.” She noted with relief that between Elsa’s presence and a bit of conversation, Ethan looked much better.

  They crossed the threshold into the large vessel. A few faces met theirs, barely registering curiosity. The crew seemed more concerned with a swift transfer than with their latest acquisition of persons. Cameron chose this ship for a reason, Jessamyn reminded herself. She followed the path indicated by a crew member uniformed in blue coveralls.

  “Here’s to our next adventure,” she murmured to herself.

  She looked about, fascinated by what she saw. The parallels between a space–faring vehicle and the cargo ship were not lost on her, and she yearned for a visit to the bridge, a tour of the engine room. But Jamie had told them that they should expect to be strictly confined for the duration of their journey north to the Scilly Isles. The less anyone sees of you, the better, Cameron’s right–hand woman had explained.

  Jessamyn’s eyes flickered back to her brother. She saw no obvious signs of distress, but then his symptoms had never been easy to detect. Growing up with him, she’d been accustomed to what he looked like in his own body, but in this new body, she often felt conflicted as she tried to interpret a drop of his chin or the sudden movement of an eyebrow. He looked different. He expressed himself differently. Jessamyn sighed.

  Pavel caught at her hand where it hung beside his, and he gave her a quick squeeze. “He’ll be fine,” he murmured. “We spent weeks cooped up in that Hercules–class ship after you left for Mars.”

  “Mmm–hmm,” responded Jess.

  She turned to speak to her brother. “Eth? How did you do it on Pavel’s ship all those weeks?”

  “How did I do what, precisely?”

  “You know, keep from going crazy. You were stuck in a small space.”

  Ethan shifted slightly in his hoverchair, considering the question. “I am uncertain. At first, I found it most distressing. Then Pavel prescribed regular interactions with Elsa. I found this highly ameliorating. However, gradually I found less need for such interaction.”

  Jess nodded. “You got accustomed to it. You’ve never liked new environments.” He didn’t like new people or new situations, either.

  “That is accurate,” said Ethan. “The multiplicity of unfamiliar sensory data is disturbing to me.”

  “So, you got used to Pavel and Brian’s ship and things got better.” She hesitated before speaking. “But now we’re going to be confined for a couple days in a place you don’t know.”

  “I will adapt.”

  “Of course you will,” replied his sister, biting her lip and then berating herself for it. Ethan knew this signaled distress on her part. She relaxed her mouth. When the crew member guiding them stopped at a door and opened it, directing them inside, Jess held the door aside for her brother and Elsa.

  The room was slightly larger than the rations room aboard an M–class ship. There were two small portholes admitting a meager amount of the early morning light. Jess worried for a moment at how high the windows were on the curving wall of the ship, but then she recalled her brother’s hoverchair would give him better access than any of the rest of them should he need to set his gaze on a far horizon.

  Once the group was left alone, Jessamyn looked over to Pavel. “Tell them your plan,” she said.

  Quickly, Pavel explained his new idea of boarding a space station.

  “How will we identify a suitable station?” asked Harpreet.

  “How will we get there at all?” added Brian Wallace.

  “I have a friend,” said Pavel. His gaze rose to the porthole. “He’s someone I know from when I lived with my aunt. He was a space–junk harvester as well as a flight instructor. I used to think he’d help me get a job harvesting trash. You know, if it weren’t for being the Chancellor’s nephew and all.”

  Jessamyn noted a light flush making its way up Pavel’s neck. She reached for his hand, gave it a quick squeeze.

  “Anyway, the bottom line is, I think he’d be willing to help us out, and he knows how to keep his mouth shut. Zussman can attest to that, right Zuss?”

  “Indeed, sir. He is the soul of discretion.”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” said Harpreet, her face brightening.

  “It is a very good idea,” replied Ethan, who had been consulting his wafer. “In addition to providing us with an environment free of those who might see and report us, there are several stations that have deep–space communications equipment.”

  Kazuko inhaled sharply. “That’s true,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on Ethan. “What’s more, the shadow of Earth wouldn’t break off our communication for half the day.”

  “However,” continued Ethan, “A station has several flaws as a long–term residence for our party. Of the seven of us, only we four Marsians have been trained to function under conditions such as we would encounter on such a vessel.”

  “Well,” replied Brian Wallace, “There’s training and there’s desperation, isn’t there? I’m sure Pavel, Kazuko, Zussman, and I can do whatever it takes to survive in space.” He looked gloomy as he said this, however.

  “First thing we need to do is contact Jumble,” said Pavel.

  Kazuko Zaifa turned to Zussman and spoke. “I don’t suppose you have some sort of ill–gotten device for finding a person’s whereabouts?”

  Zussman shook his head. “Regrettably, Doctor, I do not.”

  At her side, Jess noted her brother’s breaths were coming shorter and harder. His fingers were buried in Elsa’s coat and the dog looked up at him with sympathy.

  He needs a distraction. Jess placed a hand on her brother’s arm. “Eth? Can you use your chair wafer to find Pavel’s friend?”

  Ethan seemed to consider the question. “Given adequate time, I believe I can discover the whereabouts of any person on the planet not actively engaged in hiding.”

  “We got time, Ethan,” replied Jess. “Lots of time.”

  Before the sun had set, Ethan had located Mr. Jamal Boslough, former flight instructor and space–trash harvester.

  “Moreover,” said Ethan, “He has agreed to join us at Tresco.”

  “Tresco?” asked Harpreet.

  “Second–largest of the Scilly Isles,” replied Brian Wallace. “Lovely sand beach. Bit windy, mind.”

  Pavel nodded solemnly. “If Jumble’s in, this might just work!”

  25

  Isles of Scilly, Earth

  Water crashed against the small craft, tossing Jessamyn from side to side like a planet–hopper with a bum thruster. All in all, she preferred the smoother ride of the hulking cargo ship, now a mere blip on the horizon. Two hours earlier, it had disgorged them into the care, once again, of what Zussman referred to as “persons of a piscine disposition.”

  Behind her lay kilometers of Atlantic Ocean. Before her, Jess could just make out the low–lying shape of land: the Scilly Isles.

  “Harbor to knaves and rapscallions,” said Brian Wallace, tapping the side of his nose. “Always best to keep an eye to yer back.” He stood with ease in the rocking vessel, as though it were no less stable than any other form of transportation.

  “Knaves or no, it’s lovely here,” she replied, leaning against the side of the craft to watch the water sliding past. Dark blues and grays had given way to emeralds and then a sort of aqueous turquoise. “Back home, I always thought of water as clear. White, maybe. Not like this.” She gestured at the teals and blues shifting under them.

  “Aye, lass, it’s pretty enough on a warm, calm day like today,” said Brian.
>
  “This is calm?” asked Jess, dubious.

  “Nearly flat–calm,” said Brian. “And no treacherous fogs to deceive us as to our surroundings. These islands have claimed thousands of lives. Perhaps hundreds of thousands, through the ages. Have ye never heard of the great encumbrances to the accurate determination of longitude?”

  Jessamyn’s lips curved in a smile. “Yes. We studied Terran navigational history at the Academy. I wrote a paper on the pocket watch invented by John Harrison.” Then her eyes grew wide. “Oh—these are those islands! The ones that sunk the ships and set in motion the race to find a way to determine longitude!”

  Brian nodded. “Aye, after a mere sailor warned the captain his reckoning was off. The sailor was hung for his insubordination. They took such matters seriously, did the ancient English.”

  “They would’ve done better to listen to the poor wretch.”

  “Aye, lass, and it’s a lesson worth remembering: when a man’s willing to risk his neck for his beliefs—or his record–keeping—he deserves a fair hearing.”

  The sun hung hot and bright in the sky as they arrived in the harbor, among the last of the boats returning with the day’s catch. The air smelt strongly of fish, fresh and not–so–fresh, and Jessamyn’s nose wrinkled in distaste. Elsa, however, stood, barked once, and set her tail to wagging, perhaps hoping to sample something odiferous.

  Jessamyn was amused to discover they had to, once again, disembark directly into the surge and swell of the tide. Ethan offered to ferry anyone who didn’t fancy a dip, but only Brian was interested. However, when Brian saw no one else accepting the offer, he shrugged and hopped from the boat into the tide as well.

  In a low–ceilinged pub adjoining the harbor, Jamal Boslough, known to friends as Jumble, was awaiting them. Jess observed the stones from which the building was constructed had once been white, but the interior walls had long since darkened with smoke from a badly–vented open fire and possibly from the pipes which fully half the tavern’s patrons employed. Jessamyn stared in fascination, thinking of smoke–breathing dragons as she eyed the smoking men and women. No one smoked on Mars. She knew of such practices on Earth, and she’d observed Gran sucking on her empty clay pipe in Yucca, but Jess had never seen anyone smoke until now. It was an altogether odd sight that made her want to point and laugh. She did neither.

  Jumble rose and greeted Pavel with an enveloping hug.

  “Look at you! You haven’t changed one bit,” said Jumble, assessing his former pupil.

  “Come on, man,” said Pavel. “I’m taller.”

  “Hmm. I’m sure you are. But I got a taller re–body this time around, so it’s hard to judge.”

  Jumble appeared exactly as he had in a hologram Ethan had located. Pavel didn’t seem to be bothered that his former instructor now looked her brother’s true age.

  “How are you doing, old man?” Pavel demanded, grinning broadly. “You look great!”

  “I feel great. There is nothing like your fourbody. I know everyone says threebodying is the most satisfying, but I beg to differ.” He patted his chest. “Or maybe it’s just I got real lucky.”

  Pavel began introductions, but then stopped, noticing the number of eyes cast their direction. “Can we maybe take this somewhere a bit more private?” he murmured to Jumble.

  Jumble smiled. “If you’re all ready for your ornithological island tour, we’ll be on our way,” he said, speaking with rather more volume than was strictly needed.

  “Ornith–what–ical?” Jess whispered the question to her brother.

  “Bird–watching,” he replied.

  Jess raised her eyebrows. “Huh,” was all she said.

  The group of seven plus Pavel’s friend headed out of the tavern and along a lane where they narrowly avoided being struck by a pair of hoverbikes.

  “New fourbodies,” grumbled Brian Wallace. “Some people don’t know how to act their age.”

  Harpreet laughed, but all she said in reply was, “Indeed!”

  Jumble led them along a dirt path carved between yellowing grasses and flowers Jess couldn’t identify. A gusting breeze carried whiffs of scent that reminded her of a manufactured fragrance her mother sometimes wore.

  “Scented narcissi,” said her brother, half a smile upon his face. “Do you recognize the odor?”

  Jess nodded but didn’t reply. Her brother seemed pleased by the memory of their mom, but it made Jessamyn’s heart ache to think of her parents. When Jumble brought the group to a collection of stone benches, Jess was relieved there weren’t any flowers in sight.

  “I took the liberty,” began Jumble, “of getting you a cottage for several days.” He indicated the low dwelling some ten meters from the outdoor sitting area. “Now then, what’s this about the lot of you wanting to turn to trash harvesting?”

  26

  Budapest, Earth

  When Lucca Brezhnaya first received from Vladim Wu the news that a communiqué had been intercepted, purportedly from Mars, she felt an icy shiver skitter along her arms.

  “Send Major Wu in at once,” she said to her secretary.

  Lucca rose and paced toward the door, meeting Wu as he entered.

  “Madam Chancellor,” said Major Wu, bowing. “I apologize for the interruption to our investigation of events on the isle of Madeira, but I felt this could not wait.”

  “Of course, of course,” replied the Chancellor. “Do they threaten us?” she asked, her voice several shades calmer than she felt.

  “No, Madam Chancellor,” he replied.

  She held her hand out for his pocket–wafer and glanced at the screen, flipping past the For Your Eyes Only scanner that identified her as Brezhnaya, Lucca, Chancellor, before displaying the message.

  Cavanaugh Kipling, MS, to the Terran Chancellor Lucca Brezhnaya or her successor: Sir, I represent a Significant Segment of Mars Colonial that would like to open negotiations for renewed trade relations between our two worlds.

  The message continued for two additional paragraphs, but the true content was all in that first sentence. Someone on Mars, evidently someone without any recognized political status, wished to form a mutually beneficial economic relationship with the people of Earth.

  Lucca laughed aloud.

  Of all the things she’d expected—a threat of imminent attack, terms for surrender, an announcement that thousands of Marsians lay in wait on the far side of the moon—this request for an economic relationship hadn’t even crossed her mind as belonging in the realm of possibilities.

  She laughed again.

  “Madam Chancellor?” Wu asked.

  “I’m so very, very relieved, Major,” said the Chancellor. “I open the door expecting to see a sniper and find instead a delivery of flowers.” She turned on her heel and strode click–click–click back to her desk. “This is perfect. Just perfect.” She sat, smiling, her chin resting on one fisted hand.

  27

  Isles of Scilly, Earth

  “We’re more looking to occupy a space station,” said Pavel to his friend Jumble. “I hope you don’t mind the deception of all that talk about trash harvesting.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Jumble. “Well, I’m pleased you kept that out of our comms. May a retired pilot inquire as to…why?”

  “Sorry, man,” said Pavel, breaking off as he met Jess’s eye. “I’d love to tell you, but honestly—”

  “Say no more,” said Jumble. “I have no need to carry information I’d be better off not knowing.”

  “We need a station that will give us the ability to communicate with objects in deep space,” continued Pavel. “For reasons I can’t share.”

  Ethan spoke up. “Specifically, we would like to occupy Space Station 92–AE, which would meet all our requirements. Can you assist us?”

  “I can see you’ve done your research.” Jumble frowned. “92–AE would make this project a bit more complicated. I don’t suppose 111–AE might do as well for your needs?”

  Ethan answered. “1
11–AE will not be satisfactory.”

  Jamal Boslough rose and paced the length of the low–ceilinged room, looking as though his head might scrape the beams. Jess realized with surprise that this was one of the first times in months she’d been inside a dwelling with Mars–height ceilings. It felt a bit cramped, but also a bit homey.

  “Well,” said Jumble at last, “To be honest, I’m not sure I can make that happen.”

  Pavel’s shoulders slumped forward, and at the same time, Jess sat up straighter. She’d seen something in Jumble’s eyes.

  “But you know someone who can help us, don’t you?” she demanded.

  Jumble’s shoulders shifted—a shrug that could have meant yes or no.

  “You do,” Jess insisted. “I can see it written all over your face.”

  Pavel looked up.

  Jumble sighed. “I’m still learning to hide emotions with this new face. It’s been driving me a little crazy. I used to be a decent poker player. Now?” He shook his head sadly.

  “Tell us what you know,” said Jessamyn.

  “I don’t know anything. Not for certain,” insisted Jumble. He lowered himself once more onto a seat. “As far as anyone knows, he’s only a rumor, mind.” Jumble pulled a loose thread from his shirt and wrapped it slowly around his finger. “Okay, listen. I know someone. You ever heard of the Ghost?”

  Six heads shook no simultaneously.

  But Pavel leaned forward. Eyes wide, he asked, “The Ghost is real?”

  28

  Isles of Scilly, Earth

  So far as the Terran Department for Satellite and Space Station Regulatory Mandates was concerned, space station 92–AE existed for the sole purpose of the dissemination of entertainment for those hundred thousand or so souls laboring in orbit high above the 300 kilometer ban. Entertainment came in many varieties. Holo–immersive gaming and musi–clicks were perennial favorites, but there were spacers who preferred listening to books or watching vids as well. 92–AE kept them all entertained.