Mars Burning (The Saving Mars Series-)

by Cidney Swanson

  “Very well,” said Ethan. “What do you have in mind?”

  Jessamyn quickly consulted her mental list; she hadn’t expected him to give in without any argument. “Okay. Um…so how about gaming? Maybe you could set something up so that you have a game you can jump back to whenever you might be otherwise, um, unoccupied. You like chess, right?”

  Ethan nodded. “That is a most excellent idea, always assuming I can find a chess club feed which will accept someone with my limited skill.”

  Limited skill? Her brother beat her every time at chess. And usually beat their mother, who was a skilled player as well. Their father hadn’t played Ethan after his eighth birthday, claiming he didn’t want to bore his son to death.

  “Okay,” Jess said. “So long as you’re sure it’ll be enough of a challenge for you.”

  “I believe the challenge will be sufficient. Earth has a category of people who devote their entire life to the playing of chess. I do not believe I would be allowed to face any such individuals, but there are children who hope one day to play professionally, and they will likely allow me to join their feeds.”

  “Great,” said Jess. “Let’s get you going.”

  Before Ethan’s latest command sequence to the Terran satellites circling Mars had reached Marsian space, Ethan had located a gaming community happy to include him in their number.

  Jessamyn sighed with content as she watched her brother contemplate his first move. The joints of her left hand ached, and she realized she’d been holding her arm wrapped around her neck, fingers pinching tightly over a fold of skin. Slowly, she unwound, flexing her left hand until it felt alive once more.

  Just as Jess returned to her station to stare at lines of code once more, the station reported an incoming comm on her console.

  “Eth,” said Jessamyn. “It’s from Mei Lo, in answer to our comm about the lasers being re–enabled.”

  The two listened to Mei Lo’s response. The instructions were simple: Ethan was to proceed as he saw best.

  However, as she had done with most transmissions, Mei Lo had encrypted a separate private message: one she had prepared without other members of the government looking over her shoulder. While Ethan got back to work, Jess re–read the private message.

  My dear friends,

  It seems likely I will be seeking alternative employment in a few short days. Soon I will have no authority to ask of you that you continue the task I entrusted you with so many months ago. But I ask that you would continue. That you would not give up until the task is complete. You know what this means to Mars’s future.

  I have a most grave confession to make. Should Cavanaugh Kipling succeed me as CEO, I cannot, in good conscience, take the step I ought to take in revealing to him the secret passed to me by my predecessors. Not until you have completed your task. I know you will understand why. It is essential that you succeed. Do not fail us. Never, ever, ever give up.

  Mei Lo

  Jessamyn closed the message, chilled once again by the magnitude of the mission the Secretary had set for them. She swiveled so that she could watch her brother from behind. His fingers danced upon the screens full of information Jess couldn’t decipher.

  Ethan can do this, she told herself. He has to.

  38

  Budapest, Earth

  Lucca stared moodily at the artificial snow falling “outside” the windows of her office. She loved Budapest in the winter. She found snowfall calming. But today was summer, and the holographic snow did nothing to calm her. She had just been informed that the Mars Containment Satellites were still behaving erratically.

  She swiped the report off her desk wafer screen. How many weeks had her team of experts been working on the same issues?

  “Too many,” she said softly.

  They’d missed their most recent deadline.

  Perhaps she ought to employ one of her favorite strategies. A visit from Vladim Wu might do much to increase the general level of productivity amongst her coding team. However, a visit from the Chancellor herself would do so much more.

  She was done handing out carrots. This time she would bring a stick. A very large stick. She would make it clear she expected a demonstration of the lasers doing their work within the week.

  Of course, as much as she longed to target something important, this first firing would be only to determine the relative capabilities of the lasers. Once they knew how much damage a combination of five lasers could achieve, it would be time to settle upon the true targets, to decide what got taken out first. And second. And third.

  Lucca smiled, once more turning to watch the artificial snow falling.

  Operation Burnout was going to be one of her finest accomplishments.

  39

  Station 92–AE

  Jessamyn wanted to consult Pavel about Ethan’s latest episode. If it could be classed as an episode. She supposed it was more of a pre–episode. Ethan had claimed he was merely deep in thought.

  “It took me saying your name three times for you to respond, Eth,” said Jessamyn. “And I think you might have been humming really quietly.”

  “I have work to do,” Ethan said, turning back to his screen.

  For two hours, Jess watched carefully for any lapse of attention or other signs of distress. Eth seemed, for now, to be back to normal. Well, normal for him. She sighed to herself.

  If Pavel followed his regular schedule, he wouldn’t be awake for another two hours. But Jess had lost her ability to focus on any tasks; she really needed Pavel’s listening ear, his reassurance.

  Pushing off from her seat, she told her brother she’d be gone a few minutes.

  “You want water? A ration?” she asked Ethan.

  “I have no unmet needs,” he replied.

  She nodded and kicked off to drop into the galley. Now, on the point of waking Pavel early, she hesitated. Ordinarily, they shared the hours after her shift had finished and before his had begun, Zussman covering things for them during those interim hours.

  Glancing at her brother by means of a vid monitor in the galley, Jess felt reasonably confident he could handle being on his own while she spoke with Pavel.

  She hovered outside the threshold leading into the sleep quarters. Based on his quiet snore, Zussman was still out cold. The sleeping quarters were only dimly lit, and she had to reach out an arm to prevent herself from bumping into something as she took a moment to adjust to the darkness.

  Pavel lay sleeping on his belly. His hair, floating above his head, drifted from side to side with each inhale and exhale. He’d stripped down to the barest covering allowable in shared quarters such as these, and she felt her face warm as she admired the simple beauty of his form: broad shoulders, muscled arms (also floating in sync with his breath), and, it had to be said, a quite choice derrière.

  She lowered herself so she could awaken him quietly.

  From this close, his lips appeared warm and relaxed and eminently kissable. She brushed a finger along his lower lip, wishing she was in more of a mood for kissing instead of worrying.

  At her touch, Pavel stirred and drew her closer. His eyes remained shut, but he found her mouth with his, soft lips pressing into hers, a hand reaching for her neck, a tug to draw her closer. A low groan of longing.

  Jess pulled away. “We have to talk,” she whispered, her breath causing the hairs beside his head to stir.

  “Mmm,” said Pavel, placing his other hand on the small of her back to bring her closer still. “We have to slumber. C’mere.” His words slurring with sleep, he reached for the bands securing him to his bunk and sloppily enclosed Jessamyn within one of them.

  She whispered a single word: “Zussman!”

  Pavel mumbled, “Zuss wants me to be happy. You. Sleep. Here.”

  “We have to talk about Ethan,” she replied. “Get up. We’re not disturbing Zussman’s rest just so you can be comfortable.”

  “It’s so you can be comfortable, too,” he whispered.

  Jess respond
ed by releasing the restraints holding them to the bunk. The motion send the pair in a lazy ricochet toward her empty bunk. She pushed off of it, back toward Pavel’s bunk, and grabbed one of his shirts from its pocket by the bed, tossing the shirt at Pavel before pushing out of the sleeping quarters.

  In the galley, Jessamyn’s eyes had to adjust once again. Pavel floated in behind her, tugging a shirt on.

  “The wake–up was nice, but I have to say the getting me out of bed part sucked,” said Pavel. “You really should work on your technique.” He ran his hands rapidly up and down his face several times. “Okay. I’m awake. Talk to me.”

  They lowered themselves into chairs. Jess didn’t bother to use the restraints, instead hooking her feet under bars designed to keep her feet “down.” She allowed her knees to rest against the underside of the low table, further preventing her from drifting off. A crumb of unidentified origin floated past and Pavel reached out to catch it between thumb and forefinger.

  “It wasn’t me,” he said, hastily disposing of it at a nearby air intake.

  Jess frowned. Pavel was the messiest eater of the four. But she wasn’t in the mood to make accusations. In fact, she was afraid she might be about to cry.

  “I want to figure out what went wrong with Ethan and how to prevent it,” said Jess, her voice catching as she spoke her brother’s name. A tear moistened one of her eyes. “Ugh! I’m sorry. It’s just, I thought he was doing so much better.”

  The tear, without gravity to pull it down her cheek, hovered and blurred her vision. She blinked and it slipped out, clinging now to her eyelashes.

  “Oh, good grief,” she said.

  Pavel used his sleeve to gather the unwanted moisture from her lashes.

  “He’s much, much better than he used to be, Jess. I mean, I don’t know what he was like on Mars, but I’ve watched him get comfortable with interior spaces on Earth. I’ve been reading studies on claustrophobia, and some people never make one tenth of the progress I’ve seen your brother make in the past few months.”

  “So what happened the other night, then? Or the other morning. Whatever it was.” She shook her head. Orbiting at their current speed gave them fifteen dawns, fifteen sunsets a day, more or less.

  Pavel frowned. “I fell asleep trying to work that out, actually. The obvious difference I can think of between the station and the weeks we spent hiding out in Brian’s ship was he had Brian’s dog.”

  “You think that’s it?”

  Pavel had begun to drift up and away from Jess. He grabbed the table and swung himself back down, slipping arms into the shoulder harnesses. “I think Elsa gave him some relief, for sure. But I’m wondering if it’s more that he’s under so much pressure to get control of the satellites, and he keeps running into dead ends.”

  Jessamyn’s face fell. “When we arrived, he hoped it might take, maybe, another eight hours to get everything figured out. Kazuko and he had brewed up some great new idea he was all excited to try. Well, as excited as he gets about anything.”

  Pavel grunted a tiny laugh.

  Jessamyn continued. “The election back home is only days away.” She tugged at a piece of hair drifting in front of her face. Wrapped it around and around one finger. “If we could hand satellite control to Mars Colonial, Mei Lo would be in a position to tell all of Mars how crooked your aunt is. She’d win the election, and Mars would be safe.”

  “So your brother thinks the planet’s entire future rests on what he can or can’t do in the next few days? Honestly, Jess, it’s a wonder he’s gotten any sleep at all. The humming is probably the best thing he could’ve done.”

  “Excuse me? Best thing, how?”

  “Well, groaning and humming are common ways to block out unwanted stimulus. They’re used by people with a variety of conditions for times when things are too much to handle.”

  “Huh,” said Jess.

  “And you were able to bring him back out of it, right?”

  Jessamyn’s mouth crumpled and her chin quivered slightly. “This time,” she murmured.

  Pavel squeezed her hand. “He’ll be fine. I’ll give him a sedative tonight to make sure he sleeps.”

  Some flicker of a memory danced across Jessamyn’s mind, but when she reached for it, the flicker sputtered and dissipated.

  “What?” asked Pavel.

  “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

  “It’ll be fine. You’re worrying too much.”

  Jess nodded, but she couldn’t shake the sense that she’d forgotten something, that she wasn’t worrying enough.

  40

  Squyres Station, Mars

  Cavanaugh Kipling played the Terran Chancellor’s message through once again. She was condescending. And a rather unpleasant person, as well. While he’d attempted to moderate his expectations, this response fell far, far short of what he had hoped for. Cavanaugh stood swiftly, causing his chair to teeter. He shot out a hand to steady it and then shoved it angrily back toward the desk.

  He didn’t mind the request for continued secrecy; from the raids of the past annums, it was clear the Terran government had allowed misinformation about Mars to run unchecked. No, what he minded was the hints and blatant statements to the effect that Mars owed Earth because the Mars Project had come with a large price tag.

  Still, if this were the greatest of the hurdles to be overcome, things might—eventually—end very well indeed. Certainly, it was a good thing the Chancellor recognized the importance of setting the stage prior to making the announcement about Mars. If the Terran population was still that upset about how much the Mars Project had “taken” from Earth, it would be sensible to get them into a more receptive frame of mind prior to any actual transactions between the worlds.

  Cavanaugh sighed and stepped into his walk–out boots, taking his suit off its hook. The suit was one thing he wouldn’t miss once he’d set himself up with a cozy habitat back on Mother Earth, something he’d begun to plan for recently.

  But, for the time being, Cavanaugh Kipling was stuck on a frozen ball of dirt and carbon ice. And the first step to acquiring that cozy hab on Earth was to get himself elected the next Secretary General and CEO of Mars Colonial.

  41

  Station 92–AE

  Jessamyn floated over to watch her brother as he simultaneously played four games of chess with as many opponents.

  “Don’t you get confused?”

  “I do not.”

  Her brother didn’t choose to elaborate on the why. Jess supposed it was rude of her to interrupt, so she didn’t ask him for further explanation. Dreading another hour spent evaluating diagnostics on their space–runner, Jessamyn hovered to watch his next several moves.

  Evidently, Ethan was in a chatty mood.

  “I will lose this game,” he said, tapping the top right display.

  “You just know this? Like with Monopoly?”

  “I do.”

  Jessamyn pushed her hair back from where it had begun to drift forward, obscuring her view. She really ought to carry hair restraints in her pockets. She reached for a pen, Velcroed to the wall beside her brother, and twisted her hair into a coil, using the pen to secure it. The Velcro snagged a couple of hairs, making her wince as she shoved the pen over–and–under.

  “So why keep playing?” asked Jess.

  “This opponent,” he said, tapping the screen once more, “has an inaccurate view of himself. By playing the game to its conclusion, I hope to provide for him quantitative data that will allow him to reassess his beliefs about his abilities and worth.”

  “Huh,” said Jess. “So, basically, you want him to feel better about himself.”

  Her brother did not respond, which made her grin. She knew he found her explanation a gross oversimplification. And maybe it was, if the kid was anything like her brother. Maybe some people needed “quantitative data” as opposed to praise.

  “I don’t get how do you do that. Figure out ahead of time who’s going to win,” said Jessamyn. “
I mean, you could be wrong, couldn’t you?”

  “Have you ever known me to commit to an opinion as to the outcome of a game and be wrong?”

  “No,” Jess replied. “But there are plenty of games I quit early. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

  “I am not wrong about my game with Lightning Boy.”

  “Lightning Boy? Seriously? That’s the kid’s handle?”

  “Lightning Boy was a character in a popular feed some twenty Earth years ago. The individual with whom I am competing admires the character, even though the character is no longer popular.”

  “Maybe he’d feel better about himself it he picked a better name.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question, by the way.”

  “As to how I know what I know with certainty?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Ethan paused the conversation to make moves on two of his screens.

  Then he pointed to the top and bottom left games. “I am not confident as to the outcome of either of these games. I lack sufficient information about my opponents to accurately predict all of their responses to the moves I have planned.”

  Her brother made another move that ended one of his games. CHECKMATE, flashed a banner which had moments earlier displayed the chessboard.

  Ethan continued. “In addition, it is only truly beneficial to plan ahead once I have gained a certain level of familiarity with my opponent.”

  “Know thine enemy; know thyself,” said Jessamyn, quoting Mars Colonial’s CEO.

  “Precisely,” replied her brother.

  “So you must know this Lightning Boy kid pretty well, then?”

  “We engage one another frequently.”

  “This isn’t getting in the way of the mission, is it?” Jess asked.

  “On the contrary,” replied Ethan. “I am finding this to be the best use of the many pauses between when I input a command and when the execution of that command is relayed back to us.”