Crusty leaned back in his chair, sighing noisily. “Kid, I’m sure you’ve spent some time on this already. But I’m tellin’ you it ain’t gonna happen. I can give you a list a kilometer long as to why immediate return would be a bad idea.”
Jessamyn felt a lump thickening her throat. “I don’t care if it’s a bad idea,” she retorted. “I need to know if it’s a possible idea.”
Crusty stood and crossed to examine his plants. He’d talked Brian Wallace out of an orchid. Jess had no idea how Crusty planned to obtain water to keep the decorative plant alive once they got back to Mars. She suspected he was going short on his own water ration to hydrate the exotic bloom at present. His lips looked a lot worse than hers felt.
He cleared his throat. “Sure, kid, I can tell you what you want to hear. Anything’s possible, ain’t it? But you ain’t gonna get permission on this one, so why torment yourself with possibles and impossibles?”
“But I have to get permission!” Jess stood, placing her hands on her hips.
Crusty shrugged. “They might send out a rescue next annum.”
Her heart beat faster at the unwelcome thought and she felt her face flushing with anger. “My brother was sentenced to re-bodying inside a geriatric body with limbs missing!” she said. “He can’t wait two Earth-years. He could be dead by then.”
“Hmmph,” grunted the mechanic, his eyes fixed upon the orchid.
“What do you mean, hmmph?” demanded Jess. “You know I’m right. Ares, Crusty, we’re their only hope. You’re talking about waiting an entire Mars orbit—an annum—and I’m telling you they’ll be dead by then. Pavel said the conditions in the mines—” Jessamyn stopped, unable to continue without wasting water. Like a good Marsian, she held back her tears.
“Listen, kid. My vote is we make the attempt,” said Crusty. “I’ll be volunteering to go myself. Those good folks don’t deserve to be stuck on a planet of filthy body-swappers.”
Jessamyn swallowed, eyes upon the rations table before her. “And you see I’m right, don’t you? That they can’t wait? If we let another twenty-four months go past before we return for them, who knows what will happen?”
“Jess, the rescue only works if the ship can get you there. I been workin’ on a list of everything that needs repair.” He shook his head. “It’s a long list. Even if I start today. Some stuff I can’t do ‘til we’re planet-side. And that ain’t your biggest obstacle. Not by a long shot.”
“So what is, then?”
“It’s you, kid. You’re what, less than ten annums old?”
“I’m almost nine,” Jess said, defensively. “That’s seventeen in Terran years. I’m an adult.”
Crusty laughed. “Kid, I’d put my life in your hands, no questions asked, but ain’t no one back home gonna see you as an adult. They take one look at you without so much as your First Wrinkle and they’ll see a hotheaded teenager. You think they’re gonna let you risk Mars’s last space-worthy ship?” He shook his head.
Jess felt herself flushing again. “I’m a Mars Raider. Hades and Aphrodite! If anyone’s qualified to make a recommendation, it’s me.”
“Sorry kid. Just tellin’ you how I see it.”
“Well, you’re wrong!” With that, Jessamyn stormed out of the rations room.
She’d expected to find an ally in Crusty. But if he wasn’t with her on this, what chance did she stand, really? How could she hope to persuade Mei Lo and the rest of MCC?
I’ll find a way, she thought. There’s got to be a way.
She paced up and down the narrow hall linking the forward and aft portions of the ship, passing the observation deck repeatedly. Once a place of calm and wonder, it was now a location she studiously avoided. Crusty had made a point of bringing her there after their launch to let her know he’d repaired the ugly scar which had caused the oxygen leak on their outbound journey. She’d thanked him but hadn’t returned after that first visit. The ache for her brother’s presence crescendoed in the silent room such that she saw neither stars, nor beauty, but only loss.
Turning one last time, she came to rest before her quarters and pounded the hatch opening. It was time to compose a letter to the Secretary General, pleading her case.
It took her some time to find the perfect words, but when she’d finished, Jessamyn felt as though she’d shed a great burden. Mei Lo trusted Jessamyn’s judgment. The Secretary would surely see the sense in returning to reclaim one of Mars’s brightest minds. Jess felt a small smile forming. She felt ebullient.
In fact, she felt magnanimous. She shouldn’t have shouted at Crusty. Shouldn’t have stormed out of the room. She owed him an apology.
It took her some time to locate the mechanic. Suiting up and venturing below decks, she found him fussing with fuel lines.
“I don’t mean to interrupt your work,” she said on their comm channel. “But I wanted to say I’m sorry I shouted at you. I want to apologize for my behavior. It was … childish.”
The mechanic grunted, made a final adjustment, and lifted the visor protecting his eyes. “Don’t fret yourself, kid,” replied Crusty. “No offense taken for the heated words. You’re a lot like your ma. I used to add a dose of coolant to anything she said.”
She ignored the unwelcome comparison to her mother. “Anything wrong down here?” she asked.
“Not anymore,” replied Crusty. “Got to thinking about my list of repairs. Might as well start in on it, I figured. Work my way up from the ship’s belly.”
Jess nodded solemnly, containing her eager approval.
“Time for a rest now, I reckon,” Crusty continued. “Must be about breakfast by now. Or dinner. Hard to tell ‘em apart with no sun rising and setting each day.”
The pair made their way back to the rations room, where Crusty walked straight to his potted plants.
“How’s your orchid doing?” she asked, determined to prove herself his friend.
“Hmmph,” he grunted. “Reckon it misses Wallace.”
Jess smiled, uncertain if Crusty was joking or serious. Beside the flower sat a small algae pot from her mother’s household algae-pot program. Jess felt a rush of homesickness. Reaching out to touch the pot that held the small green plant, she asked, “And how’s the algae?”
The question elicited another grunt. “It’ll survive.”
Jess stared at the emerald growth, the tiny leaves moist and fragile in appearance.
“Made a slight change to the feed,” murmured Crusty. “Don’t know if your ma’ll be happy or start throwin’ stuff at me.”
Jess waited for Crusty to elaborate. When he remained silent, she prodded. “What do you mean ‘a slight change’?”
“Came out of a conversation I had with Wallace. I got to thinking about the gastro-intestinal die-off that made early settlers on Mars Colonial get sick. Got to thinking it maybe had to do with the low count of probiotics on the plant leaves. They was growin’ ‘em pretty sterile back then.” Crusty shrugged. “So I asked Wallace to harvest me some of whatever he had growin’ on his kale and cabbage out in the greenhouse and we inoculated the algae with a nice dose.”
“Huh,” said Jessamyn, nodding. It sounded like a good idea, but she wasn’t sure how her mom would respond, either.
“Seems to have survived,” said Crusty. “What don’t kill you makes you stronger, they say.”
The smile on Jessamyn’s lips faded, and she felt the knife-twist pain of losing Ethan. No, it had not killed her, the loss of her brother. But she didn’t think it had made her stronger. She felt brittle as factory glass when she thought of Ethan. That is not a sensation you can afford to indulge, she told herself. She would not be brittle. She would be strong. If she wanted to save her brother, she had to be.
“I sent a letter to Mei Lo,” Jess said aloud.
“Did you now?” asked Crusty. “’Bout your little rescue plan?”
Jess nodded. “I think she’ll listen to me. She’ll want my brother to finish what he started, don’t you think?
”
Crusty scratched his chin. “Reckon that might be your best line of argument, right there. The Secretary and everyone else on the board knows that was a job only Ethan could manage.”
Jess felt her heart swell with pride for her brother’s abilities.
“Course, they could use the lasers as another reason to keep you from takin’ a ship back up again. Considering what happened to the Dawn and all.”
“I got through the lasers once,” said Jess. “I can get through again.”
“I’m glad the darned things only fire at what’s trying to leave the planet and not what’s trying to get home.”
Crusty sighed and stepped back from the plants to pop his drink packet and ration wrapper in the recycle-mech. “Reckon I oughta head up to the bridge and see about these fuel burns you been makin’. Don’t want to be stuck doing some Jess-style landing come touchdown.” Crusty chuckled to himself and strolled out of the rations room toward the bridge.
“Jess-style?” she called after him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think on it a spell. It’ll come to you,” Crusty called back.
He must have heard about the landing which had gotten her grounded six weeks prior to the raiding mission. She’d disobeyed a direct order to abandon her malfunctioning hopcraft and made an unconventional horizontal landing minus her thrust engines.
As if she’d consider putting the Galleon through that. The suggestion was preposterous. Which Crusty knew all too well. Smiling, she realized it had been an uncharacteristic attempt at humor, at camaraderie. Crusty must be feeling sorry for her. She’d have to guard against moroseness in his presence in the future.
She tried to remember the last time she’d felt light of heart. In her mind, she heard the whisper of orange silk, recalled Pavel’s lazy smile as he’d spoken of his first time in an orbiting craft. How he’d lied about his age and how his instructor had colluded rather than turning him in to face his aunt.
You wouldn’t be morose if Pavel were with you, said a small and knowing voice.
“Would too,” she muttered.
But as she returned to her quarters, she was already composing in her mind another letter to her Terran friend. She sat at her wafer, spoke the words, “Dear Pavel. It’s me again.”
There were Marsians who got along without a life partner, and Jess had always imagined she’d be one of them. She felt warmth rising along her neck, her throat and cheeks.
“And nothing’s changed,” she said aloud. “Nothing that matters.”
How could she let her mind wander to Pavel’s dark eyes when her crew was stranded on a hostile world? When her planet rested on the knife-edge of starvation?
No. She would never take hands with a partner in the Crystal Pavilion. Would not make the simple vow, “I’ll stand by you all our annums.” Would not even wish for such things. She was not some fool girl looking to find purpose in a pair of brown eyes. She had purpose. She was a pilot, and it was time she started acting like one.
She directed her gaze to the letter on the wafer and uttered a single word.
“Delete.”
3
THAT LIFE IS OVER
Until the night of his eighteenth birthday, Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard had two passions in life: medicine and fast ships. But that night, which should have been his last in his firstbody, everything had changed. Pavel had fallen in love with a girl. Where she had gone, he could not follow. But she’d left a brother behind. And she’d left, as well, the idea of her world, so other. In Jessamyn’s absence, Pavel found himself Mars-smitten; his obsession with the red-haired girl twinned with the hope of helping her world.
Already, Ethan had hinted at tasks left incomplete. To these, Pavel swore to devote himself. Aiding Mars would be the compass-star by which he would steer—the purpose he’d yearned for and not found. There was nothing wrong with devoting your life to medicine or piloting really fast ships. Until you found a cause that made these things look petty.
This, the girl from Mars had provided.
Aboard the ship he’d stolen from his aunt less than a day ago, Pavel awaited news from Brian Wallace’s conversation with his clan. What he’d overheard so far didn’t sound promising. Even Brian’s dog looked distressed at the exchange.
“It’s okay, Elsa,” Pavel murmured, scratching a spot under her chin. He hoped it would be okay, at least.
“Well,” sighed Wallace, having finished his call. “We’re in a fair pickle. Farewell cozy retirement, and all that.”
“What is the nature of a pickle?” asked Ethan.
“He means we’re screwed,” said Pavel, glancing over his shoulder at Ethan.
Ethan frowned in confusion but refrained from further inquiry.
“Your family won’t help you after all?” asked Pavel.
“They are at present disinclined to look favorably upon me choices,” said Wallace. “Particularly as those choices have landed me face upon the Chancellor’s list of persons wanted for questioning in regards to the disappearance of her nephew.”
Pavel frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see that coming.”
“I take it ye’re not thinking of returning to your aunt?” asked Wallace.
“Not a chance,” Pavel said.
“In that case,” replied Wallace, “I have an idea. A request, really. I’d ask ye to consider drawing up formal terms of indenture to hire me services as bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard?” asked Pavel.
“If the Chancellor finds us, I’d prefer to be presented as the guardian and protector of her errant nephew rather than as his kidnapper,” explained Wallace.
“This isn’t your problem, Wallace,” said Pavel. “I can set you down anywhere you want. Just name it.”
“Lad, me own family won’t have me at the moment. I’ve nowhere to go. I’m not scheduled to re-body for nine years and me face is everywhere.”
Pavel frowned, uncertain he wanted the blustering Scot as a companion. “Aren’t there … illegal re-body operations you could consult?”
Brian Wallace laughed grimly. “Aye. But they’ll make more selling me to Lucca Brezhnaya than re-bodying me. I’ve no wish to play those odds.”
Pavel realized he would face the same problem if he attempted to re-body. Or even get reconstructive surgery to disguise his appearance. “Shizer,” he muttered under his breath.
“I do not with to interrupt your negotiations,” said Ethan, “But I require assistance to reach the communications panel. It is imperative that I relay a message to the Red Galleon.”
Pavel turned his attention to Ethan. “Look, I know you didn’t have a chance to say your goodbyes—”
Ethan interrupted. “This is more urgent than a mere greeting. I have just concluded that MCC has no information regarding the extent of my success or failure upon the mission with which I was charged.”
Wallace shrugged. “Your call,” he muttered to Pavel.
Pavel bristled. Of course it was his decision to make. “Here’s the thing, Ethan,” said Pavel. “My aunt’s got ears everywhere. You send a transmission out to deep space, it’s possible it could be intercepted.”
“Ah,” said Ethan. “You fear that the transmission, if it appears to be directed past the regulatory boundaries, might be subject to additional scrutiny.”
“Something like that,” said Pavel.
“Then I shall consider how to cloak the message in secrecy,” said Ethan, attempting to sit upright. He began to slip out of his seat.
“Hold it, there,” said Wallace, reaching for Ethan. “Beg pardon for grabbing ye.”
“Touch appears to affect me differently in this new body,” said Ethan. “Which is fortunate, as it would appear that I will require frequent assistance.”
Wallace contrived a method whereby Ethan could be strapped onto his chair more securely.
“What he really needs is a hoverchair,” said Pavel. “When we stop to recharge the ship’s fuel cells, we can pick one up.”
<
br /> “Excellent idea,” said Wallace.
Pavel glanced over to see Ethan’s one good hand flying across the communications screen.
“And I’ll take a look at that bad arm,” said Pavel. “Looks to me like the muscles just need reattaching.”
“Aye,” said Brian. “Can’t have the lad going through life with one hand tied behind his back.” He laughed briefly.
Ethan did not laugh. “Humans are capable of remarkable adaptation,” he said.
“If that was a joke,” said Pavel, glaring at Brian. “It was in very poor taste.”
Ethan frowned. “I am not an ideal audience for jokes that involve non-concrete imagery. However, I believe I can enjoy the humor in my situation.”
Pavel’s brows drew close. “You’re not really like your sister much, are you?” He swallowed back against the ache of remembering her.
“We share few traits,” agreed Ethan as he finished.
Pavel shook his head. If there was a boy-version of Jessamyn, it wasn’t her brother.
“The message has been transmitted,” said Ethan. “I have attempted to delay the receipt of an actual message by encrypting it in a rotating algorithm. It should be some days before the transmission becomes something the Galleon will recognize as a message intended for the crew.”
“Huh,” said Pavel. “Brilliant.”
“Further, if it is intercepted by your government, the message will appear to be merely a quotation from ancient literature.”
“Ingenious,” said Brian Wallace.
“Given additional time I could have created something to match the epithets you dispense so readily,” replied Ethan.
“Now we’ve got the goodbyes out of the way,” said Wallace, “I’ll just mention that the ship’s looking a mite hungry at the moment.”
“Hungry?” asked Ethan.
“Requires refueling,” said Pavel. “Lucca makes her drivers crazy that way. She’s always pushing to get underway with no comprehension that her demands have consequences.”
Defying Mars (Saving Mars Series-2) Page 2
