Defying Mars (Saving Mars Series-2)

by Cidney Swanson

  Jess shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “You just passed it to me, Ma’am. What am I supposed to do with it?”

  “My intention,” said Mei Lo, “Is to let all of Mars Colonial know this secret. To bring it out into the light once and for all.”

  “Why?” asked Jessamyn. It seemed to her like the kind of thing that ought to be buried and forgotten.

  “I intend to allow Mars’s citizenry to debate whether the information ought to be made public on Earth,” said the Secretary.

  “Oh,” said Jessamyn. “Oh, my.”

  “Yes. Oh, my, indeed.”

  “Begging your pardon, but are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Jess. “I mean, I can see that from a certain perspective, it sounds fair-minded, but what if the Terran government decides to retaliate?” In her mind’s eye, she saw the laser cutting the Red Dawn into smaller and smaller pieces. She remembered Pavel’s heartless Aunt Lucca. “I have to say that if anyone’s capable of blowing Mars Colonial to Hades, the current Terran Chancellor fits the bill.”

  “Yes,” said Mei Lo. “She would do it. It’s my belief that she’s been in power for nearly three hundred Terran years.”

  “She—what?” Jessamyn ran the math quickly in her head. “You’re saying Pavel’s aunt has been in power since before the war?”

  The Secretary nodded. “In different bodies and with different identities. That is my belief as it was that of my predecessors.”

  “That’s appalling,” Jess whispered. Then a long shudder ran from the top of Jess’s skull down to her toes. “We can’t tell Terrans this secret. Lucca Brezhnaya would destroy us if we did.”

  “It is a secret I cannot in good conscience keep,” replied the Secretary. “And I could be wrong. The current Chancellor may have arrived in office through more conventional means. But I suspect our old enemy sits to one side of the throne still.”

  Jess shivered again.

  “In any event,” continued Mei Lo, “Since the day I came to office and learned of this, I’ve sworn to bring the Terran government’s secret to light. However, I have no intention of leaving Mars Colonial vulnerable to destruction.”

  “Oh,” sighed Jessamyn, finally understanding the urgency behind Ethan’s secret mission. “This is the real reason you want the laser satellites under Marsian control.”

  The Secretary nodded slowly.

  Jess looked down. She saw her hands clenched into tight fists, whitening from the strain. “There’s something I should probably tell you.” She took a slow breath. “I stabbed the Terran Chancellor. She’s one of Earth’s highest-ranking officials. She’ll be out for blood.”

  “She knows about Mars Colonial?” asked the Secretary, alarmed.

  “No, no,” said Jess. “But I talked her nephew into helping me. So he knows about us.” She struggled as she described the decisions that had seemed so clear on Earth when she’d made them. How she’d told Pavel (albeit under the influence of a truth-inducing drug) about Mars. How he’d helped her escape. How he’d turned upon his aunt, the powerful Lucca Brezhnaya. How he’d rescued her re-bodied brother and then lost him. How he’d promised to find and keep Ethan safe.

  The Secretary glanced at a clock, grimacing. “We’ve got big problems, then, Jaarda. I’m not sure if I’m furious with you for withholding this information yesterday or relieved that you chose to tell me today.”

  “You’re welcome to go with furious, Ma’am. It was as good as lying.” Jessamyn swallowed thickly, recalling how the Secretary despised lies.

  “I think I am angry. Holy Ares, Jessamyn, what were you thinking—stabbing the Chancellor?”

  Jess felt color rushing to her face. “I was thinking of my promise to bring food back to Mars, Madam Secretary.” Her eyes fixed upon her boots. She’d tracked Mars-dirt into the Secretary’s hopcraft. It was far from her worst offense.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” said Mei Lo, exasperation in her tone. “And honestly, it makes no difference to the course of action I’m planning.” Her eyes narrowed. “I wonder if we could spin your encounter to further discourage those who want—” She broke off, shaking her head. “What am I thinking? I’m getting as bad as the pro-trade faction.”

  Jessamyn looked over to her planet’s leader just as the last of the sunlight sank behind the crater’s rim. The hopcraft felt colder inside without the glow.

  “Well,” said Jessamyn, sighing, “The one good thing in all of this is that you’ve got an excellent argument against the humanity of Terrans.”

  Mei Lo turned her gaze swiftly to meet Jess’s eyes. “This secret must not leave this hopcraft.”

  “This secret’s your best chance to shut up the pro-trade faction, wouldn’t you say?”

  “What do you think would happen if one of them decided to try to bargain with Brezhnaya using this information?” asked the Secretary.

  Jessamyn frowned. “What, you mean like, tell the Terran government, ‘Trade with us or else?’”

  “Trade with us, supply us with technology,” replied the Secretary. “If Lucca Brezhnaya received such an offer, framed in friendship or threat, how do you think she would respond?”

  Jessamyn didn’t even have to consider her response. “She’d annihilate us.”

  “This is the fear that keeps me up nights,” said Mei Lo.

  It was awful, thought Jess. Mars’s leader had one foolproof reason to avoid contact with Earth, but she didn’t dare expose it. Not until Mars Colonial could defend herself, at least.

  “You must look very backward-minded and stubborn to a lot of Marsians right now,” said Jess.

  The Secretary laughed. “I’ve been called far worse these past two weeks. This Terran fever is no new thing. Or not entirely new. A smaller group has argued this way for the past decade. But no one really listened until word got out the lasers were down.”

  “And we know they’re really down?” asked Jess.

  “I’ve been putting off testing until after you returned. Arguing that only a test with a large vessel could be used as conclusive proof, that sort of thing. And of course we don’t want to send the Galleon as test-material. I’ve got things tied up for the next half-annum at least.”

  Jess felt her heart sink. “You don’t want proof until after it’s too late for the Galleon to go this annum.”

  “I need time, Jessamyn. I’ve got our brightest minds working on the problem of how to gain control of the lasers. I need that control before I can tell Mars Colonial the truth about Earth.” She paused, sighing. “Your brother said it wouldn’t be possible to gain that control anywhere but on Earth. Ares and Aphrodite, I hope he was wrong.”

  Jess felt a knot twisting her stomach. “Me too,” she said. But it wasn’t the kind of thing her brother got wrong.

  The Secretary placed one of her small hands upon one of Jessamyn’s. “I am so very, very sorry Jessamyn. But you can see what this means—”

  “I think so,” Jess replied, cutting her off. Staring out at the darkening sky, she formed her thoughts. “But spell it out for me. If you were to authorize a mission for rescue without authorizing a mission for trade, what would happen?”

  “In the current climate? I would face a vote of no confidence. Informal polling suggests I would lose.” The Secretary rested the base of her palms upon her lap. She extended her fingers and stared at her outstretched hands. “The Rations Storage fire was the beginning of a shift, Jess. People saw the truth more clearly: we are vulnerable. No one likes being vulnerable. Trade with Earth seems like a good way to stop being vulnerable.”

  “We’ve always been vulnerable,” said Jess.

  “Well, now it’s on everyone’s mind. Thanks to a handful of very loud voices.”

  “Then you must not send me.” Jessamyn heard the words coming out of her mouth as though they were formed by someone else. “Mars Colonial won’t stand a chance without you at the helm.”

  It was the end of Jessamyn’s hope for a return to “normal.”

  “Than
k you for understanding,” said the Secretary.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” asked Jessamyn.

  “Speak honestly about the hostility you encountered. About the military strength of Earth.” The Secretary’s sober face softened into a small smile. “But most of all, Jessamyn, you can inspire others to hope for the free and independent Mars we all want. You’re a hero. Choose your words and actions wisely. The eyes of the world are upon you.”

  Jess nodded. She would carry herself differently. She’d been sullen—peevish, even—at the earlier recording. She couldn’t afford to indulge in such selfish behavior. The fate of her world mattered more than that.

  “It’s time for us to return,” said Mei Lo.

  “I won’t let you down this time, Madam Secretary.”

  “You never have, Pilot Jaarda.”

  They flew back to New Houston in the light of early evening. Jessamyn did her best in the studio to focus upon what was important, to be sober and engaged, to speak honestly her concerns about the hostility of Terrans towards those who didn’t think like Terrans, to speak with passion about her return to the world she loved, her eagerness for Mars Colonial to continue upon its path of self-sustainability.

  The news anchor seemed baffled but pleased at the appearance of this new Jessamyn and thanked her, saying it was an honor to have spent the hour with one of Mars’s true heroes.

  But Jessamyn didn’t feel like a hero. She felt like a sister who’d just agreed to let her brother wither upon a strange world.

  12

  A SNEEZING FIT

  Pavel backed Ethan’s chair around the corner. They’d been out of the guard’s line of sight, but Brian Wallace had almost assuredly seen them. Pavel and Ethan could hear Wallace as he blustered through a tale of four monstrous lads in the building.

  “I owe them credits,” said Wallace. “They agreed to let me stand guard in exchange for my debt so long as I asked no questions.”

  The guard, facing away from the hidden pair, spoke over a com-link. Pavel couldn’t make out his words.

  “You can’t put me in a re-education facility,” pleaded Wallace. “I’m due to be four-bodied in just a week. Please don’t turn me—”

  “Silence,” shouted the officer.

  Brian complied, except for a series of sneezes and apologies.

  Pointing behind them, Ethan whispered, “That way,” and sent the chair zipping back down the corridor.

  “Using brief bursts only,” said Ethan, “I am going to reactivate vid feeds throughout the building so that I can direct us along a safe route. Chair control is shifting to you. Do you understand?”

  Pavel looked down and placed his hands over controls just where someone might guide such a chair along from behind. “Got it,” said Pavel.

  “Down this corridor and take the second left,” ordered Ethan.

  They flew along the corridor, Ethan calling out directions, Pavel steering flawlessly through a veritable maze of rooms and halls and corridors. The swift turns added to the nauseating quality of the situation; Pavel knew what happened to lawbreakers facing secures in red armor. Lucca had considered it good dinnertime conversation.

  Seeing an exit ahead, Pavel breathed a sigh of relief.

  “No!” Ethan cried in a harsh whisper.

  Pavel heard, but he’d already gunned the chair to the beckoning door with its promise of liberty. They soared across a wide breezeway and a shot echoed beside them. The door was a mere handful of meters away.

  “I’m good, I’m good,” called Pavel, meaning to reassure Ethan about the shot as he sped toward the door.

  “Turn back!” cried Ethan, not keeping his voice low this time.

  “The door’s right here,” Pavel said, bringing the chair to a sudden halt before their access to freedom.

  “There are guards on the other side,” Ethan replied tersely. “Turn us back around.”

  “They’ll shoot at us again,” replied Pavel.

  “They will not. They are racing to join the others out of doors. Two already await our appearance with raised weapons.”

  “Got it,” said Pavel, spinning the chair back and heading at a high speed down the hall once more.

  “Right here,” said Ethan, his voice pinched.

  Years of habituation to the sounds made by the injured caused Pavel to look down at his companion. Blood seeped along Ethan’s shirt from a wound to his upper arm.

  “You were shot,” gasped Pavel.

  “Correct,” replied Ethan. “Turn left here and then left again.”

  “You okay?” It was the question of a friend and not the question of a trained medical professional.

  Ethan responded with a direction to turn right and then said, “I will require medical attention presently.”

  “Shizer, man,” said Pavel. “I’m so sorry.” The wound was his fault. He should’ve listened to Ethan’s “No!” but he’d seen that door. He’d seen escape. Or thought he had.

  “Around the next corner,” said Ethan, “We should encounter the secure who is holding Brian Wallace. I believe you installed an overdrive booster on this chair? I suggest I engage it to allow us to use the chair as a ramming device.”

  “I got nothing better,” said Pavel.

  But as they rounded the corner, Ethan’s hand upon the overdrive control, they saw the red-armored officer standing with his hands held up in surrender, Wallace beside him holding the guard’s gun. It was too late to slow Ethan’s chair; they crashed into him and the guard toppled and did not rise again.

  “Took your bloody time, eh, lads?” asked Wallace as the chair came to a sudden halt beside him.

  “How did you …?” asked Pavel, staring at the downed officer.

  “I manufactured a sneezing fit,” replied Wallace. “Made m’self appear weak. He lowered his guard, and, well …” Wallace pointed at the weapon he clutched, grinning. “Now then, there were four secures outside, but when I snuck a peek a moment ago, they were re-entering the building. Now’s the time to make a break for it, lads!”

  “Sit,” ordered Pavel, pointing to the area of Ethan’s chair intended as a footrest. “And hold on tight.”

  Brian Wallace raised an eyebrow. “Thank ye, but I’ll stand,” he replied, stepping onto the footrest and gripping the arms of the chair with all the dignity he could muster.

  “Ethan, re-engage the chair’s overdrive,” said Pavel.

  As they blasted out of the building, Brian swearing up a storm, Pavel heard the sound of a large craft. This time it was no commute cruiser. A sleek black ship hovered just over the edifice.

  Pavel cursed and aimed the hoverchair back beside the satellite facility, hugging the building as he pushed forward.

  “Lad, the ship’s that way,” said Brian Wallace, pointing to the side.

  “I know,” said Pavel, “But Lucca has strict disincentives for anyone in Red Squadron to fire upon buildings in Budapest. The government looks weak if buildings go up in smoke here in the capitol.”

  “Sounds like our Chancellor,” muttered Brian.

  There followed several tense seconds as Pavel raced across the street. Sure enough, just as they dashed across to hug another building, a small missile was directed to where they’d been a moment earlier, striking the middle of the street.

  Pavel swerved to avoid flying debris.

  “Give the ship the order to open the hatch now,” Pavel shouted to Ethan.

  The door remained closed and it looked as though they might crash into the side of their getaway vehicle, but at the last second, the door engaged and the three shot inside, coming to a jarring halt.

  “That was cutting it close, Jaarda,” shouted Pavel.

  “Figure of speech,” murmured Brian Wallace.

  “Everyone hold on to something now,” said Pavel. He’d already rumbled the ship to life, the hatch still closing. Pavel lifted off and turned his craft sideways to hug the buildings once more.

  The secures’ craft, bulky and dead
ly, took chase at once, firing as Pavel brought his ship alongside the facility they’d just fled.

  A smattering of armaments flashed past, missing Pavel by centimeters, piercing the roof of the satellite facility.

  “Shizer!” called Pavel. “Hold on!” Pavel pulled the ship away from the exploding building, up into a straight climb that would have been impossible in his aunt’s ship. Then, looping over and swerving off to the left, he engaged the ship’s powerful thrusters.

  “Ethan’s eyes just closed,” Brian shouted.

  “Wallace, take over for me here!” called Pavel, jumping up from the pilot’s seat and dashing to the back of the craft.

  Brian struggled to pull himself forward and then assumed command of the helm, flying the ship swiftly, outrunning their pursuers. Another powerful blast sounded from behind them and Brian veered hard to port.

  “Hey,” cried Pavel. “Trying to treat a patient back here!”

  “Apologies,” returned Brian Wallace. “Trying to avoid missiles up here. There now. We’re out of range. Treat away, lad.”

  “Come on, Ethan, wake up,” muttered Pavel. “I made a promise to keep you safe, man.” He ripped the seal on a med-patch and slapped it on Ethan’s forearm, then grabbed a length of skin-seal and applied pressure to both an entry and an exit wound. “Come on, man, wake up. Wake up.”

  Ethan’s eyes fluttered and opened. “Pavel,” he said softly.

  “You’re going to be just fine,” said Pavel to his patient. Then he turned his attention to the front of the ship. “Get us somewhere safe, Wallace.”

  The dirt-brown ship pulled to starboard as Brian Wallace said, “Aye-aye, sir.”

  “The satellite facility,” said Ethan. “I thought I saw …”

  “Yeah, man, I’m sorry,” replied Pavel. “It’s toast.”

  “Not a literal description, I assume?” asked Ethan.

  Pavel thought about the flames engulfing the building they’d just fled. Toast sounded about right. “No,” he said. “Not literal. But the building’s gone, just the same.”