Mars Rising (Saving Mars Series 6)

by Cidney Swanson

  She moved to the side of the vehicle, sheltering between it and a thorny hedge. On the ground floor, a shadow passed by the windows; the place was definitely inhabited.

  “Shizer!” She pressed back into the hedge. Had she been seen? If the person in the house would settle somewhere, there was still a chance Jess could make away with the car. Wasn’t it time for tea or supper? One of those evening ration meals, surely. Jess shivered, wishing she had a cup of Zussman’s strong black tea right now.

  The door of the farmhouse opened and a dog shot out, barking loudly.

  “Hades!” Jess cursed, squeezing along the car to make a run for it. Of course, she couldn’t outrun the dog; she just hoped it would lose interest. She cleared the back of the vehicle and was about to run for it. Unfortunately, she didn’t look down first. Her foot landed in a puddle that was much deeper than it looked. Her ankle twisted and she went down, to the great delight of the dog, who bounded forward and began to sniff her up and down.

  “He’s harmless,” shouted a woman, who’d evidently followed the dog outside. “Come on you great nuisance!”

  Jess looked from woman to dog, wondering at whom the second remark had been directed.

  “Get off her, then!” said the woman.

  Jessamyn stood, now completely soaking, and tested her ankle. It seemed stable.

  “Oh, no,” cried the woman. “He’s gone and knocked you in the Irish Sea! Sorry, that’s what I call that wretched puddle. You’re Clare, is it? De Silva? From the inn service? Goodness, but you’re early.”

  Jessamyn thought quickly. Tresco had an inn service; a few trekkers had turned up at their cottage by mistake, saying the service had sent them. Jess could say that, yes, she was Clare, but that would mean going inside and risking the appearance of the real Clare. A strong gust of wind and rain pelted the two as they stood facing one another.

  “I’m Gemma Penrose,” said the woman, holding out her hand for Jessamyn to shake. “The proprietor. Sounds a bit grand, though, doesn’t it? It’s just the two rooms, really. Come in and warm up. I’ll have a cuppa for you in no time.”

  Jessamyn shook hands and took advantage of the brief pause in Gemma’s steady flow of words. “I’m not Clare. But I would like a room. Please.” It was a bit of the truth. Jess didn’t want a room for very long—just long enough for everyone to fall asleep so she could steal the car. Something in her stomach twisted. It wasn’t hunger.

  “Oh, dear,” said Gemma. “It’s only the two rooms and they’re both reserved, I’m afraid. I know it looks empty, but they’re arriving late. Oh, and look at you, soaked to the bone. I can’t do bed and breakfast, but I can set you up with a place to change and give you a lovely cuppa. And I can ring up Jane in Sennen Cove. She’s always got rooms.”

  “Um, okay,” said Jess. “Tea would be great.”

  “Just the thing in this weather. I really am so sorry about Sherlock. He’s such a great large thing and complete rubbish as a watchdog. Only good for knocking harmless people into puddles, I’m afraid.”

  Gemma continued talking, not requiring any response from Jess, as they made their way to the cottage. “If you like, I can toss your wet things into the dry-vac. Not the same as a washing up, but at least they won’t muddy your other things. Or mine.” Here the proprietor laughed. “Here we are then. I’ll just ask you to use the downstairs toilets, if you don’t mind. Keep the guest ones nice and fresh for when they arrive. Have a quickie shower, if you fancy. I’ll just ring up Jane, then, shall I? Poor thing, taking a nasty tumble like that.”

  Jessamyn had just shut and latched the door when Gemma shouted one last question. “You’d like tea, then, yes? Or is it coffee?”

  “Tea,” said Jess. “Please.” Jessamyn heard the receding footsteps of the proprietor.

  She could make a run for it right now. Her hand reached to undo the latch. But a fresh lashing of heavy rain splattered the window over the toilet and Jess felt her resolve turning to mush. A shower occupied half the tiny room.

  “A hot shower,” murmured Jessamyn, sighing. She was irredeemably Terranized. Ten minutes later, she was dressed in warm, dry clothes and had wrapped a dry bandana tightly over her red hair, tucking every last stray inside. Then she pulled the wool cap over the top. Her false eyebrows had survived the shower admirably.

  Now the last of the light was going outside, and Jess thought longingly of her cottage on Tresco, of evening rations with her friends. She took a deep breath and unlatched the door, making her way to a cheerful—and very hot—kitchen. A newsfeed blared from across the room, the screen taking up most of the wall opposite Jessamyn.

  Sherlock thumped his tail against the wooden floor, but he obeyed Gemma’s instructions to remain down.

  “I feel terrible about that soaking you had. Just pass me your damp bits and bobs, then. Won’t take a minute to get the wet out.”

  Jessamyn handed over her soaking clothes, and, a moment later, accepted a steaming cup of tea. She probably should have asked for coffee, which would have kept her awake longer.

  “My friend Jane’s happy to have you, over in Sennen, so we’re all set up. Oh, and look at you still all bundled up, woolies and all. The weather’s turned quickly this fall, hasn’t it?”

  The proprietor glanced at the news feed.

  “I can turn that off if you like,” said Gemma. “Just more of the same, isn’t it?”

  “No,” said Jess. “It’s fine.” The announcer was talking about the Mars Mystery, as it had become known some time in the last week.

  “The government have confirmed that there has been no activity and no communication from Mars in over eighty years and that the vids are simply someone’s attempt to garner attention whilst hoodwinking the populace.”

  “What do you think of all this, then?” asked Gemma, facing the screen and sipping tea.

  Jess made a non-committal grunting sound into her teacup which Gemma seemed to take as an appropriate response.

  “Exactly,” said Gemma. “I mean, the government are working so hard to convince everyone it’s rubbish. There’s more to it, though, isn’t there?” Gemma shook her head. “I’ve never trusted the Viceroy. Although the Chancellor’s worse. I wouldn’t put it past her to send ships off to take over Mars for the tellurium. There’s the shortage, isn’t there? And what if it’s true, that Mars has inhabitants? That won’t stop Chancellor Brezhnaya, I can tell you. My brother’s off in the Republic of Chicago. Supposed to be independent, they are, by treaty signed over a hundred years ago. The Chancellor’s got troops crawling all over the city is what my brother says—in complete violation of official policy.”

  Jess attempted to listen to both Gemma and the news announcer, who was commenting on a video that was supposedly eighty-five years old and purported to show an abandoned New Houston. Jessamyn almost laughed aloud. It wasn’t an abandoned New Houston of the last century. The pictures were of New Houston in its infancy, nearly three hundred years ago. Any Marsian would know the difference.

  But no Terrans will. Her resolve grew more firm than ever.

  “You can’t believe a bloody thing on the big feeds, can you?” asked Gemma. “Well, I believe that girl doing those talks about life on Mars. Now, that bit is true. You can tell, can’t you? But the government?” Gemma broke off to grunt in disapproval. “If they say one thing, you can bet the truth is one hundred eighty degrees the opposite direction.”

  Gemma glanced at Jess and saw her finishing her cup of tea.

  “Another cup before we set you off, then?”

  Jess was on the point of refusing, but Gemma had already started pouring. One more cup before she stepped out. It would be a long, cold walk now, because she didn’t have it in her to steal Gemma’s car any more.

  And then something very amusing happened. Jessamyn looked at the vid-screen to see herself on the wall.

  “Ah, poor thing.” said Gemma. “All that way from home. Probably in danger for her life, as well, for all the government hav
e to say about there being no more Martians. Oops, Marsians.”

  “You think it’s true, then?” asked Jessamyn. “About Mars being fully inhabited?”

  “You don’t just make this stuff up, do you,” replied Gemma. “Listen to her.”

  The broadcast feed had chosen to show a bit of the “Life on Mars” vid where Jess spoke unkindly of the Chancellor’s martial intentions.

  “She believes it, doesn’t she just?” asked Gemma. “The government are hiding something. You can bet on it. I wish they’d just tell us the truth. A colony still going on Mars would be lovely, wouldn’t it? Knowing they made it through the wars and all? My granny used to talk about how she’d go to Mars in a heartbeat. Not me, but it’d be lovely all the same, just knowing the colony survived.”

  Jessamyn made a decision. And removed her cap and bandana.

  30

  TWO BARE WORDS

  Exactly two hours after Jessamyn boarded the craft from Tresco, Pavel discovered her note. Or rather, Mr. Zussman discovered it, just as Pavel and Ethan were returning.

  “Master Pavel?” called the butler, his voice betraying a hint of concern. “If you would be so good as to come inside at once?”

  Ethan followed behind Pavel, his hoverchair dragging a hovercart of food and supplies.

  “Hey, Zuss,” said Pavel, smiling. “Jumble had Brian Wallace at the pub. They were both sorry to miss you.” Seeing the strain upon Zussman’s face, Pavel quickly asked what was wrong.

  “It’s Miss Jessamyn, sir.” Zussman handed the note to Pavel.

  Pavel frowned, crumpled the note, and swore rather loudly. “We were supposed to go to Budapest together,” he said at last. “How long has she been gone?”

  “I have not seen her since luncheon,” said the butler. “I took my accustomed walk, and when I returned, only minutes before yourselves, I saw this note. Please accept my apologies for having overlooked your private correspondence.”

  Pavel slammed a fist on the table. Then he smoothed the note and stared at it, as if to force something more out of those two bare words: I’m sorry.

  “She’s not sorry at all,” he said after a moment. “Shizer!”

  “If I might, sir, suggest a more active response?” said Zussman.

  Ethan, who’d disappeared outside for a minute, brought his hoverchair back inside the cottage. “She did not take the Star Shark. It is still in the barn.”

  “That is fortunate,” said Zussman.

  “She would have recognized the danger of using a ship with orbital capabilities matching the description of a fugitive vessel,” said Ethan.

  “When’s Jess ever let a little danger stop her?” muttered Pavel.

  “If I might offer a suggestion,” said Mr. Zussman. “We can comm Jumble to take us as far as the mainland. If we act with haste.”

  Jumble and Brian Wallace made it to the cottage within minutes and the group of five decided to split into two smaller groups.

  “Zuss knows Budapest inside out,” said Pavel, clenching his fists. “He and I should head straight there.”

  “Several of the portable credit strips are missing,” said Ethan.

  “Enough to buy a ship?” asked Pavel.

  “No,” replied Ethan. “We lacked sufficient funds for that, nor did she take all the credits.”

  “Well, I’m here now, with me piles of money,” said Brian. “Enough to buy a fast transport for Mr. Zussman and Pavel to make haste to the capital. Ethan, ye should go with them. Jumble and I will see if we can find her trail from this end. Jumble can ask questions without raising as much suspicion around here.”

  “If I might also suggest,” said Mr. Zussman, “one of Mr. Jaarda’s excellent earpiece communicators for Mr. Wallace and Mr. Boslough?”

  “Good thinking,” said Pavel.

  Ethan gave Jumble and Brian each one of the earpieces he had made.

  “We’ll find her,” said Jumble, giving Pavel a big hug.

  Pavel nodded but didn’t speak.

  ~ ~ ~

  Gemma shook her head; Jess couldn’t tell if it was in amazement or disbelief.

  “It’s obvious, without the hat and the, er, brows,” said Gemma. “I’m a bit put out I didn’t see it earlier. It’s really you, isn’t it?” She gave a command for the vid-screen to mute. “Good heavens. Clare and the other family will be here in an hour. The last flight in, they said. So, what’s it to be? A visit down the pub to tell everyone you’re here, or did you have something else in mind?”

  Jessamyn smiled. “Something else, I’m afraid. Although, if everyone here’s as friendly as you, I’m sure I’ll be sorry to have missed the chance.”

  “Right. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m on my way to Budapest.”

  “By way of Land’s End?”

  Jessamyn nodded.

  “Oh—the Chancellor’s little invitation, is it?”

  “Exactly,” said Jess. “Only, if Lucca knows I’m coming, she’ll have me killed before I can get there. I have to move quickly and secretly.”

  “On foot? Sounds a bit daft, don’t you think?”

  Jessamyn flushed. “I was hoping to, um, acquire transport.”

  “Oh, I see.” Gemma nodded several times. “I see.”

  Jess didn’t know if the proprietor saw into her thieving heart or not, but Gemma seemed to be thinking hard.

  “Right,” said Gemma at last. “I know a chap in Sennen Cove has a sporty little craft can get you over the Channel and to Budapest in no time at all.”

  “I’ll pay him,” said Jess. “I mean, I don’t have enough credits on me, but I have a contact who will—”

  “Never mind about that,” said Gemma. “I’ll just ring up David and see if he’s free.”

  “Is he trustworthy?” Jess hated to have to ask, but she reasoned she would hate it a lot more if David turned out to be a fan of Lucca Brezhnaya.

  “Oh, absolutely. Comes over from Paris to surf. The crowd in Paris are none too fond of Brezhnaya or the Viceroy, now are they? No, David and I have cozy little chats about what’s wrong with government every time he pops round. I know for a fact he’s mad for Mars as well. Plans to take the first transport once things open up.”

  Gemma laughed and Jess smiled uncomfortably.

  One quick call and a few minutes later, Jessamyn was making the acquaintance of David, surfer from Paris, very-pleased-to-meet-you.

  If Jess was any good at evaluating such things, he seemed a bit star-struck.

  “I’m in need of a fast transport,” explained Jessamyn.

  David nodded.

  “I’d like to borrow yours,” she added.

  David stuttered something to the effect that it would be an honor for him to fly her all the way to Budapest.

  Jessamyn’s mouth pinched tight for a moment. “The thing is, if Lucca gets word it’s me in your craft, she might very well fire to kill. We’re not on friendly terms.”

  David frowned and Jess could tell he was reconsidering the offer of his craft.

  “I can promise you’ll be compensated—handsomely—if anything should happen to your transport. I have friends who would see to it even if I’m … well, dead.” She scribbled a few lines on an envelope lying on the kitchen table and then handed it to David. “This man, Brian Wallace, will see you don’t come out of this badly. But I need to ask you to wait a few days before contacting him. It’s urgent no one knows I’m on my way to Budapest until it’s too late for Lucca to get me.”

  The surfer seemed to consider the offer. Then he nodded sagely. “I knew we weren’t getting the whole story. Told Gemma just yesterday, what we see on the feeds is the tip of the iceberg.”

  “Can I take your ship, then?” asked Jess, eager to depart.

  David extended his hand to shake Jessamyn’s. “It’s all yours.”

  “Remember, not a word to anyone you’ve seen me. I need a head start.” Then Jess reached for a knife on the table and cut off several hairs. The strands ca
ught the light from the feed, playing silently on the wall. “If I don’t make it, you can have these analyzed. I’m pretty sure my hair will show I grew up on Mars.”

  David took the strands as though they were precious relics, giving Jess a moment to wonder if her hair would be valuable on the open market. She gave herself a shake and thanked her host, thanked David.

  Jess turned to face the pouring rain.

  “Wait, I just have a question,” said David. “So, uh, I take it there’s no surfing on Mars, at present?”

  Jessamyn chuckled. “Nope. No oceans. Not even a lake.”

  David shrugged. “That means the market’s wide open for sky surfing, then.”

  “Maybe,” Jess replied, nodding. She’d never heard of sky surfing.

  And then it was back out into the downpour and inside the surfer’s transport.

  Jessamyn looked about the craft. Sand coated every surface. Strapped in back was what Jess surmised must be a hover surfboard. Across its surface, in red letters, was a warning: Keep Board Dry: not suitable for use in water! She considered stepping out to give the board to David, but then she realized there was no way she could do that without soaking the device, which the Keep Board Dry warned against.

  “Just have to redeliver everything safe and sound in a few days time,” she said to herself.

  A single floppy sandal was wedged between the nav screen and the comm panel. Starting up the craft, Jess removed the sandal, only to learn it had been placed there to stop an obnoxious rattle. She shrugged and wedged the shoe back in place and took off.

  Briefly, she wondered if she ought to have at least tried to disable the ship’s tracker. But she’d always relied on someone else to do that job. Besides, she reasoned, she just wanted to look like another visitor to Budapest. Once she got to the more crowded flight lanes, she would stand out if her ship had no detectable beacon. It was not time to stand out. Not yet.