Mars Rising (Saving Mars Series 6)

by Cidney Swanson

  “Well done, sir,” said Mr. Zussman to Pavel. He had once more adopted the speech, if not the manners, of Zussman the butler. Zussman then turned to the officers. “I must ask whether you communicated a description of our vehicle to Whitcomb of Plymouth.”

  Neither officer responded.

  Zussman fired a shot between the feet of the one under Ethan’s chair.

  “Yes,” cried the one who’d been fired on. “They have a description.”

  “In that case, we will be requiring the use of your vessel,” said Zussman.

  Pavel, meanwhile, had opened a med kit beside the officer with the bone break, who was writhing in pain.

  “Much as I applaud your medical sensibility,” Zussman said to Pavel, “I should like to remind you we are pressed for time.”

  “That’s a broken arm,” said Pavel, his own breathing labored.

  “We ought to depart as swiftly as possible,” said Ethan as he examined his wafer.

  “Give me a minute.” Pavel gave his patient an injection for pain. Next, he did an emergency bone set and then, taking the magnetic cuffs Zussman produced seemingly from thin air, Pavel linked the officer’s wrists and gave him a sedative. Turning to the other officer, he sedated him as well.

  “Sorry, man,” murmured Pavel as the officer slumped to the ground.

  The officer’s wafer, now secured to Ethan’s chair, emitted a comm. “Delta 34, we are not receiving images. Please update.”

  “Do we respond?” asked Ethan, indicating the confiscated wafer.

  “No, sir,” said Zussman.

  Another comm came through. “Delta 34, we are sending back up, barring your immediate response.”

  “These two will be more comfortable,” said Ethan, “and less visible aboard our transport.”

  “We’re taking the squadron vehicle?” asked Pavel.

  “It will enable our swift escape from hence,” said Zussman. “We may abandon it outside London where alternate transport may be more readily acquired.”

  A last burst from the wafer warned them to flee. “Delta 34, we are sending back up immediately.”

  With the assistance of Ethan’s hoverchair, they deposited the sleeping officers in their former transport. Moments later, the three stole away in the Red Squadron Forces vehicle.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” muttered Pavel, setting a course for the outskirts of London.

  34

  JUMPER

  Jessamyn couldn’t raise Pavel or her brother. Or anyone else. It was as though her comm signal had gone completely dead.

  “Hades,” she murmured to her borrowed transport. “Now what?”

  The ship didn’t answer.

  But the comm ordering her to descend immediately was repeated, which meant not all comms were malfunctioning. It was just her earpiece that was busted. She frowned and studied the traffic in the lane below hers. She had to give the appearance of trying to comply with the order to descend. She dipped her transport briefly, making it look as if she’d had to change her mind at the last minute to avoid a collision.

  She’d bought herself one, maybe two minutes. Scanning the interior of her transport, she tried to put herself in a more resourceful frame of mind. What did she have? There was the hoverboard, useful for sky surfing, but slow compared to what would certainly be on her tail. Not to mention, she’d be completely vulnerable to any shots fired. Whereas her transport would at least protect her from some projectiles.

  “Tagged vehicle, you are to descend at once or you will be fired upon,” said her comm panel.

  “Hades and Aphrodite,” muttered Jess. Ahead, she could see the skyscrapers of Lyons, tall and thin with their antigrav buttressing. The traffic lanes swooped up to avoid collision.

  She punched the comm line open, but she spoke as if to a fellow passenger. “No, Armand, I have no idea what this is all about. I should be asking you what you’ve gotten us into. Stealing the transport wasn’t my idea.”

  She struck the comm line dead again and began a descent. Down one lane. Down to the next lane.

  “Traffic control will guide you automatically from here,” said a voice over her comm.

  Jessamyn saw the readouts on her instrument panel shift to orange and felt her ship drop several feet as Air Control commandeered her navigation.

  This is it, she said, undoing her restraint. She reached for the hoverboard, clipped her right foot in, and punched the hatch, watching skyscrapers flash past.

  On Mars, wishes made when parachuting from a transport were held to be especially lucky. She might not have a parachute, but making her wish was easy: Let them stick with my imaginary friend Armand and not with me.

  Shoving the board out with her right foot attached, she exited her craft, jumping into thin air.

  ~ ~ ~

  Brian Wallace succeeded in contacting Lady Cameron Wallace’s sergeant-at-arms on his third attempt. The channel wasn’t secure, so he had to get creative in asking for help tracking Jessamyn’s movements.

  “Ah, Jamie, lass,” said Brian. “Thank goodness. I’m calling about that length of red wool. The one me cousin’s so fond of? Well, it’s on its way to Budapest as we speak.”

  “Is it, indeed?” asked Jamie. Her tone made it clear she understood Brian’s cryptic message. “And have you kept careful track of the package’s progress?”

  “Ah, well, that’s the thing,” said Brian. “I’m afraid I’ve no way of knowing when it will arrive. I wonder if ye might be able to offer some assistance?”

  “Of course,” replied Jamie. “I’ll make it a priority. Send me the tracking number and we’ll find what’s happened to that red wool. Perhaps I can expedite it somewhat.”

  Ending the comm, Brian turned to Jumble. “It’s in Jamie’s hands now.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “We should comm Jumble and Brian,” said Pavel. “Keep them up to date and see if they’ve found anything useful.”

  “I have been attempting to do so for several minutes,” said Ethan. “It would appear our comms are being jammed. However, I believe I have located an alternate frequency.”

  “Time is of the essence,” said Mr. Zussman. “London is not far, and we are certain to have a tail by now.”

  “I have succeeded,” said Ethan. “Jamal Boslough?”

  “We thought we’d lost contact,” said Jumble. “The earpieces stopped working.”

  “I have restored their functionality,” said Ethan. “Do you have Jessamyn’s location?”

  “Brian may have found a way into traffic control. Are you acquainted with Cameron Wallace’s sergeant-at-arms?”

  “Yeah,” said Pavel. “Jamie’s brilliant.”

  “She’s working on the beacon tracker for the ship Jess borrowed.”

  “Excellent news,” said Ethan. “Comm us when you have located Jessamyn.”

  ~ ~ ~

  DDO Schloss’s comm line was pinging her non-stop. She reached for a fresh cup of kávé and took the latest call.

  “This is traffic security in Lyons. I have Red Squadron Forces Gamma 12 for you.”

  “Go ahead,” said Schloss. In the background, she could hear the whining noise of an engine being asked to perform a high speed pursuit.

  “This is Gamma 12. We have a situation involving two onboard suspects resisting descent. There’s—wait—hold on—”

  Schloss sighed and drank a gulp of her dark beverage, scalding her tongue in the process. “Shizer!” she muttered.

  “Ma’am, we have a jumper, on a hoverboard. Red hair. Which is our priority? The jumper or the original vehicle?”

  Schloss rose from her seat. “Follow the jumper!” She turned to her subordinate. “Tell Lyons to override controls on the vehicle Gamma 12 is pursuing. Land it at an RSF facility immediately.” She spoke by comm once more. “Gamma 12, do not let that jumper get away. Use all necessary force, but do not let the jumper escape.”

  Schloss sat again, landing hard enough to upset the coffee cup in her hands. A few
drops of very hot kávé landed on her hand, which made her jerk and spill the entire cup.

  “Shizer!” she said, much more loudly this time.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jessamyn felt wind whipping her hair up, up, up as gravity pulled from below. Her rate of descent was alarming and not what she’d expected when she’d taken the step out of the transport. The hoverboard was no parachute, and this definitely wasn’t Mars.

  She’d kept her arms pulled in tight to her torso when she jumped. And a good thing; it was a fight to keep her arms from following her hair.

  Still hugging her arms to her body, she snaked them down her torso, past her thighs, her knees, until she could grab her anchored leg. Holding herself in a curled ball shape, she grasped either side of the hoverboard.

  Sky surfing is insane, she thought.

  Then she smiled. The trick was to think of it as flying, not falling. And if there was one thing Jess could manage, it was flying. So, what could she ask of her hoverboard? She tried shifting her weight; the board angled in response. A few more leans, tilts, and pressure applied by different parts of her clipped-in foot, and Jess had the hang of it.

  Sky surfing is brilliant.

  She’d dropped hundreds of meters, very quickly, but now she figured out how to control her descent and even to catch a bit of an updraft. Good old Bernoulli Effect. Of course, now that her hair was no longer shooting straight up, it got in her way if she wasn’t careful.

  Taking stock of her surroundings, Jess decided that she might be able to lose potential pursuers better if she were down on the level of ordinary hoverbikes and cars. She dove into a lane of hover traffic, earning several dirty looks and what she assumed were rude hand gestures. Jess grinned. This was fun. She took her board off to the left to avoid a large public transport, cutting cleanly through a holo-billboard before she had a chance to panic over the seemingly solid object that wasn’t solid after all.

  “Watch yourself,” she murmured.

  She glanced behind, looking for vehicles with flashing red lights. She saw two. Or maybe it was three. Pushing her board forward, she whispered, “Come on, come on; give me some speed!” She couldn’t be certain the red lights were meant for her, but it seemed safer to assume they were.

  Seeing a wide boulevard branching left, Jess careened around the corner, taking advantage of the board’s aerodynamics to shoot across lanes and wedge herself next to a large transport. The flashing lights pulled around the corner as well.

  “Shizer!” she muttered. Then she noticed her board had a booster. Engaging it, she shot forward, just missing a hoverbiker. She could hear his angry shout as she passed by, the sound of his cry elongating and dropping in tone. How fast was she going? A lot faster than anyone else on the ground level. This was dangerous. Jess slowed, pulled off into a narrower side street. She brought the board to a near stop and waited, panting and listening.

  A new siren sounded from around the corner. Jess swore and tapped the booster once more. This time she angled the board sharply upward, climbing up beside the endless rows of apartment dwellings. Was the siren coming closer or disappearing? She risked a backward glance, slowing slightly. She was approaching the end of the side street. Left or right?

  She veered right, but she saw her error at once. Dead end. To one side, numerous windows had been opened, letting in the late night air. Curtains fluttered in the light breeze. Jess chose an open window, slowed the board, and dove inside the building, hoping she’d chosen a lobby or other public area. Braking hard, she touched down abruptly, tumbling forward and onto a couch.

  “Great. Just great.” She took in her surroundings. The place resembled a residence. A private residence.

  “Who are you?” asked a voice from behind.

  Slowly, Jessamyn turned.

  35

  RUN FOR IT

  Brian and Jumble were still hours from reaching Madeira, but Jamie had provided a frequency which allowed them to speak more freely than the one Brian had first used. Brian was now maintaining constant communication with the sergeant-at-arms.

  “Are ye in yet?” Brian asked Jamie, for the twentieth time. Or maybe the twenty-first or twenty-second. He wasn’t keeping close count.

  “Another minute, Brian Wallace,” replied Jamie. Her irritated sigh told him she was keeping close count.

  “Right,” said Brian. “I’ll just wait ‘til you’ve got something to tell me, then.”

  He waited a minute. And then another. “Anything?” he asked at last, unable to stand the silence.

  “Okay. I’m in the traffic control system,” said Jamie. “Oh shizer. It’s not good. Jess is being grounded. In Lyons. Right now.”

  “That’s bad,” said Brian, glancing over to Jumble.

  Jamie’s fingers flew over her wafer controls.

  “Very bad,” Jumble said softly.

  “I’m attempting to override the controls that are bringing her down,” said Jamie.

  “The lass’ll stand a better chance in the air than on the ground,” said Brian.

  “Okay,” said Jamie. “I’ve restored vehicle control to the ship.”

  “And?”

  Brian could hear Jamie’s breathing—anxious, heavy. “And … nothing. She’s not flying away. It makes no sense. She had to have noticed the restoration of ship’s controls.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Brian. “Oh, dear. The only reason that bonny lass would allow her ship to be grounded—”

  “Don’t say it,” said Jumble.

  ~ ~ ~

  Pavel was flying the Red Squadron Forces ship at its maximum velocity toward London and, in the process, breaking laws governing both speed and traffic patterns. Not that he cared; Jessamyn was missing. Jessamyn was in danger. He had no time to waste.

  “If I might suggest, sir, a less aggressive approach as we near London?” asked Zussman.

  “First, tell me we’re clear of Red Forces vessels,” said Pavel.

  “I shall make the attempt, sir,” said Zussman.

  “How’s that search for a replacement vehicle coming?” Pavel asked Ethan.

  “Indifferently,” replied Ethan.

  “Indiff—what does that even mean, man? This is your sister’s life we’re talking about.”

  “I am far from indifferent to the outcome of the vehicle search,” replied Ethan, “however—”

  An incoming comm cut Ethan off.

  “This is Red Squadron Forces Central. You are commanded to bring your vessel to ground immediately. Failure to comply will result in our assumption you are in illegal possession of this vehicle, and we will fire upon you. This message will repeat. This is Red—”

  “Shizer!” shouted Pavel. “I’m taking us down hot, and we run for it when we touch down.”

  Zussman tore off his false facial hair, false scarring, and his wig, indicating Ethan should do the same.

  “I’ll get mine off once we’re down,” said Pavel.

  The area below was populous, but the streets were easily wide enough to accommodate an RSF ship, the ships having been designed for such landings.

  “Sir,” called Zussman, his tone urgent, “just ahead—a form of public mass transportation.”

  “Got it,” nodded Pavel. He brought the ship sharply down, scattering other vehicles. He lacked Jessamyn’s finesse, and they were all jolted by the sudden landing. “Sorry,” he said. “I should’ve used the backup thrusters.”

  Ethan had already released his chair and was opening the hatch. Zuss and Pavel tore at their harnesses. All three could hear whining sirens—their pursuers—as they dashed down the steps and out into the street.

  “This way,” called Zussman, leading the three to what appeared to be a hovertube station. “Scan through.”

  Pavel didn’t know what was more disturbing: the sound of RSF ships coming down to land or Zussman’s uncharacteristically clipped instructions. No, it was definitely Zuss talking funny that shook him up most.

  The three scanned through turnstiles, Etha
n utilizing one for hoverchairs and baby strollers.

  Too late, it occurred to Pavel they’d already had their chips scanned. The three joined a long line of people descending by escalator. Pavel leaned in and whispered to Zussman. “They’ll see it’s us.” Pavel lifted his wrist slightly.

  Zussman nodded. “That will require of us a certain creative license in planning for our exodus from hence.”

  Pavel allowed himself a tiny smile. Zuss was speaking butler-ese again: all was not lost. The escalator spilled into a small area where hovertube passengers had to choose left or right.

  “This way, sirs,” said Zussman, directing Ethan and Pavel to the right.

  A furious gust of hot air swept past them as a hovertrain pulled up to the platform. Through a swarm of hundreds, passengers managed to disembark and the trio somehow managed to board a car together while a loud auditory warning sounded, requesting them to mind the gap.

  Another warning came over the transport comm, spoken in a female voice, calm and detached: RSF are in pursuit of the following persons, known to be armed and dangerous. Images flashed on multiple screens: Zussman, Pavel, and Ethan, bewigged and with additional facial hair. Pavel lowered his head and tugged at the remnants of his beard, dropping bits to the floor as the train lurched forward. He didn’t know where his wig had vanished; Zussman must have seen to it. Most unfortunately, the image of Ethan showed him in a hoverchair.

  But it didn’t look like anyone was paying attention to their fellow passengers. There seemed to exist a collective understanding that staring or making eye contact was the height of rudeness, given the way everyone pressed against one another in the train without actually observing one another. Pavel remembered seeing this behavior during stolen visits to Budapest’s underground train system. Still, Pavel was anxious to leave before anyone did notice Ethan was in a chair and make the connection.

  “Get off here?” Pavel asked Zussman as they pulled into their first stop.

  Zuss shook his head once. “Too obvious.”

  Pavel tightened his grasp on the hand grip. Every minute spent not in pursuit of Jessamyn felt like a wasted minute. But Zuss was right. Better to waste a few throwing their pursuers off track than to get caught now. The train pulled away and they passed through one, two, three, four additional stations before Zussman, studying the overhead map, gave the nod to exit. They caught an escalated slide to a lower level and boarded another train, the doors sliding shut just behind them.