Mars Rising (Saving Mars Series 6)

by Cidney Swanson

  “That would indicate they’re looking for someone.” Pavel felt his heart beginning to race.

  “Precisely.”

  “If they’re monitoring traffic into Budapest, then they don’t have her.”

  “These are strong counter-indications,” said Ethan. “I propose making the job of the Budapest traffic control officers more difficult.”

  “Um, okay. Why?”

  “If we were to flood traffic control with phantom vehicles appearing to enter the city, it might make it easier for Jessamyn to slip through.”

  Pavel frowned. “So, how are you going to do this, exactly?”

  “I am not. But I have friends.”

  Pavel raised an eyebrow. “Kazuko?”

  “Lightning Boy. He is part of a group of chess players among whom I have achieved a certain … status. If I ask them to flood the city with phantom vehicles in order to overwhelm traffic control, they are certain to oblige me.”

  Pavel looked at him. “That’s genius.” He was silent for several seconds. “But I’ve just got to say, of all the friends you’d be likely to make on Earth: chess players? You’re so weird, man.”

  “Thank you,” replied Ethan.

  When Pavel shook his head at this response, Ethan added softly, “My sister is fond of saying that if you must choose between normal and weird, she prefers weird.”

  Pavel glanced over at Ethan. His expression was strained compared to his normally neutral regard.

  “It’s going to be okay, man,” said Pavel. “We’ll find her.” He wished he felt as certain as he sounded.

  Ethan gave a curt nod. “I am troubled that my sister has not attempted to contact us,” he said. “I believed, perhaps in error, that she would consider our peace of mind as having more importance than it would appear she does.”

  “Or she tried back when the signal was being jammed and now she thinks her earpiece is busted,” said Pavel.

  “That is possible,” said Ethan.

  Moments later, a very flashy Atlas-class ship pulled up alongside the two.

  Zussman opened the hatch and Ethan and Pavel boarded.

  “Nice ride,” said Pavel as he settled beside Zussman.

  “I decided that only the best would do, sir, under the circumstances.” Zussman turned to Ethan.

  Pavel relayed the news about the ongoing search for persons entering Budapest, adding Ethan’s idea to frustrate the Chancellor’s attempt to monitor traffic.

  “Most excellent, sirs,” said Zussman. “At times like this, one does appreciate a swift mode of transportation.”

  Pavel took the ship up, pointing the nose to Lyons.

  38

  CELESTE

  Jessamyn followed Louis’s directions, keeping her eyes to the ground, hands shoved in her pockets as though her walk was an ordinary and oft-repeated one instead of a blind stroll through an unknown city.

  As it was, she walked past Pierre’s shop the first time and had to circle back to find it. Louis had neglected to mention it was a repair shop that sold bikes on the side as opposed to a store selling bikes as their primary occupation.

  Jess pushed through a wrought-iron gate and wove her way through a graveyard of hoverbike parts and bikes in various stages of repair. Beyond the yard sat a low building out of which was blaring some very loud music of a type Jessamyn did not recognize. Ghost would know it, she thought, feeling a moment’s nostalgia.

  “Hello?” she called at what looked like the front service counter. “Anyone here?”

  There was no response. Jess folded her arms and looked around. Someone had to be here, obviously, with that racket blaring.

  “Hello?” she called again. “I’m looking for Pierre.” Another pause without response. As an afterthought, she added, “Louis LeClerc sent me.”

  The music stopped. A man with an odd device strapped across his chest peered in from behind a door.

  “You are a … girl.” Pierre assessed Jessamyn in a way that suggested he did not entirely approve of girls.

  Jess pulled her arms tighter and held back a number of responses that felt appropriate. This wasn’t a situation where she could afford to cause offense.

  Pierre evidently decided he would continue in conversation. “My accordion, she is loud. I don’t always hear the bell when someone arrives.” Saying this, he removed the contraption—the accordion—from where it attached over his shoulders.

  “I didn’t hear the bell, either,” said Jess. “I think it’s broken.” She was not gaining a favorable impression of either the man or his abilities as a mechanic.

  “Ah, so it is, chérie, so it is. I am meaning to fix it every day, but something else is always more interesting.” Pierre laughed. “Properly, I ought to inform you I am closed for the day.”

  “And yet, here we are,” said Jess.

  Pierre’s eyes narrowed. He stared at Jessamyn for a long quiet minute. And then he laughed again. “And yet, here we are. How can I offer assistance, chérie?”

  “I need a hoverbike,” said Jess. “A fast one.”

  Pierre looked at her with his head tilted to one side. “What do you want with a hoverbike, ma petite. Dangerous things. Loud. Always in need of repair.”

  “I want to buy one, now,” said Jess. “LeClerc said you could help me. If you can’t, would you direct me to someone who can?”

  Pierre smiled and held his hands out to either side in a broad and welcoming gesture. “As it happens, this is the best place to get the best deal on the best little bike your heart desires.”

  “I don’t want little,” said Jess. “I need fast. The fastest you’ve got.”

  “Well, come back in three days and I’ll have two or three for you to try out. Fast ones, yes, quite fast.”

  Jess peered around the counter. “How about that one?” It reminded her of Pavel’s bike—the one she’d stolen. Well, acquired through diligent use of blackmail.

  “That one—Celeste? She is the fastest. I see you have a good eye.”

  “How much do you want for it?” Jess crossed her arms again, hoping it made her look like a shrewd bargainer.

  “The auto-balance system, she is not functioning,” said Pierre. “Come back tomorrow, or the day after.”

  Auto-balance? Jess didn’t need auto-balance. Didn’t even want it. “I’ll take it as is. How much do you want for it?”

  “As is?” asked Pierre, his eyebrows raised in alarm. “As is? Oh, yes. Pierre sells Celeste to you as is, and then in three days Pierre gets a call from your father asking Pierre why he has sold a dangerous hoverbike to his petit chou and landed her in the hospital with two broken legs.” Pierre shook his head vigorously. “No, no, no. Pierre is not a fool.”

  Jessamyn felt her teeth grind together. The man was infuriating. However, telling him what she thought of him wasn’t going to end with her driving off on a fast hoverbike. She searched for her inner negotiator as she drew a slow, deep breath.

  “My father would, indeed, be pleased to hear of your concern,” said Jessamyn. “The bike is for him, actually. He’s just fourbodied and he’s in desperate need of something to tinker with.” Jessamyn leaned in. “He’s driving all us kids a little crazy, if you know what I mean.”

  Pierre burst out in laughter. “My mother was the same way when she fourbodied. Sacre bleu, the woman was impossible!”

  “I’ll pay you well,” said Jessamyn. “It would be such a relief ….”

  Pierre threw his hands up, chuckling again. “For seventeen hundred credits, she is yours. But no joyriding until papa fixes that auto-balance, all right? Pierre doesn’t need trouble.”

  Jessamyn felt for one of her credit strips. The ones she carried had fifteen hundred credits between them. “I think thirteen would be more than fair,” she said. “Since papa will have to buy a part, from you, in all likelihood.”

  Pierre scratched his head. “I could maybe go as low as sixteen.”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Fifteen.”

&n
bsp; Jessamyn hesitated. “Is the fuel cell fully charged?”

  Pierre’s hands flew wide. “What do you take me for? Of course she is charged, or Pierre would have said, ‘this bike, she needs a fuel cell and auto-balance repair.’”

  “Sorry, sorry,” said Jess.

  The mechanic shrugged. “Fully tuned, as well. She is a beauty. Only the auto-balance remains to be fixed.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend,” said Jessamyn. She held out the credits. “Fifteen it is.”

  “Ah,” said Pierre, tapping the side of his nose. “Keep it off record so papa doesn’t know how much you paid. Smart girl. Tell your papa he can come by and maybe Pierre has a job or two for him. Starting with that bell for the door, eh?” He laughed.

  “I’ll let him know.”

  “Remember, no riding until the balance is restored,” said Pierre. “Walk her. Celeste will give no trouble if you keep her on the ground.”

  Jessamyn nodded as Pierre rolled the bike out to her side of the counter.

  “Au revoir, Celeste,” he said, patting the hoverbike farewell.

  “Thank you very much,” said Jess. “You’ve really saved me here. Saved my whole family.” She grinned. It was true, in a way.

  She rolled the bike through the front junkyard and through the wrought iron gate. It was very dark now, but the roads were still crowded. Probably as a byproduct of the earlier lockdown.

  “Sorry, Lyons,” she murmured.

  A block later, she judged she’d gone on foot far enough and started the bike. It purred like a fresh-off-the-line planet hopper. Whatever else Pierre might be, he certainly knew how to tune a bike.

  She spun up the bike’s route-finder and punched in “Budapest.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The DDO was having one of the worst nights of her career. Actually, it was probably the worst night of her life. Her stomach was complaining about the constant dumps of strong, black kávé and her assistants were yawning and nodding off. And then there was the Chancellor.

  Schloss had just been told to expect another comm from Lucca Brezhnaya. Sitting in front of her desk, Schloss considered whether or not she ought to freshen up her appearance. The Chancellor’s comm came through, ending all thoughts of freshening up.

  “What’s going on, Schloss? Why are ten thousand transports on their way to Budapest at 2:00 in the morning?”

  “They’re bogeys, Madam Chancellor,” said the DDO. “We’re doing what we can to distinguish between the actual vehicles and the falsified ones, but it’s going to take traffic control a few more—”

  “I require results, not estimates,” barked the Chancellor.

  Schloss sat up straighter. “Yes, Madam Chancellor. Of course, Madam Chancellor.”

  “So ….” Lucca broke off as if lost in thought. “If someone is going to all this trouble to confuse our systems, it must mean the girl—the supposed Martian—is really coming.”

  “That is one theory we’re working with, Madam Chancellor.”

  “One theory? What other theories do you have? Come on, Schloss, don’t waste my time with unexplained references.”

  Schloss felt her face heating. “It is very challenging, Madam Chancellor, to determine what exactly qualifies as a waste of your time and what you might deem important.”

  The comm was silent for a long count of five. Schloss felt the blood draining from her face. She was an idiot.

  “Well, you’ve got balls, Schloss,” said the Chancellor at last. “Now would you mind taking a moment from your busy schedule to apprise me of your alternate theories?”

  “I apologize, Madam Chancellor. There’s only one other theory. Some of the members of RSF with experience in less politically stable areas suggested the entire thing might be a ruse to make the populace think the girl from Mars—sorry, the girl who says she’s from Mars—is actually on her way. Then, while the public attention is turned that way, forces hostile to our government launch an attack.”

  “Hmm,” said Lucca. “I applaud your team’s creative thinking.”

  “We would like to recommend additional security for yourself and the Viceroy.”

  “I’ll speak to the Viceroy myself,” said Lucca. “Put in place such force as you deem prudent.”

  “Yes, Madam Chancellor.”

  “And Schloss?”

  Schloss held her breath.

  “See to it you never address me in that manner again. I don’t always respond this well to sarcasm.”

  “Yes, Madam Chancellor.”

  “Chancellor out.”

  Schloss collapsed back into her very uncomfortable chair. Definitely the worst night of her life. She gave herself a minute to recover and then called for a subordinate.

  “Yes, Madam Deputy Director?”

  “Increase security around the Chancellor and the Viceroy. And I want double the security for a two kilometer perimeter surrounding the House of Parliament.”

  The captain scurried away with the fresh orders.

  Schloss brought up her map of the city. “Where are you?” she murmured softly. “And who are you?”

  She would find the girl. Or the terrorists. She would find them if it was the last thing she did.

  39

  SETTLE IN AND HAVE A GOOD LAUGH

  “Ares and Aphrodite on a pair of skis!” exclaimed Mei Lo, storming out of her office and into a crowded hub of MCC headquarters. “Anyone care to tell me what that … noise was?” Her hands were balled into fists and she’d placed them on her hips. “Anyone?”

  A few of the secretaries were huddled beside a wafer printout station. Jeremy, one of the youngest and newest, spoke up.

  “General Mendoza sent out a memo to let us know he would be training a squadron of fighter pilots from Ursa Station this morning.”

  “I didn’t get the memo,” said Mei Lo.

  “Actually, Madam Secretary, I sent it to your desk half an hour ago,” said Jeremy.

  Mei Lo frowned. “Of course you did.” She’d been watching Jessamyn vids from Earth again, searching for a hidden message that wasn’t there. “Apologies, Jeremy.”

  Mei Lo’s assistant Veronica strode into the central area. “Back to work everyone,” said Veronica.

  The Secretary General had the distinct impression Veronica was speaking to her as much as to anyone else in hearing.

  The building rattled again as what sounded like several fighters made another low pass.

  “Tongs of Hades!” muttered the Secretary as she retreated to the far side of her office door once again, slamming it shut. She punched her desk comm. “Get me General Mendoza.”

  “Right away, ma’am,” came the reply.

  Mei Lo paced back and forth. Two of her pictures now hung at odd angles. She straightened them. How close were those fighters flying, anyway?

  “This is Mendoza,” said a voice over the Secretary’s comm.

  “What are you doing out there? The walls are rattling in here.”

  Mendoza breathed out heavily. “Apologies, Madam Secretary. It’s the new trainees. I’ve ordered them to stay clear of MCC, but they don’t seem particularly fond of following orders.”

  “What are they … trying, exactly?”

  “Practicing formations, ma’am. I’ll get them cleared out of the area. Mendoza out.”

  Mei Lo shook her head. She had two Mars-class vessels on their way from Earth, armed to the teeth, according to Ethan Jaarda’s intelligence. And she had thirty-seven—or was it forty-seven—pilots with minimal training trying to come up with ways to save a planet from destruction. Only thirteen of them had any formal MCAB training under their belts. The rest had crawled out of hibernation (some of them, literally) from remote places such as Ursa Station to volunteer their services. Mendoza wasn’t turning away anyone who could pilot a craft. The Secretary suspected one or two of the pilots were under eight annums of age, but she was turning a blind eye, for now.

  What were they thinking?

  A handful of kids and undertraine
d pilots against the Chancellor’s battle-hardened soldiers from Earth.

  A chill brushed along the back of Mei Lo’s neck.

  The odds weren’t just against them. The odds were unpacking picnic baskets and arranging lounge chairs to settle in and have a good laugh.

  40

  PHANTOMS

  Jessamyn was tired. So tired. Her eyelids felt as though they were heavily weighted. “Stupid gravity,” she murmured, giving herself a small shake. When last she’d checked the time, it had been six hours past her preferred bedtime. She needed tea. Or kávé. Or to not be wearing the cozy, warm jacket Louis had presented to her. Biking was cold work, even when the sun was out, but his jacket kept the wind out.

  Still, she really should unzip it or do something to stop the snuggly sleepy feeling creeping up on her every few minutes. Do something. Something.

  Jess felt her bike swerve dangerously to the left. Ares and Aphrodite! Her head had flopped to one side—she jerked herself upright.

  And in the process, she discovered something unexpected.

  Her earpiece, sensing the sudden jerking of her head, activated. And there were voices on the other end. Jess shook her head again, cutting the comm line, which was apparently back to functioning normally.

  Now she had a decision to make, or rather, to make again. Should she let her friends, her brother, and Pavel know what she was doing? It wasn’t as though comming them now would give them new information. They would have figured out her plans by now. They were probably on their way, trying to stop her. Jessamyn’s brows furrowed.

  She was wide awake now.

  Would her brother have missed the tiny beep—the sound notifying him she had connected, however briefly? She didn’t know if Ethan would have noticed; she hoped that the lack of a follow-up comm would make him think the beep was some kind of anomaly, and not her. And that spark of hope made clear to her what she wanted. She was hoping they hadn’t noticed her earpiece beeping because she was still hoping to keep all of them safe.