She couldn’t let Lucca catch them. What chance would any of them stand? Zussman would be flayed alive. Lucca had already shown what she had planned for her nephew. One Mars Raider had already died so Jess could be here today. She gripped her handlebars. No one else was dying for her sake.
She was the one and only member of their team with an appointment at the House of Parliament, and that meant a policy of No Contact.
~ ~ ~
Pavel asked the ship to make him a cup of coffee. They’d been prowling the streets of Lyons for an hour and found nothing. But the stop and searches had increased into Budapest, giving him a measure of hopefulness.
They weren’t sure what else to do in Lyons, and Pavel hoped caffeine might kick his brain into gear. The disposable cup gave an off taste to the hot black beverage. Or maybe it was just really bad coffee.
“A transport this nice should really be able to make a decent cup of coffee,” he muttered.
Zussman responded with half a smile and a little shake of his head.
“I miss your kávé, Zuss,” said Pavel.
“Yes, sir,” replied the butler.
“I may have found something relevant,” said Ethan.
Pavel set the coffee cup down. “What?”
“This is a vid shown on a feed out of Lyons.”
The vid, obviously captured by someone without professional experience, shook wildly, following the path of a hover-surfer with hair that glowed red in the night-lit city.
“It’s her,” said Pavel. Even with the poor quality of the vid, he felt sure.
“It could be her,” said Ethan. “Red hair is very popular at the moment.”
“No way, man. Look at how she’s flying that thing. It’s Jess.”
Something pinged in Pavel’s earpiece.
“Hello?” cried Ethan.
The concern in Ethan’s voice made Pavel twist away from the vid screen.
“What was that?” asked Pavel.
“A ping announcing an incoming comm,” replied Ethan. “But there was no one there.”
“I thought I heard something, too,” said Pavel, tapping his earpiece. “Is the frequency jammed again?”
“No.”
“Who was it?”
Ethan’s fingers danced across the screen of his chair wafer. “I am ascertaining that information.” His fingers came to rest. He did not look up.
“Was it her?”
Ethan’s gaze remained fixed on the screen. “It would seem Jessamyn attempted to contact us and was either prevented or changed her mind.”
A cold shiver ran down Pavel’s spine.
“So call her back.”
“She is not responding.”
“Shizer,” said Pavel.
“However,” continued Ethan, “I can definitively recommend we depart from Lyons.”
“Why?” demanded Pavel.
“I have obtained a fix on her earpiece. Jessamyn is presently passing between Maribor and Zagreb,” replied Ethan. “She is nearly to Budapest.”
“Are you sure?”
Ethan nodded.
“How’d she get so far ahead of us?” demanded Pavel.
“Our delays have been extensive, sir,” replied Zussman. “Hers, it would appear, were not.”
Ethan spoke. “If we take our vessel up ten kilometers higher—”
Pavel cut him off. “We can make up some lost time.”
“If I might suggest programming Odessa as our destination, sir?” asked Zussman.
Pavel turned to Zussman. “Odessa?”
Ethan responded. “It would be unwise to enter Budapest as our destination.”
“Odessa it is,” agreed Pavel, taking the ship into a swift climb. “But we’ve got to catch up to Jess before she hits Budapest.”
“Sir,” said Zussman, “it is almost certain she is walking into a trap.”
“I know that, Zuss,” replied Pavel. “And I’m not letting her walk into it alone.”
~ ~ ~
In the past hours, Jessamyn had sped past signs for things she didn’t understand (“Camping Sauvage”) and locations she’d longed to visit (Padua, Venice) and had gradually come to a sort of alertness. To the east, the stars were beginning to fade although the sky remained a dull gray. Morning was coming.
Only another hundred kilometers to go.
The roads had become increasingly crowded, which was probably a good thing. Dodging traffic was demanding and kept her alert. Before long, she would have to consult Zussman’s maps, opening to her the passageways that would guide her safely into the heart of the capital and to Parliament itself.
The sky shifted to a paler shade of gray. A bright planet still hung in the east. Venus? Not Mars. She’d forgotten to look for Mars during the night, and now it was too late.
Jess wondered where her friends were now. Following her? Comming the Secretary General with assistance from the Republic of Chicago? Visiting the House of Parliament in Budapest wasn’t exactly an authorized mission, but Jessamyn’s gut told her Mei Lo would have her back on this one.
If Jess succeeded in nothing more than getting out a handful of words or even just standing in the center of Parliament before Lucca gunned her down, it would be worth it. Jess had never before entertained notions of martyrdom, but for the sake of preserving the Marsian world she loved, well, she’d be honored.
~ ~ ~
“Fascinating,” said Ethan, from the rear of the craft.
Pavel turned his head swiftly. They had covered over a thousand kilometers since Lyons. “Did we catch up to her?” Pavel’s fingers hovered, ready to initiate a descent.
“No,” replied Ethan. “My sister remains one hundred fifty kilometers ahead of us. But the Budapest newsfeed is reporting a remarkable phenomenon. Ships and hovercars and hoverbikes are pouring into the capital.”
“Isn’t that what you told your hacker friends to make it look like?” asked Pavel.
“Indeed, they have sent thousands of phantom vessels into the area,” replied Ethan. “But these vessels upon which Budapesti news is reporting are not phantoms.”
Zussman was busily checking his comm panel wafer. “Indeed, sir. How very unexpected.”
Pavel shifted his attention from navigation to Zussman’s wafer.
“Wow. It’s crowded down there,” said Pavel. The back of his neck prickled and he wondered if the increase in traffic would make things better or worse for Jessamyn’s safety.
“Lightning Boy has done more than created the appearance of visitors flooding into the capital,” said Ethan. “He has persuaded ordinary individuals to provide a protective escort for the girl from Mars.”
~ ~ ~
Lucca Brezhnaya had not slept yet, and it didn’t look like she was going to get the opportunity. Sighing, she settled into her bed and rang for a maid to take her through her morning ritual: the soft chime of Tibetan bells, the flexing of her fingers to indicate she was ready for bowls of warm rosewater, and so on. It wasn’t as good as an actual night’s rest, but the familiar ritual tricked her into thinking it was time to be awake.
On a day like today, she missed Vladim Wu.
The new DDO at Red Squadron Forces was proving to be an interesting person with whom to work. Lucca supposed Schloss might eventually fill Wu’s shoes. Depending upon how events transpired today.
The girl with red hair was almost certainly on her way. No, Lucca corrected herself, the girl was definitely on her way. She flexed her fingers. She could feel it in her bones, the bones of this borrowed shell.
The Chancellor had convened an emergency meeting with the Head of Global Consciousness Transfer late last night. He’d been in a bad mood and complained about the hour. Lucca had had to remind him of his position and all he stood to gain or lose by incurring her displeasure. After that, the meeting had gone well.
Her next set of contingency plans were firmly in place. She held her hands out in front of her, admiring the freshly polished nails and long, white fingers. She would
miss this body.
But she would do what was necessary to preserve peace on Earth; that was her first and primary calling. And if she had to do it from within a less comfortable husk, so be it.
A comm rang through to her bedroom. It was her butler. Her new butler. She still hadn’t gotten used to him. Well, perhaps she wouldn’t have to, after all.
“Madam Chancellor, knowing the hour, I hesitated to notify—”
“Who is it?” demanded Lucca, cutting him off.
“The Deputy Director of—”
“Put her call through at once. Put all priority calls through. I am awake for the day.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
Lucca scowled. Even the way he addressed her was irksome. It was only the missing letter “d” that turned “ma’am” into “madam,” but she missed that letter, as she missed all things about Zussman.
Except for his treacherous betrayal.
“This is the Chancellor.”
“Madam Chancellor, we have an unwelcome turn of events.”
“Spit it out, woman.”
“It seems news of the mass influx of falsified transports has sparked a sort of … copycat event, and now actual vehicles are flooding the roads to the capital.”
The Chancellor put one hand to her forehead, fingers massaging the beginnings of a headache.
“Listen carefully,” said the Chancellor. “I want eyes on faces in the streets of Budapest. Especially, I want images of persons travelling by vehicle. Contact the Director of Computational Services and request assistance in running scans for a computer match for any of the following faces.”
Lucca walked to her small bedroom desk. She sent images of Jessamyn and Pavel. And then, on a hunch, added an image of Mr. Zussman. Perhaps he wasn’t as dead as she’d been led to believe. “You are to notify me the moment a match appears. Further, you are authorized to use deadly force to stop these individuals from reaching parliament. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Madam Chancellor.”
Lucca’s fingers ran to her left temple. It was going to be a bad headache. “Chancellor out.”
Now she had an even more important comm to make.
The Viceroy’s butler answered on the first ping. “How may I assist madam this morning?”
“I’m calling in the favor you owe me,” drawled Lucca. Such pleasurable words to utter. Rather like the thrust of a knife into flesh.
A moment’s hesitation. “Yes, madam?”
“Do whatever it takes to convince the Viceroy to be at New Kelen at nine o’clock this morning.”
Another pause. “Whatever it takes, madam?”
“Was I not clear enough the first time?” A hint of anger. Make him flinch.
“Of course, madam.” A soft clearing of his throat. “It shall be as madam orders.”
Yes. Yes, it would be, or there would be hell to pay.
“I shall not fail you, madam.”
She couldn’t resist twisting the knife. Just a little. “It would not be in your best interest to fail me. Or, should I say, in the best interest of your … loved ones.”
Ending the comm, she turned to her chamber maid. “I’ll be wearing the projectile-proof suit today. The midnight blue.”
The maid nodded and scurried.
The traffic flood was an unfortunate addition to everything else. She’d not foreseen it. Pressing her forefinger against her temple, Lucca sighed. Maybe the irksome Martian would end up a casualty of a massive pile-up. There. Lucca’s head felt better already.
41
YOU’RE THAT GIRL
Jessamyn continued east. The sky was pale pink now, of a shade not seen on Mars. She sighed, moved by the beauty of it. She’d lived to set foot on Earth, something she’d dreamed of since she was a child. She smiled, remembering the tales her pirate granddad had told of the blue and white planet. Miraculously, they’d all been true. The water planet had new wonders to display every day. As had its citizens. Jess owed her chance to ride to Budapest today to a pair of Terrans who’d never even heard of MCC a month ago.
She slowed her bike as she merged with vehicles entering the outskirts of Budapest. Traffic had been much heavier than she’d expected. Earth was so populous. Under these stop-and-go conditions, her bike was harder to control. But she was stuck on the surface; the hoverbike wasn’t designed for travel up in the airlanes. This had slowed her down, but she realized now that arriving earlier would have meant arriving to an empty parliament.
No, as it turned out, her timing was perfect.
Jessamyn smiled, thinking of what Mei Lo would have to say about the coincidence. I don’t believe in them either, she thought as she took the opportunity to slide between two vehicles, advancing toward the capital. The auto-balance would have been a welcome feature for this slower pace, but Jess knew that if it came to a chase, she would have the advantage: without stabilizers, her bike was more responsive.
The morning sun burst over a row of buildings, painting everything in pinks and salmons and corals—a sort of rose-colored version of Mars. Of course, Mars didn’t have flower boxes spilling out from windows. She smiled at the cheerful splashes of red and yellow.
Ahead, she heard horns and bells—the signals given by drivers irritated at one another. She looked up and saw the traffic signals ahead. They indicated the lanes traveling in her direction had open access, but all the vehicles around her seemed to be slowing worse than ever. She took advantage of her hoverbike’s narrow profile to creep forward past several larger transports.
And then she saw what was holding things up. Officers on hover scooters. She counted four, five, six of them up ahead. They seemed to be stopping all vehicles and obtaining images of the drivers and passengers.
Shizer.
She could only think of one reason for taking images of every single driver entering the capital. Her stomach twisted. All her mustaches, false eyebrows, and head coverings had been left in the surfer’s transport when she’d jumped. It had not seemed so bad to leave them behind at the time. But now? She looked like Jessamyn Jaarda. At the moment, that was not a good thing.
Maybe if the police here were sloppy, they wouldn’t make her remove her helmet. It was a short-lived hope. Five or six vehicles ahead, she watched as another hoverbiker was forced to remove his helmet for a picture.
“Flaming Moons of Zeus!” she whispered. Well, she hadn’t come this far only to get caught. She needed another route in. Scooting forward, she found a space large enough to allow her to turn her vehicle around. There was no opposing lane, so she had to weave her way against traffic. Several drivers took offense, and one moved his vehicle to block her progress.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.
Jessamyn skidded to a halt, her bike tipping dangerously and then, horribly, falling to the ground. Her helmet struck the pavement and as she lifted her head, she saw the helmet wobble away, lodging under a vehicle several lanes away.
“No, no, no!” cried Jessamyn, her red hair spilling down.
“Are you crazy?” shouted the angry driver.
Wobbly herself, Jess stood and righted the hoverbike. It was still running.
“I’m sorry,” Jess said. “It’s an emergency. Please let me through.” She grabbed at her tresses, trying to shove the tell-tale hair inside her collar.
“Hey,” said the angry driver, his voice softening. “You’re that girl. The one from Mars.”
“No,” said Jess. “You must be mistaking me for someone—”
But the driver wasn’t paying attention to her response. He’d turned and was shouting to anyone in hearing range, “Hey, it’s her! Make way for the girl from Mars! Come on, people, let’s move it!”
Jessamyn’s heart was pounding so hard and fast she could barely hear. Was she imagining things? No. The angry driver was now rallying everyone in five lanes of traffic to clear a pathway. Before her, a lane opened as vehicles shifted to either side.
“They’re after me,” said
Jess, pointing back to the police. “You’ll just endanger yourselves.”
The angry driver grinned. “Are you kidding me? There’s thousands of us. What are they going to do? Lock us all up?” Now he began instructing all the nearby vehicles to close the path behind Jess, making it impossible for the police on hover scooters to follow her.
“Thank you,” she shouted. “Thank you so much!”
And then she revved her hoverbike. “Show me what you got, Celeste.”
42
NO WAY THINGS GO BACK
Slowly, Pavel took the Atlas-class ship down toward the ground lanes. He saw unimaginable traffic streaming into the capital. It was amazing. It was heartening.
“There’s no way things go back to the same-old, same-old after this,” he said, shaking his head with wonder.
“It is most encouraging, sir,” said Zussman.
“Okay, so any bright ideas on how we get through all this to where Jessamyn is?” asked Pavel.
“She is still ahead of us, approximately three point two kilometers farther along the surface road,” replied Ethan. “Or, at least, her earpiece is there. As it is in motion, I conclude Jessamyn retains it.”
“There’s no airlane merge three point two kilometers from here,” said Pavel. “The last merge happens before that, unless we want to draw a whole lot of unwanted attention to ourselves.”
“That would be unwise, sir,” said Zussman.
“If we were to merge here and then abandon our vehicle on the ground,” said Ethan, “the pair of you could rent hoverbikes, could you not?”
“Sure,” said Pavel. “But you can’t. And we’re sticking together.”
“Considering the pace at which traffic is moving,” said Ethan, “it would not be difficult for me to stay beside you using my hoverchair.”
Pavel’s brows drew together.
Zussman inquired as to the chair’s top speed.
“Twenty kilometers per hour,” replied Ethan.
“Traffic’s moving at less than five kilometers per hour,” said Pavel. “What do you think, Zuss? Good idea?”
Mars Rising (Saving Mars Series 6) Page 15
