“This courtyard is closed effective immediately. Disperse or you may be fired upon!”
She hoped those outside had the sense to get out of harm’s way. And then, to one side, she heard a familiar voice. It took a second for her to identify it as coming through her earpiece. It was Pavel. He was shouting for help. The blood in Jessamyn’s veins turn to ice. She had to turn back.
For a moment, she froze, but she couldn’t turn back. Not from this task. She forced herself to continue onward, onward to the atrium under the great dome to make her speech. To do what she’d come to do.
Pavel’s voice again. He sounded so close. “No, no, no! They’ve shot Zussman! No, no, no!”
Nearly to her destination, Jess froze again. Her heart beat wildly, clawing to escape, to flee outside.
“Stand back! He needs medical attention! Back, I tell you!”
But the way was barred to her. People, more and more and more of them pressed forward into the safety of the building. She heard the sound of RSF officers, demanding Pavel place his hands in the air and surrender.
Oh please oh please oh please. Her heart rent in two, the air in her lungs evacuating as though she’d been trapped on the wrong side of an airlock. There was no way out, no possibility of saving them even if she could get out. And then, with clarity, she saw that the only way to help them was from inside—from here. From this place of power.
Jessamyn had arrived under the dome, she hardly knew how. Hundreds of people surrounded her, looked at her, waited for her to say something.
She was here. She would speak.
Shaking with rage and fear and unanswered questions, she stepped from her hoverbike. She held her arms wide and made a slow circle under the great dome, staring unseeing at those who had come to greet her. And then, feeling as though she was sucking air through a damaged filter, she addressed the gathered crowd.
“My name is Jessamyn Jaarda, and I’m the girl from Mars.”
Silence fell within the building.
44
ALL EARTH WAS WATCHING
“Stand back!” cried Pavel. “This man needs emergency medical assistance!” Leaning over Zussman’s crumpled form, Pavel attempted to stop the blood flowing into the lawn. His hands worked automatically; his mind felt numb. Running for Jessamyn now was unthinkable. The shot had missed Zussman’s heart but struck something big in his chest wall. He would bleed out if he didn’t get to a hospital quickly.
“I need a cauteractive!” he shouted to everyone, to anyone. It wasn’t likely anyone milling about had happened to bring one with them. He cursed himself for not grabbing the first aid kit from the ship. “Does anyone have a med kit?” he shouted over his shoulder.
He had no time to think about who was coming, or who had shot Zussman, or who had ordered the shot. There was only this moment. There was only Zussman, faithful friend, and his life pouring out in a red tide.
And then Pavel heard the sirens of an ambulance.
“Help’s on its way, Zuss,” he murmured, pressing against the wound. “Stay with me!” Then, more softly, “What were you thinking, old friend?” He’d seen how Zussman had sped forward, blocking the soldiers who must have been instructed to shoot down the Chancellor’s nephew.
“Just … trying … to be of service … sir,” whispered Mr. Zussman.
Tears streaked down Pavel’s face. “Oh, Zuss….” He couldn’t form a sentence.
Officers in red approached the pair of them, weapons drawn. They didn’t need to aim at Zussman. Ethan had slipped back several feet and Pavel avoided making eye contact with him. Maybe one of them could make it out of this a free man.
An officer in red slapped a magnetic cuff onto one of Pavel’s hands.
“Wait!” shouted Pavel, indicating Zussman with a swift tilt of his head. “He’s bleeding heavily.”
“Citizen Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard, you are under arrest for sedition and attempted insurrection.”
Pavel’s remaining hand was grasped and cuffed, but now there were medics attending Zussman. One of them put his cauteractive to good use, stopping the outpouring of blood.
Pavel thought he heard Jessamyn’s voice, and he swung his head from side to side, frantic for proof she was safe. He realized he might have heard her through his earpiece, but now it had fallen silent. At that moment, one of the guards shouted at him, demanding he turn over any comm devices. He complied. They would have found it easily. And there were other ways to find out what he wanted to know.
“The girl from Mars,” Pavel said to the officer leading him away. “Did she make it inside?”
The officer didn’t reply.
Pavel grunted in pain as he was shoved, face-first, against the RSF vehicle and patted down for weapons. They weren’t going to answer his question. Undoubtedly, they’d been instructed to hold no conversation with the fugitives.
Pavel’s eyes scanned the crowd, which still hung around, curious, in spite of repeated orders to disperse.
“The girl from Mars,” he shouted to the crowd. “Did she make it?”
“No talking,” shouted the officer attending Pavel.
Outside, from somewhere behind the first row of onlookers came a shouted answer. “She’s inside.”
Pavel closed his eyes in silent relief. Jessamyn was okay. And Ethan was okay. It was enough. It would have to be enough. His life was finished, but theirs would go on.
And then he heard something terrible.
“That one,” called an officer in red armor. “The amputee. He’s a wanted felon as well.”
Pavel’s face twisted in pain: they’d found Ethan.
~ ~ ~
Jessamyn focused on breathing. In and out; in and out. Through her earpiece she heard sirens, heard the strained breathing that must have been Zussman. Inside the House of Parliament, all was silent for a long count of twenty as those gathered to greet the girl from another world waited to see what else she had to say.
She’d had an entire speech, but the words were gone, and her mouth tasted like the sands of Mars: dry, bitter, cold.
And then the silence was broken as first one reporter and then another and then another and then dozens pushed forward asking questions, demanding answers. Half a dozen oddly dressed soldiers pushed through the crowd. Jess remembered Pavel saying that a group of secures known as “Swiss Guards” kept the peace within parliament.
Looking around, she saw not a single officer in red. Of course, the Swiss Guards could be Red Squadron Forces in disguise. But the guards seemed determined to offer a protective shield between Jess and the swelling crowd of bystanders who had rushed the building, curious or afraid of being shot outside or both.
Videographers were racing for positions on a gallery overlooking the great atrium and everywhere Jessamyn heard her name being called as hundreds of feeds fought for her attention. It was so noisy now she couldn’t have given her intended speech if she tried. She’d had her chance and she’d wasted it. Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned. But she would not waste water now. She would think about Pavel later. Grieve for Zussman another day.
Over her earpiece she heard her brother’s calm voice. Amidst the indoor hubbub, she’d missed some of what was transpiring outside. It sounded like Ethan was answering a question about his identity. “I am he,” said her brother’s voice. “Arrest him,” shouted someone nearby.
They had Ethan! Frantic, Jess looked around for an escape, but she was packed in on all sides now.
It was like the whole city had turned out. A sea of people and news cameras.
All Earth was watching.
All Earth was watching. This was what she was here for. Not to save Ethan’s life. Or Zussman’s. Or Pavel’s. She was here for Mars. She cleared her throat and stood taller. She raised both hands over her head using a gesture she’d seen her school teachers use to quiet a classroom. Miraculously, it worked: the crowd settled.
“Chancellor Lucca Brezhnaya invited me to come here. I demand to be presented before t
he parliamentary leaders of the Terran government,” she said. Her voice belonged to another Jessamyn; a stronger, confident version of herself.
A man strode to her side, flanked on either side by the oddly dressed Swiss Guard.
The man, a leader—he introduced himself as the Governor General of the Terran Parliament—shook her hand and said welcoming things. At least, she thought he did. She had to strain to keep her attention here, inside the building.
The governor might be friend or foe. She should have asked Zussman ahead of time who was opposed to the Chancellor, who was on her side. She’d been a fool, again, flying off before learning everything she needed to know. Would speaking up for her friends to this governor help them or speed them to a quicker death?
Her gut, insistent, reminded her to focus on what she was here to do: stop the ships heading to destroy Mars; leverage the goodwill she’d seen on display in the past twelve hours. Her mind settled into the cold calm of her pilot self. She gave a quick shake to her earpiece, turning it off. She was here, first, for Mars.
In front of her, the governor gave a tentative smile. “That is, if you don’t mind?”
Jessamyn’s eyebrows pulled together. She had no idea what he was requesting.
“A picture?” he asked, as if repeating himself.
“Of course,” murmured Jessamyn. Her voice still sounded as though it was coming from a place far, far away. The last time she’d felt like this, she’d been suffering from carbon dioxide poisoning in the dying Red Galleon. She took in slow breaths and allowed the man to position her for an image.
“I am a friend of Harpreet’s,” he whispered as he passed behind her to stage a picture from another angle. “She’s here, waiting for you.”
Jessamyn inhaled sharply, her brows drawing together. A dozen photographers recorded the moment.
“Forgive me,” said the man, in his regular voice, loud and deep. “I stepped on your heel there, didn’t I?”
He was covering for her. Covering because Jess hadn’t thought to mask her shock at hearing Harpreet’s name. She had to do better than this. Who knew what other things—worse things—she might hear today. Jessamyn threw her shoulders back and stared out over the crowd. She was proud, dignified, untouchable. The cameras whirred and clicked and beeped.
The politician at her side held his hands up for silence. It took a half minute for the hall to quiet.
“Rest assured my peers and I will do everything in our power to investigate and validate the claims made by this extraordinary young woman. A series of experts is gathering even as I speak. I’m sure I speak for all of us here when I say that I look forward to what we will discover, together. No further questions.”
An odd statement. Jess hadn’t taken any questions. Neither had the governor.
She maintained her mask of impenetrable calm.
“If you will come with me?” asked the Governor General.
Jess nodded tersely. It wasn’t as if she had an abundance of alternative offers at the moment. Other than the “surrender to Lucca” option.
“We’re taking you to safety,” said the governor, at her side. “The Chancellor wants you dead.”
“I noticed,” Jessamyn said, drily. “How do I know you don’t want the same thing?”
“Harpreet warned me you wouldn’t be easy to convince,” said the governor, smoothly. “She gave me a passphrase. Something only a Marsian would know.”
Keeping her chin high, Jess walked through a set of double doors and into a room with no windows and no second exit.
45
HER WAY IN THE END
Lucca Brezhnaya’s day was shaping up to be a very exhausting one. First the mess on the lawns before parliament. Next, the necessary comm to her brother, apprising him of upcoming changes. That had been … unpleasant. Yevgeny did not like change. He made no secret of his disapproval of her choice to undergo the change she was about to initiate. Perhaps next re-body she wouldn’t inform him ahead of time. Not if he was going to be so disagreeable. In an odd way, it had done her good to hear his voice. It served as a reminder of how far she had come since they had been children together. It was good, periodically, to remember the past.
From inside her comfortable transport, she pulled out a pocket wafer and summoned a holographic image of the spy Gaspar Bonaparte, whom she had kept waiting for her comm during the past hour. Gaspar would not be disagreeable. Gaspar knew better.
Although Lucca was accustomed to Gaspar’s constantly changing appearance, it was still a bit disconcerting to see him as a her. His last payment for services rendered had been issued in the form of a re-body as a threebody woman. At the time, Lucca had filed the information away for such an eventuality as the one she now faced. The Chancellor never let anything go to waste.
“I trust you received my message?” she asked, her voice silken, her smile inviting.
“Indeed, Madam Chancellor,” replied Gaspar. “I am on my way to your office as we speak.”
“Yes, yes,” said Lucca. “We won’t be meeting in my office today. The mood in parliament today is rather … frenzied. My officers will be escorting you to New Kelen Hospital instead. I will see you shortly.”
“Very well, Madam Chancellor. I am your humble servant.”
Lucca smiled softly. Yes, he was. “Chancellor out.”
All was proceeding according to plan. She commed New Kelen Hospital. “Have you had news of the Viceroy visiting the hospital today?”
“Yes, Madam Chancellor. In fact, several—”
Lucca cut the comm. She was not in the mood for a chatty gossip this morning. So, the Viceroy was coming. Not that she needed him now. She still smiled at the thought, though. The look on his face alone would have made the whole thing worthwhile. The foolish man still thought he played an important role in governing the world. Lucca laughed softly.
She would let him continue to think that, for the time being. She had a much better body in mind now. She held her hands out in front of her, admiring the long white fingers, the elegant nails, blood red. It was a pity she had to bid farewell to this form. She’d quite enjoyed it.
But really, the Chancellor couldn’t have arranged things better had she tried. That was the way of things so often: fate favored the prepared. Fate favored Lucca Brezhnaya. Fortunately, for the citizens of Earth. How little they knew the great pains she had undergone on their behalf.
They couldn’t know, of course, all those little people with their little minds and little dreams. Lucca rubbed her temple absently. At least the headache would be over soon. The Head of Global Consciousness Transfer would baulk, but Lucca would get her way in the end. She always did.
Hers was a lonely calling.
46
I SHOULD HAVE LIKED
Pavel’s view was restricted as they lifted off from the House of Parliament, but in a minute’s time, he knew where they were headed. There were two other hospitals closer to the governmental center of Budapest, but the best physicians practiced at New Kelen.
New Kelen.
A shudder ran through Pavel. It was the hospital his aunt favored for her serial re-bodying. But then, he didn’t expect to get out of this one alive anyway. He looked over to Zussman; his friend’s color was bad. Very bad.
Zussman’s lips were moving. The officers who had seized them were currently ignoring them. His aunt’s orders, doubtless. Pavel leaned in.
“Zuss? I’m right here.”
“Miss … Jess …?” Zussman couldn’t finish the question. He could barely whisper.
Pavel choked back fresh tears. “She made it, man. She made it.”
He wished his hands were free; he wanted to hold Zussman in his arms, reach for his hand at the very least. There was another shift in Zussman’s color. His friend wasn’t going to make it. Pavel leaned forward as far as his restraints would allow. His forehead just grazed the dying man’s jaw.
“I love you, Zuss,” whispered Pavel. “You’ve been the best friend anyone could
have asked for.”
“Mars,” murmured Zussman. “A visit … I should have liked….”
As Pavel’s forehead pressed against his friend’s face, a sort of sigh left Zussman’s throat. When Zussman didn’t inhale, Pavel lifted his head to check on his friend.
“Zussman?”
Nothing.
“Zuss?”
The butler’s eyes were fixed, glassy-looking.
“Get us to the hospital, now! This man requires immediate assistance!”
There was no response from the officers in red, except for the lowering of a barrier made of some sound-proofing material. Pavel choked back a grunt of pain. Beside him, Ethan murmured a farewell to Zussman.
“No,” whispered Pavel. “No! No!”
Pavel’s breath stuck in his throat. A single memory flashed before him. He was ten. His parents had been declared dead three days earlier; it was the day he realized they weren’t coming back. When he had begun to cry, Zussman sat with him through the long afternoon and the still-longer night.
You cannot bring them back, Pavel. You can only choose how you will move forward without them.
Tears streamed down Pavel’s face, blurring his view of his most faithful friend.
Zussman was gone.
Beside him, Ethan spoke. “I believe it is proper to say that I am sorry for your loss.” He paused. “But I feel this as my loss, too.”
A choked sob escaped Pavel’s throat. He nodded; it was all the response he could manage. It seemed to satisfy Ethan.
Zussman was gone.
He could not bring him back.
He could only choose … only choose … A harsh laugh. There would be no choosing and no moving forward. Pavel didn’t know what plans his aunt had for him, but he was pretty sure they didn’t extend in a forward direction.
Pavel was as good as dead.
Maybe—maybe—he could strike some bargain to save Ethan.
Drawing in a deep breath, Pavel steadied himself. For Jessamyn’s sake, he would try to save her brother.
Mars Rising (Saving Mars Series 6) Page 17
