“Your own knowledge of the Chancellor is superior to mine, of course,” said Zussman, “but I reached a similar conclusion. My conclusion led, unhappily, to a severance of relations between the Chancellor and myself.”
Jess snorted into her wet ration cup.
“She’s not going to change,” agreed Pavel.
“So she must be stopped by other means,” said the Ghost. “The stories gathered by your friend Harpreet ought to be made public. Through broadcast newsfeeds or short info-casts. That would make Sister pay attention.”
“Indeed it would, sir,” said Mr. Zussman.
“I like your idea,” said Pavel. “But, honestly, Ghost, it won’t make her change.”
“It might get her removed from office,” he replied. “And that would stop her from doing further harm.” The Ghost looked sadly toward the door. “I am weary. Good night.”
He shuffled forward and then stopped, turned, and looked from face to face. “Please, call me Yevgeny. You’re the only family I have now.”
And with that, he departed.
Jessamyn gasped softly. “I think the Ghost — er, Yevgeny — just showed us the way forward. Pavel and Zussman: what happens to Lucca’s directives if she is removed from office for misconduct?”
“If she is impeached,” said Mr. Zussman, “then every order she’s given will come under the scrutiny of the courts.”
“And if we can prove she meant to attack Mars without provocation?” asked Jess. “Is that … illegal?”
Mr. Zussman’s expression told Jess he was slightly offended by the question. “Indubitably, miss.”
“Then we bring her down,” said Jessamyn.
Pavel smiled grimly. “Now that is a plan I think we can all get behind.”
The only problem with her plan was she had no idea where to start.
21
New Houston, Mars
Cavanaugh Kipling was not the only Marsian who chose to end his life on the day Mars was attacked by satellite lasers. A handful of other people committed suicide that day, and one of them was Meigs, the former Head of Planetary Agriculture and lifelong friend, although secretly so, of Cavanaugh and his uncle Archibald Kipling.
Meigs’s position had to be filled, of course, and Mei Lo devoted time she did not have to the process of poring through the list of applicants put forward by a hastily-formed committee.
In her mind, there was only one suitable applicant.
But you will give your full attention to the dossiers of all applicants, she told herself sternly. And what was more, she did.
However, in the end, it was Dr. Lillian Jaarda who was asked to accept the position. Mei Lo swore she could sense every green thing on the planet sighing in relief when Lillian gave her consent to lead Plan Ag. Sadly, it was not a time for pomp or ceremony. Even the Festival of Coming Cloud had been canceled this annum in light of the state of emergency which hung like a pall over the planet. Mars Colonial was too busy simply keeping alive to make time for a proper investiture, so Lillian was hastily sworn in between meetings of the New Houston Emergency Water Board and the Planetary Rations Council.
After the swearing-in, Mei Lo pulled Lillian aside for a private conversation.
“I’d like to begin by thanking you for accepting the post,” said the Secretary General. “I know you have, well, you have a lot in your recycle bin at the moment.”
Lillian nodded curtly.
Mei Lo crossed to her desk and retrieved a data-strip from a biolock-protected drawer.
“This is for you to examine,” said Mei Lo. “I’ve spent months combing through old records from Planetary Agriculture. I found strong evidence that we are emerging from a period of sabotage.”
Lillian nodded. “I concur with those findings.”
“Do you?” Mei Lo’s brows rose inquisitively. Crusty must have told her after all. She didn’t have time to discuss it, however. “Quite frankly, it makes my blood boil. It also makes me feel like an idiot that none of this flagged my attention during my tenure as Secretary.”
“My former boss, Meigs, was good at covering his tracks,” said Lillian. “And why would it have occurred to you, or to any of us, that the Head of Plan Ag would sabotage his own programs?”
“It should have occurred to me,” muttered Mei Lo. “I’ve been too preoccupied with other things.” The Secretary bit her lower lip. She’d let issues like the election and the Terran Re-body Program irregularities crowd out what had been right under her nose.
“I’m not the only one with a full recycle bin,” said Lillian quietly.
The Secretary’s mouth curved upward. “Thank you. Of course I hope you’ll make your way through my report. But I want to talk to you about something else today.”
The new Head of Plan Ag stood silently, waiting to hear more.
“I believe there’s something Planetary Agriculture should pursue ahead of growing edible food in our stubborn soil,” said Mei Lo.
One of Lillian’s arched brows rose.
“I know, I know,” said the Secretary. “Trust me; I want more than anything to make agriculture the sexiest career choice on the planet. But it has been pointed out to me that other concerns need to take precedence.”
“They always do,” murmured Lillian.
“No,” said Mei Lo. “It’s not like that.” The Secretary ran two fingers across her brow, feeling a headache coming on. She took a deep breath.
“I’m listening,” said Lillian.
“We’ve got food. We’ve got enough to last more than twenty annums. But we’ve also awakened a sleeping dragon. If Earth targets us again, we’re nearly defenseless. We have nowhere to go if our structures are destroyed. We need breathable air. I believe we should focus as much effort as possible on global warming, on increasing the thickness of our atmosphere, and on producing breathable air.”
Lillian frowned. “Plan Ag does agriculture. If I understand you, what you’re asking for is a radical shift of priorities. I mean, all of our projects are run with an eye to the long-term goals of terraforming the planet. But you want us to make the switch from growing food to changing the atmosphere?” Lillian shook her head. “That’s a tall order.”
“I know. And you are the person I want to lead the way. We’re vulnerable as long as pressurized habs are the only places we can live.”
“The kind of changes you are talking about will take decades. You know this. This isn’t something with a quick pay-off.”
Mei Lo smiled grimly. “Will you consider it?”
Lillian released a short laugh. “You’re the Secretary General. We’ll do whatever you order.”
“One more thing,” said Mei Lo. “Your Household Algae Pot Program: I’m bringing it back. Crusty’s demonstrated algae to be a viable food source. We’re not abandoning the mandate to grow food. But I believe breathable air and survivable atmospheric pressure have to come first, given the hostilities shown by Earth’s government.”
“Very well,” said Lillian. “I’ll talk with my team about it and get back to you soon.”
Two days later, Mei Lo received a written report from Dr. Lillian Jaarda of the changes to be implemented at Plan Ag. The new mandate was going forward.
“Let’s hope we can get there before Earth decides to strike again,” murmured Mei Lo.
22
Tranquility Base, the Terran Moon
Jessamyn Jaarda had an excellent scowl, one she’d perfected during the “difficult annums” of seven and eight, the Marsian equivalent of roughly twelve through fourteen Terran years of age. She employed her scowl to great effect today, aiming it at Pavel in response to his question regarding what the Ghost — Yevgeny — should know about Mars.
It did not escape Jess’s notice that Pavel looked straight past her when he posed the question.
“The way I see it,” continued Pavel, not acknowledging her scowl either, “we can either ignore the whole thing, letting the Ghost keep making his little remarks about killing the Marti
ans, or we can tell him the truth about Mars Colonial,” here he paused to smile at Jess, “which might not be what everyone wants.”
Jessamyn uttered a sort of grunting cough.
“But,” continued Pavel, “I also thought of a third option: we lie to him and say Mars Colonial died off a long time ago like everyone on Earth believes, and that Lucca was just stringing him along for some reason known only to herself. It would get him to stop the remarks about evil Martians.”
“It would be ridiculous,” muttered Jessamyn.
“Hey, just trying to be sensitive to the many points of view represented here,” said Pavel, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ethan responded. He was accustomed to his sister’s scowls, having been their primary target for two annums. “The amount of work required to convince the Ghost Mars is no longer inhabited would likely be greater than the amount of work required to convince the Ghost Mars is inhabited by those who pose no threat,” said Ethan.
Jess stared at her brother. “I suppose you calculated that out mathematically?”
“I estimated,” replied her brother. “Or perhaps my thus-far silent ‘gut’ provided me with an intuition.” A small smile tugged at her brother’s mouth.
A matching one curved on Jessamyn’s mouth. “You’re such a freak,” she said to her brother.
“So I have been told,” he replied.
“With respect,” said Mr. Zussman, “I concur with Mister Jaarda. It would be very difficult to successfully pull off so egregious a misrepresentation of the truth.”
“Jess?” said Pavel. “What’s your vote?”
“I’m thinking,” she replied, a deep frown settling on her forehead.
But in the end, in spite of her preference for keeping Mars’s existence secret, she agreed with the others. “The Ghost, er, Yevgeny, is much more likely to be helpful to our cause if he knows the truth,” she reasoned. “I recommend we tell him, subject to Harpreet’s final recommendation.”
“And let the chips fall where they may,” said Pavel, grinning.
Jessamyn pulled at her jacket, wrapping it more tightly around her frame.
~ ~ ~
Harpreet approved several agendas the next time the group spoke.
“We will, of course, do what we can to protect the identities of those who have provided intelligence about the misuse of the Re-body Program,” she said. “However, all of those who spoke to me felt it was worth risking their safety to bring the abuses to light. As for your other suggestion, that we use this information to bring Lucca down from power, it has been my conviction from the first that it ought to be attempted. Considering the current threat, I believe this falls under the ‘Extraordinary Measures’ clause. You may rest assured of my support when you send messages to the Secretary General.”
“And what of telling Yevgeny about Mars?” asked Jessamyn. “Would you like to be the one to do that?”
Harpreet’s brown eyes sparkled. “Oh, child, that task can only properly belong to one person. And she is most assuredly not an old woman living on Earth.”
Which was how Jessamyn got the assignment to speak to the Ghost as to the non-hostility of the inhabitants of the red planet.
~ ~ ~
The Ghost listened to Jessamyn, thoughtful, curious. At last he spoke. “So you believe Sister’s been lying to me about the Martians as well?”
Jessamyn felt her heart racing. How much did she want to tell him?
He continued speaking without waiting for her answer. “Maybe the ships I saw every thirty-odd years were just some secret mission she’s been running behind my back.”
“You observed ships coming from Mars?” Jess asked, incredulous.
“Roughly every thirty-seven years,” he said. “Sister just ignored my reports, though. Which makes me think she might have been lying all along.”
Thirty-seven Terran years was twenty annums, thought Jess. The Ghost had noted the arrival of the Raiding ships. She shivered to think they had been under surveillance all along. What if the Ghost’s sister had listened to him?
“She has fed you misinformation in some areas,” said Jessamyn, slowly. “But the existence of a colony on Mars was one of the true things she told you.” She swallowed against the swelling of her throat as she prepared to reveal what, in every other circumstance, she most wished to keep hidden. “Do you remember how you asked where I got all those Shakespeare in Outer Space vids?”
“I remember your answers were vague,” said the Ghost. “You remind me a bit of Sister, at times.”
Jessamyn flushed. “I am not like Lucca.”
Yevgeny shrugged.
“I had good reason to keep back what I knew,” she said. “Very good reason.”
The Ghost looked at her. “Really?”
“Yes. The vids are Marsian-made.”
“Martian?”
“We prefer Marsian, actually,” said Jessamyn.
An extended silence stretched between them.
“Did you just say, ‘We’?” asked the Ghost.
Jess nodded.
“Well,” said the Ghost. “I guess that answers the question as to the degree of bloodthirstiness in your average Martian. Er, Marsian. Would you say you are a fair representative of your species?”
Jess frowned. “We’re the same species, Yevgeny. Human. Homo Sapiens.”
“Did they kick you out for being a pacifist?”
A short laugh escaped Jessamyn’s lips. “No,” she said. “I’m probably a bit more aggressive than your average Marsian. Well, I’m more competitive, anyway.”
“Ah,” said the Ghost. “Sister is competitive.”
Jessamyn rolled her eyes.
“Did they kick you out for that, then?”
Jess laughed. “No one kicked me out. I volunteered to come to Earth. We’ve been buying ration bars down there every twenty annums. Um, every thirty-seven years.”
“Until this year,” said the Ghost. “What changed? Why the two visits? Did you forget something?”
“In a manner of speaking,” said Jessamyn.
It took Jess three hours to lay out to the Ghost’s satisfaction the story of her travels and her decision to return to Earth. It took several days for the Ghost to decide she was telling the truth. When, at last, he had accepted as true everything (or mostly everything) Jess had told him, he suggested Jessamyn should borrow a transport and pay a call to see Sister.
“She would be very interested in meeting you, I should imagine,” said the Ghost.
“Did you miss the part where she wants to kill me?” asked Jess.
“It is difficult to imagine you as the dangerous criminal Sister believes you to be. If the two of you meet, she might feel differently about you.”
“Lucca Brezhnaya and I have met,” said Jess. “In fact, I am the indirect reason she wants to wipe out all life on Mars.”
As she spoke, a heaviness like a stone settled in Jessamyn’s chest.
“She disliked you that much?” asked the Ghost, incredulous.
“Her reasons for attacking Mars don’t make much sense to me,” admitted Jess. “But I think she would have left Mars alone if I hadn’t brought our existence so very much to her attention.”
“Well,” said the Ghost, “you are probably right to avoid her. I’ve known her to destroy villages to wreak vengeance on an individual resident. If she wants to strike Mars because of you, she must dislike you very much indeed.” The Ghost looked morose again. “She thinks I don’t know about the villages. I should have disassociated from her lifetimes ago.”
Jess remembered Kipper saying she’d “divorced” her brother Cavanaugh. She wondered if she should suggest the divorce idea to the Ghost.
“One thing is certain,” said the Ghost. “We need to work very, very hard to keep Sister from discovering you are here on Tranquility Base.”
“If she found out, we’d have to rename it ‘Armageddon Base,’” said Jessamyn.
The Ghost stared at her for sever
al seconds with no discernible expression on his face. “Oh, that was a joke,” he said. A brief laugh escaped his lips. “Armageddon instead of Tranquility. That was very good.”
And so, while Ethan developed elaborate encryptions to prevent anyone from determining from whence negative information about the Chancellor originated, other members of the Marsian group debated how best to take down a well-regarded public figure.
It was Kipper who set them on their way.
“This isn’t rocket science, guys,” said Kipper during a comm between Tranquility Base and Madeira.
“It kind of is,” said Pavel. “Terrans adore my aunt. They know she’s responsible for the level of peace and prosperity on Earth. There are pockets of dissent, sure, but on the whole, they love her.”
Kipper laughed. “It doesn’t matter how high she stands in public opinion. Trust me.”
“With respect, Miss Kipling, her high standing surely has some relevance,” said Zussman.
“All I know,” said Kip, “is that my brother took me from ‘saint’ to ‘ain’t got a prayer’ in less than a Terran month. And if he can do it, so can we.”
“You aren’t seriously suggesting we play dirty like Cavanaugh, are you?” asked Jessamyn.
“That’s the thing,” said Kip. “I’ll admit he lied outright about Mei Lo, but what did he really say about me that was untruthful?”
Jess tried to remember a single, solid lie told by Kip’s brother.
“He didn’t have to make stuff up,” continued Kipper. “He just redirected everyone’s gaze again and again and again to my brain damage. He made everyone ask questions about my sanity.” Kipper shrugged. “It discredited anything I had to say.”
“He employed a redirection of focus,” said Mr. Zussman, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “This is a practice my former employer utilizes with frequency.”
Pavel grinned. “That’s some good thinking, Kip.”
“Yeah,” replied Kipper. “Turns out the old brain’s not broken after all. In spite of what my brother implied.”
“Apparently not, miss,” said Zussman, with approval.
Striking Mars (The Saving Mars Series-5) Page 8
