Striking Mars (The Saving Mars Series-5)

by Cidney Swanson

  Jamie reached in her waist pack and withdrew a small object which she placed beside the door handle. “Back up,” she said.

  There was a small popping sound and the door handle fell to the ground. Jamie ran forward and pushed the door open.

  “I don’t suppose one of those would work on the transport?” asked Kipper.

  “You want a hole in the side of your ship?”

  “It was a joke,” said Kip. “Where do I find the code we need?”

  But before Jamie could answer, Kip had located the wafer most likely to contain the needed information.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” asked Jamie.

  “I’m a hacker,” said Kipper. “I never know what I’m doing.”

  Just then lights flooded the office.

  “Kill the lights,” Kip muttered, thinking Jamie had turned them on. She looked up. It wasn’t Jamie. Someone else had joined them inside the office.

  “What are you doing here?” asked a man in black.

  Security, thought Kipper. She kept hacking. Just another few seconds.

  “Trying to buy a ship,” said Jamie. “What does it look like?”

  The man laughed harshly. “A break-in is what it looks like.”

  He swung for Jamie, who ducked the blow easily. Kipper saw the two sparring in her peripheral vision. Come on, come on, she said to herself.

  “Your friend won’t find the code she wants over there,” shouted the security guard, aiming a blow at Jamie’s mid-section.

  Kipper looked up. She wouldn’t? Why not?

  Jamie, now thoroughly exasperated, pulled a firearm on the guard. “Fine,” she said. “So how about you tell me where we will find it?”

  “Security is on its way,” said the man, his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.

  Jamie prodded him with her weapon. “Where do we find the codes?”

  He flexed his left hand as if to hide something.

  “It’s his thumbprint,” said Kipper, her eyes narrowing. “Or maybe a scan chip in his wrist. He’s no security guard, Jamie. What kind of guard doesn’t carry a weapon? He’s a pilot.”

  In a single swift motion, Jamie forced the man’s right arm behind his back and shoved it hard.

  He grunted in pain. “Security is coming, and you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”

  “I’m used to trouble,” said Jamie. “Now, march.”

  Kipper followed the two out of the office and back to the ship.

  “I won’t do it,” said the man. “You’ll have to kill me if you want to steal my ship.”

  “Really?” asked Jamie. “How about I just cut off your left hand and see which finger works on the code pad?”

  “Don’t cut off my hand,” pleaded the man. “I need my hands to fly.”

  “And I need your ship,” said Kipper. “Cooperate with us and this nice, um … thief will compensate you for your ship.”

  “We’ll do what?” asked Jamie.

  “You’ll pay him,” said Kip.

  Jamie groaned and swung an inhaler below the man’s nose. He collapsed into her waiting arms.

  “Take his hand,” said Jamie. “See which finger works. That was clever of you to figure it out, by the way.”

  “Yeah, if I actually did figure anything out,” muttered Kip. She tried his fingers in series. The pinky did the job. “Huh. Not what I would have guessed.”

  “He’s probably got each finger coded to a different ship.”

  “Jamie, I was serious about compensating him.”

  Jamie grumbled as she hauled the man back toward the office and out of the blast zone.

  “I mean it,” shouted Kipper.

  “Just get yourself safely back to the island when this is done,” Jamie shouted. “I’ll see to everything else.”

  “Tell Cameron I’m sorry I left without asking permission,” called Kipper. Stepping aboard, she added to herself, “It’s a habit I picked up from this Marsian pilot I know.”

  Kipper inhaled deeply. She had a rocket ship. She had weapons. Swinging herself into the helm, she addressed the ship. “Are you ready to go hunting, girl?”

  After logging in as if for a routine personnel transfer, Kip launched into the night sky. She burned through more fuel than ship’s navigation recommended in her eagerness to get to the Star Shark before Wu, but the journey was for nothing if she didn’t get where she needed to be in time to do some good. She could worry about fuel reserves after her mission. Anyway, going faster meant less tedious waiting.

  But there was something left to do. Checking her estimated rendezvous with friends and enemies, Kipper decided she had just enough time. She cued up the ship’s vid recorder and created another message, this one for Jessamyn Jaarda.

  By the time she’d finished, there were several comms from Lady Cameron Wallace awaiting her attention. She wondered for a few moments how Cameron had found her in so short a time.

  “Jamie,” she muttered to herself.

  Well, if Lady Wallace knew what ship Kipper was on, at least that meant Jamie had gotten safely away. Kipper didn’t want to argue with Cameron. She had a pretty good idea of what Cameron would be saying. Or shouting. But the truth was, there was nothing the clan leader could say to alter Kip’s decision.

  To Kipper, it seemed cruel to engage Cameron in an argument under those terms.

  But when a fourth transmission was sent by audio, Kipper found it impossible to ignore. The Head of Clan Wallace was crying, for the love of all things warm and toasty. Kipper gave the command to open a line of communication.

  “Cameron,” she said, using her gentlest tones in an attempt to interrupt the flow of tears.

  “Oh!” said Cameron’s voice, in evident surprise. “So ye’re responding after all, eh, lass?”

  The sobbing had completely disappeared. Kipper’s brows pulled together. “What happened to the tears?” she asked.

  “Ah,” replied Cameron, her voice with no remaining trace of shakiness. “Well, the tears did their job, did they not? And don’t ye think of cutting this comm. Do and I’ll come shoot ye out of the sky meself.”

  “Cameron,” said Kipper, sighing.

  “I’m that serious, lass. Now listen to old Cameron and get that pasty-white Marsian backside down here at once.”

  Kipper shook her head, even though Cameron couldn’t see it.

  “I can’t do that, Lady Wallace.”

  “Oh, it’s Lady Wallace, now, is it?” demanded Cameron. “Well, in that case, her ladyship orders you to return at once.”

  “I regret that I cannot presently alter my course.”

  “Will not, ye mean! I gave ye a direct order, lass. Now, turn that ship around!”

  “As honored as I would be to serve you, I am not under your authority,” replied Kipper.

  Cameron exhaled noisily, exasperated.

  “It has been my very great privilege, however, to have counted you among my friends,” added Kipper. “I hope our friendship will continue.”

  She heard Cameron attempting to hide a snuffling sound.

  “Please tell me I have your blessing to go help my crew,” asked Kipper.

  “Blessing?” demanded Cameron, blowing her nose with noisy abandon. “I should think not.”

  “Jamie informed you of the situation?” asked Kipper.

  “Some members of me household know their duty, at least,” replied Cameron. Then, sighing heavily, she tried a new tack. “Do ye not see ye stand no chance, no chance at all against one of Lucca’s seasoned fighters?”

  “I have received the finest training my planet had to offer. I graduated with special commendation for my decision-making skills—”

  “You’re outgunned, lass,” interrupted Cameron, “and ye’ve only been cleared for solo flying this past month—”

  “My skills are the best they’ve ever been,” said Kipper, interrupting her friend. “I know you want to do what’s best for me, but I have to think in bigger terms, Cameron. I have to thi
nk about what’s best for Mars.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  Kipper continued. “This is what I’m supposed to do. I know it. I feel it in my bones.” A thrill ran through her once more, like it had when she’d first boarded the craft in Madeira. “I hope you can understand.”

  “Oh, dear,” sobbed Lady Wallace. “Oh, dear, dear, dear. And are ye certain there’s nothing an old woman can say to make ye come home?”

  “I have to help my crew.”

  “Aye, lass,” said Cameron. She took in an audibly shaky breath, and Kipper could tell she was making an effort to avoid tears this time. “Well, if I can’t persuade ye, I can certainly try to understand. I suppose I ought to let ye know the sergeant-at-arms says the missiles in that ship ye’re flying are state-of-the-art.” Cameron spoke the words more as a reluctant confession than a communication meant to encourage.

  Kip smiled in spite of Cameron’s gloomy tone. “Is that so?” She tapped the weapons console. “Tell Jamie I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Aye,” said Cameron. “See ye put a bit of lead where it counts, then, lass.”

  “Lead?”

  “Or whatever it is ye blast one another with these days,” said Cameron. “Never fought from the cockpit, meself.”

  “Cameron, have you heard from any of my crew since they departed the Moon?”

  “Nay, lass. They’re flying silent,” said Cameron. “But Jamie’s located them, and she says she’s already transferred the information to ye. Ye’ll find them easily.”

  The Clan Chief didn’t add what they were both thinking: that Wu would find them just as easily.

  Too bad for him he doesn’t know about me, Kipper thought, smugly. Aloud, she said only, “Thank you, Cameron.”

  “Be careful, lass.”

  “I’ll do my utmost to serve my planet,” said Kipper. She hesitated for a moment and then added, “May I … may I have your blessing?”

  Cameron choked back a sob. “Ye have it, lass. Farewell and Godspeed.”

  The line went silent.

  All that remained was for Kipper to continue on her deadly course.

  50

  Terran Space

  Because of the delay caused by the storm, Captain Vladim Wu would not be engaging the enemy quite as far from Earth as he would have liked, but he was confident he could still perform his task without drawing unwanted attention from Earth’s amateur astronomers or, worse, from broadcast feeds. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for his appointment with destiny, and Wu was very good at waiting.

  Perhaps twenty minutes after he’d hurtled into the sky with the assisted lift shuttle, Wu received the coordinates he’d been waiting for.

  “This is Command and Control,” said the voice over the comm. “We are transferring the location of the package you are to collect.”

  Ground control set his nav computer on an intercept course.

  “Coordinates received,” said Wu, noting the rebel craft was considerably farther from the Moon than he would have expected. He wondered if Pavel had an experienced navigator aboard. Perhaps the red-haired Martian had survived the brief encounter at 92-AE. Not that it mattered. Whoever was at the helm, it was only a Star Shark. Wu’s lips curled in disdain. The boy’s extermination would be the making of Major Wu.

  This time there would be no errors of judgment to be observed from afar. This time Wu himself would get his man. And anyone else foolish enough to have aligned themselves with the boy.

  ~ ~ ~

  Thirty minutes, thought Jessamyn. That’s all I need.

  She turned to her crew. “We’re half an hour out from entering Earth’s atmosphere.”

  “Thirty-three point seven minutes,” said Ethan.

  “Thank you, Specialist,” said Jess. “Once we enter Earth’s atmo, our maneuverability will be severely limited. In addition, we will have to retract some of our equipment to avoid over-heating sensitive parts.”

  “So, no jettisoning objects at that time?” asked Pavel.

  “That’s correct,” said Jessamyn. “We’ll have enough to do just keeping the ship in steady alignment for an uneventful landing.”

  If her crew was thinking of their captain’s re-entry in the Red Galleon, they kept those thoughts to themselves.

  “The good news is that once we hit re-entry, Wu will have the same problems. So, as long as we can make it the next, uh, how long, Eth?”

  “Thirty-two point two minutes.”

  “Right, if we make it okay that far, we should be golden,” said Jess. “Gentlemen, let me take this moment of calm to say it’s been a privilege to serve with you.” She stood, which was challenging given the ship’s lack of gravity, and gave them a precise military salute. The three attempted, with varying levels of exactitude, to return the salute.

  “As you were,” she said. Then she snickered ever so slightly. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  “We have company,” said Zussman, his voice uncharacteristically sharp.

  ~ ~ ~

  Wu’s first thought when he saw the blip on his nav screen was how very nice it would be to hear himself addressed as Major Wu once again. His second thought was that the increase in his heart rate would be noted by Command and Control. It was a necessary irritant, this constant and pervasive monitoring. Of course, if the practice weren’t already in place, he would have recommended it himself.

  It was good to enter battle calmly. Wu took a few deep breaths, forcing his body to settle into a composed state. Then he contacted Command and Control.

  “I have them in view,” he said. “Engaging engines full thrust.” To the bright spot on his screen, he whispered, “You are mine.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Hades and Aphrodite! Zussman was right. Jess saw a ship coming in from below and behind.

  “It’s got to be Wu,” said Pavel. “How much time ‘til re-entry?”

  “Not enough,” said Jess, her voice terse, her fingers flying on her controls. The ship made a sudden course change in response.

  “Ugh,” groaned Pavel, in response to the lurching of their craft. “Can we speed up a little and get there faster?”

  Jess didn’t answer, focusing her energy on getting away from Wu without making a complete mess of their angle of entry.

  Ethan took Pavel’s question. “The captain is attempting to prevent us from bouncing off Earth’s atmosphere with too shallow an angle of entry or from burning up from a too-steep angle. Speed is only one consideration at present.”

  “Speed would be good right now,” said Pavel, pointing at Wu’s ship on the screen.

  “Noted, crewman,” snapped Jessamyn.

  “Just saying that if we get blown to bits, our angle of entry isn’t going to matter very much,” replied Pavel.

  Jessamyn knew this. She took a calculated risk. “Increasing angle of entry,” she said.

  She turned to give her brother a quick nod, a brief reassurance she would do her best. That was when she noticed her crew had changed positions.

  “What in the name of Hades are you doing in Zussman’s seat?” she asked Ethan. And then, her attention required by Wu’s closing the gap between them, she snapped, “Never mind. Zuss, you’d better have something to hold onto.”

  “Acknowledged,” said Zussman. No sooner had he spoken, Zussman uttered a loud expletive, immediately followed by an apology and a warning. “I regret to report a second ship has joined Major Wu.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Wu frowned at his screen. He would have to report it.

  “The renegade vessel has gone into a dive with an un-survivable angle of re-entry,” he said. Gripping his hands into tight fists, he prayed they wouldn’t tell him to break off the attack. Although, if they did, he could pretend not to hear the orders.

  “Please hold for further direction,” came the reply from Command and Control.

  Wu tapped his gloved fingers on the nav panel. Observing the gesture, he ceased. He must have picked it up from spending so much
time around the Chancellor.

  “Captain Wu,” said his comm panel, “Can you engage the target with deadly force prior to target’s re-entry?”

  “Affirmative.” Wu smiled.

  “You are cleared to use deadly force.”

  Wu gave the command, releasing a heat-seeking missile. It shot forward, reminding him of a scene from his youth: a favorite terrier in pursuit of a squirrel. His terrier had never been fast enough. But my weapon will be, he thought with a grim smile.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Incoming projectile,” shouted Zussman.

  Along with Pavel, the butler sprang to the back of the craft.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Jess. “Restrain yourselves, immediately!”

  She took the ship into a climb, attempting to buy time. It would cost her the angle of entry she’d wanted, and probably ruin their chances of landing on Tresco.

  Ethan spoke calmly from Zussman’s former position at secondary navigation. “Prepare to change heading, sharp to starboard.”

  “That’s not going to help, Eth,” replied Jess. “That thing’s following my heat signature.”

  Her brother ignored her. “Release the object as soon as you are able,” he called to Zussman and Pavel.

  Understanding what they were attempting, Jessamyn muttered curses involving dust storms of unusual proportion crossing paths with her brother, Pavel, and Zussman.

  From behind, she heard Pavel shout, “Now!”

  Beside her, Ethan echoed with, “Hard to starboard, now, pilot.”

  Rolling her eyes, Jess pulled the ship to the right, hearing the hiss of the jettison hatch as it completed its cycle. She magnified her port view screen, staring at the object released into space. “Is that.…”

  It was her brother’s hoverchair, attached to a rather large plate of sheet metal.

  “Ethan’s chair,” confirmed Pavel, “with one of the damaged heat panels. The Ghost stored it in the jettison. He must’ve gone to Jess Academy.”

  “Prepare to cut engines,” said Ethan, his voice crisp.

  “What the….” Jess didn’t finish her sentence. Onscreen, she gazed at the ignition of three bright flares at the back of Ethan’s hoverchair and she understood. Immediately, she ordered an emergency power shutdown. Her ship continued on its trajectory going one direction while the hoverchair continued on its trajectory, assisted by the additional propulsion that normally powered the chair.