Saving Mars

by Cidney Swanson

  “Would you like a receipt?” asked the attendant, after removing credits for travel from Harpreet’s wrist-chip.

  “No,” said Kipper.

  “Yes,” said Jessamyn, holding her hand out to receive the piece of plastic. “And we’ll take any other … publications you might have on the ecosystem of the area,” Jess added.

  Harpreet paid for three small plastic cards which were apparently intended to be read on a computer that most transports came equipped with.

  “No stick-reader, eh?” said the attendant, looking at the vehicle. “I haven’t seen one of these old Dashers since I was in first-body! Don’t worry—the cards will work on your stick-reader at home. The one on the Scottish Highlands Recovery program is very good, and you can only buy it at this entrance. Enjoy your visit to the wetlands reserve.”

  Jessamyn passed the receipt and video sticks to her brother. “Time to start in on a Terran collection, eh?”

  The journey through the reserve was unexceptional. A recent eruption on Iceland had left the area covered in a layer of fine ash. Noting that her brother seemed relaxed as he studied his collectibles, Jessamyn allowed herself to feel hopeful for the mission.

  Beside her, Ethan had figured out a way to make his wafer-computer read one of the sticks, and a video of the Scottish Highlands Recovery program began playing on the screen. Jess saw artist’s renderings of what the area would look like when the volcanoes were done erupting. She smiled. It reminded her of terraforming vids she’d seen in school as a child.

  They continued southward under heavy cloud cover—a phenomenon Harpreet recalled with delight. As the day wore on, though, a brilliant flash stirred Jessamyn from her drowsy state—the sun had sunk below the clouds, lending a mellow gold to the bottoms of the clouds for the last hours of daylight. The amphibious craft crossed a stretch of sea called The Channel and Jess amused herself watching the light shimmer and glint upon the waves.

  When the sun set a few hours later, Jessamyn’s stomach had begun to hunger.

  “Sunset means rations, right?” Her stomach punctuated the question with an impressive growl.

  Kipper nodded at Harpreet who retrieved the box of rations Wallace had insisted upon giving the crew.

  “Goodness,” said Harpreet. “He’s given us a full box of one hundred rations.”

  “If all Terrans are the size of Wallace,” said Ethan, “Then they would have higher caloric requirements to maintain their bodily weight.”

  “Ugh!” said Kipper. “Something’s wrong with this bar. It tastes dreadful.”

  “No,” said Harpreet. “It is a fresher box than the one Wallace offered us from his kitchen. You three young ones won’t remember the last time a fresh batch came to Mars. The taste is more pronounced before they’ve had a chance to age.”

  Jessamyn read the ingredients listed on the box, like she’d done a thousand times back home: desiccated liver, butter oil, coconut oil, palm oil, whey, sprouted kamut, dried sauerkraut, acerola powder, and a string of minerals. This time as she read, she wondered if her mother’s agricultural program would allow them to grow these exotic-sounding foods in her lifetime.

  Marsian terraforming had succeeded in so many ways already. Mars had a thin but permanent atmosphere now, and temperatures were rising every orbit thanks to a greenhouse effect. Jessamyn’s teachers had stressed how quickly Mars would change by the time Jess had grown up. “It’s the first two centuries that were the hardest. The next twenty annums will see miracles, children.” The promise of miracles had been what started Jess reading: she had wanted to know what Mars would be like when she grew up.

  Finishing her ration, Jess passed the wrapper to Ethan.

  He shook his head no.

  “I have collected a large number of objects already,” he told his sister. From his pocket, he withdrew several items: an entrance ticket, an exit receipt, the video cards, a receipt for fuel purchased in a place called “Calais,” and something that Jess thought looked like a hunk of dog fur.

  “What’s that?” asked Jess.

  “Thistle down,” said Ethan. “A form of plant life.”

  “Huh,” said Jess.

  “Ethan,” called Kipper, “Can you check your wafer and see if we’re expecting a halt up ahead?”

  The stream of vehicles which they were following did, indeed, seem to be slowing. Another kilometer proved this was the case. Traffic crept forward at a fraction of their former speed.

  “We should have requested a vehicle that wasn’t ground-only,” murmured Jess. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Remember your identities,” said Harpreet.

  “Is this dangerous?” whispered Jess to her brother.

  “On Earth, a slowing of vehicles can indicate that security forces are investigating or interrogating travelers,” replied Ethan.

  Jess shrank down in her seat. She didn’t want to be investigated. Left for family, right for escape, she told herself again.

  An aircraft flew lazily down the line of transports. It shone a floodlight upon the vehicle three ahead of the raiders. Then two ahead. One ahead. The floodlight came to rest on their transport. The aircraft hovered slowly beside them before landing on the shoulder of the road.

  Three armored guards stepped out, weapons drawn, and approached the Marsians.

  Chapter Fourteen

  GUMPTION

  “Everyone will please remember that we are a family on our way to Budapest where we plan to drop off our first-body daughter for her apprenticeship examination tomorrow morning,” said Harpreet. Her voice, calm, had the effect of calming others.

  But when one of the officers tapped a weapon against Kipper’s window, Jessamyn failed to repress her gasp of shock. Ethan ran a finger along his brows.

  “What’s the meaning of this interruption?” asked Kipper, sliding her window so that she could speak with the person aiming a weapon at her. “My granddaughter has her firstie exams early tomorrow morning. We have no time to waste.”

  In that brief moment, Jess felt proud of her captain. Kipper had gumption.

  “Step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” said the officer. “Hands where I can see them. Slowly.”

  A second officer pushed his head into the vehicle. “Where’s your stick reader?” he barked at the three inside.

  “There is no stick reader in this craft,” said Ethan.

  The officer stepped out and conferred with his team. “Their vehicle’s from the last century,” he said. “Like you said, perfect for avoiding a stick-scan.”

  Jessamyn and the others could only pick up bits of the other officer’s reply. There was something about “… automatically suspicious” and “thorough search of the vehicle,” neither of which sounded good.

  “The fourbody outside tells me you’re the head of household,” said an officer who had just opened the door beside Harpreet.

  “That would be me,” said Harpreet.

  “Where have you driven today?”

  “Oh, my,” said Harpreet. “We began our day visiting the Scottish Wetlands Reserve. Then we drove south, past London, and crossed the channel between Dover and Calais, and we’ve been on the motorway ever since.”

  “With no stick reader to prove it,” said the officer.

  “I’m afraid not, Officer,” said Harpreet.

  Beside Jessamyn, Ethan pointed to his wafer computer. There had been an inciter bombing in London only a few hours earlier.

  “What time did you say you passed through London?”

  “I didn’t say,” replied Harpreet. “But I believe it must have been just four o’clock. The children complained when we didn’t stop for tea. We’re in a hurry, you see. It’s my daughter’s exam tomorrow. In the capitol. So, we’d appreciate anything you can do to speed us along.” She flicked her left wrist.

  It could have been nothing, that casual gesture of Harpreet’s hand. Merely a nervous shake. But Jessamyn remembered Wallace describing how to initiate a bribe by wiggling your chipped-wrist
.

  The officer grabbed Harpreet’s wrist in a violent motion. “How can you even think about bribery after what’s happened in London? I should arrest you right now.”

  Jess held her breath, but Harpreet remained calm.

  “If I had the credits to bribe a fine officer such as yourself,” said Harpreet, “Do you really think I’d be driving this vehicle?” She smiled warmly.

  The officer dropped Harpreet’s wrist and stepped around to the far side of the vehicle to speak with his fellows.

  Ethan’s fingers flew across his wafer as he enabled it to voice-capture the conversation outside. Jess leaned in to read it in transcript form.

  Male officer: The head of household claims the family are on their way to exams and that they passed through London at approximately 4:00 this afternoon.

  Female officer: I’ve got the same story from the fourbody who was driving. But they’re in an untraceable vehicle. It looks suspicious.

  Male officer: I don’t know. My Opa drives one of these old amphibs. This family doesn’t seem the type.

  Female officer: They never do. I say we send them in for further questions.

  Male officer: I concur. Let’s scan them in.

  Ethan passed his wafer to Jess, opening the door to step out.

  “Halt!” cried the male officer. “Hands where I can see them!”

  Ethan held his hands out in front of him, palms up. “I have proof that we have been to the places of which my mother spoke,” he said. “Within my shirt pocket.”

  “Freeze!” commanded the female officer. “Gabor, check his pockets.” To Ethan, she barked a short, “Keep your hands up.”

  Gabor removed the contents of Ethan’s pockets, containing items he had “collected” during the day’s journey.

  The female officer asked, “Well?”

  Gabor answered, “This corroborates everything the head of house and the fourbody claimed.” He shook his head. “Ma’am,” he said to Harpreet, “I think you lost track of what time zone you’re in. This says you left Britain prior to 3:00 p.m.”

  “You will forgive me,” said Harpreet. “We are all a bit turned around from our travels.”

  The female officer spoke. “You have date stamps I can check?”

  “Several,” said Gabor. “This fuel receipt says they were in Calais at 4:03 p.m. They certainly didn’t blow up a hospital in London at 4:30 p.m.”

  “Very well,” the female officer said to Gabor. “Place a twenty-four hour tracker on the vehicle, and let’s move on to the next one.”

  Gabor placed a small device upon the front window, and Kipper was permitted to return to the driver’s seat.

  Jessamyn, observing her brother, saw anxiety written in his posture as he contemplated returning to the confines of the small craft.

  Ethan spoke to Gabor, beside him. “If we are innocent, why use the tracking device? And if we were not innocent, could we not simply disable it?”

  Jessamyn froze. Stop talking, Jess thought. Just stop talking!

  “That’s my grandson, always curious,” said Kipper, laughing lightly.

  “Young man, you couldn’t disable it without understanding a whole lot more about radio-frequency encryption than someone like yourself. And the tracker is standard. Nothing personal, son. Now get inside before your family leaves without you.”

  As Gabor walked to Harpreet’s side of the vehicle, Jess whispered to her brother, “I need you to get back inside, Eth. You can tell me about your collected items, okay?” She breathed a sigh of relief when, after a brief hesitation, he complied.

  “Ma’am,” said Gabor at Harpreet’s window, “You’re free to continue to Budapest. Good luck to you,” he said, nodding to Jess. “My daughter’s testing tomorrow as well. Guess that makes you birthday buddies.”

  “Guess so,” murmured Jess.

  “Officer,” said Harpreet, resting a hand upon his armored arm, “Thank you for the job you are doing. I’m certain it is unpleasant and thankless work.”

  Through his face-shield, Jess could see Gabor frown and then soften. “You say your daughter’s taking her exam in Budapest?”

  “Yes,” replied Harpreet. Jess nodded in the back seat.

  “Here,” he said. “Let me see your daughter’s wrist real quick.” He held out one of the small plastic sticks Terrans seemed so fond of.

  Jessamyn panicked, momentarily unable to remember which wrist to offer. Her brother tapped her left hand.

  Gabor spoke quickly. “We bought a pass for the awards banquet, but my daughter won’t be going. With everything that’s happened today, she wasn’t in the mood for a party. Someone ought to get some use out of it. It cost a fortune.”

  “How kind of you,” said Harpreet. “Here, darling.”

  Jess held her left wrist-chip out to the officer. He passed the stick over her chip. Something glowed briefly under her skin.

  “You must allow me to compensate you,” said Harpreet.

  “No, no,” said Gabor. “How often do you think I’ve been thanked for doing my job in sixteen years? Not once. Your gratitude is compensation enough.” He turned to Jess. “You go and have a fabulous time, young woman.”

  “Absolutely,” said Jess as Kipper revved the vehicle.

  “Gabor, we’re on the clock here,” said the female officer.

  “Good luck,” said Gabor, waving them ahead.

  The road before them was empty now, and Kipper pulled forward into the dark.

  Chapter Fifteen

  REAL SILK

  Ethan surprised everyone by suggesting that Jessamyn leave the group prior to their arrival at the Terran satellite communication facility.

  “Not going to happen,” said Jessamyn. “I came to make sure you can do your job and I intend to see it through.”

  Her brother spoke again. “I have recovered sufficiently from my confinement to perform my task. However, I find that I am distressed at the thought of Jessamyn’s safety. I believe it would be difficult for me to concentrate on hacking ancient Terran code while knowing her to be in harm’s way.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Jess. “We’ve been in harm’s way every minute since we boarded the Galleon.”

  “I have been researching the customs surrounding first-body apprenticeship examinations,” said Ethan, ignoring his sister’s retort. “Budapest throws the largest awards banquet. The opportunity to purchase admission is earned through a merit system. Jessamyn has been given a ticket and I believe the awards banquet would be a remarkably safe place.”

  “Humph,” said Jess.

  “The party lasts all night and the examination is held in the upper portion of the same building the following morning,” concluded her brother.

  “That’s a ridiculous way to prepare for an important exam,” muttered Jess.

  “We are attempting an important task, and we are under-rested,” Ethan countered.

  Kipper glanced back at Ethan. “Your suggestion to increase your sister’s safety has merit. First Officer, is it your conclusion that your brother has made a full recovery?”

  Jess, out of the Captain’s range of vision, rolled her eyes and muttered. “He just disabled the tracking device those Terrans placed on the front window.”

  “Indeed?” Kipper sounded impressed. “Harpreet, what is your recommendation?”

  “Ethan has watched over his sister her entire life. If he feels her presence would compromise his productivity, I suggest we do as he asks. A Terran banquet is certainly a safer location than a cloaked transport, should we encounter … difficulties.” Harpreet paused to smile at Jess. “And daughter, I must implore you, for my sake, to sample a raspberry at the banquet.”

  “Very well. First Officer,” said Kipper, “You will await us at the banquet.”

  And so Jessamyn found it a settled thing: she would remove herself from the rest of the crew, maintaining communication through the audio device of Ethan’s invention. She felt disgruntled at being set aside during the real
action. Then she remembered a conversation around Brian Wallace’s table. She recalled how her brother had seemed to be trying to convince himself that she would be safe under the cloaking tarp. He’s been worrying about this all along, she realized. Her brother didn’t need additional worries. She smiled softly. She was doing what Harpreet said she needed to do: to consider a situation from someone else’s point of view.

  Budapest sprawled, a vast city on either side of the Danube River. The boundaries of the capitol had doubled several times over in the centuries since colonists first left for Mars. The city center maintained some of its antique beauty, the ancient buildings in warm browns, golds, and pinks that felt restful to Jess’s eyes after the blue-greys and greens of Scotland.

  As they drew closer to the exam building where Jessamyn would depart from her crew, she found herself recalling her father’s final words to her before she’d said goodbye on Mars: Remember to use all your senses, Jess. Her sense of taste had been vastly underutilized so far. She smiled; she would rectify that omission tonight.

  Kipper brought their vehicle to a halt beside the award banquet building, a sunset-colored building ornamented with crumbling statuary, several stories tall and some eight kilometers distant from the crew’s mission. Half an awkward hug from Harpreet, a nod from Kipper. And then, against her better judgment, Jess leaned over and hugged her brother.

  “I’ll be in range of what the ear implants can handle, right?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” replied her brother. Tense.

  She released him from the hug and he relaxed.

  “I will contact you when we have completed the task,” he said.

  “See you all in a few hours, then,” she said, exiting next to a long row of hover-bikes available for rent.

  Slipping into the back of a queue for admission, she watched her chrono-tattoo move from red to orange: Ethan was already half a kilometer away. The line snaked forward. She flicked her wrist to turn the tattoo on again. Green. Two kilometers. Jessamyn could hear music belting from inside the building. It sounded lively and not unpleasant. Another wrist flick. Blue. Many kilometers.