Behind her, the discussion between a boy and a girl had become an argument.
“Why can’t you see the flaws in the system for what they are? Flaws!” The girl’s voice undercut the music.
“All systems have flaws,” replied the boy. “Ours has remarkably few. And there are ways to express dissent that don’t involve killing innocent people.”
Jess picked up the vessel of honey, feeling thirsty after several mouthfuls of butter.
“You’ve never lived a day in the real world,” snapped the girl. “For most of us, expressing dissent, as you call it, is simply another way to lose next-body credits. When have you ever spoken out against this government or its practices?”
The boy was silent. Jess hoped the arguing pair would move on.
“Oh, shizer!” said the girl. “Are you going to report me as an inciter-sympathetic?”
The boy sighed with exasperation. “Of course not. You’re entitled to whatever view you like, however misguided.”
“Thank you,” said the girl.
“Look, if I don’t speak out, it’s not because I’m afraid something bad would happen to me. It’s because the system works. But if that changes, I’ll be the first in front of the news-cams, telling the world what I think.”
The girl made a snorting kind of laugh. “Your aunt or one of her minions would make sure the segment never posted.”
The two fell silent, during which time Jess decided honey was not a beverage. At least, not a particularly thirst-quenching one. She wanted to go find a wet ration, but she’d have to walk past the arguing pair, and she didn’t want them chasing after her, making her swear to keep their secrets.
The boy was speaking again. “Lucca’s not like that. You don’t know her like I do,” he said. “But look at what you do know: her government’s first act eight years ago was to bolster the Freedom to Speak edicts.”
The girl gave a joyless laugh. “Those edicts are to make it easier to catch and punish inciters and sympathizers.”
“Listen,” said the boy. “I’m the last person to say my aunt is an easy person to live with. We argue almost every day. But you’re wrong about the edicts. And you’re wrong about the system. It prevents untold suffering. It keeps poverty and crime at levels previous generations only dreamed of. We’re about to celebrate a century without war. Doesn’t that count for something?”
The girl laughed again. “There’s a war. Wake up, Brezhnaya. What do you think the inciters are playing at?”
Brezhnaya. Lucca Brezhnaya. Jessamyn’s mouth formed a tiny o. The boy in line had mentioned an overbearing “Aunt Lucca.” Jess realized she was overhearing Pavel. Who was important on this planet, apparently. Now she really didn’t want to draw attention to herself. Grabbing her sari, she pulled it slowly back and out of the view of those on the far side of the column.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” said the boy. “Do you want to tell the banquet officials or shall I?”
“Tell them what?” asked the girl. Jess heard fear in her voice.
“About the midnight kiss?”
“Oh,” said the girl. “That.”
“Kissing doesn’t seem reasonable given our … differences in views.”
“No,” said the girl. “I mean, yes. But I don’t want to lose credits over it.”
Pavel sighed. “You won’t. The system doesn’t work like that, whatever nonsense you’ve heard to the contrary. I’ll message the officials that I’m not feeling well. They can go with the next pair on their list,” said Pavel. “Unless you still want the honor, but with someone else?”
“No,” the girl replied. “It’s not an honor I covet. Goodbye, Pavel. And good luck. A starry-eyed dreamer like you—you’ll need it.”
Jess heard clicking heels as the girl departed.
“Good luck to you, too,” called Pavel. Then, softly, Jess heard him murmur, “Better starry-eyed than bitter.”
In her stomach, and somewhere behind her forehead, Jessamyn felt odd. She decided the odd feelings were unpleasant and possibly related to her sense of balance. Was she having an adverse reaction to gravity? Think about the rations, she told herself, picking up a small, blue berry. The tart sensation felt refreshing after so much butter. She picked up a piece of the green, leafy food.
And so, when Pavel slipped around to the back side of the column, nearly seating himself in Jess’s lap, he observed that the girl in orange was eating decorative green kale.
“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize anyone was here.”
Their eyes met and Jessamyn set the dark leaf back on her plate. “I promise I won’t repeat that conversation. If you’re worried,” she said.
“Um, no,” said Pavel. “Not worried about that. Oh—you’re the girl from outside.”
“That’s me,” she agreed. She took another bite of the leafy green. It seemed to combat the uncomfortable sensations in her head and belly.
“Is that … good?” asked Pavel.
“Yeah,” she said, holding one up. “Have one of mine. I took too much food, I think.”
Pavel took the offered piece of kale. “It’s only decorative, you know. Not meant for eating. At least, I’ve never seen anyone else eat … kale.”
Jessamyn felt her face turning red. “It’s a delicacy where I come from.”
“I didn’t mean to offend,” said Pavel. “Nice job wearing black under your dress, by the way. Oh. Was that offensive, too?”
“Why would it be?”
“Guess you missed the start of my last conversation.” He looked down over the pool outside. “I tried telling her that I admired her choice to wear a black evening gown and that I thought the banquet should have been a bit more subdued in light of the bombings today and things pretty much went downhill from there.”
“Sounded like it,” said Jess.
“Yeah. We were supposed to lead off the midnight kiss. I thought maybe we should get to know each other. So I introduced myself, and, well, you heard how that went.” He shrugged. “Stupid of me.”
“Stupid to get to know someone before kissing? Or stupid of you to introduce yourself?” Jess asked. “‘Cause you’re pretty much repeating the second offense.”
Pavel laughed. “No, I meant the first. I’m glad I don’t have to do the kiss.” He looked at Jess out of the corner of his eyes. “Seeing as you and I will probably never meet again, I have something to admit: I haven’t kissed a girl since I was eight. Believe me, I’m relieved to get out of doing it so publicly.” He placed his arm, bent, high on the large window before them. He sighed loudly and leaned his head against his forearm. “Tell you what I won’t miss tomorrow evening: no one will recognize me as Lucca Brezhnaya’s nephew. For awhile, at least.”
Jessamyn shuddered as she heard how easily he talked about shedding his own body.
“How’s the pizza?” Pavel asked, still gazing down at the pool.
“I was saving it for last,” said Jess. Since it was the only thing left on her plate, she took a bite, chewed, and then paused, her taste buds ablaze. How could anyone, she wondered, give proper attention to so many sensations? Nor were the flavors confined to her mouth. She found that drawing breath brought additional pleasure. She sniffed the scent of pizza. Intoxicating! She took repeated small breaths until she grew light-headed. “That is the best thing I have ever tasted,” she said at last.
“What, you’ve never had pizza?” asked Pavel.
“I’ve never tried pizza of pepperoni before,” said Jess, gulping down another bite, larger than the first.
“No kidding?” Pavel laughed. “Hey, you want to get out of here?”
Jessamyn considered the question, but the pizza was so good, so distracting. She took another bite, chewing and swallowing swiftly.
“Just down to the pool? They made a little sandy beach area—the sand’s heated, even. It’ll be quiet,” said Pavel. “When you’re done eating, I mean.” He watched as she continued inhaling the pizza. “Unless you were planning
to just eat pizza all night?”
“Oh, um, no,” she replied. “Just this one pizza.” It happened suddenly—she was no longer enjoying the myriad flavors. In fact, she felt odd. Placing the remaining pizza in the waste receptacle was unthinkable, so she decided to be done with it as quickly as possible. As she swallowed the last bite, the unpleasant sensation behind her forehead and in her stomach increased.
“Outside sounds good, actually.” The air quality was poor inside, even by Marsian standards. “Lead on,” she said, placing one hand protectively over her stomach.
“You feeling okay?” asked Pavel.
Jess shook her head no. Then she realized head motion was a very bad idea at the moment.
“Come on. Let’s get you some fresh air,” Pavel said, walking toward a large window that parted as they approached it. “If you need to be, uh, sick, you’ll have more privacy outside.”
Sick, thought Jessamyn. That’s what’s wrong with me. The advice to avoid Terran food now seemed imminently sensible. She would never, ever, disregard Harpreet’s counsel again. They rode down in an elevator. The slow ride and slight jolt at the bottom did little to improve conditions in Jessamyn’s stomach.
She stumbled toward what looked like Marsian soil. She sat, sinking her fingers into the pale grains. It wasn’t frozen—it felt warm—another Terran miracle. How would she remember half of what she’d experienced this day?
“Better?” asked Pavel.
“Working on it,” said Jess.
“Give it a minute.” Pavel turned to stare at her, as if wanting to say something more.
Jessamyn frowned. “What?”
“Listen, I’m not an idiot. You’ve spoken, like, twelve words to me. Obviously you want me to leave. And I will as soon as your color returns. I’ve never seen anyone so pale outside a hospital.”
“You haven’t?” Jessamyn wondered if he knew that Marsians with light skin tended to be paler than Terrans with light skin. She wished she looked like Harpreet.
Pavel took her wrist in his hand and held a finger over the small blue veining on the inner side.
Here it was—another Terran grabbing her arm without asking. But Pavel’s touch was light and warm and kind. “What are you doing?” whispered Jess.
“Hold on,” he said, frowning in concentration. Several seconds passed. “Checking your pulse. You’re within a normal range.”
Jessamyn looked at him in surprise. “You checked my pulse without a pulse-reader?”
“Sure,” he said. “It’s easy.”
“We always use pulse-readers back on … back home,” Jess said, flushing slightly.
“I’ve done my volunteer months in hospitals the past five years. Pulse-readers are broken half the time, I swear.” He grinned broadly, revealing very white teeth. The two front teeth overlapped slightly, reminding her of Ethan’s. “By the way, I think you just doubled the number of words you’ve spoken to me. So either you’re feeling better, or you changed your mind about ignoring me.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you,” said Jess. “You simply … talk a lot.”
Pavel laughed. “Are you always this friendly?”
“Not as a rule.”
The light had been growing steadily brighter since they’d stepped outside. Pavel looked up and just behind them. “Full moon,” he said, pointing overhead to where the moon had just cleared the top of the building at their backs. “It’s supposed to be good luck for exams. Better than the midnight kiss, even.”
Jess smiled at the odd Terran beliefs. Then, twisting, she followed Pavel’s gesturing hand.
“Oh,” whispered Jess. “Oh, Hades, that’s beautiful!”
“Better get an eyeful tonight,” murmured Pavel. “Loss of night vision is the most common complaint among twobodies.”
I’d better get an eyeful tonight, because by dawn, I’ll be counting down a launch, thought Jessamyn.
“What are you hoping for?” asked Pavel.
Jessamyn wondered briefly if “hoping on the full moon” was a Terran custom like wishing on a shooting star back home.
“For your apprenticeship?” Pavel added.
“Oh, um, for tomorrow?” How could it hurt to give an answer, she wondered. “I want to be a pilot.”
“Really?”
Jess frowned. “Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”
Pavel laughed, threw a small pebble into the pool before them. “No. I’m a licensed pilot myself.”
“What do you fly?” asked Jessamyn.
“You name it, I’ve probably flown it,” said Pavel. “I took every level they offer, so I’m good right up to 300 kilometers above Earth.”
As they discussed the merits of various crafts Jess had only read about, she had to remember to keep back certain pieces of her familiarity with flying. She could tell her knowledge impressed Pavel as it was.
“Tell you what I’d do if I weren’t interested in medicine,” said Pavel. “I’d sign on for satellite-trash harvesting just so I could fly the high-orbit runs.” He leaned back on his elbows, gazing at the heavens. “Not that Aunt Lucca would ever allow that.”
“Why not? She’s not the one taking your exam, is she?”
Pavel grunted. “You can bet she’d like to.” He grimaced. “She’s got her mind set on me following a medical course so I can be elected Head of Global Consciousness Transfer someday.” He sighed, burying his hands deep in the sand and bringing them slowly out.
Jess watched the sand trail off his long fingers. He had what her dad would call surgeon’s hands. Of course, he wouldn’t have them tomorrow once he transferred into a new body. The thought made Jessamyn sad, although she didn’t know why it should.
She leaned back, nestling into the warm sand, turning to face Pavel. “Is that what you want? To be a politician?”
“I want to help people. Heal the sick. I guess I’d be okay in a transfer hospital if I could do the recovery therapy part. I’ve assisted at a few transfers already for my volunteer hours. Tomorrow, I’ll be new-bodied at New Kelen, where I volunteered. It will be interesting to experience the change from the point of view of a patient.”
“Interesting,” said Jess, feeling an uncomfortable twist in her stomach. “Yeah.”
They lay silent for several minutes. As Jess looked at clusters of stars overhead, she wondered how much of what she saw was satellite trash, how much actual gaseous giants across the galaxy.
‘In a couple of minutes,” said Pavel, “The New Terra Space Station should pass overhead.”
“I thought space exploration was banned,” said Jess, feeling confused.
“A hundred and eighteen years ago. But the space stations still circles. Hardly anyone remembers it’s up there.”
“You do.”
“Yeah. I’ve got … reasons.” Pavel was quiet for a few minutes, then raised a finger. “That’s it. See?” Another silent half-minute as he followed the bright spot across the sky with his finger.
“I see it!” said Jessamyn.
“My parents died up there,” said Pavel, his voice dropping low.
“I thought—” Jess paused, curious, but not wanting to give away her ignorance of Terran law. “Wouldn’t that have been illegal—going to visit the space station?”
“It was. Is,” said Pavel, correcting himself. “They took risks. They paid for those risks with their lives.”
“I’m sorry.” Jessamyn tried to imagine life without her parents. She couldn’t. “Has your aunt been a good … surrogate parent?”
Pavel grinned lazily. “That’s a very expensive question. If I had a credit for every time a reporter asked me that, I could build my own illegal space station.”
Jessamyn flushed and turned away, murmuring, “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” He twisted onto his side to face her. “Hey.” Nudging one of her feet with one of his own, he said softly, “I’m the one who should apologize. I just implied you’d sell my answers for credits.”
“Of c
ourse I wouldn’t,” Jess snapped.
“I know. Forgive me.”
She raised her eyes to meet his—so earnest, so dark and lovely—and she felt herself softening inside. “I only meant to say,” she murmured, “That I don’t know how you survived growing up without your parents.”
A furrow grew between Pavel’s brows. “I had them my first ten years. And Lucca’s okay. She tries hard, anyway. We’re just … we’re very different from one another. Even though we believe in a lot of the same things. I don’t know if that makes any sense at all.”
“It does,” Jess replied. “You should see how different my brother is from me. But we get along great.”
“Hmm. Yeah, that’s the thing. I don’t think anyone would say Lucca and I get along well. We argue a lot. Junk harvest is a perfect example. She says she’d never want to see me go into something like that because of how my parents died up there. But really, that’s not why. Really, she hopes I’ll get a more prestigious apprenticeship, because that will reflect well on her. I mean, Lucca doesn’t want her nephew taking an apprenticeship that actually accepts volunteers.”
He glanced quickly at Jessamyn. “I don’t mean to imply that I look down on trash harvesting. I think it would be a great job.”
“I’m not offended,” said Jess. “Even if I were planning to volunteer for it.”
Pavel smiled, relieved. “Well, my aunt’s attitude towards junk harvesting is a perfect example of where we don’t see eye-to-eye. Her public policies are fine—but privately, she’s a bit of a snob.”
“I’ve met someone like that,” said Jess, thinking of Kipper. Although, at the moment, she was having a hard time feeling hostility toward the Captain. Every time she remembered Ethan’s mission, her stomach sloshed and she felt a downward whoosh, like riding the elevator, which left a hollowness behind. She wished one of the crew had remained with her. Even Kipper.
“You’re quiet again,” said Pavel, after a couple of minutes passed without either of them speaking. “Do you want to go back inside to the party? They’ll be bringing out desserts now that it’s almost midnight.”
Saving Mars Page 15
