Losing Mars (Saving Mars Series-3)

by Swanson, Cidney

  “Uncle Vanya!” Sancho shouted directly into Vanya’s ear. “The quarry’s been blown to pieces!” When his uncle didn’t respond, Sancho turned to Kipper, grinning. “It worked—he’s sleeping!” He then rose and placed his small hand upon Jessamyn’s arm. “I’m sorry I cut your pack. I brought you a new one.” Saying this, he slipped a pack from his back, shoved the tellurium inside, and handed it to Jessamyn.

  Jess’s mind whirled with unasked questions.

  Kipper, joining Sancho beside Jess and the sleeping Vanya, looked at the young boy solemnly. “You are to tell Mischka I love him very, very much. Tell him I’m sorry I had to leave. And Sancho? Be good.”

  “I know, I know. I won’t grow up to be like him,” replied Sancho, giving his uncle a nudge with his small foot.

  “Local police are on their way,” said Jessamyn, deciding her several questions could wait.

  “She wasn’t really going to shoot me, you know,” said Sancho, leaning conspiratorially to Jessamyn.

  Jess nodded, her brows pulled together in wonder at the turn of events.

  “Did you really steal the Chancellor’s diamond earrings like they said?” asked Sancho, his voice full of reverence.

  “Of course she didn’t,” snapped Kipper. “And it would be very wrong of you to admire anyone who did such a thing.”

  “I know,” said Sancho, hanging his head. “I only wanted to see the earrings if she still had them. I’ll remember what you taught me, Nurse Cassie. I’ll never forget you.” Having said this, the small boy threw his arms around Kipper’s waist.

  “We’ve got to leave, Sancho,” said Kipper. “Before the secures get here and arrest us.”

  Sancho grabbed Kipper’s jacket sleeve and tugged her to the door. “You need a transport,” he said.

  “Do you know what happened to the one left in the quarry?” asked Kipper as Sancho dragged her out the front door and down a side alley.

  “No,” said Sancho. “But you can take Uncle Vanya’s. Only don’t keep it. He’ll find you.”

  “It’s probably tracking-enabled,” said Jess, shaking her head. “Too risky.”

  “I’m not seeing a whole lot of other options, Jaarda,” replied Kipper.

  “My uncle’s car is fast and untrackable,” said Sancho, his wide eyes gleaming as they rounded a corner. Sancho pointed to his uncle’s vehicle.

  Jessamyn gasped. “It flies,” she murmured in tones of reverence.

  “Oh, Sancho,” whispered Kipper. Then she turned to Jessamyn. “We’ll take it as far as Madeira. We can use what’s in your pack to buy something else and send Vanya’s ship back here.”

  Jess shrugged. “I guess we don’t have a choice.”

  Kipper turned to Sancho. “Thank you. For everything.”

  She bent to kiss the top of his head, but the boy, sensing what was coming, wriggled free and ran off, calling, “Yuck!”

  26

  NO ONE SPEAKS MARSPERANTO

  Kipper spoke to Jessamyn as the two boarded Vanya’s craft, “I apologize for how I handled things in Dunakeszi. I should have foreseen the danger of approaching the Vanyashin family for assistance.”

  “It’s okay,” Jess replied. “It’s over.” She pulled the ship up and out of the narrow street, punching in orders for a course to Madeira.

  “You were very brave,” said Kipper.

  “So were you,” replied Jessamyn. “And if it hadn’t been for Sancho slicing my pack, it might have worked out fine.”

  “If it hadn’t been for Sancho,” replied Kipper, “we wouldn’t be here now.”

  Jess nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “But I ought to have thought ahead and secured that tellurium,” Kipper continued. “With the tellurium crisis on everyone’s mind these past few days, it’s not wise to have it so … accessible.”

  “I should have thought of that, too,” said Jess.

  “The crisis is all the newfeeds talk about, because they use tellurium for rebodying.”

  “Yeah, I know what it’s used for.”

  “And there you were, with ten fingers—a whole kilo.” Kipper sighed, shook her head. “Well, we’re safe now, and in possession of a good vehicle,” said Kipper, “So it all worked out in the end. But I should have known better than to take both of us into that kind of situation. Ugh. I have an uncle of my own just like Vanya.”

  Jess’s eyes flicked to where Kipper sat at her side.

  “What I wouldn’t give to know what the worthless sand toad is up to now,” murmured Kipper.

  “I think I might know,” said Jess. “Is your uncle on friendly terms with your brother?”

  “My brother Cavanaugh? Yes. The two are thick as thieves.”

  Jessamyn took several minutes to describe the Terran fever that had gripped Mars Colonial, and its likely origin in Cavanaugh’s political faction.

  Kipper scowled, shaking her head. “How someone like my brother came out of Squyres Station, I will never understand. He’s been after me to join his little cabal for years.”

  “You don’t agree with his beliefs, I take it?” asked Jess.

  “Of course not. Holy Ares, Jaarda—he hasn’t taken you in, has he?”

  “No! I think he should be locked up and the lock-code erased.”

  Kipper grunted a short laugh. “Unfortunately, he’s a skilled orator. He knows how hard to push depending on what crowd he’s addressing.”

  “Kip, he set that fire to Rations Storage,” said Jess. Carefully, she explained how she’d come to know this darkest of Cavanaugh’s secrets.

  Kipper let out a long slow breath. “I warned the Secretary General about him. He finally crossed the line. The dirty water-grubber. I cannot fathom how we came from the same gene pool!”

  “I was hoping you could make a broadcast back to Mars,” said Jess. “Mars regards you as a … a … planetary treasure, Kipper. If you tell them your brother can’t be trusted, I think they might listen. He got off completely free when he was tried.”

  “The worthless ice-clod,” muttered Kip. “Of course I’ll do whatever I can. Although, there’s the chance the Terran government could intercept the message. That wouldn’t be good.”

  “It wouldn’t,” agreed Jess. “But my brother encrypts any messages we send, and he’ll have you read it out in Marsperanto, which we feel is safe.”

  “How did you know I spoke Marsperanto?” asked Kipper.

  “I didn’t,” said Jess, her eyes widening. “I was talking about my brother giving you a translation. No one speaks Marsperanto.”

  “I speak Marsperanto, thank you very much,” said Kipper. “I learned it back when Cavanaugh started in with Uncle Anthony. I learned the language as a way to demonstrate proper … patriotic feeling. As opposed to what my idiot brother was up to.”

  “Oh,” said Jessamyn. “Well, then you won’t need Eth to get a translation ready for you.”

  “I might appreciate a little help. It’s not like I get lots of chances to speak it. No one speaks Marsperanto,” she admitted gloomily.

  Jess glanced down at the nav panel. Less than an hour ‘til they reached Madeira. And Jess had several confessions to make. She decided to start with the easiest one.

  “So, Kipper, I should let you know we’re not on good terms with Clan Wallace at the moment.”

  Kipper turned and stared at Jess like she’d sprouted antlers. “Since when is Mars Colonial not on good terms with Clan Wallace?”

  Jess flushed. “I didn’t mean ‘We, Mars Colonial.’ I meant that Brian Wallace, who’s been helping me and Ethan and Pavel and Harp—well, helping all of us stuck here on Earth—had a falling out with his cousin Cameron. So none of us Raiders are on good terms with Clan Wallace.”

  Kipper shrugged. “I don’t see why that should prevent our paying a visit. Cameron is my cousin, you know.”

  It was Jessamyn’s turn to stare. “Cameron’s your cousin?”

  “We’re third cousins four times removed,” said Kipper. “Or maybe it
’s fourth cousins thrice removed. I can never remember.”

  Jessamyn wasn’t sure she knew what either degree of relationship meant.

  “There—” Kipper pointed ahead at an island just appearing. “That’s Madeira. Or one of the chain of islands Clan Wallace controls.”

  “So you’re related to Clan Wallace?”

  “That’s what I just said. Lots of people from Squyres Station are Wallace descendants. How do you think Mars set up trade relations with them?” Kipper turned her attention to the mass of land growing larger in their view screen.

  Jessamyn had never considered how Clan Wallace had come to supply ration bars to the Mars Raiders. She’d probably been daydreaming about flying when that section of history was covered in school.

  She thought about what Kipper had said—that the Kiplings and the Wallaces were related. Did Cavanaugh see himself as continuing the fine tradition of his Terran ancestors in opposing the governmental status-quo? She shook her head. Drawing parallels which blurred the lines of good and bad was only going to unsettle her. Cavanaugh was the Ungrateful Wretch. Clan Wallace were trustworthy allies, however shaky the alliance just now.

  “Besides, even if I didn’t need assistance appeasing Vanya’s family, I would still want to consult Cameron.” Kip sighed heavily. “I’m afraid that in rescuing me, you are bringing a very dangerous person into your midst.”

  Jess’s brows rose slightly. “We’re all pretty dangerous to consort with, these days. What makes you so risky to have around?”

  Jessamyn eased the ship to the island’s north side, heavily wooded.

  Kipper replied. “Lucca Brezhnaya wants me for interrogation.” Kipper laughed dryly. “But she forgot to provide my physician with an adequate incentive to follow her orders.”

  “Oh, that,” said Jessamyn, shrugging. She supposed this would be a good time to explain her own status on the Most Wanted list. She was about to speak when Kipper continued.

  “So the problem is, the Chancellor might show up looking for me some day. If Cameron feels I can avoid detection by the Chancellor while staying with you, I will do so. If Cameron believes the Chancellor is likely to discover me, I’ll … do something else.”

  The stolen ship hovered over a hillside covered in trees. Jess found a space suitable for landing and brought the craft to rest.

  “Listen, Kipper,” began Jessamyn. “About Chancellor Brezhnaya—”

  “No,” said Kipper. “I won’t be talked out of this. We ask Cameron first. She knows this world. She knows the Chancellor.”

  “I’m not disagreeing. But there are a few important things I haven’t told you yet,” said Jessamyn. Like, if Lucca wants you for interrogation, she wants my head on a platter. She swallowed and was preparing for a fuller confession when the ship began to shudder.

  “What on Ares?” muttered Kipper, glancing at the navigation panel.

  “Kip—it’s not the ship!” cried Jessamyn. “It’s them!”

  Upon the rear and side view screens could be seen multiple crafts. Small. Maneuverable. And armed. One set down directly before their stolen vehicle and disclosed four figures carrying weapons. Wearing red armor.

  “I thought you said Madeira was a Wallace stronghold,” said Jessamyn. “What are Lucca’s best friends doing here?”

  Kipper, disregarding Jessamyn’s rising panic, was zooming in on images of the soldiers outside.

  “Come out, unarmed, hands on your heads,” called the leader of the squadron.

  “Kip, what are we doing?” demanded Jess. “Does this thing have weaponry?”

  “I don’t think these are Red Squadron Forces,” replied Kip.

  “Kipper, they’re wearing red armor!”

  “I’m brain-injured, not color-blind,” snapped Jess’s former captain. “But look at those helmets. They’re using an older version that was linked to brain trauma. Dr. Ruchenko filed a patent for an improved seal which went into production a year ago. No one wears the old-style helmets. I don’t think, anyway.”

  Jessamyn shook her head as a blast shook the ship’s exterior.

  “We’re going out,” said Kipper. “We’re surrendering.”

  Jess shook her head and ran her hands across the helm. “Oh, no we’re not!”

  There was another loud blast outside. “Hades and Aphrodite!” cursed Jess. They’ve disabled the—”

  One final blast blew the hatch door off its hinges.

  Cursing, Jess raised her hands above her head as Kipper sank to the ground, moaning.

  “She’s not armed!” Jess shouted. “Neither am I—don’t shoot her! She’s in pain.”

  Two soldiers in red appeared to consult with one another while another two examined the interior, looking, perhaps, for stowaways.

  “It’s just the two of us,” said Jess.

  Kip moaned and placed her hands on her head, attempted to rise. Two weapons were instantly trained on her.

  “Hades!” Jess called out. “She’s in no state to harm anyone.”

  “Silence,” called the leader in red. “You will come with us. You will not speak.”

  “Who are you?” demanded Kipper, now somewhat recovered.

  “The detainees will remain silent,” shouted a deep-voiced woman.

  Jess and Kipper had their hands bound—in front—and were marched silently down a steep, wooded hillside. Several missteps made it clear why their hands hadn’t been bound from behind—they need their arms for balance. Jess caught a glimpse of the ocean at one point, white breakers crashing into dark rock far, far below. She smelled something pungent and medicinal as her feet crunched through the detritus of leaves and twigs upon the forest floor.

  “Eucalyptus,” murmured Kipper, inhaling deeply.

  “Silence!” ordered a secure.

  At last they came to a paved drive and a brief hike toward what appeared to be, of all things, a castle. Jess shot a wondering look at Kipper and then frowned, noticing her captain’s unhealthy color.

  “She’s going to need help,” Jess called out, receiving a weapon in her face for her efforts. “Aphrodite’s hair curlers,” she mumbled to herself.

  But as Kipper slumped forward in pain once more, the low-voiced woman asked one of the soldiers in red to pick her up. The captain was carried up a set of stairs, Jessamyn following. They arrived at a forecourt, the castle towering above them. At the entrance, the secure in front removed his helmet for a retinal scan and passed his wrist along another scanner. A portcullis-like gate swung forward to admit the group.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” muttered Jessamyn, eyeing the gate. It was like something out of another age. She took one last glimpse in the open air, noticing a yellow flag flapping on a turret, a red lion emblazoned upon the background hanging beside a blue flag crossed diagonally with white. If either was supposed to signify something, the meanings were lost on her.

  The pair were marched down a narrow, circular staircase and enclosed in what Jess supposed was meant to be a dungeon cell. The whole setting made her feel as though she’d left Earth and stepped into the pages of one of the stories she used to read.

  As Kip recovered from her latest attack, Jessamyn spoke softly. “I told them you needed medical care. Do you always get those attacks so often?”

  “It depends,” replied Kipper. “Strenuous activity or stress can bring them on more than once an hour. Otherwise, about every hour or two.”

  “So we’re locked in a … dungeon on an island in the middle of the Atlantic,” said Jessamyn. “Great. Just great.”

  “I wouldn’t call it the middle of the Atlantic,” said Kipper. “Africa’s less than a thousand kilometers to the east.”

  “Oh, good. Nice to know which way to swim once we gnaw our way out of here.” Jess hurled a kick at the rough, dark stone of the cell wall.

  “Volcanic,” remarked Kipper.

  Jess sighed and sunk down upon a sort of bench carved from the same kind of rock. It had been somewhat polished, though, such
that sitting on it didn’t tear at the fabric of her clothing. Considerate, she thought.

  “You were about to tell me something,” said Kipper.

  Jess looked at her former captain blankly. “I was?”

  “Yes. Just before our ship was surrounded.”

  “Oh. That.” Jess frowned and balled her hands into fists. “Okay, so you know how you said Lucca wants you for questioning? Well, she wants me for a whole lot more.”

  Kipper raised one eyebrow. Jess recalled the look, so familiar from the time the two had spent aboard the Galleon.

  Jess sighed. There was the other secret as well, but she didn’t feel up to revealing the loss of Mars’s last great raiding ship. Not in a dungeon that offered her no escape from her captain’s wrath.

  “Please tell me the thing about stealing the Chancellor’s diamond earrings wasn’t real,” said Kipper.

  “Of course not,” snapped Jess. “But I did, well, drug and stab the Chancellor. I don’t know if she’s clear it was me doing the drugging, but she knows who stabbed her.”

  “You … what?” asked Kipper, her face turning pale. “Jessamyn, you had no right to interfere in Earth’s politics—”

  “I wasn’t interfering!” Jess shouted.

  “Jessamyn—”

  Jess interrupted. “Just give me a minute to explain.”

  Kipper nodded and Jess relayed the story of how, in order to get the rations back to Mars, she’d had to escape the Chancellor’s clutches with the aid of the Chancellor’s disillusioned nephew.

  “Well,” said Kipper, staring down at her feet. “Aphrodite’s fuzzy slippers. That took gumption. I suppose that must make you one of the most notorious criminals on Earth.”

  Jessamyn wondered if this was the time to mention she’d also garnered top billing as a notorious criminal on Mars. She decided against it, simply adding, “Lucca’s not exactly motivated to broadcast what I did.”

  “I should think not. No wonder she manufactured that other story.”

  The two heard approaching feet, echoing down one of the long corridors through which they’d entered. The door sealing them inside burst open, and a very tall and stout woman surrounded by red-armored soldiers confronted the two, hands on her wide hips.