Losing Mars (Saving Mars Series-3)

by Swanson, Cidney

Jess laughed. “Oh, Pavel … I am trying … trying to be happy here,” she said softly.

  “It’s not your world,” said Pavel. “You’d never be truly happy here. We go and we go together.”

  “Deal,” she said.

  The two began their walk back home.

  He smiled. “You can put in a good word for me. I hear you’re tight with the Secretary General.”

  A cloud passed across Jessamyn’s mind. “I hadn’t thought about what MCC might say about you showing up. But they can hardly tell you to get back in the ship and go home once you’re there. Plus, you’re a doctor.”

  “Well, not officially.”

  “Your abilities to treat patients will still count in your favor.”

  Pavel’s capacity as a doctor was much under discussion when the two returned. Brian, Harpreet, and Ethan sat around the rations table enjoying easy conversation.

  “Pavel,” said Harpreet. “Jessamyn. Welcome back. Your name has been upon our lips, young man. It seems the pregnant women of Yucca regards you as Gran’s successor when it comes to the delivery of babies,” Harpreet said to Pavel.

  Pavel frowned as he drank his medicinal tea for the evening. “Yeah,” he said. “I can’t tell that she ever did much in the way of midwifery, but the women here don’t like giving birth without her. Rather, they won’t like it, now that she’s gone.”

  Jessamyn shook her head. “Women have been delivering babies on their own for a bazillion annums.”

  “I hope I didn’t speak out of turn, Pavel,” said Harpreet, “But when I offered to take Gran’s place, Margareth and Zoe both said they’d prefer you, and I said I thought you’d be honored.”

  “Oh,” said Pavel. “Sure.”

  “What is with all the women of Yucca having their babies in the same month?” asked Jessamyn.

  “That is easily explained,” said Ethan. “The enclave of Yucca placed a ban upon new births for several years. That ban was lifted some nine and one-half months ago.”

  “A ban?” asked Jess.

  “Yuccans keep careful accounting as to how many mouths can be fed and watered,” explained her brother. “It is truly extraordinary that we have been allowed to live here for this length of time.”

  “Not so extraordinary when you look at how many water-creds you earned by those alterations to water reclamation,” said Pavel. “They didn’t so much as blink when Jess joined us. And I don’t think Kip would’ve tipped the scales either. You picked up, what, ten years of water rights for five? That’s still, like, nine years for six of us.”

  “Eight years and four months,” Ethan said, correcting Pavel.

  “I’m not staying here eight years,” mumbled Jessamyn.

  “How are things going with that bonnie new ship?” asked Brian Wallace as he moved from the table to a corner of the couch where he liked to drowse in the evenings. “If I may ask, that is.”

  Jessamyn shrugged. “Your cousin gave me a ship that’s going to cost a fortune to get space-worthy.”

  Brian straightened himself, chuckling softly. “Ye want to have all the details gone through with a very fine-toothed comb when it comes to me cousin Cam,” he said.

  “Apparently,” said Jess. Then, more brightly, she added, “But she’s a beauty, Brian. A real beauty.”

  “Well, if ye’ll allow it,” said Brian, “I’d like to apply to finance the repairs and such to the Red Hope.”

  “Brian Wallace has declared his wish to join us upon a return mission,” said Ethan. “Well, those of us choosing to return. He wishes to offer his services as an ambassador to Mars, representing the interests of Clan Wallace.”

  “You do?” asked Jess in surprise. “You want to go to Mars?”

  Brian shrugged. “I’d like to get away from Lucca Brezhnaya. I’ve no objection to traveling a hundred million kilometers in pursuit of that goal. And Harpreet’s made me half in love with the place already, with her tales of harmonious living and such.”

  Jessamyn grunted. “Things aren’t exactly harmonious at the moment,” she said.

  “All the more reason for me to make sure there’s a proper representative on hand, then, to see the interests of Clan Wallace are upheld,” said Brian.

  “Cameron put you up to this, didn’t she?” asked Jessamyn, her brows pulling together.

  “She might have provided some motivation for me to join yer next voyage, aye,” replied Brian. “But I’d half a mind already to ask for a lift before she said anything to me.”

  Jessamyn shrugged. “I’m not objecting.” She felt relieved that she would be able to share the burden of bargaining for Clan Wallace’s interests. Of course, Cameron may have simply taken to heart the odds of her success if Jess had to plead from prison.

  Kazuko Zaifa came running down the stairs and into the dwelling. “Oh, good, you’re both back,” she said. Addressing Jessamyn, she said, “The Shirff wants to know if you can fly the Thursday supply run to Baja California because Renard is still on his … journey or whatever it’s called.”

  Jess turned to Pavel, mouthing the words, “Come with me?”

  Pavel smiled back at her, nodding yes.

  But Kazuko had a message for Pavel as well. “You’re wanted at Margareth’s—she’s not certain if she’s in labor or not.”

  “How can she not know?” asked Jessamyn, frowning in disappointment.

  Harpreet laughed.

  “Of course,” said Pavel. “If you’ll all excuse me?”

  Jess trailed him to his room and up the stairs. “I could pick up some parts for the Red Hope while I’m out,” she said.

  “I was thinking about that,” said Pavel. “But we’re in no real hurry, and we got lots done today. Maybe it would be better if we waited for the situation with tellurium to settle. I’m still worried our transactions were being traced back in Chicago.”

  “Oh,” said Jessamyn. She felt several arguments rising to the surface but reasoned that if she were truly turning a new, more cautious leaf, she should probably consider what Pavel suggested.

  They had reached the top of the stairs.

  “You could come with me now,” said Pavel. “Birth is amazing.”

  Jess blanched. “No, thanks. I’m good. Besides, I’ll be getting up to fly in just a few hours if I’m going to stick to Renard’s schedule.”

  “Goodbye, then,” said Pavel, grabbing a quick kiss.

  Jess hollered after Pavel, “I suppose permission to use Renard’s vehicle is implied in this job?”

  “I’d say it is,” answered Pavel. “Just bring it back in one piece.”

  Jess flushed as Pavel’s laughter echoed across the desert.

  “I’m perfectly capable of doing a quick supply run without incident,” she muttered as she walked back to grab a few hours’ rest.

  34

  INTELLIGENCE

  Gaspar had an uneasy feeling as he walked toward the desert settlement in Renard’s body. It was a feeling he’d tried to talk himself out of several times already. He wasn’t worried about his ability to portray Renard. He’d had ample opportunities to view the young man both in person and on recordings he’d captured. And the body not only fit him well, it felt excellent.

  He needn’t have requested a drop-off so close to town after all, he admitted to himself. But after the strain of walking across the desert last time in the old woman’s body, Gaspar had located a nearer place from which to make his walk back to Yucca.

  No, his concerns had nothing to do with his portrayal of Renard. What was it then, that sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach and made him clench his hands and press his fingers against his palms—a habit of Gaspar’s which he needed to drop in moments—what was it?

  Gaspar had learned through the years to listen when his sixth sense told him to beware. Very well, he would be extremely wary. He would complain of heat exhaustion, to start with. That ought to keep anyone from worrying about odd behavior should he portray Renard less than perfectly.

  He felt
his lips draw thin in reaction to the thought of imperfection. “You are Gaspar Bonaparte,” he told himself. “You will not slip up.” The words came out a perfect match to Renard’s own vocal rhythms. Everything would be fine. It was probably something left over in Renard’s digestive tract that was upsetting him now.

  He saw the first dwelling-hummock which informed him Yucca was near. Recalling his last conversation with Lucca, he listed out his priorities, eager to make good on the trust she’d bestowed. Eager to prove that, as she believed, intelligence of the highest quality was gathered without force ever being applied. He arranged his features into a smile, squinting as sunlight reflected off something to his left, nearly blinding him. He glanced over, unable to remember anything that ought to be throwing back sunlight on that side of Yucca.

  What he saw made him stop in his tracks and then turn, running toward the source of the reflected brightness. What he saw ought to have been impossible. How did anyone in Yucca manage to source an interplanetary vehicle in the handful of days since he’d left and returned?

  35

  NEVER REALLY KNOW

  Pavel was awakened by a very excited Renard.

  “Wake up! Wake up!” Renard pulled the thin coverlet off of Pavel. “Now! Wake up!”

  Pavel, accustomed to middle-of-the-night wake up calls for small emergencies, was on his feet in seconds. “What’s the nature of the emergency?” He words slurred slightly as groped for his med kit, slipped feet into shoes.

  Renard replied, “There’s no emergency, but there’s something you’ve got to see!”

  Pavel sank back down onto the bed. “Later.” He snatched the bed cover from off the floor and grunted at Renard: “You. Out of my room. Now.” Pavel had been up until three in the morning before deciding Margareth’s baby was not coming any time soon.

  Renard sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll ask Jessamyn, then.”

  That got Pavel’s attention. He unburied his face from his pillow. “Ask Jessamyn what?”

  “There’s an M-class ship hidden in a crater at the edge of town,” said Renard. “Don’t you think that’s worth getting up for?”

  “Didn’t you see it before?” Pavel ran his hands through his hair, trying to remember. “Oh, no. You didn’t. You took off.”

  “And I’m back now. So do you mind telling me what that ship is doing here?” asked Renard, sharply.

  Pavel shoved his hair out of his eyes. “I need a haircut.”

  “I’m not a barber,” snapped Renard. “Come on. Let’s get Jess up. I want you guys to tell me everything.”

  Pavel shrugged. “Jess is gone. You forget what day it is today?”

  Renard looked puzzled for a moment. “I might’ve gotten a bit overheated out there,” he said at last. “What day is it?”

  “Thursday,” said Pavel. “Jess is doing your Baja run. For supplies.”

  “Huh,” said Renard. “Thursday already? Maybe I got more sun than I thought. Yeah, I guess someone had to do that run for me, didn’t they?”

  “Don’t worry,” said Pavel. “She’ll bring your ship back safe and sound.” Rising, he crossed to the living area and downed a morning cup of tea, wiping the sides of his mouth with his shirtsleeve.

  “Let’s check your hydration levels, okay?” asked Pavel. “Just to be safe.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Renard extended his arm and Pavel took a few quick measurements.

  “You’re down half a liter, man,” he reported back.

  Renard gave a characteristic grunt.

  “You know better, Renard. See you get over to the Shirff about an extra ration. You need to sip slowly—”

  “I know, I know,” said Renard. “City-boy.”

  Pavel grinned at the nickname Renard never grew tired of applying. “I’ll take you out to see Jess’s new ride after you’ve had a rest and downed at least a liter. Fair enough?”

  Renard seemed about to protest, but then he shrugged and turned to go. At the foot of the stairs, he looked back to Pavel. “You’re sure she’s coming right back?”

  Pavel’s lips tightened and thinned. “Well, I guess you never really know with Jess, do you?”

  Renard looked worried for a split-second but then covered it with a laugh and a response. “Guess not, city-boy.” A quick wink and he shot up the stairs and outside.

  “Hey, take it easy today,” Pavel called after him.

  Renard’s laughter filtered down into the underground dwelling. Pavel turned, shaking his head.

  36

  IF YOU MUST EAT WORMS

  Inside Renard’s body, Gaspar walked toward the Shirff’s office. He knew it would do him no good to function in a body that was dehydrated. Why hadn’t they taken care of that during his consciousness transfer? As he asked the question, it occurred to him that he might’ve suffered water-loss during his brief walk into town. He needed to be more careful here—he needed his full faculties at all times.

  And just now, he needed a place from which to place a call to Lucca Brezhnaya. He dreaded giving her the news that one of the two persons he was to question had fled. But even more, he dreaded Lucca finding out from someone besides himself.

  No, he would have to relay the information. He calculated the hour in Budapest. The Chancellor would be preparing for dinner, perhaps, by now. He’d half-hoped she might be sleeping so that he could leave a message rather than endure one of her famous rages.

  “Still,” he murmured to himself, “If you must eat worms, best get them down quickly and without an excess of anticipation.”

  He acquired the extra water-ration—and a back-slapping welcome hug—from the Shirff and then turned to find a remote location from which he could communicate with the Chancellor.

  The blast crater seemed a promising location—the large ship almost certainly had a holo-projector and lines of communication secured against any listening ears. Broadcasting from the ship would allow him to provide evidence of its existence as well. He smiled. Although he supposed Lucca had satellites that could confirm the presence of the M-class ship. He found himself hoping again she hadn’t already heard the news from someone else.

  The Chancellor made him wait over two hours.

  “What have you to report? Be quick about it. I’ve no time to waste with the election coming,” Lucca said.

  Gaspar jumped to his feet before the nearly perfect image of the Chancellor. He enjoyed noticing that from inside his present body, he was taller than Lucca Brezhnaya. He’d found that height mattered in negotiations, whatever people claimed to the contrary.

  “I will need more time,” he began, “due to unforeseen—”

  “I am not granting more time,” said the Chancellor, cutting him off. “What part of ‘there’s an election this week’ did you miss?”

  “Yes. Well, we have a setback, as it turns out,” said Gaspar. “It would seem the girl has fled, that is, she’s—”

  “Fled?” roared the Chancellor. “What do you mean fled?”

  Gaspar allowed himself a moment’s amusement. He’d had two hours to consider how he would present his information. He’d chosen the word “fled” to provoke just such a flash of anger. How interesting it would be to impersonate the Chancellor, he thought to himself.

  “Forgive me, Chancellor. I misspoke. It would seem the girl has undertaken a re-supplying mission normally carried out by myself, that is, by Renard of Yucca.”

  “So she’s coming back? When?”

  Gaspar raised and lowered his shoulders ever so slightly. “Soon, I am told.”

  Lucca focused her pale blue eyes upon Gaspar. The holographic image was frighteningly life-like. “Why did you not anticipate this and arrive in time to prevent her departure?”

  Gaspar took umbrage with the remark. “If you will recall, Madam Chancellor, my departure from Budapest to this fair enclave was delayed when you were unfortunately unable to meet with me as originally scheduled.” Gaspar did not allow himself to smile, but oh, he felt himself glowing inside.

&
nbsp; “How dare you insinuate your tardiness is my fault?” The Chancellor whispered the question, which made it sound far more threatening.

  Best not to goad her too far. “Of course not, Madam Chancellor. I alone bear the blame.” He bowed apologetically.

  Lucca scowled. Gaspar knew she was capable of holding her emotions in check and wondered if it was better or worse that he could see how unhappy she was with the current turn of events.

  “I suppose I could simply destroy the enclave,” she said at last. “That would bring the girl running back.”

  The remark provoked a fear-induced chortle from Gaspar, which he instantly regretted.

  “For all I know, it’s your fault the Martian bolted,” continued Lucca. “You might have made her skittish with an inferior performance as the old woman.”

  Gaspar snorted. Professional pride getting in the way of his better judgment, he retorted, “I assure you neither the girl nor anyone else suspected anything was amiss whilst I impersonated the elderly person.”

  After another icy stare, Lucca smiled. “No, I don’t suppose it is your fault. But I expect you to use every means available to persuade her to return swiftly. Invent something. Isn’t that what you’re good at?”

  Gaspar nodded. “It is what I am very good at. I will not disappoint you, Madam Chancellor.”

  “Do, and ten seconds warning is all you’ll get. Enough time to observe the missiles as they approach.” She smiled again, evidently enchanted by the idea of destroying the village and Gaspar with it. Then her gaze shifted and she seemed to look to either side of Gaspar.

  “Where on Earth are you standing?” she demanded of the impersonator.

  “Ah, yes, I have other news as well. As you can see, I am inside a ship. An interplanetary vessel, in fact. I believe the designation is M-class.”

  “I know an M-class when I see one,” snapped Lucca. “Are you telling me the Martian has obtained a ship?”

  “Apparently she has,” replied Gaspar.