“Pavel?” she murmured. But it was too hard to speak. They must’ve weighted her tongue as well. Or given her something that made it swell to fill her mouth. So she fell back to focusing on opening her eyes instead. When they opened, she saw two doctors, masked for surgery. Her eyes drifted to the tall one. That looks like a balaclava he’s wearing, she thought drowsily. But even with most of his face hidden, her eyes caught his, dark and familiar, and she felt as though she wanted to smile. She wasn’t sure she succeeded. Her eyelids fell heavily. She wanted to tell him something. Pavel, she thought. You were right. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you.
And then she found it was too difficult even to think and she sank down, down, down, into an induced slumber.
50
WHITE LILIES
Pavel focused on doing his job. In a moment, the doctor would ask him to call the nurses. In two hours, give or take, the transfer would be complete. By the time six hours had passed, he would no longer be able to supply good reasons as to why his aunt should not have access to Jessamyn.
And Pavel knew what access meant.
He had six hours to come up with a plan that would save Jessamyn’s life.
He glanced at Dr. Bonhoeffer. Or whoever was currently occupying Bonhoeffer’s body. Pavel recognized him from his previous volunteer work at New Kelen. But Bonhoeffer was now more than just an elite surgeon at the top of his game: Bonhoeffer was a friend of Harpreet’s—one who had once promised to make a full disclosure of wrongdoings at the highest levels of the Rebody Program.
Of course, Pavel knew how that had turned out. Harpreet had taken the disappointment with a dose of philosophy, and Pavel remembered she’d been saddest for the condition of the man’s soul. “He might have done a great goodness,” she had said that night.
Which gave Pavel an idea.
“What sort of flowers did you place upon your wife’s grave?” he asked. If Pavel had hoped the suddenness of the question would induce the doctor to answer automatically, he was mistaken.
Dr. Bonhoeffer continued his analysis of Jessamyn’s blood work without looking up. “That’s an odd question.”
“I want an answer,” said Pavel. If the doctor asked, he would provide a fuller explanation of why. “It matters to me,” he added.
“Did you know Annaliese?” Bonhoeffer turned to face Pavel.
“Let’s say I did,” said Pavel. “And let’s say I visited her grave after the funeral, and let’s say I was disappointed at what I saw there.”
“For the sake of argument,” replied the doctor, “Let’s say I was not myself at her burial.”
Pavel’s eyes flickered over to see if there was any irony in the doctor’s expression. But the surgical hood made it impossible to tell.
Bonhoeffer took a slow breath. “I was unaware you were acquainted with Annaliese. If you want to know whether or not I fulfilled her dying request for a groundcover of white lilies over her grave, then the answer is, yes. Once I … recovered myself, I corrected the error. You can see for yourself if you pay a visit to her remains.”
Pavel relaxed his grip on the side of the exam table. “In that case, there is something I need to ask of you.”
The doctor, running fingers along the wafer beside the body, grew irritated. “Yes, well, we have a schedule to keep. Your morbid interest in my personal affairs will have to wait, I’m afraid.”
“This isn’t really about your wife,” replied Pavel. “I needed to know that you were the man who befriended Harpreet Mombasu in prison.”
Pavel had Dr. Bonhoeffer’s full attention now. “How do you know I was in prison? Did your aunt tell you?”
“No,” replied Pavel. “It was Harpreet who told me. She’s my friend as well. There are important things we need to discuss, you and I.”
The doctor frowned. “If you know I was imprisoned, then you also know—”
“I know all kinds of things. Including my aunt’s fiddling with the Rebody Program. We need to talk. To buy time for that, I need you to call my aunt. Tell her there’s an incompatibility on a nuclear level with the body she’s chosen for the patient’s transfer. That will slow things down.”
Bonhoeffer examined Pavel for a space of several seconds. Then he removed his examination hood and gloves and placed a call.
Pavel gripped the side of the table holding Jessamyn’s sleeping form. Bonhoeffer’s conversation with Lucca was not going well; he could hear his aunt’s enraged response. But the doctor kept a cool head.
“Yes, Madam Chancellor,” he was saying, “And this is exactly why we have a system in place to match consciousnesses. You wished to skirt the system and this is the consequence. I believe you have been warned of this possibility upon similar occasions.”
Push hard, thought Pavel. She’ll hate it, but she’ll concede.
Bonhoeffer finished the conversation, frowning, and looked up at Pavel.
“She won’t bother to investigate,” said Pavel. “You needn’t worry.”
“Yes, I am well acquainted with the Chancellor’s single-minded focus,” replied Bonhoeffer. “I’ve bought us maybe an hour. Now tell me what’s going on.”
Pavel took a deep breath and began to tell the story of the red-haired girl sleeping before them.
When he had finished, Bonhoeffer sank onto a tall stool meant for use during pauses in surgical procedures. “I can’t tell you how many times I told Harpreet in jest that she was not of this world. I had no idea it was true. Mars. After all this time.” He brought a hand to his mouth, covering it in a gesture that spoke awe, or possibly just regret. “I’ve failed Harpreet. I made … certain promises regarding what I would do if the Chancellor brought me back to Budapest.”
“I know,” said Pavel, softly. “But it’s not too late to make amends. Harpreet sent me here with her blessing, in the hope I could rescue Jessamyn.”
Bonhoeffer sighed heavily. “If there is one person on Earth I would trust to do the right thing, it would be Harpreet. We’ve got to get the girl away from here. Do you know how to contact Harpreet?”
Pavel smiled soberly. “Yes.”
51
WE HAVE A SITUATION
Jessamyn felt consciousness returning. Her mind felt clear once more even though her arms and legs felt heavy. She kept her eyes closed, wondering if she could buy a few precious minutes before hospital personnel noticed she’d awakened—minutes she might use to find an escape from life.
“She’s coming around,” said a male voice.
Hades! So much for having time alone.
Jess lifted her lids just enough to make out a table of surgical instruments to her right. Just enough to see the sharp, bright scalpel she needed.
She might not be alone, but perhaps those watching her could be distracted.
Jess hoped the arms of her new body would respond to her commands swiftly. Was there a time of transition, where you had to re-learn how to use your new body? She couldn’t recall what Ethan had said about it.
“Water,” she murmured.
She heard someone moving away to fulfill her request and in that instant, she made a grab for the scalpel—her hand was remarkably responsive—and brought it swiftly toward her throat.
“Here you go, Jess.”
It was the sound of Pavel’s voice that stopped her dragging the blade across her carotid artery. Pavel was alive?
Pavel was alive?
And in that moment she realized a bitter, bitter truth. She couldn’t do it in front of him. She might have lacked the courage even if they’d had a chance to share a loving farewell. But she definitely couldn’t do it now—not when the last words he’d heard her speak were cruel and unforgiving. You’re just like your aunt!
Pavel was nothing like his aunt.
Jessamyn let slip the blade, cursing the weakness of her heart.
“Heat-healer, doctor,” Pavel shouted, passing the device quickly over her throat. “We didn’t do the transfer, Jess.”
She adjusted her gaze
to take in her hands—her own hands—still a part of her. “I’m still … me,” she said in wonder.
The other doctor wiped a tickling, warm substance from beside where the heat-healer was doing its work.
“You are,” said the other doctor. “And from what I’ve heard, you have quite a few reasons to live, young woman.”
“I told him who you are,” said Pavel. “This is Bonhoeffer—he’s a friend of Harpreet’s. He’s going to help us. We’re going to figure out a way to get you safely back to Harpreet and the others,” said Pavel.
Jessamyn nodded, confused, happy. “What are our options for getting out of this room alive?”
“Jess,” said Pavel, his face solemn, “we’re going to focus on getting you out of here. You’re our priority.”
“We go together,” said Jess, sitting upright. Her head spun briefly.
“Here,” said Bonhoeffer. “A mild stimulant.” Injecting Jessamyn, he turned next to Pavel, passing him a small plastic strip. “This will give you access to my vehicle. Should I not make it—” here he glanced from Pavel to Jessamyn and back, “I want you to access a video I’ve stored on the ship’s wafer. It’s a recording of the full confession I told Harpreet I would make. I want to know the video will get out there even if I don’t.”
“I said, we go together,” repeated Jess.
“That might not be possible,” said Pavel, licking his lips. “If it comes down to it, Jess, you’ve got to promise me you’ll get away.” His eyes dropped to the floor and his voice grew soft. “I can’t face seeing my aunt getting her hands on you again, Jess. I can’t let it happen.”
“I’m not a fan of the idea, either,” Jess replied. “But do you think I want to make it out if you don’t?” Her brows drew together and she felt tears forming. She blinked them back.
“I’ll be okay so long as I know you’re safe,” said Pavel. “Do you love me, Jess?”
And now the tears spilled over her lids, onto her cheek. She nodded in reply.
“Then you’ve got to promise me you’ll do whatever you have to in order to make it out of here alive. Even if I can’t. Because I cannot let Lucca get her hands on you, Jess.” His voice dropped even lower. “It would kill me. I see that now. Do you understand?”
Tears streaked freely down Jessamyn’s face. “I understand.”
~ ~ ~
Five minutes later, Major Vladim Wu received an urgent call from hospital security on the twelfth floor.
“Sir, the Head of Consciousness Transfer is saying there is a medical emergency—”
The speaker was interrupted by the physician himself. “The patient requires immediate surgical intervention! Her blood pressure is plummeting. We suspect internal hemorrhaging. My God, what do you people do in your interrogations? I’m moving the patient to Theatre C for emergency surgery!”
The security guard spoke to Wu again. “Orders, sir?”
“Allow them to pass, but follow them!” called Wu, at the same time placing a call to the Chancellor. “You are to keep the patient and attending physicians in view at all times, is that clear?”
Vladim Wu ended the communication, turning to the Chancellor’s holographic image to take her call.
“Madam Chancellor, we have a situation. Dr. Bonhoeffer has moved the patient, stating that she requires urgent medical care.” Wu paused. “With all respect, it is possible your interrogation methods may have, er, stressed the prisoner’s internal organs.”
“I haven’t interrogated the prisoner yet,” snapped the Chancellor.
Wu watched Lucca’s holographic mouth draw to a tight frown.
She continued. “I suppose injuries could have been inflicted by our friend Bonaparte …”
“Might I suggest adding back-up personnel to monitor the situation?” asked Wu.
“Yes,” replied Lucca. “I’ll send my personal detail. Tell security to expect three persons from floor six. Only two of them will be security personnel. Chancellor out.”
~ ~ ~
Lucca turned to her butler, who was patiently attending her at New Kelen Hospital.
“Zussman, we may have a situation involving my nephew and an inciter. I want you to go with my personal detail to floor twelve.”
“Of course, Madam,” replied Zussman. “But if I might remind Madam, it has been some time since I functioned as a security officer. Perhaps Madam would prefer a third individual with more experience in defensive protocols?”
Lucca smiled. “No, Zussman. You’re exactly who I need for this job in the event my nephew should require a … reminder as to why he wants to cooperate with his dear Aunt Lucca.”
Zussman bowed curtly. “Of course, Madam.”
“Now, go-go-go.” said Lucca, rising from her seat.
Zussman retreated hastily, in the company of Lucca’s personal guards.
~ ~ ~
Pavel raced along the corridor behind a hover-gurney. Jessamyn’s coloring appeared appropriately sickly, in keeping with her supposed condition. Bonhoeffer was shouting for nursing personnel as Pavel guided the gurney toward the new room, which sat beside the exit to the parking spaces of the hospital’s twelfth-floor elite surgeons.
Pavel heard heated words exchanged between the guards and the Head of Consciousness Transfer.
Turning, Pavel shouted at the guards. “You can’t come back here. Do you know how important this patient is? You cannot be allowed to contaminate the room! Stay back!”
But the guards pushed forward. “We’re under orders from Major Wu to keep the prisoner in visual range.”
Pavel’s stomach dropped as he heard Wu’s name. Now more than ever, he had to keep it together. He, Bonhoeffer, and Jess weren’t going to make it to the exit this go-round. What could they do instead? Words tumbled from his mouth.
“Visual range?” Pavel demanded. “You can’t possibly be serious. We can’t risk microbial contaminants—”
Bonhoeffer cut Pavel short. “The surgery has a decontamination chamber,” he said to the guards. “Inside, both of you! Immediately! I will not operate with you in the room under any other conditions. Do you understand?”
As the guards appeared to debate the doctor’s demands, Pavel added, “It’s your heads will roll if we lose the patient, not ours.” He added a small shrug.
“Nurse!” called Bonhoeffer, “assist the guards with a level seven decontamination at once!”
A nurse came running around the corner and into the room. “Gentlemen, in here, one at a time.”
“No,” cried Bonhoeffer. “Together. There’s no time to waste.”
The guards filed inside the decon room. As the nurse assisted with the guards, Pavel slid a dermal patch onto her wrist. She dropped to the ground just as another nurse entered.
“Nurse!” called Pavel to the second nurse. “See what’s wrong with your colleague!”
As the second nurse knelt, Bonhoeffer administered an injection to her, and she promptly fell alongside the first nurse.
“Secure that decon door,” Bonhoeffer ordered Pavel.
“Already done.” The guards inside met his eyes with fiercely blazing anger. They pounded upon the chamber door, but it held.
Pavel’s eyes ran across the room, landing on a small cylinder of gas, which he grabbed. He jammed the gas nozzle into a port beside the decon door. Both guards slumped forward, asleep within seconds.
Pavel helped Jess off the gurney.
“Come on,” Pavel said, turning to Bonhoeffer.
Bonhoeffer swung the surgery door open and the three emerged into the corridor, the exit door once more in their sights.
A voice rang out from behind them.
“Halt!”
Bonhoeffer pushed Jess and Pavel forward as a single shot rang out. Bonhoeffer crumpled, his body keeping the door out to the parking pad opened.
“For the transport,” Pavel said, handing a plastic strip to Jess.
~ ~ ~
Jess grasped the strip automatically. Beside her she he
ard Pavel cry out, “Zussman?” as if he recognized someone.
Jess knew the name. Zussman was Lucca’s butler.
The guards shouted once more for the remaining pair to halt. Jessamyn reached for Pavel, to pull him alongside her, but he was already running toward the three men pursuing them.
“Halt or we open fire,” called one of the red-armored guards.
Jess located Bonhoeffer’s Atlas-class flyer.
Zussman, holding his arms wide to either side, stepped slowly forward into the space between Pavel and the guards.
“It would be advisable to do as they request,” said the plainly dressed butler.
“Or what, Zuss? They shoot you? They shoot me? They shoot her?” Pavel kept himself between Jessamyn and the others. “Go!” he whispered to Jess. “Now, while there’s a chance!”
Jessamyn shifted forward on one foot and then back again, caught in an agonizing moment of indecision.
“I am uncertain as to these gentlemen’s orders,” admitted Zussman. “I don’t suppose you can disclose them?” he asked one of the guards.
The one closest to Zussman aimed a weapon at the butler. The other aimed a weapon at Pavel.
“I’m sorry, Zuss,” said Pavel. “But if it’s between her and you, she goes free.”
Pavel turned an agonized glance at her. Go, his eyes pleaded.
Jessamyn inched toward the transport, her heart beating at frantic speeds.
“You promised,” Pavel said to her, his voice barely audible.
Jessamyn choked back a cry and leapt into the transport.
52
ZUSSMAN
“I’m sorry, Zuss,” Pavel said, one eye on Jess as she fled.
But before the words were out of his mouth, Zussman dropped low, spun toward the guard taking aim at Pavel, and leapt up, bringing his foot up into an arc before it landed solidly against the guard’s torso, just below the ribcage. The guard was caught unawares and crumpled, his weapon skittering across the smooth floor of the parking pad.
Losing Mars (Saving Mars Series-3) Page 23
