Losing Mars (Saving Mars Series-3)

by Swanson, Cidney

  “Watch out!” Pavel cried as the remaining guard took aim at Zussman’s still-moving form.

  In a blur, the butler swung his foot so that it impacted the guard’s hand, causing him to lose his weapon. Before the guard could retrieve it, Pavel saw Zussman strike at the guard, preventing him from reaching it. Circling slowly, the two feinted and sparred, neither making any solid connection.

  Pavel ran for the nearest weapon. As he ran, Zussman took a blow to one side of his head, but he appeared to roll with it, recovering quickly. As the butler rose, he kicked out against his opponent’s foot, causing him to lose balance for just a moment. And in that instant, Zussman delivered a knock-out kick to the groin. The guard gasped for air.

  Before Pavel could form questions aloud, Zussman grabbed the weapon beside him and used the back end of it to rain a blow to the head of the first guard, who was stirring once more.

  Both lay still and Pavel gazed in wonder at the man who used to bring him hot chocolate with extra whipped cream.

  ~ ~ ~

  Seated in a cockpit once more, Jessamyn’s hands did the work her mind could not turn itself toward. She knew she had minutes—or maybe seconds—to get clear of New Kelen. But her heart cried out for the boy left behind, and instead of lifting up and away, she found herself pulling the Atlas-class ship in a tight circle for one last glimpse of Pavel. What she saw made no sense.

  Pavel and his aunt’s butler were standing, each holding a weapon. Weapons Jess knew ought to have been in the hands of the two guards sprawled on the pavement.

  Jess brought the craft back to ground, beside the two. Even before she touched down, she extended the hatch.

  Zussman shouted over the noise of the engines, “Now would be an excellent time to depart, sir.”

  And with that, the butler took Pavel by the elbow and leapt aboard Jessamyn’s waiting craft.

  “What gives, Zuss? I don’t understand at all,” Pavel was saying.

  “Good morning, Miss,” the butler said in tones reverential.

  “Zussman?” asked Pavel.

  “Ah,” replied the butler. “I believe I have significantly increased my chances of surviving to a ripe old age by choosing you over the Chancellor. Life is all about choices, sir, and you appear to me eminently suited to making the better sort of choices.”

  “Strap in,” called Jess.

  But as Jess pushed the craft hard into the sky, Pavel threw his arms around his friend, laughing when the angle of the ship toppled them both.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jessamyn had no time to inhale the twin miracles of escape and the fact that her escape had been accomplished with Pavel. She would have to save her regrets for Bonhoeffer for later. For now, she was all pilot, dodging other vehicles, pedestrians, and buildings as she wove her way from New Kelen Hospital.

  “If I might ask, sir, miss, whither we are going?” asked Zussman, his tone one of impeccable restraint.

  Pavel laughed. “Madeira. So, next best thing to the Azores, huh, man?”

  “Indeed, sir,” replied the butler. “If I might recommend heading north by northwest to the Baltic Sea in order to confuse our inevitable followers?”

  “Already on it,” said Jessamyn.

  “Very good, miss. I would estimate our head start at approximately three and one half minutes, based upon my prior experiences with my former employer.”

  “The tracker—does this ship have one?” asked Jess.

  “You can count on it,” replied Pavel. “This baby is state of the art. No expenses spared.” He ran an approving hand along the dash.

  “So shut the tracker down, already!” demanded Jessamyn. “You can admire her all you want once there’s no one on our tail.”

  “I’m looking,” said Pavel, his hands jumping rapidly through pages of ship’s specs. “Shizer. They’re not making it easy. It’s connected to the CCMS, as well. I can’t promise I can pull one without the other.”

  “What’s a CCMS?”

  “The Central Collision Mitigation System, Miss Jessamyn,” replied Zussman. “You might also wish to know we have approximately two minutes of unaccompanied flight remaining.”

  “Two minutes, Pavel. Enough of this flying low-and-slow,” said Jess. “I need high-and-fast! Get me invisible now!”

  “Okay, okay, I found it.” Pavel ducked under the nav panel and began tugging at a metal sheet. “They’ve got it sealed up good and tight.”

  “If I might suggest Archimedes, sir,” said the butler.

  “Arc-of-what?” muttered Pavel, still tugging at the panel.

  “The lever, sir.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right.” Pavel snapped his head up. “That would work.”

  “Here you are, sir,” said Zussman.

  Pavel grabbed the metal strip the butler had removed from who-knew-what part of the ship.

  “Miss Jessamyn, once your friend has succeeded in disabling the tracking device, it is extremely likely the CCMS will no longer function. You will be far more vulnerable to collision, as others will have no warning of your approach. In addition, you will no longer receive information pertaining to the distance between your ship and other surfaces.”

  “So I eyeball it,” replied Jess. “That’s fine by me.” She pulled the ship hard to port along a broad boulevard.

  “Approximately one minute remaining,” said Lucca’s former butler, his calm voice at complete odds with the situation.

  “The Baltic’s at least an hour from here,” said Pavel, his voice muffled from under the dash. “We can make the Alps in less than twenty minutes if you punch it.”

  “We’ll be dead in less than a minute if you don’t get that—”

  Pavel cut Jessamyn off mid-sentence. “Got it!”

  The ship tilted off to the right. Jess countered.

  “That would be the CCMS gone, I take it?” she said aloud.

  “Yeah,” replied Pavel. “It tends to do a bit of auto-stabilizing for a smoother ride.”

  “This ride’s about to get bumpy fast,” said Jess. “Strap in, city-boy.”

  “I beg to apologize for the interruption,” said Zussman, “but it would appear our, ah, escorts have joined us.”

  “Hold on tight!” said Jess. “There’s going to be some broken glass down below, because we are breaking the sound barrier in three-two-one, mark!”

  “Punch it!” shouted Pavel.

  The ship shot forward, slamming all three passengers into their seats. Jess wished she could enjoy it.

  “We can make those foothills in forty-five seconds,” she said, pulling the ship up and over a last row of multi-storied buildings.

  “I regret to point out we may not have forty-five seconds,” said Zussman. “It appears we’ve been fired upon.”

  Jess let her eyes drift to the nav panel for just long enough to identify a pair of pursuing missiles.

  “Holy Ares!” she shouted.

  “There’s another valley to your right, coming up fast,” said Pavel.

  “Got it!” Jess burned a forward thruster at the same time that she directed the ship hard to starboard. The spoilers whined.

  “Shizer, Jess!”

  “You wanted to get up-and-close with explosives instead?”

  “I’m good,” said Pavel, throwing his arms up in surrender.

  The ship hugged the valley, just missing the wall to the right. Twin explosions rocked the craft from the left side.

  “Oh, yeah!” shouted Pavel. “Those bad boys are last night’s news!”

  “You can bet they’ve got more,” said Jess, hopping up and over a row of hills and sinking down into a neighboring valley.

  “We’re coming in range of an area with lots of tourists,” said Pavel. “That will mean hover-cruisers and people not paying attention to their airspace.”

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” asked Jessamyn. They wove up and down the narrow valleys, encountering ships more and more frequently.

  “Perhaps we might do a bit of sight-seeing
ourselves?” asked Zussman. “You seem a very capable pilot, Miss Jessamyn. I wonder if you could bring us down into the traffic? The Atlas-class is a very popular style vessel among the wealthy.”

  “And the Dolomites ahead are a prime destination this time of year,” added Pavel. “Good idea, Zuss.”

  “Whoa,” called Jess, “Red Squadron Forces ships. I count two. No. Three. Hold tight!”

  She careened into the next valley, dropping the ship down to mix among the tourist vessels and sight-seeing transports.

  “Pavel, I’m keeping my eyes on what’s outside. Do you see the RSF ships?”

  Pavel shook his head. “I think they’re still behind the last ridge.”

  “Good,” murmured Jess.

  “No! Shizer! There they are again.”

  Jess pulled hard toward the valley wall on her port side and then doubled back. She dropped a swift glance to the nav panel: 4 g’s.

  “Sorry,” she said, forming the word with great difficulty. “Gonna—get—worse!” And then it did, the panel reporting a nauseating 5.5 g’s.

  “Uh, we lost Zuss,” said Pavel as the ship returned along the same valley, now headed in the opposing direction.

  Jess spared a quick glance for the butler, who had, indeed, passed out.

  “Take this valley,” said Pavel. “I’ve got an idea.”

  The next valley was crawling with transports.

  “You trying to get me to crash this thing?” hollered Jess.

  “There,” said Pavel, pointing ahead. “That group of ships—they’re dinner cruise-liners. You want to take a hover-cruise?”

  “Are you insane?”

  “Bring us down atop one of the large ones,” said Pavel. “You can manage it, easy.”

  Jessamyn frowned. “Easy” wasn’t the word she’d have chosen.

  “Wake Zussman up,” she said. “I’m setting the ship to pause for thirty seconds and then continue on—with or without us aboard.”

  “Perfect,” said Pavel, offering a nasal stimulant to wake his old friend.

  “We have to get off the ship fast,” said Jess.

  Zussman woke and begged leave to apologize for having passed out.

  “Wait,” said Jessamyn. “Bonhoeffer’s last confession or whatever.”

  “Oh, man,” said Pavel. His fingers danced across the ship’s wafer and then he placed his handheld wafer over the surface. “Got it,” he said. “Let’s go!”

  Jessamyn brought the Atlas-class ship just above the hover-cruiser, over a surface that appeared to be intended as a landing for emergency vehicles. The hatch of Bonhoeffer’s ship opened, allowing an icy wind to blow into their craft. The trio spilled from their ship, landing with three distinct thuds upon the top of the hover-cruiser.

  Bonhoeffer’s ship took off up the valley ahead.

  “I thought you said thirty seconds,” said Pavel.

  “I figured it would be safer if we could do it faster,” replied Jess, shrugging. “We made it, so no problem.”

  The three felt the whoosh of a trio of RSF ships in hot pursuit of the Atlas-class vessel. The Atlas ship was moving rapidly away from the tourist ships when two more missiles tore ahead and slammed into Bonhoeffer’s ship, creating an explosive fire-ball that brought tourists up on deck.

  Several recorded the exploding ship amid cries of wonder and fear.

  “Is it for a vid, do you think?”

  “It must’ve been.”

  Zussman cleared his throat. “How terribly exciting.”

  Jess felt her legs turning to jelly. “Let’s get below-decks,” she murmured to Pavel.

  The three, anonymous, made their way among the unsuspecting gawkers to an elevator.

  “I believe I can safely declare us out of danger,” said Zussman as they stepped inside the enclosure. “Thanks to your, ah, extremely enervating piloting, Miss Jessamyn.”

  “Thanks to you, too, Zuss,” said Pavel.

  Jessamyn watched, smiling, as Pavel embarrassed his aunt’s former butler with another very large, very extended hug. And then, while the elevator descended, Pavel turned to Jessamyn and held her as though afraid she would fly away, transformed into a winged thing.

  It was Zussman's gentle, "Ahem," that caught Pavel's attention, as it had countless times in Pavel's childhood.

  "I beg pardon, sir, miss, but we ought perhaps to consider disguising the pair of you as I believe the Chancellor will shortly be addressing your disappearance in such a way as to encourage your capture.”

  Having said this (all the while averting his gaze from the embracing pair,) Zussman produced from a pocket what looked like a small furry creature. This he handed to Pavel.

  “To be implemented as a disguise, sir,” said the butler.

  Pavel nodded and took it, placing it upon his head. Jess realized it was artificial hair, worn as one might wear a hat.

  “Thanks, man,” said Pavel, now sporting a long black ponytail and looking very not-Pavel.

  His friend then handed a large square of cloth to Jessamyn. “Use it to cover your head, as some of the Budapesti women do.”

  Jess nodded. “I’ve seen them.” She wrapped the fabric around her head.

  “After you, Miss Jessamyn,” said Zussman.

  Moments later, when three passengers descended from the hover-cruise ship at a scheduled port of call but did not return for the dinner portion of the cruise, no one remarked upon it.

  The three, having disembarked, began to feel the enormity of their distance from Madeira and safety.

  "So now I guess we … walk?" asked Pavel. "Unless either of you has a good idea of how to steal a ship?" He glanced quickly to Jessamyn. "No offense meant."

  "With all due respect, sir, I would not recommend such a course of action," replied Zussman.

  "I would," muttered Jessamyn.

  Zussman cleared his throat softly.

  "You have a better idea, Zuss?" asked Pavel.

  "I do, sir. One does not work in the employ of a personage such as the Chancellor without having formed an exit strategy, as it were."

  Pavel laughed. "You have an 'exit strategy'? As in, a vehicle?"

  "No, sir, I have preferred to keep my assets liquid, as one never knows to what use one may need to put one's assets."

  "Spell it out, Zuss."

  "If I might suggest we pay a visit to a banking institution, sir, I believe I can obtain unmarked credits sufficient for the purchase of a very fast, very untraceable transport."

  "A Swiss bank account, huh, Zuss?"

  "They have proven remarkably efficacious for centuries, now, sir."

  Pavel and Jessamyn accompanied the butler to a venerable institution of credit where a rather large sum was withdrawn by Zussman and then traded for a Spartan-class vessel.

  "I wonder, Miss Jessamyn," said the butler, "if you would be so good as to take us to the islands of Madeira? You seem to possess a certain affinity for piloting."

  Pavel grinned. "You think, Zuss?"

  The craft was less flashy than either Pavel's old Hercules-class or Bonhoeffer's recently incinerated ship, but Jessamyn didn't mind.

  "You sure you don't want to fly her?" she asked Pavel, trying to be polite.

  Pavel shook his head. "You need this, Jess."

  "You have no idea how badly I need this," she murmured.

  53

  SHELTER

  The trip was uneventful and swift and as they pulled over the island, the sun was sinking into the west, bathing everything in a golden light. Jess swung the ship to the north, towards the castle beyond Funchal. Climbing slowly, she reached the highlands of Madeira—a mountainous region deeply folded in vertical channels, covered in velvety greens and golds. She saw a lone spur, impossibly thin and tall. That such a thing could push heavenward on this heavy planet was astonishing. It reminded her of something, this lone guard over the heart of the island.

  “I wonder if it has a name?” Jessamyn murmured as they passed the spur.

  Zussm
an replied, “The formation has any number of names, most of which are unfortunately lewd, and one unobjectionable name: The Old Woman of Storr, for an outcrop on the Isle of Skye known as the Old Man of Storr.”

  Jessamyn nodded. That was where she’d seen something similar: on Brian Wallace’s lonely island. Perhaps these mountains were what had drawn the Wallace family to make a new home here. Jess felt a shiver as she realized she was, once more, a person without a home, seeking shelter with strangers.

  "I didn't know you'd been here, Zuss," said Pavel.

  "With respect, sir, there are likely a great number of things you do not know about me."

  Pavel grinned.

  "I'm taking us down to the forecourt of the castle," said Jess. "Unless there are any objections."

  "Sounds perfect," replied Pavel. "Hope they've got something to eat. When I made contact, I told them we’d be hungry."

  A few minutes later, the travelers, weary both physically and emotionally, arrived at the castle built of blackened lava.

  They were met by a guard of honor. Cameron Wallace stood at the head of one aisle formed of a dozen persons, including Brian Wallace. At the head of the other aisle, Jessamyn could see Harpreet beside her brother and Dr. Zaifa. Upon Harpreet’s other side stood Cassondra Kipling, who pressed a hand to one side of her head. At first Jessamyn thought the gesture was the result of intolerable pain, but as the gesture was repeated by others up and down both aisles, Jess realized it was a sort of salute.

  She flushed again and considered re-boarding the Spartan-class vessel, flying anywhere but here. Then, taking a deep breath, she returned the salute and fumbled for something befittingly formal to mark the occasion.

  “I hereby request permission to enter the protection of Clan Wallace for the foreseeable future, along with my companions Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard and, um, Mr. Zussman,” she said, her voice clear in the breezy courtyard.

  “Oh, aye,” replied Cameron, dropping her saluting hand to lumber toward Jess and engulf her in a bear-hug. “No need for all that,” she murmured to Jessamyn. “Ye’re to stay as long as ye like.”