Mars Burning (The Saving Mars Series-)

by Cidney Swanson

  Designed to function as an unmanned station, 92–AE experienced occasional programming hiccups (which spacers were quick to comm in about), but mostly it did what it had been designed to do. In fact, the station was lasting much longer than anyone in Regulatory Mandates would have bet on, had betting been an allowed practice within the department.

  The station’s longevity was a good thing, too, as financing was tighter than ever, what with inciters and the tellurium shortage and who knew what else keeping long–promised funds from reaching the Department.

  If 92–AE ever stopped functioning permanently, there would be hell to pay, Regulatory was fond of reminding their friends in Parliament. But year after year, Regulatory was rewarded with smiles and sympathetic nods and empty promises, none of which could be used in the building of a new entertainment station.

  So the under–secretaries and assistants and junior departmental associates kept their fingers crossed and prayed nightly to the powers unknown who kept 92–AE alive and well.

  Had he known of these prayers and crossed fingers, the Ghost would have been pleased.

  The Ghost, if he existed at all, had been born in space. Which was highly illegal. If such a parturition had indeed been accomplished, the Ghost’s mother had made certain it was not logged or recorded in any manner whatsoever.

  Rumors abounded as to the temperament, habits, and appearance of the Ghost. The Ghost was a young man given to drinking in spacer taverns. The Ghost was a crotchety threebody who never left his orbiting ship. The Ghost slept with both eyes open. Or not at all. The Ghost didn’t eat, either, if rumors were true.

  They generally weren’t.

  The only thing all spacers were agreed upon in regard to the Ghost was that he was responsible for any number of mysterious rescues and unexplained survivals of persons who ought to have died in dark and lonely corners of space when their ship or equipment malfunctioned.

  “Pulled me clean outta there, he did,” reported many a spacer. Some even maintained it was true when sober. “And then he disappeared. Just like that.”

  Plenty of trash harvesters died, of course, but every year, the Ghost was credited with a steady number of unlikely rescues.

  Certainly, no one believed that the Ghost lived illegally aboard a space station which had long outlived its expected period of usefulness. But if he did, only a handful of very, very, trusted individuals knew about it. Mr. Jamal Boslough was one of these.

  “The Ghost has agreed to offer you the use of 92–AE,” said Jumble to the group assembled immediately outside the cottage on the Isles of Scilly. “He’s made plans to vacate his little station.”

  “Exactly how ‘little’ is this ‘little’ station?” Pavel asked, glancing quickly to Ethan.

  Jess frowned. It was a question she should have thought to ask.

  Jumble shrugged. “Two docking units, habitable space for ten techs during upgrades or repairs which happen every decade or so. It’s primitive. But you say you’re looking to disappear?” Jumble made a gesture like a magician revealing empty hands, and whispered, “Poof!”

  “And he’s willing to let us take over his wee home? Just like that?” asked Brian Wallace.

  “The Ghost would be pleased to extend his hospitality,” Jumble said.

  “Right then,” said Brian. “Let’s get down to brass tacks. What figure do ye reckon he’ll entertain by way of compensation?”

  Jumble’s eyes dropped and he became suddenly intrigued by the texture of his shirt. “No fee. Not necessary.”

  “I’ll not allow ye to cover our costs,” replied Brian.

  Jumble fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Trust me, I wouldn’t allow it either.”

  Pavel leaned forward, attempting to catch Jumble’s eye. “Why is he willing to let us stay without payment? What gives?”

  Jumble shrugged. “Guess he feels like he owes me.”

  “Owes you?” demanded Pavel. “Owes you for what?”

  Jumble stared out at the setting sun, his eyes crinkling ’til they almost closed. “You recall how, when you and I used to fly beyond the three hundred kilometer ban, I used to make stuff up on those reports I gave your Aunt?”

  Pavel nodded, grinning.

  “Let’s just say…that was not the first or last time I sent falsified information to your Aunt.”

  Pavel raised his brows but made no further enquiries. Jessamyn, however, saw the interchange as a big red flag.

  “Mr. Bos—Jumble, the last thing we need right now is to paint a target on ourselves. Are you completely confident we won’t be mistaken for this…this…Ghost character and receive a little visit from the Chancellor?”

  “The Ghost has gone to great lengths to keep the station…uninteresting to the government. I can promise you that,” replied Jumble.

  The wind shivered through the grass and a thin cloud passed over the sun, cooling the remaining party where they sat.

  “If I might suggest we remove indoors?” said Zussman, his tone one of infinite deference.

  “Good idea, man,” said Pavel. “Looks like the weather’s changing.”

  As the group rose to move, Jumble said goodbye, declining the offer of supper.

  “I need to find a ship capable of taking you all the way to 92–AE,” Jumble explained.

  Brian Wallace joined Jumble to discuss financial arrangements for the purchase of a ship, and Jessamyn heard Brian instructing Jumble to “spare no expense.”

  The group settled in the rations room of the small stone cottage and Zussman rummaged quietly before procuring a light meal for the party, including, to Harpreet’s and Jessamyn’s great delight, two pots of very dark, very strong tea.

  Pavel sighed, looking at Jess over his mug of tea. “So now we wait and see if he gets arrested for trying to purchase an off–world transport.”

  29

  Isles of Scilly, Earth

  “This place is creepy,” murmured Jess.

  Along with Pavel and Zussman, Jessamyn had agreed to await Jumble inside an isolated sea cavern. Just before sunrise, Jamal Boslough had commed the group in the cottage to say he had located a craft. He had been curt, indicating only that it would be best to meet up at this out–of–the–way location to avoid watchful eyes.

  Zussman, upon hearing that the location for the meeting would be remote, had insisted on accompanying the two. Jessamyn suspected he’d armed himself.

  “On Mars, we would say this is the kind of place that gives you the willies,” added Jess, her voice echoing oddly in the dim chamber.

  “What are the willies?” asked Pavel.

  “Honestly? No idea,” replied Jessamyn.

  Zussman’s quiet ahem preceded his explanation that “the willies” referred to a sort of Slavic hobgoblin thought to be particularly ill–disposed to young men. “Called, variously, ‘villi,’ ‘willi,’ and ‘veela,’” concluded Lucca’s former butler.

  A noisy rumbling announced the arrival of Pavel’s friend Jumble in the spacecraft meant to take them all to safety.

  “You’re completely sure about this guy?” Jess asked Pavel.

  “As sure as I am about anyone. He’s no supporter of my aunt.”

  Jess heard someone shuffling into the sea cave, one booted foot landing noisily in a deeper–than–average pool.

  “Shizer!” said a man’s voice, echoing off the cavern walls.

  “That’s Jumble,” murmured Pavel.

  “You lot in here?” called Jumble, squinting and turning his head from side to side.

  “Right here, man,” said Pavel. “Give your eyes a minute.”

  Zussman stepped protectively beside Pavel, and Jess noticed the butler’s hand upon a weapon tucked in the back of his trousers.

  “Okay, okay,” said Jumble, shaking his soaked foot with a hang–dog expression. “So I know it’s not what you asked for,” he said. “Small enough I could’ve flown it straight to the cottage, but I figured, well, you’ll see…”

  He pulled a w
afer from his jacket pocket. “This is the best I could do for you, given the need for secrecy and my limited ability to convert monitored credits.”

  “Brian Wallace’s creds are monitored?” asked Pavel. “Jumble, man, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know the creds had a heat signature on them.”

  “You think that would stop me?” Jumble reached out and ruffled Pavel’s hair. “Just meant I had an upper limit imposed for the purchase.”

  “Here she is,” said Jumble, converting the two–dimensional image on his wafer into a holographic image. “She’s not much to look at, but she’ll make it to the Moon and back again.”

  “We’re not going that far,” said Jess.

  Jumble shrugged. “Never say never.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Pavel. “This is a Star Shark.”

  Jumble grunted apologetically.

  Zussman murmured a quiet, “Oh dear.”

  “What’s the problem with Star Sharks?” asked Jessamyn. “If it’s space–worthy, I can fly it,” she added.

  Pavel turned to her. “They only hold four passengers.”

  Jessamyn’s shoulders felt suddenly heavy. “You mean, besides the pilot and nav?” she asked.

  “No, Jess,” said Pavel. “They only hold four including the pilot and navigator.”

  “Technically, they hold three,” said Jumble. “The fourth position is more in case of a rescue situation.”

  “But we need room for seven,” said Jess, her voice rising. “We specifically said the vessel had to be capable of taking seven adults.”

  Jumble looked mournfully back and forth from Jess to Pavel. “I know,” he said. “It was this or nothing. I’m real sorry.”

  “I shall, of course, remain behind,” said Zussman.

  Jessamyn’s, “I’m sorry, Zussman,” overlapped with Pavel’s, “We’ll see,” and the two glared at one another briefly.

  “Let’s have a look at her, then,” said Jessamyn, returning her gaze to Jumble. “We can hash out who goes and who stays later.”

  “Listen, I wish I could’ve done better,” said Jumble. “But if you’d gone and looked with me, you would’ve seen the same thing I saw. It was this or nothing.”

  “We couldn’t have gone with you,” said Pavel. “We’re all dead.”

  “That is,” said Zussman, “We certainly hope we all remain officially deceased.”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re all dead,” said Jumble.

  “Excellent news, sir.”

  Pavel chuckled.

  Jumble held a hand out, indicating the three should stop. “Give me a quick minute to check we’re still clear out here,” he said, slipping around the cavern’s edge. He reappeared a moment later. “We’re good. The aft hatch is open. Watch your step, now, it’ll be slick after walking through all that brine.”

  Jessamyn’s heart swelled with joy as she took the helm, and she couldn’t stop her mouth from forming what must have been a very silly grin.

  Pavel chuckled.

  “What?” she demanded.

  He only looked at her with hands and brows raised in an I didn’t say anything expression.

  Once they were aloft, Jess asked Jumble a series of questions about tracking, requirements for fuel, flexibility as to said fuel, and finally, begrudgingly, told him thank you for the ship.

  “She doesn’t have a lot of power, but she’ll get us where we need to go,” Jess said, easing the ship toward the isolated cottage. Harpreet and Brian stood on opposite sides of an abandoned outbuilding—a former barn—indicating Jess should bring the ship inside.

  The ship coughed and a light on Pavel’s panel indicated one of the starboard thrusters was malfunctioning.

  “Great,” said Jess, pointing to the flashing light on the nav panel. “Just super.”

  “Could be nothing more than the light malfunctioning,” said Pavel. “But I’ll take a look to make sure.”

  Jumble cleared his throat. “They promised me the ship was fully functional.”

  “Did they provide a letter of warrant, sir?” asked Zussman.

  Jumble placed his hands defensively under opposing armpits. “Not as such, no.”

  “Ah,” was Zussman’s only response.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” said Pavel. “It’s not like we’re flying her all the way to Mars, huh, Jess?” Pavel bumped her shoulder.

  Jess gave him a weak smile in return. “Sure. It’ll be fine.”

  The three supposedly deceased fugitives exited the craft along with Jumble.

  Brian Wallace stood outside with his hands on his hips.

  “That model’s too bloody small,” he said.

  Mr. Zussman explained the situation to Brian before suggesting they join the others in the cottage for a fuller discussion.

  “As ranking officer among our small crew,” said Harpreet, “I will be in charge of deciding which of us will accept the hospitality of Mr. Jamal’s acquaintance aboard the space station.”

  Jessamyn spoke. “We could take two trips.”

  “That would be unwise,” said her brother. “A situation could arise where all of us needed to flee the station at once. This would be impossible in the small vehicle.”

  Harpreet spoke softly. “The dangers of remaining on Earth are great. The dangers of voyaging into space are also great. I wish to ensure the largest chance for the eventual success of our mission. Separating our group will further that aim.”

  Jessamyn didn’t see that it mattered all that much. If both places were dangerous, wasn’t it possible both groups would be eliminated whether they were together or apart?

  But her brother nodded. “Dividing Kazuko and myself would be a wise course of action. While my own abilities supersede hers, either of us has the potential to complete the mission of securing the satellites.”

  “Humble, much?” Jessamyn murmured at her brother’s side.

  Ethan turned to her. “I am not exaggerating my skills. I see no harm in accurately representing the situation. You do not deny your superiority as a pilot when we are in need of a pilot.”

  Her skin flushed slightly and she kept silent.

  Harpreet continued, “I am pleased that you agree with my assessment, Ethan. I believe, in addition, that whomever remains on Earth must set themselves the task of locating or reconstructing an M–class vessel capable of making a return journey to Mars,” added Harpreet.

  Jessamyn’s heart beat faster. That was the assignment she wanted. She wrapped her hands about her mug of tea. Her nail beds began to turn white. “I volunteer to stay behind,” she said. “My skill set could come in handy any time we need to get away quickly.”

  “Your request is noted,” said Harpreet. “I have already determined that I will remain behind.”

  Cries of protest were uttered, but Harpreet was adamant.

  “My skills as a negotiator would be superfluous aboard a space station. If, however, any of those who remain were to be apprehended, my skills might be quite useful.” Here she smiled, as if at some private joke. “Besides, I have endured Terran prison already, and I found it adequate for my needs.”

  “If I might be allowed to speak?” asked Brian Wallace. When Harpreet nodded, he continued. “Me own knowledge and connections will do everyone a whole lot more good planet–side than if ye were to send me up to the big black sky.” He turned his gaze to Zussman. “As for Zussman, well, he’s a dead man if he’s apprehended. As are the lad and lass thought to have perished with him. Would ye not agree, Mr. Zussman?”

  Zussman spoke softly. “Should Madam Brezhnaya find any of the three of us, it is unlikely she would be able to restrain the violence of her passion.”

  “I’m not afraid of her,” said Jess, crossing her arms and glaring at Brian Wallace.

  “I believe it is evident,” said Ethan, ignoring his sister’s statement, “that I must prepare myself for life aboard the space station. Mei Lo entrusted this mission to me. If the rest of you do not object, I would prefer to remain out of doors f
or as much of the time remaining as possible.”

  “Of course,” said Harpreet.

  As Ethan departed, Jessamyn shifted uncomfortably. Her brother was right. Mei Lo’s assignment had to come before anything else. Her gut twisted uncomfortably with the implications. She ought to go up to the station as well, but the thought of remaining behind in order to secure transport home—how could she turn down such an opportunity?

  Kazuko spoke softly. “If Ethan goes, then by default, I must remain.”

  Harpreet nodded.

  “Well,” said Brian Wallace, “That’s three of us accounted for.”

  “Jessamyn, daughter,” said Harpreet. Her warm brown eyes were filled with compassion. “I have no wish to order you to go if you feel you must remain behind. What does the wisdom of your belly tell you, child?”

  Turning away from the old woman’s gaze, Jess stared out the window. What did her gut tell her? When had Harpreet ever suggested Jess trust her gut? Jessamyn’s rational faculties—which Harpreet had in the past encouraged her to rely upon—were telling her she ought to go with her brother. Her heart cried out that she should stay, stay, stay and find a craft to return home. Her gut, for once, was silent.

  The room felt suddenly stifling.

  “I need some air,” she said. Striding rapidly to the door, she left the cottage and ran through the yellowed grass, wind whistling in her ears.

  You know what you have to do.

  She pushed back against the thought. She did not know what she had to do. Mars Colonial Command had disowned her. She didn’t owe them anything. Harpreet said the choice was hers to make. What use would she be aboard a space station, anyway, once they’d docked the craft? The idea, which had appealed to her so much that night Pavel first spoke of it, now made her feel pinched and cramped.

  Coming over a rise, she saw her brother resting on a low hillock. Elsa sat at his side, and one of his hands was placed upon her head. Ethan looked so peaceful in his hoverchair with Brian’s dog at his side.

  And then it struck Jess that Elsa was not going to be able to accompany Ethan into space. There would be no room for a dog aboard the craft. And even if Elsa could fit, what kind of life would that be for a dog, aboard a space station? Jessamyn’s heart fell.