“You’ve got lots of down time,” said Jess. “Unlike me. I should get back at it. Good luck on your games. Or, you know, not,” she added, considering Lightning Boy.
Jessamyn’s eight–hour shift alongside her brother drew to a close, and before long she heard Zussman approaching.
“Good morning, Miss Jessamyn. If you would be so kind as to vacate your position?”
“It’s all yours, Zussman. Good luck, Eth.”
Her brother’s habit was to spend all his waking hours at his work station. Which, Jess thought, was probably better than distraction–free time, which would only serve to remind him he was stuck in a tin can.
“How’d Eth do today?” asked Pavel, waiting for her in the galley.
“He’s having a good day,” replied Jess. “He’s playing chess with some kid on Earth who has self–esteem issues. It’s cute, actually. Eth wants to help the kid feel better about himself.”
“Chess,” mused Pavel. “That’s perfect. Highly absorbing and entertaining, too. He thought that up on his own?”
“It was my idea,” said Jessamyn.
“He started the morning after his regressive episode?”
“The morning after the humming, yeah.”
“Cross that off my to–solve list,” said Pavel.
“Speaking of things on your list,” said Jess, “I’ve isolated the problem in the starboard thruster of the Star Shark. A bolt sheared right off and got tossed around in there, doing all kinds of damage. Honestly, if I were back home, I wouldn’t even consider trying to clean that mess up. I’d replace it.”
Pavel frowned. “We don’t have any spare thrusters sitting around up here.”
“Hopefully we won’t need to get out of here in a hurry.”
Pavel propelled himself across the top of the table, grabbed Jessamyn’s shoulders, and pulled himself close. “I’m in no hurry to leave,” he said, meeting her lips.
Jess kissed him back, but a cold sensation had filled in her belly. What if they did need to leave in a hurry?
42
Budapest, Earth
Lucca was pleased with the update report on Operation Burnout. Progress, at last.
An initial testing of the lasers been carried out successfully. Lucca approved of the chosen target—a monument to some precursor of the Mars Project. It was fitting that she begin her purgation of life on Mars by firing upon a memorial honoring the earliest Mars landings.
Anyway, it humored her.
Following the test, her team had compiled a report stating that all primary targets upon Mars could be struck within hours of one another. Her covert military advisors were taking a final look at the operation tomorrow morning. Facilities manufacturing water, those relaying power—it was remarkable how few targets were required in order to silence the population of a planet.
When she rebuilt habitats for Mars’s new Lucca–approved inhabitants, she would be sure to avoid recreating the same vulnerabilities.
Which reminded her of something troublesome. When it came time, Lucca would need an efficient means by which to eliminate the evidence of recent occupation. That was to say, she would have a large number of bodies to dispose of prior to the reoccupation of Mars. Her new settlers would be…unsettled if they were to find bodies everywhere they looked.
Lucca angled features rearranged themselves into a frown. She supposed merely exposing the corpses to Mars’s atmosphere wouldn’t make them “disappear”—conveniently turn to dust or some such. No, something more would surely be required.
Lucca sighed. One more problem to solve.
There was, in truth, no rest for the weary.
43
Squyres Station, Mars
In the days leading up to the election on Mars, Cavanaugh Kipling very nearly lost his belief in the good faith of the Terran Chancellor. In the space of one Earth day, a volley of messages were exchanged between Earth and Mars. Compressed into a single conversation, they would have run like this.
Cavanaugh: Explain yourself! Your satellites have been detected as having fired upon Marsian soil!
Lucca: Indeed? Are you referring to the satellites placed in orbit above Mars over a century ago?
Cavanaugh: Of course. Five just combined to fire upon a single location where they superheated—and subsequently destroyed—a three hundred year–old monument.
Lucca: If steps of aggression have been taken, my government was not the first to take them.
This made the hairs rise along the back of Cavanaugh’s neck. Was she accusing Mars of acts of aggression? Did she know about the Raiders? About Ethan Jaarda’s previous attempts to disable the lasers? If the Terrans were firing them again, they probably had a good idea that someone had been hacking in earlier.
Cavanaugh decided to try something unusual: the truth.
Cavanaugh: I have a confession to make. A member of Marsian society attempted to disable your satellites. It was done without the knowledge or approval of the people of Mars, and when I heard of it, I strongly objected.
Lucca: You “strongly objected,” did you? Your planet sent spies to my world and tampered with Terran property! Are these the acts of a friend?
Cavanaugh: It was done without due legal process. It was a mistake.
Lucca: Spies, Mr. Kipling? Spies?
Cavanaugh: What can my world do to demonstrate our repentance and our abhorrence of this act of aggression?
But there was no immediate response this time as there had been to all the other comms. And that made Cavanaugh nervous. He ought to have been forthcoming in regards to the Mars Raiders much earlier. He saw that now, but forthrightness was not in his nature. It so rarely brought about the results he desired.
The Raiders were the cause for a rift in the tentative relations between two worlds. The Raiders had raised the Terran Chancellor’s ire. The Raiders had put all Mars in danger.
“They must be sacrificed for the greater good,” said Cavanaugh softly.
There was no better, no more elegant solution. Normally, Cavanaugh preferred to wait out his opponent when a stand–off occurred. But it would not benefit him or benefit Mars to insist that Earth be the one to end the stand–off.
Cavanaugh contacted his uncle Archibald and asked him to ascertain the current locations of the Mars Raiders.
Archibald took nearly three hours to respond, but when he did, it was with highly intriguing information: the Jaarda siblings were aboard a space station, still hacking away at the Terran satellites. Archibald had been unable to obtain information regarding Harpreet or Kipper, but the Jaardas were definitely alive and in orbit above Earth, sending frequent messages to MCC.
Archibald had something else to add as well. “We can use this whole situation, you know,” he said to his nephew. “It makes Mei Lo look bad.”
His uncle was right, thought Cavanaugh. Mars wouldn’t be in this predicament if Secretary Mei Lo hadn’t sent Raiders to Earth in defiance of the No Contact Accords. It was Mei Lo’s fault Earth had fired on Mars.
“Craft a response from our team that shows Mei Lo in the worst light possible,” said Cavanaugh. “And get me a spot on New Tokyo’s late night news. I’ll make a statement sooner if I can, but at the moment, I’ve got a planet to save.”
“I think you’re overstating the situation. They superheated one target, hundreds of kilometers from civilization.”
“Uncle, they fired on Mars. You don’t know the Chancellor like I do. She’s got a temper. Cavanaugh out.”
Cavanaugh sent a carefully worded, very penitent message to Earth.
We are grievously sorry for the egregious acts perpetrated by members of Mars Colonial against the people of Earth. As an indication of our penitence, I propose the following: we will inform you as to the current location of the Marsian individuals who journeyed to Earth; we are aware of two who remain now on your world.
Cavanaugh paused. If he knew with certainty where his sister was, he told himself, it would be his duty to disclose her
location as well. But surely, if he gave up the Raiders actively engaged in hacking the satellites, that would be enough.
To the best of my knowledge, another two spies perished earlier. In any event, they are no longer in communication with Mars. I would like to propose that, as an act of good faith, we disclose the location of the two spies: a female pilot and a male engineer. You would, of course, be in your rights to do with them as your government sees fit.
Can we not move past our differences and forward into a future of mutual trust and benefit?
He debated making the demand that Earth stop firing upon Mars. But he knew he was in no position to make demands. Best to placate the Chancellor first. She was a politician. She would know it fell to her to demonstrate a return of goodwill.
He sent the message and awaited the Chancellor’s response.
44
New Houston, Mars
When Mei Lo first received the news that the Terran satellites had fired upon the monument to the Mars Rover Opportunity, she felt a moment’s alarm, but then she reasoned this could be evidence Ethan was succeeding in gaining satellite laser control once more. Although she would have to speak with him about his choice of targets before he caused widespread panic.
The incident was reported on Marsian newsfeeds, where there was speculation that the lasers had simply misfired, perhaps following some century–old instruction to desecrate places held in regard on Mars. The incident didn’t make much of a splash; no one had been harmed, and there was an election in less than twenty–four hours, thirty–eight minutes.
Forecasts showed Mei Lo losing votes again, and she did not intend to go down without a fight. Aware she’d been the most beloved leader of Mars Colonial in generations, she planned to make excellent use of that coin during a brutal schedule of last–minute visits around the globe.
She composed a message for the Mars Raiders, inquiring as to whether or not they had fired the lasers, but with one thing and another, six hours on the campaign trail passed before anyone found time to send the comm.
Thus, the accusations of Cavanaugh Kipling’s campaign team, aired only hours prior to the casting of ballots, caught Mei Lo without so much as a prepared statement.
Mei Lo was back in her office when she heard Cavanaugh’s accusations. She choked on a small amount of inhaled water before shouting, “What on Ares did that sand–toad Cavanaugh just say?”
“I’m sorry, Madam Secretary,” said her assistant. “But this is the first I’ve heard of it as well. Perhaps we should listen to the whole thing.”
“Like Hades, we will!” shouted Mei Lo. “Get me General Mendoza right away!”
Mei Lo launched a series of colorful expletives like tiny bombs set to detonate around the normally sedate headquarters of Mars Colonial.
Mei Lo’s press secretary bustled in the noisy office. “I heard about the misfiring lasers, Madam Secretary—”
“Misfiring lasers? Do we know this for a fact?”
“General Mendoza is on his way with intel,” replied another secretary.
Mei Lo glared at her. “Why haven’t I received any form of update about this attack on my character?”
“It’s the first we’ve heard of it, too. In its simplest form, the gist is that by sending the Raiders, you’ve called down the wrath of Earth’s government. Cavanaugh’s team speculates the firing of the lasers was a sort of warning.”
After sounding off with as many swear words as she could lay claim to, Mei Lo tugged at her uniform and lifted her chin, muttering to herself, “Enough. You’ve got your work cut out.”
General Mendoza arrived moments later, his uniform bearing clear signs of having been slept in.
Dispensing with politeness or formality, Mei Lo fired a direct question to the General. “In your estimation, can the lasers mounted on the Terran satellites pose a threat to the people of Mars?”
The general frowned and clasped both hands behind his back. “I’ve got a team looking at that very question. Discreetly, of course. We don’t want a planet–wide panic or anything like.”
“We certainly don’t,” said Mei Lo. “Which is more than I can say for that dust–crawler Cavanaugh Kipling. Hades and Aphrodite!” She looked around as if searching for something to throw.
Then she took several deep breaths and continued. “Have we received a return transmission from the Raiders?”
“We haven’t heard back yet,” replied one of the Secretary’s aides.
She turned to her military advisor. “What’s your gut feeling about the laser fire?”
The general straightened himself slightly. “Not friendly and not accidental, ma’am. I don’t like to say it, but we appear to be more vulnerable to attack than we would like to be.”
Mei Lo noted the purpling circles under his eyes, the cracked lips that indicated skipped wet rations. She had a crew of beauty consultants following her around, making darned certain she drank twice a day. The general had no such detail reminding him. She reached into a cupboard beside her desk and retrieved a wet–ration, holding it out for her chief military advisor.
He took the ration and fiddled with it but did not open it, instead continuing his briefing. “From the distance at which they orbit, the lasers can’t cut through anything on the surface like they did to the Red Dawn, but they can make things mighty hot, and that could be dangerous. Especially should they decide to aim several beams at the same target, as was attempted yesterday.”
Mei Lo felt a sensation like an icy hand around her neck, cutting her off from air, from hope.
“We go on the air in fifteen minutes to rebut Cavanaugh’s outrageous accusations,” she said, with as much calm as she could command. “I want all the intel we have and I want it yesterday! Understood?”
This sent the half–dozen individuals responsible for procuring information and feed time scurrying in half a dozen different directions. The aide responsible for telling her if the Raiders returned a message stood in one corner of the office, his eyes trained on a comm wafer.
“Please wait outside my office,” she instructed the aide. “But let me know the minute you hear anything from the Raiders.”
Mei Lo paced the length of her office and spoke to the general, now the only person remaining in her office.
“I want plans for a surface evacuation. Handle it discreetly.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, sprayed into crispy perfection by her Appearance Team. “Holy Ares, we are not prepared for anything like this, are we?”
“Hopefully this turns out to be just the Raiders trying something,” replied Mendoza.
Mei Lo noted he avoided her question.
A comm interrupted the silence in the office. “Madam Secretary General? Pre–show is ready for you.”
With a final nod to General Mendoza, Mei Lo dashed from her office to run damage control. One way or the other, her campaign ended in six hours’ time.
45
Budapest, Earth
Lucca Brezhnaya was pleased with the tone of the most recent message from Cavanaugh Kipling. It showed penitence, regret, humility. But she was not pleased with the confession that two spies now circled Earth. Were they aboard another craft of Martian origin? Had they stolen onto a Terran station? And what was this about one of them being a pilot?
She took her time responding.
The essential thing was to ensure Mr. Kipling made no sudden appeal to the people of Earth. He seemed to believe silence was in his best interest, but she would have to make that a condition of her “forgiveness.” At last she felt ready to respond.
My esteemed Mr. Kipling, we thank you for the forthrightness of your confession regarding the presence of illegal aliens upon our home world. To clarify, did you mean to state with certainty that the young pilot with red hair was still alive? Our records indicate that such a person lost her life in an unfortunate accident some weeks ago.
However, we would be happy to defer to your better knowledge of this situation. As she is wante
d for several crimes, we would, indeed, consider it an act of good faith on your part to reveal any information you might have as to her whereabouts, contacts, and so forth.
She continued, sprinkling in veiled threats and reminders to remain silent.
Cavanaugh replied immediately, with his regrets and his understanding that the Terran government must, of course, act as they saw fit. His information was regrettably incomplete: he didn’t know which station the spies were on. But he confirmed one of them was a red–haired pilot named Jessamyn Jaarda.
46
Squyres Station, Mars
Cavanaugh knew, without a shadow of doubt, that what he was about to announce on Marsian news would lose him a few votes. However, his uncle argued it might gain him significantly more.
“You’ve just prevented interplanetary war, my dear boy,” said Archibald, approval in his silky tone. “Or you’ve halted the destruction of our world. You can spin it either way. The important thing is that you get out there and brag.”
Cavanaugh chose his words even more carefully than normal. Attacking Mei Lo’s character would not serve him well. It was her policy he would fault. His job was to lay out the facts of what her policy, and that of her predecessors, had nearly done to Mars.
From there, he would move into a simple analysis of what a policy of openness might accomplish. And for the pièce de résistance, he would admit that, due to the gravity of their current situation, he had taken it upon himself to contact Earth’s Chancellor.
By following this admission with the results that Earth was no longer planning to strike Mars, Cavanaugh hoped to deflect attention from the fact that he had, himself, broken the policy of No Contact.
Taken as a whole, the events of the past week were remarkable. But then, Cavanaugh had always known he was destined for remarkable things. Tomorrow, once he had captured the election as CEO of Mars Colonial, a glorious era would begin.
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Mars Burning (The Saving Mars Series-) Page 17