Mars Burning (The Saving Mars Series-)

by Cidney Swanson

  Station 92–AE

  Jessamyn was awakened aboard 92–AE by the deferential tones of the Terran Chancellor’s former butler.

  “Miss Jessamyn,” said a voice that sounded as if it were originating inside her head. Some part of her realized that it was in her head. Or in her earpiece.

  “Umph,” she grunted, eyes remaining tightly shut.

  “I do apologize, Miss Jessamyn, but your presence is most urgently required upon the ship’s work level,” continued the butler.

  “Mmm,” she said, hoping her change of vocabulary would persuade the irritating voice to cease and desist.

  “Jess! Shizer! Get up here, already.”

  Pavel’s voice, brooking no denials, grunted or otherwise, made its way through to the part of her mind capable of bringing her alert from a sound sleep.

  “Pilot Jaarda, ready and reporting for duty,” she said. She attempted to push off her bunk, resulting in a disorienting moment when she realized she was on a space station and not the Galleon, and that, in addition, someone had strapped her down snug.

  “That would be you, Jaarda,” she muttered to herself, releasing the restraining bands so that she could glide free. The room’s chronometer informed her she’d had four hours sleep.

  “On my way,” she said, shaking herself a few times to snap awake.

  As she passed through the galley, she heard her father’s words: Your morning wet ration is the most important water of the day. She didn’t stop, however. Something in the combination of Zussman’s calm voice and Pavel’s not calm voice made her stomach churn uncomfortably. Whatever it was that required her presence in the middle of the night, it couldn’t be good.

  It wasn’t.

  Pavel and Zussman had queued up a comm sent from Mars Colonial. Jess looked for her brother.

  “Where’s Ethan? Shouldn’t he be hearing this?” she asked.

  Pavel’s eyes contacted Zussman’s briefly before he answered.

  “I gave your brother a sedative last night,” said Pavel. “He’s out cold. Or whatever’s one step past cold.”

  “Don’t you have stimulants or…something?” asked Jess.

  “Watch this comm first,” said Pavel. “Then we can talk over what to do about Ethan.”

  Jessamyn’s brow furrowed.

  “Okay, okay,” she said. And then her hand flew to her mouth. “Today’s the election back home. Is that what this comm…Never mind. Just play it.” Her palms felt suddenly prickled with cold. Mei Lo couldn’t lose the election. She couldn’t. But Pavel and Zussman looked so grave.

  Mei Lo, Secretary General and CEO of Mars Colonial appeared on the screen before them.

  48

  Budapest, Earth

  Lucca Brezhnaya paced in her office, awaiting the arrival of Vladim Wu. There had been no question as to who she would employ to find the red–haired pilot, kill her, and make sure she stayed dead this time.

  “He’ll be mortified, of course,” she mused aloud. But Wu’s humiliation at having been outwitted by Martians would serve Lucca well, she reasoned. It would make him work harder to get the job done right this time.

  Wu had to be retrieved from the Madeiran archipelago where he was still sifting through the charred remains of the exploded prison. Thus, several hours passed between Lucca’s first viewing of Cavanaugh’s latest comm and her conversation with Wu.

  The hours had only somewhat calmed her.

  “I want them, Wu. The red–haired girl and her brother. I want them dead and I want it last week.”

  “Yes, Madam Chancellor. Of course, Madam Chancellor.”

  “You will find this space station and destroy them utterly. And I want proof of death. I want bones. I want tissue. I want it done right this time or it will be your flesh I accept instead. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Most clear, Madam Chancellor. I shall assemble a team at once. We will find them, never fear.”

  “Do that. Or I will personally show you new and interesting definitions of the word ‘fear,’” said Lucca, her eyes flashing.

  Wu awaited his dismissal.

  “Why are you still standing here?” roared Lucca. “Go! Now!”

  49

  Station 92–AE

  Aboard 92–AE, Mei Lo’s familiar voice transmitted as though she were residing next door, and not on the next planet over. It might have been the function of the enlarged image on the station’s biggest screen, but Jessamyn thought she saw new lines to either side of the Secretary’s eyes.

  The Secretary took a deep breath—in, out—before speaking.

  “CEO and Secretary General Mei Lo of Mars Colonial Command to Communications Specialist Ethan Jaarda and associates. Some eight hours ago, five lasers were trained on the monument to the Opportunity Rover in an uninhabited area of Mars. If you require a detailed analysis of the damage inflicted, I should be able to provide such within hours. Suffice it to say, the demonstration of firepower capabilities alarms us most gravely.

  “If you are behind this firing, please notify me at once. If you were not responsible for this firing…please notify me at once. Secretary out.”

  There was a brief pause during which Pavel said, “Here’s a second message. It came almost right after the first one.”

  “My first message was delayed in being sent to you,” said the Secretary onscreen, “And I wanted to send an update on our situation.”

  Mei Lo paused, her brows drawn low over weary eyes.

  “Serious accusations have been leveled against me by my running opponent, Cavanaugh Kipling. He claims that the laser firings were a retaliation for our having sent you to Earth.

  “As the election is today, I would welcome the news that you have gained dominance over the Terran satellites. And much as I disapprove the selected target of the lasers’ combined power, I would welcome knowing that the fire was friendly and not…otherwise. I await your immediate response. Please. Secretary out.”

  The image went to black.

  Jessamyn felt a wave of space–sickness that had nothing to do with physical disorientation. “We have to wake Ethan. I don’t suppose—” she broke off and took a shallow breath. “I don’t suppose Ethan fired on Mars and was planning to tell us tomorrow?”

  Pavel shrugged in ignorance.

  Zussman murmured a low, “It would not appear so, miss.”

  “We’ve got to wake Ethan up immediately. Use whatever it takes.”

  Pavel and Zussman exchanged glances.

  “That’s the thing,” said Pavel. “I’ve already tried. You were my second choice as to who should watch this.”

  Jessamyn’s eyes grew large. She felt something sticking in her throat, as though she would never swallow again. “What do you mean you already tried?”

  Pavel shook his head. “He won’t wake up.”

  50

  Station 92–AE

  Jessamyn shook her head. “No,” she said. “This can’t be happening. Mei Lo needs a response now, Pavel! What do you mean you can’t wake Ethan?” She spun around in the confining room. She needed to punch something, preferably an accelerator grip. But she was trapped on a space station with a crippled ship outside and a crippled brother inside.

  She pushed off one of the work station stools, hard, and glided toward the bunk room, Zussman and Pavel trailing behind. Arriving, she turned the lighting to maximum brightness. Her brother, his brows pulled together, slept, his body hovering gently with each inhale, each exhale.

  “Ethan!” she cried, her voice half–choking with the same sensation that something was stuck in her throat. “Eth! Wake up!” She pushed on his upper shoulder, released the bands holding him in place, shook him by both shoulders. His body wobbled in its weightless state, but Ethan did not respond to his sister’s attempts to wake him.

  “What have you tried so far?” she asked, turning to face Pavel.

  “A series of stimulant injections. Any one of which should have done the job. It’s like he’s under some kind of enchanted
sleep. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  The careless words jogged something loose in Jessamyn’s mind. “Like the sleeping beauty,” she murmured to herself. “Oh, Ethan. Oh, no, no, no!”

  “What is it?” asked Pavel.

  “There was this time—I was little: two annums, maybe three—and Ethan had a really bad day at school or something. I don’t remember…but a doctor gave him some drink to help him sleep, and the next day we couldn’t wake him up. It was one of my birthdays. Dad said he was like the sleeping beauty in the story.”

  “What did your parents end up doing?”

  “I don’t know…I don’t remember,” Jessamyn said, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “I was so upset about my birthday that I didn’t care about Ethan. But he must have been okay, right? Or I wouldn’t have a brother today. Right?” Jess stared at Pavel, her wide eyes demanding he confirm what she said.

  Pavel’s face hardened. “I’ll figure this out.”

  A quiet ahem sounded from behind.

  Jess spun to face Zussman. “Yes?”

  “It might be nothing, miss. And I don’t like to interrupt, but—”

  “Interrupt away!” cried Jess. “If you’ve got something.”

  “Last night, your brother appeared most pleased with himself approximately an hour prior to retiring. To the point that I asked if we should awaken you, Miss Jessamyn.”

  “Pleased? About what?”

  “Well,” continued the former butler, “He discovered a means of firing the weaponry aboard the Mars Containment—er, I beg you will forgive me—the Terran satellites. It would appear that within a maintenance subroutine, there exists a sort of testing program which would allow the lasers to be fired. Further, your brother saw nowhere any evidence that my former employer’s people had tampered with the code inside the janitorial program. The sort of incentive provided by the Chancellor does tend to make one focus on the systems likely to be important—”

  Pavel finished Zussman’s thought: “While ignoring anything as petty as a maintenance subroutine.”

  “Indeed, sir,” said Zussman.

  “I don’t see why Ethan would get excited about being able to shoot off a few blasts,” said Jess. “Unless…are you telling me he fired them after all?”

  “No, miss. I asked if he intended to test his theory. He replied that he could not, without obtaining the permission of MCC.”

  “So it wasn’t him,” said Jess, feeling as though her body were deflating. She reached for the edge of the bunk, steadying herself. “Thank you, Zussman. That is…important information.”

  It was important, but it was also devastating. As Zussman had uttered the tale of the previous night, Jess had allowed herself to hope. Now that she knew hope was gone, the weight of despair settled upon her once again, like the gravity of Jupiter, crushing.

  Zussman spoke again, his voice softened. “It was after this…discovery that your brother began to exhibit signs of discomfort. Shortly thereafter, he requested medication to allow him six hours solid rest.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jess,” said Pavel. “At the time, it seemed like he really needed it.”

  Jess felt something cold and hard forming in her core. It was no use wishing things had gone differently. This was what she had to work with.

  “Miss,” said Zussman, quietly. “If I might suggest, I believe there is a world leader eagerly awaiting your response? Master Pavel will do his best work alone under the circumstances. And I believe the Secretary said something about an election?”

  “Holy Flaming Moons of Zeus!” whispered Jess. She closed her eyes and attempted to regulate her ragged breathing.

  Zussman was right. Mei Lo needed her. Ethan did not. Well, he needed Pavel a whole lot more than he needed an overwrought sister. She spun in a tight circle, anchored herself against the door lintel, and pushed off. “Fix him!” she hollered as she zoomed forward.

  Jessamyn cued up the transmission, committing herself to a handful of sentences.

  “This is Pilot Jessamyn Jaarda affirming the lasers were not fired by us.”

  She paused, but what more was there to say?

  “It doesn’t look good, ma’am. I’m…I’m so sorry I don’t have better news. Jaarda out.”

  51

  Budapest, Earth

  “You’d better have good news for me,” Lucca said, her voice soft as the artificial snow drifting outside her windows.

  Major Vladim Wu crossed Lucca’s office and came to rest before her massive desk.

  “Madam Chancellor, we have narrowed down to three stations the possible locations from which broadcasts might be sent to the red planet. Two of the three stations are no longer in active use. It is my recommendation we fire simultaneously upon all targets. With your permission—”

  “No,” said Lucca.

  “I beg pardon, Madam Chancellor. You do not wish us to fire upon the Martians after all?”

  Lucca rose and placed the flat of both palms on the desk before her, leaning slightly forward. “I want the Martians dead. That hasn’t changed. But if you’ll recall, we are underway with another mission where communication with that red ball of dirt will be essential. You will not destroy anything we might later make use of. Do you have any idea what a space station costs?”

  “I see,” replied Wu. “I apologize for my oversight. What are your orders?”

  Lucca’s eyes narrowed. “Continue searching until you have identified the exact station sheltering the fugitives. You will then report back to me, having, in the meantime, determined how to accomplish the destruction of the Martians with the minimum damage to the station in question.”

  Wu bowed. “Yes, Madam Chancellor. Understood, Madam Chancellor.”

  “Dismissed,” said Lucca, waving her long white fingers airily as she turned to the window overlooking Budapest. The snow continued to fall in silence.

  Once the spies were disposed of, it would be time to rain fire upon the red planet.

  Things were going well. Very well.

  52

  Station 92–AE

  Mei Lo’s response to Jessamyn’s devastating report came twenty–six minutes later. Jess had kept herself occupied by reading through the record of her brother’s attempted hacks of yesterday. She could understand a little of it, thanks to the jobs he’d given her. He seemed to have gained control of the shielding over the lasers.

  “So we can prevent space dust from the asteroid belt from wrecking the lasers,” she mumbled to herself. “Great. Wouldn’t want them malfunctioning or anything.”

  She found a note jotted directly on the work surface: Use to engage firing of lasers. A series of numbers and symbols followed: orders which could be given to the lasers. She shook her head. “Why would you want to fire them?” she whispered.

  Jess communicated briefly with Kazuko, asking if the Terran scientist was aware of Ethan’s efforts of the last ten hours. Kazuko’s response was disappointing; she confirmed she and Ethan had discussed hacking the maintenance subroutines, but she had no idea what direction his most recent efforts had taken, or why Eth would want to fire the lasers.

  There was only one way to find out, and that involved waking sleeping beauty. But as she turned to go, a series of beeps sounded, indicating a new communiqué from Mei Lo had come through.

  “Shizer,” she muttered. She hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to alert Zuss and Pavel, but Mei Lo was her leader, not theirs. And besides, she wanted Pavel to focus on waking her brother.

  Extending her hand over the comm panel, she engaged the playback. Mei Lo’s face was once again on the screen. The Secretary’s office was eerily quiet this time, as though the rest of the planet all had somewhere else to be and had departed without her.

  “Pilot Jaarda, thank you for your rapid response. I had hoped for better news…or a more detailed account…” Here, the Secretary paused, her eyes drifting to one side before returning to stare into the recording device. “However, you may h
ave nothing more to report.

  “Specialist Jaarda—Ethan—I must ask you, no, I must beg you: give us control of the lasers. With your last response, our worst fears are confirmed. Someone on Earth has found a way to harm us from space. As you know all too well, we are defenseless. It will not matter that the beams are diffuse when they reach the surface. The damage they can inflict is real, as the demonstration upon the Rover Monument has shown.

  “I beg of you, do all in your power to solve this problem. The hour has come—the time is now. Ethan, I believe this is what you were born to do. Do not fail us in our hour of need. You must not. You cannot.

  “I await your response. In the event I should not be re–elected, you are please to inform my successor of the gravity of our situation. I trust he will do…what must be done.”

  Her eyes dropped for half a second, but then Mars’s beloved leader took a deep breath and kept her gaze firm. “Godspeed, son.”

  The image on the screen was extinguished.

  53

  Station 92–AE

  Jessamyn played the message through one more time.

  The hour has come—the time is now.

  Ethan, I believe this is what you were born to do.

  Jess felt it in her gut—the rightness of Mei Lo’s belief. Her brother had surely been born to complete this mission. So what was he doing zonked out?

  Do not fail us in our hour of need. You must not. You cannot.

  If only Mars needed a pilot right now, thought Jess. She would gladly fly her craft straight into Sol if it would preserve her world. She slammed fists against the console, which sent her sailing away. Extending a leg, she hooked her foot under the console’s edge and tugged herself back down.

  It was so unfair. Why couldn’t she have been born with her brother’s gifts? What good was being a pilot when what Mars needed right now was an expert hacker? This time she kicked off from the console on purpose, ricocheting first one direction and then another throughout the work space. She needed speed. She needed direction.