Mars Burning (The Saving Mars Series-)

by Cidney Swanson

  “Right,” said Jess. “We’re going in.”

  “In?” queried Zussman.

  “Straight into the space trash,” she replied.

  “You’re kidding, right?” asked Pavel. “That junk is too closely packed. We’ll get hit for sure.”

  “Good point. Let’s sit out here and wait for that attack ship to fire on us again,” said Jess, rolling her eyes.

  “Sarcasm aside, miss, if they know we are in the field, they can still fire missiles into the debris. That could certainly eliminate us,” said Zussman.

  “Not with the little surprise I’ve got planned,” said Jess. “If we’re inside the field of debris, they will have to come close to confirm visually before they go for the kill. Can we all agree they don’t want to go back to Lucca and say maybe they got us?”

  “I can affirm they will wish for something more definitive,” replied Zussman.

  “So keep your eyes peeled for debris. We’re going in,” said Jess. She took the ship closer until they were amid the orbiting collection of space trash. The larger items were easy enough to veer around.

  “On your left!” said Pavel.

  “I see it.” Jess took the ship to starboard, but a loud clanking sound told her she’d missed her intended trajectory. “Hades! I forgot about that booster. Sorry everyone. Won’t happen again.”

  “There’s an open space up ahead,” said Pavel.

  “I’m going for it,” replied Jess. She guided the ship to the opening in the junk field.

  “That was some fancy flying, Jess,” said Pavel.

  “That was nothing,” she replied. “Just wait.”

  “The attack ship is closing in,” said Zussman.

  “I see it out the front view screen,” replied Jess. “There! That tiny spot, right?”

  “That’s an affirmative,” said Pavel. “Looks like they are going to pass above the field.”

  “Excellent!” said Jess. “Everyone hold on.”

  “What are you doing?” asked Pavel.

  “We’re heading out,” she replied. Carefully, she eased the craft up through the junk and into the oncoming path of the approaching fighter.

  “Such a move strikes me as, ah, counterintuitive,” said Zussman. “We will be directly in their path.”

  “Come on, boys. Let’s play a little chicken!” Jessamyn grinned broadly as she emerged from the space junk field.

  “This is crazy! They’ll hit us with their missiles,” said Pavel.

  “Nope,” replied Jess. “We’re too close now.” She gunned the Star Shark directly at the oncoming ship.

  The fighter, seeing the Star Shark’s approach, veered abruptly to port. But Jessamyn was ready and she matched them to maintain a collision course. The fighter feinted several times, with Jess matching them move for move.

  “Fun, right?” Jess asked, glancing quickly at Pavel and Zussman. The butler, in particular, did not appear to be enjoying himself.

  “Pull out Jess! They’re going to ram us,” shouted Pavel.

  “Collision in eight seconds, seven, six,” counted Zussman.

  “This is it!” shouted Jessamyn, a roar tearing from somewhere deep inside her.

  Jess pulled the Star Shark up in a tiny feint. The attack ship, seeing her shifting path, dipped into a sharp dive at the last possible second.

  “Quick! Rear camera, Pavel!” demanded Jess.

  Pavel brought up the screen.

  “Holy jumping Jupiter, Jess!” shouted Pavel. “What are you thinking?”

  “Just watch,” she said, hardly able to breathe.

  On the screen, the attack ship made an extremely sharp turn. But it was too late. The fighter streaked straight into the junk field, unable to adjust course in time. It veered and dove, trying to avoid the debris, and then there was a small collision, followed by a larger collision. The attack ship exploded.

  “Brilliant, Jess,” said Pavel. “And a better ending than what would have been waiting for them if they’d returned empty–handed.”

  Jessamyn grinned broadly. Holy Ares, but she had missed flying.

  “Well, back to Earth, then?” she asked, punching Pavel in the shoulder and twisting to grin at Zussman.

  Zussman offered no response, looking instead like a bloodless statue version of himself.

  “Oh,” said Pavel, gazing at his screen. “Jess, I don’t think that’s an option.”

  Something in his voice tugged at her insides—he was using the soft tones you employed to tell someone there had been an accident with casualties.

  68

  New Tokyo, Mars

  It felt to the Secretary General of Mars Colonial as though she had stepped into a very bad dream. The scenario was one she’d imagined, waking and sleeping, for every one of her nine annums in office: they were once again in a state of war with Earth.

  There were underground facilities where those most at risk could hide out until it was over. But even for those few, what sort of life would they emerge to, once the lasers ceased firing?

  And what was to prevent Terrans from launching a full–scale invasion in half an annum when the worlds were once again close enough to allow travel between them?

  Her disaster analysts should have seen it coming. She ought to have seen it coming. Hades and Aphrodite! Who would have imagined such a thing? Mei Lo had never been one to see devils everywhere, but if they existed, Lucca Brezhnaya must surely be one.

  The Secretary smoothed her uniform and her hair and walked forward to make her last planetary address.

  “As you know, approximately three hours ago, we became the victims of an unprovoked attack by the Terrans, through the instrument of their laser satellites.” She paused, looking down for a moment. “As Cavanaugh Kipling has intimated, Terrans may have fired the first shots as a sort of warning against our practice of sending Raiders. If this is, indeed, the cause of today’s attacks, I can only say that I am deeply sorry. I have always attempted to order those actions that offer the greatest benefit with the least risk to the people of Mars.

  “We have no means of ascertaining if or when the strikes will cease. Our enemy seems determined to destroy us as a people. The Terran Chancellor is cunning and deceitful. I urge those of you who may survive these attacks: do not trust her, should her government send ships to Mars.

  “My dear friends, we do not have sufficient safe–havens to protect all of us. I urge—no, I trust that you will each act in accordance with the principles that have at all times directed the course of Mars Colonial—”

  The Secretary was cut off as a cry rang out beside the windows overlooking the Marsian planitia.

  “They’re firing on us!”

  Panic snaked through the room.

  “Madam Secretary,” General Mendoza called out. “That is not enemy fire. I repeat, the explosions we are seeing in the sky are not the result of enemy attack.”

  “What is it?” asked Mei Lo.

  The room had quieted to an eerie silence.

  “It’s the satellites—they’re blowing to pieces. They’re self–destructing, Madam Secretary!”

  Around the planet, children pointed to the sky, cheering for the fireworks. Parents, believing the explosions were dangerous, hugged their little ones close. But then the cry went up, around the planet: The satellites are destroyed! The satellites are destroyed!

  It was true. In a rain of meteors streaking across the sky, the satellites blew themselves into oblivion, following the orders of a girl with red hair hundreds of millions of kilometers away.

  69

  Low Earth Orbit

  Jessamyn spun wildly to check on her brother. Ethan’s eyes shifted just enough to let her know he was alive. What was it, then? What had made Pavel’s voice catch in his throat like that?

  “It’s the heat shield,” said Pavel. His hands, awkward in the clumsy suit, looked as though they meant to offer comfort.

  Jess felt the prompt of her suit’s assisted breathing system and noticed how very,
very long it took to complete a single inhalation. Noted, too, how brightly Earth glowed beneath them.

  She exhaled. The blue and white began to fade as they raced toward the side engulfed by night.

  “What is the status of the heat shield, Brezhnaya?” she asked, retreating to a facts–only form of communication. Her voice was calm, neutral, in control.

  “We took damage,” Pavel replied. “Two, possibly three panels are ruined. There’s no way we land this thing, Jess. I’m so sorry.”

  It wasn’t his fault. They’d survived a dog fight in low orbit. Things happened.

  “Understood,” she said. Rehearsed phrases were the only ones she could force out at the moment. “Recommendations?”

  Pavel’s hand dropped from the edge of her seat. He folded both hands in his lap, stared at them, gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I got nothing.”

  “Mister Zussman?” she inquired.

  “Regrettably, Miss Jessamyn, I can neither advise nor assist in such a matter.”

  “Communications Specialist Jaarda?” she asked without turning to her brother.

  Silence.

  And then something in her shifted. “Aphrodite’s hair curlers!” she swore. “Of all the injustices under Phobos!” She slammed both palms against the edge of her console. Being securely strapped into her seat, all she earned was a sort of shockwave of pain along her arms.

  Pavel undid his own harness and pushed out of his seat, floating toward Jess’s.

  “Hey, you did what you wanted to do,” he said. “Plenty of people never get that chance.”

  Jess swore again.

  “You saved Mars, Jess,” said Pavel, taking her hands clumsily into his own.

  Jess flicked the automated breathing function off and took a quick, shaky breath. “I know,” she said. “I know. It’s just…this isn’t how I saw my life ending. Ares, it makes me mad! I always figured either a long life on Mars or maybe going out in a ball of flame in a ship.”

  Pavel laughed softly. “We could do it like that,” he said.

  And Jess found herself laughing as well. The laughter was tinged with hysteria, and she pulled Pavel closer, ignoring Zussman’s polite attempts to ignore them. Their helmets clacked and Jess pulled away, sober once more.

  “This is really it, isn’t it?” she said. “We turn ourselves in to the Harvesting Guild or we wait to starve in this ship.”

  Zussman cleared his throat softly. “With respect, my former employer will be counting on your choosing to seek refuge within the Guild. The price upon your heads, though before considerable, will likely exceed any amount she has previously awarded.”

  “I’m not handing myself over to her,” said Pavel, his arms attempting to cross.

  It was a gesture he couldn’t manage well in his suit, unfortunately.

  “So what about the other two space stations?” she asked.

  “The ones without breathable air?” asked Pavel. “They were shut down as ‘irreparable.’ Maybe if we had a really, really good mechanic…”

  Jess exhaled noisily. “So we starve to death.”

  “It is rather more likely we will expire from dehydration,” Zussman said, gently correcting her.

  “Ah, yes,” replied Jess. “Well, that fits a kid from Mars a whole lot better.” She kicked at the panel below her console. “Shizer!”

  Pavel nodded, his fingers tapping back and forth along his own console.

  The four fell silent for several minutes.

  Gradually, however, Ethan’s humming began again.

  Jessamyn sighed, extricated herself from her seat, and pushed herself toward her brother.

  “Hey, Eth.”

  The stumps of her brother’s ruined legs had pulled toward his belly and his shoulders had collapsed inward as well; it was the closest approximation of the fetal position he could manage while restrained in the Star Shark.

  Jess placed a hand on his upper arm.

  “I’m here, Eth. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The humming broke out of its monotone pattern, switching to a pattern of four notes, repeated in a syncopated fashion.

  “Hey,” said Pavel, “That’s Fly Me to Phobos.” He listened for another few seconds and then began to drum the backbeat that made the Cratercoustics’s most famous song irresistible.

  “No it’s not,” said Jess. “He does this sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  Pavel shook his head. “I think I know the Cratercoustics when I hear them.”

  “How can you know the Cratercoustics? You’re not even Marsian.”

  Pavel pointed to Ethan. “He got me up to speed on the Cratercoustics back when you were flying food to Mars.”

  Jess listened for a moment. With Pavel’s drumming, it did sound like Fly Me to Phobos.

  “Quit with the drumming,” she said, irritated. “I can’t tell if that’s what makes it sound like the song or if Ethan’s humming some random tune.”

  “He’s humming a specific tune,” insisted Pavel.

  “Shush!” Jessamyn leaned in. Was it random? Was it a song?

  With reluctance, she admitted she could hear the song clearly now. “He did something like this once, actually.” He’d hummed the Goodbye song to tell her to flee the Red Squadron Forces who’d captured him along with Kip and Harpreet on their original mission.

  “It’s Fly Me to Phobos,” said Pavel, arms still crossed, head turned away.

  “All right, all right,” said Jess. “I admit it. It’s Fly Me to Phobos.” Turning back to her brother, she softened her voice. “Eth, this is just a little ship. We can’t make it back home.” She squeezed his hand in hers. “But thanks for the idea. I know you’re trying.”

  Jess expected her response would bring the “singing” to a halt. But if anything, Ethan was now humming the four notes louder than ever. In addition, he’d straightened his body so that he no longer curled inward

  “Holy Artemis!” shouted Pavel. “He means the Terran moon, Jess, only, the closest he can get is a song about Phobos!”

  “Holy Artemis?” asked Jess. “Artemis, Pavel? Really? No self–respecting Marsian would ever say that.”

  “Aphrodite! Apollonia! Whatever!” shouted Pavel. “Ethan means the Moon, Jess! The Moon! And we can make it there.”

  “I heard you the first time. Why on Ares would we want to fly to the Moon?”

  “I believe, Miss Jessamyn,” said Zussman, tapping at a wafer console beside his seat, “This would be sufficient reason.”

  An image superimposed itself on the front view screen. It was a building of some sort on a grey surface under a dark sky.

  “Yes!” shouted Pavel. “Yes!”

  Jessamyn’s eyes narrowed. “What is that?” she demanded.

  70

  Budapest, Earth

  “We don’t know where they went, Madam Chancellor,” said Major Wu. “Space is…very large, Madam Chancellor. The search could take a considerable time.”

  Lucca glowered at him and then turned to the calm of her false snow. “Your competence in some areas has led me to place too much belief in your competence in all areas, Mister Wu.” Her icy tone along with her abuse of his correct title were both calculated to instill fear. Lucca didn’t bother turning to see if it was working.

  “You will recall what I said earlier, regarding the outcome should you fail to satisfy me,” she said, her voice quiet as the scene outside her window.

  “Yes, Madam Chancellor.”

  “Put your estate in order,” she said. “And before you return, find me someone who is good at finding things lost in space. I may be motivated to extend small mercies to you, if you succeed.”

  “Yes, Madam Chancellor,” said Wu.

  Before she murmured, “Dismissed,” Lucca allowed herself a brief glance at his face, blanched white as the falling snow.

  71

  Tranquility Base, The Terran Moon

  “Well, it’s huge, I’ll give you that,” said Jessamyn, bounding fro
m one side of the enclosed lunar building to the other. “Eth likes that. Obviously.”

  Pavel jumped, launching himself toward the ceiling. He missed touching it by half a meter. “I’m getting closer,” he said.

  “You’re going to crack your bones is what you’re doing,” she murmured. “You ever hear of a little thing called bone density loss?”

  Pavel took three gentle steps her direction, gathering Jessamyn into his arms.

  “Maybe,” he said, leaning his forehead to where it rested on hers. “Tell me more about this phenomenon.”

  A kiss, warm, inviting, distracting, prevented her from answering. “Get your medical scanner doohickey and I’ll tell you all about it,” she said.

  “This is more fun,” replied Pavel, taking her face in one hand. He kissed her hungrily while tracing the curve of her neck with his free hand.

  “This isn’t getting the air circulation issues addressed,” replied Jess, between kisses.

  “We can circulate, if that’s what you prefer,” said Pavel, sweeping her in a slow circle through the cavernous room.

  She laughed, breaking off an attempted kiss. “You’re hopeless,” she said.

  Pavel took a step back, still holding her hand. “I’m not,” he said. “Not anymore. On the run with your brother and Brian Wallace, maybe some, thinking you’d never in a million years come back to Earth. Or two days ago, when it looked like our options were limited to ‘visit my Aunt’ or ‘flaming fireball of death,’ maybe I was a little hopeless. But not now.”

  He jumped as high as he could, fingers grazing the ceiling, whooping as he came back down. “I’m full of hope, now, Jessamyn.”

  She pulled him close and kissed him, winding her fingers in his hair. “You need a haircut,” she murmured, holding a piece of his hair out for his inspection.

  “I’ll get right on that,” he said. “Just as soon as they open a Lunar Barber.”

  “Come on,” Jessamyn said. “Zussman will be fretting if we’re not in time for dinner.”

  “Oh boy. Let me guess: same as yesterday?”

  “Hey,” said Jess. “A lifetime supply of ration bars is nothing to sneeze at. Respect the rations.”