Grey put the last packet of food away in the cooling box. Years ago, this place had been a missile silo. Eventually abandoned, it had been converted and retrofitted years later by some millionaire who’d hope to make it a second home. He’d probably been killed by one of the nukes during the War, because it was never completed.
“The cheese,” she finally responded, knowing Rin was trying to get her mind off the patroller she’d shot.
“I could’ve fainted when I saw those strawberries.”
Imitating Jet, Grey withdrew the pack containing the fresh fruit with a flourish and brought it over to Rin. “My lady.” She bowed and presented it to her sister. “Your delicacy awaits.”
Giggling, Rin climbed down the steps, and together they polished them off. On the day of a mission they allowed themselves to eat as much as their stomachs could hold once they were home safe and sound. It would be back to careful rations the rest of the month.
“I wish you didn’t have to go tomorrow,” Rin said after they were washed up, had removed and plugged in their implants, and were lounging in the low, plush chairs along the wall.
“Shh. Don’t think about that.” Grey mussed her sister’s short hair and swiped her bracelet controller. It was also programmed to control some of the silo’s equipment.
She cued up Rin’s favorite movie, a story about a girl who tames wild tigers. They’d watched it dozens of times, but their cache of films was limited to those their grandparents had managed to collect before the last of the American servers was destroyed by the sweeping Mazdaar army.
With the press of her finger the lights dimmed, and the opening scene of the movie materialized in front of them in holographic 3D. By the end credits Grey could barely keep her eyes open, even as Rin babbled on about finding an orphan tiger cub and raising it herself someday.
“In your dreams,” Grey said.
Leaving the lights off, they climbed down the stairs to their sleeping level. The circular room was way too big for two girls, but they were used to the empty space by now and fell into their side-by-side beds.
Grey listened to Rin’s breathing slow. She kept her own eyes open.
“Grey?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you pray?”
“What?”
“That everything’ll be okay?”
She sighed, crossing her arms on her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d prayed. It was before Mom and Dad left; she knew that.
“Go to sleep, kid.”
A few minutes later, a soft little snore came from Rin’s bed, and Grey didn’t worry about waking her sister as she crept down the stairs. Rin didn’t often visit the lowest level in their silo, but Grey did when she couldn’t sleep.
Dad’s workshop was exactly as he’d left it. Along the perimeter of the room a ledge four feet wide extended, littered with machinery, parts, and tools she couldn’t identify. Some of them dated back to when the U.S. still existed. Dad used to tell them stories about the freedom people enjoyed back then and how they would travel around in vehicles they piloted themselves.
Grey had tried to make sense of the clutter without much success. She knew Dad would’ve catalogued everything, but his controller had disappeared with him.
She picked up a screwdriver and closed her eyes, trying to picture his huge hands and how they’d enveloped this tool. With every month that passed, her memories faded. She squeezed the archaic instrument, swallowing against the lump trying to form in her throat, and carefully placed it back on the shelf.
Pressing her thumb into a blank space on the wall, a three-by-six-foot section of it disappeared, presenting her with an opening she walked through. The lights in this tubular corridor with metallic walls were dim and far apart. A musty smell met her nose, and she noticed a puddle in the corner. She’d have to check into that.
Grey stepped out onto a metal grated catwalk, letting the door swoosh shut. Total blackness surrounded her like a coat, and she stood for a moment picturing her father standing here like this when they were in bed. She remembered the first time Dad brought her down here, when her young mind couldn’t grasp what she saw.
She felt for the catwalk railing and the control box mounted to its frame. She knew which button to push by feel. Pressing it, the floodlights snapped on and spread light through the cavern. Grey stood in awe just like she had the first time.
The space stretched above her more than a hundred feet. She steadied herself against the railing and peered down. Below was where the deadly missiles had been kept. They’d long ago been removed, and Dad had told her most of these silos had stood abandoned and forgotten for decades.
But he never did explain the reason why sitting in their silo was an enormous, sleek, blue cosmoship.
***
Grey was up before the sun. She hated leaving Rin alone, but one person could hide better than two out here, and she knew the girl could take care of herself. She’d probably spend the day with Tram and Trif, trying to teach them some silly trick she saw in the movie last night.
When it was light enough to see where she was going, Grey set out with her coilgun and a canteen of water, wishing she could wear the ocelli lenses every time she traveled the Preserve. But her natural vision would deteriorate with their overuse, and she wasn’t sure how long the lenses themselves would last either. She tried to use them only for important missions.
Stuffed in her pocket were some of the silver coins Jet had given them. As she walked, she thought about how different this land must’ve looked before Mazdaar took over. It was hard to picture. The old towns, the homes—all were rubble or abandoned. The people were either dead or relocated to the city-zones within the Alamo Republic and the Cascade Territory on the coast, or in the case of a select few, Mazdaar City.
The new city-zones of North America were strictly controlled by Mazdaar, and she’d heard it was the same in Europe and Africa. The Yien Dynasty, while less powerful than Mazdaar, still controlled Asia and manufactured the technology Mazdaar needed. Grey didn’t know much about Yien’s people, but she did know about Mazdaar.
Few ever traveled outside the city zones. Only elite government officials and billionaire socialites were taken on scheduled Mazdaar safari hunts in the Preserve. After all, that’s what the North American Wildlife Preserve was originally created to be—a tourist attraction for the rich and powerful who got tired of traveling to Mars.
While the Preserve was being built and the wilderness recovered from radiation poisoning, most people resumed life in their new, high-tech cities. But there were some, like her family, who had ducked under the radar outside the zones.
Grey took in a deep breath of the arid air. Scattered among the rocks, canyons, and reintroduced wild animals, enough unconnected people subsisted to make trade viable. You just had to know where to look for them.
She walked five miles before she came to Mrs. March’s cave, and Grey made sure to stay in full view. She didn’t want to startle her neighbor.
“Mrs. March? It’s me, Grey,” she said in a normal volume.
Waiting patiently, Grey listened for any sounds that didn’t belong but only heard a hawk screeching somewhere far away.
“I was getting worried.”
Grey started at the voice coming from behind her. Mrs. March could sneak up on a lynx.
The white-haired woman smiled. Dressed in thread-worn jeans and a white tunic with frills and puffy sleeves, Mrs. March was all bones and sinew but gave fierce hugs.
Grey remained in her embrace longer than usual. Mrs. March had looked after them when Mom and Dad disappeared, always making sure they had supplies and teaching them how to survive. She was the only person Grey knew who could remember life before Mazdaar connected the world.
She was also the oldest person Grey had ever seen. The woman never revealed her exact age, but she had to be in her eighties. Without the surgeries and supplements most people resorted to at half her years, she actually looked it too.
&
nbsp; “What’s wrong?” Mrs. March held her at arm’s length.
Grey hadn’t intended to speak of the border patroller, but her neighbor could read her like her mom used to. She told Mrs. March what happened.
“I think I killed him.”
Mrs. March studied her with clear, green eyes. “You were protecting your family.”
She swallowed hard. “He shot Rin.”
“And would’ve done worse if you hadn’t stopped him.”
Grey turned toward the cleft in the rock which led to Mrs. March’s home. The woman’s technology was older than theirs, but she still had a blast-proof entrance that opened via fingerprint and cameras spaced strategically outside.
Her receivers were what made her the go-to woman for news of Mazdaar. Every day she listened in on secure frequencies she’d managed to hack, gathering intelligence from the zones.
Everyone out here was an outcast, but for how long could they remain? No one knew, but Mrs. March’s updates helped. Rumors cropped up every few months about Mazdaar sending out raiding parties to hunt down the unconnected and rid the Preserve of them once and for all. They all hoped she would pick up on enough chatter before something like that happened.
“What have you been hearing?” Grey asked as they walked into the cave. She needed to talk about something else.
The room was smaller than any of the floors of their silo, and Mrs. March had decorated with artifacts she’d collected over the years. A giraffe-pelt rug covered the stone floor.
“Things are afoot.” Mrs. March gestured for her to sit on one of the stumps she’d positioned around a rock in the center of the room.
“We had a little trouble with Jet too.” Grey shared how Jet had shorted them. “Why would he do that again? You said we could trust him.”
“How much did he pay you?”
“Two hundred grams less than our deal.”
Mrs. March’s pale eyebrows shot up. “That much less?”
“I’m not sure if we can go back.”
“We’ll work it out.” Mrs. March brought over some of her cactus tea that Grey couldn’t stand but Mrs. March thought she loved. The teacups were made of antique ceramic, though each one had chips along the edges and their saucers had disappeared long ago.
“I hope so.”
“You can sell to others.”
Grey slipped out of her pack, deciding not to remind Mrs. March that Jet was their best customer.
“How is Orinda?”
“She’s spoiling Tram and Trif.” Grey pulled the coins from her pocket. “And I brought your money.”
“Thank you.”
Even though Jet had cut them short, she always gave her sources exactly what she owed them. For local traders, she paid half up front and the rest after a transaction was completed. They’d sold several of Mrs. March’s books in the past to Jet, including her copy of The Theory of Relativity yesterday. As Grey handed over the coins, Mrs. March wrapped her fingers around Grey’s hand, pushing it away.
“Mrs. March . . .”
“You girls need this more than I do.”
“We’re fine. You—”
“Just come see me again sometime soon. That’s payment enough.”
Grey slowly returned the money to her pocket. “I’ll do you one better. Why don’t you come up to our place? Jet gave us some great food this time.”
Mrs. March smiled. “Deal.”
“What chatter have you been hearing?”
“Do you know the name Evangeline Yurkutz?”
Grey could not forget the one hologram she had seen of the Mazdaar official. Her spiked black hair with the frosty tips and her yellow eyes gave her an intensity that reminded Grey of a cougar.
“Mazdaar military general, right?”
“And leader of the High Council.”
Grey grimaced. She had heard nothing good about the Mazdaar High Council. Anyone who ended up in front of them usually didn’t come back.
“Steer clear of anything to do with General Yurkutz,” Mrs. March said.
“Not a problem,” Grey said.
“She’s been making some waves, and we’re keeping a careful watch on her movements.”
“Waves? What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say she’s a danger to all of us.” Mrs. March sighed. “There’s also been lots of talk about Jupiter.”
That surprised Grey. Mars used to be the place to be. Once they figured out how to create the atmosphere by planting trees and installing oxygen generators, travel to the planet became affordable even for the middle class. Jupiter must be the next planet in Mazdaar’s sites.
“I thought it was still uninhabitable.” Grey took a sip of the cactus tea and had to force herself not to grimace. The cocktail of juices with a little pulp was so bitter she could barely swallow. She had no idea how Mrs. March could down the stuff like water.
Mrs. March fell silent, and Grey didn’t press her to speak. She was used to her neighbor’s pauses. They usually meant she was in deep thought and her next words could be nuggets of wisdom.
“That’s what we were told.” Mrs. March’s voice was low.
Grey set down her cup, hoping Mrs. March wouldn’t notice it was still full. Maybe she could pour a little out somewhere when she wasn’t looking.
Leaning over the table, Mrs. March met her eyes. “Grey, you’re old enough now to hear some of this. You don’t believe everything Mazdaar says, right?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I did.”
“There’s a lot they don’t say.”
“I have never trusted them, Mrs. March.”
“What if I told you that not only is Jupiter habitable, but there are people living there right now?”
Grey thought for a moment. She’d read in one of the books they’d traded to Jet that it was a scientific fact that the Eye of Jupiter was a huge storm that never calmed, but years ago when they sent a probe down through it they discovered that underneath the storm was level land, solid enough to support a shuttle landing. But habitable? Men needed space suits to survive on the surface as far as she knew.
“Who was the first man on Jupiter?” Mrs. March quizzed.
“Lars Nolan.”
“Ah.” Mrs. March held up her finger. “That’s the official record, yes. In reality, the first man on Jupiter was actually a convict named Samuel Bradford.”
“A convict?”
“There were people who set foot on the planet years before Lars.”
Grey wasn’t sure if she could believe everything this quirky lady said, but it didn’t surprise her that the Mazdaar official record wasn’t accurate.
“But have any of you young people heard of them?” Mrs. March nodded her head to emphasize the point. “No, of course not.”
“So how do you know?”
Mrs. March’s eyes widened. It was almost as if she’d been talking to herself and just noticed Grey sitting at her kitchen table. She stared at her.
“Mrs. March?”
“I know,” the old woman said with a sigh, “because I’ve been there.”
* * *
Chapter 5
Grey laughed, but Mrs. March didn’t.
“You’re serious?”
“Very.”
She studied the woman’s weathered face, noticing the small hole in her nostril from an old piercing. She almost laughed again, picturing Mrs. March with a nose ring, but she stopped herself. There was no jest in the woman’s green eyes.
“And I’m worried about you girls.” Mrs. March took a sip from her teacup.
Grey stared into her own cup. She wished she could say something to assuage her neighbor’s concern, but they both knew every time she and Rin ran a mission they risked capture. She forced herself to take a sip. “You’ve really been to Jupiter?”
“I was a pilot for Mazdaar many years ago. I flew those convicts in.”
“Wow.”
Mrs. March was as tall as Grey but willowy like Rin. Her clothes hung loosely on her t
hin frame. She didn’t look anything like what Grey imagined a pilot should be.
Mrs. March smiled. “I know that’s hard to fathom.”
“A little.”
“It’s time we all started thinking about Jupiter. Grey, things are changing. Fast. I don’t want you girls caught in the crossfire.” Concern etched in Mrs. March’s age-spotted face. “There’s a great deal you don’t know.”
“So tell me.”
“I will. But Rin should hear it too. Why don’t I come over tomorrow, and we can all discuss this more?” Mrs. March poured herself more tea. “And I could do with some of Jet’s delicacies.”
Grey stood up, shaking her head. “It’ll take more than a few strawberries to wrap my mind around all this.”
“I promise it’ll make more sense tomorrow.” Mrs. March walked her outside. “But in the meantime, please be cautious.”
“I always am.”
***
Grey’s next stop was to the dealer who made the cigarettes. He wasn’t nearly as friendly as Mrs. March. Grey had also paid him half of his cut when she picked up the order, and she was here to give him the rest. She made sure her coilgun was safely strapped to the side of her ankle as she approached his dwelling. It was inconspicuous there under her pant leg, and she knew Kildare Rooley would be looking. In his line of work, he didn’t trust anyone.
The sun was high in the sky when she approached his property four miles from Mrs. March’s cave. Nestled in the side of Devil’s Bluff and hidden by a stand of scrub oak, the entrance to his “farm” was a primitive wooden door. The place had once been a gold mine, long ago abandoned. Kildare hoped no one would imagine that someone lived in such a dilapidated place.
At the first growl, Grey stopped in her tracks.
She’d almost reached the oaks, and she knew Kildare would be watching her every move with his surveillance cameras. The second growl was closer, and she could almost feel the deep rumble as she simultaneously picked up its pungent scent.
“It’s Grey,” she called. Kildare had chewed her out last visit for calling too loudly, but she wanted to make sure he knew she wasn’t an intruder.
Jupiter Winds Page 3