The ship came to rest on the landing pad beside New Kelen Hospital and the sound barrier retracted.
“We’re to proceed with the prisoners to the twelfth floor,” said the officer seated at the comm panel.
The twelfth floor.
Re-bodying.
~ ~ ~
“Tell me why I should trust you,” demanded Jessamyn, crossing her arms and staring down the Governor General of the Terran Parliament.
The governor smiled. Jess couldn’t decide if she imagined the nervous turn of his mouth or not. His demeanor reminded her of Cavanaugh Kipling during his campaign broadcasts. Mei Lo had sent them to Madeira until Kipper had begged her to stop. Well, maybe this was just how politicians looked after a while. But Mei Lo never had that particular expression on her face.
Jess pulled her arms tighter over her chest, lowered her chin and wondered if she should repeat the question.
“I’m sorry,” said the governor. “I am supposed to say something to you—something Harpreet made me memorize—but it has gone clean from my head now that I’m in the same room with the infamous Jessamyn Jaarda.”
Jess frowned. Infamous? Was that supposed to make her feel special?
“It had to do with a dog. Something your Secretary General is always saying,” said the governor.
Be as generous as a dog, thought Jess. Harpreet liked the saying almost as much as did Mei Lo.
The governor looked distressed.
“Tongs of Hades,” muttered Jessamyn, rolling her eyes. “Do you need a hint?”
Governor General Demkovich grinned and the fake politician look melted away.
“Generous …” muttered Jess.
The governor shook his head, closed his eyes, and completed the phrase. “Be as generous as a dog. Of course.”
Now he just looked embarrassed, an emotion Jessamyn could better relate to.
“It doesn’t really make any sense, though, does it?” asked the governor.
Jessamyn shook her head and threw her gaze to the ceiling. “Why does no one on Earth understand a proverb known to every toddler on Mars?”
The governor shrugged. Then he crossed to Jessamyn with his hand extended. “I’m Jan Demkovich,” he said. “And I, for one, would love to have the proverb explained to me.”
“I don’t have time to explain proverbs right now,” snapped Jessamyn. “You said Harpreet was waiting for me. I don’t see her. If you want to prove you’re her friend, and mine, you can start by finding out where my brother’s been taken. And Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard. And Mr. Zussman. I don’t know his full name, but he used to be Lucca’s butler.”
A woman also in the room exchanged a meaningful glance with the governor, and the two conversed, too quietly for Jess to overhear.
“That might be … complicated,” said Demkovich, returning his gaze to Jessamyn.
“There’s nothing complicated about it,” said Jess. “Red Squadron Forces took my brother away along with the other two. Don’t you have rules about arresting people who haven’t broken any laws?”
“Ah,” said Demkovich. “Well, that’s the thing. There are accusations in place against Mr. Brezhnaya-Bouchard that will need to be sorted out in a court of law.”
“My brother’s not Terran,” shouted Jess. “You can’t hold him. You have no right!”
“Easy, easy, there,” said the woman at Demkovich’s side. “I’m Elena-Rees Chatterjee. Another friend of Harpreet’s. My pass-phrase is ‘Aphrodite’s fuzzy slippers,’ if that means anything to you.”
“I want my brother released immediately,” said Jess. “And I want assurances Pavel will have a fair trial. Something I highly doubt the Chancellor is planning on offering him. You want to be friends? Fine. Get my friends to safety.”
Demkovich nodded to Elena, who dashed from the room.
“We’re doing everything we can,” said the governor. “But the Chancellor is a dangerous woman to cross.”
“So am I,” said Jessamyn, fists clenched at her side.
~ ~ ~
As Lucca Brezhnaya’s limousine approached New Kelen Hospital, she commed reception to ask if a Ms. G. Bonaparte had checked in yet.
“She has and she’s awaiting you on the twelfth floor, Madam Chancellor.”
Lucca smiled. Several people were awaiting her on New Kelen’s twelfth floor. Of course, not everyone whom she planned to visit today would be happy to see her.
“My dear Bonaparte,” said Lucca, upon entering the small hospital room where the impersonator awaited her.
“So very pleased to receive your comm this morning, Madam Chancellor.”
Lucca’s lips curved upward. “I have a pair of opportunities from which you must choose.”
Bonaparte nodded in deference.
“One of them will result in greater rewards, but it comes with significantly greater demands.”
“Naturally,” replied Bonaparte.
It was truly unnerving, trying to think of the impersonator as anything other than a “she.” You’d better get used to gender flexibility fast, Lucca told herself. Observing the self-satisfied look upon her spy’s features, the Chancellor wondered if Bonaparte suspected the truth: that accepting the lesser of the assignments would result in his (or rather, her) un-bodying.
Not that the spy’s suspicions mattered. Only Bonaparte’s cooperation or lack thereof was important.
“The lesser of the two assignments is to infiltrate a group of inciters whom we believe are planning an attack upon this hospital,” said Lucca.
“And the greater?” asked the spy.
“To impersonate me,” replied Lucca.
Bonaparte’s carefully arched brows drew together. “I would impersonate the Chancellor?”
Lucca nodded. “It could prove a very dangerous assignment.”
“There can be no choice, Madam Chancellor. Such a test of my abilities would be beyond anything I have yet undertaken.” The impersonator bowed. “I should be deeply honored.”
Bonaparte’s enthusiasm sounded genuine, noted Lucca. That was most excellent.
“The size of your reward would be tied to the excellence of your performance,” said Lucca.
“Naturally,” said the spy, nodding with enthusiasm.
“You will, of course, receive orders as to the speeches you will deliver, your responses to current situations, and all manner of behavior as the Chancellor,” said Lucca. “At all times, I shall have Red Squadron personnel escorting you and observing you. Should you choose to … deviate from the scripted performance, you can assume I will give orders for your instant termination.”
“Madam Chancellor, you insult my professionalism. I would not dream of behaving outside the character stipulated for me.”
Lucca’s lips drew back over her white teeth in an approximation of a smile. “Of course you wouldn’t.” The Chancellor handed Bonaparte a small wafer. “I should like to evaluate your abilities. Read the speech written for my appearance tomorrow in Parliament.”
Bonaparte took the wafer.
“You may take a moment to prepare,” said Lucca.
Bonaparte smiled. “I have spent a lifetime preparing, Madam Chancellor.”
Having said this, the spy shifted her weight, adjusted the angle of her chin, drew her shoulders slightly back, and began to read the speech.
The transformation was startling. Lucca felt a shiver race along her arms as she observed the impersonator.
Bonaparte paid no attention to Lucca’s presence, continuing the speech to its conclusion, and then turning as if to leave the room. Lucca noted the precision with which each step was taken—she recognized her own measured tread, that of a woman who hurried for no one.
Just as the impersonator reached the door, she turned and was once again herself.
“Will that do?”
Lucca nodded grimly. “I believe I have found my replacement.”
47
IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A GOOD LIFE
It was the smell of N
ew Kelen Hospital that Pavel found most unsettling. His past life seemed, in so many ways, to belong to another person. But there it was: the undeniable scent of peroxide and cleansers, the general stale quality of the treated and recirculated air. So well-known, so a part of who he had once been and who he’d planned to become.
His manacles had been removed briefly as he and the others were ushered in through the back door of the hospital. But Pavel had been warned: one cry for help and he would be killed. Once the guards had entered the more private area of the secured twelfth floor, the cuffs had been put back on again.
Pavel had considered raising an alarm—his own fate seemed fairly certain. But he didn’t know about Ethan. Jessamyn’s brother might be spared, he reasoned, so he’d kept silent and even smiled at a volunteer whom he recognized.
It would have been a good life, Pavel thought, living out his re-bodies as a surgeon in New Kelen. His heart began to pound in fear of what would be waiting for him on the far side of the door through which he was ushered. They left him alone.
It was a prep room for re-bodying. Pavel knew it with certainty even before crossing the threshold. Was he going to be spared, then? Placed inside another body, perhaps an amputee like Ethan?
But all hope for such treatment was extinguished when his aunt strode into the room half an hour later. He could see it in her eyes: the hatred she bore him. There was something else, but he couldn’t put a name to it. She entered the room, closing the door behind her with a resounding thud.
Perhaps it was the months he’d spent with the Marsians, for whom the idea of re-bodying was so repellent, but Pavel felt himself recoiling from the idea that someone else would, almost certainly, be granted the use of his body.
At that moment, it crossed Pavel’s mind that a re-body prep room could be used for more than just re-bodying.
It could be used for un-bodying someone.
He clenched his fists and locked his jaw. He wasn’t going to give his aunt the pleasure of seeing him defeated.
“So, Aunt,” he said, his words uttered in a low drawl.
Lucca crossed the room and place one hand upon Pavel’s shoulder. It might have been a tender gesture, except that she immediately after pinched his chin with her other hand, forcing his head to one side as if for her better examination.
“You have the family look,” she said at last, releasing his chin and stepping back to settle in a chair.
“You and I aren’t family,” said Pavel, his tone expressive of disgust.
“Ah, but we are, my dear boy,” replied Lucca, nodding once. “Let me see, how many generations is it? Five? Six? One forgets these things as the centuries roll past.”
“Centuries?” replied Pavel. “So, you’re admitting you’ve abused the Rebody Program?”
“I invented the program, my dear Pavel. It was always mine to use as I saw fit.”
“By lying to billions of ordinary citizens.”
Lucca shrugged. “I find they prefer lies to truth more often than you might expect.”
“Why am I here?” Pavel asked quietly.
Lucca’s head tipped sadly to one side. “It needn’t have come to this, you know. Or perhaps it was inevitable. Blood will out, they say. And you have the ambition of a Bouchard. Given another few decades, we might have played on a more level field, even. At your age, I did not dream so big as you do.” She laughed as though this was amusing. “You see, we are related after all. Just not so immediately related as aunt and nephew. I have endeavored to re-body within the family whenever possible.”
“You’re a Bouchard? Or a Brezhnaya?” asked Pavel, curious in spite of himself.
“Hmm. Both, I suppose. But by blood, which I assume is what you are curious about, I am only a Bouchard.”
“You took the body of my real aunt.”
“Yes, dear boy, when you were quite small. And, whatever your present faults may be, once you were the apple of my eye.”
Pavel scowled and said nothing.
“But now,” continued Lucca, “I find you a constant irritant, rather like a flea or a cockroach—always turning up where you are not wanted, always sticking your nose where it should not go.”
“So you’re going to kill me,” said Pavel. His tone was flat, but his pulse was racing. Now that he’d said the words aloud, he felt how very, very much he wanted to continue living. To find Jessamyn. To sail with her to Mars. To start a family with her under the twin moons of the red planet. His eyes stung with unshed tears.
“You’ve left me no choice,” said his aunt, shrugging once again. “Your ambition, your pride, your desire to supersede me—well, let’s just say I’ve never responded well to competition.”
“I’m not your competition.”
“Don’t lie to me, boy,” snapped Lucca. “I was fooled by you once. I thought you’d suffered a silly schoolboy crush on that pilot. But in these past weeks, I’ve seen the truth emerge. You’re a fighter, a climber, an ambitious young man. You used Jaarda to help forward your aim. Not that I blame you. Everyone wants to rule the world.” She smiled sadly. “But not everyone is as good at it as am I.”
“I don’t want to rule the world,” said Pavel, spitting the words out.
Lucca struck him with the flat of her palm. “I told you not to lie to me, boy.”
Pavel winced in spite of himself. She knew how to land a slap. His eyes watered and he felt heat replacing the initial numbness where she’d struck him.
“I know what you were trying to do,” Lucca said. “But in the end, you’ve only made it easier for me. The name of Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard is on everyone’s lips now. And when Pavel runs for office, who will fail to cast a vote for him?”
Pavel stared at her, confused. Surely she meant to kill him, didn’t she?
“Oh, did I not mention?” Lucca grinned, her lips pulled wide, her appearance feral. “After I un-body your consciousness, I’m taking your flesh for my own.”
The world telescoped down to a space the size of Lucca’s visage—her too-red lips, her fiery eyes, her teeth; she was all predator and Pavel was her prey.
“Fortunately for you,” Lucca continued, “I don’t have time to draw out your … end. I’m on rather a tight schedule as it happens.” She shook her head sadly. “It will be sweet, will it not, the reunion of Jessamyn of Mars with her Pavel?”
Pavel choked on his next words. “She’ll never buy it.”
“Oh, I have no doubt she’ll figure it out, given time. But it won’t matter by then. Pavel will have won a stunning victory, the youngest new leader in Parliament’s history, with bright hopes for a future where Earth and Mars share a future once more.”
“You are ….” Pavel couldn’t find the words. He felt like he might vomit on his aunt’s exquisitely polished shoes. “There are no words for your despicable nature,” he said at last.
“Goodbye, Pavel,” said his aunt. “Many thanks for all you’ve done to ensure Earth remains in the care of a skilled gardener.”
She turned on her heel and left the room.
48
SMALL CREATURES
Jessamyn’s mood had grown darker as she sat in the windowless room alone except for the Swiss Guards stationed on either side of the single door. At last, a woman swept through the door.
“You have news of my friends?” demanded Jessamyn.
It was Elena Rees-Chatterjee, again.
“The governor has asked me to assist in preparing your defense,” said Elena. “I regret that I don’t have any news of your brother, Pavel, or Zussman, but please trust me when I tell you that mountains are being moved right now to try to save them.”
Jessamyn nodded. She pushed her fears aside, focusing on her task. “When will I be allowed to address your parliament?”
“It should be safe tomorrow. A great number of us are working to make it safe for you, thanks to Harpreet Mombasu.”
A pang of longing shot through Jessamyn. Where was the old Raider? Why wasn’t she here?
Jessamyn crossed her arms tightly over her chest and nodded. Ares knew she needed all the coaching she could get. And it would pass the time.
Along the same strip of plush burgundy carpet, Jess paced for ninety minutes, answering questions, delivering opinions, and trying to keep the hard icy knot inside contained in her stomach.
“Listen,” Jess said at last. “I know you’re trying to help, but I’ve already told you I have no opinion as to which direction politics on Earth should take. I don’t have opinions on most of the stuff you’re asking. I’m here for one and only one reason: to tell parliament your Chancellor has sent ships with weapons of mass destruction to my planet. And to make her stop.” Jess had stopped pacing and was now glaring at her Terran attorney.
Elena looked at her over the top of a pair of reading lenses.
“We want the same thing. My job is to help you by compiling the most powerful arguments possible. I can only do this if I know how you’re likely to respond in an open forum.”
“Right. I’m sorry,” said Jess, dropping her crossed arms to her side. “On behalf of my planet, I apologize for my behavior. Trust me, they didn’t send me because of my social skills.”
The lawyer made a tiny sound that might have been laughter.
“We’ll take a break,” said Elena. “Medical’s been comming me for half an hour asking when they can get those bio-samples.”
Jess nodded and held her arm out. “Bring it on.”
The medical professional had been waiting in the hall. She entered and immediately began drawing blood. Speaking softly, she told Jess she’d worked with Pavel on several occasions when he’d volunteered at a hospital in Hong Kong. “Of course, the facility suffered extensive damage earlier this year, which meant I was out of a job. So I came back here.” She drew a fourth vial of blood from Jessamyn’s arm. “Sorry, another small poke and we’re done.”
Mars Rising (Saving Mars Series 6) Page 18