“Bonaparte,” said the doctor. “There’s been a change of plans.”
“The Chancellor loves to keep us on our toes, does she not?” asked Gaspar, lazily.
The doctor made a noise unintelligible to Gaspar, despite his excellent hearing. Then, after clearing his throat, Bonhoeffer spoke again. “His Eminence the Viceroy wishes to speak with you,” he said.
The Viceroy? This was a surprising turn of events. Fortunately, Gaspar loved surprises. Surprises offered the opportunity to surmise who held the upper hand and to play one’s own cards accordingly. Male or female, young or old, Gaspar had always been an excellent card player.
Gaspar followed Dr. Bonhoeffer to a new room.
“Ah,” said the Viceroy as Gaspar entered the room. Besides the Viceroy, Gaspar noted the Chancellor’s nephew, Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard. Most interesting.
“Your Eminence,” replied Gaspar. Bodied as he was in the guise of a woman, he dropped into a deep curtsy. The doctor remained at Gaspar’s side. As a guard, perhaps? Pockets stuffed with med-patches, no doubt.
Gaspar noted his Eminence did not offer the ring. An unusual lapse. Something was troubling the Viceroy. The Chancellor was nowhere to be seen. Was the game up, then? Gaspar kept his eyes upon the ground, but at a distance far enough forward to allow him to catch subtle shifts in the Viceroy’s stance and demeanor.
“I have a problem, Ms. Bonaparte,” said the Viceroy.
Gaspar considered tossing out an, I live to serve, but judged toadying might not help him with his Eminence as it did with the Chancellor.
“It seems the Chancellor, before her unfortunately necessary demise, intended to have you impersonate her.”
Gaspar’s heart rate doubled at the word “demise.” It was so … final. His patroness was gone? This would be a very dangerous game, then. Which made it all the more interesting.
“I have,” continued the Viceroy, “the individually acquired testimonies of the Head of Consciousness Transfer and Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard to this effect. Would you care to affirm or deny their statements?”
It appeared the truth would serve him best, now. “Such was, indeed, the Chancellor’s intention,” said Gaspar. “She can be very … persuasive, Eminence.”
The Viceroy laughed, harsh and brief. “What do you know of the Chancellor’s goals regarding Mars?” he asked.
Gaspar flicked a glance at Pavel. The boy’s whitened fists told Gaspar all was not forgiven with regard to certain regrettable actions taken in the desert enclave of Yucca.
“I know the Chancellor has no regard—forgive me, had no regard—for the lives or rights of those who might be dwelling on the red planet at present. I know the Chancellor felt the acquisition of new territory and of tellurium superseded certain … moral considerations.”
Pavel released his breath in an angry huff, his fists tighter than ever. Would the Chancellor’s nephew strike Gaspar in this current body of a femme d’une certaine âge? Gaspar didn’t mind taking one for … well, not the team, perhaps. He repressed a tiny smile. Oh, he was enjoying this game immensely. How would it all play out? That was the exciting thing—the not knowing.
Anything at all could happen.
The Viceroy gestured, a hand extended toward Pavel, calling the boy to restrain himself. No fisticuffs, then. Gaspar repressed another smile.
“Intelligence I have received this morning indicates the Chancellor has launched an attack upon our neighboring planet,” said the Viceroy.
“I have no reason to doubt it,” replied Gaspar. Thinking quickly, he added, “Most regrettably.” For all he knew, it was regrettable. The Martians must be resourceful types, if they made a home in such an inhospitable clime. And Gaspar had always admired resourcefulness.
“It would appear that any communications to the war ships which originate from a person other than the Chancellor are being ignored,” said the Viceroy.
“Oh, my,” said Gaspar. Oh, my, indeed. This certainly changed things. He wondered if the Chancellor’s body had been destroyed. Best not to ask. It would make him look too eager.
“Unlike the Chancellor, I have no wish to war against the red planet,” said the Viceroy. “Dr. Bonhoeffer, has, at my request, placed the Chancellor’s body in stasis. You see my dilemma.”
There was a time for showing one’s hand. “You need someone to inhabit her body and give voice to your orders to call off the attack ships.”
“Indeed,” said the Viceroy. The slight turning down of his mouth at the corners told Gaspar how very distasteful the idea was to his Eminence.
“Why not use the boy here?” asked Gaspar. “Or the good doctor?” This was the way to play his hand: show them how badly they needed him.
The boy cursed. Rather colorfully. Must have gotten that from his aunt. Another repressed smile.
“I need the doctor to remain in his current position,” said the Viceroy.
“Ah,” said Gaspar, nodding knowingly.
“There’s Harpreet Mombasu,” said Dr. Bonhoeffer.
“She wouldn’t do it,” said Pavel.
Gaspar concurred, but he kept what he knew to himself. Now, Harpreet—that would be a woman to portray. A role of a lifetime. However, the Chancellor would also be a role of a lifetime. It was never smart to get greedy.
“Well, my dears,” said Gaspar, “this is why you need someone like me.”
He could tell the boy was longing to deny it: We don’t need you was written all over the face of the Chancellor’s nephew.
“I do things that are necessary,” said Gaspar, carefully. “Especially, I do things no one else wants to do. And I take my work seriously.”
The boy asked the obvious question. “How can we trust you?”
Gaspar turned to him and smiled. “Trust me? Here is what you can trust me for: you can trust me to portray the Chancellor so well her own mother wouldn’t suspect anything. You can trust me to remain in character when another impersonator would back down, soften, yield: all the things the true Lucca Brezhnaya would never dream of. This, gentlemen, is a role I was born to play. I would not dream of turning in a performance that was less than perfect in every way.”
No response.
“Oh, come now,” said Gaspar. “If you don’t like what you see, you can have me assassinated at any moment. Easily. You’re the ones with all the power in this scenario.”
Did he have to spell everything out for them?
Apparently.
“You’re not going to let me retain control of Red Forces Squadron, obviously,” said Gaspar. “Any ‘guards’ in my supposed employ will be under your command, not mine.”
“Quite,” said his Eminence. “Any misstep and your life will be over. Over, mind. No possibility of re-bodying.”
“Naturally,” replied Gaspar. “So let’s talk about my compensation, shall we? If I agree to assist you in saving another world and all that, I suppose I can expect remuneration?”
“What do you want?” asked Pavel, his voice a low growl.
Gaspar smiled. “A fourbody, with no obligation to turn it in when it reaches thirty-six years of age. And it must be someone both attractive and with the ability to sing like an angel. Gender is irrelevant, but I must insist upon a career in the opera.”
The Viceroy blinked. “That’s all?”
Should he have asked for more? No. There was no more. A lifetime as a performer was all Gaspar had ever asked.
“That is most certainly all,” replied Gaspar. “Shall we draw up binding documentation of everything we’ve discussed?”
At that moment, one of the hospital’s nursing staff burst into the room, bowed briefly, and addressed the Viceroy.
“They’re about to land, your Eminence,” was all she said.
The Viceroy turned his attention to Dr. Bonhoeffer. “Go to them,” he said.
Bonhoeffer nodded and left the room.
“Now then,” said the Viceroy. “As to that contract.”
Agreements were drawn u
p, attested to, and signed in short order. During this time, a young man entered the room. Fourbody, thought Gaspar. The Chancellor’s nephew seemed to be on friendly terms with the young man, whose name was Yevgeny.
“My uncle Yevgeny will assist you during your transition,” said Pavel.
Gaspar stared in great interest. So this was the Chancellor’s mysterious brother.
How intriguing. Gaspar found himself unconsciously filing away those traits, those quirks which Yevgeny shared with his sister. A certain elegance of carriage. A habit of turning to one side before replying to a complicated question. You never knew what might come in handy in Gaspar’s line of work.
~ ~ ~
Jessamyn’s stomach wrenched with panic as the craft approached New Kelen Hospital. Harpreet must have sensed this, and she reached across to take Jessamyn’s hand. Harpreet had set plans in motion. Plans within plans. Distraught as she was, Jess followed little of it–only that Harpreet’s many friends had converged upon New Kelen to assist the Marsian cause.
“If anything were to happen—” Jess couldn’t complete the sentence.
“Courage, child,” said Harpreet. “All may yet be well.” Jess nodded. It was midday, but it felt to Jessamyn like the hour before an uncertain dawn. What if the sun failed today? As the ship alighted at the hospital, the knot in her stomach tightened.
Harpreet stared out her window, watching, checking the identity of the man awaiting them in the parking pad. Satisfied, she gave orders for the hatch door to be extended.
The man awaiting them was dressed in surgeon’s apparel. Bonhoeffer. Jessamyn knew him. But was it really Dr. Bonhoeffer, or just someone wearing his body?
“My dear Malcolm,” said Harpreet, alighting.
Would the Head of Global Consciousness Transfer know what Jess was so desperate to find out?
Before Jess could ask, the surgeon addressed the two Marsians.
“Pavel and Ethan are well,” said Bonhoeffer. “Mr. Zussman, I was unable to revive. I am so sorry.”
Jess heard the regret in his voice.
Harpreet gave a small shake of her head. “Thank you, Malcolm,” she said softly, “for all you’ve done.”
“I have my reasons,” he said. His tone was clipped.
“And they do you credit,” replied Harpreet.
“This way, please. Quickly,” said Dr. Bonhoeffer ushering them through the twelfth floor entrance to the hospital. “There is still much to be done if Jessamyn and the Chancellor are to face one another tomorrow in parliament.”
What was going on? Jessamyn followed Dr. Bonhoeffer down the same corridor from which she had escaped only a few months earlier. The odor of peroxide assaulted her, burning her nasal passages. It ought to have been a homelike smell, familiar. But now, instead of reminding her of Mars, the scent recalled other nightmarish visits to New Kelen.
The surgeon led the two women into a room with an enormous window offering an unparalleled view of the city. But it wasn’t the view that caught Jessamyn’s attention.
“Pavel,” she said. Her voice choking with emotion, she rushed forward, ignoring a faded threebody woman and an elegantly dressed man also in the room. “I thought … I thought you were …”
“Your brother’s fine,” Pavel murmured. “Recovering from a fractured wrist, but he’ll be fine.”
“I heard … I—” Jessamyn broke off, on the point of kissing Pavel very long and very hard. But something in the way he didn’t lean in stopped her. He applied subtle pressure to her hand, inviting her to turn her attention to the other man in the room.
She gasped when she saw him. He was wearing her brother’s body. Somehow, though, he managed to look nothing like Ethan.
“This is his Eminence, the Terran Viceroy,” said Pavel. He said nothing of the threebody woman also in the room.
Jessamyn gave a military salute to the Viceroy; it was all she could think of. At her side, Harpreet bowed deeply.
Nodding a brief salutation to the two women, the Viceroy then turned to Dr. Bonhoeffer. “You are to proceed with the transfer,” he said. “At once.”
The woman who had not been introduced to Jessamyn followed the doctor out of the room, winking at Jessamyn as she passed by. A nurse, perhaps? Pavel’s eyes followed the woman with a burning intensity, but Pavel said nothing.
“Shall we sit down?” asked the Viceroy. He indicated a table.
As the four sat, Pavel and Jess on one side, Harpreet and the Viceroy opposite, servers bearing refreshment trays entered the room. Silver pots of tea and coffee, along with their accoutrements, and plates of Budapesti kifli and raspberries were placed on the table, the bearers retreating silently, heads bowed.
“Allow me to pour,” said Harpreet.
The Viceroy had made no move to pour tea. He probably had never poured his own tea or coffee in his entire life, thought Jessamyn. But as she watched Harpreet’s practiced motion, her heart ached for Zussman. He would have done the task with such relish. And she would never see him again.
Pavel spoke softly at Jessamyn’s side. “They did everything they could for Zuss.” His face was frozen, expressionless. Jess could feel the pain behind the words. She squeezed his hand under the table. He squeezed back and didn’t let her pull her hand away.
“What a day of surprises this has been,” said the Viceroy, after accepting a steaming cup of kávé from Harpreet. “I am presented with a most difficult puzzle. I’ve spoken with a man purporting to be the Chancellor’s brother—”
Yevgeny was alive? Jessamyn hoped, deeply hoped it was true. Then she heard a familiar hum as a hoverchair was admitted into the room. Her breath caught, and she was on the verge of speaking her brother’s name aloud when she saw it wasn’t her brother.
It was the Chancellor’s brother.
“Yevgeny?” Jess gaped in amazement. He was alive. “I thought you were Ethan, but this is such good news!”
“Gravity,” he said, patting his hoverchair.
Jess stared at him, uncomprehending.
“I’m having a difficult time adjusting to Terran gravity,” he added, looking at his armrests. “I use a hoverchair. Just like….” He let the words dangle, the thought incomplete. He looked very like the usual sad self Jess remembered.
“I understand you are acquainted already with Yevgeny,” said the Viceroy. “He has informed me of things which will be very difficult to prove in a court of law. He informed me, as well, that his sister had to die.”
“No!” The word flew from Jessamyn’s mouth. “Lucca has to countermand her orders to destroy Mars!”
The Viceroy’s mouth quirked slightly at the interruption.
“I beg your pardon,” murmured Jess. Her neck and chest flared with heat. “But it’s what she’s trying to do. Destroy us.”
“So I am informed,” said the Viceroy, still calm. He took several raspberries from the silver platter before him using a pair of highly polished and elaborately decorated tongs to do so.
“Please, your Excellency,” began Jessamyn.
“Your Eminence,” mumbled Pavel at her side.
“Your Eminence,” said Jess. “My planet is in grave danger.”
“So Yevgeny tells me. However, considering the other things of which he has informed me, I am inclined to agree with him. Lucca must not be allowed to return to consciousness.”
“Is she … dead now? Or is she still alive?” asked Jessamyn, her eyes darting from the Viceroy to Pavel to Yevgeny, desperate for an answer.
“She’s been un-bodied,” replied the Ghost. “The process is now irreversible.”
A cold chill ran along Jessamyn’s spine. “Did she rescind the attack order before she … died?”
“No,” said the Viceroy. “But she will rescind it shortly.”
Jess frowned. Confused, she turned to Pavel.
“Please,” said the Viceroy to the Chancellor’s nephew. “Enlighten our guests from the red planet. Who better to clarify the situation?”
Pavel took a deep breath and began to explain.
51
I CAN LIVE WITH THAT
An hour later, back inside the Budapesti House of Parliament, Jessamyn’s attention was focused on her brother. He’d allowed her to clasp his hand on the ride back from the hospital. But now he was distracted, focused on his chair wafer. They both ought to be paying attention to whatever Governor General Demkovich was saying. Jess frowned at Ethan, trying to get his attention.
Then she noticed a pause in Demkovich’s remarks. Jessamyn snapped her gaze back to the Governor General.
Demkovich seemed to be awaiting a response.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, flushing. “Could you repeat that?”
“I was merely emphasizing that we still have a very long road ahead of us,” said the Governor General. “There will be inquests and hearings, a trial for Pavel and for Yevgeny, possibly some sort of trial for you, Jessamyn, although that is by no means certain, given your … citizenship.”
“I’m ready,” said Jessamyn, focusing her attention on the governor and on Elena, the lawyer retained for her representation. “I’ll answer questions from dawn to dusk, seven days a week.” Her brows furrowed. “Your weeks have seven days, right?”
Demkovich smiled softly. “How long have you been here, and you aren’t sure about such a basic fact?”
“I haven’t been living what you might call a scheduled existence.”
“The procedure was successful,” said Ethan, his attention still focused on his chair wafer. He looked up and noticed the surprised looks around the room. “I ask pardon for my interruption. I have been awaiting news of the Chancellor’s … recovery, following a hospital procedure.”
“More beauty treatments,” muttered Elena.
“Something rather more serious,” replied Ethan.
Jess looked at her brother in alarm. They were under strictest orders to reveal nothing about the Chancellor’s true fate—not even to the Governor General. The Viceroy had insisted, and Harpreet had agreed, most emphatically.
“However,” continued Ethan, “it would appear she will be well enough to attend parliament tomorrow along with Jessamyn.”
Jess relaxed. Gaspar was safely in Lucca’s body. It was a step toward the preservation of her world.
Mars Rising (Saving Mars Series 6) Page 20