Striking Mars (The Saving Mars Series-5)

by Cidney Swanson

  Jessamyn hadn’t said. Purposefully, as it was a Marsian production. She’d carefully stripped away all the credits to keep the origins of the vid from the Ghost.

  “I don’t think it says,” she answered, noncommittal.

  At that point, the Ghost seemed to have run out of conversation for the day and turned from her after uttering a curt, Goodbye. Although she’d been wondering if they might watch it together, she decided not to press her luck. If the Ghost hated the video, it might be better for her to clear out.

  As it happened, the Ghost was very impressed with the production of the Mars Shakespeare Company. So impressed that he paid a social call upon the Marsian group. They were sitting around the table, conversing after they had finished evening rations.

  “Oh, good, I don’t have to watch you eating,” said the Ghost, shuddering in distaste as he eyed the empty plates. “So. The Hamlet was popular. Spacers appreciate something new. Did you say you had more?”

  The question was directed to Jessamyn. Jess, however, hadn’t taken the time to strip credits from any of the other productions she had on her wafer.

  “Um,” she said, cautious. “I’ll have to look around and see what I can dig up.”

  “Do,” said the Ghost. “The ratings went through the roof on that one.”

  “Spacers would be understandably sympathetic with a setting of the play amongst asteroid miners,” Ethan said. “I believe my sister may be able to locate some additional entertainments for you.”

  “Can’t believe I’ve never run across it before,” said the Ghost. “This sort of thing would make me a very wealthy broadcast mogul. If I needed credits.” He uttered the last sentence with a choked kind of snicker.

  Then he turned and was gone without further comment.

  “Wow,” said Jess.

  “What did you give him?” asked Pavel.

  “The Mars Shakespeare Company production of Hamlet.”

  “Hamlet?” asked Pavel, dubious. “As in, Prince of Denmark?”

  “This one was set on a mining colony. It’s really good.”

  “It received the highest accolades on Mars,” said Ethan, “winning several awards for excellence and ensuring future funding for the company. Although Mars has nothing like the facilities or funding for entertainment that the Terran population enjoys.”

  “More money does not a better play make,” said Zussman, quietly gathering plates from the table.

  “You pulled out anything that could give it away as Marsian, right?” asked Pavel.

  “No,” said Jess, “I totally left in the credits and this interview by New Houston’s top film critic.” She punched Pavel on the shoulder. “I’m not an idiot, idiot.”

  “It was a reasonable question,” said Ethan, “given the tenuous nature of our residency here. Pavel was merely encouraging caution.”

  But the nature of their relationship with the Ghost was becoming anything but tenuous. The solitary dweller seemed everyday to find a different reason for calling upon his new friends. An admiring remark regarding the fine press of Zussman’s suit led to an offer on the butler’s part to attend to the Ghost’s habillements. Ethan made several suggestions to improve the distribution of downloadable items from station 92-AE which the Ghost implemented, with gratitude. Jess continued to provide content the Ghost had never before seen, which amazed and delighted him.

  If fact, Pavel was the only member of the crew who didn’t seem to be spending much time with the Ghost.

  “He doesn’t seem that interested in me,” Pavel told Harpreet one evening when the crew was enjoying a vid-chat with the Marsians remaining in Madeira.

  “It’s just as well,” remarked Harpreet. “You have a high-profile visage. We would not wish for him to surmise your identity and report you.”

  “Maybe he has, for all I know,” said Pavel.

  “That reminds me,” said Harpreet, changing the subject. “I spoke with someone this week who wished to be remembered to you.”

  “Me?”

  “Indeed,” replied Harpreet. “Do you remember a young woman called Talia who served in your aunt’s residence?”

  Pavel nodded. “Talia? Sure. She used to cook for me. Made the best kifli in all Budapest. Is she all right?” His stomach felt suddenly cold as he remembered the day his aunt had made threats against Talia’s safety in order to ensure Pavel’s cooperation.

  Harpreet affirmed that Talia was well and safe and then told of the increasing numbers of present and former employees of Lucca Brezhnaya who were sharing with Harpreet tales of theft, graft, and the abuse of the Re-body Program.

  “I’ll send you some of the anecdotes I’ve collected on irregularities from the former Head of Global Consciousness Transfer,” said Harpreet. “It’s not cheerful reading, I can tell you.”

  Nor was it.

  Later that evening, Jessamyn found Pavel in the cavernous room with the leather couch. The couch was an ancient brown affair, obviously manufactured on Earth. It looked completely out of place among the practical, minimal furnishings of Tranquility Base. It creaked noisily if you so much as blinked while seated on it, and Jess loved it very, very much.

  “No leather on Mars,” she’d said, when Zussman asked why she favored the couch.

  Pavel sat on it now, buried in the reports detailing how many lives had been “accidentally” lost during re-body transfers. The original consciousnesses were lost; in every case, the bodies were retained and given in secret to those who would otherwise have been unbodied following their fourth re-body.

  “Hey,” said Jess, after reading a few paragraphs over Pavel’s shoulder. “You don’t have to memorize that stuff, you know. It’s not like there’s a quiz.”

  Pavel shook his head sadly. “Something has to be done about it. My aunt’s made a complete farce of the Re-body Program. The program is meant to bring peace and civil concord. The best possible lives for the greatest possible number. That was the original slogan.”

  Jessamyn didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s meant to help people. Ordinary people,” Pavel said.

  Jess reached down and closed the wafer’s bright screen. “Things fall apart,” she said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Pavel.

  “I guess I don’t know, exactly,” she admitted, pushing Pavel along the low couch to make room for herself. “It’s something Crusty used to say when a ship had to be stripped for parts.”

  “Things fall apart,” muttered Pavel. “That sums up Earth under my aunt’s thumb.”

  “Mars came close to suffering the same fate,” she said softly.

  Pavel grunted. He leaned until his head rested on her shoulder. “How are you doing these days, living in exile millions of kilometers from home?”

  “Okay, I guess,” said Jess. “I can bear it now that I know things are going back to the way they were.”

  “Back to the way they were? Not likely,” said Pavel.

  Jessamyn shifted, forcing Pavel to lift his head off her shoulder. “Don’t say that,” she said sharply.

  “I just mean, things never go back. You’re the one who just told me ‘things fall apart.’ You’ve got to recognize Mars will never go back to being the Mars you knew.”

  “It has to,” insisted Jessamyn. She couldn’t bear it if home wasn’t home anymore.

  The two sat side by side, neither touching the other, neither speaking for several quiet minutes. At last Pavel spoke again, his voice low and soft.

  “Listen, Jess. When I lost my parents, all I could think of was how I couldn’t wait for life to get back to normal. I just wanted things back the way they used to be. It wasn’t a rational desire. I was too young to question how likely it was for my life to ever return to normal. Zuss sat me down one day.”

  Pavel rubbed one of his thumbs slowly along the other, and for a moment it seemed to Jessamyn he was lost in that childhood once more. But he spoke again. “He told me something I never forgot. He said to me, ‘You ca
n’t have them back, Pavel, and that means you can’t ever have your old life back again. You can only choose how you will go forward without them.’”

  Pavel took Jessamyn’s hand in his own, winding their fingers together. “Mars’s future is the same,” he said. “Stuff happened. People lost things along the way. People saw things differently because of that snake Cavanaugh. And they can’t un-see those things. Not to mention my aunt’s interference. Mars can’t go back any more than I could, Jess.”

  Jess shook her head. “I don’t believe that. Things will go back now Mei Lo’s position is secure. They have to go back. They will.”

  Pavel’s head shook so slightly that it was almost like she imagined it.

  She touched the side of his face, pushing back the long strands of hair no one had found time to trim. She saw the sadness in his eyes and turned away. But his words echoed in her mind.

  You can only choose how you will go forward.

  11

  Budapest, Earth

  Chancellor Lucca Brezhnaya had a devil of a time pulling together funding for her Mission Against Mars. She’d considered bringing her plans into the light of day, running things through government and military channels. But, in the end, she’d wanted to keep the mission a secret, which meant she’d had to dig deep into personal coffers meant to sustain her in an old age she’d not yet determined when to begin.

  This irritated her for several days, but really, she was just exchanging one form of wealth for another. After the current life forms had been eliminated from the red planet, she would have access to limitless wealth in the form of tellurium, the metal so rare on Earth and so necessary for the Re-body Program.

  She’d hoped to send six ships to do the job after consulting with Vladim Wu, currently in residence at New Timbuktu. But when she contacted aerospace contractors, she learned sending this number of ships would be impossible within the next decade. She’d been lucky to find two ships capable of striking Mars.

  Lucca scowled remembering the recommendation that she wait three months until the two planets were better aligned for launching her offensive. No, she knew she was right to send them now and additional fuel costs be damned. She was paying the bills, wasn’t she?

  It mattered little to her that the time elapsed would encompass the same five and one-half months regardless of launch date. But it mattered a great deal knowing no unforeseen circumstances could prevent the launch from taking place now that it was a fait accompli. She had ensured herself several months of better sleep by sending them on their way now.

  And Lucca valued her sleep, valued the appearance of radiant health that a good night’s sleep provided. Say what you pleased about the unfairness of it: a pretty face helped to get things done.

  Five and one-half months. Lucca sighed, turning to look out her window. The lawns in front of the House of Parliament were scattered with picnickers and children playing miniature football matches. Because of her, Earth enjoyed peace and relative prosperity. Because of her.

  Lucca smiled upon the happy prospect below. In five and one-half months, Earth would have something new to celebrate: unlimited access to tellurium. It would mean new jobs. Entire new industries, in fact, since more ships and, eventually, settlers, would need to be sent once the planet had been cleansed.

  Observing a mother and father rising from their place on the grass to push a hover-pram, Lucca gave a small laugh. She was to be a mother of a new world. She laughed again, bringing the tips of her fingers to her mouth as she watched the family depart.

  Lucca clapped her palms softly together. “Well done, you!”

  12

  Tranquility Base, the Terran Moon

  A week later the Ghost interrupted the evening meal wearing a grin so broad Jess thought it looked painful. His interruptions had become more and more frequent. Jessamyn had invited him to join them for evening meals, but he'd made a face and declined. She still didn't pretend to understand his quirks, such as his dislike for eating, but she hadn't pressed the point.

  Tonight, as he did most evenings, the Ghost appeared five minutes after everyone had consumed the last bite of their rations.

  “Guess what I’ve heard?” their host asked, making small bounces on his toes as he stood before them.

  Jessamyn thought it must have been something very special, indeed. The bounces were a sure sign he was happy.

  “I’ll tell you,” the Ghost said. “Because you will never guess. Of course, you must promise not to say anything either. Not that any of you are going anywhere anytime soon.” He gave a tiny laugh.

  “Pray, enlighten us,” asked Mr. Zussman, in his calm tones.

  The Ghost made another three little bounces before he could bring himself to divulge his great secret.

  “Very soon, the Martians won’t be able to attack us. After all my years of vigilance and all the warnings I’ve sent to Budapest! At last, at last, something is to be done.”

  When no one at the table offered congratulations, his smile sagged a bit as if he were irritated by their cold reception of his news.

  “You do realize this affects the entire world, yourselves included?” asked the Ghost. “Living on the Moon is no guarantee of safety against the Martian hordes.”

  “Martian hordes?” asked Jessamyn at last. “What are you talking about?”

  “The invasion,” said the Ghost, shaking both his hands with his fingers splayed. “The Martian invasion. It’s not going to happen. Because someone—” Here he broke off and laughed giddily. “It would appear someone has finally decided to take the threat seriously and launch a pre-emptive strike.”

  Jess’s tongue froze in her mouth.

  “You will forgive our lack of enthusiasm,” said Ethan, speaking slowly, deliberately. “We have not been accustomed to thinking of the inhabitants of Mars as posing a threat to our safety.”

  “Then you are all very much stupider than I took you for,” said the Ghost. “Good evening.” And with that he disappeared into the gloom of the corridor leading away from the rations room.

  “Holy Ares,” whispered Jessamyn.

  “It might not be true,” said Pavel. “You've got to admit, he seems a bit … unstable at times.”

  “Unfortunately, such a strike would be consistent with the Chancellor’s behavior to date,” said Ethan.

  “Indeed, sir,” said Zussman. “If you will all please excuse me, I have some comms to make.”

  The butler departed, so distracted he didn’t wipe down the table for crumbs.

  “That’s it,” whispered Jess. “If the Ghost is right, it spells the end of life on Mars.”

  Beside her, Ethan and Pavel argued their way through compelling arguments as to why the Ghost might be mistaken, or confused, or not entirely in possession of his faculties, but Jessamyn’s mind was far away, seeing a battalion of ships on its way to Mars Colonial, which waited, defenseless and uninformed.

  Half an hour later, Zussman returned looking pale.

  “I very much regret to inform you that what our host said appears to be true,” he said. “According to a source I would trust with my life, an attack has been launched by the Chancellor.”

  13

  Tranquility Base, the Terran Moon

  The Ghost fretted over what to do about his new friend Mr. Zussman. The Ghost recognized the name Zussman. It was a name that meant trouble. Discord. Disharmony. Disruption.

  Because he liked none of these things, the Ghost had been content to know nothing about Mr. Zussman that Mr. Zussman did not himself tell the Ghost. But the tickling feeling that there was something of trouble attached to the name of Zussman would not go away. And so, reluctantly, the Ghost entered the name of his new friend into his wafer.

  What he learned increased his distress: Zussman was indeed the name of Sister’s traitorous butler. However, that Zussman was dead. He’d been killed in a high speed chase through the European Alps. But once the Ghost knew that the name and the profession matched, he could not resi
st looking for a picture of Zussman, and once he found a picture, the Ghost became very, very despondent.

  His new friend was Sister’s enemy.

  Not that he and Sister saw eye to eye on all subjects or all persons. The Ghost had frequently wished to curb some of Sister’s distasteful behaviors and to cure some of her bad habits. But the facts looked grim when it came to Mr. Zussman. The butler on the Moon looked like the butler who had served Sister. In choosing to live here, so far from Earth, he was obviously hiding.

  Which meant the Ghost really ought to learn a thing or two about Zussman’s companions. He plunged into his database, and, a few hours later, things were much clearer to the Ghost.

  He wished he could un-know what he had learned. But there was no un-knowing these simple facts: his new friends were, every last one of them, enemies of Sister.

  14

  Tranquility Base, the Terran Moon

  “If an attack has been launched against Mars,” said Jessamyn, “I think we can assume Lucca Brezhnaya is behind it.” Her hands gripped the rations table, her fingertips pressing so firmly they had turned white, the nailbeds contrasting brightly pink.

  “Mr. Zussman,” continued Jessamyn, “in your estimation, how many M-class ships would Lucca have to throw at MCC?”

  “I can answer that,” said Pavel. “Jumble told me there was a graveyard of old Mars Class vessels and that two of them could be resurrected with just a few months’ work.”

  Jess swallowed hard. “Even one M-class means a lot of potential firepower,” she murmured.

  “More than enough to destroy all life on Mars by targeting essential structures,” said Ethan.

  Her brother’s uninflected speech made the statement sound colder than he intended. Jess knew this, but she couldn’t help frowning at him.

  “We have to do something,” she said. “We have to stop her.”

  “Without a ship?” asked Pavel. “Without an army?”

  “It’s too late to stop the ships in a military engagement,” said Jessamyn. “But it’s not too late to take Lucca hostage and force her to countermand her orders.”