Striking Mars (The Saving Mars Series-5)

by Cidney Swanson

  Kipper grinned and addressed Jessamyn. “You should have seen me land Cameron’s new Sky Cruiser last night, Jess.”

  “Tell them your thoughts on the campaign, daughter,” Harpreet said to Kipper. To the rest, Harpreet apologized. “We’re expecting a visit from Lucca’s policing force shortly.”

  “So here’s where I suggest we start,” said Kipper. She described a six-point campaign to ruin the reputation of the most highly visible — and currently well-regarded — member of the Terran government in over a century. If it bore an eerie resemblance to Cavanaugh’s dual campaigns against his sister and against Mei Lo, no one was complaining.

  But it included one line of thinking that Jessamyn rejected utterly: Kipper wanted Terrans to know about Lucca’s attacks, past and planned, on the Mars Colony. Jessamyn argued passionately against the idea, and Harpreet admitted certain misgivings of her own.

  “I cannot recommend we tell Earth of the Mars Colony’s existence without the agreement of all members of our Raiding party,” she said.

  The comm with Madeira was interrupted by the arrival, at Cameron’s castle, of Lucca’s peace-keeping troops. The group on the Moon continued their discussion, however, arguing about whether or not to include Mars in the campaign against Lucca.

  “How can we hold back one of the most damning pieces of information against my aunt?” asked Pavel. “You can’t be serious.”

  “You bet your winter mittens I’m serious,” snapped Jess. “This should not be news to you, Pavel. I believe in a free and independent Mars.”

  “I know, I know,” said Pavel. “But I don’t see why Mars can’t be free and independent if Earth finds out the colony survived. We start at the beginning: the No Contact Accords. We examine why they were signed: ‘Keep quiet or we annihilate you.’ It all fits right into the evidence we have about Lucca messing with the Re-body Program.”

  Jessamyn stared coldly at Pavel. “Are you accusing my world of collusion?”

  Pavel threw his hands up in exasperation. “Of course not. What my government asked of yours was profoundly unethical. Mars comes out of this an underdog, not a colluder.”

  “Miss Jessamyn, I believe Master Pavel is correct in his assessment that sympathies would be aroused most favorably toward your world should we expose its survival into this present age.”

  “Absolutely not. We leave Mars out of it.” She turned to her brother. “Come on, Eth, back me up here. You know exposing Mars would have terrible consequences.”

  Her brother’s brows drew together slightly and he cast his gaze downward. “I am not persuaded to the extent that you are persuaded in this regard. I believe secrecy offers many benefits — primarily political — to Mars Colonial. However, I am not certain these benefits would not be counterweighted by benefits of a technological or economic nature.”

  Jess shook her head in exasperation. She paced the length of the tiny room several times before responding. “I insist that we leave Mars out of this plan. And that will be my recommendation to Mei Lo during next month’s transmission.”

  “No way can we afford to waste a month sitting around before we move forward,” said Pavel.

  “We have to move forward before that,” agreed Jessamyn. “But we do it my way. Mars stays out of it.”

  “I believe the Chancellor has left lying about more than enough of the proverbial rope with which to hang herself,” said Zussman.

  “Agreed,” said Jessamyn.

  “Agreed,” said Pavel.

  “I do not disagree,” said Ethan.

  “Then we move forward,” said Jessamyn.

  After this, the team relayed an outline of their ideas to the Ghost over rations.

  “It has to be done,” he said, his mouth turning down. “It’s a devastating plan. You people are much smarter than I gave you credit for back when you blew up the docking ring on my space station.”

  Jessamyn turned to the others, raising her eyebrows. “Should I tell him about the explosion?”

  Pavel and Ethan nodded. Zussman, with a stoic expression on his face, said, “If you feel it would be for the best, Miss Jessamyn.”

  “About that incident,” said Jessamyn to the Ghost. “We didn’t exactly tell you the whole story about what happened back there.”

  “Go on, then,” said the Ghost. “Surprise me for a change.”

  After they told Yevgeny of his sister’s attack on the station, he seemed rather quieter than usual.

  Jessamyn murmured to him in an undertone, “Are you okay?”

  He brought the sides of his mouth upward, but it was an approximation of a smile and did not reach his eyes. “I should speak to you. You and Pavel,” he added. “Alone.” Tactfulness not being his strong suit, he didn’t lower his voice.

  “It is high time Mister Jaarda and I retired for sleep,” said Zussman, gracefully arranging for Yevgeny, Jessamyn, and Pavel to have privacy.

  “Let’s get comfortable, at least,” said Pavel, leading the way to the room with the leather couch.

  The three arranged themselves, Pavel and Jess on the couch, Yevgeny opposite them in an ugly metal chair.

  Pavel shifted closer to Jessamyn. The leather couch creaked and settled.

  The Ghost’s sad frown reappeared. “I used to believe Sister sent me this couch to be kind. But now I think she must have done it to remind me of her power over me.”

  “Um, it’s a couch,” said Pavel. “Not a picture of her Red Squadron Forces buddies. I think it’s fair to guess she sent it because she just, you know, loves you,” said Pavel.

  “I don’t think Lucca Brezhnaya has ever loved anyone except for Lucca Brezhnaya,” replied the Ghost.

  Pavel exhaled loudly through his nose. Jess knew this was something he did when he agreed with someone but didn’t want to come right out and say it.

  “I loved someone once, you know,” said the Ghost. His stared at the couch and seemed lost in thought for a moment. “That was a long time ago. And it is not what I wished to discuss with you.” The Ghost sighed heavily. “Ten years ago, I caught a distress signal on one of my monitors.”

  Pavel leaned forward slightly, the couch creaking as he did so.

  “It originated at the New Terra Space Station,” said Yevgeny. “The station had been closed for a century. Off limits.”

  Jessamyn’s eyes flickered to Pavel’s face. His color had gone and his eyes were focused on his hands.

  “I wanted to help them,” said the Ghost.

  Jess took one of Pavel’s hands into hers. It was ice cold and still.

  “I know,” Pavel said, his voice graveled and low. “I know about my parents.”

  “You know?” asked the Ghost.

  “I looked through that record you keep of your rescues.”

  “Ah,” said the Ghost. “Of course.” His mouth turned downward. “I tried,” he said. His voice was soft as a child’s. “I tried,” he repeated. A single tear spilled from his eyes. And then another.

  “Hey,” Jessamyn said gently. “It’s okay.” She looked from Yevgeny to Pavel, uncertain who needed comfort most. Less certain she had anything to offer. Harpreet would have known what to do. What to say.

  “Pavel’s parents died,” said Yevgeny. “And I could have saved them.”

  Jessamyn reached forward, tentatively placing a hand on Yevgeny’s upper arm. “We’ve seen how many people you rescued. It’s inspiring.”

  “No,” said the Ghost, shaking his head rapidly. “No. You haven’t heard everything. The day they died, Sister asked me to do something which I very much regret I agreed to do.”

  Jessamyn felt a tingle of cold in her belly.

  “Actually, she asked me to not do something, and I agreed to not do it.” The Ghost’s face contorted as the memory struck him, but he continued. “She asked me to ignore the distress signal sent out by a pair of citizens who had broken the three hundred kilometer ban to board the New Terra Space Station.”

  Jessamyn’s hand withdrew from where
it rested on Yevgeny’s shoulder as though it had been stung.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Sister knew who they were. She knew because I told her. I thought she would want to send help. I wanted to save them. It is what the Ghost does. It is what makes the years bearable. I wanted to save them. But I didn’t.”

  Pavel’s hand had slipped free of hers.

  What was the Ghost confessing? He’d knowingly allowed Pavel’s parents to die? Jessamyn shivered.

  “It’s—” Pavel broke off, swallowed, and tried again. “It’s okay.”

  “I don’t understand how you can say that,” said the Ghost, looking up from his tears.

  Neither did Jessamyn. She recoiled. From Yevgeny, from Pavel.

  “You’re not the only person Lucca’s talked into doing something they know is wrong,” said Pavel. “I get it, man. She’s your family. You wanted to see her in the best possible light. And she always, always knows which buttons to punch.” Pavel took his head in his hands.

  Jessamyn felt ill. She wanted Pavel to rage at the Ghost. To refuse to forgive him. But this wasn’t about her; she forced herself to remain on the couch, rigid, silent.

  “You understand she is not your real aunt?” asked the Ghost.

  Pavel shrugged. “She raised me. That’s as real as it gets.”

  The Ghost’s brows furrowed over his deep set eyes.

  “She gave me a home,” said Pavel. “An education. Friends. Well, not friends my own age, of course. The Chancellor’s nephew can’t be seen fraternizing with just anyone. But I had Zuss, Jumble, a handful of others who grew me up the best they could.”

  “She did care for you, you know,” said the Ghost, his voice so soft Jess could barely hear it.

  “In her limited way,” said Pavel, “she did.”

  “In her limited way.” The Ghost nodded.

  The two sat without speaking, the only sound in the room the ancient leather couch, groaning as Pavel shifted.

  “I am so sorry,” said the Ghost at last. His face crumpled, seeming to shrink into a network of creases and folds, his eyes tightly closed slashes emitting a steady flow of tears.

  “I know, man,” said Pavel, rising.

  He placed an arm around the Ghost’s shoulders.

  “I forgive you, for what it’s worth,” said Pavel. “She made me do stuff, too. It doesn’t mean that’s who you are.”

  Pavel slipped from the room, and for a brief handful of seconds, Jessamyn remained. But she couldn’t stay in the room with this man she’d befriended, this man who had betrayed Pavel.

  Swiftly, she rose and left as well.

  23

  New Houston, Mars

  In spite of Crusty’s belief that Mei Lo could not safely tell the population of Mars about the secret that had been passed through the annums from CEO to CEO, the Secretary General decided to tell a few key members of her staff and council, General Mendoza among them.

  To say that they were shocked would have been a severe understatement. They were outraged. And some, whom Mei Lo knew to have slight leanings toward open relations with Earth, were gravely saddened.

  But Mendoza was worried, and that made Mei Lo more worried than she had been before. She arranged for a private conversation with Mendoza after the initial revelation had been made.

  “This information must not be released to the general public,” said Mendoza. “It’s much too dangerous.”

  He cited the reason Mei Lo had repeated to herself thousands of times before: If some fool were to get it in their head to try and threaten the Terran government with the information.…

  “We’d have virtually no defense against what the Terran military might send our way,” concluded Mendoza.

  “You heard what the Chancellor’s nephew said,” replied Mei Lo.

  “That Lucca Brezhnaya wouldn’t go to the additional expense and trouble to attack us again?” asked Mendoza. He made a snorting noise. “I don’t think that we can base our military response on the young man’s gut feelings.”

  “Our response?” said Mei Lo, with a short bitter laugh. “In what possible way are we in a position to respond?”

  “We’re not,” agreed Mendoza, “but we need to adopt a posture. I’m sorry, Mei Lo. This secret has to remain hidden. We can’t afford to hand the Terran Chancellor a reason to come after us.”

  “I know, I know.” Clenching both hands, Mei Lo ground her nails into her palms.

  “And we can’t ignore the fact that an attack could come at any time. We need to prepare.”

  That had been the extent of their conversation. They both knew the state of planetary resources at the moment. There weren’t any to spare. The schools were still shut down. Inter-city commerce was sluggish. Ordinary citizens had air, water, food, and shelter, but not much else.

  Where would they get the resources it would take to defend themselves against an attack that might never come? Mei Lo’s nails bit into her palms once again, and suddenly she wished she could grab a planet hopper and fly far away from New Houston.

  But she had work to do.

  “The Secretary General can fly all she likes when she retires,” she said aloud, staring down her desk.

  But staring at the memorandums and requests and communiqués on her desk, she found she couldn’t bear another minute in her office. Would it really hurt if she snuck out for a few minutes of fresh air?

  The Secretary sighed at the antiquated phrase, leftover from their ancestors who had literally stepped outside when they wanted fresh air. On Mars, you stepped outside when you wanted suit air. As this was often cleaner than what cycled through high-traffic office buildings, the phrase “step out for some fresh air” had persisted on Mars.

  She made it to the airlock without interruption; hardly anyone was still working this late. After suiting up, she passed through the airlock and stepped outside. The sun was setting on a fine New Houston evening, the light purpling slightly as daylight faded. Mei Lo sighed. It was splendid.

  Staring at the barren plain stretching away before her, Mei Lo wondered if her ancestors would have just given up and gone back to Earth if they’d known how much longer than their original estimates it would take to create an independent Mars. She doubted it, though.

  Overhead, the purple sky turned to deep maroon and then black. The Three Tilapia popped out, bright spots cut from the darkening sky. The Secretary smiled softly.

  No, if she’d been here way back at the beginning, and they’d told her how long it would take, she would have stayed anyway.

  “For the love of Mars,” she murmured to the plain sprawling before her.

  She leaned forward, picking a small pebble from the ground to carry back to her desk. And then, after shooting a quick well-wish to the region of sky where Earth would later be visible, the Secretary General returned to the work awaiting her in her office.

  24

  Tranquility Base, the Terran Moon

  Jess paced along an empty tunnel while Pavel leaned against one side of it, kicking his foot against the permacrete wall. “He says he’s sorry, so why can’t you just let it go?”

  “I’m sure he is. Very sorry,” said Jessamyn. “But I can’t believe he had the nerve to accept your forgiveness.” She strode back and forth, restless, frustrated.

  “Jess,” said Pavel. “He would never have forgiven himself.”

  “Maybe he shouldn’t,” said Jess.

  “Hey,” said Pavel, stepping away from the wall to block Jessamyn’s path. “This is between me and the Ghost. No one’s asking you to understand.”

  “Or forgive him,” muttered Jess.

  “Oh, for the love of muffins.” Pavel threw both hands up and stepped away.

  Jessamyn regarded him in silence. “Did you seriously just say ‘for the love of muffins’?” A small snort broke out from her nose. “It’s mittens. Mittens. Or fuzzy slippers, if you’re really upset.” She looked at the ceiling, muttering, “Muffins. Honestly.”

 
Pavel shook his head and leaned into the wall once more. His voice calmer, he spoke again. “I don’t get why you’re so upset about this. It isn’t new news. They weren’t your parents. Why is this hitting you so hard?”

  “I don’t know.” Jessamyn came to a halt beside him. She fingered the edge of one of her sleeves where the fabric was wearing thin. “I liked him. The Ghost. Yevgeny. I was starting to think of him as a friend. As one of us. But then … this.”

  “I know,” said Pavel. He draped an arm across her back, pulled her closer.

  “He could have saved them.” Her voice dropped. “You could have had parents, Pavel.”

  “Listen, Yevgeny didn’t say what Lucca used to persuade him, but I promise you it wasn’t just a simple request. That’s not how she works. She would have put it in terms that he couldn’t refuse.”

  Pavel looked down at the floor for several seconds. “You remember waking up on that operating table in New Kelen with me there to assist with your re-body? You were there because of me, Jess. Because she gave me a choice between two horribly wrong things, and I chose the one I thought I could live with.”

  Jessamyn exhaled slowly, and as she did, she shed her anger, like ice sublimating on the Marsian surface, invisibly but surely vanishing.

  “You think Yevgeny chose what he could live with?” she asked at last.

  “I’m sure of it. Trust me, whatever was behind door number two was way worse.”

  “Not for you,” said Jessamyn.

  “Jess,” said Pavel. Softly, he pulled her face toward his. His breath warmed her cheeks, her lips. “Jess, I never would’ve met you if things hadn’t gone the way they did.”

  Jessamyn rested her forehead against his.

  “Yeah. I guess a part of me just doesn’t like to see you taking things so well,” she said at last. “When you go all Harpreet on me like that, it makes me wonder how I’m ever going to make a life with you. I can’t measure up to that.”

  Pavel scoffed. “I’m no saint, Jessamyn.”

  Jess raised her gaze from her sleeve and gave Pavel a look that expressed doubt. “You’re light years ahead of me.”