Striking Mars (The Saving Mars Series-5)

by Cidney Swanson

  She held her head high and smiled for the reporters waiting where the corridor spilled into a wider hall.

  37

  Tranquility Base, the Terran Moon

  Pavel’s vid proved to be the most successful to date in terms of both its reach and the buzz it generated. Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard fan clubs popped up overnight, one of which purported to offer one lucky winner a dinner date with the Chancellor’s nephew.

  “Um, is there something you want to tell me?” asked Jess, scanning the feeds.

  Pavel frowned. “No idea what the dinner date’s all about.”

  “Huh. Well, it’s brilliant marketing. The lure of a date with you has made the ‘Official Pavel-Mania Club’ one of the most popular feeds around. You have groupies, Pavel!” Jess grinned at Pavel, spinning the chair at her station from side to side.

  “I don’t want groupies,” said Pavel, staring gloomily at a broadcast. “I want people to focus on Lucca, not me.”

  Jess shrugged. “If you’re popular, people will listen to you. It can only help our efforts.”

  Her sentiments were echoed by her brother over their shared meal that evening.

  “Pavel’s popularity will assuredly assist our cause,” he said between bites of ration bar.

  “Exactly,” said Jess. Seeing the positive impact Pavel’s vid was having, she’d had to reverse her earlier hesitations.

  Pavel picked bits off his bar, arranging the crumbs in geometric shapes on his plate.

  Mr. Zussman observed the crumb-arranging behavior as though he would very much have liked to say something about it. However, he restrained himself.

  “This is a good thing,” Jess said, leaning over to bump her shoulder against Pavel’s. “You’ll see.”

  “They’re making it look as if I’m going on all these dinner dates and banquet dates and who knows what else,” said Pavel. “Which I will not be doing, for obvious reasons.”

  “With respect, sir,” said Mr. Zussman, “a certain percentage of fan organizations are bound to make outrageous promises. Before I joined the employ of the Chancellor, I was a bodyguard for two celebrated musicians. Such foundationless promises were regularly made on their behalf.”

  “The view counts are up on all of our other vids,” said Ethan. “I believe we underestimated the public’s hunger for this sort of broadcast.”

  “Next thing you know, I’ll be popping up to do one,” Jess chuckled. “Greetings, Earthlings, I come in peace.”

  “That would not support your goal of keeping Mars Colonial’s existence hidden,” said her brother, looking confused.

  “It was a joke,” said Jess.

  Her brother nodded.

  “Perhaps, Miss Jessamyn, there might come a time—” began Zussman.

  Jess cut him off. “No,” she said. “It was a joke. Until Mei Lo gives me direct orders to the contrary, we keep Mars out of it. That was the deal we all agreed to.” She sat up straighter, looking at her companions as if daring them to disagree with her.

  “Of course, miss,” said Zussman. “It was only a suggestion, miss.”

  The butler turned his attention to Pavel. “If you have finished, sir?”

  Pavel looked up from his uneaten ration, now rearranged into several hundred crumbs scattered haphazardly across the plate.

  “Respect the rations,” Jess muttered under her breath.

  Pavel shook the crumbs to the edge of the plate and guided the contents into his mouth.

  “There’s a missed photo-op,” said Jessamyn, shaking her head. “I really should’ve captured that for one of your fan clubs.”

  Pavel coughed, swallowed, and shook his head, glowering at Jess.

  But the fan clubs and promises of dinner dates were only the beginning. By the following morning, Pavel had received multiple offers for interviews.

  “Some of these are offering seriously crazy amounts of credits,” said Jess, sorting through the offers which Ethan had organized for Pavel’s perusal. “How would you even spend it?”

  “You’d be surprised,” said Mr. Zussman. “None of these offers would begin to cover the Chancellor’s household expenses for more than a single month.”

  “Guess you better hold out, then, huh, Pavel?” Jess shook her head.

  “As none of the requests are from major providers of news,” said Zussman, “it would be best to ignore them.”

  “The planetary feeds aren’t likely to come calling, are they?” asked Jess.

  “They will not be able to ignore us indefinitely,” predicted Mr. Zussman.

  By the following shared rations, there were half a dozen sites that claimed to have obtained an interview with Pavel. Jessamyn read a couple aloud to Pavel. He was not sufficiently amused to make it worthwhile to continue. But she found it hard to help herself.

  “Here’s a promising sounding one,” said Jess. “Pavel: The True Story of Lucca’s Long-suffering Nephew. Look at that,” she said, not even trying to hide her delight. “You’re long-suffering. Who knew?”

  “This has to stop eventually, right Zuss?” Pavel asked mournfully.

  “It might take some time, sir,” replied the butler.

  “It is illogical of you to wish for this to cease,” said Ethan. “The views on our other feeds have increased exponentially. In fact, Harpreet asked me if you would consider producing another episode detailing your aunt’s treatment of the former enclave of Yucca.”

  “You spoke to Harpreet?” asked Jess. “How is she?”

  “She reports that she is well, and safe,” replied Ethan.

  “She said she was well when she refused to be rescued from prison,” said Pavel. “So I wouldn’t put much stock in that.”

  Jessamyn’s mouth pulled into a sad sort of smile. “That’s Harpreet for you.”

  The next evening brought new broadcasts of a different nature. Speculation had begun as to the location of both Harpreet and Pavel. People who claimed to have seen one or the other of the now-celebrities were being granted lengthy interviews.

  Someone alleged he had sold a cloaked escape vehicle to Pavel so that the Chancellor’s nephew could sneak out of Budapest undetected. A communications company claimed to be supplying Pavel with access to broadcast satellites and offered, in exchange for a very large sum, to contact Pavel on behalf of anyone who wished to send him a message.

  The following day, however, the offices of the company making the offer exploded following an unfortunate gas leak.

  There were no further offers from businesses with physical addresses to provide assistance to those wishing to contact Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard.

  “People are idiots,” said Jessamyn, upon hearing of the incident.

  “People are greedy,” said her brother.

  “And idiots,” insisted Jess.

  Her brother did not disagree.

  “With that explosion, your aunt sent a clear message to those who would assist you,” said Mr. Zussman.

  Pavel rose. “I’m making another vid offering condolences to those families who lost someone in the explosion.”

  In the final cut, Pavel also added a sincere plea for those who were trying to swindle others with false promises to please stop. “You don’t know who might end up dead because of your little games. I’m not having dinner with anyone, or doing interviews with anyone. And I am definitely not giving approval to anyone who promotes this kind of thing. What’s important is that we, as a planet, examine the policies and intentions of the Chancellor. Let’s put the focus back where it should be.”

  In response to Pavel’s pleas, several new vids appeared in the next twenty-four hours that brought to light various activities the Chancellor would doubtless have preferred to keep out of the light of day. Or off of the broadcast feeds.

  In the capital city of Budapest, protesters lined the narrow streets leading to the House of Parliament, filled the grassy area before the building, and when these areas filled to capacity, river cruise operators who could bring their boats up to
the parliament building where it met the Danube River were hired to carry additional protesters.

  “I believe we have succeeded in bringing to life Lucca Brezhnaya’s worst nightmare,” said Mr. Zussman solemnly.

  “Let’s hope she doesn’t wake up anytime soon,” said Pavel.

  Let’s hope she doesn’t turn her attention to the moon anytime soon, thought Jessamyn.

  38

  Tranquility Base, the Terran Moon

  For the time being, however, the Terran Chancellor seemed to be adopting a “ride out the storm” policy. In addition, someone in her office must have suggested that this would be an excellent time to show her softer side. Official broadcast feeds were supplied with images of Lucca bringing needed supplies to hurricane-struck islands, Lucca visiting the sick in a hospital, and Lucca in the House of Parliament, approving a raise in the hourly minimum wage.

  “She’s smart,” Jessamyn said glumly as she shared the shift at the work station with Pavel.

  “The problem with my aunt is that she’s a true believer in her own goodness,” said Pavel. “And she’s good at fooling people into believing it, right alongside her.” He looked away from his wafer screen and ran his hands through his long hair. “She fooled me for years.”

  Jess heard the self-loathing in his words. “Hey, you are no fool, Pavel. Besides, you said she treated you well. That counts for something. And it would have made it nearly impossible for you to imagine her as … what she is.”

  Pavel shrugged, unconvinced. “I should have seen it a lot earlier than I did. The way she treated the staff was appalling. I just told myself she didn’t realize how her behavior affected them. I was a fool.”

  “You left as soon as you recognized the truth, Pavel,” said Jess, pulling her chair closer. “Do you realize how few people would have walked away from that life of privilege?”

  Pavel grunted, non-committal.

  “And, hey,” continued Jess, “any time you want to go up against me for number of stupid decisions, foolish trustings, or occasions of pig-headed arrogance, you just let me know.”

  Pavel’s mouth twitched into a small kind of smile.

  “I’m serious,” said Jess, raising her fists like a boxer. “Bring it on.”

  Pavel laughed and they both turned back to their screens.

  Zussman had suggested they get an idea of how many people thought the Chancellor should be stopped, and Ethan had written programs designed to scan through the millions of comments on various feed-sites, trawling for evidence that political allegiances might be changing.

  “Holy Ares,” said Jess, a lilt of surprise in her voice.

  “What?” asked Pavel.

  “I know this guy.” She pointed to a name on a list Ethan’s program was compiling.

  “You know a Terran? From where?”

  Jess shook her head. “I don’t know him know him. But I recognize his alias: Lightning Boy. It’s the name of a kid who used to play chess with Ethan. Who probably still does play chess with Ethan, actually.”

  “Lightning Boy is the kid’s a.k.a.?” asked Pavel.

  “I know. I told Eth to tell him to change his name.”

  “I used some pretty dumb-sounding aliases on the feeds when I was young,” said Pavel. “He’s probably a fan of the character ‘Lightning Boy.’ From a couple years back.”

  “That’s what Eth thought.”

  “The character is not popular anymore,” said Pavel. “Any kid calling himself by the name of an unpopular superhero could probably use a little encouragement. You should send him a little ‘thank you for your support,’ or something.”

  “You should send the thank-you yourself,” Jess said thoughtfully. “He will have actually heard of the famous Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard, after all. It wouldn’t mean as much coming from me.”

  Pavel groaned.

  “Or not,” said Jess. “I just thought it might be appreciated.”

  “I’ll send a little thank-you,” said Pavel. “But only this once. And only because the poor kid probably doesn’t have any actual friends.”

  Jess leaned over to kiss Pavel’s cheek while he recorded and sent an audio-only message.

  “I love you,” she said, when he’d finished.

  He turned, grinning. “Does this mean—”

  “It means I love you,” said Jess, cutting off a potential proposal.

  Pavel’s next vid, covering the demise of the village of Yucca, was not as frequently viewed as his initial recording, but it did provoke an interesting turn of developments.

  In response to Pavel’s vid, one of Earth’s major broadcasters did a show called “Hidden Pockets of Non-Conformity,” detailing everyday life in the Republic of Chicago, an island off the New Zealand coast, and the island of Madeira.

  Jessamyn and Pavel had been sleeping when the segment first aired, and Mr. Zussman brought them up to date over rations.

  “Does this mean trouble for Madeira?” asked Jessamyn, her ration frozen in place halfway to her mouth.

  “My sister won’t respond with a second ‘gas leak,’ if that’s what you’re worried about,” replied the Ghost. “It would raise too many questions. She really can’t afford more bad publicity.”

  Mr. Zussman added, “Lady Cameron Wallace knows how to play her cards. If I might suggest we view the segment together?”

  The group huddled around one of the large holoscreens in the Ghost’s room, and Zussman forwarded through the program to the Madeiran segment.

  Jessamyn was shocked by Cameron’s deportment. This wasn’t the bold, rebellious leader Jess knew. Cameron looked and spoke like someone completely afraid to say anything bad about Chancellor Brezhnaya or her policies.

  “What’s wrong with her?” asked Jess. “Did Lucca re-body her?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Kip sent us a message about Cameron’s performance. Evidently, it is Lady Wallace’s belief that an appearance of being too afraid to speak out would foment additional outrage against the Chancellor’s policies.”

  “I so don’t understand Terran politics,” murmured Jessamyn.

  “You’re not alone,” said Pavel.

  “So, is Madeira … safe for now?” asked Jessamyn.

  “For now, miss,” replied Zussman. “Lucca Brezhnaya is extremely vain, and she will almost certainly choose to regard Lady Wallace’s statements as evidence Madeira has been firmly put into its place. In addition, given the placating nature of Lady Wallace’s statements, the Chancellor is likely to focus her attention elsewhere.”

  Like on finding us, thought Jessamyn.

  39

  New Houston, Mars

  Mei Lo, pacing in her office before Dr. Lillian Jaarda and Dr. Samuel Gomez, kept shaking her head in disbelief, as though, because the news was good, it must not be true.

  Her brows drew together. “Lillian told me not two weeks ago that as far as terraforming was concerned, we were back at the beginning again.”

  “Well,” said Gomez, “not the beginning, exactly. Air pressure is at 160 millibars, which some forms of plant life will tolerate. Our atmosphere is thickening. Lillian’s algae is extremely promising—”

  “Yes, yes,” interrupted the Secretary. “But I seem to recall that our ability to engineer Mars-friendly organisms was lost with the destruction of Greenhouse Mars.”

  Gomez and Lillian both nodded.

  “We lost almost everything,” agreed Gomez. “Our ability to genetically engineer areophilic species, to mobilize desirable traits, to engage in enzymatic cutting and pasting: all gone. And after Greenhouse went down, the Mars Mandate changed what Plan Ag was supposed to be doing.” Gomez looked uncomfortable. “Listen, everything I’ve done, I’ve done on my own. Lillian’s not implicated in violating the mandate. Neither was Meigs. This is all on me.”

  Mei Lo looked at him, shaking her head. “Holy Ares, Gomez. You don’t think you’re in trouble, do you?”

  Gomez shrugged. “I did what I did. I have no regrets and no excuses.”


  The Secretary exhaled loudly. “You’re a hero, as far as I’m concerned. Hades, as far as Mars Colonial is concerned, if I have any say in the matter.”

  A soft flush spread over the scientist’s lined face.

  Hades and Aphrodite, thought Mei Lo, if this were true….

  “So if I understand correctly,” said Mei Lo, “you succeeded in creating a consortium of microbials that will function in harmony with one another and the extreme Marsian climate.”

  Gomez gave a slight nod. Lillian gave two vigorous ones.

  The Secretary continued, “And these microbials are capable of warming the planet, giving us a thicker atmo, consuming carbon dioxide, fixing nitrogen, and producing oxygen?” Mei Lo threw her hands up in the air. “What part of this did you think was going to land you in jail?”

  Gomez grinned. “The microbes will actually do more than just—”

  Mei Lo held up a hand. “Save the ‘more’ for Dr. Jaarda. I won’t understand it anyway. But what I do understand is that you succeeded without gene splicing or proper funding or anything else. That you succeeded beyond anything Greenhouse Mars managed to do.”

  “Well, that’s not true. Greenhouse Mars had most of the pieces in place for a large-scale planetary trial. It’s why the Terran military targeted them. Smart move, from their perspective.”

  The Secretary’s face darkened. The phrase “smart move” wasn’t one she would have chosen.

  Gomez, oblivious to Mei Lo’s thoughts on the subject, continued. “I had plenty of failures. I was about to give up on what I thought was one more dead colony when I noticed the temperature shift upward. Not by much, mind you. But it was enough to get me looking a little closer. The microbes had reproduced like crazy in the month since I’d last investigated.”

  “Incredible,” said Mei Lo, flipping through a set of notes Gomez had shared with her. “I don’t pretend to understand it all, but what I do understand is … incredible.”

  “Life will find a way,” said Gomez.

  “That’s what everyone on this planet keeps telling me,” said the Secretary, half a smile on her face.