Saving Mars

by Cidney Swanson

  Inside, everyone gazed at a vid-screen from which a woman spoke, her deep voice lovely and completely free of the rasp normal for Marsians. She said, “We will prevail,” as if in conclusion, and Wallace flicked the image off.

  “I don’t trust that woman,” he muttered, shuffling toward another room.

  Jess stared at the vid-screen. “This is Marsian-made, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, aye,” replied Wallace. “You recognize the symbols, then? No one on Earth can understand it, outside the Family Wallace.” He laughed as if this amused him.

  Harpreet spoke. “The computer aids Brian Wallace in communicating with the Galleon during our stay.”

  Jess nodded. Having seen how much ash the ship kicked up when it touched down, Jessamyn understood the need to separate Wallace’s home from the landing site. Readily-available communication was a necessity.

  “Mr. Wallace?” Jessamyn glanced over to see her brother staring at his feet. He hadn’t started humming again, at least. “Would it be possible for Ethan to meet your dog?”

  Brian’s wide face broke into a generous grin. “Oh, aye. She’s a friendly one. Didn’t think Mars-folk were much for dogs.” He gave a short, sharp whistle and a blur of black-and-white rushed into the room.

  Once Wallace had introduced Ethan to his dog, the Terran disappeared into what Jess decided was a rations room before returning with a tray bearing a covered vessel that exuded dust as he set it upon a low table.

  No, Jess realized with delight, that’s steam, not dust. It was tea. Jessamyn smiled at Harpreet.

  “Who was that woman?” asked Kipper. “On the broadcast?”

  Wallace grunted as he poured out mugs of dark tea. “Och, that’s Lucca Brezhnaya, that is. Politician. I don’t trust her. Not at all. She’s up to naught that’s good.” He shook his head gloomily and poured an ivory-colored liquid into his tea. “Anyone else, a wee drop of goat milk? There’s sugar, too, somewhere …”

  The crew declined the additions.

  “The tea is delicious,” said Harpreet.

  Brian continued between sips of tea. “Lucca’s the one who brought in the Red Squadron. Bloody nuisance, they are. Any other branch of security, ye can buy them off. But don’t even think of trying that with the Red Squadron. Don’t know what she’s paying them with, but they’re bloody incorruptible.” Wallace shook his head as though this were a terrible shame. “Still, if ye’re dead set on visiting Budapest, it’s best ye know these things ahead of time.”

  “I’m afraid we must travel to Budapest,” said Harpreet. “And you will be able to provide us with the type of identity chips we require?” she asked.

  “Oh, aye. The ones identifying each of ye as members of a single family are no trouble at all. I can do those me own self. But I’ll be calling in some favors to land ye the security clearance ye’re asking for with the other set of chips.” Wallace paused, tapping both thumbs lightly on the table. “Ye do realize that double-chipping’s illegal?”

  Harpreet nodded. “It is our understanding that forced scans are also illegal.”

  Wallace shrugged, removing an outer layer of clothing. Jessamyn realized with surprise that Wallace was a very round individual. She had assumed his outer garment contributed to his bulk. It did not. She had never seen anyone so … enlarged.

  “Aye, it’s illegal, but with the attacks today …” Wallace sighed, shaking his head.

  “What attacks?” asked Jessamyn.

  “Ah,” replied Harpreet. “You missed the broadcast while you were out of doors.”

  “It’s those bloody inciters,” said Wallace. “Terrorists, they are.” He leaned in toward Jess, conspiratorially. “Gone and blown up one of the main transfer hospitals.”

  “Someone has attacked a consciousness-transfer hospital?” Ethan asked, looking up from Wallace’s dog.

  “A main one for Western Europe,” replied Wallace. “In Paris, it was. I reckon ye couldn’t have picked a better day to fly down through our atmosphere, what with all eyes turned to the breaking news.”

  “Will this make our additional mission more … difficult?” asked Ethan.

  Jess thought she saw a quick wordless exchange between Harpreet and the Captain. Were they having second thoughts about the mission?

  “It is impossible to be certain,” Harpreet said aloud. “But Wallace is correct in surmising that the Terran government’s preoccupation with inciters made it easier for us to arrive undetected. Perhaps our other task will be simplified as well.”

  “Or maybe they’ll take additional precautions that will make our job impossible,” said Kipper, glancing nervously at Ethan.

  “With regard to those security clearances,” said Wallace, “They’re going to cost extra.” He leaned back, smiling.

  Harpreet suggested that they discuss the price while the rest of the crew begin exchanging the ship’s holding bays of tellurium for ration bars.

  “Bays one through six,” Harpreet murmured.

  Jess, her brother, Kipper, and Crusty took the transport vehicle back to the Red Galleon. While the party had been inside, rain had washed several sloping hillsides clear of ash.

  “The color is amazing,” admitted Jess. She didn’t want to like Earth. But her father had been correct about her sense of wonder. The beautiful, the new, the strange—these acted upon her as surely as scent and light, pressure and sound.

  “Green looks fake,” muttered Crusty.

  “Mars will look like this one day,” said Kipper.

  The crew of four arrived at the Galleon and unloaded bars of pressed tellurium into a shelter the Wallace family had erected a century ago, refilling the emptying holds with precious ration bars. After a couple of hours had passed, Wallace and Harpreet joined the group, riding on an odd hovering craft. It looked to Jess like the top of a table, with low sides.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  Crusty was already staring at the unusual form of transportation as if eager to take it apart and find out how it worked.

  “A most exhilarating ride,” said Harpreet as she descended.

  “Hovercart,” explained Wallace. “Meant for hauling things about. Me brother’s lad makes them. I must have two dozen lying about. Darned things are always getting buried beneath the ash. Suppose I should have offered ye the use of a few …”

  Crusty stood to one side of the hovercart, running his hands over the controls so that the tiny craft moved up and down, forward and to the side.

  Brian Wallace smiled, nodded, and murmured something to Harpreet.

  “Actually, my friends,” began Harpreet, “We will be emptying bays seven and eight as well in order to compensate our friend Mr. Wallace for his additional trouble. So we will have the opportunity to utilize the hover-crafts.”

  Wallace rustled up another pair of carts, and the work was soon finished. Jessamyn, noting how much more quickly things moved by hovercart, felt irritated that Wallace hadn’t suggested the devices sooner. But Crusty pointed out the exercise worked as a good replacement for shipboard calisthenics.

  “Humph,” grunted Jess as they shifted the final load.

  “Ye’ll be wanting supper, now,” said Wallace once they’d finished. “It’s goat stew, carrots, and potatoes.” He looked at the confused faces before him. “Unless ye prefer ration bars? I have a stash somewhere in the cottage.”

  “Ration bars would be lovely,” said Harpreet.

  Jess stopped herself from saying aloud that she thought goat stew, carrots, and potatoes would be lovely. They’d been warned back at MCC that their stomachs wouldn’t tolerate rich Terran food very well. For a moment, she regretted the additional mission before them. On a regular raid for rations only, they’d have been free to simply leave Earth. They could have eaten whatever they liked and suffered bellyaches on their flight home.

  Wallace hopped aboard one of his strange carts, and Kipper drove the raiders back in their own transport for a shared evening ration. The earlier storm appeared to have mo
ved on, and Jess could see the horizon clearly. The edge of the world felt too remote, Earth too large a world. But it was when she risked a brief direct look at Sol that she gasped aloud.

  “The sun’s huge from here,” said Jess.

  “Do not look at the sun,” warned her brother.

  Jess rolled her eyes and bumped his shoulder. “I only looked for a second. I’m not an idiot.”

  “You are not,” he agreed. “But you take unnecessary risks.”

  Jessamyn flushed and threw an annoyed glance at her brother. He looked tired and she realized she felt very tired herself. They’d been up all night—the hours aboard ship had been set to coordinate to a morning landing upon the Isle of Skye. Aboard the Galleon, Ethan and Jess would have just risen for their shift. She’d missed an entire night’s rest.

  She watched the over-large sun dipping behind a hill. The flares of oranges and yellows reminded her of home and she closed her eyes. She didn’t awaken until much later. Someone must have carried her inside, because she found herself resting in a soft chair beside Brian Wallace’s rations table. A familiar copper-wrapped bar sat at an empty place—mine—she realized, and an unfamiliar scent filled her nostrils. Goat stew, she thought. It looked remarkably unappealing, except perhaps for the bright orange bits. It smelled wonderful, however, and Jess wished she could try it.

  She attuned herself to the conversation, which seemed to be a discussion of the route to their next destination: Budapest, Earth’s capitol city. In fact, it seemed they were discussing having Jessamyn accompany them there.

  “It’s not true, of course, that firsties have a better chance at a good apprenticeship simply by taking their exams in the capitol,” Brian was saying, “But it’s one of those myths that won’t die. Hope springs eternal, as the saying goes.”

  “We have that saying as well,” said Ethan.

  Brian laughed, a merry sound. “Aye, well, ye’d have to, living on the ball of dirt and ice like ye do!”

  Jessamyn saw Kipper scowling and, for once, found herself in agreement.

  Harpreet spoke quickly. “And yourself? Do you have plans to leave your island of ash and rain?”

  “The early retirement’s a blessing, indeed,” replied Wallace. “No one’s happier than me own self that ye showed a few years early. I’ve got me eye on a patch of land in the Great Victoria Desert in Australia where me goats and I could be quite happy.” He frowned, turning to look at his orchid. “Don’t know that the flowers will be too pleased about the move. I’ve a greenhouse full of ’em. But a greenhouse in the desert … seems a bit implausible, eh?”

  Crusty cleared his throat. “Not necessarily.”

  “He speaks,” said Wallace, laughing.

  “Can I see the greenhouse?” Crusty asked.

  Once the two departed, Kipper turned to Jessamyn. “A decision has been made that you will accompany us to Budapest in order to better assure your brother’s continued recovery.”

  “Brian Wallace has suggested we travel under the pretense that you are attending your apprenticeship examination,” said Harpreet. “It gives us an unassailable excuse for travel to Earth’s capitol city.”

  Jessamyn saw something in the angle of her brother’s body that told her he wasn’t at peace. Was the smallness of the room bothering him, or was it the arrangements under discussion that he didn’t like? She wanted to ask him, but not in front of Kipper. Besides, she had another more important question. “We need two people to get the Galleon back to Mars. If something goes wrong, I mean. Crusty can’t make that voyage alone. Why take all four of us to Budapest?”

  Harpreet began to explain. “We feel that it would be best for your brother if you journeyed with him. And once we arrive, of course, the Captain has been trained to assist your brother—”

  Kipper exhaled noisily. “Which means the four of us go because MCC saddled this crew with a hacking expert who apparently needs babysitting.” She marched to the door and stepped outside, slamming the door behind her.

  The room was silent. Jessamyn felt heat building along her neck and face. She rose, spitting mad, to give Kipper a piece of her mind.

  “Jessamyn,” said her brother, “No good can come of an interaction with the Captain at this time.”

  Jess turned, her face flaming. “She—she—Eth, she insulted you!”

  “She bears a great weight as captain for the success of this mission,” replied Ethan. “Also, the insult was directed toward me and not toward Jessamyn.”

  Jess looked from her brother’s face to Harpreet’s. She could hear Harpreet’s thoughts as clearly as if the old woman had spoken them aloud: Let your brother look out for himself.

  Furious, she strode around the tiny front room, wishing the items inside were hers to kick and break. Finally, the fatigue brought on by Earth’s heavier gravity brought her to a standstill and she returned to the rations table to sit.

  “My question is still perfectly valid,” said Jess. “Harpreet, why don’t you stay behind instead of me?”

  “For two reasons,” said Ethan. “Though your presence on the journey to and from Budapest will promote my well-being, I believe that, should you attempt to fulfill Harpreet’s role as lookout during the mission, I would be concerned for your safety to the degree that it would be a distraction from my task.”

  Jess recognized immediately that what Ethan said was true. He wouldn’t focus on hacking if he had her to worry about—”big brother” was too ingrained a part of his identity.

  “Also,” continued Ethan, “You do not have Harpreet’s skills as a negotiator should we find ourselves … detained.”

  Jessamyn frowned. Her brother’s rationale was, as usual, sound. “Okay, then. Crusty stays here alone. I go with you to the satellite control center.”

  “The plan is to conceal you and the transport beneath a cloaking-tarp,” said Harpreet.

  “The tarp should render your discovery highly improbable,” said Ethan, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself. He looked like he might add something, but in the end he remained silent.

  “Sounds fine,” Jess said. She hated it when her brother worried about her.

  From outside the house, Jessamyn heard Crusty and Wallace speaking.

  “Mighty convenient, not having to keep your greenhouse pressurized,” Crusty said. Looking around, he frowned. “Where’s Kip?”

  Harpreet replied, “She discovered a need for fresh air.”

  “Bells of Hades,” chuckled Crusty. “Plenty of that here.”

  The crew spent the night scattered on the floor of Brian Wallace’s living room. Jess was the last to wake the next day. Outside, she saw a sky impossibly blue and dotted with white clouds. A strong smell, vaguely sulfuric, drew Jess to the room Wallace called “kitchen.” She stared curiously at Wallace’s cooking egg, a golden orb set within a white orb.

  “A lovely morning for travel,” said Wallace, smiling as she entered.

  It’s really happening, Jessamyn thought. They were about to pit themselves against the murderers who had killed Lobster and the others. Who were they to move against such dreadful power? A recently catatonic hacker, a bookworm-pilot, a captain with a serious attitude problem, and Mars’s most friendly citizen. Assaulting a Terran satellite control facility. It was insanity. Her stomach seemed to drop through the floor.

  The vaguely sulfuric odor of Brian Wallace’s breakfast made Jess feel nauseous. Turning, she fled outside.

  Chapter Thirteen

  COLLECTING

  In the end, they left later than intended. Crusty had insisted upon giving their amphibious craft a thorough going-over.

  “I don’t see why we can’t use a flying craft,” grumbled Jess as Brian Wallace prepared a midday ration.

  “Flight is monitored whereas ground travel is not,” explained Harpreet.

  Jess snorted. She had no very fine estimation of Terran government to begin with, and interference with flight didn’t improve that opinion one bit.

&n
bsp; A cousin of Wallace’s arrived with precious scan chips which would provide the raiders with the Terran identities they would need. Ethan, who’d been quiet all morning, perked up to ask questions about the chips and their subcutaneous insertion, one into either wrist.

  “Ye’ll only want to offer one hand at a time, obviously,” remarked Brian Wallace. “Fortunately, there exists considerable disagreement upon which hand ought to be chipped. Ye can offer either, as suits at the time.”

  Harpreet offered a phrase to help the crew remember which scan chip went with which identity.

  Left for family, right for escape, Jess repeated to herself, hoping she wouldn’t have cause to use either identity. She’d never been good with rights and lefts, despite her ability to pilot her way home in a dust storm without instruments. Left for family, right for escape.

  Wallace shook each of their hands farewell in turn but hugged Harpreet. “Thank ye for the generosity ye’ve shown,” he said. “I’ll nae forget ye.” Jess thought he might be blinking back tears.

  Once they’d begun driving away from Wallace’s home, Kipper spoke sharply to Harpreet. “I hope, Negotiator, that you have not increased the expectations for future transactions with Terrans.”

  Jess snapped back, “If we get this right, there won’t be any future transactions.” To herself, she added that if they got it wrong, there wouldn’t be any future transactions either.

  Harpreet answered calmly. “Mr. Wallace has sufficient incentive to keep his excellent bargain secret from others. If he tells, he will have to part with a larger percentage.”

  “Harpreet is as generous as a dog,” said Ethan.

  “Harpreet understands human nature,” said the old raider. Laughing, she added, “But I certainly try to be like a dog, child.”

  Their route led them off the small island of Skye and onto the larger island of Great Britain. Jess hadn’t been sure the amphibious craft would keep them above water, but they arrived on the shores of the Scottish highlands unharmed. They came to the border of a wilderness preserve Wallace had spoken of and had their first opportunity to test the scan chips, as passage through the preserve cost credits.