Losing Mars (Saving Mars Series-3) (23 page)

Upon the ship’s leading edge, where before the surface had been empty, it now read:
Red Hope
.

“You did this?” asked Jess, her tone reverent. Pavel nodded.

“It had no name before, I take it?” asked Renard.

“That’s typical on former interplanetary vessels,” said Pavel. “The M-class I flew for certification didn’t have a name anymore either. The school called her
The Shaky Lady
, but that was just a nickname. All the original names were removed when the bans against space travel went into effect.”

“You cannot simply erase a part of human history like that,” remarked Harpreet.

“You can try,” said Pavel.

“
Red Hope
,” said Renard patting the side of the ship where the hold lay. “Just think about all that space in there. What will you fill it with, Jess?”

She ignored the question, with its unwelcome reminders of Cavanaugh, of how his greed had cost Mars its last great raiding ship.

“It’s time to go,” Jess said. “I need to check in with the Shirff and see if I’m in any kind of trouble or owe back-chores or something.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Renard as the four left the blast crater and climbed aboard his smaller transport.

“Ethan told me you said the villagers don’t like it when someone goes off unannounced,” said Pavel, seating himself in back with Jess. “Renard, if you’ve got a way for Jess to plead her case and come off looking like a loyal Yuccan, now would be the time for tips.”

Renard looked thoughtful for a moment. “I did say something like that, but I spoke in haste. Out of my own concern for your safety, Jessamyn.”

“Um, thanks?” she replied.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you explained the delays to the Shirff,” Renard added. “They’ll never let me marry you if you don’t behave like a proper citizen.”

Jessamyn laughed and Pavel frowned at the same time.

“What?” demanded Renard, grinning. “She could do a lot worse than me.” He winked at Pavel, and then Pavel seemed to see the humor in the claim, and Renard and Pavel dissolved into laughter, friends once more.

“I would only marry you for this fast little ship of yours,” said Jess as Renard brought them to a halt before his dwelling. “And then I would run away to Mars with Pavel when the time came, anyway.”

As the four exited the vehicle, Harpreet slipped an arm through Jessamyn’s. “Let us go to see the Shirff together. I will vouchsafe you’ve done the community no harm. The Shirff listens to me.”

The two women left Renard and Pavel and strode toward the Shirff’s underground office.

“Renard admires you, daughter,” said Harpreet.

“No,” said Jess. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on. I think … this will sound incredibly vain …”

“Go on.”

“Well, back on Mars, I used to attract a lot of attention from the younger levels in pilot training. They wanted to
be
me, I think. They would ask me a million questions, like Renard did back there, and lavish attention on me.”

“So you believe Renard does not wish to court you but that he wishes instead to
be
you?”

Jessamyn shrugged. “It makes at least as much sense as trying to get anywhere with me
romantically
. Pavel and I don’t exactly keep our feelings for each other hidden.”

Harpreet nodded slowly. “Perhaps, daughter. But be cautious. Do not break the poor boy’s heart. He’s never met anyone like you before.”

39

THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT

Lucca Brezhnaya basked in the joy of another victorious campaign. It had been a long six months leading up to this conclusion. She both loved and hated the necessity of campaigning. One learned interesting things about one’s subservients, whilst running for re-election. Occasionally she found a useful person or two along the way. But it was such a relief to have it all over and decided. And gratifying to win, as well.

Of course, had she not been declared the winner, there would have been alternatives. She’d explored them all through the decades. But she liked this body quite well and was glad she wouldn’t be forced to hijack that of the other candidate in order to remain in power.

She had one last task before retiring. One she’d been looking forward to all through the congratulatory toasts and speeches, the requisite photos and sound bites. Gaspar would contact her this evening.

She made him wait, of course, as she always made underlings wait. It kept their sense of importance appropriately low.

“Well?” she demanded lazily when she appeared before Gaspar.

“She came back,” said Gaspar. “As, you will recall, I assured you she would do.”

“Yes, I recall. Do you recall the things of which I assured you should you fail to provide me the answers I want?”

Gaspar paled and continued. “The girl insists she wants to go to Mars. To go home. And that is all. I’ve half a mind to believe her, honestly.”

“You are not being paid to believe or not believe,” decreed Lucca. “You are employed to find out the truth and report it to me.”

Gaspar bowed deeply, murmuring, “Of course, Madam Chancellor.”

“So it is your …
opinion
that the girl wishes only to return home?”

“It is. And may I just offer my congratulations upon your—”

“Silence!” Lucca paced, feline in her grace.

Gaspar felt a shudder run along his spine and hoped his employer would never consider rebodying as a large cat. She would enjoy that
far
more than would be good for any in her employ. Fortunately he’d never heard of such a rebody being attempted.

“She is fooling you,” said Lucca at last. “She is more cunning than I gave her credit for. I underestimated her. Her refusal to confide in you is simply more proof that she thinks like a soldier and not like a civilian.”

Gaspar cleared his throat softly, wishing to clarify something. “Am I in
very
bad trouble for this failure?”

Lucca stopped pacing and stared at him blankly for a moment. “Trouble? No, my dear Gaspar. I’m sure you have done everything within your …
abilities
, such as they are.” Lucca was feeling generous. And Gaspar was likely to prove useful in the future. “You are not in trouble. Not
yet
. I have a new assignment for you. Let me see, is it just daybreak where you are?”

Gaspar nodded.

“Very well. I’ll make this easy for you by giving you the cover of night. I want you to bring the Martian in so that I may question her as one questions a soldier. And my nephew. Bring the boy as well. Be sure to leave the charming enclave of … what is it called?
Yuc
?”

“Yucca, Madam Chancellor.”

“Yes, well, be certain to depart before the stroke of midnight, your time. Things will get very …
explosive
after that.”

“Midnight, Madam Chancellor. Very well, Madam Chancellor.”

“And Gaspar? One more thing. Do be sure you have the girl and boy with you when you return. Fail to bring them to me, and you may as well fly straight to New Timbuktu and check yourself in for an extended stay.”

“I will not fail you, Madam Chancellor.”

“No,” she replied. “I daresay you won’t. I might become angry enough to visit you in New Timbuktu if you were to fail this simple task.”

Her image flickered and disappeared from where Gaspar stood watching aboard the M-class ship. He allowed himself a few moments of shivering as Gaspar before taking on the persona of Renard once more. Renard had work to do today. He had to win the trust of a maiden fair and steal her away before the fireworks began at midnight. Along with the boy, of course.

Gaspar had work to do as well. Repair work. He’d disappointed the Chancellor, although she’d been in too good of a mood to punish him. There had to be something he could do to demonstrate the value of his services. What if he were to bring in one of the others, Harpreet or Brian or Kazuko or Ethan? If he brought all of them in, surely Lucca would be pleased. And if not, Gaspar knew how to turn a profit on an extra body, didn’t he?

~ ~ ~

But twelve hours later, Gaspar had reluctantly given up the hope of bringing anyone but the boy and the girl with him. And he felt flickers of concern about even that simple task at this point. From where he stood inside the M-class ship, Gaspar frowned. He’d laid careful plans earlier in the day, and he didn’t like waiting until the last minute. Midnight was less than two hours away. It had been one more thing and one more thing and one more thing. The good citizens of Yucca had little leisure, so occupied were they with the business of survival. He cursed as he examined the time.

A voice echoed from the ship’s lower levels.

“Hello?”

It was Jessamyn.

“Up here,” said Renard. “Ready to go! I told my ma I wouldn’t be up too late. Let’s get out of here.”

But when Jessamyn turned the corner onto the bridge, it became apparent she was alone. Gaspar cursed silently. He must not let his disappointment show. Not yet.

“You have no idea how excited I am,” he said, voice ebullient.

“It’ll be fun,” she said. “There’s nothing like flying a ship this size low to the ground under a full moon or two.” She looked around, puzzled. “Where’s Pavel? He said he’d meet me here.”

Gaspar frowned in perfect imitation of Renard. “I haven’t heard anything from him. I thought he’d be with you.”

“I’ll call him,” said Jess, sighing. “He probably got caught up examining some fascinating rash.”

Renard, glancing anxiously at the ship’s chronometer, listened to Jessamyn’s half of the conversation.

Jess related the other half after she’d said goodbye to Pavel.

“He’s treating a family for
head lice
. Which apparently survived the Los Angeles apocalypse.”

Renard nodded. “Anyone stupid enough to trade salvage in the City of Angels is going to regret it a week or so later when the itching gets unbearable.” This was something he’d heard since arriving.

“Well, Pavel thinks he can finish it up in another ten minutes. Do you mind waiting? It’s late. I suppose we could take the ship up tomorrow night instead.”

“No, no, no,” said Gaspar, smiling. “Tonight. We can wait.”

Looking around, Jessamyn seated herself at the helm and sighed.

“What?” asked Gaspar.

“It’s nothing,” she said, slipping both hands under her thighs as she stretched her long legs in front of her.

Gaspar pulled back just a bit. He knew that most people would talk about the most amazingly private things if you were silent and gave them room.

As he expected, Jess spoke. “Okay, it’s just, the thought of Pavel, here, on this ship …”

She looked over to Gaspar as if considering whether to complete her thought. He raised his eyebrows. Just a bit. Just enough to invite confidence.

“I don’t know if he’s got what it takes for the life I’ve lived.”

“How long have you been together?” asked Gaspar. Women loved to talk about their amours. Maybe he could get something good out of her after all. His eyes flicked to check the time.

Jessamyn laughed. “I fell in love with him somewhere between Earth and Mars. I wrote him almost every day on the return trip. But actual together time? You’ve seen most of it, right here in Yucca.”

“So you don’t really know him that well,” offered Gaspar. Maybe this was the tack he should have tried all along.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, I know how he acts under pressure. He’s fearless. And passionate. And he has a hyper-developed sense of right and wrong. He’s exactly who you want at your side in a really bad situation.”

Gaspar leaned in a few millimeters. “But?”

Jessamyn’s features rearranged themselves in furrows. “But what about everyday life? Does he have what it takes to live, day in and day out, in a harsh environment? What do you think?
Hades
, you’ve seen more of him than I have. How do you think he fits in here?”

“Well,” said Gaspar, thinking ahead to the next rivulet into which he might divert the conversation. He could see just how to manage it. He also saw a rare opportunity to speak with complete transparency. He liked these moments. They came to an impersonator rarely—the opportunity to speak frankly as both oneself and one’s assumed self. “I see a boy who was not raised to a life of deprivation,” he answered at last, speaking as both Gaspar and Renard.

Jess’s chin dropped several inches. “That’s what I’m afraid of. That, and, well … how well do I really know him?”

“About as well as you know me?” suggested Gaspar. He loved these moments, too: the times where he could say one thing with one apparent meaning while knowing he was actually saying something very amusing.

“You know that
you-and-me
is not going to happen, right?” said Jess, looking suddenly alert to that possibility.

Gaspar flashed one of Renard’s brilliant smiles. “You’re a girl in love. You’re completely smitten. I understand. Think of me as your …
confessor
: someone in whom you can confide without fear of it being repeated.” Gaspar loved flat-out lying as well. He had the best job in the world.

Jess leaned in toward Gaspar.

“So here’s the thing: Pavel does great in a pinch, but how can I know what he’ll be like after an annum—sorry, that’s about two Earth years—or after two annums? Or ten? Will he be sorry if he goes to Mars? Have I just fallen in love with the
idea
of Pavel? A Pavel who doesn’t even exist?”

It was time to turn the conversation. “Would you consider taking me to Mars?” asked Gaspar. He glanced at his chronometer. He was playing a dangerous game.

“You?” Jessamyn frowned.

“Yes.”

“Maybe,” she said. “It’s a harsh life. More so than here, in some ways.”

“Surely there would be ways for someone like me to contribute,” murmured Gaspar, bending the current of her thought toward plans, schemes, wars, plots. “I’m a good pilot. And a good marksman as well.”

“Oh,” replied Jess.

She seemed to be considering what he’d asked. He felt his heart beating a bit faster.
Yes, tell me all your schemes!