Losing Mars (Saving Mars Series-3) (26 page)

Zabrina murmured an apology.

The Chancellor took in a slow, deep breath as if to calm herself.

She’s nervous
, thought Jessamyn. The realization brought a small measure of strength. On the other hand, the Chancellor wasn’t the one on her knees with her hands secured behind her back.

“I thought we’d get started using
Equidima
,” said Lucca. “Seeing as I’m stuck here for … however long it takes Zabrina to finish up.”

Jessamyn remained silent.

“It’s just there on the table beside you, dear,” said the Chancellor. “The med-patch. I believe you are familiar with their application?”

Jess stared at the woman before her, flushing. Lucca was referring, of course, to the time Jess had slapped a narcotic onto the Chancellor.

“Oh,” said Lucca. “I forgot you’re still shackled.
Release
,” she said in a tone of authority.

The bindings on Jessamyn’s wrists fell separated, although on each wrist the manacle remained, reminding Jess of the genie in the story.

“Hurry up, girl,” said Lucca. “I haven’t all evening.”

Angry words exploded from Jessamyn at last. “Are you insane? Do you seriously think I’m going to inject myself with
Equidima
?”

“Yes,” said the Chancellor, as if explaining something to a wayward child. “I think you are going to do as I request.”

“Or you’ll kill me, I suppose? Go ahead. What are you waiting for?”

The Chancellor laughed. It was a light laugh, but there was nothing merry or soft about it. “No, my dear. Should you refuse me, I will find it necessary to kill Zabrina, I’m afraid.”

“You …
What?
” sputtered Jess.

Zabrina sewed more swiftly, her lips pulling into a thin line, a furrow forming between her eyes.

“Apply the medpatch or watch me end Zabrina’s life,” said the Chancellor. The fingers of her right hand flexed slightly. “
Beg
.” The order was directed not to Jessamyn but to the woman sewing faster than ever now.

“Please, miss,” said the dressmaker. “It’s not my life that matters. But I have a sister. She’s not …
normal
. She requires special care. My position here makes the special care possible. Please, miss, please—”

From the pleading girl’s work basket, Lucca procured a wicked-looking pair of dressmaking shears.

“Stop it!” shouted Jess, peeling back the wrapping from the medpatch. She slapped it violently to her inner wrist. “Your dress is done. Get the girl out of here!”

Lucca’s red lips pulled back to reveal white teeth. “You may go, Zabrina. I’ll see you for tomorrow’s fitting.”

The young woman in grey scuttled from the room, not even taking a moment to gather her sewing kit.

“Now, then,” said the Chancellor. “Let’s talk, you and I.”

Jessamyn remembered how words had tumbled from her when Pavel had used the truth-telling drug on her months ago. She recalled as well his admission that he was worthless under its influence. Would she prove worthless under
Equidima
as well, knowing ahead of time it was flowing through her veins? Was she now, for the sake of sparing a woman she didn’t know, about to betray the world she loved?

“Secure wrists,” said the Chancellor as she approached Jess.

Jessamyn felt the manacles drawing her hands together once more—they must have been magnetically charged.

The Chancellor circumscribed a narrow arc around Jessamyn. “Why are you here?”

Jess sat back on her heels. “Gaspar tricked me into coming with him.” As before with Pavel, the answer seemed to come out of her without her volition.

Lucca let out a heavy sigh. “Why are you here
on Earth?
”

“I wanted things to be normal at home, and I thought I was in love.” Jessamyn heard the answer and was stunned by the solemn truth. As much as she’d justified everything she’d done in the name of saving her world, the truth was that she’d returned for Ethan and for Pavel.

“So you’re resistant to
Equidima
,” said Lucca, as if musing to herself. “Is it training or is it genetic alteration?”

An answer of sorts tumbled out: “We don’t practice genetic mods on Mars.” Jess realized she had a moment—just a split-second, really—where she could exercise choice as to what she said. The Chancellor had asked her two questions. She had
chosen
which one to answer.

“Of course you don’t,” said Lucca.

The Chancellor drew very near to Jessamyn until she stood just behind her and touched her hair. It seemed to Jess as if Lucca was
stroking
her hair, but in an instant Jess realized that wasn’t what she was doing at all.

Lucca, gripping a handful of Jess’s long, red hair, tugged hard, forcing Jessamyn’s head back until she faced the Chancellor behind her, upside down. Tears sprang to Jess’s eyes from the sharp pain of hairs parting company with her scalp. It was humiliating.

“How do you survive on that wretched ball of cold dirt?” murmured the Chancellor.

Jessamyn could tell it wasn’t really a question. But an answer tripped its way out regardless. “We trade tellurium for ration bars.” She was able to keep herself from saying with what frequency raids were carried out. It was evident she could exercise
some
measure of control over what she said.

But the Chancellor seemed to continue in her belief that Jess was lying—was
Equidima
-resistant.

“That’s ridiculous, child. At least form your lies with better care than that. An entire civilization surviving upon ration bars? Impossible.”

“It isn’t,” Jess replied.

The Chancellor threw Jessamyn’s head forward. Thanks to the
Equidima
, Jess felt the impulse to express relief, but she suppressed it.

“Well, I can see you’re not going to do this the
easy
way. They do you no favors in the long run, child, providing training in resisting the drug. You’ll find the traditional method of interrogation far less pleasant than this. And either way, I’ll get the truth. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather tell me everything about your mission right now?”

“I’m certain,” said Jessamyn, honestly.

“Well, then, I’ll see you in three hours’ time for a conventional interrogation.”

The Chancellor called out, “Security!” Then she turned back to Jessamyn. “I’m going to enjoy our next meeting. Probably more than I ought to.” She smiled.

“What will you do to me?” asked Jess, instantly ashamed for asking, but the inclination to speak had proved irresistible.

Lucca smiled. “I’ll apply pain and after a while you will supply answers.”

“That’s
inhuman
,” said Jessamyn, her voice fierce.

“What do
you
know of humanity? You abandoned Earth for your planet of ice, to scratch and claw out a worthless existence, hoarding resources, plotting to destroy Earth and steal what’s ours.” She spit the last words out in Jessamyn’s face.

Vituperative
, thought Jessamyn. That was the accurate description of the woman before her. She kept the thought unexpressed this time.

The Chancellor leaned forward to wipe the spittle from Jessamyn’s face. The gesture seemed tender, almost, but it was also deeply invasive and Jess felt a shiver run along her spine.

44

ONCE CALLED HOME

Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard turned his face to the sky, watching the craft that carried Jessamyn and someone who was no longer Renard away from him. The stars overhead appeared ice-cold and infinitely distant. His own heart felt as cold as the sky above, as heavy as the boulder beside which he’d sheltered.

“How could I have been so stupid?” He slammed his fists into the side of the great ship that would fly no more and then tore off at a run toward Yucca. He might not make it to the bunkers, but even the Gopher Hole would provide a measure of protection beyond what he had now.

As he ran, he berated himself. He should have seen it sooner. The signs, so clear now, ought to have sang out to him:
This is your aunt’s work: beware!
But he’d seen nothing more than a friend vying for Jessamyn’s attention.

His lungs began to burn with his exertion. The desert flew past under his feet.

The look on Jessamyn’s face as he’d destroyed the
Red Hope
—rage and hatred and despair—he would remember that look until he died. He checked the time. Annihilation in two minutes, give or take.

He had to get underground or his escape from Lucca’s body-jumping spy would be worthless. And now the self-doubts came in hard and fast. Did he do the right thing? What kind of plan was “stay behind in a town about to get blitzed,” anyway?

Stay alive
, he told himself as he ran on.
Stay alive and save Jessamyn’s life.

He saw something streaking toward Yucca. The something looked the wrong shape for what he imagined an explosive should look like. In fact, the something resembled a Hercules-class ship.

Seconds before the dirt-brown ship touched down beside him, Pavel recognized her. He dashed up the hatch as soon as it extended before him. The ship tore into the sky, and this time as he watched the heavens, he knew that the bright streaks approaching Yucca brought death and not rescue.

As Pavel caught his breath, Ethan explained. “Elsa would not settle. She whined at your seat aboard ship.”

Brian Wallace added, “And then she ran circles in here like a mad thing until Harpreet suggested we double check that the three of ye got off safely. Now do ye mind explaining what ye’re doing running out here alone?”

Pavel told the tale, steeling himself against the pain of losing Jessamyn. And he felt forming within a cold resolve to face his aunt directly. There would be no more hiding. No more subterfuge. Just him and his aunt and Jessamyn’s fate hanging in the balance. This had been the course he’d chosen the moment he’d refused to board the ship with Jessamyn.

“I need to meet with Lucca. She’ll be preparing for her investiture, which means I can find her at home,” Pavel said.

To the others, he outlined a simple plan: he would offer to exchange his life for Jessamyn’s. His aunt could have his loyalty as a surgeon or simply throw him in a dungeon so long as she agreed to free Jessamyn.

Brian Wallace argued loudly against the idea. “What’s to make ye think she’ll keep any promise she makes to ye, lad?”

“I can’t know what she’ll do,” said Pavel. “I can only control what
I
do.” It was foolhardy of him, he knew. It was irrational. But it was the only thing he could do, if he wanted to live with himself.

Ethan attempted to persuade Pavel with logic. But it was Harpreet who, in the end, sided with Pavel.

“If you feel this is what you are called to do, then we must not stand in your way. To do so would be unconscionable.”

It was also Harpreet who came up with a back-up plan should Pavel’s powers in the art of persuasive speech prove ineffective.

“Do you recall the coil of information I passed to you when I still thought I would remain behind in the prison at New Timbuktu?” she asked.

“Of course,” said Pavel. “We transferred the information to this ship and also to Eth’s hoverchair wafer.”

And then he understood why Harpreet had asked.

“Oh, wow,” he said. “It just might work, if we set things up carefully.”

And so, on the heels of his aunt’s third-term investiture as Chancellor, Pavel arrived back in Budapest and, using a hidden service entrance, he snuck into the palace he had once called home.

45

NO LONGER A BOY

Among the many emotions assaulting Pavel as he returned to his aunt’s palatial dwelling, one surprised him: Pavel was genuinely happy to see Zussman. The delight was evidently mutual—his aunt’s butler fussed over him and insisted upon preparing a dark mug of Budapesti
kávé
for Pavel.

“I could use the caffeine,” Pavel admitted. “I’m here to see my aunt.”

“Yes, sir, I assumed as much, sir.”

“So she’s won another election?”

“Yes, sir. We’re all very relieved around here. It’s the investiture tonight, sir.”

“Hmm.” Pavel took a sip of
kávé
, staring into its dark depths. “I remember asking to be allowed to stay up and watch the feed last time.” He recalled, too, how he’d thought his aunt beautiful in her gown of midnight-blue. How he’d looked forward to being old enough to escort her to the ceremony the next time she was elected. “Things have changed since then.”

“Yes, sir.” Zussman raised his eyes from the deferential half-meter above ground where he habitually rested his gaze. “You are a grown man, now, sir. Even without rebodying."

Pavel held his fingers out before him. It had been months since he’d thought about how his body remained in his possession so long after he ought to have left it. Other things had crowded out all his past until that life seemed to him a thing as insubstantial as the smoke that rose from the bonfires of Yucca.

The recollection of the desert community brought a rush of fear, and Pavel wondered what had become of the residents sheltering deep under the explosions.

"If I might be permitted, sir, I hope you will allow me to say how very good it is to see you again."

Pavel smiled. "You and I may be seeing a lot more of each other, Zuss,” said Pavel. “It’s late. You should rest.”

Zussman hesitated. “It’s just, well, sir … I must ask. Can you assure me you intend no harm to the Chancellor?”

Pavel stood and looked his aunt’s butler solemnly in the eyes. “I promise, Zuss. You know I don’t break promises. Go to bed.”

“Yes, sir. Good night, sir.” The butler turned to go.

Pavel smiled at the sound of Zussman’s shoes on the marble floors of the palace. The sound was familiar. Comforting. The opposite of anything else in his aunt’s expansive bastion, thought Pavel.

The
kávé
had brought his mind to full alertness. He had an hour, more or less, until he could expect his aunt’s click-click-click across the entryway floor. He hoped she would accept his offer. It was all he had kept, this one hope. His others he had released as he flew toward Budapest. The hope of a life with Jessamyn was gone. She might forgive his destruction of the M-class transport someday, but by the time that happened, he would no longer be free to share in her life. Not if his aunt agreed to what he proposed. And probably not if she refused, either. One way or another, Pavel's dreams of a life among the stars, shared with the girl he loved, ended here, ended tonight.