Losing Mars (Saving Mars Series-3) (31 page)

“Take this valley,” said Pavel. “I’ve got an idea.”

The next valley was crawling with transports.

“You trying to get me to crash this thing?” hollered Jess.

“There,” said Pavel, pointing ahead. “That group of ships—they’re dinner cruise-liners. You want to take a hover-cruise?”

“Are you insane?”

“Bring us down atop one of the large ones,” said Pavel. “You can manage it, easy.”

Jessamyn frowned. “Easy” wasn’t the word she’d have chosen.

“Wake Zussman up,” she said. “I’m setting the ship to pause for thirty seconds and then continue on—with or without us aboard.”

“Perfect,” said Pavel, offering a nasal stimulant to wake his old friend.

“We have to get off the ship fast,” said Jess.

Zussman woke and begged leave to apologize for having passed out.

“Wait,” said Jessamyn. “Bonhoeffer’s last confession or whatever.”

“Oh, man,” said Pavel. His fingers danced across the ship’s wafer and then he placed his handheld wafer over the surface. “Got it,” he said. “Let’s go!”

Jessamyn brought the Atlas-class ship just above the hover-cruiser, over a surface that appeared to be intended as a landing for emergency vehicles. The hatch of Bonhoeffer’s ship opened, allowing an icy wind to blow into their craft. The trio spilled from their ship, landing with three distinct thuds upon the top of the hover-cruiser.

Bonhoeffer’s ship took off up the valley ahead.

“I thought you said thirty seconds,” said Pavel.

“I figured it would be safer if we could do it faster,” replied Jess, shrugging. “We made it, so no problem.”

The three felt the whoosh of a trio of RSF ships in hot pursuit of the Atlas-class vessel. The Atlas ship was moving rapidly away from the tourist ships when two more missiles tore ahead and slammed into Bonhoeffer’s ship, creating an explosive fire-ball that brought tourists up on deck.

Several recorded the exploding ship amid cries of wonder and fear.

“
Is it for a vid, do you think?
”

“
It must’ve been
.”

Zussman cleared his throat. “How terribly exciting.”

Jess felt her legs turning to jelly. “Let’s get below-decks,” she murmured to Pavel.

The three, anonymous, made their way among the unsuspecting gawkers to an elevator.

“I believe I can safely declare us out of danger,” said Zussman as they stepped inside the enclosure. “Thanks to your, ah, extremely enervating piloting, Miss Jessamyn.”

“Thanks to you, too, Zuss,” said Pavel.

Jessamyn watched, smiling, as Pavel embarrassed his aunt’s former butler with another very large, very extended hug. And then, while the elevator descended, Pavel turned to Jessamyn and held her as though afraid she would fly away, transformed into a winged thing.

It was Zussman's gentle, "Ahem," that caught Pavel's attention, as it had countless times in Pavel's childhood.

"I beg pardon, sir, miss, but we ought perhaps to consider disguising the pair of you as I believe the Chancellor will shortly be addressing your disappearance in such a way as to encourage your capture.”

Having said this (all the while averting his gaze from the embracing pair,) Zussman produced from a pocket what looked like a small furry creature. This he handed to Pavel.

“To be implemented as a disguise, sir,” said the butler.

Pavel nodded and took it, placing it upon his head. Jess realized it was artificial hair, worn as one might wear a hat.

“Thanks, man,” said Pavel, now sporting a long black ponytail and looking very
not
-Pavel.

His friend then handed a large square of cloth to Jessamyn. “Use it to cover your head, as some of the
Budapesti
women do.”

Jess nodded. “I’ve seen them.” She wrapped the fabric around her head.

“After you, Miss Jessamyn,” said Zussman.

Moments later, when three passengers descended from the hover-cruise ship at a scheduled port of call but did not return for the dinner portion of the cruise, no one remarked upon it.

The three, having disembarked, began to feel the enormity of their distance from Madeira and safety.

"So now I guess we … walk?" asked Pavel. "Unless either of you has a good idea of how to steal a ship?" He glanced quickly to Jessamyn. "No offense meant."

"With all due respect, sir, I would not recommend such a course of action," replied Zussman.

"I would," muttered Jessamyn.

Zussman cleared his throat softly.

"You have a better idea, Zuss?" asked Pavel.

"I do, sir. One does not work in the employ of a personage such as the Chancellor without having formed an exit strategy, as it were."

Pavel laughed. "You have an 'exit strategy'? As in, a vehicle?"

"No, sir, I have preferred to keep my assets liquid, as one never knows to what use one may need to put one's assets."

"Spell it out, Zuss."

"If I might suggest we pay a visit to a banking institution, sir, I believe I can obtain unmarked credits sufficient for the purchase of a very fast, very untraceable transport."

"A Swiss bank account, huh, Zuss?"

"They have proven remarkably efficacious for centuries, now, sir."

Pavel and Jessamyn accompanied the butler to a venerable institution of credit where a rather large sum was withdrawn by Zussman and then traded for a Spartan-class vessel.

"I wonder, Miss Jessamyn," said the butler, "if you would be so good as to take us to the islands of Madeira? You seem to possess a certain affinity for piloting."

Pavel grinned. "You think, Zuss?"

The craft was less flashy than either Pavel's old Hercules-class or Bonhoeffer's recently incinerated ship, but Jessamyn didn't mind.

"You sure you don't want to fly her?" she asked Pavel, trying to be polite.

Pavel shook his head. "You need this, Jess."

"You have no idea how badly I need this," she murmured.

53

SHELTER

The trip was uneventful and swift and as they pulled over the island, the sun was sinking into the west, bathing everything in a golden light. Jess swung the ship to the north, towards the castle beyond Funchal. Climbing slowly, she reached the highlands of Madeira—a mountainous region deeply folded in vertical channels, covered in velvety greens and golds. She saw a lone spur, impossibly thin and tall. That such a thing could push heavenward on this heavy planet was astonishing. It reminded her of something, this lone guard over the heart of the island.

“I wonder if it has a name?” Jessamyn murmured as they passed the spur.

Zussman replied, “The formation has any number of names, most of which are unfortunately lewd, and one unobjectionable name: The Old Woman of Storr, for an outcrop on the Isle of Skye known as the Old Man of Storr.”

Jessamyn nodded. That was where she’d seen something similar: on Brian Wallace’s lonely island. Perhaps these mountains were what had drawn the Wallace family to make a new home here. Jess felt a shiver as she realized she was, once more, a person without a home, seeking shelter with strangers.

"I didn't know you'd been here, Zuss," said Pavel.

"With respect, sir, there are likely a great number of things you do not know about me."

Pavel grinned.

"I'm taking us down to the forecourt of the castle," said Jess. "Unless there are any objections."

"Sounds perfect," replied Pavel. "Hope they've got something to eat. When I made contact, I told them we’d be hungry."

A few minutes later, the travelers, weary both physically and emotionally, arrived at the castle built of blackened lava.

They were met by a guard of honor. Cameron Wallace stood at the head of one aisle formed of a dozen persons, including Brian Wallace. At the head of the other aisle, Jessamyn could see Harpreet beside her brother and Dr. Zaifa. Upon Harpreet’s other side stood Cassondra Kipling, who pressed a hand to one side of her head. At first Jessamyn thought the gesture was the result of intolerable pain, but as the gesture was repeated by others up and down both aisles, Jess realized it was a sort of salute.

She flushed again and considered re-boarding the Spartan-class vessel, flying anywhere but here. Then, taking a deep breath, she returned the salute and fumbled for something befittingly formal to mark the occasion.

“I hereby request permission to enter the protection of Clan Wallace for the foreseeable future, along with my companions Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard and, um, Mr. Zussman,” she said, her voice clear in the breezy courtyard.

“Oh, aye,” replied Cameron, dropping her saluting hand to lumber toward Jess and engulf her in a bear-hug. “No need for all that,” she murmured to Jessamyn. “Ye’re to stay as long as ye like.”

Cameron turned to greet Pavel and Zussman.

Pavel undertook a more complete introduction, explaining Zussman’s urgent need of protection from the Chancellor.

Cameron frowned at Zussman for several minutes, crossing her large arms and looking him over carefully.

“Ye say ye were a butler, then?” asked the clan head.

“I was, formerly, Madam,” replied Zussman.

Cameron guffawed and then regained her composure. “What, with white gloves and silver trays and the rest of it?”

“Something like that, Madam,” replied the butler.

“Well then, ye’re hired,” said Cameron.

Pavel’s eyebrows shot up sharply and he glanced at his friend. “I’m not sure Zuss is looking for work at the moment.”

“No, sir,” Zussman said to Pavel. “It would be perfectly acceptable to me to be properly interviewed for the position.”

“A proper interview?” asked Cameron. She shuffled from one foot to the other. “Well, I’ll see what I can manage.” She leaned in towards Zussman. “Never had a butler before, mind. Always thought I’d like one, though. Someone to bring a bit of order in the wake of me chaos, don’t ye see? Do ye know a good whiskey from a middling one?”

Jessamyn smiled as the pair of them preceded everyone else into the great hall. An impromptu feast had been organized, and Jess found her appetite had grown enormous somewhere in the airspace above the Madeira highlands.

Cameron apologized repeatedly to Zussman, hollering out such things as, “I suppose ye’re used to grander affairs in the capitol, then?” and, “With a proper butler, I’d manage rather better, do ye not think?”

After much feasting and a handful of toasts to friendships between the worlds, Cameron dismissed all but the Marsians, Dr. Zaifa, and Pavel.

“Ye’re safe here. As safe as ye can be so far from home, that is.” Cameron’s voice softened. “Please, consider this
home
, for as long as ye stand in need of one.”

As Cameron called for an aide to sort everyone into rooms, Jessamyn hung back. She knew she couldn’t sleep right now. There were too many things inside her, all clamoring for her attention. From within the imaginary fortress which held her fears and her losses, Jess now heard rumblings and rustlings. It was time for her to open the chambers where all that was softest and most vulnerable about her lay hidden.

So Jess stood to one side and waited for a quiet moment to make a request of the Clan Chieftain. At last Cameron seemed to be alone, and Jess approached with her question. “Would it be a problem if I took my flier out?”

“What, are ye thinking of leaving so soon?”

“No,” Jess replied. “I just need … I just want …”

“You’re a pilot,” said Cameron, placing a large hand gently on Jessamyn’s shoulder. “I understand. Mind ye keep within two kilometers of the island’s surfaces. Ye’ll be protected that far out by our defenses. Can I trust ye to venture no farther?”

Jessamyn smiled. “You could ask me to fly circles over the castle right now and I’d agree to it.”

“Porto Moniz will be lovely tonight,” Cameron said thoughtfully. “The moon’s near full. Ye can even stop for a swim if ye’re not afraid of a wee bit of cold. There’s a large vehicle park beside the volcanic pools. Ye cannot miss it. No one will trouble ye this time of night.”

Jessamyn nodded her thanks and stepped quietly along one side of the great hall toward the front entrance to the castle. Moonlight spilled into the courtyard, lighting the polished surfaces of the vessel. It was a lovely night to fly.

Hearing quiet steps behind her, Jess turned. She hoped Cameron hadn’t changed her mind. But it was Pavel.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Mind if I come along?”

She looked at the long shadow falling behind him. The Terran moon, so much brighter than her world’s moons combined, cast part of Pavel’s face in darkness, part of it in light.

“I don’t mind,” said Jess, smiling softly.

54

COMING HOME

The two settled into the flier, side by side.

Jessamyn pulled the ship swiftly upward, reveling in the sense of weight that told her she was in ascent. The castle and then the island fell behind them, and two kilometers came far too quickly.

Reluctantly, Jess brought the ship back around, skimming the outline of the island instead. The moon had risen sufficiently to be visible from most parts of the island. The bright orb reflecting on the water, the shimmer and gleam of it: it was a beauty no one now alive on Mars would ever know, Jessamyn thought sadly.

At her side, Pavel kept silent.

Several times Jess had to remind herself to stay low to the island. She felt as though she might as well be creeping upon the planet’s surface, as though her ability to
see
the place had been taken from her. She yearned for outlines, edges, the surging lines of mountains or craters seen from on high. She felt as if she were groping forward as a blind soul, insect-like in her inability to discover the shape of the horizon.

She felt the same way about Pavel, she realized, as though her ability to read the prospect of the boy beside her had been swallowed up by the grind of run, hide, flee. She needed altitude; she needed to push out to where she could find the shape of Pavel again and see if it fit the shape of her or if she’d only imagined their love, taken a false reading with inaccurate instruments.

Pavel interrupted the long silence at last. “I hear there’s a place you can swim in these pools made by volcanic rock.”