Authors: Cidney Swanson
“Beautiful,” she murmured.
They stood for a minute, admiring the spider’s handiwork until Ethan pointed to his wrist tattoo.
“It has been nine minutes and five seconds,” said her brother.
“I wish I’d brought a wafer to take pictures,” said Jess, gazing with regret at the web.
“Store the image in your mind,” said Ethan.
She smiled and together they tromped back through the muck of wetted ash and grass. Shedding their footwear once again, the siblings prepared to reenter Brian Wallace’s dwelling.
But something was wrong with Ethan. He stood before the door, making no attempt to enter.
Jessamyn moved to where she could observe her brother’s face, expressionless as usual, but there was something beyond his normal bland visage; his gaze, where it rested on the door, seemed troubled. Jess heard the humming resume, starting as a low rumble and building to the sustained single note that said Ethan suffered distress.
He doesn’t want to go back inside
, thought Jess. “Eyebrows,” she said softly.
Ethan brought a hand to his forehead, located a brow, and ran his fingers over and over the short hairs.
“Good, Eth,” said Jessamyn. “Now I want you to count down from ninety-eight to zero by sevens. When you reach zero, we’ll open the door and go inside.”
The humming came to a stop. “Ninety-eight,” said Ethan, “Ninety-one. Eighty-four. Seventy. No. That was incorrect.”
The mistake struck Jessamyn’s ears like shattering glass. Her brother never made mistakes with numbers.
Ethan exhaled slowly, his chin dropping to his chest. Then he raised his head and began over. “Ninety-eight. Ninety-one. Eighty-four. Seventy-seven.”
Jessamyn realized at “seventy” that her lungs were aching—she’d held her breath too long. Inhaling deeply of Earth’s moist air, she listened as her brother finished the count correctly.
Upon reaching
zero
, Ethan grasped the door handle. But he didn’t open the door. Jess felt a dozen small muscles around her mouth and forehead as they tightened.
“Eth? It’s time to go back inside.”
Very quietly Ethan began to hum once more.
No,
thought Jessamyn, racking her brain for another idea.
The dog.
“Ethan, Brian Wallace has a dog.” She watched her brother carefully. His hand tightened upon the doorknob. “Would you like to see it?”
Ethan answered by pushing the door open and stepping inside. Jess sighed in relief as she followed him.
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 moved 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.