Authors: Cidney Swanson
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.
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.
“Would you like a receipt?” asked the attendant, after removing credits for travel from Harpreet’s wrist-chip.
“No,” said Kipper.
“
Yes
,” said Jessamyn, holding her hand out to receive the piece of plastic. “And we’ll take any other … publications you might have on the ecosystem of the area,” Jess added.
Harpreet paid for three small plastic cards which were apparently intended to be read on a computer that most transports came equipped with.
“No stick-reader, eh?” said the attendant, looking at the vehicle. “I haven’t seen one of these old Dashers since I was in first-body! Don’t worry—the cards will work on your stick-reader at home. The one on the Scottish Highlands Recovery program is very good, and you can only buy it at this entrance. Enjoy your visit to the wetlands reserve.”
Jessamyn passed the receipt and video sticks to her brother. “Time to start in on a Terran collection, eh?”
The journey through the reserve was unexceptional. A recent eruption on Iceland had left the area covered in a layer of fine ash. Noting that her brother seemed relaxed as he studied his collectibles, Jessamyn allowed herself to feel hopeful for the mission.
Beside her, Ethan had figured out a way to make his wafer-computer read one of the sticks, and a video of the Scottish Highlands Recovery program began playing on the screen. Jess saw artist’s renderings of what the area would look like when the volcanoes were done erupting. She smiled. It reminded her of terraforming vids she’d seen in school as a child.
They continued southward under heavy cloud cover—a phenomenon Harpreet recalled with delight. As the day wore on, though, a brilliant flash stirred Jessamyn from her drowsy state—the sun had sunk below the clouds, lending a mellow gold to the bottoms of the clouds for the last hours of daylight. The amphibious craft crossed a stretch of sea called
The Channel
and Jess amused herself watching the light shimmer and glint upon the waves.
When the sun set a few hours later, Jessamyn’s stomach had begun to hunger.
“Sunset means rations, right?” Her stomach punctuated the question with an impressive growl.
Kipper nodded at Harpreet who retrieved the box of rations Wallace had insisted upon giving the crew.
“Goodness,” said Harpreet. “He’s given us a full box of one hundred rations.”
“If all Terrans are the size of Wallace,” said Ethan, “Then they would have higher caloric requirements to maintain their bodily weight.”
“Ugh!” said Kipper. “Something’s wrong with this bar. It tastes dreadful.”
“No,” said Harpreet. “It is a fresher box than the one Wallace offered us from his kitchen. You three young ones won’t remember the last time a fresh batch came to Mars. The taste is more pronounced before they’ve had a chance to age.”
Jessamyn read the ingredients listed on the box, like she’d done a thousand times back home: desiccated liver, butter oil, coconut oil, palm oil, whey, sprouted kamut, dried sauerkraut, acerola powder, and a string of minerals. This time as she read, she wondered if her mother’s agricultural program would allow them to grow these exotic-sounding foods in her lifetime.
Marsian terraforming had succeeded in so many ways already. Mars had a thin but permanent atmosphere now, and temperatures were rising every orbit thanks to a greenhouse effect. Jessamyn’s teachers had stressed how quickly Mars would change by the time Jess had grown up. “It’s the first two centuries that were the hardest. The next twenty annums will see miracles, children.” The promise of miracles had been what started Jess reading: she had wanted to know what Mars would be like when she grew up.
Finishing her ration, Jess passed the wrapper to Ethan.
He shook his head
no
.
“I have collected a large number of objects already,” he told his sister. From his pocket, he withdrew several items: an entrance ticket, an exit receipt, the video cards, a receipt for fuel purchased in a place called “Calais,” and something that Jess thought looked like a hunk of dog fur.
“What’s that?” asked Jess.
“Thistle down,” said Ethan. “A form of plant life.”
“Huh,” said Jess.
“Ethan,” called Kipper, “Can you check your wafer and see if we’re expecting a halt up ahead?”
The stream of vehicles which they were following did, indeed, seem to be slowing. Another kilometer proved this was the case. Traffic crept forward at a fraction of their former speed.
“We should have requested a vehicle that wasn’t ground-only,” murmured Jess. “This is ridiculous.”
“Remember your identities,” said Harpreet.
“Is this dangerous?” whispered Jess to her brother.
“On Earth, a slowing of vehicles can indicate that security forces are investigating or interrogating travelers,” replied Ethan.
Jess shrank down in her seat. She didn’t want to be investigated.
Left for family, right for escape
, she told herself again.
An aircraft flew lazily down the line of transports. It shone a floodlight upon the vehicle three ahead of the raiders. Then two ahead. One ahead. The floodlight came to rest on their transport. The aircraft hovered slowly beside them before landing on the shoulder of the road.
Three armored guards stepped out, weapons drawn, and approached the Marsians.
Chapter Fourteen
GUMPTION
“Everyone will please remember that we are a family on our way to Budapest where we plan to drop off our first-body daughter for her apprenticeship examination tomorrow morning,” said Harpreet. Her voice, calm, had the effect of calming others.
But when one of the officers tapped a weapon against Kipper’s window, Jessamyn failed to repress her gasp of shock. Ethan ran a finger along his brows.
“What’s the meaning of this interruption?” asked Kipper, sliding her window so that she could speak with the person aiming a weapon at her. “My granddaughter has her firstie exams early tomorrow morning. We have no time to waste.”
In that brief moment, Jess felt proud of her captain. Kipper had gumption.
“Step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” said the officer. “Hands where I can see them. Slowly.”
A second officer pushed his head into the vehicle. “Where’s your stick reader?” he barked at the three inside.
“There is no stick reader in this craft,” said Ethan.
The officer stepped out and conferred with his team. “Their vehicle’s from the last century,” he said. “Like you said, perfect for avoiding a stick-scan.”
Jessamyn and the others could only pick up bits of the other officer’s reply. There was something about “… automatically suspicious” and “thorough search of the vehicle,” neither of which sounded good.
“The fourbody outside tells me you’re the head of household,” said an officer who had just opened the door beside Harpreet.
“That would be me,” said Harpreet.
“Where have you driven today?”
“Oh, my,” said Harpreet. “We began our day visiting the Scottish Wetlands Reserve. Then we drove south, past London, and crossed the channel between Dover and Calais, and we’ve been on the motorway ever since.”
“With no stick reader to prove it,” said the officer.
“I’m afraid not, Officer,” said Harpreet.
Beside Jessamyn, Ethan pointed to his wafer computer. There had been an inciter bombing in London only a few hours earlier.
“What time did you say you passed through London?”
“I didn’t say,” replied Harpreet. “But I believe it must have been just four o’clock. The children complained when we didn’t stop for tea. We’re in a hurry, you see. It’s my daughter’s exam tomorrow. In the capitol. So, we’d appreciate anything you can do to speed us along.” She flicked her left wrist.
It could have been nothing, that casual gesture of Harpreet’s hand. Merely a nervous shake. But Jessamyn remembered Wallace describing how to initiate a bribe by wiggling your chipped-wrist.
The officer grabbed Harpreet’s wrist in a violent motion. “How can you even think about bribery after what’s happened in London? I should arrest you right now.”