Defying Mars (The Saving Mars Series) - By Cidney Swanson Page 0,10
day, Jess raised her eyes to consider the quiet man before her.
“Crusty?”
He met her eyes with his.
“What am I going to do?”
“Same as you always have, kid. Go with your gut.”
Jessamyn swallowed against the lump swelling her throat. “My gut’s telling me to steal the ship as soon as we touch down on Mars.”
Crusty chuckled. “Well, maybe you oughtn’t to go with that particular notion.”
“Is the Secretary General right?” asked Jess.
“Depends what you’re referring to, don’t it?”
“I mean, about the fuel payload. I calculated the ship could make it, given a turnaround of seven days or less. After that … ”
Crusty shrugged. “The ship maybe could do it. I came up with five days or less when I looked at the numbers. But Mei Lo’s right to mention the air filter. Without a proper scrub, they ain’t much use after a month in space. You don’t want to go out there for fifty, sixty days if your air’s gunked up to where you can’t breathe it.”
“That’s an engineering problem, isn’t it?” Jess looked hopefully at Crusty.
“Reckon so,” he agreed. “But them other problems ain’t gonna disappear with wishful thinking either. Finding a qualified crew ain’t no engineering issue. And she’s right about the risk, too, kid. There’s no guarantee that says you’ll come back successful.”
“Well, I can guarantee I’ll fail if they don’t even let me try,” Jessamyn said, scuffing her boot along the floor.
“Don’t get mad, kid. Get smart. There’s more’n one way to overhaul a leaky water reclamation unit.”
Crusty’s odd illustration made Jess grunt out a small laugh. She straightened up and stared at the mechanic. “But if I could find a crew, those other issues aren’t insurmountable, are they? I mean, not for you, surely?”
Crusty ran a hand along one side of his face. Scratched his chin. “Well, I reckon where there’s a mechanical problem, there’s generally a mechanic as can solve it.”
Jessamyn smiled. “I’m sure you could do it. I bet you two month’s water rations for that orchid.”
“Now you’re just plain teasing me, kid.”
Jess smiled. She knew his mind was already working on it.
5
LIKE A SPIDER
Lucca Brezhnaya fretted as her chauffeur flew her to the derelict satellite facility in Budapest. Ordinarily, examining such a building following a break-in was the sort of thing she left to others. But the incident had occurred only a day before she’d lost Pavel. Lucca was searching for any clues that might point to the identity and aims of those who had taken her nephew. She’d found nothing thus far.
It was possible—probable, she admitted—that the kidnapping stood as a lone event, unattached to other crimes. But she had no other leads. No ransom note, even. That was certain to follow, she thought grimly. Meanwhile, she dutifully inspected report after report of criminal activity, looking for a way to tie Pavel’s disappearance to something Red Squadron had discovered.
As her vehicle touched down, Lucca’s crimson-stained lip curled with distaste. The building wasn’t just old, it was ugly. And ill-secured. It had the abandoned appearance of a place left behind in the wake of technological improvements, which it was.
Before Lucca exited her ship, she placed a call to her head of security. “Any news of my nephew?”
“No, Madam Chancellor,” replied the officer.
She pressed manicured fingers to her eyes and sighed audibly. “I suggest you make finding Pavel a priority. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Madam Chancellor,” came the response.
She cut off the call and contemplated the building before her for a moment before disembarking. But even before she completed her careful tour, Lucca knew it had been a waste of her time to come here.
“Leave no stone unturned,” she said, sighing. In her way, she cared for the boy. Pavel reminded her of her father, long-dead. So earnest. So devoted to ideals that Lucca knew had no place in the modern world.
Well, those ideals had saved New Kelen Hospital, Lucca had to admit. Not that she cared about the lives saved, but she very greatly cared to keep inciter activity far from Budapest where it would reflect badly upon Lucca and her government. London and Paris were permissible targets—far enough away from the center of her power. She would never authorize an attack upon Budapest.
The Chancellor turned from the satellite facility. Another dead-end.
Which brought her back to a question irritating as a pair of poorly made shoes: who was this upstart terrorist who’d taken Pavel? And how long would it be before Lucca could crush her like a spider under her boot?