Defying Mars (The Saving Mars Series) - By Cidney Swanson Page 0,59

simply sending the information to the extant deep-space satellite dishes.”

“The Terran government monitors those transmissions,” Ethan said.

“Exactly,” replied Kazuko. “You would be better served by building your own dishes.”

“Oh, sure,” said Pavel, rolling his eyes. “Because there are so many retailers selling do-it-yourself satellite dish kits for use in deep space.”

Brian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Actually,” he said. “I know of an enclave where this sort of thing could be built.”

“Enclave?” asked Pavel.

“They like to keep their heads low,” replied Brian Wallace. “Not the friendliest of folk, mind, but open to economic opportunities outside those normally sanctioned by Lucca Brezhnaya’s government.”

“A black market,” said Pavel.

“Well, they prefer to be called independent traders,” said Wallace. “Shall I contact them?”

Pavel deferred to Ethan, who in turn deferred to Harpreet.

“That would be lovely,” she said.

25

NEVER GET AHEAD

The range of Lucca Brezhnaya’s emotional states had severely contracted through the centuries. She had attempted to eliminate all strong emotion, but anger remained and revealed itself in either a white-hot rage or ice-cold calculation. In her rages, Lucca killed things, destroyed things. In her cooler moments, she plotted destruction, carefully weighing the many possibilities before her.

She considered it very unfair that so much of her time had to be devoted to destruction. All she’d ever wanted was to cultivate her world as would a careful gardener his garden. But if weeds and weevils crept in, they must be burned or squashed. How else could one ensure a healthy garden?

Once, when Zussman had lain ill, Lucca had ventured to a café for her morning coffee. She’d been struck by something she’d overheard. A housefrau was complaining to a friend: I can never get ahead. No matter how many times I sweep the floor, there’s always a fresh mess the next day. Lucca sympathized. As well, she felt good about her empathy; the fact that she could empathize meant she was still human. She was simply a common human Writ Large, was she not?

She sighed, tapping her dark red nails upon her desk.

Today she was in a cool mood. She was angry, certainly, but in an icy way that her staff often mistook for calm. Look how well she’s handling her nephew’s betrayal, they murmured. Somehow, word had leaked out that all was not well between aunt and nephew. She would have to see to eliminating further leakage. But right now she needed to see to Pavel.

So. He refused to come home.

Very well. Lucca knew how to communicate with him over space and time. She smiled. She brought up a listing of all the hospitals at which Pavel had volunteered the past five years. Of course, he’d logged the most actual hours at New Kelen here in Budapest. Lucca sighed. It was tempting. But, no, she would not risk making her government look weak by arranging an attack upon a hospital in the capitol city.

No, the destruction of one building in Budapest had been quite enough, thank you very much dear nephew of mine, she thought, bringing her palm down upon a tiny spider crossing her desk.

At first she’d not known he’d been at the Martian satellite facility. When she’d learned of it, she momentarily wondered if Pavel’s only goal had been to destroy something, anything, in the capitol city as a way to strike at her. But this possibility had been swiftly eliminated by the fact that he’d chosen to steal away from New Timbuktu with Kazuko and the other inciter.

No, he was involved in the group secretly planning to visit Mars. She was sure of it now. He wanted an adventure, or tellurium wealth, or simply to do something he knew his aunt wouldn’t like.

Of course, she reassured herself, he could have no way of knowing why she wouldn’t like it.

She needed to communicate to him swiftly. To nip this little Mars venture in the bud. She stood and paced—thinking, considering. And then she remembered a tiny something about one of the hospitals. Hadn’t he persuaded her one Christmas to make an excessive donation to one of them? Yes, she was certain. He’d declined interest in any gifts for himself that year, asking only for this charity.

She returned to her desk. There it was. The Hospital for Mental Illness and Recovering Minds. It was an elegant choice as well; if you were going to create a shortage of bodies for the Re-body Program, best do it by eliminating those least deserving of re-bodying. Paris had been a mistake in that regard. The Re-body Program had lost