Defying Mars (The Saving Mars Series) - By Cidney Swanson Page 0,85
die alone, she would. She’d cut communication to Pavel and her brother before choosing to eject. They would never know she’d left the Galleon. And the thought of her brother’s grief wove itself together with the thought that she would never, ever tell Pavel she loved him, and Jessamyn felt as though the weight of her sorrow would surely press down upon her and destroy her, millibars of woe to crush her heart.
She wept and wept, gulping for air as heaving sobs stole her breath away. And when at last she could cry no more, she did not open her eyes to gaze upon the wondrous ocean. She did not see the shadow over the water growing closer and closer. She did not register the ship as it approached at all.
39
AMONG THE WRECKAGE
Lucca Brezhnaya’s military cruisers were custom built for her comfort and to enable her to remain at all times in communication with her network of minions. She left the flying to others; her own time was too valuable for such mean labor.
“How much farther?” she asked her driver, red nails tapping upon a mahogany desk.
“Less than eight minutes, Chancellor.”
She scowled, but then saw a call coming through from the crash site of the main Martian ship.
“Yes?” she demanded.
“A small airborne vessel approached the wreckage and then fled,” said the caller. “Shall we pursue? The vessel is Hercules class. Small and fast.”
Lucca hesitated. What was more valuable to her? The crew among the wreckage or possible collaborators?
“What is the status of your search for crew?” she asked.
“The debris is widely scattered,” came the response. “We anticipate several hours—”
“Stay with the wreckage,” Lucca said, cutting off the dull response. “Chancellor out.”
She placed another call to Ops at Pearl Harbor. “Status update? When will you reach the crash site?”
“Seventeen minutes, Madam Chancellor.”
“There’s nothing for you to do there,” said Lucca. “I want all forces re-routed in pursuit of a Hercules class vessel that attempted to rendezvous with the downed vessel.”
“Heading?” asked the crisp voice on the other end.
“That’s your job to figure out,” barked Lucca. “Examine the data from the recovery team on site. I want that ship found immediately!”
“With all due respect, Chancellor, the Pacific is very … large.”
Lucca slammed her palm against her desk. “We’ve got satellites watching the Pacific. Use them. Re-aim them. Find me that ship!”
“Yes, Chancellor. At once.”
“Chancellor out.” She turned to her pilot. “How much longer now?”
“Four minutes, Ma’am.”
Lucca smiled.
40
BETTER SUITED
Pavel’s ship screamed to a halt beside the bobbing escape pod. Passing the ship’s helm to Wallace, Pavel extended the stairs leading out the back hatch, his heart pounding with cold fear. As they’d fled the wreckage, Pavel had realized that if Ethan could track Marsian ships, so could his aunt. She’d made it to the Galleon ahead of them.
It all came down to these next moments. Would the pod be empty? And if it was empty, would there be any sign to show whether the emergency craft had been Jessamyn’s means of surviving?
Testing the single safety rope that secured him to his vessel, Pavel reached one foot across the gap between the bottom stair and the roof of the pod.
“You mind holding it still?” he hollered to Wallace, now at the helm.
Wallace did not respond.
“He is attempting to hold a steady position,” called Ethan, “But the surge of the waves makes this very difficult.”
Pavel nodded. Ethan hovered his chair toward the aft exit, eyeing Pavel’s tenuous grip upon both stair and pod roof. And then it happened—a mighty swell spread the gap wider than Pavel’s legs could stretch. The would-be rescuer was plunged under the waves. He came up coughing and choking a moment later.
“Haul me up?” shouted Pavel.
Ethan pulled the drenched Terran back inside the ship.
“Okay,” said Pavel, shivering with cold, “That didn’t go as well as I would have liked.”
“Were you able to establish visual contact inside the pod?” asked Ethan.
Pavel shook his head, scattering salty drops. “Not possible. Window on wrong side. Give me a minute. I’ll try again.”
Ethan reached for the blanket Elsa normally used for bedding. “Take this.”
Pavel nodded thanks, shivering convulsively. “Unbelievably … cold,” he said.
“I believe I might be better suited to undertake this rescue,” said Ethan. “Using my hoverchair, I can get much closer to the roof-seal than can our ship. Also, I am familiar with the procedure of disengaging the seal and you are not.”
Pavel frowned. He would learn the truth more quickly if Ethan went instead of him.