chapter 10
BUNCH OF BLAMED FOOLS
The sun had risen hours ago and glided now along its summer-arc, warming Mars’s northern hemisphere to just above freezing.
Jessamyn stood outside her home awaiting the arrival of her transport. Her time with her parents had left her frustrated, and she
kicked at small rocks along the front of their home. When this failed to settle her, she began to pick them up and throw them as far
as she could, gazing with envy at the freedom with which the rocks sailed away.
A small hopcraft arrived within half an hour and Jess repeated the unsatisfying experience of not being the pilot inside one of the
Secretary’s transports.
Upon arriving at MCC, frustrated and disgruntled, she slipped out of her walk-out suit and was immediately ushered into the private
office of Mars’s CEO.
“Good morning, Pilot Jaarda,” said Mei Lo, smiling.
“Madam Secretary,” said Jess, nodding in deference, trying to shed the frown that had taken up residence upon her face.
“I’m behind schedule as usual,” said Mei Lo. “Some things never change.” A swift shake of her head. “I need to discuss a pressing
matter with you.” The Secretary rose and crossed to a small window set to overlook the Marsian desert. “In spite of your brother’s
efforts, we do not have control of the satellite array.”
Jess frowned. “My parents told me everyone is saying the lasers can’t hurt us anymore.”
“Yes. We had a fine time decoding your brother’s message, I can tell you.” She pressed her lips together. “Unfortunately, that
information was leaked to all of Mars Colonial and has now become a banner behind which many rally.”
“I heard about the faction who want to reopen trade with Earth,” said Jessamyn.
“You would have, with Lillian and Geoffrey for parents. They’ve been a great support.” Mei Lo sighed softly. “But merely turning off
the targeting lasers solves very little and has created new problems for MCC.”
“I’m happy to tell everyone the truth about Terrans,” said Jessamyn. “The way I see it, we just need to educate the citizens of Mars
Colonial as to the true nature of Terrans and that will do two things. It’ll change everyone’s mind about trade relations and convince
anyone who needs convincing that we owe it to the Mars Raiders to bring them home.”
“Jessamyn, Jessamyn,” said Mei Lo, sighing. “If only things were that straightforward.”
“It’s very simple, Ma’am,” said Jessamyn, gathering steam. “You’re right that I didn’t tell you everything about my encounters on
Earth. But I’m willing to lay it all out in front of you. And when I do, it will be plain as day that we do not want to establish relations with
any member of the Terran government.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” said the Secretary. “What you don’t understand is that you won’t be able to convince those who are
pro-trade.”
Jess scowled. “You’re right I don’t understand. But it’s pretty basic: Terrans are cruel and selfish and wasteful. What’s so hard about
explaining that to people?”
Mei Lo rose and stood before the small window behind her desk. “I can’t send you back,” she said at last.
Jessamyn spluttered, attempting to begin a new argument.
“No—” Mei Lo held up a hand. “I cannot send you back now. If we are very careful and considered in our actions for the next twenty-
three months, it may be possible to send a rescue party the next time Earth draws near.”
Jess felt her skin grow suddenly cold. “If I don’t go now, I think my brother will die,” she said softly. “He won’t make it a full annum. I
just know it.”
The Secretary shook her head. “If I were to send a ship now, without making allowances for trade, the public outrage would grow
beyond what I can contain. My government would fall. I’m doing everything in my power to prevent that, Jess, because if this
government goes down, the one that rises in its place will be committed to changes to the Marsian way of life that will destroy us.”
When she finished, the two remained silent, the room echoing with the Secretary’s words.
“I don’t understand,” said Jess at last.
“I know,” said Mei Lo. “There are days I don’t understand either.”
Jessamyn sat still for a moment, gazing at the opaque-glass door sealing off Mei Lo’s office. Shadows passed by in ones and twos.
“Do the people who say they want us to trade with Earth really mean it? They’re not just, I don’t know, flirting with the idea?”
“They believe and argue with passion that it is in Mars’s best interest to re-open trade,” replied the Secretary.
Jess didn’t know what to say. She only knew she would never, ever, want to be in a position to bargain with Lucca Brezhnaya or her
government.
Mei Lo sighed softly. “I’ve managed to keep peace by promising to carefully examine the possibility of sending a negotiations team
in an annum. That’s what this has come to: delay as my best option. My government has maintained that the Galleon cannot fly again
so soon after her recent voyages. I never thought I’d say this, but there is a mercy in our having only one space-worthy craft.”
The finality of Mei Lo’s rationale sank in and Jessamyn felt as though ice ran through her veins instead of blood. “I see,” she said
quietly.
“Give everyone an annum to cool this Terran fever, and perhaps we can send a mission to rescue our friends without the danger of
awakening the Terran beast that will turn upon and devour us.”
“I see,” Jess repeated. But then she wondered. Did she see it clearly? Or was she simply prejudiced against the idea of interactions
with Terrans because they’d captured her brother? She looked at the blurred outlines of the people walking past Mei Lo’s office.
Maybe she wasn’t seeing things clearly because she’d clouded her vision with anger and hatred.
“Madam Secretary, do you think maybe … is it possible Terrans no longer present a threat to us?” asked Jessamyn.
“Jessamyn,” said the Secretary, her head shaking.
But Jess pushed ahead. “Maybe I’ve just been blinded because they hurt people I loved. I mean, they thought we were inciters—
terrorists.”
“Jess,” said Mei Lo, more sharply.
Jessamyn looked up to see Mei Lo closing her eyes and pressing her forefinger and thumb along the bridge of her nose. “They are
dangerous,” she said at last. “You know this.”
“I know,” said Jessamyn. What had she been thinking? She knew the truth about Lucca Brezhnaya. She sighed. “I just want my
brother back.”
“So do I,” said Mei Lo. “So do I.”
Nessa Niedermaier bustled in. “Madam Secretary? Pilot Jaarda? We’re ready for you in studio one.”
“Bells of Hades,” muttered the Secretary. “Raider Jaarda? You and I will continue this discussion at a later time. Nessa, lead on.”
The hour-long interview with Mars Global Vid proved as much of a challenge for Jess as her exchange with the Secretary. The news
anchor asked ridiculous questions: Do Terrans look just like us? Were you able to understand them when they spoke? These, she
alternated with questions Jessamyn found too deeply private to answer. What was your lowest point, personally, on the mission?
How did you find yourself able to move past the incredible sorrow of the loss of three crew members? Of the Red Dawn?
Jessamyn hid her anguish under a cover of irritability and allowed Crusty to handle increasing numbers of questions.
“Crustegard—we’re all friends here—can I call you Crusty?” asked the eager interviewer. “Did you encounter actual body-
swappers?”
The mechanic cleared his throat with a low rumble Jess felt certain hid laughter. “Mighty difficult to avoid ‘em if your intention is to
trade what’s in your ship’s hold for what they’ve got planet-side.”
“Hmm,” replied the anchor. “Of course. What we’re all wondering though—and I think I speak for everyone at home—is … how did
you feel standing in the presence of someone who wasn’t even wearing the skin they were born with?”
Crusty stared at the face of the woman interviewing him. Jess saw him pause as he regarded her lack of First Wrinkle, her
exaggerated eyelashes, her unnaturally colored lips. “There’s plenty enough folk here on Mars dressed in somethin’ that don’t
resemble what God gave ‘em to start with. I reckon the Terran I spent my time with would fit in just fine here.”
“Well, that just about wraps it up for our time here this morning,” said the woman. “One last question for each of you. Let’s start with
you, Crusty: what did you find yourself missing most?”
“Bein’ left alone,” said Crusty, eliciting laughter from around the room.
The anchor smiled brightly and turned to Jessamyn. “And yourself? What did you miss most?”
Jessamyn’s heart beat faster. Her mind threw answers at her, loud and fast. Sunrise over Mount Cha Su Bao. Rations with my
parents. Playing Monopoly. Scrubbing the solars. Flying. Pavel. “The smell of peroxide,” murmured Jessamyn.
“Well there you have it, folks. She travels over one hundred million kilometers and she misses the one thing I spend all day trying to
keep out of the house!”
The moment the vid recorders turned off, the newswoman’s fake smile disappeared. After a cursory thank you to the Mars Raiders,
the anchor turned to the Secretary and murmured, “Well, I guess you didn’t choose them for their verbal skills, did you?”
Jess flushed and stood to leave.
“Oh-oh-oh,” said Nessa Niedermaier, reaching to grab Jess by the shoulder. “Just one moment. We’ve got you back on camera this
afternoon with the board of directors, and that gives us just enough time to get the two of you into New Houston Outfitters for a fresh
new look.”
Crusty stared at her as though considering which of the several salient phrases from his colorful vocabulary might best suit the
occasion.
“I’ll be wearing my Academy whites for all future public appearances,” said Jess curtly.
“Hmm, well, we were thinking of an image that your average girl-about-Mars could relate to a bit better,” said Nessa.
“Her whites will be fine,” said the Secretary calmly. “I believe this is the ideal opportunity to inspire Mars’s future generation of
scientists and explorers. Wouldn’t you agree, Nessa?”
The events coordinator made a series of abbreviated noises before landing on what it was she had to say. “Very well, Madam
Secretary. If you think that would be best.”
“It’s settled then,” said Mei Lo. “And Crusty? Feel free to don work coveralls if you’d prefer. We have another generation of builders
and engineers to inspire as well.”
Nessa’s powdered face colored visibly, but a small squeak of alarm was her only audible objection.
“Jaarda, I’ll see you back at my office at 14:00 sharp,” said the Secretary. “We’ve still got things to discuss.”
The studio, now empty of all excepting Crusty and Jessamyn, felt suddenly like that last place Jess wished to be.
“I’m going to suit up,” said Jess.
“You feel like takin’ a walk over to the Galleon?” asked Crusty.
Jess nodded. Minutes later the two strode side by side toward MCC’s largest spacecraft hangar. To one side of the Galleon was
the space where the Red Dawn should have rested. Someone had piled it with crates and equipment, and the sight felt to Jessamyn
like the desecration of a grave.
“Galleon’s in much better shape than she oughta be, by rights,” said Crusty, interrupting her morbid thoughts via their private comm.
“Is she?” asked Jess.
“Well,” said Crusty, bumping a gloved hand against his helmet as he tried (and failed) to scratch his chin. “I reckon she’s good for
another couple trips before she starts complaining too bad.”
Crusty grew talkative as he took Jessamyn around the hull of the Galleon, pointing out minor repairs his crew had completed
overnight. “Talked that event-nut of the Secretary’s into the idea that the ship oughta look like something special for folks to come
see the evening after the big celebratory shindig.”
Neither of them had discussed the memorial service or the celebration. Jessamyn understood that the citizens of Mars deserved
these planetary holidays to acknowledge the recent losses as well as the mission’s success. She just wished she didn’t have to be
a part of it.
“I know you and the Secretary been talking,” murmured Crusty. “Just so’s you know, there’s nothing standing in the way of you taking
this ship back up right now,” said Crusty. “Well, nothin’ I can’t get to in the next two days. Air filter needs a good wash-down. Picked
up all kinds of microbes off you and me from our time on Earth. Stuff’s been reproducing like crazy on the trip back here. Thought
about callin’ in the interns at Planetary Agriculture to have a peek.”
“You’re telling me this ship can fly a two-month mission now?” asked Jessamyn.
“Sure. Long as you get the Secretary’s say-so,” replied Crusty.
Jess reached for her oxygenation dial. Abruptly, it felt as if there wasn’t enough air to breathe in her suit.
“Hey, you okay? I thought this’d be good news. I say something wrong?” asked Crusty.
Jess pressed her gloved hand against Crusty’s forearm, managing a small squeeze. “It’s great news,” she said. “But you’re keeping
quiet about it, right?”
“I ain’t what you might call the talkative sort,” Crusty said. “In case it escaped your attention.”
Jess chortled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d found something amusing. “You heard about the … faction that wants to
trade with Earth?”
Crusty snorted in indignation. “My granny’s elastic knickers—bunch of blamed fools is what they are.”
Jess nodded. “I know.”
“Oh, hey,” called Crusty from where he stood examining a rivet on the landing gear. “They boxed up your stuff and your brother’s
stuff. You can pick it up over at suit repair.”
“Crusty?” whispered Jess. “Would there be time to get everything we’d need? Spacesuits, replacement parts for wafers, food and
drink …” Her mind boggled at the thought of possible items that could be missing.
“You let me worry about that part,” said Crusty. “I’ve got folks thinking they’re setting this place up like an Ares-i-fied museum. All the
parts’ll be there or they’ll have me to answer to.” He leaned in closer. “And I’m a bona fide planetary hero, by Ares.” He stretched his
arms out to the side and then patted his chest vigorously. “A hero, I tell you.”
The gesture was so uncharacteristic for Crusty that Jess felt sure he’d done it to lighten her gloomy and cautious mood.
She gave him a tentative smile.
“I’ll see you around, kid,” said the mechanic. “Some of us got work to do.”