chapter 3
THAT LIFE IS OVER
Until the night of his eighteenth birthday, Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard had two passions in life: medicine and fast ships. But that night,
which should have been his last in his firstbody, everything had changed. Pavel had fallen in love with a girl. Where she had gone, he
could not follow. But she’d left a brother behind. And she’d left, as well, the idea of her world, so other. In Jessamyn’s absence,
Pavel found himself Mars-smitten; his obsession with the red-haired girl twinned with the hope of helping her world.
Already, Ethan had hinted at tasks left incomplete. To these, Pavel swore to devote himself. Aiding Mars would be the compass-
star by which he would steer—the purpose he’d yearned for and not found. There was nothing wrong with devoting your life to
medicine or piloting really fast ships. Until you found a cause that made these things look petty.
This, the girl from Mars had provided.
Aboard the ship he’d stolen from his aunt less than a day ago, Pavel awaited news from Brian Wallace’s conversation with his clan.
What he’d overheard so far didn’t sound promising. Even Brian’s dog looked distressed at the exchange.
“It’s okay, Elsa,” Pavel murmured, scratching a spot under her chin. He hoped it would be okay, at least.
“Well,” sighed Wallace, having finished his call. “We’re in a fair pickle. Farewell cozy retirement, and all that.”
“What is the nature of a pickle?” asked Ethan.
“He means we’re screwed,” said Pavel, glancing over his shoulder at Ethan.
Ethan frowned in confusion but refrained from further inquiry.
“Your family won’t help you after all?” asked Pavel.
“They are at present disinclined to look favorably upon me choices,” said Wallace. “Particularly as those choices have landed me
face upon the Chancellor’s list of persons wanted for questioning in regards to the disappearance of her nephew.”
Pavel frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see that coming.”
“I take it ye’re not thinking of returning to your aunt?” asked Wallace.
“Not a chance,” Pavel said.
“In that case,” replied Wallace, “I have an idea. A request, really. I’d ask ye to consider drawing up formal terms of indenture to hire
me services as bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard?” asked Pavel.
“If the Chancellor finds us, I’d prefer to be presented as the guardian and protector of her errant nephew rather than as his
kidnapper,” explained Wallace.
“This isn’t your problem, Wallace,” said Pavel. “I can set you down anywhere you want. Just name it.”
“Lad, me own family won’t have me at the moment. I’ve nowhere to go. I’m not scheduled to re-body for nine years and me face is
everywhere.”
Pavel frowned, uncertain he wanted the blustering Scot as a companion. “Aren’t there … illegal re-body operations you could
consult?”
Brian Wallace laughed grimly. “Aye. But they’ll make more selling me to Lucca Brezhnaya than re-bodying me. I’ve no wish to play
those odds.”
Pavel realized he would face the same problem if he attempted to re-body. Or even get reconstructive surgery to disguise his
appearance. “Shizer,” he muttered under his breath.
“I do not with to interrupt your negotiations,” said Ethan, “But I require assistance to reach the communications panel. It is imperative
that I relay a message to the Red Galleon.”
Pavel turned his attention to Ethan. “Look, I know you didn’t have a chance to say your goodbyes—”
Ethan interrupted. “This is more urgent than a mere greeting. I have just concluded that MCC has no information regarding the extent
of my success or failure upon the mission with which I was charged.”
Wallace shrugged. “Your call,” he muttered to Pavel.
Pavel bristled. Of course it was his decision to make. “Here’s the thing, Ethan,” said Pavel. “My aunt’s got ears everywhere. You
send a transmission out to deep space, it’s possible it could be intercepted.”
“Ah,” said Ethan. “You fear that the transmission, if it appears to be directed past the regulatory boundaries, might be subject to
additional scrutiny.”
“Something like that,” said Pavel.
“Then I shall consider how to cloak the message in secrecy,” said Ethan, attempting to sit upright. He began to slip out of his seat.
“Hold it, there,” said Wallace, reaching for Ethan. “Beg pardon for grabbing ye.”
“Touch appears to affect me differently in this new body,” said Ethan. “Which is fortunate, as it would appear that I will require
frequent assistance.”
Wallace contrived a method whereby Ethan could be strapped onto his chair more securely.
“What he really needs is a hoverchair,” said Pavel. “When we stop to recharge the ship’s fuel cells, we can pick one up.”
“Excellent idea,” said Wallace.
Pavel glanced over to see Ethan’s one good hand flying across the communications screen.
“And I’ll take a look at that bad arm,” said Pavel. “Looks to me like the muscles just need reattaching.”
“Aye,” said Brian. “Can’t have the lad going through life with one hand tied behind his back.” He laughed briefly.
Ethan did not laugh. “Humans are capable of remarkable adaptation,” he said.
“If that was a joke,” said Pavel, glaring at Brian. “It was in very poor taste.”
Ethan frowned. “I am not an ideal audience for jokes that involve non-concrete imagery. However, I believe I can enjoy the humor in
my situation.”
Pavel’s brows drew close. “You’re not really like your sister much, are you?” He swallowed back against the ache of remembering
her.
“We share few traits,” agreed Ethan as he finished.
Pavel shook his head. If there was a boy-version of Jessamyn, it wasn’t her brother.
“The message has been transmitted,” said Ethan. “I have attempted to delay the receipt of an actual message by encrypting it in a
rotating algorithm. It should be some days before the transmission becomes something the Galleon will recognize as a message
intended for the crew.”
“Huh,” said Pavel. “Brilliant.”
“Further, if it is intercepted by your government, the message will appear to be merely a quotation from ancient literature.”
“Ingenious,” said Brian Wallace.
“Given additional time I could have created something to match the epithets you dispense so readily,” replied Ethan.
“Now we’ve got the goodbyes out of the way,” said Wallace, “I’ll just mention that the ship’s looking a mite hungry at the moment.”
“Hungry?” asked Ethan.
“Requires refueling,” said Pavel. “Lucca makes her drivers crazy that way. She’s always pushing to get underway with no
comprehension that her demands have consequences.”
“She expects others to bear the burden of those consequences,” said Ethan. “It is a common failing of the powerful.”
“Yeah,” said Pavel. “You totally get her.”
Brian Wallace recommended a remote location in Newfoundland where they were able to refuel with relatively few eyes upon them.
Pavel suspected the facility was operating without proper government permitting in place. But that suited his new life as a fugitive.
They left after Wallace acquired a top-of-the-line hoverchair for Ethan. Pavel tried to repay Brian, but the Scot wouldn’t allow it.
“Got it for a song,” he said cheerfully. “Unreported manufacturing. Tax-free, ye know.”
Pavel nodded, reconsidering his assessment of the man—Wallace’s black market know-how would be invaluable. The hoverchair in
question was powerful, he noted, removing the shielding from its compact engine. Pavel grinned at what he saw and began the task
of making a few modifications to the chair to allow Ethan greater speed and maneuverability. Tinkering with the chair made Pavel
think of the limitations of his aunt’s ship.
“You know, we should think about swapping this ship out for something faster,” said Pavel, musing aloud.
“Faster, lad?” asked Brian Wallace. “The ship’s untraceable. Who needs speed when you can’t be chased?”
Pavel frowned. He might prefer something faster, but he couldn’t see how to refute Wallace’s position.
Wallace stepped close to admire the improvements to Ethan’s new acquisition. “I really should look into one of these chairs for me
own self,” he said, patting his large belly.
Ethan, who had remained silent until now, spoke. “You ought instead to decrease your caloric consumption, and then you would not
find the need of such a conveyance.”
Wallace laughed. “Aye, lad, aye.”
With Wallace’s assistance, Pavel helped Ethan into the hoverchair, explaining its responsive design. Ethan was soon comfortably
settled.
“We should see about re-growing those limbs,” said Wallace, indicating Ethan’s leg stumps.
“We can’t,” said Pavel, his voice flat. “I reported the death of his consciousness at New Kelen Hospital. We don’t want anyone
questioning that report when they start scraping cells and realize who he is. Word would get back to my aunt.”
“I am puzzled,” said Ethan, “as to the nature of your relationship with your aunt.”
Pavel laughed dryly. “There’s no love lost between us. Not anymore. Especially since I colluded with an enemy before her eyes.”
“Did ye now?” asked Wallace. “From my recollection, ye stood hostage whilst a crazed young inciter stabbed and drugged Lucca
Brezhnaya.”
“I lied to her guards,” said Pavel.
“The individuals in question are deceased,” said Ethan.
“What?” asked Pavel. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve obtained information on many subjects pertaining to the Chancellor,” said Ethan. “It has not been difficult, given that this ship is
registered to her. She reports the guards as having been murdered by the inciter known by only by the name ‘Jessamyn.’”
“We know that’s not true,” said Wallace.
Pavel ran a hand over his face. Those guards were dead because of him. “It’s not hard to guess how they really met their end,” he
said. “In any case, there’s no question of my returning to Lucca. That life is over for me.”
“I understand,” said Ethan.
“I hadn’t thought about this ship having my aunt’s security clearance,” said Pavel. “Although, in a day or less Security will remind her
that whoever stole her ship has access to her data.”
“You can bet on that,” said Wallace.
“It is not my intentions to place bets,” replied Ethan. “However, I have been cross-loading information to my chair’s computer which,
fortunately, is quite robust.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Pavel, smiling at the holoscreen display on Ethan’s chair. “I’ve read about that Z-board. It’s powerful. It’s meant to
be an amazing entertainment center.”
“As my requirements for entertainment are modest,” said Ethan, “I have completed modifications to the Z-board, freeing up a great
deal of space, and I am in the process of retrieving as much as I can from the ship’s computer.”
“Good,” said Wallace, nodding.
“I have, in addition,” continued Ethan, “discovered Captain Kipling’s whereabouts. She currently resides in the intensive care portion
of the hospital from which you rescued me, Pavel.”
Pavel looked at the data and frowned. “Brain injury,” he said. “Those aren’t easy to work with.” He ran a finger along a line of
diagnostic code. “Still in her firstbody. That means she’s either in a coma or in significant and irreducible pain.” He placed a hand
upon Ethan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man.”
“It is most unfortunate,” said Ethan. “However, I am relieved to know she survives. Harpreet, I have located as well.”
Wallace stepped over to peer at Ethan’s screen. “Well, my friend, so ye have. And how would ye like to rescue our good friend
Harpreet Mombasu from the New Timbuktu Gold Processing and Re-educational Center for the Retirement of Criminals?”
“I should like that very much,” said Ethan.
Wallace grinned from ear to ear. “I’ve got some connections that might prove useful.”
“Regrettably,” said Ethan, “It is not a matter of what I would like.”
Wallace looked puzzled. “Ye’d like something else, then, lad?”
Ethan hesitated a fraction of a second before answering. “I should like to visit a zoological facility and see elephants and tigers,” he
replied. “I should also like to see Terran snow.”
Pavel shook his head, confused. “Are you saying you want to do those things instead of rescuing your crewmate?”
“I am not,” replied Ethan. “Brian Wallace asked what I would like to do. I answered.”
“Aye, lad,” said Wallace. “Ye’re quite literal, are ye not? Allow me to rephrase. What is it that ye feel ye must do, as opposed to the
things ye’d like to do, exactly?”
“I believe the time has arrived for me to discuss the nature of the mission I failed to complete,” replied Ethan.
Pavel felt his heart beating faster. A week ago a change from dutiful nephew to fugitive would have sounded ludicrous to him. But
now, how eagerly he yearned to pass from merely a fugitive to someone in active defiance of the No Contact Accords and of his
aunt.
“What’s your mission?” asked Pavel.
“I must transfer control of the satellites orbiting Mars from the Terran government to Mars Colonial Command,” replied Ethan.
Pavel’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right?”