Losing Mars (Saving Mars Series-3) (21 page)

Pavel’s lips tightened and thinned. “Well, I guess you never really know with Jess, do you?”

Renard looked worried for a split-second but then covered it with a laugh and a response. “Guess not, city-boy.” A quick wink and he shot up the stairs and outside.

“Hey, take it easy today,” Pavel called after him.

Renard’s laughter filtered down into the underground dwelling. Pavel turned, shaking his head.

36

IF YOU MUST EAT WORMS

Inside Renard’s body, Gaspar walked toward the Shirff’s office. He knew it would do him no good to function in a body that was dehydrated. Why hadn’t they taken care of that during his consciousness transfer? As he asked the question, it occurred to him that he might’ve suffered water-loss during his brief walk into town. He needed to be more careful here—he needed his full faculties
at all times
.

And just now, he needed a place from which to place a call to Lucca Brezhnaya. He dreaded giving her the news that one of the two persons he was to question had fled. But even more, he dreaded Lucca finding out from someone besides himself.

No, he would have to relay the information. He calculated the hour in Budapest. The Chancellor would be preparing for dinner, perhaps, by now. He’d half-hoped she might be sleeping so that he could leave a message rather than endure one of her famous rages.

“Still,” he murmured to himself, “If you must eat worms, best get them down quickly and without an excess of anticipation.”

He acquired the extra water-ration—and a back-slapping welcome hug—from the Shirff and then turned to find a remote location from which he could communicate with the Chancellor.

The blast crater seemed a promising location—the large ship almost certainly had a holo-projector and lines of communication secured against any listening ears. Broadcasting from the ship would allow him to provide evidence of its existence as well. He smiled. Although he supposed Lucca had satellites that could confirm the presence of the M-class ship. He found himself hoping again she hadn’t already heard the news from someone else.

The Chancellor made him wait over two hours.

“What have you to report? Be quick about it. I’ve no time to waste with the election coming,” Lucca said.

Gaspar jumped to his feet before the nearly perfect image of the Chancellor. He enjoyed noticing that from inside his present body, he was taller than Lucca Brezhnaya. He’d found that height mattered in negotiations, whatever people claimed to the contrary.

“I will need more time,” he began, “due to unforeseen—”

“I am not granting more time,” said the Chancellor, cutting him off. “What part of ‘there’s an election this week’ did you miss?”

“Yes. Well, we have a setback, as it turns out,” said Gaspar. “It would seem the girl has fled, that is, she’s—”

“Fled?” roared the Chancellor. “What do you mean
fled
?”

Gaspar allowed himself a moment’s amusement. He’d had two hours to consider how he would present his information. He’d chosen the word “fled” to provoke just such a flash of anger. How interesting it would be to impersonate the Chancellor, he thought to himself.

“Forgive me, Chancellor. I misspoke. It would seem the girl has undertaken a re-supplying mission normally carried out by myself, that is, by Renard of Yucca.”

“So she’s coming back? When?”

Gaspar raised and lowered his shoulders ever so slightly. “Soon, I am told.”

Lucca focused her pale blue eyes upon Gaspar. The holographic image was frighteningly life-like. “Why did you not anticipate this and arrive in time to prevent her departure?”

Gaspar took umbrage with the remark. “If you will recall, Madam Chancellor, my departure from Budapest to this fair enclave was delayed when you were unfortunately unable to meet with me as originally scheduled.” Gaspar did not allow himself to smile, but oh, he felt himself glowing inside.

“How dare you insinuate your tardiness is my fault?” The Chancellor whispered the question, which made it sound far more threatening.

Best not to goad her too far. “Of course not, Madam Chancellor. I alone bear the blame.” He bowed apologetically.

Lucca scowled. Gaspar knew she was capable of holding her emotions in check and wondered if it was better or worse that he could see how unhappy she was with the current turn of events.

“I suppose I could simply destroy the enclave,” she said at last. “That would bring the girl running back.”

The remark provoked a fear-induced chortle from Gaspar, which he instantly regretted.

“For all I know, it’s your fault the Martian bolted,” continued Lucca. “You might have made her skittish with an inferior performance as the old woman.”

Gaspar snorted. Professional pride getting in the way of his better judgment, he retorted, “I assure you neither the girl nor anyone else suspected
anything
was amiss whilst I impersonated the elderly person.”

After another icy stare, Lucca smiled. “No, I don’t suppose it is your fault. But I expect you to use every means available to persuade her to return swiftly. Invent something. Isn’t that what you’re good at?”

Gaspar nodded. “It is what I am
very
good at. I will not disappoint you, Madam Chancellor.”

“Do, and ten seconds warning is all you’ll get. Enough time to observe the missiles as they approach.” She smiled again, evidently enchanted by the idea of destroying the village and Gaspar with it. Then her gaze shifted and she seemed to look to either side of Gaspar.

“Where on Earth are you standing?” she demanded of the impersonator.

“Ah, yes, I have other news as well. As you can see, I am inside a ship. An interplanetary vessel, in fact. I believe the designation is M-class.”

“I know an M-class when I see one,” snapped Lucca. “Are you telling me the Martian has obtained a ship?”

“Apparently she has,” replied Gaspar.

“That would require a substantial sum to purchase,” murmured the Chancellor.

“Madam Chancellor? Do you wish me to find out—”

“Add to your existing questions one more: from whom was the ship obtained?”

“I will discover what use she will put it to, as well, Madam Chancellor.”

“Mmmm,” intoned Lucca, losing herself in thought for a moment. “I wonder if I shouldn’t simply destroy ship and village at once …”

Gaspar felt the opportunity to prove his worth slipping away. “Please allow me to demonstrate that you made the right choice in sending me here.”

“Yes, yes,” said the Chancellor, waving her hand dismissively. “Of course I made the right choice. Just see to it you find out what Mars is planning. Or I might grow frustrated with this little operation and forget to tell you to get clear in time.”

Gaspar swallowed thickly. “I will lay bare all their plans to you within days, Madam Chancellor.”

“See that you do,” replied Lucca. “Chancellor out.”

Her image vanished.

His pulse throbbed; his heart was beating far too swiftly. Gaspar took several slow breaths and shook out his hands, which had become balled fists crossed behind his back where the Chancellor couldn’t see them. It took him longer than usual to become “Renard” again.

With Jessamyn missing and Pavel busy, Gaspar decided to pay a visit to the dwelling that was his present “home.” Once inside, he encountered a very angry foster-brother.

“You
promised
you’d come wake me up
first
when you got back,” wailed Samuel.

Gaspar arranged his face into one of Renard’s easy, relaxed expressions. “What can I say, Samuel? It slipped my mind.”

Samuel glowered at his foster-brother. “My
real
brother wouldn’t have forgotten.”

“Samuel!” said his mother. “Foster-brothers are as real as any other kind of brother.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said the little boy, kicking at one leg of the table and causing it to shudder.

Within his cup, Renard’s bitter tea ration made circular patterns of repeating ripples.

“Stop kicking the table,” growled Roy. “You think wooden tables grow out of the ground?”

“And apologize to your brother,” added his mother.

“I’m sorry,” said Samuel.

The lie on the boy’s face was easy for Gaspar to read; it was a byproduct of studying people carefully in order to impersonate them. He was glad his line of work rarely involved him with children.

“Well, I’m off,” said Gaspar. “I’ll be over with the newcomers if you need me.”

“See it don’t interfere with your chores, boy,” said Roy.

“He’s not a boy any longer, Roy,” murmured Mary.

“All the more reason he oughta do a man’s work,” replied Roy.

“Don’t worry,” said Gaspar. “I can do both.”

And he could, having located certain individuals more than happy to do his chores in exchange for candy, game-chips, and zine-files he offered, something Renard had done upon occasion to free up time for racing.

Giving his kindliest smile to Samuel, Gaspar winked at him once, and departed, his eyes flickering uncomfortably to the sky as he strolled back to the newcomers’ dwelling—the
Gopher Hole
, he reminded himself.

He skipped down the steps and into the domicile, enjoying the strength and flexibility of the wiry body he inhabited. He tried never to judge a body in poor condition—he prided himself upon needing neither health nor beauty to accomplish his deceits. But this body was very pleasant to indwell.

“Is Ethan home?” he asked, seeing Harpreet sitting alone.

“I believe so,” she replied.

At the same time, Ethan called from his room, “I am here.”

Gaspar winked at Harpreet and entered Ethan’s workroom. “Thought you didn’t care for small, enclosed spaces?”

“I am working,” replied Ethan. “I am less affected when I am occupied than when I am not.” From beside him, Elsa gave a low growl directed at Gaspar. “Also, I have actions I can take should I become distressed.” He ran a hand through Elsa’s fur and addressed the dog. “It is Renard, Elsa. Calm yourself.”

“Can we talk for a minute?” asked Gaspar.

“Very well,” said Ethan. “May I assume you meant to inquire as to whether we could talk for more than only
one
minute?”

The impersonator grinned. “Yeah. More than one.”

Ethan turned and made several modifications to various screens at his work station. “Might we walk out of doors?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s a nice day.”

The two ascended the stairs, Ethan in his chair.

“So,” Gaspar began, “Do you have any idea where your sister is right now and when she’ll be back?”

“Would you prefer I answer the questions in the order in which you posed them?” countered Ethan.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Jessamyn has gone where you were scheduled to go. I do not know when she will return,” said her brother.

“Okay.” Gaspar nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets—a gesture he’d perfected in the style of Renard. “So she’s not making any unscheduled stops?”

“Not so far as I am aware,” said Ethan. “But she often neglects to fully disclose her intentions to me.”

The two walked in silence, Elsa bolting ahead and then circling back to chase circles around the pair.

“So,” said Gaspar, “Can you contact her and, uh, tell her to hurry back?”

Ethan’s brows drew together slightly. “No, I do not think it would be effective for me to ask my sister to return more swiftly than she is willing. Such a demand is likely to promote an opposite action.”

Gaspar chuckled with Renard’s light laughter. He was not to be so easily deterred, however. “Aren’t you worried about her?”

“I attempt at all times to regulate my levels of concern about my sister.”

“It’s just that if she were to take it in her head to go somewhere unexpected,” said Gaspar, shrugging both shoulders, “That could be dangerous for the whole village.”

“I see,” said Ethan. “You are concerned that my sister may, if she strays from her task, meet others to whom she might inadvertently divulge information, thus endangering Yucca.”

“Something like that,” replied Gaspar.

“Your fears are groundless. However, if she attempts communication, I shall let her know your concerns,” replied Ethan. “Do you have other topics upon which you wish to converse with me?”

Gaspar grinned. “No, man, that was it. You are one funny duck.”

“Duck?” asked Ethan.

“You’re different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

“So I am frequently told,” replied Ethan.

Gaspar did not, unfortunately, have any better luck with Pavel, whom he once more approached on the topic of Jessamyn’s return. He began to consider whether it might be in his best interests simply to run if the girl didn’t show up in the next day or so. But Lucca would find him swiftly. She knew all of his contacts. He could not, like the girl from Mars, simply disappear.

“
Shizer!
” he cursed, watching the skies for signs of missiles.

37

NO HUGS IN HIS EYES

Gaspar was still throwing nervous glances to the sky the following afternoon. It was a habit he needed to get rid of. Staring at the sky was
not
part of Renard’s natural behavior and so it had no place in Gaspar’s actions. Impersonating the young man was proving to be more challenging than Gaspar had anticipated. Of course, he reminded himself, the greater the challenge, the greater the triumph. And success in this endeavor would lead to greater opportunities in the future. Gaspar chose not to consider what failure would bring.

He told himself,
no more glancing up
.

As for the other annoyance, the one that came in a meter-tall package, he had decided that avoidance would be the surest course of action. Gaspar berated himself for not having observed more closely the relation between the two foster siblings. Still, adults snubbed children the world over when it suited them. Let the boy dislike “Renard” as much as he liked. No one paid serious heed to the whinings of a child.

~ ~ ~

Pavel was feeling the beginnings of concern for Jessamyn. She’d been gone a day and a half now without sending word of her location or intentions. Pavel had checked in with the Shirff only this morning to find out if delays were common for the supply run she’d been asked to fly. The answer had been a shrug, a friendly smile, and an, “If it’s not one thing, it’s another, Doc.”