Mars Weekend
by Pam Jernigan
Author's note: I don't know when I wrote this story. Probably in 1989, give or take a year or two. This story universe was my favorite mental playground for some years of late high school/early college, but this was the only story that I actually wrote a beginning, middle and end for. The rest was just notes, scene fragments, and pictures in my head. Lots and lots and lots of notes <g> I still remember quite a lot of my overall plotlines.
When going through old boxes the other week, I found the printout I'd made. On reading it again, I decided it wasn't too horrible. And I was amused to note that my heroine had a few traits in common with Lois Lane, years before L&C was first aired.
I transcribed this into Word from the printout. I did *not* do any editing, but typed in every misplaced comma, head-hopping paragraph, and line of clunky dialog.
Maybe later I'll fix them. Or not. <g> For the moment, I present it as Exhibit A -- an example of how I used to write. Hopefully it'll make my more current stuff look very good in comparison
and offer encouragement to newer writers -- I improved, and you can, too!
~~~Mars Weekend~~~
Paula Jamison was walking home from a party, breathing the thin air deeply to clear her head, when the pre-dawn stillness was abruptly punctuated by gunfire. It took her a second to remember that the colony was, technically, under siege. Before she had quite finished this thought, two things happened. She was grasped by the left arm and pulled into a side street, while at the same time, another gun was fired, terrifyingly close. She wanted to scream, but someone's hand was over her mouth, and she realized that she was being held tightly, her back pressed firmly against the body that belonged to the hand.
In the long, tense silence that followed, all she could hear was one, possibly two people breathing heavily. She was now totally alert and sober' amid the wild beating of her heard, she could feel her head starting to pound. Her mind was racing, and she allowed herself a moment of intense resentment towards the man she had come all the way to Mars to avoid. The spark of anger had caught fire, and she used it to fight the terror. She tried to draw a deep breath, and the fingers obligingly moved a little. With this encouragement, she opened her eyes, and was a bit surprised to see that everything looked just as it had a few minutes ago. The deserted streets seemed lighter gray, and the street lights were subtly dimming as the distant sun strengthened. Paula felt indignant that the world could so easily ignore her.
"Come on, now!" hissed a voice out of nowhere, and Paula found herself being hustled down an alley backwards, an awkward way to travel at best. Apparently her captor thought so too, for he whispered in her ear, "Please don't make any noise, we wouldn't want to hurt you." Her mouth was freed, but her left arm was still gripped tightly, and she was towed two blocks further into another shadowy corner.
In this pause, Paula took the opportunity to display her anger, her only weapon against the fear. "You barbarian, I'm an American citizen. Let me go this instant!" His warning had made her keep her voice low, but it was still plainly furious.
"Don't be stupid. We'll release you when it's safe to do so." Her captor turned towards her to emphasize his words. "We only grabbed you to keep you out of the crossfire. The second you're spotted, you'll be shot at. Granted, they're lousy shots, but anything could happen. I refuse to have a casualty on such an easy mission." Paula found herself reassured, not so much by his words as by his eyes. She had the oddest conviction that she knew him, that he was in fact one of her closest friends. Undoubtedly it was only because she'd been up drinking all night, but she couldn't help remembering the last time it had happened...
Her musings were interrupted by a sudden jerk on her arm. They were running again, across a main street and into yet another alley. Paula had never known that New Houston had so many alleys. They ducked behind some garbage cans this time. She used this pause to try to evaluate the situation. Her arms was very securely held. For the present, at least, she was staying with her captors. Now she was able to see that the man holding her was probably around 30, and quite attractive. He was looking to his right. Turning her head to follow his gaze, Paula saw the other man, rather older than the first. This one was peering into the street, with a gun held beside him. Briefly and intensely, Paula wished that she had not so totally ignored the politics of the planet during the past two years. The environment and culture were all very well... with a small shock she realized that, in that last dash, her coat had come open and was letting in the frigid dawn air. She shivered more with fear than cold. Worse than that, though, she'd lost her hat. That loss fueled her anger, for it was one of her favorite hats. Looking around, she saw it only a few steps away.
She looked up at her captor's profile, wondering how he'd react if she asked to retrieve it. She was struck again with the feeling that he was, or would be, a good friend of hers. She didn't have these intuitive flashes often, but they were nearly always right, so maybe things would turn out okay. As soon as she reached this conclusion, the cold knot of tension in her belly relaxed a bit, giving her the courage to ask her favor.
"Excuse me, but I need to get my hat," she whispered.
He looked down, surprised. "What ever for?"
For keeping the rain off, she wanted to say, but she didn't think flippancy would help. She contented herself with "For any number of reasons, but the main one is, everyone knows it's mine."
He considered it a second. "All right, I'll get it for you. Stay here."
He stepped out and back quickly, handing her the hat. She dusted it off fondly; it was a floppy gray fedora, she'd brought with her from Earth and she knew she'd never be able to afford another one. She tucked it inside her coat and zipped up.
"We can't stay here forever. If we don't move soon we'll freeze. They're looking for two men. You go on your own and make the report, and I'll follow in a few days. Remember, the artificial gravity drops at the city limit, and give me the gun."
The older man listened and obeyed, which surprised Paula. Then he whisked off into the shadows. The man beside her didn't move, but after a few minutes he began to talk in low tones.
"Frightfully sorry for the inconvenience." He didn't sound sorry, just preoccupied. "If we'd left you, you'd have been killed or arrested."
So tell me how my options have improved, was the thought uppermost in her mind, but she didn't voice it, because she no longer really felt she was in danger. Her intuition aside, surely if they'd wanted to harm her they would have done it by now.
"So now, I've got to keep you from both these unpleasant fates, and if you'll cooperate, I think it can be done. Where do you live?"
The question took her by surprise, and she fumbled for words. "In...in a boarding house on North Philadelphia. Number 168."
"Okay, that's not too far from here." He started out onto the street, pulling her along, in the direction of her home. Not giving her time to protest, he continued, "My plan is to stay in your apartment for several days. Could that be done without anyone thinking too much of it?"
"You want to stay in my apartment?" She couldn't hide a moment of severe apprehension.
"I need a place to hide. You'll be safe enough, don't worry. The whole point of this silliness is to save your hide, after all." His voice was low and curt, but somehow reassuring. By this time her brain had stopped fighting the feeling that she could trust him.
"Okay, whatever. You're the kidnap-- I mean, the hero." He looked a question at her teasing tone. "Come on, no one's serious at 5am. Lighten up!"
During the walk to her boarding house, he took her advice and told outrageously funny stories, affecting to be half drunk. Paula hadn't thought she could laugh, be she was not only short of sleep but also a little bit drunk. He had introduced himself as Robert, and by the time they reached their destination, they were talking like long lost friends.
It didn't seem like any time at all before Paula stopped and motioned towards a non-descript two story house. "That's my building."
"Very nice," he commented, "but surely a bit small?"
"Oh, it's old," she explained. "There's three floors underground. My apartment is two stories down. That part of it dates to before New Houston got the protective dome finished and everything was underground. I love living in a part of history."
Boarding houses on Mars had been very prevalent during the initial colonization, due mainly to the number of people who had come to offer their technological skills, not their home-making abilities. The rooms were really apartments, but there was a common dining-room for the very busy or the cooking impaired, and the owner cooked for all the tenants.
She dug out her key and opened the main door. "Be quiet, please. I don't generally bring anyone home from parties."
Paula knew that the time spent waiting for the elevator would be the best, or possibly the only time to call for help, but she really did not feel threatened, and allowed the opportunity to pass. Besides, the whole situation could be her chance to break into feature reporting. Her column was nice, but not very exciting to write. Robert could fill her in on the politics that she'd ignored for the last few years. He might twist the truth, but she had the resources to verify any claim he could make. And glowing faintly, on the far horizon of her mind, was the possibility of acquiring a source inside the rebellion. With that established, a good reporter couldn't be stopped. The ride down the elevator was very quiet.
Paula unlocked her door and let them into a rather large room. It was dominated by an L-shaped couch in the middle of the room, which was facing the entertainment center on the right wall. On the other side of the room, behind the couch, was a large, cluttered desk, an overflowing bookshelf and a sprawling computer system. At first glance, there didn't seem to be any color scheme to the room, just lots of bright colors. Paula was used to the effect of the room upon visitors, so she just let him stare for a moment. She was about to explain when he spoke.
"Well, it's cheerful," he managed, then moved towards the desk. "Very nice computer here -- an ABM Pandorra? I am impressed."
"Well, for my job, I need it."
At her comment he swung around to face her. "That's where I know you from. You write for the New Houston Sun-Times. Don't you try to explain Mars to people who've never been here?"
"That's a fair descriptions, yes," she answered warily, not certain where this was heading.
"You do a pretty good job, too. But why don't you cover the revolution, or at least the political climate?"
Taken aback, she could only reply that she wasn't interested in politics.
"Well, you should be. It's a very important factor in our everyday lives. But I shouldn't lecture. You're being extremely good about this mess."
To this, she had a good answer. "I should be; I live in one." She gestured to indicate the living room. "I never clean it up because I never notice it, because I'm used to it. Anyway. The grand tour continues. The kitchenette is through the door on your left, the bathroom is straight ahead, and my bedroom's on the right. This sofa is very comfortable, and when your eyes are closed, you can't see the colors. I'll get some sheets. Just dump my junk anywhere on the floor.
He started clearing off the sofa. "Your decor is rather nice, once the shock wears off. Nothing actually clashes. She emerged from the bathroom with sheets and a blanket. "I can make my own bed," he offered.
"That's good, because the excitement is wearing off, and I'm going to bed now. In case you're worried, my bedroom has no outside doors or windows, and the only phone's on my desk. I hope you won't be insulted if I lock myself in?"
"Perfectly understandable," he said gravely, but his eyes twinkled. "One other thing. You'll have to call in sick for the next few days, for obvious reasons. I sincerely hope it won't be a problem." His sincerity was evident in his voice, and she smiled at his concern.
"The good thing about being a columnist is that the columns can be written anywhere and sent by computer. The only time I need to go in to my office is to do research. Since everyone knows how much I hate to do research, no one will be surprised if I'm not in. In short, I'm the perfect person to abduct."
Robert smiled at her teasing and told her to get some sleep. Then he settled on the couch to think. He didn't like involving innocent bystanders in military business, and he didn't like abducting them. At least she was dealing well with the situation. He was glad that she wasn't terrified, that she was so at ease with him that she could joke like that. Either that or she was so sleepy she didn't give a damn, he amended wryly. For an operation that more or less fell to pieces, it was turning out alright. He smiled and settled down to sleep.
Paula entered her bedroom, shut the door firmly, and locked it. She stood still a moment to let her eyes become accustomed to the dimness before she moved to a nearby floor lamp and switched it on. The yellow light flooded the cozy room, and in spite of herself, Paula felt a moment of total peace. She wondered at it, because she surely should be worried, or scared, or something. Instead, she had this ridiculous conviction that she was good friends with her "guest." The only other time this had happened to her was years ago.
As she concentrated the details came back. She'd been 17, scared stiff to be starting the journalism college so far from home. She had moved herself into the dorm, and then set out to explore the meager campus. Halfway to the cafeteria, she'd noticed another girl walking in the same direction. Her instinct had told her in no uncertain terms that here was a kindred spirit. She'd introduced herself to Lauren McKenzie then. Lauren was still the best friend she had, and they wrote long letters frequently. And she'd had that same feeling today, seeing Robert. She didn't understand why, but she trusted him. On that thought she fell asleep.
Around noon, Paula emerged, yawning but lazily cheerful. She paused on her way to the kitchen to ponder her still sleeping guest. With his clothes rumpled and his body relaxed, he looked younger than she. She supposed that he was gorgeous. Dark, slightly curling hair paired with blue eyes had always been an irresistible combination for her, but she couldn't see herself with him. Who wanted to fall in love with a revolutionary, constantly in danger, constantly on the run? It had all seemed very exciting and romantic, but now she began to see many practical, sticky complications she'd never noticed before. Then she caught herself and laughed softly. Why was she worrying? All Robert wanted was a hiding place for a few days, not a wife. She resolved to put all suck silly thoughts out of her mind, and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
Robert came awake suddenly at the smell of breakfast. It had been such a long time since anyone had made him breakfast, that he lay there and enjoyed the feeling. It occurred to him that he'd been sleeping very heavily, if he hadn't heard her moving around. She could have called the police for all he knew. He didn't think it likely, though. As a reporter, she'd want him all for herself. Besides, who called the police and then proceeded to cook breakfast for the fugitive? Even if it was nearly one in the afternoon. He stretched lazily, then got up and walked over towards the source of the smells.
His walk was silent from many years of training, and he took the opportunity to study his hostess while she was busy at the stove. She was short, 5' 3", and slender, but not nearly as thin as most women born on Mars. (The lower gravity tended to breed taller, thinner human beings.) Her dark brown hair was shoulder length, mostly straight, but curling under at the ends. He remembered her eyes from when she'd asked about her hat, they were a blue grey and very calm. She'd apparently dressed for comfort today, in a loose top and a long skirt. For some reason, she reminded him of his sister.
Paula finished taking the French toast off the griddle, turned to put them on the table, and saw him. If she was flustered, she didn't show it.
"Good morning, Robert, did you sleep well?"
"Very well, thank you. I needed the rest."
"I can imagine," she said in a dry tone, but made no more reference to their dawn meeting. "I've made breakfast, as you see. It's not a hobby of mine, but I was in the mood today, and we can't take you to the dining room." She deftly served the French toast and went to the refrigerator to extract the milk. "Orange juice would be nice, or coffee, but they're both so expensive on this planet. I would think they could build special greenhouses for tropical plants if it's so cold. I'm planning to do a column on it soon." On that note, she sat down across the little table from Robert, and began to eat.
By the time she'd begun, he was half-finished. She laughed at his eagerness, and he offered to wait for her to catch up. "No, I don't care. Eat, by all means, it'll keep up your strength while I question you. I can see now that I should have studied current events and politics, instead of avoiding them. So you're going to give me a crash course. I hate doing research."
He frankly laughed at that. "You do know how to handle an abduction in style. In exchange for this marvelous breakfast, I'll tell you almost anything."
She grinned. "I knew that cooking was a useful career skill." They finished the meal chatting and teasing, on excellent terms.
After Paula had piled the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, she almost visibly shifted gears, becoming the reporter intent on a story. She excavated a tape recorder, along with several blank tapes, from the file cabinet, and settled down on the sofa. Since there were no other chairs, Robert sat on the opposite end.
"Let's see, how should I structure this? I think, if it's alright with you, that I'll just mostly let you talk. I really don't know the right questions to ask." She pressed the record button. "BY the way, I have no intentions of letting anyone but me hear this tape. Everything you say will be confidential. I just need a good starting point for my research, you see. Pretend you're trying to convince me to sign up, or something. Fire away."
"Well, Paula, you may not have noticed, most off-worlders don't, but there is a subtle and pervasive discrimination and prejudice against anyone born here. We can't shop in the best stores, or work in the best jobs. We pay more taxes yet have less representation than that of the American citizen living on Earth. As a colony, we're in a strange position. We are American citizens, and yet we lack some of the most basic rights. Courts, or at least the judges, will decide for the Earthman over the Marsman every time, regardless of who was right. Well, there are thousands of examples, but the end result is this: Any person born on Mars is a second class citizen."
"Is there proof of this anywhere?"
"I'd suggest you look in the colony charter. A revision to the original was pushed through in 2132, under the guise of modernizing it. We lost a lot in that revision."
Paula was getting interested in spite of herself. "Well, couldn't you put through another revision, to modernize it some more? Almost 30 years have passed."
He smiled sardonically. "We tried that three years back, in '57. But the Martian-born can't run for the council and certainly can't be the governor. We circulated petitions and lobbied and bribed, but it didn't work. Killed in committee."
"I think I've heard of that. Whenever MIRA comes up, some else mentions the revision of '57, and they all dismiss the subject. Someone must take your organization seriously, since we're subject to very tight security, but no one I know is worried. Are you really as harmless as everyone thinks?"
"Well, yes and no. I think it might be clearer if I just start at the beginning." Paula nodded acquiescence and he began.
"About ten years ago, some people got together and decided that they didn't like the way our planet was being run, and it was time to do something about it. They decided to start gathering and organizing patriots, people with useful skills. It was all done in strict secrecy, I don't even know how many people were in on it, let alone who they are. Their goal is a united planet Mars. Not chopped up into different colonies and territories as it is now, and free from all colonial rule from Earth. Restricting our civil liberties is a nuisance, but not the real danger. Mars had to be terraformed in order to make it habitable for human beings. Therefore, our ecology lacks the resiliance of a natural system, and it requires constant maintenance. It would not be difficult to destroy all life on Mars by destroying the tenuously held atmosphere."
"The leaders of Earth nations tend to forget that fact. They've always been very aggressive, though they did manage to suppress nuclear weapons out of fear for their planet and their future. In fact, that's part of the reason they colonized Mars, to help ensure human survival. But anyway, we're afraid that they'll have some petty squabble amongst themselves, and get their flunkies up here to fight, too. We need to cooperate to survive. We don't want to destroy ourselves over some immature fight. And the best way to prevent that is to rule ourselves, with the whole planet under one government."
"As I said, about three years ago, we tried to resolve our problems through the system. The attempt was more for show than anything, no one thought we'd succeed. However, since we've now tried it their way and it didn't work, we can proceed to do it our way, and it will work. I don't know who first named us MIRA. It stands for the Martian International Rebel Army, which is nice, but in deference to our atmosphere, we're non-violent. Not that we'd screw up, but violence breeds violence, and the official retaliation could be hell. We're going so slowly that no one pays much attention. So to answer your question, no, we're not a threat, in that we wouldn't hurt anyone. But yes, we are a threat, in that we will eventually overthrow the government. We just have to make sure that it's a bloodless coup."
tbc, if anyone wants to see it...
