Read Online Defying Mars (Saving Mars Series-2) by Cidney Swanson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cidney Swanson
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non-concrete descriptions.
“We want something that can outrun security,” continued Pavel, growing animated. “Something with some actual power under the hood.”
“There’s no need to outrun security with an untraceable ship,” argued Brian Wallace.
Ethan disagreed. “The need for speed could become more paramount in an escape situation,” he said.
“Exactly,” said Pavel, grinning broadly. “If they can’t catch you, it doesn’t matter if they can trace you or not.”
“That is incorrect,” said Ethan.
“Come on, Ethan. Whose side are you on?” asked Pavel.
“Figure of speech,” murmured Wallace.
Pavel rolled his eyes. “Look. All I’m saying is this ship is slow. And now, when we’re planning to break into a secure facility, is the kind of situation where speed could be important.”
In the end, Wallace allowed himself to be persuaded when a ship was found which had the ability to jam tracking technologies.
“And ye’re certain it has to be this one, lad?” asked Brian Wallace, looking at the sleek, reflective silver of Pavel’s choice—a Hercules-class flyer.
“It’s got seven times the power of Lucca’s old dust-sucker,” said Pavel. His grin ran ear-to-ear as he dumped the specifications of the new vehicle on Wallace and Ethan. “Just look at her! She beat out the Novum Oddysseum by seventeen minutes in last year’s Singapore Classic. Now, that is a ship, my friends.”
“Aye, lad,” sighed Brian Wallace. “It’s a ship that says, ‘Notice me, if ye please.’ I don’t care for it.”
“C’mon, Wallace,” said Pavel. “You don’t think the Chancellor’s ship says, ‘Notice me’?”
Ethan was staring at both of them with a puzzled look. “Figures of speech?” he asked.
The pair nodded in response.
“Sorry, man,” said Pavel.
“Conversations with the two of you are most educational,” replied Ethan. “Brian Wallace, the racing ship is approximately twenty percent less likely to gather notice than the Chancellor’s luxury vehicle.”
“Ye don’t say?” asked Brian, surprised.
And so the trio flew away in a newer, faster, and very much shinier Hercules-class craft that afternoon, Pavel whooping at the helm as he put the ship through her paces.
“Thanks, man,” said Pavel to Brian Wallace, grinning broadly.
“You’re entirely welcome, lad,” replied Wallace.
The two argued less after that. In fact, after attracting stares and whistles at their next stop, Pavel allowed Wallace to persuade him of the need for something less visually appealing and consented to having the ship painted a dull shade of brown.
“It looks like dirt,” Pavel said sadly when they’d completed the transformation.
“Aye,” said Wallace, snorting with laughter. “So it does. Dirt. That’s something we two can agree on.”
Meanwhile, Wallace’s many connections with the underground world of activities deemed criminal by Lucca Brezhnaya’s government proved to have their uses. The Scot was not able to obtain direct assistance from Clan Wallace to break into the satellite facility. But through means indirect, the party of Brian, Pavel, and Ethan were finally equipped with scan passes, codes, and intelligence about security within the building, which appeared to have been down-graded to video-surveillance and one security guard only, if reports were to be believed.
The evening of their planned mission arrived. Ethan estimated that he needed ninety minutes to finish the work of redirecting the control of the satellites to MCC. Pavel suggested they arrive between four-thirty and five in the morning, a time night-shift guards favored for drinking the strong black Budapesti coffee known as kávé .
“Zussman—our butler—worked security when he was a twobody,” said Pavel. “He swore by that four-thirty cup of coffee to get you through ‘til the shift ended.”
This led to another disagreement between Brian and Pavel as Pavel steered the craft toward
“We want something that can outrun security,” continued Pavel, growing animated. “Something with some actual power under the hood.”
“There’s no need to outrun security with an untraceable ship,” argued Brian Wallace.
Ethan disagreed. “The need for speed could become more paramount in an escape situation,” he said.
“Exactly,” said Pavel, grinning broadly. “If they can’t catch you, it doesn’t matter if they can trace you or not.”
“That is incorrect,” said Ethan.
“Come on, Ethan. Whose side are you on?” asked Pavel.
“Figure of speech,” murmured Wallace.
Pavel rolled his eyes. “Look. All I’m saying is this ship is slow. And now, when we’re planning to break into a secure facility, is the kind of situation where speed could be important.”
In the end, Wallace allowed himself to be persuaded when a ship was found which had the ability to jam tracking technologies.
“And ye’re certain it has to be this one, lad?” asked Brian Wallace, looking at the sleek, reflective silver of Pavel’s choice—a Hercules-class flyer.
“It’s got seven times the power of Lucca’s old dust-sucker,” said Pavel. His grin ran ear-to-ear as he dumped the specifications of the new vehicle on Wallace and Ethan. “Just look at her! She beat out the Novum Oddysseum by seventeen minutes in last year’s Singapore Classic. Now, that is a ship, my friends.”
“Aye, lad,” sighed Brian Wallace. “It’s a ship that says, ‘Notice me, if ye please.’ I don’t care for it.”
“C’mon, Wallace,” said Pavel. “You don’t think the Chancellor’s ship says, ‘Notice me’?”
Ethan was staring at both of them with a puzzled look. “Figures of speech?” he asked.
The pair nodded in response.
“Sorry, man,” said Pavel.
“Conversations with the two of you are most educational,” replied Ethan. “Brian Wallace, the racing ship is approximately twenty percent less likely to gather notice than the Chancellor’s luxury vehicle.”
“Ye don’t say?” asked Brian, surprised.
And so the trio flew away in a newer, faster, and very much shinier Hercules-class craft that afternoon, Pavel whooping at the helm as he put the ship through her paces.
“Thanks, man,” said Pavel to Brian Wallace, grinning broadly.
“You’re entirely welcome, lad,” replied Wallace.
The two argued less after that. In fact, after attracting stares and whistles at their next stop, Pavel allowed Wallace to persuade him of the need for something less visually appealing and consented to having the ship painted a dull shade of brown.
“It looks like dirt,” Pavel said sadly when they’d completed the transformation.
“Aye,” said Wallace, snorting with laughter. “So it does. Dirt. That’s something we two can agree on.”
Meanwhile, Wallace’s many connections with the underground world of activities deemed criminal by Lucca Brezhnaya’s government proved to have their uses. The Scot was not able to obtain direct assistance from Clan Wallace to break into the satellite facility. But through means indirect, the party of Brian, Pavel, and Ethan were finally equipped with scan passes, codes, and intelligence about security within the building, which appeared to have been down-graded to video-surveillance and one security guard only, if reports were to be believed.
The evening of their planned mission arrived. Ethan estimated that he needed ninety minutes to finish the work of redirecting the control of the satellites to MCC. Pavel suggested they arrive between four-thirty and five in the morning, a time night-shift guards favored for drinking the strong black Budapesti coffee known as kávé .
“Zussman—our butler—worked security when he was a twobody,” said Pavel. “He swore by that four-thirty cup of coffee to get you through ‘til the shift ended.”
This led to another disagreement between Brian and Pavel as Pavel steered the craft toward
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