The Mars Project by Julie Steimle (i can read with my eyes shut TXT) 📕

stuff, Zormna,” Jeff explained again. “Things that girls are mostly into and guys think are lame.”

She grimaced as if that would be worse.

“You don’t like romances either?” Sam asked with a laugh, nudging her in the side.

Shaking her head, Zormna distastefully replied, “Oh please, and be like those simpering types that cannot live without a man? I would rather re-watch that last film.”

Sam peeked back at Jeff, and he shrugged his shoulders.

“So what do you like? War movies? Mysteries, action, adventure, drama?” the boy persisted.

Tired of the subject, she replied, “I don’t know. I never really watched films before. Like I ever had the time. The only movies I have ever seen were on TV with the McLennas.” Zormna averted her eyes from the group after she said that, trying to hide her embarrassed blush at her lack of experience. Only a few noticed it. The others decided it was dead subject anyway and ignored it.

“Where to now, fearless leader?” Mark asked the slightly-put-out Brian.

Brian looked up then stopped. Glancing back at the rest, he thought a second. “Anyone for a burger?”

Echoes of ‘yes’ and nods came back. Immediately they all turned their course to the mall food court.

*

“So, we can safely say those two don’t believe in fate, but are superstitious in a religious sort of sense?” Agent Sicamore asked.

Agent Keane nodded. “Yeah, the boy believes strongly in having a life’s mission.”

“What’s his mission?” Agent Sicamore asked, leaning in.

Shaking his head, Keane replied, “I’m not exactly sure. But I really do think it is to protect her and to do something with her.”

“Ok, maybe you should recount word for word what you have in your report,” Sicamore said.

Nodding, Agent Keane leaned forward and recited what he remembered. “Actually, I was in luck. After the agents camped at ‘Domicile One’ were sabotaged, they contacted me. And I was able to set up a quick surveillance. The recording is a little faint, as they whispered, but I got some interesting stuff. Listen to this.”

He played the recording.

<<…But you, come on… Alea Zormna Clendar of Zeta? The Kevin’s Zormna? Why are you doubting your mission when you know you’re the youngest adult in our history, and the most notorious Surface Patrol officer and most brilliant hacker—at least as far as I have ever known.>>

<<You shouldn’t bother with flattering me, Jafarr. I mean, how can you talk about me like that when you were clever enough to keep out of P.M. hands, even after you ended up in ISIC? And you have a cleaner record than I do. That means you’re smart enough to contend with me as an equal adversary, so don’t pretend to be impressed…. You were the only one that gave me trouble.>>

<<Alright… So…as they say, we are two of a kind. So why are you doubting? This task—between you and me—is something we have been prepared for. I mean, come on. We have shared dreams. Conversations with our common ancestor.>>

<<I know. I just don’t want it. It scares me.>>

<<It’s ok. It scares me too… But, listen to what I am saying now. I’d die first before I’d let you get hurt…..>> The rest was really low whispering.

He clicked off the recording, raising his eyebrows at Agent Sicamore. “What do you think?”

“The Kevin’s Zormna?” Agent Sicamore murmured, folding his fingers together. “Youngest adult? Common ancestor? What exactly does that mean?”

“Not sure. Jeff was holding her, and it looked like she had just been crying,” Agent Keane said. He shook his head. “He was acting like she needed a pep talk. He said she was the most notorious—that was the word he used—‘notorious’ Surface Patrol officer he had ever known. What does that even mean?”

“They said this outside?” Agent Sicamore asked, surprised.

“Apparently they didn’t think we’d be back that quickly.” Agent Keane sat back in his chair. “The thing is, listen to it, after he was trying to cheer her up, she accuses him of flattering her, and she says—this I think we’d better note—she says something like ‘you were clever enough to keep out of the pm hands.’ I have no idea what that P M means. Or Eye-Sick. But then she says something like ‘you were the only one that gave me trouble.’”

“What does that mean?” Agent Sicamore said, shaking his head.

“I think Jeff was a criminal where he’s from. A traitor or a rebel.”

Leaning back in his chair, Agent Sicamore started to nod. “Zormna is a soldier—possibly of a rebel army. And he is one of her fellow officers sent to protect her.”

Agent Keane shook his head. “No. No. He called it the Surface Patrol. She even calls it the Patrol openly. It is government military. But I think he is part of a subversive group that intends to overthrow the government. He said, what was it? Uh, ‘this task…is something we’ve been prepared for.’ And I am wondering which task, exactly.”

“Good question.” Agent Sicamore gazed at him and crossed his arms.

Keane sighed, shaking his head. “He did, however, say that he would die before he let anybody hurt her.”

Sicamore drew in a long breath, thinking for a while as Agent Keane waited. His report had been full this time around.

“So, let’s suppose that he is a dangerous criminal, and she knew of his reputation,” Sicamore started, evaluating the information.

“And she caught him once, breaking his nose in the process. And he obviously escaped,” Keane included.

Nodding, Sicamore added, “Yes—and he came here to escape imprisonment, possibly with other rebels.” He lifted his hand toward the other files on the two college boarders living in Jeff’s house. They were nearly empty as both men remained boringly enigmatic. “And somehow her military leader discovered that she was a Tarrn. And possibly because of superstition or mutual admiration for her skill, he let her escape to Earth to avoid being killed. And she chose Pennington because her great aunt had migrated here, giving her a home.”

Agent Keane nodded. “And Jeff, a.k.a. Jafarr, also happened to coincidentally hide in the very same city, so they met again.”

“Some coincidence,” Agent Sicamore muttered. “She didn’t seem to be looking for him and he was avoiding her. But they crashed into each other, and not soon after, he discovered who she was—who she really was. And in fear of the prophecy—”

“No,” Agent Keane interrupted, “In hope of the prophecy. He is encouraging her.”

“All right, in hopes or in using the prophecy to his advantage, Jeff convinces Zormna that she is the Tarrn from that prophecy, and he intends to use her military connections to overthrow their government.” Mr. Sicamore sat back, feeling satisfied by this conclusion.

Agent Keane nodded. It seemed to be most likely. “The question is now, what do we do? If they are a threat, then shouldn’t we stop them?”

Agent Sicamore sat up in his chair, pondering that thought. He remained tense, and not all that ready to move ahead as Agent Keane had hoped. He said, “The truth is, we still only have theories. I’d say, you transcribe what you overheard, and we’ll continue with the space surveillance. So far, neither source has produced enough hard evidence to prove that they are a threat to us. They exist, yes. But most of the activity in space seems to show that they are mining ore and basically minding their own business. Also, we have not yet linked the activity in space to our targets on Earth. Both have to prove to be interrelated and dangerous before we have permission to act.”

“So we’re on surveillance until we prove they are hostile?” Agent Keane sighed.

Nodding, Sicamore replied, “Yes.”

Standing up, Keane shook his head. “I can’t tell you how much I am worried about this project. I think Jeff suspects something. I’m positive Darren Asher does. I don’t think this is going to stay under wraps for long.”

Agent Sicamore nodded again. “That will be all, Agent Keane. I’ll see you in two days.”

The agent nodded, though not pleased with Sicamore’s response. He didn’t like it that James Sicamore was just as secretive as Jeff and Zormna, if not more. There was something suspicious about how he handled everything like he was carrying a smoking bomb with potholders. It just didn’t seem to be enough.

Taking his leave, Agent Steve Keane walked to the door where he let himself out.

Agent Sicamore sighed, turning his eyes back to the files before him. He pulled out Jeff’s file then penciled in the minute details he learned that day.

 

Possible political fugitive and rebel. Highly intelligent, and somewhat superstitious. Need to find out if he is serious about his intentions and beliefs. Possible family connection between the boy and the female target.

 

 He closed his folder and placed the pencil in the pencil cup on his desk. This one radical in the equation was becoming clearer, and the image he was getting was not one he liked.

 

Chapter Twelve: Planning Parties

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The devil can cite scripture for his own purpose.”—Shakespeare—

 

 

School stepped into the next month with swiftness that was kinder to the students than the teachers. The projects planned for that year came up sooner than some expected. Though Mr. Humphries was going strong with Macbeth in his class, relieving both Romeo and Juliet of their reading duty, Miss Bianchi was scrambling to get the autumn festival going. Oktoberfest was her responsibility, but she was late getting the assignments out.

“Now, your paper has to be about a family tradition. It is five pages, and…oh, what is it, Zormna?” Miss Bianchi’s shoulders hung with exasperation the moment she saw the blonde girl’s raised hand.

“What if you don’t have any family traditions?” Zormna asked.

Her friends around her shot her funny looks, except for Jennifer who set a hand over her face and sighed.

Miss Bianchi moaned in hopes that Zormna wasn’t making herself purposefully obnoxious. “You must have some traditions you follow.”

Zormna shook her head. She didn’t look too happy about it either. “I was raised in a military school. The only tradition I know is marching.”

Some girls snickered at that, including Jessica who smothered it. Sam and Adam shared looks, as Zormna had been openly outspoken in History whenever large cultural assignments came up. And she always had the same excuse—she was raised a soldier and never had time for anything besides military stuff.

Sighing, Miss Bianchi closed her eyes. “Then see me after class. We’ll talk then.”

Zormna nodded and sat back in her chair.

*

Oktoberfest had been scheduled for the middle of the month. Usually it was intended to replace Halloween, but Homecoming fell on the day before Halloween so the overly protective parents within the neighborhood didn’t feel as threatened that year. That year they were holding Oktoberfest on the seventeenth. That gave them a week in between to recuperate. Miss Bianchi had thoroughly planned the big strudel-eating, root beer-guzzling, pumpkin-carving, pie-eating, folk-dancing festival that needed volunteers to decorate and serve while the local clubs used the school to display their wares in the parking lot.

Everyone on the committee working with them all agreed that Oktoberfest was an outdoor affair. And as much as Miss Bianchi really was a great party coordinator, she hated organizing outdoor events in the fall. Pennington, as Zormna soon learned, was ultra-windy in the fall. It frequently blew up her cheerleading skirts and drove a