Blue Hearts of Mars

by Grotepas, Nicole

  This time Mei looked before I even had a chance to tell her what to do. “It’s clear,” she hissed back at me. I motioned for her to head down the aisle.

  She crept down the aisle, keeping her back hunched and her head lowered. Though the tables were about four and a half feet tall, we didn’t want to risk being seen, so we kept our bodies close to the floor and our noise to a minimum.

  Soon we came to a point where the tables became cabinets with sliding doors on them. This was expected. It meant we were where the finished hearts were kept. Near the end of the row, I paused and slid a cabinet door open and pulled out a small metal box. Heart-sized. An empty cryo-container. From here, the hearts would be moved to the floor Mei and I had seen months ago where they would be introduced to blood, and eventually, put into the chest cavity of the androids.

  I glanced to my right and Mei was already opening one of the glass chambers. Still crouching, her hand was stretched up to release the top panel. I cringed as the chamber let out a hiss as pressurized air escaped. It was noisy. I knew it would be. But still. My heart raced as I looked left and right, checking to see if we’d been discovered. Holding my breath, I opened the cryo-container and dialed in the proper settings.

  I tried to hang on to the container and rise up to get the heart, but Mei shook her head. “Let me,” she whispered, taking the container. This would be the most dangerous part: we would risk being seen.

  “One, two, three,” Mei counted soundlessly, then she stood slowly, surveying the room through the walls of the glass chamber. She hesitated. I held my breath.

  After a moment, she pulled the lid of the chamber up, held the open end of the cryo-container down and lowered it into the chamber. I watched with wide eyes as the heart seemed to float up into the container, slowly, as the different air pressures interacted, and the red organ settled inside, and the lid of the container slid closed.

  Mei smiled as she lifted the container out and began to hand it to me.

  “Hey!” The shout made us both jump. Mei nearly dropped the container. “You! What do you think you’re doing?”

  Mei froze in place, staring at whoever had caught us. I couldn’t see the owner of the voice.

  “Run, Mei, run!” I urged from where I knelt beside her.

  She looked down at me.

  Suddenly she was shoving the container into my arms. “Go! You go! I’ll distract them.” Her eyes were wide and slightly crazed as she pushed me away.

  “That’s not the plan,” I hissed. “You go.”

  “No, Retta, your sister needs you. Deliver the heart. I’ll be OK.”

  They were coming. I could hear more shouts rising from the distant corners of the room, over the sound of machinery. I stared at Mei, feeling something rip inside me.

  I clutched the cryo-container to my chest, tears stinging my eyes and fear blasting through my heart. “Thanks,” I said, touching her foot with one hand as I turned to head back up the aisle.

  “Bring that over here,” a voice demanded angrily. It was male. Commanding. Mei looked up.

  “Catch me first,” she said, taking off in the opposite direction from me.

  I held the container tightly to my chest as I began crawling back the way we’d come. My pulse thundered in my ears as I hurried along. I prayed that Mei would provide enough distraction to allow me to escape. A commotion rose around the room as I crept on my knees toward the elevators, one hand clutching the container like a football.

  I thought I’d make it out without much of a fight, when a voice nearby made me jump out of my skin, “There’s another one here!” I looked up. A technician dressed in a long-sleeved lab coat and skull-covering cap stood at the end of the aisle, blocking my way to the elevator. “Give me that.” The voice was soft and female. She held out her hand and beckoned me. “Give it here.”

  “I need it,” I whispered, thinking maybe to appeal to her sympathy. “For someone who’s dying.”

  The woman hesitated for just a moment. She tilted her head to one side, her goggle-covered eyes glinting in the blue light. She beckoned again. “You’re just a kid. Give me the container and I’ll let you go. No more trouble than that.”

  I stood up and shook my head. “You don’t understand. It’s my sister.”

  This made her pause. “It’s stealing. I can’t allow that.” She shook her head, almost like she was trying to convince herself.

  I saw no way around it. I knew what I was made of, and Marta’s life was on the line. The woman facing me down looked relatively small, certainly no bigger than me.

  I pretended to give in, surrendering to her logic. Letting my shoulders droop in defeat, I walked toward her slowly. She remained still, managing to look triumphant even with her eyes hidden and her face covered in a mask.

  I made as though to begin handing her the heart, but then, at the last possible second, as she reached her arms out to take the container from me, I brought it close to my chest, lowered my shoulder, and charged her.

  If she hadn’t been wearing goggles, I know I would have seen her eyes widen in shock. I became a battering ram and I put every ounce of my rage about the injustice of what was happening to Marta into it.

  “What are you do—” she protested as I connected with her, sending her careening into a wall of supplies. She crashed against the wall and collapsed. I stared down at her as bottles and boxes fell onto her head and lap.

  She was swearing as I ran for the elevator. At least she was conscious. But where were the other technicians? I’d seen at least four when we came in.

  I jabbed at the call button as I scanned the room, standing on my tiptoes to see further into the long, cavernous room. I caught a glimpse of Mei climbing atop a table on the far side of the room as technicians jumped for her. As I scrambled into the elevator, she was throwing glass jars at them, laughing madly.

  I got off the elevator and glanced over the balcony edge down at the security station. Emil was still there, but he was standing up as though agitated. I took a deep breath and made a run for the door, keeping my eye on him.

  As I neared the foot of the escalator, he was heading toward me.

  I held onto the cryo-container and dodged him, putting other people between us as I bolted for the doors.

  “Hey, does Jaska know what you’re doing?” he shouted after me.

  For Marta, I thought, getting a fresh burst of speed. I crashed against the doors and they spilled open.

  I was on the street, hoofing it away from the building. I ripped the security pass from my shirt and the wig from my hair and cast both into the street without a second glance.

  “Come back!” Emil yelled.

  I kept going. People stared. They moved out of my way when they heard me coming.

  “I’ll find you! I have your name!”

  I wanted to laugh.

  *****

  I made it to the hospital in thirty minutes after catching the commuter trolley. Sonja was waiting near Marta’s room just like she said she would be. There was a doctor with her and they were deep in conversation when I approached them. I held up the cryo-container.

  Sonja’s face brightened when she saw it. “Wonderful. I knew you could do it.”

  “My friend Mei was caught,” I said, shaking my head.

  “We’ll take care of her later,” Sonja said, patting me on the shoulder. “This doctor has agreed to help me with the surgery.” She gestured to the doctor standing beside her. I hadn’t seen him before. His dark eyes glittered intelligently, narrowing as he nodded at me.

  “Thank you,” I said politely. His name tag flashed at me. Dr. Stebing.

  “It’s the least I can do,” he said with a hesitant smile.

  “But there is one problem, Retta,” Sonja said, pulling me aside. The doctor turned and moved away, allowing us to converse privately. “You haven’t told your father yet. He was surprised to see me. Will he be OK with this? If not, I’m afraid we can’t do it.”

  I slapped my forehead. In a
ll my hurrying and rushing about, I’d forgotten to even mention it to my dad. I hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up before asking Sonja. “I’ll go talk to him now. If he doesn’t agree to it, he’s a moron.”

  “Well, that’s certainly not going to convince him.” Sonja tapped her lip with one finger. “Let’s make sure he’ll allow it before we go any further. And use a more diplomatic tactic, Retta.”

  “Yeah. Right. Of course. I’ll go talk to him right now.” Sonja took the cryo-container from me. I stared as she walked off with it, feeling a strange reluctance to see it go. It was Marta’s last hope.

  Dad and Marta were watching a teenager drama about a group of kids living in an abandoned mining operation on an asteroid when I pushed the door open and entered the room. Marta’s face had gotten even more gaunt. I gulped down my fears and found a smile for her. She grinned weakly back.

  “We’re watching Haunt, Retta,” she said with a faltering grin. “Stay and watch it with us.”

  Dad looked over at me. There was a storm on his face.

  “That’s great,” I said trying to sound breezy. “A little bit of onscreen drama to distract from our own dramas, right?”

  Dad was looking daggers at me. I tried to brush it off, focusing on Marta.

  “Yeah, I’ve missed some episodes, but I think I’ve figured out what happened in those,” Marta said, her brow furrowing in concentration. She sighed and coughed.

  I touched her blanket-covered shin. It felt swollen and puffy. That was unexpected. I resisted jerking my hand away in surprise. “Don’t strain yourself,” I said, forcing down a worried exclamation.

  “I’m not straining,” she said defensively, a frown covering her face.

  “She’s fine,” Dad said. My eyes cut to him. He glared at me stubbornly. Was he in total denial?

  “I need to talk to you, Dad. Just for a minute. Can we go outside.”

  “You guys can’t talk in front of me? I’m tired of not being included.” Marta’s frown turned into a scowl. She slammed her hand down on the bed. It ended up weaker than she intended, which deepened her scowl and she looked away in frustration.

  “I’ll talk to you about it after I talk to Dad, I promise,” I said sympathetically.

  “Oh no you won’t,” Dad interjected. He stood up. His expression would have chipped diamonds.

  I managed to hang onto my positive expression for Marta as I slipped out through the door, grinning encouragingly at her.

  I steered Dad to a quiet corner of the hospital wing.

  “I know what this is about, Retta, and it’s a resounding no.” Dad crossed his arms and stood with his legs wide as I turned to begin our conversation. We were near a waiting area. I caught sight of a woman with dark circles under her eyes, her head tilted to one side dazedly. She sat next to an old man, maybe her father, whose expression suggested total shock. He stared into space unseeing, and his lips moved occasionally as though he were muttering to himself. I fixed my gaze on Dad.

  “From what I can tell this is Marta’s only chance. Her last chance, Dad. The doctors have no idea what to do for her and worse, they don’t seem to care.” He flinched when I mentioned it being her last chance. It was a hard truth. But he needed to face it. We both did.

  “Do you even know what you’re suggesting?” he asked bending toward me. “Your answer is to turn her into a blue heart?” It came out a hiss.

  “Not a blue heart, Dad, I just want her to live. With a healthy heart,” I said, quietly, nodding my head toward the waiting area, “I mean look at this place, it’s depressing and run down. Most of the doctors seem ragged and indifferent. It’s like they stopped caring years ago. And the patients—they’re worse.” We both looked away when a stream of drool dribbled from the old man’s mouth onto his chest.

  “I won’t turn my daughter into a blue heart, Retta. Cyborgism is hated. It’s—it’s repulsive. We’re flesh and blood. Soft, cushy humans. Not hard, metal monstrosities. OK? That’s it. Human heart or no heart.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Are you listening to yourself?”

  His mouth firmed and I saw his jaw muscles flex. He avoided my gaze. “Doesn’t matter. My mind is made up.”

  “Dad, would you give her your own heart? If that would save her?”

  He nodded immediately, then looked at me askance. “Retta, I don’t like where this is going. You won’t convince me.”

  “Just hear me out. It’s for Marta. It’s not about us and all our arguments and head-butting. It’s about my sister.”

  “Fine.” He sighed. “Go on.” He rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I know you’d give up your own life to save us,” I said, slowly, studying my fingernails casually. I didn’t want to rush in and blow it. “But Dad, can’t you consider giving up something less precious to save Marta?”

  He cocked his head to one side, a flash of irritation sweeping across his face. “Am I to ask what that is, Retta?”

  I smiled. “We need you to live. And you need Marta and me. Can’t you consider giving up your obsession about not being a cyborg? It’s—” I wanted to say stupid and bull-headed and unrealistic, but I bit my tongue and tried to come up with a nicer way to say it, “It’s . . . pointless. I’m sorry if you think it’s dumb of me, but all I care about at this point is saving Marta. And I found a way, Dad. It’ll work. I know it will.”

  He breathed in and out loudly, fuming, before finally repeating, “So your answer is to turn her into a blue heart?”

  “And your answer is to let her die?” I returned coldly, my face stoic and dispassionate.

  A group of doctors dressed in white coats passed us, rounding the corner of the corridor and heading up the hallway. The old man and woman got up and shuffled after them. I stepped out of their way even though they’d already passed by.

  “My word,” my dad said, stunned. “By the light of Phobos.” I turned to look at him. His voice was anguished. One hand went to his forehead. His eyes widened as he stared into the distance, looking inward, finally confronting his prejudices and motivations. “That is what I’ve been saying. The doctors have no answers. They hardly care. What am I doing? Just hanging on until she dies?” A tremor came into his voice. “I told you I’d do anything to save you two, my girls. I’d die for you if I needed to. I’ve been so numb. Scared into inaction. Frozen.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I said sympathetically. I was floored to hear him talk so. He had been frozen. He’d been going on autopilot. Staying up so late every night, sticking to Marta’s side, waiting for the doctors to come up with something.

  “I have to let Sonja do the transplant, Retta. You’re right. You’ve been out finding a way to save her while I’ve been motionless.” He rubbed his eyes and blinked. “Who cares if it’s an android heart? If it will save my girl, I—I need to let her have that chance.” He clenched his fists. “And yet . . . ”

  “And yet what?” I asked, nervously. He’d been about to give the go ahead. Why change his mind now? Down the corridor, past Dad, I saw Sonja pause near Marta’s hospital room door, spot us up the hallway, and begin marching toward us.

  “An android heart,” he said, inclining his head to look up at the ceiling. “It’s so drastic.”

  “It’s the best choice. Our only choice.”

  Dad began nodding, almost like it was involuntary. “You’re right. You’re right.”

  “I am right, Dad. You’re a scientist. You know you have to move forward with the options nature gives you, even if they seem scary.”

  He suddenly pulled me close into a bear hug. “Let’s do this before I change my mind.”

  Sonja met up with us as Dad let me go.

  “Sonja,” Dad said.

  “Nikodemus. You’ve agreed to it, then?”

  He sighed. “It seems it’s the only option.”

  “It’ll be all right,” Sonja said, touching his arm lightly. Dad flushed, then
covered her hand with his.

  “Thank you.”

  “She’s waiting. Let’s get going before her condition worsens.”

  27: Tracked

  “Do you trust me?” I wiped the rainbow lipstick away. In a smudged mirror on the wall opposite of me, I could see a bit of lipstick residue on my mouth and the metallic embellishments still covering my cheeks.

  Tears streamed down Marta’s face as she gripped the blanket with one hand, clutching my hand with the other.

  “Yeah, it’s just . . . I’m scared,” she whispered.

  Dad’s eyes flicked to me. He stood on the other side of the bed. He looked about to cry himself.

  I leaned down so my elbows were resting on the edge of her bed. The light blue of the coverlet was faded and almost a sickly white. Crying would only make it worse for all of us. I had to be strong for Marta, had to show confidence in the procedure, even though I didn’t know for sure if it would work. Marta’s gaze followed me. She coughed.

  “Marta, what scares you more, surgery, getting a new heart, or . . . possibly dying?”

  Her green eyes moved thoughtfully before coming to rest on my gaze. “All three.” Her voice was hushed.

  “I think,” I pursed my lips and hesitated, “I think we can safely say that if you don’t do this, you could die.” My voice caught on the last word. My little sister. Dying. I didn’t know how a mother felt, but I could guess. Since Mom died, I helped take care of Marta. I looked out for her. I came to her rescue when older kids picked on her at school, I taught her the things I knew she needed to know to survive. I came back to New Helsinki and endangered Hemingway for Marta. And I’d always make that same choice, no matter what happened.