“If we are to work together, a chain of command must be observed,” said Jess, her voice carrying an authority she’d gained in the last months.
“I’m sure we can work with that,” Cavanaugh answered calmly.
“Further, let me make it absolutely clear that I will tolerate no attempts to establish trade relations with Earth,” continued Jessamyn. “So if any of you are hoping to make your personal fortunes on this little trip, you can forget about taking the journey with me.”
“She’s right,” said Crusty. “Regardless of your politics, the timing ain’t right for it on this mission.”
The three others maintained a stony silence.
“Is that going to be a problem?” Jess asked.
“Not at all, Captain,” said Cavanaugh, holding his companions’ gazes with his own. “We just want to bring Cassondra home. She’s all that matters, right?” He looked to his companions.
The other two nodded.
“Very well,” said Jess. “Then I think we can work together.”
With that, she began outlining the duties she would expect them to fulfill (few) and the dangers they might face (many), looking for signs of weakness or uncertainty. It was an odd way to assess a crew. But this would be an odd launch.
When Jessamyn had concluded, Cavanaugh rose and extended a hand. “I knew you were made of sterner stuff than most the first time we met,” he said to Jessamyn. “I look forward to our joint venture.”
Jess shook his hand—firm but brief—and the three departed, leaving her alone with Crusty. A pair of vac-mechs whined along the hall just outside the rations room where the two Mars Raiders stood.
“Ugh,” said Jessamyn. “What are mechs doing onboard? Do you think they’re safe?”
Crusty rose, pushing his chair along its track until it clicked to rest against the table. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
“The Rations Storage fire?”
“Hmmph,” grunted Crusty. “I read up on your brother’s schematics. They was rated for collecting the detritus produced by one thousand visitors apiece. That would’ve meant ten thousand people could’ve traipsed all up and down the storage facility before them vac-mechs started complaining.”
Jess frowned. “I saw one of them explode before my very eyes, Crusty.”
“That don’t mean they was what caused the fire,” he replied. “Only four thousand people went through there that day. Not nearly enough to cause residue build-up problems. Something don’t add up, kid. I don’t know what caused the explosions, but it weren’t your brother’s contraptions gettin’ overloaded.”
Jessamyn watched as one of the mechs paused over a sprinkling of dirt.
“Don’t you worry, kid. I won’t let anything hurt this beautiful ship.” Crusty patted the ship’s walls reassuringly.
“Crusty? What do you think about Cavanaugh and ‘Jones and Smith’?” Jessamyn asked softly. “They’re not even using their real names. Are we fools to accept them as crew?”
“I don’t know Jones or Smith,” he replied, “But I went through the Academy with Cavanaugh. He was a good man. And he’s Kip’s own brother.”
“Of course,” said Jess, shaking off her doubts.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got a few things on my to-do list.” He stepped into the hall mumbling to himself. “First off is that durned air filter.”
Jess watched as he began fiddling with an overhead panel, muttering to himself about the proliferation of microbial life-forms.
But his work was interrupted moments later by a too-familiar voice.
“Oh, there you two are,” said Nessa Niedermaier. “You’re up bright and early! How perfect. This gives us just enough time.”
“Time for what?” Crusty grumbled his question, obviously annoyed by the interruption.
“You’ve got pictures this morning,” replied Nessa, smiling brightly. “With the Red Galleon.”
“Aphrodite’s hair curlers,” Crusty cursed. “So we do.”
Nessa chose to ignore Crusty’s language and smiled at Jessamyn, raising a crisp and obviously new set of Academy whites. “Ta-da!” said the events coordinator.
Jess felt a scowl forming but hastily wiped it off her face. No doubt Nessa thought of herself as doing her part for Mars.
“Brand new!” Nessa smiled brightly at Crusty, holding a crisp-looking pair of coveralls toward their intended recipient.
“Oh, for the love of Ares,” mumbled Crusty.
“We should have just enough time to make sure we’ve got the sizes right,” concluded Nessa.
Jessamyn’s new whites itched and poked and felt completely awful. Crusty looked equally uncomfortable in the coveralls, starched and pressed to within an inch of standing up by themselves in a corner.
The two were photographed alongside the Red Galleon, under the Red Galleon, and aboard the Red Galleon, Crusty muttering under his breath every time cameras got too close to an area he hadn’t polished ‘til it shone.
The photo session, which lasted several hours, was only a prelude to another round of interviews (which Jess endured) and two school visits (which Jess enjoyed.) It was nearly time for evening rations before the Mars Raiders were finished for the day, but before releasing them from MCC’s brightly-lit hangar, where they’d returned for a few last photographs, Nessa spent an inordinate amount of time going over the schedule for the planetary celebration the following day.
Ms. Niedermaier sensed the Mars Raiders’ lack of enthusiasm but mistook it for fatigue. “You poor things,” she said. “Now make sure to get lots of beauty rest for the big day tomorrow!”
Jessamyn’s heart skipped a beat in fear at the phrase “big day,” but of course tomorrow wasn’t the big day at all, as far as she was concerned. The day after the celebration would be the Big Day.
Once the events coordinator left them in peace, Crusty switched his helmet to a private channel and let out a loud sigh. “Well, that was an entire day wasted. Looks likes I ain’t getting much sleep tonight.”
“You want help scrubbing the air filter?” asked Jess.
Crusty laughed. “Naw, kid. Gonna leave it for tomorrow so the interns can have one last peek. You get some sleep. ‘Sides, when was the last time you scrubbed a filter?”
Jessamyn blushed. Filter-scrubbing was reserved for under-achieving Academy students.
“I thought as much,” said Crusty, chuckling.
Jess took a long look up at the ship. “What if I’m making the wrong decision, Crusty?”
Crusty shook his head. “Kid, from what I seen, God gave you an extra helping when it came to that grey stuff between your ears.”
Jess felt her cheeks flushing with color.
“Give it to me in percentages, kid—how certain are you feeling that you’re doin’ what’s right?”
She shook her head. “I can’t answer it like that.” She looked up, meeting his eyes. “But it feels right.”
Crusty shrugged. “Go home. Get some shut-eye. Meet me back here in the morning before the big shindig.”
“What about you? Don’t you need sleep?” asked Jess.
“Ornery cusses like me don’t need much,” said Crusty. “Besides, we’ll have that two-month journey to rest up.”
Jessamyn laughed. Things were finally turning for the better.
“Crusty?” she said, smiling. “Thank you.”
“Just doing my bit,” he said, already engaged in taking a new series of readings.
19
IT HURTS OR IT SCARES YOU OR IT’S INCONVENIENT
Jess turned to walk back to where she’d left her family’s get-about. In its place, she spied an MCC-marked vehicle. Rolling her eyes heavenward, she muttered a mild curse. She had a driver waiting for her, thanks to her status as planetary treasure. But she recognized what she’d done to her parents, and her shoulders sagged forward. She’d run off with their sole form of transportation and then forgotten about it the entire day. The get-about wasn’t here anymore because they’d needed it. And retr
ieving the vehicle had doubtless been highly inconvenient.
She climbed into the sleek MCC vehicle, greeted her driver, and then rode in silence. In her belly, guilt began to build a cozy nest cobbled together from scraps of what she’d done and shreds of what she intended.
Jessamyn agonized over what she might say to her parents. She couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, but she wanted to ease the shock when they discovered what she’d done. They would see it as betrayal or insanity. Jess wasn’t sure which would hurt them more.
From inside the airlock where she shed her suit, Jess saw her father holding her mother tenderly. Another bad day, then.
“I’m back,” she said as she entered her home.
Her parents pulled apart.
“Your mother’s off to consult with Planetary Ag,” said Jess’s father.
“Now?” Jess asked. Her voice had a forlorn sound to it.
“What with the planetary holiday tomorrow, they decided to discuss the algae inoculation idea now,” replied her father. “I’m afraid we had to eat rations without you.”
“Oh,” said Jessamyn, shifting gears to adjust to the alteration in her evening. “So, were Crusty’s ideas any good?”
Her mother’s face formed a look Jess recognized—it was her problem-solving face. “I don’t know,” said Lillian. “That’s why I need to speak with my colleagues.”
As her mom brushed past her to the airlock, Jess felt a sudden need for a hug, for confirmation that her mom still loved her. Would always love her. It was foolish. It was powerful.
“Mom?”
Lillian turned.
“It’s just …” Jess paused.
“Make it fast,” said her mother. “People are staying late for this meeting.”
“I might be leaving,” said Jessamyn. “The day after tomorrow. For a new assignment. I won’t be able to live here.”
A look of anguish crossed her mother’s face and Jess walked closer for a hug.
“Can we discuss this later?” Lillian asked quietly, one hand on the airlock door. “Your father and I would like you to … that is, we were hoping … Hades and Aphrodite, Jess. Why do you always have to make things so difficult?”
The switch from sorrow to anger was swift and cut at Jess like broken glass.
“We’ll talk about it tonight,” said her father.
“Mom, I’m sorry,” said Jessamyn, her voice unsteady.
“Yes, Jessamyn. You’re always sorry. But it never stops you from doing whatever you want to do, does it?”
Her mother slammed the airlock door behind her.
“Your mother didn’t mean that,” said Jess’s father.
Jess sank into her father’s reading chair. They both knew her mom had meant every word.
Jessamyn’s father continued. “I want you to know that you have my blessing, whatever decision you make about your new job.”
Jess looked at her feet. She’d forgotten to take off her walk-out boots. She’d tracked a trail of cinnamon-colored dirt across the floor. “I don’t have Mom’s blessing.”
“She’ll take it hard,” admitted her father. “But Jessie, you can’t bear her grief. You’re not meant to do that. No child is. You have to live the life you were meant to live.”
In a quick flash, Jess saw herself at Pavel’s side, laughing as she pointed to the star-scattered sky dark above them. She pushed her bangs to once side, frowning.
“Doing what is right is never the same as doing what is easy, in my experience,” said her father. “If you think it’s the right thing to do, and it hurts or it scares you or it’s inconvenient, that’s a pretty good sign it is the right thing to do.”
Jess took her father’s hand and squeezed it tight.
He laughed softly. “I could be wrong about that, of course. I keep waiting for the day to come when what’s right lines up with what’s easy.”
Bringing her father’s Mars-roughened hand to her cheek, Jess sighed. “Let me know how that works for you.”
“I was going to ride in with your mom. Will you be okay here by yourself?” asked her father.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, the truth and the lie of her words mixing uneasily.
He offered her a quick squeeze around the shoulders and dashed out to join her mother.
Jess stood in the silent, empty house, watching as her parents drove off. She could make things better tomorrow. Somehow. Shrugging off her boots, she grabbed the old-fashioned vac-hose from the wall and pointed it at the lines of red dirt, erasing a problem she could fix.
Then she sat down to write the one person in the universe she thought would understand her at this moment. She was not comfortable thinking about how deeply she yearned for the Terran boy, but when her truest thoughts needed expression, she continued to turn to Pavel.
Dear Pavel,
I have decided to embark upon a desperate voyage. I know that sounds dramatic. It feels dramatic, let me tell you. I just don’t see any other way to keep my world free from the influence (or safe from the destruction) of people like your aunt.
I’m going to find you and my brother. Together, somehow, we’ll find a way to protect Mars. Right now, we are sitting rocks. Maybe you don’t have that expression. It means something that is easy to target. We have a lot of rocks on Mars and the figurative language to reflect it.
So I guess this means you’ll be seeing me soon. I don’t know half the things Crusty has done to get the ship ready in time, but I’m glad to have him on my side. You didn’t get the chance to meet him before. I’m sure you’ll like him. And his colorful expressions, which are anything but rock-based.
I have two last nights at home. Tomorrow, I will play the part of hero for another day. After that, I suppose they will call me a villain. Or traitor. Something horrible. But I’m doing this because I want Mars to have a fighting chance. Flying is the one gift I have to offer to my people.
See you soon.
Your friend,
Jessamyn Jaarda
Jess waited and waited for her parents to return. When bedtime rolled around and they still weren’t back, she slunk back to her room. But her bed felt all the wrong size and her room was too warm and she rose at last, drifting from room to room, trying to find a way to say goodbye.
She settled in her brother’s room, lying upon the floor to watch the satellites roll past. The sleep mat felt better than her own bed and soon her eyes began to feel heavy.
An hour later Jessamyn awoke to a bright light. She grunted and blinked and remembered where she was. Her brother’s chronometer reported it was just after midnight. Why had the room illumined?
And then, her eyes adjusting, Jessamyn made out the shape of her mother in the doorway. Lillian’s face was crumpled, a sad arrangement of her features that distorted the familiar, favored the strange.
“Mom?” Jess croaked.
But her mother had already turned back down the hall, shaking with the effort of not wasting water.
Jess arose. “Mom?” She stumbled into the hall, where she saw her father shambling toward her mother.
“Go back to bed, Jess,” said her father, his own face lined with care and fatigue.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.
Her father shook his head. Her mother murmured something to him—something Jess couldn’t make out.
“Your mother would prefer—” Jess’s father let out a long sigh. “It would be better if you stayed in your own room instead of your brother’s.”
Jessamyn watched helplessly as her parents walked away from her, her father sliding the door behind them. She stood for a moment before returning to her room. It was cold and dark and smelled stale. She sank onto her bed, too awake for sleep. She turned on a reading lamp and gazed about the room that had witnessed all her childhood.
Now seemed as good a time as any to gather the few things she wanted to take on her journey. She wouldn’t be limited by MCC’s regulations governing weight t
his time—they were flying with an empty hold. Still, it seemed foolish to take things she could live without. In the end, she settled upon packing only her brother’s wafer-computer, the small plastic card enclosing a hair from the planetary dog (also from her brother), and an old wafer with a collection of books she’d loved as a child. Something to pass the time, she told herself.
Still feeling wide awake, she forced herself to settle back on her bed and take slow, calming breaths. Now that she was no longer moving things around in her room, she could hear the murmur of her parents’ voices beyond the wall that separated them. Her mother’s voice rose in pitch, followed by her father’s gentle tones, forming for Jessamyn a sort of symphony that vibrated through bone and viscera and made her want to go to them and tell them how much she loved them, how sorry she was to be doing something they wouldn’t understand.
But she couldn’t.
Jess sat up. She wasn’t going to get any sleep here. She would fix everything tomorrow with her parents, after the celebration. She stepped into the front airlock, slipped on her suit, shouldered her packed items, and left her dwelling.
20
ACCEPTABLE ALTERNATIVE
In a small exam room in the New Timbuktu prison, Pavel gathered items from the limited medical stock in the room, muttering under his breath as he cobbled together a desperate plan to save Harpreet’s life.
Nearby, Ethan’s fingers flew across the holoscreen of the powerful computer on his hoverchair.
Brian Wallace was engaged in flattering or calming the scientist from the satellite facility—it wasn’t clear which to Pavel.
“Doctor Kazuko Zaifa?” asked Wallace, consulting his handheld wafer. “The same Doctor Kazuko who organized the symposium three years ago entitled ‘Ancient Code: Toward a More Beneficial Understanding’?”
Kazuko nodded, adding a layer of “puzzled” to her agitated appearance.
“I regret I was unable to attend,” said Wallace. “However, your paper upon the late twenty-second century use of non-chronological elisions looks to be most instructive.”
Defying Mars (Saving Mars Series-2) Page 12
