“Hmm?”
“I’m guessing one of my crew let you know I’d been missing pickles.”
Trevor laughed and sounded relieved. He dumped the collection of vials and containers onto the table. “Yeah. No problem. You were kind enough to host us. So.”
He organized the ingredients on the table and then moved to another cupboard to take down large containers of rice and dried beans. Progress Base didn’t have stores like these—the elements of a proper kitchen instead of endless stacks of beefaroni pouches and dehydrated potato flakes.
“What are you making now?” she asked.
Trevor placed on the counter a squarish, instant pot appliance with Culinmate emblazoned on the side and started measuring out rice and black beans. “Kind of a modified sabzi polo frijoles. Or the nearest I can come to it under the circumstances.”
“Sabzi polo . . .”
“Sabzi polo is an herbed rice. A traditional dish I used to make at home, with fish or roasted lamb and a pomegranate salad.” His hands stilled, though his eyes remained on the ingredients spread out on the table. Then he blinked and reached for the nearest spice jar. “When I had my restaurant, a fusion place, I altered the recipe to add the beans and made a few other adjustments. It was a pretty popular side with saffron tilapia tacos, or by itself as an entree.”
“You had a restaurant?” Hogan did a poor job of masking the incredulity in her voice. The UNSC prioritized engineers, scientists, pilots, and medical doctors, and she’d expected a colony crew to reflect the same—even with the shoddy selection of these first colonists. How had a chef found his way to Mars?
Trevor sprinkled some dry, green-looking stuff over the rice and beans in the instant pot. Hogan didn’t know much about cooking. Her culinary expertise included only what she liked and didn’t like to eat, and no one went into space expecting great food.
Trevor reached for another spice container. “Persian-Mexican.”
Hogan laughed in surprise. She opened her mouth to ask what he was adding to the pot but Melissa burst into the kitchen again, her eyes glassy and her cheeks blotchy from crying.
Melissa glanced at Hogan and then stood facing Trevor. His acknowledging nod wasn’t unfriendly but he continued with his work, adding pinches of a splintery-looking herb.
“Trevor.” Melissa lifted a hand to touch his arm but then stopped herself. She lowered her hand and rolled her shoulders back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you. I thought . . . Well, you know nothing’s officially settled. It’s not like we’re married or anything.”
Hogan considered how she might tactfully excuse herself from the kitchen or if the window for a graceful exit had already closed. Trevor glanced across the table at her, and Hogan got the feeling that he very much wanted her to stay—as a witness or a buffer, she wasn’t sure.
“You know my position on that.” He uncapped another small canister of something Hogan couldn’t identify, but her nostrils filled with the pungent scent of garlic and onion. She couldn’t help her smile.
“Tareh,” Trevor said. “Or a close approximation to it. One of the flavors I was trying to nail down on the trip here.”
Hogan leaned forward and gazed into the container of tawny brown powder. “Is that what it’s supposed to look like?”
Trevor laughed. “Hardly. Wrong color, wrong form . . .”
“Could we get back to my thing, please?” Melissa’s voice bordered on a whine, but Trevor’s face softened instead of showing any sign of irritation. Melissa glanced again at Hogan. “I mean, I don’t want to interrupt. I just didn’t want to leave things like . . . You know.”
Trevor added a large pinch of faux tareh to the instant pot. Hogan leaned against the wall of cupboards and crossed her arms over her chest. She was good at observing, at watching her crew perform their duties and interact with each other and go about their personal business. It was the chief way she’d prevented interpersonal issues from taking root.
But this was Ares City, where she didn’t have any official authority—though if a situation arose that warranted her taking charge, she was confident both the Space Corps and the Mars Colony Program would back her up.
For now, she studied this little drama between the colonists with fascination—and not just because she was hoping Trevor might find himself suddenly single. She’d thought April was Trevor’s mate, but she hadn’t seen April anywhere near Trevor. Maybe they’d reshuffled the deck in transit, or were in the process of doing so here on the ground. It was beginning to feel like Hogan had her own Martian soap opera playing out right in front of her.
Instead of getting annoyed and interceding—like she would with her crew—she was almost enjoying the drama. She was starting to appreciate why Mars Ho—or any reality program, really—had been so successful.
“Things aren’t working out like I’d planned,” Melissa said. “Guillermo’s a great guy and all. But. And I know it’s the same way for you with April. You know, because she’s . . .”
Melissa glanced at Hogan again. Hogan lifted her eyebrows in expectation and waited for Melissa to continue.
“I understand.” Trevor closed the ingredient containers, carried an empty measuring cup to the sink, and filled it with water. “But like I said to the commander here last night, we’re all making the best of it. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Okay.” Melissa shifted her weight between her feet. She watched him pour the water into the pot, close the lid, plug the machine into one of the outlets on the table edge, and set the timer.
“I just wanted you to know that you have options,” Melissa let her words sink in, and then left the room.
Without comment, Trevor stored the spices in the cupboard before pulling out a new collection of intriguing ingredients. Was he inviting Hogan to stay, or hoping she would leave of her own accord?
Hogan uncrossed her arms and pushed away from the wall of cupboards. “I should be on my way, you know, checking in around the habitat.”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Trevor kept his focus on his work, but his voice was soft and clear.
“I don’t want to get in your way. And . . . We’ll be issuing a formal invitation shortly, but we’d like to take you all on a sort of tour of the area. Show you what’s what in your immediate environment.” She paused. “If you’d be interested.”
Trevor looked up and held her gaze. “Will you be leading the tour?”
She kept her smile easy. “I might. One of the groups, anyway. We want to help you get a better feel for your new home.”
Without waiting for his response, Hogan strode out of the kitchen. She waited until she was in the hallway, with no one else in sight, before she started silently berating herself for sounding so stupid. We want to help you get a better feel for your new home? If you’d be interested? The field trip was meant to be mandatory and sobering, not a picnic on the plains.
No battle plan survives contact with the enemy, Hogan reminded herself. The colonists were not her enemy, but they were a liability. A little crush, or whatever she was feeling, didn’t change that. She cleared her throat and blamed it all on the tareh.
Trevor rode up front in the cab of the first UNSC rover as Hogan drove across the rust expanse of their Martian neighborhood. The colonists were split into two groups between a pair of rovers for their astronaut-led tour, and as they bounced along Trevor was glad to have Hogan as his guide.
Who better than the UNSC commander to give the residents of Ares City the lay of the land? The UNSC rover felt sturdier than what the colonists had. More capable. Safer. Probably because it was being piloted by someone who knew what she was doing.
The UNSC rovers were faster and more energy-efficient, too. Trevor made a mental note to talk to Guillermo about modifying the Ares City vehicles for greater speed—not that they were in a hurry to get anywhere in particular, but it was something to do and would provide a foothold toward tailoring the colony to suit the inhabitants, rather
than the other way around.
Leah, Lori, and Trevor were glued to the windows even though the scenery was barely changing. They’d been driving for what felt like hours, and Trevor hadn’t yet tired of the endless kilometers of dirt, rocks, and ridges that stretched out in all directions. Without familiar landmarks, his heart pounded in his chest as he considered how truly remote they were on the Martian surface.
With Trent and his unique brand of humor in the over rover with Miranda, Mark, Melissa, and Guillermo, Leah helpfully pointed out that the nearest pizza delivery was at least fifty-five million kilometers away even when Earth and Mars were nearest each other, and that she didn’t think a thirty-minute guarantee would still apply.
At the mention of food, Trevor was gratified he’d packed snacks for everyone. Both the oatmeal-rice-fruit bars and pseudo-sesame cakes were a bigger hit than he’d expected, and the rover’s picnic box now held only a handful of prepackaged protein bars alongside a half-dozen bottles of water.
“How long ’till we get there?” April had sequestered herself at the back of the vehicle with her tablet. She glanced up occasionally from her screen as she munched on the last of the sesame cakes.
“You’ve got somewhere you need to be?” Trevor answered back, and immediately felt bad for his harsh tone. Interactions remained tense between them. He’d had plenty of time to get used to the fact that they would never be a couple. They would be a bad fit even if she weren’t asexual. He’d been over and over this with himself. April couldn’t help who she was, just as Trevor couldn’t change his family background.
He felt a small relief when he spied the smirk on Hogan’s face.
“Not really.” April slumped in her chair. “It’s just that I have an idea of where all this is headed.”
They’d driven straight toward Pavonis Mons after the rovers picked up the colonists at Ares City. Trevor hadn’t retained much of the information about shield volcanoes Hogan shared casually along the drive, other than that there were supposed to be some lava tubes and caves where a stranded astronaut could hide out in the event of a sudden radiation storm or other inconvenience.
“Stopping at Site 16,” Hogan called over the radio. The rover slowed to a rocking halt.
“I’m right behind you,” Miranda answered from the second rover.
Trevor stood, checked his suit seals, and pulled on his helmet as the second rover parked alongside.
“This is a short stop,” Hogan told them over the comms as she snapped her own helmet into place. “We’re not going mountain climbing or anything.”
“We’re not anywhere close to the volcano anyway,” Trent grumbled over the comms. Through the windows, Trevor saw him and Mark moving toward their rover’s airlock.
“Maybe we can organize a hiking party over to Noctis sometime,” Mark commented.
“Yeah, that’s a big negative,” Hogan replied. She gestured Trevor toward the airlock, and he stepped inside with Leah. “Until you’ve got the right equipment and the right people with you, everyone should leave the exploration to the experts.”
Before the airlock door closed, Trevor noted the frown on Hogan’s face as soon as the words were out of her mouth. He knew what she meant—or he hoped he did—but even he bristled at her declaration. As the airlock depressurized, Trevor got itchy at the idea that they’d come all this way just to sit in their habitat like good little dilettantes and not dare to interact with the harsh and strangely beautiful planet around them.
Trent was already bounding around outside the rovers by the time Trevor and Leah stepped out of the airlock. There were natural openings in the ground leading downward, some wide enough for several people abreast to enter. The lava tubes, Trevor thought.
“Look how high I can jump, honey!” Trent kicked at a few rocks and then leapt into the air. Leah laughed and gave him a thumbs-up.
Miranda stood by the largest of the tube mouths and motioned the colonists over. “This is one of the sites where we’ve done soil sampling. There’s a radiation shelter that we’ve built down inside this one, in case anyone gets caught in a storm away from the habitat. But we’re not in any danger now,” she was quick to add.
“May we see the shelter?” Mark asked. He glanced toward Hogan, who was hanging back by the rovers.
“Not much to see,” Hogan replied. “Just a small space, big enough for about three people. It can be pressurized, and it’s stocked with supplies for a few days.”
“A few days?” Guillermo asked.
“Right, I meant a few sols,” Hogan corrected herself.
“Have you had to use it?” April asked.
Hogan shook her head inside her helmet as she started toward the others. “Not yet, no. Miranda, we’ve got a little time for some near-surface spelunking, for anyone who wants to get their boots dirty.”
Trent didn’t hesitate. He shot past Miranda and down into the lava tube, and Mark followed close behind.
“Hey! Slow down!” Miranda called as she clicked on her suit’s lights and walked down the slope after them. “You have to be careful in there. And turn on your lights. I don’t want to lose you or have you running full steam into each other.”
The rest of the colonists crowded in soon after, but Trevor waited for Hogan to catch up to him before he approached the tube entry.
“We’re, uh, an enthusiastic bunch,” he said.
“I can see that.”
“Whoa! Shit!” Trent’s panicked voice came in over the comms, followed by similar exclamations from Leah and Guillermo. Trevor broke into a run.
“What’s happening?” Hogan demanded as she jogged beside him. “Miranda? What’s going on?”
Trevor and Hogan followed the lights and hurried toward the clump of people jostling against each other about thirty meters down from the cave entrance. The slope was steeper than Trevor expected and was covered in fine, sandy dirt.
“I’m trying to . . .” Miranda’s voice was tight. “One of the colonists slipped on a—”
“I’m okay!” Trent called out, and then laughed. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare everybody. Would you believe I meant to do that?”
“No,” Mark answered. “And you nearly took me with you.”
Guillermo and Lori were on their knees, each grabbing one of Trent’s hands and pulling him up out of a shallow ravine along one wall of the cave.
Back on his feet, Trent dusted himself off and smiled. “Actually, that was kind of fun.”
“No, you can’t do it again,” Hogan cut him off before he could ask.
“Anyway, this is a lava tube.” Miranda directed her suit’s light around the curving walls of the dark cave. “Future settlements and industry here will probably use these spaces for habitation, laboratory work, agriculture, and so forth. But it’s really not that much different from what you’d see on Earth.”
Trevor resisted the urge to remind Miranda that none of her charges, and likely few of their descendants, would have the opportunity to compare lava tubes on Mars with those on Earth.
“How far down is the shelter?” Mark asked.
“Maybe we can cover that on a later visit,” Miranda said.
“Let’s head back to the rovers,” Hogan commanded. “There’s more to see.”
The rovers drove back east and north on a tour of several other sites where the Hermes 5 team had taken core samples. It was a little like a driving tour of Hollywood movie star homes—without celebrity cameos or palm trees, and with a whole lot of rocks.
“We’re going to the Hermes 3 memorial,” Hogan announced as she drove.
“The astronauts who died?” Lori asked.
“Yes.” Hogan’s lips pressed into a hard line.
“I thought, I mean, they left them here?” Leah blinked as she kept her gaze on her new world outside the window.
Sitting in the rover’s passenger seat, Trevor leaned closer to Hogan. She hadn’t exactly been the rollicking face of joviality up to this point, but the change in her demeanor wa
s palpable. “I don’t want to be insensitive.”
“So don’t.” Hogan shrugged. “If you have a question, ask. That’s the point of all of this.”
Trevor asked the question he guessed was on everyone’s mind. “Who erected the memorial? Because wasn’t Hermes 4 on the other side of the planet?”
“We did.” Hogan’s voice was calm and lacked the edge of moments before. “Hermes 3 was stationed at Noctis Landing, east of Progress Base. But Hermes 5, my team, has been charged with completing some of their work as well as our own mission objectives. Our first task, though . . .”
Her voice trailed off as she slowed the rover and came to a gradual stop. “We’re here.”
Trevor looked out the forward window and scanned for anything that looked like a memorial. All he saw was a massive pile of rocks. When he looked more closely he realized it was a deliberately built cairn—a large one, too, easily big enough to serve as the burial place of three fallen astronauts.
April, Leah, and Lori got up from their seats and pressed forward, tentatively. The jubilant enthusiasm of the previous stop had evaporated.
“Are we getting out?” Leah asked.
Hogan sniffed. “We’ve got the other rover coming in behind us, and I’d rather not turn this into a circus.”
Leah went to grab her helmet, but Trevor motioned for her to put it down. She frowned at him with a questioning expression. Again, Trevor motioned for her to be still.
“We can pay our respects from inside the rover, commander.” Trevor squared his body against his seat. “Did you know the astronauts? I’m sorry, I don’t remember their names.”
“Marla Tombart,” Hogan replied. “Al Noguchi. Josef Rostov. I knew them. Quite well, actually. I did a stint on ISS-2 with Al and crewed with Joe on ISS-5 a year later. Marla was my roommate when we were new trainees in the astronaut corps, but she and I were never assigned a mission together.”
Mars Heat (Mars Adventure Romance Series (MARS) Book 3) Page 8
