She felt lithe and unburdened. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt genuinely enlivened about a personal decision. There was a spring in her step even in the light gravity as she plotted her own course—and she tried not to get her hopes up, too much, that Trevor would choose to join her.
She made time to watch Trent and Trevor’s Cooking for Martians and laughed at their on-camera antics. The show was making a huge amount of money for Jack Street Media, but she had it on good authority from Mark Lauren that the colony got a hefty cut—and royalties from the cookbooks were Trevor’s alone. All of that money was piling up in Earth-based accounts the colonists couldn’t easily use, but she was hearing rumors that Ares City had a plan for that.
In the evenings, she sat in bed reading. Karen Armstrong’s Muhammad: A Prophet for Our Time. Kazim Kahera’s Modern America, Modern Mosque. Jamila Naser’s Daughters of Khadija. With everything going on, she got only a few pages into any of them but it made her feel like she was making progress toward understanding Trevor better.
A darker part of her warned about trashing her career and the very many things that would be drastically, irretrievably different. She could still change her mind, the fear whispered. She could blame it on stress and mounting anxiety—her panic attacks were proof of that. Everyone would understand. Movie stars had breakdowns all the time and never lost their luster; surely long-haul astronauts deserved similar consideration.
But she had announced her decision to her superiors, and she had no intention of going back.
And so Hogan issued the same reply over and over again to pretty much every message that came in from UNSC. She composed letters to her friends and family on Earth to explain her decision. She saved those drafts for later delivery. She still needed to inform the colonists; it was their future she was gambling with.
Trevor pulled his small load of clean clothes out of the dryer. Colonists doing their own wash wasn’t the most efficient use of the facilities, and Trevor knew Mark was working on adding habitat-wide laundry into the colony’s duty roster. But for now, looking after his own underwear made his life feel slightly more normal.
“It’s all hands in the rec room,” Trent announced as he ducked his head into the laundry compartment and then took off down the corridor.
What would it be this time? Another disappointing announcement from Helmut Brandon about the future of the Mars Colony Program? Or maybe the UNSC astronauts were back to remind the colonists of how royally screwed they’d be in another ten sols.
Trevor finished folding his clean jumpsuits, socks, undershirts, and briefs and headed for his quarters. He’d do a load of sheets and towels later.
Trent was jogging through the corridor ahead of him, stopping to make the same announcement to Lori and Guillermo. Ares City had a habitat-wide communications system, but the colonists had elected not to use it unless there was an actual emergency. To Trevor, it was another nod toward building a community that felt like a real home, rather than existing inside a programmed bomb shelter.
Trevor dropped his clothes on his bed and headed down the stairwell and through the open bulkhead that connected Module 2 to Module 1. He wondered when they would get around to giving actual names to the sectors of Ares City, and he looked forward to the inevitable debates about the theme. Should they opt for a cozy Hobbit-style village of Tharsis Hill, Rust Red Cove, and other shires? Or maybe go for something grander, like Andromeda Atoll and Centaurus House? Trevor wasn’t sure any of the modules would qualify for a name like Milky Way Manor.
He chose to be upbeat in his expectations for the summons to the rec room. Perhaps Brandon had encouraging tidings about the next round of colonists, or even a statement granting Trevor’s request for morel mushrooms and yeast starter.
Trevor arrived to find Hogan and Grigori standing at the front of the room. And Hogan was smiling—a genuine, excited smile that lit up her eyes and put a glow in her cheeks. Trevor felt lighter at the mere sight of her. Good news, then? He took a seat at the back of the room and waited for Trent and Leah to file in and sit down just in front of him.
“Okay!” Hogan announced brightly. “I want to thank you all for giving me some of your time today, especially seeing as how we’ve arrived uninvited and unannounced.”
“You’re always welcome here,” Mark offered politely.
“Thank you, but . . .” Hogan clasped her hands together. “I’m not going to pretend there haven’t been problems and significant tensions between our two habitats.”
Hogan sought Trevor’s gaze, and her eyebrows lifted with expectation. Trevor kept his face neutral—open, neither friendly nor combative, and apparently not the response she’d hoped for based on the crinkling of her brow.
She took a breath. “Well, first I need to tell you that I’ve been ordered to evacuate three colonists from Ares City.”
“Evacuate?” Melissa asked in a small voice.
“Only three?” asked Guillermo.
The news came as no real surprise. Trevor knew what Hogan and her team thought of the colonists, and now the UN authority back on Earth had come to the same conclusion. He was angry and disappointed, and a little anxious, too. Why wasn’t this news coming from Helmut Brandon, or had he been outflanked? Did Hogan think she could just order Trevor, or anyone else, off the planet? He couldn’t help his smirk at the thought.
Predictably, Mark rose to his feet. “Now, wait just a second. I know we’ve all gotten chummy these past weeks, but Ares City is chartered as a settlement independent of the military—”
“Yes, and that’s still true,” Hogan interjected. “We can get into the technicalities of who has what authority and under what circumstances, but it’s kind of moot at the moment. As I said, I’ve been ordered to evacuate three colonists. But I’m not going to.”
That got Trevor’s attention. He felt his heart pounding suddenly in his chest as he leaned forward and waited for her explanation.
“I don’t understand,” Mark replied.
“The commander is defying her superiors for you people,” Grigori spat back. “Now sit down and listen to her.”
Mark sank into his chair. Lori patted him reassuringly on the knee, though she looked just as confused as the rest of the colonists.
“Okay,” Hogan started slowly. “So. Let’s not go over the concerns about Ares City again. I’m here to let you know that there are open seats on my crew’s return flight, for those colonists who are interested. And I know—”
“And for those who stay behind?” Now Guillermo was on his feet and walking toward the front of the room. “What happens to the rest? Is Ares City being abandoned?”
Hogan held her hands up. “No! No. Supply ships are still coming. Everything at Progress Base—from stores to equipment—is at your disposal. But you’re not alone in that concern, Guillermo, and it’s something that I personally cannot abide.”
“But you’re going to leave us anyway.” Guillermo turned and went back to his seat.
“Or . . . We’re supposed to just leave? Just like that?” Leah asked.
“Will you all just please SHUT UP!” Grigori’s face was flushing red. Hogan touched his shoulder, and he took a reluctant step back. Trevor marveled at the interaction. Something was shifting in the balance of power.
“Look,” Grigori said in a calmer tone. “I don’t think you understand what the commander has done for you. There’s something you should see.”
He turned toward the media console mounted beneath the room’s wide screen.
“No,” Hogan said. “Grigori, I don’t think—”
“They’ll see it eventually anyway,” Grigori muttered as he plugged in a thumb drive.
On the screen, an image of Hogan flickered to life.
Trevor winced when he saw how worn she looked in the recording. Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. But there was an inner radiance shining through that Trevor had seen in her face only once before, back in the rover.
/> “High Admiral Heyerdahl,” Hogan began on the screen. “I have considered the orders you sent in your last message. Well, the orders you repeated in your last message. The same orders I’ve been getting from Coville and Kingsley and on up ever since my early report when I said I was certain the civilian Mars colony was doomed to fail.”
A stifled groan went around the room. Melissa held a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. But Grigori stood firm at the front of the room, his steely glare challenging anyone to say a word.
Trevor folded his arms over his chest. He wasn’t certain what Hogan and Grigori hoped to achieve by initiating this conversation again. Maybe they wanted to frighten the colonists into clamoring for those few seats aboard the UNSC vessel. Rats fleeing a sinking ship.
“Respectfully, Admiral, I again refuse to order the colonists to leave Mars.” On the screen, Hogan blinked at the camera. “I have come to know these people, and frankly I don’t think it’s any of my business to tell them what they can and cannot do with their lives—even when it comes to UN resources, as you have pointed out. The surviving crew of Hermes 3 didn’t abandon their posts. You gave them that choice, and I believe the residents of Ares City deserve the same dignity of choosing for themselves.”
Trent let out a cheer.
Mark stood up again and faced Hogan. “You should have come to me with this.”
“Just keep watching,” Grigori said.
Lori grabbed at Mark’s arm and pulled him back into his chair.
“And so, with that in mind . . .” On the screen, Hogan paused and her face was transformed by a gentle, peaceful smile. “I remain firm in my decision to give up my own seat on the Constellation’s return trip to any colonist who wants to claim it. I cannot decide the fate of these volunteers. I will remain behind at Progress Base—or at Ares City, if they’ll have me. I will work with the remaining colonists in any capacity I can, to see that they make it until the next UNSC crew arrives. And beyond.”
The room was silent for all of about five seconds. Then all hell broke loose. Trent, Leah, and Mark shot to their feet, blocking Trevor’s view and asking questions on top of one another.
“What are you saying?” Melissa’s voice trembled. “After all of this, you still think it’s hopeless?”
“Everybody just calm down!” Lori shouted, to no effect, while April changed seats to sit next to Guillermo who slumped forward in his chair, his head in his hands.
“How could you even think such a thing would be appropriate, much less necessary?” Mark edged closer to Hogan. He was practically in her face.
But Hogan looked calm, even serene, in the midst of the chaos. She sought Trevor’s gaze again and this time when their eyes locked, he couldn’t help the quiet smile that spread across his face.
This woman. This strong, capable, fiercely brave woman.
Trevor, too, had questions. But no accusations came to mind. He stood and remained at the back of the room. While the other colonists cycled through stages of anger, grief, and dismay, Trevor leaned against the wall and watched Hogan field questions, concerns, and near-hysterics for the next ninety minutes. It was a thing of beauty.
Hogan felt exhausted. And exhilarated. She also felt frightened and a little numb.
She’d done it. She’d made her offer and taken her stand. Eddie and everyone above him could try to order her onto the Constellation, but there was no way Grigori or anyone else in her crew would force her onboard. They understood that duty and responsibility were precisely the reasons she’d made her decision.
Hogan stood in the center of Trevor’s personal quarters, easily twice the size of her own at Progress Base. Could she be happy here, with him? Would he want her after everything that happened?
“It’s nice.” She stepped toward a pair of digital posters on the wall opposite the door. One showed a steady view of some snow-capped peak above an evergreen forest. Mt. Hood, Hogan guessed, or one of the other dormant volcanoes from the Pacific Northwest. A familiar view from Trevor’s old home.
But the other frame displayed a live view of Noctis Labyrinthus. Hogan puzzled over that. Why would he choose something he could see just by sticking his head out the door? Why not the Oregon Coast or a family picnic or even kittens playing with a ball of yarn?
Trevor stepped up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Where I’ve been, and where I’m going.”
Her frown vanished. Of course. He was someone who cherished his roots but always had his gaze trained forward.
Hogan turned and took his hands into hers. She thought back to the bit of dancing they’d done in the Progress Base kitchen. She felt a hopeful spark at the idea that they might have the opportunity to invent a few moves of their own.
“It’s important to me that you understand why I made the decision I did,” she said.
She expected him to cut her off with his guesses as to her motivations. Or maybe silence her with a kiss. That’s the kind of thing she’d come to expect from men who needed to control every situation. But Trevor waited. He squeezed her fingers and encouraged her to continue.
She told him pretty much everything she’d said to the colonists downstairs, but he didn’t seem impatient with the repetition. She was putting off what she really needed to say. Finally she took a breath, and she took her chance.
“I don’t expect you to stay, just because I’m staying.” She stared at his chin instead of meeting his gaze. She wasn’t ready to read the reaction in his eyes, but she refused to look away entirely. “I don’t expect anything from you, actually.”
She saw her frown reflected on his face. Still, he kept quiet.
“It would be great if we could . . . I mean, if you . . .” Hogan blew out a frustrated sigh. She looked Trevor directly in the eye. “I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you, when I had the power to prevent it. I’m talking about all the colonists, sure, but I mean specifically you, Trevor.”
She released his hands and stepped back. She looked at the floor. “I don’t think you need a savior or that I’m your knight in shining armor or whatever. That’s not what this is about.”
“I think I understand.” He crossed his arms over his chest, then seemed to think better of his body language and slipped his hands into his jumpsuit pockets instead. “I’m supposed to be all evolved and post-macho and take it in stride that you’re the one wearing the pants in this relationship.”
Though Trevor’s face remained soft and open, Hogan was stung by his words. Is that what he really thought of her? She ran a hand over her face and tried to figure out what more she could say to convince him of her sincerity. She felt the painful tightness of panic threatening in her chest again. She hated that this was becoming a familiar sensation, but maybe she could use it as a guide.
She should be direct and to the point, just as she was with her crew when it came to assignments and protocols and getting the job done. But this was something very different, and not because Trevor was a civilian. She didn’t have a manual for negotiating paths of the heart.
“Relax,” Trevor said before Hogan could try again. “I’m not that much of a jerk.” He coughed out a short laugh. “I imagine I’m feeling just as mixed up as you are right now.”
Relief broke over Hogan like a warm, ocean wave. “Not possible! Let me try this again.”
She stepped closer and clasped his hands. When she met his dark gaze, she felt the curious, maddening sting of tears. “I would like to say that I am also not that much of a jerk.”
Trevor laughed, and the knot in her chest loosened. “Okay, so that’s settled.”
“There’s so much that I still don’t know right now,” Hogan said. “They might try to order me back to Earth again—on some future flight with another astronaut crew. And I don’t know if you’re staying here, or if you think you might want to—”
“I’m staying.”
“Okay, so that’s settled,” she echoed his words back to him. “So, I should tell yo
u . . .”
Hogan stopped herself. She took a breath. She tried again. “I want to tell you how I feel about you.”
She paused, this time hoping he would rush in to fill the space with what he was thinking and feeling. But Trevor wasn’t going to make this easy on her—and, she discovered with a smile, she didn’t want him to.
“This is damned inconvenient for me, you know!” she blurted out.
“But I’m staying.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Hogan pressed her cheek against his and felt his breath move through her body.
“I know that,” she whispered, her voice small enough to startle her. She swallowed and raised her volume. “And I’m grateful. I’m going to need your help.”
“Feeding the colonists.”
“No! Showing me what to do!” She pulled back, their faces inches apart. “Showing me how to do this. I need you to show me how to love you.”
The words were out of her mouth, and she couldn’t take them back. Her breath froze in her chest for a terrifying moment, until she realized they were the right words. She felt a hopeful shiver as a smile touched his lips.
“You’re saying you love me, Commander Kay?”
Hogan slapped him on the arm. “Don’t make me do this again! Not now.”
“So, should I just shut up, or would you like to hear my response?”
Hogan got ready to launch a volley of snark, but his mouth was on hers before she could utter another word. His grip on her shoulders was firm as he pulled her close and braced her body against his. He slid his fingers into her hair and cradled her head, holding her steady as her kissed her, alternating between fervent ardor and slow, languorous maneuvers with his tongue.
By the time his lips left hers and trailed down toward her collarbone, Hogan was gasping for breath.
Mars Heat (Mars Adventure Romance Series (MARS) Book 3) Page 19
