Mars Heat (Mars Adventure Romance Series (MARS) Book 3)

by Jennifer Willis

  Trevor felt better knowing she was on their team.

  “Melissa? Hi, it’s April,” April called from the other side of the rover as she peered out the windows. She tapped on the glass and pointed, but Trevor saw only a bunch of rocks.

  “Listen, Melissa,” April continued. “Why don’t we get together in the rec room or somewhere when we’re all back at the habitat, okay? We’ll talk this all out and get everything sorted. Yeah?”

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” Melissa replied from her rover. “Because, you know, I’ve been trying to deal with something on my own and—”

  “I’ve got her.” Grigori announced over the comms. “I’m coming up behind her. Will escort her back.”

  “Nice work,” Hogan replied. “Make sure she gets back inside, and we’ll update you on our progress.”

  Hogan glanced at Trevor, and he read in her face everything she hadn’t said over the comms—that someone would need to sit on Melissa and ensure she didn’t make another run outside the habitat.

  He wanted to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of having to chase down errant colonists across the plains of Mars. He wondered if this is what it had felt like for Hogan when the astronauts had to run out after Guillermo the first time. But she had been harder then, less compromising.

  Mark muted the rover’s mic. “What happened to letting me be in charge of this rescue?”

  Hogan shrugged. “You’re in charge of this rover, how about that?”

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Mark’s voice was tight.

  “Do you?”

  “That maybe the colonists won’t properly appreciate the dangers of Mars until one of our own meets an unfortunate end. Right?”

  Trevor held his breath in the silence that followed. He was flabbergasted that Mark would say such a thing, but then Mark didn’t know Hogan the way he did. Mark still saw the resolute, hard-nosed UNSC commander without an understanding of the compassion and concern that lay underneath.

  But Trevor didn’t need to leap to Hogan’s defense.

  Hogan patted Mark on the shoulder. “We’re all worried about Guillermo. And we all want to get him back safe and sound.”

  Mark sighed and squared his shoulders against the seat. “We’re going to need to work out a new chain of command if you’re staying with us. Everyone voted for me to be in charge, with April as my second—”

  “Hey, I don’t mind stepping aside,” April offered. “You two go ahead and wrestle about who gets to be alpha. I’m happy as the omega.”

  Trevor and Hogan chuckled. Mark seemed to relax a little. He unmuted the comms and kept driving.

  “Commander?” Miranda’s voice came in. “Checking in. We haven’t seen any sign of Guillermo.”

  “Understood.” Hogan dug her fingers into her hair. “Come on, Guillermo,” she muttered. “Where are you?”

  April slapped at her window. “You guys? Guys! Over here! Is that him?”

  Hogan and Trevor rushed to April’s window while Mark slowly brought the rover to a halt. They peered over April’s shoulder across the rocky landscape, looking out toward the distant steep-walled valleys and canyons that had caught Trevor’s eye those first hours on Mars.

  About a hundred yards out from the rover, Trevor saw the outline of a man in a pressure suit seated on the ground and leaning against a large boulder.

  “The labyrinth of night,” he muttered.

  “What?” April asked.

  “Noctis Labyrinthus,” Hogan replied. “Well-spotted, April.”

  She moved to the front of the rover. “Guillermo? Guillermo, can you hear me? This is Hogan Kay. Please respond.”

  Trevor clasped his hands tightly together and waited. Nothing on the comms, and no movement from the figure outside the window. He had a very bad feeling about all of this—the ominous canyons in the distance, the dropping temperatures and darkness of the Martian night, and the fact that Guillermo wasn’t answering.

  He couldn’t be dead, right? Guillermo wasn’t suicidal, Trevor didn’t think, and he wasn’t stupid either. But this was the second time he’d left safety behind and run out across the barren terrain alone.

  So much had happened on Mars that none of them had planned for. Things had gotten very real very quickly, with blocked airlocks and radiation storms and stomach bugs. New relationships and friendships formed while others fell apart. Now the astronauts were leaving and taking their skills and experience with them, and the colonists had to choose their fates for themselves with their very lives in the line. Maybe that was too much for some people to take.

  “Guillermo!” Mark shouted over the comms, but it didn’t do any good. He sat back down in the driver’s seat and steered the rover eastward toward the wayward colonist.

  “What’s he doing out there?” Hogan stared out the window. “Meditating?”

  Mark turned up the rover’s headlights, and the figure in the distance held up an arm to shield his eyes. Trevor laughed with relief. A second later, there was a crackling pop from the rover’s speakers.

  “Hey, guys,” Guillermo’s voice came over the comms. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I am going to kill him,” Mark muttered. “I think I may actually commit the first murder on Mars.”

  Hogan gave Trevor’s hand a quick squeeze. “Miranda? Grigori? We’ve got him. We’ll make sure he gets back home.”

  It took a few minutes to cover the distance to Guillermo. Hogan started pulling on her pressure suit, anticipating an EVA to escort Guillermo inside. But Guillermo got up from his rock as they approached and started walking toward them. Without prompting, he made his way around to the back of the rover and came through the airlock on his own.

  “Hey, you didn’t have to come get me.” Guillermo was apologizing as soon as he pulled off his helmet. “I had plenty of air and everything. I just needed some time to myself, that’s all. Away from everything happening inside the habitat. I hope I didn’t worry anybody.”

  Mark was on his feet and storming through the cabin toward Guillermo. “You’re sorry?! Do you know how cold it gets out here at night? Do you know we’ve had three search teams out here looking for you and Melissa?”

  Guillermo frowned. “Melissa? Is she okay?”

  “And you wouldn’t reply on the comms!” Mark stood toe-to-toe with Guillermo, his hands on his hips. “What if something happened to you? What if you got lost, or if you fell down and cracked your helmet? What if you fell into a ravine or something and we couldn’t find you?”

  Trevor crossed the cabin and rested a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Maybe we should take it easy. Give him some space and let him tell us what happened.”

  Mark turned on Trevor and was about to unleash another tirade. Despite the irritatingly cool temper he’d displayed during the competition and then through the journey and landing on Mars, Dr. Lauren had finally had enough. But Mark’s eyes were full of fear and worry, not anger. The man did like his rules, and he relied on them to keep the colony safe.

  Not unlike Hogan, Trevor thought. And then Hogan was at his side, her hand on Mark’s other shoulder.

  “This kind of thing shouldn’t happen,” she said, her voice as steady as it had been over the comms with Melissa. Weeks ago, Trevor would have thought it was something she picked up in officer training, but now he knew it was simply part of who she was.

  “You’re right about that. And we’ll take steps to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” She nodded at Guillermo, and he shuffled past to take a seat next to April.

  Trevor would have said more. He would have been more direct, advising Mark to keep a clear head and asking again to give Guillermo some room to explain himself. That sort of thing. But Hogan understood leadership in a way Trevor didn’t. She could have this conversation, leader to leader, and ratchet down the tension in the rover without having to make anyone the bad guy.

  “Right. Thanks.” Mark ran a hand through his hair. He turned to Guillermo. “You okay?”

 
Guillermo rested his helmet on the floor. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know everyone would get so upset.”

  Mark made his way back to the front of the rover and got the vehicle moving again, heading back to Ares City.

  Hogan stood in front of Guillermo and held onto an overhead strap as the rover bumped along. “You want to tell us why you left the habitat alone, without telling anyone?”

  Guillermo shrugged, but tears sprang to his eyes. He wiped them away with an awkward laugh. “It was the idea that we could actually leave and go home again. And then you offered your own seat. I wanted to think about that. I figured the best place to do that was, you know, outside. Out here where I could consider exactly what I’d be giving up.”

  He gestured toward the canyons of Noctis Labyrinthus on the horizon. “Away from everybody and the distractions of the habitat. Really, I just wanted some quiet time.”

  “So you turned off your comms.”

  “It was stupid. I get that.” Guillermo looked at the floor. “But, really, I didn’t think anyone would miss me.”

  Trevor dropped into an empty seat and felt the weight of Mars move through his lungs. He had been so absorbed in his own troubles and proving his own worth and relevance that he hadn’t considered that someone else might be struggling, too. Guillermo. Melissa. Probably all of them.

  “Guillermo.” Trevor’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You matter more than you know.”

  Guillermo wiped his eyes again as his face flushed red. “I, that’s good to hear.”

  Hogan crouched down in front of Guillermo. “And? What did you decide?”

  “About going back with the astronauts?”

  Hogan nodded. Trevor leaned forward.

  “I’m staying.” Guillermo wiped his nose on the sleeve of his pressure suit, and Trevor’s thoughts went immediately to the laundry. But then he was on his feet again, changing seats to sit beside Guillermo and drape an arm over his shoulder.

  “Hey. Can I tell you something?” Trevor asked.

  “Anything, as long as it’s not about how badly I just screwed up.”

  Trevor patted his back. “I know things are rough with Melissa. And that pretty much none of this Mars colony thing has turned out like any of us thought it would.”

  “Speak for yourself,” April offered.

  Trevor rolled his eyes. “I strapped in aboard the Red Wing 1 thinking my mate and my destiny were already determined.”

  “Sorry about that,” April muttered.

  “What I’m saying is that it’s okay,” Trevor said. “So this thing with Melissa is in a pretty raw state right now, and you’re thinking maybe there won’t be anybody else. But I’m telling you, Mars may surprise you.”

  Trevor reached for Hogan’s hand.

  14

  It was the night before the launch. Everything from Progress Base—leftover food, unused equipment, even personal effects the astronauts elected to leave behind—had been packed up and transported to Ares City.

  In the sols since Hogan’s announcement to the residents of Ares City about the open seats on the Constellation, everyone’s time and focus had been absorbed in heated debates at the dinner table, arguments in the recreation and fitness rooms, and some intense introspection in private quarters. On top of basic survivability, there were questions about division of provisions and chores for those who remained and about how the small colony should begin to govern itself. And about how the colonists would choose who would stay and who would go, if more of them wanted to leave than there were spaces available.

  Similar to a fledgling frontier town facing its first winter, Ares City would be cut off from all assistance for close to a year. Even with supply shipments, it was a bleak prospect. But the first seeds had been planted in the grow unit, and green sprouts were coming up out of the amended soil. And the bioreactors were up and running, producing both spiruliza and the hybrid bacteria—though experts back on Earth warned that the hybrid needed more testing before it should become a staple of the new Martian diet. But that was Earth, and this was Mars—a place for new rules, and new beginnings.

  In the end, not a single colonist elected to leave.

  Now all the people of Mars—colonist and astronaut alike—gathered around the pair of Ares City dining tables to break bread together one last time. It was a farewell dinner for the astronauts heading home, and perhaps a first hopeful Thanksgiving for those who would remain.

  Trevor had gone all out, again, for this particular meal—including near equivalents to egg rolls, glazed lamb patties, and sausage ragu. There was no actual meat on the table, save for a tin of Vienna sausages and the last sticks of beef jerky contributed by the astronauts. Everything else was a clever manipulation of protein paste and whatever other ingredients Trevor had on hand.

  From the looks on the faces around the table, Trevor got the impression he’d done all right.

  At the head of the table, Hogan sat with a large bowl of pickle soup before her. She lifted her cup. “A toast to my team. May your coming journey be uneventful. May you be bored out of your freaking minds, with nary a crisis or odd noise to distract you from your daily tasks and your media drives.”

  The assembled gathering raised their cups—full of some truly awful rot-gut alcohol Guillermo had produced from the still he’d rigged from unused tubing, an empty barrel pilfered from Progress Base and other odds and end—and then grimaced as they swallowed down the Martian moonshine.

  Trevor coughed as the burning liquid raced down his esophagus and into his stomach. He wasn’t much of a drinker and this stuff didn’t inspire him to adventure further. But Grigori’s compliments to Guillermo and the sight of Trent and Mark reaching for more made Trevor wonder if the colony should consider alcohol beverage control limitations so that no one ended up in the infirmary with literal holes in their guts.

  Other toasts followed. Grigori wished his commander and the residents of Ares City luck and prosperity in the coming months. There were several spontaneous awards handed out—little plastic-and-metal trinkets Leah and Melissa had fashioned from materials in the colony scrap heap. The Walkabout award, an egg-shaped paperweight made from a cracked tablet screen and a couple of twist-ties, went to Guillermo. Melissa was named Miss Personality, and Trevor was surprised with the award for Most Likely to Succeed. He was presented with a paper certificate bearing the logo for Mars Heat that Leah and Trent had designed. In bold letters, the certificate read: First Entrepreneur of Mars.

  Trevor laid the paper on the table and stared at it. He’d worked hard for restaurant reviews and star ratings and the tiniest mentions in travel guidebooks. But this ad hoc award had him choking up.

  He lowered his head and pretended to wipe his mouth with his polycloth napkin so no one would see. But Hogan knew. She patted his thigh under the table.

  “Speaking of Mars Heat.” April tapped on her tablet screen and scanned through the ream of messages that had come in on the last data dump. Trevor tried to think of a time he’d seen April without her tablet, and came up empty. “I’ve got an update on your account balance.”

  “Our account balance,” Trevor corrected her.

  Hogan made a face, and Trevor figured he was in for another uncomfortable conversation with his new partner about free enterprise, collective ownership, and the nascent economics of Mars.

  Leah had figured out a way for Mars Heat, or a near approximation, to be manufactured on Earth using Trevor’s recipe and the genetic profile of the bacterial hybrid that had been transmitted digitally from the Red Planet. With proceeds from the solar system’s first interplanetary hot sauce and from Cooking for Martians cookbooks accumulating in an Earth-based account, Trevor couldn’t think of any better use for the money than to spend it on Ares City.

  “They’ve moved up the launch date?” Mark asked.

  “Moved it up and approved every single one of our personal requests,” April replied.

  “Yes!” Trent poured himself another half-cup of
Martian moonshine. “Ten cases of Doritos!”

  “Actually, only five cases,” April replied. “And that was a hard sell. But you’re getting your nacho chips. And a few other companies are itching to get their snacks on that particular rocket, too.”

  “Here comes the branding,” Lori sighed. “They’ll want us to do commercials for them.”

  “Best advertising on or off the planet,” Leah said. “We should start a product review service. ‘The best whatever on Mars!’ They’ll send us all kinds of crap, if we even hint that we might be interested in it.”

  “Real soap,” Guillermo mused. “And my tool set.”

  “Your old tools, yes.” April’s eyes lit up. “And, holy crap. Clothes that aren’t all orange jumpsuits. And bolts of fabric, for whatever.”

  “And, my anxiety medication?” Melissa spooned some saffron rice into her mouth.

  April gave her a smile. “Yes. Two years’ worth of the stuff. You should have told somebody. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Melissa swallowed her food. “I know, I know. I just thought it might be different here. That I wouldn’t need it. And I didn’t want to be weak.” She held up a hand in defeat. “And I know it’s not a weakness! I know that now. Especially since, I didn’t think it would affect anyone but me.”

  “We’re all in this together,” Trevor told her.

  Lori leaned toward Mark and murmured something in his ear. Mark laughed and turned a little pink. By now, everyone knew the story of Mark and Lori’s first meeting in the changing area outside the Mars Ho biodome, and Trevor got the distinct impression that Lori had made a special request for lavender lingerie.

  Trevor’s own request list was long and detailed, including spice samples and seeds—from cardamom and saffron to oregano and six different varieties of peppers. He’d also asked for kitchen equipment and cooking utensils and a few personal items, like the prayer rug his grandfather had given him and that he’d left behind in Portland.

  It would be a good while before Trevor had any decent oils to work with in his kitchen, but he’d requested seeds for olive trees and rapeseed and sesame plants—and space to grow them in the extra modules coming to Mars for habitat expansion. Eventually, he thought, there would be dedicated grow units for every climate imaginable. They could cultivate coconuts, bananas, and avocados in one space, and kale, leeks, and radishes in another. On Mars, they would make their own seasons, module by module.