The answer came back, resounding as it did every annum at the festival: “No!”
“No,” repeated Mars’s Chief Executive Officer. “We did not give up and we did not give in.” She raised her hands in anticipation as she asked the question, “Why?”
The answer thundered through the building: “For the love of Mars!”
The Secretary reached her trademark ending: “Citizens of Mars, my friends and my inspiration—we will prevail. We will create the Mars our ancestors could only dream about. Work hard. Be courageous. Be bold.” Here she paused, smiling. “And always, be as generous as a dog.” She bowed and sat beside the planetary dog, giving it a quick pat on the head.
Jess felt a shiver run its way from her head to her toes. No generation of Marsians had ever known a braver or more inspiring leader. Jessamyn had arrived tonight indifferent to the Ice Festival’s marking of the anniversary of Marsian colonization. But she felt certain no one could have remained indifferent after that speech. She wondered how it affected Ethan. She turned to look at her brother as a group of very tiny schoolchildren bounced onto the stage to sing.
But Ethan was no longer beside her.
“Hades and Aphrodite,” she muttered under her breath, glancing behind for her brother. A few people frowned at Jessamyn’s lack of attention to the singing children. Jess smiled weakly and moved off to one side, slipping down the length of the building, looking for her brother. She jerked her head swiftly to one side, activating another of her brother’s inventions—an inner earpiece that allowed the two to communicate.
“Ethan?” she whispered. She suspected she already knew where to find him—against the back, where a patch-worked wall of glass soared over five meters high to the ceiling. The Crystal Pavilion had been named for this glass-work, an ancient effort pieced together by the first generation of Mars-born pioneers. Sure enough, Ethan stood, staring out at the planet’s surface, his forehead just touching the glass.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
“I am better now. The window helps. I began to feel trapped. The number of people this annum …” Ethan broke off.
Jess heard the strain in his voice and her heart melted for her brother and his vulnerability in this environment. “Let’s find your dog hair and get out of here,” Jess murmured.
“They were using vac-mechs onstage,” said Ethan.
“The invention they’re giving you the award for?”
“Yes,” said her brother. He’d come up with the device to improve the air quality of heavily occupied interior spaces where people with dry-lung suffered worse than in their small homes. He spoke again. “The vac-mechs will have gathered all the dog hairs.”
“Can you … I don’t know … empty it?” asked Jessamyn.
“The mech incinerates whatever it gathers,” replied Ethan.
“Ah,” said Jess.
A sonorous gong rang out across the pavilion, bringing the roar of the crowd down to a soft whisper. “The Tea Offering,” murmured Jess.
“Harpreet is as generous as a dog,” said Ethan.
Harpreet Mombasu, retired pirate-raider, spoke softly into a voice-amplifier. “Won’t you join me for tea?” Some annums she spoke at length. The crowd stood in quiet anticipation, to be sure she had finished. Apparently however, she had no more to say, for the tea servers had already begun handing out small rations of tea from behind a row of tables set end-to-end along one side of the pavilion. This annum, or maybe the next, would see the end of the small stash of tea Harpreet had brought back from Earth. She could have hoarded it. She might have sold it for an untold fortune on Mars. Instead, she had chosen to brew it once an orbit for the Festival of Singing Ice and to offer cups to every man, woman, and child on the planet for the asking.
“How many cups of tea can one woman drink?” she was often quoted as having said, and the saying had been added to Mars’s other pithy proverbs.
“Harpreet!” murmured Jess. “Harpreet!”
Ethan looked at her inquisitively.
Jess felt a wild, hopeful fluttering deep in her belly. “Don’t you see? Harpreet will go to bat for me!”
“Go to bat?” asked Ethan.
“Figure of speech,” explained Jess. “I mean, she’ll advocate for me, Eth! And then they’ll have to listen. She’s … she’s … well, she’s Harpreet!”
Ethan’s brows furrowed for a moment and then he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I believe Harpreet might succeed where others would fail.” He brought a clutching hand to his belly and forced himself to look out the window again.
He’s not doing well, thought Jessamyn.
“I’m taking you home,” she said aloud. “I’ll make your apologies and then we’ll go.”
“Yes,” said Ethan, pressing his head to the glass.
Jessamyn dashed to the front of the hall and explained to festival personnel that her brother felt too unwell to collect his award. Then she found her father, interrupted his technical explanation of the algae pot program to a group of students, and murmured into his ear that she had to take Ethan home.
Her father frowned. “Should I go with you?”
“No, I’ll drop Ethan off at home and come back for you later,” she replied.
Before returning to her brother, Jess grabbed an assortment of Festival souvenirs, hoping one or more would keep his attention during the brief journey home. He wasn’t fond of traveling in the enclosed space of the family’s tiny get-about. But in less than twenty minutes, Jess managed to get herself and her brother suited-up for the ride, into the get-about, out of the get-about, and back inside their home.
By this time, she felt desperate to return to the Ice Fest in hopes of speaking with her grandfather’s friend, Harpreet Mombasu. When she arrived once more in downtown New Houston, parking was a nightmare. Her family’s original space had, of course, been taken, and Jess ended up leaving the get-about on the far side of Rations Storage.
Grumbling every step of the considerable distance, Jess pondered how best to approach Harpreet. The old raider was known for thinking unconventionally, but could she be made to agree that Jessamyn had done a right thing and not a wrong thing by disobeying a direct order? Jess threw her arms up. Who knew?
She bounced along the paved surface swiftly in Mars’s low gravity, sparing only a quick glance for something that caught her attention as she passed the storage facility’s front windows. The building looked empty at the moment, although she caught sight of several of her brother’s vac-mechs, hungrily seeking the leavings and detritus of today’s thousands of visitors. All of whom were probably back inside the Crystal Pavilion now, cheering as medals and honors were given in the Awards Ceremony. She would have to see about collecting Ethan’s.
There it was again, a flash of something caught only by her peripheral vision. She looked into the windows as she continued alongside the rations facility. And then she saw it. A bright tongue of flame.
One of her brother’s vac-mechs had caught fire.
Jess hesitated. The building looked empty—predictable during the awards ceremony. Was no one watching the security feed? She could call for help, but fire would spread quickly in the oxygen rich environment of Rations Storage. Someone needed to put that fire out now, before it spread. On instinct, she pressed the button of the next airlock door she came to. Not bothering to remove her walk-out suit, Jess pushed through the secondary door and dashed toward the small mech. The quivering flame looked like it was dying, and Jessamyn felt a moment’s relief. But as she stepped forward to make certain the fire was out, a terrible thing happened. Jess heard a loud explosion and reeled as something struck the side of her helmet with enough force to knock her sideways.
Chapter Three
NOT DYING LIKE THIS
The chunk of exploding vac-mech knocked Jessamyn to the ground and sent her skidding along the smooth floor of Rations Storage. Sliding, she reached out with her right leg, hoping to catch it against one of several shelving units. The maneuve
r worked, but the shelf teetered precariously as she came to an abrupt halt. And then, to Jess’s dismay, the entire unit tipped and came crashing toward her. She rolled to one side, narrowly escaping entrapment as a dozen ration boxes tumbled to the ground.
Jess didn’t think they would have crushed her, but she had no time to wonder. Looking back to where the exploding vac-mech had first attracted her attention, she saw bits of it, scattered and still flaming. She vaulted upright and dashed back to stomp out the dozen tiny fires. She started with the largest, blazing alone surrounded by several feet of nothing, but then realized this fire was the least likely to cause problems. A few meters away, three other burning pieces of vac-mech threatened to either melt or ignite objects they touched. Jess hesitated, glancing from one to the next, trying to decide which fire to put out first.
“Aw, Hades!” she cursed, flying toward one that had, in fact, caught a nearby box on fire. It made no sense—why would a metal box catch fire? Too late, she realized the answer. Flames exploded from the container as an oily and highly flammable substance oozed out the box’s damaged corner seams. The liquid followed gravity’s call and flared a path to Jess. She jumped back, noticing a second fire growing in ferocity to reach her own height and beyond.
She reached for her emergency call button, hitting it twice before making a true connection. “Fire!” she shouted. “In Rations Storage! Hurry!” She glanced about desperately, seeking something she could use to douse or smother the flames. A banner hung on a nearby wall announcing fifty annums of Marsian independence.
“Make yourself useful,” she growled at the outdated piece of fabric as she yanked it from the wall. Turning, Jessamyn realized that the oil-fire had jumped, replicating itself several times. The entire shelf appeared to hold containers of the flammable liquid. She beat the banner against the hungry flames, but her efforts seemed futile. Worse than futile. The banner itself ignited and Jess had to throw it to avoid catching her garments on fire.
Where were New Houston’s emergency techs?
Just then Jessamyn heard the sound of another explosion, from somewhere behind the flames now threatening to engulf her. A second vac-mech? Another explosion sounded. And then another. From behind, Jess sensed a sudden brightening. As she turned, she realized to her horror that the cloth she’d thrown aside had ignited several shelves of ration boxes.
“No, no, no!” she screamed, beginning to fear for her own life. Flames surrounded her on all sides. She could feel heat through the suit. And that was very, very wrong. Walk-out suits were designed to protect the wearer from temperature change. How hot was it in here?
A small memory came to her from early school days, and she threw herself to the ground, seeking out the least deadly-looking of the many flaming objects surrounding her. You are not dying like this, she told herself. Find a way out! But there was no way out—no way that didn’t involve passing through flame. She thought she could smell smoke: was it her imagination or was her suit giving up? Dragging herself forward on her elbows, Jess crept toward the most diminutive of the fires closing in on her. She felt certain she could smell the awful odor of burning suit as she shimmied through a gap between two growing fires.
Black smoke drifted lazily, and she wondered how long her walk-out suit would protect her; it was intended to ward off cold, not heat. Crawl, she commanded herself. Groaning and crashing sounds rang out behind her, and she witnessed a large shelf to one side of her buckle, appearing to deflate as it melted from the high temperatures. Keep crawling! You will make it to one of those airlocks! She didn’t know if the doors would function or seal her inside. Just crawl!
A door shimmered into view two meters away and she jumped up and ran for it, noticing that one of her suited legs appeared to be smoking. She beat at it and registered a sensation of hot that quickly died back. As she reached to open the door, another shelf collapsed, toppling and pinning her so that, try as she might, she couldn’t reach the airlock button.
This is it, she told herself as a yellowish dust filled the air. Your own personal “the end.”
But then strong hands lifted the groaning shelf from off of her back. Jess scrambled to stand. The air was a mixture of black smoke, grey ash, and drifting soot.
“She’s helmeted,” cried the woman who’d pulled her free. “I’ll get her outside.”
Jess felt herself being lifted and carried out of doors. Shaken and grateful, Jess leaned on the tech.
“Are you injured?” asked the woman as she helped Jessamyn inside an emergency vehicle.
“Don’t think so,” grunted Jess. Her throat felt like she’d gargled sand.
The woman pointed to two medical techs already removing Jess’s helmet. “This is Ngala and that’s Frank. They’ll take good care of you.” With that, the woman dashed back outside.
Minutes later, Jessamyn recognized her father’s helmeted form as he entered the parked medical vehicle. The med techs stood aside to allow Jess a quick hug from her dad.
“You’re okay?” he asked.
Jess spoke, her voice gravelly. “Never better.”
For the next hour, with her father at her side, Jessamyn submitted herself to a series of pokings, proddings, and measurings all of which confirmed what she already suspected: she was fine. Her air system had been contaminated during the last minute inside the building, but she hadn’t taken serious smoke into her lungs, and the med techs assured her that her throat would feel fine by morning.
When a Mars Colonial Command representative came by to question her, Jess described the fire from her perspective.
The official shook his head as Jess finished. “You’re an exceptionally lucky young woman,” he said.
But when Jess asked what kind of damage the building had sustained, the official shook his head. “We have a team evaluating the situation,” was all he would say.
Jess’s father squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll tell us all about it tomorrow, when they know more.”
At last, the medics declared Jessamyn fit for release. She was offered a new walk-out suit which smelled funny and tugged in all the wrong places. Jess fell asleep on the drive home and could barely keep herself awake enough to slip out of the hateful new suit and crawl, exhausted, into her bed.
In spite of the grave ordeal, she dreamed not of fire, but of flying.
Chapter Four
BOTH KINDS OF WISDOM
Harpreet Mombasu was the most curious citizen ever to dwell in New Houston. She was curious about the weather, curious about technological advances, curious about school essay competitions and sporting events. But mostly, she was curious about people. She appreciated the opportunities that city life afforded for encountering a wide swath of humanity. She loved conversation and good, strong tea. Since her own generosity prevented her from consuming the Terran beverage more than once per annum, she had become a consumer of chat, a connoisseur of the tête-à-tête. She’d come closer to speaking with every citizen of Mars Colonial than anyone before her had or anyone after her would.
Harpreet (she refused to go by her official title of Raider Mombasu) had a reputation for seeing a person’s future that led many parents to bring their children to her for advice about career paths. In reality, it wasn’t the future she could see, but rather the quintessential person-ness of whomever came before her. Nine times out of ten, Harpreet could tell from a single interaction with someone what that individual would find most satisfying in life.
In short, she listened well and truly.
Jessamyn hoped the old pirate would follow her regular schedule the next day, going to the New Houston Fountain. Jess left early, avoiding her father’s inevitable, “Don’t leave the house without your wet ration. It’s the most important water of the day.” She wasn’t planning to skip it.
Lacking anything that resembled an actual water feature, the New Houston Fountain served one product: wet rations. It was housed in a glass-like structure beside the Crystal Pavilion. As with many of the city�
��s popular destinations, pressurized tunnels connected the Fountain to the larger pavilion.
Arriving, Jess passed through the outer door of the airlock. She shifted her shoulders in a practiced move which allowed her to slide off her irritating new walk-out suit. She would need to inquire after a replacement. Looking through the inner windows, Jess searched for Harpreet’s dark skin and bright smile. She glimpsed the raider admiring a very new baby in its mother’s arms. At least there wasn’t a line of people wanting a word with Harpreet.
Jess placed her helmet on a locker shelf and hung her suit below it. She’d forgotten house-shoes, so that meant slipping back inside her walk-out boots. Tapping the airlock button, she stood, impatient. “Come on, come on,” she muttered to the sticking door.
It released with a gasping sigh and she squeezed through as soon as the gap would accommodate her, hurrying to the side of her intended savior.
Harpreet seemed to be saying goodbye to the woman and child.
“Harpreet,” Jess called.
Harpreet, her dark eyes dancing with delight, stood with outstretched arms. “Jessamyn, child!”
The greeting reminded Jess that there were niceties to be gotten through before she could blurt out her problems.
“Goodness,” exclaimed Harpreet, “How you’ve grown! How long has it been since we’ve sipped water together?”
Jess felt her face and neck heating up. It had been half a Marsian annum; Jessamyn had celebrated a birthday since visiting the old pirate, dear friend of her departed granddad. She’d meant to stop by. She’d thought about sending a video greeting. But she’d forgotten to do either. She mumbled an apology and asked after Harpreet’s health.
Saving Mars Page 3
