Defying Mars (Saving Mars Series-2) (6 page)

The Secretary must have contacted her parents; Jess saw the familiar suited form of her father waiting beside the drive outside her home. Automatically, she checked her own helmet—the simple action came back easily. Would it be as simple to step back inside her family? Her heart seemed to leap its way into her throat as she made out her dad’s features.

“This is good,” she said to the driver, half-rising from her seat as the vehicle slowed and halted. “Thanks,” she cried over her shoulder, swinging the door open. And then she was bounding, bouncing, half-flying toward to the arms of one who loved her best in all the world, ready for that which looked and smelled and sounded and felt familiar—ready for home.

Their helmets smacked as father and daughter collided. No words were spoken, and if Jess or perhaps her father wasted the water of a spilled tear or two, the Marsian sky, quiet and sheltering, kept the secret.

Eventually, the pair made their way through the front airlock and into the familiar round house.

“Your mother …” Jessamyn’s father broke off. “It’s been hard for her since we got the news about Ethan. She didn’t feel like she could face the crowds at touchdown today.”

“It’s okay,” said Jess. She hadn’t enjoyed the crowds, either.

“And then, well, she fell asleep waiting for you to get home and I didn’t have the heart to wake her—”

“It’s okay,” Jessamyn heard herself repeating. It felt anything but okay that her own mom wasn’t awake to give her a hug. “I’ll see her in the morning.”

“Jess,” said her father, frowning and looking toward the room her mother slept in.

“It’s okay, Dad. Really. I’m tired.”

Father and daughter stared at one another, unable to find words that felt as if they were the right size or shape or color.

Finally her father spoke. “It’s good to have you home, Jessie.”

The answer Jess knew she should give stuck in her throat. She couldn’t say it was good to be home when so many things felt awful and wrong.

7

TERRAN FEVER

Jessamyn settled upon the bed in her room, which smelled faintly of peroxide and dust, and fell swiftly asleep. But at some point in the night she awoke from a dark dream. Jumping from her bed and ready to flee, she felt too light, as though the planet were debating simply letting her go, no longer keeping her tethered to the ground. The sensation was vastly unpleasant and put her in mind of her brother’s preference for Earth’s heavy gravity. As she thought of him, her heart felt suddenly too large in her chest.

Already standing, she drifted toward his room. The sleep mat she’d brought in before the mission lay still upon Ethan’s floor. Pulling a blanket from off his bed, Jess curled onto the sleep mat and gazed up through her brother’s clear ceiling. She didn’t know where Earth would be at this time. A quick scan of the heavens showed her nothing with a bluish tint to suggest the Terran world. The Terran satellites, however, rolled past alongside Phobos, Mars’s largest moon. Deimos, the smaller moon, was nowhere to be seen. Staring until her eyelids grew heavy, Jess fell at last into a dreamless sleep.

She woke the next morning uncertain where she was. The surface upon which she lay was vibration-less and her eyes flew open, fearful the
Galleon
’s engines had cut out, which would mean no air filtration, no heat, no—Ethan’s room met her gaze, and she remembered where she was.

Outside the room, she heard her mother’s voice. Jessamyn was home. She tilted her head to catch Lillian’s words.

“She’s not in her room,” Jess heard her mom saying. “I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose. It’s just …”

Jess heard her father’s deep baritone. “Did you check Ethan’s room?”

There was a long pause. Her mother didn’t respond. And then Jessamyn heard Lillian’s familiar tread as her mom walked toward her.

Jess sat up, eager for the remembered touch of her mother’s worn cheek against hers. She felt like a four-annum-old child again.

But her mother, when she entered into the room, did not offer an embrace.

“This is your
brother’s
room,” said Lillian Jaarda, voice pinched with anger and pain.

Jess blinked. Her inner child scrambled for cover. Under the pretense of rubbing sleep from her eyes, Jessamyn hid her face. Excuses shuffled against one another for precedence.
I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to watch the stars. I miss Ethan.
She shoved all the excuses away, unwilling to expose the soft underbelly of her soul.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Mom,” Jess croaked. She placed a hand to her throat. She’d meant for her voice to convey sarcasm, not thirst.

Lillian Jaarda opened her mouth to snap something in retort but then seemed to change her mind. As she left the room, she called over her shoulder, “We’re sitting down for morning rations.”

Jess rose, realizing she’d slept in her clothes. She didn’t feel like changing even though she knew her mom wouldn’t like it. Well, her mom could just
deal
. Jess paused before the rations table, and her father leaned over to kiss her forehead.

“Morning,” he said, smiling.

“Morning,” she replied, her own face carefully neutral.

“Do you have plans to take over your brother’s room?” asked Jess’s mother in clipped tones.

“No, Mom,” she replied, pausing from a sip of water. “I just had a bad dream. I thought maybe watching the sky would help.”

“I see,” said her mother, her lips tight.

“The Secretary had a case of the new rations delivered this morning,” said Jess’s father, attempting to gently steer the conversation.

Lillian made a noise that indicated irritation. Jess’s mom disapproved of preferential treatment being offered to one citizen over another.

“I said we’d pick our rations up like any other family,” said her mother, “But the courier looked scared she’d lose her job.”

“You have that effect on people,” said Jessamyn, regretting the words as soon as she’d said them.

“One of the many qualities for which I agreed to marry you, my dear,” said her father, smiling calmly at his wife and daughter. “In any case, I signed for the box. And if I remember correctly, the flavor of the fresh rations will be quite, hmm—what’s the word? Eye-popping?”

“Yup,” Jess said, sinking into her place at the family ration table. She stared at her brother’s empty seat and wondered for a moment what it had been like for her parents, staring at the two empty chairs for the past thirty-nine mornings and evenings.

“I’ve got several messages for you,” said Lillian, all business. “You’ve got a full schedule the next week, young woman.”

Jess nodded as she reached for the copper-wrapped bar. She checked the date stamp. From this day forward, she would know with certainty that she or Ethan or Crusty or Kipper had handled these exact rations, exchanging them for bars of pressed Marsian tellurium. She watched her father as he opened his by first running a finger under the flap the length of the back side and then pinching the raised flap between forefinger and thumb. A quick
twist
and the packaging opened in his experienced hands.

Jess felt her throat squeezing tight. It was the same method her brother used.

“There will be a memorial service for those lost in service on Terra,” said her mother. Her matter-of-fact delivery of the information was intended to hide her emotion. But Jess knew every crease upon her mom’s tired face and could tell how deep the wound ran within her mother’s heart. “Then you’re scheduled for travel to New Tokyo and one other settlement—there’s still some debate as to whether it will be Squyres Station or Allentown.”

“Let her enjoy her morning ration,” murmured Jessamyn’s father. “Plenty of time for that later.”

“No, there is
not
plenty of time,” said Lillian. “That is precisely my point.” Turning to her daughter, she spoke again. “We’ll need to get suitable clothes for both the memorial and the … the …” Her mother paused, closing her eyes tight and grimacing. Lillian Jaarda
never
wasted water. “You’ll need something to wear to the celebration as well.”

Jess sighed. “I’ve got my Academy whites. They’re good enough.” She hardly ever had the opportunity to don the impractically white garb. Mars’s red soil made a mess of a good pair of whites so fast that they didn’t get much actual wear.

“Well, apparently the Secretary’s event coordinator feels you should be dressed in civvies for the next week, and that means we have a trip to downtown New Houston to fit into your busy schedule,” snapped Lillian.

“Dear,” interrupted Jess’s father, “I’m sure Academy whites will do.”

“Fine,” said Lillian, rising from the table. She smashed the copper wrap into the recycling mech’s narrow mouth. “You tell that to Ms. Interfering Niedermaier, why don’t you?”

The room became very quiet. Jess listened to the hum of the recycle mech.

“I’ll tell her,” said Jessamyn. “I’m sorry she bothered you. I’ll ask Mei Lo to make her stop.”

Jessamyn’s mother opened her mouth to say something but then seemed to deflate, her head falling into her hands, elbows hanging in the air.

“Mom, it’s going to be okay,” Jess said.

Her mother gave no response.

“It
is
, Mom,” Jess insisted. And then, before she could stop, she found herself saying, “I’m going back for Ethan. I promise I’ll find him. Then everything can be the way it was.”

That got her mom’s attention.

“What are you talking about?” asked Lillian.

“MCC owes it to Ethan and Harpreet and Kipper to send someone back to get them. Well, we don’t know if Kipper’s still alive. But her family deserves closure, at least. And Harpreet is, like …” Jess paused, struggling to find the words. “She’s a planetary
treasure
.” More quietly, she added, “And so’s Ethan.”

Lillian Jaarda raised her head, her eyes glistening with tears she refused to let fall. “How do you even know if he’s alive?”

“I
know
, Mom, okay? I would know if he … if something …” She broke off . “I would know. Besides, he sent a message.”

“He did?” Jessamyn’s parents asked the question together.

“Holy Ares,” muttered Jess. “I can’t believe they considered
that
classified. Yes. Ethan sent a message. It was weird, but it’s all the proof I need to know he’s okay. He couldn’t have done it if he’d been caught again, which means he must be okay. He’s with two very good Terrans.”

Her mother made a noise of derision and Jess found herself in the strange position of having to defend members of the Terran race.

“Good Terrans exist, Mom.”

“What did Ethan say?” asked Lillian, her voice soft. “In his message?”

Jessamyn frowned. “I didn’t memorize it. I’ll have to get it for you.”

Back in her room, she found her brother’s wafer and brought it to the rations table where she read aloud the strange message: “
When you pass through the fire, you will not be scorched, Nor will the flame burn you. So says Ethan.
”

Lillian’s face drained of all color. “It was the laser array,” she said.

Jessamyn stared at her mother, who had evidently decided to stop making sense.

“So that’s why Mei Lo wanted his expertise with ancient Terran computer code,” said Jessamyn’s father, nodding, his brow drawn tight.

“She sent him on a suicide mission to disable the lasers,” said Jess’s mother.

Jess’s eyes grew wide. Her mother figured that out from a bit of garbled poetry? “How do you know the lasers are disabled?”

Her father held up one hand. “We’re not asking you anything about your mission. I’m sure MCC has not authorized you to speak upon the subject. However, two weeks ago, a rumor began circulating that the satellites would no longer fire upon ships leaving Mars orbit.”

“It’s created a public-relations nightmare for Mei Lo,” said Jess’s mother, rubbing her temples.

Jessamyn ignored her mother’s statement—which sounded unrelated—and returned instead to the message from Ethan. “Why did you immediately assume Ethan’s message had something to do with the Terran satellite lasers?”

“His message—it’s a quote from a story we used to read to Ethan,” said Jess’s father. “Before you were born. The story of three men condemned to pass through a fiery furnace who survived the ordeal without so much as the smell of smoke upon their garments.”

“If we’re right about the laser disabling—and you don’t have to tell us anything,” continued Jess’s father, “Then the message you received is simply a confirmation that he was the one to disable the lasers’ ability to target ships departing Mars.”

Jess shook her head slowly. “No one was supposed to know except the five Mars Raiders aboard the
Galleon,
and Mei Lo.”

“We’re not asking you to confirm anything, Jessie,” said her father.

“No, no,” said Jess. “If people know about the lasers, I don’t see the point hiding it from you. I never got the chance to ask him if he succeeded—” She stopped abruptly. Memories of leaving her brother behind threatened to swallow her whole.

“So Ethan is alive,” whispered Lillian.

Jess forced herself to come back to the present, to her hope of rescuing her brother. “Yes,” she replied. “Yes, he is. And I intend to find him.”

“Oh, Jessamyn,” said her mother, shaking her head slowly. “You’re so young.”

“What?” demanded Jess, hands upon her hips. “Is it too much to expect a little support here? You’re his parents. First Mei Lo gives me a bunch of flimsy excuses and now you’re saying
no
, too? We
owe
it to them.”

“They’ll never let you go,” Lillian said dully. “Not now.”

“Why not?”

Her father sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Mei Lo is under a lot of pressure right now,” he began.

“You want to know pressure?” asked Jess. Within her a frantic desperation built to tell her brother’s story. She was done with holding things in for the sake of others. “Try standing in front of a firing squad of Terran Red Forces!”

Lillian froze.

“They lined him up with Harpreet, and they
shot
them, Mom,” said Jess, a tear coursing down her face. “I didn’t know if they were both dead or alive or what. And I broke into the hospital to try to get him back. I tried, Mom, I tried so hard.
And it wasn’t enough
. Ethan’s stuck inside someone else’s body on Earth because I wasn’t smart enough to save him. But I’m not going to make the same mistakes next time.”