Saving Mars (12 page)

“Wake the Captain,” said Crusty as the door slid shut.

Moving forward along the narrow hall, Jessamyn got Kipper up, sending her back to the mechanic.

Harpreet would want to know, too, thought Jessamyn, pausing at the quarters she shared with the old raider.

By the time Harpreet and Jessamyn returned to the ob-deck, Ethan was performing a suit-check for Crusty. The walk-out suits aboard the Galleon met outer-space standards, and protocol for their use included a systems check prior to and after any use.

“Does Crusty expect to use that thing?” Jess asked her brother in a quiet murmur.

“Yes,” replied Ethan.

“Where’s Kipper?” asked Harpreet.

Ethan explained that the Captain had returned to the bridge to examine the readings. “And Crusty has suggested that we should all move to the forward portion of the ship.”

Jessamyn and Harpreet left for the bridge while Ethan finished checking the suit for Crusty. A few minutes later, Ethan joined his sister, Harpreet, and Kipper.

“What does Crusty think?” asked Jess when her brother returned.

“He is a man of few words,” replied Ethan.

Jess guffawed. “Says the man of few words.”

Kipper spoke. “You caught this early, Communications Specialist Jaarda and First Officer Jaarda. I commend you both.”

“
Thanks
would do just fine,” muttered Jess.

“Did you have something to say to your captain?” asked Kipper.

Jess bit her tongue, holding back the things she would have preferred to articulate. Instead she said, “It was Ethan who noticed the readings, Captain, sir.”

Kipper nodded in response.

Crusty’s voice came through the ship’s comm. “Captain, I have one confirmed leak along the starboard hull. Requesting permission to go outside and get a better look.”

“Permission granted,” said Kipper. “I’m bringing down the inner seal door on the ob-deck as a precaution.”

“Just what I was about to recommend,” said Crusty. “Though it won’t stop a bad leak. That seal door ain’t no confinement barrier.”

For the next twenty-five minutes, the crew listened to the sound of Crusty’s breathing, punctuated with occasional exclamations of “Huh,” and “I’ll be.” When he reentered through the aft airlock, they heard him muttering a series of unpleasant wishes regarding Terrans and their technology.

“I slapped a piece of hull-seal on the outside,” Crusty reported on the comm. “The sons-of-bugs made all kinds of work for me when we get planet-side.”

“And the prognosis?” asked Kipper.

The mechanic grunted. “Hull-seal’s only good so many days, ain’t it? I’m mixing up some omni-poxy right now for the inner seal. That oughta hold her together.”

The crew sighed in collective relief.

After a moment, Kipper spoke. “I am declaring the ob-deck off-limits for the duration of our flight.”

Jess gasped. “You can’t do that.” She glanced anxiously at her brother.

Kipper stared coldly at Jessamyn for several seconds. “Don’t give me another reason to confine you to quarters, Jaarda.” She turned to Ethan and Harpreet. “Wake me at once if there is further degradation to the ship’s hull.”

Jess followed Kipper down the hall. “I’m sorry I said it that way. Kip—Captain, wait, please.”

Kipper paused, one hand on the door to her quarters. “First Officer?”

“It’s my brother,” said Jess. “You can’t seal off the ob-deck. Ethan needs to go there to keep his … his autonomic nervous system balanced.”

“Duly noted,” said the Captain, turning to her door.

Jess grabbed Kipper’s shoulder to keep her from leaving. “Crusty’s fixes always work. Please. If you don’t let Eth stand and stare out at the stars four times a day, he’ll shrivel. He won’t be able—”

“That’s enough, Jaarda,” said Kipper, removing Jess’s hand.

“—he won’t be able to make the kind of discoveries he made today. I know my bro—”

“I said that’s enough, First Officer. Are you incapable of recognizing an imperative when your captain issues one?”

Jess stood, caught between shame and panic. “I know how to obey an order, sir.”

“My order stands. For the safety of this crew, the ob-deck will remain sealed.” And with that, Kipper punched her door button and left Jessamyn standing alone in the hall.

Harpreet, standing at the far end of the hall, had seen at least some part of the interaction.

“
Ares and Aphrodite!
She makes me
crazy
,” Jess said, her voice angry and low.

“No, Jessamyn, child. You do that to yourself. The Captain is not answerable for your responses. You are.”

“But, this isn’t even about me! It’s about Ethan. He needs to spend time on the ob-deck every six hours. It’s how he’s keeping it together.”

Harpreet touched Jessamyn’s face softly. “Daughter, your brother is a remarkable young man. Perhaps it is time for you to let him fight his own battles. Did you hear him demanding that the Captain change her mind?”

Jess thought about it for a moment, then asked, “You think I get in my brother’s way?”

“I think your brother would have spoken up if he felt the loss of his time upon the observation deck would impair his performance.”

Jessamyn frowned. “I want him to succeed so badly. To prove to himself that he can live any life he chooses.”

Harpreet smiled. “Then allow him to prove this to himself.”

Jessamyn placed a hand over her eyes and slowly shook her head. “I only want to help, but I don’t have the first clue, do I?”

“It is always that way with those we hold closest, child. Give your brother some room and see what he does on his own.”

Jess laughed half-heartedly. “Give him some room. Yeah, that ought to be obvious enough, huh?”

Further down the hall, Jess saw Crusty exiting the ob-deck, sealing the door behind him. He removed his helmet and took a long, deep breath.

Jess straightened her back and lifted her chin. “Crusty,” she called. “You want a hand with your suit-check?”

“I’m fine,” he said, shuffling toward the rations room, removing his gloves. “I’ll check it come morning. Evening. Whatever.”

“Good night, daughter,” said Harpreet, returning to the sleep quarters they shared.

“Good night,” said Jess. “And thanks.”

Returning to the bridge, Jessamyn seated herself back at navigation. “So I guess everything’s going to be fine,” she said to Ethan.

“Everything will be well,” replied her brother.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Chapter Ten

CALLIBRATED TO SHATTER

At the end of her shift, Jessamyn felt as if she’d completed twenty-four and not twelve hours on duty.

“I will never complain about boredom on the bridge again,” she said as she sat between Harpreet and her brother.

“Boring over drama any day,” mumbled Crusty from across the room.

“Crusty obtained some vid footage of the outside of our ship,” said Harpreet, passing a computing wafer to Jessamyn.

Jess winced upon viewing the long ugly scarring along the starboard side of the Galleon. “Poor old girl,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. Tracing her fingers along the image of the scar, Jess shivered. It was a grim reminder of the destruction of the Red Dawn.

“‘Nother two minutes was all they needed,” said Crusty. The dark flash of anger in his eyes told Jess he felt the same way about the ship as did she. “You did good, kid, getting the Galleon out of range.”

The Captain entered, looking bleary-eyed, and the conversation turned to their mission. With only four days remaining in transit, many details remained to be hammered out, reconsidered, and otherwise determined upon. Jess tried to focus upon her ration, but the images from Crusty’s vid danced before her eyes still. She realized anew how fortunate they were to have suffered only damage to the observation deck.

The meal ended, bringing with it the moment when Ethan would remember he couldn’t visit the ob-deck before retiring. Jess followed him with her eyes as he rose and said good night to the crew, but would not allow herself to trail behind him, ask if he was okay, feel sorry for him.

Instead of turning aft to his room, officially the captain’s quarters, Ethan strode forward to check something on the bridge. Kipper’s giving up of the ship’s largest quarters to Crusty and Ethan had surprised everyone, Jessamyn most of all, but she felt certain the additional space was helpful to her brother.

Turning to Crusty at her side, Jess asked, “Will you be able to fix the ob-deck leak on Earth?”

The payload specialist shrugged. “Likely, I can.”

Crusty was standoffish to a degree that made Ethan look friendly and accommodating. But it was plain enough why MCC had chosen him: he could fix anything. It was rumored that you could set him out on the planitia with only a methanol/oxygen fuel-cell system suit and a reverse-water-gas-shift reactor, and in a week he would be not only alive, but living in a structure he’d built from dirt and ice by turning these into metals, glass, and other useful items.

It was rumored, but no one had dared him to do it. He didn’t invite or welcome conversation.

“Well,” said Jessamyn, “If you need someone for grunt work, I’m at your disposal. I won’t have much else to do.”

Crusty grunted.

Harpreet smiled at them both, but whether it was because Jessamyn’s attempts at conversation amused or pleased her, Jess couldn’t tell.

“I’ll be on the bridge, Payload Specialist,” said Kipper, rising to depart.

“If Ethan’s on the bridge still, would you tell him I’m calling it a night?” Jess asked. Catching Harpreet’s gentle eye upon her, Jess restrained herself from adding
but he can wake me up if he needs me
.

The Captain nodded curtly.

Harpreet smiled, and this time Jess felt sure what it meant:
Well done, daughter
.

Crusty, bent over the used walk-out suit for a thorough systems-check, called after Jess as she rose to leave. “Thanks for the offer to help. You’re like your ma, you know.”

Jessamyn flushed and smiled. Usually people remarked upon her similarity to her granddad, which was fine, but this was a welcome change. Turning forward to her quarters, she tried to remember what she knew about her mom’s acquaintance with the gruff mechanic. She had just entered her room and pressed the hatch button to close behind her when she heard Crusty’s voice again.

“Bells of
Hades
!” he swore.

Jess caught the utterance as her door slid shut. She paused, then punched the hatch button to re-open her door. It pulled back just in time to reveal Crusty, racing for the bridge, shouting on the ship’s comm to the Captain.

“Shut down the whole mid-section!”

Harpreet, trailing in Crusty’s footsteps, stopped to speak to Jessamyn. “It’s the ob-deck leak. The patches didn’t take, and the seal-doors aren’t to airlock specification. He’s going to have to seal off the back end of the ship.”

Jess looked down the hall. She could already hear the grind of the emergency airlock seals. “My brother!”

“Is he not on the bridge, child?”

Jessamyn was already dashing along the hall to make sure. She called out, “Ethan? Eth? You on the bridge?”

Reaching the front of the ship, she looked to her brother’s seat at the communications panel. He wasn’t there.

“Where’s Ethan?” cried Jess. “Stop the isolation protocol!”

“Belay that,” shouted Kipper.

“No,” Jess shouted, “You have to stop—”

Kipper bellowed, “Get off my bridge, First Officer.”

Harpreet, examining a screen, spoke softly to Jessamyn. “It cannot be stopped, daughter. The hull breach is venting air into space at a terrible pace.”

“My brother!” cried Jessamyn.

“Payload Specialist, seal the aft sleep quarters as well,” called Kipper. “Mombasu, get her off my bridge,
now
!”

The order was unnecessary; Jessamyn was already running, hurling herself at the emergency bulkhead, calling her brother’s name. Harpreet grabbed Jess, threw her to the ground, and used her own weight to pin Jessamyn.

“You cannot cross the seal!” said Harpreet.

Jess struggled—a mad, wild thing desperate for freedom.

Harpreet shouted, “Listen: the Captain has ordered the bulkhead on the far side to be closed as well. If I allowed you to pass, you would suffocate, sealed between doors.”

The bulkhead’s set of airlock doors bolted into place, shuddering the floor beneath Jess’s pounding heart. Harpreet shifted off of her, allowing Jessamyn to move. But Jess lay still.

“He’s trapped,” she whispered.

“He’s safe from the breach,” replied Harpreet. “He is in his quarters and he is safe.”

Crusty pounded down the hall, a leak detector in his outstretched hand. He ran the device along the seams of the bulkhead. “We have a lock-seal on this side, Captain,” he said into the comm-link.

Kipper strode down the hall as well, calling into her own comm-link. “Communications Specialist Jaarda, do you have a secure seal on your side?”

Jess dug her nails into her palms as she heard her brother’s voice. “The airlock doors have followed the protocol for confinement mode. I detect no leaks.”

“How are your oh-two levels?” she asked.

“I am checking,” replied Ethan.

Jess held her breath.

“Oxygen levels in the aft portion of the ship are stable,” said Ethan.

“Good,” said the Captain. “But I still want you to suit up immediately. We’re going to evaluate the possibility of bringing you through the aft airlock, past the ob-deck, and through the mid airlock. Do you copy?”

Crusty spoke to Jessamyn. “The doors to the ob-deck aren’t airtight, but they’re shut, and that should be enough to get your brother past ‘em.”

Jessamyn’s voice, when she found it, was so low as to be almost inaudible. “He has no suit.”

Crusty swore.

Kipper turned. “What in
Hades
is wrong now?”

“It’s the walk-out suit, Captain,” said Crusty. “I left it in the rations room. I hadn’t finished checking it, Sir.”

There was only one walk-out suit assigned to the aft quarters—the quarters intended to house a captain. In the hushed moment that followed, Jess cursed herself for not having foreseen this.