Saving Mars (3 page)

They bounded back toward the house, bantering.

“Jessamyn cannot beat me,” insisted Ethan. “There exists adequate data to demonstrate this.”

“Then I guess
Jessamyn
will be pretty thirsty come the festival Tea Offering,” she replied, subtly reminding him to refer to her with a pronoun instead of by proper name.

After a short pause, Ethan said, “You will be as dry as Mars.”

“Oh, good one,” she said. Figures of speech were challenging for her brother, who thought almost exclusively in terms
literal
.

They re-entered the dwelling, shrugging out of their suits. Jess felt her brother’s anxiety rising in the enclosed space.

“Monopoly,” she said, redirecting his attention. “Go find it.” She hoped it would be enough to distract him out of a downward spiral that led, ultimately, to panic and the fetal position.

“Yes,” he said, a tiny smile forming.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Her brother’s phobias and idiosyncrasies became more pronounced when he had a large event looming before him. She appreciated that for most families, the Festival of Singing Ice in spring and the Festival of Coming Cloud in fall were joyous occasions. A time to meet people you hadn’t seen all annum. A chance to hear one of the Secretary General’s inspiring speeches. But for Ethan, the festivals were primarily hurdles to get past.

Still, the fact that their mom was planning to stay home this annum meant that at least one member of the family felt confident Ethan could handle the crowds and noise. Jess hoped her mom was right.

~ ~ ~

“Take care of your brother,” murmured Jessamyn’s mother. “You know what your father’s like at these things.”

Yes, Jess knew that her dad would be at his absent-minded-professor-
est
at this event where so many vied for his attention.

“Maybe I should go,” her mother said, frowning.

“No, Mom,” said Jess. “It’s your birthday. You stay home and enjoy the humidifier. Ethan will be fine. He’s a man on a mission.”

Her mother raised one eyebrow.

“He wants a piece of dog hair for his collection,” explained Jess as her father joined them.

Her father looked surprised. “All those birthday visits to pet the planetary dog and he doesn’t already have one?”

“Guess not. At least, not from
this
planetary dog,” said Jess.

She had no idea if this was the same dog or if they’d had to bring a new embryo out of cryo since her childhood. Jess had never once touched the planetary dog on her birthday visit. She’d refused year after year and given up the visits as soon as she’d turned ten Terran years old. Ethan’s visits had continued until his seventeenth birthday.

“I am ready,” said Ethan, emerging from his room. He’d dressed up for the occasion, donning a proper lapelled jacket.

Jess could see the orange collar of his favorite tee shirt circling his neck like one of Saturn’s rings. “Pull down on your tee,” she said. “It’s showing.”

Ethan adjusted his shirt. Jess knew no one would laugh aloud at her brother anymore. He was too well-respected. But she didn’t like to see him looking so obviously
different
. Still, if donning a worn-out tee was what it took to keep him comfortable for the evening ahead, she was all for it.

They arrived at the Crystal Pavilion early to give Ethan the chance to become gradually surrounded by increasing numbers of people. Jess kept him busy viewing exhibits from school-age children, studying works of art, and of course, looking for planetary dog hairs. New Houston’s Ice Fest brought citizens from all over the northern hemisphere together for one very big party. While Marsians inherited much of the independent spirit of their pioneering forebears, they knew that their best chance of survival in the unfriendly climate was to maintain excellent relations with their neighbors. “We need one another,” was an oft-repeated Marsian proverb.

Lobster lumbered over to Jess, a sad frown disfiguring his face. “I’m sorry Jess, I did what I could for you, but …” He didn’t need to say it.
You disobeyed a direct order
rang out clearly in both of their minds.

“I know,” she said.

Jess had managed to keep her fears about never flying again from the surface until she said those two words:
I know
. She felt a contraction in her throat and a burning behind her eyes. Like all Marsian children, she knew better than to waste water with tears. She squeezed Lobster’s large forearm and moved off, herding Ethan toward the front of the Pavilion so he wouldn’t have to push through the crowd to receive his award later. The Secretary General and CEO of Mars Colonial would be addressing the gathered crowd shortly. Most of the members of the board of directors had already taken their seats on the raised dais.

You need an advocate
. Jess heard her brother’s words in her head. She scanned the faces of the board members. Several were friendly with her father, most owed her brother a huge debt of gratitude for some solution he’d proposed during various crises. But none knew Jess on a first name basis. She doubted any would recognize her. And they’d all agree with Ethan, most likely. She’d clearly and obviously committed a
wrong action
. Worse, she’d do it again, given the chance.

Jess glanced at her brother as the Secretary General marched on stage, followed by a black, white, and tan Australian shepherd. The crowd surged forward, clapping and stomping in support of the planet’s most popular leader in two centuries. Jess saw her brother reaching for his eyebrow, stroking it once, twice, three times, before replacing his hand at his side.

Only three times
, she thought to herself.
That’s good.
She wished she could comfort her brother with a quick squeeze, but she knew that her touch would increase his discomfort. Instead, she leaned close, whispering a reminder.

“Don’t forget your third eye,” she murmured in reference to a membrane-implant her brother had invented. By blinking in rapid succession, the eye forced the membrane to drop into place. It served only one purpose: the membrane allowed a person to see items hidden under or behind high-tech cloaking material. Ethan didn’t react well to surprises, and festival organizers loved springing a surprise reveal of an onstage object or person. The membrane helped. When she was small, Jessamyn had pestered him for one of her own ‘til he’d said yes.

Waiting for the crowd to settle for the Secretary General’s opening remarks, Jess blinked rapidly, causing the membrane to slide down. Sure enough, onstage—hiding beneath a cloak—rested a beautiful ice sculpture of a teapot. A tribute to the Tea Offering, no doubt. She looked over at her brother, who was studying the hidden sculpture with great interest.

Crisis averted
, thought Jess.

The Secretary General began her speech commemorating the accomplishments of the past half-orbit since Cloud Fest. Jess’s ears pricked when she heard her mother’s name praised for her Household Algae Pot Program, but mostly she missed the Secretary’s speech. She was moving from face to face down the row of board members, trying to decide which one might be willing to advocate for her, to get her back in the air.

Even thus preoccupied, however, Jessamyn couldn’t help looking back to the Secretary General when it came time for the Presentation of Plenty. The entire room silenced as a screen appeared so that every citizen of Mars Colonial could see with their own eyes the store of ration bars in their copper-shiny wraps. Like everyone in the room with her, Jess found comfort in viewing the food supply that would keep starvation at bay until such a time as Marsians could grow non-toxic crops.

The current Secretary provided ridiculous access to Rations Storage, in case there were any doubting Thomases among the citizenry. Rations Storage sat next to the Crystal Pavilion and all were welcome to tour the facility on any non-distribution days. Mostly, families strolled past the rows-upon-rows of foodstuff only during festivals. Jess had never bothered with the tour. She knew firsthand, from her granddad, the exact date upon which the nutrition bars would run out: one annum after the next raid was scheduled to be completed. Which meant just over three annums from now.

Jess’s heart rate picked up at the thought of raiding. To be considered for piloting the next raid, she needed hours. To get hours, she needed her suspension revoked. She
had
to get back in the air.

The Secretary continued speaking as the screen behind her cleared. “Citizens of Mars, over three Terran centuries ago, our foremothers and forefathers arrived upon this planet, having determined that humanity could and would prosper upon Mars as it had upon Earth. They came for many reasons: some for fame, others for wealth, many to satisfy an abiding curiosity. But they stayed for only one reason: for the love of Mars.”

Secretary Mei Lo paused as heads nodded and a few “amens” sounded. Then she continued. “But after two centuries had passed and Terrans grew desperate upon Earth, battling the dark fronts of environmental disaster, poverty, and hunger, the governments of Earth declared the Mars Project a failure and refused to send needed supplies, even those Marsians had paid for with tellurium shipments. Colonists remained, tightening their belts. Why did they remain?” Her eyes swept the room as she waited before pronouncing the words. “For the love of Mars.”

The room grew silent as the Secretary reached the darkest part of the tale. “Some left to join the Re-body Movement on Earth. Yes,
some
chose to leave. But
your
ancestors remained. Every one of you on Mars today is here because your great-great-great grandfather or grandmother thought Mars was worth fighting for. And when war came—a war not of our making—your ancestors fought. When Terrans set their deadly satellites in high orbit surrounding Mars, we protested. When they demanded we return to Earth, we declared our independence. And when Terran aggressors destroyed our orbital mirrors, forcing temperatures back toward frigid pre-colonization levels, we grieved. But did we give up? Did we give in?”

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!”