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.