her face, the mechanic placed a hand upon her shoulder. “Hey. You come back, now. There ain’t no use imagining stuff that never happened. This message don’t say nothin’ about anybody hurting anybody. It’s all about not gettin’ hurt.”
She chewed her lower lip, willing herself to believe Crusty was right.
“Maybe it’s his way of tellin’ us he’s fine,” continued Crusty. “Only it just comes out sounding funny in a translation.”
“Maybe,” she whispered. She couldn’t speak her darker fear: that trapped inside someone else’s body, on the run, her brother was losing his mind. Because this didn’t sound like the sort of message Ethan would send.
“I’m of the opinion it’s some kind of poetry,” mused Crusty. “It’s got that sort of feel to it.”
“Ethan doesn’t write poetry,” said Jess.
Crusty scratched his two-days’ beard thoughtfully. “He’s a smart one, your brother. He’s not going to shoot off a message any fool can understand. The way I figure, this is him sayin’ as everything’s just fine for him. Nothin’ to fret over.”
Jessamyn nodded, pushing back the images of fiery torture. She found herself thinking of Pavel—his brave farewell, his promise to guard her brother.
“Okay,” she said aloud. “I’m off to bed. Have a good shift.”
But in the privacy of her quarters, Jess wasn’t ready for sleep. She sat down to write the boy from Earth.
Dear Pavel,
Today we received Ethan’s message. Crusty says the message is intended to convey to us that you are both well. I want to believe he’s right, but why the stuff about fire? Crusty thinks the message is poetry of some kind. In that case, why not choose a happier poem to tell us you’re well?
I suppose that’s my answer right there. My brother isn’t the kind of person to store up bits of happy poetry. Or perhaps the words were your idea. All I can say is: next time make it a little less cryptic, okay?
She paused, looking up from her letter. She knew what she really wanted to say.
As each day passes aboard the Galleon, I feel myself reaching a conclusion that no one but me will like. I think we should return to Earth right away—drop the food and run back before it’s too late.
There. I’ve said it.
I’m worried, Pavel. I’m afraid that Mars Colonial will argue for waiting two Terran years for any kind of rescue. But in that time—an entire Mars annum—how much might happen? I am sure each day he spends in the body of someone else is a kind of torture for my brother. And if MCC argues for waiting an annum, what is to stop them arguing we should wait two? Or three?
I have to convince MCC that I’m right. That the raiders we left behind deserve nothing less than an immediate rescue. I don’t know how we’ll find a crew. I don’t know if the Galleon has it in her to make the journey.
But I know I must plead my brother’s case. And Harpreet’s. And my captain’s. They don’t deserve to be left behind. I won’t let that happen.
Tell my brother I love him.
I miss you.
Your friend,
Jessamyn Jaarda
2
I’LL STAND BY YOU
Sitting alone in her quarters the next day, Jessamyn frowned, imagining the uproar her request to rescue her brother would produce. She felt sure she could find a few allies—a few who believed, as she did, that Mars Colonial owed it to the Mars Raiders to make the attempt to rescue them. But she felt equally certain she would run into many who would say the rescue was too dangerous. That the raiders had volunteered in full knowledge the trip might end as it had—in captivity or death upon Earth.
If she’d been left behind, Jess wouldn’t have expected anyone to come and find her. She’d accepted the risk and been willing to remain or die upon Earth if it meant saving Mars. But she’d left Earth with an oath upon her lips: a promise to return for her brother. It had been a fool’s vow.
She was no Harpreet, to sway others to attempt impracticable things, but she had to persuade Mars Colonial, and quickly, before Earth and Mars drifted too far apart. The two planets could be imagined as runners chasing laps around the Sun. Earth ran on the inside track, giving it an advantage when it came to speeding about the Sun in only 365 days. Mars was stuck on an outside track, and the Red Planet’s journey about the solar system took 686 Terran days.
When the original crews