Defying Mars (The Saving Mars Series) - By Cidney Swanson Page 0,54
ordered another burn to starboard, screaming past the satellites.
Her g-suit’s partial-pressure breathing forced her to inhale. Dark spots danced in her periphery as she moved her head to check for laser-fire.
But there was nothing. The monitors continued to shriek, which meant the laser’s tracking systems had a lock on her ship. And then the explanation struck her. The tracking system was still in operation—it was the lasers that weren’t functioning. And she’d just burned how many kilos of fuel?
She terminated the burn, closed her eyes, and sank back into the pilot’s hot seat, calling herself by every unsavory name she could think of. A launch crew upon Mars’s surface would have anticipated the Galleon’s monitors having fits as she flew past the satellites. Would have told her to hold steady, not to worry. Would have prevented the waste of fuel. The g-suit forced another unwelcome breath and she reached up to detach her helmet. She was about to throw it to one side but stopped herself. She had no idea if a replacement was aboard her vessel.
She had no idea if she had suits for the three crew members she planned to rescue. Or ration bars for herself. What other idiotic mistakes was she going to make out in space by herself?
A red light blinked over at communications, her brother’s former station. “Red Galleon, this is Mars Colonial Command. Do you copy?”
She pressed the tips of her fingers to her closed eyelids.
“This is Jessamyn Jaarda aboard Mars-Class Space Faring Vessel Red Galleon.” She sounded very young.
“Please state your intentions regarding your unapproved launch, over.”
Jessamyn cleared her throat, attempting to access her lower register. “I am on a course of direct intercept with the planet Terra. I’ll be returning next orbit with the Mars Raiders we left behind. Over.”
The pause before MCC transmitted again was a long one. Someone important was evaluating her admission.
“Pilot Jaarda, you are not authorized to attempt this mission. You will return the Galleon to MCAB immediately.”
She reached to flick off the channel but then stopped herself. What if they said something about Crusty? They didn’t. Instead, various persons from MCC peppered her with charges of kidnapping a space-faring vessel, accusations that she was acting like an idiot, and strong expressions of the board of directors’ disappointed hopes for her bright and promising career.
She collapsed her head into her hands, elbows resting on the display panel in front of her. What would her parents make of her decision? What humiliations would they suffer each day they went in to work?
What had she been thinking?
The red light at Ethan’s station flashed furiously. Jessamyn rose and walked off the bridge. Dimly, she heard the continued demands that she respond, that she return. She paused at her quarters, punched the door open, and stared but did not enter. Inside the lockers, flung wide during launch because no one had been assigned the task of checking all door seals, hung a pair of space-quality walk-out suits. Wrinkle-free. New.
“Thanks, Crusty,” she murmured. The hatch door to her quarters, sensing no motion, slid closed. She didn’t want to sit in her quarters anyway. She wandered along the empty hall, pausing to stare into the rations room. Someone had Velcroed a full complement of five ration bars and water packets to the small table. She moved closer, fingering the back of the chair her brother had preferred. The table setting made her feel very alone, and she turned to leave the room. Which was when she noticed the orchid.
“What on Ares?” she murmured, walking closer. It was Crusty’s orchid. What did he mean, placing it aboard the ship? She saw a piece of papyra tucked into the base of the container. It was a note.
Set container in water every third day, one half packet wet ration. Talk to it. Wallace says it helps.
Crusty had entrusted his Terran prize to Jessamyn aboard the Galleon? And he expected her to talk to it? Jess shook her head.
“Forget it,” she said. “I’m not talking to you.” She glared at the flower.
Why had Crusty left his beloved orchid? It struck her as the act of someone who’d known all along he might not accompany the Galleon.
Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Even without the unexpected betrayal of Cavanaugh’s team, the timing between opening the hangar doors and the actual launch would have been tight for Crusty to make it aboard. You couldn’t just open the hangars and expect no one at MCC to notice. He’d been willing