Defying Mars (The Saving Mars Series) - By Cidney Swanson Page 0,63
former position as best as she could, hiding the slime and the odor.
Jess remembered how her mom got angry when Jess or her father accidentally turned off the lighting over the algae pots. Maybe the orchid needed more light. She fiddled with the ob-deck lighting, aiming one light at a spot just in front of the window. Carefully, she set the plant in the light.
“There,” she said. “That should help you get better.” But as she said this, she saw a black spot on one of the leaves. Rot, she thought. She had no idea how to treat a plant for leaf-rot.
How did a plant even contract such a thing out in space? Frowning, Jessamyn walked to the door, looking back over her shoulder at the plant. The orchid did look happier here.
“You’re losing it, Jaarda,” she said as she exited the ob-deck.
Sleepless nights became an increasing challenge as Jessamyn hurtled through space to her rendezvous with Earth. No longer able to stick to a schedule where she’d be awake at the same time every day, Jess began to set reminder alarms so that she could check her course at twenty-four hour intervals.
She wondered again if sleep might come in a different room, a different bed. A move to the ob-deck had helped, initially. She decided to try out the captain’s quarters next. Walking down the hall, she shuffled inside, bleary-eyed, before depositing herself upon the slightly larger bunk.
A few days ago, her throat had begun to feel irritated. Tonight, the night of day fifty-seven, it felt worse. She yawned, wincing at the ache in the back of her throat. Apologizing in her mind to the citizens of Mars Colonial, Jessamyn reached for a second evening water packet and guzzled it gratefully.
It was only as she crossed from fatigue into the liminal stage preceding sleep that it occurred to her the scratch in her throat might be an indicator of air filter malfunction.
27
WATER-WEIGHT
The desert looked much as Pavel remembered it from childhood. Browns and tans, pinks and peaches, and everywhere, dirt. He brought the ship down to the east of the San Bernardino mountains where Brian Wallace assured him, despite appearances, a small community flourished. Observing the terrain, Pavel wondered how anything could flourish here. He still found the desert beautiful, but it appeared threatening as well to his now-adult eyes. There were few signs of water—a handful of shriveled-looking trees—Joshua trees, he recalled, and small desiccated shrubs which clung to the ground as if shrinking from the desert sun.
Then there was the additional and invisible danger of radioactivity—the real reason no one lived here anymore. Pavel had already applied tattoos which would keep a count of the daily doses of radiation taken in by the party of five, but he had no really effective counter-remedy to offer. Modern medicine’s best treatment consisted of avoiding places such as this. It troubled Pavel. He could only hope their stay would be of short duration.
“Astonishing resemblance to your planet, eh?” said Brian Wallace to Ethan and Harpreet.
“It is what our world might be,” replied Harpreet. “With adequate water.”
“Hmm,” mused Wallace. “Looks a wee bit lacking in water to me.”
“Let’s have a look round,” suggested Pavel, peering out the window before pushing upon the hatch.
A blast of heat, fierce and dry, entered the cabin of the craft.
“Gracious,” murmured Harpreet.
Wallace laughed. “A person underestimates the intensity of the heat,” he said. “It’s like one of those heat-blowers the barber uses aimed straight at the face, isn’t it?”
Pavel leapt ahead, reaching down to grab a small rock. He fingered it for a moment, savoring the rough surface, the heat it had already captured, and then he threw it as far as he could, listening for the satisfying thunk.
Ethan, all the while consulting the screen on his chair, spoke to the group. “I believe this direction will lead us most swiftly to encounter the residents of the area,” he said, pointing to the right.
Pavel rejoined his companions and the five ambled toward an outcropping of what looked like hillocks.
“They’ve no notion of proper houses out here, do they?” asked Brian Wallace.
“Proper in such an environment would of necessity differ from what would be considered proper in most other locations,” replied Ethan.
Pavel grinned. Jessamyn’s brother could interject unintended humor into any situation.
They crested a tiny rise. Ethan, pointing ahead and left, said, “The dark spot is the entrance to a domicile.”
“Hands loose at our sides, then,” said Wallace. “Don’t look threatening.”