Defying Mars (The Saving Mars Series) - By Cidney Swanson Page 0,70
reproduce rapidly away from normal planetary constraints, but several varieties consumed oxygen.
A shudder ran through Jessamyn. She calmed herself by reasoning that the ship had enough oxygen for five passengers. But she also took a reading to find out what the oh-two levels were like.
“Well, that’s a relief,” she muttered, seeing a nice distribution of the nitrogen, oxygen, and trace element gasses she needed in order to continue in the land of the living.
Four hours later, however, the ops panel returned disappointing readings: the antiseptic scrub had done almost nothing to combat the problem of contamination in the air filter. A new round of coughing shuddered through her. Resolving to spend as little time as possible upon the bridge, where her throat tickled worst, she strode back down the hall to the ob-deck to consider her options.
The orchid upon the floor looked forlorn. She could see clearly where the black spot had enlarged. A closer examination revealed that two other parts of Crusty’s beloved plant had small black spots. As she gazed in grim contemplation, a petal drooped and fell away to the floor, joining one which had fallen earlier. Jessamyn looked away.
What were her options? She could run another antiseptic scrub. She could clean up the growths that she could see. She could look through the herb-sims for something to keep her lungs healthy. And she could pray the contaminating species didn’t need much oxygen.
Not being made for inaction, Jessamyn commenced project Clean The Galleon. She ran another antiseptic wash and scheduled two more during her intended sleep cycle. She scrubbed and scraped and scoured. And, on the chance it would have the opposite effect of talking to the orchid, Jessamyn hurled invectives at every visible microbe she saw.
All of which meant her throat was very sore indeed come bedtime. She drank two water rations and then downed a few more without counting, justifying her behavior with the fact that she had five times as much water as one person needed aboard the ship. Either the water or the herb-sims calmed her throat enough so that she could fall asleep.
After a twelve-hours’ slumber, she returned to the helm, which she now recognized had a subtly malodorous scent. She examined the data from the filter scrubs she’d ordered the day before.
“How’s that even possible?” she muttered. The number of contaminated areas had grown instead of shrinking. “Where’s Crusty when I need him?” she asked aloud.
This was a situation she did not know how to handle. What if the antiseptic washes were making a cozier environment for the microbial infestations? She simply didn’t know what she was doing. She needed Crusty. Or her mom. Her mom would have known how to treat microbial infestation. Jessamyn determined to take a step she’d vowed she wouldn’t.
Sliding into her brother’s comm station, Jessamyn placed a call home.
It took several minutes for the “incoming call blocked by order of MCC” message to be returned to the Galleon. Jessamyn stared at the message in disbelief. She made a second attempt. And a third. And a fourth. But the message came back the same each time.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said aloud.
She decided to give Planetary Ag a try. There had to be someone there who would be willing to speak with her. But she received the same message in response to her attempt to raise someone in her mother’s department.
Jessamyn felt angry and betrayed. Outrage and self-pity battled inside her, with outrage coming out the winner.
“Fine,” she said at last. “MCC it is, then.”
She rubbed her hands against her thighs as she decided what angle to take. Outrage would probably not get her very far. She’d stolen the Red Galleon. So, instead of sending a message that encapsulated her indignation, she chose the form of communication she’d used with MCAB as a pilot-in-training. Language that was calm. Cool. Logical. She felt empowered as she utilized the familiar phrases.
“MCC, this is Mars Class Planetary Spacecraft Red Galleon, Pilot Jessamyn Jaarda at the helm requesting advice on a life-threatening microbial overgrowth aboard this vessel. Over.”
She waited for the message to reach Mars. Counted down the minutes that would bring a response.
The ship’s voice synthesizer spoke the words that appeared in written form upon her screen: “Rogue Vessel, this is Mars Colonial Command. We do not communicate with deserters. Any further attempts at communication will be blocked. Mars Colonial Command out.”
At this point, all her intentions to play nice evaporated. She gathered all of her anger—at her situation,