chapter 18
SAND IN A RAW WOUND
Jessamyn awoke to a soft pinging in her room. It took her several seconds to remember what the sound meant. Someone was
trying to call her. She opened one eye and pushed up on an elbow to see the caller’s identity. Crusty. At 3:00 in the morning.
“Hello?” Her throat felt furry, her mind thick with sleep.
“Jess?”
Who else would she be?
“No. This is Ethan.” She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Of course it’s me. What’s going on?”
“I’m workin’ over on the Galleon. There’s someone here you should see.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. Now.”
Jess combed fingers through her tangled hair. “I’m on my way.”
Quietly, she suited up, exited her home, and drove to the hangar, leaving an apology for her parents about taking the get-about. In
the middle of the night, Mars seemed colder. The stars burned with greater intensity and the satellites put Jess in mind of comets,
although the trailing tails were probably the product of her eyes not being able to focus correctly because this was an hour her
eyelids preferred to stay closed.
She pulled up to the hangar and parked her parents’ vehicle. The large building was well-lit at all hours, but Jess’s eyes resented the
brightness and she muttered complaints as she stumbled up the ladder-like stairs of the ship’s interior. She supposed Crusty would
be found in here, somewhere, and she felt a bit grumpy that he hadn’t specified where she was to meet him.
The ship had a different feel to her, in the middle of the night, as if it was at its most alive somehow. Jessamyn considered the idea,
but rejected it as not quite right. What she felt, humming through her bones, was more like the alive-ness of every person she’d
spent time with aboard the Galleon. This ladder buzzed with the memory of talking Ethan down it when the ship had landed upon the
Isle of Skye. While she awaited the airlock cycle, she recalled Harpreet’s patience waiting here beside her. And in the shallow hall
that ran forward to aft, Jess remembered Kipper sending her to her quarters after the ship’s launch.
The memories pressed upon her like small bruises to the soul. She shuddered as she called aloud for Crusty.
“Hey, kid,” said Crusty, emerging from the rations room as though her pre-dawn appearance were the most natural thing in the
world.
She half expected, as she rounded the threshold with Crusty, to see Kipper, Harpreet, and Ethan awaiting her for morning rations.
Instead of her crew, she saw a man. Brushing nostalgia aside, Jess tried to decide if the stranger looked familiar.
“This better be good,” she muttered to Crusty, collapsing into her regular chair at the rations table.
“Jessamyn, meet Cavanaugh. We was friends at the Academy,” said Crusty.
Jess nodded but didn’t lean forward to shake hands. Cavanaugh looked about her father’s age. His skin had the slightly shiny
appearance Jess associated with the use of heat-healers. Why was he trying to look younger than his age? Was he a broadcaster?
Cavanaugh cleared his throat. “I wonder if you have a moment to discuss your immediate future?”
She shot a look to Crusty that said something like, You’re kidding, right? Then she returned her gaze to Cavanaugh. “Normally at
this hour, my immediate future would involve snoring or drooling.”
“I’m Cassondra Kipling’s brother,” he said.
“Oh,” she said, her brows raising in surprise. “I’m pleased to meet you. Or, well, I’d be more pleased if it were day. Sorry. I’m not at
my best this early.” She glared at Crusty once again.
Crusty laughed softly.
“Wait a minute,” said Jess, examining Cavanaugh’s smooth face. He was familiar. “Did Mei Lo send you?”
“The Secretary?” asked the man, one eyebrow raised. “No. Why do you ask?”
Jessamyn couldn’t determine the precise nature of the emotion he’d held back when she asked if Mars’s CEO had sent him for her.
She decided not to hold it against him. It might have been merely surprise.
“I recognize you,” she said.
Now she knew the emotion upon his face. Alarm.
“From the fire,” she continued. “You’re the man from MCC who interviewed me after the Rations Storage disaster.” She smiled to
set him at ease. Why was everyone so edgy and apologetic around her?
“I did, indeed, have the honor of meeting you that day for the first time,” said Cavanaugh.
“Kipper was your sister?” asked Jess, her voice softer now.
His brows drew slightly together. “I prefer to say that she is my sister. Her wellbeing is what brought me here today. I hope—that is—
her family hopes that you might assist us in bringing her home now while there’s still time.”
“Me?” asked Jessamyn. The hope in his voice grated upon her like sand in a raw wound.
Cavanaugh’s eyes darted from hers to Crusty’s. “We want to take a ship to Earth. But we need someone to pilot and maintain the
ship.”
“Who’s we?” asked Jessamyn, chills running up and down her arms.
“I’d prefer not to identify anyone beyond myself at present,” Cavanaugh replied.
Jessamyn’s eyes narrowed. “Why aren’t you talking to the Secretary General about this?”
“The Secretary has made it clear no rescue operation can be sent at the moment. She’s denied the possibility. But anyone can see
the Galleon’s in fine shape—”
“No,” said Jessamyn, shaking her head slightly. “Not just anyone can see that. Crusty, what have you been telling Cavanaugh here?”
Crusty shrugged, looking off to one side.
Cavanaugh jumped in. “It’s clear the Secretary is using the ship’s condition as an excuse when the real reason for her hesitation is a
reluctance to engage in trade with Earth.”
A tangle of emotions skittered through Jessamyn: eagerness to recover her own brother, pity for Cavanaugh’s plight, exhaustion at
the thought of convincing him it was impossible, and finally a tingle of suspicion to do with the odd hour he’d chosen to make his
request.
“Are you part of the faction that wants Terran trade to recommence?” asked Jessamyn, her face carefully neutral.
Something behind his eyes flickered. “I just want my sister back. She doesn’t deserve to live out her days on that miserable world.
And if she is gone,” Cavanaugh said, “Then surely she deserves to have her bones returned to Mars.”
Jessamyn’s hands clenched at her side, Cavanaugh’s words piercing her like barbed accusations. She had to force herself not to
flee, to weep, to howl in anger that none of what he suggested was possible. But then she saw the pain etched in his face—the
mirror of her own.
“I’m sorry. I can’t help you,” she said softly. She repeated the words she’d spoken a dozen times on camera: “The Galleon won’t be
fit to fly for another half-annum or more.” Her eyes fixed upon the table, noticing a nick upon its edge where she’d once slammed her
chair in anger. Probably at this man’s sister.
“Now, now, kid,” began Crusty. “Hear the man out, why don’t you.”
As she looked up, she saw Cavanaugh’s eyes darting between the two raiders.
Jessamyn crossed her arms over her chest, as if to protect her heart. “What are you proposing, exactly?” she asked.
“You loved your brother. Surely you want to bring him back.” Cavanaugh’s appeal cut Jess to the quick, and the air in the room felt
too thick, like she was breathing dust.
“If it were possible to return,” asked Kipper’s brother, his voice a mere whisper, “Would you be willing? That’s all I’m asking. Would
you consider piloting us to Earth so we can bring Cassondra home?”
Jessamyn wanted to say yes. She wanted it. Wanted her brother. Pavel’s face, laughing, passed across her thoughts. Yes. She
wanted him, too.
But she couldn’t have either of them.
“I appreciate the enormity of your loss and your grief,” she heard herself say, parroting the words others had offered, words that fell
as flat and empty in this room as they had each time upon her ears. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
Her soul seemed to curl in upon itself as she made the pronouncement, and she drew her arms more tightly about her chest.
“I can’t,” she said.
She was saying no to Ethan, no to Pavel, and it felt like the cold fingers of death rending her heart.
“I can’t,” she repeated, a whisper now.
Cavanaugh rose and withdrew without a word, Crusty following on his heels.
The room lay in a silence dark and absolute as space. Jessamyn fought for each breath, pushed back against the black hole that
was her loss. She should never have answered Crusty’s call.
The gruff mechanic returned to the rations room and sat without speaking.
“How could you?” she asked Crusty.
“Thought he deserved to be heard,” replied Crusty. “Kipper’s ma’s worrying herself to death over the whole thing. Cavanaugh took
me out to see her. Woman’s a shadow of her former self.”
“We all knew the risks,” Jess said.
But that was just another phrase useful for interviews and sound bites. It meant nothing. It was a lie. Her heart had been whole and
unmarked the day she stepped aboard the Galleon bound for Earth. She’d known nothing of what she risked.
Crusty kept silent.
“Is it true what Cavanaugh said about the Galleon? Is she ready to fly?” asked Jessamyn.
“She could be,” replied the mechanic. “In less than two days.”
You are not asking these questions, Jess told herself.
“What does she still need?” she asked.
“Not much,” said Crusty. “Overhaul the air filter—that’s the biggest thing I got left. Saved it ‘til last. Planetary Agriculture interns’re
having a field day with what’s growin’ inside.”
After a minute’s silence passed, Crusty asked, “You thinkin’ about it?”
Jess shook her head no. Nodded her head yes. Began to cry. Blinked the tears back.
Crusty sighed. “Aw, kid. I know. I know.”
Jessamyn choked out her next words. “Nothing’s right. Home’s not home. I want them back, Crusty. I miss … I miss …”
She couldn’t say more and was content to let Crusty think she meant the three Mars Raiders. But in her mind, she saw her mother’s
crumpled form, the emptiness of Ethan’s room, she saw Pavel’s farewell smile. All lost to her.
And then a darker fear struck her.
“What if Lucca finds her nephew and kills them all?”
“Hold up a minute, kid,” said Crusty. “You’re just wasting fuel flappin’ around at that altitude.” He rubbed his gnarled hands back and
forth along his work coveralls. “Now, the way I see it, that feller Wallace has enough connections to keep a whole army of Ethans and
Pavels safe, even on Earth. I reckon I got to know him better than the rest of you, on account of staying with him when you were off in
Budapest. He’s a smart man. And loyal. Plus he’s in real good with that family of his. Clan Wallace.”
Jess looked up. “You think they’re okay, then?”
“I do. If I was a betting man, I’d place water creds on it,” said Crusty. “You head back for Earth—now or in an annum—and get Clan
Wallace on the comm and you’ll find out I was right.”
Jess nodded. Her body felt tired. So tired. But at the same time, there was a certain clarity afforded by the lateness or earliness of
the hour. Her mind felt crisp, like the air in the house when the heater malfunctioned. It wasn’t something you wanted to live with all
the time, but the briskness rendered everything in sharp delineation.
“Now, Harpreet,” continued Crusty, “She’s made of tough stone. Take more’n a few sandstorms to wear her down. Way I see it,
Kipper’s the only wild card. She might not have an annum in her.”
“She might be dead already,” said Jess.
Crusty frowned and scratched the beard growing apologetically on his chin. “Cavanaugh don’t think so. Funny thing they do out in
Squyres Station. They beacon all the kids—soon as they can walk. Now these beacons emit a certain signature so long as you’re
alive. Once you’re dead, it changes to a different signature.”
Jessamyn nodded. She’d heard of the practice, common in smaller communities, especially those where dust storms raged for
months on end.
“And here’s the funny bit,” said Crusty. “Back when we was still friendly with Earth, a couple folks from Mars got themselves new
bodies and the beacons just up and quit inside the old body. Not the dead-person signal, not the live-person signal—nothin’.”
“That’s weird,” said Jess.
“Separatin’ a mind from a body’s weird, period,” said Crusty. “But the beacons don’t like it, apparently. I let Cavanaugh have a look
at the ship’s records on account of he said the Galleon could recognize Kip’s beacon.”
“And?” asked Jess. “Is she … alive?”
Crusty shrugged. “According to the ship, she was still alive and in her own body the day we left Earth.”
“Wow,” said Jess.
“So you can see where her brother’s feelin’ a bit anxious. And of the three raiders, I got to admit, she’s the one I’m feelin’ most fretful
about. Don’t know if she’s got what it takes … I don’t know, kid. So I said Cavanaugh could talk to you.”
It was everything Jessamyn wanted—a compelling reason to flee Mars in defiance of MCC. To sit behind the controls of the Galleon
once more, to take destiny into her own hands. She could do it. She could feel how right it would be, going back for her brother,
seeing Pavel again, rescuing the other raiders. She could seize the opportunity.
But at what cost?
She’d be in trouble once she returned, but that was irrelevant—a little nothing in the face of such stakes. Jess was more afraid of
causing harm to Mei Lo’s government, which she feared would in turn spell a slow death for Mars Colonial. Or what if her rescue
attempt caught Lucca’s notice, somehow provoking an attack on Mars?
The second fear—that Mars would be annihilated—would remain even if they waited an annum to attempt a rescue. That was a risk
so long as Mars Colonial had no means of defending herself. But going now might speed up the process of getting those defenses
in place. Then, even if some trade-crazed fool on Mars attracted Lucca’s attention, Mars would be safe.
“Do you think that stealing the Galleon—” Jess broke off. It was a horrible act to contemplate, when she heard herself saying it
aloud, but she pushed on. “Do you think it would hurt Mei Lo’s standing?”
Crusty investigated his growing beard once again, sighing. At last he said, “I ain’t no politician, but I reckon it’d make her look weak
to folks.”
Jess collapsed her face into her hands, elbows supporting her against the table. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Don’t mean it’s more’n she can handle,” added Crusty. “I reckon folks as calls her weak are gonna have their words force-fed back
to ‘em with a golden spoon.”
Jessamyn wasn’t sure she could picture that clearly, but she understood. Mei Lo was strong enough to punch back if she had to.
“Listen, kid. I know you’n’ the captain didn’t see eye-to-eye all the time, but I sure hate to think of her so bad injured she ain’t fit to re
-body,” said Crusty, shaking his head.
Jessamyn frowned. Could that have been why Kipper hadn’t been re-bodied? The doctors at New Kelen had said Harpreet wouldn’t
be re-bodied because of her arthritis.
“I figure that’s the only explanation makes sense of her not gettin’ re-bodied right off,” said Crusty. “Wallace told me they don’t wait
around with young-bodies.”
Jessamyn felt a rush of pity for her captain, for Kipper’s brother and family. On its heels followed her longing to see Ethan safe
again. And then, quietly, the yearning for Pavel that never quite went away.
Perhaps there were some decisions that could only be made in the heightened lucidity of that time tucked in between too late and
too early.
She knew what she would do.
“Would you please get Cavanaugh Kipling back here?” she asked Crusty, her voice ringing clear and solid.
“I left him waiting down in the hangar,” said Crusty, winking at Jess as he stood. From down the hall, he called back. “Oh, and I’ll
have him bring up the two other fellers from Squyres Station so’s you can check ‘em over for your crew, Captain.”
Jessamyn closed her eyes and inhaled slowly while Crusty disappeared.
Cavanaugh, when he arrived a moment later, looked triumphant. He introduced two companions, “Mr. Jones,” and “Ms. Smith.”
“I need to clarify something before I agree to work with you,” Jessamyn said. “In addition to being your pilot, I will also be your
superior officer—”
“The two of us are civilians,” complained Mr. Jones.
“If we are to work together, a chain of command must be observed,” said Jess, her voice carrying an authority she’d gained in the
last months.
“I’m sure we can work with that,” Cavanaugh answered calmly.
“Further, let me make it absolutely clear that I will tolerate no attempts to establish trade relations with Earth,” continued Jessamyn. “
So if any of you are hoping to make your personal fortunes on this little trip, you can forget about taking the journey with me.”
“She’s right,” said Crusty. “Regardless of your politics, the timing ain’t right for it on this mission.”
The three others maintained a stony silence.
“Is that going to be a problem?” Jess asked.
“Not at all, Captain,” said Cavanaugh, holding his companions’ gazes with his own. “We just want to bring Cassondra home. She’s
all that matters, right?” He looked to his companions.
The other two nodded.
“Very well,” said Jess. “Then I think we can work together.”
With that, she began outlining the duties she would expect them to fulfill (few) and the dangers they might face (many), looking for
signs of weakness or uncertainty. It was an odd way to assess a crew. But this would be an odd launch.
When Jessamyn had concluded, Cavanaugh rose and extended a hand. “I knew you were made of sterner stuff than most the first
time we met,” he said to Jessamyn. “I look forward to our joint venture.”
Jess shook his hand—firm but brief—and the three departed, leaving her alone with Crusty. A pair of vac-mechs whined along the
hall just outside the rations room where the two Mars Raiders stood.
“Ugh,” said Jessamyn. “What are mechs doing onboard? Do you think they’re safe?”
Crusty rose, pushing his chair along its track until it clicked to rest against the table. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
“The Rations Storage fire?”
“Hmmph,” grunted Crusty. “I read up on your brother’s schematics. They was rated for collecting the detritus produced by one
thousand visitors apiece. That would’ve meant ten thousand people could’ve traipsed all up and down the storage facility before
them vac-mechs started complaining.”
Jess frowned. “I saw one of them explode before my very eyes, Crusty.”
“That don’t mean they was what caused the fire,” he replied. “Only four thousand people went through there that day. Not nearly
enough to cause residue build-up problems. Something don’t add up, kid. I don’t know what caused the explosions, but it weren’t
your brother’s contraptions gettin’ overloaded.”
Jessamyn watched as one of the mechs paused over a sprinkling of dirt.
“Don’t you worry, kid. I won’t let anything hurt this beautiful ship.” Crusty patted the ship’s walls reassuringly.
“Crusty? What do you think about Cavanaugh and ‘Jones and Smith’?” Jessamyn asked softly. “They’re not even using their real
names. Are we fools to accept them as crew?”
“I don’t know Jones or Smith,” he replied, “But I went through the Academy with Cavanaugh. He was a good man. And he’s Kip’s
own brother.”
“Of course,” said Jess, shaking off her doubts.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got a few things on my to-do list.” He stepped into the hall mumbling to himself. “First off is that durned air
filter.”
Jess watched as he began fiddling with an overhead panel, muttering to himself about the proliferation of microbial life-forms.
But his work was interrupted moments later by a too-familiar voice.
“Oh, there you two are,” said Nessa Niedermaier. “You’re up bright and early! How perfect. This gives us just enough time.”
“Time for what?” Crusty grumbled his question, obviously annoyed by the interruption.
“You’ve got pictures this morning,” replied Nessa, smiling brightly. “With the Red Galleon.”
“Aphrodite’s hair curlers,” Crusty cursed. “So we do.”
Nessa chose to ignore Crusty’s language and smiled at Jessamyn, raising a crisp and obviously new set of Academy whites. “Ta-
da!” said the events coordinator.
Jess felt a scowl forming but hastily wiped it off her face. No doubt Nessa thought of herself as doing her part for Mars.
“Brand new!” Nessa smiled brightly at Crusty, holding a crisp-looking pair of coveralls toward their intended recipient.
“Oh, for the love of Ares,” mumbled Crusty.
“We should have just enough time to make sure we’ve got the sizes right,” concluded Nessa.
Jessamyn’s new whites itched and poked and felt completely awful. Crusty looked equally uncomfortable in the coveralls, starched
and pressed to within an inch of standing up by themselves in a corner.
The two were photographed alongside the Red Galleon, under the Red Galleon, and aboard the Red Galleon, Crusty muttering
under his breath every time cameras got too close to an area he hadn’t polished ‘til it shone.
The photo session, which lasted several hours, was only a prelude to another round of interviews (which Jess endured) and two
school visits (which Jess enjoyed.) It was nearly time for evening rations before the Mars Raiders were finished for the day, but
before releasing them from MCC’s brightly-lit hangar, where they’d returned for a few last photographs, Nessa spent an inordinate
amount of time going over the schedule for the planetary celebration the following day.
Ms. Niedermaier sensed the Mars Raiders’ lack of enthusiasm but mistook it for fatigue. “You poor things,” she said. “Now make
sure to get lots of beauty rest for the big day tomorrow!”
Jessamyn’s heart skipped a beat in fear at the phrase “big day,” but of course tomorrow wasn’t the big day at all, as far as she was
concerned. The day after the celebration would be the Big Day.
Once the events coordinator left them in peace, Crusty switched his helmet to a private channel and let out a loud sigh. “Well, that
was an entire day wasted. Looks likes I ain’t getting much sleep tonight.”
“You want help scrubbing the air filter?” asked Jess.
Crusty laughed. “Naw, kid. Gonna leave it for tomorrow so the interns can have one last peek. You get some sleep. ‘Sides, when
was the last time you scrubbed a filter?”
Jessamyn blushed. Filter-scrubbing was reserved for under-achieving Academy students.
“I thought as much,” said Crusty, chuckling.
Jess took a long look up at the ship. “What if I’m making the wrong decision, Crusty?”
Crusty shook his head. “Kid, from what I seen, God gave you an extra helping when it came to that grey stuff between your ears.”
Jess felt her cheeks flushing with color.
“Give it to me in percentages, kid—how certain are you feeling that you’re doin’ what’s right?”
She shook her head. “I can’t answer it like that.” She looked up, meeting his eyes. “But it feels right.”
Crusty shrugged. “Go home. Get some shut-eye. Meet me back here in the morning before the big shindig.”
“What about you? Don’t you need sleep?” asked Jess.
“Ornery cusses like me don’t need much,” said Crusty. “Besides, we’ll have that two-month journey to rest up.”
Jessamyn laughed. Things were finally turning for the better.
“Crusty?” she said, smiling. “Thank you.”
“Just doing my bit,” he said, already engaged in taking a new series of readings.