The Lion of Mars

by Jennifer L. Holm

  “You can’t believe everything you see, Flossy,” Vera scoffed. “It’s probably fake. Like the window behind the curtains.”

  She was referring to the long cream-colored drapes that Meems had hung years ago. When we were little, she’d told us not to pull on them because there was a fragile window behind them. Of course, Vera didn’t listen and opened the curtains to reveal…nothing. There was no window. Meems had just hung the curtains to make the room feel more Earth-like. The adults hadn’t grown up underground like us, and were funny about it sometimes.

  The scene transitioned, and the attorney was in a place that I knew was called a restaurant. It was like our mess hall, only bigger and fancy. There was a sheet on the table, with a flower. I knew what a flower was but had never seen one of those in real life, either. On the table was a slice of pie with some kind of golden crust.

  “What is that food they’re eating?” Albie asked, leaning forward.

  “Ooh! Ooh! I know! That’s a quiche!” Flossy said.

  “That looks delicious,” Vera said. “What’s it made of?”

  Flossy screwed up her eyes as if trying to remember. “Um, cheese and spinach and a lot of eggs.”

  “What are eggs?” Trey asked, looking up from the game he was playing on his digi-slate. It was his favorite: you had to shoot asteroids before they hit you.

  I knew the answer to that one. “They come from a chicken bird,” I said.

  “I would love to go to a restaurant place,” Flossy said, a little wistful.

  “I’d like to go anywhere but here!” Vera said.

  “Really? Look what happened the last time you left the settlement,” Albie said pointedly.

  Vera frowned at him. “You sound more like Sai every day.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Albie asked.

  “You do kind of sound like him,” Flossy agreed.

  “Yep,” Trey said.

  Albie looked at me. What could I say?

  “It’s true,” I said.

  “The point is,” Vera said, “I don’t want to spend my entire life here!”

  “Why not?” I asked. I didn’t understand her.

  “I don’t want to spend my life making toilet paper! I want to eat something besides algae loaf! I want to meet other people!” Vera said.

  “Remember how they chased us at the French settlement?” I asked her.

  But Vera was getting worked up. There was no reasoning with her when she was like this.

  “Who are we going to fall in love with?” Vera demanded.

  “Love?” Albie asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Don’t you want to fall in love?”

  “Uh, I’ve never really thought about it,” Albie admitted, taking off his hat and scratching his head.

  “Well, I want to fall in love!” Vera exclaimed.

  “Not me,” Trey said.

  “Me neither,” I said.

  “I want to fall in love wearing a pantsuit! Or maybe a poodle skirt, like from the 1950s,” Flossy said. “What do you think? Pantsuit or poodle skirt?”

  We all just looked at her.

  Everyone gathered in the COR to watch the supply ship docking. It was always thrilling to witness the robot-guided ship landing. The way it dropped from the sky and inched slowly forward until it clicked into the air lock.

  I stood next to Flossy at the window.

  “I hope they sent eye shadow,” she said.

  “What’s that?” I asked her.

  Her face scrunched up. “It’s like a paint for your eyelids. It makes you look mysterious.”

  “Three minutes until Galatea Two landing,” Sai announced.

  He was tracking the supply ship’s progress on his digi-slate, a strained expression on his face. If the ship miscalculated, it could land dozens of kilometers from the settlement. That would mean days—maybe even weeks—of traveling by rover to fetch the supplies. It had only happened once in all these years, but I guess once was enough.

  “It’s on track,” Sai said. “Nine, eight, seven—”

  I watched as the ship descended, throwing up dust everywhere. A loud roar filled the air. Then there was a thud as it docked, and the settlement shook.

  Everyone cheered. Sai looked so relieved, he actually smiled.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s start unloading the old girl.”

  * * *

  There was something for everyone.

  Powdered chocolate and chili powder and lots of salt for Salty Bill. Cucumber and radish seeds for Phinneus. Some kind of medical gadget that took your temperature for Meems. A new 3D printer for Sai. There was even something for Leo: shrimp-flavored cat dental treats. And, of course, there were packages for the grown-ups from their Earth families. One of Darby’s uncles always sent him woolen socks, and Eliana’s younger sister sent her pictures drawn by her niece and nephew.

  Then there was everything else: tubing and wiring and spare parts galore, bags of flour, glow sticks, soft cotton sheets, warm fleeces, underwear, socks, and shoes in various sizes. A box of eyeglasses because the adults were having a hard time reading these days. Two cases of toothpaste. Pens with real ink. Cotton swabs. Sharp scissors, razor blades for shaving, tubes of coconut-flavored lip balm.

  “Have you seen any skin moisturizer?” Meems asked Sai as she checked things off her list.

  “I haven’t run across it yet,” Sai told her.

  “Where’s our box?” Vera demanded.

  There was always a box of stuff just for us kids. When we were younger, the box had contained toys and clothing. But as we’d grown older, different things had appeared. Puzzles and books and digi-reels and barrettes and deodorant. Sometimes they sent odd things: a kite and a bag of Super Balls were in the last shipment.

  “I think I saw it in the back,” Sai said.

  An hour later, we found the box behind the container of Earth soil that Phinneus had ordered. We crowded around it, eager to see what was inside. There was a black knit beanie, dice, a board game, something called pimple cream, a digi-case of pop songs, colored pencils, drawing paper, mirrored sunglasses, plastic bracelets, fingerless gloves, a stack of graphic novels, chewing gum, a digi-player with games, and celebrity magazines.

  “Look!” Flossy cried in delight, holding up two thick knit socks that were missing the feet.

  “What are they?” I asked.

  “Real leg warmers!”

  Although we would share most everything, we were each allowed to have one item as ours. Flossy claimed the leg warmers, and Vera took the black knit beanie. Trey got the digi-player of games, and to no one’s surprise, Albie wanted the pop songs.

  At the bottom of the box was a blanket. It wasn’t like any blanket I’d seen before. It was made of small squares of fabric, all pieced together. The fabric was soft and in different shades of blue and green. There was a note pinned to it:

  To the children of Mars,

  We hope you like it! We made it ourselves.

  Your friends,

  Mrs. Taylor’s sixth-grade class

  Lincoln Elementary School

  New California, USA

  “That’s a quilt,” Meems told me.

  I looked at it.

  “It’s a special kind of blanket,” she said. “It takes a lot of work to make one. Usually a group of people get together to sew it. My grandmother used to make them with her friends.”

  That seemed sweet.

  “I’ll take this,” I said, and picked up the quilt.

  * * *

  Phinneus told me that on Earth there was a celebration called Thanksgiving, when people ate turkeys and played football. I thought it would be sad to eat turkeys; they looked cute. Here on Mars, we had Supply Feast. It was named after the crew’s celebration when th
e first supply ship arrived from Earth, two years after the settlers had gone to Mars.

  It was complicated to get from Earth to Mars because the planets orbited the sun at different speeds. But once every twenty-six Earth months, there was something called a close approach—when Mars was closest to Earth—and that’s when the trip was the shortest.

  When I walked into the mess hall, the table was groaning with food. Salty Bill had outdone himself. There was pizza made from real flour, and fresh tortillas with rice and beans, and creamy macaroni and cheese. Lime gelatin with strawberries, fruit punch, and mandarin oranges (my favorite).

  “Well,” Sai said, “I would say that was a successful resupply.”

  “They sent me plenty of salt,” Salty Bill said.

  “They forgot a few things from my list,” Meems said.

  “Ours, too!” Vera said. “Why didn’t they send any makeup? We asked for black eyeliner and mascara.”

  “And blue eye shadow!” Flossy added.

  “You don’t need makeup,” Meems said. “You’re both beautiful.”

  “That’s not the point!” Vera said. “We wanted to try it!”

  I sympathized with them. There were things I wished Earth would send but never did.

  “Why don’t they ever send cats?” I asked.

  “Because you need a human to transport a cat, and they suspended the Nanny Program a few years after the troubles on Earth began,” Sai explained.

  “Such a shame,” Phinneus said, shaking his head.

  The Nanny Program was an international project to encourage young people to settle on Mars. They could be scientists or engineers or cooks or plumbers or a dozen other things. They just had to have some talent that was useful in a settlement. The catch was that each person, or “nanny,” had to bring an orphaned baby and take care of it on the journey. Babies did surprisingly well in space. Once on Mars, the nanny dropped the baby off at the host country settlement, then went on to their own country.

  “Lissa was my nanny, right?” Flossy asked.

  Sai looked down at the table. “Yes.”

  “I’ll never forget that poor nanny who brought Vera up,” Meems said, and laughed. “He walked off the ship, passed me the baby, and asked where the train was. He didn’t even want to stay for supper. He looked shell-shocked.”

  “Why?” Vera asked.

  “Apparently, you cried nonstop,” Meems replied.

  “What about me? What kind of baby was I?” I asked.

  “Probably an annoying one,” Trey said.

  “Trey!” Meems chastised.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound very sorry.

  Phinneus patted my arm reassuringly. “You were a good baby,” he said with a smile.

  “What does a good baby do anyway?” Flossy asked.

  “Sleeps, of course,” Meems said.

  All the grown-ups seemed to think this was hilarious and laughed.

  “Time for dessert,” Salty Bill announced.

  For dessert, there was banana pudding and my favorite—chocolate cake.

  When we were finished eating, we pulled out a board game. But after a few minutes, Flossy announced that she was bored.

  “I’m tired of board games! Let’s dance!” she said.

  “Dance?” Sai asked.

  “Earth dancing is so fun! There are so many different styles!” Flossy insisted, and started listing them. “The Charleston, the moonwalk, the Macarena!”

  “You should show them your moves, Jelly,” Eliana said, elbowing her husband.

  “Not without you, Peanut Butter,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

  She took it and said, “We need something to dance to.”

  Meems went over and fiddled with the digi-player. A moment later, the soft sounds of an old Earth song filled the room.

  The pair clasped hands and glided smoothly together around the room.

  “That’s a waltz!” Flossy declared. “Oh, it’s so romantic.”

  I didn’t know about romantic.

  But at least the cake was delicious.

  * * *

  Hours later, I was still thinking about cake. Probably because I had woken up and couldn’t fall back asleep. Albie was snoring his head off.

  I grabbed my new quilt and made my way through the dim corridor. As I passed the mess hall, I decided I deserved a treat for my interrupted sleep and stopped in the kitchen. I cut myself a big slice of chocolate cake and took it upstairs to the COR for a midnight snack.

  When I reached the top of the stairs, I was surprised to see that the lights were on.

  Sai was sitting at the desk, staring at the bright digi-slate, when I crept into the room. I peeked over his shoulder.

  DATE: 5.6.2091

  FROM: US Terrestrial Command

  TO: CDR Dexter

  MESSAGE: Ongoing Hostilities

  Please be advised that hostilities in Antarctica are ongoing.

  US Terrestrial Command

  United States

  He turned to me. “It’s rude to snoop. What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Albie’s snoring again,” I said.

  “Humph,” he said.

  “What’s ‘hostilities’ mean?” I asked, nodding at the screen.

  “Fighting.”

  “Who’s fighting?”

  “More like who isn’t?” he said. “France. China. Russia. Japan, I think. Probably a few more.”

  “What are they fighting over?”

  “Rare Earth elements, I believe. A port, too, or maybe shipping lanes,” Sai said, and shook his head. “It’s been going on so long, I’m afraid I’ve lost track.”

  “Who was my nanny?” I asked.

  “Her name was Alexandra. She was Russian,” Sai said. “Everyone called her Sasha.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She was a biologist.”

  “Do you have any pictures of her?” I asked.

  “Perhaps,” he said, and turned to the digi-slate.

  He tapped around, scrolling through various folders.

  “Ah, this is the one,” he said, clicking.

  The people in the digi-pic were young adults. They were wearing shirts that said “I brought a baby to Mars, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.”

  “Which one is she?” I asked.

  He pointed out a dark-haired girl. “That’s Sasha.”

  “Who are the rest?”

  His finger traced across the screen. “That’s Helmi. Madeleine. Zhang.” He hesitated over the last person. “And that was our Lissa.”

  I stared at the dark-eyed young woman with the smiling face. She looked bubbly. Funny. Warm.

  “She looks so happy,” I said.

  “She was a bright light,” he said, and a look of deep sadness crossed his face.

  He clicked the picture shut and turned to me, his eyes resting on my cake.

  “Did Salty Bill say you could have that?” he asked.

  “He was asleep, so I couldn’t ask.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you share it with me, I’ll forget to tell him you ate it.”

  I handed him the fork.

  DATE: 5.8.2091

  FROM: CDR Dexter

  TO: US Terrestrial Command

  MESSAGE: Situation Report

  We are missing the following requested items from the supply ship:

  Rosemary spice

  Fever/pain reliever

  Socket wrench

  Replacement parts for the rover, as listed on attached document

  Moisturizing skin cream

  Blue eye shadow, mascara, and black eyeliner (for the teenagers)

/>   Sai Dexter, COMMANDER

  Expeditionary & Settlement Team

  United States Territory, Mars

  I stared at the glowing digi-slate as I sat at the desk in the COR.

  Meems always made us kids write thank-you transmissions for the supplies from Earth. She said it was good manners. I hated it. It was awkward writing to people you’d never met. But there was no getting out of it.

  Dear Earth Command,

  Thanks for the supplies. Salty Bill made chocolate cake. It was delicious. Do you think you could send some kittens? Please thank the children at Lincoln Elementary for the quilt. It’s warm.

  The signature part of the letter was always a bit confusing. I knew that on Earth, people had two names—a first and a last one. Meems explained that the last name indicated your family. But here on Mars, we children only had first names. Part of me thought having a family name would be nice.

  In the end, I signed it the same as always:

  Your friend,

  Bell

  After I was done, I clicked Send. The supper bell rang softly in the distance. Time to go.

  I made my way down the stairs, and as I neared the bottom, I heard Phinneus and Sai arguing. Loudly.

  “You know my feelings on this, Sai,” Phinneus said.

  “How could I not?” Sai replied sarcastically. “You won’t stop telling me I’m wrong.”

  “It’s shortsighted and foolish!” Phinneus shouted.

  This was shocking. I’d never even heard Phinneus raise his voice, let alone shout.

  “Nonsense.”

  “You’re letting your emotions get in the way,” Phinneus said.

  “It has nothing to do with emotions. It’s what’s best for the children.”

  “They are all our children, Sairam,” Phinneus insisted. “I love them, too. I want them to lead happy, fulfilling lives. They can’t do that confined here. This wasn’t meant to be a prison!”