“Should we go help?” Trevor asked Hogan.
“Miranda’s got it under control. What’s the expression about too many cooks in the kitchen?”
Trevor laughed, and Hogan felt a glimmer of hope that he might forgive her for her earlier stumblings, for implying that he might have poisoned everyone on Mars, and for her report to the UNSC about the colony’s chances of survival—if he found out what she’d said.
They started back toward the rover, and Trevor nodded toward Pavonis Mons. “Have you been out that far?”
“I haven’t. Our rovers have, on automation. We were supposed to have some drones to explore even farther, but they weren’t ready by the time we launched. Next mission should have them.”
Hogan felt tears again. Was she getting sentimental about leaving Mars? There wasn’t anything to miss here, just a whole lot of lifeless dirt and rocks and no atmosphere to speak of. When she drifted off to sleep at night, her last thoughts were of standing in an evergreen forest and taking a deep breath of fresh air.
So what was this about?
“Radiation alert!” Martin’s voice broke in over the comms from Progress Base.
“How long?” Hogan didn’t miss a beat. It was late in the mission for a safety drill, but whatever. They’d trained for this. They’d run drills on Earth and here on Mars, always without warning and at the whim of the computer. This time, they’d practice with a couple of colonists in tow—which, Hogan thought, would be a constructive experience for the residents of Ares City.
“Just over thirty minutes ’till it hits.” There was a sharp edge to Martin’s voice. “This one isn’t a drill.”
“Say again?” Miranda’s voice crackled over the comms. “Did you just say we’ve got a real solar particle event headed our way?”
“That’s affirmative,” Martin replied. “Yusuf is still at Ares City, and he can walk those guys through their own protocol. And Grigori and I are prepping here at Progress Base.”
Hogan wanted to direct Grigori back to bed, but Grigori’s bed wasn’t anywhere near the storm shelter. And she needed to focus on the people she had out on EVA.
“Miranda?” Hogan called over the comms. “How deep are you in the tubes? Can you make it back to the rover?”
“Uh, yeah, no. The storm shelter down here will be closer, I think. I’ll show Trent how to get in and use the thing. It’ll be fun.”
Hogan doubted very much that it would be fun, cooped up for hours—possibly a couple of sols—with the sweet but goofy guy who cracked the solar system’s worst jokes when he got bored or nervous. “We’ll head to the rover and ride it out there.”
Hogan patted Trevor on the arm. “Come on. We’ve got some time, but we’ve got work to do.”
“We’ll be okay in the rover?”
“We’ll be fine.”
She led him back to the vehicle, packed away their collection kits, and kicked some dust as she hurried to get them both inside. As soon as she was through the airlock, she pulled off her helmet and went straight to the dashboard controls.
She opened up the rover’s comms. “Martin? How are we doing on time?”
“You’re in the rover? Okay, that’s good. Miranda’s secured inside the underground shelter. You’ve got, uh, looks like eighteen minutes left—”
Hogan cut him off. “And you’re secure, in the base shelter?”
“Not just yet, still pulling together a few things—”
“You get down there now,” Hogan ordered.
She glanced over her shoulder to gauge Trevor’s reaction. He stood in the middle of the rover’s cabin, his hands on his hips, his weight shifting between his feet. He was itching for something to do.
Hogan turned back to the comms. “Tell me when you and Grigori are safe underground, and when the people at Ares City are secure, too.”
The comms went quiet, and Hogan tapped on the touchscreen console to activate the rover’s shielding measures. “Did they train you for radiation events like this?”
“We have everything in the manuals,” Trevor replied.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Not really, no.”
Hogan cursed under her breath. These solar particle storms didn’t come around often—the latest studies estimated a maximum twelve-percent risk of occurrence during the sun’s eleven-year cycle—but they were deadly.
She sat back in the driver’s seat while the rover’s windows darkened to opaque black. Then came the clickety-clack of lead-lined shutters starting to unfurl outside the rover.
“That’s it?” Trevor asked. “Tinted windows? That’s enough?”
Hogan shook her head. “Now, you and I get to set up camp.” She checked the dashboard clock. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes. You ever set up a tent before?”
She got up from the driver’s seat, moved to the middle of the cabin, and opened up a panel in the floor. Inside was a massive black bag and a trio of gray boxes. Hogan hoisted the bag with a groan.
An alarm sounded from the rover’s control panel.
“You want to check that for me?” Hogan unzipped the bag and started to set up the radiation shelter.
“Uh, it says there’s a problem with the shutters.” Trevor studied the rover’s display and then pointed to either side of the rover. “There, and there. Looks like some kind of jam. I’m guessing that’s not good.”
Trevor had his helmet and gloves sealed into place before Hogan even explained to him what they had to do. With the radiation storm about to hit, there was a gap in their shielding. Their lives were on the line.
They bolted out of the airlock as soon as the compartment finished depressurizing. Trevor almost laughed at the fact that at least this time the crisis didn’t involve the airlock itself, but he didn’t want to jinx it. Space travel was making him superstitious.
He and Hogan separated and took different sides of the rover. He found the problem—one of the problems—soon enough. Toward the middle of the vehicle’s left side, one of the shielding shutters had gotten hung up on itself instead of descending smoothly on its vertical tracks.
“Got it,” Trevor said over the comms. “Looks like a constipated accordion over here. Same on your side?”
“I’ll let you know when I find it,” Hogan answered back. “You focus on fixing your problem, and call out if you need help.”
Trevor checked the display on his forearm. Less than eleven minutes before the radiation storm. He didn’t know if it would hit with full force or if it would ramp up over time. And would they see it, or feel it? He didn’t intend to be standing around outside to find out.
The shutter jam was just above his eye-level. There didn’t seem to be any mechanical issue, but he didn’t know the specs. Guillermo would have been able to gauge the problem right away, but he was underground at Ares City. Trevor grabbed the bottom-most slats and started yanking downward. The shutter wouldn’t budge.
He reached high over his head and ran his hands down either side of the shutter, hoping he’d be able to feel through his gloves if there was something lodged in the track. When Hogan called over, it sounded like she’d had a similar idea.
“Got a rock!” she announced. “I’m grabbing a screwdriver from the kit in outer storage. You need any tools?”
But Trevor didn’t feel any rocks lodged in his shutter. He ran his hands over the tracks a second and third time to be sure. Nothing.
“Not yet,” he called back.
He pressed against the side of the rover and directed his suit’s light into the tracks and between the slats. Nothing. He yanked again at the shutter, and it still wouldn’t budge.
“Almost done over here,” Hogan said. “We’re at just under eight minutes. Cutting it awfully close.”
Trevor moved to the other side of the shutter and repeated his examination. This time, his light revealed a clump of sandy dirt lodged between the slats and keeping them from unfurling. The detritus was too deep inside for him to dig out with his fing
ers. He leaned forward, pursed his lips, and blew as hard as he could.
Trevor’s visor fogged up as the air reflected back at his face. He felt like an idiot. He checked his wrist display. Six minutes. And they’d still have to go back through the airlock.
“Compressed air! Or a screwdriver! Whatever!” Trevor shouted over the comms, then jumped when two seconds later Hogan slapped him on the shoulder and shoved a screwdriver into his hand.
“You need help?” she asked.
“I think I’ve got it.” Trevor slid the screwdriver around between the slats, trying not to damage the shutter. He pulled down on the shutter again. It didn’t move.
“Five minutes,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s definitely not helping.” Trevor drove the screwdriver like an ice pick into the spaces between the slats. He was striking almost blindly, but he managed to clear enough of the dirt out of the way. The shutter nearly yanked the screwdriver out of his hands as it unfolded and slid down to cover the rover window.
“Nice work,” Hogan said. “Now get your ass into the airlock.”
The shutter outside the airlock came down as they waited for the compartment to pressurize. Trevor’s wrist display was blinking angry red at him by the time they were inside the rover compartment, and they were still only partially shielded from the storm.
He and Hogan worked quickly to set up the lead-lined shelter inside the rover. It wasn’t quite as easy as popping a self-erecting camping tent, but it was straightforward and Hogan seemed to know what she was doing.
The material was heavy and thick and would give them an extra level of protection from radiation. But they were at plus six minutes by the time they had the shelter up and were settled inside. Trevor was afraid to ask what levels of radiation they might have absorbed during the gap.
Instead, they shucked off their pressure suits and sat on the floor to go through the provisions boxes to make a quick inventory of their supplies. Then Hogan picked up her tablet.
“So, do you come here often?” Trevor flinched as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He was nervous watching Hogan staring at her tablet and watching the radiation levels inside their tent.
“Mmph.” Hogan shifted her position on the floor.
The radiation tent was large enough that they had most of the rover’s interior in which to maneuver, but they were blocked from the driver’s dashboard and the airlock. Still, they sat almost on top of each other on the floor, as though the closeness could protect them from the invisible, silent danger outside.
Trevor cleared his throat and tried again. “How often do you do this?”
Hogan looked up, and he gestured toward the dark, lead-lined fabric of their cocoon.
“We run drills on a regular basis.” She rested her tablet on her knee. “Testing our response times, taking shelter in various scenarios and locations. Making sure we’re ready.”
“So, Trent and Miranda?”
“They’re safe. About the safest place of all, really. Underground, in a radiation shelter Hermes 3 installed. We’ve run drills there a few times.” Hogan paused. “And everyone back at Dorito Village.” She smiled a little. “Storm and shelter protocols were one of the things we checked out before you arrived. And Progress Base is safe and secure. When the storm’s done and the comms come back up, we’ll check in with everyone.”
Trevor noted that Hogan left out one particular group. “And, in the rover like this?”
Hogan looked around at the walls of the tent. “I won’t lie to you. No one’s set this thing up before. The computer simulations always assumed we’d be within driving range of the base or one of the underground shelters.”
“So, why didn’t we go underground?”
Hogan almost laughed. “Not enough time. The simulations never cut it this close.”
She picked up her tablet again.
“Is that going to tell you anything you can act on?”
“No, but . . .” Hogan blew out a long breath and put the tablet on the floor. “How about we open up a bag of those crispy whatsits?”
Trevor ripped open a pouch of rice crackers and offered it to Hogan. He appreciated that she didn’t spell out the danger for him. If the radiation inside their untested shelter reached dangerous or even lethal levels, there was nothing they could do about it.
“How long?”
“Could be a few hours.” She munched on a couple of crackers and opened a bottle of water. “Or a couple of sols. With the comms down, the only data I have is what the rover’s feeding me. We won’t know it’s over, well, until it’s over.”
“So, Commander Kay, you know any fun radiation storm games? To pass the time?”
She gave him an awkward smile. “You don’t have to call me that.”
Trevor looked at her, hard, his eyes traveling over her blonde hair and clear eyes, her soft skin and the roundness of her cheeks and mouth. This woman just didn’t look like a Hogan. He wanted to call her by a different name, one that evoked her strength of character while also honoring the deep femininity he saw whenever he looked at her. She should carry the name of a mythological goddess. Athena, maybe, or Allat. Except Hogan was very real.
“Do you, by any chance, have a middle name?”
Hogan made a sour face. “Priscilla.”
Trevor felt his smile spreading. “Would you mind if I called you Priscilla?”
“I would mind.”
“How about Prissy?”
“I will punch you.”
He laughed, but the stern set of her jaw told him she was not playing. “Okay, then. Hogan.”
“You think it’s too masculine.”
Trevor kept quiet.
“It’s okay. We all have names like that.” Hogan sipped her water. “Morgan, Dale, Jordan, Taylor, and Hogan. Me and my siblings.”
“Four brothers?”
“Two brothers. Two sisters.” She popped another cracker into her mouth.
Trevor had grown up around girls named Tristan and Keith and boys called River and Brooklyn. He’d always considered himself a forward-thinking, enlightened man of the twenty-first century, but his encounters with Hogan Kay left him feeling like a small-minded traditionalist. He had no problem with a woman leading a Mars mission, but he hadn’t been able to let her lead when dancing and now he was having trouble calling her by her given name.
Trevor hung his head and sighed. What was wrong with him?
“My parents wanted us to be free of stereotypes,” Hogan said. “And there was the expectation we’d follow their footsteps into the military. They wanted us to advance up the ranks without any residual sexism attached to first names. So our records could speak for themselves.”
Trevor looked up. “Your whole family is in the military?”
“Navy brats. I grew up in San Diego, Guam, Spain, Norfolk, Bahrain, back to San Diego again.” She smiled. “My sister Dale is a Marine helicopter pilot. My brother Jordan is a Navy SEAL—God, my dad just loves that. Taylor, my other brother, he’s a surgeon in the Air Force. And my sister Morgan is in Army intelligence.”
“And you’re an astronaut.”
“Via the United States Navy.”
“Okay, so, Commander.” Trevor was glad to see her smile at that. “Can I ask about the program name? Hermes? I mean, why not Ares or something from another mythological tradition related to this particular planet? Isn’t Hermes another name for Mercury?”
Hogan polished off the crackers, balled up the empty bag, and tossed it easily into the farthest provisions box. “Apollo wasn’t the most relevant program name either. The moon landings were named for a sun god. But it captured the public’s imagination just fine.”
Trevor took a breath. Was Hogan was getting prickly again? She was smiling but her voice never lost its bite of authority. Maybe she was still thinking about the radiation levels as they sat munching on vacuum-sealed snacks and making polite conversation.
He reached for her hand. “It’s going to be all ri
ght.”
She met his gaze, and her face started to harden. He waited for her to pull away, to slap him, maybe even chastise him for daring to breach her personal space. Then her mouth softened.
“Thanks. Sometimes, I guess, I need someone to tell me that.” Her voice cracked as she spoke.
She started to look at her tablet screen again, but Trevor took her chin in his hands and forced her to look at him. “You really are worried about everyone, all the time, aren’t you?”
He saw her tears forming and began to understand how heavily her command weighed on her. It would have been a burden for anyone—so far from home with the responsibility of an entire crew and an interplanetary mission in one person’s hands. But Hogan had borne it with calm and grace. Not even Mark Lauren had come close to setting the same steady and sure example.
Hogan grasped his wrists with both her hands, not pushing him away but not drawing him closer. He got the distinct impression that this was not a woman to be trifled with. She wasn’t secretly waiting for some strong man to come along and rescue her from the plight of her own power.
“I am not afraid.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she did not break into sobs. “Fear is something I cannot afford.”
Trevor nodded, but she was expressing a deeper truth that would take him time to fathom. She released his wrists and framed his face with her hands. Her tears stopped, and she smiled.
“And it seems we’ve got some time to kill.”
He started to laugh, and her mouth was on his almost immediately. Trevor forgot about pushing her away or explaining to her what it would mean to give himself to her. Her lips were hungry and her fingers dug into his hair as she pulled him closer and climbed into his lap, straddling him. Trevor was instantly at her mercy.
“Hogan.” He murmured her name as her mouth traveled across his jaw and found first his ear and then his neck. She bit into his flesh, softly at first, and then with a tender fierceness that had him moaning aloud. He stroked her hair as she licked his throat and started working on the zipper of his jumpsuit.
“Hogan,” he said again, his voice firm this time. He grabbed at her hands and tried to still their exploration of his torso. But he managed to slow her down for only a second before she was on him again, yanking up his t-shirt to expose his chest.
Mars Heat (Mars Adventure Romance Series (MARS) Book 3) Page 14