Z looked in the mirror and told herself to be brave. She dressed like a person ready to step back into a uniform: grey pantsuit with sharp creases and a fitted blazer, low-heel black pumps, a crisp white blouse… and her Mars Habitat 3 mission pin.
Z descended the stairs to the foyer and walked the hall to the garage. She would take an old friend to work today.
“Come along, XJ. We have places to go,” she said as she swung open the heavy door and sank into the luxurious leather seats. She turned the key and revved the motor. The noisy brute, completely reliant on her control, was her personal statement of purpose: whatever happened to her, that morning, she would be in command.
After a long drive through a string of beach communities, she reached NASA West, parked the Jaguar, and walked calmly through the lobby to the elevators.
“Go right in,” Sharp’s assistant said when Z entered the waiting room. Dan Sharp was looking out his office window when the door opened and Z walked in. He turned, and frowned at her. Z smiled back.
“Sit down, Nasri,” he directed. Sharp remained standing. “I’ve never seen an astronaut manipulate notoriety quite like you have. Do you realize you have trashed one of our primary contractors?”
“A contractor who coaxed his way in on false pretenses.”
“Cut it. I don’t want to hear it. Two months before an important launch and Logisen has its underwear on backwards. Was this all for the sake of your show?”
“You know it wasn’t. He was planning to interfere with the mission.”
“Thank you but I don’t need to listen to your rationalization. And what makes you think you control the missions? Any of your actions over the last few months would have been enough for me to scratch you from any flight. But you’ve had an advocate in my ear for months. No matter what outrageous stunt you pulled, I couldn’t argue with his point: you’re the only one who can get the headpiece to work. It’s the key to the goddamn city. And we need it.” He tapped his tablet. “Call in Pat.”
Patrick entered the office. Z turned to catch his eye and smiled. He looked from her confident smile to the scowl on Sharp’s face.
“Sit down, Pat. I think this is the moment you wanted to see.” Then Sharp turned away from them to look back out the window. “Frankly, I’m against you returning to Mars, at all. I don’t think any astronaut should have such a strong claim on our exploration program.” He grimaced. “Your fame bothers me, Nasri. I’m not happy that you went around me. I’m not happy that you played the public against NASA.” Then he turned to look her in the eye. “But we have this riddle that we have been unable to answer. And we can’t risk sending a crew up there with the possibility they may not be able to use the headpieces, even if they are Marked.
“Your strong point has always been ‘ability to improvise,’” he said with a smirk. “So your job is to improvise your way into understanding that city and how it works. Water. Power. Air. And make sure that by the end of the mission, every crew member can navigate that city as well as you can.”
Z stood and calmly replied. “If you will send me back, I will commit to doing that.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Sharp took her measure. He knew she would deliver on her promise; he also knew it would not be in the way he expected. “Good. You’re on. Now get the fuck to work.”
Patrick stood and brought himself to smile—for Z’s sake, not his. Z looked at Patrick with a giant grin and, together, they turned and left. But Patrick’s smile lasted for only a few steps. Z walked confidently beside him and chattered about the preparations she would need to make; he listened in silence.
By the time they exited the headquarters building, Z felt the lopsidedness of their conversation. She took Patrick’s hand. “What’s the matter?”
Patrick shrugged as he walked. “I’m happy for you, Z, but you know they’re not done with you.”
Z stopped, and pulled him around to face her. “They…”
“You’ve tweaked the noses of some powerful people in the process of getting your ticket to Mars. Logisen will have mission specialists on the flight and they will have their eyes on you.”
Z glanced down at the ground, then back up at Patrick and smiled. “I’ve known that all along, Pat. The bad guys will be there. That’s why I have to go back—there are powers in the City that cannot fall into their hands. I can take care of myself. And I have an ally there.”
“I hope you’re right. But what if your ally is gone? What if you have to do it alone?”
“I think I have an ally here, too,” she smiled. “I wanted the historic mission; I didn’t think Mars Hab 3 would be the one—but it was. Now I have the responsibility that goes with it. I can’t just set that aside.”
Patrick took in the sight of this earnest, brilliant woman in front of him and wistfully smiled. “I’m missing you already, Z. I’m going to miss being in the center of the cyclone with you.”
“Don’t feel that way. You’re the person who tipped the scales for me. Sharp said so. Why would you… if you’re going to miss me…?” As she said it, she immediately knew why. She took a moment to look deep into his eyes, then she parted her lips and placed a long, wet kiss on his mouth.
It was a happy surprise for Patrick. The warmth of the moment filled his body as he wrapped his arms around Z… but he was completely unprepared for what to do, or say, next. “So he was a fraud after all,” he blurted after the kiss had ended.
Z put her head next to his and whispered in his ear. “No. He was Marked.” Then she pulled back and arched an eyebrow, “He was also legitimately bad.” She reached into her purse and handed him one of the prototype headpieces. “Put it on your head.”
Patrick followed directions.
“Good. Now send happy thoughts to Sefa.”
Patrick looked at her quizzically.
“He connected me with another biotech company whose CEO was incensed that Telomics had a monopoly on the Martian variant.” She tapped the stones at Patrick’s temples. “What nature giveth, science can take away. Sefa’s contact supplied a strand of DNA without the variant. The headpiece I used on Julius was the delivery device, the stones were loaded with a bionic chip just like the Trophene patch. It delivered anesthetic and a strand of DNA without the Martian variant. Within a few weeks, he who was Marked magically became unmarked.”
Patrick pulled off the headpiece and pointed at it. “You mean that’s taken away my marker?”
Z laughed. “It only works once. Besides, you were never Marked.”
Patrick gave her a surprised look. “How’d you know that?” Then he lifted his index finger and placed it on Z’s lips. “No, what I really want to know is: was that for real or because you got your mission?”
“What, the kiss?” She grinned, “What’s your ‘inkling’?”
“I don’t inkle, Z—according to Triche, that’s a Marked thing, isn’t it?”
“Maybe so,” Z answered. “I know I have an inkling about you.” Then, pulling him close, she placed a short, tender kiss on his lips.