Mars Heat: Mars Adventure Romance Series (MARS), #3

By Jennifer Willis

Things are heating up on the Red Planet.

Trevor Azam thought his biggest challenge on Mars would be just staying alive, not doing battle with the local astronaut authority. Newly arrived at the tiny settlement of Ares City, the displaced chef is working hard to keep his fellow colonists' hopes burning bright. They're all too aware of how unprepared they are for the harsh realities of survival on Mars, and they've gotten off to a bad start with their only neighbors on the planet.

Alluring and uncompromising United Nations Space Corps commander Hogan Kay wants nothing more than to end her fourteen-month mission at Progress Base without anyone dying on her watch, but she fears the new Mars colonists will ruin her perfect record. She's trying to teach them everything she knows about how to survive on a barren and hostile planet so far from Earth, but she keeps getting distracted by the quiet, dark-eyed Trevor and his delicious casseroles.

On a planet that is trying to kill them at every turn, Trevor and Hogan must learn to work together for mutual survival. And amidst bioreactors, food printers, and ill-fated trysts, might true love be lurking on the Red Planet?

If you can't stand the heat, you'd better stay off Mars.

MARS HEAT is the third book in the MARS sci-fi romance series. Start reading today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Willis
• Release date: Sep 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9798201106300

Book preview

1

The cabin shimmied and bucked around him. Trevor Azam gripped his armrests as his body pressed down into his cushioned crash couch. The comms may as well have been dead against the whining roar of the descent rockets firing. All the screens in the cabin glowed various shades of orange, red, and yellow as the landing craft of Red Wing 1 shuddered its way toward the Martian surface.

An Earth landing would have been harder, heavier, and more dramatic with the piling on of g-forces. But after months in weightlessness on the journey to the Red Planet, the mounting pressure left Trevor feeling like he had a portly donkey sitting on his chest.

Trevor wasn’t a religious man, but the fiery spectacle on the cabin monitors combined with the rattling of the craft and the rude return to gravity had him wondering what his life would have amounted to if he happened to perish on this descent. He was untrained and unprepared for life on a new planet. Some of the clerics at home had declared the colonial Mars flight a suicide mission, and he hoped in his bones they weren’t about to be proved right.

How’s everybody doing? Mark Lauren’s tone was cheerful even as he shouted over the comms in their suit helmets. A couple of the other colonists responded—first April Chennells, then Leah Yew. Then Trent Jennings made one of his ridiculously bad jokes—something about an astronaut’s favorite chocolate being a Mars bar, but it was largely drowned out by the rattling of Trevor’s own teeth.

Everything was automated. Their lives were in the hands of a computer programmed by a team of people whose names Trevor didn’t know, all of them millions of kilometers away back on Earth.

Trevor felt a hand on his arm. With effort, he turned his head to see Lori Ridgway looking his way, checking on him. Mark’s mate, a woman Trevor might have made a play for had she not made her obvious choice so early in the game. She mouthed some words at him, lost over the comms. He gave a sharp nod in reply, and that seemed to satisfy her. Trevor looked back at the screens over his head.

It was like riding a sluggish earthquake. Could he use that term anymore? Maybe it would be a marsquake now. Everything would be new and different once they landed and set foot inside the planet’s first colonial habitat. Assuming they got to the surface in one piece.

There was a final, trembling groan and an upward kick against Trevor’s back as the craft fired its last landing thruster sequence. And then a long, suspended breath before, finally, a hard bounce and a settling sigh. They had landed. They had made it to Mars.

Trevor heard the outrush of breath from his fellows over the comms, a short moment of relieved silence before a collective whoop rose around him.

Take that, Jules Smithson! Trent shouted loud enough that Trevor winced.

Who the hell is Jules Smithson? Leah was already unstrapping herself from her seat and then helping Trent, her mate, out of his restraints.

Trevor was surrounded by couples. On the other side of the cabin, Melissa Subirà fussed over Guillermo Costa even though he was already out of his seat and pulling storage boxes from the cupboards recessed in the walls. The colony’s alpha couple Lori and Mark stood side by side, gazing up at the viewing screens and the display of the local scenery as the dust settled around them. Everything looked to be a muted tangerine color, but Trevor guessed that was due to some weird color correction on the monitors.

April was consulting her tablet computer, as always, and reading out current atmospheric conditions to anyone who was listening. Trevor tried to think of something clever and half-way friendly he could say to make a fresh start with her on a new planet. But he feared April would launch in again on her idea for a Bachelor on Mars reality show to find him a mail-order bride, since she’d left him in the lurch.

Even in this small colony, Trevor was starting a new life on his own.

Jules Smithson was a smarmy, arrogant kid from the seventh grade. Said I’d never amount to anything. Trent sprung up from his crash couch, his arms spread wide. And look at me now!

Leah patted his arm. Yeah, honey. Look at us all now.

Yeah! Trent bounced in place. Plus, even Jules’s own dog didn’t like him.

Trevor unbuckled his restraints and smiled as his boots hit the floor. He tested his balance and then laughed aloud.

Earth’s first interplanetary colonists had arrived.

Almost.

They still had to get everyone off the landing craft and load their supplies into the awaiting rover. Then there was the slow drive to the habitat, a few kilometers away. Then they’d be home.

Trevor went to work transferring boxes and bags to the rover and tried to ignore the feeling of lightheaded unreality that tugged at him. There would be time to gawk and marvel when he was inside his own quarters and enjoying his first real privacy since before the Mars Ho competition began.

Mark took charge, with April as his second, directing the new Martians to their respective tasks. As Trevor passed through the pressurized corridor connecting the lander to the spacious rover and stacked another box in the vehicle’s storage compartments in the floor, he was glad of the landing and loading rehearsals they’d practiced to mind-numbing efficiency. It had been a good way to pass the time, especially when the journey to Mars ended up taking a full month longer than expected.

They’d removed their gloves and helmets but kept their suits on, in case something went wrong. Trevor kept his breathing steady as his muscles screamed at him to stretch and strain and revel in the light gravity of Mars. It felt good to lift boxes and canisters and pass them along in a bucket brigade. His body longed for full gravity, but one-third-g was what he’d have to get used to.

He still hadn’t stepped outside. If everything went according to plan, no one would step out into the hostile environment of Mars or leave their footprints on the surface of their new world for several hours yet.

And then they were underway, again with a computer at the helm. The rover felt like a tricked-out shuttle bus that had been turned into a slow-moving monster truck with massive wheels and high-tech carpeting. There weren’t any VIP amenities like chilled champagne or a cheese platter, but Trevor’s seat was comfortable enough. Everyone had a window seat, and everyone gawped at the rust-colored landscape beyond.

Trent occupied the spot that would have been the driver’s seat if rover were in manual mode, but not even the computer trusted the colonists to find their own way across the barren terrain. Trent played tour guide as they rolled along at a reasonable clip of 60 kilometers per hour.

"And here, ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll look to your left, you’ll see a great expanse of pretty much absolutely nothing. And some rocks. And on your right, why, look at that! Even more red dirt. And more rocks, in various sizes! Plenty of room for a future Solar System Mall, for those with an eye for commercial real estate. I’m talking artsy pizza joints, ice cream parlors, and doughnut shops here, folks. Not a whole lot of color, but I hear red is going to be very in, you know, for pretty much ever. You’re lucky to be getting in on the ground floor like this."

Trevor laughed. Trent was hungry again. Trevor would have to head for the kitchen straightaway once they arrived at the habitat. He hoped the robots that had set up the colony’s modules had organized food stores and kitchen utensils properly. If not, alone time and personal reflection would have to wait.

In the front passenger seat, April beamed and giggled, as did pretty much every other one of the rover’s occupants. But Trent didn’t point out the ancient shield volcano, Pavonis Mons, in the distance on one side of the rover or the looming cliffs of Noctis Labyrinthus ahead and to the left.

The Labyrinth of Night. Trevor hadn’t decided if the name was poetic or ominous.

It was about mid-day—mid-sol, Trevor reminded himself. But the sun wasn’t bright, and it never would be. It was about the same amount of sunlight as on an overcast winter day in Portland. He smiled. He hadn’t expected Mars to remind him of home.

And so, there you have it, folks. Welcome to your new home in Tharsis Montes, Mars, Trent concluded.

April grinned at her fellow colonists. Mars!

Mars! everyone cheered back.

Is that Progress Base? Lori pointed out the window at a pair of domes. Trevor couldn’t gauge the distance without a familiar point of reference, but the United Nations Space Corps base was a lot closer than Pavonis Mons or Noctis Labyrinthus.

Oh, yeah. Our astronaut neighbors, Trent commented. There goes the neighborhood!

The answering laughter was less enthusiastic. The new colonists weren’t the first humans on Mars. The UNSC astronauts had been landing and exploring for a solid decade. But those teams rotated in and out every couple of years. No one had made a permanent home on the Red Planet. Until now.

So, everyone’s clear on their assigned tasks once we get to Ares City? Mark was scrolling through a list of colony chores on his tablet.

Leah groaned as she adjusted her dark ponytail. Yes, Mark. I think we’ve got it. We’ve been over it about fifty times already.

Mark nodded and went back to his tablet. Lori patted him on the knee. He’s just being thorough, she said with a smile.

As if anyone needed a reminder about Mark and his thoroughness, Trevor thought.

And now, if you’ll turn your attention to the view out the front of the vehicle, Trent gestured toward the bubble window in which he sat. You’ll catch your first sight of the fabled Ares City.

Trevor rose from his seat to crowd forward with the others and peer over Trent and April’s shoulders. Up ahead was a mound of reddish dirt and four squat, off-white cylinders covered in dust. The habitation units had been partially buried to protect against radiation, and the visual effect was one of a collection of discarded Legos stuck in a muddy sandbox.

Ares City. Trevor inhaled deeply and felt the prick of tears. It was a ridiculous name for such a small and fragile outpost, but it was a far cry from some of the other names suggested by prolific smart-assess back on Earth. Marsy McMarsface, Chuck Norrisville, New Eden, Bradbury City, and Fort Kickass came immediately to mind.

Trevor gave himself a few moments to feel the awe and wonder and even fear that washed over him. He wasn’t alone—Melissa, Guillermo, Trent, and Leah openly marveled at the sight now that they were finally on close approach to their new Martian home. Mark said a few words to underscore the monumental nobility and sacrifice of what they were all doing, but Trevor wasn’t listening.

Trevor’s heart thundered in his chest. The tiny, unoccupied settlement wasn’t going to be winning any beauty contests. It was functional and perfectly hideous, and it marred the otherwise uninterrupted, timeless landscape. But Trevor and his fellows had given up everything to get here and to make this new start together.

His mind swam with the people he’d left behind and all the tastes and smells and sights that were probably lost to him forever. The salty breeze of the Oregon Coast. The sticky sweetness of ripe blueberries. The snowy peak of Mt. Hood against a brilliant blue summer sky—a dramatic contrast to the dun-colored lump of Pavonis Mons.

Mark droned on about their legacy and how they were symbols of hope for all of humanity. But Trevor didn’t want to be a symbol for anyone. He was on his own adventure, not trying to write new history books.

Remember this moment, Mark concluded. This new beginning. The future of human beings on Mars, of Martian citizens, begins now.

Trevor laughed in nervous excitement. Ares City!

Maybe the colony could grow into the name. For now, the lonely collection of modules looked like a poorly situated shanty town in the Old West.

Huh. In the front seat, Trent crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. Looks like Dorito Village to me.

There was silence in the cab. The colonists were used to these odd outbursts and waited for Trent to explain himself.

Like the bottom of a bag of nacho chips, Trent continued. Just cheese powder and broken pieces?

Leah frowned at him. When was the last time you ate something?

Trent squinted at the ceiling. Uh, that yogurt thing Trevor made for breakfast?

Leah turned her imploring gaze on Trevor, and he patted Trent on the back. Sure, kid. Dorito Village. That’s what we’ll call it. I’ll make you something special for dinner tonight.

Just Trent? Melissa’s eyes sparkled with hopeful mischief. She’d been remarkably restrained inside the rover compared to her chatterbox behavior aboard Red Wing 1. She was probably as awestruck now as the rest. But she kept a grip on Guillermo’s arm like he was her only life-preserver on a stormy sea.

Trevor headed back to his seat. For everybody. Let me know what you want, and I’ll see what I can do.

He had planned all along to prepare a memorable meal for the new Martians’ first dinner in Ares City. Dorito Village, Trevor reminded himself. It wouldn’t be a generous feast, not until he’d taken stock of the pantry and knew what he had to work with and what he’d have to ration. But he could whip up a favorite dish for each of them, with just enough extra to share.

The rover pulled up alongside the largest and most exposed of the Ares City modules and came to a gently rocking stop. The onboard computer deployed the collapsible bridge to dock with the habitat. Everyone cheered when the bridge made contact with the habitat, then transitioned to frowns and confused murmurs when the bridge retracted.

Uh, what’s going on? Leah asked.

Maybe nobody’s home, Trent cracked, but no one laughed.

April was quick to access the controls on the rover’s dashboard as the bridge extended again and made another attempt at docking with the habitat.

Trevor held his breath as the bridge touched the habitat exterior. He heard a frustrated, mechanical grinding noise before the bridge retracted again. He laughed in disbelief. I thought we were supposed to be done with these challenges.

What do you mean? Guillermo was rubbing his hands together and his brow shone with sweat. The journey from Earth in a snug spacecraft and with a clingy new mate hadn’t been easy for the brawny mechanic.

They’d all battled literal cabin fever, in their own way. Most had taken out their frustrations on the exercise equipment or by distracting themselves with ad hoc entertainment—like the pop culture trivia contests Melissa always won, and even a space-age rendition of Romeo and Juliet told by sock puppets. Trent and Leah had reprised their sexual antics from the dome, but they’d found a private space and no longer subjected the others to their noisy pairings. Trevor blew of steam through long hours with the ship’s pantry and food processors and printers, and getting a head start on Martian cuisine.

And they’d all kept a close eye on Guillermo. He hadn’t shown signs of anxiety or claustrophobia by the time Red Wing 1 inserted into Mars orbit, but now they were cooped up in a computer-driven rover and having issues getting inside their new home.

It’s just a little hiccup. We’ll get it sorted. Mark’s tone was calm and cool. His was always the first and last voice of reason whenever a problem arose. He was out of his seat and hovering over April’s shoulder as they whispered together.

Lori moved over to sit beside Guillermo.

Just a little trouble with the airlock. She laughed, keeping her voice light, and Trevor admired her for it. What is it about us and airlocks? But we always come out all right.

Trevor looked out the window and watched another unsuccessful docking attempt. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that everyone in the rover was having flashbacks to that awful airlock challenge on the first day of the Mars Ho competition, or the impact event on the space station that had nearly turned deadly.

As the bridge pulled away, Trevor caught sight of the problem. Hey, has there been a dust storm here lately?

April’s fingers flew over the dashboard’s touch controls, and she frowned at the central display screen. Yep, that’s it. We’ve got a dirty seal.

Somebody call housekeeping! Trent exclaimed brightly. Guillermo laughed.

The top of Trevor’s head brushed the rover’s ceiling as he stood and pulled on his gloves, locking them into his pressure suit. It felt good to have his feet beneath him and bearing his weight, even if every step felt like walking inside an inflatable bounce house.

Right. Mark stowed his tablet in his personal bag—the same Mars Ho-branded duffel they’d each been lugging around since they entered the reality show competition—and reached for his own gloves. Gloves and helmets, everybody. We’re going in on foot.

Can’t we just send somebody out to, you know, clean off the hatch or something? Melissa was at Guillermo’s side, practically pawing at him as she sought to keep him calm. Unfortunately, her efforts were having the opposite effect. Guillermo tugged at his suit’s lock ring around his neck and swallowed hard.

So, like, the rest of us can just wait in the rover, right? Melissa added.

Trevor pulled on his helmet as Mark’s answer came over the comms. It’ll be faster this way. Just a minute or two outside, and then we’ll be safely inside Ares City. Plus, we get to put boots on the ground! Nothing to worry about.

Melissa’s eyes were wide as she turned to Guillermo, who looked even more alarmed now that her worried gaze was on him. He patted her shoulder and climbed to his feet.

It’ll be fine, Guillermo said, mimicking Mark’s tone. His hands were steady as he pulled on his gloves, though he fumbled with his helmet as he tried to get the thing to seal into place.

Trevor stepped toward him, and Guillermo lowered his arms and let Trevor rotate his helmet into its home position and then activate the airtight seal. Guillermo smiled as his suit’s life support kicked on. Trevor gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, then picked up his own duffel bag and headed toward the hatch at the back of the rover.

They’d go through the rover’s airlock two at a time, with pressure maintained inside. From the head of the vehicle, Mark nodded to Trevor. We’re good. Go ahead.

Trevor opened the inner door and stepped inside the airlock with Lori entering behind him. Even with their bags it wasn’t a tight squeeze, but they’d have to get the rover’s wide docking bridge up and running if they wanted to offload their supplies into the habitat.

Lori lifted her eyebrows in amused anticipation as the compartment quickly depressurized. Ready?

Trevor smiled. He wasn’t sure what other response to give. Who would ever truly be ready for Mars?

The light on the outer hatch turned red. Trevor took a deep breath and opened the door. The rust-red expanse of his new planet was laid out before him.

Trevor wasn’t sure what was true color and what was the filtered effect of his helmet protecting him from short-term radiation exposure. He climbed down the short ladder and felt the crunch of Martian dirt beneath his feet.

Just like that, he was the first colonist to officially set foot on Mars. In the dim light of the dry, barren environs, he almost felt like he’d landed in the high desert of Eastern Oregon.

He wished he’d prepared a few words, something memorable and pithy like Neil Armstrong’s One small step for a man on the moon, or Sophia Lee’s Humanity’s first step onto a new world; Earth’s first step into a new future,