No one was more surprised than Zed at how much he enjoyed Chariot racing. As someone who had never had any aptitude for or interest in sports—or anything competitive for that matter—he was astonished to find genuine satisfaction in it all.

  Janice, as it turned out, was an excellent teacher. True to her word, she showed him a few Chariot tricks that were indeed impressive but terrifying to practice, at least at first.

  The first of these tricks was what Janice called “the Chariot shuffle.” While gripping the steering controls on either side of the central console, you could flip a switch to unlock them, allowing the user to not only rotate the controls, which steered the wheels, but also translate the controls to move the legs that connected the wheels to the carriage. Used correctly, a pilot could lift and adjust the legs, giving the whole vehicle the feeling of driving on roller skates.

  Janice demonstrated how to navigate around boulders more nimbly and at higher speeds than the onboard system was capable of. You could even time the leg motions in tandem to make the Chariot leap several meters into the air.

  When Zed asked why he would ever want to do this, Janice just smiled and said, “I don’t know, maybe to jump a canyon and impress a girl.” She gave him a wink and motioned with her chin at the hangar entrance, where Miranda had just entered and seemed to be looking for someone.

  Miranda’s eyes landed on Zed, and she smiled as she made her way through the maze of parts and disassembled vehicles to where Zed stood awkwardly by the Chariot.

  “I think that’s enough practice for today,” Janice said, giving him a friendly shove toward Miranda.

  “Hey, Miranda,” Zed said. “Where’s George?”

  “Catching up on schoolwork. Dad caught him two weeks behind on algebra.”

  Zed gave her a knowing grimace.

  “How goes the Martian NASCAR practice?”

  Janice called from over Zed’s shoulder.

  “He’s not as inept as you might imagine, actually.”

  “Ha. Ha,” Zed said, turning to Janice with feigned offense.

  “You know my dad is actually in this thing,” Miranda said. “He was always big into any kind of racing back on Earth. I guess this is his chance to have a Martian midlife crisis or

  “Oh, he wouldn’t be the first,” Janice said, subtly nodding her head toward Jonah Gruene’s work bay.

  Jonah was the epitome of going into middle age ungracefully. He wore clothes that were too tight for the beer gut he had somehow managed to maintain on a vegan diet.

  It was probably the cubic foot of peanut butter M&M's, Zed thought.

  Jonah always wore a baseball cap over the bald top of his head but insisted on keeping his hair long in the back, which stood out all the more considering men and women alike tended to keep their hair short, if not shaved, in Naug.

  “If he takes his hat off, he’s got a full-on ‘skullet,’” Janice said, moving her hands from the back of her head down to her shoulders.

  “Alright, alright,” Miranda said. “I’ve talked to Jonah a few times, and he seems like a real teddy bear. We shouldn’t judge him by his, uh, fashion choices.”

  Janice put her hands up in surrender. “You’re absolutely right, Miranda. We couldn’t ask for a better hanger chief.”

  “What brings you by?” Zed asked, turning back to Miranda.

  “I figured you’d be here, of course, but I actually had a question for Janice.”

  Janice touched her sternum with her fingertips in an exaggerated “Who, moi?” gesture. “What’s up?” she asked.

  Miranda gave a seemingly involuntary glance over her shoulder and leaned in a little closer.

  “So I’ve noticed a lot of the people in Naug have a tattoo like yours on the inside of their right bicep. What is it? What does it mean?”

  Janice touched her own tattoo reflexively and smiled. Zed was surprised he’d never thought to ask about the marks. It seemed like most of the colonists, at least the younger ones, had that particular tattoo. Come to think of it, he was pretty sure even Commander Jones had one.

  “This is my ladder,” Janice said. “The ladders vary slightly from person to person, but I’d say most are like mine, at least for now.”

  Miranda and Zed exchanged a confused glance.

  “Here, it’ll be easier if I just show you. Zed, can you pull up a drawing space we can share and do a quick sketch of my mark?”

  Zed obliged and opened a shared space for their CIGs. He realized it wasn’t strictly necessary for him to do this, but he always appreciated being able to use his art skills for something productive, and Janice was kind enough to give him that chance.

  Zed used a few shape tools and quickly made a rough recreation of Janice’s tattoo on an invisible plane in the air. Miranda and Janice gathered around.

  “Your ladder is like the stamps they used to put in old passports. It’s the history of where you’ve been in the solar system.”

  Janice pointed to the blue half circle with a dot just below it.

  “This is Earth. I was born there, so that’s my first rung. Above it is Mars, my second home and my second planet. The two little dots are Deimos and Phobos, our little baby moons.”

  Stacked on top of the blue half circle was a red one, except this one had two black dots just below it instead of one.

  “It was actually Thabisa Jones who got the first ladder tattoo. Someday people will have rungs from all over the solar system. I’d love to put Europa right here,” she said, pointing to the blank space above the Mars hexagon.

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  “So, like, where can I get one?” Miranda asked a little sheepishly.

  Zed gaped, but Janice just smiled, unfazed.

  “Ah, to be 17 again. I guess options for a little teenage rebellion on Mars that won’t straight-up kill you are rather limited." Janice cocked her head and tapped her lips in rhythm to some unheard beat. “This better not come back to bite me,” she sighed.

  “Wait, you’re actually gonna get a tattoo? Like right now?” Zed asked in disbelief. “But you’re a kid!”

  Miranda gave him an exasperated look usually reserved for her brother.

  “I’ll be 18 in less than a year. What’s my dad gonna do? Ground me? Throw me out an airlock?”

  Zed didn’t know how to respond to that, so he doubled down.

  “Well then, I want one too. I’m just as Martian as anyone now.”

  Janice burst out laughing at this.

  “You two are adorable. Alright, I relent. Go to Alina in IT. I’m sure you both met her when you got your CIGs. She’s the best tattoo artist on the planet, for whatever that’s worth.”

  Her face grew comically stern. “But I swear, if I see either of your parents walk into the hangar looking like they’ve got a score to settle, I’ll make you regret it. It may involve rotten food in your turtle suits.”

  “Now who’s the kid?” Miranda said after an involuntary snort of laughter.

  “Thanks, Janice. I appreciate it and will take your involvement to my grave or my memoir, whichever comes first.”

  “You kids are weird. You know that, right?”

  Zed caught up with Miranda as she made deliberate strides down the corridor toward the IT shop.

  “Are you really gonna do it?” he asked.

  “I said I was, didn’t I?” she replied, her chin lifting a little higher as her pace quickened.

  “Hey, I’m not trying to talk you out of it. Hearing Janice describe it sold me on the idea. I’m just curious how you’re gonna convince Alina to do it. You know she’s gonna ask if you have permission. Or worse yet, she’ll just shoot your dad a message.”

  Miranda’s pace lost some of its urgency.

  “Don’t you mean how are we going to convince her? I thought you wanted one too, Martian boy?” she said, holding her fingers to the sides of her head like antennae.

  Zed shook his head. “That’s very offensive to my people, but yeah, I was kinda hoping you had some ideas. I only just decided to do it. Clearly, you must have had some sort of plan, right?”

  “Oh, I have a plan. I think it’ll get me my ladder, but I don’t think it’ll be of any use to you,” Miranda said in a tone that indicated she was the mature one in this conversation.

  Zed rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. Why wouldn’t it work for me?”

  “Because you don’t have these,” she said, turning toward him and pulling a clear plastic bag out of her pants pocket.

  Miranda held it up like a holy relic, and Zed reacted with appropriate awe.

  “Holy crap. Is that beef jerky?”

  Zed’s mouth began watering. He swallowed to keep from drooling on himself. Never had he experienced such a visceral reaction to the sight of food before.

  He’d been fine with the vegan diet Johns and his robots cooked up. It was legitimately great food, and meat wasn’t something he actively thought about, but seeing a few ounces of it brought back memories of juicy steaks and burgers, cranking the carnivore part of his brain back up to full steam.

  Miranda seemed to draw renewed confidence from his reaction and quickly tucked it back into her pocket.

  “Picked it up at a Buc-ee's the week before launch. I figured I’d eat it slowly on the way over but just kept saving it. Now I’m glad I did. Better than gold around here.” She patted her pocket. “And that is my plan. So what’s yours, Zed?”

  Zed shrugged. “Ask nicely?”

  Miranda laughed. They had arrived in front of IT.

  “Somehow I don’t think that’ll be enough to risk the wrath of your parents.”

  “What would bring the wrath of Zed’s parents?”

  Both Miranda and Zed jumped and turned in place only to find George standing behind them.

  “Oh, come on, sis. You didn’t think you could sneak off to get some tattoo without me, did you? I must say I’m a little hurt you’d drag Zed along and not your own flesh and blood.” George put his hand on his heart and did his best to bring a tear to his eye.

  Miranda punched him in the chest. He coughed and tried to avoid gasping, but his sister was well-practiced at knocking the wind out of him. Miranda shook her head and turned back toward IT. She put her hand on her pocket and stood a little straighter.

  “I’ll see if this is enough for all of us then.”

  Zed was genuinely touched. He started to protest, but she waved him off and strode through the door, heading straight for Alina’s workbench. In one smooth motion, she stepped up to a somewhat startled Alina, pulled the bag of jerky out of her pocket, and slammed it down in front of her.

  “Three ladders, please,” Miranda said with the confidence of a minor asking for a few beers at a bar.

  Alina was speechless for a moment. Whether it was from Miranda’s bold approach or the sight of the jerky, Zed couldn’t say. Alina’s poker face replaced her surprise quickly.

  “What makes you think I’d risk your parents’ displeasure for some snacks?” Alina asked, folding her arms and avoiding looking at the bag of jerky with obvious effort.

  Miranda didn’t reply but instead picked up the bag and unzipped it slowly, letting the pungent odor of the spices spill out. Alina let out an almost inaudible moan as her blank expression faltered.

  “I ask again, why would I risk your parents’ wrath so you kids can play rebel?” Alina repeated, her body relaxing slightly.

  “We’re not rebels,” Miranda said.

  She pointed to Alina’s own ladder, just visible under the rolled-up sleeve of her jumpsuit.

  “We’re Martians. Zed’s the youngest person to ever come here, and I’m the youngest girl. We’re tied to this place now.”

  Zed could see Alina’s eyes soften to the same adoring look she had given him when they’d first met.

  “Oh, you are adorable!” Alina said with a sigh of resignation.

  She allowed herself to look at the jerky now. Zed heard her swear under her breath.

  “Alright, but if I see either of your parents walk through that door with a pissed-off look, I will make you regret it.”

  “Yeah, Janice said something similar,” Zed said, then caught himself.

  “Janice, huh? That figures.” Alina shook her head. “Don’t mess with IT, got it?”

  They nodded and said nothing, afraid she’d change her mind.

  As it turned out, the inner bicep wasn’t exactly the ideal place to get your first tattoo. As Miranda gritted her teeth, Alina cheerfully explained that any skin that didn’t get much sun or friction always hurt more.

  By the time it was Zed’s turn, he was starting to regret following Miranda on this little adventure. After watching Miranda squirm and George howl, he felt like the last man at an execution. There was no way he was going to chicken out now, though.

  “Are you ready, little koshenya?” Alina asked, buzzing the tattoo gun for emphasis.

  “What does that mean anyway?” Zed asked, trying to think of anything other than getting stabbed a few thousand times per minute.

  Alina laughed. “It means ‘kitten’ in Ukrainian.”

  Zed was about to make some kind of snarky reply, but whatever thoughts he had fled his mind as Alina began to draw the first line of the ladder on his all-too-pale inner arm. Zed didn’t want to look, but it felt so much like she was scraping broken glass across his skin that he had to take a glance to make sure she wasn’t. Then he remembered Miranda and George were watching and spent the rest of the time trying to keep his face from telegraphing what he was very much feeling.

  “All done! Sorry, I don’t have any lollipops for you, baby,” Alina said, giving his cheek a pinch.

  Zed stood and admired Alina’s handiwork. He had never felt more grown-up than in this little moment of independence.

  “You going to show your parents, Zed?” Miranda asked. She was admiring her own fresh ink.

  “Uh, no. Are you?”

  “Nah, I’ll save it for an argument or something. It’ll make for a good mic drop before stomping off to my room.”

  She looked up at him with a grin that spoke to the depth of mischief in her that he hadn’t yet glimpsed.

  “Oh, I’m definitely gonna show this off,” George said, flexing his bicep and then realizing that was a terrible idea.

  “The first three teens on Mars getting their first tattoos together. If that’s not bonding for life, I don’t know what is,” Zed said. He found himself feeling oddly sentimental about the moment, which wasn’t an emotion he allowed himself very often.

  “Martians for life!” George pumped his fist. This time he wisely chose the arm without the fresh tattoo.

  “Martians for life!” Zed and Miranda said in unison.

  Just then, he saw a notification indicator pop up in his CIG view. He glanced at the attached text.

  “Guys.”

  George and Miranda turned toward him.

  “Guys, it’s finally time. I just got an invite to a meeting in the morning to discuss an expedition to the crater cave!"