CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories by J. Posthumus (read after txt) 📕

down from the passenger seat of the Rover. The atmosphere report showed on his HUD. Ninety-five percent carbon dioxide, almost three percent nitrogen. Normal for Mars. He eased closer. John and Cynthia followed.

“The pressure valve’s off the tank, Sal,” John said. “Be careful.”

“Stay here,” Cynthia said. She eased past them both in a crouching position. The closer she got, the slower she went. “Aashi. Come in, honey.”

Seconds as long as days ticked by.

Aashi didn’t move.

Sweat beaded on Sallie’s upper lip. He swallowed to keep the bile where it belonged.

“Atmosphere readings are showing traces of hydrogen and oxygen, but it’s not horrible. Whatever was here, the wind must have cleared out. Maybe I don’t mind the wind after all.” She kneeled beside Aashi, staring into the helmet.

Sallie bolted forward and dropped to his knees. “Aashi. Are you there, babe?”

“God of my mother. Keep him safe,” Aashi whispered, but her eyes didn’t open. She cried out, and Sallie’s heart twisted. Then she rolled to the side, and her words slurred together.

“We have to get her back to Harmony.” Sallie reached for her, but John’s arms clamped around him and dragged him backward.

“Let Cynthia check her over first. If she has a back injury…” John said. When Sallie nodded, John released him.

“Scan her,” Cynthia said. Aashi’s exo hummed as the smart suit went to work. “Hmm,” Cynthia said as she squinted at her HUD. “She has a concussion, but I’m not detecting anything else.” She stood. “Let’s get her into the Rover and back to Harmony.”

Sallie didn’t wait to be told twice.

Aashi looked so small, tucked beneath the thermal cover. She hadn’t stirred at all as they’d raced her back to the station. John sat at the control while Cynthia hovered over Aashi, using a stylus to jot things in her data pad. Aashi’s vitals were displayed on the monitor above the medbed.

“Transport is inbound,” John called over his shoulder. He had resumed his duties at the command center.

Near Aashi’s feet, Sallie crossed his arms, and Cynthia’s lips puckered.

“Don’t look at John like that, Sal. You still have a job to do.” She waved at Aashi. “She’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye on her over night while we keep watch. Then we’ll let her wake up when she’s ready.”

Sallie dropped his arms and bit down on a frustrated growl. There was something primal, intrinsic to waiting beside her until she woke. He rubbed a hand across his face. He wanted to be there when she opened her eyes.

“I could relieve you of duty and confine you to quarters,” Cynthia said.

Sallie raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll go.” He ducked out of the room.

“You got it bad, man,” John said, grinning from ear to ear. Before Sallie could answer, he turned back to the screens. “Transport touchdown in 3…2… 1…”

“Shut up,” Sallie muttered. He could have flipped John out of his chair, but he had better things to do than getting tossed on house arrest. Chicken wrangling would have to suffice. Aashi would be ecstatic about them once she woke up.

An hour later, the crew stood at the bottom of the transport, waiting for the hatch to open. The transport crew waved from the windows. In order to keep the decontamination protocol to a minimum, they wouldn’t disembark, but they took pictures and chattered back and forth.

Once inside, Sallie made a beeline for a giant cube marked with the words Live Animals. Even his worry about Aashi couldn’t take away from his excitement over the next phase of his mission. “Sal to transport crew.”

“Go ahead, Sal,” a man’s disembodied voice sounded close to his ear. Ben Zult, the mission specialist, had been on the last two refueling transports. He was probably working up the courage to ask for a transfer to the Mars station.

“Anything to report on the poultry?” Sallie unsecured the straps that held the case in place. Once done, the crate moved easily on rollers, and he started for the transport, careful to avoid all the other crewman moving cargo through the hatch.

“Lost a few en route, but they were clucking happy when we closed them. It’s only been a few hours. We waited as long as we could. We wanted to do right by your chickens.”

Sallie chuckled. “Thanks, Ben. I would have waited until the last possible moment, too.”

“We figured it was better that you had a chance at them. No matter how often we wanted to strangle that rooster and his messed-up crowing schedule.”

“What happened?” Sallie stroked Aashi’s forehead. Her face already showed the bruising. She’s been out for almost a whole Sol—twenty-five hours. The transport had come and gone. She had mail from home waiting on her desk.

Aashi shrugged. “I’m not sure. I bent down to check the relief valve.” She scrunched her face and pressed her lips together. “It gets kind of fuzzy. I must have touched it?” She turned her head to the side. “I can’t remember.”

“You were face up across the four-wheeler when we got there.”

“All the gas leaching outward must have blown me backwards.” She rolled her shoulders.

“It could have killed you, Aashi.”

“It didn’t.” Her wide smile re-opened the split in her bottom lip, and she winced. “They’re noisy. I can hear them all the way in here.”

Sallie winked. “Wait until the rooster decides to crow.”

As if the head bird knew they were talking about him, he let loose, the sound echoing up and down the corridors.

John made a face as he entered the room. “They said you were up.” He jerked a thumb back toward the hall. “I hope he’s quieter when the ag-module doors are closed,” he said. “That crowing is gonna get old real fast.”

“Could be,” Sallie said.

“He can always join us for a festivus meal.” John’s gaze drifted over Aashi. He probably didn’t miss much. They’d been close to losing her, and the rest of the crew had been asked to allow a little recovery time before visiting. “Cynthia says you need to take it easy.”

“Cynthia