Mission Mars by Janet L. Cannon Page A

about him,” sniffed Anita disdainfully. “I know the weight of this ship down to the last seed.”
    â€œYou better, considering you insisted on going through our luggage three times over,” said Ranbir. Almost a year later and he was still miffed that his underwear ended up becoming an internet meme. It was when Anita had a news crew shooting a fluff episode on the mission preparation, following her around as she weighed personal items for the cargo manifest. The reporters had gleefully broadcast Ranbir’s Martian Manhunter boxers to the world.
    â€œEvery little bit counts,” said Anita sweetly.
    â€œYou watch … next trip, they’ll have personal allotments of way more than sixty-four ounces,” declared Calvin.
    â€œWhat, like seventy instead?” asked Yunhe with a raised eyebrow. “I still can’t believe you tried to spend all four of your personal pounds on a cat.”
    â€œâ€˜Cute, but useless’,” the captain snorted. “That was the Personal Cargo Committee’s final ruling. Eric slammed his hand down on the table. “And so it was written, and so it shall be.”
    â€œStill,” mused Anita, frowning, “you’d think that having a cat on board would have been well worth the extra weight. Plus, imagine the number of clicks the internet site would have garnered.”
    â€œYes, nothing gets the internet’s attention like pictures of cats. Think of what pictures of Cat In Space! would do for the Mars colony web traffic,” said Ranbir.
    â€œThe committee stuck to their Rule of Three,” said Yunhe. “If everything on board has to serve at least three purposes, click bait, and the psychological benefits of stroking cat fur are only two.”
    â€œPossible food source,” deadpanned Katenka.
    Calvin chuckled. “I can already hear the screams from Earth.”
    â€œYeah,” added Ranbir, “sponsors would be dropping us left, right, and center.”
    Katenka looked back down at her cards and studied them as if she was rethinking her choice to stay in. “Amundsen ate his dogs on his way to the South Pole, you know.”
    â€œAmundsen didn’t have cameras documenting every step of the journey,” Anita pointed out dryly. “So, no cats allowed—less we eat them.”
    â€œSo, we’ll just have to live with our storage container of ReadeeMeals,” said Katenka.
    â€œOh good,” said Calvin, rolling his eyes.
    â€œThey’re not so bad once you get used to them,” said Eric, the voice of experience. “ReadeeMeals are just the civilian versions of the military’s MREs, and are also good for just about forever.”
    â€œAnd,” added Calvin, “even after generations of think tanks and experimentation, they are still only slightly palatable.”
    â€œI’ll have you know, I once spent an entire summer camping in the Rockies and eating nothing but ReadeeMeals. The paella dinners were delicious. Really! And a lot easier to pack than assorted pots, pans, and chopping boards.”
    â€œSpeaking of storage, what is Athanasius up to back there?” asked Calvin.
    â€œYou aren’t trying to bet your Nobel, are you?” Katenka called out to him.
    â€œThat’s no good, Athanasius!” Anita yelled, “I already got one!”
    â€œAnd I have two!” grinned Ranbir.
    â€œThat second one was a team award—I don’t think that counts,” teased Calvin.
    â€œIf we’re betting medals, any takers for my Olympic Gold?” Yunhe put a finger to her lips in mock thoughtfulness. “I don’t believe any of you have one of those.”
    â€œBeing a gymnast is nothing to brag about when you have access to zero gravity,” said Katenka.
    â€œSays the woman who made such a big deal about being the first ballerina to go to Mars,” shot back Yunhe.
    Katenka chortled. “Anything to sound different