The speakers hissed and popped with noise, but the voice that came with the noise came out clear and distinct. “Friendship, this is Hermes, voice comms check. Friendship, Hermes on voice comms check, over.”

Mark nodded to Fireball, who switched Amicitas’s transmitter on and said, “Hermes, Friendship. Lotta noise, but we hear you. Stand by for Mark.”

The human grinned, adjusted his borrowed pony headset and said, “Good to hear your voice, Martinez! I’ve been practicing my Morse code, but I guess it won’t be needed. Over.”

Fireball switched his own headset over to the magic comms. “Friendship confirms voice contact,” he said. “Report reply sent at 11:14 hours.”

Cherry Berry’s voice replied, “Copy that, Fireball. Report sent over Pathfinder chat. Let us know when you and Mark are done.”

“Will do.” Fireball switched back to the ship radio, then leaned back against his flight couch. “Well,” he said, “got nine minutes wait for reply. What ya gonna say?”

“What would you say, in the same place?” Mark said. “If you could actually hear the voices of your people back home?”

“Easy. ‘I quit.’” Fireball growled softly, continuing, “I had enough space for lifetime. I crashed on launch and lived. Been stuck in orbit and lived. Looks like I’m gonna live after crash and been stuck in whole other universe. Think someone giving me a hint.” He smirked a reptilian smirk and added, “Gonna go out on top of the game.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Mark said. “Once I get back to Earth, I’m never going up again. Not that it’s likely NASA would ever give me another flight, but if they did, I’d turn them down.”

“Why?” Fireball asked. “My lord, she say, you astronaut now, do what I say. But you… word… you asked for this.”

“Yeah, I volunteered,” Mark said. “And don’t get me wrong. I loved every minute of being an astronaut, up to the moment I got stranded here. After that, not so much.”

“What’s to like about astronaut?” Fireball asked. “It’s mostly boring, except for total scary parts.”

“Are you kidding?” Mark asked. “It’s, like, the greatest adventure ever. You get to experience zero-G. You get to see things almost nobody ever gets to see, first-hand. Whatever science you’re interested in, you’re instantly on the cutting edge of it. And you get the knowledge that everything you do is this incredible privilege, something that only a tiny lucky few people will ever get to experience.” He shrugged and added, “The pay’s pretty shitty, though.”

Fireball snorted. “Dragons don’t do adventure,” he said. “Dragons are adventure for other people.” He couldn’t suppress a chortle as he remembered a line from what was still his favorite of all the Earth books NASA had sent up. “Dragons make you late for dinner.”

“I thought dragons made you dinner, period.”

“Never!” Calculated pause. “Well, hardly ever.”

Mark laughed. Score one for Fireball.

“Seriously,” Fireball continued, “we not monsters like hydra or chimera or manticore. People leave our hoard alone, we leave them alone. We like nice, quiet life. No trouble. And flying rocket is nothing but noise and trouble.”

“Are you kidding?” Mark said. “Yeah, it’s scary, but it’s also the most exhilarating experience of my life! Riding into space on top of the biggest controlled explosion ever devised by the mind of man!”

“But you never do it again?”

“Nope. Not once I’m home.” Mark sighed. “I’m glad I visited Mars, but being stranded here taught me how much I took little things like breathable air, not dying if I step outside, and food that isn’t a goddamn potato for granted. Let new Ares missions come back here. I’ll cheer them on from my comfy chair, in a house with open windows, eating nachos and drinking coffee.” The human shook his head and muttered, “Fuck, but I miss coffee.”

“Just thought,” Fireball said. “Coffee. Dragons don’t get coffee. Never drank it until dragon program folded into changeling program.”

“So, what?” Mark asked. “Are you saying you can’t get coffee without being an astronaut?”

“I don’t know how make coffee. Not without wall-plug coffee pot.”

The admission embarrassed Fireball enough that he was grateful that the voice on the radio prevented Mark from delivering whatever rejoinder he’d been about to make. But once the words sank in, he was less grateful: “Friendship, Hermes, we read you clear, but your mikes are set to vox. Repeat, your mikes are set to vox and we’re hearing everything you say. And recording it for posterity. Over.”

Mark gave the dragon a Look.

“Oops,” Fireball said, and switched the transmitter off. Then he remembered that Hermes had signed over to them, reactivated the transmitter, and said, “Friendship copies vox.”

“And for the record,” Mark said hurriedly, “although I firmly believe other people should have the chance that was cut short for me on Sol 6, I will happily work with NASA in whatever capacity they believe I can best advance the cause of the human exploration and colonization of space. Talk to you later, Friendship out.”

Fireball didn’t need the neck-chopping movement Mark made with a hand to switch the transmitter off properly this time. “Walk back much?” he asked with a grin.

“Hey, those people are holding my back pay for the last year and a half,” Mark said. “Granted I probably owe them every penny for what they’re spending to rescue me, but I have to live on something when I get home!”

Fireball’s eyes widened. “And Dragonlord has my hoard!” he gasped. “All my stuff!”

“Yeah. So maybe we should wait to quit until we actually get home?”

“Oooooooh, yeah,” Fireball agreed.

“And after someone teaches you how to make coffee.”

“Yeah.”

Author's Notes:

Adding to the buffer a little bit at a time. I should have two full (short) chapters in the can before I go to bed tonight, and I'll try to get a little writing done tomorrow morning before I leave for Dallas.