Neither Walt nor I said anything, and my heart lodged tight in my throat as we crested the hill leading to our home. Black char covered the hills, once a beautiful lush prairie, and wispy smoke swirled from small smoldering clumps. But the grasslands would recover. They had to.

The house and shed stood untouched by the fire, at least the outsides, and I said a silent thanks to the Martian planners that used fireproof materials to build them. The newly planted soybeans would be okay, and the plowed fields even acted like a firebreak, slowing the fire's advance. But the tractor and stuff within the open shed — that might be another story.

Walt and I glanced at each other, tightening our lips as we stepped out of the truck. The pungent stench of fresh burn hung in the air. Silence engulfed us, and even the wind had calmed. No grass rustled, no songbirds sang, no chickens clucked...

"The chickens!"

Heart pounding, I raced around the house, Walt close behind. The crate stacks that made up the homemade coop were intact, constructed of noncombustible plas-steel, but they were blackened inside and the straw bedding smoldered. Gulping, I cautiously entered the run through an open gate and peaked inside the crates, fearing what I would find. But there was nothing but charred bedding and the stink of burned loose feathers — no scorched birds.

"Where are the chickens?" I asked, wrinkling my brow.

Walt shrugged, then shuffled through a thin layer of ash and opened the back door. He paused. "Umm, Mavis, you might want to see this."

Puzzled, I came to Walt's side as he pointed. Inside, at the threshold, Godzilla tilted his head and welcomed us home.

"Cluck, cluck."

The hens made themselves comfortable as if they owned the place, hanging around the kitchen, pecking at leftover bread on the counter, lounging in the living room, and relaxing on the bed. Chickens everywhere.

With a laugh, I collapsed into Walt's arms, hugging him tightly, and mumbled to our absent housemate, "Oh, Riya, you smart girl."

Walt returned the hug, but then wrinkled his nose at the smell. "We're going to have to clean house, though."

*****

My com-viewer beeped with a message. Previously, the smoke and ash had blocked the satellite signals. "It's Riya," I reported to Walt in the truck. "She's with Kiran. Said he lost some trees, but it's not too bad."

"Good," he replied. "Tell her to stay put. Oh, and say thanks for saving the chickens."

I did, added a few smiley faces and chicken images at the end.

To our relief, the town of Olympus had been mostly spared. Except for a few charred spots, the fire bypassed the town. Red lights flashed in steady rhythm from the emergency trucks tending the smoldering areas that remained. We parked near the town hall, among many other vehicles.

The gathering area at the town center held nearly as many people as the recent Mars Day festival, but there was nothing festive about it. Blank or weary expressions marked many faces. Even the children were subdued, huddling close within family units. I recognized many as fellow colonists who must have fled their homes and said silent prayers for them. Already, some drove off, returning home to assess the damage, and I feared what they might find.

But there was also a resilient undertone. Many moved about, spreading comfort or embracing neighbors. Tables under a makeshift awning beside the general store distributed drink and food. A white jacketed medic wandered through the crowd, checking for injuries. People here looked after each other.

As we made our way to the town hall, a sprawling dome-roofed building constructed of the same adobe-type material that would not burn, Rey came up to me, her two children in tow. Smudges of black marked her light face, hands, and clothes. The little girl, Leia, cast me a smug grin, holding up her favorite stuffed animal, showing me that Strawberry Mollusk was okay.

Rey embraced me, then Walt, and said, "So glad you are alright. We had feared the worst. Riya?"

"She is safe with Kiran."

That brought a relieved smile to Rey's face. She tilted her head. "Jyn is inside."

The hall buzzed with activity, with people scurrying around or talking on com-viewers, apparently coordinating activity. The young dark-haired receptionist, who sat within a round desk holding a com-viewer to her ear, smiled as we entered and pointed a thumb down the hallway.

In a small conference room, Jyn and two older men, who I recognized as volunteer emergency response coordinators, stood, intently watching footage on a large, wall-mounted view-panel. One man operated a joy-stick, moving an overhead view of the town and surrounding area — a satellite view, I supposed. From above, the scope of devastation took my breath away.

Walt knocked on the door. After turning around, a wide grin broke out on Jyn's face, and she rushed to wrap us both in a tight bear hug. Seemed like hugging was a thing 'round these parts.

"You two are today's heroes," she exclaimed, releasing us, so I could breathe again. "Without your warning, this would have been much worse."

"Just lucky we were in the right place," Walt answered, shrugging. "So how bad was it?"

"Bad enough," the gray-haired man with the joy-stick answered. He zoomed the satellite view out. "Nearly the whole cooperative burned. But since the wind has decreased, we are getting it under control." He zoomed in on the jagged fire leading edge in the hills beyond town. Firetrucks moved along the edge, spraying water at the flames, while tractors plowed a fire-break.

Jyn continued the assessment, letting out a long breath. "Some farmers lost entire crops or livestock herds, but thankfully, no reported deaths. And injuries have been relatively minor, mainly smoke inhalation. We only recently got coms back on-line, so we are still checking in with everyone."

The other man with short, sparse hair shook his head. "It came all at once, forming a wide line from the start. Never seen anything like it."

"That's because the fire was set that way," Walt said, drawing his lips tight. "We saw it happen."

The room went quiet as a graveyard while six eyes widened and three mouths gaped. Walt took a step forward and cast his com-viewer output to the big panel, showing the pictures he took of the flyer dropping fire into the dry grass.

"Damn..." Jyn muttered, then she pointed. "Zoom in on the flyer, there."

Walt did, revealing blurry blue numbers on the flyer side, like a license tag, and a round decal with the letters MLB inside.

"Mars Land Bank — that's who owns the flyer," Jyn said.

"So, maybe we can track it down and find out who flew it," Walt added.

I completed the thought. "And then we kick some arson arse."

Jyn grinned. "Exactly."

*****

Waking early, even before Godzilla crowed, I took Walt to the train station. He looked all handsome and sheriff-like with his badge and pistol. Fed marshals would meet him in Ares Central with the required legal warrants.

"Somthin' bothers me," I said as I parked the truck, facing the first orange rays of dawn.

"What's that?"

"Well, a Land Bank flyer was used to set the fire, and Fleming Barnes is the chairman of the Land Bank. And do you remember his partin' words when you arrested Damion? That we were makin' a big mistake? Do you think he did it?"

"That thought occurred to me. With the wind and dry conditions, everything was perfect for a disastrous wildfire, and they set it so it would go straight toward town. But if Fleming was behind it all, someone else would have done the dirty work for him. So, if we find who did, we would have to force them to give Fleming up."

"No offence, Walt," I said, grinning, "but you ain't the scary cop type."

"True," he answered, "but some of the marshals are pretty intimidating."

Moving in, I wrapped Walt in a hug, leaning my head against his shoulder. "Be careful, okay? And don't get into too much trouble."

Walt hugged me back, and it felt real good, making me all tingly inside. And for a moment, my mind drifted back to the almost-kiss by the creek with my not-husband. The one where a fire interrupted another kind of heat.

"How can I get into trouble?" he replied with a grin. "You take it all for yourself."

Walt wasn't fibbing. If trouble was an infectious disease, I was the carrier, and I done infected Olympus. No one blamed me, but still, guilt soured my gut now and then.

Riya and I spent most of the day cleaning up inside, and I'll tell you what, those chickens were messy. We even found an egg tucked in a bench cushion. Also, we replaced the burned bedding in the coop boxes and laid out fresh feed for happy chickens. To them, everything was back to normal.

Come evening, we prepared dinner together, inviting Kiran to join us later. And Riya showed me some of her cooking secrets.

"So, how's it going with you and Kiran?" I asked while slicing carrots.

The huge smile that blossomed on her face answered my question before Riya even said a word. "Wonderful," she said with her hands deep in bread dough. Then, leaning my way as if sharing a secret, she whispered, "I hope he proposes to me."

My eyes went wide. "So soon?"

"I know, but it feels so right. Kiran is everything..." Riya closed her eyes and let out a satisfied sigh. "I mean, during the fire, he cared more about me than even his farm."

"Well, he sounds like a keeper. Ya know, for all the bad stuff Damion did, he did you one big favor — he led you to Kiran."

"True. And to you and Walt." Riya stepped over and gave me a side hug, leaving a white flour handprint on my t-shirt. Then, with a sly grin, she said, "What about you and Walt?"

My cheeks warmed, and the way Riya let out a giggle, I think she noticed a flush. "Well..." I stammered. "We're just business partners, ya' know? Umm... And we promised no romantic complications..."

"Buuuut..."

I let out a long breath. "Things are gettin' complicated. During our picnic, we almost kissed." While holding up thumb and forefinger, I said, "We were this close, then that damned fire..." I froze, eyes widening, as a conspiracy thought came to me. "Hold on a second, Riya. Were you tryin' to make complications happen by sendin' us out on that picnic?"

Riya drew her lips into a line and glanced at the ceiling. "Maybe..."