GERARD, THIS IS OLIVER.  SO, DESPITE WHAT YOU MAY HAVE HEARD, THERE ARE STILL PEOPLE LEFT ALIVE ON MARS.  BUT, A LOT OF PEOPLE HAVE DIED, SO I THOUGHT MAYBE I SHOULD SEND YOU AN EXPLANATION.  PROBABLY, IT'S BEST IF I GO BACK TO JUST BEFORE YOUR SPACESHIP ARRIVED HERE.

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Dorothy (age 14 in Earth years, 7 in Martian years) was coming to associate the ship from Earth (that was arriving soon) with a slight pain in her upper arm, and a day of feeling not-quite-sick afterwards.  It had happened four times already, as the ship beamed ahead the details of the entire suite of microbes that might potentially be arriving with the newcomers, and how to make vaccines for all of them.

"I hate this," she said, not so much to her mom as to the world in general.  But, also, to her mom.

"It's the last one," said Olivia (her mom) reassuringly.

Unlike her mom Dorothy was, in all honesty, rarely reassuring (to herself or anyone else), and at some level was aware of this difference in tone between herself and her mother.  When Dorothy had been younger, the fact that her mother (the oldest living Martian, about 33 in Earth years) was the de facto leader of the colony, had been a source of pride.  As she had begun to approach the same age that Olivia had been when the last adults died, however, and Olivia had been forced into the leadership role, it had become an ever-present reproach, which she heard in the back of her mind.

Not that her mother ever said anything along the lines of, "when I was your age, I was rescuing the whole Colony by leading us in figuring out how to survive."  Nor, in fact, did Olivia ever really think anything like that.  It was just that Dorothy thought that, and felt herself to be woefully incapable of living up to that kind of example.  She had a hard time putting up with the minor pain of the vaccinations.  She could not really imagine herself figuring out how to run the Colony if no adults were left alive, as her mother had done when not even a year older than Dorothy was now.  When Dorothy was a little girl, she imagined that by the time she turned 14 (Earth years), she would know how to do everything her mother had to teach her.  Instead, the older she got, the more she realized she didn't know nearly enough, and in the past year it had begun to make her feel insecure and anxious that perhaps there was something wrong with her.

"Come on now," said Olivia, "watch how I do this with Raymond, you will need to do this yourself someday."

Dorothy frowned, but attempted to watch, as her mother used the strange gun to shoot her younger brother in the upper arm.

"What's in this one?" asked Raymond, who seemed (annoyingly, thought Dorothy) unconcerned about the discomfort of being vaccinated, and instead just curious, like it was an entertaining nature show beamed from Earth.  Raymond was 11 years old in Earth years, but did not seem to have any worries about not understanding things, no self-reproach for not already knowing it.  Just you wait, she thought.

"The last of the vaccines for viruses which might be in the Earth visitors," said Olivia.  "None of them are sick, but they could have very low levels still, kept down by their immune systems because they have been exposed before.  Since we have not ever been exposed to them, it might be worse for us.  These vaccines are like..."

"...like our drills for solar flare evacuations to the underground shelters," said Dorothy, who had heard this explanation several times before.  "They are practice.  They aren't the real virus, and they don't really cause a problem, but they look enough like a real problem, and they look enough like the real virus, that our immune systems will be ready if the real one shows up."

"Yes!" said Olivia excitedly, smiling proudly at Dorothy.  This threw her off balance, mentally, as she had been attempting to make her voice drip with sufficient sarcasm to make it clear that she thought her mother had repeated the same explanation too many times.  Now, her mother's reaction made her waver, internally, and consider actually feeling proud of herself for having remembered it, before deciding that memorizing the explanation didn't really help one to do anything.  She scowled grumpily instead.

"Here, Dorothy, help me to give it to Ruth."

Ruth, who was nearing her 4th Martian birthday (around 7 in Earth years, which was how most children stated their ages since it made you sound older than if you said it in Martian years), had a hard time staying still for the vaccination.  She was frowning, perhaps ever so slightly in danger of crying, because she remembered that the process involved a small amount of pain.  She was, for this reason, unusually quiet.  Ruth was normally singing, or dancing, or non-stop chattering, or laughing, or anything but quiet.  Normally, Dorothy found this all slightly annoying, but now seeing Ruth's unhappy face, Dorothy wanted to bring back the giggling chatterbox.

"Ruth, do you know what it feels like for the little particles inside the vaccine gun right now?" asked Dorothy, leaning closer to Ruth and raising her eyebrows and opening her eyes wide, as if she were about to share an amazing secret.  Ruth squirmed, and stuck out her lower lip slightly, but she looked away from her arm towards Dorothy, and shook her head 'no'.  Dorothy had her attention, and thought that if she could keep it for a few seconds Ruth would not notice the actual vaccination until it was over.

"They feel like they're in a giant spaceship, ready to blast off towards another planet," said Dorothy.  "You are, like, a giant planet to them, and they're headed towards it like explorers.  Explorers of Planet Ruth."  She smiled, with an expression of amazement, and Ruth smirked a little.

"Planet Ruth!" she said, loudly.  Ruth was either motionless or loud, almost never saying anything in a normal volume.  If it was worth saying, as far as Ruth was concerned, it was worth shouting.  Dorothy smiled encouragingly.

"Blastoff for Planet Ruth!" said Dorothy, talking over the sound of her mother triggering the injection.

"Ouch!" said Ruth.

"Yayyy!!!" said Dorothy, holding her arms up and making a sound like many people celebrating.  "We made it!  We made it to Planet Ruth!  We're heroes!"

Ruth quickly rubbed her upper arm, annoyed but still distracted by her big sister.

"I thought it took longer than that," said Ruth.  "I thought spaceships took longer."

"Well, they're very small, the particles are," said Dorothy.  "It's a long time for them.  I hope they like it on Planet Ruth.  I bet they will.  Planet Ruth is pretty awesome."

Ruth giggled and, now that her mother had released her, slid down off of the stool she had been sitting on, and ran around the room, her arms outstretched, shouting "I'M A PLANET!  I'M PLANET RUUUUUUUUUTH!"

"Are you going to tell her the part about how the new planet's immune system will falsely find them threatening, and attack them?" asked Raymond, smirking.  "And that it's a good thing that they do?  That they were sent to Planet Ruth to provide target practice?"

Her mother interrupted Dorothy's thoughts of a retort.

"Dorothy, it's nice that you told your sister a story, but I wanted you to help me give her the vaccination," she said.

I did help you, thought Dorothy.  I distracted her so that she would sit still while you did it, instead of squirming and crying.  But, again, before she could actually say anything, the conversation had moved on, and her mother and Ruth were negotiating whether or not she would get carried back to Building 3 or had to walk.

"It's ok, she can ride on my shoulders," said Raymond.

"YAY!!!" shouted Ruth, and she climbed up onto Raymond's back.  Olivia led the way as they walked through the underground tunnels between Building 6, where the medical equipment was, and Building 3.  Raymond followed close behind, Ruth on his shoulders nearly as tall as their mother.  Dorothy trudged along behind, sulking a bit now that Ruth was back to happily babbling away.  She knew she would feel worse tonight, as they all responded to the vaccines.  She hoped the actual visitors on the spaceship were more entertaining in person, than the preparations for their arrival were.