Lunara: The Original Trilogy

by Wyatt Davenport

  To Parker, along with many other Martians, the sight of the Earth from Lunara was depressing. Its fate loomed over Mars. Would Mars be next? Where would humanity turn then? Those questions haunted the people and made them forgot Earth and concern themselves with Mars. The Earth was dead. Mars was born. No one wanted to remember the hardships of the past.

  The Protector touched down a short time later. He and Jan hurried off the ship with their backpacks held tightly in hand. He instructed the ground crew about the repairs he wanted done to the hull, which he couldn’t do in Trivium Port. However, the repairs turned out to be a good excuse to come to Aethpis and complete their mission, and a cover to leave Eamonn in Trivium Port unsuspecting of their plan.

  He didn’t like deceiving Eamonn, and siding with Seth made him feel dirty and accepting of Seth’s paranoia, but this time, perhaps Seth’s overreaction contained a nano-ounce of credibility.

  He turned back to the Protector for perhaps his final glance of his ship. Many of the dents and dings along the hull were scars that reminded him of how the ship had saved him on more than one occasion, from the invasion of Lunara back to the micro meteor shower five years ago on their second mission. The Protector had served him well, and he would always be proud of the ship. He sighed. He could be caught tonight at the security center and lose everything he had, but the gash across Chloe’s forehead kept telling him he had to act, no matter the consequence. No matter what he lost.

  He left the hangar and looked for his friend Will Dasher, but Dasher had already left for Trivium Port and the gala celebration. Parker wrote him a quick note of thanks, and he and Jan set off toward the Aethpis Security Center.

  They started at a brisk pace. Minutes later, they found the main streets. Aethpis Colony wasn’t as empty as he had expected when he disembarked from the train. Several block parties lined the more popular streets as the people danced and bellowed loud cheers.

  The map on his display pad recommended a direct route, which he couldn’t take because the main avenue was packed with overly merry partiers. He guided Jan through some of the quieter streets, while always keeping his course toward the dome of the Aethpisian Security Center in the distance.

  They arrived a few hundred meters north of the security center and did their best to conceal themselves, wearing flat black coveralls along with dark caps, which kept Parker’s hair out of his eyes.

  Hearing another cheer and roar from the large crowd gathered in the square to the front of the security center, he smirked. The festive atmosphere provided the distraction he needed—without alerting the guards to danger.

  He swung his head around as something moved in his field of vision. The water reservoir was behind him, and the reflection of light off the gentle waves twisted shadows back and forth along the ground. He released the tension in his shoulders and drew in a long breath of the humid air. The air, warm and thick, emitted from the reservoir, soothed his lungs and calmed his nerves. He scanned the area again.

  "The canal is going to be difficult," Jan whispered.

  "No doubt about that," he said. In front of him, the canal, carved the length of the reservoir, split them from the security center.

  "Jinx," he muttered. "Besides being a run-off ditch, the canal is a moat for the security center."

  "We need to find a way across it," Jan said.

  He tilted his head up. Several pipes ran out of the reservoir and down the center of the canal above him. If he could get up high enough, he could climb across the pipeline to cross to the other side.

  "You up for something daring?" he said with a crooked smirk.

  "I’m here, aren’t I?" she said in a more serious tone than he expected from her.

  "I’m worried about you," he said. "I don’t want you taking unnecessary risks."

  "Let me worry about unnecessary risks."

  "Fine."

  He rummaged through the bag and pulled out a rope. He slung it across his chest and found enough karabiners to hook to his belt. He attached his sonic pistol firmly to the small of his back and slid three datapads into his breast pocket. The final touch was a pair of black gloves he favored for climbing. They contained thousands of pores, which hooked molecularly to most surfaces, allowing him to scale even the smoothest of surfaces.

  He adjusted the microbinoculars on the building. If the security center followed standard Martian protocol, it would have a secondary exhaust system on standby in case the primary failed. All the secondary fans should be shut down and in hibernation mode.

  "I see our entry point," he said as he looked up. "Up the side, there is a vent."

  Jan adjusted her binoculars. "Pretty high up."

  "We can reach it," he said. "The exterior support strut along the back of the building is our path."

  "What about security?" she said.

  "Sit and watch," he muttered.

  For fifteen minutes, he stared at the security building, studying the guard patrols. No guards came along the outside. Sparse night with the gala, he figured.

  No cameras were present, either. Under the Principles of Man, public places couldn’t record, so he wasn’t worried about them spotting him outside, and from every indication, Aethpis hadn’t violated the Principles.

  "Mars has been at peace too long," he said. "The Revolutionary War was too successful. Aethpis and Zephyria are vulnerable now, or worse, arrogant. Guards should be outside continually, even with a celebration such as the two hundredth anniversary."

  "So what?" she said. "Advantage us."

  "Let’s go, then."

  They dashed along the side of the canal until they reached a collection of several pipes running overhead.

  Before he really had a plan on how to reach the overhanging pipes, he slung the rope over the closest pipe. He stabbed his hand out, caught the rope as it came around, and hooked it around itself.

  He moved his prowling eyes upward. "Jinx," he muttered. He didn’t see a way to climb up onto the piping. The handholds he expected weren’t present, and the cylindrical pipe was shiny, metal, and slick. Even the pores on his gloves wouldn’t be able to fasten to it.

  Maybe . . .

  He shook his head violently in protest at the image of him swinging across like Tarzan. He had little indication of how far the lip was on the other side. If he fell, the drop would provide a stiff landing and would end any hope of him getting into the Aethpisian Security Center.

  The coolness of the Martian night blew across his sweating forehead. The idea was insane, not to mention a huge risk of garnering attention.

  "Swing across," he said.

  "I’ll go first," she said. "Give it to me."

  He handed her the rope.

  With a surge, she dashed toward the edge and heaved herself across. She arched perfectly, let go at the top of her ascent and lunged toward the other side. Her feet landed squarely. She tucked her shoulder in, rolled to a stop, and tossed the rope back to him.

  "Simple enough," he muttered.

  She waved him across.

  He set his feet to go.

  Before he could stop himself, he rushed toward the edge, jumped with all the force his legs could muster, and swung across the canal. For a brief moment, he felt like a kid in the gymnasium, but soft mats didn’t pad the drop under his feet. It was unforgiving concrete. He arrived at the apex of the swing. Letting go of the rope, he twisted his body to align himself with the other side of the canal, and squared his arms toward the sides.

  He realized with a blunt obviousness that he did not have enough momentum to land squarely on the other side. His hands hit the edge first, but he fell too fast to brace himself. His chest slammed hard into the wall. His biceps flexed hard as he tried to keep himself from falling down, but the stabbing pain in his upper rib cage made him want to let go. He held on as the pain stabbed through his side like a dagger twisting and turning within him. With a desperate pull of his arms, he tried to climb up, and finally, after pressing hard enough, his gloves found enough t
raction against the concrete surface, leaving his body—save his arms—dangling over the edge.

  A rattle sounded in the canal below. A smooth edge brushed against his face, and the rattle echoed from below again. He shifted his eyes downward and saw one of the datapads slipping slowly out of his breast pocket and careening down to the bottom of the canal. As he inched his right arm slowing along the ledge, the stabbing pain in his chest returned. He resisted the temptation to contract his chest muscle because that was the only thing holding the remaining datapad in place. His hand, creeping at an agonizing pace, was finally in range of the other datapad. He shifted his weight to his left elbow, found room between the ledge and his chest, and slid the datapad back into his pocket. He pressed the cloth seal and fastened the pocket in place.

  His arms ached. A throbbing, burning, almost blinding pain coursed through his shoulders. He brought his leg up to catch the edge, and his toe caught the top, but his energy evaporated just he had got his leg up. Where is Jan?

  In instant later, a hand grabbed his belt and heaved him upward. His leg muscles flexed, lifting his body and rolling him to the surface.

  He had little to no time. Ignoring his weakness, he pulled the rope down from the pipe, a stabbing pain shooting into his chest with each extension of his arms. He secured it around his shoulder, and he and Jan dashed to find cover alongside the building.

  He started to pace his breathing to slow his heart down. Inhale . . . exhale, he thought. He stretched his senses for any sign that they had attracted the attention of the guards. None came—no footsteps and no shouts of orders. He saw no indication of security in the vicinity. Only the din of the crowd hummed in the distance.

  Jan nodded for them to proceed.

  Next, they had to climb up the side of the dome to the secondary ventilation shaft some fifty meters above him.

  He led the ascent. The climbing gloves latched onto the smooth surface with the slightest of effort from his hands. With each pull of his right arm, his chest fought back with pain. He did not think he had broken his rib but rather severely bruised it. His equipment and his thermal suit forced his ribs to nestle into a makeshift brace. He could tend to them later.

  Jan followed closely behind.

  He gazed down and noted the decent progress they had made. They were almost halfway up the dome, and the climb became easier as the dome angled off toward the top. He continued upward until he reached a point high enough on the dome where the edge of the Aethpisian crater’s protective rim around the colony was no longer shielding him. The wind picked up almost as if he had stepped through a door into a new atmosphere. The unexpected shift sent his body diving to the side. His left hand managed to catch the dome flush in the palm of his glove while his body slammed into the strut. He groaned so loud he was sure the crowd heard him. Of course, it was only fear talking. The wind and the distance were ample enough to snuff out any cries of agony.

  Jan squawked behind him. She hit the threshold and was tossed over him.

  He thrust his hand out and grabbed her jacket, slamming her into the dome, but his grip slipped, and Jan slid down the outside of the dome.

  Her hands scrambled for a handhold, but the gloves weren’t finding anything to grip.

  He kicked his boot out, and with some luck, she grabbed the buckets with her left hand. He grimaced as her weight pulled on his hip socket. She pushed along the side of the dome and managed to get to the strut within moments.

  "Close one," she said through the wind.

  He adjusted his breathing mask on his face, then moved his other hand to the side of the dome and pulled his body into a more stable position with his legs holding most of his weight.

  The effectiveness of the crater to shelter the colony from the wind amazed him, but he was also terrified by the unexpected nightmare. He shivered as the wind flowed through his coverall like icy tendrils.

  Gingerly, he straddled the strut and maneuvered over to block the gusts. With a more cautious pace, he climbed, and the wind whistled louder, drowning out the boisterous crowd below.

  The label read "Exhaust Panel 29," and the meter-squared hole was the exit point to the secondary ventilation shaft. Parker grimaced, realizing that climbing into it with the equipment would be no easy task. He tied off to the support strut, letting the rope take most of the weight from his arms.

  The vent leading to the outside of the dome was sealed from the inside. Coming in from this direction would be impossible to do quietly without being aware of the finer points of the design. The Protector had a similar type of vent. The ion drive’s exhaust system for releasing gas into space was a smaller vent but essentially the same design. The key to getting the vent off was to feed two guider objects through the grille into the inside of the shaft. In the correct locations on opposite sides of the vent’s frame, he could trigger the electromagnetic seal to shut down and pry the grille off.

  Using two of the climbing spikes, he fed them through the grille. After plenty of trial and error, he located the trigger for each side. Unlike the Protector, this design didn’t line up the triggers with one another. The small adjustment might have fooled a less experienced mechanic, but he felt it and managed to slide both of the spikes into the triggers. The grille to the vent relaxed, and he used a multipurpose tool to pry it out of the holding. With a pop, he removed it, moved it up and out of the way, and tied it off on his support rope, letting it hang down on top of the dome using his foot to keep it from moving. He looked inside of the vent for any more traps or triggers but could see none.

  Mars is becoming too careless, he thought.

  The wind shifted, and his foot slipped out from under the grille and rattled against the top of the dome.

  "Enough of this wind." He pulled the grille back into place.

  "Hurry," Jan urged him.

  He slid off his equipment pack and tossed it down the duct. After another gust, the wind settled enough to enable him to use his arms to brace himself on both sides of the vent. He tucked his legs into the shaft and propelled his body inside. He helped Jan in.

  To cover their tracks, she slid the grate back on.

  Squirm after squirm, they slinked down the duct. As he reached a Y formation in the duct, he turned himself around. Slowly, painfully supporting his tender ribs with his arm, he and Jan traveled for some time until he came to the main ventilation shaft.

  The din of fans filled the shaft with a thunderous echo. He put his hands over his ears and looked toward the bottom. The stale odor of the rushing air and the unexpected depth toyed with his balance. He pulled his head back, and his knuckles went white as he grabbed hard.

  "The building stretches for some way underneath the Martian surface," he said.

  "It does," she replied. "I expected less."

  "It’s double the depth."

  The possibilities stirred in his mind; an underground research and development facility could be the reason or perhaps a data storage center. But R and D would need access to the outside to test all their creations, and a data storage facility so close to the reservoir would endanger it to floods, so neither possibility convinced him.

  "Stop thinking about the depth," she said. "We’re going to the minister’s office. Let’s go."

  He nodded. According to Jan’s plan, they would descend to level 10, where they could gain access to the minister’s office. He proceeded downward.

  After passing floor after floor, they came to a shaft outlet for level 10. This time, he moved in head first and pulled his legs in from the rear. He crawled as silently as possible, moving like a snail down the duct. This vent encouraged him more than the last. His tender ribs stung with any touch, but his ability to contort his body improved as time went on.

  Five minutes later, Jan stopped him in front of a single unmarked grate.

  The grate for the minister’s office reminded him of the one located on the outside of the building. The two connection points for the grille to release were easy to spot on this side,
and he tripped them without much trouble. The grille popped open, they slithered into the minister’s office without a sound, and Parker crossed his fingers hoping they had not been noticed.

  His head swiveled back and forth, scanning the room without moving his body or making a sound. In the far corner, the couch and table indicated without any doubt that they had come to the right office. Real wood table legs weren’t easily obtained and were something the minister and his family undoubtedly kept from Earth. The door was on the opposite side of the room, and to his right, a large window through which he could see the crowd of people in front of the security complex. But the object of their quest was to the left of him, the personal desk of the minister, and more important, the computer terminal on top of the desk.

  He crept to it, staying alert for any sound outside the door. Jan searched the rest of the room.

  He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out his break-in card, and hooked it directly into the authentication input slot. The break-in card held a small decrypting circuit within that deciphered a person’s passcode. He inputted the civilian number of the minister, and the card started to work. Normally, a good break-in card would complete in less than five minutes. Through their cleverness in getting into the systems, the slashers and hackers had convinced most computer experts to put more of an emphasis on physical security and create natural choke points in the hardware design of the network. The solution for security was to forbid anyone other than the proper user to access the terminal.

  The weak point of the physical access terminals was if anyone managed to make it to a computer terminal behind the choke point, they would have free rein—as he hoped to have in a matter of moments.

  The light flashed green, and he entered the system right way. He pulled out his datapad and began to record relevant findings.

  INVENTORY was the first heading he saw. Most of the raw materials checked out as necessary projects; building structures, rail transportation, and ventilation systems were the main contributors. He recorded all the data under the INVENTORY header. Trying to get leads on further information in the computer system, he used the data sifter to look over the information returned using his selected parameters.