Mars Rising (Domeworld Saga Book 1)

by John Corwin

  The top was so close. All he needed was a few more steps. Max hefted Sarah for one final try. One step. Two steps. The headache tightened like a vice around his skull.

  Max saw the faces, the ghosts of the innocents he'd let die—Brad Cooper, Nathan Harris, Edwin Mill, and too many more until they all ran together. Saw his mother's face as she told him that final farewell. Felt the clap of his father's hand on his shoulder before they took their last steps outside.

  Mom, Dad, Sarah, I love you!

  With a grunt of effort, he took the final step to the top.

  What he saw over the dunes was not the endless rolling wasteland of Mars, no mountains, or pockmarked craters. Instead, he saw a silver door nestled against a dark backdrop. He stood there for a shocked instant just before his vision crumbled. Gasping for breath, head ready to implode, Max took one more step forward. His knees folded.

  Max Planck tumbled down the dune and into the eternal dark.

  Chapter 9

  Two figures struggled across a red wasteland, their story unfolding in dramatic fashion on the large monitors near the airlock leading from City 7 to the harsh Martian surface.

  Scarlett Flynn held her breath as she watched Max Planck's broad-shouldered figure aid his slim sister toward the tall, red Martian dunes in the distance. Governor Alderman gazed upon the proceedings with all the confidence of a dictator who'd just put his last political enemies in front of a firing squad.

  It took Scarlett a great deal of control not to smile. Max and Sarah might be good as dead, but she had a feeling they'd make it a lot further than anyone else.

  The pair paused at a small mound about halfway to the dunes. At first, Scarlett thought they were paying their respects to Rick and Claire Planck, their executed parents. Gasps rose from the civvie side of the crowd when Sarah stumbled and fell to her knees. Max leaned down and picked up his fallen sister, cradling her like a baby. Clapping rang out, quickly silenced as whoever it was realized they might end up feeding the father if Alderman or his cronies found out who it was.

  "He's still going," a civvie behind Scarlett whispered excitedly. "How do you reckon he's doing it?"

  "I can't believe the Constable was planning to shoot the governor," someone else hissed.

  Scarlett glanced over at the crowd of lab coats in the other section of stands. They seemed puzzled, no doubt in a more scientific way than the plainspoken civvies behind her. She imagined them jotting down equations based on human lung capacity and the odds of surviving a cold airless void. One of them scratched his head and looked at a comrade, face screwed up with confusion.

  They didn't have all the variables. After all, the odds were a lot better when you had an air canister like the one Scarlett had given Max. It wouldn't save the man's life, but it'd prolong it enough to make a fool of the governor and his men.

  You might've been an uncaring ass most your life, Max Planck, but today you get to shine. The former constable hadn't done a damned thing right by any of the people he was sworn to protect or the law he was supposed to uphold until the day Administrator Barnes brought in Max's sister to feed the father. How many times had Scarlett fantasized about booting Max out of the airlock? How many times had she wished he'd get his just desserts for letting innocents die?

  Max carried his sister to the base of the dunes, neck craning up at the tall, red mound. He took a step forward and staggered. It seemed even the air canister might not be enough to help him to the top of that last symbolic obstacle.

  You made it far enough, Max Planck. Now you can die.

  Alderman whispered something to Barnes and the pair turned to Gavin Kearns. Investigator Simmons stepped in between and pointed toward the monitors. Their conspiring seemed to go unnoticed by the entranced audience. No one had ever survived long enough to reach the dunes, but Max Planck was nearly halfway up one.

  "Go, Constable, go," someone behind Scarlett murmured.

  Scarlett felt her cheeks go hot. Was someone really pulling for Max just because he'd taken a few steps more than anyone else outside? He was the puppet constable who'd rubberstamped every execution over the past five or six years! People forgot too quickly. Anyway, it looked like Alderman and his pack of dirty rats were sweating just as she'd hoped.

  There was a new constable in town, and Scarlett Flynn wasn't going to just lie down like Max Planck. She planned to fight for the lives of the people under her watch. She'd earn their respect and make sure the establishment didn't run over their rights.

  A collective outcry from the crowd jerked Scarlett from her reverie. She glanced up at the monitors just as Max toppled over the crest of the dune and vanished from sight.

  Alderman came back to the microphone, smiling as if everything had gone as planned. "The father is fed that we all may live."

  "Father sustain us," the people replied out of reflex.

  "As you may have realized, we outfitted the traitors with improved suits to test environmental variables," Alderman said. "I just received word from the labs that we were able to collect extensive data."

  "Bullshit," someone whispered.

  A man growled. "Lab coats." He spat the words like a curse. "We're just their rats."

  "Now that this onerous duty is done, everyone may return to their daily schedules," Alderman said. The monitors flickered off and the crowd began to disperse.

  Scarlett mingled with the crowd but remained to watch the city leaders for a moment. Governor Alderman scowled. Administrator Barnes seemed confused. Investigator Simmons looked as unconcerned as always, while Kearns seemed to be thinking about something else entirely. The fifth spoke of the inner circle, Lyle Babbage, was absent as usual.

  If only she could hear even a moment of that conversation. Scarlett turned and followed the crowd back into town. Despite the twin executions, many civvies had a bounce to their step, a certain defiance in their eyes. Max's long walk had left a positive impression on these people. What she didn't understand was why. The former constable had done nothing to earn their respect except survive longer than anyone else outside. If they knew the truth, they wouldn't be nearly as impressed.

  "Well, if it isn't the new constable," Barlow McGee said.

  "Good luck filling those shoes," grumbled Patrick Miller.

  Scarlett set her arms akimbo. "Just what do you mean by that?"

  Patrick shook his head slowly but said nothing.

  Olga Birch slowed down and let Scarlett catch up to her. "Poor Max. He was such a good soul. I hope you have an easier time of it, Scarlett."

  "A good soul? Do you know how many feedings Constable Planck allowed on his watch?" Scarlett blew out a frustrated breath. "The man's gone and died, and everyone has amnesia about his record."

  "Oh, I thought you knew," Olga said. Her eyes flashed as if she'd said too much, and she drifted away.

  "Knew what?" Scarlett looked around, but the other woman had already melted back into the throng.

  "You ain't no Planck," growled Dusty Evans.

  "Better believe it," Scarlett shot back. "What did Max Planck ever do for any of you people except let the governor execute you?"

  The crowd drifted apart, leaving Scarlett in a pocket of emptiness that lasted the entire walk back to Central. She looked behind her and saw only suspicious eyes and hard faces. People should've been celebrating the death of the worthless constable. Instead, they seemed to be in mourning.

  A large group of civvies went east on Main Street toward the mechworks even though plenty of them wore the colors of the southern farms, and Scarlett quickly realized they were headed for the saloon. She figured it might not be a bad idea to grab a swill for herself, if only to listen to the workers after a few drinks had loosened their tongues.

  The building was full to overflowing when she walked in. A few curious looks came her way, but Scarlett visited the saloon enough to look like a regular. She didn't much care for swill, but found it useful to mingle with the civvies so they looked at her like she was one of them. Somet
hing seemed to have changed the minute Max stepped out of the airlock and made her constable.

  Conversations grew quieter around the bar as she walked up to it and ordered a Hatfield.

  The barkeep, Gerald Kline, seemed to be the only one with a friendly word for her. "How ya settling in, Constable Flynn?"

  It felt mighty strange to be called the constable all of a sudden. "I haven't figured that out yet," Scarlett replied with a smile. "Looks like everyone decided to spend their rations on swill today."

  He shrugged and wiped a glass with a cloth. "Same thing happened when Rick and Claire Planck went out the airlock. Double feedings get people to talking." Gerald set a glass filled with clear Hatfield swill in front of Scarlett.

  "Yeah, but Constable Planck fed a lot of these people's loved ones to the father and daughter." She took a sip and winced at the sharp bite. "I thought they'd be happy he's dead."

  "Everyone knows you gave Constable Planck a hard time." Gerald grinned at the look Scarlett gave him. He filled another glass and slid it to another patron.

  "I didn't think he was doing his job," she shot back.

  "He did his best under the circumstances." The barkeep quickly filled three more glasses and slid them to a group of thirsty-looking men. "I reckon you'll get a better idea now that you're in his shoes."

  "I'm wearing my own shoes, thank you very much." Scarlett took another sip and nodded toward Sally Cooper and her mate Paul. "Max saw their boy, Brad, to the grinder. Fed him to the daughter. I'll bet they wouldn't agree with your reasoning."

  "Maybe you ought to go ask them yourself." Gerald lined up a few more glasses. "Let me know if you need anything else, Constable Scarlett." He winked and turned back to his duties.

  Scarlett picked up her glass and pursed her lips. Maybe I will go ask them. She sauntered over toward the couple, trying to act as if she was simply passing by them to another table. "Oh, hello, Sally. Good day, Paul."

  Paul's wrinkled face pinched. "Oh, Deputy Flynn. I didn't see you."

  "It's Constable Flynn now," Sally said, her voice not quite pleased. "Paul doesn't see as well as he used to. Brassworks is taking a toll."

  "Doesn't much matter," Paul said with a quick grin. "Sometimes I reckon the grinder is a mercy after a few years of working below."

  "Well, at least you can breathe easier now," Scarlett said. "The man who fed your boy to the daughter got served his own justice today."

  Sally's jaw went tight. "I don't believe I heard you right, Constable Flynn. You saying we should be thankful Max is dead?"

  Paul's grin vanished in an instant. "Our boy, Brad, ran away. Said he knew the lab coats were hiding something from us and planned to climb Overlook to prove it. Constable Planck tracked him down and brought him home before he did harm to himself."

  Scarlett shook her head. "But—"

  "Max even got his sister, Sarah involved," Sally said. "She told him there wasn't anything up there, that she'd been and looked."

  Paul wiped at his eyes. "Fool boy didn't believe them, but he sure convinced us he had. Two days later, he got caught trying to sneak into Overlook. Constable Planck was real torn up about it, but once you break the rules, there's no salvation from the administrators."

  "Constable Planck tried to prevent it." Sally sniffed. "We don't blame him for what happened next."

  Scarlett was at a loss for words. Maybe Max had a talk with Brad, but that didn't change the end result. If he'd fought for the boy's life, maybe he could have saved it. She decided these people were simply being irrational, and that was just fine by her. Once she showed everyone how to stand up to the powers that be, they'd learn to respect her.

  She gulped down the rest of the swill, wincing at the burn as it worked its way down her throat. "Well, I'm glad you're at peace about it." She nodded at the Coopers. "Good day."

  "Yep," Sally said and turned back to her mate.

  Scarlett decided it was time to leave and headed for the door. The moment she stepped outside, she could have sworn the volume of conversation went up a few notches. Scattered groups of civvies talked in the street. Alderman and his lot didn't allow for large assemblies except for executions. Judging from the looks on some of the faces, there was a lot of anger out there.

  As the new constable, she should probably break up the groups and tell them to go back to their jobs or homes. But that wasn't the way she planned to run this town. To hell with the governor and his people—she was going to set things right. The dome above began to darken into twilight and Scarlett's stomach rumbled right on cue. It was nearly supper time. She left the crowds behind and headed toward the communes. On the way there, she passed the apartment assigned to the constable and realized that soon she'd be moving from her tiny studio into something larger.

  She reached in her pocket and felt the star-shaped badge she'd liberated from Max before his execution. With him gone, this place was pretty much hers now. Scarlett took out the badge and rotated it in her fingers. If that was the case, why hadn't she put on the badge yet? What made her linger outside in the street instead of walking into the home of her dead mentor?

  "I'm being silly," Scarlett told herself. She marched up to the door and pressed the badge into the token slot. The latch clicked and the presswood door popped open. She pinned the badge to her uniform and stepped over the threshold. The inside of the apartment was at least double the size of hers, maybe more. It had a separate den, kitchen, and bedroom, whereas hers was all one tiny room.

  Aside from a few cooking utensils, there was almost no sign anyone else had ever lived here. A cabinet in the bathroom held a few bottles of pills and male grooming instruments. The only personalized item in the place was a family picture. Scarlett recognized Rick, Claire, and the younger versions of Max and Sarah. They looked like a happy family.

  "Least you got to enjoy your childhood," Scarlett murmured to the ghosts in the frame. She'd been a freezer baby herself, assigned to Martin and Ellen Flynn in mechworks. Martin died when she was five and Ellen was reassigned to another mate, Scott Flannery. He died when a spool of recycled copper crushed him.

  Ellen did a good job caring for Scarlett when she was little, but it was clear that her mother looked at it like an assignment. Not that Scarlett could blame the woman. The lab coats assigned babies and mates based on science, not love. The minute you dared love anything in this little world, it was guaranteed to die or vanish. Max Planck and his family were ample proof of that.

  She tossed the picture, frame and all, in the recycle bin. Everything else in this place could still serve a purpose and, since Max had no living relatives, there was no sense in keeping a memento. Scarlett finished surveying the rest of the apartment and decided she'd move her things in tomorrow. It wasn't like she'd accumulated much over the years anyway.

  On the way out, she stopped and looked at the picture frame and wondered if she should keep it. Even if she couldn't make use of a frame, perhaps someone else might like it. Then again, it was something she could decide tomorrow.

  Scarlett stepped outside the apartment and turned up the road toward her place when she saw a man riding a bladewheel up the street. Science Division marshals and some of the lab coats had access to bladewheels, but the constable was the only civvie allowed one. The rider was short and thin with a belly shaped like a dome—easy to identify even from this distance.

  Dominic looked a great deal like his biological father, Administrator Barnes, and had inherited very few traits of his lovely mother, Alyssa. Which was unfortunate for Dominic. The scientists rarely wasted good breeding stock, but if one of the government leaders wanted something, they got it.

  At the last minute, Dominic veered the bladewheel toward the curb and tried to hop it. The wheel didn't clear the obstacle, sending the rider stumbling onto the concrete while the unicycle crashed onto the street.

  "What in the world are you doing?" Scarlett lifted the bladewheel and looked at the scars on the carbon fiber casing. She checked the wheel, but
it looked undamaged. She jumped up and got in the young man's face. "Who gave you the authority to ride this?"

  Dominic dusted himself off and looked at a small scrape as if Scarlett wasn't even there. Satisfied he wasn't injured, he turned on her. "Better watch how you talk to your boss, Deputy Flynn."

  Chapter 10

  Scarlett sputtered with shock. "Deputy? I'm the constable now."

  He snorted. "What, you think the position is inherited or something? The governor assigned me as the new constable."

  This was outrageous! "Have you even tested for law enforcement? I'll bet you don't know the first thing about it."

  Dominic shrugged and looked at her chest. "You're wearing my badge."

  Scarlett backed away. "This is a mistake. Just because your father—"

  "My father could fire you if he wanted." He grabbed the star and jerked it off her uniform.

  Fire flashed through Scarlett's face. Her knee caught Dominic in the gut. Before the yelp of surprise was out of his mouth, Scarlett threw a leg behind his, and shoved his chest hard. He slammed onto the sidewalk with an explosive breath. She took the star from his limp fingers. "Don't you dare take something from me without asking politely. You understand, boy?"

  Wind rattled from his throat as he tried to draw a breath.

  "I'll wait until you ask me nicely, Dominic."

  It took him a moment to recover. When he did, the first thing out of his mouth wasn't an apology or a request. "I'll throw you out the airlock myself, bitch."

  "I doubt you could lift me," she said sweetly. Scarlett stood and dropped the badge on the ground. "Good evening, Constable." She got on the bladewheel and rode it for home.

  Once she was out of sight, she trembled and nearly fell off the unicycle. You are an idiot, Scarlett Flynn! Dominic might be a weak little idiot like his father, but they could have someone like Marshal Garth rough her up, or even convince the governor to throw her out of the airlock. She'd just plain and simple lost her patience with the man.