Martian Insurrection (Mars Colony Chronicles Book 3)

by Brandon Ellis

  “Permission to land in sterilization station one?” asked Ozzy.

  “Identify yourself, Sir. We’ll run checks, and then you can proceed to sterilization station one and clean your ship.”

  “Uh…” Ozzy looked around. He was a known criminal, probably logged in every holocomputer across Mars except Tagus Valles, thanks to Jonas’s clout. “Just a second.”

  “And, Sir, how are you invisible to our radar? If I hadn’t seen you with my own eyes, you would have impacted the shield and most likely exploded on contact.”

  The corners of Ozzy’s eyes crinkled. “Must be something wrong with your radar.” He muted his com line and spun in his chair. “Jozi. Get up here, quickly.”

  Footsteps pounded across the lower deck and panged up the ladder. She put her hands on her hips, heaving. “What is it?”

  “I need your help. They want me to identify myself.”

  Jozi nodded then sat and unmuted the com line. “Tower, this is Tonya Murphy of the Mars Ministry Police. My ID number is 115432. Please check and verify.”

  “Okay, we have you here. What is your passcode?”

  “It’s lioness,” she replied.

  “You may enter when ready,” responded the tower.

  The sterilization chamber doors opened.

  Ozzy raised an eyebrow. “Care to explain?”

  “It’s another agent’s ID and passcode. I know a few more if we need them.”

  Ozzy smiled. “Alright.” He lowered into the flyway port.

  His com line rang with an anonymous number. Ozzy glanced at Jozi.

  She shrugged.

  Anonymity’s face lit the screen when Ozzy answered the call. “Welcome to Schroeter City, Ozzy.”

  Ozzy squinted his eyes. “How do you know where we are?”

  Anonymity tapped on a device in front of him that was hidden from view. “Let me show you something.”

  “We don’t have time.”

  “Oh, you will for this.”

  The screen changed, and High Judge Robert Baldwin was standing next to his desk, talking to a large human all decked out in a battle suit strapped full of weapons. On the right of the screen showed the date—a week ago.

  “Who is that with him?” Ozzy asked.

  “I’ll zoom in on the video.”

  When he did, Ozzy could tell exactly who was next to Robert. “Quad.”

  “Now listen,” Anonymity said.

  Robert leaned against his desk and crossed his arms, his squirrelly sounding voice penetrating the room. “Ozzy Mack has been a criminal for many years and very elusive. I imagine he won’t be so elusive for you, correct?”

  Quad inclined his head. “I’ll get the job done, but I need auric credits up front.”

  “And you will kill this criminal?” Robert asked.

  “What has he done?”

  “Two things: he has been breaking our excavation laws and codes for years now, stealing and killing innocent women and children.”

  Ozzy lurched back. “That son of a—”

  “The other thing is he has damning holovids, holodocs, and holoimages of me, which are, of course, doctored.”

  “Is there more?” inquired Quad.

  Robert placed his hands on his desk. “If you see a woman with him who has black hair and blue eyes, young and pretty, that’s Jozi.” He straightened in his posture and pulled a necklace out from under his white robe collar. It was the same pendant Jozi wore, the one her father had made. He clasped it in his hand much as Jozi had done on several occasions. “There are some things I don’t want her to know. She needs to be silenced.”

  Quad dipped his head. “That’s not my concern. Personal issues are your issues, and those matters don’t belong in my business. I will take out this Ozzy criminal, but Jozi is a non-issue to me.” He slapped his chest when he said me.

  The vid turned off, and Anonymity reappeared on the screen. “He is breaking the Ministry laws on many accounts with this action alone, which will help your cause, Ozzy.”

  It was true. Hiring someone to kill another person was against the law, especially by a government official.

  He glanced at Jozi, who had seen and heard everything. She was unconsciously clutching her pendant. Ozzy looked down at it, and she realized what she was doing and gently slid it behind her collar where it dangled under her jumpsuit. Her lips were tight, and Ozzy could tell she wanted to do anything but remain quiet. She wanted to yell and wanted to throw everything she had at her uncle.

  At least now she had a hint at what Robert was capable of even to his own niece. Silencing Jozi didn’t mean he wanted her alive and not speaking; he wanted her dead, and Jozi was smart enough to know that.

  Ozzy turned back to Anonymity. “But that vid alone isn’t enough to throw him in prison.”

  Anonymity shook his head. “This just proves your case more, Ozzy. This, plus all the information we’ll be spewing across the com channels tomorrow, will damage the guy in more ways than we could ever imagine.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  Jozi chimed in. “You didn’t doctor that video in any way, did you?”

  “Why would I do that, Jozi?”

  She stared at him, studying him and perhaps trying to catch him in a lie. She was a trained MMP agent and could probably spot a lie by a person’s posture, their twitches, their type of eye contact, and their facial features. “You are telling the truth. But there is something else you are calling us about, Anonymity. You wouldn’t be calling us unless you have another angle here.”

  “This goes out tomorrow. All of it. I can’t really feel it in my heart to put the polished politician in jail without a little more. . .compensation.”

  Ozzy sat straighter. “What? That’s not part of the deal.”

  “It is now.”

  Jozi moaned. “I heard that’s how you do things. I should have listened.” She shrugged. “Don’t spend more money, Ozzy.”

  “Then none of this will go out tomorrow,” said Anonymity, a chuckle trailing his statement.

  Ozzy understood. This was how things were done in the criminal world. He didn’t like it and had always fought against it, but he, nevertheless, constantly had to deal with it. “Fine, how much more?”

  “Two million auric credits.”

  Damn. Like always, Ozzy needed all the money he could save, and this would put another dent in his savings. “One million.”

  “Don’t do it, Ozzy,” came Jozi.

  “Still trying to save your uncle even after what you saw?” Ozzy shook his head in disbelief. She had a lot of confidence that people could change, but this was ridiculous.

  Anonymity cleared his throat to get Ozzy’s attention. “Deal, Ozzy. Send it over now.”

  Ozzy punched in the information on his auric wallet and sent over the funds. “You’re welcome.”

  The com channel blipped off.

  Ozzy rubbed his hands together. “That piece of shit knows how to do business.” He let out a sigh.

  Jozi also exhaled sharply, her posture hunching. “Let’s just get to Lyra No Tail.”

  At least that was something they could agree on.

  He hurried out of his cockpit and slid down the ladder, pausing when his feet hit the floor. Quad was standing, stuck between the wall and the forks with his arms hanging by his side.

  He was like a statue.

  Gragas, sitting on a fork and sharpening one of his knives, looked over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

  “Stay here and guard Quad.”

  “You spared my life, Ozzy. That means I spare yours,” said Quad. “No need to guard me.”

  Jozi stepped onto the lower deck. “Do you trust him, Gragas?”

  Water flowed through the hole in the ceiling like a mini waterfall. Schroeter City’s sterilization port had begun the cleaning process.

  Gragas sheathed his knife. “Yes, he’s right. He’s by the code and by the book. Trust him.”

  Ozzy jerked his head back and snorted. “Trust
him?” That didn’t sound like the best idea, but it came from Gragas’s mouth. Gragas had yet to be wrong about much of anything. Plus, he may need the Galactic Knight on his side when dealing with Lyra No Tail.

  Ozzy motioned toward the rack above the workbench. “Grab the hemp rope and tie him up for me?”

  “Are you going to keep me here forever?” asked Quad. He was stuck. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Maybe. Tie him well, Gragas.”

  Gragas snatched the rope and carried it toward Quad.

  A buzz inside the cleaning port told Ozzy that the oxygen levels were optimal. Another buzz and the water turned off.

  Ozzy slapped the “open” button. “Let’s get to Lyra No Tail and convince her I need her craft.”

  23

  Schroeter City, Mars

  Ozzy walked down a long underground tunnel, which had a slight descending grade. Schroeter City was above ground but, for some reason, Lyra seemed to like the metropolis’s cold, dark underworld.

  Above, flying cars buzzed by, hovermonorails zipped high atop sidewalks, and the nighttime holographic images and lights covered just about every downtown building, signaling that the crazy nightlife was about to get underway.

  Gragas and Jozi flanked either side of Ozzy.

  Jozi held her hands on her holsters, watching the people walking up and down the tunnel. She was like a wolf, looking for prey.

  Lights dangled from the ceiling and set a dim glow throughout the tunnel.

  “Take the Eagle and get yourself to Europa instead of flying to Earth,” said Gragas. He moved around a sleeping transient and leaned against the tunnel’s wall. “You will not survive Earth. The Dunrakee would kill you in minutes upon arriving.”

  Ozzy stopped and cleared his throat. “Why are you helping me so much, Gragas? I know why Jozi is because she’s in the same predicament that I’m in—being wanted for something the High Judge claims we did. He set us up, but I’m thinking the High Judge couldn’t set you up even if he tried.”

  Gragas motioned to a robed man who was hunched over. “Let’s keep walking.”

  “Tell me, Gragas.”

  Gragas shook his head, plodding forward. Ozzy and Jozi followed. They passed a few other men and women who were all hunched over and ambling onward.

  Gragas pointed ahead. “There’s more of them.”

  “I don’t care,” said Ozzy. “Why are you helping me?”

  “Because you’re of the bloodline, and I want to recruit you into the Galactic Knight network. That’s why.”

  Ozzy passed yet another monk look-alike. “That’s not all and you know it.”

  Ahead was a large golden door. It was decked out in elaborate cat figures around its edges.

  “The bloodline is more powerful than you can imagine. If I lose any more Beings who are of the bloodline, then we have no chance against any genocidal races here to destroy the galaxy, much like my race, the Dunrakee.”

  “What does the bloodline do? I don’t have special powers, so why the hell would you need me?”

  “You are able to decode what most cannot. It comes naturally to you. It’s a gift, but it’s more than that. You may think it’s not much, but it’s worth more than all the money in the universe. With the blood you carry, you can figure out just about any ancient secret that comes your way, and that’s what I need. That’s what the galaxy needs.”

  “That’s Lyra No Tail’s lair,” Jozi said, still eyeing the surroundings as if someone would jump out at any minute.

  A row of crouched, robed figures lined the walls, almost as if waiting for someone to come out of the doors to worship. Perhaps Lyra was a celebrity among monks?

  This was beyond strange.

  Ozzy stopped at the door and knocked.

  The door swung open abruptly. A man in a Mars Ministry Police outfit stood with his hands cupped at his midsection. “May I help you, gentlemen?” He glanced at Jozi and winced. He gave her an odd look as if he knew her but probably couldn’t quite place from where. “And lady.”

  Ozzy peered inside. “What’s going on?”

  Blood was splattered all over the floor. A body, wearing Boyd’s signature orange shirt and black pants, was lying on a couch. A bullet hole was through his head, and blood was dripping from the couch to the floor.

  Ozzy could see the profile of a man in a trench coat and a top hat. He was surrounded by MMP agents and giving them orders while they busily searched this underground abode. The man eyed Ozzy then turned back around.

  “I’m sorry. This is police business,” said an agent who was looking Ozzy up and down. “I thought you all were other agents who were supposed to be here. You’ll all need to be on your way.”

  The man in the top hat spun around fully, and his mouth gaped open when he realized who was standing there.

  The agent slammed the door shut.

  Ozzy backed up. “Be ready.”

  The same agent who spoke prior flung the door open and stood like a shadow in the entryway. “Stop.”

  Ozzy held up his hands. “Yes?”

  The agent gestured for Ozzy to step inside, but Ozzy shook his head.

  Mort Wildly stepped into view. “Ozzy Mack. You little scoundrel, you. I just love it when coincidence meets the short end of a smoky muzzle, don’t you?”

  Ozzy went for his sidearm. The agent was faster.

  Whapooh!

  A photon bolt from behind Ozzy whizzed by his ear and put a scorched hole in the agent’s forehead, who lurched and slumped to the floor, his eyes still open and his breath as still as calm water.

  Wildly dove away and kicked the door closed as he disappeared from view.

  One of the monks threw his robe off, followed by another. The click-clack of photon rifles echoed in the tunnel.

  The monks rushed forward, screaming, and let loose several photon slugs toward the door.

  Ozzy shielded his eyes from the splinters bursting from the entryway. What the hell was happening?

  24

  Schroeter City, Mars

  Jozi pushed Ozzy out of the way, and Gragas stood in front of him, blocking the shards of breaking wood.

  Klackow!

  The door, pulled from its hinges, exploded and pieces bounced on the floor.

  Ozzy rolled to the side, aiming his photon pistol, and Jozi tucked and rolled, pulling out both guns holstered to her side as the MMP agents and Mort Wildly’s men returned fire.

  Gragas was down on one knee aiming his rifle at any moving figure.

  Blue explosions from the photon charges and beams shot back and forth through the doorway. It was a grand display of energy weapons.

  A blast erupted next to Ozzy and left a black streak on the wall. He pulled his trigger, sending a volley of photon beams through the doorway.

  “Move forward,” a monk yelled.

  A horde of monks, some wearing hooded robes and others throwing them off, raced toward the blown-out door. These must be the guards of Lyra No Tail.

  Ziiwachiii!

  An MMP flash grenade detonated at one of the monk’s feet. He lifted off the ground and was tossed onto his back.

  Ozzy closed his eyes from the bright light expanding from the discharge. Someone stepped on him as they ran by. He lifted his head to see who it was, but the light was too much.

  “Cease-fire,” yelled a monk. “Cease-fire.” It was a woman’s voice.

  The light faded, and Wildly, some of his men, and a few MMP agents were rounding a corner and running away as fast as they could.

  The woman monk extended her hand, pointing down the tunnelway. “Sammy, Foma, Shangli. After them.”

  Three monks grunted their acknowledgments and raced after Wildly and his bunch, also disappearing around the corner.

  The leader dropped her hood.

  It was Lyra No Tail.

  Her silver fur glowed, and she had a golden tuff of hair on her head that curled over her wide, cat-like eyes.

  She was strapped with guns around her w
aist and had a bow-like weapon over her shoulder. Ozzy couldn’t tell exactly what it was.

  Her eyes bored into Ozzy’s. “Why are you here?”

  Ozzy stood, dusting himself off. “The real question to ask is…what just happened?”

  Lyra bit her lower lip, her sharp, front teeth digging into her fur. “Mort Wildly and his alliance with the Ministry is what just happened.” She pulled out a dagger and quickly swiped the string connecting the robe to her chest. The robe fell to the floor.

  She was all fur, except for a sports bra and short, tight pants that went to her knees. She ran her tongue along her fur.

  A few monks dropped their robes and pulled out small towels from their pockets. They grabbed water flasks from their satchels and dampened the towels, which they used to rub down her arms.

  Jozi approached Ozzy. “What’s she doing?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No idea.”

  Lyra shooed her monks away. “Okay, come inside.” She snapped her fingers, motioning for Ozzy to join her. “Your friends cannot follow.”

  Gragas unsheathed a dagger. The monks pointed their weapons at him.

  “Are you okay with going inside alone, Ozzy?”

  “I’m fine.” He eyed Lyra. “Tell your men and women to lower their weapons. I’ll join you.”

  “All’s fair,” she said. “Lower your weapons.”

  “Thank you,” Ozzy said and followed into her lair. Several dead people were lying on the ground, and red, sticky blood was streaked down the cement walls that made up Lyra’s home.

  His mouth about dropped to the floor, and he bit back the vomit that rose up his throat. The room stunk of singed hair and burned skin. The aroma of death and rotting flesh wafted in the air, along with a terrible and eerie silence.

  He stepped over a dead agent and glanced around.

  MMP agents were littered on the floor along with several of Wildly’s men and some of Lyra’s monks.

  Again, all dead.

  The walls were poked full of holes. Pieces of cement and brick were on the ground. A fireplace was caved in, and sofas and chairs were torn to shreds.

  It looked like a world war took place in Lyra’s main hall.