by Liam Scott
“We should go,” Atlas said. He walked slowly out of the hallway and Saros followed behind him. Once they realized no one was going to stop them, they ran headlong to the nearest flight of stairs and up into the upper levels.
The power would take a while to reboot and it was still dark through the long halls. Saros flicked on his odd little flashlight sped by various passageways and small, antechambers. They passed by dim lounge, its mellow, soft music playing eerily through the open doors and out into the hall. The cafe was abandoned as they ran by the next corridor and Atlas could still smell the lingering scent of pancakes and coffee.
“That’s it up there,” Atlas said, pointing at the large doors that led into the atrium’s immense space.
“Got any weapons?”
Atlas looked sideways at him, “You’re going to shoot your own men?”
“How many times do I have to say it? My men didn’t shut off-”
Saros stopped short behind him as Atlas froze in the doorway, staring wide-eyed into the atrium.
Chapter Nine: The Mayhem
“H ello, son.”
It had been so many years since Atlas had laid eyes on his father that he almost didn’t recognize him standing there in the middle of the crowded room, a horde of soldiers spread behind him. Around the atrium, several bodies lay prone on the floor. The soldiers held their guns aloft, pointed at the civilians as the pirates had before them.
“Hey!” Saros cried, looking around at the mayhem and at his pirates, scattered around the room in fear. “This is our hold-up!”
William Atlas raised an eyebrow, looking Saros over, from his red ponytail to his lace-up boots.
“Saros Redding,” he proclaimed haughtily. “You’ve turned out exactly as I’d predicted.”
“Thanks?”
“What are you- What do you want?” Atlas stuttered, interrupting their repartee.
“Well, is that any way to welcome your father?”
William Atlas was a broad man, tall and dark haired, like some villainous mob boss out of an old vintage, crime film. He wore the Alliance emblem on his breast, high and mighty. His tie was impeccably knotted and his suit was untarnished. There was grey at his temples that hadn’t been there the last time they’d encountered one another, and Atlas supposed that the hostile takeover of an entire planet was likely very stressful on a person.
“I think he’s waiting on you to say something,” Saros mumbled lowly. Atlas had forgotten he was behind him and jumped at the sound of his voice.
“It’s been years,” Atlas said shortly. This was the last place he wanted to be, and seeing his father reminded him of all the painful things he tried so hard to forget.
“Yes, you’ve kept yourself well-hidden,” William said, looking disappointed. “There was no need, John. I would have welcomed you back with open arms.” He was the only person to ever call Atlas “John” and Atlas hated it.
“I didn’t want to come back,” Atlas replied, struggling to keep his voice level.
His father didn’t look surprised. Grace stood close to their father, looking apprehensive. Helene and the sergeant had moved to Atlas’ left side and Helene put a light hand on his lower back.
“I’d like what’s mine, now, son.”
“What makes you think I have them?” All around Atlas the Alliance soldiers began circling, growing closer and more threatening. Atlas resisted and shifted the bag over his shoulder.
“They’re not in the labs and they’re not inside your ship- thank you for that by the way, Sergeant Santana,” his father exulted, glancing across the atrium at the soldier. Atlas wondered if he looked as betrayed as he felt.
“Oh,” William Atlas said in mock surprise. “You didn’t know? Axel has been feeding me information from the very first day.”
Atlas stood rigid for a moment before he heard a shocked voice cry, “What? You’ve been what? You said you were protecting him,” Grace advanced across the room, coming to a stand in front of the sergeant.
“Grace-”
“No, Axel,” Grace appeared utterly heartbroken, though Atlas could still glimpse a small sliver of hope there. “Is it true?”
Axel looked over her head, at William Atlas who was staring expectantly at their group. He looked at Grace, standing in front of him, waiting for an answer. For a moment, Atlas was so sure that the sergeant was with them. Then, without a word, Axel stepped around Grace and joined William Atlas, standing at attention like the soldier he was.
“Very good,” their father said, looking triumphant. Atlas didn’t want to look at Grace, didn’t want to see the hurt he knew was reflected on his own face. They had both trusted Axel, in different ways. He remembered the diner, and the sergeant’s arm around his sister’s shoulder, and the way he’d trusted Atlas with his past. It wasn’t just duty and lies, it couldn’t have been. “As long as those samples remain beyond my reach, all of you will bide your time here, in this room. You four,” he said, pointing them out, “will be taken to the holding cells.” William motioned at one of the soldiers, “see that it’s done, Carmichael.”
Atlas had never been inside the holding cells. They were deep within the Colony, and rarely used outside of the rare thief or extortionist, and they each usually remained there a minimum of a few days. It was a long walk down empty, eerie corridors, dimly lit by the flickering auxiliary power. Saros strolled carelessly behind him, hands in his pockets, humming tunelessly under his breath. Grace stumbled over the lip of a doorway and before Atlas could help, Helene was there. She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turning abruptly to the soldier who told them to move along, giving him a nasty look. Atlas remembered the rucksack on his back and was careful not to draw attention to it. That, at least, was information that Axel was never privy to. He didn’t want to think about the sergeant’s betrayal but even though they had only known each other for a few days, it felt like something very important had taken a very bad turn.
“Hurry up,” one of the men snapped. Saros made a discontented noise behind him and Atlas turned back just in time to see him roll his eyes, like being herded into a jail cell was no big deal. It probably wasn’t the first time, he realized with amusement.
The cell was small and the door was reinforced, similar to the ones that led out into the open air but without the interior locking mechanism. The soldier called Carmichael shut the door with finality and Atlas leaned his forehead against the metal, bracing his hands on the frame. It was too much. What else could William Atlas have meant by calling the samples “his”? Atlas hadn’t wanted to see his father in the first place, but to discover that he was running secret excursions on Mars, which may have gotten Helene’s parent’s killed, he didn’t know what to think.
“So, we’re screwed,” Saros announced cheerfully, clapping his hands together. Helene huffed from where she was sitting in the corner with Grace splayed across her lap.
“You think? It’s your fault we’re here in the first place. None of us would’ve even been in the atrium and Atlas would’ve been long gone if not for you.”
“I”m just trying to get back to my crew now and Atlas would’ve been travelling to Earth- with an informant, I might add,” Grace flinched and Saros continued, “right into his father’s hands.”
“I don’t trust you,” Helene warned. “If you do anything to hurt Grace or Atlas, you won’t see tomorrow.” There was so much ire in her voice that even Atlas took her seriously, taking a dramatic step back. Saros, however, cackled.
“I like you, gorgeous,” he concluded, wiping tears from his eyes. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“I wasn’t headed to Earth,” Atlas blurted. They both turned to look at him and Grace glanced up, wiping at her face. “Well, not to the Alliance headquarters, anyway.”
“What do you mean, Johnny?” Grace raised her head.
“After the expedition,” he glanced at Helene, “I decided to keep the samples until I could get them to a faction-neutral specialist on Ea
rth who could tell me what they really contained. I didn’t tell Axel because I didn’t want him involved in case I was compromised.”
“Bit ironic,” Saros snorted. Atlas chose to ignore him.
“So, where are they?” Helene asked, blinking at him in surprise.
“Somewhere safe.” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them- well, aside from Saros- but there was no way he was putting them in danger. She and his sister had already been through enough. He watched Grace lay back down and sadness tore through him. He kneeled down in front of her, putting a warm hand over hers. She had always felt things so deeply and something like this, her own father disregarding her and someone so close to her betraying her trust, must’ve been wrenching to her soft, kind heart. “You’re so much stronger than you think. Don’t let this break you.”
Grace stared at him with limpid green eyes and seemed to decide something within herself. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, hands braced behind her. Helene brushed their shoulders together and Grace took a deep breath before speaking.
“We have to get out of here. Who has a plan?”
After a moment of complete silence, Saros slowly raised a hand. Grace glanced at him doubtfully.
“Not exactly a plan but I do have something that might help,” he said. He dug around in his pockets for a moment before he pulled out a small, rectangular device. It was matte black, scuffed and used, and there was a thin switch on one end and an opening on the other. Saros turned to the door and flicked the switch on the device. A tiny light shot out and smoke rose from the crack of the door.
“A laser?” Atlas exclaimed. “You casually carry a laser in your front pocket?”
Saros shrugged, pocketing the device again, “One never knows when one might require a laser.”
Atlas grinned, nodding appreciatively. Grace and Helene stood, brushing off their dusty palms. Saros stood back, motioning for the other to do the same. He slammed his booted foot into the door and with an almighty groan, the door slid from its hinges and frame, to lie flat on the floor. Atlas marveled for a moment before cautiously glancing into the corridor beyond.
“Someone will have heard that,” Helene said quickly.
“Let’s go,” Grace said, clapping Saros on the shoulder warmly as she passed. “Great job, Saros.”
Saros puffed up his chest, looking proud. Atlas grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the hall with them. The hallway seemed to go on forever and they moved cautiously, unsure of what might be awaiting them at the end. There was a thump and suddenly, Carmichael’s gruff voice reverberated down the length of the hall. He burst from their cell, fuming and looking murderous. He spotted his prisoners and raced toward them, pulling his gun from its holster. They ran, turning the corner as fast as possible. There was the pop of a stun gun and Atlas noticed with growing terror that Grace was no longer with them. He turned around, more terrified than he had ever felt in his entire life and the others followed, panting around the corner.
“It counts as self-defense,” Grace wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was on the floor, where Carmichael’s motionless body lay, stunned. The hand holding the gun was trembling as she lowered it, and Helene rushed forward. Atlas wanted to move but his limbs wouldn’t obey. His sister, his baby sister, had shot someone. She saved them, in all likelihood. Saros clapped, impressed. Atlas rushed forward suddenly to where Helene was pulling the gun away from Grace, to throw his arms around his sister.
“Where did you even get the gun, Gracie?” Atlas questioned, breathless with relief.
“Stole it off Axel in the atrium,” she replied simply. There was a slight shake to her voice and Atlas held her tightly. “Can’t breath.” She gasped with a small laugh. Atlas released her reluctantly.
“Thats the best and the worst thing you’ve ever done,” Atlas said.
“Thanks?”
“This has been lovely,” Saros interrupted. “Can we go now?”
They started down the hall again, toward the side bay, with renewed hope.
Chapter Ten: The Artifact
S urprisingly, there are no soldiers patrolling the lower halls. Atlas’ father was an arrogant man and he had most likely assumed that his captors would be no match for the reinforced cells. Grace and Saros took lead, while Helene and Atlas fell behind.
“I’m so sorry about Sergeant Santana,” Helene said quietly. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah,” Atlas shook his head, “but I guess that was the point.” Trust was not something that came easily to him and life proved to him again and again that naivety was a bad call. He reached for Helene’s hand. She squeezed his fingers, grounding him.
“Well I’m not, y’know- a spy.”
“I know,” Atlas agreed with enthusiasm. “You’re too loud.”
“Hey!” Helene punched his arm lightly. Atlas laughed.
“Hi,” Saros replied from ahead of them.
“Are you a part of this conversation?” Helene sniped.
Grace shushed them from the front of the line. Beyond the door, there was shuffling like booted feet.
“Who-” Helene started. Saros clapped a hand over her mouth as the footsteps moved again, shifting shadows under the door. She stomped on his foot and he bit his tongue.
“Really?!” Saros hissed as the footsteps pattered away, hopping on one foot.
Atlas high-fived her.
“Nice counter-strike.”
“Sorry,” Helene told Saros, looking only a little apologetic.
Suddenly, the door burst open and Axel Santana stood firm in the doorway. Grace stumbled back from his presence, losing all of her momentum from before. Saros pulled Helene back, and she shoved his shoulder. Atlas felt rage bubbling up. All of the hurt and betrayal he had been trying to hide came rushing to the surface and he lashed out, punching Axel across the jaw. His fist smacked hard against solid bone and Axel made a sound of surprise. Atlas’ knuckles screamed in pain and the sergeant took a steadying step back, cradling his jaw in his broad hand. Saros whistled lowly.
“You’re a liar,” Atlas spit. Helene put a hand on his arm and resisted the urge to shake her off. “You knew damn well how I felt about him and still, you fed him information and led him right to us. And then with Grace- bastard,” he snarled.
“You could never understand, I owed him my life.” The sergeant’s voice wavered and he turned his attention to Grace, standing with uncertainty beside Atlas, who was breathing heavily. “Gracie, please-”
“Don’t.” Grace tucked her stun gun into her belt. “If you cared about any of us, at all, you’ll let us pass. Please. I won’t ask anything more of you.”
Axel’s eyes glimmered for a moment and he blinked quickly. He moved away from the door and they slipped passed him. Atlas glanced back to see Grace press a hand to his cheek, after which, the sergeant closed his eyes and and pressed their foreheads together. She stayed there briefly, before joining them.
“You trust him?” Atlas muttered. They were closing in on the side door now, up the stairs, and Atlas could see the maintenance receptacle where the space suits were held.
“No,” Grace replied, her chin up and her soft voice trembling. “But I love him.”
“That’s never enough, Gracie,” Atlas said gently. He had suspected as much from his first encounter with her and Axel, together, but he wasn’t sure.
“I know.”
Atlas put a comforting arm around her shoulders and she leaned into her brother. She pressed her stun gun into his hand, “you should keep this. You might need it.”
“You’ll protect me, Deadshot,” Atlas grinned. “I’m confident in your abilities.”
“That was my first time using a gun,” she admitted.
“Don’t worry about it,” Saros quipped brightly. “If Carmichael noticed, it would’ve been too late anyway.”
“That’s reassuring.” Helene rolled her eyes.
Saros threw his hands out wide, “I’m here to help.”
Atlas was the fir
st to grab his space suit and he pulled it on easily over his clothes. Helene was next and she zipped her suit up with practiced precision.
“Don’t forget your helmets,” she told them, tucking her own helmet under her arm. Saros and Grace followed suit.
On the landing at the top of the stairs, Helene stared out the small window and into the side bay. The rover they had taken was still there and two smaller vehicles had joined it, the Alliance insignia emblazoned over their sides.
“The destination should still be in the navigation system, we just have to start the rover.”
They secured their helmets and opened the heavy, reinforced door. Saros strolled over to the faction’s vehicles and casually stabbed wide holes in each of the thick, treaded tires.
“Nice,” Atlas commented.
Soras shrugged, pocketing his knife, “can’t chase us if they don’t have transport.”
The rover started up quietly behind them and Atlas realized Grace and Helene had already climbed inside. There was a commotion at the door and as Saros climbed up, the last to enter, irate soldiers came hurtling through the door. Atlas held his rucksack safe in his lap as Helene threw the rover in reverse and they jolted backwards. They hit the lip of the bay hard and Altas winced as his head smacked against the roof.
“Maybe I should drive?”
“Not a chance,” said Helene. She turned the vehicle sharply in the Martian sand and they rushed off into the cloudy night.
“Where are we going?” Grace asked around a yawn.
“This is the rover we drove to the canyons,” Helene replied. “So the autopilot is taking us there now.”
Atlas watched her for any sign of panic over the prospect of returning to the canyons but her face was blank. He suspected that she was trying to be brave, for their sake.
“It’s the last place they’ll look,” Helene said distractedly, staring out of the front window. “They’ll assume I won’t go there because of my parents.”
“What happened to her parents?” Atlas heard Saros whisper. He didn’t listen for Grace’s reply.