What had happened during those ten minutes and what role, if any, had Boony partaken? Had she shifted the cameras away from the vault door? He hated to assume that she had anything to do with this because she was one of the most loyal, dedicated techs he had. He would have to ask her later if Curt or Phillip had been in the office while she was on duty. They were two people he didn’t trust. He definitely wouldn’t put it past them to steal from the vaults.
Jonas sat at the desk and put on his headset. He tuned the adjustment on the computer, and increased the volume. “Derek, if you can hear me, please respond.”
He waited fifteen seconds and repeated the message.
No reply.
Not even static.
Jonas typed in commands for the orbiting satellite and zoomed in for a ground scan at the Phobos Crash Site, but there was too many boulders, craters, and intricate holes for him to hope the camera might accidentally pick Derek out on the terrain.
He sighed and tried to contact his grandson via transmitter again.
Nothing.
It looked to be another long agonizing night. He never imagined having a grandson would stress him to age even faster. But, the love for a family member was never easy, and the absence of his grandson made him wish he were young enough to travel out to the Phobos ruins to search for Derek himself.
High atop a narrow ridge that overlooked the Phobos Crash Site, Derek Walker sat hunched against the base of the short radio tower, shielding himself from the abrasive wind-pelleting grains of red grit and pebbles. His form fitted smart-suit was the newest technology that he and his engineer team had invented, but he was the first to test it during one of the harsh Martian sandstorms.
The light suit allowed more agility and flexibility, but he worried that the cruel blowing grit might damage the suit. The sand pelleted off his domed space helmet, severely reducing his visibility. It was useless to stand and work on the radio tower when he couldn’t even see what he was doing.
“Dammit,” he whispered. “This storm’s in for a long haul.”
Even without the storm’s interference, he didn’t have any means to communicate with his grandfather at Olympus Mons. His transmitter had malfunctioned nearly twenty miles into his trek. He had stepped down from his Mack flatbed truck to brush off the excess sand on the solar panels. After clearing the panels of the debris, he inspected his robots and other mechanical supplies for the turrets. Then he had noticed that the unrelenting winds had bent and disabled the vehicle’s antenna for its radio. Without realizing it, the blowing grit jammed into his suit’s radio transmitter and shorted it out, leaving him without any way to contact the base at all.
After he had discovered the damage, he was still approximately ten miles from the Phobos Crash Site, but the drive itself wasn’t that difficult. Rather than turning back, he decided it was best to drive to the site and finish connecting the communication radio towers along the ridge left by the previous technicians. Although they never constructed any roads, the natural fault lines along former lava flows provided decent, almost smooth grooves that they used for roads. Every now and then, abrupt shallow drop-offs or protruding large rocks interrupted large sections of the roads. Such obstructions prevented them from driving at fast speeds.
Due to the rugged terrain and the truck’s draining batteries, Derek had to leave his transport truck about a hundred yards away and continue on foot through the swirling dust storm. He figured if he got the towers fully activated, he’d be able to contact his grandfather and let him know that he was safe. But until the winds died down, he remained at the mercy of the unforgiving weather. There wasn’t anything else he could do except wait.
Waves of reddish sand and silt formed a small dune on the other side of the radio tower. Derek had brought his five robots along with him. They stood lined together, forming a small wall to block and protect him from the whipping windblown sand. It helped but wasn’t one hundred percent efficient. Time would tell if he survived this maddening ordeal, and whether or not his robots were sturdy enough to function on the Martian terrain. A part of him held more hope for the robots than he did himself. In only two years, he had suffered more depression than he ever had on Earth. Dying alone where no human could hear him scream seemed a fitting end to an otherwise bland life. Strangely, though, his five robots stood by, doing everything they could to protect him from death. Even though he had never programmed them to exhibit loyalty or behave in such a protective manner, they stood at attention, watching over him as though he was family. And that troubled him most of all.
11
The guards approached Magnus and Carter from both sides of the tunnel.
Carter stood in horror while Magnus pulled Carter to the side of him and against the wall. Magnus reached into a natural volcanic opening, which was barely wide enough for him to squeeze inside. He yanked Carter into the space and together they stepped out of view a few seconds before the two teams of guards passed one another inside the main passageway.
Magnus pushed his back against the curved opening. Part of the wall behind them cracked. He shoved harder and the brittle wall shattered, revealing a strange series of natural spiraling steps that led upward.
“Come on,” Magnus whispered.
A concerned expression crossed Carter’s face. “Where’s that lead?”
Magnus shrugged. “I have no idea, but let’s find out. I doubt any of the guards know about it, so we’re safer there than wandering in the corridor until after the guards report to their stations.”
Magnus headed up the stairs cautiously with Carter close behind. The spiral stairs ended along a narrow ridgeline that overlooked the miners below. The view was spectacular and the men below almost resembled tiny figurines.
“How did this path get here?” Carter asked.
“This must be a natural occurrence from when the volcano had been active.”
“How do we get down?”
“I’m hoping it somehow connects to one of the manmade ledges, so we can find a set of stairs that leads down.”
They walked another forty feet, and the path narrowed. The temperature increased. Blinding yellow lights glowed through the narrow cracks at the edge of the path, which seemed to be the source of heat.
“What’s down there?” Magnus asked.
Carter shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Magnus lowered himself to his knees and crawled closer to one of the cracks. The harsh brightness of the lights caused him to squint. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted. “I’ll be damned.”
“What?”
“It’s a greenhouse. Probably a couple acres of tomatoes, corn, and other vegetables.”
“Yeah,” Carter said, nodding. “I read about that project over a year ago. The vegetation increases the oxygen flow inside the mines and provides fresh vegetables to feed everyone. The leftover greens are used for small game animals like rabbits and poultry.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“They plan to expand it with each growing season.”
“I discovered something else that’s interesting.”
Carter frowned. “What?”
“All workers in the greenhouse are women.”
“Women? Seriously?”
Magnus stood and dusted off the red dust on the knees of his guard uniform. “Yep. I wonder if they’re female prisoners?”
Carter shrugged. “I don’t know. They could be. We never had any female miners on Deimos.”
“Come on. I think I see a way back down.”
Carter eagerly followed. Around a small corner, a set of manmade steps led down.
“Told you,” Magnus said. “Looks like they’ve been doing some construction. They may use this path for something eventually.”
“It almost looks like something already has, too.”
Grayson Enterprises
“Mr. Donald Parks,” Grayson said. “I didn’t expect to see you anytime soon.”
“You told me to report to
you whenever I found out new information.”
“I did.”
Donald straightened his striped tie. The narrow pupils of his dark eyes resembled small polished obsidian stones. He was thin, about five-nine, and his face was well tanned. He worked for the CIA but for the right amount of money, he reported information that was essential for Grayson about his ongoing mission projects to own Mars.
Grayson smiled, opened a Cuban cigar box, and offered one to Parks. Parks gladly accepted.
“Please, be seated,” Grayson said with a charming smile.
The agent sat down, cut off the cigar’s tip, and puffed it while Grayson extended a lit match.
“Ah, nice!” Parks said, grinning.
“So what information do you have?”
“Well, the rumors are true. China did send a rocket to Mars.”
Grayson frowned. “When?”
“Approximately one year ago.”
“A year? No one ever informed me.”
“According to the UN Space Council, no one has to.”
“I see. Seems someone has lacked giving me this information before now.”
“Not me.”
Grayson laughed. “Of course, not you. Otherwise, you’d be elsewhere hiding and not sitting in my office.”
Parks chuckled but his face expressed relief that Grayson wasn’t accusing him. “Senator Johnson, perhaps? His son is one of the shuttle pilot inspectors.”
“Yes. I know. I’ll tend to that matter later, but I sincerely doubt Johnson has the backbone to oppose me. What did the Chinese send to Mars?”
“I don’t know that yet. It was a secretive mission.”
“Obviously.”
Parks puffed the cigar. “From the information I’ve gathered, whatever they sent was in response to the meeting you had with them about a year ago.”
Grayson’s firm brow rose, which almost indicated a flinch. Something few people ever witnessed while talking to Grayson.
“So you remember the meeting?” Parks asked.
“I do.”
“What did they want?”
“They wanted to use my landing base at Olympus Mons for free so they could deliver their supplies until after their settlements were established and running smoothly.”
“I take it that you denied them such access?”
“Of course. What they consider collaborating, I consider leeching. I see no benefit in opening up my base to pave the interplanetary road for them.”
Parks exhaled smoke. “I can’t say that I or anyone else could blame you. But, for what it’s worth, you have the tendency to piss off a lot of people around the world.”
Grayson shrugged and then grinned. “I do, but I didn’t make all my money so others can squander off me.”
“I wouldn’t expect for you to.”
“What did they ship to Mars?” Grayson eyed Parks with keen suspicion.
Parks shook his head and grinned. “Not a clue. I wasn’t lying when you asked me the first time.”
“Surely you have some idea.”
“No, but I’m working on uncovering that information for you.”
“Work faster and there’s a million dollar bonus for you.”
Parks smiled. “I’m on it.”
12
Sylvia stepped outside her door while Carter waited for Magnus to show him how to use the guard’s key to gain access to the room.
“See?” Magnus said. “It’s not that difficult.”
“I’m glad you’re back,” Sylvia said, holding Digger. “I was worried that guards might discover you.”
Magnus smiled and scratched the ferret’s ears. “You mind watching him a bit longer?”
Sylvia nodded, but appeared slightly worried. “Sure. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “I . . . uh . . . need to check out some things.”
Carter walked past and placed his briefcase on the bed.
“Okay,” Sylvia said. “But do come back. You’re more than welcome to stay here with us tonight.”
“Thanks. I will be back. That way we’ll all be together in the morning when we head to the maintenance storage room.”
“We’ll be waiting for you.”
Magnus rubbed the back of the ferret’s neck and then he pointed his thick finger. “You behave yourself, Digger.”
The ferret rubbed the side of its head against Magnus’ hand. Magnus chuckled, turned, and headed down the corridor. After he was out of sight, Sylvia let the door slide shut. When she turned around, Carter was staring intently at his feet.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
Carter didn’t respond for nearly half a minute. His eyes were locked in an eerie trance. She nudged his shoulder. He shook his head and looked up at her.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m tired.”
“Well, go take a hot shower and you’ll feel better. We can go to sleep afterwards. We don’t have to wait for Magnus to return.”
Carter stood, took the briefcase, and walked toward the small bathroom. “A shower sounds great.”
“You can leave the briefcase here.”
He shook his head. “No. No, I can’t.”
With concern, she watched Carter mumbling to himself as he staggered to the shower. He set the briefcase right outside the shower, glanced toward her, and turned on the water. He didn’t step into the shower until she finally looked away from his intense glare.
Feeling uneasy, Sylvia busied herself by sorting through her clothes in one of the drawers. The shower curtain slid across the rod with a harsh scraping sound, and she dared to glance toward the shower. His clothes covered the briefcase. She wondered what he kept inside the case that he didn’t want her or Magnus to discover.
Carter had been too protective of the case, and his behavior whenever he was asked about it made her uneasy. He didn’t seem to be the man she had remembered from a few months earlier, but then again, he had witnessed the deaths of all of the inhabitants on Deimos. She assumed that was why he was acting aggressively paranoid. With that kind of mental trauma, she was willing to give him a pass until he managed to get control of his emotions or talked to a psychologist when they reached Earth.
She hoped that by being his friend and showing him compassion, he might recover somewhat from what she considered to be the early stages of post-traumatic stress. Since the event was recent, his symptoms might decrease or possibly get even worse. She wanted to help him heal so his emotions wouldn’t darken or become destructive.
Sylvia thought it best to avoid asking about the contents of the briefcase, but that didn’t lessen her curiosity about what was concealed within it.
13
Magnus immediately regretted re-entering The Vortex. The pounding music wasn’t so bad. The loud sifting machines had somewhat dulled his hearing since his arrival to Mars. But the harsh flashing strobe lights hurt his eyes and sickened his stomach. He used his hand to partially shield his eyes.
Totally exhausted from his two fully conscious days of mining, he realized how worn down he was both physically and mentally. Were it not for seductiveness of Boony’s intriguing voice, he’d have skipped coming back to The Vortex altogether. But he wanted to know what she looked like.
Since he didn’t plan to be on Mars after the next morning, he didn’t have any alternative if he ever wanted to meet this woman. And he did. If her appearance was half as beautiful as her voice, he entertained the thought of not returning to Earth, provided they hit it off. He was willing to ignore the horrible pulsating music and blinding lights to satiate his curiosity, at least for a while.
Upon stepping through the doors, Magnus didn’t stride toward the bar. Instead, he lingered near the doors in case she had guards ready to rush and take him into custody. Although the crowd held different faces, these people acted exactly like the previous group. They were dancing, drinking socially, or playing drinking games. None of them reflected a determined desi
re to arrest anyone. Although they worked as guards, they were captives trapped inside a different type of prison.
After five minutes of the nerve-grating music pulsating through Magnus, no one approached. The music was starting to annoy and agitate him. His head ached. He closed his eyes and squeezed his eyelids tightly, hoping to shut out the music, drive away the pain, but that didn’t help. The stress of trying to ignore the music caused his neck and shoulder muscles to tighten even more. At that moment, he’d have given one of his most expensive MarQuebes for an hour massage or for anything capable of lessening the pain.
“Are you okay?”
Magnus opened his eyes and stared down at an Asian woman. She was about five foot tall. When she smiled, cute dimples appeared. Her smile was more seductive than the honey-rich voice that had whispered into his ears. Her dark eyes glistened with interest and excited him. Her short, bobbed hair was highlighted with streaks of blonde. She was dainty standing next to him.
“Boony?” he asked, lifting his visor slightly.
She nodded.
“You’re much smaller than I imagined,” he said.
She gave a flirty smile. “Perhaps it is more that you’re so much larger than everyone else?”
Magnus chuckled. “That’s true, too. It tends to be a problem, no matter where I am.”
“Care for a drink?” Boony asked.
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Come with me. I already have a table for us.”
Nervousness reflected in his eyes. He glanced ahead, watching her graceful, yet alluring walk. Her legs and buttocks were shapely. He blushed, fighting his temptation to rudely stare at her while she walked.
“Don’t worry,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I didn’t bring anyone with me.”
Magnus quietly released a pent up sigh, but the fact that she had brought up the subject didn’t add to his confidence. His skepticism kicked in. If she was trying to put him at ease, she had only kept him partially suspicious. After all, why bring it up unless to get him to completely lower his guard?
ESCAPE FROM MARS Page 8