ESCAPE FROM MARS

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ESCAPE FROM MARS Page 10

by G. T. Appleton


  These eight dots were on a Lycus Sulci ridgeline directly north of Derek’s position. Derek’s robots would be near him. They always were. But Derek only had five robots. So what the hell were these things heading toward his grandson?

  Jonas clung to the hope that these unidentified images were Derek’s robots. He hoped the extra dots were simply a glitch due to the sandstorm. But with all the misery Jonas had endured over the years, he doubted his luck was that fortunate. Then something else added to his misery. Derek’s five robot detectors lit up on the screen, and they were positioned directly around Derek’s signal. Their lights were blue, which was his grandson’s favorite color. There was no doubt that Derek had invented them to appear that color on the map, so whatever the red dots were, they weren’t Derek’s creations. They were quite possibly very dangerous.

  “Derek,” Jonas said into the transmitter again. “Do you copy? Over.”

  Static.

  “Dammit.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed.

  At least the five robots were positioned in a way that indicated they were trying to protect Derek. Jonas marveled at his grandson’s creativity. Three of the five robots were masculine while the other two were feminine. Each had a distinct personality that unnerved Jonas on occasion. They weren’t androids, at least not in their outward appearance, because they looked like mechanical people in their structure.

  Derek had been an only child without a mother and father. Jonas had tried his best to fill those gaps, but Derek was so introverted that he spent more time reading and researching than interacting with Jonas or other children Derek’s age.

  Jonas wondered if Derek had deliberately made his five robots in the fashion of the types of friends or playmates he had longed for during his youth. He wasn’t certain, but Derek favored Isaac and Bradbury the most. Their closeness, odd to consider it as such, was similar to how closely brothers and sisters interacted with one another. Kurt, on the other hand, never interacted with Derek except on occasion. Like an outcast, he was the only robot that distanced itself from Derek and the other robots. Octavia and Ursula maintained feminine qualities but were more reserved, almost like elderly librarians with cold straightforward personalities.

  Derek had fashioned the female robots to almost exhibit the shape of attractive facial features, but their personality traits were something Derek might have longed for in a mother by being protective and encouraging. They lacked any forms of playfulness or sensuality.

  Jonas wondered how these robots were faring in the current weather conditions, and what the approaching beings were. Could Derek’s robots adequately protect him?

  Without any way to contact his grandson, all Jonas could do was watch the red dots move closer to the Phobos Crash Site area. Whatever danger these things possibly represented, there wasn’t anything Jonas could do except wait and hope that Derek contacted him once this storm passed. The dust storm was now the least of Jonas’ worries.

  Derek shook off the red sand covering his smart suit. The winds had died down, but dust sieved downward from the atmosphere like flour through a sifter. With a gloved hand he wiped away a thick coat of red silt that had collected on the front of his space helmet. It didn’t aid his vision any since the dark of night claimed what the dust storm had left behind.

  After shaking off more dust and grit from his sleeves, he turned and leaned against the metal radio tower. His wall of robots resembled clay statues. He punched a few commands on his left wrist computer control panel. The robots whirled and turned. Sand and silt flowed off them, forming little smooth pyramid dunes around their feet.

  Derek didn’t understand why his grandfather worried so much about his need to explore the Martian frontier. There were no predators or political enemies to avoid. The worst part was the frigid nights and rugged terrain. But the temperatures were gradually warming and would continue to increase as the terraformation of trees, grasses, and various lichens and fungi flourished.

  The Carson Terraforma Project had been introducing plant species from Earth to seed across the Martian terrain. Each time a shuttle or ore ship entered the Martian atmosphere, compartments on these vessels released millions of fertilize-coated seeds, allowing them to fall wherever the jet stream delivered them. Seeds from the hardiest tundra plants on Earth were part of Phase I. Once they were well established, more oxygen would be released, and there was the hope that over time, the climate might warm enough to begin Phase II. Plans were underway to introduce small game after the smaller mossy plants were fully established, but that might not occur during Derek’s lifetime. The time between the first and second phases might take several hundred years.

  He understood his grandfather was overly cautious since Derek’s parents had been killed, but that had occurred on Earth. He didn’t have to worry about any assassination attempts on his or his grandfather’s life. His family’s former enemies couldn’t touch them on Mars.

  “No Martian drive-bys here.” He chuckled at the thought.

  Once the sun rose, Derek could finish connecting the first radio tower. Connecting each tower would take a few more days to complete. He imagined Jonas was probably upset about his continued radio silence, but until Derek connected at least one tower’s aerial signal, he didn’t have any way to touch base. Once the first tower was connected, he’d contact Jonas and let him know that he was okay. Once the radio towers were properly established, techs were to deliver twenty missile turrets to the ridge overlooking the Phobos Crash Site as a defensive front.

  Against what?

  Grayson possessed the only settlements on Mars, and Derek didn’t see any direct competition coming in the near future. No other space entrepreneur or national space program had access to the necessary funds to get to Mars. Did Grayson intend to permanently prevent others from trying to lay claims on Martian territories before they even had a chance to venture here?

  From what he knew about Grayson? Probably.

  In a way, Derek understood Grayson’s line of thinking. Grayson had invested nearly his entire fortune into establishing his Mars settlements. His large projects could have bankrupted him, but he had taken the risks anyway. He supposed the tycoon wanted to earn as much profit off his endeavors as was possible without others cashing in on his claim. But from what Derek had gathered, Grayson had increased his wealth by well over one thousand percent. That was a substantial amount of profit, and Grayson apparently wasn’t finished reaping his rewards.

  Derek had patented several of his robotic inventions in the A.I. sciences, so he understood how others might seek to gain profit off another person’s work and ideas. But patents were often short-lived, eventually giving someone else a chance to later use the technology for their own profits, after the inventor had gained his head start in the industry. But Grayson’s situation was completely different.

  Grayson’s actions reflected his need to own the planet. Thus, the future construction of the missile turrets.

  “Derek!” one robot said.

  Derek turned in response. He had programmed the robots to speak, but during this trip to the crash site, they had been quiet, perhaps allowing Derek time without outside intrusions. Their voices sounded more human than robotic when they spoke. And although he often bantered with them, never had one of his robots spoken without him initiating the conversation. Their self-evolving A.I. advancements disturbed him more each day. Their deductive reasoning and problem-solving abilities increased at such a rate that soon, the students would be greater than the master’s program. And if it continued, he feared he might eventually have to shut them down. That is, if such a capability remained.

  “Yes, Isaac?” he replied.

  “Western horizon. Enemy encountered.”

  “What? We don’t have any enemies out here, Isaac,” Derek replied, shaking his head.

  “Enemies approach, Derek. Prepare to take cover.”

  Derek rushed up the sandy slope and tapped the front of his helmet visor. The fiber-optic display glowed to life.
He clicked the night vision button and the dark Martian terrain brightened before him. Silt continued to fall, but not so heavily that his visibility was obscured.

  About four miles out he saw them. Eight strange manlike beings moved toward their direction.

  What the hell?

  Robots? From this distance it was impossible to tell. They might be cyborgs for all he knew, which made his current situation even more dangerous.

  “Shit!” Derek said. “Camera, zoom in.”

  The lens zoomed in on the images of the intruders. So closely, in fact, they appeared to be standing only a few feet away from him. These weren’t men. They were robots but far more advanced than the ones he had created. He scanned closer and noticed each robotic soldier either carried a military grade automatic weapon or had a similar weapon fused to its right arm. Their metallic arms also housed small laser blasters. Looking closer at their faces, their right eyes glowed crimson red. When he saw the red, he flinched and took a quick breath. Those were heat-seeking detectors. The robots turned their heads back and forth, apparently scanning the terrain.

  “These robots are assassins?” he whispered. “Who sent them?”

  “Information unknown,” Bradbury said, stepping closer.

  “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Why not?” Isaac asked.

  “They seem to be scanning the terrain for heat sources. The only living being out here is me.”

  Derek continued watching their approach. He was too frightened to look away. In seconds he found the answer to his own question. On the right shoulder of each robot was a painted image of the Chinese flag. The paint and the metal seemed resistant to the outside weather, preventing the windblown dirt and silt from caking on the outer surface of the emblem.

  “The Chinese?” Derek said softly.

  “Seek shelter,” Isaac said.

  An odd sensation flowed through him. His own robot seemed to possess more wisdom than he had ever programmed it to have. They realized the danger Derek was in, but Derek found his curiosity wanting to watch these Chinese robots instead of immediately hiding. It was in much the same manner of how a storm chaser became hypnotized and unable to get out of the path of a huge killer tornado. Common sense was buried beneath his inquisitiveness.

  Isaac was correct. Derek needed to find a safe place to hide. Being exposed atop the ridgeline made him vulnerable, and an easy open target for robots or cyborgs. The only place where he might find shelter quickly was by hiding inside a crevice or tunnel within the Phobos rocks, but the area had yet to be scouted and explored. His grandfather worried that the Phobos remains might be radioactive, but neither the robots or his suit had picked up any trace of radioactivity since they had arrived at the site.

  Another alternative was for Derek to backtrack to his vehicle. But since nightfall shadowed them, the solar batteries could be dead. Getting inside the vehicle didn’t protect him from the Chinese robots. Their weapons could pierce through the metal doors to kill him.

  His best chance for survival was entering the Phobos ruins even though he didn’t have any map to detail possible recesses. Whatever tunnels were there after the moon crashed onto the surface were probably shaky and prone to collapse upon him. But it was a chance he needed to take.

  Eventually the Phobos ruins would be mined for minerals and possible gems. Derek wasn’t a geologist, but he assumed the ores and minerals wouldn’t be too much different than the ones on Mars and Deimos. And it made no logical sense to set up a basecamp so soon, either. He guessed the reason it was chosen was to broaden the distance of Grayson’s settlements to expand his territorial claims.

  When the next group of prisoners arrived on Mars, they were scheduled to be stationed inside the Phobos ruins, which was doubtful since the area wasn’t capable of providing proper shelter. Machinery had yet to be driven out to the site with the hope of starting another mining base. Several trucks had already been driven there and left supplies for the prisoners to use once they arrived.

  “Now,” Isaac warned. “I must insist, Derek, that you—”

  “In a minute,” Derek replied.

  “You don’t have much time,” Octavia said in her stern motherly tone. “Unless you wish to die.”

  Derek glanced in her direction. Her stern robotic stare held no patience. To add to her authoritative expression, she rested her hands on her hips, expecting him to head to safety immediately without question or further argument.

  He shook his head and suppressed a smile.

  In that moment, he realized something else about himself. He didn’t really want to die. No matter how depressed being on Mars had made him, he knew he wanted to live. He also needed to live. Everyone in Olympus Mons needed to know about the dangers these Chinese robots presented.

  Turning his attention toward the ridge, Derek watched the eight soldier robots march away from their positions. Their pace was slow but unfaltering. The harsh winds and sands didn’t disrupt their movements. Their destination seemed to be right where Derek and his robots stood. At the rate these assassin robots travelled, he estimated their arrival at the Phobos site to take at least forty minutes or longer.

  “Octavia’s right,” Bradbury said. “You don’t have a lot of time.”

  Derek shook his head and said, “Bradbury, not you too?”

  Bradbury tweeped an odd sound. “We cannot afford to lose our creator. It is our responsibility to protect you.”

  Derek smiled at the comment, and then he studied the parked dump trucks and flatbed trucks near the Phobos ruins. A lot of the turrets and supplies were hidden beneath the tied down tarps. The doors of these vehicles were probably unlocked. Hell, why lock them?

  For a moment, he considered hiding inside one of the cabs, but with the heat-seeking devices on those robots, they’d find him. The cold metal doors and frames weren’t thick enough to conceal his body heat. Perhaps the reason his robots urgently warned him to hide was because the metal soldiers had already detected his position. If so, he didn’t have much time at all. The longer he stood out in the open, the easier he made it for them to track and kill him.

  Derek decided to descend from the ridge to get to the Phobos remains. In the dark, that wasn’t an easy task, even with infrared vision. With the various layers of dust and grit, his path was deceptive. One misstep and he’d slide down the cliff to his death or break his ankle, leg, or worse, he might get wedged between the rocks and die a horribly slow death. So each step he took had to be taken carefully. Once he reached the crash site, he needed to find a passage where he hoped he could hide. There wasn’t any guarantee that he would find one on this side of the broken rocks. The best he could hope was to find a place deep inside the rocks where their heat sensors couldn’t detect him from the outside.

  Derek punched commands into his wrist console. The robots turned, their joints whined and cranked. They turned to lead the way down the steep slope to the Phobos ruins. As much as they sought to protect him, they could only guide him down, pointing out the dangerous parts of the terrain.

  Forty minutes might give his robots enough time to hide him, but he realized that perhaps his grandfather’s worry-streak was something he should adopt as well. Or, at best, presume that there were dangers even where there shouldn’t be any. Now, more than anything else, he wished he could talk to his grandfather. The chance to do so might never occur again.

  15

  Carter stared into the bathroom mirror. The briefcase rested on the edge of the sink. His head throbbed, and the room grew dark. Overcome with dizziness, he gripped the sink counter to prevent himself from falling.

  “Are you almost finished?” Sylvia asked.

  “Yeah,” he stammered.

  “You’ve been in there for quite some time.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. I wanted to check on you.”

  Carter shook his head. In the mirror, something moved behind him. He turned quickly. He didn’t see anything except the hoverin
g cloud of shower steam. When he faced the mirror again, he caught a glimpse of the alien’s large dark eyes staring back at him. He squeezed his eyes shut. When he reopened them, she was gone. He wiped the condensation off the mirror. Leaning closer, he stared into his own eyes. Everything seemed normal.

  With his right index finger and thumb, he peeled his eyelids wider apart. Other than partially bloodshot from fatigue, he didn’t see any signs of jaundice or strange dilations of his pupils. He closed his eyes and massaged them gently, until bursts of bright colors intensified behind his eyelids.

  Looking in the mirror again, Carter rubbed his cheeks. He needed to shave. Not that it really mattered. By the time the seven-month trip to Earth was over, he’d have a full beard and long shaggy hair, which might prove to be a blessing for disguise. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that Grayson Enterprises would seek to capture him, Magnus, and Sylvia at almost any cost. With the longer hair and beard, no one would readily recognize him.

  Wiping his brow with a damp towel, his hands began to shake. Chill bumps ran up his spine and down his arms. He shuddered for a moment and then patted the rest of his face dry. Anxiety overshadowed him.

  Outside the bathroom door, Sylvia laughed and talked to Digger. He wished he could laugh with such a carefree attitude, but that was something he doubted he’d ever experience again. Life was short, and the only true happiness he remembered had died a few days earlier.

  Carter looked into the reflection of his own sad eyes. “Wanda, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

  Sylvia’s door opened, and Magnus walked through. She sat on the end of the bed stroking the back of Digger’s neck. The ferret closed its eyes with obvious content.

  “Welcome back,” she said.

  Magnus glanced around the room. “Thanks. Where’s Carter?”

  “Still in the bathroom. He’s been in there for quite some time.”

 

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