ESCAPE FROM MARS

by G. T. Appleton

  “Sounds good,” Clark said.

  Jonas said, “How quickly can you run those critters to the laboratory?”

  “Without falling?”

  “That would be preferable.”

  Clark gave a nervous grin. “Yep. Probably in ten minutes or so.”

  “Then do so. The faster you and the other scientists get to work on what these things are, and the chemists can get a toxin sample analyzed, the better we know how to deal with them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  36

  Derek drove the truck through the gulley at almost thirty miles per hour. Billowing dust clouded the trail behind it. Bradbury held to the cab rail while standing upon the flatbed. Derek could begin rebuilding Isaac after they were safely inside Olympus Mons. That is, if their base was ever safe at all.

  He estimated that it would take the Chinese robots several days to a couple of weeks to get to Olympus Mons on foot. That gave his grandfather some time to set up a more protective barrier to keep the robots on the outside of the volcano. But considering the power of the weapons these robots carried, there was an increased risk that they’d be able to damage or destroy incoming and outgoing shuttles at the landing bay doors, cutting off future supplies, which eventually forced them into starvation.

  His fear of the Chinese robots diminished the more distance he put between himself and them. Olympus Mons towered ahead of him. In fifteen minutes he’d be there. His optimism waivered, but at least his outlook was better than it had been hours before, or so he tried to convince himself. Other than the total loss of three robots, he was still alive and Bradbury remained fully functional. What he didn’t realize was that he was in between two dangers—the pursuing robots and a Martian insect infestation inside Olympus Mons. Lives were in danger, including his own, but without radio communication, he didn’t have a clue . . . yet.

  Grayson stood in his office, watching the tide roll in.

  His earphone vibrated.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Boyd Grayson?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Viktor. I told you I’d call in two days. It’s been two days.”

  “How did you get my personal number?”

  Viktor chuckled. “Let’s say that we find way.”

  Grayson’s jaw tightened, but he offered no reply.

  “It’s test . . . to show you we have technology that can help you . . . with your problem on Mars.”

  “And how much will this technology cost me?” Grayson asked.

  “Four million dollars.”

  Grayson remained silent. Extortion was the first word that came to his mind. He wondered if the Russians were in cahoots with the Chinese. Although that seemed likely, he didn’t want to immediately draw such a conclusion.

  “Mr. Grayson?”

  “That’s a hell of a lot of money, Viktor, for something you’re proposing will work. I’d like more definite proof that the technology works effectively before I hand over that kind of money.”

  “Yes. Four million is . . . lot of money. But how much more will you lose with those robots killing your workers on Mars? Much more than dis? Correct?”

  “Possibly. But I need proof that what you say is factual.”

  “What? You not trust me? After I give you previous information?”

  Grayson sighed. “I already had a man working on that.”

  “He got himself into much trouble.”

  “And maybe you interfered with what Parks was doing, Viktor.”

  Viktor grew silent for a long minute. “So no deal?”

  “Proof first, Viktor. Prove to me that it will work. If you can disable those robots, I’ll happily pay you the amount you’re asking.”

  “Like I told you de other day, we need funds to act. These men won’t risk lives for nothing.”

  “I won’t give out money for nothing, either. I tell you what I’ll do.”

  “What’s dat?” Viktor asked.

  “I’ll pay a retainer of two hundred thousand. That should be enough money for you to travel, steal, or whatever it is that your men plan to do. Are you willing to work with me like that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Grayson ran a hand through his hair. “I gave you one million dollars for simple information. Information that I had hired another man to find. For all I know, he might have already received that information and you coerced him to give it to you. You know I pay for useful intelligence and technology.”

  “But dis . . . it’s far more dangerous.”

  “Okay, then. Viktor I guess I’ll find another way of dealing with my problem. When I find Parks and if he tells me that you stole the information from him, you’ll see a different side of me. So, anyway, thanks for getting back to—”

  “Wait,” Viktor said. He took a deep breath. “We start with de two hundred thousand. That be good start. We can work with you.”

  “Fine. Send someone by my office, and we’ll get you the money.”

  “Yes, yes. Soon.”

  Grayson disconnected the call and shoved his hands into his pockets. The eagerness in Viktor’s voice to take the retainer made Grayson even more skeptical that the Russians were trying to extort him. He needed to find Parks and get the truth concerning how Viktor had gained knowledge of the Chinese robots. Grayson was more apt to believe that Viktor was playing against both sides, and if so, Grayson expected to see more problems. Not only on Mars, but at each of his facilities on Earth.

  He had already heightened his security forces inside Grayson Enterprises by doubling the number of bodyguards. For some odd reason, he didn’t believe that was enough.

  Grayson glanced at his guard. “Henry, I want you to be on high alert.”

  Henry frowned. “Expecting trouble?”

  “Could be. Remember the Russian from the other day?”

  Henry nodded.

  “There’s a good chance that he’s not being on the level with me. Perhaps he has something underhanded planned.”

  Henry interlocked his huge hands together and cracked his knuckles. “I’ll inform the other guards.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Henry replied with a slight grin.

  Henry opened the door and exited the office.

  Grayson seated himself behind the desk and stared at the door, deep in thought. Matthews came to mind. Grayson wasn’t certain why he thought about his former rival in the technological world, especially since Matthews was no longer a threat. Grayson grinned, picturing Matthews working the gem mines on Mars. Then his mind shifted to Lydia.

  He had hired Lydia as a bodyguard but after he refused to let her kill Matthews, she had disappeared. With all of his high-tech hackers, none of them had been able to find her. She seemed to have vanished without a trace, which sorely disappointed him. Having her on his team would have been a great asset. She was ruthless, cold, and unforgiving. The perfect qualities he favored in an assassin. Perhaps her inability to forgive had turned into a deep seeded grudge toward him and that was why she had never returned? He had broken his promise to allow her to settle her score with Matthews, which would have ended with his death. Now, he wondered if she was an enemy he needed to worry about. Mercenaries often kept secrets but worked for the highest bidder. Should she return to Grayson Enterprises, either she or he would be dead. He didn’t believe any amount of money could remove the barrier between them in a truce.

  Grayson’s enemies seemed to multiply on a weekly basis. Some evolved from false accusations, jealousy, or competition. While in the business world, it was expected, Grayson took it personally, often slamming his attackers via the media, which seldom gained any favoritism from anyone. Many times, people outside the media who were sick of hearing about him stated that they wished he’d go away. He loved disappointing them by keeping himself in the headlines but even he wasn’t foolish enough not to know that he had worn out his welcome in the public eye. Soon he’d opt to maintain a lower profile, which didn’t diminish th
e outside world’s interest in him. For some odd reason, whenever someone tried to hide in the shadows, others speculated, often inaccurately, about why he shunned the limelight, and attempted to draw him back out into the open.

  Being extremely wealthy put a bad taste in a lot of people’s mouths, and they ridiculed the rich with scorn that the wealthier people were the reason why others were poor. Grayson wondered if these people ever listened to the nonsense spewing from their mouths. Probably not. And any amount of reasoning fell on deaf ears, much like little kids sticking their fingers in their ears and blabbering loudly so they couldn’t hear a word that was being said to them.

  Most people already had their minds made up about various topics. There was no debate or discussion, just constant yammering to talk louder than the only rational person talking in the room. And should the opposition decide to utilize the same tools, they were considered abusers and tyrants while the original perpetrators feigned innocence as the poor mistreated victims. It was strange how radical bullies suddenly became victims when dished the same public scrutiny and medicine. That’s why Grayson had chosen to remain silent in the political world. Using his money, though, he had Senator Johnson do his bidding for him, which had worked well thus far. However, even Johnson was weary and looking for a way out from under Grayson’s control.

  In the early days of Grayson Enterprises, Grayson had never fathomed that being wealthy garnered such negative public appeal. He didn’t understand how a man that had earned his own fortune owed everyone else a piece of his wealth.

  As a college student he had remembered a time when other students held the same ambition to make names for themselves, to earn their way, like he had been doing. They worked hard to achieve their dreams. They fought to be successful. But not now. Too many had been coddled, dependent, and felt entitled. They stood with their hands outstretched, demanding to get what they deserved when they had yet to do anything. Reap what you sow, and if you refuse to plant anything, don’t ask for handouts.

  Grayson often wondered, “Where did these bums come from?”

  The worst tragedy, Grayson thought, was that other governments outside the U.S. were doing the same thing to him. They wanted entitlements. They expected funding handouts from him. And if he wasn’t willing to give it up, these people whined to the politicians that the rich people needed to pay higher taxes.

  They had an unspoken motto. It’s not fair that you are settling Mars, and we’re not. And they’d do everything, except honest work, to pry it from his grip.

  Grayson shook his head.

  Since he had explicitly chosen not to let them piggyback, they had decided to set out to destroy everything he had. He found no logical reasoning behind their avaricious behavior, but he refused to give in to their demands. Their actions meant war, and he had plenty of money to fortify his possessions. If that meant it was necessary to kill the individuals who got in his way, he’d never flinch or bat an eye. He saw a lot of dead people in the near future. He didn’t plan to be amongst the casualties.

  37

  Derek pressed his foot down on the accelerator. The motor roared. Dust continued billowing behind him. About thirty yards from Olympus Mons, he eased off the gas pedal and geared down. As he neared the side metal garage door where other utility trucks and Caterpillar flatbeds were stored, he pressed down on the horn.

  He slammed the brakes, coming to a screeching halt, but continued blowing the horn until the metal door slowly eased open. Two guards rushed out with laser weapons in hand.

  “Derek?” the one guard, Adam, shouted. He slowly lowered his weapon.

  Who the hell were they expecting? Derek shook his head, rolled his eyes, and bit his tongue to keep from shouting at him.

  At first, Derek thought the question was the stupidest thing Adam could have asked because who else would be outside Olympus Mons honking a horn? But then he thought about the Chinese robots and wondered if somehow his grandfather had received word from Grayson about the robot invaders. Jonas might have sent out another team to find Derek, so the guard’s question was probably quite valid. He rolled down the side window.

  “Yeah, Adam,” Derek replied. “It’s me.”

  The guards motioned him to enter through the gate. Once inside, Derek shut off the ignition and got out.

  “Contact Jonas for me, Adam,” Derek said. He walked to the rear of the flatbed to inspect Isaac’s remains. “I lost all communication. Tell him I’m back and have him meet me in the infirmary.”

  Bradbury stepped to the edge of the flatbed and jumped to the garage floor.

  “Sure,” Adam replied.

  Derek looked at the other guard. “Paul, did any other teams leave Olympus Mons?”

  The guard shook his head. “No.”

  “Seal the door and keep it shut. You might want to get five or six more guards down here.”

  Paul frowned. “Why? What’s the problem, and what the hell happened to your robot?”

  “We have enemies on Mars.”

  “What?”

  “There are eight Chinese robots armed with various weapons near the Phobos Ruins.”

  “Are you shitting me?”

  Derek frowned. “Have I ever had much of a sense of humor?”

  “Well, no, but we’re hopeful.”

  “I’m certainly not going to start now. Eight enemy robots. They destroyed Isaac and my other three robots.” He paused to clear his throat. “The remains of my other three robots are still out there. These robots are heat-seekers, too, which means that they were sent here for one reason. To kill us.”

  Paul looked stunned, but within seconds what Derek had said sank in. He rushed to the metal door, pushed the computerized lock mechanism and sealed the door. Without any hesitation, he tapped his chest transmitter and made a request for backup.

  Derek stared at Isaac’s remains and fought tears. “Bradbury, stay with Isaac.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the infirmary to get my shoulder patched up.”

  Jonas had left Mineshaft 15 and headed to the interrogation room. He’d rather spend more time helping seal the hole in the wall, but the situation with Cain couldn’t wait any longer.

  For weeks nothing eventful had occurred, and then, within a few days, all hell had broken loose inside Olympus Mons. Perhaps that wasn’t the best cliché he should have used. With his current luck, it wouldn’t be a surprise for a fiery pit to be somewhere on Mars, too, deeper in the massive volcano.

  He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

  Jonas glared at Cain in the small 4 X 4 interrogation room. This was the first time Jonas had to confront any of his guards over any committed crime, and this one was too appalling to ignore.

  Cain was handcuffed to the metal table. His battered face was a dozen different shades of purple and grayish black. He refused to make eye contact with Jonas, from shame or fear, and quite possibly both.

  “How long have you been raping Jessica?” Jonas asked.

  Cain looked down but refused to answer.

  “Dammit!” Jonas slammed his palms onto the metal table, making a loud Thwack! He pointed a stern finger at Cain’s face. Cain tilted his head slightly up, enough to see the finger. “You’re going to tell me, or I swear, you’ll have far worse disfigurations than you have right now.”

  “Is that how the law is conducted on Mars?”

  “I am the law, smartass! There isn’t any authority above me here. So, if you wind up dead . . . that’s your final judgment. There’s no appeal process on Mars.”

  Cain offered a pathetic shrug. “So kill me.”

  Jonas unsnapped the knife on his belt and slid it from the sheath. The blade gleamed beneath the fluorescent light. “As you wish, but I was in the CIA a long time ago. When we wanted answers, believe me, we found ways to extract the information from punks like you. You might die, but trust me, it won’t happen quickly.”

  “Oh? So you’re like, gonna cut off my fingers one at a
time? I don’t think you have it in you, Pops.”

  An evil smile crept on Jonas’ face. His eyes glistened. “No, it’s not going to be like that. Rape is a despicably heinous crime and deserves the worst of punishments. It won’t be your fingers that get cut off.”

  Cain leaned back and stiffened in his chair. Even though his eyelids were puffed and swollen, he attempted to open them wider. Fear reflected through the narrow slits. He saw the knife’s sharp blade and visibly shook. He swallowed hard. Jonas’ threat was clear. Cain didn’t need to question the implication. He understood exactly what Jonas was threatening to cut off.

  “How long has it gone on?”

  Cain swallowed hard. “Three months.”

  “Every day?”

  “No, sir. Not that often.”

  “How often?”

  “Twice a week, maybe. Seldom three.”

  Someone rapped on the door.

  Jonas turned and opened it. “What?”

  Boony jumped back, her eyes staring at the shiny blade.

  “I’m a little busy, Boony. What do you want?”

  “Sir, I thought you’d like to know that Derek is back, and he wishes to speak with you in the infirmary.”

  The anger vanished from Jonas’ face. He slid the blade back into the sheath. Blinking slowly, he looked at her. “He’s in the infirmary? How is he?”

  “I don’t know his condition. I didn’t see him, but Adam called from the garage to tell me that was what Derek had said. You need to go see him.”

  “Of course,” he said, pulling the door closed behind him. He placed a hand on the guard’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on Cain. Don’t let anyone else in that room. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thanks, Boony.”

  She smiled. “I’ll walk with you. Are you okay?”

  “Better now that Derek has returned.”

  “In regard to Cain? You had out your knife.”

  “What he did is inexcusable, Boony. I don’t know of anything else in my career that has ever infuriated me like this.”