ESCAPE FROM MARS

by G. T. Appleton

  Her countenance didn’t change. “Do you know the difference between remedy and poison?”

  “The dosage.”

  Kim gave a slight satisfied nod at his reply. “Do not forget who administers the cure on Mars, Mr. Matthews.”

  Before he could reply, she turned and left the security office, leaving him alone. After the door closed, Matthews shook his head and spoke to the door. “So Dr. Lee, I see why you fear her as much as you do. How she ever got past the medical boards is beyond me.”

  Matthews turned in the swivel chair and watched the workers constructing the steel wall. He had promised Jonas not to contact Grayson for a few days, and the temptation to ignore their agreement weighed upon his mind with pure agony.

  Oh, how he wished he could hear those long moments of complete silence after he told Grayson the news. But since the two of them wouldn’t be standing in the same room, he’d have to wait at least fifteen minutes for the reply. That silence would be too long. However, Grayson’s sharp harangue afterwards would return with quite a vicious tone. He expected no less from the muscled bullying entrepreneur. No matter, the banter would be enjoyable. Grayson would wish that he had allowed Lydia to kill Matthews.

  Two Days Later:

  Mineshaft 15 had been sealed, and the miners were back shoveling dirt into the shaker machines while the hungover guards could barely stand up straight. The rattling noise had to be unmerciful.

  Matthews occasionally viewed the guards via surveillance footage for added amusement. He had gladly paid their tabs, which they had overindulged, and now their temporary bliss was shrouded by agonizing dismay.

  “Live and learn,” Matthews said with a wry smile.

  Matthews had attempted to connect with the pilot of the shuttle Jonas was aboard but learned that they had entered Hyber-Sleep.

  Grayson had also tried to make contact with Jonas at the security office, but Matthews didn’t respond to the message, even though he had to fight the nagging urge.

  He figured Jonas had requested a delay in relating the message to Grayson so that everyone aboard the shuttle would be in hibernation, which prevented Grayson from threatening or needling Jonas for information about how Matthews had taken over Olympus Mons. Now Matthews could inform Grayson about everything.

  Sitting at the computer, Matthews scrolled through the list of numbers on Earth to contact via satellite. Several numbers for different branches and departments of Grayson Enterprises appeared on the screen. He scrolled through the list until he finally found the New York number where Grayson had worked when he had hired Matthews. Jonas had written a note to the side of that number, which explained that Grayson could only be contacted at the California number.

  “Interesting,” Matthews thought. He entertained the idea momentarily that he had probably been the one responsible for making Grayson flee to the west coast. While it probably wasn’t true, it did give Matthews a tidbit of information he could use as repartee to mock Grayson if necessary.

  Matthews clicked the ‘dial’ button and waited for the computer to upload the recorder so he could dictate his message to be sent to Grayson.

  After the device connected, Matthews said, “My dearest Grayson. How are you doing, old chum? Matthews here, delightfully enjoying my newest endeavors as the Chief Overseer of Olympus Mons. King would be significantly dated, don’t you think? You did a splendid job with the initial transformation of this massive volcano, but it’s high time for me to make a few modifications of my own. It’s a shame we couldn’t meet in person, as I’d have loved to join you for a mug of freshly brewed Luwak coffee. It would certainly take away the sting of listening to the constant BS coming out of your mouth. But no matter, understand that Olympus Mons is now in excellent hands, and nothing you should concern yourself about. I’m sure you have many questions about how I’m here and not in the mines, and I’m certain you’re sorely disappointed. Oh, and please give Lydia my regards.”

  He hit the send button and leaned back in the swivel chair with a broad smile on his face with a cigar in hand.

  He mused. “If Hell existed, I’d find a way to take the throne away from the devil himself. But I suppose that’s what I have done here.”

  55

  When Matthews’ message played into Grayson’s earphone, it was almost like Matthews was intimately whispering into Grayson’s ear.

  Grayson sat frozen at his desk. He was too stunned by his disbelief to allow his inner rage to register and kick in. The painful news felt all too similar to the worst nightmare he had ever dreamt, but he knew this was real.

  He replayed the taunting message, listening keenly to the gloating undertones in Matthews’ smug voice. The arrogance was still there, like it had been when Grayson had worked with Matthews, which had been the biggest factor in why their personalities violently clashed. He detested the condescending timbre Matthews displayed, but in his self-blindness, he didn’t realize the actual similarities he demonstrated to everyone else were identical.

  A chill rushed through Grayson. The pit of his stomach ached from a sudden rise of desperation, which was an alien sensation for him. How had he allowed himself to be bested by his greatest enemy? The worst part about the situation was Grayson had had the best opportunity to kill Matthews and totally eliminate the possibility of any future threat from Matthews. Lydia had pleaded for Grayson to let her carry out her hired assassination assignment of Matthews. Instead, Grayson had chosen to keep Matthews alive as a miner on Mars to prove Grayson’s ultimate power and control, thinking the lifelong punishment was better than death. But Matthews would never take any threat Grayson offered seriously now.

  Even if he could find Lydia, Grayson knew she wouldn’t be willing to travel to Mars to finish the assignment. If his speculation about her was correct, he believed she had a new target instead. Him.

  Grayson stood and looked out the window at the crashing ocean waves. Anger still hadn’t stirred within him. Dismay rose inside him. Everything he had worked so hard to earn was slipping from his grasp. How could he possibly sidestep these disasters?

  Jonas was the one man he had trusted above all others; someone he had thought he could depend upon to keep Mars in perfect running order. Now, Matthews was in charge? It didn’t make sense. What had happened?

  His mind reflected over the details of the previous messages that Jonas had sent. He vaguely remembered something about deadly insects that had been discovered in one of the mining shafts, but due to circumstances with the Chinese and the Russians and Parks’ wellbeing, Grayson had shrugged it off as a joke when he should have known better. Jonas never teased or joked about anything. He certainly wouldn’t have made up these insects.

  Grayson rubbed his tired eyes. He had failed Jonas. He feared Jonas might be dead. Whether he had died because of the insects or at Matthews’ own hand, it didn’t matter. Either way, Grayson was the one at fault.

  He took a deep breath and released a long sigh, wondering what he should do.

  Henry said, “Is something wrong?”

  “Many things.”

  “Anything that I can help you with?”

  Grayson shook his head. “No, but I would like some time alone, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  Henry turned, opened the door, and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

  Grayson’s eyes heated. Burning tears blurred his otherwise splendid view of the ocean. His chest tightened. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually cried. Perhaps when he was a child? But his tears didn’t come from sadness or remorse. They flowed due to his increasing frustration and loss of control. His massive ship had been the target of his enemies for quite some time. Now they were firing at it. His vessel was hemorrhaging and leaking from numerous holes. He didn’t see any way he could repair the damage before the coming tsunami tossed and capsized it.

  He noticed his reflection in the glass, saw the tears meandering down his cheeks, and a new resolve kindled within him. Thos
e moments of self-despair somehow tapped into his pool of indignation, which ignited strong enough to dry his tears in an instant. He refused to be steamrolled by anyone, and especially not Matthews.

  Regardless of what Matthews might believe about his reign over Olympus Mons, Matthews was a thief. Grayson could not idly sit down and ignore this hostile takeover. However, given the situation, there wasn’t any swift action he could enact. None whatsoever. The only thing he might successfully achieve was to poison his enemy with kindness until he was able to adequately deal with the situation appropriately.

  Grayson could cut off future supplies, but he couldn’t afford to lose what was left of his guards and staff inside Olympus Mons. No, he must extend a pretentious olive branch to Matthews and hope to work out a mutual agreement about the Martian settlements, but how could he make it sound authentic. With all the sludge between them, Grayson knew Matthews could never trust him anymore than Grayson could trust Matthews. The skepticism between them was a thick barrier. They were too much alike and despised one another equally. Even if they truly wanted to become friends, they couldn’t. They’d constantly question the motive behind every action, good or bad.

  Grayson returned to his desk and sat down. He uploaded the message Matthews had sent and clicked to reply.

  “Steven Matthews,” he said. He began his message without any hint of hostility and used an almost comical tone. “Is there not any way that I can make you vanish for good? You’re like an insect immune to all pesticides. Again, you’ve proven yourself capable of outfoxing me. You must tell me how you managed to free yourself from the Sleeper Chip. In addition to being a great geneticist, I recall that you’re a technological genius, and since you have such skills, perhaps you could investigate what is glitching with my current chips? If you look at Jonas’ records, you will see how these chips have malfunctioned.

  “I know we’ve had our differences, Steven, and you know I had initially hired Lydia to kill you. But I didn’t allow her to carry it out. There are reasons why I prevented her from doing so. The world, even Mars, would be at a loss if your intellect was eliminated. You’re knowledge is too valuable, and I have realized that almost too late.”

  Grayson chuckled softly. “So why did I have you implanted with a chip and placed in the Martian mines? Naturally, that would be my first question if our positions were reversed. I simply needed to test you. You accessed my top-secret records when you were employed in New York. The computer records indicated that you read the information about the Sleeper Chips. Since you knew about them, I wanted to test your abilities to the limit, and you succeeded in finding a way to counteract the chips or perhaps defect the one implanted in you.

  “Jonas was a dear friend of mine and someone I entrusted to oversee Olympus Mons. But he was old. I couldn’t expect him to continue much longer. Besides, you have ambitious zeal and youth on your side. I’m certain we can both set our past differences aside and work for a productive future together in building the Martian civilization. Can we not? I offer you a high percentage of all profits, and I am in progress of obtaining one hundred fresh miners to transport to Mars. There’s no need for contention to remain between us. Let me know your decision, and we can keep the machine running. I won’t stop shipping essential supplies, and those working for you on Mars will continue receiving their monetary deposits. What do you say? Can we be partners? I maintain the business side from Earth and you maintain the Martian activities? I await your reply.”

  Immediately after he had finished the message, he found his stomach so nauseated that vomiting probably wouldn’t have eased the rising bile at the back of his throat. He didn’t believe Matthews would take the offer seriously because he had a difficult time placing the deal out in the open.

  To his surprise, fifteen minutes later, he received a reply from Matthews.

  Matthews chuckled softly when he began his diction. “And people here told me that you and I could never become friends. Grayson, I would be happy to work from Mars, but I have a couple of things you must approve. I realize I’m not exactly in a place of making demands, but this isn’t for me, but for the workers employed here. I have offered them twice their salary to continue onward. They have endured severe hardships with these strange insects in Mineshaft 15, which they have sealed by the way. However, we did lose a few prisoners and some guards. From the engineering department, I have news that might interest you as well. It seems you had an unsuccessful attempt by the Chinese to eradicate the general population of Olympus Mons. The robots the Chinese commissioned have been destroyed with Derek Walker’s help.

  “Anyway, if you can have an attorney draw up an agreement between us, I’m certain we can become a powerful team in the world of universal science, keeping Mars for ourselves and shutting out the other countries on Earth. While in the past, our relationship and the competition between us has often been strained, I believe we are finally working at the appropriate distance from one another where we can remain amicable. Worlds apart . . . so to speak.

  “But no matter, we’ll attend to things as they occur by not allowing our egos to get in the way of one another. Contention crumbles any empire. Never forget that. Instead of working against one another, imagine what we can achieve by working together. Awaiting your reply.”

  After the message ended, Grayson sat perplexed. Was Matthews on the level or was he feeding Grayson the same kind of BS Grayson had messaged to Matthews? The latter seemed more likely, but he imagined the possibilities if they decided to work together. Surely Matthews had weighed the same aspirations.

  The news about the destruction of the Chinese robots thrilled Grayson and lessened the chance for the Chinese government to destroy his encampments and delayed their hopes for a hostile takeover of Mars.

  Grayson called his attorneys and gave them specifics for drawing up a contract with Matthews and offering him a lucrative forty percent cut of the profits made from the Martian exports. It was simply a formality, which might work or sour. Only time would tell. But keeping communication lines open between them allowed Grayson to figure out if he needed to take any extreme action in the near future to secure what he still considered to be his property or not. He didn’t fully trust Matthews and he understood the feeling was mutual. There were at a strange impasse without either knowing what to believe or what might happen next.

  56

  Percival 3000 (Month Two)

  Carter had initiated bringing Sylvia and Magnus out of their hibernation stage a few days ahead of schedule. Despite the alien’s stern warning twelve days earlier not to awaken them too early, he didn’t think a few days would affect them or cause any damage. The premature wakeup call was due to his loneliness and fatigue, as well as his fear that the alien would return to harass and threaten him.

  He had decided to remain awake and ignore the alien’s request that he place himself into one of the hibernation chamber. Perhaps his direct disobedience had been the reason she had visited him less often. In some ways he was relieved, but in other ways, he missed her mind-melding seductive touch. She often induced a pleasurable eroticism that rushed through him each time she entered his mind with the exception of her last visit. He had angered her and she was displeased. He worried about the repercussions when she returned.

  While remaining conscious and during her absence, he had decided not to carry out her mission. His increasing determination was making him bolder. He awaited the opportunity to explain to her why he refused to kill Grayson. The main reason was because he was a medical doctor—a man that was trained to heal people, not maim or kill them.

  He still believed that Grayson was guilty of all kinds of atrocities against humanity, and he should be punished. To some degree he believed death was probably the best solution to end the experimental nature Grayson possessed, but he wasn’t going to be the one to deliver that deathblow.

  Carter wondered if they had travelled far enough away from Deimos that she was incapable to reach his mind anymore. He hoped
that was the case.

  Carter brought Magnus and Sylvia some silver juice-filled pouches with attached straws to puncture the bags so they could drink. No sooner had he handed them the bags, he felt a tingling sensation at the base of his skull.

  Within seconds the touch flowed down his spine like jagged ice, making his brain ached. Waves of frigid tendrils whipped and crept inside his mind, numbing him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to Sylvia. He winced and placed his hands on his temples.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to stand. Her footing faltered, and Magnus caught her arm, easing her down into the seat.

  Carter rushed down the aisle and ran for the restroom.

  “Easy, Sylvia. Our legs are weak. We need to gradually work ourselves into walking. Eventually, we’ll have to make our way to the exercise machines and train.”

  She nodded but turned toward him with a worried look. “What do you think is wrong with him?”

  Magnus sipped his juice, thought for a moment, and shrugged. “I honestly don’t have any idea. But, judging by the dark bags under his eyes, I don’t think he went into hibernation with us.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  Sylvia took a long sip from her juice pouch. “I plan to. Wonder what he’s been doing?”

  “Another question you’ll have to ask him.”

  She looked into his eyes, grinned nervously, and lowered her head. “I know. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “How’d you sleep?” she asked.

  “I feel well rested.”

  “Me, too. Did you dream?”

  “Some.”

  Sylvia glanced at him. “A lot of my dreams were odd. They were frightening and didn’t make sense.”

  “Mine, too. But I figure it’s because our subconsciouses were probably trying to figure out a way to jar us from our sleep.”