The small strip lights lining their EVA’s were the only source of light operational at the moment, and Jozi’s highlighted her face well. For a badass, she was incredibly beautiful; there was no doubt about that. But women were in his past and to think such thoughts were becoming more and more forbidden in his mind. A few years ago, he learned his lesson well—he wasn’t good at relationships.
“What? Do I have something on me?” Jozi asked.
He looked away, catching himself staring at her a bit too long. “No. Sorry, just deep in thought.” He unattached his EVA’s power chord from the rover’s middle console. His space suit’s temperature regulator didn’t charge all the way, but what he had would last him about four hours. Jozi unplugged her’s too.
Their regulators, however, weren’t keeping up with the cold creeping into the Mars rover. Soon enough, simply being cold wouldn’t be their biggest worry. Waiting for the craft that landed beside them to finally leave was.
His stomach growled, and he rubbed it, taking him away from his thoughts. He hadn’t had food in more than a day and even less sleep.
He’d give anything for a nice bed and a sandwich full of ground beef smeared with melted cheese, caramelized onions, and grease dripping from his lips. He knew it wasn’t the best thing for him, but right now, he’d take two, maybe three.
He licked his lips and shook his head. He had to get his thoughts elsewhere. “I’ll put one of the extra solar batteries in the rover.” He reached for the latch to open the door of the rover.
Metal against metal whined inside the ship. A hum followed.
He dropped his hand from the latch.
Jozi jerked, turning her head in the ramp’s direction. “What was that?”
Wajoom!
The ship rocked, and the ramp door blasted open, landing to the side with a small plume of orange fire bursting behind it. The flames trailed into smoke a second later.
A lone shadow silhouetted the new opening, and a hefty wave of cold air enveloped them.
Ozzy grabbed for his rifle by his seat and held it up, aiming the barrel at the figure’s head. Jozi lifted her gun, pointing it at the Being as well.
The individual stepped forward, landing one foot on the floor and then another. The footsteps echoed inside the craft.
“Steady your rifle on its chest. I have its forehead,” stated Jozi, a puff of water vapor exiting her mouth, like smoke, inside her helmet.
Ozzy lowered his rifle, doing as the trained MMP agent asked. “Don’t shoot yet.”
“We shoot, he dies. It’s that simple.”
But if they did shoot, it would shatter the driver’s side window. To help keep them as warm as possible while inside the rover, Ozzy and Jozi kept all the windows closed. “Nothing is that simple, darlin’.”
“Imagine my knee shoving hard into your groin, Ozzy. It’s that simple, too. Now, stop with the nicknames.”
The figure approached and walked closer to the driver’s side window. It reached behind its back and pulled out something.
“Steady,” said Jozi.
“You have your helmet clipped and sealed?”
“Yes,” she replied.
Ozzy rested his finger on the trigger. “Good. Me too. Get ready.”
The Being went to a knee and bowed, his head dipping toward the floor. He slowly lifted a rod and showed it to them. He just as slowly twisted it. A soft light widened from it, expelling outward.
It was a glow stick.
The figure dropped it on the floor and put its hands together. A cape around its shoulders and back jostled. It leaned its robot-looking mask into the tips of its gloved fingers.
It was Gragas.
“Lower your weapon, Jozi,” ordered Ozzy.
Jozi pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “Why?”
“Because I know this guy.” He placed his rifle between his seat and the middle console and greeted Gragas in a similar fashion by tipping his helmet forward and onto his own fingers.
“I assume you need my assistance?” said Gragas, his hands extending outward, and his voice muffled by the window between them.
“Depends,” replied Ozzy. “Who exactly are you?”
Jozi jabbed his ribs with her elbow. “I thought you knew the guy?”
He didn’t need to explain the nuances of his non-relationship with Gragas, just as much as he didn’t want to discuss what made Jozi tick, what her favorite color was, and how many roses made her happy.
Gragas pointed to his chest. “I come from Kromose-4 orbiting the Trappist star in the Aquarius Constellation. I’m a Dunrakee.” He tapped a weapon strapped to his suit. “Most importantly, I’m a Galactic Knight, hell-bent to free those entrapped by my races genocidal tendencies in the Galaxy. There are few of us, but we are the greatest warriors you will ever lay eyes upon.”
“If you’re Dunrakee, then how do you speak my language so well?” asked Ozzy.
“A language translator is built into my helmet.” He knocked on his mask. “I speak my language and you hear your language, and vice versa.” He put his hand up. “I’ll be right back.” He walked out of the craft and around the corner.
Ozzy and Jozi looked at each other. This was odd.
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” asked Jozi.
“I don’t know.”
Seconds later, Gragas stepped back into view. He held a three-foot by three-foot box. He carried it to the rover. “This will help you.”
“A wooden box will help me?” Ozzy pointed to his chest.
Gragas nodded.
“How the hell would that help us?” Jozi said.
“Good question. When you’re ready, put this box in the back of your vehicle. The contents will help you against the coming bounty hunters.”
Ozzy dropped his hands onto the steering wheel. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
“You killed the son of the Dunrakee terrorist leader.”
Ozzy slapped the steering wheel with his palms. “He killed himself. He ran his craft into the damn shield. Even a cross-eyed idiot wouldn’t do that.”
“They don’t see it that way.”
“Apparently.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was his recent lame-ass luck again. He let out an exasperated breath. “When are the bounty hunters coming?” His muscles tightened just by saying the words. The last thing he wanted was more killers trying to collect a bounty on his head.
“Some will be here in a week, others will be here in a few months.”
Ozzy shook his head. That didn’t make sense. “Weeks? Months? Why the discrepancy?”
Gragas clasped his hands behind his back. “These bounty hunters will be coming from all over the Galaxy. Very few are Dunrakee.”
Ozzy eyed Jozi. “Swell, more aliens to get to know.”
Gragas spoke up, “Trust me. You will not want to get to know these bounty hunters.”
There was no question about that. Right now, Ozzy was the unluckiest son of a bitch in the entire universe.
“What is the bounty?” Ozzy had to know. If he was going to die, his life better be worth ten’s of millions of auric credits.
“A year on Earth.”
Ozzy paused and took in Gragas’s response. “You’re shitting me. Right?”
“No, shitting. Why would I do something like shitting myself? I’m simply telling you.”
“What? That’s it? That’s all the bounty they have on my head?”
“Earth is the most beautiful and abundantly rich place in the Galaxy,” said Gragas. “One year on Earth would grant you a lot of assets. It holds rare minerals.” He dipped his head and put his hands together. “I must be going. There is a tracker on my ship. The Dunrakee leaders are looking for me as well. I’ll lead them away from you before I take the tracker off. I’ll see you another time, Ozzy.” He nodded his head, eyeing Jozi. “It was nice to meet you.”
Jozi nodded back, her eyes wide.
Gragas walked out of the craft and disappeared ar
ound the corner, the glow stick slowly losing its light.
Ozzy opened his door, and more cold entered. He glanced down at the box. On top was the word open written in his language. Under the word was a sentence saying, I’ve been waiting for you to show up.
16
Unknown, Mars
Ozzy lifted the box. It was light, but most things outside the gravity-enriched cities on Mars were.
He glanced over his shoulder and out the craft’s window as the rumble of Gragas’s ship quaked the ground. Orange light from the engines lit up the landscape. It dwindled as the ship rose higher into the air and disappeared when it shot across the sky.
“There goes Gragas,” said Ozzy, opening the rear door and sliding the box on the back seat.
“Switch the solar battery out,” said Jozi.
Ozzy opened the back hatch and grabbed one of the batteries. “Can you click open the hood?”
Jozi reached over, pressed a button, and the hood popped up, unlocking from the latch.
Ozzy walked over and lifted the hood higher. The engine block was cracked in half. Probably from his run-in with the wall. And worse, a portion of the engine had pressed against the solar battery mount, pinning the battery against the frame that separated the engine from the inside of the car.
He put the solar battery he was holding on the floor and reached forward and jostled the pinned battery. It was stuck. He used both hands and pulled. The battery didn’t move.
He’d need tools he didn’t have to pull the engine forward and get that solar battery off of the mount. At the moment, there’d be no way of switching out the batteries.
“Deimos moon,” he cursed.
He slammed the hood closed.
He placed his hands on his hips, the Martian chill nonchalantly creeping up from his toes and into his body. “Grab that backpack of yours and the briefcase. I’ll grab my rifle and Indigo.”
Jozi’s mouth was in an “o” after watching his temper tantrum. “What in Orion’s Belt is going on?”
“The engine block is destroyed. The rover ain’t moving. I mean, if you want, we can push this piss-ant to Briault.” He slapped his hand on the side of the rover.
“Switch out the batteries, and we’ll warm up until morning. When the sun’s up, it’ll be warm enough to walk to Briault.”
“The engine is smashing the solar battery, and I can’t get it out.”
Jozi shoved her door open and stood outside the vehicle, leaning her forearm against the edge of the rover’s roof. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking?”
He walked around to his side of the vehicle and grabbed his rifle, strapping it over his shoulder. “I don’t joke about shit like this. Let’s get going. The longer we sit still, the sooner we will freeze to death and our oxygen will run out. We have to walk to keep our energy and our heat up. The temperature regulators on our suits will do the rest.”
“We’re attempting a walk to Briault?”
“Yep.”
“Everyone will be dead from the Martian Plague by the time we get there.”
“I doubt it.” He swallowed, thinking of his daughter. A rage of anger pierced his belly and rose up his throat. Ozzy was positive that Robert was the cause of Lily coming down with the Martian Plague, and Ozzy was sick and tired of Robert messing with his life and his family’s life.
He opened the backseat door. Gragas’s box was in front of him, waiting to be opened. Whatever was in there had to be good. An impenetrable body shield that would keep him safe for the rest of this mission? A badass weapon good enough to stop a bounty hunter’s war vessel?
Even though the rover was out of commission, this prize inside the box had to change the mood. It had to be a pick-me-up.
He reached forward, flipping off the box’s wooden lid.
He couldn’t stuff down his frown fast enough. “This is a joke.” He turned and threw up the middle finger in the direction Gragas flew.
Jozi opened the other back passenger door. “What is it?”
Ozzy gestured toward the box. “Look and see, swee—” He stopped himself. Jozi kneeing him in the groin jumped into his mind.
“Food?” exclaimed Jozi. “It’s food?”
“Yep.”
A box full of bars—food bars—were on display before them.
“How is this going to help me against bounty hunters? Maybe if they’re hungry, I can throw them a couple?”
It didn’t make any sense. Why would Gragas give him food to fend off bounty hunters? Maybe Gragas wanted Ozzy to keep his energy reserves up and his mind alert?
He grabbed a handful and shoved them into his EVA suit’s pockets and his satchel.
Jozi snorted. “This only gets better and better.” She also snagged a handful.
Ozzy leaned over the middle console and grabbed Lily’s picture and stuffed it in his pocket. He then picked up Indigo and his rifle and strode out of the Dunrakee craft and onto the Mars soil, not waiting for Jozi. He felt the crunch of sand and rock under his boots and the cold becoming a bit harsher.
“Thanks for waiting,” complained Jozi, catching up to him.
He dipped his head, strapping the rifle over his shoulder. “My pleasure.” He tapped his hip, feeling the photon pistol holstered at his side, and trekked forward. It was nippy outside, to say the least. In truth, it was knuckle-shaking cold.
He looked at his gauges on his EVA.
His suit’s oxygen was functioning correctly; temperature regulator was operational; suits lining intact. He tapped his gauge, changing to the next display.
His shoulder’s slumped. Time remaining for functional, breathable oxygen—two hours, twenty-seven minutes. He had to get to Briault within that period in order to live. That was if he didn’t die of hypothermia first.
He tapped a device on his EVA’s wrist and pulled up his maps and typed in Briault while holding Indigo securely under his arm.
A map hovered in front of him, and he brought up his current location and the time it would take to get to Briault.
He huffed, feeling a heaviness in his body.
By walking, it’d take two hours. There couldn’t be any screw-ups, and they would not be able to take any breaks.
“How do you think your daughter is doing?” asked Jozi, her voice soft and motherly. Even though she was raised in an orphanage and barely had a biological mother she could remember, Ozzy figured she must have had experience mothering her friends at the orphanage because her tone was perfect. It was so good, it reminded him of his mother.
But the thought of his sick daughter pained his heart. Why did she bring up Lily? He let out a breath of disgust. “She’s a trooper.” His voice sounded callous. There were a million emotions he was experiencing, and none he would show Jozi.
“I’m sorry, Ozzy.”
“Thanks.”
Even if they could get to the cure’s location, was the cure real and not just a myth transcribed on a tablet? A part of his gut was telling him it was real. Another part was telling him it was impossible to be real.
Still, it was Lily’s only chance.
They walked past some hills, and they could see Briault’s city dome that was lit up in the distance.
Jozi picked up her pace. The backpack bounced up and down on her back, and the briefcase under her arm slipped lower at every step.
She pushed the briefcase back up.
“I know you see the city, but conserve your energy. The faster you walk the more oxygen you take up.”
She slowed, kicking a rock out of her way. “I think I’m fine, but I’ll slow down so you can keep up.”
The night was dark, and the ground was shadowed all around. Ozzy’s bad, sour breath was getting to him, but it was better than the alternative—taking off his helmet and consuming carbon dioxide and allowing it to take his soul.
“You know, you have never asked any questions about my life,” mentioned Jozi.
Ozzy kept his mouth shut, continuing to march toward Briaul
t. He couldn’t care less about how many boyfriends she had, how rich her friends were, and what lavish college she went to before becoming an MMP agent.
They walked for twenty minutes without saying a word, hopping over small boulders and moving past rocks and thick, round mounds.
Jozi looked up. “God, it’s beautiful out here.” A star shot across the sky, sending a hazy blue trail.
Ozzy kept up a gradual pace, glancing at what she saw, then keeping his eyes forward and on the city. His eyes were on the prize. This was his goal, his destination, and possibly his salvation to get out of the cold and to a safe, warm place.
“Just so you know,” Jozi’s voice sounded weak, “I didn’t vote for the High Judge. So don’t be one of those people who holds his election win over my head. I only work for the guy, and I’m starting to see what you see in him.”
Ozzy didn’t care. He knew how the voting went, so he never pressed a holodisplay button to vote for this person or that person during campaigning season. “That’s great, Jozi,” a hint of sarcasm reflected in his words.
“I voted for Lucinda Payens.” Her voice trembled. She was shivering.
Ozzy didn’t even know a woman ran. “Yeah, she was great.”
“Really? You think so?” Jozi responded.
Ozzy could hear the shaking in her words. She was getting colder.
“Check your temperature gauge.”
She did and nodded. “It’s fine.”
Ozzy kept his pace across the Martian dust, watching the city come closer. He wished he could take out a food bar and eat it now. Maybe that would warm him up. But doing so would require him to take off his EVA, and if he wanted to live a wee bit longer, he’d be keeping his suit on.
“The elections are rigged,” he muttered.
Jozi let out a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“You put the elections on a holocomputer system, and they can be hacked, changed, and the results read falsely. It’s no coincidence that the owner of the voting holocomputers was in the same electoral party as Robert Baldwin. It’s no coincidence that Robert Baldwin has won every four years, starting twenty years ago.”
And it was funny how Baldwin outlawed archaeology after the first time he won. It not only dumbed down the public, but it also raised the prices of archaeological finds in order for Robert to hire rebel archaeologist idiots like Ozzy to search, dig, and retrieve artifacts for the High Judge. Robert would, in turn, sell them on the expensive black market, making himself as rich as rich could be.
Mars Colony Chronicles (Books 1 - 5): A Space Opera Box Set Adventure Page 10