Mars Colony Chronicles (Books 1 - 5): A Space Opera Box Set Adventure

by Brandon Ellis

  A blast rocked the ground, and Ozzy lost his balance. He fell on his side. Several Galactic Knights were on the ground and not moving. The others, including Gragas, continued to fire.

  He jumped back up and studied the wall. There wasn’t anything on it. No Coptic writing or markings of any kind.

  What the hell?

  He shook his head, panic setting in. If this cure was real, and if it was inside this rock, then he had to get it to Lily.

  Inside this rock?

  A concussion blast shook the Moonshinka, but Ozzy managed to stay upright.

  Inside the rock? He repeated in his mind. “Wait,” he blurted out. “The Ancient Coptic tablet said it was underground. We’re looking in the wrong place.”

  Jozi glanced over her shoulder at the waging battle. “We can’t get out, Ozzy. We can’t go to another place.”

  Ozzy slid his foot across the ground, pushing away dirt, exposing an etched symbol at his feet. “We don’t have to leave. The entrance is beneath us, not in front of us.”

  He began pushing more dirt away with his boots. Dizzy and Jozi joined in. A small dust cloud formed. Ozzy waved his hands in the air, clearing as much of the red fog away as possible, but it was too much. He had to go by feel.

  He got onto his hands and knees.

  Kakrooom!

  More rocks slammed against him, and the cloud stirred up more debris. He did his best to pay it no mind and ran his fingers over the etched stone.

  “That’s the up glyph. And that’s the down.” He wiped his hands together. “We have up, down, left, and right Coptic writings all in their own square dolomite rock.”

  A muffled scream filled his helmet. He turned, and through the dust, he could see Dunrakee soldiers at the mouth’s entrance.

  Gragas was bent over, holding his stomach. A Dunrakee was next to him, coming down hard with a long knife.

  30

  Moonshinka Rock Near Dawes, Mars

  Ozzy held out his rifle. Before he could pull the trigger, Dizzy let off round after round, sending photon cannon projectiles at the knife-wielding Dunrakee soldier.

  The soldier lifted off of his feet, jerking left and right at each photon hit. He landed on his back, skidding across the crimson surface.

  Dizzy continued to pound shot after shot, the cannon slicing through the Dunrakee troops beyond.

  Ozzy didn’t have time, or the desire, to watch. He pressed on the left glyph with all his strength. The engraved rock dipped and rose, much like a key on a piano. He pushed on it again with all he had.

  The same results.

  Wapooh! Wapooh!

  More photon blasts rocked the Moonshinka.

  A bloodcurdling yell went through his helmet. It was another Galactic Knight meeting his maker.

  Crap.

  He wanted to look up to see if he had more time, but he couldn’t. He had to concentrate, and under these conditions, it was like trying to save someone from a fire while he was on fire.

  He pushed the left glyph again

  Right, up, up, up, down.

  He pressed on them in rhythm, the way the Coptic hieroglyph instructions described.

  The ground under Ozzy shuddered, and more dust drifted upward and floated in the air.

  “Get back,” warned Ozzy, moving back and pushing Jozi away.

  A square portion of the earth opened up before them, exposing stairs.

  Dizzy stopped firing. He pointed to the staircase, abruptly shaking his arm, obviously trying to get them to rush down the steps and fast.

  Ozzy nodded and used his EVA light to illuminate the area. He pounded down the concrete steps while Jozi followed. Dizzy was close behind, breathing heavily.

  The entrance closed, taking with it the sounds of the outside explosions and photon blasts.

  He took step after step, his gloved fingers pressing on the wide walls that bordered each side of the staircase. He had no idea where he was going or what was down here, or even how plants could survive in such darkness—if they survived at all.

  It all seemed so impossible. And, in truth, it was.

  “Are we almost there?” asked Jozi, her breaths hurried.

  “I don’t know,” replied Ozzy. “Whoa.” He halted, flinging his hands out in front of him.

  Too late.

  He grunted when he hit a wall. He bounced off of it, his helmet clacking loudly on the ground, and he rolled to the side. Jozi tripped over him, slamming into the wall as well.

  Dizzy laughed and lifted Ozzy to his feet. He made an odd sound—a dialect Ozzy wasn’t familiar with—and pointed at the wall the same way he’d pointed at the open staircase moments ago.

  “I got it,” said Ozzy. He stepped over Jozi, holding his hand in front of him, using the wristband light to highlight more glyphs. These were hand-painted in calligraphy, something he’d never observed from the Ancient Martians before.

  Jozi pushed herself up. “Thanks for the help, gentlemen.”

  “Oh yeah, sorry.” Ozzy touched the calligraphy. “I don’t know what it says.” He paused, looking at his gloves and then back at the calligraphy. Black ink was on his fingertips, and the calligraphy was now smudged on the wall. “It’s fresh?”

  “What do you mean?” Jozi said.

  He showed her his fingertips. “The ink or paint, or whatever was used to draw on the wall, is fresh.” He narrowed his eyes. “In Mars’s atmosphere, any liquid would evaporate.” He shook his head. “This isn’t evaporating.” He shifted on his feet, testing his weight compared to his weight on the surface. “I’m heavier.”

  “What do the glyphs say?” Jozi looked behind her and over Dizzy’s shoulder. “We have to hurry.”

  Ozzy ignored her question. “The gravity is denser down here and getting denser by the second.” He checked his EVA’s gauge on his forearm and gasped. “Gravity levels are optimal. Oxygen levels are rising.” He glanced around, wondering where the oxygen tanks were that were feeding this underground corridor.

  He didn’t see a thing.

  His EVA beeped. Oxygen levels were now ideal.

  He unclipped his helmet.

  “What are you doing?” Jozi asked, tilting her head to the side in disbelief. She reached forward to press his helmet back in place.

  “Don’t,” said Ozzy, batting her hand away. He lifted his helmet off and took a big, deep breath. “Oxygen and lots of it. The reason the ink had lifted and liquidized was that oxygen left this stairwell when we opened the door to get inside.”

  “But how did the oxygen get in here in the first place?” Jozi unclipped her helmet, took it off, and swiped her black hair out of her eyes. She inhaled. “Did the Dunrakee set this up after they took over Dawes?”

  Ozzy shrugged. “I doubt it.” He went back to the calligraphy. He began wiping it off.

  Jozi leaped forward, pushing his arm down. “No. What are you doing?”

  He folded his arms, facing Jozi. “You don’t see it? Whoever put this calligraphy here knew that by opening the door the oxygen would escape and the calligraphy would fail.”

  “But you’re erasing it,” she pleaded, her mouth drawn open in surprise.

  “They want us to.” He smudged away more, revealing a narrow strip of glass. He continued to wipe the ink away, and more glass came into view.

  A rainbow of lights zipped from left to right inside the glass, doing so over and over again. He took off his glove and put his hand over the glass. It gave off heat.

  The ground shook, and rock screeching against rock sounded all around.

  Ozzy spun, looking the place up and down. There wasn’t much to this small area, other than the staircase, so the source of the screeching rock shouldn’t be too hard to spot.

  He stopped and reached for Dizzy. “Move.” He pulled him out of the way.

  A circle inside a circle was etched on the step Dizzy was on. Ozzy pressed on it. Nothing happened. Ozzy nodded, understanding why it didn’t work. “I hate it when the Ancient’s do this.” He to
ok off his other glove and rested both his hands on the inscription.

  Ozzy stood back. The step in front of him moved upward and vibrated. Soot fell from above.

  The stair went flush against the ceiling and clicked. Another loud click and the steps and the landing they stood on jostled, then began to descend.

  “An elevator,” said Jozi, her eyes wide.

  “You’re earning your weight in auric credits by pointing out the obvious, sweetheart.”

  A swift kick with her foot to his groin and Ozzy crumbled to the floor, holding his gonads.

  Dizzy laughed.

  Jozi stared down at Ozzy. “You call me that name again and, by God, it will be my knee next time.”

  Ozzy rolled on the floor, the pain heading to his stomach. If he had any food in him to vomit up, he would. “Bad timing, Jozi. We’re in the middle of finding the cure.”

  The landing shuddered, hitting rock, and then came to a sudden halt. Ozzy slowly stood, rubbing his stomach, trying to get the shitty kicked-in-the-balls sensation to go away. He winced in pain, his eyes watering.

  The wall, which was once filled with calligraphy, quivered and slowly slid upward. A light poked through the opening.

  A bird chirped. Then more.

  Ozzy backed up, taking his hands off of his stomach. “What the…”

  A bee flew from under the opening door to where Ozzy, Jozi, and Dizzy stood.

  One of the many problems invading Ozzy’s head at this moment was that. . .

  Mars didn’t have bees.

  31

  Moonshinka Rock Near Dawes, Mars

  “What’s that?” Jozi scurried closer to Ozzy.

  Dizzy laughed again, then spoke even more incoherent phrases and clicks and finally a long buzzing sound, mimicking the bee.

  “It’s a bumblebee.” Ozzy got to one knee and watched it fly around, almost as if it was sniffing for flowers. He’d never seen one in person, and if he weren’t in the time crunch of his life, he’d watch the thing for hours on end and study it until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

  It landed on his stomach and crawled up his EVA. Ozzy flinched, and the bee flew away, going under the ever-opening wall.

  More light streamed in.

  Ozzy bent down and peeked under. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Jozi got on her hands and knees, eyeing what Ozzy was seeing. “Wildlife.” Her mouth gaped open.

  Ozzy crawled forward, slipping under the opening. He stood in awe.

  Massive trees with green leaves and hanging fruits grew in the middle of a giant complex.

  The ceiling glowed a whitish-yellow, very much like the sun.

  Plants surrounded the place like a jungle. Birds, many Ozzy had never seen before, not even in the university’s historical archives, flew from limb to limb.

  Everything was vibrant. Green, leafy herbs grew in abundance, coupled with bright yellow and orange flowers, and trees with emerald-colored leaves and fruits were everywhere.

  Were those apples?

  Ozzy nodded, wanting to smile. “Apple trees,” he mumbled.

  Ozzy glanced around more, his body frozen in place. Orange trees, fig trees, and plum trees were like magnificent trophies rising to the ceiling.

  Purple flowers were littered on the ground, accompanied by small white flowers. “Daisies,” he said.

  The colors were endless, and the aroma was a rich mixture of citrus and fresh soil.

  It was warm and extremely humid in here.

  He took a step over a large fern—another plant he’d seen in the archives—and placed his boot on soft, squishy moss.

  “What is this place?” asked Jozi, also eyeing everything around her.

  “You mentioned that the Ancients kept some of their artifacts in excellent condition by keeping them in capsules. Well, this may be the solar systems largest time capsule. It’s kept these plants alive for…” he couldn’t imagine how long this had been around, “…thousands and thousands of years.”

  He moved through a throng of wildflowers. Butterflies and bees took to the air. He lurched back, batting his arms. They flew the opposite direction.

  He turned, seeing Jozi doing the same thing. Those insects weren’t known to kill according to the records, but who knew. He put his helmet back on, just in case, followed by his gloves.

  He paused, glancing around. “Where’s Dizzy?”

  Jozi looked around, then pointed. “Where is he going?"

  Dizzy was walking away from them, going north in the never-ending jungle of plants.

  “Dizzy,” yelled Ozzy.

  Dizzy put his hand up and waved without looking back. He held tightly to his pack of bombs, carrying them to the underbelly of Dawes. He was probably going to light them on fire from the bottom up.

  Ozzy grunted. He didn’t like that idea, not because it would kill the terrorists, but because it would kill every plant in here. In a matter of ten to twenty minutes, however long it took Dizzy to make it under Dawes, an explosion would send a growing wildfire south, wiping out all of these plants, plus bringing in more carbon dioxide.

  He couldn’t let that happen. This place was a treasure, and it had to be saved.

  “Dizzy, hold on.” He ran after him, passing several trees. Dizzy was speeding up, jogging faster. Dizzy laughed again, then stopped and turned. He put his hands up for Ozzy to halt.

  “Ain’t no way I’m letting you—” Ozzy ran into a translucent wall and bounced off of it, falling on his butt. He pushed off the ground and stood, seeing a device attached to a rock in the soil, sending a shield across the breadth of the gigantic room.

  Dizzy must have just planted it. Was this to protect the wildlife? Most likely.

  Ozzy held up his thumb to Dizzy and turned, rushing over to Jozi.

  “Ozzy,” Jozi yelled. “Over here.”

  She was staring at something beneath a large tree, its branches hung over like an umbrella full of leaves. “What is it?” Ozzy asked.

  “Stones with writing on them. They surround the base of this tree.”

  He walked over to her, pushing away the branches, and stopped in mid-stride. “More Ancient Coptic writing.” He unclipped his helmet and set it down next to her’s.

  He read the stone’s ancient script.

  “This is what’s left after a war between two worlds. The Ancients saved this place, created it for austerity and future races. And cures.” He itched his chin. “Why cures?” He nodded to himself. “Because the Martian Plague has been around before, even during their time.”

  This time around, however, the Dunrakee terrorists started it by releasing diseased rats and mice into the cities.

  The Ministry tried to blame it on made-up carbon dioxide ticks and fleas. But they knew all along who started the Martian Plague. There was no doubt in Ozzy’s mind.

  Ozzy shook his head. The High Judge didn’t want the population to know they couldn’t handle the terrorist threat. “They created a story only to save face.”

  Jozi wrinkled her nose in confusion. “What?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if the High Judge knew the terrorists were spreading the disease. They couldn’t stop them and didn’t want the population to know that they couldn’t stop them.”

  Jozi shook her head. “The High Judge—”

  The capsule shuddered. Ozzy looked up. “I don’t think they’re doing well up there.” He hoped Gragas was still alive, but he doubted it.

  He read another stone. “The atmosphere was erased when they destroyed another planet.” That’s great information, but he wanted to find the plants that gave the cure. He kept reading, hoping this would take him in the right direction. The problem, however, was that he didn’t know what some of the plants actually looked like. “They say that they destroyed a planet named Maldek. Some of Maldek’s remains comprise the asteroid belt.”

  He grunted. Again, this shit was important and amazing, but what about the cure? Where was it? And were there any pictu
res?

  Another explosion shook the capsule. It was coming from atop. The battle was still raging between the Galactic Knights and the Dunrakee slime.

  “Set your teleporter up. We’ll have to push in every plant we can grab.” He began to run off toward the wildflowers, then stopped. A rock with glyphs caught his eye. “Could these be instructions?”

  Jozi gasped. “Where?”

  “Look,” Ozzy pointed. “When the cure is taken, it must go through our mouths first, not through our skin. It has to go through all immune processes the most natural way.”

  “That’s what it says?”

  “That’s it.” Ozzy pushed away a hanging branch and rushed out into a field of ground cover. “Set up the teleporter.”

  “I am.”

  “Good.” He pulled a purple plant with a green stem. A loud pop filled the capsule. He hesitated, glancing at the plant in his hand and then back at Jozi. “Is the teleporter okay?”

  “Yes, but did you hear that pop?”

  “I did.” He looked around but couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of the noise. He hurried over to a yellow-leafed vine and pulled it up by the roots. Another loud pop. He pursed his lips and reached for a red flower hanging from a stem with thorns. Another pop.

  The ground rumbled, and the grass parted, splitting open and creating a chasm.

  Ozzy stepped back, not at all liking what was happening.

  Jozi came running out from under the tree and stood beside Ozzy.

  Ozzy’s mouth gaped open. A twelve-foot-long sarcophagus with a transparent cover connected to a metallic lift, rose from the ground.

  Ozzy put his arm out, pushing Jozi away. “Get back under—”

  The top fizzed and popped, opened up, and fell to the ground. Steam rose from inside the sarcophagus.

  “Who goes there?” boomed a loud voice.

  “Shit.”

  Ozzy moved back some more.

  “Answer me.” A large man, almost the size and width of the sarcophagus, sat up, his red hair matching his red, curly beard.

  The man put his hands on the sarcophagus’s stone edges and pushed himself out of his make-shift bed, or whatever the hell it was.