Martian Plague Page 4

  5

  Nearing Tagus Valles, Mars

  Ozzy eased the throttle, slowing Relic, and descended. A dust storm was heading their way, and it was between Ozzy’s craft and Tagus Valles, and it was expanding.

  Ozzy checked his altimeter and the wind speed. The light gusts were already up to thirty miles per hour.

  “Turn the hell around. What are you doing?” complained Jozi.

  Ozzy ignored her and touched a button on the lower console, sending an energetic pulse into the storm. This storm shouldn’t be much of a problem unless it continued to increase in size.

  He checked the storm tracker. It was registering the storm as minimal. Yes, it wouldn’t cause much of a challenge.

  A beep went through the cockpit, and the dust storm’s speed blinked on the holovid in front of them.

  83 miles per hour.

  Ozzy narrowed his eyes and scratched his temple. “That’s not right.”

  He rechecked the storm tracker. Minimal.

  “Okay, you know you can’t fly through that thing, so let’s turn around, recharge, and forget you ever attempted to outrun the storm. I won’t log this with the Ministry.”

  “Yeah, hold on. The storm tracker says I’ll be fine.” Ozzy sent another pulse just in case. It came back quickly, blinking 83 miles per hour.

  That was high winds for a Martian dust storm. But why didn’t the storm tracker register danger if it was?

  Either the pulse was wrong, or the tracker was full of shit.

  Dust flew higher into the air, covering the horizon.

  Shit.

  The problem wasn’t necessarily the wind. The problem was the tiny red sand particles that tended to stick to everything during heavy storms. Plus at this speed, the sand had a way of stripping paint and creeping into a ship’s pitot-static system, wrecking havoc on altitude instrumentation, the speed gauge, cabin pressure controllers, carbon dioxide data computers, the Mach number, and the list could go on and on.

  All crafts were grounded in a city when a large storm like this was near. It wasn’t this large before he took off. But the thing was growing quickly, too quickly.

  “We can’t turn around. It’s heading toward Gale Crater City. If I go east, we can go around it. That’s our best bet.”

  He had to continue his trajectory. Turning around and flying back to Gale Crater City would get him nowhere. The tower wasn’t allowed to open any landing ports when a storm this immense was near.

  “Veer off,” ordered Jozi.

  An idea formed in Ozzy’s mind. A rather evil one, but in his line of work, it was a smart one. He’d ride the edge of the storm. It’d look like he was going to enter it, but he’d keep as safe a distance as possible. “Veer off? Maybe.”

  “What do you mean, maybe?”

  “Get the High Judge on the com line and I may consider steering us around this storm.” He would steer around, regardless, but the less she knows, the better.

  Relic bumped up and down, the first signs of turbulence. The wind was picking up.

  “Are you crazy? Turn. Us. Around!”

  Ozzy shook his head. “Call the High Judge.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re heading to Moonshinka Rock, which is next to Dawes, in order to get this cure for him. And that’s practically a suicide mission. If I’m doing that, then I want more auric credits.” The more auric credits, the easier it would be to negotiate for the proper ship to get his and Lily’s asses off this planet.

  Jozi’s face flushed red. “I can’t do that.”

  Ozzy eased his control stick more to the right, heading away from the widening storm. The red particles up ahead were stirring in the wind, wanting to grab Relic at any chance. “Call him.”

  “Did you fly toward this storm just to get more money?”

  “No. It was but a blip before we left. I had no idea it would expand so quickly.”

  “Are you an idiot? Turn around to Gale Crater City.” She shot him a look that could kill the Martian Plague on its own.

  “If I do, they won’t open the ports for me. They won’t risk damaging the inside of a city. The sand might get into the shield catalysts inside the dome, ripping the catalysts apart from the inside out and dematerializing the shields. It’d kill the entire city population in minutes.” He paused and squeezed his control stick tighter. “Call the High Judge, and then I’ll get us out of here.”

  Ozzy could tell Jozi knew he was right about not turning around. There wasn’t a chance in Mars hell that a city would risk opening up when a storm was brewing closer.

  “He’s not going to comply with your demands, Ozzy. I guarantee he’s not allowed to take any more auric credits from the Ministry’s treasury.”

  “I know for a fact he can get credits many other ways. I know him better than most.” The craft shuddered then dipped violently. Ozzy steadied Relic and patted the console like a cowboy patted a horse. “You got this.”

  The storm was growing, widening, and thickening. It had to be the worst red storm he’d seen in years. He gulped, and a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead.

  Jozi sighed heavily, releasing her grip on the armrests. “Fine.” She punched in Robert’s com channel. His image popped up on the vid screen, partitioned off to the right so Ozzy could see his flight path unabated through the anti-radiation cockpit window.

  “Well, well. You two enjoying your trip?” There was a hint of sardonic pleasure in his voice for pairing the two together. His face quickly went from sociopathic joy to a blank expression, as if he just realized he was showing too much happiness in a not-so-happy time. He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid to say, the disease has taken a turn for the worse. It’s spreading rapidly in Gale Crater City. I need you to complete this mission quickly, so no dilly-dallying, alright?”

  “I’ll make this quick,” responded Ozzy, keeping his eyes on the dust storm. Even though he was attempting to ride the edge, Relic and the storm would collide in less than two minutes. “The cure leads to a rock next to Dawes. That’s a suicide run.”

  “I know,” said Robert.

  “What? And you had us go on this mission anyway?” replied Ozzy.

  “You’re the best. If anyone can be invisible, it’s you. Plus, you’re the only one who can decode the glyphs once you get there. Don’t let us down. Remember, if you fail and live, then we have a special place for you in prison.”

  The ship jostled.

  “Umm…Ozzy,” chimed Jozi, pointing at the storm ahead.

  Ozzy put his hand up, gesturing for Jozi to be quiet. “I want more auric credits. That’s the only way I can justify risking my life for millions of people I don’t know. Plus, we’re in one of the biggest dust storms I’ve seen in a long time and most likely won’t make it out alive. I’ll fly straight into the storm if you don’t pay up.”

  Ozzy pushed the control stick hard, inching away from the storm. He knew he had no choice but to head into a portion of it since it was moving so fast, but he’d continue to act the crazed, suicidal lunatic.

  Robert narrowed his eyes, his face reddening. “It’s potentially millions dead, you money-grabbing, opportunistic fool.”

  “Ozzy,” came Jozi. “This isn’t looking good. Pull up and change course. Now!”

  Ozzy ignored her, watching exactly what he was about to fly into—a mess beyond global proportions. The dust cloud wasn’t only growing wider, it was expanding higher. This was the monster of all dust storms.

  His hands shook as Relic hit the first blast of red dust particles. They weren’t going to get out of this storm. He was an idiot. He flew too close to the edge. “I want five million auric credits. Not later, but in my account now.”

  The holodisplay began winking in and out.

  Robert looked off. Ozzy figured that Robert’s mind was either spinning on hundreds of ways to kill Ozzy after he completed the mission or wondering how he could get that money.

  “We need to know now, Robert,” insisted Ozzy, his eye
s widening, his hands gripping the control stick like it was a Martian underground aqua snake trying to swim free from his grasp.

  “You are a real piece of work, Ozzy.” He hesitated, his eyes darting from the screen to another screen off camera. “Alright, I’ll personally send you the credits from my account right now.” Robert glanced down, pressing several buttons.

  “Relic,” said Ozzy. “Ding when the credits come through.” In seconds, a ding went off. Ozzy puffed out his cheeks and immediately turned off the com feed and banked right, simultaneously descending his craft to gain a faster speed.

  It was too late.

  Jozi slapped her thighs. “You greedy—”

  The rush of wind and red sand pelting Relic drowned out Jozi’s voice. “Hold on.” He brought up a holographic map, locating one of many dust storm shelters on Mars. The closest was on the outskirts of Lasswitz Gorge a few kilometers away. “Got it.”

  He lowered his skids, bringing Relic in for a landing. If he couldn’t fly through this storm, he’d have to land and find shelter to wait it out.

  Up ahead was a small canyon with a red haze quickly taking over. Apparently, there was a bunker somewhere inside one of the gorge’s hefty ridges.

  The hologram blipped off, and the craft puttered. The lights blinked off and on.

  That wasn’t good.

  Ozzy punched the console. “Come on, Relic.”

  “What is it?” Jozi said, her hands gripping the armrests, her knuckles going pale white.

  Ozzy clenched his jaw, speaking through gritted teeth. “The sand is blasting into the instrumentation. My craft is shutting down.” Relic dipped, and the storm surrounded them. The sticky sand coated the windows, scratching the thick panes, like claws, trying to get into the cockpit—a wonderful gift that Mars always brought with its sharp sand.

  The cabin lights dimmed and turned off completely. All the panels went dark, and the engines shut down.

  They were now gliding blindly toward their doom.

  “How high are we in the air?” asked Jozi, bracing for impact.

  “No idea, maybe—”

  A loud bang sounded, and Relic lurched forward, tipped to the side, and spun. The craft hit something hard. Ozzy’s restraints pulled tightly against his chest, pinning him to the seat. Below, the sound of crates, pallet jacks, and boxes smashing against each other reverberated against the walls.

  Jozi screamed.

  They slid forward and jerked left, crashing into something else hard. The ship flipped, and the briefcase smashed against the ceiling and then back to the floor.

  If he remembered correctly, and if Relic was on the trajectory it was on before all instrumentation bleeped off, a giant canyon wall would greet them next.

  “Not good,” he said quietly to himself. “Not good at all.”

  6

  Lasswitz Gorge, Mars

  Relic’s wings crashed against the red soil, and the rocky canyon pounded against the ship’s belly.

  The cockpit vibrated, and Ozzy held on to the control stick with everything he had. They were sliding across the ground, and all the bow ionic thrusters were offline and unable to slow the craft down. Worse yet, the cockpit window was full of red sand. To say they were blind and in a bind was the understatement of the world.

  A loud crash resounded, and the cockpit smashed inward, breaking the flight console in half, and parts and pieces crumbled to the floor in chunks. Sparks flew, singeing Ozzy’s hands. He pulled them back and wiggled them in the air, cringing in pain.

  The craft bounced backward and into the air, landing hard and sliding more. It rocked to the side, and the ship’s exterior screamed against thick, Mars rock. The ship shuddered and stopped, listing back and forth like a teeter-totter.

  The cockpit went quiet.

  Ozzy touched his chest and then his arms and legs. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

  Holy shit.

  He opened his eyes just as fast as he had closed them. He checked the window, wondering how the hell it didn’t smash to bits along with the control panel. If it had, he’d be dead of carbon dioxide poisoning faster than he could spell d-e-a-d.

  “Oooey!” he yelled. “Did you see that?” He fist pumped the air. “How the hell did we make that?”

  A fist of fury smacked into his shoulder. He reeled to the side, grasping his throbbing deltoid muscle. “What the hell?”

  “You about killed us,” growled Jozi. “Are you psycho?”

  He thought he could outrun a small storm, but it had erupted into a dragon. “Blame my storm tracker, not me. It gave us the wrong information.”

  Jozi shook her head and pursed her lips. She clasped her pendant, not saying a word.

  Outside, the dust storm rushed up against Relic’s exterior, bringing Ozzy back to the reality of the situation. The heart of the storm was heading their way. They had to get out of the craft and now. Any rip or tear in the lining would cause a breach, sending oxygen out and carbon dioxide in.

  They both unstrapped quickly. The good news, the gravity was still working which meant Relic hadn’t completely died, but it was probably the last thing functioning on his bird.

  Ozzy grabbed the briefcase and hurried forward. “Go, go,” he ordered, pushing Jozi through the thin hall that led out of the cockpit. Ozzy followed close behind. “The EVA suits are on the lower deck and in storage compartments nine and ten. I’ll take the one in nine, you take the one in ten.”

  Jozi rushed left, bypassing the ladder, heading to her room.

  “Where are you going?”

  She didn’t respond.

  He shrugged. So be it. If she wanted to die, she’d die. No skin off his nose. The weasel back-stabber deserved it.

  He slid down the ladder and into the storage bay. The brand new pallet jacks, Mars rovers, and forklifts, along with crates, boxes, and tools, were strewn about, tossed around like they were toys. Broken glass and the pallet jack parts littered the floor. Dents marked the walls where heavy items hit, and a pallet jack’s long forks busted through a Mars rover’s front windshield. The other two rovers looked useless, smashed and beaten.

  He ran his hand along his forehead. “Man, those were beauties.” He huffed and turned, rushing to compartment nine just as a blast of crimson sand scratched like a wild cat against the outer walls.

  They had to be in the eye of the storm now. Depending on the thickness and depth of it, he didn’t know how long the intensity and strong winds would last. On Mars, sometimes they lasted hours or days, but most of the time they lasted weeks.

  A few more hours of this and Relic would be ripped apart. He would shed a tear over his craft, but right now he didn’t have time. He loved her, and she had been a good companion on his many expeditions, but now he had enough money to a buy a craft that could take him where Relic wasn’t able.

  He pulled the compartment open and out fell his stolen military-grade EVA. He set the briefcase down, threw off his pants, exposing his jumpsuit underneath, and slipped on his communication cap.

  A blast of thick dust scraped across Relic’s exterior, sounding like a portion of its outer lining had broken off.

  “Jozi, get down here.”

  He put his communication cap on—a comfortable barrier between his head and the helmet. It allowed for contact between suits, as well.

  He slid the EVA’s torso over his shoulders, slipping his hands and arms inside the sleeves and the spacesuit’s gloves.

  “I’m on my way,” responded Jozi, who was holding a backpack, her face gnarled in anger. “You about compromised everything on this mission.”

  She hurried down the ladder and hopped onto the grated floor.

  “What’s in that bag?”

  Whatever it was, it had to be important.

  “A small teleporter,” she said, moving briskly to compartment ten and opening it.

  “A teleporter? What—” He dismissed his question. Not knowing what the hell she was talking about
was the least of his concerns. Getting the hell off of this ship and to a dust storm shelter was a lot more pressing.

  He pulled on his EVA pants, thanking the Mars gods that these weren’t the bulbous EVA suits of the past. He touched a satchel sewn around the waistline of his pants and glanced at Jozi. She was already catching up to him, sliding on her pants and strapping her backpack over her shoulders.

  Ozzy pulled a helmet off the rail and tossed it to her. She caught it and put it on, twisting a nob next to the helmet’s ear and sliding the anti-radiation visor in place. She twisted it more, lowering a dust shield.

  Ozzy did the same. “Let’s go.” He dashed forward, turning his oxygen tank on, and grasped a crank attached to the wall next to the ramp. He used both hands to pump it up and down.

  The ramp moved an inch, then another. A few more inches and it opened to the outside, letting in dust that swarmed like a pissed-off hive of hornets.

  Relic’s oxygen quickly sucked in the Mars atmosphere and with it, the gravity. Ozzy was now light and buoyant.

  He let go of the crank and ducked low, squeezing between the ramp door and the floor. He rolled out onto the red sand, and Jozi followed close behind.

  He grabbed a handle on the ship’s exterior and pulled himself up.

  “I can barely see anything,” hollered Jozi through her helmet mic.

  Ozzy extended his arm. “Hold my hand.”

  She grabbed onto him, and he pulled her near, placing his forearm in front of his helmet, doing his best to block out the sand from scraping his dust visor to hell and back.

  He trekked forward, the sand obscuring any and all sense of direction. He put his hand out, searching for the large ridgeline Relic crashed into.

  “Where are we going?”

  “There is a dust storm shelter nearby,” yelled Ozzy.

  The sand slashed into his visor, scraping away at the polycarbonate plastic coating like it was mere paper. Several slice marks cut into the visor, and more were forming.

  “Dammit, Ozzy,” she cursed. “You killed us.” She tripped over a rock, losing her grip on Ozzy’s hand, and she fell on her side. A yelp escaped her.