Martian Quadrilogy Box Set

by Brandon Ellis

  “Daddy,” said Lily, interrupting Ozzy’s thoughts. “Why do you live here?”

  Lily sat on Ozzy’s lap. They stared out of Relic’s cockpit window at Mars’s red and yellow aura that shined like a beacon of false hope: a hope of security and a hope of peace.

  But it was all a sham. A sham the Dunrakee would one day expose.

  Ozzy leaned back in his cockpit chair, which folded out like the La-Z-Boy seats of Old Earth. After a month and a half fixing Relic, he finally set out to his favorite place—Ketler Asteroid—where he could live and watch Mars from afar and not participate in…anything.

  He stared into the blackness of space. “Why do I live here?” He didn’t want to say he didn’t have a dime to his name, so he had no place to really go other than to squat on some asteroid. He didn’t want to say he wanted to be as far away from people as he possibly could. So he went with his other truth. “It’s a place that I can be with you, by myself, for a couple of days a week, thanks to your mother.”

  “Can we stay another day?” She was soaking up every ounce of time she could get with Ozzy.

  And he loved it.

  Ozzy shook his head. “I gotta get you back to your mom’s house by morning, and then you’ll be back up here in a couple of days.”

  “Oh, okay.” She soured for a moment, then brightened up. “Can you tell me another Earth history lesson?”

  Ozzy pushed out his lower lip. “Hmmm. . .I suppose so.” He eyed the levers and buttons on the cockpit ceiling. “Have you ever heard of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?”

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened in excitement. “No, what’s that?”

  His com line buzzed. The caller ID said Jonas Moon.

  Ozzy blinked several times. He thought the guy was dead.

  He scrunched his eyebrows closer together. He leaned up and put his arms around Lily’s hips. He lifted her off of his lap and set her on the grated floor. “Lily, Daddy has an important call. Go downstairs and play with your toys, okay?”

  She lowered her eyes, disappointment washing over her.

  “Don’t worry. After this call, I’ll be down to tell you all about King Arthur.”

  She put her arms in the air. “Yay!” She scurried out of the cockpit and down the ladder.

  Ozzy answered the call. “Well, long time no talk, Jonas. What can I do for you?”

  “I have a job for—”

  Ozzy put up his finger. “No more jobs.”

  Jonas rubbed his hands together. “You know the Dunrakee are coming back, don’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you’re still hell-bent on getting you and your daughter over to a make-believe secret colony on Europa, correct?”

  “It’s not make believe.”

  Jonas spit out a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

  Ozzy sighed. “Look, it doesn’t matter. If I get caught doing another dig, then I’m gone forever. I can’t do that to Lily.”

  Jonas pulled up his holopad, and a holovid jumped up from it. Several ships were leaving Earth’s exosphere. “That’s not just a terrorist group. That’s an armada.”

  It wasn’t an armada but a dozen ships, mostly small cruisers and a large star carrier, which wasn’t something to dismiss. “Those can’t sneak past our defenses, Jonas. Not like the small Dunrakee terrorists who came and destroyed Dawes.”

  “That’s not all I wanted you to see.” He pulled up another ship. It was a colony ship. “They are looking to start a colony, and their trajectory is Mars.”

  Shit.

  That meant they’d try to bull their way through like they did on Earth. They’d get their craft’s Mars-side, and if one of them were that colony ship, they’d set up shop on Mars and do the same thing they did to Earth—slowly take it over and kick the humans off the planet.

  Before that, a war would start. Death totals would rise, and humans would ultimately lose.

  History was repeating itself.

  This crap wasn’t something he wanted to be a part of. “How much money, Jonas?”

  “Enough to get you that Class-14 Quadruple Engine Electrohydrodynamic Ionic Thruster 113 SX Vessel, also known as the Eagle, plus enough energy fuel cells that are big enough to power you to Europa.”

  Ozzy sighed, repeating his question, “How much money?”

  “Twenty-five million auric credits.”

  His chest shuddered like an MMP rocket slamming into him. That wouldn’t only get him a ship, it’d get him a home on Europa too.

  He kept his cool. “Half up front and in my auric wallet now.” He dug into his pocket and pulled it out, waving it in front of the holoscreen. “And what artifact will I be looking for?”

  Jonas pressed some buttons that Ozzy couldn’t see. Ozzy’s auric wallet dinged, and holographic numbers lifted from his device displaying 12,500,000 ac’s.

  Jonas clapped his hands together. “So, now that we have that done, I want you to find the most powerful weapon on Mars.”

  Ozzy gave Jonas a double take. It didn’t make sense. Why would Jonas want such a monstrosity, and what in Mars’s-name kind of ancient weapon like that was buried on Mars? “What for?”

  “For the coming armada, Ozzy. Unlike you, I like this place. I practically run Mars, and if I lose that, I lose everything. The other underground syndicates and I are the only ones who have the balls to fight the Dunrakee, unlike the Ministry, who fake shit, take credit for shit, and just lie their way to power.”

  And the people took it hook, line, and sinker.

  “What’s the weapon?”

  “The Ark of the Concordant.”

  If Ozzy was drinking water or alcohol, he would have spit it out then and there. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Not in the least.”

  The Ark of the Concordant was the cousin to Earth’s Ark of the Covenant. It was a deadly weapon, but the Ancient Coptics called it the communication device to their Creator, the ultimate truth-teller—whatever that meant—and a weapon of mass destruction.

  Yet, only the Ancients could use it. It was tied to their bloodline. “The legends say that if you attempt to use it, you die.”

  “We’ll find someone from the bloodline.”

  Ozzy shook his head in disbelief. “How?” All the Ancients were dead.

  “Don’t you worry your pretty face about that. Just follow the Coptic language hints, or whatever it is you do, and locate it and dig it up for us.” Jonas sat straighter. “You know what to do from there.”

  The screen turned off.

  Ozzy looked at his lap and massaged his temples. This would be it…his last take. Then forbidden archeological artifact business no more.

  After this, he’d have enough auric credits to be off to Europa with Lily.

  “Lily,” he shouted.

  “Yeah, Daddy?”

  “You ready for the story?”

  “Yeah, but can you act it out with my toys down here?”

  He let out a chuckle. “I’m on my way.”

  And tomorrow he’d be on his way to finding the Ark of the Concordant and be off doing one of the few things he was best at doing—finding the impossible.

  Martian Ark

  Mars Colony Chronicles Book 2

  1

  moonshinka Rock Near Dawes, Mars

  A photon blast hit near Ozzy’s feet, and chunks of rock and dry soil splattered against his legs. He dove to the ground, sliding across the dead grass beneath the crumbling, lifeless willow tree where he’d been doing his field research.

  He’d just gotten here.

  Wapooh!

  Another shot whizzed past.

  A small explosion shattered the soil a meter in front of him. Smokey pieces of broken moss and charred bark pelted his side.

  He swiped them off as quickly as he could and clicked on his EVA helmet’s com line, dialing up Jonas Moon on his wrist’s holoband.

  Jonas had hired him to retrieve the Ark of the Concordant—an impossible find. Yet, here he wa
s, trying to uncover the unobtainable.

  “Ozzy, Ozzy. What is it now? Did you find the Ark?”

  Ozzy didn’t know why he was being targeted. He rolled to his side and unstrapped his PR-19 photon rifle. He took a wild shot, not knowing the exact location of the intruder. “Did I find the Ark? Am I a miracle worker? It’s going to take time. If the thing even exists at all.”

  “Then why are you calling me?”

  “Hold on.” Ozzy saw movement and closed one eye, aiming at a throng of gray and brown dead brush. He pulled the trigger. The photon rifle recoiled against his shoulder as the capacitor’s charge violently expelled an energy burst.

  The plants fifty meters in front of him turned into an orange ball of flames. They extinguished milliseconds later in the thin Martian air.

  “I have work to do, people to see, and a black market to sell my—”

  “I’m being shot at, Jonas,” yelled Ozzy. He stood and rushed behind a boulder, eyeing a dead man he once knew as Garen—an Ancient Martian who helped him find the cure to the Martian Plague in the Ancient time capsule not too long ago.

  The time capsule acted as a large, preserved wilderness deep under Mars’s soil. The entrance was in the mouth of Moonshinka Rock—a rock carved into an ancient wild cat that used to roam Mars before the atmosphere blew away.

  That’s where Ozzy was now, underground and inside the capsule, which was now offline and broken. Upon first entering this place months ago, the plants inside had been flourishing. Now they were dead, much like Garen, whose body was a decaying pile of skin and bones covered in gold armor.

  Armor? Damn.

  It was still shiny and a nice artifact.

  A photon bolt zipped past him.

  Get your head in the game, Ozzy.

  Someone in an EVA suit popped out from behind a decaying tree and dashed behind another wide, dead trunk.

  Ozzy rested his finger on the trigger, watching the tree. If the man decided to move to another location, the prick was dead.

  “Where are you?” Jonas said.

  “I’m back at Moonshinka Rock where I found the cure to the Martian Plague.”

  “You’re still taking credit for curing the entire human race?” Jonas laughed. “Get over yourself, man.” He spoke as if Ozzy wasn’t the target of an assassination and was merely playing around.

  Ozzy shook his head. “Last time I was here, the rocks surrounding a specific tree had Ancient Coptic hieroglyphs that had a lot of interesting things to say.”

  “So?”

  “So? That’s all you have to say is so? I’m here trying to decode a map or a route to your precious Ark.”

  “What are the rocks saying?”

  Ozzy focused on the tree where the assassin was hiding. He narrowed one open eye, keeping his other eye closed, and aimed his rifle. “All I know is it’s leading me somewhere.”

  “Ozzy, I’m not paying you to find a map that leads you somewhere. I’m paying you to find the Ark.”

  “You’ve gotta start somewhere.” He wanted to add bonehead at the end of his sentence, but pissing off your employer was never the best business practice. “I’m positive it’ll lead me to your weapon.” Actually, he wasn’t sure at all. The Ark was spoken of in many Ancient Martian Coptic tablets by a race that no longer existed on Mars, having died tens of thousands of years ago and probably long before that.

  The Ark of the Concordant was a weapon of mass destruction.

  To Ozzy, it was a myth.

  Regardless, Jonas wanted it for the approaching Dunrakee armada heading from Earth to Mars.

  Ozzy continued to target the tree. If the guy moved, he’d be dead, much like the time he shot a Dunrakee soldier in this capsule.

  The Dunrakee. He winced at the word. The thought of the bubble-heads being in here at the same time made him want to puke. He hated them with a passion. They seized his people’s home over a hundred years ago, and now they were on their way to Mars to take possession of this planet.

  “Good. Stay with your hunch,” replied Jonas, taking Ozzy away from his thoughts.

  Click.

  The com line went dead, and all Ozzy could hear now was static.

  “Jonas?”

  Silence.

  Ozzy let out a gush of air and reached into his EVA pocket. He pulled out a small, round device—a HOLO-AR, Holographic Archive Recorder—and brought it to his helmet’s external speakers. “Cover two meters height, five meters radius, and capture the glyphs only.” He threw it in the air.

  It flew upward, blinked red, and let out a loud beep. It hovered for a few moments and then buzzed around like a bee searching for nectar. It located a rock with glyphs inscribed into it. The HOLO-AR spun and a red grid projected outward, detecting all the hieroglyphs in the radius that Ozzy had indicated.

  A bright flash lit the area and died off a moment later. The HOLO-AR was doing its job, taking pictures and archiving them into its central processing unit.

  Excellent.

  Ozzy crawled out from under the tree and away from the branches and dead leaves frozen on its limbs. This place used to be humid and full of oxygen, but a few months prior, the Dunrakee broke into the capsule to find Ozzy, and all the air had been sucked out and invaded by the cold Martian atmosphere.

  Every fern, apple, fig tree, and the wild herbs and flowers were frigid and stiff.

  He positioned himself between two bushes and set his sights to target the person who wanted him dead.

  The guy continued to hide behind the tree.

  A chill ran up Ozzy’s spine, and it wasn’t because of fear. He checked his temperature gauge and upped his EVA’s internal thermostat. Warm air traveled throughout his suit.

  A photon burst slammed into the tree he had just been under, singeing its dangling branches. A black streak marked a photon scar on the trunk.

  That would have burned right through Ozzy.

  Wapooh! Wapooh!

  More blasts came in rapid succession. But where was the guy?

  Then he saw movement.

  Good. The guy cautiously moved out from behind a tree though this one several meters to Ozzy’s left. He must have crawled to it.

  Ozzy held him in his sights. He touched the trigger and pulled.

  Errrrrzzzzzshhhh!

  “What?” He pounded the side of his rifle. The photon charge pack was dead.

  He ejected the charge magazine and let it drop to the ground. He grabbed another magazine from his pocket and pushed it into the rifle’s receiver. A satisfying click indicated the magazine locked into place.

  He went to target the intruder again, but the man ran to a boulder, hiding behind it.

  The guy was fast.

  Ozzy held his rifle steady, readying for the perfect shot.

  The HOLO-AR flashed yellow, which meant the device had caught something special.

  Ozzy crawled backward, also moving behind a boulder. He held his hand out and said, “Back to me.”

  The device’s light blinked off, and it flew through the weeping branches. It struck Ozzy’s palm and turned off. Ozzy clasped his fingers around it.

  “What’s so important, Holo?” he asked the device, knowing it wouldn’t reply, and tapped a small button. He needed to be more careful and should be doing this when he was in a safe place, but he was a rebel archaeologist, and rebel archaeologists did risky things.

  He patted the ground. More clues to the Ark of the Concordant were probably buried around here, and finding it now before this crazy lunatic did was more important than the potential of being littered full of photon holes.

  HOLO-AR shot out a hologram, displaying a stone inscribed with Ancient Coptic writing. It showed a tube-like, etched picture, two angel wings, an explosion hieroglyph, an upside-down circumflex, an arched doorway, and many more pictographs that went on for several more lines.

  “The Ancient Martians’ destruction was their own fault,” he said under his breath, summarizing the glyphs out loud. “They used Mars’s mo
st powerful tool: The Ark.” He paused, dropping the HOLO-AR in his lap. “And the map to the tool is beneath…” He eyed the hologram. The Ancient writing stopped there, not giving him any additional information. “Well, beneath what?”

  It couldn’t be beneath where he sat. It had to be beneath the hieroglyph-engraved stones.

  He put the HOLO-AR back in his pocket and grabbed his rifle. He turned, gasped, and fell on his butt.

  The man in an EVA suit stood over him, a photon rifle in hand and pointing it at Ozzy. Or, was that a woman’s face through the visor?

  It was.

  Ozzy pulled the trigger, shot several blasts, and scooted away, expecting return fire.

  The person didn’t move but instead disappeared.

  “Shit.”

  He stood, seeing hundreds of EVA suits standing like stones in the same pose.

  They vanished a second later.

  “Double shit.”

  The intruder had some sophisticated holo-replicating equipment and had projected her hologram all over the capsule.

  If she was able to vid-record through the holo-replicators, then she knew exactly what the HOLO-AR had just shown Ozzy.

  He dropped to the dried moss, and a photon bolt zipped over his head. He went to his hands and knees, crawling military style, heading toward the tree that was surrounded with the stones and where the HOLO-AR had taken photos.

  Another blast lifted a thick glob of soil and splattered it over Ozzy’s helmet visor.

  He quickly brushed the dirt off and dove through the branches under the tree’s canopy. He glanced around, seeing all the stones—more than a dozen. He located the rock glyph that the HOLO-AR had shown him. It was shaped like a tombstone.

  He kicked it and it jostled.

  When he glanced up, the woman was in a full out run, heading toward Ozzy, her gun’s muzzle steadying on his position.

  Ozzy kicked the rock again. It budged slightly, moving only a few centimeters.

  He kicked again and again, screaming like a mad man. “Fall. Over. You. Piece. Of. Crap.” The woman was almost to the tree, obviously waiting for a clean shot.