Martian Ark

by Brandon Ellis

  “Yeah, about that.” There was a pause, and Jonas flicked his nose and scowled. “Mort Wildly, a rival of mine, hired Sonya Zeld, a rebel archaeologist…you know…such as yourself. The person trying to kill you might be her. It turns out Wildly knows about the Ark of the Concordant and wants it too.”

  “How does he know about it?”

  Jonas’s face flushed red. He massaged his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “The hell I won’t worry about it. If this find becomes compromised, it compromises my life.”

  “I already took care of it.” He held up his other hand. A line of dried blood went from his knuckles to his wrist. “There was a traitor in my midst who ratted out our little agreement to Wildly. Let’s just say he didn’t survive when caught.”

  Ozzy flinched, his shoulders tightening. He had never been on Jonas’s bad side, and after that information, never intended to.

  The agreement was to find the Ark of the Concordant for a crapload of auric credits. Jonas would get the Ark, and Ozzy would get the money.

  But if Wildly knew about the agreement, then more crime syndicates would also know.

  Ozzy banked Relic to the right. “Jonas, please don’t tell anyone else what we’re up to. Not even your wife.”

  Several kilometers ahead was Hellas Planitia—the largest impact crater on Mars. The crater was surrounded by red sand and thick boulders most likely thrust upward from a meteor explosion millions of years ago. It spanned fourteen hundred miles in diameter and five miles deep. It was a monster and the site of the biggest Martian Marines training facility.

  And a no-fly zone.

  He pushed the control stick to the left, veering away from the Marine base.

  Jonas cocked his head, pointing a finger at Ozzy. “You said ‘don’t tell anyone’? First, don’t tell me what to do. Second, people have died trying to tell—”

  “I won’t, Jonas,” interrupted Ozzy. “Who else knows?”

  There had to be more. Loose lips had many ears.

  “Lyra No Tail hired Toph Bailey to find the Ark. But it doesn’t matter, we all know you’ll do anything for a good auric sum. I wiggle a little auric credit here and there and I know you will come sniffing around.”

  Ozzy dismissed Jonas’s little jab. “Did I hear you right that Toph Bailey was also hired to find the Ark?”

  “Yes.”

  Crap.

  Toph Bailey was almost as good as Ozzy at translating the Ancient Coptic glyphs.

  “Oh man.” Ozzy let out an exasperated breath. “Please, no more leaks, Jonas. If I get caught, it kills your shot at getting this Ark.”

  And will kill his shot at getting any money.

  Jonas perked up. “So, you’ve found it?”

  “No.”

  Jonas’s brows knitted in a frown. “Do you know exactly where it is?”

  “Yes.”

  Jonas put his hands out, palms up. “So?”

  “You think I’m stupid? I’m not telling you where it is. Once I extract it, I’ll get it to you. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Okay, and about this Sonya Zeld. She doesn’t play by the archeological rules.”

  Ozzy ran his hands through his thick, sandy-blond hair. “What rules?”

  “Don’t you archaeologists have rules or a code or something?”

  The graviton dome over Tagus Valles lit up in front of Ozzy. It was eight kilometers away, but he was getting closer by each passing second. The landscape in front of him was crimson and smooth as a Mars desert should be. “Nope. I don’t know of any code.”

  “Well, you forbidden archaeologists should probably form a code. You break a code by screwing over another archaeologist somehow, then that archaeologist is blacklisted from the black market. Or something like that.” He waved his hand and took in a deep sniff. “Anyway, breakfast is ready. I assume you’re heading to retrieve the Ark right now?”

  Someone handed Jonas a plate full of waffles. He let it sit on his thick, protruding belly while holding the plate’s edge with one hand. The guy’s favorite pastime was eating, and his gut proved it.

  “I’m heading to your house.”

  The plate went flying when Jonas sat up. “What for? We don’t have time for this. There are more in your profession trying to find the Ark. You have to get it right away.”

  “You’re buying me an underground mole digger.”

  “Have you lost your mind? I’m doing no such thing.”

  “You will if you want your Ark. We’ll load it onto my ship as soon as I land.”

  Jonas leaned back and glanced around. “You’re such a pain, Ozzy. But you do good work, I will grant you that.”

  “I want more money, too.”

  “No.”

  The com line turned off.

  Dammit. The more money he had, the faster he could get off of Mars and the better for him and Lily. Jonas wanted the Ark of the Concordant for a specific reason—to counter a possible Dunrakee raid about to hit Mars. According to what Jonas had told Ozzy, the invasion would begin in about three weeks.

  It would cause a war between humans and the Dunrakee. It wasn’t going to be pretty, and because of that, it was time for Ozzy and his daughter to part this planet.

  To do that, Ozzy needed as much money as his greedy fingers could handle, and Jonas needed the Ark to use as a weapon.

  It was a perfect marriage.

  Ozzy didn’t want to be around when Jonas attempted to use it, especially since the Ancient Coptic writings claim that only those of the bloodline could access the Ark’s abilities. If it were misused, then who knows how much of Mars Jonas would blow up.

  There was no way Jonas was of any bloodline close to the Ancient Martians—the ones who used the Ark in the past.

  Ozzy shook his head. It crossed his mind on several occasions that maybe he shouldn’t get the Ark in the first place.

  For one, it was ancient and probably falling apart.

  He split the holodisplay, pulling up the news. He needed to get his mind on the world to see if anything was amiss.

  “…to be certain that there aren’t any men or women hiding any Dunrakee terrorists in their homes or businesses,” said a dark-haired news anchor, his brown skin crinkling all around his ridiculously fake smile.

  Ozzy leaned forward. “Hiding Dunrakee terrorists? What’s the news lying about now?”

  “What’s the name of the Bill that just passed the Ministry session?” responded a young blonde woman with an even larger feigned grin. It was a planted question and as fake as the anchor’s smile.

  “The Bill is MM19-223, the Terrorist Security Act. To reiterate,” the man continued, “they have foregone warrants. With this new Act in place, the Ministry can search persons and seize possessions without a subpoena. It’s an Act that will ultimately keep us safe from future terrorist activities.”

  Ozzy rolled his eyes. Who in the hell would aid and harbor Dunrakee scum? They took over Earth and killed every human in sight. Those lucky enough to escape fled to this God-forsaken planet—Mars.

  The High Judge was taking away more rights in the name of safety and security.

  He threw the news the middle finger and turned it off, shaking his head. Another reason to leave the red planet for good.

  3

  Tagus Valles, Mars

  Ozzy lowered Relic toward Jonas’s mansion. Three overly sized water fountains lining the driveway shook from the Relic’s descent, rippling the waters and sloshing some over the sides.

  He extended the landing skids, and Relic shuddered when it touched down. He pressed the button to open the rear ramp and slid down the ladder to the storage bay. He was walking toward the ramp when Jonas strolled up, his belly jiggling with every step and his face red and perspiring.

  Jonas frowned. “You need to search—“

  “I’m sorry, Jonas. I know you don’t want me here, but I need that mole digger. And—”

  Jonas slashed his hand in the
air, cutting off Ozzy. “Let’s get this straight. I hire you to do a job, and you need me to buy things for you to do the job?”

  “In order to get the Ark, I need one. Look, we haven’t seen each other in person since the Dunrakee attacked your office and destroyed it.” Ozzy extended his hand for a shake. “I’m glad you’re alive.” Perhaps a little peace offering would be nice, something to ease Jonas’s tension.

  Jonas didn’t take it.

  “Bad memory, Ozzy. Gragas was there, too, and was tracked by the Dunrakee at the time. That’s why the Dunrakee showed up. And then Gragas had the nerve to blow up the city of Dawes. Do you know how many auric assets I had in that city? I now have a bounty on Gragas’s head.”

  Jonas would never get Gragas—the Galactic Knight who had also helped Ozzy find the Martian Plague cure—but Ozzy kept his mouth shut. He liked Gragas a hell of a lot more than Jonas. “Where’s the mole digger?”

  “On its way.”

  Ozzy’s com line buzzed. His forehead creased as he gazed at his wrist band. “That’s my archaeology line.”

  Jonas crossed his arms and looked at the floor. “Wait, what’s this?”

  The capsule was lying on the floor, still open, but thank the Mars warlords, it wasn’t displaying the map as it did before.

  How could Ozzy be so dumb as to leave it lying around?

  He picked up the capsule and closed it. “Just a moment.” He walked to a row of lockers next to a workbench as he tapped on his watch, answering, “Who is it?” He opened a locker and placed the capsule inside.

  “No names. We have a job for you.” The voice on the other line sounded robotic.

  Jonas waved his hands in a crisscross fashion, mouthing, “No way. You’re working for me.”

  Ozzy nodded. “I’m busy right now. Call me in a few weeks.”

  “This is urgent.”

  Jonas slashed his hand over his throat. “Hang it up, Ozzy.” He jogged down the ramp and onto his lawn. He rested his hands on his protruding stomach and began tapping his foot.

  “Nothing is so urgent that it can’t wait. An artifact is not going to get up and walk away,” Ozzy said, pacing back and forth like he used to do when giving a lecture at Gale Crater City University when he was a professor.

  The robot-sounding voice replied, “High Judge Robert Baldwin wants a dig. We want to get to it before he does.”

  Ozzy froze. If there were any arch nemeses in his life, it was the High Judge. He forbid Ozzy from seeing his own daughter for years to hide illegal digs he had hired Ozzy to do for him, and if Ozzy happened to see Lily, even by accident, Robert swore he’d kill his little girl.

  Yes, Ozzy hated Robert with a passion. He raised his watch to his lips. “I’m in.”

  “The coordinates to meet up are being downloaded into your com line as we speak,” replied the stranger. “Out.”

  He pulled up the coordinates. The place to meet was downtown Tagus Valles. Ozzy walked down his ramp and past Jonas.

  “Where are you going?”

  Ozzy put his finger up. “When the mole digger arrives, load it into my storage bay and lock it in. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  The coordinates pulled up Lulu’s Bar, and Ozzy was just around the corner from its location.

  The city was full of skyscrapers, much like Gale Crater City and Huygens City—one of the wealthiest cities on Mars. Like all cities on Mars, they had to fit as many people in cramped places as possible.

  The Ministry said that bigger cities were the future.

  Yeah, right. Dunrakee jerks taking over Mars was the future.

  Ozzy moved past a homeless man holding up a sign asking for some auric credits.

  “Sir?” the homeless man said. “Spare some auric?”

  Ozzy paused and looked down at him. The man was in raggedy clothes, and his hair was disheveled. A small, brown-colored dog sat next to him, its tail between its legs, looking just as tired and poor.

  The homeless weren’t welcome during Robert Baldwin’s reign as the High Judge, and this man sure as hell needed some pick-me-up.

  Ozzy bent down. “How long since you’ve been out of work?” The guy was an ex-Marine. A tattoo on the left side of his neck—a star with a sword through it—was the dead giveaway.

  Ozzy petted the dog and the dog licked his hand. The dog stood and wagged his tail.

  “A few years. I thought I could live on my pension, but I wasn’t expecting the High Judge to throw a monkey wrench in the money flow.”

  The High Judge had passed a bill that granted only one in five military veterans receiving retirement funds to continue receiving them. A lottery was created, and this guy’s name, apparently, was not one of the many that were pulled out of the hat.

  The bill was created in the name of a bigger defense budget to build a stronger military to defend against a surprise Dunrakee attack, but Ozzy knew where most of that money really went—into the politicians’ pockets.

  “When was the last time you had some food?” Ozzy asked, patting the dog’s head.

  “I don’t know. A few days ago, maybe?” replied the man, his deep crow’s feet told Ozzy that the homeless guy had a rough life.

  Ozzy pulled out his auric wallet. “You have one of these?” All citizens, regardless if they were homeless or not, were issued an auric wallet. It was hexagonal and the size of a small cup coaster.

  The man nodded and pulled out his wallet. “Thank you.”

  Ozzy tapped his wallet against the man’s. A hologram popped up, displaying both accounts.

  Ozzy grimaced. “You barely have enough for a meal.”

  The man nodded. “Been tough these last few weeks.” He shrugged and wrapped his arm around his dog. “Don’t know why.” He took a glance at Ozzy’s account, and his eyes widened. “Looks like you’ve had a few good weeks.” He winked and smiled, showing several missing teeth.

  “I have.” Ozzy typed in an amount and tapped the man’s wallet a second time. Transferred blinked on both accounts. “There you go. You can probably buy some food now.”

  The guy looked at his account balance and put his hand over his mouth. “No, no, but thank you. I can’t accept this much.”

  Ozzy grabbed the man’s shoulder and squeezed. “My daughter always brings me a smile when I see her, and that’s something I think all people should have. Maybe this will be your smile to get you going. This could be your first day of a better life.” He pointed to the guy’s auric wallet. “With that, you can create a life you want. I suggest you don’t waste it.”

  The man’s eyes welled up. He choked on another thank you and put his hand out to touch Ozzy’s. Ozzy clasped his hands around the man’s.

  “I can’t believe it,” the homeless man responded. “I can buy food for a year.”

  Ozzy let go of the man’s hand, remembering his mom’s words, “To walk a mile in another’s shoes eases a person’s judgment and stills a person’s mind.”

  “Stay safe,” said Ozzy, dipping his head

  He rounded a corner, and he saw Lulu’s Bar and Grill blinking on an old fashioned neon sign. It was a good niche and did well in times like these.

  The stench of grease and sweat wafted to his nostrils when Ozzy walked through the door. The bar was packed with people, mostly low-lifes, drinking their anger and depression away and fighting the urge to argue with everyone in sight.

  The inebriated laughter was almost enough to make him turn around and exit the building.

  He coughed the greasy smoke away and took a shallow breath, looking around for someone who might meet the description of a crime lord’s assistant, or whoever it might be who wanted to do business with him.

  He knew another dig wasn’t a good idea, but he needed the money. A quick side gig wouldn’t be too much of a hassle.

  A person was sitting at the bar wearing a helmet and mask, staring at Ozzy. The guy had a cape, much like Gragas and his Galactic Knights, though this one was dark and menacing with fiery red flames s
treaking through black.

  The stool scraped across the floor as the person stood and approached. He flipped an auric wallet in his hand and caught it. The guy was short, too. “Are you Ozzy Mack?” His voice was deep, monotone, and robotic.

  Ozzy cocked his head to the side. That was unlike an assistant or a crime lord. They never spoke names in public.

  Something was fishy.

  “No names, especially in here.”

  The guy nodded. “Understood. Let’s go out back.”

  Ozzy touched his sidearm and nodded, making sure the guy saw where he had rested his hand.

  The man cocked his head, displaying his palms, telling Ozzy he had nothing to worry about. The guy had no weapons—that he was showing.

  “Come,” he said, motioning for Ozzy to follow.

  They walked past an open restroom. A woman was puking in the toilet, her friend holding her hair back.

  “Lovely,” said Ozzy.

  The man glanced over his shoulder. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  The man led them to an alleyway. If it was dark outside instead of late morning, Ozzy might have a problem with this. But nothing out here screamed threat or caution. Plus, it was empty, and as far as Ozzy could tell, there was no place for murderers to hide and jump him.

  He unclipped his holster just in case.

  The door shut, and the man stared at Ozzy for several seconds before speaking. “Do you know Lyra No Tail?”

  Ozzy knew her well. How could he not? She was a crime boss who was half-cat, half-human from some star system Ozzy couldn’t remember by name. She had arrived in town five or six years ago and set up shop in Schroeter City, not too far from Dawes.

  He gave the man a nod.

  “Good,” the man said, the robot voice overly intense. “We have a job for you. She wants a blue kyanite crystal ankh from the asteroid belt.”

  Ozzy shifted on his feet and put his hand against the building’s red cement wall, leaning against it. “What is it with crime syndicates and these crystals?”

  “We are offering ten million auric credits.”

  Ozzy about swallowed his spit. “Done.” That’s all he needed. He’d get the auric money, and together with the money Jonas had already put in his auric wallet account, he’d buy the Eagle and be off to Europa with Lily in no time.