Martian Ark

by Brandon Ellis

  Ozzy looked at the walls and the ceiling. He was in a cave of some sort, and the top of the cavern glowed from some type of iridescent inner light. He looked at the walls, and his eyes about popped out. Glyphs littered the walls. They were holographic and moving around like mini holomovies.

  He didn’t have time to gawk so he walked forward, staring at the glyphs. They told a story, one he could easily read.

  Diplomacy broke down between the Ancient Martians and the Maldekians of Maldek. That was interesting, but he didn’t have time to keep reading why. He had to find the Ark, but could these hieroglyphs hold the instructions on how to get the Ark?

  He paced faster, skimming the hieroglyphs. “Okay, so war took place. A Martian princess was killed, which probably pissed off the King and Queen. Basic story. Happens.”

  He was talking fast. But where was the damn Ark located?

  Up ahead, the large hallway curled around the corner, which he rounded, and then he came to a quick halt.

  A large ship with short wings set back like an Earth’s diving bird of prey appeared and was shining gold and silver. The room he entered was gigantic, big enough for several more ships that size. By all means, this wasn’t a starship, but the craft looked big enough to house a small, hundred-person army or several large families.

  It was clearly built before Mars’s atmosphere drastically changed. It had huge boosters under the wings and four larger boosters clustered on the back, probably with ion power. The wings were the telltale sign though. They were short and aerodynamic, good for an atmosphere similar to Earth’s and not Mars’s current condition. It would fly on Earth but not on Mars.

  At least, not anymore.

  How did they get it inside this cave? It couldn’t have fit through the small shield, so there had to be another way.

  He looked at the walls, which were all ornate and decorated with hieroglyphs.

  All but one, however. This rocky wall had juts and indentations more than the rest of the cavern.

  Did this wall somehow open? If so, it was a perfect way in and out and would explain how they got the ship inside.

  He raced over, raising his hand to touch the rock. His hand went through, and he jumped back. “A hologram?”

  He reached forward again, his hand slipping through a second time. The extreme Martian cold touched his fingers.

  “Holy Mars.” Ozzy had read in several hieroglyphs through the years that the Martians had technology that gave holograms shield-like abilities, meaning it could act as a wall, keeping the outside elements out, such as cold and rain, but could detect Martians or Martian-made materials, allowing them to pass right through.

  This holographic wall had to be what the hieroglyphs had spoken about.

  Again, this was all amazing, but he needed to move on. His friends were in the fight of their lives. And if he didn’t get the Ark to Jonas, then no telling how badly the Dunrakee invasion would devastate the human population, including his daughter.

  He walked around a corner into yet another gigantic room.

  “Is this a castle inside a mountain?”

  Large, white columns were in rows from floor to ceiling. The ceiling was marble or some type of similar rock.

  This was a grand hall.

  An archway was at the end of the room with two doors. He walked hurriedly toward them.

  He jumped when he heard a loud popping sound echo in the room.

  A hologram opened up out of a side wall, displaying an army marching into battle. The troops carried massive shields and wore golden armor and held rifle-like weapons. A star fleet was flying above them.

  “Son of an Orion’s Belt.” He wanted to do nothing more than to stop and watch the history of the extinct Ancient Martian race, but maybe if he survived this—naked and all—he could come back and study it to his heart’s content.

  But right now: no can do.

  He moved forward, purposely keeping his eyes on the doors at the end of the hall and away from the holograms that continued to jump out at him.

  He picked up his pace.

  He was almost to the doors when he came to a sliding halt.

  A man appeared out of nowhere, a rifle at his side and standing on one side of the arched doorway.

  “Do not pass.” He slammed the rifle butt on the floor, and a clacking sound reverberated in the room. Much like Garen, the Martian who helped Ozzy with the Martian Plague cure, this man had a long, red beard, red curly hair, and was twice Ozzy’s height and width. “Why are you here?”

  Ozzy stepped back and didn’t know what to do but bow. He lowered his eyes. “For the Ark of the Concordant.”

  The Martian cocked his head. “Are you of the bloodline, my good sir?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think you were, being so small. I can tell you aren’t of my race. Keep in mind, my Martian ancestors had a way of traveling from planet to planet and from civilization to civilization, so our genes run through many races, which could mean you may have the blood.”

  “I’m not of the blood, Sir. And I do apologize, but I’m in a hurry. My race currently lives on Mars. We are from Earth—”

  “Oh, yes, Earthlings,” interrupted the Martian. “Your race has had many different sizes throughout the eons. I can see you aren’t as tall as when my race was alive and well on Mars.”

  Ozzy understood Earth’s myths, but come on, he didn’t want to talk about the giants of ages past and if his race was indeed at one time tall like the Martians. All he wanted was the damn Ark.

  “My race is being attacked as we speak. A group of people named the Dunrakee have laid waste to Earth, chasing us to this planet. We have colonized Mars the best we can at our stage of technological evolution. But we are being attacked again by the Dunrakee. That’s why I’m seeking the Ark of the Concordant. We’re trying to stop them before they chase us off this planet too.” Ozzy took a step forward.

  The Martian slapped his chest, his armor plate ringing. Ozzy halted.

  “My name is Heimer of Golden Wood. And it is by my name that I cannot let you pass these doors where the Ark of the Concordant sits.”

  “Why can’t I pass through?”

  “You will die when you touch the Ark. You are not of the bloodline.”

  “Is there another way, Heimer of Golden Wood?”

  “No.”

  Ozzy strode a few more steps toward the guy. “Are you of the bloodline?”

  Heimer smiled. “Yes, indeed. I wouldn’t be allowed to guard the most dangerous technology if I weren’t.”

  “So, if I touch it, I die?”

  Heimer gave a nod. “It’s that simple.”

  “Then, can you touch it and carry it to my ship? You can help my race rid these Dunrakee from Mars.”

  Heimer paused, thinking. “Yes, I could.”

  Ozzy’s heart picked up a beat. This might actually work. “Can you do my race this one favor?”

  Heimer screwed up his nose. “No, I cannot. You’re wanting to use a technology you don’t understand.”

  “But we are in dire need.”

  “If it’s your race’s destiny to die out, then don’t delay the inevitable. Much pain will ensue if you do. Let the way for the next race to inhabit this planet be unhindered.”

  Ozzy wanted to drop on the floor and beg. This wasn’t going well. “Can I look at the Ark?”

  “No.” Heimer’s entire body glitched and then faded in and out for a second.

  Ozzy flinched. Something wasn’t adding up. “Are you real?”

  “I’m as real as you, and you’re as real as me.”

  Heimer glitched again.

  He was another hologram.

  “I’ll just walk in and take a look for myself.”

  Heimer threw the butt of his rifle against the floor. It clanked loudly. “You will not. You will never see the Ark of the Concordant.”

  Never wasn’t an option for Ozzy or for the rest of humanity, notably Lily. If he didn’t retrieve this, then
she may not have a shot of living another few days with the Dunrakee invading like they were.

  Ozzy walked and stood next to Heimer’s sandal-like shoes.

  Heimer looked down on him like a father to a son. “Please, my friend. Don’t do this.”

  “I have to.”

  “Then I have no choice. I will kill you.”

  “I’m dead either way. Either step aside or I walk through you.”

  Heimer stood his ground, moving the butt of his rifle in front of the archway. “How would you be able to walk through me?”

  From what Ozzy could tell, and hoped from the glitches, Heimer was an Artificial Intelligence-based life form. He wasn’t real and was nothing more than a hologram similar to the ones jumping out from the walls.

  Heimer lifted the rifle off the ground. Ozzy took another step forward.

  “Death becomes you,” roared Heimer.

  He thrust the rifle butt toward Ozzy’s head, and the rifle’s shadow widened the closer it came down on him.

  Maybe Heimer was real.

  Crap.

  Ozzy ducked, putting his arms over his head, waiting for the inevitable.

  A loud bang sounded, and the rifle’s butt slammed into Ozzy though he felt no pain, and he wasn’t flattened like a pancake.

  It had gone through him.

  Heimer was, indeed, a hologram.

  Heimer laughed. “Courage is part of the bloodline. You may well be of my lineage.”

  Kishish!

  Heimer shattered like glass, breaking into a million pieces and spreading all over the floor and around Ozzy.

  Heimer’s shards faded away an instant later.

  Quiet filled the room.

  Ozzy slowly stood to full height, his eyes darting around like he had seen a ghost, which he more or less had. Heimer was a simple construct of light and energy built into an AI system.

  Clever.

  He brushed himself off, feeling his skin. He had forgotten he was naked.

  He took in a deep breath. “Okay, here I go.” He walked forward and placed his hands on the doors. They were wooden and strong. He pushed, straining against the weight of them.

  The doors began opening and creaked with every inch they moved.

  30

  Olympus Mons, Mars

  As he pushed the doors open, a bright, golden light blasted through the opening, nearly blinding Ozzy. He squinted and looked away.

  He paused when the doors were fully open, and when they were, the light diminished.

  Upon entering the room, an ornate stage draped with red material appeared in front of him. Holograms were set a few meters away from the material, displaying gold spirals, gold five-pointed stars, and a Taurus that folded in and expanded on itself in a constant loop.

  “Sacred geometry,” blurted Ozzy.

  In the middle of the stage was the prize. It was what he was looking for, and as he had told himself, he could always find the impossible.

  And there was the impossible, sitting on a large, rectangular, black box: The Ark of the Concordant.

  The Ark was gold-plated, and the lid had its telltale sign—two golden angel wings. Four gold rings were attached to the Ark’s feet, and through these rings were gold-plated staffs used to carry the Ark.

  In glyphs he’d seen through the years, four men usually carried the Ark by placing the staffs on their shoulders. But these people were usually the most piteous, and the bloodline ran through their veins.

  The glyphs depicted that only those of the bloodline could open the lid of the Ark of the Concordant. Inside was supposedly manna, scrolls, and a crux ansata, also known as an ankh—a cross with a loop instead of a top arm.

  These objects had special powers, and not one archaeologist he’d ever run into knew what the manna really was. The scrolls were also a mystery.

  Perhaps this was his chance to look.

  He took a step onto the stage and paused, letting out a gasp.

  Lying on the floor on the other side of the Ark was a naked man. He was pale and lifeless.

  Ozzy rounded the Ark and hurried over to him. “Toph Bailey?” He bent down, touching Toph, and noticed holes had riddled the guy’s body.

  “Lasers.”

  Did lasers pop up out of the Ark when someone not of the bloodline touched it?

  He’d read nothing of the sort.

  He closed Toph’s eyelids and stood. He eyed a laser muzzle hole in the wall. Then more, counting up to a dozen. He backed away.

  “Those who touch the Ark of the Concordant die, unless you’re of the bloodline.” He shook his head. “Something isn’t right.” Ozzy imagined a person would burn to death—or turn to ash or something—when they touched the Ark.

  He never imagined lasers shooting somebody when they touched it.

  That didn’t make sense.

  Yet, here Toph was, dead and littered with laser holes. The guy most likely went to grab the Ark, thinking the bloodline myth was just that, a myth, and then was shot down by a barrage of pin-pointed, perfectly aimed laser fire.

  He sighed. Those who touched the Ark died, which meant Ozzy carrying the Ark outside would be out of the question. Maybe if he moved the Ark via the box it sat upon? Maybe that was safe?

  How could he do that without it toppling over when he tried to move it over the edge of the stage?

  Then a whole shitload of problems would land in his lap.

  He scratched his head. He needed help to move this thing, and the help he had was keeping him alive and shooting at the enemies wanting to kill Ozzy.

  “What do I do?” He stepped down from the stage and paced the floor, rubbing his chin and thinking.

  “The Ark of the Concordant was always covered, but this one on the stage isn’t.” That didn’t make sense. Maybe the hieroglyphs were incorrect?

  Why was it covered?

  “To keep the Ark out of view from those that weren’t of the bloodline. A single look at the glamorous, gold-covered Ark may cause them to storm it to take its beauty. And when they’d touch it, they’d succumb to the same death as Toph.”

  He eyed Toph and stopped pacing. “Holy shit.” Ozzy smiled. “They wouldn’t succumb to the same death.” He gave Toph a wink. “Thanks, man.” The Ark sitting on the stage wasn’t the Ark of the Concordant at all. If it were, the Ark would have zapped him to death in another way, not by using an external object to kill him.

  The Ark on the stage was a dummy.

  Ozzy’s eyes halted on an object sitting in the shadows in a corner of the room. “That can’t be.”

  The item was covered in a large cloth. At the top of the cloth, he could see winged shapes. “Is that the real Ark?”

  He walked closer to the object. A big smile spread across his face and his heart raced. This was it, and if Jonas could get this puppy to work, then they could turn the Dunrakee away and chase them off the planet.

  Footsteps, loud and clunky, echoed in the main hall. He paused.

  More footsteps.

  “Dammit,” he whispered to himself. It wasn’t just someone. It was several someones.

  31

  Olympus Mons, Mars

  Ozzy ran over to Toph, grabbed him by his arms, and dragged him toward the edge of the stage.

  Whoever was coming was in a hurry. The footsteps grew louder.

  He pulled Toph over the edge, and the body slapped against the marble floor. Ozzy pushed him under the fabric that was wrapped around the stage, making sure Toph was covered and out of view.

  He glanced toward the doors, and his eyes widened. The doors were still open.

  He raced to them and pushed. They wouldn’t move. He pushed with all he had, grunting loudly.

  They didn’t budge.

  “I hear you, Ozzy,” said a woman’s voice, soft and snake-like.

  Ozzy peered around the door. It was Zeld with two MMP agents, fully dressed in their MMP uniforms, heading in his direction.

  “I see you,” she said.

  How in the
world did they walk through the shield without getting shocked?

  Ozzy backed away, looking for a place to hide. He dashed over to where he hid Toph.

  “Stop,” came Zeld.

  Ozzy turned. Zeld and the MMP agents were inside the room. All of them had guns and were pointing them at Ozzy.

  Ozzy held up his hands.

  Zeld looked him up and down and grinned. Her green eyes sparkled. She brushed her pink hair behind her ears. “I’m not complaining. It’s a nice view and all, but why are you naked?”

  Ozzy covered his privates with his hands. “Because that was the only way to be through the shield.”

  Zeld laughed. “You had the capsule this entire time, and when you translated the Ancient Coptic writings you thought it said naked?” She patted her clothes down. “No, no.” She let out a loud sigh. “I thought you were smarter than that, darlin’. Yes, naked would get you inside, but the capsule clearly said natural, not naked. And I looked at your capsule for about a minute and figured it out before stepping through the shield. My EVA’s aren’t natural, they’re synthetic. But our MMP uniforms, our weapons, and our boots are all made of natural materials.”

  Ozzy nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  He didn’t know.

  “But you just wanted to be naked?”

  Ozzy shrugged. “Yeah. I was a little warm in my jumpsuit.”

  She snorted. “Nice try, Ozzy.” She looked across the stage. “There it is. It’s nice and shiny.”

  Ozzy cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Wait. What did you do with Jozi and Gragas?”

  “They left.”

  Ozzy froze. They left? They wouldn’t have just left, but these three before him somehow got inside, so where the hell did Jozi and Gragas go?

  She gave Ozzy a sad face. “I know, handsome, you probably thought they were your friends, but fear got in their way, and they left you. But don’t worry, Ozzy. I’m not a killer. I wanted your capsule in order to find the Ark. That’s why I’ve been chasing you.” She lowered her head toward the MMP agents. “On the other hand, these guys are killers. Get ‘em, boys.”