Mars Descent (Cladespace Book 2)

by Corey Ostman

  “Easily,” agreed Wragg. “With no charts, or old ones. The sensors back then weren’t as good, either.”

  “We need to enter that geyser,” Richard said.

  “What?” Wragg grunted.

  “We have to follow the thorium.”

  “What about the probe?”

  “But—”

  “Captain, take us into that geyser.”

  Wragg muttered under his breath and took the controls. Grace smirked to herself. She knew Wragg. He talked caution, but he was just as hot to fly into that geyser as Richard.

  The cruiser hovered directly above the geyser’s mouth.

  “Down we go,” Richard said.

  “Z minus ten,” Wragg added.

  Grace’s ptenda pinged. It was Raj: What’s going on?

  Adventure, Grace answered.

  They descended, the rim of the geyser rising slowly up the viewport until the horizon vanished and they were in twilight.

  “Grace, get us some light,” said Richard, peering into the darkness.

  Grace tapped the exterior plasma controls. Lights flashed on, illuminating the brown rock of the geyser walls. The texture looked more lumpy than ragged, and Grace caught the twinkle of embedded crystal.

  “Z minus thirty.”

  Wragg angled the nose down, exposing the black maw of the pit below.

  “Z minus fifty.”

  The Scout fit easily down the throat of the geyser. As the ship slowly turned, Grace saw shadows turn into jagged tunnels that led horizontally off the main shaft.

  “I’m reading a wide shelf at two hundred meters,” Richard said.

  Wragg nodded, eyes intent on the screen before him. “I’ll try putting us down there.”

  The wall of the geyser changed, growing rockier as it transitioned from dark brown to a deeper orange.

  “Z minus one twenty.”

  Wragg touched the screen and the Scout spun around. There was a large, flat shelf off the bow.

  “Looks good,” Wragg said.

  “Tactical shows the gallery extends nearly a kilometer,” Richard said.

  “Is it solid?” Grace asked.

  Wragg maneuvered the Scout until the craft hovered just above the ground.

  “Let’s test it, shall we?” Wragg said, tapping on their underbelly thrusters. The craft eased down as gently as a feather.

  Grace watched the seismic feedback. “Stable.”

  Richard grinned. “Brilliant.”

  “One thing bothers me,” Wragg said. “I can probe the depth of this cavern, but other signals are not penetrating.”

  “Our plasma—” Richard began.

  Wragg shook his head. “The forward plasma is only giving us a hundred meters or so of visibility.”

  Grace nodded in agreement with Wragg. She knew the plasma sources should easily illuminate a two kilometer sphere around the Scout.

  “I could take a physical look outside,” she volunteered.

  “I may take you up on that.” Richard said. “But safety first. We’ll send Mazz.” He tapped his ptenda to contact the robot.

  “Mazz,” he said, “please exit the ship. Walk to these coordinates and report your findings.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Moments later, the perimeter alarm. Mazz appeared in their forward viewport.

  “No pressure suit?” Grace asked. Environmental showed -80C. “Mazz can function in this climate?”

  “Yes, it’ll be fine,” Richard said. “Mazz is rated down to -160C.”

  Mazz neared the edge of the light and then disappeared into the dark.

  “Switching to his camera,” Richard said.

  The screens winked and they saw an image of red stone. The shelf’s surface.

  “The field of view is too limited, Mazz.” Richard said. “Go to wide-angle and pan one-eight-zero as you head into the cavern, please.”

  The display shifted, then blurred. Richard rubbed the display, his brow furrowed.

  “Why is it fuzzy?” he asked. “Mazz? Are you seeing clearly?”

  They heard three faint bursts of static, but no reply. Tense seconds passed until Mazz’s voice returned.

  “Yes, sir,” it said. “Your transmission is very weak, sir.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Wragg. He touched his console, and a rumbling thud began repeating through Mazz’s audio circuit.

  “Good thought, Captain.”

  “A crash beacon?” Grace asked, horrified. It was one tech she recognized. Roiders once used it to drive away cloisterfolk. It was as loud as an explosion; it could easily deafen a person. Crash beacons were deemed illegal following adoption of the Cloister Act.

  “This isn’t Earth,” said Wragg. “It’s not illegal here—it isn’t as loud here. We don’t have your atmosphere.”

  Richard spoke into his ptenda. “Mazz, if the beacon drops below sixty decibels, please return immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Grace sat back, frowning. She watched Mazz walk forward. It scanned the area. As its camera dipped down, she saw the ground was covered with pebble-sized debris. Mazz’s light didn’t reach far, though to the right she could make out a rocky wall.

  Mazz’s camera feed froze, jittered, and then resumed. She noticed a decrease in resolution, or else the pebbles were turning from round to flat.

  “Richard, I think Mazz is—”

  The feed froze.

  “Dammit,” said Wragg.

  The crash beacon was still loud and clear on Mazz’s audio channel.

  “He’ll turn around,” Richard said.

  Several minutes passed, and no Mazz.

  “Did we miss a ping?”

  “No,” Richard sighed. “Mazz isn’t detecting the beacon anymore.”

  “I should go out.” Grace dislodged herself from her seat and headed toward the ladder.

  “Wait,” Wragg said, pointing at the display.

  The telemetry had returned, though not the display. Six hundred meters distant and increasing. It was clear from the positioning that Mazz was moving.

  “Mazz! What’s happening out there!” Richard yelled.

  Nothing. Then a crackle.

  “…ship is…” Mazz’s distorted voice.

  Richard brought his ptenda to his lips.

  “Repeat, Mazz?”

  “…ship is here, sir,” it said.

  There was a pause as the message sunk in. Then the bridge erupted in a chorus of shouts.

  “Mazz found Essex!”

  “Landing in a geyser, ha!”

  “Brilliant.”

  “Nineteen years—” Richard began, his eyes sparkling.

  “—worth it,” Wragg said, patting him on the back.

  “Mazz, return to the ship immediately. Don’t bother coming aboard. We’ll come out through the airlock and meet you.”

  Yvette ran onto the bridge.

  “I heard—a ship? Can I go, Poppy?”

  Richard knelt and gave her a hug. “Too dangerous, Squish. You’ll need to stay on the Scout.”

  Yvette took a step back and crossed her arms.

  “Once we know what’s out there, you can come and see.”

  “Hmpf,” she glowered.

  “You won’t be alone. Wragg and Hobbs will stay behind.”

  Yvette frowned. “No fun.”

  Richard turned to Grace. “I’m sure you can round up Raj.” He rubbed his chin. “And we should take Anna, too. Could use an engineer. Meet me at the airlock.”

  Grace nodded and headed for her cabin. She met Raj as he stepped off the ladder.

  “Are you sure we should—” Raj croaked.

  Grace chuckled. Coward. She grabbed him by the hand and led him to their cabin. As they entered, Tim looked up from Grace’s bed.

  “I’ve been monitoring,” Tim said. “Should I go?”

  “I think you should stay put, Tim. For the time being.”

  Oddly, Tim didn’t protest. He put his head down between his paws. Grace looked at
Raj, who was grabbing medbinds from a drawer. She wished he’d taken more time with Tim’s dreams.

  “Where’s Anna? Was she keen on going?”

  “No doubt she already has her pressure suit on and is waiting for us in the airlock,” Raj said, smiling.

  “Glad one of you is bold.”

  “Hey!”

  Grace grabbed Marty from a drawer. Raj headed down to the airlock. Grace dawdled, re-checking her weapon, though she’d cleaned it a few hours before.

  “It’s stronger now, isn’t it Tim?”

  “Let’s just say we’re in the right place.”

  “The right place, or the wrong place?” Grace asked.

  “Right or wrong, you’d better go before they leave you behind,” Tim said.

  “And you’ll be ok?”

  “You’re the one about to go on walkabout in an extinct geyser.”

  “Tim.”

  “I’ll be ok.”

  Grace nodded and went below.

  Richard, Raj, and Anna had already moved inside the airlock. Yvette stood outside, her arms crossed as she watched everyone get ready. She hadn’t forgiven her father for leaving her behind.

  Wragg waited with Yvette. He looked agitated. When he noticed Grace, he walked over and leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper.

  “Take it slow and steady,” he said. “Richard might try to lead, but we both know he can lose his head when it comes to that ship.”

  “I’ll keep ‘em safe.”

  “Keep yourself safe, Grace, and everybody else will be fine.”

  Grace nodded. She stepped inside the airlock, sealed the inner door, and slid into her suit. She kept Marty inside the suit, but clipped the standard phasewave to the outside.

  “Everyone ready?” asked Richard.

  Three affirmatives. Richard pushed the button and the airlock depressurized.

  “Keep your mics hot at all times,” Wragg said to them through their helmet comms.

  The outer hatch opened and Grace stepped out first.

  All she could see was black. Grace turned her helmet and caught a glimpse of the geyser’s wall. There were bright white lines running horizontally that reminded her of gypsum deposits on their ranch in Wyoming. She was no geologist, but the walls and the gravel underneath reminded her of the sandstone formations just south of her home.

  She followed the robot deeper into the cavern. Her suit allowed her to see well at ten meters but barely at twenty. Her boots crunched on the orange gravel. Then an audible ping from the crash beacon sent her back into Richard. She ineffectually held her hands to her helmet where her ears were.

  “Too loud!” Grace said.

  “Sorry, Grace,” said Richard. “There should be a filter in your comm settings.”

  Grace blinked through the menu and found the filter. Much better.

  Mazz was waiting patiently a few meters away. The robot pointed forward, and they all began to walk: first Grace, then Richard, then Anna, then Raj.

  “Grace,” Tim chimed through her dermal.

  “Yeah?”

  “Just wanted to make sure you could hear me, Grace.”

  “What did you say, Grace?” asked Richard.

  “Nothing.”

  She trudged across the red rock. Grace matched the speed of the robot and her mind relaxed under the rhythm of the crunch beneath her feet. The walls of the gallery were converging, she noted. Soon it would be too small for a cruiser the size of the Scout. Grace wondered if the Essex was smaller, or if the geyser had changed since the crash.

  She looked behind her to check on Richard, Raj, and Anna. They seemed quiet and content. It reminded her of hiking in the box canyon back home, where she had once target-practiced with Raj. In the canyon, as here, the loudest noises were footfalls.

  “Is it too quiet?” Anna asked, echoing Grace’s thoughts.

  “The beacon blanked out for me,” said Raj.

  “I don’t hear it either.”

  Grace unfiltered her comm. No noise.

  “What about the ship? Captain Wragg?”

  He did not respond. They stood, looking at each other.

  Mazz broke through. “Shall we return, sir?”

  “I indicated nothing of the kind, Mazz,” Richard said. “Forward.”

  “How far until the ship, Mazz?” Grace asked, raising an eyebrow at Richard.

  “One hundred seven meters.”

  “Not far, then,” Richard said, smiling. “Come on.”

  Richard walked ahead with Mazz, but Grace noticed Anna standing still, looking to their right. There was a large object on the ground by the distant wall—some sort of cylinder, five meters long.

  “Looks like metal,” said Raj.

  Mazz clanked back to them. Richard followed, frowning.

  “What is it, Mazz?” he asked.

  “My apologies,” it said. “Perhaps my guidance is faulty. That is the ship.”

  “What is?”

  Mazz pointed at the cylinder. “That.”

  “That?” Richard said. “That?” There was a tinge of hysteria in his voice. “That’s not the Essex, Mazz!”

  “I am sorry, sir. Running a sensor diagnostic. Thirty seconds.”

  “A loaner craft,” Anna said, “I’ve used these before. People borrow them for short-term use. Fairly popular.”

  They walked up to it. A small cockpit was visible from the outside. Empty.

  “How long has it been here?” Grace asked.

  Everybody fanned out around the small ship. Except for Richard. He was still stunned, staring at the ship as though willing it to become the Essex.

  “They began making this model about three years ago,” Anna said. “My father used to own one. Two-seater. Good range.”

  “Does it use thorium?” Grace asked.

  “Thorium? No, no. Only big cruisers use thorium, and not many of those,” said Anna.

  Raj bent down and looked near the engine. He wiped the hull with his glove, scattering dust.

  “This inspection marker shows it left Gusev last week,” he said quietly.

  “Wragg and I heard something about travelers at Richardson,” Grace said. Her gut didn’t like this. The same geyser? She walked over to Raj. “I’d like fewer variables,” she said. “Can you disable it?”

  Raj stood up and looked at Grace through his visor. She tried to decode the expression. He was less surprised than—what? Angry? Disdainful? Was sabotage unpalatable to an engineer?

  “I could remove its transponder,” Anna piped up. “These models won’t fly without it. Owners get itchy not knowing where somebody is taking their rented property.”

  Anna moved past Grace and Raj, snapping a disc from the side of the ship.

  “There. Easy,” she said. She flipped the disc and tucked it into the side pocket of her pressure suit.

  “Hold on,” Raj said. “We can’t just disable somebody’s ship.”

  “I don’t like it, Raj,” Grace said. “It’s too much of a coincidence and,” she pointed back in the direction of the Scout, “I don’t want them running into our ship.”

  She looked into Raj’s helmet. His face still said ‘no.’

  “We can give it back when we find the pilot.”

  Raj shrugged. “I trust you, Grace.”

  Grace stepped over to Richard, still staring at the little ship.

  “Let’s keep going,” she said, touching his shoulder. “We still haven’t found the source of the thorium.”

  Richard nodded.

  They marched ahead. As they went deeper into the tunnel, the ground alternated between gravel and a finer, mottled sand. At some points, the cavern would widen and then narrow, often to the extent that they couldn’t stand side by side. Grace moved beyond the main group by a few paces, blocking the helmet chatter so she could concentrate on her surroundings.

  After twenty minutes or so of this, Grace stopped and looked at the ground. Could it be? It was still fairly rocky, but—

  Richar
d flashed an urgent icon and demanded a report.

  “Grace, we can’t keep walking aimlessly.”

  “Who says we’re walking aimlessly?” said Grace. She waited for the others to join her and pointed at the ground.

  “What is it?” asked Richard.

  “Footprints.”

  Chapter 29

  “It’s a pressure suit,” Grace said, kneeling to inspect the footprints on the ground. Her glove moved the sand easily. “Two pressure suits. Two people. Headed in one direction, but no trackbacks. They haven’t returned.”

  She looked ahead. The tracks were clear in the powdery soil. Tracking coyotes back home had been more of a challenge. But, she reminded herself, there were similarities between coyotes and humans. They were both cautious and deceptive. And when desperate, aggressive.

  “Best thing we can do is follow them,” she said. “Maybe they know the way.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” Richard said.

  “Worried?” Raj said. “Why is getting to the Essex first such a prize?”

  Richard turned to Raj. “I don’t want people looting my family’s ship.” He stopped and looked from Raj to Anna. “Maybe the two of you should go back.”

  “No,” Anna said. “We’ve come this far. I want to see where these tracks lead.”

  “Richard’s right, Anna. We don’t know how far we’ll have to walk,” Raj said. “I’m worried we won’t have sufficient life support.”

  Trust Raj to take a way out when it’s offered. Grace blinked through her suit display. Oxygen supply was at ninety-one percent. Just as she thought: they could stay out for hours. Her powerpack had plenty of charge, too.

  As the others continued to argue about returning, Grace reviewed the group’s defensive capabilities. She removed the suit’s standard phasewave from her belt and grimaced. Kwong Amory P86. A horribly inaccurate weapon, which put them as much in danger from friendly fire as from hostile fire.

  She considered Marty, safely inside the pressure suit against her skin. In a real atmosphere, she could accurately wound with a slug, but in the tenuous air of Mars, a slug-hole in a pressure suit would be fatal. She wasn’t out to kill anyone. Still, a protector always kept options available.

  “We have sufficient life support, Raj,” Anna said. “The suits will go into alarm at fifty percent. You have plenty of time to—”

  Grace spoke. “Look, I know we’re worried. But these footprints are our best lead. The people from that other ship are here for a reason, and it’s probably the thorium.”