Mars Colony Chronicles (Books 1 - 5): A Space Opera Box Set Adventure

by Brandon Ellis

  “Finally, you son of a Mars.”

  He leaned over and thrust his hand inside the hole, touching a cylinder-shaped object. He pulled the item out, tucked it under his arm, and shot blast after blast in the woman’s direction.

  Branches snapped and broke, and leaves burst into flames, only to extinguish seconds later. A thin cloud of smoke fogged the air, and Ozzy moved to the side. He grabbed a rock and threw it as far in the opposite direction as he could.

  It made a loud thud when it hit a side wall. The woman took the bait and shot a photon burst toward the sound.

  Ozzy made a run for it, slipping his rifle strap over his shoulder while in stride. He held the cylinder tightly under his arm.

  Wapooh!

  A shot whizzed by him. He side-stepped and bolted through the open doorway that led outside. He jumped on a boulder, pulling himself up from rock to rock until he made it to a stairwell.

  He rushed up the stairs, through Moonshinka Rock’s mouth, and out into the morning light. Mars’s dust kicked up as he pounded across the red desert terrain, creating puffs of clouds with his every step.

  His ship, an S-4 Jumper, was up ahead. A barren, red mountain range was in the background, reminding Ozzy how dead this red rock really was—nothing grew on it, nothing slithered or trampled over it, and water didn’t rest on top of it.

  All that crested its terrain were humans and their cities. Outside the domed cities, life was nothing but a cold, crimson wasteland covered by red dust.

  “Com channel two,” he yelled, his breaths coming quick and heavy. A ding sounded in his helmet, indicating his S-4 Jumper, Relic, was ready for her orders.

  “Relic, open rear ramp.”

  The ramp hissed, and steam pushed out at the seams. The ramp moved outward and lowered at the same time, making a gravely sound when it hit the rocky sand.

  Ozzy took his first steps on the ramp and looked over his shoulder. “Holy Mars, woman!”

  She was fast and catching up to him, running with the rifle strapped to her back and two long swords in each hand.

  What was she going to do? Gut him?

  Ozzy rushed inside Relic and skidded to a halt. He twisted around, punching the “close” button as fast as he could.

  The ramp whined, its gyros and wheels having a hard time lifting the hefty door littered with the red sand.

  It wasn’t going to close fast enough.

  Ozzy dropped the cylinder he had found and unstrapped his rifle.

  A blue light flashed behind him. He couldn’t turn around to see what it was. If he did, the lunatic chasing him would be joining him on the ship.

  Not on his watch.

  He aimed and pulled the trigger. The recoil bounced against his shoulder and chest. A blue photon charge expelled at a fast clip from his gun’s muzzle, sending a small stream of smoke that wafted to the side of his rifle barrel.

  The shot missed.

  “Screw this.” He held the trigger down, the rifle slamming back and forth against his shoulder. The woman dodged out of the way and behind a large boulder.

  His last shot hit the closing ramp, planting a nice black streak across it.

  The ramp finally closed, sending a bang vibrating across the bay and shaking Relic. Oxygen filled the ship, and the gravity field slowly densified.

  But the blue light?

  He spun on his heels and leaned against the ramp. The cylinder, which looked more like a metal capsule, had opened. The top and bottom were still attached by four long metallic rods.

  A light was in the middle, but that’s not what he was looking at.

  In front of Ozzy was a blue map displaying Mars with a diagram of locations written in Ancient Coptic. A gold symbol with angelic wings was on the other side of the planet, and dead set in the middle was the biggest volcano in the entire solar system—Olympus Mons.

  He leaned in, reading the words above the gold symbol. He unclipped his helmet and tossed it on the floor. “It’s real. The Ark of the Concordant is holy-Mars-rat-dung real.”

  2

  MooNshinka Rock, Mars

  Ozzy kissed his fingers and pressed them against Lily’s picture that was magnetized to the flight console in Relic’s cockpit. “You’re my good luck charm, Lily-bug.”

  Several months ago, he almost lost her to the Martian Plague, but through a set of miracles, she survived. He never wanted to go through the thought of losing her again, but if he got caught on another illegal dig, he’d lose her by being tossed in prison by the High Judge, Robert Baldwin.

  But here he was on another illegal dig. He wouldn’t get caught. He was sure of it.

  Ozzy pushed the throttle forward, sending a hum through Relic. His craft’s belly’s electrohydrodynamic ionic boosters worked quickly and effortlessly, lifting him off the ground.

  He pressed a few buttons and darted forward, veering Relic away from Moonshinka Rock and toward Tagus Valles—the home of Jonas Moon.

  He pulled up the rear cams. His holographic display split, and he could see the front and back of the craft.

  The woman who wanted to rip his throat out was standing on the Martian soil, waving her swords and turning into a pea-sized idiot the farther away he flew.

  He turned off the cams and dialed Jonas’s number on the com line.

  Jonas answered. “I figured it out.”

  Ozzy grunted. “I hope you’re talking about the woman who wanted to kill me?”

  “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 brea
th. “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.