Martian Plague

by Brandon Ellis

  It left an unpleasant tangy taste in his mouth, but that always meant one thing: he was more at home here than anywhere else in the world. “Relic, you’re my ticket to a better life.”

  He patted Relic’s landing skid for good luck.

  He lit a cigar and took a puff, slowly exhaling. He touched the sidearm hidden under his trench coat and gazed up at the large anti-radiation shield that domed Gale Crater City. The shield was lined by terraforming lamps that electrified the air, changing Mars’s abundant carbon dioxide gas into breathable oxygen.

  And that’s all he knew. How terraforming worked, he didn’t care. All he understood was that the Ministry’s attempts to terraform anything outside the shielded cities weren’t going so well.

  In fact, they were a total and utter failure.

  He was startled by a loud thump as a suitcase dropped next to his feet. He cringed. The double-crossing, backstabbing wench had returned.

  He looked over his shoulder, clamping his lips tighter on the cigar. Jozi held another bag in her hand along with a pack strapped to her upper back.

  “We’re not going on a space cruise,” he groaned, taking the cigar out of his mouth and blowing smoke in her direction.

  She waved the foul-smelling vapor away from her nose. “I’m going to help you on this trip. That’s why I’m here.”

  She didn’t mention watching his every move, recording what he was doing every damn minute, and making sure he was true to his word, but he let all her unspoken body language slide.

  “So, Miss Backstabber, when is Robert Baldwin going to flee to another city or go off-planet? The plague isn’t going to dodge him just because he’s the High Judge.”

  “He’s staying,” Jozi responded. “Through thick and thin.”

  “Don’t bet on it, two-faced.” Ozzy turned and kicked her suitcase on its side and walked toward his ship’s ramp.

  “Hey, that’s what I get for dropping everything to be your partner in this little exploration of ours?”

  “Last time we had a little exploration you screwed me over. If you call that partnering, then you can mosey on back home. Or better yet, get some of that nice plague that’s going around.” He patted his tight jumpsuit under his trench coat and baggy cargo pants. Other than his face, there was no way any carbon dioxide flea left alive—if they existed—could get to his skin right now. But what he needed most was a mask to keep germs away, and every store was out of stock.

  “I was doing my job—”

  “…of setting me up.” Ozzy pounded up the ramp, wanting to press the “close ramp” button and close the ramp on Jozi’s face.

  He was with her for a week, and during that time, he had trusted her. That’s why Ozzy always worked alone. He couldn’t trust anybody, and when he did, an emotional knife tended to sink deeply into his back as it did with Jozi.

  “Thanks for your hospitality,” she moaned as she lugged her suitcases up the metal incline into Relic.

  The moment she passed into the storage bay, Ozzy slapped a button. The ramp whined as the gears brought it to a close. It suctioned and hissed, telling Ozzy it was locked and ready for him to take Relic outside the city shields and into the carbon-dioxide-filled sky.

  “Can I use the same room I was in before?” Jozi looked around the storage bay. Crates and boxes lined the walls, along with three six-wheeled, four-person Mars rovers, and several forklifts and pallet jacks were locked and magnetized in place. She raised her eyebrows. “New items? They weren’t here the week I was on this ship.”

  “A little something else I negotiated with your bossy-boss.” He looked at her holster, which held a sidearm. He walked over to a small compartment safe in the storage bay and waved his hand over it, and it opened. “Put your photon pistol in my safe. I can only trust myself on this craft, so I have a new rule: I’m the only one with a gun.”

  She put her suitcases on the grate and sighed. “I can’t. It’s not in my job description to give you any leverage.”

  “It’s not in mine, either.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Well, if you want to keep your freedom and stay out of prison, I suggest you go by my easy rule. I keep my weapon by my side, and you keep yours by your side.”

  He waved his hand over the safe a second time, closing it. He wanted to keep his freedom more than he wanted her to put her gun in the safe. “Suit yourself.” He pulled open his coat and showed her his photon gun. “I don’t think leverage is on your side, though.”

  He strode over to a closed door and put his hand on the wall. The door slid upward and opened, and he stepped inside. Every hair on his body rose toward the ceiling from the static electricity nearly overriding every neural synapse in his brain.

  The door slammed shut.

  The room inside was bare. It was full of white walls and white floors, except for the middle where a round device, resembling a rock, pulsed and glowed a beautiful indigo color. Hence the name he called it; Indigo.

  It sat on a small platform, securely fastened by several stretchable bands. Wires and cables came up from the floor and into the device. The wires sent Indigo’s energy relays to the auxiliary engines and central processing unit at the aft of the craft on the upper deck.

  He flipped a switch, turning the wires and cables from “receive mode” to “send mode” and opened the door. He walked out of the room, and his hair rested on his head and skin the moment he passed through the doorway.

  That device was the reason he was a ghost to all radar.

  “Don’t go in there,” he said as the door shut. Not that she could. His handprint was the only print in the entire universe that could get that door open.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I remember. It’s your prized possession.”

  He grunted and walked by her.

  “What’s in there, anyway?” she asked, eyeing the room like it held the greatest mystery on Mars. During her weeklong stay with him, he caught her looking at the door many times. She probably tried to scratch her way inside when he wasn’t paying attention.

  He ignored her and picked up the briefcase. He climbed the ladder to the upper deck, holding the briefcase snugly under his arm.

  Reaching the upper deck, he took a few steps and jimmied sideways down a corridor toward his cockpit—something he designed in case the authorities or an asshole crime lord broke into Relic and tried to get to him quickly.

  Jimmying through this area would slow their fat-asses down, giving him ample time to flee to one of the many hidden exits or hidden compartments spread throughout the craft via a tunnel under the cockpit seats.

  He reached forward, clasping the top of the pilot’s chair, and pulled himself the rest of the way through and into the cockpit. He sat, placing the briefcase on the copilot’s seat.

  Jozi’s climbing and strenuous grunts echoed through the craft and into the cockpit. She was struggling with her suitcases. He grinned. She deserved whatever stress came her way.

  “Who brings a suitcase, let alone two suitcases, on a trip like this?” he said under his breath. He wanted to stand up and cheer the moment she made it to the upper deck but refrained. He didn’t want to waste his energy.

  “Heading to my room,” said Jozi, standing at the head of the corridor that led to where Ozzy was sitting.

  “Second door on your right. Make yourself at home.”

  “That’s not the room I had last time.”

  “Yeah, that’s my room. The other one is occupied with my important stuff.” It wasn’t, but giving her a clean room would be against his personal code: snitches don’t get shit. He just made up that code, but it worked for the time being.

  She walked to her new room.

  “Are you kidding me?” bellowed Jozi. “I’m not sleeping in here.”

  He smirked as he took off his coat and dropped it on the floor. He turned on the com line. “Tower, this is S-4 Jumper 994, I’m ready to head on out of here. We are heading—”

  “Did you piss in here and t
hen throw your clothes on top of the urine? And what the hell is that smell? Who raised you, a Martian wollabat?” hollered Jozi.

  “S-4 Jumper 994, this is the tower, permission granted. We’ll lower you down in thirty seconds. Give us your location, and we’ll let the receiving flyway port know you’re on your way.”

  “Copy that, tower. We—”

  “I mean, seriously? I’m not cleaning this up.”

  “Hold on, tower,” said Ozzy, covering the com speaker and yelling over his shoulder. “You’re going to clean it up if you want to sleep in there. The grated floors are not that comfortable, sweetheart.” He hoped sweetheart was like fingernails down a chalkboard to her ears. He took his hand off the speaker. “We’re heading to Tagus Valles.”

  “Approved for departure,” came the tower.

  Ozzy leaned forward and pressed his fingers to a picture of a little girl that was attached to the console. It was his Lily. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. She carried a smile that melted his heart every time he looked at it. On the top of the picture, it read Lily, written in her own writing. Age four was also at the top of the image, printed in Ozzy’s hand.

  He brought his fingertips to his lips, then pressed them against the girl’s beautiful smile. He whispered, “You’re always in my heart, Lily-bug. Wish me luck on this trip, will ya’? I’ll be able to see you soon. I promise.”

  High Judge Robert Baldwin took her away from Ozzy. Now the evil prick was giving her back. All to save himself from the Martian Plague. But Ozzy was fine with that. Whatever placed his daughter into his arms again was good with him.

  He rubbed his hands together and turned off the control locks on the cockpit console. The craft shuddered, and the ground began to descend like an elevator. He checked the engines, nodding to himself. They were online and functioning.

  The craft descended deeper underground and the cockpit dimmed. Relic’s roof cleared the ceiling of the launch tube and the top of the platform closed. Everything was now pitch-black.

  “Turn the cabin lights on. I can’t see anything,” demanded Jozi from down the corridor.

  Ozzy always kept the lights off just before takeoff. It was nice and calm—the quiet before the storm.

  “No can do.”

  A loud suction noise vibrated through the tube, sucking all oxygen out and into the city. A second later, amber lights blared on, displaying a runway before him and highlighting the inside of his cockpit. “Here we go,” said Ozzy under his breath. He flicked on the cabin lights.

  “Good,” said Jozi.

  Ozzy jumped, his hair standing on end. Jozi was right behind him, her hands on her hips.

  “Do you have silencers on your shoes?” He looked her up and down, impressed by her ninja-like skills. “Anyway, you’re not allowed in the cockpit anymore.” Ozzy pointed past the thin entryway and toward the corridor on the other side. “Get out.”

  She picked up the briefcase carrying the Coptic tablet and sat in the copilot’s chair, resting the briefcase on her lap. “Oh, the cockpit is for boys only now? No wonder cock is in the word.” She shook her head and pursed her lips. “We’re on this mission together. It’s best we get along. Alright?”

  “Yeah, like you got along with me before you threw me in the slammer? I can’t trust a word you say. And let me guess. You’re not an orphan after all?”

  She grabbed onto a white necklace around her neck. It had a pendant with a family carved onto it. It was either new, or she hadn’t worn it the entire week she was on Relic.

  She gave him a long stare. “I am an orphan. I don’t have a family. All I lied about was wanting to be an archaeologist.”

  “You also lied about not being an MMP agent, but here you are.” Ozzy grabbed the briefcase from her lap. “Thank you very much.” He opened it and ran his fingers over the Ancient Coptic tablet’s engravings, briefly closing his eyes. Standing up, he took the tablet out of the briefcase and paced in his small cockpit, something he did when he was giving lectures at the university. It’s how he did his best work—by touching the artifact and pacing. He cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows coming closer, his fingers touching upon the ancient symbol for a Moonshinka, the wild cat that the Ancient’s seemed to adore.

  The glyphs were telling him a location—a carved rock. Yes, the Moonshinka Rock. And that rock was right next to the city of Dawes. “Screw me running.” It was the last place he wanted to go and the last place anyone in their right mind would ever want to go. “What the—”

  “What is it?” asked Jozi.

  He sat and put the tablet inside the briefcase, then set the briefcase on his lap. “The cure to this plague is right next to a city, that…”

  He shook his head.

  “That…what?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Dunrakee, Jozi?”

  Jozi’s eyes widened. “Yeah, of course. But what about them?”

  “They are also the same alien force that just took over Dawes. They pushed all of us off of Earth just over a hundred years ago, and they still can’t leave us alone.”

  “It’s not the same force. Yes, it’s the same alien race, but the ones who took over Dawes was a small Dunrakee terrorist group with shoddy tech. They won’t—”

  “That’s where we’re going. The city of Dawes.”

  Jozi exhaled. Even though these terrorists had shoddy weaponry and technology, they could still aim and shoot. “Are you sure?”

  Ozzy sat thinking. He hadn’t been avoiding that area lately for shits and giggles. “And worse yet. The tablet is naming off plants that we’ve never grown here on Mars. However, the tablet is saying that those plants mixed together are the cure.”

  The plants written on the tablet were on Earth, and going to Earth was practically impossible. The Dunrakee would detect them coming and send out a small group of fighters to shoot them down.

  “What do you mean?”

  He ran his fingers over a vine holding several fruits, herbs, and leaves.

  “The plants that this tablet is naming off are only plants that grow on Earth; clove, lemon, cinnamon, eucalyptus, and rosemary, plus another one that isn’t native to Earth, but I can’t make that one out. It’s an elixir of immortality. Apparently, this plant enhances the rest, giving us the cure.”

  Jozi scrunched up her nose. “Plants?”

  “Those listed plants, minus the plant of immortality, were used by thieves and grave robbers back on Earth during the bubonic plague. The plants kept them healthy and safe while they stole from the dead and dying.”

  Ozzy continued, his body hunched in dismay. He felt this mission was a failure before it began. “As you know, perchlorates are all over the Martian soil, which poisons plants and people. The Ministry and the farmers have to dig extremely deep to get ancient soil suitable for agriculture, and this tablet is saying the cure—the plants—are slightly below ground. If that’s the case, they are growing in perchlorate-contaminated soil.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  He continued to run his fingers over the tablet, on a dot, a dash, and four numbers that resembled different shaped stars. He stopped when his fingers reached an x-shape.

  “These plants can’t still be alive. They haven’t been cared for or even touched for tens of thousands of years. If they at one time existed on Mars, they are now in the wrong place and the wrong soil.” He chuckled at the absurdity of it all. “Plus, we’re supposed to go to a place a Dunrakee terrorist group attacked and are taking shelter in no less than a few weeks ago?”

  Jozi paused and glanced at her hands in her lap, thinking intently. She looked up. “We have to go. We have to find a way. In seven to ten days, Gale Crater City will be a bunch of corpses if we don’t. And who knows how many other cities may have the beginnings of the Martian Plague.”

  Ozzy slapped his forehead. “Damn, you’re slow. You’re not getting the point. These plants are dead. Even if we were able to sneak past the Dunrakee at Dawes and get to the Moonshinka Rock, we’d only see dr
ied out weeds covered in the perchlorate-contaminated soil. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  “Maybe it’s a seed storage. Maybe that’s what we’ll be looking at. If it’s seeds that were kept underground in a Martian capsule, then we have to get it to the Ministry. We’ve found Martian capsules before, and they held perfectly fine Ancient Martian clothing and pottery. They could have done the same with seeds.” She threw her arms out. “Anything at this point will be a major help. Even dead plants. We have the expansive arrays up and ready to rapidly clone whatever we find.”

  The com line crackled. “Jumper 994, this is the tower. Prepare for takeoff. Over.”

  Ozzy let out a disgusted breath. This was going to be harder than he thought.

  He advanced the throttle slowly, the craft’s electrohydrodynamic engine’s ionic thruster’s electrostatic charge pulled dust motes out of the air and collected them on metal panels for their electrode charge. The engines blasted the electrodes with high voltage, creating an ionic wind strong enough to get this Jumper, and other ships, to fly quickly through the thin atmosphere of Mars.

  He checked the gauges, seeing that the emitter’s negative anodes were charging the Martian’s carbon dioxide particles smoothly. Relic was ready to fly.

  He eyed his craft’s storm tracker. A red storm was close by, but it wasn’t big, and he could outrun it. If it were too much of a danger, then the tower wouldn’t let Ozzy leave.

  The launch bay exit doors opened. “Strap in.” He pressed down on his thrusters, shooting Relic forward. He tapped the side of his chair, activating Indigo, which was glowing on the lower deck. “Stealth mode on.” He was now invisible to all radar known to man.

  His craft rushed closer to the exit, and he pulled the control stick back. “And…we’re on our way.” They rocketed out of the tube and rose high, the butterscotch-colored sky highlighting the cockpit. He banked left, heading for Tagus Valles.

  “Where are you going?” cried Jozi. “You’re heading for that dust storm.”

  Ozzy winked. “I can outrun it on its east side. Hold on tight. The ride might get a little bumpy.”