Chapter 30

"David? What in the world are you doing?" 

David wiped a film of red dust off of his visor and glanced over at Gonzo, who was sitting near Lauren's sleeping form. "I'm practicing the message I'm going to send." He pantomimed tapping two wires together. It was awkwar, what with his left arm all but immobilized. He had to hold one wire in his left hand, and tap with the wire in his right hand. "It's been a while since I've done and Morse, so I want to be sure I can get it right the first time." 

"You came up with a message, then?" 

He nodded. "Yeah. How does this sound : 'SOS, break, SOS, break, IDN 23986, break, BLK 13, break, 116-86 by 43-21, break, aliens following signal, break.' Then I repeat the whole thing." 

Gonzo was silent for a moment. "A bit cryptic, don't you think? The SOS, I understand. 'IDN 23986' is your ship-board identification number, I assume?" David nodded. "What's 'BLK 13?'" 

"My squadron position - Black 13." David explained. "Between that and the identification number, they should be able to figure out that it's not an alien faking a distress call." 

Gonzo chuckled. "13, eh? Fitting... okay, what about the rest?" 

David massaged his arms, working out the stiffness that had settled into them. "Latitude and longitude, according to the wall map over there." He gestured towards the plastic-encased map mounted on the wall by the door. "The last part should be self-explanatory, I think. If the aliens are chasing the signal source, it should be clear for the rescue team to come and get you two." 

Gonzo sighed. "Couldn't you send the signal and get back here?" 

"We've gone over this already." David pointed out. "And besides, Morse isn't a speedy way to send a signal. And I can't be sure if they'll pick it up right away, so I'm going to have to send it several times." 

"I still don't like it." 

"Neither do I." David admitted. "But what other choice do we have? I'm open to suggestions." 

Gonzo climbed to his feet and walked over to the window. "Doesn't look like the storm's letting up." 

David glanced around room. Everything had a reddish cast to it now, thanks to a generous dusting of Martian soil blown in by the storm. "Tomorrow will be better, hopefully. Either way, I'm going out in the morning." 

[Monday 15 Feb 2010 - Somewhere north of Mars Base, 0822 hours] 

David stood outside the door, using binoculars to survey the area around the lab. The thin air was still clouded with dust, but it seemed to be clearing. At least, he hoped it was. 

Gonzo stepped up beside him, cradling the beacon in his arms. "Time?" 

David nodded. "Time. I was hoping it would be a bit clearer, though." 

"Clearer than it was." Gonzo pointed out. He handed David the beacon. "Anything else you need?" 

David walked over to the battered jeep and placed the beacon on the passenger seat. "Can't think of anything. Three hours of air, full tank of gas, binoculars, and the beacon. Should be enough, I think." He turned back to the lab, a heavy feeling settling over him. "God, I hope this works." 

Gonzo laid a hand on his shoulder. "It'll work, David. It's a good plan. It'll work." He paused several moments before continuing. "Lauren'll be fine. I promise you that." 

David nodded, unable to speak. "Take care." He managed to croak, and climbed into the jeep. Stomping on the accelerator a bit harder than he had intended, the jeep leaped away from the lab building. Peering into the cracked rear-view mirror, David saw Gonzo waving. He slowed to a manageable speed and raised his good arm in return, then regained control of the jeep before it spun around. 

Turning his eyes back to the ground in front of him, he tried not to think about the friends he had left behind him. 

[Monday 15 Feb 2010 - Somewhere northeast of Mars Base, 1000 hours] 

David stood next to the jeep, scanning the sky along the horizon with his binoculars. He glanced at his watch, then resumed his observation. If his timing and theory were correct, the SDF-1 would be coming overhead within the next ten minutes, and he's start broadcasting the signal the moment he spotted it. If the ship was still in orbit, at least. 

He straightened as a glimmering point of light appeared slightly above the horizon and began climbing upwards, ever so slowly. <It has to be!> David thought. <God, please let it be!> 

Dropping the binoculars onto the passenger seat, David reached over and flipped the beacon's power switch. He had modified the beacon by breaking the circuit from the battery and attaching two long wires in its place. Now, holding the bared ends of those wires in front of him, he hoped that his attempt had not been in vain. He held his breath and tapped the bared ends together. 

A small spark rewarded his effort, and he breathed a sigh of relief. <Thank God.> Quickly, he began tapping out his message. <Dot, dot, dot, dash, dash, dash, dot, dot, dot, pause, dot, dot, dot...> 

[Monday 15 Feb 2010 - Somewhere northeast of Mars Base, 1015 hours] 

Jouncing along the Martian landscape at nearly 70 kilometers per hour, David was craning his head in all directions, looking for any signs that the aliens had detected the signal and were coming after him. He had repeated the message five times before deciding to head for another location, and his nervousness was increasing with each passing minute. The aliens hadn't taken too long to find him before, what was taking so long now? 

He had a horrifying thought, wondering if the aliens understood the message after all and were at that moment closing in on Lauren and Gonzo's hiding place. He fought against that thought. <C'mon, boy, that's stupid! The aliens don't even know our language, for cripes' sake!> 

<Or do they?> he added after a moment, swerving to avoid an outcropping of rock. He brought the jeep to a skidding stop on the other side of the outcropping, and reached over for the beacon. Taking another look around, he began tapping out his distress call again. 

He was half-finished with the fifth repetition of the message when an impact of some sort shook the ground around him, rocking the jeep. Knowing instinctively that he was in trouble, David stomped on the accelerator and shot away from the outcropping. A quick glance behind him confirmed his fears - three alien pods were standing on the other side of the outcropping, their positions seeming to indicate that they were watching him. Almost immediately their weapons lit up with priming charges. 

<Oh, hell.> David swung the steering wheel savagely, barely avoiding a blazing bolt of light that flashed through the space his jeep had been in moments before. <This is fun.> David groaned, swerving back to the right and shooting towards a large mound of crumbling rock. A glance in the rear-view mirrors showed the aliens following close behind him. 

Another barrage of energy beams struck all around him, but none struck the jeep, and he swung the jeep in a sharp arc around the mound. Coming out of his skidding turn pointed back towards the aliens, David shot between two pods that had been caught by surprise and fish-tailed around the third. Stomping the accelerator to the floor, David braced himself as best he could as the jeep jounced along a rock-strewn patch of ground. 

Out of the corner of his eye, David saw the beacon twist and roll over the side of the jeep. Momentarily dismayed at the loss, David realized that he had done all that he could, and now his primary objective was to keep the aliens busy while the rescue team went to work. <Well, at least I know that the beacon worked.> He glanced skyward. <I just hope somebody understood it.> 

The ground in front of him exploded, and he swerved around the smoking crater. "C'mon, you bastards!" he shouted. "Catch me if you can!" He swung sharply to the left, the jeep tipping dangerously up onto two wheels before dropping back down. The aliens were still behind him, firing an occasional weapon his way as they closed the distance between themselves and the jeep. 

Dodging blast after blast, David got the distinct impression that the pursuing aliens were toying with him. He knew that three pods were more than enough to destroy a single unarmed jeep, but they hadn't done so. Realizing this, he allowed himself an evil grin. <So, they want to play cat and mouse, eh? I can do that.> A strange sense of calm settled over him, and he pulled the seatbelt around him. Turning towards a towering outcropping of rock, which loomed large even in the distance, he pressed even harder upon the accelerator. 

[Monday Feb. 15 2010 - Somewhere north of Mars Base, 1040 hours] 

His arms aching, David spun the wheel desperately, swerving through jagged points of rock that thrust up from the Martian landscape like five meter high fingers. As he had hoped, the jagged pieces of rock were slowing the alien pods down, and making it much harder for them to keep track of - and shoot at - him. Unfortunately, with a dislocated shoulder his driving skills weren't nearly as good as he had hoped. He prayed that the aliens wouldn't tire of the cat-and-mouse game until the rescue team had done its work - providing that someone had detected and understood his signal, that is. 

An energy bolt shattered an outcropping in front of him, and David threw the jeep into a wild spin, spraying Martian soil all around him in a dense red cloud. Straightening the wheel, he shot out of the cloud and found himself barreling straight towards the approaching pods. "Dammit!" he cursed, braking hard and spinning the jeep around again. The loose soil provided poor traction, however, and the jeep slammed sideways into an upthrust of rock, coming to a stop with the driver's side resting against the outcropping. 

Momentarily stunned by the collision, David struggled to get the jeep moving again. Something thudded under the hood, and a gout of smoke billowed out from the engine compartment. <Christ, now what?> 

He fumbled with the seatbelt clasp, then climbed across the passenger seat. A small red box had slid out from underneath the seat, apparently jarred loose by the crash, and David scopped it up. Climbing out of the jeep, David spotted the aliens standing nearby, apparently watching him. <Now I know how a lab rat feels.> Running towards another outcropping, David fumbled with the red box he had found. Inside was a flare pistol, and four flares. 

Scooping the flares and pistol from the container, David checked the pistol, found it was already loaded, and dumped the remaining cartridges into a pocket. Reaching the outcropping, David peered back at the aliens. They hadn't moved, other than to change their positions to keep an eye on him. <Must be waiting for the rescue team to come and get me.> He waved the pistol at the alien pods. "Tough, luck, guys! No ambush today." He took careful aim and fired. The crimson fireball crossed the distance quickly and struck the center pod underneath the sensor eye, bouncing off harmlessly. 

That seemed to have an effect. The alien pods surged forward as one, their weapons' priming charges flaring up. David backed away and loaded another flare. He fired quickly, the glaring emerald flare glancing off the center pod's armor and shooting up into the air. 

He turned and raced away, the impacts from the pods' footsteps knocking him off balance. He stumbled along for several steps, then tumbled onto the ground in a cloud of dust. Rolling onto his back, he popped the pistol open and loaded another flare. Firing at the closest pod, David scrambled onto all fours (well, threes) and crawled towards the nearest outcropping. Before he had gotten far, there was a brilliant flash of light, and he was lifted off the ground and flung forward, crashing head-long into a spear of rock. Stunned, David shook his head to clear the whistling from his ears. It didn't work, and it was then that he noticed the breeze on his cheek. 

Reaching up, David could feel a jagged egde on the side of his helmet. <Oh, shit. I've sprung a leak!> He glanced up at the approaching pods. <As if that wasn't bad enough.> David raised the pistol and fired, this time missing completely. The red flare shot high into the air. 

Scooting backwards until he hit the outcropping, David watched warily as the nearest pod knelt down and it's pilot climbed out. David reloaded the pistol with the sole remaining cartridge, but before he could bring it to bear, the alien was before him, reaching down with an enormous, gloved hand. David gasped as the alien grabbed and lifted him high into the air. His arms free, David could do little but hold on as he rose. 

His breath coming in quick and shallow gasps, David's vision blurred. <Must be running out of air.> he concluded, the realization not as upsetting as he knew it should be. He turned his eyes back to his alien captor. Face hidden behind a tinted visor, David could only guess what he was up to. Not wanting to wait and see what was in store for him, David raised the pistol and fired his last flare. 

The fiery ball streaked forward and struck the alien just below his helmet, lodging in the clothing there. The alien seemed to be laughing at him, his deep bass voice rumbling through David's body, but his laughter quickly died out, to be replaced by a throaty shout. His grip on David slackened, and the alien's hands reached up to his neck, digging at the spot where the flare had lodged. 

Not wanting to fall the thirteen or so meters to the ground below, even at Mars' reduced gravity, David dropped the pistol and held on, wrapping himself around the alien's thumb, ignoring the stabbing pain shooting through his shoulder. He closed his eyes tight, fighting against the light-headedness that was filling him, and concentrated on holding on as the alien thrashed around. 

There was a bright flash of light, and something smacked into his helmet, snapping his head to the side. His eyes flew open, and he saw that an ovoid portion of the visor, no bigger than his thumbnail, had been gouged out of the visor, and the remaining material had been spider-webbed by the impact. He couldn't see beyond the damaged visor, but he had the sudden sensation of falling. <Oh, God!> he cursed, struggling to let go of the alien's hand. 

A tremendous crash followed, which knocked the wind out of him. He heard rather than felt the snap as his left hand bent back against itself, the fiery burst of pain fading quickly in the quagmire of oxygen deprivation. He tried to move, but his body responded slowly, sluggishly, refusing to act as he desired. He tried to push himself up, yelped as the fire in his hand and wrist flared to a blinding pain, and fell back down. 

He became dimly aware that there were voices around him, muffled and indistinct. He was certain that he heard someone calling his name, but he couldn't get enough breath to answer. He felt hands upon him, tugging at him, lifting him to his feet. His head was swimming, it was impossible to draw a breath, and his legs felt numb and rubbery beneath him. 

Hands under his arms, dragging him, pulling him. He was lifted up, dragged across something, dropped into a cramped area. He cradled his left arm, eyes drooping as he did so. He was tired... so tired... 

"David? David! Can you hear me?" 

David blinked wearily. Everything was painted is drab shades of black and grey. The voice he heard was muffled. Hard to tell if it was male or female. He tried to speak, but it came out as a grunt, "Hunh minn." 

"I've got him! Let's get out of here!" 

A high-pitched whine pierced David's consciousness. Dimly, deep down inside of him, he knew it was the sound of a Valkyrie's engines. He was safe... safe... but what about the others. Struggling back from the pit of unconsciousness, he found that he could breath. He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of oil and halitosis and his own body's stink. David mumbled, "marrn?" 

"What?" 

David swallowed, tried again. "Wawren?" 

"Lauren? We've got her, David. We got them both." 

David smiled, sinking back into the numbness that pervaded his being. 

[ TO BE CONTINUED ] 

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