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Every door inside Olympus Mons had three different locks, but only one needed to be unlocked for the door to open. Two locks were electronic—a computer panel that required a code, or a magnetic swipe card—and one that could be unlocked with an old fashioned key. Although electrical power was accessible, the conduits and connectors occasionally flickered off, causing a loss of power. To prevent the prisoners and guards from being locked inside a room, they also installed bolt locks.
In the corridor outside Magnus’ door two guards stopped. Cain, the taller of the two, lifted his mirrored faceguard and looked at Matt, who held a computer notebook.
Cain said, “You sure this is the right room?”
Matt looked at the cell number and back down at the notebook. He nodded. “Yes. Magnus Knight. Computer shows that his chip has malfunctioned. We need to take him to the infirmary so they can replace it.”
“Door code?”
“9-3-5-8. Or use your key card.”
Cain shrugged and typed the numbers into the keypad. The door opened with a hiss.
“This shouldn’t take long,” Matt said, looking at his computer notebook.
***
Digger stuck his nose out from between Magnus’ large boots. Magnus gently pushed Digger beneath the bunk and put his feet tightly together to keep the ferret hidden.
The door slid open.
“Dammit,” Magnus whispered.
The two guards stepped into the cell, and Magnus stared ahead blankly, unblinking.
Matt frowned when he looked at Magnus. “Seems like his chip is working fine to me. What do you think?”
“Yep, he looks as dumb as the rest of the miners.” Cain waved his hand before Magnus’ eyes, but Magnus didn’t even blink. “You think the computer made a mistake?”
“Doubtful, but someone may have categorized another prisoner’s chip number as his by accident.”
Matt said, “Damn, if they did, it will take us hours to find the right prisoner.”
“I know, and I had some plans for later.”
“With Jessica?” Matt asked with a sly grin.
“Oh, you know it.”
Cain reached to take Magnus by the right wrist. Digger chattered and scampered around Magnus’ boots and across the floor.
“Damn,” Cain said, “that’s the ferret that our electrical engineers are looking for. How’d he get in here?”
Matt shrugged. “There’s no telling. Grab it!”
Cain ran after the ferret. A few seconds later, he had cornered Digger. Cain’s thick hand moved to grab the ferret, but Digger dodged and rolled into a ball. Cain grabbed Digger, and the ferret clamped its sharp teeth into the soft flesh between Cain’s right thumb and index finger.
“Dammit! It bit me!”
He dropped Digger, and the ferret scampered away.
Matt reached for his laser pistol. “I got him, Cain.”
Magnus leapt to his feet and yelled, “No!”
Matt’s eyes widened. Before he could turn and aim his pistol at Magnus, Magnus’ huge fist struck Matt in the chest and launched him into the air. He slammed against the wall and dropped to the floor unconscious.
With blood dripping from his hand, Cain pulled his gun, but Magnus moved extremely fast to be such a large man. Magnus knocked the gun to the floor and punched Cain hard in the gut. The air expelled from the guard’s lungs, sending him to his knees. He leaned forward on his hands and knees, heaving for air. His face flushed dark red. The veins in his forehead were swollen. He gasped and sputtered. He placed his hand against his throat, and his eyes filled with fear. The man couldn’t get his breath back.
“Oh, God,” Magnus whispered. He rushed to Cain and patted his back, trying to help Cain breathe. “Relax, man. Give it a few seconds and you’ll be okay.”
Drool dripped from Cain’s mouth. He shook his head. Magnus formed a fist and pounded the man in the center of his back several times. Cain took in another sharp breath, panted, took another breath, and finally, his breathing started to stabilize.
“See?” Magnus said. “You’re going to be okay.”
“You son of a bitch,” Cain said between breaths. He forced himself to his feet and scrambled for the gun that lay a few feet away.
Before Cain picked up the gun, Magnus tackled him. Cain groaned. In spite of Magnus’ massive size and weight that pinned Cain to the floor, Cain continued to reach for the gun.
“Get . . . off . . . me,” Cain said.
“Afraid I can’t do that, sir,” Magnus said.
Cain stretched his arm until his fingers touched the butt of the laser pistol. Magnus slapped the gun away. It spun across the floor and skidded to the edge of the bunk. In desperation, Cain swung his elbow and almost struck Magnus in the jaw.
Magnus shook his head. “I can see there’s no point trying to reason with you.”
“You’re a prisoner. I have no desire to discuss anything with you. Now, get the hell off!”
Cain struggled to work free of Magnus’ incredible grip but wasn’t successful. Cain’s eyes stared past Magnus and then Cain smiled.
“My gun’s there,” Cain stammered. “By the bed.”
Magnus glanced over his shoulder and noticed Matt slowly trying to stand.
“I tried to help you,” Magnus said. “You probably would have died if I hadn’t.”
“Hurry, Matt!”
Magnus shook his head. His huge fist came down and knocked Cain unconscious. Magnus rolled and came to his feet before Matt fully gained his balance.
“Sorry about this,” Magnus said, staring into Matt’s frightened eyes. Magnus swung a hard right, and Matt slumped down to the floor a second time. Magnus shook his fist from the pain and grimaced.
Digger cautiously crept from beneath the bed and chattered.
“Sorry you had to see that, Digger.”
Magnus grabbed Matt by the ankles and dragged his body into the small shower stall.
“Damn,” he said. “So much for taking a hot shower.”
He returned and took Cain by the shoulders and pulled him into the bathroom. Since Cain was the larger of the two guards, Magnus stripped off the man’s uniform. Even though Cain was larger than Matt, Cain was still much smaller than Magnus.
Magnus slipped into the coverall uniform and zipped up the front. The uniform was tight but manageable. Searching through the front pouch pockets, he found a set of handcuffs and the security key card for the doors. He searched the other guard’s pockets and removed his set of cuffs. After several minutes, he managed to place the two men back to back and cuffed their hands together. He stuffed their mouths with socks.
Even if they awakened, they’d have a nearly impossible time of maneuvering to get out of the tiny shower, so they couldn’t get to the door. He hoped that gave him enough time to find a way back to Earth, which seemed quite an impossible feat in itself.
Magnus ran water in the sink, soaked a towel, and quickly washed the mud and grime from his face, neck, hands, and arms. Removing the dirt from the most visible areas prevented someone from readily concluding that he was an escaped miner. He paused for a moment while he washed the thick red dirt from the sides of his neck. Turning his head slightly to the left, he noticed the slight bulge at the base of his skull. He ran a finger across it. A Sleeper Chip. According to the two guards, his had malfunctioned, which explained why he was awake and no longer a mental prisoner to the control devices the guards carried.
Thinking about the man that had flung himself into the mining pit, he wondered why he had not undergone a similar fate. And why, he wondered, had it taken the guards two days to realize that his chip had stopped working?
He shrugged and quickly washed away more of the Martian soil. He reached to turn off the water and noticed his grimy fingers. No guard’s hands were this filthy. All it took was for one person to notice the reddish muck that coated his hands and fingers to draw immediate suspicion. He couldn’t deny that he was a miner. The evidence damned him.
Magnus stuck his hands under the faucet. The cool water stung his cracked skin and the runny blisters. Even his fingernails ached when he allowed the water to break away the grit from beneath them. In spite of the pain, he washed away as much dirt and grime as possible. After drying his hands, he examined them. The swollen cuts and blisters needed some antibacterial ointment, but he didn’t know where he might find it.
Glancing back toward the shower, Magnus realized he needed to hurry. Time was not a factor in his favor. Eventually guards or supervisors would start looking for these two bound incapacitated guards. He didn’t have many options and very little time to act.
Although the area outside Olympus Mons was undergoing terraformation by the introduction of hardy plants capable of adapting to the Martian environment, the terrain was still too harsh for humans to survive without wearing habitat spacesuits. The oxygen levels weren’t high enough to travel without an oxygen pack, which greatly limited the distance one could travel outside Olympus Mons. And food? Nothing was edible on the planet except for packaged processed foods. Once he left the mines, access to the food packets was gone.
Magnus picked up Digger. “Come on. We can’t stay in here.”
Digger tilted his head and looked at him.
“How should I know where we’ll go?” he asked. “You know the corridors better than I do.”
Magnus took Cain’s helmet off the floor and squeezed it down over his head. It was too tight, but he had to disguise himself the best he could. Before Magnus swiped the key card to open the door, he noticed his reflection on the thick glass. He looked ridiculous. The uniform was tighter than he imagined, and should he happen to approach another guard, he was certain to be stopped and questioned about the size of his uniform.
The snug sleeves pinched into his biceps whenever he tried to bend his arms. One wrong move and he’d probably split the seams along his shoulders, down his arms, and across his chest. He tried holding in his muscled stomach, but even that didn’t help.
Magnus swiped the key card and the door hissed open. Before stepping out into the corridor, he looked both ways. Confident that the long pathway was clear, he stepped out. He placed Digger inside the pouch pocket. The ferret curled into a ball and went to sleep.
Uncertain where else to go, Magnus followed the corridor in the opposite direction of the mines. He marveled at the polished round corridor where the tunnel-drilling machines had bore out the passages that now housed prisoners. The red walls were smooth like glass. Anchored on the ceiling about every twenty feet were fluorescent lights. Whenever the lights struck the walls at the right angle, the embedded MarQuebes glittered. He placed his huge hand against one and shook his head. These gems were what the prisoners slaved away and killed themselves for in the mines.
Around a sharp bend in the hallway, a glass door shook and rattled. Magnus stopped. The floor beneath him wasn’t vibrating, so it wasn’t a tremor. However, the glass door continued rattling. He eased closer and noticed the door was changing colors—from silver to blue to green to red and alternated in different flashing patterns. Over the entrance, which wasn’t a prison cell with a narrow door but a much wider set of doors, was a sign: The Vortex. His curiosity got the best of him, so he slid the guard’s key card through the reader.
The doors hissed opened, and he stepped inside.
Hard rock music pulsed. He shook his head. Dozens of people, off duty guards and staff members he assumed, were dancing. Along the left side of the room was a large bar with a long beveled mirror behind it. Two rows of various whiskies, vodkas, and tonics set beneath the mirror. A few of the bartenders poured quick shots for the people seated at the polished bar while another bartender grinned and talked to a young lady seated on a tall stool.
Off duty men and women drank and laughed while others danced mindlessly to the music. Those who drank heavily were already staggering when they walked. The dancers were lost in their moves, probably letting their minds drift back home to Earth. At least that’s what he guessed. While mining was rigorous for him, since he was awake, the other prisoners weren’t even aware of their labor. The guards really had nothing to do because the prisoners were like machines and didn’t require much attention. In a way, the prisoners seemed better off than the guards because they were oblivious to their surroundings.
Magnus watched a bartender pour a quick shot for a guard slouched against the bar. The man downed it. Magnus hadn’t drunk any liquor in over a year. After the unusual day he had experienced, plus his aches and pains, the timing couldn’t be better. He stepped past a couple of dancers and walked over to the bar. None of the dancing males and females paid him any mind.
Magnus grinned, sat down on a bar stool, and ordered a shot of whiskey.