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Derek looked up the hillside where the strange Chinese robots had stood. He could no longer see them, even though the harsh winds had died and the red dust and silt had settled. Before the sun had risen he had not been able to locate them with the aid of his night vision.
The sudden disappearance of the hostile robots made his heart race. Given the treacherous terrain along the Phobos rocky ledges, how were those robots capable of moving that fast? Fear crept into his mind. The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened, and a chill shot through him. Where had they gone? Were they still watching him?
He wondered if he’d ever see his grandfather again.
Despite his own robots’ pleading for him to hurry to the Phobos Crash Site and hide hours earlier, he had ignored them. Instead he had stopped at a radio tower near the bottom of the slope and attempted to finish connecting the wiring before seeking shelter, which now he viewed as a grave mistake.
Since he had spotted a dark opening at the side of the Phobos remains, he estimated that still he had plenty of time to rush into it whenever the robots came into view.
While he had worked briefly on the radio tower, Octavia and Ursula scouted in opposite directions. Bradbury and Isaac stayed near Derek, scanning the area for the robots. Kurt was nowhere to be seen.
Once Derek realized that he didn’t have enough time to get the radio workable, he untied a tarp on one of the truck beds and looked beneath it. Missile turrets. Three of them.
When Derek had first learned that Grayson wanted to set these up around the Phobos perimeter, he believed it was Grayson’s defiant statement that he wanted Mars all to himself. But now, after discovering the heat-seeking robots closing in on him, perhaps Grayson was preparing for the inevitable. Other countries like China might eventually invade Grayson’s settlements to kill his citizens, which would shut down his operations prematurely. By the time Grayson sent replacements to Mars, the other countries might have already stolen and settled his bases at Olympus Mons and the Phobos Crash Site with their own occupants. Recapturing zones that he considered his own required military strategies, and with the majority of the inhabitants controlled by the Sleeper Chips, his miners turned militants would be under the control of only a few individuals. Should the opposition kill those who dictated the prisoners’ commands, the prisoners were easy bait and would be killed without any resistance. Or used as combatants against Grayson’s reinforcements.
Grayson had another project in the works on Mars that no one on Earth had any knowledge about. Not only was he building his own steel industries on Mars, he was also setting up plans to start his own mint for Martian currency so he could get away from the U.S. and U.N. monetary control. Backed by his trillions of dollars, he was his own bank.
Although no prototype coins had been sketched, at least not publicly, Derek knew enough about Grayson’s ego to realize the coins would have Grayson’s facial image stamped on them. Derek was surprised that Grayson hadn’t plastered large banners with his image or erected statues of himself inside Olympus Mons yet.
Derek didn’t believe Grayson was a true dictator at heart. Grayson’s ideology proved that the man was getting closer to setting up a throne on Mars where he could rule his brand new civilization. However, Mars didn’t have the luring extravagances that the ritzier places on Earth already possessed. If Grayson wanted to make an appearance to astound his resentfully jealous competitors, he couldn’t successfully do that on Mars. Such places didn’t exist on the red planet, nor did Derek believe that they ever would within the next three lifetimes. Grayson needed to remain on Earth where the other wealthiest aristocrats lived so he could witness their expressions as he rubbed his success in their faces.
Derek pulled back the tarp and studied the unassembled turrets. These must have been sent to detect enemy vehicles or hostile heat-seeking robots like the ones scouting the ridgeline before sunrise. But since the turrets hadn’t been set up and connected to a command station, they were useless. He wondered if Grayson had received some private information about the possibility of such threats.
“Damn,” Derek said.
Every guard posted at Olympus Mons was issued laser rifles and laser blaster pistols. He had been given one of each by his grandfather since Derek was an engineer tech and worked within the security team. He didn’t bring either of the weapons out to the Phobos Crash Site. Of course, he never expected he’d need a weapon since no viable life forms roamed the Martian terrain.
Derek tapped the air filter on his helmet. Loose dirt and grit rained from his mouthpiece. He imagined how badly the sandstorm would tear someone apart and kill them if they didn’t wear a protective helmet and an insulated suit. The red sand and grit were probably more abrasive than midgrade sandpaper and sharp like needles.
Isaac and Bradbury stood to each side of Derek and scanned the rocky terrain. He watched them for a few moments. He had named two of the robots after two of his favorite authors. Isaac was named after Isaac Asimov who had written, I Robot, which had been the book that inspired Derek to work diligently on inventing robots. Bradbury was named in honor of Ray Bradbury because Derek had read The Martian Chronicles as a boy, which was part of the reasons why he liked living on the red planet. Of his five robots, these two were his favorites.
Octavia was positioned to the west within view, and Ursula stood slightly to the east. Kurt was at the radio tower on the ridgeline with his back toward Derek.
“Do you see any of the robots?” Derek asked.
“Negative. Nothing to report,” Isaac said.
Bradbury said, “Still, you need to find shelter. The threat of danger has not passed. It’s inevitable they will seek confrontation.”
“I realize that Bradbury.”
“And yet, you continue to ignore us. Ursula and Octavia are coming toward you. Best that you find shelter now before they arrive.”
“Give me five more minutes,” Derek said.
“They’re still out there,” Isaac said.
Derek glanced around. “Are they headed toward us?”
“Negative. There’s still no physical sign of them,” Bradbury said.
“They cannot disappear.”
“Logically, no,” Isaac said. “But they’ve gone stealth.”
“Shit,” Derek said. “Cloaking devices?”
“Quite possible,” Bradbury replied.
That wasn’t something that he had even considered. ”Come on, let’s head to the crash site.”
A blast of red laser light shot through the air and grazed Derek’s shoulder. He winced in pain, dropped, and rolled in the red grit. His eyes searched the area around him while he clutched his burning shoulder. Smoke rose above the melted suit material and his blistered skin.
Looking around, he didn’t see anything other than his own robots.
Bradbury rushed toward him, grabbed and lifted him, and carried Derek toward the small opening between two giant slabs of rock in the Phobos crater. Another blast fired, but Bradbury’s back shielded Derek from further injury. The robot continued running, unaffected by the deflected laser.
Isaac followed Bradbury, but he ran in strategic sidesteps so he could attempt to locate from where the laser shots had been fired. Octavia and Ursula positioned themselves at the truck’s flatbed. Motionless, they scanned the terrain.
Derek held his shoulder and glanced around Bradbury. His enemy combatants must have cloaked themselves again, which was new technology he had been researching but had yet to master its utilization with his own robots. Of course he had never thought he’d need such technological advancements for his AI, either.
The thought prompted him to remember what his grandfather had once told him, “Be prepared for the unexpected at all times.”
Sound advice, but now he wished that he had equipped his robots with some time of anti-cloaking device to shatter the stealth ability of these foreign robots. Since his robots should have been the only ones on Mars, he never considered attempting to make such upgrades.
Bradbury carried Derek near the blackened edge of the massive, seven-mile high mountainous side of the Phobos remains. Feeling nauseous from the increasing pain in his shoulder, he’d barely noticed the tunnel that led into the rock wall.
Another laser blast cut through the air, struck Bradbury, and glanced off, striking the rocky ground behind them. Bradbury moved toward a tunnel-like opening and carried Derek into it. The worst part was he didn’t know how deep the tunnel might be, and once inside they were trapped and weaponless. Not exactly the way he had pictured his death to be.