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Steven Matthews sat at the bar inside the Vortex, sipping Irish whiskey. Since he had disguised himself as a guard, everyone else assumed him to be Norm Schrader. But the real Norm was in the mining pits where Matthews was supposed to be working as a prisoner.
While on the red planet, Matthews’ disgust toward Grayson had not mellowed. He still despised the man and remained a step or two ahead of the pompous trillionaire. In the same manner Matthews had injected Magnus with micro nanobots in the Texas prison, he had also self-inoculated the same computerized bots as a precaution should Grayson ever implant a Sleeper Chip in him.
While he had worked for Mr. Grayson, Matthews had become quite privy to Grayson’s schemes and the inhumane technology he was using on his prisoner slaves. Of course, Matthews had hacked into the top secret files of Grayson Enterprises and learned about the chips as well as many other underhanded experiments Grayson planned to incorporate for his future endeavors. So he wasn’t surprised that Grayson would eventually implant a chip into him once Grayson discovered who he actually was.
Although not on a monetary scale, Matthews was Grayson’s chief competitor in the world of scientific and technological advancements, but Matthews leaned more toward the evolutionary progressions in genetics. Not exactly Grayson’s forte, but Grayson possessed something that Matthews eventually hoped to get his hands on—alien DNA.
Matthews had come close to getting those samples, but too many others had interfered. The Lydia clone had been one of them, and because of her, he had been captured, twice. In some ways, he despised her even more than he did Grayson.
He stared in the mirror at the nasty scar that ran down his right cheek and beneath his jaw. Had his plastic surgery been allowed to heal in the required time necessary, he wouldn’t even have the scar, but Lydia’s brutal assault had almost left him dead. Naturally he preferred the scar to death. Without the assistance of a colleague temporarily rendering Lydia unconscious, Matthews would not have been spared. He was alive, and the scar reminded him daily how close to death he had come.
His disfigurement motivated his vengeful need to kill Lydia if ever he returned to Earth. After all, Grayson had hired her to kill Matthews but later, after Matthews’ capture, Grayson had changed his mind. Instead he decided to make Matthews waste away by serving a life sentence as a miner on Mars. In Grayson’s twisted mind, that was a better punishment than death. Again, Grayson’s underestimation of Matthews had given Matthews an edge and the upper hand once more.
For all Grayson and the Mars security staff knew, Matthews was still mining. He hoped to keep it that way for now.
He had often wondered where Grayson had obtained the alien DNA. Mars seemed the most logical place, and if that happened to be correct, Matthews could easily take control of the DNA and Grayson’s operations on the red planet. Doing so crippled Grayson Enterprises by impeding future wealth-increasing shipments to Earth, which essentially lacerated Grayson’s financial jugular vein. A suitable compensation for what Grayson had put Matthews through. Under different circumstances, Matthews believed he and Grayson might have made the most dangerous threat to the Earth’s overall economic system.
Matthews had been on the higher ledge of the mining pit when the one prisoner’s chip malfunctioned, causing the anguished man to run blindly, jump into the deep pit, and kill himself. Magnus had not stood far from where that miner had been scooping dirt.
But Magnus had never shown any indication that his chip had malfunctioned until later that evening. Matthews was responsible for shorting out Magnus’ chip, but he had nothing to do with all of the other chips that had failed. Apparently Grayson’s chips were flawed on quite a large scale, and should they continue to malfunction even Matthews understood the dangers the occupants inside Olympus Mons faced. These ruthless prisoners weren’t people that needed to be free or alive. He understood Grayson’s need to control their minds with the chips, but he despised Grayson’s ingenuity for making money off their demise and free labor, only because Grayson had thought of it before Matthews.
Matthews had hoped that he’d have discovered the moment when the nanobots freed Magnus from the Sleeper Chip, but Magnus had somehow fooled Matthews and the other guards in the pit. The man was incredibly strong, both mentally and physically, to have continued mining after his chip had shorted out without ever alerting the guards around him.
As a perimeter guard, Matthews didn’t receive the notification when Magnus’ chip had stopped working, so he didn’t have the proper authorization to retrieve Magnus. All he could really do was wait at the infirmary for a chance to talk to Magnus before the doctor implanted a new chip, but that opportunity never came.
Matthews was as surprised as everyone else to learn that Magnus had stolen the Percival 3000. Perhaps Matthews’ disappointment outweighed his surprise because he would have boarded the shuttle with them to get back to Earth had he known of Magnus’ plans to steal it.
Had Matthews tried harder while on Earth, he could have probably avoided being sent to Mars since he could have tempted Grayson with new technological business opportunities. People like Grayson thrived on beneficial bribes. But as a scientist, Matthews was grateful to be here. Living on Mars wasn’t something available to everyone. Besides, in a lot of ways he could do more damage to Grayson while on Mars than he ever could by returning to Earth, especially since Grayson assumed Matthews was mentally out of commission. Grayson most likely wouldn’t even give Matthews a second thought, which gifted Matthews with an even greater advantage. By the time Grayson discovered what Matthews planned to do, it would be too late.
He rubbed the scar on his face. Anger stirred.
Norm, who had unwittingly taken Matthew’s mining position, didn’t possess any scars or blemishes. The only reason Norm was in the mines unnoticed by security or the guards was because the chips were primarily what guards used to identify the prisoners. During the flight from Earth to Mars, Matthews’ chip had shorted out, causing him to struggle inside the Hyber-Sleep machine. His eyes bulged, and he had started shouting before he had fully awakened.
One guard had remained awake as a precaution in case the computers failed. When the guard checked on Matthews and realized his chip had malfunctioned, he opened the sleep chamber to help Matthews. After the chamber bubble lifted, Matthews pulled out his I.V. and other connectors, attacked Norm with a chokehold until the guard lost consciousness. Then Matthews carefully placed the unconscious guard down on the floor in the aisle.
He cuffed Norm and then he walked to the ship’s infirmary where he found a scalpel and a syringe of Marcaine for local anesthesia. From a drawer he took several large bandages. Looking in the mirror, he injected Marcaine beneath his chip implant, and waited until the area around it numbed. The worst part about the procedure was that he had to remove his chip by himself. Where the incision needed to be made, he expected to see a lot of blood.
Matthews removed his shirt, opened a bandage, and set it on the sink counter. He placed a towel around his neck and took a deep breath. Using his left finger and thumb, he pressed the chip downward to the softer flesh beneath the base of his skull. Then he took the scalpel and sliced below the bulged skin. The blade cut without any resistance. The pressure from his fingers popped the chip partway through the opening. Blood trickled around the chip and seeped into the towel. With another push the chip slipped through the cut skin and landed on the towel.
He grabbed the open bandage and covered the area, applying some pressure until the blood flow lessened. Then he pressed the adhesive part of the bandage against his head and held it in place for several minutes.
Matthews didn’t doubt the pain would radiate as soon as the anesthetic faded, so he wanted to act fast to take Norm’s tracer chip out and replace it with a new Sleeper Chip. Somehow Matthews needed to assign the new chip with Matthews’ identity. Once they reached Mars, the scan would reveal Norm as Matthews. But inserting a new chip back into Norm’s incision didn’t go as easily as he had hoped.
The blood made the new chip slick and greasy. Norm’s incision leaked worse than his had, so that made it even more difficult to see the center of the wound.
Placing the towel against the bleeding slowed down the blood loss, but Norm was starting to stir. Should he fully awaken, he’d struggle, making it impossible to implant the chip.
Matthew grabbed a small tuft of Norm’s hair and pulled upward, exposing the hole. He pushed the small curved end of the chip into the widened hole until it was midway inside. Carefully he applied more pressure, partially tearing the opening wider, but he managed to get the chip inside. He took a bandage and stuck it against the wound. He hurried back to the infirmary to find a needle and thread before Norm awakened.
He found them and sprinted back.
Norm groaned and attempted to move his cuffed hands without any success. He opened an eye and fastened his gaze upon Matthews. “What the hell are you doing?”
Matthews ignored the question. “Hold still.”
“No. I’m not going to hold still. Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Please. Don’t struggle. You’re losing a lot of blood.”
Norm turned his head so that he could see Matthews clearer. “I’m bleeding? How? Why?”
“Seems you fell and hit your head,” Matthews lied. “Quite hard, as you’ve been unconscious for a while.”
“That doesn’t require handcuffs, now does it?”
“I’m trying to prevent you from making it worse.”
“Bloody hell. You’re a prisoner, not a medic. Now uncuff me and let me up.”
“I wasn’t always a prisoner.” Matthews tried to soothe Norm with his charismatic tone. “Let me stitch the wound and get it bandaged. Otherwise, you’re going to lose even more blood. And we’re not equipped to give you a blood transfusion, are we?”
Norm sighed and grumbled. “Oh very well. Hurry.”
Matthews ran the threaded needle through the edges of the incision several times until the wound was closed tightly. “That’s better. Let me help you up.”
Matthews placed his hand around Norm’s elbow and helped the guard stand. He eased Norm into the seat that had been assigned to Matthews. He patted Norm’s suit pockets and then he looked at Norm. “Where are your keys?”
Norm offered a slight shrug. “They should be in one of my pockets.”
“I didn’t find any.”
“Check back in the officer room. I might have left them on a table or counter.”
Matthews offered a slight smile and nodded. “Okay. Sit tight. I’ll go find them and be right back.”
After Matthews found a set of keys for the handcuffs, he stopped in the infirmary again. He opened a glass-fronted cabinet filled with vials. Near the back was a vial of Midazolam. He filled a syringe with the sedative and returned to Norm.
“Did you find a key?” Norm asked.
Matthews nodded. “I also found something else.”
“What’s that?”
Matthews jabbed the needle into Norm’s leg and injected the sedative.
“What the hell was that?” Norm asked. His face flushed red.
“Relax. It won’t hurt you.”
“You bastard.” Norm attempted to stand, but Matthews placed gentle hands on the guard’s shoulders, preventing him from rising to his feet. Norm shook his head and blinked erratically, trying to stay awake. “What was that?”
“Something to make you relax and go to sleep. Trust me,” Matthews said with a smug smile. “You won’t remember a thing.”
After Norm passed out, Matthews eased him into the Hyber-Sleep chamber, typed in the proper settings, and then he returned to the maintenance supply closet. He found a new CAM-L still in its box along with its programming book. He needed to learn how to reprogram the Sleeper Chip so Norm would react to the computer’s commands and so the guards ID’ed him as Matthews. That process had taken Matthews several hours to figure out, but with the time it took to get to Mars, he could have taken a couple of months.
“Schrader!” the bartender said.
Matthews jerked his head and glanced toward the man, leaving his daydreaming memories behind. It was difficult remembering to respond an assumed name.
“Can I get you something else?” the man asked. “We close in a few minutes.”
Matthews shook his head and beamed a smile. “No. I’m fine. Thanks.”
The barkeep chuckled. “You looked sort of spaced out there. Kinda like one of those brainless prisoners.”
Matthews offered a slight grin and tilted his head back with a feigned laugh. “Got lost in my thoughts. That’s all. The world of imagination is often so much more pleasant than reality. Don’t you think?”
“I suppose. What exactly were you thinking about? Going back to Earth? You can’t be thinking too much about your current job. Not much for any of you guards to do except stand around.”
“I imagine everyone here thinks about going back to Earth. Don’t you?”
“All the time. The only benefit about being a bartender here is the tips. Everyone’s so depressed about being stationed on Mars that the majority of the workers will be alcoholics well before their contracts ever come to an end.”
Matthews chuckled and stood. “I could see that happening. Take care. Probably be seeing you again tomorrow evening.”
The bartender nodded. “For most, The Vortex is a daily ritual.”