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Preview of Assault on Mars

Chapter 6: Shot Down!

"The antimatter drive worked perfectly!!" Joe exulted. "MAN, can this thing move!"

Mark didn’t turn from his scanning of the sector directly in front of the cargo ship. "So far," he responded matter-of-factly. "The hard part is coming up. We’ve got to convince the pirates we’re just one asteroid miner hustling in to Mars for a good time. As far as they’re supposed to figure, we don’t know who’s in charge down there and we don’t care, as long as they let Steve land and get out to the happy side of town."

"Still," Joe persisted, "we’ve probably moved faster than anyone else in history—Earth to Mars in three days—man oh man!"

"Stow it, you two—if you please," pleaded Steve. "We’ll be in normal contact range in a second and I’ve gotta be ready to make my case."

The Spud Peeler had dropped its speed to normal as soon as it had changed course to make it appear as if it had come from the Asteroid Belt. Its appearance, inside and out, would not arouse suspicion in anyone’s mind that it was anything but an eighty-year old cargo ship. An easy-going, middle-aged asteroid miner might have bought it second-hand or maybe even third-hand. It was common for such miners, when they had found enough ore, to come in to Ceres or (with a real lucky find) even Mars for a joy jaunt.

Once the Starmen, with Jack and Jill, dropped into the skies of Mars for their part of the mission, Steve would be on his own to deal with the pirates. He didn’t expect it to be too much of a challenge for him. He had worn his asteroid miner’s clothes during the entire three days since they had lifted off from the Moon. He’d slept in them and hadn’t bathed. He was ready to play the part.

"Get ready," he said. Joe and Mark were dressed in the dusty magenta camouflage fatigues suitable for the Martian wilderness. Air tanks were in place and survival packs with two days’ supply of food and water were ready. They strapped on their glider ’chutes. Steve’s suit was a dark, moss green, marked and scraped as expected for an asteroid miner.

The Titanians entered the shoulder packs which the Starmen had added to their space suits. These packs were designed to provide them with their own environment, and could be detached and used as a small vehicle. Normally it attached like a backpack, riding high so the Titanians could see over their host’s shoulder.

The red planet looked about the size of a basketball in the center of the window. They were approaching Eagle Crater, the site of Eagle City, from the northwest. The sun was behind them. The upper right portion of the planet was in night’s shadow, discernible because there were no stars visible in that part of the sky. Beyond Mars, filling the entire expanse of the window, the field of stars spread through the purity of the cosmos.

"Keep quiet, now. I’m opening communications." In spite of the banter of the previous moment, the boys were nervous. Hearts beat fast, palms were clammy, expressions were tense. Only Steve seemed calm. He flipped a switch.

"Spud Peeler calling Eagle City, Jack Heflin aboard. Coming in from the Belt, seeking permission to land."

"Permission refused!" came the near-shouted reply. "No landings permitted. Leave Martian airspace at once!"

"What the dash do you mean, ‘Permission refused!’?" shouted Steve. "I haven’t been on Mars for more ’n two years, and I’m comin’ in with a fistful to spend!"

"Permission refused!" repeated the controller firmly. "Leave Martian airspace at once!"

"What’s the problem down there? I’ve been—"

"Leave Martian airspace at once or get shot down. Either way, you’re not landing at Eagle City!"

"All right, all right! I’m on my way," Steve snarled back, and cut off communications. "Better get ready boys, this looks tougher ’n we thought." He was moving the controls so that the Peeler would leave orbit. "I’ll have to wobble a bit, fake some engine trouble, and you jump… Blast!" he added, nearly leaping from his seat. His fingers were flying over the control panel.

"What is it?" The Starmen craned their necks.

"I really DO have engine trouble! The ship’s not responding. The ion drive isn’t taking over for the antimatter drive. I can’t change course! I’ll try to explain, but they’ll never believe me!" Steve reached for the communicator tab. Suddenly a red bar appeared in the cabin, filling the space between the seats from floor to ceiling. The metal sizzled, and the bar disappeared.

"LET’S GO, BOYS! THEY MEAN BUSINESS!" Joe and Mark didn’t have to ask what was going on—they knew a medium weight laser beam when they saw it. The hiss of rapidly escaping air filled the cabin with a loud squeal. A second beam pierced the seat where Steve had been sitting, but he was already up, throwing on his helmet with his right hand and grabbing a glider ’chute with his left. Melting metal dripped from the ceiling to the floor. The three of them put on their helmets, raced to the cargo port, threw open both doors, and leaped into the atmosphere about one second apart.

The Starmen had said nothing after Steve’s urgent command to jump for it. Things were not going according to plan, but they had made an instant decision and acted on it. Jack and Jill were in place in their shoulder packs.

"I’m actually a little calmer now," thought Joe. He saw Mark spread out below him and a little to his left. He hadn’t been to Eagle City since he was a child, and never dreamed he would return this way. "Wonder if I actually will return," he thought, with a mental shrug. Directly below and in every direction as far as he could see was a grand sweep of featureless, reddish-brown landscape, with a few shadows giving evidence of hills and dunes.

With his arms and legs flung out to get the maximum drag from the thin Martian air, Joe turned his head to the right to track the Spud Peeler, now rapidly fading from sight. The ship suddenly burst into a fierce fireball, blinding him for a moment; a second later the noise of the explosion whooshed over him. "Must have hit the magnetic pod where the antimatter was stored." He thought. "Good thing we almost used it up getting here, or a really big blooey would have tipped the pirates off that something was unusual about that old cargo ship!"

"Just made it, didn’t we, Joe boy?" Steve’s voice came gently through the speakers. Out of the corner of his eye Joe saw Steve above him, eyes fixed on the red soil below. "Get ready to deploy your ’chutes, men. Ground’s coming up fast."

Joe looked down. The terrain now showed some detail. He could see cracks, which he knew were really canyons far below.

"Glad we’ve got our air tanks," he added to himself. "This air is thin! ‘Barely enough to hold a ’chute,’ they told us—and they didn’t expect us to be jumping from so high! Wonder what terminal velocity is on Mars. The landing won’t be too much fun."

"Opening up now," Mark announced. Below him and to the left Joe saw Mark’s pink and brown glider ’chute pop open and begin to deploy. Joe pulled his own ripcord. Deployment was slow, but it was happening. His ’chute deployed completely and he felt a tug as his speed dropped suddenly.

"Not enough!" he thought, then added out loud, "We’re coming in too fast! The air can’t hold us!" No one responded, but both new Starmen felt their adrenaline surge as they saw the Martian sand approach much too quickly for comfort.

Joe saw Mark pull on his shroud lines and watched the canopy turn. He looked where Mark was going, and saw where the sand fell off like a wave, the side of an enormous sand dune. Mark was gliding toward that; Joe followed him in. He saw Mark slam into the side of the dune and roll over and over, rapidly, out of control. He had no time to watch further, for it was his turn to greet Mars.
 

"We’re coming in too fast! The air can’t hold us!"

"Choooff!" went his boots as he sheered into the side of the dune. He fell hard on his face in the sand and began to roll. The breath was knocked out of him. He sucked in hard, trying to get some air into his lungs, hoping his air hose wouldn’t get dislodged. At last he stopped tumbling and lay still. Sand slid down over him heavily, and a cloud of brown dust rose thickly and then slowly blew away.

"Oooh!" he groaned. He wanted to lie there for a long time, but he had to look for his friends. "Are you okay, Jill?"

"Okay," said the tiny voice. "We Titanians are tough."

"Don’t I know it," moaned Joe. "Wish I were as tough." He raised his head and turned to look. At the bottom of the dune about fifty yards away Mark was lying face-down. He saw no sign of Steve. Joe struggled to get to his feet, then stumbled over to where Mark lay, sand flying as he hastened.

"Mark!" he cried. "Jack? Is Mark okay?"

"Cannot tell, Joe. He not move. Eyes closed, but breathing." Joe knelt by the spread-eagled shape, and saw faint movement in the hands of his friend.

"Is he okay?" came Steve’s voice over the radio. Joe looked over his left shoulder and saw Steve coming to them, walking quickly. Steve appeared to be fine.

"I’m okay," sighed Mark. "I just want to lie here for a moment."

A few minutes later, the three Earthmen stood in the red sand at the bottom of the dune, the dust brushed from their clothing as best they could manage.

"Well… at least we didn’t lose any equipment," said Steve.

"That’s putting a good face on it, Steve," responded Mark, "considering we only have food and water for two men for two days, and don’t know where we are!"

"Don’t forget we also have six air tanks for the three of us, too, Mark," added Joe. "Unless we learn to breathe like Sherpas, we’ll last about a day and a half."

Steve said, "I have a pretty good idea where we are—about where we are, that is. Judging from where we were when we got shot down and how fast we were movin’, we’re at least 700 miles northwest of Crater 91."

"This is not good," said Mark.

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