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    One Way To Mars
    One Way To Mars
    One Way To Mars
    Ebook101 pages1 hour

    One Way To Mars

    By Gary Weston

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    About this ebook

    Veterinarian Andrew Foreman hadn't wanted to go to Mars in the first place. But somebody had to look after Monkley the GenMoP, the genetically modified primate. Foreman had always regarded space travel as a dangerous business, but he had no idea just how dangerous.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGary Weston
    Release dateMar 10, 2012
    ISBN9781476269429
    One Way To Mars
    Author

    Gary Weston

    Hello again.I've added Drifta's Quest 2 on this site. Unlikely to be a Drifta's Quest 3 but never say never. I am already working on a new book to fit in between other creative projects. As a mere lad of 68 I have a good few years to tell my stories so I hope people will keep enjoying them.

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      Book preview

      One Way To Mars - Gary Weston

      One Way to Mars

      Copyright Gary Weston 2012

      Smashwords Edition

      One Way to Mars

      Chapter 1

      'Asshole, asshole.'

      Andrew Foreman felt the tugging on his arms, and shook his head.

      'Asshole, asshole.'

      There was a smell of something smouldering, of electrical wiring melting and fusing together. There were other smells, too. None of them nice. Foreman dared to open his eyes. Monkley was staring right back at him.

      'Asshole,' said Monkely. It was one of his favourite words.

      'Right. But apart from that, are you pleased to see me?'

      Foreman tried moving his limbs; cautiously at first. Nothing seemed broken. Bruised, certainly, battered, definitely. Understandably. That was to be expected. Still being alive, now that was a surprise. Monkley passed him his helmet. Foreman ignored the pain in his shoulder and secured the helmet. Struggling to his feet, Foreman felt light-headed, and had to lean against the wall to remain upright. Once his vision had cleared, he passed his hand over the sensor to open the door. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. He hammered on the door.

      'Hey! You guys. How about letting me out of here?' Nothing. 'Phillips? Mauler? Sanders? Hello. Anybody?'

      The lack of response worried him. The smell of the fried electronics terrified him. The ship, what was left of it, was about to blow. He hammered hard on the door, simultaneously waving his palm in front of the sensor. Then he tried a coordinated assault on the door, kicking and hammering at the same time. Nothing. He stepped back. He stared at the door as if by mental control, he could will the thing open. Apparently not.

      'Step back,' he told Monkley.

      Monkely jumped up onto his cage, wondering what Foreman was going to try next.

      'Asshole.'

      'Yeah? Like you got any bright ideas?'

      He charged the door. The fact it was a sliding door, and therefore not conducive to being rammed open, didn't deter him. He bounced off the door and landed on his backside on the floor.

      'Asshole.'

      There was a groaning sound and the door unjammed itself, opening a few inches.

      'Yeah? An asshole, am I?' He got up. 'Well, you just remember it was this asshole who got us out of here.' He pulled on the partially opened door, but it wasn't giving in without a fight. 'Don't just sit there, you nut-job. Give me a hand here.'

      Monkley obliged by setting his three foot body below Foreman's and between them they applied all the force they could. Ignoring the possible hernia he could give himself, Foreman gave the job his all, as did Monkley. Something gave, and thankfully, it didn't involve tearing of muscles. It was only a few more inches, but it was enough. Monkley got through the gap easily, Foreman's face turned purple at the effort to squeeze his body through the gap. Suddenly, he was free.

      'Shit!'

      Three bodies lay on the floor. Commander Ashley Phillips, Captain Donna Sanders, Science Officer Elizabeth Mauler, were twisted up into impossible contortions. Impossible for living people, anyway. There was a substantial amount of blood on their un-helmeted heads from where they had collided with the unforgiving and unyielding alloy shell of the ship. Foreman gave them a quick and unqualified check, but even to an untrained layman they were clearly dead.

      'Shit!.'

      They had been caught out by the suddenness of the dramatic and catastrophic failure of the ship's propulsion systems. After seven months of confinement on the cramped ship, they were all excited to be finally at the end of their journey, and eager to get off the ship. Phillips had just given the order to put on helmets and belt up for landing, when there was a slight bang and they fell like a stone. Foreman had just secured Monkley in the harness in his cage, when down they went. He had tried to return to the others in the main cockpit and his seat, when they began spinning out of control. The 'G' forces were Foreman's final undoing, and he was out for the count until Monkley woke him. How the GenMoP, Genetically Modified Primate, had freed himself, wasn't something Foreman had time to concern himself with. Not when several fires started simultaneously.

      Monkley started to panic, being after all, just a glorified chimpanzee. Turning his air supply on, Foreman opened the airlock and attacked the main exit hatch. That side of the ship had sustained minimal damage, so the hatch opened with a hiss as the pressure equalised. Monkley beat him outside, and Foreman jumped down, not bothering with the steps, landing heavily on the soft sand just a few feet below. Monkley jumped up on his shoulders, and wrapped his arms about his neck, and Foreman began running. He made fifteen paces before the ship exploded behind them, sending them crashing to the ground.

      'Asshole.'

      'That's gratitude for saving your hairy backside.' Wiping the sand off his visor, he turned to look back at the ship. 'Right. Cremation it is, then.'

      The ensuing explosions reduced the small craft to a tangled shell within minutes. He sat with Monkley for a while, and with a sigh, got to his feet. One thing they didn't have the luxury of was time. They had about twenty three hours of suited oxygen each before they would be as dead as the others. Only three humans had died on Mars, and Foreman didn't want the dubious honour of being the fourth. They had one shot at surviving, and one only. Find the base.

      It looked hopeless. They might as well have been in the Sahara desert as far as he could see. Ahead of them was a large dune. From the summit they could get a clear view for miles.

      'Come on, Monkley.'

      Holding Monkley's hand, they climbed the dune. When they reached the top, they scanned the horizon.

      'Nice beach. I guess the tide must be out.'

      'Thirsty.'

      'You and me both. Sorry, pal. We know there are pockets of what we call water here and there, but we'd need to dig one hell of a hole to get at it. The little ice caps are mostly frozen carbon dioxide with more than a dash of acid. Not recommended. We gotta find the base or...We gotta find the base.'

      Wishing he had paid more attention, Foreman scanned the horizon. He knew the planet was smaller than Earth, and the lower gravity meant he weighed less than half of what he would on

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