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All characters in this book are fictitious. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher.
©J. R. Handley
Mars, Milky Way Galaxy
2104 Ace
The little boy frowned, startled by the sound of a twig breaking. His hiding spot behind the rusted recycling unit made him nearly invisible. In the neglected Dome-7 of the Mars Colony, everything was dilapidated. The entire facility looked like something time forgot: weathered, battered, and broken. Because of its lack of strategic importance in the burgeoning war with the People’s Republic of Proxima Centauri, or PRPC, Dome-7 was the last to get crucial repairs. Rather than admit the facility was falling apart, the safety inspectors just ignored the structure.
The dome, which had been crystal clear thirty years ago, had become opaque. The once-transparent material had become frosted and scarred from the frequent violent sandstorms on the red planet’s surface. The newer domes, especially 11 and 12, were expected to maintain their crystal clarity for much longer than the dozen years 7 had been in place. The residents, of which there were few, were no longer able to gaze at the stars during the night. The whole thing glowed with an eerie whiteness that reminded many of a spidery gossamer veil for a ghostly bride, as if the structure would marry death at any moment.
Could it be my friends? he wondered. Have they found me? Have I lost the game? He hated losing, but his friends knew all of his hiding spots, and he was forced to accept that he might never win at hide-and-go-seek. A devilish grin spread across his face as he decided to turn the tables on them. He raised his hands above his shoulders, curling his little fingers into caricatures of claws, and prepared to jump out. Another sound jarred him out of his planned assault. The noise was so different from what he’d expected from Caleb. He hesitated, unsure of his next move. If he was caught in this part of the dome, he knew his dad would whup him. The thought of the beating caused his hand to unconsciously rub his rear end, soothing the unbeaten flesh.
The sound came from gravel being crushed underfoot, but it didn’t sound like how he’d expected it to. The toughcrete foundation of Dome-7 was an experimental material that hadn't held up to the test of time. Even the aging dome was in better shape than the floors of the dome he lived in. Every time something that was too heavy rolled across its surface, or anything heavy was dropped, the blue-gray material would chip and crack. Throughout the years, plenty of heavy objects had been dragged, rolled across, and dropped onto the ground of the domed compound. Consequently, there was plenty of gravel that made stealth a tricky proposition.
What concerned the little boy the most was the tone of the crunching gravel. There was a slight metallic ring to it, as if something robotic and dangerous had rolled across it. Despite his nerves, he kept his hands up, mimicking a scary monster. The next noise committed him to his action. He took a deep breath then leaped from his hiding spot behind the recycler and froze in place. What stood in front of him was not what he’d expected to see. At first, he was startled. The rawr he’d prepared to bellow died on his lips. What escaped was nothing more than a quiet, high-pitched hiss.