Guns of Mars 33
A Martian action-adventure by The Legend Chuck Dixon
CHAPTER 9.3
The thark turned an ear stalk to its surface and made a tentative rap with his fist on the surface. He was rewarded with a hollow bong and rapped again a bit lower. This time the knell was duller, more resonant. He took his rifle and slammed the thing with it. A louder toll followed by an unmistakable sloshing sound from within the vessel.
Running fingers over the exposed surface he found a rusted spigot on one end; the turn handle encased in place by a century of corrosion. Three slams with his rifle butt freed the handle and it turned with a grinding squeal of protest.
A puff of air exploded from the spigot mouth followed by a gush of water that settled down into a steady stream that puddled at his feet. Kal stepped back in surprise. He ran a cupped hand under the stream and first sniffed it before taking a cautious taste with the tip of his tongue.
It was sweet and clean. It was not like ice melt water from the pole or from the solar distilleries with their tang of salt and sulphur. This was true water unlike anything he had ever tasted. And here it lay, canted for untold centuries, a remnant from a forgotten age.
After drinking his fill, he turned the cock of the spigot closed to preserve what remained in the tank. It was then he noticed that the bounty man had crawled closer and lay on his belly sucking up water at the edge of the puddle.
Kal sent the man tumbling with a kick.
“This is not meant for you,” he roared. “This water is for the living not the dead.”
The man lay on his side, trying to rise to his knees.
“You’re an idiot,” he said with a croak.
Kal rewarded this insult with a second kick that sent the man rolling to collide with the hull of the wreck. The bounty man put a hand to the ship to rise to a knee.
“Kill me,” he said, barely a whisper. “And you’ll never know where this water came from.”
“And you know? You know the location of this secret source?”
“I do now.” The man ran his palm along a section of hull at the stern.
The thark stood, head tilted, his annoyance leavened now with curiosity.
“The markings here,” the man said, his hand brushing away dust, exposing letters that were relief carved across the bow. “They tell the name of this ship.”
Kal snorted and spat.
“Words, you illiterate bastard,” the bounty man scoffed. “We search the hold and look for more words. Somewhere there are words that will tell us where this crew called home.”
“I can read,” Kal said with a sneer. “But not the useless words of men.”
“ ‘Useless words.’ Well, there could very well be some useless words that lead us to a fortune in liquid riches. Either that or walk away with only what you can carry in your skins.”
“Us?”
“You said it, thark,” the man said with a wry grin creasing his cracked lips. “You can’t read the words of men.”
Kal sniffed, his eyes slitted.
“Partners?” the man said.
“You are a clever one, little man,” the thark said, his face a mask of disgust even as he drew his dagger to free his captive.
Special Note: GUNS OF MARS is now available in a hardcover edition. It is available at Amazon and at NDM Express.
