Guns of Mars 57
A Martian action-adventure by The Legend Chuck Dixon
CHAPTER 15.3
The conduit emptied out into a great basin surrounded all about by high, sloping banks. What was once a lake was now a sunken desert, the floor of which was nothing but sand and crushed shell that reflected the rising sun with a painful brilliance.
They rested in the shade of the tunnel mouth and moved on later in the day when the terrain had cooled somewhat. With luck, they each determined, they would reach the far end of the basin by nightfall putting them in striking distance of the city the hooded man theorized lay somewhere beyond the range of peaks that lined the horizon.
The way across the waste was as flat as a tabletop. And even with the sun dropping low behind them, the white surface beneath their feet radiated furnace heat as well reflecting glaring light. Kal envied the other’s visors. He wrapped a length of the muslin over his eyes to protect himself from blindness.
A puttering sound caused them to stop in their progress. A shadow moved over the sand causing them both to look up. An airship was soaring by overhead on a north to south bearing. The pair stood still, the hooded man reining in the thoat. They watched, waiting for the ship to fly out of sight before going on.
The propellers at the stern of the ship changed pitch as it slowed suddenly and began to bank back around their way in a lazy arc. It reduced altitude and made a course to fly past them. As it came into sight they could see it was a smallish skiff with a raised section at the bow and aft and an open main deck. A few figures lined the port rail. Another ran to take position behind a swivel gun mounted amidships.
At sight of this, the hooded man gave his mount a kick in the flanks and took off at a gallop.
“Fool,” Kal said under his breath and set off at a walk to follow.
The ship spun past overhead only to bank once more and come about, this time leaning to starboard. It swiftly flew ahead of the thoat and its rider and slowed to hover in their path. The cannon fired once, twice. It was double-shotted. Twin explosions raised gouts of sand before the thoat. The hooded man reined in with all his might, turning the beast in an awkward stumbling stop that toppled them both.
The engine whine turned to a purr as the airship settled down to land on its skids near where the hooded man was regaining his feet after tumbling to the sand. The thoat rose with a shudder, stirring up a cloud of dust.
Three men climbed down over the gunwale while the man at the cannon turned it to train on the hooded man. Each of the three men approached with weapons raised. One bore a nasty looking blunderbuss with a broad bell shaped barrel. The others walked with pistols drawn in their hands. They were red men and further armed with cutlasses and daggers. Bandoliers of ammunition were draped across their harness. They were rough men used to having their commands obeyed.
“Hands out,” the man with the scattergun bellowed. “Wide. Wider!”
The hooded man did as he was commanded, holding his hands well clear of his sides while maintaining a grip on the reins of the thoat.
“You as well,” the lead man called to Kal who was walking to join them.
The thark held his hands clear as well as he approached. He extended all four arms akimbo and away from the hilt of the sword slung across his back.
“Might I ask your intentions?” the hooded man said.
This caused the lead man to grin over the sights of his raised musket. It was an ugly expression made more so by the gaps in his brown teeth. The others shared a glance and a chuckle at one another.
“Our intentions?” the lead man said and spat a yellow wad to the sand. “Our intentions are to eat your thoat after we’ve killed you both.”
Special Note: GUNS OF MARS is now available in a hardcover edition. It is available at Amazon and at NDM Express.
