Why hadn’t Gaspar been more careful? They’d had some strikes, like that water meteor they’d found at Petera Major. That Strike had set them up with enough to pay for a bike, oxygen, and water for a year. Gaspar had a hell of a party with his part of what was left over, while she contributed her share to her sister’s family—their mine was in trouble and sis needed the money for the taxes, or so she’d said—so no party-time for Surra. The bright side was that she didn’t have a hangover when Gaspar and she had pushed up the mountain a few days later, him holding his head and groaning the entire way.
But water meteors aren’t that common and the partnership with Gaspar ended up where it began after just ten months; nearly broke. She’d wanted to use what was left of their money to check out the Maternis lode. Rumor had it that prospectors were finding iron-rich ore down there and making good money.
Gaspar hadn’t agreed and wanted to give Olympus another chance, stubbornly insisting there were hidden riches to be found. He’d made a stupid bet that he could beat the record oh the Chu San run to raise a stake; their bike against the cash. She swore and cursed him, swearing that she was going to go to Jovus with the pock train and arrange for their trip.
“I ain’t going to Maternis,” Gaspar had declared. “You’ll see; I’ll be waiting at the Point for you,” he boasted. “Won’t have any problem with money once I break the record!”
“You are an idiot, a fool, and worse,” she’d said. “If you’re that stupid then go ahead; but leave me out of it!”
“Wish me luck,” he asked with a smile and spread his arms to hug her.
“Screw you,” she said as. she pulled away. “Go ahead and kill yourself!” she screamed bitterly. “I don’t care.”
The other prospectors had heard that. “Bad luck,” they’d said. “You’ll jinx him.”
“Superstitious nonsense,” she’d replied. “The only jinx he has is his own stupidity!” she said angrily and stomped out to jump the pack train down to the Point.
When she got to Rescue Point a week later Gaspar wasn’t waiting for her. She’d taken a burial party up to find him, there being no reason to expect that he could be alive, since the bikes only held a couple of day’s air and his couple were long gone.
They found him cracked up at the bottom of a deep fissure. “Jinxed him,” the other prospectors had clucked and edged away from her.
“Superstitious nonsense,” she protested as they buried Gaspar under a cairn. His suit and gear got her enough money for a ticket to Maternis. The bike was scrap, but they took it anyway—he had lost the bet.
She caught a glimpse of something moving on her right. When she turned she saw the orange racer. It came closer and closer.
Surra looked down and saw that she’d allowed their speed to drop. They were nearly on schedule. Damn, she’d lost all the lead that Taylor had gained while she was resting. With a conscious effort to overcome her caution and good sense, she pushed the speed up to thirty-five klicks and watched the orange vehicle drop behind. Yes, the bike handled nicely at this speed, Why had she been so reluctant to believe Taylor? She pushed the speed up another few klicks.
The Matemis ticket money had gone to her sister and that worthless husband of hers. Their stupid little mine had finally played out and neither of them would stoop to take a job with the Earth corporations; something about his Martian pride, sis’s husband had declared haughtily. Well, their pride hadn’t made them refuse her ticket money, had it? But, what could she do? They were blood, and family shared. Even Taylor knew that.
After that it was hard scrabble for anything touching on income, and half of everything went to her sister. Not that she made that much, what with the jinx thing dogging her. Damn lucky for all of them that Taylor had come along when he did, trying to prove himself to grandpa.
What was it he had said about his great-great-grandfather? Something about him flying in a hurricane, whatever that was. Growing up on Mars she hadn’t the opportunities that the Earth-born enjoyed; things like wind, open skies, fresh air that didn’t taste of silicon grease, food that didn’t come out of a processor, and filtered water that hadn’t passed through your kidneys, and others, a few hundred-thousand times. A hurricane was another of the experiences she hadn’t enjoyed.
Why the devil did Taylor think he had to prove anything? Didn’t he already have everything anyone could want; money, good education, great career, and, from what he had said, a family that wasn’t a bunch of whining losers and assholes. Not at all like hers.
Suddenly the orange bike was beside her and closing rapidly. She risked a glance and saw two figures in the saddle. One of them, who wore what she thought was Fleth’s checkerboard shoulder pattern, waved something over his head. From this angle she couldn’t tell what it was.
They were just entering an area of heavy flows. The fluid lava had flowed quickly over this section, forming waves that solidified into an undulating surface. Surra pushed the speed up and raced up the leading edge of one such wave only to have the bike leave the surface and fly a short distance before coming back down in a surprisingly gentle landing on the reverse slope. She cut the speed back, not wanting to risk such a foolish trick again.
The orange bike pulled beside her, only this time it didn’t try to parallel her course but seemed to be moving on an intercepting path. Closer and closer the side of the orange bike came to hers.
Then she realized what they were trying to do—crush her cradle between the two bikes. Sitting where she did, low on the side, and them atop the other, only she was in danger from their maneuver. She turned the bike away from them as they both topped another wave.
The orange bike was relentless and again drew closer, forcing her farther and farther to the side as she evaded them. She knew that these gentle waves converged into a narrow defile just a short distance ahead, a passage only wide enough for a single bike. Perhaps they just wanted to beat her to the defile, to slip through and gain the lead. If so, then she would let them. It was a straight shot back to rejoin the main path from there.
With a sudden twist of the yoke she turned away, slowed, and dropped behind the orange bike, watching it pull ahead and away. Let them think she was just taking a short cut to the main route, she thought. If she let them speed ahead maybe they wouldn’t notice that she was going in a different direction, a second short cut that was on the yellow line of the inertial instead of racing for the main route.
The waves of hardened lava began to close in as she approached the entrance to the defile. Apparently the orange bike had already gone through, for it was nowhere in sight. She headed into the narrow passage and increased speed, hoping to regain the lost time.
What was that? She was making a slight turn in the narrow defile when something suddenly appeared directly in front of her. She quickly yanked the yoke to the left to avoid it, but it was too late! The drive wheel struck with a sickening thump that sent the bike tilting precariously to one side as it ran up the side of the hill.
Taylor came awake with a start. “What the hell?” he started to say as the bike slammed back onto the ground and drove his teeth through his lip. Then the bike tipped in the opposite direction and lifted him up, up, and up until…
…It slammed back down and came to a halt. He heard the sound of escaping air and saw that all of the helmet’s tell tales were in alarm red. No cracks that he could see, so his neck seal must have jarred open from slamming against the cradles’ side. He took a deep breath then blew all the air out of his lungs before he twisted the helmet to one side, lifted it to clear the gasket and then replaced and sealed it with a quick clockwise twist. The tell tales went green. As he’d suspected, the shock had just unseated the seal, was all.