Bones on Mars - A paranormal, sci-fi, fantasy romance

Landing

The wail of a klaxon exploded into the cavern and bounced off the rocky walls. From nowhere, an acrid, eye-stinging mist drifted in, and the ground under Floyd's feet vibrated so hard, he stumbled toward the fire.

Only the fire wasn't there anymore.

In its stead an instrument panel rattled and shook into view, the source of the acrid fumes. Awash with a sea of blazing red lights, all of them flickering and flashing like lightning gone berserker, the panel took on substance until it completely blocked out the golden city.

Constant popping in Floyd's ears didn't quite muffle the shrill clamor of the klaxon. His body, encased in something a lot heavier and stiffer than furs, was being squashed into something soft, and there was a weight on his chest as if a mammoth was sitting on it.

"Floyd?" Someone screamed, sounding very much like Leela. But her voice was distorted and distant.

For a second, she sprung up in his peripheral vision, still clad in her furs, coughing and sputtering. Like a double image creeping in, a white garment materialized over her body, covering her legs, rump, and finally her arms. Where her head had been just a second ago, now sat a white, shiny bubble with a golden front.

His beleaguered brain, slow to throw out answers, seemed to believe she was wearing a spacesuit and a helmet.

The next instant, she was melting into some weird contraption his mind insisted on calling an APS, an Astronaut Protection Seat, the same thing he seemed to sit in.

"Leela," he screamed back.

The sound elongated into a screech, the shriek of tortured metal.

The cave, gone translucent like so much mist, lurched, sank, and bounced back up. Its walls disintegrated into something white, where cables swung as if shaken by a giant's fist.

"Now is a good time to make your choice." El's voice reflected the frozen nothingness between the stars.

Mul's response got swallowed into the din. His rugged features emerged from the chaos raging in the cave, concerned eyes staring from under the prominent brows. His lips were moving, but no sound came out. Or if it did, Floyd couldn't hear it. Then Mul became part of the haze that filled the cave, Floyd's mind, the solar system.

"Navigator DeNeville," Dr. Kalal yelled. "Manual override. Now."

Leela. She's called Leela.

"The parachutes!" Bones, seated on Floyd's other side, screamed.

There was no cave left.

Only a landing pod in serious trouble.

"Code Red. Hull breach. Code Red. Initialize emergency procedure. Code Red." That was the AI, steady, robotic, and supremely unconcerned about the mission's fate.

The mission. He was an astronaut, his job to prepare the colonization of Mars.

This meant...

Floyd opened his mouth, but no words came out. The weight on his chest was squeezing his ribs, clawing at his lungs.

It was hard, so hard, to turn his head toward the instrument panel. Red, red, wherever he looked. His gloved hands pawed at the controls. Altitude. It was all about altitude. Once he was in manual, there was no way back. If he engaged the parachutes too early, they would shred or burn. Or both. Whatever they did, the outcome would be the same.

The parachutes were vital.

As was SHIELD.

"Code Red. Hull breach." The damn AI warbling away in the background was as useful as heels on Mars.