Plague of the Living Crystals

By Barry Lee Jones

(53,282 words) A plague gets loose on Mars and wipes out a Martian colony. Where did this plague come from? How is it able to breed on a lifeless planet like Mars? Or is Mars really lifeless? During the course of his investigation, Earth Based Affairs (EBA), Special Investigator, Colonel Danial Stark finds out about three laborers who stayed at the colony and may have ultimately been responsible for its destruction. Tracing their footsteps, he finds the ruins from an ancient civilization. Beneath the ruins, he finds a network of tunnels stretching for miles. Examining these tunnels, Stark finds clues that lead him back to Earth. On Earth, Stark goes undercover and risks everything to find out that a religious cult is using the Martian disaster to gain a political foothold with the ultimate end of taking over the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781312871762

Book preview

Plague of the Living Crystals

Plague of the Living Crystals

Written By Barry Lee Jones

Copyright 2013 by Barry Lee Jones

ISBN: 978-1-312-87176-2

T. his work is licensed under the Creative Commons attribution-Non Commercial-No Derivs 2.0 Generic License.  To view a copy of this license, visit

Http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/

Prologue: Nineteen days before the destruction of Martian Colony 101

Captain Ezra Phinehas stood on the bubble-enclosed top deck of the caterpillar, scanning the scenery before him.

It was the same Martian landscape he had been looking at for several months.  Everything was red, with bits of gray poking out here and there.  The landscape was covered with craters.  Some of them were so small that Ezra could cover them up with his hand, if he had a mind to, and others so large that it took days for a caterpillar to cross them.

They were in one of the larger ones. Directly in front of them, Phinehas saw the same monotonous red landscape.  Off in the distance was a mountain range.  Beyond that, the land rose up abruptly, marking off the end of the dead sea.

Between two of the mountains was this thing sticking up.  To Phinehas, it looked like more than just the usual landscape that he had been seeing for years.  Granted, it was hardly noticeable, but once you saw it, it stuck out like a Christmas tree in a coal mine.

I can’t tell what it is! he said to himself after a few other well chosen words.

Phinehas had always thought of himself as a pretty reliable worker. If he said he would do something, he usually did it. And if you gave him enough money, he would do just about anything. Although that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be doing something else on the side, for maybe just a little bit more money.

His thoughts went back to this man from Earth who confronted him one day. He said he couldn’t disclose his employer’s name. But that his employer wanted to get in on the ground floor of anything found on Mars. Anything. All Phinehas had to do was to make a detailed report of anything unusual he found while surveying Mars.  And he was paying Phinehas a lot of money to do it. Normally, that didn’t interfere too much with his job of surveying and mapping the landscape.

Of course, up to now, he hadn’t seen anything that even remotely looked unusual. Just the occasional dome colonies, and those didn’t count.  He didn’t know this guy any more than he knew who he worked for.  He didn’t care, either.  This guy had paid a lot of good money for a service, and Phinehas had to start performing that service.

Phinehas turned to the back of that section of the caterpillar.  The sliding ladder there took him below.

Inside, the light was a little better than on the Martian surface.  There was a certain musty odor that Phinehas didn’t seem to notice very often.

Sitting in a chair, at a console directly in front of the ladder space, was the engineer-pilot, with his attention totally engrossed in what he was doing. And well it should be, Phinehas thought. Because it was this guy’s job to steer the caterpillar around all these obstacles.

There was a definite thock sound that rattled Phinehas’s brains as he bumped his head on one of the steel crossbeams that held the thing together. Then he heard himself say a few well chosen words for the occasion.  He constantly cussed the fact that everything was built to accommodate these puny six foot wimps.

Stop the vehicle, he said to Sgt. Jonathan Harring.

We don’t have any stops scheduled for this sector, replied Jonathan.

What? Phinehas straightened up suddenly, banging his head on the ceiling again. And for a few moments, his language took on a rich and creative quality.

"We.  Don’t.  Have.  Any.  Stops.  Scheduled.  For.  This.  Sector.  Which word did you not understand, SIR!" said John.

I’m sorry.  Did I say stop this vehicle? said Phinehas, scratching his head with the tip of his forefinger. Yes, you did, sir. John leaned confidently back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. For just a moment, he ignored his task of piloting the vehicle. His smug expression said he knew how to deal with these power happy officers. Phinehas was going to enjoy this.

"THEN YOU HAD BETTER DO IT!" Phinehas yelled, stabbing his massive finger into Jonathan’s chest to punctuate each word, almost knocking him onto the floor.

Yes, sir! said John, rubbing his chest where Phinehas knew a bruise was forming.

Phinehas had had subordinates like John working under him before and knew exactly how to deal with them. He went to his office and pushed a button on his intercom.  That put him through to Lt. Commander Frederick Harring, John’s big brother.

This is the Captain.  Report to my office at once for briefing.  I got something for you to do.  He broke contact before Frederick had a chance to reply.  He knew that Frederick would be in his office within the next five minutes.  That was one of the many things he liked about Frederick, he was prompt.  Nothing like his lazy brother, Frederick was a good worker.

When Fred gets here, he thought, I’m going to send him to find out what that rock formation is. I’ll send John along, too.  Maybe a little walk with big brother will use up some of that excess energy. I think I’ll send Lt. Brannighan, also.  She’s always game for a good walk.

Chapter 1--The Investigator: Two days after the destruction of Martian Colony 101

Earth Based Affairs (EBA) Special Investigator, Colonel Daniel Stark stood by his window looking out on San Francisco Bay.

He had much to think about.  It all came back to this article he read the other night.  It had been written by some social scientist. This guy said that the human race should be much further along than it is.  According to him, the present technological innovation is not what they, in the Twentieth Century, thought it would have been. This guy was saying that, while chronologically we are two thousand years advanced of the Twentieth Century, technologically we are only between one hundred and two hundred years advanced of the Twentieth Century.

This all boiled down to the Aryan Wars, the wars that destroyed technology.  While most wars build up technology, the Aryan Wars, ironically, brought it down.  Most social scientists don’t have any explanation for this, unless it had been planned by someone.  A lot of religious cults out there had some pretty weird ideas about anti-technology.

The theories that did exist were pretty far-fetched. Of these, the most common was the Grunt Theory, which said that at that time, soldiers were reduced to human machines or grunts. They were not entrusted with any more technical know-how than what they needed to operate their weapons. The men with the real know-how were secretly executed when their usefulness was used up, so they wouldn’t be any threat to the state.

Stark brought his focus of attention outward and considered the everyday activities that took place below. The bay sure looks cold today, he thought.

He pushed a button on the wall which made the window disappear. In its place, a wall covered with pictures, framed documents, and such.  He went past his desk, across the room, and pushed another button on the wall.  A refreshment bar, stocked with all his favorites unfolded from the floor and wall. He poured himself a grapefruit juice into a collapsible glass, then replaced the grapefruit juice. He pushed another button and the whole thing folded back.  He went over to the couch, laid down, set his juice on the coffee table, and activated the television on the wall from the control panel built into the coffee table.

They were talking about this banquet that had taken place the night before. On the footage they were showing, there was a man presenting this tall, chubby guy with some kind of a humanitarian award.  His name eluded Stark, until the news guy said it was the billionaire, Maximus Hart.

Stark sneered at the sound of that name. He thought Maximus Hart was the biggest phony that ever existed.  He watched with distaste as Hart waddled up to accept his award.  His eyes rested briefly on the two beautiful women who accompanied Hart. Stark sat up straight as his interest in the news broadcast suddenly soared. Yowzai! How can a guy like Hart have so many babes waiting in the wings for him? He’s rich, that’s how.

The phone buzzed. Stark turned off the television. He went to his desk and pushed a button. A twelve inch by twelve inch screen rose up out of the desk, pushing papers aside.  It came on, and on it, the face of his superior, Elmo or Elmer or some such, looked displeased about something.

Yes, sir, he answered.

It looks like we got one for you, the man said.

"What do you have for me?" Stark straightened up with interest.

Martian Colony 101 has been wiped out.  They want you personally, to investigate, he said.

They asked for me by name? asked Stark, one eyebrow raised in doubt.  Stark knew colonies didn’t usually ask for EBA personnel by name even if they did happen to know the name.  This could be important later in the investigation.

"No! They didn’t ask for you by name! what’s his face said. They merely stated that they want our best.   And as much as it pains me to admit it, that means you."

How nice of you to say so. Stark was smiling his toothy grin. Then turning serious, Anyway, about this colony, did someone set off a bomb or something?

No. There has not been any structural damage we know of.  Someone passing by stopped for supplies.  He wasn’t able to get into the dome. He reported this and one of the nearby colonies sent someone over to check it out.  They found bodies all over the place. Most of them were opened. They found crystals all over the place, mostly spilling out of the opened bodies. The man I talked to said they were like jeweled maggots frozen in motion. The man who originally reported the colony is now being held in quarantine. So far, he has shown no signs of anything being wrong with him.

Stark took a pencil and wrote the numbers down on a piece of scratch paper.  While he was doing that, the phone had gone blank, signifying that Elmo, or mer, or whatever had broken contact.

Stark needed a ship.  He punched out a code on the phone.  The face that appeared on the screen was broad and round. The man had a black crew cut with gray temples. His small, set in eyes were dark blue with a sharp, alert quality. He had a fat nose and a thin mustache. His lips were full, dry, and pink. His chin was both cleft and double. He was Jeremiah Blake, Captain of the EBA, Herodotus. When he saw Stark, he smiled a broad smile.

His voice was high pitched and his speech was direct and quick. Hi, Dan. How is everything going?

Pretty good, and yourself?

Fine, fine, just fine.

Listen, I’m going to need a ship and crew to get me to Mars.  It seems one of its colonies has been wiped out by something.  No structural damage, but everyone there is lying around dead with these crystals inside of them.  Are you and your crew available for oh, say the next couple of weeks or so? My investigation should be over by then.

Blake’s smile disappeared. He seemed to consider this for a moment, then said, Crystals inside of them. Huh. Well, we’re at your disposal. How soon do you need to leave?

Stark and Blake had an understanding.  Blake wouldn’t ask any questions about any case Stark was working on no matter how curious he got, because in some of Stark’s cases there were certain details Stark couldn’t let out.  If Stark wanted him to know more, he would tell him more.  As it was in this case, that was all Stark himself knew.

Soon as possible, said Stark, Will you be ready by, oh, say ten, tomorrow?

How does six sound? asked Blake.

Sounds great!  See you then.  Stark broke the connection.

Stark thought about it and decided it would be a good idea to have a doctor along.  He punched out another code on the telephone.

This time, the face was dark brown, almost black.  The white hair on top and above the eyes made Stark think of snow on the roof.  Doctor Gordon Parker was semi-retired. His hair was in short tight curls. His forehead was wrinkled, narrow, and high.  He had one bushy brow that went across above both eyes. His eyes were small and set in. His nose was flat, and his nostrils, flared.  His mustache was long and bushy, curving down around his mouth.  His lips were huge, fleshy, and dry. His chin was triangular.

When he saw Stark, he smiled a gentle smile.

What are you up to for the next couple of weeks? asked Stark.

Oh, Parker paused, I don’t know. Mostly I . . . hang around the house. another pause, When I get restless, I . . . go down to the lake and do some fishing. another pause, The other day, I . . . caught a cutthroat . . . was about . . . oh--

How would you like to help me out on a case for the next couple of weeks? asked Stark.

A pause, Next two weeks, you say?  Stark could see his eyes looking straight ahead, not really focusing on anything.  Then their focus returned.  Okay, said Parker. Is there anything I . . . need to take along?

No. The ship will provide everything, including clothes.

I . . . don’t like their . . . idea of cloths . . . I’ll bring my own, he said.

We’re leaving at six, tomorrow. I’ll come by and pick you up at about four. You still living in that cabin out in Wyoming?

Yea . . . always will . . . I guess.

I’ll see you, then, Stark broke the connection. Then Stark went through the familiar process of canceling dates and appointments. Some fellow from some exploration magazine in Idaho wanted to run an article on law enforcement on the frontier. He had an appointment to interview Stark on Wednesday for that article. Well, that would have to wait.

He called Marlene to break their Tuesday date.  Luckily, she wasn’t like Tiffany.  Tiffany got really upset whenever he broke a date with her, which was what he was going to do with their Thursday date, as soon as he was finished with Marlene.  He made a few more calls, postponing when he could and canceling when he had to, to free up the two weeks that were to follow.

He straightened up the loose papers lying on his desk, put them back into their folders, and re-filed them. He did general straightening, as he did at the end of every day. As an afterthought, he got out his note pad and started making a list of some of the things he was going to need.  Finishing that, he left his office, making sure to lock the door on his way out.

2.  On his way to Wyoming, he got to thinking about the case.

Now, he had been everywhere in the Solar System where there had been human habitation. He had been to Venus, (which was quite pleasant after terra-forming.) He had been to the ocean floor, (another frontier, which fell under the jurisdiction