The Last Prophet

By J.E. Spelman

It is the year 1000 of the Kingdom Era a millennium since Jesus Christ won the Great Battle of Armageddon and ushered in an age of worldwide peace and prosperity. Fifteen-year-old Erik Mastersons happy life is shattered when his parents are killed in a violent explosion on Mars Colony.

Bereft and alone, Erik moves to an Earth he doesnt know to live with an uncle hes never met. There he learns that his parents death was not an accident, but signaled the beginning of widespread violence and chaos. As the Kingdom is rocked by rebellion, Erik finds himself embroiled in a web of intrigue.

Can The Last Prophet stop Satan from breaking free from his thousand-year imprisonment and taking over the world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jan 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512769210

J.E. Spelman

Jessica Spelman lives with her husband and four children in Ohio. She works as a primary care physician at a small town health center. She enjoys camping, hiking, and growing vegetables in her backyard garden. One of her favorite activities is running 5K races with her daughters. She looks ahead to the future with great anticipation.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The street was dark. Not the dark of night, but the still, gray dimness that comes before a storm. The air was heavy with the smell of fear. Tall buildings loomed along both sides of the roadway; only a narrow slice of dull, purplish-gray sky was visible overhead. The pavement was strewn with dead leaves and heaps of foul-smelling waste. Nothing moved. The city seemed abandoned. There were no cycles or hoverboards zooming past. No trams or cargo trucks coasted overhead.

Something was wrong.

No. Everything about the scene was wrong. Strange. Unnatural.

Erik stood in the middle of the street and turned slowly, his eyes scanning the empty windows of buildings that loomed darkly above him. There was complete silence.

The silence was wrong. He strained his ears, listening in vain for the swoosh of vehicles whizzing overhead, the shouts of children at play, the murmur of conversation. No faces peered from windows; no delivery bots rolled into cargo entrances.

The intense quiet grew increasingly oppressive. Erik felt as if the very atmosphere weighed upon him, and his skin prickled with nervous anticipation. The planet’s gravity pulled at the core of his being.

The city remained completely still.

Silent.

Empty.

Then a dismal sigh of air whispered down the street. It rustled through the trash that clogged the gutters. Like the fetid breath of some carrion-eating monster, it rattled dead leaves against a nearby building. It carried the smell of rotten vegetation.

Erik turned in the direction from which the foul breeze had come. He squinted; far down the street, he thought he saw a flicker of light. It was a tiny spark that vanished instantly. He strained his eyes. Had it been his imagination?

The boy took a step toward the half-imagined glimmer. Then stopped. Listened. Had he heard a sound? Felt more than heard. A deep thrumming beat that shook the very street on which he stood. The ground vibrated with repeated thuds, as if a giant was striding down the street toward him. The rhythmic pounding grew stronger. Closer.

Thud – thud – thud.

Louder. Nearer. Suddenly there was an earsplitting shriek and a tremendous flash of light. Erik fell backwards as a huge gust of hot wind blew over him.

As he lay on his back on the pavement, a huge creature with enormous black wings flew over him. It shot upwards, screeching out of the canyon of tall buildings high into the sky above the city. A stream of fire followed it like a contrail, and Erik could hear it hissing and sparking as he raised himself to his knees. The creature ascended higher until it was a tiny spark in the dusky sky. Then it looped around and careened back down. When it came to earth just meters in front of Erik, the force of its landing cracked the street’s pavement, forming two craters under its feet.

Erik struggled to his own feet and stared up at the beast. It stood twice the height of a man. Its huge leathery bat-like wings folded against its muscular shoulders. Its arms and legs were covered with shiny black scales. Its face was reptilian with slit-like nostrils, a wide mouth filled with sharp fangs and a long forked tongue. Its eyes were scarlet with vertical slits for pupils. Horns curving from the top of its head appeared to be made of molten iron – red and smoking.

The creature looked up and down the empty street, then glared down at Erik. It threw back its head and gave a horrible cry – a shriek of victory or of agony; it was impossible to tell which. It flicked out its long tongue and licked its right eyeball. It hissed and faced the boy in front of him. It stared at him for a long moment before opening its mouth to speak.

Well, prophet, it hissed in a voice like metal scraping on rock. It is your choice now.

Erik felt as if his body was encased in stone. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He opened his mouth, but his tongue felt like it was made of clay, and he couldn’t force any air between his vocal cords.

Now! the monster shrieked, its grating voice rising in pitch and volume until it seemed to stab at the inside of Erik’s skull. Choose, it grated, bending toward the boy and flicking its long tongue at him.

Choose, it repeated, now so close that Erik could make out the individual scales covering its horrible snakelike face. Choose – or die!

Erik began to scream – a desperate, soundless shriek that bubbled up from his chest and scraped the inside of his throat. No sound came from his mouth, but a column of steam issued forth. The steam shot from his throat like a smoky gray geyser. It twisted and grew. It became wider and stronger, metamorphosing into a thick rope that wrapped around the monster, binding its arms and wings to its body. The rope that formed from Erik’s silent scream began to smoke and glow red, and it started to burn into the monster’s scaly flesh.

The creature’s angry hissing changed to moans of agony. Stop, it cried, its voice now a hoarse but piercing shriek. Stop it at once. No more, prophet!

As Erik watched the monster writhe in its bonds, a loud voice boomed from the sky, Behold. The power of the Word. Speak for Me.

At the sound of the voice, the boy collapsed. The groaning monster – the gray sky – the silent city – all faded to darkness.

Erik woke, bathed in sweat and breathing hard. It took a moment to realize that it was a dream. The Dream. The one he’d been having for months. Always the same nightmare. Each time, he woke paralyzed by fear.

He lay back and massaged his temples. Did the recurrent dream have some hidden meaning? Was it a warning of some dire fate that awaited him? An omen of some sort? Erik wasn’t sure that he wanted to know.

The dream had become disturbingly familiar. Each time it made his blood run cold. Always he woke up clutching the blanket and gasping for breath. But this time, finally, something was different. Not the essence of the dream. The empty street, the horrible monster screeching at him to choose, the booming voice from the sky – the content of the dream remained consistent. But this time he’d recognized the street. For the first time, he could identify the location of the monster’s appearance.

But he didn’t know what in the Universe that meant.

CHAPTER ONE

AT LEAST THE FLIGHT’S ON TIME

A pleasantly modulated, automated voice sounded from overhead. Now boarding all rows for flight D-1815. Flight D-1815. Now boarding all rows and sections.

Three people clustered together near a departure gate. One was a teenaged boy with tousled red hair and freckles. He glanced around uncertainly, eyeing the crowds surging past in the busy terminal. The tall, dark-skinned man standing next to him laid a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. Don’t worry; you’ll be fine, son. Everything has been arranged.

The boy straightened his back and gave a quick nod. Yes, sir. I know. Thank you, Mr. Solek.

The third member of the group frowned worriedly. Now, Erik, are you sure you packed everything? I wish we could have gotten you a seat near a window. She smoothed the boy’s hair and straightened his collar. Angie Solek was a large woman with curly black hair and a maternal manner. At least the flight’s on time. She looked over the boy’s head to the tall man. Marvin, do you think he’ll be all right traveling alone like this?

He’ll be fine, dear. Mr. Solek patted his wife’s hand reassuringly. You’re all right, aren’t you, my boy?

Erik swallowed and tried his best to appear ‘fine.’ He nodded stiffly. I’m good. Thank you for all your help, sir. Thank you both . . . for everything.

The automated voice sounded again, Last call for flight D-1815. Flight D-1815. Final boarding.

Marvin Solek cleared his throat and patted Erik on the shoulder again. That’s you, my boy. Better get going.

Angie Solek gathered him into a quick, smothering hug. Be good, Erik. Say hello to your Uncle Hector for me.

I will, Erik mumbled as he disentangled himself from Mrs. Solek’s bracelets. He gave a half-hearted wave and trotted to the boarding gate. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Marvin Solek put his arm around his wife and lead her away. Angie Solek buried her face in her husband’s shoulder as they moved slowly through the crowds at the busy spaceport.

Erik followed the rest of the last-minute boarders up the ramp and onto the transport. He sent a thought command to the Personal Information Organizer (PIO) attached to his left ear. The PIO instantly transmitted his ticket information to the flight attendant, a stocky young man in the standard green uniform of the space transportation service. The man smiled genially at Erik, Traveling alone, sir?

Erik nodded.

Business or pleasure? the young man asked as he escorted Erik down an aisle of the spacecraft.

I’m leaving Mars Colonies to live with my uncle. On Earth. Erik tried hard to keep his voice from trembling as his eyes grew moist. I haven’t been there since I was little - too young to remember.

The flight attendant nodded understandingly. Quite a change then. But don’t worry; you’ll love Earth. Best place in the universe. He gestured down another aisle. There’s your seat – just four rows back.

The seat molded itself to Erik’s body as he sank into it and glanced around the cabin of the space transport vessel. There were easily two thousand travelers on board. His seat was in the middle section of the crowded ship. The businessman two seats to his left had already activated his own PIO; set on personal, its projected images were visible only to the user. As the man manipulated invisible shapes in the air in front of him, it was impossible to tell if he was doing meaningful work or playing a virtual reality game.

To Erik’s right was a family – mother and father with three young children. The mother gave Erik distracted smile before immersing herself in the job of entertaining her children with an assortment of educational VR games and holographic shows. Erik sighed as he scrunched down in the cushiony seat and thought a music selection to his PIO. He cranked up the volume and closed his eyes as the music directly activated the auditory lobes of his brain, filling his head with a syncopated rhythm.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He shouldn’t be traveling to Earth. Not now. Not this way. He should still be living in his family’s cottage under the protective dome of the Mars colony biosphere. He should be hanging out with his friends, playing slamball at the park and inventing reasons to avoid studying for an electrophysics test. He longed to be lounging under the flowering trees in the botany greenhouse, jamming on his electroharp and sharing a bottle of tangicot juice with his buddies.

Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me, please. Erik’s thoughts were interrupted as a shape pushed in front of him. He opened his eyes and stopped the music. A slender young woman carrying a huge bag pushed past his legs. As she lowered the bag from her shoulder, it swung down and hit Erik in the knee.

Oof, he exclaimed.

The woman looked over her shoulder at him as she pushed the bag into the overhead compartment, trying to mold it to fit into the small space. Oh, I’m so sorry. Did it hit you? I didn’t mean – that is –

No problem, Erik said, rubbing his knee. What do you have in there anyway? Rocks? he added with a rueful smile.

Do you need some help, Miss? The flight attendant stood at the end of the row, his expression politely inquiring.

No – er – that is, I think . . . I’ve . . . got it. With a final emphatic shove, the girl forced the bag into the compartment and slammed the door closed.

Very well, said the attendant. Are you all right then?

A huge sigh and nod was her only response as the young woman collapsed into the seat beside Erik.

The attendant smiled and announced to the passengers: We will be moving out of dock in two minutes. Please fasten your safety harnesses. Gravity shift will occur approximately six minutes after takeoff. He moved away down the aisle, and the girl turned to Erik. She had copper-colored skin and shiny black hair pulled into a long braid. Whew! I barely made it, she said to him with a grin. My rover from Colony 547 got a late start; I thought I’d never get here in time to make the flight.

Erik merely nodded and prepared to reactivate his music, but the girl continued breathlessly, I’m sorry about your knee; did I hurt you? She didn’t pause for a response but chattered on, The bag is ridiculously heavy, I know. It’s so funny that you asked if it had rocks in it – because it does. She giggled. I’m a geology student just finishing up a semester abroad, and I refused to trust the baggage bots with my specimens.

Erik turned for a closer look at the budding geologist. She had lively brown eyes and a sincere smile. I’m Azelle Blaser, she said extending her hand.

Erik, he replied. Erik Masterson.

So, Erik, she smiled, what takes you to Earth this fine day?

I’m – uh – I’m moving there. He hesitated, but Azelle continued to smile at him expectantly.

I’m going to live with my uncle in Jerusalem.

Ah ha, she nodded knowingly. The Capital City itself. Going to study at university there? Without waiting for an answer, she prattled on. Or – just looking for a change of venue? How long have you lived on Mars anyway?

A thrumming vibration shook the immense transport vessel, and Azelle seized Erik’s wrist. Ooh, I hate space travel, she said. Did you know that most accidents occur at takeoff or reentry?

It’ll be okay, Erik assured her. They’ve done this more than a few times.

Oh, it’s fine for you, she said, her eyes wide. You probably fly back and forth constantly. This trip is my first time leaving Earth. I was almost too scared to even speak on the trip out.

Erik’s mouth twitched; he guessed that Azelle rarely found herself at a loss for words. The girl released Erik’s arm and checked her shoulder restraints. Were you nervous at all on your first trip?

"Um, this actually is my first space flight – the first that I can remember at least, he confessed. I’ve lived in Mars Colony 300 since I was a baby."

Really? So you’re like practically a Mars native? Azelle looked impressed.

My parents moved to the Martian colonies when I was just a few months old. I’m almost sixteen Earth-years old now. But I’m not ready for university, he admitted. I have at least two more years of studies to complete first.

That’s okay. You seem really mature. She winked at him. Growing up on Mars – that’s neat. What do your parents do? Are they scientists or something?

Um . . . Erik chewed the inside of his cheek.

A polite voice broke through the hum of conversation in the transport. Ladies and gentlemen, please prepare for gravity shift. Ensure that your seat harnesses are properly fastened and secure all loose articles. Flight attendants moved along the aisles, checking shoulder straps and reminding passengers to stow their belongings.

Azelle gave a small squeal of dismay. Oh, I hate gravity shift. I know we’re only weightless for a few seconds, but it makes my stomach do flip flops. She looked nervously around the cabin of the transport, then turned back to Erik. Please, Erik, distract me. Tell me what your parents do on Mars. Puh-leeze.

Erik cleared his throat nervously. Uh, okay. Well, my mom’s a research scientist. She – uh – worked with the robotic mining project.

Oh, mining nakhlitium? the geology student asked eagerly.

When Erik nodded, she continued, I’m sure you know that nakhlitium is over eighty times more efficient than any other hypophotic fuel. And since hypophotic energy cells power just about everything on Earth, and nakhlitium is only found on Mars – well, this planet is a geologist’s dream. That’s part of why I did my semester abroad here.

The thrumming of the ship’s engines grew louder, and there was a series of loud clicks.

This is it, whispered Azelle. We’re about to become weightless. She grabbed Erik’s hand fearfully. I hate this part; quick – tell me about your dad so I don’t have to think about it.

All right, Erik wished she would stop squeezing his fingers so tightly. My dad was involved with the Mars atmospheric transformation project.

Ah ha, Azelle exclaimed enthusiastically. He’s one of the dreamers that wants the Mars Colonies to survive outside their protective domes, huh? A planet-wide artificially generated atmosphere? She nodded excitedly. That’s my dream too! I’m hoping to get on one of the terraformation teams after I graduate. My senior thesis is on the feasibility of taking gas exchangers – you know, like they use in rovers to convert carbon dioxide to oxygen? – and implanting them into natural rocks.

Gasps and exclamations sounded throughout the ship as everyone became weightless for about five seconds. When the ship’s artificially generated gravitational field kicked in, they were all drawn firmly back into their seats. Azelle gave a sigh of relief and released Erik’s hand.

I’m glad that’s over, she said. I’m so lucky that I sat by you. Do you think maybe you could mention me to your dad? Maybe arrange a holovisit? I’d love to meet somebody who’s already on the project. If he likes me, maybe he could put in a good word with Mars Colony Headquarters. What do you think?

Erik shook his head slowly. He swallowed hard before he spoke. No, Azelle, I can’t introduce you to my father. You see, he’s dead.

Oh, Erik, Azelle exclaimed with compassion. I’m so sorry. Is that – is that why you’re moving to Earth to live with your uncle? Because your dad died?

Erik nodded and blinked hard.

What about your mom? Isn’t she going with you?

He shook his head and swallowed. No, he whispered. They both died in an accident on Colony 79 a few weeks ago. He took a single shuddering breath and bit his lip.

Oh no, the young woman exclaimed. The explosion – at the atmospheric control center? Where those people died – were your parents there? I’ve been monitoring the news broadcasts about that; I guess everybody has. Your parents – they were among the accident victims?

Erik shifted in his seat and nodded.

That was terrible; I feel like it’s all anybody’s been talking about. I guess everybody on Colony 79 was absolutely devastated. Really on all the colonies; it just seems impossible that something like that could happen! Azelle gave his hand a gentle squeeze this time. I’m so sorry. How are you holding up? She turned to look into his eyes.

Well, I – no offense – but I just can’t talk about it right now.

Azelle nodded and patted the back of his hand. I understand, she said. If you change your mind later, I’ll be right here for the next five hours. She gave Erik another sympathetic nod, then activated her PIO to project a news broadcast holograph in the air in front of her.

Thinking about his parents brought tears to Erik’s eyes that he hastily brushed away with the end of his sleeve. He felt an ache in his chest that expanded like a balloon, pressing on his lungs and making it hard to breathe. He tried to force himself to think about other things; but the harder he tried, the more insistently his parents’ faces appeared in his imagination – his father’s strong jaw and thoughtful brown eyes and his mother’s wavy red tresses and bright smile. Against his will, his thoughts drifted to the memory of that day. The day when his life completely changed.

CHAPTER TWO

WORST DAY EVER

E rik was in a cheerful mood as he and his friends left school that afternoon. He had gotten a passing grade on his astro-trigonometry test, and his electroharp music composition had been chosen for performance at the end-of-term concert. Playing and composing music was his passion, and his teacher said he was quite talented.

He felt a little drowsy; he’d had a strange dream the previous night. It was a weird nightmare in which a flying monster had menaced him in a dark and unfamiliar alley. He’d woken up in a cold sweat and had a difficult time going back to sleep. He rarely remembered his dreams, but this one had been incredibly vivid. Erik was having trouble putting it out of his mind. He stifled a huge yawn as his best friend Blake Solek buzzed in circles around him on his hovershoes.

Wake up, Sleepy-head, Blake teased. You may have passed astro-trig, but you still have your subatomic biology exam next week. No rest for the weary!

Blake gave Erik a friendly tap on the head and zoomed forward.

Activate, Erik commanded his own shoes. The hover feature turned on, and he zoomed after his friend, calling, Watch out; you can’t beat the Hover Master!

Erik’s parents were due to arrive home that evening. They had been traveling to Mars Colony 79 via land rover. His father Seth was scheduled to assist with some upgrades of the atmospheric control system there, and Romia had gone along to keep him company. They had converted the trip into a romantic getaway, and they’d been gone for ten days. Erik was staying at Blake’s house for the duration. Blake was a good buddy, his parents were kind, and Erik had a slight crush on Blake’s older sister Cynda.

Erik pushed his toes downward, accelerating his hover as fast as he could. He reached the entrance of Blake’s family cottage centimeters ahead of his friend. The forcefield at the door recognized the signal of Blake’s PIO and automatically shut off to allow them entrance.

Hello, boys, Mrs. Solek called from the sofa, pausing her own PIO display. As Erik passed behind her, he glanced at the hologram projection on which Angie Solek was working. It was a schematic of a space transport energy cell; Blake’s mother was a talented propulsion engineer.

What would you like for dinner, Erik? she asked.

How about beef stronzanti? he called back.

You got it, she replied. Trudy, beef stronzanti for dinner for Erik, she ordered the house computer.

Beef stronzanti for Erik Masterson’s dinner tonight, confirmed the computer.

Dinner at six, okay, boys? Mrs. Solek reminded them.

All right, Erik answered. Beef stronzanti was his favorite. The food synthesizer at the Soleks’ house was programmed with his dad’s family recipe. The synthesizers could create any dish a person wanted, provided the recipe had been entered. The synthesizer was loaded with hydroxycarbon molecules, and it arranged the molecules in a specified pattern. This provided the body with necessary nutrients while stimulating one’s taste buds and oral touch sensors for a specified culinary experience. Enjoyable, healthy and efficient.

Blake hovered behind his mother and gave her a quick hug around the neck. Can I have a snack, ma?

I just synthesized some orangapples, she said, pointing to a bowl on a corner table. As Erik bit into the juicy snack, he considered the fact that in ancient times, people had actually eaten dead parts of plants, or even dead animals. He shook his head in disgust at the thought.

At the dinner table, Erik tried to make conversation with the Soleks, but his thoughts kept drifting to his parents. Even though they’d holovisited almost every day of their trip, he was eager to see them in person.

Later that evening, Erik fidgeted restlessly instead of attending to the holographic chemistry lecture playing on his PIO. Are you missing your parents, Erik? Marvin Solek asked kindly.

Actually, Mr. Solek, I can hardly wait to see them. I mean, I’m not a little kid anymore, so I’m perfectly able to get along on my own. But, you know, I enjoy their company.

Mr. Solek hid a smile behind his moustache. I can understand that, Erik. Your parents are very special people.

Yeah, Erik agreed. We’re pretty close – me being their only child and all. He paused the chemistry lesson. It’s actually getting to the point where we’re almost friends – not just parents and child, you know?

He rubbed at a spot of dirt on the knee of his trousers before continuing in a thoughtful voice, Mom probably understands me better; she always seems to know when I’m happy or sad or whatever. But Dad is a great coach – always challenging me to try harder, to really push myself to excel. He encourages me to, like, find my talent and passion and then do whatever it takes to accomplish my ambition. Both of them try to inspire me to be better than I think I am. They really believe in me.

Reddening slightly, he examined his hands and picked at a hangnail. Mr. Solek continued to gaze benignly at him, and Erik went on, They’re both majorly supportive of my music thing too, not disappointed that I don’t plan to follow in their footsteps and become a scientist. Some parents would be bummed out about that, but Mom and Dad are totally cool with it.

Marvin Solek nodded understandingly. I know they are both very proud of you, he said.

Erik smiled back, but rose from his chair and paced across the room nervously. I’m sort of surprised they’re not here yet, he said. Dad said they’d be here by dinnertime.

Mr. Solek frowned slightly. They’re probably just running a little late.

Erik shook his head. It was unlike his parents to be late. Well, not his Mom; she was a bit of a free spirit – always ready to change plans at the spur of the moment. Spontaneous and impulsive, she was willing to try anything, any time. But his Dad was the Great Organizer. All ran on schedule and according to plan. He liked to have every detail nailed down ahead of time. Normally, he would have left at the precisely designated moment and sent Erik a message giving an Estimated Time of Arrival that was accurate to the second.

I have a feeling that Erik is eager to tell Seth and Romia about the next school concert, said Mrs. Solek with a smile. She was assisting her daughter Cynda with a difficult calculus problem, but she still managed to keep one ear tuned to the conversation. I heard the orchestra will be performing an original Masterson composition. Her eyes twinkled. Someday we’ll all be so proud to say we knew the famous Erik Masterson back when he was a young lad.

Yeah, Blake, slouched on the sofa in the corner, added, and I’ll get to tell everyone how I could clobber him at slamball back in the day. He guffawed as Erik glowered at him. He levered himself to a sitting position and added, I hope Mr. and Mrs. Masterson get here soon; I wanna hear about their trip.

Erik nodded; he was looking forward to an account of the journey as well. He’d been off-Colony before, of course, but bouncing across the barren Martian terrain in a rover never failed to enthrall him.

The Martian landscape was wild and beautiful – desert-like with red sands, cliffs and weird rock formations. In the thin Martian atmosphere, the purplish sky stretched like a star-speckled dome over the ochre-colored ground. On one trip, Erik had been lucky enough to experience a Martian sunset outside of the dome. The thin red and orange fingers of light seemed to arch up from the ground itself, stretching up and over into a cloudless violet ocean of sky. He’d watched a small white moon rise, followed by a larger, yellower one.

In the early years of Mars colonization, trips between colonies had implied an element of danger. A trip could take several hours, and the surface atmosphere was frigid and unbreathable. Engineers checked and double-checked a rover’s gas exchangers, heating units and propulsion systems before each trip. Even when the rovers themselves ran faultlessly, there were often difficulties. Rock falls or sandstorms might block the roads, and the limited number of satellites around Mars had impaired the efficacy of the rovers’ navigational systems.

But after nearly two centuries of established dome colonies on the planet, the trips were nearly as safe as taking a robotaxi across town on Earth. With over a thousand colonies clustered on the most populous Martian continent, the roads between domes were well maintained. Moreover, they were regularly monitored by the Mars Highway Patrol, who could rescue any rover having difficulties. A plethora of monitoring satellites ensured accurate global positioning, so navigation was a snap.

In fact, there hadn’t been a serious problem on the surface of Mars in nearly a century. Not like the relatively new settlements on Saturn. On a planet that had been colonized for only a few decades, a person might expect problems, but not on Mars. Travel on the red planet was considered extremely safe.

That was why it was such a blow when the news came.

Erik and Blake had finished their studies for the evening and were playing jaboot – a game that involved bouncing small balls through a maze of moving energy beams. Erik was losing badly, distracted as he listened for the sound of his parents’ footsteps coming up the cottage walkway.

When Mr. Solek’s PIO chimed with an incoming message, he assumed that the Mastersons were calling to let him know of a minor delay or change in plans, so he activated the hologram and speaker functions to allow Erik to join in the conversation. The head and torso of an unfamiliar man appeared in the middle of the living room. Private message for Marvin Solek, he said in a serious voice, glancing around the room.

Mr. Solek quickly cancelled the holograph projection and muted the speaker function. As his PIO continued direct brain transmission, he glanced at Erik, then walked quickly out of the room, muttering worriedly, Are you sure? What about – ? Erik dropped the ball he was holding and stared worriedly after his friend’s father.

It was several minutes later that Mr. Solek returned, gray-faced and stiff. He told them the news in a choked voice.

There had been an accident at the atmospheric control center on Mars Colony 79. Something with the oxygen and hydrogen storage containers. There was an explosion. People were injured. Seth and Romia Masterson had been nearby and rushed to the scene to help. They were evacuating the injured workers when another explosion occurred. Seven people had died. Seth and Romia were both near the center of the second explosion.

When Erik heard the news, his legs turned to jelly, and he collapsed where he stood. Blake caught him and maneuvered him worriedly into a chair. Erik felt as if he couldn’t breathe, like he was stuck outside the colony’s dome, gasping desperately for oxygen. He tugged at his collar, feeling that his shirt was shrinking, compressing his chest, flattening his heart as it tried to keep beating. He began shaking his head back and forth monotonously, as if he could negate the truth of what he was hearing.

Mrs. Solek knelt beside him and gently squeezed his hand while her husband hovered behind her, hands helplessly outstretched. They both peered anxiously into his face. Erik felt as if he were a laboratory experiment and the Soleks were research scientists, poised to record his responses.

Erik, Angie began uncertainly, can you – ? Is there anything we can get you? A glass of water? A cup of tea?

Erik shook his head again slowly. He looked blankly at the Soleks as they continued to stare searchingly into his eyes, waiting for – what? Tears? Anger? An explosion to match the one that killed his parents? Slowly he got up and walked out the front door. He walked away from the house, wandered aimlessly down the street. Angie Solek called after him Erik! Please –

Erik walked on, unthinking, unfeeling. He repeated over and over under his breath, They’re dead. They’re never coming back.

Familiar sights seemed foreign, favorite haunts were unrecognizable as he moved in a state of dreamlike unreality. He hiked to the outer edge of the biosphere and followed the curve of the dome for many kilometers. He trudged alongside the thick blue-tinted plastiglas that enclosed the manmade atmosphere of the colony. Outside stretched endless vistas of barren waste – enormous red and brown rock formations randomly scattered over wide expanses of sand – while inside the dome, clusters of cottages huddled amid lush vegetation and irrigated fields. The sun sank lower in the sky until it melted into the horizon beyond the dome.

Eventually he found himself at his own cottage. He entered his parents’ bedroom and lay down on their bed. He could smell his mother’s scent on her pillow. His father’s jacket was flung carelessly across the edge of the bed. Erik pulled it on, and rubbed his cheek against the familiar texture of the fabric.

He lay motionless and stared blankly through the skylight above the bed. The narrow rectangle of sky slowly darkened from blue to indigo to black. The stars appeared one by one – familiar constellations whose names his father had taught him in the long Martian evenings in their backyard. Not until both moons rose high enough to share the skylight did he leave his parents’ bed and walk slowly back to the Soleks’.

CHAPTER THREE

HEAR NO EVIL

E rik’s sense of shock continued over the coming days. He found himself caught up in a dizzying whirl of preparations for his parents’ memorial service. Seth and Romia Masterson had been popular and influential members of the close-knit community of Colony 300.

Friends and acquaintances came and went, bringing comfort foods and consoling words. Men slapped him on the back, and women stroked his hair. Everyone told Erik that his parents hadn’t suffered, that death must have been instantaneous. People assured him that Seth and Romia were in a better place.

But the platitudes evaporated when they thought he couldn’t hear. Shocked – that’s what everyone was. Shocked and appalled. This sort of thing didn’t happen. This was the Kingdom Era; people didn’t die in their forties and fifties.

Humankind had finally achieved paradise in its lifetime. Universal peace had reigned for nearly a thousand years. Medical and scientific advances had eradicated hunger and disease; global cooperation ensured that everyone was fed, clothed and sheltered. Safe engineering and fully automated transportation had virtually eliminated traffic and workplace accidents.

It was unthinkable for a tragedy like this to occur. And yet, somehow, seven people in the prime of their lives were abruptly dead.

A few days after the terrible news, Erik slumped in the corner, his chair swiveled to the wall of the Soleks’ living room. He stared blankly as people moved through the room behind him. A group of women entered from the back of the house.

Where’s the boy? one of them whispered. Erik slouched lower in his chair. He was hiding; he didn’t want to respond to any more sympathetic murmurings.

I believe he went for a walk. That was Mrs. Solek. He’s feeling a bit overwhelmed, I think. Needs some time alone to process everything.

"Well, Angie, I didn’t want to say anything in front of Erik, but . . . what do you think about all this? Was it really an accident, or . . . I mean, I hate to even think it . . ."

Another voice chimed in, I think it must be foul play. As an atmospheric engineer, I know first-hand exactly how many safety features are built into our gas storage units. I don’t see how an explosion could occur accidentally.

Other female voices murmured in agreement. The voice of the atmospheric expert continued, "But when I think of