Up Olympus Mons part 2

The trek wasn't easy, especially since the Texan kept talking. Mr. Edgar Bronson, as I learned his name was, was getting bloody annoying. I contemplated pushing him back down the slope.

A noise startled George and he begged silence. For once the loud Texan shut his mouth. We hid behind a rock outcropping as five Martians wearing the armour of the Guardians patrolled.

I could see the glimmer of their sharp blades in the dim Martian evening. The Texan pulled out his revolver and fired into the head of one of the Guardians. The other Guardians turned swiftly and pulled their swords. The Martian weapons were humming.

One swung his weapon at me and cleaved the rock in twain. "You cheeky bastard!"

I brought out my revolver and fired into the chest of the Martian. The yellow Martian blood erupted and had an odd metallic smell not like the iron smell of Earth blood. One of the bearers screamed and dropped his goods and begged for mercy in the holy language.

The Guardian made an elegant move and took his head. The Texan turned and fired at the Guardian and killed him. One of the other Guardians made his move and barely missed the Texan's hand. The knife passed through his revolver like it was fine English butter.

"Sumbitch!" Was the cry of the Texan at the destruction of his gun. I dropped to my knees and grabbed one of the swords. The last Guardian screamed at the blasphemy of my touch of a sacred weapon.

I thrusted up into his chest, penetrating his six chambered heart. Blood gouted from his mouth.

I soon realised that only I, the Texan, and George remained. All of the bearers fled and left our goods.

To be continued...

Up Olympus Mons - part 1

It was a cold Martian day in the city of Tezt-Maral. The city was one of the Martian holy sites on the east slope of Olympus Mons.

"The size of my home state of Texas" loudly proclaimed an American I had the misfortune of travelling with. The one thing I can say about this blighter is that at least he is an American from the Confederacy and not the Union. The Union colonials are nothing short of bloody berks.

I was fortunate to find a guide willing to take a party up to the high peak. Most of these Martian savages consider it sacred as it was where the "prophet" of their debased "religion" ascended into "heaven".

Sheer balderdash!

Soon right thinking missionaries from the Empire shall pound the truth into their souls. Personally I do my duties to the Church like my duties to the Crown but I pay no heed to it myself but others should as it has a civilising effect.

The guide was a greedy little Canal Martian by the name of Gzorgin, but I renamed him George after a shepherd I once employed. He was short and green with those souless black eyes and jet black hair common to the Canalfolk. He spoke English in a horrendous accent probably taught by a Welshman. Quite possible as where he comes from had a large number of Methodist missionaries from Wales. At least 'til the mission was destroyed by Desert Martian raiders.

Members of His Majesty's marines still brag about capturing them and feeding them to the Barzath. Members of the debased Martian religion consider the barzath either unclean or sacred and believe that their souls will be lost forever if fed to one.

Ha! Using their savage relgion against them to confuddle their feeble minds. Now they fear harming any human in Imperial territory.

Anyway, we started our trek. Myself, the Texan, George, and our bearers.

To be continued....