Old Mars

“And Daddy and Stephen won’t be able to follow, because by the time they’ve discovered we’re gone, the storm will have grounded them, and the crawlers are too slow to catch us.” The sense of secrets and plots was exciting.

“Exactly right. Go out with Ali tomorrow and pack what you want to take. Remember, pack light. SpaceCom footlockers don’t hold much. Then just leave it in the cockpit of your plane.”

Tilda almost quailed at the size of the storm. It was a monster, bulking on the southern horizon, the dust roiled into fantastic shapes by the force of the winds. At the moment, it was a low-level hum that set nerves on edge and had everyone snapping at one another, but when it arrived, the sound would be the howl of a thousand banshees.

Kane and Stephen were ordering the hands to check the various domes in advance of the storm’s arrival.

“Tilda and I will check the ultralights,” Noel-Pa called as they walked past the huddle.

“Wait!” Stephen began.

“Look, Dad, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s how to lash down a plane. I tied down enough fighters in my day.” Noel-Pa didn’t wait but took Tilda’s arm, and they hustled to the airlock closest to the ultralights.

The wind hit them the moment they stepped through, and Tilda staggered. Noel-Pa grabbed her around the waist and steadied her. Hunching against the moaning gusts, they rushed to Tilda’s ultralight. Noel-Pa wrestled with the canopy and got it open. He boosted her up, and she scrambled into the cockpit.

He pressed his helmet against hers and shouted, “I’ll unlash you, and you get airborne.”

“How will you—”

“I’ll manage. Be ready.”

He pulled the canopy forward and dropped to the ground. He then unlashed the ultralight. She felt it begin to sway. Once he was clear, she went taxiing down the runway with the wind buffeting the craft and setting the long wings to vibrating. She managed to get into the air, and circled, watching as her father ran to another ultralight and pulled back the canopy. He dropped back down and un-tethered one line.

The wind was getting worse and worse, and dust blotted out the sun, creating an unnatural twilight. Tilda fought the controls as her father ran to the next tether. A shaft of light spilled onto the red ground as the airlock cycled open.

A suited figure ran out and charged at Noel-Pa. Too short and broad to be Daddy-Kane. Tilda switched on her radio and heard her grandfather’s voice raging in her headphones.

“Bastard! Son of a bitch. Like hell you’re going to take her.”

“Stephen.” Noel-Pa’s voice was loud but still placating. “This is—”

But he never got to finish. The older man barreled into him. Noel-Pa managed to keep his feet, but they were locked in anger’s embrace. Stephen was raining blows onto Noel-Pa’s body. The SpaceCom officer was trying to hold him off and not strike back. The half-tethered ultralight was whipping back and forth like the tail of a frenzied scorpion.

Tilda forgot about the plan. She set her radio on emergency channel and screamed out, “Daddy! Daddy! Help!”

It was getting harder and harder to keep the wings level as the wind swirled and howled. Noel-Pa managed to push Stephen away, but he didn’t see the tail of the plane swinging around, propelled by a vicious gust of wind. It smashed into his back and head, and he collapsed onto the sand.

“Papa!” Tilda screamed, and she turned the nose of her plane toward the runway.

She was trembling with fear, and that, coupled with the wind, made it a terrible landing. One wheel collapsed, and a wing dug deep into the sand and crumpled. She pushed back the canopy and scrambled down. She could barely keep her feet as she ran to her father. Stephen stood, hands hanging limply at his side, braced against the wind. He was staring down at Noel-Pa, an expression of both shock and fury on his lined face.

Tilda dropped to her knees next to her father’s still form. “You monster! You hateful old bastard! You’ve killed him. I hate you! I hate you!” Her words seemed to drive Stephen back as much as the wind.

The airlock opened again, and another suited figure raced out. Daddy-Kane reached her side. He was gasping for breath.

“Noel. Oh God, Noel.”

A gust of wind screamed past and sent Tilda’s crashed ultralight tumbling across the sands.

“We’ve got to get inside!” Stephen screamed.

Daddy-Kane grunted with effort, but lifted his husband into his arms, and the foursome clung together and fought their way back to the airlock.

The storm raged on, blotting out the sun and setting everyone’s nerves on edge as the wind screamed and moaned around the dome. Noel lay in bed and didn’t regain consciousness. Henry, one of the hands who had some first-aid training, did what he could.

“He needs to be in the hospital in Lowell City,” he said, but, of course, the storm made that impossible. Henry shook his head and slipped away, leaving Kane to sit next to the bed, holding his husband’s limp hand.

Tilda sat with them. Hours passed and she felt limp with exhaustion. Once Stephen came to the bedroom door.