At was about at this point in time that Tynan, his ward – Gerhardt, and the two prospectors noticed something ahead of them…
“We’re saved!” Tynan exclaimed – rather prematurely, or so thought Jenson. “Regardez vous, por favor.” The doctor added – which pretty much convinced Jenson that the pink earplug was suffering from oxygen deprivation: clearly no one, in their right mind at least, would travel to Mars and then mix French and Spanish together in one brief sentence. But Tynan did have a point, because when Jenson did as he was bid, he noticed that a four-person habitat had appeared…
…and he felt shame at misjudging Tynan so badly.
“I’ll let him have the best bunk.” He said quietly to himself. “Or the pod nearest the communal lavatory.”
Then it was a mad dash towards the sole entry point…
So whilst Tynan struggled with the iced-up door lock, Jenson turned to see that Doubry, in his haste, had allowed the sick and ailing Gerhardt to fall behind…
“Rotten stinker.” He roared at his colleague, which confused the heck out of Doubry because he didn’t have a clue what he’d done wrong.
“Come on, Gerhardt, my short-arsed little chum.” Jenson called out. “Nearly there. These emergency habitats are always fitted with hair driers: so don’t worry, we’ll have your artificial cranium warmed up in next to no time, and your huge brain will work perfectly again.”
By coincidence, just as one group were discovering sanctuary, from a recently installed escape hatch above the sunken city of the Muffins…
…emerged a certain cork and yellow earplug…
“I don’t know how anyone can work in these Snack Stack kiosks.” Mulleon complained. “There’s almost no headroom.”
He then added: “Right, okay, we’re outside – which is probably not the smartest place to be right now: what are gonna do?”
Maverick didn’t reply: he merely wandered a few steps forwards. Intrigued, Mulleon joined him…
“Hmm,” he hummed, “I can see what you’re a little dumbstruck: that is kind of awesome.”
“It reminds me of a glacier.” Maverick informed the earplug who seemed to be enjoying the view as much as he was…
“Is it moving?” Mulleon asked.
Maverick shrugged his shoulders…
…”I don’t know: the enormity of this is overwhelming me. I can’t trust my own judgement. I’m feeling awfully insignificant.”
It then dawned upon Mulleon that, perhaps, the situation was beyond their ability to rectify. “I see what you mean.” He said in a voice grown suddenly small. “From now on I think I’ll go by the name of Bacteria.”
Maverick nodded agreement. “You and me both.” He said. “Bacterium.” But then he pulled himself together;
…shook off any self-doubt and fear; and said: “Right, if we’re going to make it back to the Future Museum of Mars, I suggest we start now. Come, Mister Cleets: arse into gear: quick march. It’s over thattaway.”
© Paul Trevor Nolan 2021
