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Olympus Mons! [MultiFormat]
eBook by Bud Sparhawk
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$1.65 |
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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: The race down Olympus Mons, the highest mountain in the solar system is a challenge for Taylor Blacker, heir to the JBI fortune, and Haley Surra, a hard-luck Mars prospector. This tale details the race and what they must do to reach the finish line alive and in one piece.
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Analog, 1998
Fictionwise Release Date: July 2005
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [339 KB], eReader (PDB) [59 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [48 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [44 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [96 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [112 KB], hiebook (KML) [163 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [72 KB], iSilo (PDB) [40 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [50 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [78 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [66 KB]
Words: 14809
Reading time: 42-59 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
Haley Surra watched Taylor walking toward her across the Marsport concourse. "Cocky kid," she muttered to herself as he came nearer. Why couldn't he leave her alone with her misery? He knew that she was a freaking jinx, a lousy albatross, just like everyone said. Hadn't she already done enough to screw him up? Hadn't the jinx made him lose the race? Hadn't her lousy bad luck nearly killed them?
What the hell did he want now?
* * * *
The first time Taylor saw Surra was in a cheap bar frequented by Mars grubbies and indentured workers; people who could only afford the cheap spiced liquor they served there. He'd taken a cup of the clear, searing, pepper-infused whiskey and nearly choked on his first sip.
"Grew the peppers in the old lady's dirt," the barkeeper had boasted proudly as she topped off his cup. "Gives it that added zip, y'know. What brings you to Jovus bubble?"
"The Chu San race," Taylor'd replied. "I thought that was obvious." With his expensive clothes and pale skin he knew that he stood out among these hard-scrabble types like a beacon on an orbiter. "But right now, I'm looking for a grubbie who knows Mons," he added.
The barkeeper flopped into the chair opposite him. "Wouldn't call prospectors that to their face, were I you. Besides, you're probably too late." She looked around the room. "All the 'spectors willing to run the mountain have been hired."
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