The Red Rock

Chapter 8: The Oasis

To return would be difficult. We looked back—the storm still raged behind us.

“Boss, we cannot remain here and wait to die,” Tyron said urgently.

Vanessa nodded. “We have to give it a try. Let’s head in Jarek’s direction.”

Gerry stepped forward, defiant. “No! If we’re no longer on radar, the UN Space Force will search for us.

The farther we go, the lower our chance of rescue.”

I ignored him.

“Vanessa, what are our resource stats?”

“Two days max,” she said. “Suit water reticulation systems are the same.”

I looked at them one by one.

“We divide the load and ride out.”

No one objected.

---

We rode for hours through dizzying dunes, straining against the gravity and silence. We found no sign of

Jarek. No tracks. No comms. Nothing.

Eventually, we reached a flat basin, cleared of desert sand. A herd of Giardia—Martian creatures with

four pairs of spindly, blade-like legs—bounced around the clearing. They moved like spaghetti springs,

pulsing across the surface.

We stopped at the center of the clearing and threw down our loads, exhausted and defeated.

Then—crack!

A gunshot.

We turned.

More shots followed.

 “What’s that?!” Gerry shouted, startled.

The Giardia herd stampeded, bouncing back in our direction—and behind them, running with his AK-X

raised, was Jarek.

He stopped, aimed, and shot down one of the Giardia.

“Jarek! Jarek! You’re alive!” we cried.

We ran to him.

He knelt by the fallen creature, pulled out a knife, and punctured its side. A tube extended from his suit

and connected to the wound. He was drinking.

“My suit’s water reticulation failed,” he gasped. “I thought I was going to die.”

His eyes were sunken. He looked like he’d lost ten kilos under the armor.

“The storm?” I asked.

“Buried alive. I dug myself out,” he replied.

“So what happened?” Vanessa pressed.

“I lost my bike in the storm. After it cleared, I saw a flock of MarsGrouse.”

We raised eyebrows. The birds were rare—creatures able to absorb water through their feathers.

“It was a big flock,” he said. “I tracked them on foot. They led me to water.”

That night, we crammed into a small Terrapod and grilled Giardia meat. It was rubbery, but edible.

“This whole basin is rich with water,” Jarek explained. “That dry circle back there—it’s a lakebed. The

flocks gather because there’s still water beneath the crust.”

In the morning, we set out.

After hours of riding, we saw it: birds swarmed in the distance, flapping in spirals. The oasis shimmered

ahead.

It was enormous—almost circular in shape, like a collapsed crater. Crystalized coral bushes surrounded

it, glistening in sunlight. Some had grown into jagged trees, giving the entire place a surreal, shimmering

glow.

Birds swarmed above it. Insects buzzed. The water was red, thick, disturbed by unseen creatures below.

We crouched and refilled our suit reservoirs.

 That night, we camped a kilometer away—away from the edge.

“Have you locked the coordinates?” I asked Tyron.

“Yes,” he said.

“Biodiversity analyzed and recorded,” Vanessa added. “There are likely subsurface lakes. This could be a

future colony site.”

Gerry’s face lit up. “We can finally pack up and head back?”

“No,” Jarek cut in, his voice sharp.

“Why not?” I asked. “There’s game, water. We’re safe.”

Jarek was tense.

“The Giardia herd—that’s what’s bothering me,” he said.

Then we heard it: the shrieks of Tardigrades.

“They’re not here for the water,” Jarek said. “They’re here for the Giardia. They’ll trample this whole

area into mud fighting them.”

The shrieks grew louder.

We stared into the dark.

Jarek’s voice was low but steady.

“We have to move. Fast. And we need to find a zone where we can contact the colony.”