Great Martian War- Breakthrough
Scott Washburn
Zmok Books
The Great Martian War
Breakthrough!
By Scott Washburn
Cover Art by Michael Nigro
The Great Martian War: Breakthrough
This edition published in 2016
Published by Winged Hussar Publishing
Zmok Books
1525 Hulse Road, Unit 1
Point Pleasant, NJ 08742
ISBN 978-1-9454302-3-7
Bibliographical References and Index
1. Science Fiction. 2. Alien Contact. 3. Military
Winged Hussar Publishing 2016 All rights reserved
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To Victoria and Rebecca, the two best kids any dad ever had.
Prologue
Cycle 597,843.7, Holdfast 32-1
“Controlling our machines is little different from controlling our own bodies,” said Qetjnegartis. “Grasp the controls with your tendrils and let your awareness flow into the machine as you would let it flow through your body. Go ahead, try it.” The rapidly maturing bud, who had been designated Davnitargus, did as it had been directed, extending two of its manipulating tendrils and wrapping them around the control rods of the training machine. A third tendril continued to clutch one of Qetjnegartis’ to maintain the neural link. “Do you feel it?”
“I… believe so,” replied Davnitargus. “At least I feel… something.”
“Excellent. Do not be alarmed or discouraged at the crudity of it. No machine can match the perfect melding of minds that our links provide. It is but a substitute, just as spoken words are a substitute for direct communications when distance prevents a physical link: inferior, but necessary.”
“I understand. How do I make this machine respond?”
“Let your awareness explore the structure of the machine. It will feel very strange at first, but try to find the way to the center light of the three that sit atop it.” Qetjnegartis could sense the bud’s fumbling attempts—and its frustration—but was pleased when it finally succeeded. “Good. Now turn on that light.”
“How?”
“Trace the circuits back to the power supply. Find where the switch controlling the power to the light is located and close it.” This proved much more difficult for the bud, but it applied itself with a determination which Qetjnegartis found very commendable. After a considerable time the light came on. Davnitargus was pleased and Qetjnegartis complimented it on the success. It had been over a hundred thousand cycles since Qetjnegartis had last instructed a new bud, but the perfectly preserved memories of that event included the same sense of satisfaction as it was feeling now. And with the conquest of this new world, this will become common! On the exhausted and dying Homeworld, a new bud was a rare thing. But here! Here the Race could grow and grow and grow!
“This seems very inefficient,” observed the bud. “Why not simply have a mechanical switch where it could be operated with my tendrils?”
Qetjnegartis radiated amusement. “In some situations you would be correct. But for more complex machines that would not be practical. The construction and fighting machines will require you to carry out scores, sometimes hundreds, of operations simultaneously. Physically manipulating switches would not be possible. But do not be dismayed! You have just begun to learn the process. Soon, turning on this light will be as easy—and as automatic—as breathing. Later, operating complex machines will become just as easy.”
“If you say so,” said Davnitargus. It still seemed dubious, but it proceeded with the exercise and before long was able to turn the central light on and off at will. Qetjnegartis was just starting it on controlling multiple lights when a deep rumble shook the underground chamber, bringing down a small cloud of dust from the ceiling. Almost immediately came a communications from one of its subordinates.
“Commander, the prey-creatures have commenced a heavy bombardment. I believe that a major attack may be intended.”
“Understood. I will come directly.” Qetjnegartis turned its attention back to Davnitargus. “I must go. You shall remain and continue to practice as I have shown you.”
“The prey-creatures are attacking again? They have done this many times before and failed each time. Why do they persist?”
“I do not know. Perhaps they believe they have grown strong enough to succeed this time. Now, I must go.”
“Can I help in the defense?”
“Not yet. You must master controlling our machines first. That is what these exercises are for.”
“I understand.”
Qetjnegartis left the chamber and pulled itself into one of the travel chairs which were necessary due to the strong gravity of the target world. It set it in motion toward the main control center, its metal legs clicking and scratching on the stone floor. The corridor was just a crudely cut tunnel through the rock. There had been no time to smooth the walls or line it with tiles as was proper. The demands of defending the holdfast precluded such niceties.
The rumbles were more frequent now and Qetjnegartis twitched in annoyance as several drops of water splashed on it. The roof was leaking—again. The amount of uncontrolled water on the planet was almost beyond belief. In addition to the oceans, which covered three-quarters of the surface, there was water almost everywhere else, too, and it was proving a serious difficulty. Precipitation from the atmosphere turned the surface into sticky morasses, often immobilizing the fighting machines. Water vapor in the air reduced the range of the heat rays and caused corrosion of delicate equipment, and water in the ground seeped into the chambers of the holdfast, despite repeated vitrification of the walls. The effort required for basic maintenance was exceeding predictions by a factor of three, and this was mostly due to moisture. We must change our methods.
Qetjnegartis reached the control center and stopped its chair next to that of Zastranvis who had the watch. “Status?”
“A very heavy bombardment from the prey-creature’s projectile throwers has commenced in Sector 9, Commander. Three of the defense towers have already been put out of operation. Many of the prey and their vehicles are massing opposite the bombardment area. I predict they will attack once enough of the defense towers have been destroyed.”
“That has been their pattern in the past. What steps have you taken?”
“I have ordered the constructor machines to deposit spare defense towers in the area to the rear of Sector 9 to create a secondary line outside the bombardment zone. I have alerted the others to prepare their fighting machines for combat.”
“Very good,” said Qetjnegartis. The reply was automatic, but in fact, the situation was not very good at all. Zastranvis’ reference to ‘the others’ meant the three other surviving members of the group. There had been fifteen of them to start, select members of the might
y Bajantus Clan. But one of the five transport capsules had been lost on the journey to the target world and against all expectations seven more members of the clan had been slain in battle after arrival. Only five remained; a dangerously small number. True, all five had spawned off new buds, but it would still be another eighth of a cycle before they were matured enough to operate the machinery effectively. No matter that more than a score of new fighting machines had been constructed, there was no one to operate them.
And the holdfast was under siege.
The stunning defeat in a battle off to the east had forced Qetjnegartis and the others to take refuge in the partially-finished holdfast. If the prey-creatures had been able to follow up their victory with an immediate assault, they might well have overrun the holdfast and killed them all. But the large weapons, on which they depended, could only move slowly and it had been many days before they had reached the base. Qetjnegartis had put the time to good use, and while the defenses were far from complete, they had proved sufficient to repel the first few attacks.
From that point it had become a race to see who could build up their strength the fastest. The prey-creatures had rebuilt their crude transport system and used it to bring forward warriors, large projectile throwers, and more of the armored vehicles which had proved decisive in the battle. Qetjnegartis and the others had used the constructor machines to add more defense towers to the ramparts which had been thrown up around the holdfast. The defense towers held heat rays as powerful as those carried on the fighting machines and could obliterate an attacking force with ease - if they could survive.
Unfortunately - and unexpectedly - the weapons of the prey-creatures could actually throw their projectiles farther than the effective range of the heat rays. They could stand off and safely shower the holdfast with their explosive shells and there was little that could be done about it. The projectile throwers were protected by thousands of warriors and a hundred or more of the armored vehicles, and scores of smaller projectile throwers. No sortie from the holdfast to destroy the heavy weapons could be safely attempted. Only the extremely poor accuracy of the prey-creatures’ weapons had allowed the defenders to survive so far. The prey-creatures had to fling hundreds of projectiles for every one of the defense towers that they destroyed. Since they seemed to be unable to sustain their bombardments, Qetjnegartis and the others were able to replace the destroyed towers during the lulls.
But now they were attacking again and it was the heaviest bombardment yet seen. Obviously the prey-creatures had brought up more of their heavy weapons. The barrage went on for some time and one defense tower after another was destroyed along the section of rampart facing the enemy. Qetjnegartis made no attempt to replace them while the attack continued. The possibility of losing one of the precious constructor machines was too great to risk. Instead, a secondary line of defense towers was erected well to the rear of the rampart. If the enemy tried to penetrate into the holdfast once they had created a breach in the outer defenses, they would be met with scores of new heat rays.
And that, indeed, did seem to be their intent. The bombardment had begun before dawn, and by shortly after midday, over twenty of the defense towers had been destroyed, creating a gap in the coverage. The enemy could now approach the rampart without being fired upon. The fire of their projectile throwers, which had been concentrated on the rampart, now split into three groups. Two groups continued to fire on the rampart and the defense towers, but to either side of the gap, apparently in hopes of widening the hole. Then a third group began throwing their projectiles beyond the rampart. Qetjnegartis observed this in growing concern. The prey-creatures had not done this before. This did not pose any great threat to the holdfast itself since it was all deeply underground, but if the secondary line of defense towers was also breached, it could become a major danger.
Fortunately, the enemy was firing blindly. The high rampart, a thick wall of stone and rubble, blocked their ability to see beyond. The projectiles rained down randomly and while a few came close to the secondary line of towers, none did any significant damage. And shortly after, the entire bombardment began to slacken.
“They are massing to attack, Commander,” observed Zastranvis.
Yes, it was true. Swarms of the prey-creatures were emerging from their trenches and forming up; others, riding draught animals, were moving forward, and the boxy, smoke-spewing, armored vehicles were dragging themselves into position on their bizarre rotating tracks. “They will attack soon,” said Qetjnegartis. “I will take a fighting machine and join the others. You will direct the fire of the defense towers from here.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Qetjnegartis moved his travel chair quickly through the corridors to the main hanger where the fighting machines were kept. Most of the machines were standing erect on their three long legs, but several were lowered into the loading position and Qetjnegartis maneuvered below one of them where the access hatch was open. Pulling itself aboard against the heavy gravity was awkward, but it had done this many times and was soon in the pilot’s seat. It grasped the control interface and activated the machine, along with five of the others. Using those others in battle was beyond even Qetjnegartis’ capacity, but they could follow along in slave-mode. They would be kept as a reserve in case any of the piloted machines became damaged during the coming fight.
As it guided the machine up the ramp to the surface, Qetjnegartis evaluated the situation. Not the immediate tactical situation, but the overall situation, and there was no denying that it was unsatisfactory. Almost a half-cycle ago the great expedition to conquer the target world had begun. Two hundred transport cylinders, in forty groups of five, had landed. The previous, failed, expedition that was launched four cycles earlier had landed in a densely populated region and with the benefit of surprise had inflicted great damage on the prey before any resistance could be mounted. But the Council of Three Hundred had decided that with surprise no longer possible, a repeat of this strategy could lead to disaster. Each transport cylinder carried three fighting machines, but they had to be assembled after landing. This created a serious window of vulnerability. If the prey-creatures attacked quickly, the landing forces could be overwhelmed before they could defend themselves.
To avoid this, the landing sites of the second expedition had been deliberately selected to be as far from the major population centers of the prey-creatures as possible which allowed them enough time to assemble the fighting machines before the prey-creatures could respond. The plan had worked perfectly and not one of the landings had been disturbed. The machines had been assembled and when the time was right, the attack was launched.
Overall, this initial assault had gone very well. Vast stretches of the planet had been overrun. And while it was true that a mere six hundred fighting machines could not hope to actually control so much territory, they had smashed the local resistance to the point that there would be no trouble securing those regions when the following generations of buds had matured. Three of the southern continents, numbers 2, 4, and 6 as the Race had designated them based upon their size, were mostly subdued except for some of the coastal cities. The South Polar Region, continent number 5, had proved completely unoccupied by the prey-creatures. The central part of the largest continent, number 1, had been swept of most resistance. Heavy fighting was expected in the western and eastern parts of that continent, but those regions would be left for later. This was also the case on the other northern continent, number 3—the continent where Qetjnegartis’ group had landed. Five groups had descended on the sparsely populated central regions and the continent had been nearly cut in two. The eastern and western regions would be attacked later, when all was ready.
In addition, one of the most vital parts of the invasion plan was working: the measures taken to counter the contagions which had wiped out the first expedition. Procedures which kept exposure to possible sources of infection at a minimum were proving effective. Only a few members of the Race had developed symptoms so
far, and drugs had kept them in check long enough for the victim to bud off a replacement body which, as expected, proved more resistant.
Yes, everything was going very well - except for here.
Of all the landing groups, only this one, Group 32, had run into serious difficulty. Other groups had taken casualties, of course. There had been some serious fighting on the largest continent and the occasional fighting machine had been destroyed. And this planet was fraught with dangers. More losses had occurred due to mishaps than to the actions of the prey-creatures. Group 39 on the south polar continent had lost three machines and their pilots at a blow when an ice sheet had collapsed into the ocean.
But none of the other groups had suffered the sort of setbacks as Group 32. Even before the landing, something had gone wrong and one of the transport cylinders never arrived. Twenty percent losses right from the start. At the time it had not seemed critical, but Qetjnegartis sorely missed those clanmates now!
The landing site for Group 32 had proved to be in a region poor in resources, so Qetjnegartis had decided to move northward in search of a better location. They had swept all of the prey-creatures before them, slaying and destroying their habitations at will until they found a suitable location here. Construction on the holdfast had begun. But then, against all expectations, the prey-creatures had massed powerful forces in the region and despite a first crushing defeat, they had come on again and lured Qetjnegartis and six others into a trap. The armored gun-vehicles, nothing of which had been seen before, attacked in large numbers and only Qetjnegartis had managed to escape. One more clanmate had been lost in a still unknown fashion. It was then that Qetjnegartis and the other four survivors had taken refuge in the holdfast.
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