Colony Down: Battlefield Mars Book 2

by David Robbins

  On the screen, Reubens was holding out his hands in a gesture of reassurance. “There’s nothing to worry about. The leak is minor, and we expect to have it repaired and everything back to normal before the sun goes down.”

  “That’s only a couple of hours,” a male customer remarked.

  “In the meantime, for your own protection, and until we verify that the gas hasn’t spread farther, I would like all of you to stay indoors where you’ll be safe.”

  Happy voices broke out in the restaurant. Someone joked about smelling gas and others laughed.

  “So once more, when you hear the sirens, report to your work station or go home.” The camera zoomed in on Reubens and his smile widened. “I thank you for your time, and apologize again for the inconvenience.”

  “He is slick, that one,” Trisna said.

  “He’s a lying bastard,” Katla said.

  Piotr stirred beside her. “My mom always said that’s a bad word.”

  Katla turned, about to respond that she wasn’t his mother, but she held her tongue. The boy looked so miserable, she hugged him. “I’m sorry, Piotr. But that man is lying to these people, and it makes me mad.”

  “My mom said lying was bad, too.” Piotr’s eyes moistened and he sniffled.

  Katla didn’t want him to start crying again. Not that she blamed him. If she had lost both her parents at his age, she would be a mess, too.

  “Where do we go?” Trisna said. “The Visitor Center?”

  “We don’t have anywhere else,” Katla said. She dearly wanted to visit the hospital and talk to its director about being reassigned, but that would have to wait.

  The waitress hurried over with their food on a tray. “You’ll have to eat fast,” she said as she set the plates down. “We’re closing as soon as the sirens sound.”

  “How about if we take it to go?” Katla suggested.

  “I’ll bring containers,” the waitress said, and hurried off.

  “Could we be wrong, Dr. Dkany?” Trisna said. “Could it really be a gas leak?”

  “I’m ninety-nine percent sure it isn’t,” Katla said.

  Trisna sadly shook her head. “These poor people. Too bad we can’t do anything.”

  Katla gave a mild start. There was something she could do. If it got her arrested, so what? The lives of the colonists were more important. “I have an idea,” she said.

  Archard didn’t need to tell Mrs. Parkhill to run like hell. At the sight of the Martians, she did.

  The creatures were still a ways off when Sergeant Kline reached the extraction point. Motioning the husband and the girl behind him, he faced the charging Martians, and at extreme range, let fly with a fragmentation grenade.

  The bright flash of the blast produced only a low krump. On Mars, even the loudest of sounds could barely be heard a hundred meters away.

  The Martians slowed, then came on as fast as before.

  Archard estimated there had to be fifty creatures, or better, in the cluster flowing toward the noncom and those he was protecting. Far too many for a single trooper to overcome.

  Sergeant Kline fired another frag. This time, the grenade struck amid the foremost creatures and blew several into oblivion.

  The Thunderbolt continued to descend.

  Behind Archard, Lydia Parkhill hollered, “Frank! Mandy! Mommy is on her way!”

  The Martians were splitting up, some bearing right, others left. Plainly, they intended to envelop Kline and the farmer and his child in a pincer movement.

  Archard let go of Mrs. Parkhill. Taking a long bound, he jumped as high as he could. At the apex, he wedged his ICW to his shoulder and lobbed a frag of his own. He aimed at the Martians breaking to the left and was pleased to see several go down in a wild thrashing of limbs.

  Over the commlink came a bellow from Major Howard, “Hold on! Another sixty seconds and we’ll be down.”

  Kline began firing grenades at the Martians on the right.

  Archard covered the last ten meters in a sprint. Drawing up short, he was taking aim when Mandy Parkhill screamed and pointed, and the father shouted, “No!”

  Unnoticed by Archard, Lydia Parkhill had dropped behind. She was severely winded, and was holding a hand to her side.

  A pair of Martians had spotted her. Pulling ahead of the rest, they scrambled toward her with astonishing speed.

  “Save her!” Mandy screeched.

  Archard raced flat-out. He switched to armor-piercing rounds and triggered a burst that caught the foremost creature in the side but didn’t seem to have any effect.

  Lydia Parkhill tripped and fell.

  “Mom!” Mandy wailed.

  Kicking off with his right foot, Archard fired in midair. This time, his rounds penetrated just below the creature’s eye stalks. The thing lurched, took a couple more steps, and collapsed.

  The mother’s terror-struck face was riveted to the other creature. Paralyzed with fear, she made no attempt to rise from her knees.

  “Run!” Archard roared. He might as well have saved his breath.

  The other Martian was still a good five meters from her when an extra surge of adrenaline brought Archard to the woman’s side. He fired on full auto, and when his magazine went dry, ejected it and slapped in a new one. It wasn’t needed. The Martian sprawled in a heap, convulsed, and was still.

  Grabbing Lydia’s wrist, Archard pulled her toward Kline and the others.

  The Thunderbolt was almost to them, its undercarriage practically brushing the ground.

  The remaining Martians were closing fast.

  It was a toss-up which would reach them first, the aircraft or the creatures.

  A spurt of the propulsion drive, and Major Howard won. In an exceptional display of his piloting ability, Howard turned the Thunderbolt when it was almost upon them so that as it came to a stop, the open outer airlock door was almost within arm’s reach.

  “Get on board!” Archard commanded the family. “Go! Go! Go!” To gain them precious seconds, he poured lead into the Martians.

  Sergeant Kline did the same.

  In a twinkling, the Parkhills were all in the airlock.

  Archard gestured at Kline and followed him in, smacking the cycle control. Side-by-side, they crouched in the opening. Side-by-side, they poured lead into the charging creatures as the door closed all-too-slowly.

  Nine or ten Martians were down kicking when Kline had to stop firing because the outer door was in his way. Another moment, and Archard had to let up on his trigger, as well. Only when the door thunked shut and he felt the Thunderbolt rising did he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  “We did it,” Sergeant Kline said quietly, as if he couldn’t quite believe they had.

  Archard was about to compliment him when their comms blared.

  “Captain Rahn! Sergeant Kline! In here, quickly,” Kylo Carter said. “I’ve just received word from Chief Administrator Reubens. Wellsville might be under attack.”

  COLONY DOWN

  CHAPTER 18

  “I wish you had gone back to the Visitor Center like I asked,” Katla said as she hurried along Pohl Avenue. Blocks off reared the four-story Broadcast Center, one of the highest structures in Wellsville. “And taken the children with you,” she added. Piotr was clinging fast to her left hand.

  Trisna had Behula in her arms. Because of her shorter legs, she took two steps for each of Katla’s. “Where you go, we go. If you are right about the missing people, it would not do to be separated. Is that not so, Piotr?”

  “Please don’t leave me,” Piotr said to Katla. “You promised you wouldn’t.”

  Katla felt a twinge of guilt. The boy had a knack for tugging at her heartstrings. “You would be better off at the Center. We’re not supposed to be out on the street.”

  “There are still a lot of people about,” Trisna mentioned.

  The sirens had sounded about five minutes ago, and the colony’s citizenry were doing as they had been instructed and hastening home
or to their work station.

  “If we’re stopped by soldiers, what will we say?” Trisna said.

  Katla sighed. Her friend was a born worrier if ever there was one. “We haven’t seen any troopers yet.”

  “Let us hope we don’t,” Trisna said.

  By the time they reached the Broadcast Center, the streets were nearly empty. Katla held one of the wide doors for Trisna and Piotr.

  A spacious lobby was decorated with paintings of Earth scenes. Here and there were potted artificial plants. The receptionist sat at a desk typing on her computer. In her twenties, her dreadlocks were adorned with tiny gold tassels, the latest fashion. She looked up in some surprise, her eyebrows arching. “Yes? May I help you?”

  “We need to speak to whoever is in charge,” Katla said.

  “That would be Mr. Cain. But I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.”

  “It’s imperative,” Katla said.

  The younger woman raised her fingers from her keyboard. “I’m sorry, but haven’t you heard? The chief administrator has asked that everyone either return home or report to where they work.”

  “Forget that,” Katla said. “I really must see Mr. Cain.”

  “Who are you?” the receptionist asked.

  Katla gave her name and, “I’m a physician and exobiologist, and what I have to say is of critical importance.”

  “I don’t know,” the receptionist said uncertainly. “I suppose I could ring his secretary and let her know and she can take it from there.”

  “That would be fine, yes.”

  “Wait over there, if you please.” The receptionist indicated a row of chairs.

  “What if they don’t believe you?” Trisna said as they went over.

  “I have you to corroborate everything,” Katla said.

  Trisna snorted. “I am no one special. I worked in the Supply Center in New Meridian. In their eyes, I will not count for much.”

  “You’re too humble.”

  “I am Hindu. Humble is what we do.”

  To Katla’s relief, they weren’t kept waiting long. An elevator dinged and out strode two men in expensive suits and polished shoes. The taller of the men had an arrogant bearing about him.

  “Mr. Cain, I presume?” Katla said, rising to offer her hand.

  “Dr. Dkany, is it?” Cain said, and gave Trisna and the children a puzzled look. “You must be new. I thought I knew all the doctors on the hospital staff.”

  “I’m from New Meridian,” Katla enlightened him.

  “That explains it,” Cain said, and indicated the other man. “This is Mr. Jennings, my Executive Assistant.” Cain smiled at her. “How may I help you, Doctor?”

  “I don’t quite know where to begin, so I’ll jump right in,” Katla said. “New Meridian has fallen. It’s been overrun by Martians. Nearly all the colonists were massacred. Torn to pieces and left where they fell.”

  “Except for their heads,” Trisna said nervously. “The Martians always take the heads.”

  Katla went to say more, but Cain held up a hand and stared at her and then at Trisna and back again.

  “What is this, ladies? Some sort of joke?”

  “No, I assure you,” Katla began, only to have Cain cut her off.

  “Martians, you say? And they’ve overrun the third colony?” Cain glanced at his companion, who shook his head and chuckled. “Are you insane, ladies? Are you drunk? Or high? Why would you foist this nonsense on me?”

  “Listen, please,” Katla said. “I’m deadly serious. New Meridian is lost. And the Martians are about to do the same to Wellsville. Those two men who have gone missing? The Martians are responsible. You have to go on the air and warn everyone. You have to let them know what they’re up against.”

  “Dr. Dkany,” Cain said, shaking his head. “Enough. I won’t listen to any more of this nonsense. I’m a busy man.”

  Katla clutched at his sleeve as he turned to go. “Please. You have to hear me out.”

  “Wellsville is under a curfew, madam,” Cain said. “I suggest you and your friend get to where you should be and leave pranks like this to those the boy’s age.” He jerked his arm loose. “Jennings, show these ladies out. If they give you any trouble, call the Security Center and have the U.N.I.C. deal with them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jennings said. He was thin with black hair, and didn’t hide his resentment. “Leave peacefully, ladies, right this moment. Or else.”

  Katla started to go after Cain, but Jennings barred her way.

  “I won’t tell you twice, Doctor.”

  Katla hesitated.

  Jennings suddenly grabbed Piotr by the arm and hauled him toward the wide glass doors.

  “Hold on!” Katla said, going after them.

  Ignoring her, Jennings shoved a door open and guided Piotr through. He let go and stepped back and gestured for Katla and Trisna to join Piotr outside.

  “How dare you,” Katla fumed. Brushing by him, she clasped Piotr’s hand, planning to go right back in and confront Cain whether he or his assistant liked it or not.

  The door closed behind her. Jennings touched a pad on the wall and there was a loud click.

  Katla pulled on the handle but the door wouldn’t open. She pulled harder, then angrily shook the handle.

  Jennings grinned and waved, to rub it in, then walked away.

  “He has locked us out,” Trisna said. “That man is mean through and through.”

  Katla would have vented her spleen if not for the children.

  Turning from the building, Trisna gasped. “Look! We took too long!”

  For as far as Katla could see, the streets were empty. An uneasy feeling came over her but she made light of their situation by saying, “Relax, will you? Everything is fine.”

  “No,” Trisna said. “It isn’t.”

  Archard removed his helmet and held it under his arm when he emerged from the Thunderbolt’s airlock. There weren’t enough seats for everyone, so Sergeant Kline let the girl, Mandy, have his. Archard motioned for the mother to take his. Frank Parkhill remained standing.

  “ETA,” Kylo Carter said to Major Howard. The planetary scientist was drumming his fingers on his armrest.

  “At max speed,” the major said, “forty-seven minutes.”

  “Damn,” Carter said.

  “You received a message from Chief Administrator Reubens?” Archard said.

  Carter nodded. “Two colonists have gone missing. And a maintenance tunnel camera caught an image of something before it went dark. Reubens has ordered everyone indoors under the pretext of a gas leak.”

  Archard felt the blood drain from his face. “It’s the worst thing he could do.”

  Both Carter and Major Howard turned to look at him.

  “How’s that again, Captain?” the major said.

  “It’s what I did at New Meridian,” Archard explained. “As the top U.N.I.C. officer there, under Article Three, Section B, of the Colonization Protocols, I assumed emergency command and ordered everyone indoors.”

  “Prudent of you,” Carter said.

  “Stupid of me,” Archard said. “Martian combat tactics aren’t like ours. They live underground. They move through tunnels they bore themselves. That’s how they overran New Meridian. By going from house to house, building to building, and coming up from below.”

  “Are you saying they can bore right through a building module?” Major Howard said, incredulous. “Those modules are strong enough to withstand a grenade blast at close range.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Archard said. “Your C.A. has made it easy for the Martians by having all the chickens go into their coops. Now the foxes can kill as they please.”

  “A crude analogy, but…” Kylo Carter gnawed his bottom lip. “Major, raise Administrator Reubens for me, would you?”

  “Right away, sir.”

  “What is all this?” Lydia Parkhill asked. “What in the world is going on?”

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet, hon
?” her husband said. “Mars is inhabited. And the inhabitants don’t want us here.”

  “Succinctly put, Mr. Parkhill,” Carter said.

  “But Earth has had colonies for over a century,” Lydia said. “How could we not know there were Martians?”

  “I have C.A. Reubens on the line,” Major Howard announced.

  “Put him on speaker,” Carter said.

  Archard was thinking of Katla. Of how much she had come to mean to him. He barely noticed the sound of static that preceded Chief Administrator Reubens’ voice.

  “…Carter? Are you there?”

  “I’m here, Evander,” Carter said. “We’re on our way in, but it will be a while before we get there. I’d like an update, please. What is your current situation?”

  “I have everything under control,” Reubens said. “Everyone has been ordered indoors. I had Lieutenant Burroughs send two troopers with the maintenance personnel searching for the worker who went missing, and they didn’t find a thing. The same at the Broadcast Center.”

  “No Martians?” Archard said without thinking. As he knew all too well, a favorite tactic of theirs was to kill someone so that others would investigate and in turn be attacked.

  “Who was that?” Reubens said.

  “Captain Archard Rahn from New Meridian,” Carter said.

  “Ah. No, Captain. No Martians,” Reubens said. “The soldiers and the crews returned safely.”

  “Strange,” Archard said. “The Martians must be up to something new.”

  “Whatever they have planned, I’m sure we can deal with it,” Reubens said. “Counting your two men from New Meridian, I have seven troopers at my disposal. Ten, when the major and you and Sergeant Kline arrive. Plus your RAM battle suit and the one our own security force has, and three tanks.”

  “It’s not enough,” Archard said bleakly.

  “Nonsense,” Chief Administrator Reubens declared. “You were overrun at New Meridian because you only had four troopers and no idea what you were up against. We have more soldiers and more equipment and we’re better prepared.”

  “That we are, sir,” Major Howard said.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an invasion to forestall,” Reubens said.