Last Life (Lifers Book 1)

by Thomas,Michael G.

  Bursts of devastating fire from the rebels slashed into the ranks of troops, and then some of the rebels found the open hatch of an unmoving carrier. They swarmed inside, weapons firing from the hip. The ramp closed, and the turret swung around to seek targets. Another group of rebels sprinted up the ramp of a grounded carrier. There was a brief skirmish inside, and the turret began to bear on the beleaguered RedCorp troopers.

  An officer in an armored biosuit was running, waving to his men to retreat, but it was already turning into a rout. Until they reached the low ridge overlooking the valley, and stopped. The few with the stomach to fight dug in amid the rocks and debris and returned fire on the rebels. It was halfhearted, but a number of rebel troopers went down, torn apart by the incoming fire. Others vanished into the dust, like water into a sieve. He realized the whole area was riddled with fissures and cave openings, narrow bore holes that reached from the surface to the tunnel system below.

  A squad of RedCorp soldiers made a last-ditch attempt to reach him, with an officer waving a pistol in his direction. Half of them went down to rebel fire. It was far from over. The crazed crusade to destroy him was still a priority, even amongst the heat and chaos of battle. Cage took aim and opened fire, hitting two of them and injuring the officer. More shots lashed back and forth, but the rebels refused to give ground, despite their increasing casualties, and stayed to fight, ignoring the cost. A few men started dragging him away from the fight, and they reached a narrow fissure, barely wide enough to lower him into. Hands reached up to lower him down, and someone said, “It's okay. We’ve got him now."

  The voice from below sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. A big trooper in a particularly vivid biosuit with many-hued patches, grabbed him under the arms, and began carrying him along the tunnel. Two further men in rebel suits were with him, then a third materialized, and he recognized Luther Jackson. They tried to take hold of his legs, but the big man brushed them aside.

  "It's okay. I have him."

  Another voice with something that was vaguely familiar. Again, he couldn't place it, and then Rose Romero appeared. She ran to him. “Cage! I thought you were…”

  “Dead?” He smiled, “No, they can’t…” Everything went dark.

  He was out for some time, but he had no idea if it was hours, or perhaps no more than minutes, for he was still lying on the floor of the tunnel. It wasn’t sealed, and they all had their helmets on. Troopers streamed past him, retreating from the battle on the surface. Some were dragging prisoners along with them, some rebel wounded and dead. The men who’d brought him in were standing nearby, but his eyes were on Rose.

  She’s still alive!

  “You okay?”

  “What? Oh, yes,” her expression was grave, “Which is more than I can say for you. We’ll get the doctor to look at you.”

  “Jamison’s tech? It’ll take more than him, Rose. My systems are shot beyond repair this time. It would take someone like Colonel Travers to fix this.”

  “He’s here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Travers, he was with the advance RedCorp units, waiting for suitable candidates for some program of his. They identified him amongst the prisoners.”

  “I don’t believe it. You’re serious?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Jamison has him under close guard. He’s a valuable prize. First, though, they’ll get him to fix you up.”

  “I’ll be damned. Travers.”

  “Yes, he is, but there’s something I have to tell you. I found something, something you won’t believe.”

  “Wait, you broke the encryption?”

  Rose shook her head.

  “I didn’t have to. It looks like somebody else was there before me. I used their backdoor and isolated several large scale data dumps that they’d already stolen.”

  Cage looked confused.

  “What are you saying? There’s a mole at Green Bank?”

  Rose shrugged.

  “Maybe. All I know is that the data transfers between RedCorp and Green Bank were sent off-planet to a third party. It’s not just me looking for data, and these guys are way ahead of my game.”

  “Third party, interesting. Where?”

  Rose smiled inside her sealed suit.

  “You won’t believe this, I’m sure. The data transmissions were timed during the opposition of Saturn, on two separate occasions.”

  “What? Saturn? You’re sure? What did you find? Anything important?”

  “Important is an understatement, nothing less than plans for Martian dominance of the inner planets, starting with the elimination of Earth as the regional power. The impossible scenario, and yet it’s not impossible.”

  “Takeover?”

  “Yes. Green Bank must be the key for command and controls direct from Mars, and independent of any other comms systems.”

  Cage didn’t seem convinced.

  “A Martian invasion of Earth? How is that even possible?”

  Rose shook her head, now becoming frustrated at his inability to grasp the situation.

  “Not an invasion, a coup backed with military force, all controlled from Mars. We know they already have agents inside PanAm, feeding information back to Mars and paving the way. It’ll be a mass strike, and they’ll evacuate their people first, hiding them ready to set up a new, loyal regime on the surface, one that will work with Mars, not attack it.”

  Cage nodded as she spoke.

  “Then they will saturate PanAm with missiles in advance of the main attack. They will destroy centers of power, military installations, and the like. They’re talking about irradiating key targets, ready for mopping up operations. According to the data, they already have the targets ready to attack.”

  His mind whirled with the contradictions, and through the fog of confusion, he fixed on the flaw in her argument. “It can’t happen. First, if they hit Earth with a nuclear strike, they couldn’t land troops. The place would be too radioactive. Even with so-called ‘clean’ weapons, the planet would be uninhabitable for a decade.”

  “They have a solution to that problem, Cage, some sort of advanced cybernetic organism, half man, and half robot. Disposable, resistant to radiation, and if some are not as strong as others, they’ll just send in more. The data suggests a force of upward of fifty thousand troops, all completely loyal to Mars, and ready to protect the new government.”

  He sighed. “Rose, what you’re describing is me; half man, half cybernetic organism. And I’m not resistant to radiation; believe me. You’re talking about Lifers.”

  A new voice intruded. “Not Lifers.” A newcomer approached him, and Jamison had one hand on his arm. Guarding him carefully, “It’s good to see you again, Cage.”

  He recognized the taut face inside the transparent visor. A face he’d never forget, the man who’d brought him new life, four times over. “Colonel Travers?”

  The expression relaxed. “As ever was. It’s good to see you, Cage.” He took his hand and shook it carefully, as if it was about to fall off, “We’ll take you to the sick bay, and this man said if I don’t fix you up, they’ll kill me.” He nodded to Jamison. “So I guess it’s in my interests to get started.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. What was that you were saying? Something about they won’t be using Lifers.”

  “First, let’s get the repairs underway. You’ve taken a lot of damage. Can someone carry him? How far is this sickbay?”

  “About a kilometer,” Jamison said, “It’s a long haul, but we don’t have a choice. It’s time to get clear of this area before they send in crawlers, or even an assault company. They know where we are, so we’ll bring down the tunnel roof to stop them following us.”

  Hands reached out to lift him, but he waved them to stop. “Jamison, what about Cataldi? Did he make it?”

  “Sure, he made it. They hit the entire area with a massive salvo, and he got away behind the dust cloud. Apparently, somebody was busy shooting everything in sight, and t
hat gave him all the time he needed.” He nodded to the men waiting to carry him away. “Pick him up. It’s time to go. I don’t want him dying on me.”

  Jamison led the way, with Luther bringing up the rear. He’d been a good friend, ever since that time in Westbank, when he helped him escape the cops. Rose took his hand as they struggled to maneuver him through the narrow tunnels. When they reached the tiny cavern, Jamison left to shore up the defenses, and he closed the airlock door. The men placed him on a rock shelf, which served as a treatment table, and waited at the back of the room.

  Travers glanced at them. “It’s okay. You may be needed outside. They’ll want every man to prepare for the coming attack.”

  “We’ll stay,” a man said as he removed his helmet. Travers stared at him, and recognition was like a knife in the guts. “Oh, shit.”

  The face was from a long, long time ago. The side of a dusty road in the Appalachians, West Virginia, outside a small town named Westbank, a town with a pushy, hardass sheriff. And in his hand that damned hand cannon that never seemed from his sight, and pointing right at him.

  “Vos.”

  Rose stiffened and made a small cry, and then reached for a handgun that wasn’t there. It was an automatic reaction and instantly forced the man onto his back foot.

  “Yeah, surprise, surprise.” He held up a hand, “It’s okay. I’m not planning anything, not right now. Get on with it, Doc. We’ll stand and watch. Looks like quite a show you have planned.”

  The Sheriff went to each man, checking for weapons, “Just so no one does anything stupid.”

  He nodded and bent to the task. Cage studied the men with him, recognized the deputy who’d been with Vos in Westbank, the one named Bowen. Then there was the big man who’d carried him back. He looked familiar, very familiar. He could almost have been the man who’d died all those years ago on Mars. Rob Romero. Almost.

  “Who’s your friend, Vos? Another deputy?”

  Travers gave the man a quick glance, and it was almost as if he’d shivered. “He’s not a deputy. He’s been sent to kill you. His name’s Rob, and he’s special.”

  “Rob?” Rose went to him and studied the features. She spent long moments examining every aspect of his face. The eyes, different colors, as if God had put him together as an afterthought, using leftover body parts, the face, a mass of different angles. Nothing was right, and the result was more ghoul than man, more zombie than living Human.

  “It’s not him.” Her face was white, and she was shaking, “Not…him.” But she didn’t sound certain and couldn’t take her eyes from the ugly, ruined face.

  Travers continued working and spoke without looking up, “I take it you mean your husband who died during the Third Martian War? His name was Rob?”

  “Yes, but it’s not him. He’s dead.”

  He carried on working on Cage, “It could be him, although not in the way you’re thinking. When the war ended, we all signed up for the big peace treaty. One big happy family, spread out on different worlds. The Martians asked me to devise their own Last Life program, but with a difference. The intention wasn’t to bring the subject back to life, not conscious life. The system utilized the bodies, but with a difference. We reprogrammed the brain as best we could and patched up the bodies. There never was any intention to rebuild the man. More a question of using whatever spare parts we had available. If there were anything of your former husband inside that soldier, you wouldn’t recognize him now. Neither would he recognize you.”

  She stared back at the Colonel. “You’re a ghoul. A modern day Frankenstein.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t deny it. I’m sorry, but I had no choice.”

  “How did you supervise the program from Earth, Colonel?” Cage asked him.

  Rose supplied the answer. “Green Bank. The communications conduit, it’s powerful enough to maintain a real-time link between the two planets.”

  Travers nodded. ‘Correct. Though I would like to know how you learned that.”

  Rose looked to Cage, but he gave her subtle shake of the head. She smiled and looked back at the Colonel, saying nothing.

  “I spent a lot of time in the Green Bank underground control center, and ran the Martian program from there. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “We all have a choice,” Rose snapped, “You could have said no.”

  “They had a hostage, an early subject I brought into the program.”

  “A Lifer?”

  “My wife. She was an army doctor, working with the PanAm Expeditionary Force. She was in a forward position when an attack by a fleet of drones wiped out her field hospital. She was…” He struggled to find the word, “She was dying, and they wouldn’t allow her access to the Lifer program. It was for soldiers, no non-coms.”

  Noah’s eyes narrowed as he listened, checking for any signs of deceit.

  “After the surrender, the Martians made me an offer. Give them the help they needed, and I could restore her. They promised they’d use this to avoid loss of natural life in battle. This was supposed to be a way of cutting casualties, not creating them.”

  Rose shook her head as she listened.

  “Anyway, the process was long and hard. She’d been in a coma for months, kept on life support. Eventually, I managed to do it, but they kept her here on Mars. Set her up in a house inside a fortified dome. She’s a prisoner just the same, but at least she’s alive.”

  “How come they allowed you to return to Earth?"

  He looked up, surprised. “They ordered me back to Earth a year ago. General Hartmann set it up for me to wrap up my research facilities ready to ship them to Mars.”

  “You couldn’t continue working through Green Bank?”

  “My wife is here. Besides,” he paused, “It may not be possible, not for much longer. Except for the Janissaries.” He saw their puzzlement.

  “Ah. It was the name of the elite Turkish infantry, formed in the fourteenth century. The Martians liked the idea of using the name. They were Christian slaves, captured by the Ottomans, and forced to fight.”

  “These creatures are slaves?”

  He frowned. “Not exactly slaves, no. They don’t have the intelligence to be anything, other than obey the Martian programming. They’re what I’ve been working on, and Rob here is just the prototype. They were in process of building these cybernetic creatures when the Third War erupted. Thousands of them were in process of creation; it’s an exciting project. Janissaries make perfect soldiers. They can take any amount of damage and keep fighting.”

  “Yeah, exciting, but not for the poor bastard at the wrong end of the gun. What happened?”

  “A squad of Lifers got too close to finding the underground assembly facility. They were just hours away from finding the facility and the long-term plans of RedCorp. The scientist in charge of the program died in the attack, and until they recruited me, the project was on hold.”

  Cage felt stunned. It all sounded so familiar. “This facility, it was in the Northern Polar region. Close to the Chasma Boreale Refinery?”

  “Yes, yes it was. I’m sorry; I knew it was your unit that got hit. By your own people.”

  So that was it. No wonder they wanted him dead, in case he’d uncovered the secret of the Janissaries. If the word got out, every colony would launch a pre-emptive strike against Mars, anything to stop an invincible army from striking out. Moving from planet to planet, planting the Martian flag, and leaving behind them the smoking ruins of cities and a population of corpses.

  “How did they persuade our people to launch missiles on their own troops?”

  “No idea.”

  I know. Hartmann. Both Hartmanns. They were working for the Martians. No wonder we lost the damned war. It was all for show, a chance to collect medals and prestige while we died on the surface. That’s why they wanted us away from the refinery. We were never supposed to win.

  Travers continued, “They managed to kill them, but they had no scientist with the knowledge to continue the pr
ogram, until they captured my wife and approached me. I was out of the loop when I returned to Earth, and the only way to communicate with them was through Dawson Public.”

  Vos stared at him. “Dawson Public?”

  He gave him a bitter smile. “That’s correct, Sheriff. Didn’t you know your employer is wholly owned by RedCorp?”

  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. Shit. Damn, that’s a crock of shit, working for the enemy. Why should I believe that?”

  “How many are of these creatures?” Cage interrupted, gazing at Travers, “It’s not just him, is it? Not just Rob.”

  “Rob? No, no, not just him. There are a hundred, and they’re going through the final checks right now. They will be the first of many.”

  “How long before they’re ready to go into action?”

  He couldn’t meet his eyes, but stared down at the work he was doing on the leg. “We’re talking weeks, initially. They’re almost ready with the first batch of a hundred. Eventually, there’ll be tens of thousands of them. I’m sorry, I had no choice.”

  “We all have a choice.”

  Cage shifted his gaze to Sheriff Vos. He was standing close to the creature named Rob, who stood motionless inside the doorway, as if guarding it. “Are you in on this, Sheriff?”

  “No. This is the first I’ve heard about it.”

  “So what’re you going to do?”

  “I’m working on it. I reckon I’m no longer Sheriff of Westbank, if I even was before. But I’d ask myself a different question. What’re we going to do about him?” He glanced at the Janissary, “If he’s that powerful, he could be difficult to handle.”

  “We? So you’re jumping ship?”

  He sighed. “If these bastards are planning an attack on Earth, you’re damn right I’m jumping ship. It’s my home, and I’ll be damned if some Martian is gonna nuke my hometown. But what about him, how do we tackle him?”