“What about Tharsis?”
Ortiz shook her head.
“Nothing. The rich bastards want us to lose. They’re the elite, and they want to stay that way.”
She ducked under a volley and fired back before looking to Cage.
“But there’s a lot more of us than them. We’re ready. But first we have to…”
“Win,” said Cage, “Yeah, not so easy today!”
Cage fired again, one shot after another from the powerful weapon. It reminded him of the old days, stomping over Mars with his unit of augmented heroes. Shots lashed around them, and he grinned as more of the Martians died. Never again would the greedy corporations ignore the punch and power of the Justice movement, of the rebels they despised. Their bodies would litter the surface this day, payment for drawing up a new set of rules. Another bullet punched into his side, and he winced but ignored it, slammed in a new magazine, and fired and fired again. The standard bearer was close, some brave man or woman had kept up, and the patched red rag stood proud above the blood and ruined bodies.
“Forward. Charge, hit them again!”
His limbs were losing power, and his body burned as if he was wading through fire. Yet he kept on, kept moving, and fighting. Nothing would stop him now.
* * *
Hartmann and the five MPs he’d selected to remain as his personal bodyguard watched the battle from Laszlo’s forward mobile headquarters. It was an oversized armored transport, and like most things the Martians did, a product of the very best technology available in the Solar System. The railgun in the roof turret hadn’t fired yet, but the operator was sitting at his console, waiting for the fire order. Several times, Laszlo had looked in his direction, as if to shout an order, but each time he held back.
Hartmann was a veteran of warfighting on Mars, and he opined the Director was lacking in most of the military arts. The battle for Mars was unlike anything he’d expected. They were unable to make use of their advantage in drones and aircraft, with both sides now intermingled in some brutish melee. He held back until he saw the debacle in the center of the RedCorp troopers and recognized the man he hunted, fighting beneath some banner they’d brought out. He cursed that somehow the Martian superman they’d sent after him had failed. He strode over to where Laszlo was standing before a long-range screen.
“Director, you see him there? The big man, the one in the middle gunning down our soldiers, that’s Cage. He’s still alive, and there’s no sign of that creature you sent to kill him!”
Laszlo sighed and bent to look at the screen. “Cage again, that bastard has more lives than a cat. General, I’m trying to fight a war here. If you…” He broke off when his communicator device on his arm buzzed. He glanced at it and nodded before speaking to the image of a man showing on the face of the device. “Send them in now.”
He looked back to Hartmann. “Now you’ll see something. Those rebels have somehow infiltrated our main force and are slowing this battle down. I’m sending in your son’s unit to deal with them. Just watch.”
“But Cage...”
“Forget Cage! He’ll be dead soon enough. Within twenty-four hours, we’ll have the first Janissary unit read to go into action, and they’ll polish off any survivors in the tunnels. By tomorrow, the only rebels left on this planet will be body parts, and you know what we’ll do with those.”
He stopped to look at the screen on his arm again.
“What is it this time? Spit it out, man.”
“Sir, another transmission from our high-orbit listening station. Something has destroyed them in less than fifteen minutes. The techs have looked at it every way, and can’t explain it. They’re worried it could be…”
“For Christ’s sake!” he exploded, “Are you kidding me?” A flash of fear flashed across Laszlo’s face. It was gone as fast as it had come, “Forget it. Now leave me to fight this battle.”
“But, Sir, it could be…”
Men stared at him, but Laszlo dismissed their concerns with a contemptuous wave. He had a good idea of what it might be, but there was just so much they could do about it right now.
“Don’t be so stupid. I know what you’re thinking. Titan. Every time a bunch of asteroids knock out one of our sensors, the old bogey Titan comes to haunt you. It’s not them, I tell you. They’re millions of miles away. Billions. It’s just asteroid damage, happens every day. Not a big deal. Now let…”
“But, Sir, it’s not one sensor, so far we’ve lost a total of fifteen.” He listened to his earpiece, “Make that seventeen.”
Laszlo reddened and shouted, “Set Condition One through our orbital defenses, and get the interceptors ready. If anything comes through our defenses, we’ll be ready.” He hesitated and then added, “Get me the security heads of the other corporations. Tell them what you’ve told me. I want them mobilized and ready for planetary defense within the hour.”
He smiled to himself, satisfied he’d done enough, for now.
“Leave me alone, and don’t bother me again. I am about to end this resistance once and for all.”
He looked up and swore before speaking to those nearby.
“Now, Gentlemen, who do we kill next? Ah, yes, Joshua and Alicia’s unit it going in. Watch, General, this will be interesting.”
They regarded the screen, and Hartmann swelled with pride when Joshua’s unit raced into the battle. He was leading a company of soldiers, all superbly trained, fit, and well armed. At his elbow, Alicia Laszlo was like a bloodhound, straining at the leash. She opened fire at long-range and kept shooting.
* * *
They weren’t winning, nowhere near winning, but they were alive, most of them. The banner still flew, and the Martians were edging back, scared. It wasn’t possible a bunch of rebels could fight so hard and kill so many of their number, yet they were here, and they were still shooting. The dusty surface was littered with bodies, and most of them wore the insignia of RedCorp.
He glanced at Ortiz, fighting at his side. “Where’s Jamison? He needs to be here. His men need to see him leading them.”
She shook her head. “He took a couple of hits. I saw him go down a few minutes ago.”
“Dead?”
“I’m not sure.”
He pushed her aside as the RedCorp troopers rallied and made a sudden push at them. A barrage of fire hissed and whistled around them. He raked them with a long burst and saw a few men go down, but they made way for a new force moving slowly into the battle. Red suits, a different insignia, and the weapons they carried bigger and attached via brackets to their backpacks.
Interesting, very interesting. Who are they, heavies?
It all changed in a second, and they had to throw themselves down to avoid the slashing gunfire that bit into them, taking many of the rebels down. Cage tried to get back up, but the gunfire was intense. The rounds hit with the power of a railgun, but these troopers were firing on full automatic.
He shouted to Ortiz, “Who are they?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t seen them before. They must be some kind of elite unit. Those guns they’re using are new; they don’t issue them to the regular troops. I’ve only seen them on skiffs and carriers before. Automatic railguns.”
“Elite unit,” he echoed and stared ahead at the mass of advancing soldiers. They wore thick slabs of red armor over parts of their suits, and the rebel fire was barely touching them. Only the few captured railguns made any impact. One must have spotted him and opened up in a short burst. Rock disintegrated, and he threw himself to the floor. One hit from those guns could end him as easily as a hundred.
It stopped as soon as it had started, and when he looked back, he could see them moving in a slow advance rather than a rapid charge. They moved with a sure confidence, a strength born of long periods of training and experience in the field. They were in no great rush. The regular troopers sensed the reinforcements joining the battle and moved aside to make room for them. Cage switched to distance view on the targeting displ
ay of his rifle, and to his astonishment, he recognized a familiar face inside the clear faceplate of the helmet. Joshua Hartmann, his old company commander. Leading the Martians, and they were putting down heavy fire from the sophisticated weaponry. The rebels could do nothing other than hug the ground for cover.
In that sickening moment, he knew their gamble had failed. They wouldn’t even go down to glorious defeat. They were about to be slaughtered. Wiped out to a man, and led by a foe he knew well.
Hartmann, you bastard! No matter what happens here, you’re going down.
Chapter Ten
Tharsis Plateau, Mars
The battlefield was an odd mixture of artificial and natural. They were nearly a kilometer from the spaceport, and even further from the massive protected domes that marked the city. The plateau itself was relatively flat, with small hillocks, rocky outcrops, and red dust and dirt in every direction. A slight brown haze hung over the ground, lingering in the low gravity as hundreds of people adjusted their position for the battle.
Cage scanned the horizon, making a mental note of the opposition before them. They stared at him, their expressions uneasy.
Waiting for an order, for me to lead them into battle?
He hesitated, knowing there was nothing left for them. They were seconds away from being overwhelmed, and he had no order left to give. Fight and die, it was more a condemnation, a death sentence than an order. He picked up his speed and went ahead of the pack, moving to meet the threat. Uncaring as to whether the rebels were following; he strode out to do battle. One man against hundreds, and it was as if the Gods of War were watching over him that day.
He fired and kept on firing with the railgun, relishing in the kill as the weapon took them apart with ease. Enemy soldiers went down in ones, two, threes, and the air around him roiled with the intensity of their fire. This time, his battered, wounded body sustained no further hits, so he might live a little longer.
A voice from beside him said, “You can’t grab all the glory for yourself, Cage.”
He turned his head. Jamison was with him, and he fired long bursts from his Stryker rifle, reloaded, and fired again. A ‘screw you’ to the Martians, but they couldn’t win. The question was more of how many seconds they had left before they died. A tight group of enemy soldiers suddenly detached from the mass of RedCorp troopers, and they charged, screaming defiance, shouting fanatic war cries, infuriated at the impudence of the upstart rebels who dared to undermine their paradise planet. Yet Cage and Jamison weren’t alone. From behind, a storm of fire tore into them, and now the entire rebel force was up with him. Both sides fighting and dying, it was magnificent, but it wasn’t war. Yet what else did they have left? There was nothing, save their heroism.
A ripple ran through the Martian lines, and the new force, Joshua Hartmann’s unit, moved closer toward them, now just eighty meters away, seventy, and closing; moving past as they outstripped their fellow soldiers. They were coming on fast, their power and momentum too much for his beleaguered force. He held up a fist.
“Stop! We make a stand here. Hit the deck, and keep shooting.”
“You mean we have a chance?”
Ortiz’s voice, and he couldn’t lie. “None.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Sixty meters and Joshua Hartmann’s unit was taking its time, as if they could reach out and snuff out the lives of the rebels anytime they chose. They’d won and displayed the arrogance of elite troops since the dawn of time. They had plenty to be arrogant about. Their weapons were formidable, and armor like nothing he’d ever seen. Many of the Martians had taken hits, and still not gone down. To stop them they had to hit them in a few small, vulnerable areas, and so far, they’d failed to kill enough. But they kept shooting, kept fighting.
“How long do we have before they move in for the endgame?” Jamison asked him.
“Not long.”
A sudden hush fell on the battlefield. As if by some magic, the shooting stopped at once by some unspoken agreement. The enemy was building for the final push. Savoring the meal they were about to swallow and spit out into the dust. Every man and woman waited, holding their breath. Some snapped in new magazines, readying for the end. And then a noise intruded on the battlefield, a single gunship hurtling toward them. The noise grew louder, and three more gunships appeared following the leading craft. They waited for the massive weight of gunfire and missiles to pour down and obliterate them.
Something was wrong.
“They’re shooting at that lead ship,” Jamison muttered, “Why would they want to destroy one of their own?”
Realization was swift. “It’s not their own,” Ortiz’s voice was excited, had lost the dulled defeatism of mere seconds before, “They’re flying a flag from the fuselage. Look!”
They stared at the craft as it drew nearer, swerving and dodging to avoid the bursts threatening to pluck it from the sky. The flag grew more distinct. A small piece cut from a biosuit. A faded, red biosuit fragment, colored with bright multi-colored patches.
“It’s one of ours,” Jamison shouted, “Damn, whoever’s flying that thing, they managed to steal a cargo transport, and they’ve come to help us.” His voice changed to puzzlement, “But if he keeps on that course, they’ll blast him. He can’t hope to survive.”
The craft drew nearer, and the pursuers were starting to score hits, but it flew on, taking no evasive action. It was a big craft, easily five times the size of the Ares gunships, and not designed for war. He could see the signing on the flanks, and it was marked up as a privately flagged transport. It flew on a straight course into the heart of the battle, and Cage knew then what they planned.
“They don’t want to survive.”
“They what?”
“Keep your heads down. All of you, eat dirt. Now!”
The transport arrowed straight down, and at the last moment, only a handful of Colonel Hartmann’s elite force looked up and saw the danger. They were well trained, but cocky to a man. Any other soldier might check their surroundings, but not these soldiers. They continued on their implacable advance, all while the ship barreled down toward them. A few shouted, but it was too late. They dove for cover, but on the dusty, open plain, cover was in short supply. All that stood between them and the fiery death descending from the sky was the thin fabric and armor of their suits.
Not enough, the ship carried a full load, and combined with the kinetic force of a heavy ship colliding with the solid surface of the planet, a recipe for destruction on a huge scale. The pilot was aiming at the leaders of the elite unit. At the last moment, three missiles launched from the ground as the battery commanders became aware of the threat. The rebel pilot twitched the controls. The craft impacted one hundred meters from the head of Hartmann’s troopers and exploded in a vast pall of smoke and fire.
The ground shuddered, and then a further fireball exploded over the surface. The craft carried explosive material, perhaps just tons of fuel or something else equally flammable. Whatever it was made no difference. The effect was devastating. Secondary explosions seemed to go on forever, and roiling smoke and tongues of chemical flame ate everything around them, searing over their heads even with the complete lack of oxygen in the air. Cage saw Hartmann and the woman next to him fly into the air, to land meters away, but he knew they were uninjured.
Once again, the shooting stopped, and the battlefield was quiet. Missiles stayed on their launchers, no orders were shouted; the circling gunships appeared to keep their distance, flying a lazy orbit over the battlefield, waiting for orders that someone forgot to give. The danger wasn’t over, for the threat was growing. The rebels were still in the center of the Martian RedCorp army, and the enemy spreading outward so that an empty space opened around them. A few more meters and they could attack with impunity. The sensible action would be to retreat. The pilot of that stolen ship had given them a chance. Not a chance of victory, but to escape with their lives. They wanted to fight, but on this day, they’d don
e enough. The battle would resume, but not yet.
He glanced aside for Jamison, but he was elsewhere, reorganizing the survivors of their force. Ortiz was close, a few meters away, talking to two of the men, and he called her over.
“Where’s the nearest entrance to get us back underground? We need to get out now while they’re still regrouping.”
She pointed to a place midway between the place they’d chosen to make their stand and the foothills nearby. “There’s a fissure in the ground. It’s not easy to see until you’re almost on it. Cage, if we run, some of us may get away, but they’ll keep shooting, and we’ll lose more of our people. Wouldn’t it be better if we stayed here and fight while they’re confused?”
He frowned. “It would be our deaths, not theirs. Sure, we’ll kill plenty of them, scores of them, but we can’t kill them all. There are just too many, which leaves us two choices. Stay and die, or run and fight them again when we’re stronger.” He smiled, “Personally, I’ve always enjoyed a fight, amongst other things. But this isn’t the time or the place. We’ve done well. Now get them back underground.”
She returned the smile. “Don’t tell me. Okay, point taken. Colonel!” She shouted, and Jamison appeared from inside a group of rebels.
“What is it, Ortiz?”
“Cage says we’re to leave. Over there,” and she pointed to where the fissure was hidden, “Get out before they recover, and keep our people alive.”
He looked around, weighing up the odds. They were formidable. “Sounds sensible. Okay, we retreat.” He raised his voice, “Move it, people. We’re leaving. Get out of here.”
Ortiz began leading them at a run toward the fissure, but Jamison didn’t move. He grinned at Cage. “I’ll stay here with you and hold them off while the others get away. One extra man isn’t much, but at least it’ll make them think twice.”
Cage grabbed him with his powerful cybernetic arms, pulled him toward him, and stared into his eyes. Jamison’s jaw dropped in shock. “What the hell are you doing?”
Last Life (Lifers Book 1) Page 27
