by William Cray
Duran stood in silence searching for an explanation. Cochrane seethed, looking down at the floor, “…and my legs.”
Duran shook his head in disbelief, but never broke eye contact with the angry commando in front of him. The realization of the truth dropped into his gut and balled up like a clenched fist inside of him. “I don’t understand. We were told you saved us,” Duran said.
Cochrane exhaled, still burning in resentment but expelling a measure of the iron frame he had erected. “Major Duran, I threw everything in my battalion landing force at you and your team. It took us ten minutes before we stopped you. Don’t you see Major … you were under their control.”
“I don’t remember anything.” Duran sighed, “I didn’t know about your men.”
Like the iron rod within him giving under the strain, Cochrane deflated. His fire subsided but he still smoldered, “You were being controlled by the Intruders, Major. I couldn’t stop you until it was too late.”
Duran shook his head, the shock of this new revelation leaving him confused and unsteady. “I don’t remember anything.”
Colonel Cochrane again exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with pinched fingers, before facing Duran again. His anger was still evident, but it was under control. He forced a smile, but it was a vain effort.
“It wasn’t your fault Rory, you had no control. I know that.” Using Duran's familiar name for the first time in many long years. “Still though, seeing you here is a shock. One I would have never expected. “Did others of your team survive? Besides you?”
“Nine,” … he said lamenting. “But I lost Eric Hansen two days ago.”
Cochrane softened somewhat at the revelation. “Chief Hansen seemed like a good troop, even though I didn’t know him very well. What about your XO…Lieutenant…?”
Duran nodded, then looked up, “Anne Braiselle. She'll be here in a couple of days.”
“Yes… Lieutenant Braiselle. She seemed so young back then. Inexperienced. But she leaves an impression.” The commando Colonel looked up to the ceiling then back. “What are you doing here Rory?”
Duran returned the gaze, not knowing what to tell his one time comrade. He believed Cochrane was owed an explanation that the Vendetta wasn’t over, but it wasn’t his place. Wasn’t in his orders. Colonel Cochrane knew about the mission to seize the Intruder moon and rescue human hostages. Cochrane was the extraction force commander if something went wrong, and something horrible had gone wrong. Perhaps he could provide some answers. Something he hadn’t been told.
“Colonel,” he paused, his voice taking a resigned tone, “I need to know what happened that day. I don’t remember anything. None of my team does. All we know is what we were told.”
Cochrane nodded. He motioned to two chairs adjacent to his desk, a small Jiri service between them. Cochrane turned to walk the couple of steps to the far chair, a recognizable stagger in his step. Duran followed. Cochrane took a pensive tone.
“It seems we were both lied to. I was told when we got back on board the Kursk, that your team was dead. All of you were killed. Your bodies were loaded onto a tac-tran and transferred to the Emperor Paulus. We never saw you again.”
“My mind is blank, even the mission briefing.” Duran said as he sat down in the high backed chair.
Cochrane sat down in front of him, his prosthetic legs trailed his movements almost imperceptibly, but it was there. “Ok then…from the beginning.” Cochrane leaned back, “Deployment went as planned. Your team came down from jumping out of the Dauntless at low altitude. Your initial deployment was good. After your team went in the bunker, my battalion came in on assault boats from Kursk. The Kursk took out the single control array tower on the moon, but there must have been another.”
Duran nodded as Cochrane continued, “We deployed around the bunker, while your team went inside. About ten minutes after we put down, we lost contact with you. We waited about five more minutes, then, I ordered Bravo Company to send a platoon in after you. As they were about to enter the bunker, your team came out.”
The pain of an old wound etched into his voice and expression. “Second platoon died in the first ten seconds. You came out on full power, phantom mode, LPG’s on max. You swept across all of Bravo, they were caught out in the open in mid deployment. I tried to contact you. We tried to remote shut down your suits as we planned, but the jamming locked us out. I tried for what seemed an hour, but the log said I gave the order to open fire thirty seconds later. I bounded over with Dog Company, trying to knock you out, but your armor countermeasures wouldn’t let us engage on automatic. Finally I ordered our pulse gun teams to engage. I don’t remember much after that. One of your team ghosted over to our flank and fired into my command group. I lost my legs then.”
Duran listened, enraptured by the dreadful commentary that Cochrane gave in a detached tone more similar to an after mission briefing instead of the crucible moment of his life. It must haunt his sleep.
“We knocked out the last of your team about five minutes later. You were jamming our transmissions to the assault boats, so it took another fifteen minutes to get my wounded out.”
Duran sat quietly, hanging on every word. He asked the question that burned in his mind for two and a half years. “What did they find in the bunker?”
Cochrane shook his head. “I don’t know. My X.O. evacuated the battalion and your team. Once we were clear the Kursk nuked the bunker from orbit.”
“So no one knows what was in there?”
“Fleet didn’t want to risk anyone else. We didn’t even make an attempt to recover the bodies of the two civilians that went in with your team.”
Duran looked puzzled, “What civilians?”
Cochrane leaned forward. “You honestly don’t remember?”
“No. Nothing.”
“They were added to the mission at the last minute. They were some kind of Intruder specialist from the science team. As I remember you were quite livid about them being added just before your team dropped, but they went in with you anyway.”
Duran, still confused, “Who were they?”
“I don’t know, I never knew their names. They never came out of the bunker with you, so we assumed they were killed inside. Either way, if they were in the bunker when Kursk vaporized it, they are surely dead.”
Duran shook his head, “I don’t remember any of this.” He looked at Cochrane who stared back, hardening into bitterness as he recalled the events. The stone chin softened a bit, turning into a scowl and soon even that gave way.
“I buried them long-ago, Rory. It doesn’t do any good to dig them back up again and again.” Duran nodded once in understanding.
Cochrane’s expression evolved into a quizzical arch of his brow, the intelligence officer in him taking over. “Now…Why are you here Rory?”
Duran recovered a little, sitting back, resting his arms at his side, his breaths in slow deep regulation. He looked up at Cochrane, coming to a decision. He owed this man despite orders.
“There could be an Intruder somewhere on Mars, New Meridian specifically. I'm here to find it and kill it.”
Cochrane nodded. “When you told me that Chief Hansen was dead and Lieutenant Braiselle was on her way here, I figured you were operational. Just one?”
“Maybe, I was sent here to find human collaborators, but Chief Hansen believed he had uncovered evidence of an actual Intruder. I’m starting to believe it also.”
“I thought we had killed them all. This is a shock.” Cochrane leaned back. “What is the operation?”
“I'm part of a classified group. We have been tracking down human collaborators during the occupation and dealing with them. This would be the first time we’ve run across an actual Intruder.”
“Dealing? Killing you mean.”
Duran nodded. “Hansen came here ten days ago. I arrived yesterday. The rest of the team is about three days out.”
“The rest of the team?”
“My team from the Vende
tta.”
Cochrane tilted his head a little left. “Why your team?”
“We were told that our close exposure to the Intruders changed the way our brains relay our thoughts. As a result, it is believed that we’re immune to their control. In addition we can sense the presence of the Intruder influence from a short distance.”
Cochrane looked confused, “I don’t understand. Everyone who was under Intruder control, then was released, died. How did you and your team survive?”
“I don’t know. No one does. There are a lot of theories, the implants, the shock of our injuries, the EM shielding in our suits. But no real answers.”
Cochrane nodded, “You arrived here with a Lieutenant from Lunae-Tharsis Constabulary. They said you were a MCE Special Agent. You aren’t working for the Ministry of Codes and Enforcement are you?” Duran shook his head looking into Cochrane's eyes. Cochrane leaned forward. “You are on dangerous ground Major.”
“The Mandate is not complete. Neither is the Vendetta.”
Cochrane stood. “Apparently not. I'm not cleared for this, you should go.”
Duran stood with him, understanding the abruptness of Cochrane’s change. He was an intelligence officer now and would have to report anything more than was already revealed. Everyone, even old comrades, had masters to serve. “I don’t know what's going to happen, but thank you.”
Cochrane showed him the way out, the two walking out of the office, past Ms. Jones and into the ringed corridor. They stopped by the lift that would take Duran back to the communications level. Next to the lift was a large window that looked into the activity in the Stickney Crater. A small collection of older warships and a couple of tenders sat in the crater under a bank of lights. Tugs and shuttles moved between them. Duran stared outside at the view.
Cochrane smiled, “That's all this station does anymore, routine maintenance. We have an entire ghost fleet to look after on Phobos.” He grinned, “You know Kursk is out there somewhere on the far side. She still has all her gear on board. She's probably got your SPECATS in storage. Well, your back-up units anyway.”
Duran smiled at that. Somehow it was comforting.
“Why did you transfer to Intel, Colonel? You were one of the best infantry commanders in the Commonwealth.”
“My legs. My body rejected the cybernetic replacements so I’m down to old-fashioned intuitive replacements. They said they could do more to restore my mobility but it wouldn’t matter. They would never let me command another field unit.” He swept his hand at the activity in the crater. “They were kind enough to transfer me to Intel and let me ride out what’s left of my career here.”
Duran nodded. He wanted to apologize, but it would have been insulting to Cochrane. He was a warrior and losing limbs was just part of the deal sometimes.
Cochrane became serious as the elevator lift came up. “I was tasked to support you during the Vendetta, Major. Despite what happened I still accept that charge. Rory, let me know if there is anything I can do. If what you believe is true, every person on the planet could be vulnerable. There’s not much I can do here on an official level, but there are ways I could possibly help, indirectly.”
Duran nodded, “Thank you Colonel.” The two shook hands and Duran stepped on to the elevator.
Duran arrived back at the communication room just moments before his confirmation order arrived from Earth. Floss held the copy in his hand. As Duran walked in Floss handed the decoded filament paper to him, giving it a cursory glance as Floss spoke, “It all checked out Agent Duran. I guess I didn’t need to bring my restraints after all.”
Duran smirked, “They wouldn’t have done you any good anyway Lieutenant.”
“I brought two sets just in case.”
Duran responded with a sharp snort. He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a second data cell containing the message he prepared the night before. “Please send this Chief. I won’t be waiting for a response.”
Duran turned to Floss. “I’m fulfilling my part of the deal.”
“How long before a response?”
“Sooner rather than later…hopefully.”
“Won’t you have to come back up here to receive it? I thought you were concerned about security.”
“I am.” Duran replied, taking the data cell from the technician and returning it to his pocket. “Back channels. I’ll know more soon.”
7
En route to New Meridian City
Hebes Chasma Trench, Mars
The Constabulary lifter covered the distance between Fort Arsia and the Hebes Chasma, skimming just above the magnetic train line Duran had taken into the city just yesterday. It was a long empty vain stretching into the distance west of them, feeding, into the massive silver root jutting into the sky near their destination. In the distance, tiny opaque blisters bubbled up around the Stratospire like lesions at its base.
As the lifter started its landing flare Floss leaned over Duran, looking out the laminated window, pointing to the redness of the sky beyond the mountain range that was north of the city. “You see the color of the sky behind those mountains?”
Duran nodded, “The brownness?”
“There is a wind storm blowing up sand particles from the Ancidalia Planatia. That wind will catch radiation particles from Power Dome 3 and blow the residue towards the city. The ecological survey office will declare a RED Day this evening and probably tomorrow… looks like a bad one too. Could be a couple of days before it blows over unless there’s a change in wind direction. Phelman’s children will be out in force. The blow creates a whole set of mandated protocols we have to follow to go into the Domes.”
Duran nodded again before looking back towards the city as the lifter rotated into its holding pattern. The deep Hebes Chasma looked like an open wound from the sky. Even in the light of the day, it was a dark gash in the surface. The accumulation of sand and dirt along its periphery containment wall swelled like scar tissue around the interior of the chasm’s opaque shield that contained the city’s atmosphere and maintained its displaced population. Duran could not think of a more prime breeding ground for crime and filth. It was the perfect place to hide.
The depths of the city opened up as the lifter swung wide. The sky roiled in the north with a wall of friction and heat, the only shelter was down there, in the wound with the maggots edging along the gash. Inwardly, he despised Mars. The entire city felt cancerous to Duran. It was a blight that couldn’t be removed with a neat scalpel. Send in the knives to cut out the disease with broad jagged strokes. The patient’s survival was ancillary.
Duran had been on the Red Planet before, and it had left its own scars upon him. The Martian people had been granted a vast plot of rich ore and wealth. All they had to do was dig it out of the ground and enjoy the riches it provided them. But that was not enough for the selfish Martians. They resented the small but unwavering requirements on them. They had spurned it all for the illusion of freedom, and cast their lot with discord and revolt. And this is what they had come to. Not all, but the hottest fires of separatism had burned in the blisters around the tower.
But Duran had even more questions about himself now. His meeting with Colonel Cochrane had just confused the issue. They had both been lied too, but why? Duran had been under the control of the Intruders and been used to attacked Cochrane’s command. It was hard to believe it at first, but it answered many things in retrospect. Why didn’t Anwar tell us the truth? One-hundred seventeen Commonwealth commandos were victims to the Intruder’s domination of Duran and his team, the same team now gathering on Mars in just a few days. It would have been better to deal with those blanked moments back on Earth instead of out here, on his own amongst the wretches. It didn’t make sense.
Whatever magic kept them alive before, may not work again if a direct confrontation took place. Can I resist the mind control? Axe had failed to maintain control with the exact tools Duran possessed. The girls he stashed in the weapo
ns locker could be vassals to the Intruder. But they were so young, too young to be accompli during the occupation. Duran needed more information. Confronting them seemed the next logical step.
Eric had failed to protect himself. Had failed just after grabbing them. If they were accompli, he should have acted. But he didn’t and just hours later, he was dead. Duran could see no reason to delay further. No reason to avoid the inevitable.
Duran felt for the chain and ring hanging around his neck. What had Eric done wrong? Did he do anything wrong?
As they made a final looping turn, the pilot of the lifter motioned back to Floss through the cockpit. The motion caught Floss’s attention and he reached up, pulling a small com unit from the passenger cabin’s roof and inserting the earpiece with one finger against the side of his head, pulling out the microphone recessed in his collar. A moment later he spoke into the mic and the lifter pilot nodded, dipping the ship hard to the left and accelerating across the open maw of the trench. The domed blisters at the edge of the chasm rolled into view at the foot of the Stratospire as the nose of the lifter pointed in their direction, the void dropping away below them as they traversed over the red sand.
Floss turned to Duran, replacing the com-unit as he spoke. Floss yelled over the engine noise. “New Meridian Police found another victim in the Zone. We need to get there in a hurry. The policemen's union only allows their members in the Zone for one hour per day. They will try to wrap things up there and get clear.”
Duran frowned. “How do they get anything accomplished in an hour?”
Floss sighed, “They don’t. There are a couple of good ones with NMCPD, but not many. They don’t get paid enough to risk their ass in the Zone. We have enough problems in the trench.”
“What do you know?” Duran asked.
“Not much. The victim is a woman, variable, and a child. Electrocution. Sounds like its pretty bad though. The uplink from the site isn’t working so we have to go down there.”
