First was an assessment of human resources. One crewmember was stationed on the landing craft. There she would stay. In the event that they needed to run away fast, the ship would be ready to take off. Three others were stationed in Colony Two along with one of the geneticists. Kruger considered that this was a little under resourced, he would have preferred twice that for comfort. But making do with limited resources was the hallmark of space travel. These would be sufficient, as long as the colonists remained subdued. That left five in Colony One, excluding VanHoff and the other geneticist, Dr. Molotov. A totally inadequate number. There was no question in Kruger’s mind, he would need to get the colonists on board with the reality of the new hegemony—the sooner the better. Things needed to be maintained, managed, processed. The great engine that was Colony One needed care and attention to support the survival of all it contained. The colonists would come around. They would move on and accept the realities given time. And the best way to do that was to deal with the leaders first. Cut off the head, so to speak.
Before leaving Earth, Kruger had done his research. In military terms the colonists had already proved their mettle by dispensing with Dr. Vanji and his collaborators. Then they had to deal with internal insurrection. No mean feat for a ragtag bunch of subhumans. It took leadership to achieve these victories. And if the transition back to COM control was to go smoothly then this very same leadership needed to be quashed. Nills Langthorp, the clone, had already been subdued. VanHoff had him locked down and ready to go under the knife in his quest to discover the biological voodoo that Dr. Vanji had engineered here. Kruger felt a twinge of sorrow for the clone. Poor bastard, he thought. To die in battle was one thing, but to be dissected to death was a gruesome end to such a leader. But this was not Kruger’s department. VanHoff, and COM, wrote his paycheck, so they got to call the shots. His job was to execute the mission, secure the facilities and ensure a smooth transition of power.
So the clone was ticked off Kruger’s mental list. Next was Xenon, the weird Hybrid, the last of his species. A shiver ran up Kruger’s spine as he thought of what this person represented. VanHoff and his crew regarded him as a very precious individual, not because of any great intellectual prowess but because he represented, in their eyes, the very pinnacle of their craft. To Kruger, though, he was just another weird biological product from the genetic horror show that was Colony Mars. But still, he would be easy to deal with. As it was, he was securely incarcerated along with the others in the biodome. But this was a situation that could not be sustained for much longer. It was a fortunate stroke of luck that the Chinese had herded them all in there, for their own safety. It made his task of taking the facility much more of a direct military confrontation, without the risk of civilian casualties. The Chinese had paid the price for their concern, now they too were locked up tight.
So Xenon was also accounted for. He would be the one that Kruger would need to get on board and show the reality of the new situation. They would have a chat and the colonists would be released from the biodome, back to work—and life would go on. But time enough for that, he would let them stew for a while longer. Then their freedom would taste so much sweeter. Less incentive for agitation, lest their freedoms be taken away again.
That left Dr. Jann Malbec, a loose end in his plan, a box that Kruger could not yet tick. He refilled his coffee cup one more time and considered this enigma. Where the hell is she? There were only so many places that you could hide out on Mars. It’s not like she could head for the hills, hole up in some cave, living off the land. She had to be in one of the colonies. His crew in Colony Two had not reported back yet, which suggested they had nothing to report, which suggested they had not found her. But the longer this went on the more of an enigma it posed for him. What’s more, VanHoff was getting increasingly agitated by the lack of closure. It seemed to Kruger that VanHoff had a deep systemic hatred of her. In his mind she was the single individual responsible for the destruction of his dream. Kruger could see his point. If he was locked inside the disintegrating body that VanHoff possessed then he too would be pretty pissed off, if the cure he had spent so much time and resources on was taken from him. Particularly by a rookie astronaut with a moral conscience. Seriously pissed off.
Yet she was not to be underestimated. She had proved herself thus far. The only surviving member of the ill-fated ISA mission. And she had elevated herself to an almost spiritual reverence within the colonist psyche. Those sorts of leaders were always the most formidable. They had a way of really screwing up the plan. She needed to be found and fast.
His earpiece chimed. “Commander, you’d better come in to operations and take a look at this.”
“What is it?”
“Best you just take a look.”
Kruger downed the dregs of his now cold coffee with a grimace and stood up. He picked up the PEP weapon that he had laid on the table while having breakfast, looped it over his shoulders and headed out.
“How long has this been going on?” Kruger was looking at a video feed from the biodome.
“Just started, sir. Five minutes, tops.”
The main monitor showed a number of colonists gathered around Xenon. He was holding a makeshift sign. It said, URGENT. Medical assistance needed!
“Hmmm.” Kruger rubbed the corners of his mouth with the thumb and index finger of his right hand, as if this gesture would somehow coax his brain into a better understanding of what the problem might be. Nothing came to mind. But it did present an opportunity to start talking turkey with the Hybrid.
“Come on, follow me. Let’s go find what the hell they’re up to.”
Commander Kruger, flanked by two other COM crew stood inside the short biodome entrance tunnel. Their weapons were drawn, taking no chances. At the far end stood Xenon. Beside him some colonists were carrying what looked to be an unconscious Xaing Zu taikonaut.
“He needs help.” Xenon gestured at the comatose figure. “Medical help.”
“Yeah? What’s his problem?”
“He went crazy, started bashing his head on the floor, then we tied him up, for his own safety.”
Kruger sighed and turned to his team. “You two get ahold of him and drag him in to the medlab.”
“Yes sir.”
“And you,” he pointed the business end of a PEP weapon at Xenon. “You’re coming with me. We need to talk.”
17
Happening Again
Peter VanHoff awoke with a headache. Not a bad one, as such. But he felt it had the potential to develop into something far more debilitating, given time. It was still roaming around the foothills of his frontal lobes an hour later when he finally made it to the medlab. He was anxious to get started on a series of experiments he and his team of geneticists had planned for the clone. So he was not amused when two COM mercenaries barged in carrying a comatose Xaing Zu taikonaut.
“The commander said we were to bring him in here. He needs some medical attention.”
VanHoff looked up from his notes. “I would suggest putting him in an airlock without an EVA suit, and opening the outer door.”
“The mercenaries looked from one to the other as they seriously considered this option.
“Wait.” Dr. Alexi Molotov, geneticist and chief medical officer assigned to the mission, looked up from his microscope. “What’s the matter with him?”
“I think he bashed his head on something.”
Dr. Molotov came over and shone a light in the taikonaut’s eyes. “Looks like concussion all right. Put him on that bed. I’ll take a look at him.”
The mercenaries did as ordered.
“Don’t waste your time with him, Alexi.” VanHoff’s headache was getting worse.
“I’ll just give him a quick scan. Make sure he hasn’t fractured his skull.”
“That makes you responsible for him.”
“Understood.”
“Just make sure you strap him down. We don’t want him waking up and going kamikaze on us.”
> “He’s Chinese, not Japanese.”
“You know what I mean.” VanHoff went back to his notes as the doctor started his tests on the taikonaut.
Playing nursemaid to the very people that tried to prevent him from taking over what was rightfully his was not what he wanted his team to be doing. But Dr. Molotov was not the type of individual he could just order around. He was one of the best geneticist money could buy. Sure, there were better ones. But VanHoff needed someone who was prepared to travel to Mars. Such a commute to work narrowed down the pool of available candidates considerably. But Dr. Molotov was not simply taking the job just for the money. He was also trying to make his name and saw this mission as a way of doing just that. Nevertheless, he would not be pushed into doing something he didn’t want to. So VanHoff gritted his teeth and let the doctor indulge his Hippocratic conscience. For VanHoff the end always justified the means. And if Dr. Molotov’s desire to provide humanitarian aid to the vanquished kept him content then so be it. He let him get on with it.
But there were more pressing matters. The ultimate objective of the mission was to piece together, from the scattered fragments of the genetically engineered biology of the colonists, the secret that enabled them to regenerate and repair their physiology. This was the end goal. Since the original source bacteria was now all but destroyed, as far as VanHoff was aware, then the only way left was for him and his team to forensically piece it together from whatever clues they could uncover. This needed to be planned and Dr. Molotov was getting himself sidetracked. Not a good start.
Yet VanHoff was glad of this distraction in a way, as his rumbling headache was not conducive to doing the complex cognitive gymnastics required for genetic reverse engineering. He rubbed his temples, popped another painkiller and sighed. There wasn’t much he could do here at present so he decided to find commander Kruger and get an update on the search for the elusive Dr. Jann Malbec. Although the mere thought of her made his head throb even more. He headed out of the medlab as Dr. Molotov was applying a bandage to the injured taikonaut. He left him to it.
VanHoff had assumed that Malbec would be located by now. In fact he assumed she would be dead at this stage. But, as always, she seemed to posses an innate ability to throw a spanner in the works, and ruin his plans. Not this time, he thought.
Kruger sat in the operations room, his feet up on the edge of the holo-table. He was cleaning his nails with a long knife. It had a serrated blade and looked like a tool more suited to gutting shark than to giving a manicure. Across from him sat Xenon. He was still and silent and exuded a Zen-like calm. VanHoff caught his eye momentarily as he entered the room. He found it hard to break away from his gaze, he felt sucked in, like his soul was laid bare for Xenon to see. He had to drag his eyes away by sheer force of will.
“Ahh… Peter. Excellent timing. I was just discussing with our colonist friend here the need for cooperation and harmony in the colony as we progress to COM governance.”
“And how’s that going?” said VanHoff as he sat down at the table.
“Very well. We have agreed on a plan to release a small contingent of colonists so that important maintenance tasks can be performed. Assuming full cooperation, and a positive mental attitude, then we can proceed over time to release all colonists into productive duties. Isn’t that so?” He directed his question at Xenon.
He simply nodded in reply.
“And what about Malbec?” VanHoff rubbed his temples again.
“I’m glad you asked that.” The commander sheathed the knife into a leather scabbard strapped to his belt, with a quick reflex action.
“No sign of her in Colony Two, which leads me to believe that someone is leading us on a merry dance.” He fixed his gaze on the Hybrid.
Xenon remained totally unfazed, it seemed to VanHoff that there was very little that could crack his aura of serenity. He almost envied him.
“So,” the commander slapped the table. “Tell me, where is she?”
“In Colony Two.” Xenon’s voice was smooth and calm, so much so that VanHoff had no trouble believing him.
“Bollocks.” Kruger leaned across the table. The tenor and amplitude of his reply startled VanHoff, and broke the spell that the Hybrid had conjured.
The commander stood up straight. “If she was there, we would have found her by now. So she isn’t, is she?”
Xenon remained silent.
“Okay, let’s see if we can realign your memory.” He tapped his earpiece and spoke. “Ready? Excellent. It’s show time.” He turned around to the main monitor. “You may want to have a look at this, Xenon.”
An aerial view of the biodome central dais materialized on screen. Two mercenaries pointed weapons at a group of colonists, who were all on their knees, hands on heads.
He turned back to Xenon. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to ask you again, and if I don’t like what I hear…” his arm moved to point back at the monitor. “One of your friends is going to fry. Got that”
Xenon remained silent.
“So, where is she?”
VanHoff liked this man. Brutal but efficient, a kindred spirit. As for Xenon, VanHoff perceived a note of tension ripple across his calm serene shell. Like a pebble being dropped into a still pool. The commander was not bluffing, everyone knew that.
“I don’t hear anything.” Kruger cocked a hand behind his ear as if to catch the sound of some distant echo.
“Fine,” he said at last. “If that’s the way you want to play it, so be it.” He turned back to the monitor and tapped his earpiece. “Pick one, and waste them.”
On screen a mercenary moved forward and aimed his weapon at the head of a hapless colonist. VanHoff could see the look of sheer terror etch itself on her face. Her body trembled and she mouthed a plea the he couldn’t quite make out.
The Commander turned back. “Last chance—no? Okay then.”
“No, wait.” Xenon finally broke, he lowered his head.
A faint smile cracked across VanHoff’s face. Finally, some results, he thought.
“I’m listening.”
Xenon slowly raised his head and looked at Kruger. His lips parted, ready to utter the truth—then he seemed to hesitate. A strange look came over his face, then VanHoff realized he was not looking at the commander, he was looking past him, at the feed from the biodome. VanHoff followed his gaze.
On screen, one of the mercenaries had doubled over and was on his knees, clawing at his head. His comrade looked unsure of what to do. He was keeping his weapon trained on the colonists, at the same time as shouting down to the distressed mercenary. In the operations room Kruger finally realized that both Xenon and VanHoff had their eyes fixed on the screen, he turned around to see what was happening.
“What the…” He tapped his earpiece. “Talk to me.”
Currently none of the weapons in the biodome were set to stun. A thought that ran through the Commander’s mind as he watched the demented mercenary raise his PEP and fire it at his comrade. Fortunately, he missed.
“Shit… take him out—now!” the commander screamed into his earpiece. But the mercenary bolted off into the undergrowth of the biodome before his comrade had a chance to return fire.”
“Benson, go after him… find him, and take him down!”
The colonists were beginning to panic and, seeing their chance, they ran for the now open tunnel exit. VanHoff watched all this with a sense of rising trepidation. A phrase that one of his old board members keep using, back when they first discovered that Colony One was still functioning, came into his head. What if it’s happening again? But before he could finish this particular line of thought a scream echoed around the main colony facility. It sounded to VanHoff like it came from the medlab. The commander was already on the move, barking orders to the COM mercenaries in the operations room with them. “You, stay here and keep an eye on the hybrid. And you, Slade, come with me.” VanHoff followed after them, racing through the facility to the medlab. They sto
pped and took up positions either side of the medlab door. The commander shouted in. “Dr. Molotov!” No answer. He signaled for Slade to enter, then followed in behind him.
The doctor was lying on the floor, blood oozing from a head wound. Standing over him, holding a long steel bar, was the taikonaut they had brought in earlier. The commander raised his weapon to shoot.
“Don’t kill him,” VanHoff shouted.
“What? He’s a homicidal maniac.”
“No, don’t kill him, I need him.”
The commander gave VanHoff a wary look, then tilted his weapon to set it on stun, and fired. The taikonaut did a kind of chicken dance for a second as his nerve endings spasmed from the electrical overload. Then he dropped on top of the doctor.
“I hope to hell you know what you’re doing. Next time I take him out—permanently.” The commander nodded to Slade. “You go and help Benson in the biodome. I’ll deal with this.”
Kruger lifted up the unconscious taikonaut and strapped him down to one of the operating tables. VanHoff checked on the status of the clone Nills. All good, vitals looked stable. Only then did he turn his attention to the doctor. He was still alive, the wound on his head looked worse than it actually was. He sat him up and after a minute he began to come around.
“What the hell happened?” Kruger leaned over him like a storm cloud about to burst.
The doctor lifted a feeble hand as if to wave off the impending threat. “He just suddenly woke up. Started saying something about his head, something like he couldn’t get them out. I went over to talk to him and he just whacked me on the skull.”
“What do you mean, he couldn’t get them out?”
The doctor said nothing, just shrugged his shoulders.
“Well it all sounds pretty goddamn weird to me.” Kruger stood upright and took a few steps back from the doctor.
VanHoff turned around to him. “I think it’s all under control now, Commander. I can take it from here.”
Colony Three Mars (Colony Mars Book 3) Page 10
