by Graham Brown
CHAPTER 61
Three Weeks Later
James walked down a long marble corridor in the upper echelons of the government building. Beside him, a man read information off various documents as they walked at a military pace.
At the end of the corridor two heavily armed guards snapped to attention and opened the double door to a well-lit situation room. Hannah was there as were the senior senators and the ranking officers of the military.
By the time James arrived the meeting was already in full swing and little progress had been made.
“Madam President,” one of the senators pleaded. “We must respond. We must tell those who control Earth that we have declared independence.”
A message from Lucien Rex to Governor Cassini had been looping on the comm system for days, repeating every ten minutes for the past two weeks. It started off cordially, demanded information about the situation on Mars and ended with a threat to the late Governor.
Nothing else had come, and despite their efforts to reach surviving military units on Earth, nothing they’d coded and sent seemed to have gotten through either. Now on this third week, a new message had arrived. It seemed Lucien had guessed fairly well what had occurred on Mars.
“So much for biding our time,” Dyson said.
The plan had been to remain quiet, to play for time while they rebuilt their limited defenses and to come up with a plan for dealing with Earth.
“Can you play it again,” James asked. He hadn’t seen it yet.
Hannah set the message in motion. Holographic images appeared in front of all attending. Lucien spoke, “To the illegal criminals in possession of the Mars colony: We demand immediate communication at this time, or you will force us to take drastic measures. You have no rights to Mars. It belongs to the people of Earth and its food supplies are critically needed. You have twenty-four hours in which to respond, or we will be forced to take drastic action.”
The members of the cabinet and the military all conversed.
“How do they know?” someone asked.
“They might have spies here,” a second senator said.
“We should start checking everyone,” a third added. “We can bug those who are suspected.”
“It’s against the constitution,” Hannah replied. “We will not resort to being as they are.”
“Then we might not survive,” someone else said.
The way James saw it there were probably spies in the mix somewhere but they were irrelevant. “Spies or not,” he said. “Lucien and the Cartel are in a desperate situation. The Earth is still dying, three months closer to collapse than it was before all of this madness started. When word gets out that Mars has been taken, the people will panic. Most will assume that none of the promised food will be coming forth. The riots in the street will become unstoppable.”
“Good,” someone said.
“Is it?” James replied.
“Lucien and his kind sought to leave us to that fate. Let them be consumed by it.”
James had to admit there was something poetic to the thought, but not when one considered the vast amount of human misery that would accompany it. In its death throes, the Cartel would do all they could to survive, even if it meant exterminating the rest of Earth’s population.
The colonists would be safe on Mars for a while, but not forever. As James thought of the people he’d met in the sublevels and the settlers trying to scratch out a living on the barren plains and all the rest who had no voice, the words of his father returned to him. Do you really think we can save just ourselves?
He spoke his mind. “You misread the Cartel if you think they’ll sit around and die with the masses. They’re backed into a corner, sooner or later they’ll come out fighting.”
The cacophony of voices died as James spoke. They looked at each other. And then to him. “What do you suggest?” Hannah asked.
He was the leader by default. A title he’d never wanted, yet it was his to bear. His family’s legacy, perhaps.
“We help them,” James said. “All of them. Even the Cartel.”
In a similar room, seventy five million miles away a very similar meeting was taking place, the only difference was the tone.
“I don’t know how you’re going to fix this situation Lucien, but you’d better come up with a solution and fast.”
Lucien Rex stood his ground. “Are you threating me Jonathan?”
“No, I’m letting you know that soon it will every man or woman for themselves, even in this room. My experts tell me that we’re losing major ground to the rebels, insurgents, and terrorists. Their recruitment is growing and they’re reaching into the highest levels of the government and military now. We have nowhere to run anymore, and soon they will be unstoppable. Do you understand? Our wealth cannot protect us forever.”
“You’ve doomed us all with your arrogance, Lucien.” The accusation came from a woman named Whitestone. It was yelled across the table.
“We could have rigged the lottery,” she added. “We could have slowly added to our numbers, pried more favors from Collins. But no, the Great Lucien Rex had to be king. Well, congratulations. You’re king now. King of a dying world.”
Lucien turned angrily. He’d been taking this brow beating for the past forty-eight hours, ever since the news arrived that Mars had not just gone dark but that his forces had been overthrown and utterly defeated by rebels and elements of the military. While a few spies remained hidden there, they could do nothing about it. The planet was firmly in the hands of the enemy, and it had the great barrier of space as its protector.
“You fools,” Lucien shouted, “Collins was never going to let us near his paradise. Not before the lifeline of this planet ran out.”
The room went quiet as Lucien looked over their faces. “None of you wanted that. We took a vote, or are your memories so short? Now, we’re all in this sad and unfortunate position together. But if we fracture, we’re doomed.”
“We’re doomed anyway,” a man named Abbas growled. “Isn’t that what you told us? The Earth is dying.”
“The window is not yet closed,” Lucien insisted.
“It will be soon,” Abbas said. “We must counter attack. Take Mars back at all costs.”
“I’m afraid that’s more difficult than it sounds,” another of the Cartel said. “The orbits of Earth and Mars were at their closest point four months ago. They’re separating now. Mars is almost out of range already.”
The room became like a morgue. The true weight of their situation held them all in check. Because Earth orbited the sun much closer and faster than Mars it was rapidly pulling away. To launch transport for the red planet now, was like swimming against the current. It meant more fuel had to be carried and burned, more food and supplies used on the journey itself. As a result, less in the way of weapons and arms could be carried. The fact that several of the largest transports were already sitting on Mars made things worse.
Nor was a quick effort possible. To assault the planet, plans would have to be made, long detailed plans. The military would have to be consulted or the Cartel’s grip upon them solidified. That also was easier suggested then done. Despite promises and bribes the High Command had already grown wary of Lucien. While the common enemies of chaos, anarchy and the Black Death kept them linked together a day would come when the military would assert itself again; a nightmarish scenario that none of them could have conceived when they voted to take over the government would come to fruition.
“So what do we do?” Abbas said.
“Yes,” Whitestone added. “What do we do?”
One by one the others turned to Lucien and posed the same question. They would not fracture perhaps, but only because none of them wanted to lead at this moment.
Lucien didn’t have any answers, only questions of his own. He tried to figure out where it had all gone wrong, how Mars had slipped from his grasp. Finally he got ahold of himself. It didn’t matter what had happened, it only mattered what was
about to happen. And then, at that very moment, something did.
“Lucien,” an aide reported over the comm system. “We’re receiving a transmission from Mars.”
All eyes widened. “Patch it through,” Lucien said. “Immediately.”
The comm system lagged for a second and then a screen at the front of the room lit up. As always with such distant communications it was a one-way message, but even before it began Lucien understood that his plight had become even more desperate.
He rose from his chair, silent but with his mouth agape in surprise. “Collins,” he whispered.
On the screen, James Collins stood proudly in his full military uniform. For Lucien, it was like seeing a ghost. Not only because he’d been assured months ago that James Collins was dead, but because the young man was the spitting image of his father, looking almost exactly like the late president had thirty years prior when Lucien had first met him.
Finally, the image began to speak. “To the members of the Cartel, I address you as Military Commander for the Olympian Republic and the free people of Mars. This message is for you and in particular for Lucien Rex. I call to discuss your surrender.”
“In return for your imprisonment and trial as war criminals, ten billion metric tons of dehydrated grain will be delivered to Earth and the rest of your families will be pardoned and exempt from prosecution. These terms are non-negotiable. I expect your answer in twenty-four hours. If I don’t receive it, or if you reject these terms, I’ll be coming for you. Make no mistake: the next war will be fought on Earth in your homes, not in ours.”
CHAPTER 62
James stood on a balcony, high atop one of the few untouched skyscrapers in the city of Olympia. His gaze wandered the cityscape. In some parts the settlement was in utter ruin, in others, it was as if war had never come to it. Not a scratch. Cranes moved silently in the dusky skyline and down on the street workmen moved about the broken and shattered buildings, removing debris by the truckload.
As the sun set behind the great mountain Olympus Mons, stars began to form in the sky like a magic trick, blinking suddenly and quickly out of the darkness and into existence.
As James pondered the future, Hannah walked onto the balcony and put her arms around him.
He smiled and then asked the question they both knew the answer to. “Any word from the Cartel?”
“No response yet,” she said. “But they still have a few hours. Do you really think they’ll accept our terms?”
James hesitated. “They might, but it’ll all be lies. Stalling for time.”
“So this isn’t over.”
James put his arm around her as the two looked up into the dark of the night and the vast expanse of space.
“No,” he said, sadly. “I’m afraid this was just the beginning.”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Graham Brown grew up in Connecticut and Pennsylvania, went to college in Arizona and fell in love with the desert and the blue skies. He’s lived in the Southwest ever since. His first three novels, Black Rain, Black Sun and The Eden Prophecy were published by Bantam-Dell. Since 2010 he’s been lucky enough to work with Clive Cussler on the NUMA FILES. Devil’s Gate, The Storm and Zero Hour were all NYT bestsellers, with The Storm debuting at #1.
You can get in touch with Graham via facebook at https://www.facebook.com/GrahamBrownAuthor, on twitter via @AuthorGB or the old fashioned way -
as of a few years ago – though his website at www.grahambrownthrillers.com.
Spencer J. Andrews is from Pennsylvania, where he attended Penn State University and The Carnegie School of Film and Media. He is the co-author of the Shadows trilogy of novels and The Gods of War, a dystopian yet hopeful tale of endless war, future slavery and the terra-forming of Mars as humanity’s last attempt to save itself.
In addition to being an author, Spencer J. Andrews is a screenwriter and independent filmmaker. His love for the creative arts spans many disciplines including painting and music.
You can get in touch with Andrew via Facebook at www.facebook.com/spencerj.andrews, or on Twitter via @SpencerJAndrews
The first book in the Shadows Trilogy.
Watch for Book Two: Shadows of the Dark Star in August 2014
