“Sir, training in the ARC suits isn’t possible on board a ship.”
“Yes, that point has been made, but Marshall General Allison Sinclare is so confident that her pilots will be able to master the ARC suits that she’s convinced the Fleet Admiral to launch your platoon from orbit. The non-com techs will have to work double duty on the ARC suits, as no more technicians have been assigned to your platoon. You will have a drop ship at your disposal, with a dedicated crew so that you can be ferried down to disrupt the Swarm once it begins moving again.”
“Are we sure that it will?”
“Nothing is certain in warfare. In a fight, anything is possible, so be careful. You heard the reports from the command staff. There have been sightings on other colony worlds. The pressure is on to stop the Swarm before one reaches earth.”
“I understand,” Angel said, feeling a tremor of fear.
Just the thought of the Swarm on earth was frightening, but to truly consider the carnage that would surely follow was unthinkable. Earth was a special place, but it had finite resources and hovered on the verge of over-population. If the swarm began to deplete even a tiny bit of the food or water that humanity depended on, it would set the entire world on a collision course with anarchy.
“You job hasn’t changed,” Jakobson went on. “You have to find a way to effectively use the ARC technology to stop the Swarm. Be aware that the aliens may have learned from the battle in the mountains. Your abilities in the ARC suits won’t be a surprise when you fight them the next time. And don’t let the Air Force squad knock you off course either. They’ll be just as concerned with proving their superiority as accomplishing the mission. Don’t sink to their level. Leadership is about setting a tone and moving people toward a specific destination. Trust your instincts, Lieutenant. We’re all on the same team at the end of the day.”
“Yes sir,” Angel said.
“Very good. Well, I won’t get a chance before you leave the system, so let me say it now. Good luck.”
Angel stood, saluted, and once Jakobson returned her salute she left his office. It felt strange somehow to be at the center of both a military and political confrontation. Jakobson had been right; she felt like a pawn in someone else’s game. It was shocking to realize that she just wanted to get back to her platoon. Even going to Mars felt like an unwanted distraction. She would never turn her back on the opportunity to deliver the letter Cash had written to Ruiz’s family; yet she was afraid that the Swarm would attack again, and she would miss it.
The docking officer waved her through once she scanned her data pad at the airlock leading to the shuttle. She was pleased to see that the small transport had high-backed, padded seats with five-point harnesses. As soon as she was seated, she let her mind really engage with the realization that she was anxious to return to danger. It seemed ludicrous to her rational mind, yet somewhere deep inside she had to admit that she had never before felt so alive as when she had charged into the Swarm. She wasn’t sure what that said about her. Perhaps only people with deep emotional wounds longed for danger; she didn’t know. Her adolescence had been — she searched for the right word — busy. Perhaps hectic was a better word; she wasn’t sure. The truth was, she had never thought about her life or her family being anything but normal during her formative years. When she was young she assumed her life was no different than every other girl. As she got older, she could see how flawed her parents were; but she never blamed them. Her mother had a debilitating disease, but there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. Her father struggled to take care of her mother, and when he came up short he drank his sorrows away.
Angel had always been a self-motivated person. She got herself up for early morning workouts, prepared her own food, washed her own clothes, took care of her studies, and made every practice on time. When she thought about what motivated her, the answer was simple — she wanted to win. In gymnastics, which had consumed every waking moment from the age of twelve until she joined the CSF, she had been very ambitious. It made sense that she would be ambitious in her new career too; but the more she considered her motivations, the clearer it became that she wasn’t concerned with gaining rank. What she really wanted was to be in the ARC suit where she could do things that were almost supernatural; to perform feats of such physical strength and daring that she was remembered long after she was gone.
As the ship slipped from its berth at the space station and drifted down toward the surface of the red planet, she couldn’t help but wonder if her longing for the ARC suit and what she could do while in the amazing technology, wasn’t unhealthy. Perhaps it would be better to simply walk away from it all, before the longing became too strong to resist. She knew that at some point she would be forced to leave the ARC program, perhaps even drummed out of the CSF. Worse yet, she might be killed in action. Yet when she thought of the alternative, it horrified her. There was simply no way she could return to earth and find a civilian job. Not with the memory of the amazing things she could do in the ARC suit. It might better to die in action, she thought, than to live without the thrill of what she was able to do in the suit.
The desire to be in danger frightened her, but as the shuttle flew down toward the domes of Bezos City, she realized that she didn’t have all that much to lose. She was young, with her whole life before her, yet that future seemed nebulous, insubstantial. Her parents were barely alive and her connection to them was tremulous. She had no other family, no lover to miss; it was just herself. And if she were honest, the desire to use her gymnastic skills in the ARC suit was the most important thing to her, healthy or not. She glanced at her data pad and checked the time. She had thirty-four hours until she could to leave Mars and return to her platoon. If she had to be there, she determined to make the most of it. She would deliver the letter, then explore the domed city. Who knew what exotic wonders awaited her on the red planet.
8
Bezos City, Mars, Sol System
The shuttle landed on a standard round pad, but before the passengers disembarked, the hybrid craft was towed into one of the famous domes. Angel stepped out of the shuttle and looked around in awe. She was in a huge, transparent dome. The landscape beyond was sparse, and arid. A bland landscape of red rock and dust. Inside the the dome, Angel was awed by the rich, green foliage that seemed to be springing up all around the hanger facility. There were bushes, trees, manicured lawns, and plants of every variety. The dome cities on Mars had become the most controlled spaces in humanity’s venture into the stars. Earth was crowded. The sprawling cities were always expanding, but on Mars the living spaces were so carefully controlled that every inch was meticulously planned out, from the ground up to the top of the domes.
Termed bio-spheres, the domes were unique environments that affected everything inside them. The architecture was vastly different from earth. Every building was constructed to take up as small a footprint as possible, but also with the capacity to grow upward. Nearly every structure contained multiple stories, and most were outlined with LED lights that made the dome cities famous for their night time vistas. Even from space the domed cities stood out in stark contrast to the rough terrain of the red planet. Angel had seen pictures and video of the Martian cities, but she quickly realized that nothing compared to seeing the architectural wonders in person.
She followed the other passengers onto an electric powered trolley that looked like an antique from the turn of the twentieth century. The transport carried Angel to the CSF admin building. It was part workspace, part recruiting tool; and housed all the personnel in Fort Matthis. The Tower, as the massive structure was referred to, was a gleaming, round skyscraper that rose nearly to the top of the dome. There were taller buildings in Bezos City, but only in the center of the dome. Angel entered through a revolving door and was surprised by the spacious lobby. There were huge video screens, automated kiosks, and recruiters in dress uniforms eager to help.
Angel stepped to one of the kiosks and waved her data pad over
the receptacle. The kiosk was like a booth, with white curving walls that lit up with touch sensitive video screens. An automated voice welcomed her.
“Lieutenant Murphy, welcome to the Tower on Bezos City. How may I be of service?”
Angel withdrew the envelope from her pocket and glanced at the names Staff Sergeant Cashman had written on it.
“I’m looking for Claudia and Hector Ruiz,” Angel said. “I need to deliver a letter.”
The Martian Postal Service is a reliable package shipping organization,” the automated voice said. “Shall I schedule a pick up?”
“No,” Angel said. “Find the address of Claudia and Hector Ruiz. I’ll deliver the letter myself.”
“Claudia and Hector Ruiz live in the Proctor district, 1448 Princeton St. Apartment 627. Shall I push the address to your data pad, Lieutenant?”
“Yes,” Angel said. “Are there taxies available?”
“Personal transports in Bezos City are reserved for government officials. Mass transit consists of trolleys on the surface and underground rapid rail. Both forms will be indicated on the mapping application of your data pad.”
Angel resisted the urge to thank the automated voice in the kiosk. She knew she wasn’t conversing with a person, but the AI program was so life-like it was difficult to remember that she was talking to a machine.
The underground train system was the fastest way to travel through the massive domed city, but Angel didn’t want to miss the sights. It was late afternoon planetary time, and Angel guessed she would be more successful finding the Ruiz family at home later in the evening. She left the Tower and walked through the narrow streets, marveling at how different they were from earth. She had grown up with wide streets and narrow sidewalks, but on Mars it was the opposite. She walked on wide sidewalks surrounded by buildings with tall glass windows. It seemed that the businesses on Mars vied for the most creative window displays. There were large sections of carefully planted and maintained greenery along the sidewalks, and the only traffic on the narrow streets were the antique trollies.
Angel took her time, first walking, then riding a trolley that took her deep into the heart of the dome. She stopped at a restaurant and ate a hamburger made from real meat, with fresh vegetables and sweet potato fries. The food was decadent compared to the meals she had grown used to on board the CSF ships. After eating, she decided to walk for a while. It was nearly 1900 when she reached a tall building made of red brick and outlined with crimson LED lights on the corners. She stepped into the foyer and was met by a man in a doorman’s uniform who smiled warmly.
“Hello, Lieutenant. May I help you?”
“I hope so. I’m looking for Claudia and Hector Ruiz. They have an apartment in this building, I believe.”
“They do. I’ll ring them up for you. May I share who is calling on them this evening?”
“I’m Second Lieutenant Angela Murphy. Tell them that their son Wayne was in my platoon.”
The doorman nodded, his face somber. Angela guessed he knew of their loss. The actual time between her battle with the Swarm on Neo Terra and her arrival in Bezos City was a mash-up of different time zones. She had no idea how long it had been since Corporal Ruiz was killed in action. Nor how quickly after his death the CSF had sent word to his family, but it was clear that they knew he was gone.
A minute later the doorman returned, and waved her toward an elevator.
“They’re expecting you,” he said.
“Thank you,” Angel replied as the doors to the elevator swooshed open.
She stepped inside and the doorman pressed the button for the sixth floor. He gave her a half-hearted smile before stepping out. The doors closed and Angel realized she wasn’t going to enjoy the next hour, but she felt a deep sense of responsibility for the loss the Ruiz family was dealing with. Wayne was dead because he couldn’t handle the extreme movement of the ARC suit. Perhaps with more training he might have survived, but Angel knew there was nothing she could do about the lack of preparation her platoon had been forced to proceed with. They had been needed, even if the officers in theater hadn’t understood that. Her platoon had faced the Swarm and done what an entire battalion of Marines had failed to do. Yet that victory seemed hollow as she stepped from the elevator and walked down the carpeted hallway. Her eyes didn’t see the intricate details of the posh building. All she could think about were the people inside apartment 627 and the questions she knew they were going to ask. Questions she couldn’t answer due to the top secret designation of the ARC program and the alien Swarm.
She paused outside the door. Never in all the years she had competed in gymnastics had she felt as nervous as she did at that moment. Even the fear of dying on Neo Terra seemed to pale in comparison. She wanted to slip the letter from Cashman under the door and run away, but she forced herself to stand steady and knock on the door.
It only took a few seconds before the door swung open and Angel saw the red rimmed eyes of Claudia Ruiz.
9
Bezos City, Mars, Sol System
Angel had never felt so emotionally drained. She hadn’t known what to expect at the Ruiz home; but the love, appreciation, and respect they had shown her certainly wasn’t it. They had asked about Wayne’s death, but all Angel could tell them was that he died admirably. Officially the CSF denied the existence of the Swarm, which meant that Angel couldn’t explain that their son had died fighting the enemy and defending his friends. Fortunately, they didn’t press the point. They showed her pictures and home videos of Wayne when he was young. They talked about his kindness, respect for others, and his love of the Special Forces.
When Angel left, she felt exhausted, but better than she had since the battle in the mountains on Neo Terra. Her conscious seemed lighter, the guilt she felt over Corporal Ruiz’s death had eased slightly. Not that she would ever forget him, or her failure to adequately train him; but she breathed a little easier and for that she was grateful.
It was dark when she left the big apartment building on Princeton Street. In the daylight the sky overhead was hidden by the sunlight’s shimmer on the dome’s glass ceiling. At night, that shimmer was gone; and looking up, Angel could see stars. The city felt like the set of a science fiction movie. All around her were tall, modern buildings. There was no sign of the red planet outside the dome, not even a single light to reveal the barren world beyond the glass bubble. Even the carefully landscaped foliage was planted in rich, black fertilizer, with no trace of the native, red soil. In may respects she felt like the city was floating in space, even though she knew they were on the surface of the planet.
She passed bars, night clubs, and cannabis lounges. They were loud, noisy, and crowded; which Angel found unappealing. She didn’t want to be in the thick of things. What she wanted was peace and something to take her mind off the constant worry that had plagued her since leaving Neo Terra. She was emotionally drained, but not tired. Going back to the Tower and taking a room for the night didn’t really interest her, so instead she wandered into cineplex and bought a movie ticket.
At the concession stand she picked up a large popcorn, a bag of candy, and large soft drink. She made her way into the nearly empty theater and found a seat. The lights were soon down, and no one noticed the tears that ran down her cheeks as she watched the movie. When the show was over, Angel felt better. The sadness had passed, and in its place was a restlessness that was in many ways a relief. She didn’t know how to deal with sadness, but restlessness was something she was very familiar with. She found her way back to the Tower and checked in.
Her flight out of the system left in just under twenty-four hours. Angel was assigned to an actual room with a real shower. Her ruck sack that contained her clothes and the few personal possessions she owned, had been moved from the shuttle craft to her room in the Tower — a small perk of being an officer in the CSF, she decided.
She changed into her military issue sweat suit, and found the gym. It was a massive room with free weights, univers
al machines, cardio equipment, and a tumbling mat. She took her time; stretching for nearly an hour before doing a standard gymnastic routine of handstands, cartwheels, dive-rolls, and saltos. She spent another hour doing four circuits on the universal machines, giving her body a thorough workout. Finally, despite her fatigue, she pushed herself for another forty-five minutes on the cardio equipment. When she finished, she wasn’t restless, just tired and hungry.
Dinner in the Tower, which she ate after midnight according to Martian time, was a sandwich, an energy drink, and a slice of pie. Then she took a long shower, keeping the water as hot as she could stand it. When she finally dropped into bed, she was ready for a good, long rest.
Ten hours later, Angel was up, her belongings packed, and her shuttle ride up to the C.S.F. Minerva was scheduled. She had a few hours before she needed to check in at the spaceport, so she went on a quest. She didn’t mind the food served on space ships, and she could adjust to the tight quarters and anemic showers. What she missed was junk food. She found a store where she purchased a backpack and enough candy, jerky, and snack cakes to fill it.
Her last stop on the red planet was the roof of the Tower, where a lookout station was set up. There were long range telescopes for visitors to use, but Angel was content to stare across the city and through the glass dome to the rugged Martian landscape beyond. For nearly an hour she stood transfixed, trying to take in the expanse of the planet. It was what she missed most on board the CSF interstellar space craft. She wanted to fix the sheer size of the planet, even a small one like Mars, in her mind before being confined on a tiny ship for days on end as they traveled to the Tau Ceti system where she could rejoin her platoon.
The shuttle ride into orbit was faster, and more taxing than the trip down. The Martian gravity seemed to hang onto them until the very last moment. Finally, they broke free and Angel felt herself lifted in her seat by the lack of gravity. Half an hour later, the shuttle docked with the Minerva and Angel crossed the air lock into the ship. She waited for her ruck sack to be brought out to her, then followed a midshipman to her quarters. As soon as she checked in with her data pad, a timer came to life on the video screen in her tiny cabin. The ship was scheduled to leave orbit in forty-two minutes.
Battle ARC Page 4
