The God Mars Book Two: Lost Worlds

by Michael Rizzo

  “And Colonel Burke?” I push her when she leaves him out of her roster. Her eyes go to her desk screen, like she’s trying to distance herself by referring to the test results that scroll in front of her.

  “He didn’t want you to know,” she admits. “He’s suffering from a metastasized osteo-sarcoma. It started in his bone marrow, possibly a reaction to the skeletal building supplements. It was treatable when we went to sleep, but it got a foothold even while we were put out. Now it’s everywhere: lungs, liver, pancreas… The anti-cancer drugs I’ve got stocked are keeping it controlled, but he’s too weak to get remission.”

  I expected this—I remind myself of that—but it still hits me like I’ve been shot.

  “And Earthside doesn’t have any cure for this?” I ask her, already sure of the answer.

  “Not since they abandoned nano-medicine,” she confirms with an edge of frustration. “I hate to point it out, but the only people who would be able to do anything about this are the ETE, assuming they maintained the research that eventually led to their current hybridizing nanotech.”

  “Which they haven’t been willing to share,” I point out the obvious.

  “You’ve been doing them a lot of favors, Colonel,” she reminds me of the obvious. “You’d think a little reciprocity would be forthcoming.”

  “You think Matthew would accept their nanotech if they offered?” I counter.

  “No,” she admits. “I actually had this conversation with him already. But he’s getting sicker. Weaker. And he’s probably in a significant amount of pain even though he won’t admit it. I was hoping his symptoms would change his mind.”

  I shake my head. “It’s likely a pointless conversation, but I’ll have a talk with the ETE. Even if Matthew stays stubborn, maybe they can help the rest of us.”

  “Be careful, Colonel,” she suddenly gets edgy. “I don’t want to think about how Earthside would react if our senior command were suddenly implanted with ETE nanotech. I agree that Colonel Burke’s condition is too serious to worry about that, but I’ve been communicating back and forth with the UNCORT scientists; they’re a scared lot, Colonel. DNA manipulation and biological nanotech are world-ending plagues to them—it doesn’t matter how safe the ETE can prove they are. And that means they’ll never embrace the ETE, no matter what the diplomats say. They’re wound enough just about the idea that we’ve been in close proximity to the ETE, not to mention the ETE messing with our Hiber-Sleep. I expect every one of us to be put through a hell of a screening process before anyone from home has any contact with us. If it does turn out we’ve actually been implanted with ETE nanotech… well…”

  “I understand,” I allow her, my own frustration building toward rage. “Matthew has the choice between dead and pariah, assuming the ETE will even consider it.” I cover my face with my hands and shut my eyes and breathe through my fingers. Then I ask the one question I really don’t want answered. “How long has he got?”

  Halley checks her charts again, deferring the answer to her diagnostic machines.

  “I expect I can keep him stable for another three months. After that, I’m out of the drugs I need. He’ll start declining within a month, and he probably won’t be fit for duty within another month. After that, it could be weeks or months. Even if Earthside sends me more meds, the damage will be done before they get here. I’m sorry.”

  I do my spin time. It’s probably my imagination, but I think I can feel the arthritis that Halley warned me about. I go back to my quarters and let Sakina give me a massage, then I surprise both of us by initiating sex in the middle of the afternoon. I stay with her for the rest of the day.

  I don’t speak with Matthew.

  I don’t call the ETE.

  6 April, 2116:

  The alarms go off at 04:30.

  I wasn’t asleep. I doubt Sakina was either.

  She pulls her armor on without saying a word. My Link is feeding me sitrep in realtime as I get my own on.

  Radar detected amorphous shadows, almost indistinguishable from the dust blow. Then we started registering breach attempts on several of our external hatches. Our H-A troopers responded, only to come under small arms fire. Then something bigger started to pound them. I recognized the sound of those cannons immediately.

  “Back into the bunkers,” I order as I jog up to Command Ops. “Put guns on all access points.”

  “Rules of engagement, sir?” Thomas comes on Link to ask me, sealing up her own H-A.

  “Defend this installation,” I confirm.

  “Understood, Colonel.”

  “Captain Kastl,” I call as soon as I cycle through the lock into Ops. “Do we have a lock on the Dutchman?” I see a hit on the concrete of the Air Command Tower that manages to take a meter-wide divot out of the northern shield wall.

  “Minimal radar profile, two thousand meters north-northwest,” Kastl shows me on the holo-map. “Still too dark for visual confirmation, but MAI matched the sound of those guns to the Zodangan homemade SRF cannons. You want battery response?”

  “Get me any visual you can,” I tell him. “Catch ‘em lighting themselves up with their own cannon flash. Or at least a reasonable heat image. I need a picture.” Kastl gets me what I want as soon as they fire at us again: the big Zodangan airship—looking like a capsized three-masted frigate with its distinctive under-hull sails—giving us a full broadside from over a mile away. Then I key up a call to the obvious people.

  Council Blue—or at least the mask and the sealsuit—comes up on my screen quite a bit faster than anticipated.

  “Council, I’ve got visitors,” I tell him, patching him the fuzzy but recognizable image of the Dutchman, lit up against the pitch-dark sky by its own cannon flash. I hear another series of booms and feel metal slam our bunkers again in a dozen places. “Thought I’d give you a shout in good faith before shooting them down myself.”

  “Take a look at this, Colonel,” Mark Stilson returns, flashing me his own image of the Dutchman—or something that looks very similar—cruising lazily, paralleling the Melas North Rim, lit up by dancing spotlights aimed from the ETE Station. “It’s been sailing just outside of cannon range of our Station since sunset last night.”

  “Decoy,” I say the obvious.

  “We’ve never seen more than one of those ships,” he tries to excuse.

  “They’ve either been busy or sneaky,” I consider. Another burst hits Air Command, shattering concrete into dust. “Metzger!” I switch channels quickly. “Status?”

  “We’re shaken up but holding together,” she reports from the tower. “I’ve got some loss of pressure, but we’re squirting goop to reseal—if we were still at original Mar’s pressure we’d be in trouble, but we can get by with masks until the air gets thick again. But if we keep taking hits to the same section of shielding, we might get penetrated. You want air response?”

  Radar and visual cams show me dozens of little shadows flitting moth-like in the air over the base.

  “Negative,” I tell her. “Keep our ships secured in their bunkers. We do this old school.” Then I switch back over to the ETE channel. “I need your answer, Council.”

  “I’m warming a transport as we speak,” he tells me.

  “Appreciated. Keep me apprised.”

  The cannon fire shifts targets, and I watch the greenhouse depressurize as big holes get punched through the transparency. Then I see a handful of those little flyers come down on the structure.

  “I need guns in the greenhouse,” I call. “They’re going for the produce.”

  “On it, Colonel,” I hear Rios. “I assume we’re not waiting for the cavalry?”

  “Negative,” I clarify. “Defend our resources, Lieutenant. Deadly force as needed.” Then I key up Abbas’ channel.

  “Sorry for the hour, but we’ve got visitors,” I tell him, realizing I haven’t woken him.

  “So I hear,” he lets me know. “You have our support.”

  “Grateful, but tell your people
to hold their campsites, grab cover. I don’t want any friendly-fire incidents if you get entangled with the pirates.”

  “We can protect the greenhouse…” he insists, unwilling to risk losing the literal fruits of our labors to the Zodangans.

  “Without Links, we can’t tell your warriors from the enemy. And the ETE are on their way.”

  “Understood, my friend,” he finally agrees, simmering.

  “Breach, Colonel,” Kastl announces. “They popped Airlock 2.”

  “They’re either going for Medical or trying to get up here,” I consider the airlock’s location.

  “Wonder if they know where they’re going?” I hear Matthew, coming through the hatch behind me. He’s only a few minutes late to the show, and doesn’t look sick at all.

  “Every contractor had blueprints of this place,” I remember. “I guess we never assumed the intel would be used against us.”

  “We never assumed anybody could get past our anti-personnel batteries to get to our airlocks,” Matthew revises. “Now this makes twice; three times if we count your girlfriend letting herself in.”

  Video shows a squad of H-A suits turning the narrow entry of the airlock into a choke-point, their guns cutting down the first three ragged pirates that try to charge in. Then a brace of small spheres bounce through the ruptured hatch from outside.

  “Grenades!” Thomas yells. Her suits fall back to cover as the corridor erupts, the airlock shattering, concrete and metal spraying in on them, making it almost impossible to see anything. The pirates use the opening to rush in again, but before the H-A troopers can fire, I see two of the lead pirates jerk and go down with familiar metal spikes through their heads. Then Sakina’s red cloak flies through the smoke and dust and out through the ruptured hatchway. The troopers hold fire, but several seconds go by and not one other pirate comes through that gap.

  “Permission to take the fight outside, Colonel?” Thomas asks eagerly.

  “Move up,” I tell her. “But your priority is to hold that gap. We’re open.”

  I try to get better resolution on the tactical map that MAI is constantly revising from the surface sentries. It lights me up at least fifty human-sized heat/motion blips swarming the base bunkers, most of them clustered at the airlocks. The imaging isn’t clear enough to tell where Sakina’s gone (doing what I just told Abbas not to let his own people do), but then I notice one of the blips is moving a lot faster than the others, jumping and zig-zagging like a flea on the map. It darts at one of the other hatch-breaking clusters—this one trying the big vehicle doors just opposite the aircraft bays. One by one, the other blips go still.

  Thomas has moved her troopers up to the shattered opening, but then the rock and sand explodes right in their faces, knocking them back down the corridor. The Dutchman has shifted targets.

  “Done waiting,” I growl. “Main batteries. Bring them down.”

  The bigger perimeter turrets spin and start spraying 20mm explosive rounds as fast as they can cycle. I watch the Dutchman’s drive fans pivot and try to move her off. There’s at least one visible larger explosion on her gun deck—likely we hit one of their “powder” stores—then flashes from her cannons as she tries shooting back. The perimeter wall takes hits, but she misses the batteries themselves. Then one of her fans breaks free and drops, followed by her aft-most under-mast, which is left hanging by rigging. The big airship lists, but manages to correct. The dragging mast is quickly cut loose.

  “She’s running,” Kastl confirms.

  “Too easy,” Matthew criticizes.

  “If they had our blueprints, they know what to expect from our guns,” I agree.

  I flip to Rios’ channel. His troopers are shooting it out in the greenery, at least a dozen pirates trying to take the greenhouse facility.

  “Colonel Ram, it’s Tru,” I hear a new voice over the Link. “As civilian rep and an interested party, I’d like to remind you that quite a few of my people are competent bearing arms.”

  “Appreciated,” I tell her. “Armory Four has a stock of PDWs. Specialist Wei will check you out what you need. I’ll flash you a projection of potential defensive positions—your people can be a second line if they make it in past our armor.”

  “Not what I was hoping for, but I’ll take it,” she returns, her voice edged with rage. I’m sure she’d rather be making a stand protecting her garden.

  “Colonel,” Kastl interrupts. “Main Battery One…”

  Blips are swarming the dual gun turrets. Close visuals show the flare and spark of cutting tools. MAI’s alarms show that they’ve jammed the barrel clusters; another shot would burst them. Then Main Battery Two gets similar attention.

  “They wanted us to spin up our guns so they could see what we’ve got,” Matthew figures. “Now they know the best stuff to jack.”

  “Smart,” I agree grimly. “They keep us from perforating their ship, and we can’t fire on our own batteries without wrecking them.”

  “So either we let them steal our biggest guns or destroy them ourselves,” Matthew angrily sums.

  “Didn’t think they came for just groceries and bandages,” I hear Rios chime in. The greenhouse pirates have settled into defensive positions, keeping the H-A troopers busy without too much exposure. They also know we’re not willing to use anything heavy against them in the garden, which is our least defensible facility.

  I get back on with Council Blue.

  “The decoy ship opened fire on us as soon as we tried to get airborne,” he feeds me before I can ask. “They’ve used this tactic on us before: Attack and back off, knowing we won’t pursue to destroy them after they’ve stopped attacking. And they’re keeping outside of our field-effect range. We can get past them, but they’ll delay us. We won’t be there for another twenty minutes or more.”

  “Colonel Ava to Colonel Ram,” I get the call from Melas Three. “I can have air support to you in twenty minutes.”

  “Appreciate it,” I tell her, “but I expect they know to be gone by then.”

  “I’m spinning up a flight anyway,” she countermands me.

  “I’m betting they’d swarm in if we opened our bays to launch,” Matthew is considering. “Probably waiting for that very thing: take a ship or two while they’re here stealing our big guns.”

  “Use it against them!” Tru cuts in. “They want a big prize, open a door. I can have a hundred guns in there waiting.”

  I consider it for a few seconds, then give her the go. If the pirates did their homework, they’ve estimated our troop strength, but probably didn’t think about all the ex-Ecos living with us.

  “Give us sixty seconds,” she calculates.

  “We’ve got a busted bird in Bay Four,” Metzger considers. “If we light up some spare solid rocket fuel, it might look like an honest liftoff. The smoke will add cover for the ambush.”

  “Do it,” I tell them.

  Meanwhile, Thomas manages to get her armor back outside now that the Dutchman has moved off. She had two suits go down in the bombardment—they’re being dragged to Medical—and the rest of her troopers are eager to hit back at something. The red suits dig in and start carefully picking pirates off of Main Battery One. The invaders quickly shift and try to use the turrets for cover. Kastl makes it harder for them by keeping the disabled turrets turning at random.

  I’d lost sight of Sakina. But then pirates start falling off of Main Battery Two.

  “Sergeant Horst!” Thomas shouts out. “Take a squad and give our girl some back up!”

  “Just don’t shoot the red cape by mistake,” Rios adds. “That pisses her off.”

  “Our little special effect is ready, Colonel,” Metzger lets me know.

  “Trap’s got teeth,” Tru follows a few moments later.

  “Spring it.”

  The Dutchman is trying to come back around. Its cannons flare, but they concentrate on Main Battery Three, what it apparently considers its last biggest threat. A fresh wave of gliders flits through the
airspace overhead.

  Feedback says they’ve managed to unplug Main Battery Two’s main turret guns from MAI’s control, but Kastl takes a risk and opens Main Battery One’s missile hatch and pops a pair of SAMs toward the incoming airship. The back blast drives a few of the raiders into Thomas’ gunsights, and Kastl slams the missile hatch down on one pirate’s greedy fingers, crushing them. The SAMs burst angrily on the Dutchman’s gun deck, and I can see bodies thrown from the ship. The remaining pirates atop the battery shift from trying to steal the guns to trying to disable the missile launcher by welding the hatch shut. This only gives Thomas better targets.

  Across the complex, Aircraft Bay Four is open and venting exhaust. The pirate gliders focus their swarm, and within an impressively short amount of time have dropped some kind of huge net over the decoy ASV. Metzger elevates the pad part-way, effectively simulating the beginning of a lift off. The pirates take their opportunity and “board” the ship, leaping from their gliders and using their net for a foothold.

  Tru’s good. She gives the pirates all the time they need to feel confident they’ve got the ship—I can see at least a dozen bodies clinging to it. The pirates follow-up with a bonus attempt, rappelling another dozen raiders directly down into the bay in hopes of scoring another ship or two. Tru lets them just touch down in the exhaust smoke before all of her ex-Ecos demonstrate why UNMAC needed to send garrisons of heavily armored troops and air support to deal with them fifty-plus years ago. The bay becomes a sudden storm of gunfire. The invaders barely get off a shot.

  She’s done in less than thirty seconds (though a few shots bark in the aftermath just to make sure there’s no one left with any fight in them). The Eco crossfire was so impressive that the pirates don’t dare that way again.

  “So very glad you’re on our side now, Ms. Greenlove,” I give her. Matthew grins and shakes his head.