Redemption: Area 51, #10

by Bob Mayer

  “What is the term?” Yakov asked. “Déjà du?”

  “Déjà vu,” Turcotte said. “Yeah, we’ve been here before. Sort of.”

  Turcotte had the designated glide path on the flexpad, keeping the dot representing the Fynbar inside the parameters while avoiding eating red Martian dirt.

  “You think perhaps a trap?” Yakov asked.

  “I think whatever we least expect is what’s going to happen.”

  “That could be good,” Yakov said, “since I expect the worst.”

  “You always do, my friend.”

  “Thirty seconds. Doors opening.”

  Two doors leafed open on the pod. They were curved not only laterally, but also longitudinally like wings to adjust the attitude of the pod to the thin atmosphere, rotating the opening upward.

  “I’m going to have to move fast once we land,” Turcotte said. He still couldn’t see the Cydonia base on the horizon.

  “I know,” Yakov replied.

  Turcotte saw the top of the mountain that was the ‘Face’ appear.

  “Twenty seconds.”

  “Make sure you’ve got full atmosphere before getting out of the tube,” Turcotte said.

  “I know.”

  “Ten seconds.”

  The Cydonia Base was directly ahead. Turcotte’s hands were tight on the controls. He half-expected some sort of anti-ship fire from the surface. The ruby sphere was a dim, red glow next to the base.

  “Dropping!”

  Behind the Fynbar a large bundle was ejected up and out by a spring loaded platform, then ten mercenaries, a second bundle, ten more mercenaries, a third bundle, and then the last ten mercs. They went up two hundred meters, then began dropping.

  Turcotte banked the Fynbar, careful not to slam into the pod, feeling the pull as it swung by.

  *****

  Parachutes deployed from each merc along with larger ones for the three bundles. The chutes grabbed at the thin Martian atmosphere, designed to slow their drop. At fifty hundred meters above the surface, the chutes automatically cut away. Maneuvering thrusters in the TASC-suits and on the bundles fired.

  The mercenaries landed in line. A few seconds later, the bundles thudded down. As they’d rehearsed over and over, the mercs went into action. The two closest to each bundle ran to it and began breaking it down.

  The other twenty-four formed a skirmish line and began bounding toward the Cydonia Base.

  *****

  “Dropping.” Nyx had tuned in to the human’s frequency, picking up the last bit of their chatter as the approached. She watched on the display as they dropped and the Fynbar came in low.

  She was in the control center, uncomfortable in the Kortad armor. Labby was behind her. The dog had barked furiously when she’d stomped back into the control center in the suit. She’d considered terminating the canis lupus familiaris program, but at this point, who cared?

  “’Once more into the fray’,” she recited to herself. “’Into the last good fight I’ll ever know. Live and die on this day’.” Nyx turned and walked heavily, the metal soles of the suit thudding on the floor, spear heavy in her hands, sword banging against the armor at her waist. She reached the airlock. Opened it. Stepped inside. Turned toward the outer lock and the inner shutting behind her.

  She didn’t notice that Labby slipped in the airlock as the inner door closed.

  The outer lock opened.

  Nyx finished the last stanza of the poem. “’Live and die on this day’.”

  *****

  “’Live and die on this day’.” The words were English, but the voice a strange singsong that Turcotte and Yakov both recognized.

  “We have one alive at least,” Yakov asked.

  Turcotte had no time to consider it as he touched the Fynbar down on a level stretch of red sand eight hundred meters from the ‘city’. The spaceship shook as it touched down, then was jerked as the pod also touched down. They didn’t slide far.

  “Let’s move,” Turcotte yelled as he jumped and began donning the TASC-suit.

  Yakov opened the empty regeneration tube and climbed in. He gave Turcotte a thumbs up. “Good luck, my friend.” Then he lay back and top descended and sealed.

  Turcotte finished gearing up by attaching the MK-98 to the end of one arm. He climbed the ladder and threw open the hatch. The spaceship instantly vented. Turcotte climbed on top, closing the hatch and sealing it behind him.

  Inside, the atmosphere began to reboot.

  *****

  The skirmish line halted three hundred meters from the ruby sphere, forming a semi-circle, weapons at the ready.

  Behind them, both Tesla cannons were deployed, charged and prepared to fire at the control center. Two mercs were working on the first bundle, assembling a six-wheeled rover, locking in place a crane over the large cradle for the ruby sphere behind the two seats.

  “Movement, two o-clock,” a merc announced over the net.

  *****

  Nyx walked unsteadily forward from the outer lock toward the humans. She leveled the spear and pressed the detent. A golden bolt flashed from the tip, passing well over the heads of the humans and dissipating.

  As she lowered the spear for better aim, several of the humans opened fire.

  They were better trained.

  Four MK-98 darts hit her. The armor held, barely, unfortunately, given her intent, but the impacts sent her flying backward, spear dropping from her hand.

  *****

  Turcotte arrived at the skirmish line as they fired. He saw the Airlia in black armor go down.

  “Any other targets?” the merc commander asked.

  His men reported negative.

  “Turcotte?” Yakov’s voice came over the net. “I’ve got the lead Swarm scout coming in fast. And there are more following. You don’t have much time.”

  *****

  Nyx lay on the Martian dirt, staring upward at the darkness of space. It hurt to breath with several ribs broken. Several alarms were blinking on the heads up display, but she didn’t focus on any.

  She was not dead.

  She was aware of something moving to her right and looked that way on the display. Labby was sitting there, staring at her.

  Great.

  She looked at the stars and saw a dark spot coming down.

  Not good.

  *****

  The merc commander was issuing orders, putting out a security perimeter and sending men to the ruby sphere. The rover rolled toward it.

  Turcotte bounded next to the commander.

  “Is that a dog over there with the body?” the merc commander asked.

  “Looks like,” Turcotte said, spotting Labby sitting next to the Airlia body. “But it isn’t a real one, unless its breathing carbon dioxide.”

  “Weird shit,” the merc commander muttered. “Think that was it?”

  “I don’t see anyone else coming out,” Turcotte said. “We need the sphere. That’s the priority.”

  “Roger on that,” the commander said, heading that way.

  The rover was at the ruby sphere and a demo expert was setting charges to blow the rod holding it as others began to deploy a cargo net around the sphere.

  Yakov’s next warning came over the net. “You have two minutes.”

  The merc commander issued his own orders and the two man teams manning the Tesla cannons traversed them skyward.

  *****

  Nyx tried to sit, but it felt as if she were being stabbed in multiple places in her chest, so she gave up.

  It didn’t matter. She could make out the descending object. A black orb with eight extensions evenly spaced around it was approaching at a high rate of speed. Swarm scout ship. Another part of basic training: alien, particularly Swarm, spaceship identification.

  Death by human or death by Swarm?

  She could hear the humans over the radio.

  Turcotte and Yakov. Coming back to Mars once more, fighting for their species.

  Humans, she thought. So strang
e. So inconsistent.

  As she was.

  *****

  “Firing!”

  One of the Tesla cannons fired at the scout ship and missed.

  “Charging,” the crew announced over the net.

  “Firing,” the other crew called out. This bolt hit, blowing one of the extensions off, but the scout ship didn’t veer off. It passed through five hundred meters altitude.

  “Charging,” the second crew called out.

  The scout ship was slowing. Turcotte raised his MK-98 and sighted in, pretty sure his darts would have little effect, but there was always getting lucky.

  “Firing!” the first crew yelled.

  This bolt hit the scout ship dead on. There was an explosion, pieces blew off, and what remained of the ship dropped, powerless. Turcotte felt the impact through the soles of the TASC-suit as it crashed four hundred meters away.

  “Coil’s fried,” the crew that had just fired for the second time announced. “Abandoning.”

  “We’ve got another ship inbound,” Yakov said.

  *****

  Nyx saw the first scout ship explode, the surprise managing to penetrate her fatal apathy.

  Labby leaned over nudged her helmet. Licking the front surface.

  “Leave me alone,” Nyx murmured.

  “Who is that?” Yakov’s voice came over the radio.

  *****

  “It’s not dead,” Turcotte replied to Yakov. “The Airlia.”

  “Take care of it,” the merc commander ordered.

  Turcotte bit back a reply and bounded toward the body. He landed next to it. The dog’s mouth was moving as if barking, but there was no sound.

  Turcotte kicked the spear away, reached down and drew the sword, also tossing it away. He knelt. There was a device like a wristpad on the alien’s left arm. He reached for it and the dog snapped at him. “Easy, boy,” Turcotte reflexively said.

  Turcotte lifted the arm, but the display showed hieroglyphics and an array of flashing lights that he couldn’t decipher. He stood and aimed the MK-98 at the helmet, but hesitated.

  “Can you hear me, Airlia?” he called out over the net. “Are there any more of you?”

  There was no reply.

  Yakov gave a warning: “Next ship is five minutes out.”

  *****

  Nyx was relieved Turcotte hadn’t fired. Then realized she was relieved and felt the same wave of shame wash through her when her suicide had failed.

  She was worthless, even at dying.

  *****

  The demo man finished emplacing explosives on the rod as the last of the cargo net was secured around the sphere, holding it in place.

  “Fire in the hole,” the demo man called over the net.

  There was a brief flash and the rod was severed. The rover rocked as the crane and harness took on the full weight of the sphere, but both held.

  *****

  Turcotte was startled and almost fired when the alien grabbed his leg, but the singsong voice over the net caused him to wait. “I hear you, Major Turcotte. I am Nyx. Astrobiologist, Third Order, last survivor of this outpost.”

  “So there’s no more of you,” Turcotte summarized the important part. He pulled his leg out the grip and aimed the MK-98 once more, but the dog jumped on top of the alien, mouth moving furiously.

  “You gotta be kidding me,” Turcotte muttered. “What is that thing?”

  “I have studied you,” Nyx said. “And Duncan. And humans.” Nyx put her hands on Labby “And canis lupus familiaris. This is Labby.”

  “I don’t give a shit.” Turcotte said, but he lowered the MK-98.

  Yakov cut in. “We’ve still got a ship coming. Three minutes. Check that. Two ships. Wait. Three, spreading out.”

  “I can help you,” Nyx said.

  “We’re moving,” the merc commander said. “We’ll be loaded and sealed in in two minutes. Kill the alien and let’s go.”

  Turcotte spared a glance. The rover was heading for the pod, surrounded by a cluster of mercs. Two were still manning the one functioning Tesla cannon.

  “Not enough time to lift off and get clear,” Turcotte said. “They’ll be on us.” He paused. “Nyx. How can you help?”

  Nyx gently put Labby to the side. Rolled over, got to her knees despite the stabbing pain. Stood. “Come,” Nyx said, trying to run for the outer lock. Turcotte lifted her off her feet and bounded, stumbled with the weight, bounded again.

  Nyx opened the lock and the two entered, Labby scooting in with them.

  “Fuck cycling,” Turcotte said, firing the MK-98 and blowing out the inner lock. The base vented as they entered.

  Nyx went to a console and worked, with difficulty, given the gloves of her suit.

  “Two minutes,” Yakov warned.

  “What you are people doing?” the merc commander yelled. “We’re at the pod and loading. My Tesla crew is holding in place.”

  “There are three ships,” Nyx said. “Which one is your Tesla cannon firing on?”

  There was no answer.

  “Which one?” Turcotte demanded.

  The merc commander replied. “Center one.”

  “I will target the others,” Nyx said. The screen above the console showed the three inbound scout ships.

  Nyx tapped a hexagonal and the center of the solar array emitted a blast of power. The scout ship on the left took a direct hit and exploded.

  “Firing,” the Tesla crew called out. Their shot hit the center scout ship. It didn’t explode, but began tumbling Mars-ward.

  Nyx was trying to get a lock on the remaining ship, which was performing evasive maneuvers. “Automatic targeting is down,” she said as she worked. “When you took the master guardian off line it—“

  “Just shoot it,” Turcotte said.

  “I am trying.”

  “Charging,” the Tesla crew reported.

  The scout ship stopped zigzagging and accelerated toward Mars. Before anyone could react it impacted in the center of the solar array.

  The screen went black.

  “That is that,” Nyx said, stepping away from the console.

  “Status?” Turcotte called out over the net.

  The merc commander responded first. “We’ve got the sphere inside. Securing it. One minute and we’ll seal.”

  “Break down?” the merc in charge of the Tesla cannon asked.

  Yakov cut in. “We have a ship coming in low over the horizon. Didn’t spot it before. A little over a minute out.”

  “Come on.” Turcotte grabbed Nyx’s arm and headed for the blown open airlock. Labby ran behind them. Outside, Turcotte and Nyx bounded for the Fynbar, but after a single jump, Nyx fell over, gasping in pain.

  Turcotte grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder.

  “Sir?” the man in charge of the remaining Tesla cannon called. “Orders?”

  “Hold your position,” the merc commander responded. “Target the incoming ship.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Turcotte saw that the ruby sphere was inside the pod and the last of the mercs, minus the two at the Tesla cannon, were climbing inside. He pulled himself up the side of the Fynbar, dragging Nyx with him. He threw her inside, ignoring her scream of pain as she landed. He stood on top, taking a quick look around. A small dot on the horizon; the incoming scout ship. The two men manning the Tesla cannon. The merc commander standing on top of the pod.

  Movement outside caused him to look down.

  The damn dog or whatever it was. Turcotte slid down, grabbed it and scrambled back up.

  “We ready?” he asked Yakov.

  “Yes.”

  “Acquiring target,” the Tesla cannon crew said.

  “Seal the pod,” Yakov ordered.

  “I’ve got men out there,” the merc commander responded.

  “We’ll take them on board the Fynbar,” Yakov said.

  “Roger that,” the merc commander said. He jumped down. “Inside and sealing.”

  Yakov didn’t w
ait, powering up the Fynbar.

  Turcotte helped Nyx to one of the steel cables stretching back to the pod. He snap-linked her to it. He clipped himself, then held the dog with his free hand.

  The Fynbar separated from Mars, and the towline went taut. The pod was lifted as the bay doors finally shut.

  Turcotte was slammed against the hull of the Fynbar at the sudden acceleration.

  “Firing!” the Tesla cannon crew called out. Their shot hit the incoming scout ship dead on. A large chunk blew away and the remaining part hit the surface, plowing a long furrow into the Martian soil.

  “Ready for pick up,” the Tesla firer called over the net.

  Yakov was accelerating upward, gaining speed to break orbit.

  “We’ve got a large bogey inbound,” Yakov called out.

  Turcotte switched the view inside the TASC-suit helmet. A different ship, twice the size of a mothership, loomed above. Yakov was racing away from it as it fired on the surface. The blast from the Swarm warship hit the Cydonia solar array, obliterating it.

  “Hey!” the Tesla crew called out. “Where are you going? Help us!”

  Turcotte watched as Yakov put distance between them and Mars.

  “Yakov?” he called over the radio.

  “Yes?”

  “Program a direct path to Earth, then you’re going to need to get in the regeneration tube so we can get in.”

  “’We’?”

  “You’ll see.”

  DESTINATION EARTH

  DREAMLAND, TEXAS

  Mrs. Parrish slumped back in her seat as the Fynbar began its earthward journey, pod in tow. The Swarm warship was pulverizing the entire Cydonia area. The screams from the two men left behind with the Tesla cannon had been cut off with the second volley from the warship. Which, most importantly, showed no indication of chasing the Fynbar. Several more scout ships arrived at Mars and were quartering the planet, with particular interest in the destruction on Mons Olympus.