by James Maxey
“You mean… what?” asked Steam-Dragon. “Like all you’ve got is a skull?”
“With my ferrokinetic senses, I feel the blood within you Steam-Dragon. You’re missing your legs.”
“Yes,” said Steam-Dragon.
“Mars isn’t a safe environment for human flesh,” said the bees, swarming together in front of the trio. “I lost my toes to frost bite shortly after I arrived, but it was a simple matter to replace them with iron prosthetics. Since my consciousness animates iron, I could even feel with them, with the same range of sensation I had with my old toes.”
The bee swarm grew thicker. “But Mars wasn’t done with me. I lost an arm during a cave-in while exploring a frozen aquafer. I replaced it with iron and moved on, but failed to consider the possibility that ancient Martian microbes might inhabit the ice that had crushed my arm. In a matter of days, an infection spread that my earthly immune system had no defense against. My body was nothing but nutrients to be devoured by microbes hungry for the moisture within me. Hour by hour, flesh dripped away, a foul, black goo. Hour by hour, I replaced what I’d lost, transferring my old consciousness into iron skin, iron bones, and an iron heart. Even my brain was lost, but no matter. My mind endures as magnetized bits of information within my iron form.
The bees clumped together into a form vaguely human, then definitely human, then definitely female, tall, well-muscled, shapely as a classical Venus, utterly nude, and made completely of glinting black iron.
“Amelia?” asked App.
“No more,” said the iron woman. “That person is long since dead, as is any humanity she once possessed. My name is Rail Blade. I am the only god of Mars and you will kneel before me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lonely Planet
“I know you’ve been through things we can’t even imagine,” said App. “But, please listen to us. We’re just looking for answers. We aren’t here to fight you.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Steam-Dragon. She glared at Rail Blade. “This bitch is crazy.”
“The only crazy people here are those who fail to kneel,” said Rail Blade.
“Y’all have to agree she’s moved into full blown supervillain mode now, right?”
“Take her!” said Chimpion.
Before App could blink, Chimpion threw herself toward the statuesque woman, drawing a long blade from the scabbard on her hip. App threw his hands over his ears as a terrible, high-pitched whine threatened to liquefy his brains. Unfortunately, due to his helmet, he couldn’t actually block any of the sound. A fraction of a second later, Rail Blade’s head toppled from her shoulders in sudden silence. Steam-Dragon leapt forward and grabbed the severed head between her jaws and shook it violently.
“What the fuck?” App said, or thought he said, since he was completely deaf. “Reset!”
Suddenly, there was noise again.
“App! Shock her! Shock her!” Chimpion cried out. “My sonic blade has stunned her, but we can’t let her form coherent thoughts.” She plunged the blade into Rail Blade’s heart, or at least where the heart would be on a human body, and twisted. The deafening shriek of the sonic blade disintegrating iron again burst App’s eardrums.
App still didn’t know why they had attacked, but also knew now that they were engaged, it was kill or be killed. Chimpion was right. If Rail Blade had even a second to focus, they’d all be dead.
Chimpion was also right about shocking her. If her mind was stored as magnetic bits, a good jolt of electricity was going to mess it up pretty badly. “Eel mode,” shouted App. He lunged forward.
Either by chance or by the reflexes of an experience fighter, Rail Blade’s body kicked out as he flew toward her, catching him in the sternum, shattering every bone in his chest with a pile drive kick. He was thrown backwards, good as dead, with only enough consciousness left to mumble “reset” before he hit the ground.
He rolled to his feet good as new, but was dismayed to see that Rail Blade’s torso had grabbed Chimpion by the sword arm. Rail Blade flung her attacker away, throwing her far across the vegetable fields. The headless Rail Blade rose to her feet and punched Steam-Dragon in the jaw, a savage blow that knocked Steam-Dragon to her knees. Rail Blade’s severed head, which Steam-Dragon had still had in her mouth, flew free and bounced into a nearby potato patch. The headless body walked toward the head as it rolled to a stop. App could see a fist sized hole through Rail Blade’s torso, the work of the sonic sword.
Rail Blade knelt and picked up her head and set it back onto her shoulders. The hole in her torso closed as she turned around to face Steam-Dragon.
“I’ve decided against killing you swiftly,” said Rail Blade, her dark eyes narrowed into steely hatred.
“Do your worst, bitch!” snarled Steam-Dragon, engulfing the iron woman in a jet of steam.
Rail Blade stepped forward from the cloud none the worse for wear, her fingers lengthening into razor-edged claws. She raked her blades across Steam-Dragon’s face and looked a little surprised when the blow failed to cut through the carbon fiber scales.
Steam-Dragon leapt up, latching onto Rail Blade’s shoulders with her fore claws, raking her belly with her hind claws. She dug into Rail Blade’s iron skin to no avail. There was nothing soft beneath. Rail Blade had no blood to spill.
This wasn’t the case with Steam-Dragon. Rail Blade calmly looked into the dragon’s eyes. Inside the armor, Becky began to scream.
App ran forward, switching back into his eel mode. Rail Blade’s back was to him, and she was focused on maximizing Steam-Dragon’s pain. She didn’t notice his approach at all until the last second, but by then it was too late. He placed his hands upon her and hit her with a full charge.
Rail Blade’s body stiffened and she crumbled to her hands and knees. Steam-Dragon collapsed, utterly limp and lifeless.
“Reset!” App called out. His eel mode took forever to recharge naturally. But, after a reset, his body was brand new.
“Eel mode!” Again, he placed his hands on Rail Blade, putting his fingers on the sides of her temples. Again, he shocked her until his bioelectricity was exhausted, leaving him with spots dancing before his eyes. Rail Blade collapsed, limbs twitching.
“Get back!” Chimpion shouted. He jumped back. The chimp landed where he’d just stood. She held a pellet in her hand, crushing it against the back of Rail Blade’s skull.
A cloud of greenish gas engulfed Rail Blade’s form as Chimpion leapt away.
“Don’t let the fumes hit you,” she yelled. “Your suit won’t save you.”
“This seems like stuff you might have mentioned before now,” App grumbled, backing away. “Ghost mode! How am I supposed to keep zapping her if I can’t get near her?”
“You don’t need to get near her,” said Chimpion. “I did my research before coming. That capsule has all the acid we need to completely dissolve a human-sized mass of iron. The mineral residue left in the aftermath isn’t capable of being magnetized, which means her magnetic mind is destroyed. She’s dead.”
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“I’m certain,” said Chimpion. “We’ve won.”
App clenched his fists. “Won? Steam-Dragon’s dead! Why the hell were we even fighting?”
“That was the whole reason for coming to Mars,” said Chimpion.
“No it wasn’t!” said App. “We came to Mars to ask questions, not kill Sarah’s sister.”
“Oh,” said Chimpion. “I mean… didn’t you see… you mean they didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” asked App.
“I mean, Mrs. Knowbokov? The full mission… you didn’t know?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You… you should see this,” said Chimpion, pulling her phone from her belt. “This video will explain everything.”
She held the device toward App. He couldn’t hold it in ghost mode, of course, so he said, “Reset.”
He took the phone. There was a sudden whine beh
ind him. Then there was nothing at all.
Chimpion pulled the sonic blade from App’s skull. He dropped to the ground, his pulverized brains dripping across the damp soil beneath them. Chimpion dragged his body toward a nearby ditch and kicked him in. She took out a second acid capsule and smashed it onto his belt, stepping away from the billowing gas. If App had died on earth, he’d already have been remotely rebooted. But here on Mars, the computers didn’t even know he was dead. Nor did they have any record of his final moments. She’d turned on the radio jammer hidden in her belt buckle the moment they’d come inside the dome.
She walked over to the red-gray bubbling mass that had been Rail Blade and took several photos. Steam-Dragon’s head turned slowly toward her, her eyes looking dully in her direction.
“Still alive?” Chimpion asked.
“Wh—why?” asked Steam-Dragon, her voice gurgling. “Why did you kill… App?”
“Because there really was a secret mission,” said Chimpion. “Though it didn’t come from Mrs. Knowbokov. My only loyalty is to Pangea. My government earns essential revenue by selling my services to the highest bidder. Rail Blade destroyed a city holy to three religions. The price on her head was much too large for my nation to refuse the contract.”
Chimpion knelt before Steam-Dragon. “You’re a very tough woman. I can hear how injured you are. I can’t believe you’re even alive, let alone awake.”
“I don’t… don’t feel anything…” said Steam-Dragon, softly.
“I’m sorry she didn’t kill you,” said Chimpion, searching for the latch that opened Steam-Dragon’s chest cavity. She opened it, revealing Becky’s sweaty, blood-stained face. “I liked you, for a human. But I can’t take the chance you’ll survive your injuries.”
“You won’t… won’t get…”
“Get away with this?” asked Chimpion. “I already have. When I get back to earth, I’ll kill Sarah and Mrs. Knowbokov. They may not be directly responsible for the destruction of Jerusalem, but the people writing checks to my nation aren’t ones to parse degrees of guilt. Every Knowbokov must die to pay the blood debt.”
“Fu—” Becky never finished the word, as Chimpion sliced across her windpipe with the razor sharp edge of a shuriken.
Chimpion watched silently as the light in Becky’s eyes swiftly faded. A vague shadow moved at the furthest edges of her vision. She turned her head and found nobody there. She rose, taking more throwing stars from her belt, remembering the multiple footprints they’d found outside. Rail Blade wasn’t alone in this dome.
She crept along the rows of plants, her eyes open for any motion. There were no more iron bees. The dome was hauntingly silent save for the whisper of wind across the outer glass.
She heard a murmur, distant, vague. She jerked her head toward the sound, then went still, ears straining to make sense of the noise. It was almost like a voice, a man’s voice, far in the distance. But, the more she listened, the more she convinced herself it was only the wind vibrating some strut on the far side of the structure.
She briefly contemplated taking off her helmet. A few quick sniffs could probably determine once and for all how many people lived inside the dome. But, if there were other people here, or if Rail-Blade somehow reconstituted herself, many of Chimpion’s most powerful remaining weapons were poison gas bombs. In such strange terrain, it was best not to take chances.
She quickly built a mental map of the pathways within the dome. Rail Blade hadn’t laid the plants out in a strict grid, perhaps to enhance the illusion that life inside the dome was natural. Still, it soon became clear that the wider pathways led toward the center of the dome. She spotted a building and took cover behind a large barrel that collected the condensation inside the greenhouse. She peeked around and studied the structure she’d seen, a simple, modest cottage that would have looked perfectly at home in some mountain valley, save for the fact that it’s walls were rusted iron rather than wood or shingles.
The cottage was completely quiet. She darted toward it, pressing flat against the side of the door. She listened intently. Not a peep came from within. Moving in silence, she tested the doorknob. It turned without resistance.
She pushed the door open. Hearing nothing, she rolled inside and came up with a throwing star in one hand and a gas grenade in the other. They weren’t needed. The place was empty save for simple furniture. The interior was mostly a kitchen, with a few doors leading off into other parts of the house. Chimpion poked her head through the doors, looking around. In the bedroom, her heart doubled in speed when she spotted three small people sitting in chairs beside the bed. Her brow furrowed. The people weren’t moving. Nor, it seemed, as she drew closer, were they people. They were dolls formed of iron, three naked little girls of varying ages, though none seemed larger than a child of five. Save for their cast iron hue, they were disturbingly lifelike in their detail. The hair wasn’t a sculpted lump, but instead consisted of millions of fine wires flowing together. The dolls even had eyebrows, and up close the iron skin had pores and delicate wrinkles around the lips.
Chimpion shook her head. Rail Blade, in her loneliness, must have created these iron children to keep her company. With her powers, she could have made them walk, perhaps even talk. No doubt somewhere nearby she might find an iron husband, responsible for the larger, booted footprints in the dust. How pitiful.
She had no personal animosity toward Rail Blade. A contract to kill was merely business. No stranger to loneliness herself, she understood the madness Rail Blade must have slipped into on this lonely planet. Chimpion took some small comfort in the fact that her assassination had also been an act of mercy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wind-Tossed
Sarah was a mile above the earth, beneath an endless blanket of crisp stars that made the clouds below her glow with a ghostly light. She threw a star map onto her heads up display and used it to locate Mars as she waited for Richard to call back.
Her mind was in turmoil. Since Carson had driven off, not even Richard’s cryptic phone call had been able to focus her thoughts. Richard’s call couldn’t be trivial, but how could it matter as much as what she’d just done to her marriage? I should have told him sooner, she thought, only to instantly think, I should never have told him. The two possible choices seemed to battle for her to make a decision, as if unaware that the decision was already made. He knew. He knew. And he’d left her. What could she have expected? How could she ever have imagined he would love her after five years of lies?
She should have told him the truth when they’d first met. Only, how could that have been possible? If she’d been honest with Carson before they fell in love, he’d have reported her to the FBI, assuming he didn’t just arrest her himself. What choice had she had but to lie? Didn’t he see? Couldn’t he understand? She hadn’t possessed the luxury of being truthful. She’d never lied to hurt him. It was never her intention to seduce, fool, and trap him as part of some sinister scheme.
On the other hand, what did she think would happen? How could she have thought she could keep this secret? Right now, at this moment, floating above the world like a lonely, wind-tossed balloon, it seemed obvious. She could fly. She could fly because her father had broken physics. Ultimately, worst of all, he’d broken her. How could her father have ever hated her so much that he’d place the weight of the world on her shoulders? It was the sort of thing she would have liked to talk about, to process her turbulent emotions the way other, normal people were allowed to. With this emotional sword of Damocles hanging over her, it was inevitable that one day she’d finally reveal her true self.
“But this isn’t my true self,” she said out loud. She didn’t choose to be Sarah Knowbokov. That person was a creation of her father, a reaction to her sister, a parody of the person they wanted her to be. Sarah Buchanan was who she chose to be. If she wasn’t who she choose to be, who was she?
To define one’s own identity was surely the most fundamental human right of all.
&
nbsp; It was the word “human” in front of the word “right” that caused her problems.
Here she was, aloft in the heavens, an angel, a god of old, looking down upon the world. She might be an occasional visitor of the earth but at heart she was a spirit of the air. Sarah Knowbokov was no one she wished to be. Sarah Buchanan was someone she could no longer be. So who the hell was she?
She held her gloved hand before her. It glittered with frost. She always frosted up at this height. She was familiar with this because every day of her life had been spent riding the sky. For better or worse, Skyrider, the identity she wanted least, was the only one that truly fit her.
“Damn it,” she said, with a sigh.
Her phone rang.
“Richard?” she said, transferring the call to her helmet. “How the hell are you—”
“Sarah, I’m hoping you’ve picked up your phone and this isn’t going to voice mail.”
“It’s me, not voice mail. What the hell are—”
“Before you ask a lot of questions, you should know I’m still on Mars. There’s going to be about a sixteen minute lag before I hear anything you say to me.”
“Great,” she said. “It’s like a conversation with my mother.”
“Forgive me for launching a monologue, but there’s stuff you need to know. First, obviously, I’m alive, and so is Amelia. We’re married. We’ll, not married married, since, you know, there’s not anything vaguely resembling either church or state on Mars. But we live together in this sweet dome with our daughters.”
“Daughters?” said Sarah, not caring about the lag. Daughters? She couldn’t imagine Amelia as a mother.
“Amelia is a terrific mom. Also, a pretty good architect and terraformer. And it turns out I’m not a bad farmer, and that my skills as a network tech from my pre-erasure life have come in handy. You know how satellites sent to Mars occasionally vanish?”