by Jim Melanson
The anger and hatred towards the Eridani twisted and roiled inside her chest. She would have to be careful. She would have to be diplomatic. The hybrids and humans on the base had been in a state of mostly peaceful détente with the Eridani mission on Mars for thirty years. They allowed each other’s presence on the planet without interference. Whatever she did, she would have to be very careful; and she could be very careful when she got there. She moved again, sprinting to the craft. She disconnected the two umbilical feeds, and then moved to the almost invisible and ever-so-slight recess near the nose of the craft. The two duty pilots stood in the ready room doorway watching her. Pinpin had already alerted them. She put three of her fingers in the recess, in a triangular pattern. If there was no pilot in the craft, this hand position caused the ships internal TransMat to move the one fingering the symbol inside.
The disorientation cleared in moments, and Achael stepped forward in the small, but not cramped, cabin. There was no real sense of transition when moved by the TransMat, first you were one place, and then a moment later you were simply someplace else. It caused a slight sense of disorientation for those experienced. The first time a True-Blood human used it; there were usually vomiting, vertigo, and stomach cramps that followed.
Achael sat in the pilot’s seat of the craft, and then placed the palms of her hands on the touchpads of the controller units, on the arms of the chair. The advanced Eben control system then read a combination of her body’s electrical system, her finger movements, and her brain waves to pair with her; much like a blue tooth device pairing. From that point on, until she exited the ship, it would respond to her thoughts and hand motions instantly; whether she was in the seat or not, with the lag time being measured in a very small number of microseconds.
Riding its antigravity field, the scout ship, the “Dart” as they called it, moved out into the central transit corridor, and rapidly accelerated towards the hangar bay doors. As she had started moving the ship, she had commanded the doors to open. Cutting it hair close by tilting her ship a few degrees sideways to reduce its profile width, she accelerated through the gravity curtain, barely missing the hard doors. She emerged into the deep floor of Shalbatana Vallis (7.33 degrees North, 317.91 degrees East), and then pulled up into a steep climb, going almost straight up before doing a turning overhead roll resulting in a vector almost due north. Since she needed to get there fast, but wasn’t sure if the drone’s scout ship was alone or not, she decided to come into the human colony site from about 100 kilometres out. She used the Folding Drive to move her almost instantly 5,000 kilometres north of her base, and then back at normal dimensional speed, she rapidly accelerated to just 1,200 kilometres per hour; almost one and a half times the speed of sound on Mars (879 km/h at the Martian datum). She wasn’t wasting time.
Like Mike, Achael had also completely forgotten about the PDV arriving in a few more minutes.
Mike
As the alien ship moved overhead and into a new position, the Priority Message indicator came up in my HUD. Damn it, what now? I thought to myself. The alien ship trying to kill me is the real priority here, but if this message is what I think it is, I really need to read it. Then it dawned on me. Dammit, I forgot about the voice interface in the suit’s COM system. Squatting by cargo drop #5, I looked down quickly to the controller attached to my left arm, and pressed the VOX button three times. I heard the soothing and calm, perhaps even a bit sexy, female voice in my helmet.
“VOX activated. Awaiting Command.”
“Priority Message, Display” was my response as I lifted my head and scanned around for the alien ship. A bolt of energy passed between cargo drop #3 and #4, and I barely got my head out of the way. As the ground was exploding behind me, I was up once again and skittering around to the other side of the cargo container. The HUD displayed the message for me, “PLATFORM ACTIVATED”
“Oh Frak No!”
“Command not recognized. Please restate you command,” her soothing voice said.
The alien ship wobbled a bit, and moved side-to-side. As it started to transit around the large cargo drops, I waited for it to hit a blind spot and then ran to the opposite corner of drop #4.
“Castle Cellar, Status,” I said urgently. The message on my HUD was from Ernst. He had obviously activated the weapons platform so that a weapon could be fired. Castle Cellar was the term the VOX recognized for the weapons platform. I knew immediately there was no way I was going to bring a Thermobaric down on the area of the supply drops. Even though the Habitats were outside the 300 metre projected blast radius, I still wouldn’t take that chance. It was still too close for my Earth-oriented mind. There was too much in the cargo drops that I needed to set up the colony properly, and to survive here.
The alien ship moved left and right, I guess it was trying to decide which side it wanted to kill me from. I kept jigging left and right in the opposite directions, while crouched behind the cargo drop. I was really thankful at that point I had an Activity Suit for the surface, and not a regular Space Suit. With all this running around and sliding on the regolith, the Kevlar outer jumpsuit had already paid for itself.
I still had the two large rocks in my hand, and decided it was time for Grog the caveman to rage against the machine. I stepped out from behind cargo drop #4, cocked my arm and threw the first rock at the shimmering alien vessel. It went so wild in the low-g that I won’t even describe it. Suffice it to say, the next throw would have to be a lot different. It also, unfortunately, revealed my location. Another blast from the alien tore out a chunk of the nacelle skirting, and the side of the container of cargo drop #3 behind me. I turned and ran back around the ship, stopped and reversed my course. I had succeeded in fainting him out. I threw the second rock, it hit the shimmering spot of air. The sexy voice said “Platform Activated. Target Engaged. Bay number one is open. Thermobaric device number one is in prelaunch ready state. Your options are Hold, Safe and Release.”
“SAFE! SAFE!” I screamed as I ducked back down, and ran behind cargo drop #4.
“Safe Command is recognized. You must authenticate.”
“AUTHENTICATING, ALPHA KILO FIVE TWO SEVEN, AUTHENTICATE!” I said, running cross wise for drop #5.
“Command Authenticated. Thermobaric number one powering down. Launch bay closing,” then after a brief pause, “Platform secure.”
I watched the alien ship bob up and down a couple times, and do its own herky-jerky jig. Maybe the alien was just taunting me. As I ran back towards the cargo drop I had just been hiding behind, the ground exploded almost under my feet. I went flying forward and hit the ground hard. I didn’t hit my head, thanks to the helmet, but the concussion of the impact still winded me. I shook my head and started to lift myself up. I froze, watching the green-and-white baseball cap, being drunkenly blown by the wind, flipping and flopping towards my helmet. I reached out and grabbed it, looking at it with disbelief. This was the baseball cap that Carrie’s son, Hindrik, had given me on my last birthday before leaving Terra. I remembered the smile on his face. I had always grabbed his baseball cap from him whenever he was wearing it. For my birthday, he used his savings to buy me my own. I remembered the warmth of both of her boys hugging me, one at a time, wishing me Alles Gute zum Geburtstag. That baseball cap was one of the things I had brought with me. I had worn it at almost every day while in transit. I thought it had been lost forever in the explosion. I squeezed it, and looked at it. No burn marks, no soot, just a lot of red dust on it. The baseball cap had survived. I finally realized that after running from the pain for so long, I wanted to survive. I wanted to live. Enough maudlin distractions, time to put my head back in the game. I jumped to my feet, caught sight of the shimmer of air coming around to bear on me again, and then ran to the other side of the cargo drop I had been heading for.
I rolled up the baseball cap and stuffed it into a pocket on my jumpsuit leg. Crouching down, I took a moment to look around quickly. I figured if there was one, there might be two. Nothing else had
fired at me; but then again, I didn’t know alien battle tactics. If this had been Terra, the OpFor would have probably gone for some shock and awe. It struck me, that the fact I was only facing one of these alien bastards was … disrespectful. Hmpf. Frakers.
“Command. Targeting system. Target designation.”
Her silky smooth voice replied, “Target number thirty-eight engaged. Target lock confirmed.” Thirty-eight? Oh yeah, it used a sequential target designation system.
“Command, use referential targeting designation.”
“Command confirmed. Target number one engaged. Target lock confirmed.” I had a bit of a chill for a moment. This appearance of the craft was number thirty-eight. The one earlier in the day would have been number thirty-seven. So what the hell were the other thirty-six … and when were they? I’d only been here two days!
The alien ship wasn’t a shimmer any more. I could see it plainly. It was round-ish, gray and about the size of a cargo van. There was a little nubbin thing sticking out of it like a small pitot tube. I rightly assumed that it was the business end of its weapon. The alien ship seemed to regain control. It buzzed forward over me, then suddenly lost altitude, bounced once hard on the ground, and then lifted back into the air. It swung around behind the line of supply drops, and I lost sight of it. It seemed to be moving a bit slower. I decided right then there would be no retreat. Hell, I just got here. There was no way I was leaving Mars, figuratively or literally. I thought that maybe this alien was sucking me into a trap; but maybe, just maybe, luck, providence, and certainly God were on my side.
I did the hockey-run towards cargo drop #6, the drop closest to the alien bastard. There are two kinds of run that work on Mars. We had worked these out in training, and I confirmed their effectiveness when I sprinted from the cover of Big Dawg. The hockey-run was something I came up with, being Canadian and all, eh? Because of the low-g it’s easy to go ass over tea kettle if you try to run on Mars like you are on Terra. The hockey-run was simple. Lean forward until you were starting to fall forward, then turn your feet outwards so the inside edge of your boot was in contact with the regolith, and then skate-run like you were trying to get back over the blue line while your puck carrying teammate went for net. I certainly couldn’t afford to be offside today. This precarious running position used forward momentum to keep you from falling. Without the high centre of gravity, you didn’t have to worry as much about tripping or momentum imbalance as you would with a normal run. The hockey-run was much more exhausting than the gazelle-run; but it was much faster for short distances, and you were less likely to trip.
“Command, Target Count.”
“There is currently one target. Target is engaged.”
“Activate new target voice notification,” I wanted to know if anything else came up to the site while my back was turned.
“Please state area of compromise.”
“Area of compromise is 100 kilometres”.
“New target voice notification engaged. Area of compromise is 100 kilometres. Known target has entered area of compromise. Designate target number two. Target number two is tracking.”
“What??”
“Target number two is a known target. It is a scheduled supply mission that is in de-orbit deceleration. Second RAD is in burn.”
Shit, I’d forgotten all about the PDV. I looked up at the flaming RAD engines coming down far up in the sky. As I looked at it, the RAD assembly cut out, jettisoned and another RAD assembly fired up. That would be the third of five. I looked at the round gray ship, almost in the right spot. I looked down, then started picking up rocks and throwing them. There was one possibility in my favour and suddenly I had to be a gambling man. Tempus fugit and I had to act fast. I guess this situation was of the same perilous outcome Pliny the Elder faced when he stated, while rescuing survivors of Pompeii, fortes fortuna iuvat, “fortune favours the brave”. It was time to be brave, as well as bold. The stakes were my life; and I finally cared about seeing tomorrow.
The Drone
The human had no weapon with it. The human was throwing rocks. The Drone continued to burn with anger, and continued to seethe. HUMAN WANT TO KILL DRONE; HUMAN TRY TO TRAP DRONE; STUPID TRAP; NO WEAPON; HUMAN MISTAKE; HUMAN MAKE MISTAKE; HUMAN DIE; HUMAN DIE NOW; SHOW HUMAN; SHOW HUMAN SUPERIOR RACE; SHOW HUMAN MASTER BETTER THAN HUMAN; SHOW MASTER DRONE LOYAL; SHOW MASTER DRONE LOOK AFTER MASTER; DRONE KILL HUMAN; KILL HUMAN. The vessel lurched.
As the Drone fired its next shot at the human, the human managed to avoid being fried and vaporized yet again. The rage boiled over in the Drone, and the Drone started pin-wheeling long grey arms in a haze of frustration and anger with small, but solid fists pounding on instruments and control boxes. A drone would never normally react this way, but this particular Drone was already far off the scope of what was expected from drones. The Drone screamed and screamed with anger and frustration inside the helmet. Even though the Drone didn’t have pain receptors in the pin-wheeling arms or hands, the Drone’s hands and forearms started to feel numb from the repeated impacts. Finally the tirade stopped, and the Drone got a hold of raging emotions. The small vessel had been bobbing around as a result of the pounding on flight controls; but that was the least of the Drone’s problems now.
Achael
Mars’ surface raced underneath her unnoticed. Achael was forming attack plans in her head; attack plans for the Eridani ship, contingencies for other Eridani ships if that became necessary. Forming complex battle tactics on-the-fly came like breathing to the Eben. She was also running the political angels of what she was going to do, and what would lessen the impact on the detente.
The cabin filled with Hlef’s voice from the Comm Unit, “Achael, stop.”
Achael let out a sigh, she didn’t realize she had been holding in. She was so very happy to hear Hlef’s voice, to know she was okay, “Sis, I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Come back Turkey,” said Helf, using her pet name for Achael. “The Base Commander is ordering you to return as well, if that matters.”
“And who is going to look out for the human? He’s out there alone, under fire, if he’s not already dead.”
There was a slight pause, “I feel ya Sis, but orders is orders, know what I’m …”, she had been cut off. Achael started in her seat, and looked at the Comm Unit.
“Ummm, Achael…..”
Furrowing her eyebrows, Achael responded, “What is it Hlef?”
“I’ve just been informed that Mom says to leave you alone.”
The Drone
The Drone looked at the ship’s instrumentation as lights came on indicating problems from the careless fist pounding episode. All this did was piss off the Drone even further.
The Drone had moved the vessel around the line of ships sitting there, to find cover for the next attack. The Drone didn’t need cover as the human had no weapons, but finding cover had been drilled into the Drone for years. The Drone heard a static sound, and then the camouflage indicator went out. The Drone hit the reset button several times, but the system would not reactivate. HUMAN KNOWS; HUMAN KNOWS NO POINT; CAMOUFLAGE LET CAMERAS SEE, LET ALL HUMANS SEE; LET SEE SUPERIOR RACE KILLING HUMAN; HUMANS KNOW NOT TO COME TO PLANET; HUMANS KNOW NOT TO COME TO MASTER’S PLANET; TIME FOR HUMAN TO DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE!
The Drone moved the vessel up and over top of the human to get a good look before taking up a new position. The human still only had rocks in its hands. Turning the ship so the emitter was facing the human, the Drone saw the human stand up. As more warnings started flashing the Drone depressed the button to send another stream of ionized energy towards the human. Something was wrong with the weapon’s power. The charge fired at the human was only one one-hundredth of its normal power. The ground exploded behind the human, sending the human flying through the air. It didn’t kill him, it just knocked him down. The Drone raged at the fire-control system.
Earth (18 minutes, 52 seconds later)
Nigara Kusiya, 72 years old, Niiyamahama, Japan -
Nigara, long retired from the fishing industry, often snuck into the computer room of his not-too-small house, and went web surfing while his three adult sons ran the fishing boat. They would have been surprised to know he could even turn on the computer, let alone that he had a chat room nickname (Masaki23). Nigara had been following the Mars expedition with the avid interest of a ten year old. He had been watching the feed so he could see firsthand the landing of the next supply module. Now he sat there with his mouth agape, and his eyes as big as saucers (no pun intended). Just as the image dissolved to static he said out loud, “Rokkusu? Kare wa iwa o tsukatte iru?”
Anzhelika Rudnikova, 36 years old, Glazov, Udmurt Republic, Russia - The Journeyman Millwright with the Trans Siberian Railway had been home for about an hour. It wasn’t too long after midnight. As a mother and wife she rarely had time to herself, especially since her husband Anton had been injured at work three years ago. He was underfoot even more than the twin girls. However, she loved him like life itself, so she stole those few moments alone for herself when he was asleep. Coming home after the swing shift was one of those times because everyone else was in bed, including her husband. Tonight she was enjoying some vodka and leftover dinner while watching the late news on Rossiya TV. The Molniya TV satellite service was still too expensive, so she usually had to weed through the rhetoric and nationalism in the Russian broadcasts to find out the truth. Tonight was different though. The producers at Rossiya TV were directly broadcasting the amazing events going on so far away on Marsovo. She sat there with her mouth agape, eyes as big as saucers (no pun intended), a shot glass of vodka perched unmoving just in front of her lips, and a piece of sausage dripping in the chubby fingers of her left hand. Just as the image dissolved to static she said out loud, “Skaly? On ispol’zuyet kamni?”
Bernadette Paquette, 22 years old, Bourges, France - Bernadette saw it was almost 23:00 hours as she ran up the front steps of her new apartment building. She had moved in two days before. She was still waiting for new furniture to be delivered. Until the new furniture arrived, she would be spending the night, again, on piled blankets on the floor. After work this evening, she had gone out for dinner with a new guy in her office. She quickly realized it was also the last dinner she would have with him. Still, he was a nice enough man and made pleasant conversation, so she stayed out a bit later than she normally would in that situation. Besides, all she had to go home to was her cat Mijou (a humorous contraction of Mon Bijou), her laptop, and a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. When she did get in to the apartment, Mijou mewled and rubbed up against her incessantly; as he had been all day without fresh food, fresh cuddles, and fresh stroking of the fur. Bernadette took care of all those in reverse order, finally setting down a dish of freshly opened canned cat food. As Mijou purred and chewed noisily and sloppily on the food, the Rubenesque, dark red haired Bernadette (Adette to her friends) turned on her laptop, changed into a night gown, and lay down on the blankets. She looked at her email first, planning on binging a few episodes of her favourite show on the Canal+ streaming service afterwards. The last email arriving was from Claude, her brother, appearing at the top of her list. The email was only three minutes old and the subject line, all in caps, simply said, “REGARDEZ!!!!!” She opened the email and clicked on the link. It was a pirate site that was live feeding video transmissions from that silly, silly man on Mars. As the video loaded and she saw what he was doing, her mouth fell agape and her eyes were as big as saucers (no pun intended). Just as the image dissolved to static she said out loud, “Des cailloux? Il utilise des cailloux?”