Colony Down: Battlefield Mars Book 2

by David Robbins

  Until now.

  The Thunderbolt hummed like a swarm of bees as it skimmed the Martian surface far in excess of the speed it could attain on the world where it was manufactured. The thin atmosphere---less than one percent of that on Earth---and the fact that the surface gravity on Mars was considerably weaker---less than forty percent of Earth gravity---enabled the craft to outperform expectations.

  The EDM propulsion system had a lot to do with it. Back at the Academy, every recruit was taught that the conventional aircraft of yesteryear wouldn’t have flown well on Mars because there wasn’t enough lift---that thin atmosphere again---for their wings. Helicopters were more practical, but their rotors had to be a lot thicker and spin a lot faster than on Earth. The Thunderbolt didn’t rely on wings, per se, or rotors. The Delta wing at the rear of the craft wasn’t for lift so much as maneuverability.

  Archard stared out the horseshoe-shaped viewport that gave the crew a one hundred and eighty-degree line-of-sight on the Martian terrain. Close to Wellsville, the land was mostly flat, with occasional small hills and rock outcroppings.

  Major Dwight Howard might be a hardnose, but he could fly. They were so low, Howard constantly had to avoid rock domes and spires and other obstacles, and did so with the finesse of an experienced pilot.

  Archard turned to the planetary scientist, who was strapped into a seat to his right. “Why are we hugging the ground this way?”

  Kylo Carter was gazing out the viewport with a huge smile on his face. He was like a kid in an old-fashioned candy store, drinking in the sights of the Red Planet. “The lower we are, the better our sensors are at picking up the Martians.”

  “Good luck with that,” Archard said dryly.

  Carter tore his gaze from the viewport. “You’re referring to the fact that the Martians don’t have heat signatures and sometimes barely register on our motion sensors?”

  “They’re next to invisible. It’s why we couldn’t combat them effectively at New Meridian.”

  Settling back, Carter adopted the air of a professor imparting information to a student. “As you must have guessed by now, the Martians are crustaceans. Like their counterparts on Earth, they’re cold-blooded invertebrates. Their exoskeletons are a lot thicker than crustaceans on Earth. Which accounts for why they don’t have a heat signature.”

  “How do you know their exoskeletons are thicker?” Archard asked.

  “From the specimen our scientists examined.”

  Archard’s surprise must have shown.

  “Only a few months after Bradbury was established, those in charge took a great risk. They needed to know more about the Martians, so a special ops team went out and brought back a dead one. A particularly large blue specimen.”

  “A warrior,” Archard said.

  “Is that so?” Carter said. “You think their bioforms are function-specific? I’ve suspected as much. We’ll have to discuss that more later.” He paused. “Where was I? Oh, yes. Their anatomy. They have a simple circulatory system. For a heart, they have a sac that is largely muscle. It’s located just below their upper carapace, at about the midpoint of their body.”

  “Good to know,” Archard said. Now he knew where to aim.

  “We’ve established that they don’t have ears, as we do. Their exoskeletons are covered with microscopic hairs which enable them to pick up vibrations in the air. Given how thin the air is, and that it doesn’t conduct sound well, the hairs must be incredibly sensitive.”

  “It would have been nice to have been informed of all this before they attacked New Meridian.”

  Carter ignored Archard’s comment. “The surgical team conducting the examination also found several organs they couldn’t explain. One was an adjunct to their brain. Another was part of their nervous system. They speculated that…”

  Just then Major Howard called out, “Heads up, people! The first farm is dead ahead.”

  Sergeant Kline, who hadn’t spoken a word the entire flight, bent toward the viewport and blurted out, “Dear God, no.”

  CHAPTER 13

  The effects of explosive decompression were an ugly sight. With the atmosphere essentially a vacuum, any breach in a dwelling or a vehicle or an EVA suit resulted in catastrophe and death.

  The farm looked as if a rampaging giant had stomped it in savage abandon. Half the house module lay in fragments, scattered over an acre. A work shed was standing but had a jagged hole in the side. The agripod itself, through which the farmers descended to their underground fields, was a buckled ruin.

  “Set us down and I’ll search for survivors, sir,” Sergeant Kline said.

  “No,” Major Howard replied. “Our orders are to make a sweep of all the farms and return to Wellsville as quickly as possible.”

  “But the farmers, sir,” Sergeant Kline said. “The families.”

  “I’ll send a rover out after we get back,” Major Howard said. Already he was banking the Thunderbolt to proceed to the next farm.

  “There could be people alive down there,” Sergeant Kline protested.

  Kline reminded Archard of his own sergeant, McNee, who was one of the first casualties in the blossoming war.

  “Enough,” Major Howard said.

  Kline rose even more in Archard’s estimation by saying, “We’re not even to search for survivors? Who would give such an order, sir?”

  “That would be me,” Kylo Carter said. “You heard the major. A tank will be sent out. For now, it’s imperative we ascertain the extent of the Martian activity.”

  “Once they start,” Archard mentioned, “they don’t stop for anything.”

  “There you go,” Carter said to Kline. He turned his head to stare at the receding farm. “I was hoping the agripods were all right. That we were dealing with nothing worse than a communications issue.”

  “I believe they call that wishful thinking.”

  “You are so sure of yourself,” the planetary scientist said.

  Archard had held back long enough. “You don’t seem to be paying attention. Or is it that you only hear what you want to hear? New Meridian is gone. All the colonists except for the few I brought with me, are dead. And the same thing is going to happen to Wellsville if you don’t get your head out of your ass.”

  “That will be enough, Captain,” Major Howard said.

  “Let him speak,” Carter said. “In his eyes, I probably have this coming.”

  “In anyone’s eyes who has a shred of common sense,” Archard said.

  “Let me hear your assessment, then. All of it.”

  Archard complied. “The only reason the colonies have lasted as long as they have is sheer dumb luck. The Martians didn’t know we were here. They’re not surface dwellers, like us. They live underground. Their cities, their tunnels, everything, is down deep. They rarely come to the surface. When they do, it’s usually out of a volcano or a cave.”

  Archard was warming to his topic, and as he did, his anger rose, too. “Isn’t it interesting that neither Bradbury nor Wellsville are located anywhere near volcanoes or caves? Almost as if it was planned that way to reduce the risk of contact?”

  “A prudent precaution, wouldn’t you say?” Carter said.

  “What, were you experts thinking that if you could put off contact long enough, there would be enough of us here that we could hold our own if the Martians proved hostile?”

  Carter scowled.

  “Then came the third colony,” Archard continued. “Which, strangely, isn’t all that far from a volcano. Was that deliberate? Did our leaders finally want contact made? Were we the bait to lure the Martians out?”

  “You’re putting the wrong spin on things,” Carter said. “We never suspected they would be so unremittingly hostile. Our hope was to establish peaceful relations. Can you fault us for that?”

  “I can fault you for not warning the colonists,” Archard said. “We had a right to know what we were getting into.”

  “How many from Earth would have come if they knew?” Carte
r said. “How many would volunteer for duty on another planet if the planet’s inhabitants might not want them there?”

  “A lot of people are dead because of your scheming.”

  Their argument might have escalated had Major Howard not called out, “The next farm is straight ahead. Looks to be just like the first.”

  “Not quite,” Sergeant Kline said. “Some Martians are still there.”

  Levlin Winslow tasted euphoria, and loved it. He couldn’t begin to describe the sheer ecstasy, the rapturous pleasure, he experienced. All he knew was that for as long as it lasted, every particle of his being, or his sentience, as the Martians called it, was vibrant with exquisite bliss. A bliss so potent, so intoxicating, that even as he came down out of the clouds of pure delight, he wished he could waft up into them again and stay there forever.

  Gradually, Winslow once more became aware of his surroundings. Of the cavernous chamber. Of other creatures. Of Nilista, standing in front of him.

  “Have you oriented? We have learned that the first time can be unsettling to your kind.”

  I… Winslow began, and was at a loss how to explain his feelings.

  “Our binding has joined us. You to me and me to you.”

  Are you my wife?

  Nilista didn’t respond to the question. Instead, she said, “Do you have a heightened sense of me now?”

  Winslow was about to say that he didn’t know what that meant when suddenly he did. A flood of new sensations poured through him. It was as if he were in Nilista’s head, or in her sentience, feeling the things she felt and sharing her thoughts as she thought them. What have you done to me? he asked.

  “It is a consequence of the binding,” Nilista explained. “Your consciousness and my consciousness are now one when we want them to be.”

  We can turn it on and off?

  “To share yourself is a freewill choice. It is not constant unless you want it to be.”

  Conflicting emotions tore at Winslow. Unease that his inner person had been violated. Joy at his new twofold awareness.

  “Open yourself further.”

  I don’t know how.

  “Think it and it will be,” Nilista said.

  Again, it seemed to happen spontaneously. Winslow experienced not just him and her, but as if a switch had been thrown, a deluge of new perceptions filled every fiber of his being. A hundred---a thousand---sentiences flowed side-by-side with his and hers in some sort of stream of awareness where each was separate yet part of the whole.

  “You are in the Unity and the Unity is in you,” Nilista said. “You are one of us in all that you are.”

  There were so many impressions, flashing at him so fast, that Winslow’s mind reeled. Too much! he thought. How do I turn it off?

  “You simply think it off.”

  Straining his will, Winslow succeeded. Suddenly, it was him and her again. And then it was just his own sentience, and no other. I did it! he thought. I’m back to being me.

  “Experiment,” Nilista said. “Join with the Unity when and as you desire. Feel the others there with you. Soon you will come to know what they know, to see what they see.”

  It’s like nothing I ever imagined, Winslow thought.

  “Other Blue Worlders are doing as you are. They have been converted, and are now one of us.”

  It’s wondrous, Winslow gushed. I almost wish everyone from Earth could feel as I do right now.

  “They can. Those who have come to our world will be converted first.” Nilista gently touched her gripper to his. “We are about to collect those of your kind in the golden eggs you call Wellsville. We will bring their heads here and do to them as we did to you.”

  They will resist, just as we did, Winslow predicted.

  “We are massing enough of us that the gathering should go well.”

  Winslow gestured at the other new converts in the chamber. What about those of us from New Meridian?

  “You will be on the front lines,” Nilista revealed. “Helping with the harvest.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Archard straightened in his seat for a better view of the second farm.

  The destruction was worse. Every module lay in pieces. The agribubble had been flattened and broken apart. Usually, a short flight of stairs led underground. But the stairs appeared to have been obliterated, too, leaving a dark hole. And out of the hole were scrambling the meter-round pinkish Martians. At least a score seemed to be examining the debris.

  Major Howard circled, his hand hovering over the armament controls. “Should I fry them, Mr. Carter?”

  “I want to see what they’re doing,” the planetary scientist said.

  “Gloating, maybe,” Sergeant Kline said.

  For some time now, Archard had been wondering if the Martians felt emotions similar to humans. Or were they biological machines, their functions dictated by their nervous systems? For that matter, did they even have nervous systems? He was about to ask Carter if the autopsy done on the warrior had revealed anything along those lines when he saw two of the creatures below drag a man-sized body by the arms from the ruins of the house module.

  “That must be the farmer,” Major Howard said.

  “He wasn’t wearing an EVA suit when his house exploded.”

  “What do they intend to do with him?” Carter wondered.

  “Eat him, maybe?” Sergeant Kline said.

  Archard hadn’t ever considered that prospect. He’d seen no evidence that the Martians devoured anyone at New Meridian.

  “They’re taking it down into the hole,” Major Howard said.

  “Perhaps back to where they came from to examine it,” Carter said.

  “Look!” Sergeant Kline exclaimed, and pointed.

  One of the Martians had seen them. Its eye stalks stopped swaying and pointed toward the Thunderbolt. The next moment, every last creature trained their compound eyes on the aircraft.

  “How do they do that?” Major Howard said.

  “Some sort of group instinct or osmosis,” Carter guessed. “Quite fascinating.”

  “Okay to fry them now?” Howard said.

  “Be my guest.”

  Bringing the Thunderbolt to a stop, the major hovered. He flicked a red switch and remarked, “Powering up the electromagnetic emitter. We should be able to get them all with the first burst.”

  “Can I do the honors, sir?” Sergeant Kline requested.

  “Those bugs give me the creeps.”

  “They’re crustaceans, Sergeant, not arthropods or arachnids,” Carter corrected him.

  Major Howard descended until the Thunderbolt was barely ten meters above the ground.

  “Now, sir?” Sergeant Kline said.

  Major Howard nodded. “Show them why they shouldn’t mess with us.”

  The noncom smiled and pressed a button.

  By now, Archard had become used to the craft’s perpetual humming. Suddenly, it became twice as loud. His skin prickled as if from a heat rash, and his eardrums began to hurt.

  Outside, there was a bright flash. Crackling lines of energy enmeshed the Martian and they dropped where they stood.

  “Serves them right,” Sergeant Kline said.

  The planetary scientist tapped a finger on his armrest.

  “Let’s move on. We have three more farms to check.”

  “Let’s hope they don’t attack the colony before we get back,” Major Howard said.

  “I deem that unlikely after our display of power,” Carter said, and turned toward Archard. “What do you think, Captain Rahn?”

  “There’s no predicting the Martians,” Archard said. “But one thing I do know. Once they’re on the move, they don’t stop until they’ve wiped their enemies out.”

  Carter considered that. “Fly faster, Major Howard.”

  The Visitor Center at Wellsville was exactly the same as the Visitor Center in New Meridian. The same height---two stories. The same number of rooms---17. The same L-shape. The same brown color. Which stood to reason since b
oth were constructed from the same molds. To save on costs, every structure on Mars was modular.

  The woman who ran the Center wore a nametag identifying her as Carla. In her thirties, she had black hair cut in a bob and wore a bright pink pantsuit, pink socks, and pink shoes.

  “You must be very fond of pink,” Trisna Sahir commented as she signed the etablet that served as the register.

  “It’s my favorite color,” Carla said. “Has been since I was your daughter’s age. How old is she?”

  “Four,” Trisna said.

  “You are a pretty lady,” Behula said.

  “Thank you,” Carla said.

  Katla took her turn at signing in. When she was finished,

  Carla turned the etablet and read the screen.

  “You’re both from New Meridian? Are you here on holiday?”

  “No,” Trisna said sadly.

  “Oh. I hope it’s not a health issue. Patients come from both of the other colonies to see Dr. Fields at our hospital. He’s the best on Mars.”

  “No, not health,” Trisna said.

  Clearly curious, Carla said, “If I can be of any assistance, you have only to let me know.” She took a room key card from a row of slots on the wall behind her. “Same room for both of you or would you care for separate rooms?”

  “Separate,” Katla said.

  Carla plucked another key card from a slot. “Is your luggage outside?”

  “No luggage,” Katla said.

  “You came all the way from New Meridian and you didn’t bring anything with you?”

  “We’ll get by,” Katla said.

  “Remarkable.” Carla came around the counter. “But then, this is an unusual day.”

  “How so?” Katla asked.

  “There was a special report on the news about ten minutes ago,” Carla related, and indicated a vid screen inset into the wall. “Two people have gone missing.” She laughed and shook her head. “Now I ask you. How in the world does a person go missing inside of a dome? Well, two domes, but you see my point, right?”