Vos shuddered as he thought about the monster they called Rob, a cybernetic mashup, with a fried brain and immense power. He decided it was time to give the General a dose of the truth.
“It still won’t be legal, Sir. You can’t go out to deliberately kill a man. They call it murder. A man is entitled to his day in court, any man.”
Hartmann sneered. “You’re talking about a legal definition, Sheriff. That’s a definition that applies Earthside, not here on Mars. This ain’t peacetime, this is a war zone, and Cage is with the terrorists.”
Vos tried to speak, but Hartmann continued.
“Your mission, plain and simple. Make it as legal as you like. That’s your job. I don’t give a shit what they call it. When they drag in his body, I want you to sew up the paperwork, nice and tight.”
He then moved in closer, doing his best to use intimating body language to get across his obvious irritation.
“If I were you, I’d do my best to cooperate, Sheriff. You’re a long way from Earth, and sometimes people find themselves stranded without a ride home.”
Vos felt his irritation boil over. This bullying soldier had dragged them halfway across the Solar System, and for what? That was the real question, for what. He’d still like to have an answer.
“General, we’re still unclear about the charges. You want this to have the appearance of legality, I need to know what did Cage do. I mean, why did PanAm leave him to rot in a Martian prison, and why are you devoting such massive resources to hunt down one man?”
“He’s a war criminal,” the reply shot back.
“I get that, but that tells me nothing. As far as I know, he was never tried and convicted. What exactly did he do, what was the crime?”
Hartmann trembled, as he worked hard to stay calm. His eyes glazed before they came back to normal. “He ordered a missile strike on his own unit. Wiped them all out, except him.” His eyes wandered every which way, but failed to maintain contact with Vos.
“On his own unit? You’re saying he’s suicidal!”
A shrug. “Could be, who gives a shit? He did it, that’s what matters. Some say he was working for us, others say he was a nut job. End result, he wiped out a full unit in open ground. He’s not just a killer. He’s a mass murderer.”
Vos nodded as though he was in firm agreement.
“In that case I have to see the official report, the witness statements and other documentation. There must be a ton of evidence.”
“It’s classified.”
“Classified, that’s not good enough. You want to make this legal, or at least look legal; I have to have more than the say-so of one man. I need to see those documents, General. I need evidence, or this is just company sanctioned execution.”
A sigh. “I can show you a witness statement, sworn by the man who was there. He heard Cage order the strike, so there can’t be any doubt about what happened.”
“It’s not enough, General. I’ll take a look at it, but I need to see everything.”
“Not gonna happen. You want to see the statement or not? That’s all you’re gonna get, soldier.”
“It’s Sheriff, General, not soldier.” He stared back at the angry officer, and the General again couldn’t meet his eyes, “I’m a civilian, and I ain’t part of this military operation, whatever you call it.”
He’s lying, but about what?
“Okay, I’ll look at it.”
Hartmann barked an order. The door opened, and Guzman rushed into the room. He must have been outside, probably listening. The noncom produced a portable and passed it to Hartmann, who glanced at the screen and gave it to him. Guzman had brought up the document ready. Vos felt he was in the center of a carefully orchestrated ritual dance. It stank, but it was all he had, and he read through the single page document. In summary, it stated that Lieutenant Noah Cage had ordered a missile to detonate over his position for reasons unknown. He then ordered a second missile strike against the pleas of the senior officer present. There were no survivors, except him. Vos shook his head in disbelief.
“This is it? No recording of him giving the order?”
“The recordings are gone.”
“What about other witnesses? Surely the command and control facility would have been staffed by dozens of people.”
“They were all busy. None of them saw or heard what happened.”
“And this is your evidence? The word of one officer against another.”
Hartmann threw him a vicious glance. “This particular officer is regarded with great respect by his superiors. He wouldn’t lie.”
Vos read to the bottom of the statement, glanced at the name of the witness, and looked again. “Major Joshua Hartmann, is he any relation?”
“He’s my son.” Vos swallowed his surprise, and the General went on, “That should have no bearing on the mission or the case. He’s a military man, like his father.”
Vos clearly wasn’t buying that.
“I wouldn’t expect a civilian to understand. Just know from me that he wasn’t at fault, and the inquiry cleared him. It’s not unusual for a unit commander to request air support. Joshua passed on the order to launch the missiles, and I can tell you what happened next has haunted him ever since.”
Vos struggled to control his racing thoughts.
His son!
“Where is Major Hartmann, General?”
“It’s Colonel Hartmann now. What difference does it make where he is? He’s an honorable man, and what he said is all true.”
He decided to try a long shot. Just in case an idea germinating inside his head proved to be true. “You must be proud of him.”
“I am.”
“With good reason. I guess he’s in line for his general’s star anytime now.”
“He is. The next round of promotions should see it happen.” He puffed up with pride, “In due time, I’m hoping for a chance at promotion to Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Joshua would serve under me. Together we could bring in real change.”
Interesting.
He handed back the portable. “Thank you, General.”
He nodded. “Sheriff, they’re about to launch a big operation to clear out the rats that infest this planet. It isn’t just about Cage. RedCorp and the other corporations are working together to start an offensive to rid the planet for all time of these traitors. It’s gonna be big and bloody, and there’ll be scores of troop movements, which means confusion and chaos, at least to the civilian mindset. Although this wouldn’t be anything you haven’t seen before.”
“I served, General. First Martian War.”
“Yeah, that’s right. What I’m saying is things are going to get pretty bloody, so you need to focus on the target. Cage. Stay with Rob until he’s located him and taken him down. Remember, tidy and legal. That’s your job.”
“General, it’s not that…”
“Do it, Vos. You’re a long way from home. Know what I mean? This is Mars, accidents happen. You’ll want us to make sure you get home safe, so do your job.”
He didn’t reply. It was as much an admission as he’d ever heard.
Hartmann’s desperate to kill Cage; so desperate he’d commit murder to achieve his goal. Doesn’t that make him as bad as the man he’s hunting?
“We’ll do our best, General.”
“You’d better. Make sure you follow Laszlo’s orders. He has immense influence with RedCorp, and he can make or break your career with Dawson Public. Remember, we’re all friends now. The war is long gone.”
Vos couldn’t hide his surprise. “How come? What’s the connection between RedCorp and Dawson?”
“Just do your job, Sheriff.”
What else would do we do? We’re four months from Earth, on an alien planet. And there’s something wrong, something very wrong. What’s the connection between RedCorp and Dawson? Between Earth and Mars? The war’s over, but memories are long, and a lot of people despise the Martians. How would they feel about a tie-up between the two planets, and
one that they kept secret? They’d go ape. Hartmann has us trapped, and we don’t have any way out. Not if we want to get home.
As if reading his thoughts, Bowen said, “What do we do, Sheriff?”
There was a single answer. “We find Rob, and join the Martians.”
He returned a puzzled frown. “Are you sure?”
“Just do it, Deputy. Don’t ask fool questions.”
Am I sure? No way, no damned way.
* * *
They were losing. Part of the Southern tunnel system was lost when the robotic crawlers broke through and detonated. Ten fighters dead, and they couldn’t afford to lose them. As well as the people they were guarding, mothers and young children, those who couldn’t fight. They were the future of the rebel cause, and of the battle for the movement they called ‘Justice.’ Now they were dead, and there’d be many more. The detonations on the surface had ceased, which was a bad sign. They weren’t required, not anymore. The Martians had found them, pinpointed their location, and it would be a matter of time before they came in strength. Cage was trying to work out their options, what few there were.
“How long before they get here?”
Jamison glanced at him. They were crouched before an airlock, and on the other side, the sounds of the assault rang in their ears. A number of small explosions as the enemy blasted at the rock where earlier they’d brought down the roof to slow them up. When they reached the airlock, they’d have minutes left, maybe seconds.
“You mean the other groups? Two hours, that’s my best estimate.”
“We don’t have two hours, Ray. They’ll be through that door in two minutes. We need more men, more guns. There’re too many of them. They’ll murder us.”
“I know.”
“How many have we lost?”
“This time around, about twelve. Most dead, some badly wounded, but they can’t fight.”
“And we lost ten when they broke through. That’s ten percent of our force, and we haven’t met them in battle yet. At this rate, they’ll chip away at us, and when their army hits, they’ll chew us up and spit us out. We have to slow them down until the others arrive.”
He grabbed Cage’s arm.
“We’re not soldiers. You can’t expect them to stand in a fight like this. Hit and run is the best we have.” Jamison grimaced, “Tell me how we can do that, and we’ll get moving on it.”
“Not we, this is something I have to do. I’m going out there.”
“Excuse me? Going out where?”
“The surface, I’m going up to meet them.”
“One man against the might of RedCorp?” He winced, “When did you make the decision to commit suicide?”
“It’s not like that. My tactical biosuit is identical to those worn by the RedCorp soldiers, is that right?”
"Sure. We’ve stolen enough of them, sealed outdoor suit, with lightweight body armour and comms.”
“I’ll get inside their lines, and find a way to turn their own weapons against them. Those aircraft they use, they’re like an advanced version of the Vultures we used in the war. I flew them on several occasions, and I don’t see any problem with handling one of theirs. I’ll take one and use it against them.”
He chuckled. “Cage, you’re dreaming. Those things are Ares gunships. Even pretending to be one of their men, you won’t get anywhere near it. They have all kinds of recognition systems, like IFF, identification friend and foe, and they’ll spot you as an infiltrator before you get close.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you, but in the heat of battle, things get confused. Equipment breaks down, and men get diverted from what they should be doing, like checking every man for IFF. I reckon I have a good chance.”
Cataldi, the company commander eased over to them, he’d been listening. “You can’t fly one of those things and use the chaingun. Not at the same time as you’re reprogramming the guidance system to crash it into their own troops. I imagine that’s what you’re planning.”
“Something like that. A fully armed and fueled aircraft crashing into their main force could take out a couple of hundred men, with any luck. It’ll slow them down.”
“It could. But you’ll need help. Colonel,” he looked at Jamison, “I’ll go with him.”
“Granted, I’ll guide you through the tunnels. I know a good place to come out on the surface.”
“Cage, I can…”
He stared at Rose. “This time, the answer is no. Luther, I need you.” The Marine vet joined them, “I need you and Rose to keep up the fight, no matter what happens to me.”
“I want to fight with you,” she snarled, “I can shoot.”
“I know you can. But there’s something you can do that nobody else can. Keep working on the files on your portable. I’m convinced the solution lies somewhere inside that data.”
“The solution?”
“To what’s going on here. What they’re planning, the links to Earth, Martian plans to colonize other worlds or attack Earth. Whatever they’re doing, we need to know.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. How could that help us?”
“Think about it. If the other colonies knew RedCorp and the corporations planned to pick them off one by one, they’d declare war. The Martians wouldn’t just have the rebels to contend with. They’d have to fight off a concerted attack by every colony able to send a ship.”
“They’d have to stop?”
“They’d have to sue for peace. It won’t help with this battle, but I reckon this is a war, and we need to play the long game. Your job is critical, more than anything. Take care of her, Luther; she’s vital to victory. If I’m right, it all depends on that data. Win or lose.”
The vet nodded. “I’ll do it, but what if you’re wrong?”
I’m still trying to figure out the answer to that one.
“Then it won’t matter.”
He winked.
“Just do it.”
He led her away, and they donned their helmets. They began threading their way back down the tunnels to find an exit that would take them close to the rampaging troops on the surface. After two kilometers, and a score of airlocks, they reached a section of tunnel that appeared to have been abandoned. It was airless. Jamison called a halt and pointed to a gap in the rocks. “It’s big enough to crawl through, and when you come out, you should find you’re close to RedCorp positions. The rest is up to you.” He held out his hand, “Good luck.”
They shook, and Cage climbed through the narrow fissure in the rocks. The two men squeezed through, and twenty minutes later the gloom began to lighten. They emerged onto the Martian landscape, and he felt something stir inside him. The place was familiar, a wide valley. They’d come out in the foothills on the gentle slope of a hill overlooking the surface. Below them, the RedCorp troopers had established a landing zone, and eight gunships were sitting on the pad. Half a kilometer away, upward of a hundred red biosuited soldiers had clustered around a heap of tumbled rocks at the edge of the valley. They looked so scrawny next to the Lifers Cage had fought alongside, yet what they lacked in physique, they made up for in numbers and technology. He shuddered at seeing so many of the powerful railguns in their hands.
He turned to Cataldi. “It looks like they found a way in, so we don’t have much time.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Now we know where they are, we stroll down there like we own the place, get aboard a ship, and take off. A few minutes for me to override the autopilot and navigation system, and we land for a second, jump out, and send it on its way.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. Let’s go, and don’t hurry. If we start to run, they’ll be suspicious.”
“They’ll want to know who we are,” he pointed out, “What do we tell them?”
“We tell them nothing. Just kill the bastards.”
They started down the slope toward the nearest aircraft, and at first, it worked. They were just two more RedCorp tr
oopers amongst hundreds milling around the valley. They made it to within one hundred meters of the gunship, threading through a number of grounded transports, when a soldier stepped out. He spoke into his helmet mike, but they were on different channels, or perhaps the encoding was off. He came toward them, and one meter away he stopped, blocking their way. They noticed the insignia of an officer, a major, on his shoulder tabs.
He was close enough for them to hear him without a comms link. His mouth opened wide, and he shouted loudly. Even at this close-range he was barely audible, a consequence of the thin atmosphere of Mars. “What’s wrong with your helmet comms?”
“They’re malfunctioning, Sir,” Cage snapped out the reply, standing to attention. The Martian moved closer so that their suits almost touched.
“Both of you? Which unit are you with?”
He hesitated. “Er, the 1st.”
“The 1st? You’re supposed to be attacking from the other side.” He examined them, took in their non-standard weapons. The eyes narrowed as he noticed their absence of unit flashes, and his hand flew to the weapon on his belt. Cage aimed and fired in a single action. The Major crashed to the ground, sending up a shower of dust. He was dead as he fell, the air already escaping from the massive tear in his suit.
Cage was already moving and shouted, “Run” at Cataldi. They sprinted toward the gunship and almost made it. Except the Martians were alerted, not by them moving quickly, but by their ungainly gait in the lower Martian gravity. Natives to the planet could move faster and more elegantly, while Earthers tended to lurch and leap like an exaggerated jog. The question was who could run faster, which of them reached the gunship first. Or who took the first bullet.
As they rounded the landed ships, they almost collided with forty RedCorp troopers coming at them in a hard, charging crowd. Railgun bolts whistled overhead, but they were hurried shots, and they missed. The breath roared in his chest as he neared the first ship, and the many wounds were like a searing, hot poker. A pain as bad as any he’d suffered during his years of torture, but he ran on. Cataldi stumbled as he took a glancing hit in the side of his body, but he kept going, and together they reached the ship.
Last Life (Lifers Book 1) Page 22