Miranda's Demons

by Ian Miller

  Higher and higher they flew then, when they flew across the great valley, the motors were cut back and the vapour trails were reduced to a minimum. They should have been able to see the whole battle, but in practice all they could see were the great dust trails, leading to small groups of vehicles. These could be easily distinguished, as the settler's tanks had had their hatches painted green, a colour so alien to Mars that it was readily identifiable from the air. The whole picture of the battle below was clear, and Shelley's answer was simple; three planes to a group, with Shelley alone taking the southwest group. They glided towards the battle like great vultures, and Shelley noted that the target group had further subdivided, one group was having the better of a tank battle, and the other was closing in on a small infantry unit. Shelley glided towards the latter, and as her shadow began to fall on the battle, she engaged the downward thrusters, then pulled back on the joystick slightly to slow, then she levelled, and virtually hovered. She moved the crosshairs of her sight onto the leading tank and fired. The tank exploded.

  At the same time, the enemy ground infantry saw the plane and began to fire at it. Others darted towards their rocket launchers. Haruhiko saw this, and at once realized that they were no longer looking at him. He ordered his men to fire with whatever they had at the enemy infantry. This time, one grenade landed in the centre of the group, and bodies flew everywhere. Suddenly the hatch of one of the tanks opened, and a white flag waved.

  Shelley saw the flag, and stopped firing. Haruhiko lead his tiny band forward and commanded the enemy to lay down their arms. They looked at the size of his squad and began to have second thoughts about complying, but a quick warning burst from above, directed at a nearby mound, made them fling their weapons to the ground. Suited men began crawling from the tanks, to line up against a small bank. They stood there for nearly an hour, until a transporter arrived with more guards to take them away. As soon as Shelley saw that the infantry were in control, she quickly flew towards the other small battle. This appeared to be going against the settlers, but two quick missile attacks destroyed two of the collaborator's tanks, and the battle swung back.

  The remainder of the battle was similarly resolved, even though in principle the Brownshirts should have won. They had an overwhelming advantage in firepower, and their adversaries made very amateurish soldiers. Their problem was the appearance of aircraft. Scattered infantry could do minor damage to the aircraft and a number needed fabric replacing and small isolated sections of fuel tank were ruptured, but even when the hydrogen was ruptured and began leaking, the lack of oxygen in the Martian air meant that no fire was possible. Only the external rocket launchers could knock these out, and in principle they had a great excess of such rockets, and their targets were slow and hard to miss. Their problem was their use required a certain level of courage as the troops had to stand exposed at the rear of the tanks.

  Such men needed protection, but a certain level of command coordination was required to provide that protection. Without such coordination, if the very limited Brownshirt infantry lay down, they were blasted from the air; if they stood up, they were cut down from the ground. In fact there were very few infantrymen amongst them: all the Brownshirts wanted to be in tanks. The reality was that they were essentially bullies; like a number of other so-called armies, they were wonderfully efficient at dealing with unarmed civilians, but showed much less prowess when facing troops who were determined to fight back.

  As the enemy surrendered, MacDonald lined them up, disarmed them, and gave them clear instructions: they were to get the bodies from the disabled vehicles, remove the suits from those who had died, and place the bodies in body bags, with property, identification, etc. placed in small bags outside. Medical facilities were available for the wounded, except that MacDonald knew they would not be required. Anything that pierced a pressure suit was likely to mean death. MacDonald alone understood what the searchers would find, the twisted bodies, the expressions of excruciating pain, the bloodied keepsakes, and the simple destruction of people they had once known. The settlers might think they hated these collaborators, but he felt they were totally ill equipped to view closely the results of what they had done. That they would be spared.

  * * *

  Several days later there were great celebrations back at the caves. Although final victory had yet to come, it was now known that the enemy did not have the capability to launch another attack. They had committed their entire armour, and they had lost it all. A giant arena was set up between two of the slag heaps, and there was dancing, festivities, and even a surplus of food. The singing and dancing went on deep into the night, and there were few clear heads the next morning, when the business of planning for the post war period was to begin. But before the planning for this could commence, or even before the planning for the final assault began, the settlers insisted on honouring the heroes.

  Karl Groza found himself in the unlikely role of a hero. "Dunno what the fuss's about," he mumbled. "There was no risk. Their leaders are even more stupid than ours."

  Haruhiko also found his name prominently displayed, but every time he saw it, the memories of the indecision kept flooding back. Eventually it became too much for him, and he sought out Gaius, who had been invited to the celebrations, and asked to have his name removed.

  "What for?" Gaius asked, a little bewildered.

  "I don't deserve it," Haruhiko replied glumly.

  "Whyever not?"

  "For a while there we were outnumbered, and all I could think about doing was ordering what was left of my squad to run. It would not be right for me –"

  "Of course it would," Gaius smiled, and patted his shoulder. "In military parlance, under superior fire, and when low on ammunition, with little chance of scoring an outright victory, you were considering a strategic withdrawal."

  "Heroes don't withdraw at the speed I was going to," Haruhiko confessed.

  "Are you that sure?" Gaius laughed. "Part of the greatness of Julius was that he knew when to attack, and when to withdraw, and whichever he chose, he did it with frightening speed. You could say, when he withdrew, he ran, but that would not do him justice. Enjoy your victory. You deserve it."

  Shelley Winters also found herself in what she considered the unlikely role of Martian hero. She also protested, but to no avail, and in addition to anything else the Defence forces might convey on her, she was awarded full Martian citizenship.

  Chapter 6

  Deep within the most symmetric of the ancient craters of Ariel lay the complex of enormous antiquity. Over the past few weeks, whenever Ariel was on the opposite side of Uranus to Miranda the alien ships had come and delivered their cargo, and during this time, images of empty space were fed to the M'starn remote observation post on Oberon. Now the troops and equipment were ready, and once again Miranda was to emerge from behind Uranus. Tomorrow, they would launch their attack, approaching on a trajectory that would not be able to be seen from the base on Miranda itself. They would then skim the surface of the moon and land as close as they could to the entrance to the M'starn base. The circumference of Miranda was a little over fifteen hundred kilometers, and its curvature gave it a very close horizon, which meant that, in principle, the ships could land an attacking force close to the enemy base and remain undetected. But the M'starn base was located within the ovoid originally named the Chevron where it would be impossible to land space ships other than by approaching directly from above, and a cross-country trek of nearly eighty kilometers, as the crow flies, would be required.

  The Chevron was a sequence of concentric ridges and troughs formed through the compression and faulting of lava as the "rock" was extruded from the moon's interior. The rock was a strange mixture of dust, water, ammonia and a number of organic materials, and although the moon was incredibly cold, it flowed like lava under the immense compression forces generated by the cooling moon and the tidal forces of Uranus. The valleys were many kilometers deep, the cliffs sheer, the ice jagged in places, smooth i
n others. And deep in the valleys, it could be so dark.

  The soldiers were seated around a large number of small tables. Some were eating, some were merely nibbling. This would be the last meal they could expect for over twenty hours, but the tension was such that many could not bring themselves to eat. For some, the enormity of what they were attempting was only just beginning to register. Natasha glanced around the room and a feeling of inadequacy struck her. She had no idea whether the preparation was adequate, whether the morale was satisfactory, or what she should do.

  It was then she noticed Gaius. Previously, Gaius had maintained an aloof stance from the troops, merely making appearances for disciplinary reasons, or to give new series of training programmes. He had given his briefing, in which he had outlined for what each group was responsible. His speech had been brief and to the point: do your job, ignore everything that does not bear directly onto your group, follow your training, do what you have to do quickly, aim, shoot, and don't think about it. If you all do that, most of you will be coming home. Then everybody was ordered to the servery, where the last meal before departure was available. As Gaius noted, they should all eat well, because it would be a long time before there would be any opportunity to eat again. The mood was brittle. Some were laughing that strained laugh of the extremely nervous, some were quiet, some could barely eat. When everybody was seated, Gaius began mingling with the troops, and he seemed to be attempting to speak personally to each table. The troops now knew something of his history and his presence was intended to convey both comfort from the knowledge that there was experience guiding the operation, and that their commander cared about each of them. As Gaius remarked later, he told each person that they would be coming home if they kept sharp, and kept their nerves, and that, he knew was not exactly true. There were always casualties from those who did everything they could to live, nevertheless those who became paralysed in thought or act, even briefly, usually offered the easiest targets. There were no guarantees in battle, but one thing he had noticed was that those who thought they would die usually did.

  * * *

  The troops finally took their packs, slung their weapons over their shoulders and adjusted the straps, then formed a single file.

  "Time to board," Natasha called out quietly. "Single file, by assigned numbers, now!"

  "And gently!" Gaius added. "Behave as if it you were carrying eggs, and your life depended on it, because it will later."

  They gently glided through the airlock, and down the connecting chute. Before them was a hatch, and urging them on was one of the hairiest beasts they had ever seen. It was dressed in light sleeveless overalls, was a little shorter than a human, but had the build of a bear. The arms were powerful, and covered with very thick grey-white woolly looking fur, while its face was similarly covered, except that it appeared to have shaved around the forehead, presumably for better vision. It clearly had hands of some description, but they were covered with very thick gloves, which looked as if they were designed for protection against heat or electricity rather than for providing warmth. It had a large belt, and hanging from this was a remarkable collection of what were assumed to be tools, and the numerous pockets of the overalls were all stuffed with what appeared to be electrical items, such as communicators or meters, or manuals.

  "Come on!" it roared gruffly. "I won't eat you!" Then it paused, and added with a guffaw, "unless you run from battle! I'm allowed to eat custards!" then it gave another guffaw.

  The men filed in, took their allocated seats, and sat nervously, as the airlock closed and the craft lifted off. This, it appeared, was a Krothian freighter that had happened to be in the system, and was being employed because it had the appropriate cloaking capabilities, and could managed this short trip with virtually no detectable emissions.

  As the ship glided through space, the men stared silently at the space about a meter before them. Some began fiddling with religious items, some massaged lucky charms, some took a last look at a cherished photograph. Everybody knew some would not make the return journey, and nobody wished to be seen looking at their friends, in case they gave the impression that that was a last look.

  Finally their craft landed, and very subdued faces became hidden by pressure suit helmets. The awkward-looking sausages glided towards the hatch, and into the airlocks. These were the most ungainly suits imaginable, but they did reflect most of the energy of the hand-held beam weapons if the beam struck, and almost all of it if struck at an angle greater than about twenty degrees. Although the suits looked huge, the effective target was considerably smaller than an average person.

  They milled around outside the ship while the equipment was being unloaded. All they could do was check the efficiency of the grenade holders, and they did this several times. Packing the grenades would be the last thing they did. They checked their weapons several times, and eventually a few even took time off to look around.

  They had landed on a relatively smooth rocky plain, with low, rolling mounds. The rim of one larger crater projected above the horizon; even allowing for the clarity of space, it seemed but a short walk away. The curvature of the tiny moon was such that any mountain peeking over the horizon was, in Earth terms, incredibly close. It was daytime; looking above the horizon towards the familiar constellation of Sagittarius, the troops saw for the first time a new star, the most brilliant and biggest they had ever seen. Sol! Within Sagittarius was another sight they would never forget if they turned up their enhancers. There before them was almost the entire solar system. Mercury and Venus were too close to the sun, but the bright Jupiter could be clearly seen, and further out the dim Saturn, way out on the other side of the solar system, yet where they had trained so recently. Closer to the sun, the red of Mars could just be made out with maximum vision enhancement, and on the other side, just to the "north" of Lamda Sagittari, the rather unspectacular view of home. The value of Miranda as a military base could now be seen; all enemy action lay in one constellation. Further out from the sun and unseen, on the far side of the solar system, were the remaining planets, Neptune near Theta Librae, and Pluto near Eta Capricornii. Unknown to the troops, between Theta and Sigma Aquarii, and the closest object to Uranus at that time, was Chiron. The Ulsians hoped that extra angle took it away from enemy surveillance, but they were only too well aware that realistically any peripheral observation must include that position. Fortunately, at this period of time its eccentric orbit had it closer to the sun than Saturn.

  The troops gradually assembled around their latest piece of equipment. The "vehicles" had the appearance of a child's toy gone wrong: a cross between a toy monster and a cart. There was a central cylinder approximately fifty centimeters in diameter and about two meters long. At each end four stubby "legs" projected at right angles, but at the end of these legs thin axles, each a meter long, held a wheel of just over half a meter radius, a wheel with thin spokes and a massive rim. At one end of the cylinder, in front of the legs and mounted on a set of swivels that gave the impression of a stubby neck was a squat curved object that looked vaguely like a head; at each side, on swivel mountings were two rods which gave the appearance of antennae, and near the centre were two swivelled receiver dishes which gave the appearance of being eyes. In a sense, they were. Below that was a lens, roughly filling the position of a nose. At the rear of the beast was a massive fully flexible "three-pronged tail". Then to thoroughly confuse the issue, and show that it was neither a cart nor a beast, underneath the front shoulders was a massive drum. In front of the drum and just behind and below the head was a long tube, as if designed as an insect's proboscis.

  Each vehicle was placed beside the space ships, mounted vertically on their tails. Cables were connected to the ships, and gradually the wheels began to spin, faster and faster. The cables were then disconnected and the men mounted on the back of their "beasts", the bottom "legs" being footholds, the top "legs" being hand holds and controls.

  The vehicles were effectively smart pogo sticks. The
tail consisted of a set of springs in each branch of the tail, the tension of which could be set by electric motors within the central unit. Release of the springs sent the machine leaping towards its target, the first of which had been preset by the computers on the Krothian ship. Close to mid-flight the next target had to be selected by the pilot who viewed a screen behind the "head". Once that target was selected, the exact distance to it was measured by the two laser antennae, then a trajectory between the next landing point and the target was calculated. This calculation also gave the exact impulse required, together with the amount of additional positive or negative compression to be added to that given to the springs during landing. Once the craft landed and the spring was properly compressed with the stick at the correct attitude and angle, the microprocessors released the spring. This generated the correct thrust to the tail for the next leap. Small gas jets could also correct an attitude problem in flight, although there was insufficient gas to correct for an incompetent pilot and while the vehicle was smart, the pilot had to exercise a considerable level of skill.

  Within minutes, the first leap was made and the squad were propelling themselves upwards, to the first of the great ice ridges. It was here that the value of laser and microprocessor technology was readily apparent; during selection of the landing target that would follow the next leap, microprocessors in communication with others prevented the pilot from selecting a path that would lead to a possible collision. All the tail required was firm rock of fifty square centimeters; the laser sightings gave the central processing unit a complete survey of the area selected and could assess the nature of the site sufficiently well to prevent the stick from landing on an unstable face or on a loose rock. The lasers would also survey the exact surface of the landing site and adjust the length of the tail sections so the stick had the correct attitude for the next leap. The three branches allowed a precisely placed impulse.