The Intruder Mandate: The Farthest Star from Home: a military sci-fi suspense novel

by William Cray

  “You know I have to report this. It’s my job.” Floss said.

  Duran nodded. “We are all just doing our jobs Lieutenant. You don’t like my methods, but things could get worse very fast. If my hands are tied, there will be consequences for everyone.”

  A bright flash, crashed into the chasm, around the bend of the trench walls. The crump of earth and stone thrown through the air reverberated through the car’s thin paneling. Warning lights inside the car strobed as it slowed to a halt in the traffic. Duran leaned forward in the seat. Warning claxons sounded throughout the chasm’s enclosed interior, sending residents on the nearby catwalks and balconies scurrying to their interior disaster shelters. A shower of dust and particles rifled through the air, falling unnaturally slow in the low Martian gravity and creating a suspended cloud of loose debris that engulfed the trench.

  Information began to flow into the Constabulary data stream, displaying the seismic center mass of the event on the car’s screens. Floss immediately slid into the drivers’ console, programming in the location and enabling the emergency router as dispatch began to blare.

  “All tier one Mass-Cas E.R. units respond to explosion, vicinity Mid South-Level Ten, contact ER Command see-three, tac ten… All tier one Mass-Cas ER units respond to explosion, vicinity…”

  13

  Level 10, Main Travelway

  New Meridian City

  Hebes Chasma Trench, Mars

  “This is as far as the travelway will allow us, everything is shut down from here, two levels above and below.” Floss disengaged the car from the magnetic rails with a thump onto its extended wheels and pulled off onto the large overhanging causeway extending above the precipice.

  NMCPD cars and response units had already gathered on the platform with the blocked civilian traffic piling up on the travelway. P-Teks diverted them away from the scene as debris cascaded down. The chaotic swirl of debris caught by the breezeways shot the cloud across the chasm, choking out the view and sending people scurrying for shelter. Publicars just stopped where they were, leaving a haphazard obstacle course for responding units.

  The arriving emergency crews exited their vehicles, leaning precariously over the ledge of the platform to see into the chaos below. City alarms flashed and announcements blared on the civil defense system to avoid the area. There were no warnings of a breach in the pressure cone.

  Duran and Floss both climbed out of the cruiser’s sliding doors, joining the gaggle of responders who just arrived at the scene but hadn’t received authorization to enter the area engulfed by the blast. Floss reached into the back retrieving his police band Com-collar and slipped it in place over his shoulders. He joined Duran at the ledge, activating his collar display and a collage of data streamed across it. He removed the audio plug and placed it into his ear, calling in and reporting to some person immersed in the cities ether.

  Duran watched as emergency response lifters hovered in the dust, dispersing the hanging chaff cloud around them. The lifters released P-Teks and other specialized robotic machines into the maelstrom, then pulled out. Duran could make out the strobe and positioning lights of the automated rescue and fire suppression machines making their way into the disaster on the various wheels, tracks, and limbs of their mechanisms. Cyclo’s orbited the scene providing multi-spectral images of the affected area. Duran looked down into the depths of the trench through the haze. More assets swarmed to the waters surface at the edge of the debris field, beginning evidence collection in the waters below, and the recovery of bodies possibly thrown from the level by the blast.

  Civilians residing in nearby buildings gathered at the overhang, looking at the carnage below. Cops and P-Teks formed a perimeter around the ledge, pushing them back to a safe distance. Many wore breathers and had sealed up their redcoats. An NMCPD cop stood next to him scanning the area with a pair of goggles slaved to his car’s extended surveillance kit. Not wanting to pull out his Mag-gun and the associated imagers, he asked to borrow the officer’s goggles for a moment.

  The officer handed them over saying, “Not much to see. Bomb musta gone off in the tunnel.”

  Duran held the goggles up, scanning for the figure he saw at the Rachenko apartment, feeling for the presence. The goggles compiled a complex representation of the tunnel entrance through the variable spectrums, resolving the image of the chaos churning below. The radar-imaging suite had the best resolution, dialing up the gain for the max detail. Most of the chasm side buildings had been unaffected, but the travelway and exterior platform leading out of the tunnel was trashed, but he could see little structural damage to the chasm from here. Inside the shaft might be a very different story, but the tunnel seemed to have thrust the force of the blast into the open chasm like a cannon shot, minimizing exterior damage. There could be horrible casualties inside the tunnel, but the exterior structure seemed stable. Moving the goggles to the perimeter, he again looked for his target.

  Seeing what he could of the blast site, Duran scanned across the chasm to an adjacent platform. There a group of lifters had gathered, idling as a team of heavy armored figures in orange colored power suits prepared to go in. The suits were over two and a half meters tall, with massive claw like appendages and vices extending from four torso-mounted arms. Large variable geometry tools hung from the waistline and belts slung around the broad powerful shoulders. Their helmets were in the open position and he could see the faces of the men and women ecased inside each. A man in a Response Services uniform gave instructions to each of them as they gathered in a semi-circle. A collection of hovering cyclo’s with markings of news organizations hovered near the exclusion zone, their long-range cameras picking apart the scene like vultures waiting for a fresh meal.

  Duran watched the group being briefed then they buttoned up, their faces now buried by armor as they closed up their suits, and moved into the chaos. They were not so different from him. They were linked to their rescue suits with a similar set of cybernetic subsystems for motor control and information flow, but he doubted they were reinforced to accept the high G-loads of combat or survive the level of damage Duran could take. Their C-SYS level would be lower by a magnitude, but the men and women he watched through the goggles were there to save lives, to rescue and bring hope. Duran admired their courage and noble purpose in comparison to his.

  Duran handed the goggles back to the adjacent cop and walked the few steps over to Floss, who monitored the situation on his collar set. Floss had tied into a forensic network, sifting through the information of the robotic mechanisms already inside the tunnel.

  “Benerite and a generic accelerant residue… defiantly a bomb. High concentration, but not a large blast area. No toxic gas concentrations or secondary devices evident.” Foss looked over at Duran through the shimmering displays. “Looks like your terrorist.”

  “Target?”

  “Not for sure yet. The probes haven’t made it all the way in but I show several small businesses and a few private residences. At the end of the tunnel is the Ulysses Hotel. A local landmark of sorts. It has a reputation of catering to clients favorable to the Empire. I would bet money on it being the target.”

  Duran watched the rescue parties forming up below. “This doesn’t feel right, but I need to get in there to be sure.”

  “Doesn’t feel right?” Floss exclaimed, “How do you figure? You could hide a bomb covered by this luminous tritanium you asked Ting about, couldn’t you?”

  “It doesn’t work like that, not at close range. It would take an identifiable power signature that your city net would probably pick up. If the Ulysses is the target then it could be a political target, but it still doesn’t feel right. This is…too impersonal. The blast was contained. Poorly placed to do mass casualties.”

  “There could be a hundred or more dead inside Agent Duran. If this is a terrorist act then it’s the biggest attack on Mars for over a decade.”

  “This doesn’t feel the same, not like Rachenko or the others. I need to get
in there.” Duran said. “To be sure.”

  Floss gave Duran a questioning look through the dancing displays. “No way. There’s no way you are going in there. Not until it’s clear. You would be putting people at risk.”

  Duran barked back, “People are already at risk.” Cops on the platform looked over at the two arguing detectives.

  “At least wait until they’ve checked for a secondary. This could all be a prelim to something bigger.”

  “Is there another way in?”

  “Yeah. The hotel extends one tier above and below the main entrance. We could enter there.” Floss indicated a tunnel entrance down one level from them, above the origin of the blast. “But after the area is cleared by the bomb squad.”

  “That could be hours.”

  Floss put a finger to his ear, straining to listen to a conversation relaying through the net. He held up a hand to Duran. After pausing he said, “I’ll let you take it up with the boss. He’s on the way.”

  Duran continued to concentrate as he waited, feeling for the taint of the Intruder, searching his mind for the specter of intrusion.

  Nothing.

  As he dwelled on the Intruder presence in solitude, the surrounding P-Teks cleared away the civilians and onlookers, creating an open area on the platform. An orange and blue lifter with a Lunae-Tharsis Constabulary seal flew up to the tier after sweeping across the bomb zone, hovering for a few minutes and making a second pass. The lifter climbed to the platform, then flared as it swept over the ledge. Debris and dust swirled away from it in a loud whoosh, causing the surrounding P-Teks to grip the platform, as they tried not to fly off the edge with the trash. As the lifter continued to spool down, the dark dome of Elijah Cole emerged and climbed out of the passenger compartment. Two uniformed officers and one of the detectives from their earlier meeting followed, taking up flanking positions as Cole headed towards Duran.

  As Cole headed towards them, Floss deactivated the cascade of information flowing down his Com-Collar, and walked forward to meet his boss. Duran remained at the platform edge, still looking into the abyss, searching for ghosts, or maybe vampires, as the geek had called them. He knew what he was looking for now.

  The more he made the links, the more he applied what he knew and to what he was seeing. It felt wrong. An attack against a non-critical soft target would not be the style of the Intruder he had come to expect. It could be a diversion but until this morning at the Rachenko apartment he had gone completely undiscovered by conventional means, so no misdirection was necessary. The bombing could be unrelated. In either case, it should be ignored. There was so much more chaos the Intruder could cause by biding his time and making his strokes with swift clean incisions. This bombing was a blunt instrument and every fiber of his being told him that this Intruder was a surgeon, methodical and precise with his blade, maiming and disemboweling, watching his victims suffer as they bled out or strangled their own young. He took pleasure in small intense agonies, not the instant trauma of a mass casualty event. This Intruder was not a political zealot; he was something…different.

  Duran ended his search of the chaos below, convinced this was a red herring. He stepped back from the precipice. I’ve got no choice. I have to bring Celeste into this. He thought. She was still the only link he could make.

  Duran turned to face Cole who now approached alone. Floss was by the lifter, gathering officers to him.

  “I received a copy of your confirmation orders Agent Duran.” Cole yelled out over the roar of lifters and emergency vehicles still streaming in. He closed the final few steps to Duran and stepped up to the ledge, looking down into the scene unfolding below them. “What can you tell me?”

  “This…act…” He motioned to the chaos behind him “isn’t part of my investigation. This is something else, too impersonal. I don’t have any other insight.”

  “What about the Rachenko apartment?” Cole leaned forward over the safety rail, into the swirling dust.

  “If I could have gotten there sooner, this might be over.” Duran said. He felt the first hint of remorse as it leaked into his voice. He still wore the bloody clothes from the encounter.

  “When are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  Duran looked into Cole's eyes. He sensed something he hadn’t noticed before in Cole. A strange ambivalence or distraction had crept into the set of his face. “I’m sorry Commissioner, I haven’t received authorization to brief you.”

  Cole smirked, “I thought not. What about the luminous tritanium Floss just described to me? Where does that tie in? Could it be used to shield a bomb?”

  “It could, but not this one. The process requires enormous amounts of energy to create the dispersion field the closer you get to it. You couldn’t fit enough energy output in that entire building to hide the device inside of ten meters. Plus, what would be the point?”

  “What then, if not a bomb?”

  “A large structure. Then plate its exterior to render it invisible to the naked eye at a distance.”

  Cole looked at him skeptically, “What kind of structure?”

  “I don’t know. Could be a drug lab, a bomb factory, or anything they wanted to conceal.” Duran lied.

  “Ok…” Cole responded, “How do we find it?”

  “Finding something cloaked with luminous tritanium shielding isn’t easy. You have to look for the power output in a very narrow frequency range and that means knowing the distance to the device. Then you have to narrow down the bearing. It takes specialized equipment.”

  “In other words you have to already have a damned good idea where it is before you start looking for it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Who has the equipment?”

  “Military.”

  “And the suicides?”

  “They could be part of a psychotropic drug or virus being infused with the amphetamine as a test bed or being used to blackmail locals to provide assistance. I didn’t think these acts were personal until Rachenko, but on some level, they connect to a plan.”

  Cole squinted focusing on Duran, “What about this terrorist suspect you identified in the Rachenko residence, and the two N.M.C.P.D. officers?”

  Duran looked back down into the chaos below. “It couldn’t be helped. They got too close. You’ve got the image of who I was tracking, tell your officers to move away, at least two hundred meters, then contact me immediately. I’m the only one who can get to him.”

  Cole looked away again, his mind seemingly losing focus for a moment, lost in thought. Duran waited for Cole to continue, watching the first shattered bodies and wounded being removed from the tunnel by the M-Teks.

  Cole continued. “The Prime Minister is considering declaring a planetary emergency in the Radiation Exclusion Zone. He has given me orders to draw up plans to go in there with Territorial Guard troops and clean the place out.”

  Duran turned to him, “Why? That is the worst possible solution.”

  Cole nodded, “He has received credible information that this is going to escalate and after this morning I tend to agree. The only place something like this could be staged is from the Zone, where any law enforcement infrastructure has been dismantled. The Prime Minister’s favorable polls are dropping and planetary elections are coming up in six months.”

  “You have to talk him out of this.” Duran shot back.

  “After today, there’s no chance, but I offered my resignation for the failures there…He didn’t accept it … yet.”

  Duran felt his chest tighten; the consequences of such an act could be disastrous. “How soon?”

  “Possibly tomorrow.”

  Duran cursed under his breath.

  “The decision hasn’t been made yet, but it could come later today.” Cole said.

  “What does the Prime Minister hope to accomplish?” Duran said.

  “He wants the public relations coup mostly, but the objective is to sweep the Zone clean and clear out all of Phelman’s children, along with the ga
ngs and drug labs. Restore order, and with the recent threats I can’t say I totally disagree with the intent.” Cole replied.

  Cole stood, looking back to Floss, who remained around the gathered group of officers. He nodded to Floss. Duran looked back at the approaching group, seeing their focus on him, closing tactically. P-Teks moved with them, unfolding full body shock restraints from their mechanisms. Coming to arrest him.

  Duran bristled as the troop closed. The nanites inside his body sensed the change and began dumping adrenaline into his bloodstream. Endorphins sparked to life inside him to speed reactions as systems deep within came online. The tiny artificial organisms of his body began streaming from their holding points in small pockets of fatty tissues to defensive positions around his vital human organs and arteries, in anticipation of damage being done to them. The machine inside Duran came to life, coiling to enact violence.

  Duran took a deep breath, facing Cole. “This is a mistake Elijah. You have no idea.”

  Cole sensed the change in Duran, feeling the charge building in front of him, but didn’t retreat. “I received a call this morning from Earth. A dear friend of mine, an Ambassador to the Commonwealth. She told me of a threat to New Meridian…” He stepped back from the edge of the precipice, “She said that I should be aware that a group of Imperial cyborgs with unclear intentions might try to infiltrate the city.”

  Duran watched as Cole continued.

  “When we first met Rory, the only reason I let you go is because I felt I could trust you. I don’t know why I felt that way, I just did. Now I know you are hiding the truth. Whether you are just following orders or there is something else, I don’t know. But my gut tells me I can still trust you.” Cole motioned for the approaching officers to halt. “Can I trust you Rory?”

  “You don’t have a choice Elijah.”

  “You’re right Rory, I don’t have a choice.” He said. Cole motioned for Floss and the phalanx of cops and P-Teks started to approach, three of the eight uniformed men falling back, drawing weapons. “I’m going to have to ask you to go with them.”