The Armageddon Directive

by Dayton Ward

  “Holy shit.” Those eyes. Tanner had seen them before . . . on the Martians.

  “Say hello to Javal Ris,” said Maddox. “He’s been here on Earth for a couple of years. He was sent here to spy on us, report our weaknesses to his superiors, and basically help his people conquer us, but he defected. So far as we know, he’s the first ever Martian traitor, and he’s going to help us save the world.”

  Donning his sunglasses once again, Ris held out his hand to Tanner. “Welcome to Novas Vira, Agent Tanner. I look forward to working with you.”

  Tanner took the proffered hand and shook it, all while a single thought screamed over and over in his mind.

  Novas Vira? What the hell am I getting myself into?

  Chapter 13

  Beloss Bel plunged the letter opener into the man’s throat, feeling it slice through his esophagus and exit the back of his neck. Blood gurgled around the entry wound as the man scratched and clawed at his throat, his eyes wide with shock and terror. Holding the man down on the bed while covering the man’s mouth, Bel waited while the life drained away. Though it was a messy way to kill a human, it was not without a measure of enjoyment.

  The man’s movements stopped and his hands fell back to the bed. His eyes stared unseeing at the hotel room’s ceiling as the blood flowing from his throat and mouth slowed. Removing the letter opener, Bel wiped its narrow, dull blade on the man’s undershirt. He looked down at himself, appraising his outward appearance as Veronica Lincoln and the silk negligee that he wore. Blood was spattered across his front. The garment was ruined, but that was an acceptable loss in light of what this encounter had won him.

  Moving from the bed to the desk along the room’s opposite wall, Bel spent several moments examining the contents of the man’s briefcase. He read the laminated card on a metal chain that identified its wearer, and upon which was emblazoned a red chevron intersecting a blue sphere containing white stars, and four bold white letters: NASA.

  “Robert Blair. That’s your name. I’d forgotten.” He set the ID card to one side, knowing he would need it later. The briefcase’s other contents were of moderate interest, consisting of status reports and other memoranda exchanged between departments. Bel would read them later as part of his preparations for assuming Robert Blair’s identity.

  Flexing his fingers, Bel was pleased with how he was healing. He had suffered several cuts and even a deep puncture wound during the altercation with the humans, but advanced Martian medicine was making short work of those injuries. He guessed that even the lingering pain would be gone within a day. The damage to his mission and even his own security were much more severe, however.

  “The humans,” said Bel, shaking his head. Despite the problems the male FBI agent and the female journalist had caused him, he was forced to admit to a grudging respect for their ingenuity and tenacity. If a significant segment of the human population demonstrated such resiliency, conquering this planet might not be the foregone conclusion High Command would have his own people believe it was. Indeed, the possibility had been the topic of discussion even before his departure from Mars, and his experiences since arriving here had given him no reason to dismiss such concerns.

  If he had any regret about his encounter with the human in Kansas City, it was that he was never able to question the journalist regarding the depth of her knowledge. How much of it had she shared with her male companion? There was no way to know. Therefore, Bel’s most prudent course of action at this point was to proceed as though he was being hunted. As a spy, that was how he tended to operate anyway, but now he would have to increase his vigilance even further, and restrain himself with respect to his attempts to intercept prominent government or military officials, or to penetrate secure installations.

  “Perhaps you should stop killing people in hotels, then,” he said aloud, shaking his head as he gazed upon the body of Robert Blair, lying bloody and lifeless on the bed. He sighed, knowing that he would have to sanitize this room and dispose of the dead human in order to avoid bringing attention to the hotel and perhaps an increase in security surrounding his next target. It might even bring that human agent and others after him. While that might make for a brief yet entertaining diversion, Bel knew it would also distract him from his larger goal. Even if the agent knew about him, it would still take time to find him. Bel knew he could stay ahead of any such pursuers, so long as he continued to exercise patience and sound judgment. For now, however, there were other pressing matters demanding his attention.

  The attempt to trigger a United States nuclear missile launch had been a failure, but even in this lack of success had been a valuable learning experience. The technology on which humans were growing increasingly reliant was becoming more complex all the time. Such intricacy invited error in both the design and the protocols devised to manage it, particularly with the requirement to include decisions from sentient beings so that they might maintain the illusion of control over their creations. Of course, it was this very oversight that had prevented what he and his team had tried to do. Only human intervention had prevented the missiles from being launched and triggering the conflict that very likely would have destroyed most life on the planet. Left to automated systems to scrutinize and act on data received from the radar network, Earth might well be a burning cinder by now.

  But the humans had intervened, and had seen through the ruse. Bel only just managed to get away, making use of the reconnaissance team’s scout craft before doing his best to destroy everything else. Despite those efforts, he knew that at least some humans were aware of what he had tried to do. They would be wary of further attempts to use their own destructive weapons against them. Worse, Bel knew that if they eventually deduced the threat as coming not from their own world but from beyond it, the humans would be motivated to find methods of turning those same weapons against their true adversary. The military powers of Earth might even combine forces against a shared enemy: Mars. Of course, that would require spaceflight capability, which the humans did not possess in any significant fashion. At least, not yet.

  “All that appears to be changing though, isn’t it?” Bel retrieved a pair of binoculars from one of the suitcases he had brought with him. He paused, watching his hand tremble. He dropped the binoculars and clenched his hand into a fist, staring at it until he forced it to stop shaking. This was happening more often, and with greater intensity. Then there was the increasing frequency with which he talked to himself. He did not mind that as much. Indeed, he rather enjoyed the discussions. They were enlightening and entertaining, after all, sometimes lasting for hours. Besides, it’s not as if there was anyone else with whom he could talk. One had to adapt to one’s situation, Bel knew.

  Dousing the room’s lights, he moved to stand before the window. From this height on the hotel’s eleventh floor and with the binoculars to assist him, Bel was able to make out the upper third of the metal lattice towering over distant palm trees, and the slim silver rocket standing next to it. Spotlights illuminated the structure, allowing him to see the black capsule sitting atop the rocket.

  In just a few short days, two humans—astronauts—would ride that rocket into Earth’s orbit, the latest in a series of missions that the American space agency, NASA, was carrying out in its quest to land a manned spacecraft on the planet’s only natural satellite. The missions being undertaken now under the “Project Gemini” banner were laying the groundwork upon which the agency would build and expand the scope of its capabilities. Based on what he had seen of their efforts, Bel speculated that the Americans were perhaps two to three years from achieving this goal, provided they encountered no setbacks. Once that was accomplished, what would be the next goal? Pushing outward to the solar system’s other planets, of course, the nearest of which was Mars. How would humanity react upon learning that theirs was not the only inhabited world? And what if, before making that first journey, they learned that the Martian people would see
all humans destroyed before they could escape the confines of their world and spread to the cosmos?

  War, Bel knew; perhaps a conflict of such savagery that it would be sufficient to destroy both planets.

  That could not be allowed to happen.

  “I won’t allow it to happen,” said Beloss Bel, staring at the rocket and contemplating his next actions. He would find a way to carry out his mission, whatever the cost. No one would stop him and the humans would be brought to their knees. They would be conquered, if not by their own weapons, then by their lack of wisdom, and they would be powerless in the face of conquest.

  Then Mars would attack. The human menace would be vanquished.

  Mars would rule.

  THE END

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to Rich Young and Adam Fortier at Joe Books and to Adam Levine at Topps for inviting me to play in the Mars Attacks sandbox. I’m a huge fan of the original card series, and the idea of writing a story set in the 1960s that also ties into the new Mars Attacks continuity was a challenge I simply couldn’t pass up. All three of these gentlemen have made this a thoroughly enjoyable experience, answering every oddball question I put to them and making sure I had whatever resources and references I might need. Short version? This was a total blast to write. Thanks very much, guys.

  Thanks also are due to Robert Greenberger, fellow freelance word pusher and one of the genuinely nice people in this business. It was he who recommended me to Rich. For that, you can be sure I’ll be buying Bob a drink or two the next time our paths cross, which I hope is soon because it doesn’t happen often enough.

  As always, I reserve my final thanks for my wife and daughters, who support my particular brand of craziness as I take on these insanely cool writing projects, and who make sure I stay fed and loved along the way.

  About the Author

  Dayton Ward has been modified to fit this medium, to write in the space allotted, and has been edited for content. Reader discretion is advised.

  Visit Dayton on the web at daytonward.com.

  Copyright

  Mars Attacks: The Armageddon Directive © 2016 The Topps Company, Inc.

  Mars Attacks is a registered trademark of The Topps Company, Inc. Copyright 2016 The Topps Company, Inc. All rights reserved.

  No portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of the copyright holders.

  Published in the United States and Canada by Joe Books, Ltd.

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  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication information is available upon request.

  ISBN 9781772752878

  First Joe Books, Ltd. edition.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents featured in this publication are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, institutions, or locales, without satiric intent, is coincidental.

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