The God Mars Book Five: Onryo

by Michael Rizzo

  Catwalks ring the open dome interior of several levels, each lined with passage hatchways every few meters. The specs say the hatches on the upper levels access the VIP suites, once reserved for high-ranking colony personnel, administrators and skilled specialists. Now, apparently, this is where the current elite live, the Keeper officer class and their families. From what I can see, I wouldn’t call it living well, certainly not as well as I imagined. But it’s certainly better than what they leave to their Civvies.

  (I wonder if their systems have been slowly degrading, like they were at Tranquility before the immortals came to help. And that makes me laugh again, because here I am, an immortal come to “help.”)

  There are a few Keepers moving around on the lower decks, but no one up as high as we are. Most are probably asleep. I can see dull glowing blobs of heat through the bulkheads, from two to five per individual hatch, but they don’t move.

  This is the best they have, Peter confirms with disdain. Air, water, recycling. The old hospital is over there…

  The section he points to looks dark, unused, abandoned.

  …too bad their last educated doctor died off about twenty years ago. They’re lucky to have field medic skills. It doesn’t matter though: the sick and injured Civvies get used for target practice, except their own, who have the option of eating their own bullets if they can no longer serve. They make a whole ceremony out of it, special bullets and all.

  The really pathetic part is that they could move half their population in here, and restore enough warm pressurized sections for the rest, instead of keeping them in the tunnels. But then the Peace Keepers wouldn’t have as much real estate, and they’d all have to water ration.

  We stop at one of the bigger hatches that looks like an exit, a section airlock, and my maps confirm it. That confuses me: Are we leaving? We just got here, and paid our way with over a dozen lives. But then Peter puts our hand on the control panel, and I can feel us hack. And lock, killing the existing encryptions. Whatever happens next, the Keepers outside won’t be able to get to us without lock-breaking gear to reset the codes, and the Keepers in here won’t be able to get out fast. Then, while we’re still synced, he kills their security systems and their link hub, making them blind, deaf and mute.

  Now let’s go see Thel. He’s probably awake. He always preferred the night shift.

  Still unseen, we walk around the inside of the dome. There’s a larger section coming out of the walls on the far side from us, and there are lights on in the polycarb observation ports overlooking the lower decks.

  Colony Governor’s suite. Thel took it over after he killed the Garrison Commander who was living in it.

  I can hear voices from inside as we get close. The hatches aren’t locked. I suppose Thelonious has no reason to worry about security this far inside his fortress.

  The outer room is empty. It’s a sizable space, but like the rest of what I’ve seen, it’s less than what I expect for a leader. It’s messy, poorly kept, with only basic furniture.

  Thel was never much of a decorator. Or a housekeeper. Head too much in his work.

  There’s a single guard on the door to the next room, but his attention is turned away from anyone coming in. He has his back to us, focused on whatever’s going on beyond that inner hatch, intently watching through the small polycarb viewport. The light that comes through that small window is brighter than the outer space, and I hear a muted voice and see body-sized heat ghosts—I count four of them: two that look like they’re sitting or crouching, and two that look prone down low on the deck.

  The guard doesn’t hear us cross the room, doesn’t hear us coming up behind him, so we spear him in the back of the head with our Nagamaki, all the way in, and do a quick twist to destroy his brain. The only sound he makes is a death rattle of a gasp. We keep him standing, stuck on the end of our blade, and ease him away from the hatch before we set him down.

  The hatch is locked, but easy enough to hack. I don’t open it, not yet.

  “…still can’t break the safeties on this thing to make it attack organic matter,” I can now more clearly hear Thelonious inside, complaining idly to someone who doesn’t answer. “But then, the Rusties slather themselves with that iron oxide paste, head-to-toe as you can see, and it sinks into the pores.”

  We take a careful peek through the viewport. Since it is much brighter inside than out, we should be masked by reflection as long as we don’t get right up to the transparency. A quick glance around shows us that the room beyond is also more cluttered, littered with the junk of a hundred unfinished projects over every surface, including the one small unmade bed. We risk edging closer to the transparency to get a more thorough look inside, still counting on the glare to keep us from being seen. But we are.

  It’s Murphy. He’s on the floor to the right of the chamber, wedged up against one of the bulkheads, lying on his right side, bound wrists to ankles behind his body in what my father called a “hogtie”. He’s on his right side because his left hip is packed with bloody bandages. He looks pale, sick, beaten, probably starved and dehydrated, but he sees us. I raise a finger to my mask, and he gets that we’re friend, not foe, no matter how bizarre we may look, and stays quiet. I see enough recognition through his confusion that I know he’ll play along—he would know this mask and helmet from the ship, and knew we suspected it belonged to an immortal. I’m guessing he hopes I’m one of the heroes, somehow regenerated, and not another villain. I realize I don’t share his hope. I certainly don’t feel like a hero. Peter certainly doesn’t.

  Also on the floor, bound in similar fashion, is a Katar from our scouting party. He’s got a poorly bandaged head wound. And he’s naked.

  Thel is sitting casually in a high-backed swivel chair in the middle of the room, still in his black robes, his Sphere-capped white staff in his left hand. In his right is an ETE Rod. He points it idly at the bound Katar, who starts to convulse. I think I see a patch of skin on the warrior’s shoulder start to blister. Despite this, he doesn’t cry out.

  “Stop it,” I hear Straker order weakly. “He’s no threat to you.”

  “And this is where you tell me that Asmodeus is. Again. Again again again again again…” He sounds like a child. The kind of child I’d want to strike across the face.

  I see her. He’s got her in a steel cage on the left side of the room. It’s barely big enough for her to sit in, the latches welded shut. She also looks unusually weak and pale, skin slick with sweat like she’s feverish, green eyes dim and full of pain. I don’t see her Blade. Then I do, I think: There’s a containment tube on one of Thelonious’ work benches, behind him. Inside it thrashes liquid metal, trapped. He’s been keeping them separated. I’m sure I’ve heard that’s a bad idea.

  How long was I out, healing?

  Three days, Peter answers in my head.

  The number rises in my guts like poison. He’s had my friends at his whim for three days. My rage blazes fresh, and seems to interface with Peter’s, joining us together. I can feel myself get back bodily control, flexing my own fists, breathing my own hate.

  Thel goes back to torturing the Katar, looking like the only reason he’s doing it is for some idle late night amusement. He burns one patch of skin to blisters, then moves on to another.

  “Just wait until I get to the really sensitive spots,” Thel threatens like he’s looking forward to it.

  “I told you, I won’t help you even if I could,” Straker defies.

  “But you are helping me. You’ve already told me so much. You’ve told me there are a lot more people out there, more leftovers from the colonies. Your pretty boyfriend, for example.”

  Thel swivels to face Murphy.

  “That wound is really infected,” he pretends to care. “I suppose we should start by getting the bullet fragments out.”

  He gestures with the Rod, and Murphy jerks against his bonds, groaning in agony through clenched teeth. Then I see pieces of bullet come tearing out through his bandag
es.

  Straker struggles against her cage. I expect she’d kill Thel with her bare hands given any chance at all.

  “That’s better. Though I expect you’re bleeding a bit more now. Too bad I can’t use these to manipulate flesh.” He waves the Rod in the air like he’s stirring it, his eyes full of wonder and malice.

  “I told you…” Straker starts to deny him again, but I’m all done with this conv…

  “Mage!” someone shouts from behind us, from the hatch we came in through. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we’ve been attacked! Some of our sentries aren’t responding and systems are down in several sections. We’re bli…”

  And he sees us. Sees that we’re not who he initially thought we were in the dark.

  Peter draws our revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the man in the outer hatchway jerks, stumbles and topples. There’s a long metal spike sticking out of his skull.

  The Ghaddar is here. Apparently we made a hole for more than just us.

  Reunions later.

  I take the opportunity of Peter’s distraction to take control, pop the inner hatch, and as soon as I have a clear line I fire into Thel’s “workshop”, but not—as I can feel Peter hoping—at Thel. The .454 shell flies over his shoulder—right past his ear—as everyone jumps from the intensity of the blast, intensified in the tight metal-walled space—it’s almost as effective as a flash-bang grenade.

  My shot shatters the containment vessel. The Companion immediately spills onto the floor like molten metal, and flows fast toward Straker like water running down a steep incline. Thel recovers his senses, spins and gets up fast, moving like he’s trying to stop it, and finds the blade of my Nagamaki up under his jaw. He backs off of it slowly, grins.

  “You were still charcoal when I shut you back up three days ago. Should I ask who you ate?”

  He’s not really interested in an answer, just figuring his next move. He lashes out with his stolen Rod, and I feel a wave of energy slam me in the gut like a hard kick. He hits me again, knocking me back through the hatch. I can hear shouting now from outside, gunfire, but it’s not aimed this way. I plant my feet, hold my ground. He brings his staff around.

  Straker breaks her cage open, climbs out of it like she can barely move, her Blade reforming in her grip. This distracts Thel long enough for me to strike. I swat his staff aside and thrust at his face, managing to gouge his left cheek, bite bone. He ducks back, brings the Rod around to counter-strike, which is what I wanted him to do. Still in control, I chop down on his hand, knocking the Rod out of his grip and costing him part of his thumb in the bargain.

  He screams, then tries to put his staff between us, but instead of attacking or defending myself I use my sword to kick away the Rod as it hits the floor. I swat it toward Straker, who catches it, holds it up in her free hand.

  “You don’t know how to use that!” Thel screams, a child having a tantrum, more focused on his lost prize than his lost digit, pressing his bleeding hand to his robes. “It took me years to figure out how to use one!”

  “I don’t want to use it,” Straker tells him icily. Then she holds the Rod out in front of her, and chops into it with her Blade. The device bursts, and I can feel a spike in neutron radiation, just a flash that quickly fades. Straker is drawing the energy of the thing’s micro-fusion core through her Blade and into herself, using it. Her green eyes blaze. I think I can see things moving under the skin of her face, like wires.

  Thelonious roars like he’s lost a loved one and slams the butt of his staff into the deck. Every piece of loose metal in the room starts flying like a storm, swirling around him as he “stirs” it with the staff, building up speed. Then he flings it all at us. Murphy and the burned Katar seem safe enough hugging the deck, and Straker can draw most of what comes her way into her Blade. I let the rest batter my armor to no effect.

  But this is Thel’s turn at distraction. He plants his staff again and ducks. The roof blows through over his head, and he throws himself upwards before we can react. He’s running. Like a coward.

  Chapter 7: Wizard and Demon

  Straker runs to check on Murphy, snapping his bonds.

  “I think these are yours,” Peter growls through our mask before I can say anything myself. I reach into my satchel and toss him his revolver, loaders and ammo box. He barely manages to catch them he’s so weak.

  “You’re the… The armor… from the ship…” Straker struggles for words.

  “Enemy of your enemy,” Peter tells her quickly. I realize I have no desire to let them know who I am. Then I point to Murphy and the Katar and order like I’m in command: “Get them out of here.”

  I don’t wait for her to obey or argue. I crouch, leap up through the hole Thel just made, and wind up on what’s left of the roof of the structure. I don’t see Thel, but from up here I can see that the Barracks dome has become the scene of a battle.

  There are Keeper bodies on several levels, and others have sunk into makeshift positions to return the fire of a small force of invaders, dragging out steel panels that they seem to have kept handy to use as cover. More Keepers are mustering out of the perimeter hatches, probably right out of their beds as some are still sealing up their armor. At three separate points across the dome I see Katar warriors and Nomad cloaks. My father. Rashid. Others. They’ve come back in greater numbers, for rescue and revenge. I remember that the Ghaddar carried some very effective old Unmaker lock-breaking gear, which probably got them in here with the main systems down, taking their opportunity once they realized the perimeter sentries were blind, deaf and mute.

  The Keepers in this section apparently only have small arms, so they’re no match in accuracy for our sniper rifles and the Katar archers. Or the Ghaddar, who leaps from rail to rail, falling on the Keeper positions from their blind sides and cutting them apart. I feel a surge of joy from Peter as he watches the slaughter, tempered by frustration because he’s not doing the killing himself. But the pressing priority is Thel.

  “Abandoning your worshippers, Mage?” Peter taunts as we scan for sign of him.

  In answer, the structure gets ripped out from under us, dropping us back into what had been Thel’s outer rooms. We scramble up the twisted wreckage, only to have the Sphere thrust in our face. I try to grab the shaft, but a pressor wave slams us back, sending us crashing into the ruin. Not fast enough, though: I see Thel up on what’s left of the structure, clutching his side with his mangled hand. Peter managed to stab him in the spleen as he hit us.

  “I should have put you in a proper cage…” he grunts.

  “But instead you left me as a trap, hoping the Drakes would come back and I would eat them for you,” Peter throws back at him as we get to our feet. That revelation hits me like ice in my core, but quickly boils into fresh rage. Thel was hoping to murder my parents as well, leaving Peter to unconsciously do the deed if they should ever dare come home, come looking for the friends they abandoned.

  Before we can charge him again, Thel makes the deck start to give way underneath us.

  Straker has dragged Murphy and the Katar clear, but not far enough, just to the outer catwalk. I hear Murphy weakly telling her to go, as he and the Katar support each other to limp and drag for the nearest Nomad/Katar position. Straker moves fast the other way, toward Thel, to draw his attention. I can hear her Blade singing. Whatever it took from the Rod has made them both strong.

  The catwalk starts to buck and twist, then the metal starts to disintegrate, breaking up the entire structure. I try to scramble back up at him, but the wreckage is crumbling out from under me. We can’t reach him…

  Suddenly there’s something on Thel’s back, big and rippling, semi-visible. I realize it’s the Ghaddar, putting the reactive camouflage that Yod gifted her to good use. She drives one of her stout knives up under his jaw and he chokes on it, but then he throws her off, turns the Sphere on her, catches her in midair. I expect her armor to dissolve, but whatever Yod did to it makes it resistant. But she is vu
lnerable to sheer force. Thel shakes her like a toy. He’ll break her spine…

  Knowing our bullets would never penetrate the Sphere field, Peter throws the Nagamaki like a javelin, and it pushes through the field and then through Thel’s torso. He drops the Ghaddar—I don’t see where she falls. Peter makes the big sword come back to us, ripping out of Thel’s body. Thel staggers, trying to hold himself together with his injured hand. We start to throw the sword again, but Thel manages to knock us back with the Sphere. Before we can recover, he staggers away and falls off the remaining structure, down to the floor of the dome.

  Peter is roaring with rage. We scramble for the collapsing rail, throw ourselves over, drop thirty meters to the main deck…

  …and land in the midst of three dozen Keepers.

  Despite whatever shock our appearance gives, they don’t hesitate. They start shooting, not even caring if they’re in their own crossfire.

  Peter draws the short sword with his left hand and we become a whirlwind of steel, blade in each hand, swatting bullets and cutting men. What rounds get through to our armor do little but annoy us. I realize I’m giggling like a child inside the skull mask as bodies come apart as fast as I can hit them, and I’m fast. Just like with the bullets, my perception slows them down until they look like they’re video run on one-tenth speed. They don’t stand a chance.

  When we’ve cut down everyone we can reach, Peter plants the Nagamaki in the deck, draws the revolver, and we pick off a few unfortunate souls of opportunity, until the cylinder runs empty. The click of the hammer on a spent chamber spares one fleeing man’s life, but I only feel disappointment at his miracle.

  Thel is nowhere to be seen. The blood of our work soaks into us as we pause to reload.

  Above us, I can see Straker: she’s stopped to watch us from the collapsing rail, certainly wondering what the hell we are, how we came to be in this game of the no-longer-human, and where we fit in Yod’s schemes. She gives me a nod of thanks and then goes to help Murphy and the Katar get to their rescuer force, using her Blade to take any bullets fired their way. When they encounter a small group of Keepers in their path, Straker runs into them first, and strikes them down with what I realize is the flat of her Blade, stunning but not killing. I share Peter’s displeasure with her restraint.