The one thing going for the rebels, and especially him in his last battle was that the mainline PDF Mech armor were almost two generations behind where they should be due to a lack of investment by the overstretched government. This allowed the Rebels with their limited resources to fight toe-to-toe with most of the types they encountered. An arms race with the PDF was the last thing they needed right now, especially with their limited manufacturing capability compared to what the government could bring to bear once they received the proper incentive. The one thing haunting the back of every rebels mind that stopped to think about it was the sheer dominance Starkindler had while on the field of battle compared to the PDF, and what the Mars Industries corporate congress would eventually decide to do about it.
As much as he spent every waking moment of his day avoiding the problems staring him in the face, for several days now Mikkhael had the sense that he was waiting for something to occur that was beyond his control. An event to take place, a person to commit an act, he was not sure what it was exactly that he was waiting for. He only knew that at this point in his life, his fate was not in his own hands. Something big was about to change, but he did not know what it was; only that he was watching for the signs.
He took what Eve said about the base personnel coming together to rebuild Starkindler, breaking the clues down, turning them inside and out searching for any indications to see if this was what he was waiting for.
He silently concluded it was close, probably the harbinger of bigger events to come and would be key later, but for the time being he would have to be patient a bit longer. He uncrossed his arms, relaxing, not realizing just how tense he had been, flexing his fingers as they had gone white from the lack of blood flow to them from the pressure of gripping his forearms so intent was he on what Eve was saying. Briefly, he actually toyed with the idea of going to check on Thorsten, maybe even getting involved with the repair process a bit, but decided against it. His presence would probably only distract Thorsten and the other engineers as they worked. So instead he waited. He had the feeling that what he was waiting for would come soon, but on its own time. Rushing things would serve no purpose.
For her part, Eve was examining him for any reaction at all to her words, intentionally pushing him towards one, so she noticed him go rigid from the start, taking into account that he was likely memorizing every word, analyzing and scanning them for threats. His belief in the rebel cause was absolute, but so were his ideals. She was well aware he would not hesitate to kill anyone he thought betrayed him or his directives that certain actions not be undertaken such as trying to copy or steal the top-secret materials used in Starkindler. The fact that Aurora’s shell was giving her approval and guidance was mentioned for his reassurance. She was not sure what she was fishing for, simply a reaction maybe. The danger she skirted was real, but she also believed that she needed to get Mikkhael back in the fight one way or another for his sake, and the rebels.
She left him alone after she saw that in the end his self-control remained in place, returning to her personal quarters to consider her next move. He had analyzed every word she said, ready to act, but in the end failed to do so. Her attempt to break the façade he hid behind failed. She could not imagine what else might force him into action, but she prayed it revealed itself soon before it was too late. Rumors were growing stronger every day of mercenary reinforcements from Earth being intertwined with reports of upgraded and new variants of PDF units appearing in battle. The Rebels had made large gains in the last few weeks, but they were overstretched, not strong enough to finish the issue of finally overthrowing the government without some major new force. In the meantime, the PDFs power would grow exponentially the longer they waited. Time was no longer their ally.
* * * * *
Four more days passed uneventfully as the storm grew in power, the ghost of the red planet rolling restlessly in its sleep. Mikkhael passed the days shut inside his quarters or ambling listlessly down long deserted corridors deep in the bowels of the great volcano, fretful with the feeling of imminent change ahead but unable to figure out why he felt so nervous or able to prepare for it. Eve avoided him since testing his boundaries, instead throwing herself into assisting Thorsten with gusto, suddenly unsure of herself around him yet again.
Then everything changed as soon as a new normal began to assert itself. The dust storm began to subside the night before. For years, scientists had been working on ways to mitigate the storms that once they spun up could envelop the planet for months and sometimes years at a time. The danger of that happening was that humans, plant, and animal life all needed sunlight, at least for psychological reasons if no longer for physical ones anymore. Various techniques to minimize the storms used everything from detonating huge bombs in the center of the storms, to using electricity to positively charge the dust particles, binding them together and in so doing dissipate their accumulated energy. All above ground habitats were enclosed by domes whose first layer of protection consisted of electrical shields that the dust struck against, binding together and falling back to the ground, accumulating in great mounds that were then swept back into nearby canyons by building sized automated landmovers. All of those techniques and more served to undo the energy needed for the storm to sustain its critical mass, leading to its gradually unwinding.
Mikkhael was just waking, scanning news updates about the dissipating storm when the base wide intercom sounded with a voice he did not recognize announcing, “An unidentified airship approximately five hundred miles out approaching from Tharsis is requesting clearance to land. All major personnel are to report to duty stations, I repeat, all major personnel are to report to duty stations. This is not a drill. Commander Ultor and all Command staff, your presence is requested in the situation room inside the auxiliary hangar. Condition orange now present throughout the base, I repeat, condition orange is now present throughout the base.”
Mikkhael felt the bottom of his stomach drop, knowing instinctively that this was what he had been waiting for. He could not say why, or how, just that his sixth sense was screaming at him, letting him know that Lady Fate was staring straight at him, preparing to move the piece he represented on the board her and the other gods endlessly play with one another. He reached for his clothes to get dressed when the forgotten communicator lying on the bedside table containing Aurora’s shell went off.
“Mikkhael, Commander Ultor will expect you to meet him.” She said.
Her voice startled him. It had been at least three months since he had spoken with her. Before the final battle in which Starkindler was lost, she had created shells of her programming, copies spread out in various places in case the worst happened; and while the shells were very capable and full-fledged representations of her programming, he could not shake the impression that speaking with her now like this was talking with someone impersonating her, and not the AI he had deeply come to rely upon as an extension of himself. The loss he felt at the sound of her voice resonated throughout him; guilt momentarily threatening to wash over him and bury him beneath its crushing weight before he pushed it away.
“I’m going.” He said gruffly, unable to give her anything more.
He dressed hurriedly, becoming increasingly efficient at slipping into the different layers of the powered suit. After recently becoming self-conscious about walking around the base in an armored exoskeleton, he began to skip the outermost shell of layered armor tiles and had a new uniform tailor made to accommodate the added girth of wearing the base lasers under his uniform. Once finished, he glanced over at the now silent communicator lying so innocently on the otherwise empty bedside table, but he could not bring himself to strap it to his wrist as he used to do, unable to commit that betrayal. Instead, he swept it up as he left the room, shoving it into a pocket as a just in case.
Stepping out the door to his quarters, he was greeted by the silent female guardian, Steve, for the first time in weeks. As always she was armed, a compact rifle tucked against her h
ip on the inside of her elbow as it if was an extension of her arm. Without needing to check, he knew she had several other pistols, knives, and other semi-lethal weaponry scattered about her person at various places. The disapproving scowl that never left her face reminded him of a teacher in secondary school that used to look at him the very same way when no matter what he tried, he could not figure out the answer to the problems she assigned.
Steve’s appearance differed in only one way from her typical non-descript military uniform, she was outfitted in full powered armor similar to his own, with a helmet on but the visor up, as if she had been waiting for the alert to sound all along. As usual, he could not be sure if the weapons she carried were to be used against him or someone else. There had been many instances while he was shuffling down the vacant halls that he believed he sensed and occasionally saw another presence flitting in and out of the shadows, seeing her now only confirmed the suspicion that she had been watching over him for quite some time now.
Without bothering with a greeting he assumed would go unanswered, he simply nodded an acknowledgement of her presence before turning and walking at a moderate pace to one of the locations scattered throughout the station that had scooters to use. Even with the help of the exoskeleton, his max speed consisted of a wobbly shuffle and urgency charged the air with its spark of vitality. With the help of a scooter, he began heading down the now familiar hallways towards the auxiliary hangar and situation room with Steve following just behind on a scooter of her own. Redundancies such as the auxiliary hangar having its own situation room were present throughout the base as good practice, this time they proved convenient as well.
Long walks still winded him, but the muscles of his body were developing well under the careful ministrations of the team of Dr.’s and the physical therapy machines they employed to do their bidding. A scooter station outside of the auxiliary hangar was quickly filling up as he arrived. In order to gain entrance to the auxiliary hangar, he passed through a long carved tunnel that contained a triple set of airlock doors with each of the outermost doors also having an additional blast proof layer. Any part of the mountain that could be exposed to the external lack of atmosphere had multiple redundancies in place simply as a matter of course.
The tunnel ended at a platform at the top of a hangar likely large enough for the incoming airship to land on, opening up on a wide five story tall chasm that housed ten Rebel battle ready Mech armor in various stages of their respective boot-up sequences. The enclosed situation room and offices were off to his left, while several sets of stairs and gangplanks wound their way to various destinations in the hangar. Engineer teams and maintenance crews the size of ants scrambled across the armored behemoths in their maintenance bays, removing auxiliary lines and loading live munitions. This hangar was home to the Furies and Justices on stand-down between mission rotations, and during normal times would be mostly empty. Starkindler had once taken its place proudly in this hangar, its current condition so dismal that the few remaining parts lay disassembled in a distant corner of the mountain out of the way of anyone performing any meaningful work.
A small group of the Command staff clustered around a bank of computers on the platform, presumably pouring over readouts about the incoming airship. Mikkhael ignored them, instead he found Drogdyn talking in hushed tones on the floor level with Commander Ultor. He invited himself to the conversation; neither man looking up as he approached. The conversation taking place possessed an urgency that felt foreign and distant to him.
“The ship can’t be found in the data archives. It’s unregistered, even on Earth. I had Aurora check. Even the make of it is completely unknown. It also has something messing with our sensors, so we cannot see what or who is in it. With all due respect Sir, there is absolutely no reason that ship should be allowed anywhere near the mountain. And lastly, Aurora vouches for the approaching ship but will not say why, and that bothers me. Whoever is on that ship and whatever they are bringing here with them is trouble.”
Commander Ultor listened while remaining noncommittal. His body was tired and old but still somehow able to project strength. They were all grateful that his mind remained clear, always several steps ahead of them, leading them forward. He noticed Mikkhael, nodding briefly in greeting before replying to Drogdyn.
“Aurora’s shell informed me a few days ago that we should expect some visitors soon and earlier alerted me that they were on their way. I won’t disagree with your assessment of them bringing trouble, but she was rather convincing that they are allies. Unlock the airlock here in the auxiliary hangar, but let’s have Cartwright, Ulric, and some of the other pilots on standby just in case. It’s a strange set of moves to make if they wanted to fight, but if they choose to, we will remind them that we are not defenseless either.” Finished speaking, he turned to Mikkhael, looking him over as a carpenter would check over a project he had been working on; ensuring that the finishing touches were complete before acknowledging its completion. Something about the action, and accompanying reaction, left him feeling wanting.
“It’s good to see you up and on your feet boy; I was hoping you would come. An unknown airship has decided to knock at our door and your AI is being rather cryptic about who it is. Luckily for them, I am in the mood to find out who they are. Come; let us go see what new twist fate is bringing us from a better vantage point.”
Without waiting for a reply, Commander Ultor moved towards the control platform at the top of a multi-level automated unloading system set against the interior wall of the mountain. Commander Ultor never looked back to see if Mikkhael was following, he did not need to. Once in position, they would be above and behind the crowd that would form in front of the incoming airship and out of the way of the Mech armor-standing sentry along the perimeter of the cavernous hangar. On top of the automated unloaders control platform, they would be able to view everything that happened on the floor in front of them and direct any response to events as needed.
The raucous noise of the hangar exploding with action as hundreds of men and women rushed to finish their assigned tasks seemed to take a breath and pause for a moment as they were interrupted by Drogdyn’s voice piping in over the intercom. “Roger that freighter 258, you have clearance to land. Maintain present heading and speed. I am initiating the guidance handshake now.”
Drogdyn had moved to the hangars flight control deck and operations room, a glass enclosed bubble containing banks of computer equipment the same as any factory manager watching out over the floor operating under their command. Crew members arrived in a steady stream to supplement the normal skeleton crew of this hangars control deck, operating stations covering a wide variety of tasks, one of which consisted of equipment for assisting rare incoming flights. Due to the low air pressure on Mars coupled with gravity one third that of Earth’s, the lack of drag against winged surfaces meant that most objects of any considerable size and weight that managed to take flight rapidly returned to the surface in a rather uncontrolled manner. Those factors combined with the inability to hide from radar something as large as the incoming interstellar airship meant that air travel was practically non-existent and the transportation of goods and people relied on incredibly slow ground shipments.
The airship headed their way was doing its best to stay aloft, but after having left the space dock on Phobos was half-gliding and half-falling its way towards them, fighting valiantly just to stay aloft. A strange effect of the dust storm was the winds lashing the planet’s surface were practically the only reason the airship could even traverse the distance between the space dock and Mt Olympus while airborne. And if they turned out not to be friendly, there would be no ability for them to return back to the space dock. This was a one-way trip which spoke volumes to their commitment. One last benefit from the storm was that not even the PDF radar systems would be able to track the airship through all of the dust.
There were far too many coincidences occurring for Mikkhael to feel comfortable about the situation. H
is skin crawled, so great was his premonition. Reacting subconsciously, he was scratching his arms before he realized what he was doing. Needing something to distract him, he turned and watched Drogdyn from a distance, fingers flying across three different inputs as he linked one of the stations to the approaching airship. After completing the byte handshake, thereby taking flight control of the incoming vessel, he lost himself in the process of reeling in the airship, entirely immersed in the moment.
Anxious minutes passed as armed security details took up position near the exits and behind anything substantial enough to provide them some protection in case a firefight developed. Captains Cartwright and Ultor along with a half dozen other pilots strapped themselves into Justices and Furies in their respective bays lining the perimeter of the hangar, technician crews hurriedly spooling up their reactors. The roar of reactors kickstarting into life combined with the ambient sounds of dozens of work trucks, loaders, and automated machinery going about their respective duties, filling the hangar with the vibrancy of life. The walls and floors of the hangar veritably hummed in nervous anticipation as the tension continued to build.
Billboard sized monitors lit up on each side of the hangar, a satellite view feed struggling to show the incoming vehicle before switching to a computerized radar projection. The assembly collectively watched on various monitors as the airship under Drogdyn’s gentle ministrations approached the mountain and then landed on a lesser plateau that had at some point broken away from the Tharsis Bulge proper and settled at a lower elevation than the rest of the mesa, serving as a gigantic runway that led to the entrance of the auxiliary hangar. The landing kicked up clouds of dust that mixed with all of the dust already in the air, temporarily obscuring the view of the cameras on the outer airlock.
Nemesis (The MechaVerse Trilogy Book 2) Page 6