Over one hundred and seventy thousand survivors from the attack had been lucky enough to make it to the main Mons City shelters, and more had taken shelter in the northern, eastern, and western secondary city domes—though the travel tubes to the western, eastern, and main domes had taken some damage from what appeared to be secondary impacts and explosions. It was likely that casualties could reach into the millions by the end of the day.
Fortunately for the Moore family, they had been in the main dome of Mons City, which had not been damaged by the crashing supercarrier or the secondary effects. Senator Moore and his family, however, were too far from the shelters to risk the long hike. If the main dome gave while they were trekking to the shelter they would die in minutes of exposure or suffocation.
"Reyez, those goddamned stray cats got into the storeroom again," one of the adventure store assistant managers, Rod Taylor, called from the doorway leading into the back stockroom.
"Well, just chase 'em out if they're still in there." Reyez replied.
"Put the power pack there, honey." Sehera demonstrated for her daughter how to snap the vacuum energy power supply into the suit pack. She kissed her daughter on the cheek, then slid the environment suit over her head, twisting the seal ring tight.
"Don't close the faceshield down unless you need it. No need to waste our power and air if the dome doesn't crack." The Mons Adventures store manager, a young man in his early twenties, twisted his bright red helmet on and continued to instruct the few tourists and passersby who had the presence of mind to find a place that sold or rented environment suits.
"Makes sense." Alexander smiled reassuringly at his daughter and motioned to her how to release the faceshield hinge if she needed to. Sehera on the other hand needed no instruction. She had been in and out of environment suits most of her life.
"Anybody know what's going on?" one of the tourists asked. Obviously he was from Earth and had never been in a suit. A short fat man was having trouble sealing the life support ring.
"Yeah, the supercarrier blew up and crashed into the dome, duh," Deanna answered. Rod looked up from helping one of the others with their e-suit functions and burst out with laughter at her response.
"Ask a stupid question . . . " the other young man that worked there, Vincent, added.
"Be nice, dear," her mother scolded her. Deanna stuck her tongue out at the man.
Abigail, any info available? Senator Moore thought to his staffer.
The best source of news seems to be, well, the news, sir. The long-range wireless is being jammed. I do have a connection to the Marines that were dispatched to get us.
Well?
Their transport was shot down over the south dome and they are taking heavy casualties. And even worse, sir, they are cut off from us.
Casualties! From what?
This appears to be an attack, Senator. There is a ground force overrunning the city and parts of the naval base It is only a matter of time before they enter the main dome, Abigail informed Alexander.
"Hey, listen." Senator Moore got the young shop manager, Reyez's, attention. "Can you put the holo or a screen on MNN?"
"Of course. I don't know why I didn't think of that." The Mons Adventures manager looked up from adjustments to one of the environment suits and the wall monitors flipped to the Mars News Network, MNN. Then Reyez and the other two employees of the shop, Rod and Vince, went back to adjusting the suits of the few tourists that had at least been smart enough to find a place that had suits. There was just no telling how many tourists had gotten lost in the main dome and never found the leak shelter or a place with suits. No telling how many casualties there would be if the big dome cracked a seal.
Alexander held his wife's and daughter's hands and pulled them closer to the video monitors. The MNN correspondent was on the north side of the dome near the shelter. The scene behind her was of an overcrowded room with too few seats. The occasional local with an environment suit stood out in the crowd of tourists.
". . . the main dome is still holding as far as we can tell. A few minutes ago the U.S.S Winston Churchill, a Navy supercarrier, exploded in midair and then crashed through the skyline of southern portions of Olympus Mons City, destroying parts of the lower and smaller domes. We have no idea of the massive damage that must have been caused and are not certain of the casualties. The scene here is currently of shock and survival. We can only hope the leak shelters hold since the majority of the people here do not have environment suits. Shennan, is there any word as to what is going on?" The image shifted back to the MNN anchor desk and Shennan Haggarty.
"Right now, Amanda, we know very little. However, we do have some footage of the attack. That's right, attack. Mons City is under a full-scale attack from ground troops with aerial support. The data we have right now is still very sketchy, but it appears as if a cargo and waste disposal transport ship appeared out of hyperspace in orbit above Mons and dropped a full contingent of mechanized drop tanks, infantry, and fighter support. The ship then completed a suicide run at the naval blockade in orbit. It was engaged by the fleet but it appears to have self-destructed, destroying several ships along with it and damaging many others. These events seem to have coincided with the explosion of the Churchill. Right now we can only assume sabotage is what caused it to explode. Just a moment . . . I'm told we have audio from Gail Fehrer in the south dome . . . can we go to that?"
"This is Gail Fehrer. I'm in the south dome of the Olympus Mons skyline. The dome has a massive hole in it the size of several skyscrapers. There are giant girders from the geodesic ribs hanging from the gaping hole. Oh my God, there are skyscrapers collapsing along the path of the crashed ship and explosions going off in the distance. There must be thousands killed or wounded. Once again, just a few moments ago the supercarrier U.S.S Winston Churchill crashed here, destroying most of the southern borough of the city. Almost immediately following that several of what appear to be Separatist mechanized troop carriers dropped from the sky and then a squadron of enemy fighter-bombers plowed through leaving behind death and destruction. It looks as if the bombers may also have taken out portions of the eastern skyline as well, before they met any resistance from the Navy."
"Gail, can you see any of our troops anywhere?" Shennan asked.
"Shennan, I just saw a group of Martian Marines pass through toward the fairgrounds. One of the soldiers told us that they were heavily outnumbered and hoped their superior training and firepower would allow them to hold off the attack until the Martian 34th Mecha Unit arrived."
"Gail, can you give us a description of the scene and mood there?" the anchorman asked.
"Yes, Shennan. There are huge amounts of dust clouds and smoke all around us and there is rubble everywhere. There is the distinct crack of railgun fire and missile detonations in the background. The Marines just went towards what appears to be the most devastated part of the city and where there are still flames and explosions from secondary effects of the crash sounding in the distance. My guess is that there is where the first conflicts are . . . "
After more than an hour of waiting in the adventure store and feeling the large vibrations of exterior explosions outside the main dome, the survivors were more than just panicked. Many of the two dozen survivors who gathered and waited in the adventure store had AICs that were connected to the Internet, but what they found in terms of news was not very reassuring. MNN and local wireless seemed to be the only functioning communications. And the footage on MNN had been looped through so many times that it was getting old hearing the news analysts trying to think of new things to say about it. All other longer-range transmission systems were being actively jammed. This bothered Senator Moore immensely. Nobody, to his knowledge, realized that the Separatists had that type of advanced jamming technology. Sure, they had tanks and fighters and armored e-suits, but they were old technology and they were years behind the QM transceiver communications technologies used throughout the systems.
Abigail, what is going o
n? How are they jamming the long-range QMs?
Well, Senator, it appears to have been a full-scale attack on Mons City. A fleet of Navy ships was dispatched but apparently the Separatists were ready for them with surface-to-air missiles. A fleet of ships appeared in orbit out of hyperspace just now. MNN will start running that soon. Don't know about the communications jamming. I'll work on that.
How do you know all the other stuff?
I've tied in directly to the MNN anchor desk's producer AIC. I had to promise you would give them an exclusive later.
Good girl!
I try, Senator.
The ships that appeared in orbit . . . ours?
Apparently not, Senator. It would appear Mons City is surrounded and under siege, sir. And now there is sufficient orbital support. My guess is that it is only a matter of time before the main dome begins filling with Separatist ground forces.
What about those Marines? The 34th Mecha and the rest of the Army? Hell, I'd even settle for the Martian Air Force.
The Marines are cut off on the other side of the southern dome, Senator. They continue to take heavy casualties. The Marine tactical AIC I'm in contact with has received no contact from the 34th but they do expect an evac lift to be available in three to four hours. Since the transport tubes between the south dome and the main dome have also been destroyed they had to turn back. The evac is on the south escarpment of the mountain just outside the south dome. The Marines also expect the entire city to be overrun soon. They are fighting as best they can but with little luck. The attackers have a full fighting force, sir. There is a serious numbers advantage in favor of the invaders right now.
Could we get to them, to the evac lift? Alexander held on to his wife's hand as he thought of possibilities. He knew that if the Separatists found a U.S. senator and family they would be killed as spectacle and shown on a systemwide broadcast. Alexander was not about to allow that. He had spent seventeen years—seventeen hard years—in the Luna City Brigade during the first Martian Desert Campaign and he knew how to fight if he had to.
He had fought in units that had started out with hundreds and ended with two or three and then ended up captured and in a POW camp for years. The Separatists, on the other hand, had fared a little better than he. After years of hard fighting the U.S. with dated weapons and terrorist tactics, the Separatists made the war too expensive for the U.S. to desire to continue with it. So the Americans sued for peace, leaving the desert of Syrtis Major to the Separatists. Most of the Separatists went back to within the "Reservation" borders near Phlegra and continued on with working on the terraforming of Mars. But others, the leaders of the Separatist armies under the direction of Elle Ahmi, had maintained a continuously growing military structure within the Separatist community. There were weapons stockpile efforts and occasional terrorist activities against American outposts in the outer system outposts like the massacre at Kuiper Station. After seventeen years of the desert war between 2336 and 2352, an uncomfortable peace had lasted a decade or two—depending on which history book you read—and then Elle Ahmi, the general of the Desert Campaigns, finally rose to absolute power within the Separatist Union. It was unclear how exactly that had happened. Peace had been unraveling for several years and skirmishes were popping up throughout the system. And so once again Alexander was called back to Mars, but his time as a diplomat and not as an armored e-suit Marine.
Alexander had fought politically to aid in the peace process and that was why he was on Mars again, he thought. But there was always the nagging thought in the back of his mind that he was just a bone thrown by President Alberts and the Dems of the House to appease the snapping dog of the GOP and the Independent Party. The last time he had been on Mars he was wearing jumpboots and a USMC armored e-suit, but that had been over thirty years before. It didn't matter. There is no such thing as a former Marine, he thought to himself. He would not let his family be killed as a spectacle for terrorists.
There's no way to get out to the evac?
Perhaps, but the Marines are cut off from us, sir. The MNN reporter Gail Fehrer reports enemy mecha positioned along the remains of southern travel tubes and on the periphery of the dome. We would either need to go a long way around them on the outside or over or under them, Abigail explained.
Can't we get an evac to the main dome?
Apparently not, Senator. Without fighter support the Separatist mecha is bringing down most air transport.
Shit! We can't just sit here and wait to be captured. Been there and done that, got the freaking T-shirt. I'm not spending time in a Separatist prison or getting us tortured to death. Moore rubbed his nose and eyes with a thumb and forefinger as he let out a short sigh. There had to be something he could do besides sitting around with his thumbs up his ass.
The Marine AIC says the best bet for civilians is to hold tight.
Did you explain to them who I am? Did you explain to them what would happen to us if the Separatists take us captive?
Yes.
Shit.
Yes, sir. Shit.
All right, tell them we are coming to them and not to leave us. Moore had made up his mind. Sitting around couldn't be the safest thing to do. Download me as detailed a set of maps of Mons City as you can get. I mean down to the architectural and engineering drawings if you can get them. Street maps, tunnels, sewers, power conduits, everything. And get me the coordinates for the evac ship.
Yes, Senator. But with the global down, I'm not too optimistic on the maps.
Just do what you can. Try the local library.
Senator, the Marine AIC says that you should stay put.
Abbey, I don't take orders from the Marines and haven't for a long damned time. You tell them that we are not going to sit around here to be taken hostage. We are coming to them if they can't get to us!
Yes, Senator.
Alexander glanced around the adventure store at the adrenaline junkie paraphernalia available. Then he thought of his wife and daughter being tortured to make him do and say things he shouldn't, which was exactly what the grunt Separatists would do to him if they caught him here. Who knows, they might just torture and kill all three of them for show like they did poor Congresswoman Zander on Kuiper Station. The gruesome video of them chopping her hands, then arms, and then legs off with a laser welder flashed in his mind for a split second. The welder cauterized her wounds so she didn't bleed to death and the Seppy doctor administered adrenaline to her to keep her conscious. Then finally, Elle Ahmi appeared on video with that long brown hair trailing out from under her red, white, and blue ski mask and doused the poor congresswoman in alcohol. Ahmi then calmly and nonchalantly set her on fire.
No sir, he was not going to let that happen to his wife and daughter! Though he didn't expect Elle Ahmi would be a problem. Nobody had heard from her since the assault on the Belt three years ago. There were rumors that Ahmi was dead or had left the system. But whoever was leading this faction of the Separatists would be just as nasty, for certain. Alexander knew they had to escape.
But there was no way to cover the tens of kilometers to the evac point in time. The roads were likely destroyed, blocked, or any traffic on them being shot. Stealing a hovercar was probably not a good idea. Flying was out. Any vehicle using that much power would set off all sorts of sensors. Think, Major Moore! What would a good Marine do?
Alexander picked up a pair of jumper hiking boots, and began eyeing the gliderchutes on the far wall of the store. Abigail, is there a way to get to the outside top of the dome?
Perhaps, Senator. I will see what I can find out.
"Reyez, my good man, have you ever done any base-gliding off the dome?" He grinned at the store manager while trying to ignore the look his wife was giving him.
Oorah! he thought.
Chapter 5
9:45 AM Mars Tharsis Standard Time
"Oorah!!! Take that, you goddamned Seppy motherfuckers!" Sergeant Clay Jackson shouted as he brought down three support troops for a drop tan
k about seven hundred meters down Lowell Street, the last rounds from his railgun punching through the Separatist armored environment suits with little effort. Jackson could see the midsection of one of the soldiers splatter red against the brick behind him. The enemy soldier fell forward dead. The return fire that had been chewing up the street and building behind the sergeant finally ceased. He looked down the side at the garbage truck he was perched on and saw several railgun pellet entry holes. The wall of the building behind the truck was blown to pieces. Fortunately, the drop tank hadn't taken him seriously, yet. Sergeant Jackson had only had to deal with the ground troops.
"Sergeant Jackson!" Marine Second Lieutenant Thomas Washington called out over the deafening crunching and whirling sounds of the collapsing skyrise building down the street. Dust plumes and a rolling cloud of debris washed down the main street of the southern borough of Mons City. He looked over the body of Private Allfrey as he knelt by him. The unfortunate private had taken the brunt of support fire as a drop tank landed across the street from them. The second lieutenant had the presence of mind to take cover. The private had frozen. Then he died.
Shit! Shit! Shit! he thought to himself as he gathered the private's ammo and ordnance, snapping the containers on the pack belt of his armored e-suit. The dust filling the air from the crashing buildings blocked out most of the sunlight, and the small white light diode lamps of the suit helmet cast a cold still deathly hue on the dead private's face and the red blood oozing from the corners of his mouth.
Sir, the VIP thinks he is going to come to us, the young officer's AIC, Second Lieutenant Tammie One Niner Seven Oscar Hotel Three Three, alerted him.
Shit, what does the idiot think he is doing? Tell him I said to stay put.
I did, sir. He says he doesn't take orders from the Marines.
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