Species War: Battlefield Mars Book 3

by David Robbins

  Archard gave it to him straight. “Colonel, I saw hundreds of lives lost. Why? Because our leaders weren’t honest with us.”

  “Government policy was put into effect over a century ago, before the first colony was even built.”

  “Which makes it even worse,” Archard said, nodding. “Our leaders had over a century to own up to their mistake and didn’t.”

  “Be that as it may,” Colonel Vasin said, sounding angry, “it’s hardly relevant. The cat is out of the bag. Real monsters are on the loose and they are out to destroy us. We need to pull together, not snipe at one another. Effective immediately, your attitude will improve, or so help me, you will regret being so childish.”

  Archard kept quiet for fear of what he might say.

  Colonel Vasin crooked a finger. “Let’s go. We don’t want to keep the general waiting. Put on your best face and at least pretend to be the hero everyone expects you to be.”

  “Ouch,” Archard said.

  “Ouch what?” Colonel Vasin snapped.

  “Ouch, sir.”

  “Good,” Vasin said. “You’re learning.”

  4

  General Constantine Augusto walked onto the bridge of the Avenger I as he would anywhere else: as if he owned the spaceship and everyone on it.

  Instantly, every crewmember present, whether standing or seated, snapped to attention.

  Admiral Thorndyke rose from his high-backed chair, barked, “As you were!” and greeted his visitor with a handshake.

  General Augusto let the familiarity pass. Technically, the Avenger I was under the admiral’s command, and the Navy’s spacedogs were notoriously touchy about having their turf intruded on.

  “We have the commlink with Bradbury established,” Admiral Thorndyke reported. “They’re waiting at their end.” As with most career spacers, his body had gone more than a little soft. Space, long term, had a deleterious effect on the human body.

  General Augusto let that pass, as well. He couldn’t expect every branch to be as fit and polished as his troopers. He personally was past fifty but he didn’t look a day over thirty. It was no small source of pride for him that his body was solid as rock. A reporter once described him as being ‘chiseled from granite.’ He liked that description. A lot.

  Settling into the admiral’s high-backed chair, Augusto said, “Bring them on line.”

  “You heard the general,” Admiral Thorndyke said to the communications officer.

  “Will this be private, sir?” she asked Augusto.

  “Speakers and screen,” General Augusto said. He wanted the others to hear. Long ago, he’d learned that displays of authority tended to keep those under him in line.

  All eyes swung toward the image that appeared.

  General Augusto recognized the three principals. In the middle was Governor Bradbury, top administrator on Mars. To the right stood Colonel Vasin, the U.N.I.C. commander. And on the left, the man whose face had been plastered from one end of Earth to the other, Captain Archard Rahn.

  “Gentlemen,” General Augusto said by way of greeting.

  Colonel Vasin and Captain Rahn saluted.

  Governor Blanchard smiled and spread his arms as if he might give the screen a hug. “General! I can’t tell you what an honor this is.”

  “The honor is mine,” General Augusto replied. Not that he gave a whit about politicians. They were a means to his military ends, to be used as needed. He stabbed a finger at the communications officer. “Where’s the secretary-general?”

  “There’s interference,” she said and tweaked her controls. “There. That should do it, sir.”

  The bearded visage of the head of the United Nations resolved on a split-screen image next to that of the trio on Mars.

  General Augusto stood. “Secretary-General Tiago. As you requested, I’ve waited for you to join us.”

  “Most excellent, General,” Tiago said. A small man whose fashion sense ran to traditional garb from his native Portugal, he had an accent as clipped as his beard. “And to you, Governor Blanchard, and to you, Colonel Vasin, and most especially to you, Captain Rahn, on behalf of the people of Earth, I extend our warmest greetings.”

  General Augusto reminded himself that unless he kept a tight leash on the good Secretary, Tiago would talk them to death.

  “Thank you, sir,” Governor Blanchard had responded. “The honor is ours.”

  “Let’s get right to it, shall we?” General Augusto said.

  “Governor Blanchard, we’ve allowed you to take part as a courtesy but our message is primarily for Captain Rahn.”

  “What about me, sir?” Colonel Vasin said.

  “You will take heed of everything we say,” General

  Augusto said. “As of this moment, I’m assuming command of military operations on Mars---” He would have gone on but Vasin had the audacity to interrupt.

  “Sir? You haven’t landed yet. The Avenger I isn’t halfway here.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Colonel,” General Augusto said, letting his tone convey his annoyance. “Be that as it may, the secretary-general has appointed me supreme Martian commander for the duration---”

  Now it was Tiago who interrupted. “Indeed I have.”

  “---and I’ve never been one to let grass grown under me,” General Augusto continued. “We’re at war, gentlemen, and wars are won by being decisive. So far, the Martians have come out on top twice. They won’t prevail a third time.”

  “Here, here,” Governor Blanched said.

  “We’re seizing the initiative,” General Augusto continued. “Which is why I’m authorizing Captain Rahn to head up a special strike team that will carry the war to the Martians in a manner they won’t expect.”

  “What is it you want me to do, sir?” Captain Rahn asked.

  “It’s quite simple, really,” General Augusto said. “I want you to capture one of their leaders.”

  5

  Archard was too dumbfounded to respond. He had thought that maybe he would be assigned a greater role in the colony’s defenses. Something along those lines.

  “Did you hear me, Captain?” General Augusto said.

  “Yes, sir,” Archard forced himself to say. “You took me off-guard, is all.”

  “I don’t see why,” General Augusto said. “A basic tenant of warfare is to eliminate an enemy’s leaders. Cut off the head and the body will die is a dictum as old as Earth.”

  “Sir,” Archard said dutifully.

  “I intend to hit the ground running,” General Augusto said. “The intel we can glean from a captured Martian will prove invaluable.”

  “Even if I can take one prisoner, sir, we have no way of questioning it,” Archard pointed out. “We can’t glean a thing if we can’t communicate.”

  “We’ll leave that to the science wizards and the interrogation people,” General Augusto said. “All you have to do is take a prisoner.”

  “About that…” Archard tentatively began.

  “Is there a problem? I’ve read your debriefing. I’ve seen the footage from your helmet cam when you engaged the creatures in battle.”

  “Sir?”

  “Is it or is not true that the Martians are divided into function-specific castes based on their color and size?”

  “They appear to be, yes, but---”

  “And is it or is it not true that you believe they are led by what you described as a ‘yellow’ caste of some kind?”

  “That is the impression, I had, yes sir, but---” Archard intended to go on but he was again cut short.

  “Then you will oversee a special op to capture one,” General Augusto said. “Lieutenant Burroughs will be in charge of the special ops squad. You’ll maintain constant contact with her from U.N.I.C. headquarters there in Bradbury. But you are not to leave the colony under any circumstance whatsoever.”

  “Wait? What?” Archard said without thinking.

  General Augusto’s features hardened. “Is there something wrong with your hearing, Captain?
”

  “No, sir,” Archard said quickly.

  “Are you on medication, perhaps?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Do you suffer from some condition of which I am unaware?”

  “No, sir. I’m in the prime of health.”

  “Then explain why it is that you seem to have difficulty grasping my orders?”

  “It’s not that, sir,” Archard said. “It’s…” He stopped. He had made the general mad enough as it was.

  “Go on, Captain,” General Augusto said. “You have my permission to speak freely.”

  “I’d rather not,” Archard said.

  “Out with it ”

  “You haven’t been down there, sir. Into the Martian underground. You have no idea what it’s like. Whoever we send might not make it out again.”

  “We’re soldiers, Captain. The United Nations Interplanetary Corps,” General Augusto said indignantly. “Casualties are to be expected. We’ll take very step necessary to prevent that from happening but we have our duty, and duty comes before all else.”

  “Yes, sir,” Archard said halfheartedly.

  “Is there anything else, Captain?”

  “The logistics, sir. They’re…” Archard searched for the right word. One that wouldn’t make his superior even madder. “…daunting.”

  “How so?”

  “Sir, I saw thousands of Martians in that volcano. Yet I only saw one yellow creature. There must not be many of them. And even if our ops team lucks out, how do they bring it back alive? Hit it over the head and knock it out? The things are crustaceans and have shells as hard as a gun butt. Use a tranquilizer? How do we measure the right dosage? We need more intel on the Martians before we can even attempt something like this.”

  General Augusto drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “That was quite a speech, Captain. You’re right that we require more intel. Which is exactly why the risk involved in capturing a Martian leader outweighs every other consideration. Only a leader can tell us what we need to know.”

  “Sir, I---”

  General Augusto held up a hand. “Enough. The secretary-general and I have already decided.”

  Secretary-General Tiago smiled. “The general has convinced me this is for the best.”

  “May I request to lead the strike team myself, sir?” Archard got out.

  “You may,” General Augusto said, “and your request is denied.”

  “May I ask why, sir?” Archard pressed.

  “Because you, my argumentative Captain Rahn, are the most important resource we have. You’ve fought the Martians twice and survived. Your knowledge, your experience, are invaluable. I’m giving you a direct order to not, I repeat, not place yourself in harm’s way. Is that understood?”

  “Sir,” Archard said glumly.

  “Are we clear now, Captain?”

  Archard nodded.

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Everything is crystal clear, sir,” Archard said, stressing the last word.

  “Good. Now get your ops teams out there. They have hunting to do.”

  6

  Sentience returned to KLL-12.

  Their spaceship had decelerated out of EmDrive and inserted itself into low orbit over the Red Planet. The computer, as programmed, had activated KLL-12’s stasis pod, initiating his revival. Gradually, he became aware of his biological rhythms and the surrounding environment.

  Venting a hiss of air, the stasis pod opened and KLL-12 stepped out. A quick scrutiny showed that the ship’s systems were functioning as they should. As he took his seat at the control console, he saw that their craft was virtually skimming a series of Martian hills.

  If all had gone according to plan, their arrival had gone unnoticed.

  KLL-12 accessed the computer and typed the code that allowed manual override. Checking their GPS coordinates, he discovered the ship was a few degrees off course. Correcting, he keyed in the targeted area on the main screen.

  Seven kilometers high and one hundred and sixty kilometers wide, the cone of Albor Tholus, an extinct volcano, reared high into the Martian sky.

  KLL-12 rose and moved to his companion’s pod. The readout indicated her biological status was at optimum. All he had to do was flick a couple of switches and then wait while the pod hummed and clicked. When the cover slid open, he said, “Welcome to Mars.”

  KLL-13 grinned. “We’re here? We’re really here?”

  “Would I have said so if we weren’t?”

  “That was rhetorical,” KLL-13 said. She climbed out and stretched. “It feels wonderful to be alive again.”

  “We were alive when we were in stasis,” KLL-12 reminded her.

  “We were unconscious, on life support,” KLL-13 said. “That’s not living.”

  KLL-12 indicated the command console. “I have us where we should be. Let us prepare.”

  Excitedly rubbing her hands, KLL-13 took her chair. “I can’t wait to get down there.”

  “I must say,” KLL-12 remarked as he reclaimed his. “You mimic human mannerisms to a remarkable degree.”

  “We’re part human, remember?” KLL-13 said.

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  KLL-13 focused her topaz eyes on his, her vertical pupils narrowing. “You’ve always been a cold one. But then, that’s to be expected, given the variables involved.” She flashed her pointed teeth. “Perhaps that’s why they paired us. We’re so opposite.”

  “I’m sure the humans had a reason,” KLL-12 said. “They always have reasons. Usually flawed ones.”

  “Is that a nice thing to say about our creators?”

  KLL-12 gave her a look of annoyance. “Tell me something. Do you like being programmed?”

  The scales on her face crinkled. “What choice did we have?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” KLL-13 said. “Explain.”

  “Another time.”

  On the screen, Albor Tholus loomed large.

  “We’re almost there. If the fleet is where it’s supposed to be, we’ll receive the signal soon.”

  “Good,” KLL-13 said. “I can’t wait to be out in the open air. And to go up against the Martians.”

  “The humans have a saying,” KLL-12 said. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  7

  Lieutenant Ulla Burroughs entered the U.N.I.C. barracks with Sergeant Kline at her heels.

  “Attennnnnnshun,” the noncom bellowed, and the troopers stopped whatever they were doing and sprang to the foot of their bunks to stand as rigid as boards.

  Ulla surveyed the two rows. As her gaze settled on each person, she mentally catalogued their specialties. “I need people for a special detail. Any volunteers?”

  Every last trooper took a step forward.

  Moments like these filled Ulla with pride. The United Nations Interplanetary Command had a reputation for being the best of the best. Member countries considered it an honor for any of their elite military personnel to be accepted into the U.N.I.C.’s ranks.

  “Thank you,” Ulla said, “but I’m afraid all of you can’t go. I only need four.”

  Private Stratton made bold to say, “Pick me, sir. I’m so bored waiting for the Martians to show their ugly butts, I’m going stir-crazy.”

  “You’re in, Private,” Ulla took him up on it. Stratton was the stereotypical grunt, as dependable as they came.

  “Thank you, sir,” Stratton said happily.

  Ulla’s next choice was a no-brainer. “Private Everett, you’re in, too.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The Kentucky backwoodsman was the top marksman in the unit. He was also one of the few to survive the fall of the other two colonies.

  Behind her, Sergeant Kline cleared his throat. “How about me, Lieutenant? You’ll need a noncom.”

  “And there are none better,” Ulla complimented him. “Glad to have you.”

  That left Ulla with only one more to pick. She moved down the aisle until she came
to a slender woman whose hair was tied in a ponytail. “Private Keller.”

  “Sir!”

  “When it comes to explosives, I understand you have more experience than just about anyone in our unit.”

  “I do love to blow things up,” Keller responded.

  “You might have the chance.” Ulla returned to the head of the room. “The four of you gear up and report to the Thunderbolt hangar in thirty minutes.”

  Ulla strode out. She had prepping of her own to do. Her first stop was her room. She stripped off her khakis and slid into her fatigues. On Mars, they were a camo mix of dull red and brown. She was in the act of lacing up her boots when someone knocked. “Enter!” she barked and promptly straightened when she saw who it was. “Sir!”

  “At ease, Ulla,” Captain Archard Rahn said. He didn’t look happy. Going to her chair, he turned it around and straddled it.

  “I’ve picked my squad, sir,” Ulla said.

  “That’s nice.”

  “Is something wrong, sir?”

  “Stops with the sirs,” Archard said. “This is an informal visit. Off the record.”

  Ulla had grown to respect Rahn, a lot. He’d shown himself to be a natural tactician in the crucible of combat at Wellsville. And unlike some other officers she knew, he actually cared about those under him. “What’s on your mind?”

  “The mission,” Archard said.

  “I’m fully aware how difficult it will be,” Ulla assured him.

  “You might think you do,” Archard said, “but you haven’t been underground. The Martians aren’t like any enemy we’ve ever fought. They’re alien through and through. General Augusto has no idea what he’s asking of you.”

  “It’s not our place to question his judgment,” Ulla pointed out.

  “It is when a superior’s judgment is flawed,” Archard said. “He thinks you can go find a cave, descend into the maze of Martian tunnels, capture a leader, and bring it out again. Easy as that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “We’ll make it back,” Ulla assured him. “You’ll see.”

  Archard scowled. Standing, he declared, “I’ve made up my mind.”