Species War: Battlefield Mars Book 3

by David Robbins

  The battle ended with impossible swiftness.

  The Martians broke it off. Hundreds were dead or dying when the rest stopped fighting and---as one---streamed into the tunnel.

  There were a few last shots from Private Everett and Private Keller. Then silence fell save for the heavy breathing of the troopers and the scritching and scratching of weakly thrashing Martians.

  “Kicked their asses,” a female BioWarrior said, and she and the others raised their gore-smeared fists in a chorus of, “Booyah!”

  The BioMarine who had spoken to Archard earlier turned. From head to feet, his copper-hued body was splattered with Martian blood. Showing no fatigue whatsoever, he performed a snappy salute. “KLL-1, at your service, Captain Rahn.”

  “I don’t quite know what to say,” Archard wearily admitted.

  “Your ordeal is over,” KLL-1 said. “We’re under orders from General Augusto to escort you and your strike team to Bradbury.”

  “I’ll fly there in the RAM,” Archard said, nodding toward the battlesuit.

  “That won’t be necessary, sir,” KLL-1 said. “Lieutenant Burroughs is to take it back. You’re to be ferried in the Thunderbolt.” He paused. “The general’s orders, sir.”

  “In that case,” Archard said, although it galled him being treated so summarily.

  Burroughs had been listening and remarked jokingly, “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll get it back in one piece.”

  She stared up at the hybrid. “But who will fly the Thunderbolt?”

  “KLL-9,” KLL-1 said, indicating a female hybrid. “She is rated for most types of aircraft.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Lieutenant Burroughs said, “how do you breathe without an EVA suit? You’re from Earth, like us.”

  “I would enjoy discussing our biological capabilities with you sometime, Lieutenant,” KLL-1 said. “But the general wants the captain returned ASAP. We must depart immediately.” He motioned toward the Thunderbolt. Beyond it, drop ships, were settling to the ground to disgorge troopers and tanks. “After you, Captain Rahn.”

  Archard’s resentment mounted. They were treating him almost like a prisoner. Nevertheless, he slung his ICW, nodded at the rest of his team, and trudged toward the Thunderbolt. “The general went to all this trouble just for me?”

  KLL-1 strode beside him, taking small steps to match his pace. On his other side was another BioMarine, with four more behind.

  “And to bring back those with you,” KLL-1 said.

  “We failed in our mission,” Archard said bitterly. “We were supposed to capture a Martian leader.”

  “Lieutenant Burroughs and the others were, not you, personally, sir,” KLL-1 said.

  “Ah,” Archard said. “Am I to take it the general is mad at me for violating his orders?”

  “You’ll need to take that up with him,” KLL-1 said. “But take heart in that as we speak, a stealth op by two BioMarines may have succeeded where you didn’t.”

  “How’s that again?”

  “General Augusto sent two of our unit into Albor Tholus to take a yellow leader prisoner. The latest satlink indicates they have done so and emerged safely from the volcano.”

  “Wait a minute,” Archard said. “Are you saying Lieutenant Burroughs and her people were sent on a diversionary mission?”

  “Not at all, sir,” KLL-1 said. “The general believes simultaneous ops increase the prospect of success.”

  “You sound as if you know him really well,” Archard said.

  “I flatter myself that I do, sir, yes,” KLL-1 said. He gestured at the other BioMarines. “We are his personal strike team and answer only to him.”

  “How nice,” Archard said.

  “Is something wrong, sir?”

  “A whole lot of things,” Archard said. “We’re in the middle of a war.”

  “For which we were specifically bred,” KLL-1 said, smiling. “As you humans would say, life doesn’t get any better than this.”

  Archard begged to differ, but didn’t.

  27

  Colonel Vasin wasn’t a happy soldier. He liked giving orders more than he liked being ordered around, and he definitely didn’t like being ordered to personally lead a squad of troopers down to the incinerator room in the Science Center to verify Dr. Katla Dkany’s claim of seeing Martians.

  Vasin was sure he was on a goose chase. Yes, the other two colonies had been attacked from below and overrun. But he’d taken steps to prevent the same catastrophe from occurring at Bradbury. For starters, he’d instructed his tech people to install motion sensors in every maintenance tunnel and conduit. He had cameras placed at strategic points. He’d also directed that listening posts be set up under each dome and be monitored twenty-four-seven.

  Vasin was confident the Martians hadn’t penetrated his protective net. Dr. Dkany suspected the creatures were coming in through the water pipes, but to do that, they’d have to pass through various filtration systems and trigger all sorts of alarms.

  “Almost there, sir,” Sergeant Herbert said.

  Colonel Vasin glanced at the elevator panel. “Lock and load, just in case.”

  “Yes, sir.” Herbert gestured at the four troopers, who checked the magazines in their ICW’s.

  Colonel Vasin had a thought. “On the remote chance the good doctor is right, no one is to use frags down here. Understood?” He could just see a main water pipe take a hit, and the lower levels flooding.

  “What about armor-piercing round, sir?” Sergeant Herbert asked.

  “Better play it safe.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sergeant Herbert sounded dubious. “You heard the colonel, men. Standard ammo.”

  The door pinged and Colonel Vasin emerged and strode to the incinerator room. The door was shut. He was about to open it when Sergeant Herbert said, “In case she is right, sir, maybe we should go first.”

  Vasin stepped to one side. He was unarmed except for a pistol, so they wouldn’t think less of him for playing it safe.

  “On me,” Sergeant Herbert said to his men. Throwing the door wide, he barreled in. The rest followed suit.

  Colonel Vasin waited until he heard, “All clear.” The first thing he noticed was a smear of blood on the floor. No body, though, and no sign of Martians anywhere. “Anything?”

  “Negative, sir.”

  The room appeared deserted.

  Colonel Vasin headed for the main water pipe. The hatch that Dr. Dkany claimed was open was now closed. He examined it and found a few scratch marks that could have been made by a tool as readily as claws. “Seems to have been a waste of our time.” As he had suspected would be the case.

  “What about the blood, sir?”

  “A worker hurt themself,” Colonel Vasin guessed. Although, now that he examined it more closely, it was an awful lot of blood. “When we’re topside, get on the horn to the hospital. Find out if they’ve admitted anyone today.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Colonel Vasin supposed he shouldn’t blame Dr. Dkany for the false alarm. After what she went through, she was entitled to frayed nerves. He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Sergeant Herbert responded.

  “What about the other witness, sir? Do we discount both of them?”

  “The other one didn’t get as good a look,” Colonel Vasin said. “Could be she imagined it. Her fear was fed by Dkany’s.”

  “Could be,” Sergeant Herbert said.

  “In any event, I need to report to the general,” Vasin said, and did so, keeping it short and sweet, ending with, “There are no signs of any hostiles, sir.”

  “Good. Report back ASAP.”

  “Yes, sir.” “Vasin motioned at the others. “Let’s go.”

  They were halfway to the door when a young trooper called out, “Motion readings, sir!”

  “Where?” Sergeant Herbert barked.

  The young trooper was tweaking his scanner. “I’m not sure, Sarge. It was there and it was gone.”

  Colonel Vasin activat
ed his helmet holo display and amped the gain on his own sensors. The only movement he picked up was their own. He switched to infrared and swept the incinerator room. The only heat sigs were theirs. “A glitch,” he guessed.

  “I swear there was something, sir,” the young trooper insisted.

  “Could you at least tell which direction?” Sergeant Herbert said.

  “Not really, Sarge. Sorry.”

  Colonel Vasin looked right and left and then straight up. He was about to remark that they were wasting their time but he froze with his mouth half-open.

  Directly overhead, jutting from over the pipes and ducts that honeycombed the ceiling, were scores of long stalks capped by compound eyes.

  Martian eyes.

  Vasin went to shout a warning, to tell his men that the creatures were on top of the pipes. He was too late. The Martians launched themselves from her perches.

  Sergeant Herbert managed to get off a burst but then he and the others were buried under the weight of a rain of crustaceans.

  Bleating in dismay, Colonel Vasin ran for the door. He managed a couple of steps when it felt as if the entire weight of the Red Planet slammed onto his shoulders and brought him crashing down. His arms and legs were pinned, and before he could use his commlink, his helmet was ripped from his head.

  Vasin struggled to break free. His vision was blocked by a forest of red limbs and the bottoms of carapaces.

  A pair of eye stalks lowered and the Martian’s eyes bored into his.

  Panic welled as a pair of grippers seized him by the head. Vasin remembered Captain Rahn and Dr. Dkany saying the Martians often took the heads of those they slew.

  “Please, no,” Colonel Vasin gasped.

  He experienced a terrible tearing sensation, and a flood of agony thankfully brief. Strangely, he found himself looking down at his own body and saw his arms and legs being ripped off. His body, spraying blood, bucked wildly.

  A series of colors enveloped him. The deepest black, a translucent gray, and finally, a vivid green that sucked him into oblivion.

  28

  General Constantine Augusto was immensely pleased. His double-pronged stratagem to capture a Martian leader had been successful. Captain Archard Rahn, despite defying orders, would soon arrive back at Bradbury. His troopers and tanks were being deployed in a defensive perimeter outside the colony, and within.

  General Augusto smiled. Just let the Martians try something. He would repel anything they threw at him.

  “What did Colonel Vasin have to say?” a female voice intruded on his reverie.

  General Augusto looked up in annoyance. He had commandeered the governor’s office for the interim, and across the desk sat Dr. Katla Dkany, anxiously tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair. “He reported all is well. You need not remain.”

  “He was lying.”

  “Vasin is a career soldier, madam, and not in the habit of deceiving his superiors.”

  “I tell you I saw Martians.”

  “Perhaps you only think you did.”

  “General, I want---” she angrily began.

  Holding up a hand to stop her, General Augusto stood. He had been courteous long enough. “Enough. I appreciate your concern. You have to agree I’ve been reasonable. I sent the colonel to investigate. But now the matter is settled.” Going around the desk, he went to place a hand on her shoulder but changed his mind when she glanced at him sharply. “Besides, don’t you have a child who needs looking after?”

  “Piotr Zabinski,” Katla said. “His parents were killed at New Meridian and I’ve taken him under my wing. My friend, Trisna Sahir, is watching him.”

  “The other survivor from the earlier attacks?”

  Dr. Dkany nodded. “Her and her daughter.”

  “You should go to them,” General Augusto said. He had infinitely more important matters to attend to. Indicating the door, he said, “If I need to get in touch with, I know where to find you.”

  She reluctantly rose. “I still think Colonel Vasin is mistaken. Please keep searching.”

  “Have no fear on that score,” General Augusto assured her. He ushered her out, then crooked a finger at Major Fogarty, who was waiting.

  “Sir?”

  “Status report.”

  “The Thunderbolt is landing as we speak. A drop ship has been sent to pick up KLL-12 and 13 and the Martian.”

  “How much trouble has it given them?” General Augusto was curious to learn.

  “They report it has been oddly docile,” Major Fogarty said. “It’d made no attempt to break its restraints.”

  “These creatures aren’t as formidable as Captain Rahn and Dr. Dkany made them out to be.”

  “They did destroy two colonies,” Major Fogarty said, quickly adding, “Sir.”

  “Only because they caught both colonies off-guard,” General Augusto said. “Neither were prepared, as we are. Neither had the troops and armaments we do.” He moved to a window and gazed out over the buildings and streets protected by the golden dome.

  “Our outer emplacements are almost complete,” the major reported. “Am I to infer our mission on Mars will be primarily defensive, sir?”

  “Hardly. There’s an old Earth adage that the best defense is a good offense. I’d go that one better. The best defense is a devastating offense. Once our perimeter is secure, I intend to carry the fight to the Martians.” Augusto made sure none of their subordinates were in earshot and quietly said, “Have the nukes been brought down?”

  Major Fogarty nodded and said equally quietly, “At the moment, they are stored in Sublevel Four at U.N.I.C. headquarters.” He paused. “I still can’t believe the secretary-general gave his consent to use them on the Martians.”

  “Who says he did?” General Augusto said, and almost laughed when Fogarty paled.

  “Sir? Surely you’re not suggesting…”

  “I’m saying I will do whatever is necessary,” General Augusto said. “Mars is as much ours now as it is theirs. We have every right to be here. We’re the superior culture, after all. And what happens when a superior civilization encounters an inferior one?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “The inferior is absorbed or eliminated. And we certainly can’t absorb the Martians. Hell, we can’t even communicate with them. Our only recourse is to wipe them out.”

  “What will the governments of Earth say?”

  General Augusto squared his shoulders. “They will thank us for our foresight and courage in dealing with the enemy the only way we could.”

  “It sounds to me as if you have the war all planned out, sir,” Major Fogarty said.

  “Did you expect any less?” General Augusto said. “Once the Martian leader is in maximum security, we’ll send an ultimatum to the Martians. Surrender or we’ll drop a nuke down Albor Tholus.”

  Major Fogarty couldn’t hide his confusion. “But you just said we have no way to communicate with them. They won’t be able to respond.”

  “Isn’t that a shame?” General Augusto said, and laughed.

  29

  Bradbury’s Visitor Center was exactly like the Visitor Centers at Wellsville and New Meridian. As well it should be, since all three were constructed from the same modules and outfitted and decorated according to the same U.N. guidelines. The official document was called The United Nations Mars Protocols, with regulations and rules covering every aspect of life on the Red Planet.

  Dr. Katla Dkany was sick of staying there. The small rooms, the antiseptic décor, the sameness, were not to her liking. The admin people kept promising she would soon have her own place but it was taking forever.

  Given the day she was having, Katla wasn’t in the best of moods as she took the elevator to the second floor. Her room was 212 but she stopped at 211 and knocked. She heard giggles, and a woman with a clipped accent said, “Hold on. Someone is at the door.”

  Trisna Sahir’s long black hair was perfectly in place, her shift immaculate. Fastidious by nature, she was as devoted to her appearance as she
was to being Hindu. “Katla!” she said with delight, and impulsively hugged her. “Behulah! Piotr! Look who is home.”

  The two children, who were playing cards on the floor, leaped up.

  Behulah Sahir was the spitting image of her mother. Normally quiet and shy, she had taken to regarding Katla as a sort of “aunt.” The girl, too, gave her a hug.

  Piotr Zabinski hung back. Not quite eleven years old, he had matured considerably since the deaths of his mother and father.

  “Don’t I get a hug from you?” Katla said.

  Awkwardly, self-consciously, Piotr flung an arm around her waist and quickly stepped back.

  “You call that a hug?”

  The boy shrugged. “I don’t want to cling like I did before.”

  “You had cause. You’d just lost your parents,” Katla said without thinking, and regretted it. The sadness his face mirrored was heart-wrenching. Pulling him to her, she hugged him, then tousled his hair. “How about you thank Trisna for letting you hang out here while I was at work, and we go to our place and eat supper?”

  “No need to go,” Trisna said. “I made curry and have rice warming on the stove. Please. Stay. There are things we must talk about, you and I.”

  Katla recognized her friend’s tone. Something had happened. Something that upset Trisna but which she didn’t want to discuss in front of the children. “Sure.”

  Katla took out her phone, checked for a message from Archard, and when she didn’t find one, tapped a text that she was at Trisna’s.

  Over at the sink, her friend had begun slicing bread. “No word from that handsome man of yours?”

  “Who knows what they have him doing?” Katla said glumly. She dearly yearned for them to be allowed to return to Earth where they could commence a new life, free of the constant fear that gnawed at her every waking moment.

  “Kids, continue with your game,” Trisna cheerfully told the children. When they did, she leaned toward Katla and lowered her voice. “Have you heard the rumors?”