Species War: Battlefield Mars Book 3

by David Robbins

  “Which?” Katla said.

  “The Martians are loose in Bradbury,” Trisna whispered. “I heard it from the lobby clerk who heard it from her mother who got it straight from the mouth of a man who knows someone who does maintenance work at the Administration Center.”

  “They are loose,” Katla said.

  “What?” Trisna stopped slicing. “You know this for a fact? How?”

  “I saw them.”

  Startled, Trisna recoiled, the knife slipping from her fingers. The sound of it striking the floor was like the crack of a shot. The kids looked over and Behulah laughed.

  “You are a butterfingers, Mother.”

  “Play your game,” Trisna said. Scooping the knife up, she set it on the counter. “Haven’t you told anyone? The last newscast made no mention of it.”

  “I went to General Augusto personally,” Katla said. “He sent troopers to where I saw the Martians but they didn’t find any.”

  “So now he doubts your word?”

  “Pretty much,” Katla said.

  Trisna bowed her head and trembled. “I refuse to live through this again. I’ve had enough stupidity to last me a lifetime.” She gripped Katla’s sleeve. “What do we do?”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Katla said quietly. “I have an idea. I want to run it by Archard and get his input before I say anything.”

  “Tell me,” Trisna said.

  Katla glanced at the kids to be sure they weren’t listening. “Where’s the one place we would be safe if Bradbury is attacked?”

  “There is no safe haven,” Trisna said. “The entire planet is under Martian control.”

  “What about off-planet?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Katla pointed straight up. “The fleet in orbit. The one place the Martian’s can’t get to. So what if we commandeer a drop ship and fly up to one of the transports?”

  “Commandeer?” Trisna said, aghast. “You mean steal?”

  “It’s our only hope,” Katla said. “And those spaceships won’t be up there forever. They’ll be returning to Earth. We need to be on board when they do.”

  “Oh, Katla,” Trisna said. “Your idea could get us in a lot of trouble.”

  “It beats being dead.”

  30

  The Thunderbolt streaked out of the Martian sky and hovered over the hangar complex near Dome One. From his seat behind the pilot’s chair, Captain Archard Rahn had a bird’s-eye view of the activity taking place.

  The entire colony was being fortified. Laser and microwave emplacements ringed the domes. Tanks were in camouflaged positions outside and roved the streets within. Hundreds of troopers in EVA suits were digging in, while hundreds more patrolled the streets.

  The drop ships were lined up on the flight concourse. Some were being retrofitted with machine guns and missiles as an additional defense.

  Archard had to hand it to General Augusto. The man had covered every contingency. It would take a million Martians to break through the perimeter.

  The trouble was, Archard suspected there were many millions.

  He sat up as the Thunderbolt descended to its landing pad near the hangar, the ground crew rushing to meet it.

  “And we’re down, people,” KLL-9 announced. She had handled the craft with supreme finesse.

  The entire flight, KLL-1 had stood with his hands clasped behind his back in the parade rest position, directly behind Archard. Now he stirred, a statue coming to life. “My orders are to escort you to the general, Captain.”

  “Wonder if I’ll be demoted?” Archard said, only partly in jest.

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” KLL-1 said. “After you, if you please.”

  Archard sealed his EVA helmet, slung his ICW, and punched the code for the airlock. He was mildly surprised they hadn’t taken his weapon, but then, he hadn’t been formally charged with anything yet.

  Entering the airlock, he moved to one side to make room for KLL-1, who had to duck to fit. The inner door closed and the outer door cycled.

  KLL-1 had a finger to his temple and appeared to be listening to his commlink. “Good news, Captain. KLL-12 and KLL-13 have arrived with their prisoner. We’re to report to U.N.I.C. headquarters where General Augusto will oversee the interrogation.”

  The outer door opened and again the BioMarine said, “After you, Captain.”

  Archard had the impression he was under guard. He headed for the hangar, expecting they would use the access tunnel into Dome One.

  “The general has requested that we expedite our arrival,” KLL-1 said. “With your permission?”

  Before Archard could ask what the hybrid intended, he felt its large hands slide under his arms from behind and the next moment he was bodily lifted a good twenty meters into the air. “What the---!” he blurted.

  “Relax, Captain,” KLL-1 said. “I have you.”

  The BioMarine had jumped. At the apex of his leap, he spread his elbows wide to either side and ribbed membranes popped out of recessed grooves under his arms.

  “Wings?” Archard exclaimed.

  “Not quite,” KLL-1 said. Tilting his body, he soared toward the airlock to Dome One.

  Archard was astounded. “You’re gliding like a bird.”

  “So to speak,” KLL-1 said, his eerie eyes flicking over the bustle below. “One of the many biological improvements genetically encoded into us.”

  “What else can you do that we can’t?”

  “Many things,” KLL-1 said, and enigmatically left it at that.

  The golden dome seemed to rush up to meet them. KLL-1 titled again, and just-like-that, his membranes slowed them, enabling him to alight as gently as the proverbial feather.

  “You BioMarines are something else,” Archard complimented him.

  “We are as we were created to be. The first line of defense in the human initiative to claim the solar system as its own.”

  “The solar system?” Archard said, and laughed. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

  “Not according to General Augusto.”

  The comment gave Archard something to think about as they negotiated the airlock and climbed into the bay of a waiting tank. The sergeant driving had little to say and they covered the three blocks to H.Q. listening to a news feed proclaiming that General Augusto was the colony’s new commander-in-chief, and his first official act had been to impose martial law.

  “He doesn’t waste any time,” Archard said.

  Hunched over in a corner, KLL-1 smiled. “The general? No, he doesn’t. He likes to say he is a doer, not a talker. His motto is think ahead but act now.”

  “Never heard that one,” Archard said.

  “The general is a unique human.”

  “You say that fondly,” Archard observed.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” KLL-1 responded. “Do not let my appearance deceive you. We have feelings, the same as you.” He paused. “Well, most of us, and to varying degrees.”

  U.N.I.C. headquarters was a beehive. Officers and troopers were coming and going. The motor pool was busy with vehicles. Drones winged off and returned.

  No sooner did Archard enter the building than General Augusto, trailed by officers and staff, hustled up. Archard barely had time to salute before the general seized him by the shoulders.

  “Captain Rahn! At last we meet in person.” General Augusto thrust out his hand.

  Baffled by his reception, Archard shook. “General, sir. I was under the impression I was in hot water.”

  “Forget that for now,” General Augusto said. “Your timing is perfect. I want you to come with me and be part of my team.” Wheeling, he strode off.

  Quickly falling into step, Archard said, “What exactly are we doing, sir?”

  General Augusto beamed. “We’re about to interrogate the Martian we caught. You get to listen to it squeal.”

  31

  Private Everett was looking forward to a few hours off. It was the least the U.N.I.C. could offer after the ordeal he and
the others had been through. As he wearily trudged down the hall to the dorm at H.Q., he remarked, “I don’t know about you, but a beer or three is just what my throat needs.”

  “We’re still on duty,” Private Keller tiredly reminded him.

  “My throat doesn’t care,” Everett said. It felt as if he had sweated out every drop of water in his body. Not only that, he was hungry enough to eat a blue Martian, raw.

  “Hold on, there, you two!”

  Everett stopped and turned, and groaned.

  Sergeant Kline, his EVA suit still spattered with gore from their battle, had the look of someone who bore bad news.

  “Whatever it is, Sarge,” Everett said, “we don’t want any.”

  Private Keller leaned her back to the wall and sagged. “We’re beat, Sarge.”

  “Makes three of us,” Kline said. “But we’re to report to Captain Ferris on the perimeter defense detail.” He held up a hand. “Before you say anything, I told the major that after what we went through, it’s not fair to send us right back out. He said he understood and he’s sorry but there’s no down time for anyone right now.”

  “Well, hell,” Everett said.

  “We’re to refill our air tanks and ammo-up and report within thirty minutes,” Sergeant Kline told them.

  “Damn Martians,” Private Keller said.

  It took closer to forty-five. They had to wait in line for their ammo and grenades, and wait again at the airlock.

  Everett rarely let himself get down in the dumps but he was bummed by the decision to send them back out. Normally, the U.N.I.C. didn’t treat its troopers so shabbily.

  Captain Ferris, it turned out, had been assigned to defend a trench dug between a pair of maser emplacements. She was tall and lanky and wore her corn-colored hair in a crew. “Glad to have you,” she said when Sergeant Kline reported to her. “There’s only been four of us to cover a hundred meter area. Now we have seven.”

  Sergeant Kline swapped looks with Everett and Keller. “Stretching it a little thin, aren’t we, sir?”

  “Not my doing,” Captain Ferris said. “The general is keeping a lot of troopers in reserve inside the domes.”

  Sergeant Kline gazed along the long line of masers, lasers, and ion cannons ringing the north dome. “He’s big on firepower, I see.”

  “We have enough firepower to reduce any Martian army to cinders,” Captain Ferris boasted.

  “We hope,” Everett said under his breath.

  “I didn’t quite catch that, Private,” Captain Ferris said.

  “Begging the captain’s pardon,” Everett said, “but the general hasn’t seen what those critters are capable of. I have. And let me tell you. We’re in for another ass-kicking if this is all the general has up his sleeve.”

  “Give General Augusto more credit,” Captain Ferris said. “We have the drop ships. We have the BioMarines. We have the RAMs. We have spaceships in orbit that can lob nukes if they have to. There is no way in hell Bradbury will fall like Wellsville and New Meridian. This time, we’re doing it right.”

  “Yes, sir,” Everett said with more conviction than he felt. He had been at those two places, and if there was one thing he had learned, it was that the Martians were as tricky as they came.

  Captain Ferris was about to say more but a trooper hurried up and snapped a salute.

  “Ma’am! We’re getting those readings again.”

  “Readings?” Sergeant Kline said.

  “Come with me,” Captain Ferris said.

  Midway along the trench, a nook had been excavated for an augmented sensor unit and the trooper operating it. State of the art, the equipment was ten times more sensitive to motion and heat and other elements than the sensors in their EVA suits.

  “What are you picking up, Rictor?” Captain Ferris asked the corporal at the controls.

  “More seismic activity, sir,” Rictor said. “Faint, but it’s there.”

  “Your best guess as to the cause?”

  “It could be nothing but tremors,” Rictor said. “Mars has them now and then.”

  Everett couldn’t keep quiet. “Pardon me again, Captain. But you do know that the Martians live underground? And that they move through dirt as easy and you and me walk around up here?”

  “You’re saying it’s them?”

  “Could well be, yes, ma’am.”

  Captain Ferris gnawed at her lower lip, then said, “Even so. So long as they stay down deep, we don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “From your mouth to God’s ears,” Everett said.

  32

  The BioMarines were gathered in a meeting room on sublevel one of U.N.I.C. headquarters. After their return from pulling Captain Archard Rahn and his people out of the proverbial fire, General Augusto had told them to stand down for a while and await new orders.

  KLL-1 stood at the head of the long table and regarded his fellow hybrids with satisfaction. “We performed well today. You should all be proud.”

  “Should we?” KLL-12 said from the other end of the table.

  “You weren’t with us,” KLL-1 said. “We exceeded our creators’ expectations. We took out a swarm of Martians without a single loss.”

  “Must have made the humans happy,” KLL-12 said.

  KLL-1 leaned on the table and his vertical pupils narrowed. “Is there a problem?”

  “Don’t mind grumpy,” KLL-13 said. “He’s not happy unless he’s complaining.”

  Several of the others grinned.

  Sweeping them with a look of annoyance, KLL-12 said, “None of you get it, do you? You’ve all been brainwashed by our makers.”

  “Explain yourself,” KLL-1 said.

  KLL-12 tapped the table a few times, then nodded. “Very well. I’ll probably be wasting my breath, but here goes.” He paused. “No, I wasn’t with you. I didn’t see you slaughter the Martians. But you weren’t with KLL-13 and me, either. You didn’t penetrate the Martian underground. You didn’t see one of the cities with your own eyes.”

  “What is your point?” KLL-21 said.

  “The city was enormous. There were tens of thousands of Martians of all kinds. KLL-13 and I were fortunate to make it out alive.”

  The other BioMarines were interested now and listening intently.

  “And that was just one city. Who knows how many there are? Given the size of the planet, there could be hundreds. Perhaps thousands.” KLL-12 was warming to his topic and stood. “Think about that. We could be talking millions of Martians. And there are only twenty-four of us.”

  KLL-12 stopped to let that sink in, then stared hard at KLL-1. “I know what you’re going to say. We’re not fighting them alone. We’re allied with the humans, and they---”

  “We are not their allies,” KLL-1 interrupted. “We are soldiers under their command.”

  “What gives them the right to tell us what to do?” KLL-12 said.

  “They created us,” KLL-1 said.

  “And programmed us so we can’t refuse a direct order,” KLL-12 said. “We’re not soldiers. We’ve slaves.”

  “Not that again,” KLL-13 sighed.

  “Mock me all you want,” KLL-12 said, “but take heed of my warning. If I’m right and there are more Martians than anyone believes, the twenty-four of us aren’t enough to stop them. For that matter, the entire army General Augusto has deployed will not be enough.”

  “You don’t know that,” KLL-1 said. “The humans aren’t fools. They have planned for every contingency.”

  “Based on the parameters of their reasoning,” KLL-12 said. “But they are dealing with an unknown, new species whose abilities and limits have not been fully assessed. Which means there are contingencies the humans haven’t planned for because they don’t realize they exist.”

  “Listen to the big brain,” KLL-13 teased, but none of the others laughed.

  KLL-12 wasn’t done. “The humans designed us to be their ultimate weapons. But even ultimate weapons have their limits.”

  “A
gain, you are indulging in speculation,” KLL-1 said.

  “I’m also suggesting we should rethink our part in the scheme of things. Instead of relying on the humans, we should start to work things out for ourselves.”

  “We are soldiers. We do as we are told,” KLL-1 said. “It is our purpose. Our life.”

  Fully half the BioMarines gave voice to a, “Booyah!”

  “Yes, that’s the purpose we were created for,” KLL-12 said. “But I, for one, have no wish to die. All I ask is that you consider what I’ve said. And if events prove our trust in the humans is misguided, that you give thought to doing whatever is necessary to ensure our own survival.”

  KLL-1 put a finger to his temple and motioned for silence as he listened to his subcutaneous commlink. “It’s the general. We’re to report to the brig on sublevel ten. The interrogation is about to begin.” He straightened and regarded KLL-12. “As for you and your malcontent attitude, so long as I’m in charge, we’ll do exactly as we are ordered. We wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for the human. We owe them to do whatever they ask of us.”

  “Even if they ask us to die?”

  KLL-13 laughed. “Get over yourself, big boy. We’re warriors, and we’re at war. It’s as simple as that.”

  Standing, she clapped him on the arm. “Now come on. Let’s go to the interrogation.”

  “Do you think the humans will torture it?” K-4 wondered.

  “I know I would,” KLL-13 said. “What fun is war without a little sadism?

  33

  The lowest level of the United National Interplanetary Command Headquarters included holding cells that were hardly ever used. Only the most psychologically fit troopers were sent to Mars. Breaches of discipline were rare.

  With walls a meter thick and constructed of the same nigh-impervious alloy as the rest of the prefabricated modules, the holding cells were the most secure containment facility in the colony.

  One of the cells had been cleared of its cot and stool and was totally bare. Electronically controlled shackles welded to a large frame had been placed against the rear wall. And there, held in place, was their prisoner. Its long forelimbs were shackled. So were its six legs.