by Andria Stone
The stairs emptied onto a metal catwalk between the outer and inner walls of the second floor, which exited into a small, dark corner office. From that viewpoint, the whole open warehouse could be monitored through a large glass window.
With the monocular to his eye, Axel scanned the building’s interior. “Look down there,” he said, waving at a diagonal corner on the first-floor.
A makeshift partition of pallets stacked high with crates walled off a square space enclosing a couple dozen very busy people inside. Most sat at an oblong table working at screens. Others stood off to one side plotting some kind of movement on a map the size of a bed sheet, showing the three Martian cities.
“Looks kinda like a low-budget war room,” Kamryn whispered. “The TMD’s are more elaborate, bigger and better equipped, with more personnel. Still, I suppose it qualifies.”
“The catwalk should go all the way around.” Mark’s smile grew as he rolled a couple of flash bangs in his gloved hand. “We could sneak over, toss the party favors at them, then get the hell out, right?”
Axel couldn’t help but notice that Mark’s voice held more than a hint of enthusiasm. “Are you starting to enjoy this?”
“Yeah, as long as I’m not getting clobbered by a cyborg.”
“Well gentlemen,” Kamryn said, “I think it’s time we bring the party to them.”
Mark held up a warning finger. “There better be a way out on that side. Racing back here is too risky.”
“If there isn’t one, our exit strategy will be to make our own, with these.” Axel held up several grenades. “Once we’re out, we toss a couple more at the fence on that side as a diversion, which will draw the sentries and everybody else. We run back, go down the same ladder we came up, hop the fence, and drive out in the vehicle with the guy napping in the back seat.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Mark said, “especially the part where we ‘hop’ the fence.”
Axel grinned. “Trust me. I got you up on the roof. I can get you over the fence.”
***
The team located another dark office on the opposite side of the building with a much closer view of the improvised war room area. Kamryn stayed to keep the twenty-one people below under surveillance while Axel and Mark searched for another exit to the roof.
Hidden in the shadows at the window’s edge, Kamryn opened her shirt to grab the small pen-like multi-tool from her vest. She uncapped the top and bottom, exposing a suction cup on one end, with a diamond-hard cutting tip on the other. After removing a small section of glass, she repeated the process several times, stacking the pieces on the floor. The open section was large enough to launch their grenade strike into the midst of Parker’s collaborators. Without the attention-grabbing sound of breaking glass, their enemy wouldn’t know where the attack had originated, nor in which direction to retaliate.
To prepare for the attack, Kamryn lined up an arsenal of eight explosive devices on the window ledge. Since it was unknown whether Parker had war rooms in each city, they’d have to settle for destroying this communications hub, or at least disabling it. She finished her last task of taking images of the treasonous Martians and sent them to Petra.
Suddenly, a noise came from behind her—feet scuffing. Someone flipped on the light. Kamryn spun around, blinded for a second. Her eyes focused on a lean, pock-faced man standing in the doorway.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” The shock on his face told her that he wasn’t sure how to handle this situation.
“Didn’t they tell you?” Kamryn snapped at him, going on the defensive. A million scenarios ran through her mind. Kamryn moved to block his view of the grenades. Easing closer to him, she said, “The right hand never knows what the left hand is doing.” She chuckled, trying to throw him off guard. Kamryn saw the second it hit him. This could only end one way. She would have to kill him.
He moved in slow motion, reaching for a gun with one hand, his tablet with the other. Kamryn struck him with a roundhouse kick so hard it propelled him back against the wall. He smashed into the light switch, throwing the room into darkness again. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Kamryn’s first priority was to silence pock-face before his gun went off, yet she’d been favoring her left arm all day and didn’t want to use it unless he left her no alternative.
Kamryn could see the shape of his head. She grabbed the knife from her boot, then kicked at him again, but the wiry guy rolled out of her path with a speed he hadn’t shown earlier.
“Bitch,” he grunted, rolling once more to reach his gun.
She lashed out with her boot, aiming for his exposed ribs, but he’d already grabbed the gun and turned to face Kamryn. Instead, her boot kicked the gun out of his hand, sending it skittering into the shadows. He grabbed her leg, twisting it until she was off balance, forcing her to fall. She landed on her left shoulder. The searing pain almost paralyzed her.
Pock-face pinned her face down, straddled her from behind, and slung his arm around her neck in a choke hold. Kamryn took one last ragged breath, knowing she’d black out soon. She refused to die on Mars, and this was much closer than she’d ever wanted to get. Angered and fighting the searing agony in her shoulder, she clutched her knife in a death grip. She swung it over her shoulder, stabbing him in the back clear up to the hilt. Before he knew what had happened, she brought it around under her arm to stab him twice in the side.
His grip weakened. Kamryn gasped for air, coughed, took a full breath, then heaved pock-face off her back. She struggled to her knees, pain radiating through her left shoulder as she crawled over next to him. He brought his hands up in a lame attempt to ward off an attack. She stared into his terror-stricken eyes, and slit his throat.
“Who’s the bitch now?”
Resting next to the body, Kamryn self-medicated with another injection of painkillers, waiting for her breathing to become normal. She moved against the far wall, anxious that someone might be sent to find pock-face, ready to throw her knife at the next intruder. When she heard a slight shuffle, she braced for another fight, then glimpsed Mark’s blond hair as he and Axel rounded the corner.
“Careful.” Kamryn pointed to pock face’s corpse with her knife. “Don’t fall over the body.”
They slipped into the room, avoiding the sprawled-out form. Axel passed his gun’s laser light over the man, pausing on his neck wound. “Who’s he?”
“Didn’t ask,” Kamryn said. “In case there’s more, we need to do this and go.”
Mark walked over to steady her while she tucked the knife back in her boot. “You okay?”
“Better than him.” Kamryn patted her shoulder. “My arm’s messed up again, though.”
“We found another exit,” Mark whispered. “Out this door, go left ten yards, up the steps.”
Behind him, Axel added, “Save a couple of grenades to toss at the fence on that side, then run like hell for the ladder we came up.” He crossed to the window, knelt to gaze through the opening. “I don’t suppose you saw Parker down there.”
Kamryn shook her head. “She didn’t go to Dreghor’s location. After what happened earlier, I doubt she’d chance being caught on these premises, either. She’s probably got more safe houses than Rayburn.”
A trace of sadness swept over Axel’s face. A moment later, the steeliness returned to his eyes. “Concentrate on taking out the electronics.” He stood, then picked up a few grenades. “All right, let’s light ’em up.”
The attack began. Two incendiaries were lobbed first. Upon impact, the table exploded in a shower of shrapnel, bodies, and screams. Flashbangs rained down next in one-second intervals, blanketing the area. Several stunners were tossed last, to disorientate anyone who remained conscious. A mushroom cloud of smoke and debris enveloped the war room area, sending fragments of electronics pinging off the glass window.
The Terrans ran. Kamryn followed Axel, with Mark as rearguard. They were out on the roof in seconds, each tossing a grenade at the fence, then racing across to
the ladder.
“I’ll go first,” Axel said to Kamryn. “If you have problems, I’ll catch you.” He vanished over the side.
Thanks to the pain meds kicking in, Kamryn made it down without a hitch. Still the last one, Mark kept watch for the cyborgs while they rushed to the fence. Axel laced his fingers together and assumed the position. His augmented strength made pitching Mark’s 200 pounds over the fence look easy. Kamryn stepped into Axel’s hands and felt weightless for the second time as he hurled her into the air. Axel repeated his spectacular jump last, clearing the fence with room to spare.
***
Three large Terrans squeezed into the small hover vehicle, their unconscious host crammed in the backseat beside Kamryn. As Mark steered out of the parking lot, they received an emergency comm message.
“Rayburn’s back, but he’s injured, and Eva’s not with him,” Petra reported. “They got separated trying to sneak through an MMC blockade. He says they’re erecting a barrier around the city center to protect the government buildings from attack. Eva’s not responding to our comms. Wait—Ohashi just tracked her geolocator chip to…uh-oh. You’re not going to like this.”
Axel squirmed in the passenger seat’s tight space. “We never do, but let me have it, anyway.”
“She’s at a bar called Thieves’ Hideaway. It’s in the Forest area a half mile from the bar you went to earlier.”
“Kamryn’s been injured, too. We’re dropping her off with a prisoner at the employee’s entrance to the spaceport. Have Rayburn ask one of his contacts to bring them in. Mark and I will find Eva, then we’re getting off Mars.”
Mark shot him a wide-eyed look, as if questioning what he’d heard.
Axel nodded, pointing skyward. “Nobody else is getting hurt. We’ve already pushed our luck too far.”
“What are we doing with the prisoner?” Petra asked.
“Restrain him before he wakes up. I want an in-depth halo interrogation of who ordered him to be at Jäger Distributors, and what his orders were. You know what to do.”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice quivered with anticipation. “One more thing. The MMC started broadcasting a city-wide alarm to shelter-in-place. They’re not giving a reason yet, so don’t get stopped. If we’re leaving, now’s not the time to get arrested.”
Kamryn got out near the gate, dragging the unconscious prisoner with her and propping him on a bench. She waved a salute as they drove away. Axel checked his tablet for Rayburn’s map of bars. He navigated while Mark drove, keeping watch for any sign of military barricades. Ten minutes of driving on deserted streets put them in the alley behind the bar.
They entered through the back door, blending in with a hodgepodge of miscreants who’d sought safety away from the prying eyes of the MMC. The Thieves’ Hideaway was nicer than expected, and didn’t smell bad, either. A pair of well-endowed blonde bartenders laughed as they worked behind the bar; it turned out to be one of Rayburn’s better contacts. At first glance, women customers amounted to about 25 percent of the clientele, but neither he nor Mark spotted Eva.
Axel muttered into his comm, “Petra, give me an update on her location.”
“Fifteen feet northwest,” she replied.
Axel scanned the room, noting a hall with signage indicating the restroom’s general direction. He tapped Mark on the shoulder, pointing his chin at the sign. “Care to guess where she is?”
They ambled down the hall. Axel stayed outside as the lookout while Mark poked his head in the ladies’ room. He didn’t see anyone, until craning his neck to look behind the door. “Eva, honey, mom says it’s time to come home.”
Eva sat cowering in the corner. She jumped up and hugged his neck. Trembling, she said, “I don’t like this place, anymore. I’m ready to go back to Terra.”
“Well, it just so happens that’s where we’re headed.”
Chapter 19
Valerie took a roundabout route to the underground bunker built for this specific night. As a command post, its four walls housed a surplus of electronics, with enough supplies to last two people for days. She cursed Victor for getting himself arrested. When the takeover was complete, she might leave him rotting in whatever Terran prison he’d been sent to. Only fitting, since he’d left her alone to take care of everything by herself.
Not that she couldn’t handle it. Not at all. However, it would have been less stressful to share the responsibilities of being in charge.
She traded her disguise for a gold-trimmed purple suit more befitting a planetary ruler and settled in front of a large screen. Progress reports from the domes were pouring in. What she saw wasn’t what she’d expected.
None of the MMC compounds had reported explosions. Her cyborgs had failed. This left the tyrannical military structures still undamaged to coordinate aggressive counterattacks against her mercenaries. Thus, Dreghor’s miserable attempts to disable the MMC’s communications network had proven disastrous.
The military remained in control.
A murderous rage built inside Valerie with each incoming message.
The mercenary leader in Aurora, Bridger D’Marco, appeared on screen, his face a patchwork of old scars spattered with fresh blood. “Our efforts to seize the government buildings are failing. The Martian military is out in full force. My men have seen some damned Terran troops on the ground. We’re being massacred by a whole platoon of armored soldiers! We’re no match for them.”
“Reinforcements are on the way,” Valerie lied. “Need I remind you the last half of your payment will be made when the job is done?” She cut the connection, hoping they’d stay until the last hired gunman died. To men of his caliber, money would always be the greatest incentive.
Valerie tried again and again to raise her Meridian base of operation, though to no avail. It was offline. No one responded. Even if she gained control of the northern and southern domes, she could have squeezed Meridian into submission. But it had become a total write off.
After repeated attempts to contact the Jäger plant with no response, she accepted it had been destroyed as well. Everything she’d worked so hard on for years was crumbling into an unmitigated disaster.
Damn Victor.
Damn Terra.
Damn the whole galaxy!
Her head felt ready to explode.
A face popped up on her screen, one belonging to Ryan Mannix, leader of the Polaris mercenaries. A fresh pulse burn wound had disfigured the oozing skin on his forehead. He looked close to death. “I’m injured, lost a lot of blood, probably won’t make it. We’ve been pushed back from the court house. Suffered heavy losses.” He winced, exposing blood tucked into the crevices between his teeth. “The Martian armor in impenetrable. Terrans have joined in the fight. I’ve given the order to evacuate.” The screen turned black.
Valerie wanted to lash out, beat something senseless, then kill it. Instead, she made three life-changing decisions. Valerie would cut her losses, too. Next, she confirmed passage for Carolyn Graves on a Hyperion flight for Terra departing in 45 minutes. Finally, she transferred all her funds to a Luxembourg financial institution on Terra.
She tossed an excellent bottle of wine and a few tasty snacks in her bag, along with several changes of travel clothing and a small plasma pistol. Afterward, she changed back into her elderly grandmother disguise, complete with cane. Before leaving, she scanned the room one last time, tapped a code on the screen, and walked out to the smell of burning circuits.
In minutes a cab had delivered her to the spaceport. Grimacing, she threaded around the cross-section of humanity toward the check point. The smell of sweat and fear hung in the air. Everyone there—young, old, and in between—was frightened of a planetary war. She alone knew the real story. The outcome was deadweight hanging around Valerie’s neck. It dragged her down as she hobbled through spaceport security, boarded a hover trolley, then mounted the steps to the sleek black Hyperion luxury craft.
She joined five other passengers, each assigned a well-appointed st
ateroom. As the interior lights faded to a warm, soothing pink, they gathered in the lounge, harnessing themselves into reclining, red velvet chairs for liftoff. Her dreams, half her fortune, the last five years, Valerie left them all behind.
Thoughts swirled in Valerie’s mind, condensing the chain of events of the past week. A lightning bolt struck, pinpointing the first incident.
It was crystal clear. The downward turn of events started the day Mark Warren had arrived on the Space Station.
She gripped the arms of her chair with enough force to rip them off. A cyborg had been sent to kill him, but in retrospect, she hadn’t seen any webnews coverage or heard any netchatter regarding his death.
Could he still be alive? Had he returned to Terra?
Her breathing quickened. A tingling sensation sped from her scalp to her toes. If he still lived, she would make it her life’s mission to hunt Mark Warren down and kill him.
***
Mark parked the borrowed car. He, Axel, and Eva walked half a block to the spaceport’s employee entrance. They remained hidden until a woman in coveralls steered a hover trolley up to the guardhouse. She motioned for him to leave, then took his place. He disappeared before she let the three Terrans in the gate. Rayburn emerged from the shadows driving a trolley, picked them up, and sped toward the hangar where their ship was waiting.
The welcome home greetings were cut short by Captain Malone’s announcement to prepare for liftoff. Rayburn stayed up front, coaching them through the turbulent atmospheric levels until the ship approached the Space Station. Malone turned the MAVREK-II over to Nguyen, his copilot, who guided the ship into the same Berth B16 on Deck 4 it had occupied when they’d first docked.
“Everyone needs a checkup,” Petra said once the ship had docked. She put a comforting arm around Eva, ushering her into the Med Lab.
Axel followed. “Where’s our prisoner?”
“Unconscious, in Mark’s bunk,” Ohashi answered.