“Who’s running Melas Three?” I really want to know.
“Lieutenant Colonel Jackson,” he decides to tell me. “From my Lead Team. He’s also an ace pilot. He’ll be in charge of getting aerial patrols going, leading the search for Chang, and for other survivors. For outreach.” The last part sounded particularly creepy.
“What happened to the Nomad camp?” I turn the interrogation on him. “I didn’t see it on the hike in.”
He doesn’t answer, and Lisa and Halley don’t look comfortable speaking in his presence. But they both give me hard looks, like the news is bad.
“What’s happened while I’ve been gone?”
“That’s no longer any of your concern,” he finally tells me where I stand. “Consider yourself medically relieved of all duties, until further notice.”
That’s funny, because medical leave should be determined by a physician, not him. And Halley looks as stunned by his proclamation as Lisa is.
“Can I get out of here?”
“That will need to be discussed up the ladder,” he deflects like it’s not worth his time.
“Can I at least get something to eat?”
He almost seethes at my small defiance.
“Get the man some breakfast,” he tells no one, then turns and marches out.
Deemed safe enough to at least be on the other side of an isolation barrier with, the reunions come like I’m some deeply emotional zoo display, as the people I’ve connected to file into the observation area to capacity.
“They really can’t kill you, can they?” Rick jokes, probably happier to see me than he’s ever been.
“Do you have any idea how much you scared us?” Tru is in full tears, pressing her hand to the transparency. “Asshole.”
“It’s good to see you, Colonel,” Anton doesn’t seem sure how to express it (or maybe he’s worried about something he can’t say). Still, he looks like he could leap out of his chair.
“It’s damn good to see you, sir.” Rios.
“You have no idea,” Kastl actually almost gushes. Then catches himself, glances up at the sentry array watching us. Everyone goes uncomfortably quiet. I let them know I get it by looking directly into the cameras and giving a big fake smile. Burns is probably watching, probably sending every second back to his Earthside masters for scrutiny.
“What happened to your ‘bodyguard’?” Lisa gets back to questions. She’s slid to the back of the group, so they can’t see her trying not to cry.
“No idea,” I get back to partial truths. “No sign of her when I came to.”
“You think this ‘Ra’ did something to her?” Rios wants to know. I remember how he and Sakina had bonded.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I don’t know.”
“Earthside thinks this is all some ETE plot,” Tru decides to damn discretion. “They think Chang is one of theirs. And Ra. Some big game to keep Earth off their planet.”
“Easier than accepting that someone has scarier tech than the ETE do,” Anton figures.
“One enemy versus two,” Rick condenses.
“Let the man eat,” Doc Ryder comes in with a tray, slides it through the glove-box into my transparent cell. It’s all fresh-grown and homemade. Fruit. Bread. Martian hummus. Except for the coffee—probably part of recent shipments. I use the exam table for a breakfast table, eat standing up bar-style. Everything tastes great—at least that hasn’t been dulled. (Actually, I think my skin has gotten closer to normal in sensitivity since I came inside. I expect it has something to do with temperature and pressure. I keep checking my reflection in the transparency to make sure I still look old-me.)
“So. What did I miss?” I make it sound like an idle question.
It’s definitely not. They all look deeply uncomfortable. I watch them struggle to find something “safe” to say.
“How did the fight go?” I try for something I figure is relatively harmless. “I hate missing the end of stuff like that.”
“I got shot,” Rios matches the lightness of my tone.
“In the leg,” Ryder details. “Then he landed on it when he got knocked off Chang’s ship. He’s lucky he still has it.”
“I’m fine, sir,” he assures. “Just trying to catch up with all your scars. The plan went off like clockwork. You saw the first parts: The Shinkyo took out Chang’s support ships, kamikaze’d his railgun, napalmed his staging deck. Total chaos. Then our ground forces popped up and started pounding his batteries—his guns were the only part of the ship we could hurt. Then while he was busy chasing them, our boarding group got under him, shot lines. We almost took the ship, but then Chang got his shit together and got into the fight himself. I felt like we got hit with a tsunami-sized firehose. He literally swept us off the decks, then made a run for it when the ETE moved in on him. Toothless. And most of his conscripts dead or down.”
“Looks like you didn’t need me after all,” I give him.
“You’re the one that made it happen, sir,” he won’t let me off. Or maybe he just wants it on record.
“How many did we lose?” I need to know.
“Ninety-eight total,” Tru lets me know when everybody else gets quiet again. “Including Knights, Nomads and Shinkyo.”
“Jill Metzger,” Lisa gives me at least one meaningful loss. “And her crew when AirCom got hit.”
“Any idea where Chang crawled to?” I stay on tactical, wanting to hit back.
“Kicked up one of his storms, then hacked into the Atmosphere Net, ramped up the EMR all through Coprates so we couldn’t track him from space,” Anton takes it. “Had some trick so even the ETE couldn’t see him. When the noise faded, there was no sign of him. And nothing since. Command thinks he may have buried himself, like the way the ETE dug out Shinkyo Colony. Too bad we don’t have good enough before-and-after mapping to compare for terrain changes.”
“Do we think he has a base somewhere, or just the big ship?”
I get shrugs and head shakes, but this doesn’t feel like a taboo topic.
“We know he moved all of Zodanga and at least one PK colony,” Kastl tries. “I doubt they all fit on the ship. I’d have a home base somewhere.”
“Any action at the other PK sites?”
“Dead quiet,” Kastl tells me.
“Earthside is pushing for a confrontation as soon as we’ve got the resources,” Rios dares a potentially forbidden subject. “Show of force. Demand they surrender their sites, starting with Industry.”
“That’ll go over well,” I grumble. “And assuming they just lay down arms, then what?”
I feel another uncomfortable subject coming on.
Tru finally speaks up:
“They want to round everybody up, all the survivors, get them into camps. ‘For their own wellbeing.’” She keeps her tone remarkably level, probably not wanting to sound like the Eco leader that she is. “Full screening. Make sure they’re clean of anything scary. Then probably systematic evacuation to Earth, once the Quarantine lifts.”
“And if they don’t want to go?” I ask the obvious boiling question.
“Earthside is considering it a mandate for interplanetary safety and security,” Rick reads me what I assume is the official line. “They want to make sure no one is carrying anything dangerous, nano or bio. Then they want them away from here until Earthside can resolve the threats on-planet. Then they’ll consider repatriation or re-colonization.”
“But the survivor descendants don’t get their lands back,” Tru cuts. “Unless it’s some kind of reservation system.”
“And if they don’t want to go?” I have to repeat the question, at least for the benefit of the audience back “home”.
“I’m not sure some of them can go,” Halley gives me another concern. “Some of them have been practicing what they call their ‘weight discipline’, and the PK say they have centrifuges, but we’re still talking lifetimes in fractional gravity. The ones that haven’t bothered… They won’t be able to tolerate Earth gr
avity. It would be like us at three Gs with advanced osteoporosis.”
“They’ll be stuck in space,” Tru distills it.
“Or maybe a Moon colony,” Rick adds a no-more-appealing option.
“Is that why the Nomads are gone?” I guess.
“Demand One: Surrender all weapons,” Tru catches me up. “Demand Two: Relocate for invasive examination and holding. The Knights left right after the Nomads did. And they turned off the Link gear we gave them”
I take a deep breath. Let it out slow and long.
“Do we still have any contact with the ETE?”
“None.” Lisa risks letting me know. “Not since Burns and Jackson sent them an absolute: Turn over all technology and allow full access to all Stations for inspection and examination of all personnel. We haven’t seen them outside their Stations since. That was six weeks ago.”
“And the Shinkyo?”
“Got the same demand list. They’ve gone totally quiet. Invisible.”
“Tranquility’s also on the ‘inspect and secure’ list,” Rick adds. Tranquility will be even messier than a PK site…
They all sound angry, crushed, hopeless. Probably wishing we’d never called home.
“Earthside got us two refitted ASVs and two of their new light AAVs,” Kastl gives me a resource report. “Battery guns are back online at both bases. Ammo is partially replenished. And food stocks and medical supplies—they sent more than we needed, figuring we’d be taking in evacuees.”
Except everyone’s run away from us.
“We’ll have a lot more by June,” Lisa continues for him. “Including personnel and pilots. We have a few satellites up, and the beginnings of a space dock. The June missions will try to restore Phobos. There’ll be more on the way after that.”
Devastating for the survivor factions. But not a damn thing they can use to any real effect against Chang. Which means more of the survivors may be drawn to him. He at least tells them they’ll get to keep their homes (even though he’s already gutted Zodanga and Frontier for his war effort).
I’m already thinking the unthinkable: In order to fix this, in order to save Mars for the people who live here, I’m going to have to become another version of Chang. I’m going to have to fight Earth.
The rest of the day passes as a series of visits through transparent polycarbonate (since Burns won’t allow Halley to release me from Iso). I feel very much like a prisoner. Or a disease vector. But I am grateful for the company, and the displays of happiness that I’m not as dead as everyone was getting around to accepting.
Smith gets away from AirCom, lets me know he’s still flying, just rotating shifts on the screens. Aircom itself has been relocated to the Aux facility on A-Deck, just below where the tower got blown away, where AirCom used to be before they built the squat “tower” above ground. Apparently the same relocations have occurred with Ops and Melas Three’s Tower: Both are down below ground in their backup facilities. Topside, the port shields are kept open and lights left on to tempt Chang to take a potshot with his railgun (assuming he’s repaired it) and reveal his location. Smith complains they haven’t let him fly one of the new ships yet, and the cocky new pilots treat him like a semi-famous relic (even though they’ve never once seen combat).
Jane and Acaveda take their turns at visiting, also consigned to AirCom watches and not allowed in the driver’s seats of the new toys. I get involuntary eye rolls and voluntary changes of subject when I ask about Lieutenant Colonel Jackson. They do their best to keep it professional, but it’s clear there’s some friction going.
Thomas comes by with another “great to have you back and not dead sir” speech, and Morales brings me a card with specs on the new aircraft: They are a lot sleeker and smaller—shaped roughly like an old Phantom jet—and lack the hull turrets of their predecessors: all gun pods and launchers are wing-mounted. These are fighters and recon ships, not utility craft.
The fact that she can show me specs—that MAI allows it, without me forcing the issue—is a good sign. I must not be considered an intel risk. Or maybe Burns is letting me see how strong they are, hoping I’ll pass it along to my secret ETE masters.
Ryder comes in, suits up, and checks my “scars” personally—it’s the first time that anyone has laid hands on me, even through thick gloves. My cosmetic work is apparently good enough to convince her that the wounds are real, and she makes a crack about the quality of the suturing, and how I should always come to her for this sort of thing, not some amateur in a silly bird costume.
Lisa stays with me the whole day, even as the others come and go. She doesn’t say much, unless there’s someone else’s conversation to participate in. Tru brings us both lunch, then makes a show of letting us be alone (like we’re going to have sex through several inches of reinforced polycarb with cameras connected to Burns on us). We don’t say a word to each other while we eat.
Burns himself comes back after lunch is done. He dismisses Lisa to give us some one-on-one time.
“I guess you’ve decided it’s safe enough to be on the other side of an Iso from me,” I open with a nudge.
“Doctor Halley continues to insist you’re clean enough, Colonel,” he stays dry.
“But you don’t buy my story.”
He doesn’t answer, just stares like he’s waiting for something, and has better places to be.
In the flesh, Burns is maybe five nine and one-fifty, late thirties, a little roundish in the face, tan and short-haired. He tends to puff up his body language when he talks, just a little posturing like he’s insecure.
“I don’t buy my story,” I give again. “But I don’t believe the ETE are behind Chang.”
“Do you believe his time travel story?” he almost sneers.
“Not really. Too much doesn’t make sense. But I would buy that a rogue tech genius—one skilled enough to make the Discs and get them here all those years ago—might still be active. And now mobilizing again, since Earth is coming back where he apparently didn’t want them.”
“Then why the bad science fiction story?”
“The Big Lie,” I guess honestly. “Manipulate the masses. Sell himself as our savior, so we should help him instead of fight him, let him have his way.”
“Then what was Ra?”
That makes me hesitate. Ra was Star. I know Star. Knew Star. Star would never be part of something like what Chang is doing.
“Maybe just another con to sell the story.”
“But you said Ra wants you to fight Chang.”
“And Chang wants me to join him,” I bend it. “Maybe this is about selling me. Or distracting us.”
“Which means it could be the ETE,” he prosecutes his agenda.
“I’ve gotten to know the ETE. So have a few others of us. They’re naïve idealists. And I’ve seen them go to expensive lengths not to hurt anyone. And to help us. I doubt it was just a show. And Chang has killed some of them.”
“Maybe they’re not all in on it,” he tries. “Maybe their naïve idealists are also being conned. Your own reports describe how secretive their ruling Council is.”
“And since they won’t surrender their tech to you, it suggests guilt?”
I’m keeping it level, objective. He doesn’t comment.
“What would you do with their tech—UNMAC, UNCORT—if you got hold of it? Destroy it all? Or break your taboos against that sort of science enough to try to weaponize it, given the current situation?”
“That isn’t up to me,” he disavows. “But I would certainly want effective countermeasures.”
“That still requires playing with a science that scares you. Would that happen here? Or would UNMAC risk moving it back to Earth?”
“That isn’t up to me,” he repeats. He’s getting uncomfortable. Maybe he’s just puritanical enough to squirm at the idea of using Satan’s power to fight Satan.
“And the other survivors?” I push while he’s stressed. “You really think that rounding them all up, relocating t
hem, is a good idea?”
“Apparently you don’t,” he goes on the offensive. “Would you defy your orders, Colonel?”
“These aren’t marooned colonial workers. They’ve lived here for fifty years. Most of them all of their lives. This is home. And most of them won’t be able to function on Earth.”
“If that’s true, I expect they will be allowed to return. One day. When it’s safe. They have to understand: This is for the good of us all. And we have an obligation to take care of them. They’re human, after all. God’s children. Our children.” He sounds like he’s reading a script.
“Fifty years. There’s been no sign of what you’re afraid of. No plagues. No Discs. No danger other than their conflicts over resources and territory, at least not until now, until we woke up and called you back here.”
“And what would you have us do, Colonel Ram?” He says my name like it’s become a joke.
“Focus on Chang. Protect these people. Offer support, but don’t make demands. And proceed gingerly—they’re afraid of you. They think Earthside fired the Shield intentionally. So they fully expect you’ll kill them all to save yourselves from something that doesn’t exist. And you’re acting scared enough to convince them that’s exactly what you’ll do.”
“And the ETE?”
“Unless you have hard evidence that Chang is ETE, leave them be. Work with them like I have—best way to get to know them is to be on the same side. If they start trusting, if you earn it, maybe you’ll get what you want.”
He stands there like a piece of wood for several long moments, then tells me flatly:
“Your recommendations will be passed up the chain of command, Colonel.”
He turns and lets himself out.
I expect he’ll be running to conference with Richards and his Earthside masters. I also expect he’s been doing that all morning since I showed up.
Given a few moments alone so I don’t look unnaturally distracted, I dive into MAI and satisfy my urgent curiosity. And come up empty. MAI has no logged communications between Burns—or anyone here—and anyone off-planet since I arrived. Nor does he make a call out now.
The God Mars Book Three: The Devil You Are Page 4