The God Mars Book One: CROATOAN

by Michael Rizzo

22 September, 2115:

  After breakfast, we finally hear from Paul.

  “Sorry to leave you all in suspense, Colonel,” he tells me, the feed coming from his home Station Blue. “But as you can see, I have recovered. I just needed some time. I have never been so close to death before, never known so much pain.”

  He looks his normal self again, totally healed from the ravages of the crash, but he seems to be having trouble finding words. I don’t press him with questions about his recovery.

  “Have you had any further contacts with the Shinkyo?” I ask him, settling back into my chair in Ops.

  “We have detected what may be scouting parties,” he says with gravity. “Including radiation signatures that may indicate more nuclear devices. They approach, circle, and then withdraw when we respond.”

  “They may be probing you,” I consider. “Testing your defenses, finding their best approaches.”

  “That was the assessment of our Council,” he agrees. “Which brings me to the other reason for my call—my father suggested this news would be best if the information came from me, as we have what he calls a more reciprocal relationship. The Council has come to a difficult decision, Colonel, but I am hoping you will appreciate it. Given recent events, we have chosen to break our traditional passivity. We can no longer ignore the severity of the risks. We have chosen to act.”

  He seems to be purposely vague, almost like a politician spouting sound-bites to stir up enthusiasm for what’s actually bad news.

  “What does that entail, Paul?” I press him diplomatically.

  “We…” He’s having trouble choosing words again—he seems to have his own doubts, but may be unwilling to voice them in an open communication. “We are forming ‘action teams’ to go out and seek non-lethal resolutions to the crises with the more aggressive groups. We have chosen to intercede in your behalf as well as in our own interests, in hopes of avoiding further bloodshed.”

  This should be good news, but I’m immediately wary. His speech sounds very carefully scripted. It doesn’t sound like Paul talking at all. And I can see his conviction wavering in his eyes.

  “And what does that entail?” I press again.

  “We will begin by approaching the Shinkyo directly, presenting them with the full extent of our abilities, and letting them know that further aggression will not be allowed. If they choose to ignore this warning, we will take steps to ensure that they cannot effectively do further harm.”

  Despite what the ETE have professed about their commitment to non-violence, I find I’m deeply disturbed by where this may be going.

  “When will you act?” I ask the urgent question.

  “We wanted to communicate with you first, to let you know what we are going to do. And we are still in the process of training our Guardians—those who will go out into the field. We must be sure that they are confident with their tools, that they understand what they may face in terms of resistance. The Council has asked that I invite you to observe our operations, and they would be grateful of any tactical advisement you could provide.”

  I glance across the chamber and lock eyes with Lisa, who’s been listening passively out of camera view. She shakes her head, though I’m not sure if she doubts Paul or is worried about where this may be going. Matthew comes in then—it’s obvious he’s been monitoring the conversation by the look on his face: He’s definitely disturbed by what he’s heard, his eyes wide when they lock on mine. He also makes a point to stay out of camera so Paul doesn’t see it.

  “So your first priority will be the Shinkyo?” I say this knowing that the Shinkyo are likely able to monitor our transmissions, and I expect that the ETE have assumed this as well. I wonder how much of Paul’s call is for their benefit.

  Paul nods. “I think that would be most practical, given recent events.”

  I look at Matthew, who’s shaking his head in warning, knowing what I’m likely to say next. Lisa is just giving me a look of concern.

  “Tell your Council that I would be happy to observe and advise,” I finally answer, Matthew glaring at me all the while. “And I have a new friend who may be able to offer further insight.”

  “Thank you, Colonel.” Paul seems suddenly eager to end the conversation. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

  Matthew is still shaking his head after Paul signs off.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” he reminds me I pretty much demanded the ETE do this very thing.

  “They’ll do it with or without us,” I try. “I think that’s what Paul was trying to tell me—he wants me there to try to temper what happens.”

  “Was that even Paul?” Matthew throws back.

  “MAI confirms the transmission and image, sir,” Kastl reports. “It’s not a fake.”

  “He was hurt bad,” Matthew clarifies. “Did they mess with his brain putting him back together? I know daddy’s never been too happy with him.”

  “He looked like he was performing,” I give him my read. “His eyes told me something else was up. I’ll need to go to find out what.”

  “And you’re going to bring Granola Girl?” he protests. “I thought she said she’s never actually been inside Ninja-ville.”

  “She’s made a career of studying them from a distance,” I remind him. “She has some of their intel files, and whatever her grandfather told her about the place.”

  He jerks his head for me to follow him outside. Lisa chooses not to join us, perhaps anticipating what Matthew’s got on his mind. We shut ourselves in the security airlock for privacy, overriding the sentry feeds.

  “Is she really an asset, or is this a chance to give your Mini-Me a shot at avenging grandma?” he challenges when we’re effectively alone. “And don’t forget the theory that she’s just part of some convoluted plan to get a Shinkyo agent inside ETE Disneyland.”

  “I need to take Zauba’a at her word, but that doesn’t mean we let our guard down,” I assure him. “If she’s some kind of mole, she won’t show until she’s got her shot.”

  “So you’re giving her her shot?”

  “I’m hoping we have an asset, not a spy,” I clarify. “If I’m wrong, I won’t hesitate to deal with it. You know I’m a fuck that way.”

  “It doesn’t mean you have to go yourself. Again. Or do I have to quote command protocols? You’re the CO. You don’t go on point.” The tense earnestness in his eyes lets me know that this is the point he really wanted to make by taking me aside. “You keep sticking yourself out there, pulling all this first-contact shit, like you’re Captain Kirk. First the Power Rangers, then the Sand People, then Janeway’s Psychos, now the Space Ninjas—you just walk in and smile and expect everybody will love you. You’ve been lucky so far.”

  “I’m only CO because I was left sitting in the seat when we woke up,” I remind him. “You or Lisa would be better at running this place. I fill a chair that was never meant to be mine.”

  “And you’ve got the rep that’s managed to stay fresh after three generations of campfire stories,” he throws back. “And yes, it’s opened a few doors. But all the worse for us if you buy it because one of these post-apocalyptic freakshows wants the rep of taking you.”

  I let the silence of the tight space speak for me for a few moments, then sink it in:

  “You know I have to do this. Half-a-dozen reasons why. And you two need to back me up so I don’t wind up in something I can’t get out of.”

  “Glad you have such confidence in us,” he gives me, “but you don’t get to see the nail-biting that happens back here when you’re out enjoying a field-trip. Best back-up we can give is always several minutes away—too long if things go really bad. And it’s bad enough you sleep in the same cell with demon-girl—how the hell do you expect us to save your jewels if she turns on you in the field?”

  “If Paul’s being straight with us, hopefully I’ll have the ETE to help you watch my back.”

  “You think they could stop her if she decided it was time to lose
another ‘master’? I called Abbas myself—apparently my name carries enough historic weight to qualify as your ‘trusty sidekick’ or some crap—glad I at least rate some half-assed respect in this twisted place. And apparently you neglected to tell him why you wanted to know about the whole sleeping with your bodyguard rule. He got more than a little agitated when I told him who was using tradition as an excuse to shack up with you.”

  I don’t answer him for a moment, then shift the focus: “If she does go off, wouldn’t you rather have it happen surrounded by the ETE than down here where there’s a thousand people she can actually kill?”

  “You think they can handle her?” he lets me know how little faith he has in them.

  “That’s one thing I need to find out,” I tell him. “Especially before they try to go up against the Shinkyo.”

  “So you’re okay with them going all Bushy on us?”

  “I wouldn’t give you the ‘it’s their planet’ crap even if I thought you’d buy it, Matthew. My reasons are much more practical: They’re a lot stronger than us—we’re barely hanging on to our own little corner—and they seem to have their hearts in the right place, at least for now.”

  He shakes his head.

  “You and I both know what kind of atrocities come out of good intentions. And what happens if your friends at the ETE decide to turn on us in the name of ‘avoiding further bloodshed’?”

  “Then we do know one way to stop them,” I tell him grimly.

  Chapter 2: The Road to Hell