Species War: Battlefield Mars Book 3 Read online

  “About what?”

  Archard opened the door and smiled. “You’ll see.”

  As it closed behind him, Ulla wondered out loud, “What in the world was that all about?”

  8

  Three Robotic Armored Man-of-War’s stood upright in giant frames along the east wall of the U.N.I.C. armory. A trooper was performing a diagnostic on one. Another soldier was loading a minigun. Both looked over in mild surprise when Archard strode in wearing an EVA suit.

  “Which RAM is ready for me?”

  The pair glanced at one another and the trooper doing the diagnostic said, “Sir? No one said anything to us about you taking a RAM out.”

  The other man nodded.

  Archard went to the frame that held the RAM he had used earlier in the day. “Is this one good to go?”

  “It can be in five minutes,” the first trooper said.

  “Get hopping.” Archard climbed the ladder that allowed access to the battlesuit’s chest and carefully eased down in. Fortunately, the military’s EVA suits were practically a second skin, and there was plenty of room. Closing the chest plate, he flexed the RAM’s large fingers, then lowered the helmet and keyed his mic. “Systems check.”

  “Accessing the processor,” the RAM’s computer replied.

  “Power level?”

  “Ninety-eight percent.”

  “Weapons?”

  “All systems armed, all systems functional.”

  “Fuel cells?”

  “Eighty-seven percent.”

  Lower than Archard liked but still enough to keep the battlesuit aloft for hours.

  The two troopers were busy disengaging the support frame and rolling it away.

  “Almost ready, sir,” the first trooper said.

  “I’ll get the door,” the second offered.

  The first trooper wore a puzzled expression. “May I ask a question, sir?”

  “You may,” Archard said.

  “Why are you wearing an EVA suit inside the RAM? I mean, the RAM has its own life support. I’ve never seen anyone do it before.”

  “I have my reasons, private,” Archard said. He didn’t elaborate. “Let’s get that door open.”

  Behind him, high on a wall, a speaker crackled to life. “Captain Rahn,” Colonel Vasin’s voice rumbled, “Report to Control.”

  Archard engaged the RAM and thumped to the bottom of the ramp that led up to street level.

  The second trooper kept glancing from Archard to the speaker and back again.

  “The door,” Archard commanded.

  Nodding, the trooper complied. The corrugated metal clanked and creaked until it was all the way up.

  “Captain Rahn,” the speaker blared anew. “Report to Control immediately.”

  “Isn’t that you, sir?” the second trooper said.

  “I heard, private,” Archard said. “I’ll contact them once I’m outside.”

  Just not immediately, Archard told himself. Thunking up the ramp, he wasted no time in going airborne. It was two blocks to an airlock large enough for the RAM. Worried the colonel might seal the locks to prevent him from leaving, he engaged his thrusters.

  Civilians raised their heads and pointed and beamed.

  Archard wasted no time. Landing, he opened the inner airlock door, ducked slightly, and stepped in. He was forced to wait while the inner door closed and the lock was pressurized. Only then would the outer door open. Impatient, he tapped his fingers against the battlesuit, the ping of the metallic alloy loud in the lock’s confines.

  Archard exhaled in relief when he was finally able to emerge. Again, he took to the air and flew around the dome, making for the hangar.

  That was when his helmet’s headset flared to life.

  “Captain Rahn, this is Colonel Vasin. You will acknowledge this instant. That’s an order.”

  “Colonel,” Archard said.

  “What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing, Captain?”

  “Sir?” Archard said.

  “Don’t play dumb. I’m in the Control Center. I see a RAM outside the dome, and your locator chip tells me that you’re in it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Archard said. There was no sense in denying it.

  “What the hell?” Colonel Vasin said. “You’re supposed to be here with me.”

  “I’ve decided to escort the Thunderbolt,” Archard said.

  “You will do no such thing,” Colonel Vasin said. “General Augusto ordered you to refrain from placing yourself in harm’s way. I was there when he told you, remember?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Turn around and report to HQ.”

  Archard steeled himself. “No, sir, I will not.”

  “The general will have your bars for this.”

  “Possibly, sir.” Archard cleared the dome and saw the hangar in the distance. Rising above it, gleaming silver in the Martian sunlight, was the Thunderbolt.

  “Damn it, Captain. What are you playing at?”

  “I’m hardly playing, sir,” Archard said. “I was put in charge of this op. To that end, I’ve determined that the wisest recourse is for me to oversee things while in the field. Not from here.”

  “General Augusto would call this putting yourself at risk.”

  “A low risk, with me in the RAM.”

  “You’re quibbling, Captain,” the colonel said. “I doubt the general will be very much amused.”

  “I’ve made up my mind,” Archard said. “What I need to know is if you will help me or hinder me, sir?”

  When no reply was forthcoming, Archard said again, “Sir?”

  “As much as I would like to toss you in the brig, you’ve given me no choice,” Colonel Vasin said. “I’d have to send the other RAM units out after you, and if you still refused to return, what then? Have them blow you out of the air? No. You’ve hamstrung me nicely. You have my full support until you return.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Archard said.

  “I wasn’t done. I intend to bring you up on charges. And there is no telling what the general will do.” Colonel Vasin paused. “Do you still think this gambit of yours is worth it?”

  Archard chuckled. “It will give me something to look forward to when I get back.”

  9

  KLL-12 brought their ship down in the shadow of the towering cone of Albor Tholus. Their craft raised a dust cloud as it settled. As the thrum of the propulsion system faded, he switched on the external speakers and heard the swish of the Martian wind on the hull.

  “Here we are on another planet,” KLL-13 declared from her seat beside him.

  “Obviously,” KLL-12 said.

  “Aren’t you excited?”

  “No.”

  KLL-13 swiveled toward him and chuckled. “They must have grown you under a rock instead of in a test-tube like the rest of us.”

  “I don’t understand the allusion,” KLL-12 admitted.

  “Your emotions,” KLL-13 teased. “Where are they?”

  “Emotion is a hindrance,” KLL-12 told her. “It prevents us from performing at optimal levels.”

  “Oh brother,” KLL-13 said.

  “I keep mine under complete control.”

  “Really? I’d never have guessed.” She laughed, then stretched. “It’s interesting, isn’t it? The variables in our makeups? Our bodies are the same, our intellects equal, yet emotionally, some of us are more expressive than others.”

  “Blame the humans.”

  KLL-13 leaned back, appraising him. “Is it me or do you find a lot of fault with them?”

  “They rushed us into production,” KLL-12 reminded her. “Uniformity was sacrificed for the sake of expediency.”

  “You make us sound like machines,” KLL-13 said. “We’re not. We’re organic. Biologically engineered to be the ultimate warriors.”

  “Created in test tubes and grown in vats,” KLL-12 said. “A production process not much different from how they grow their vegetables.”

  “I’m proud to be a Bio
Marine,” KLL-13 said. “Aren’t you?”

  “Pride is an emotion.”

  “You must feel something,” she said. “Reach deep inside yourself and let your emotions out. You’ll find life a lot more enjoyable.”

  “Now is hardly the time to indulge in such silliness,” KLL-12 said.

  Just then the console beeped and chirped, relaying a coded message.

  “The signal,” KLL-13 said. “It’s time.”

  “Let’s hope the humans merit your faith in them,” KLL-12 said, “or in a very short while, we will both be dead.”

  10

  Mixed emotions tore at Archard. On the one hand, it felt great to be out in the field again, to actually be doing something instead of anxiously waiting in Bradbury for the attack he was certain was inevitable.

  His RAM’s thrusters roaring, he cleaved the air like some Titan of old. Off to one side, the Thunderbolt kept pace. The craft could easily leave him in the Martian dust, as it were, but as he had made plain to Lieutenant Burroughs that they were, again as it were, glued at the hip until the op was over.

  Bradbury was ten kilometers behind them. They were soaring over exceptionally broken terrain, the result of a geologic upheaval in the distant past.

  Archard had his sensors pegged to the max. He was on the lookout for a cave or any other entrance into the underground domain of the Martians. The problem was, the Martians were ingeniously adept at camouflage. Seemingly solid boulders or rock columns might hide a means of ingress.

  “Anything on your end, Lieutenant?” Archard said into his helmet mic. The Thunderbolt’s sensor array was superior to the RAM’s.

  “Not yet, sir,” Burroughs replied.

  Archard switched to the frequency to U.N.I.C. HQ. “Colonel Vasin, do you copy?”

  “Affirmative, Captain.”

  “I’d like you to do me a favor, if you would.”

  Vasin’s snort was so loud, it was as if he were right there. “You have your nerve. You’re in direct violation of the general’s orders and you refused to obey mine to return to the colony. Yet now you want a favor?” Vasin snorted a second time.

  “I would be very grateful if you would get word to Dr. Katla Dkany. I was supposed to meet her half an hour ago and she might be worried.”

  “Oh, she’s worried, all right,” Colonel Vasin said.

  “Sir?”

  “She called HQ and wanted to be put in touch with you,” Colonel Vasin said. “I explained that the next time she gets to see you will be in the brig.”

  “Was that really necessary, sir?” Archard said, miffed.

  “Captain, you seem to have forgotten that the United Nations Interplanetary Command is a military organization. We do not tolerate breaches of discipline as severe as yours. It’s unbelievable to me that you---”

  Archard was in no mood for a lecture. Fortunately, his commlink crackled with an excited cry from Lieutenant Burroughs.

  “Movement, Captain. Half a kilometer ahead, at ten o’clock. Do you see that spire?”

  “Sir, have to go,” Archard cut Vasin off. Increasing the magnification on his helmet’s holo display, he zeroed in on the spire. At first glances, it appeared no different from others that dotted the Martian landscape. But when he boosted the magnification even more, he noticed an oddly smooth section at the bottom.

  “We picked up something moving toward it,” Burroughs had gone on. “Ripples of motion, like at Wellsville.”

  “The ripples disappeared near the spire?”

  “They did,” she confirmed.

  “Bingo,” Archard said and smiled. “Are your people suited up and ready to go?”

  “Raring for action, sir.”

  “Good,” Archard said. “We’re about to get more than they can imagine.”

  11

  The moment of truth, as the humans would say, had come.

  “I will go first,” KLL-12 said. There was only room in the airlock for one of them at a time. He pressed the button to open the inner door.

  “Noble of you,” KLL-13 said.

  “I am senior. It is my right.”

  “I thought you were doing it to spare me from possible harm in case something goes wrong,” KLL-13 said in that ingratiatingly sweet manner she had.

  “Romance is for humans,” KLL-12 said.

  “You seem to forget that you are part human, yourself, buster,” KLL-13 said.

  “Don’t remind me.” KLL-12 would have said more but the door slid wide and he stepped in and hit the button to close it.

  He heard her laugh.

  KLL-12 caught sight of himself in the mirror-finish of the airlock. At over three meters in height and weighing in excess of two hundred and twenty kilograms, with his scales and claws and ears that came to a point and his copper-colored hide, he bore no resemblance to his creators. Nor would he want to. Humans were puny things, as weak and frail as their own infants. Yet more reason to feel about them as he did.

  A loud hiss sounded. Martian air was being pumped in to equalize the pressure so the outer door could be safely opened.

  KLL-12 felt tremendous unease. Yes, the humans had bioengineered him and those like him to be their ultimate weapons. Yes, the BioMarines possessed abilities far beyond those of their creators. But those same creators were fallible.

  What if, in human parlance, they had screwed up?

  Suddenly, his chest felt as if it were in the grip of an iron fist. KLL-12 let out a gasp. The change in atmospheres was drastic, the pressure on Mars only about one percent of that of Earth at sea level. He could feel the slits on the side of his neck---his gills---expanding and contracting in an effort to get more air into his lungs. He took a breath, or tried to. The constriction in his chest worsened. His consciousness dimmed, and he thought he would pass out.

  Struggling mightily, KLL-12 stabbed the button to open the outer door. If he were going to die, then he would do it outside, not trapped in the airlock.

  The door opened with aggravating slowness.

  KLL-12 stuck his head out and gulped noisily, his nose and gills both flaring. The pressure in his chest eased a little. Grasping the edge of the door, he blinked in the pale Martian sunlight. The intensity was only about half of that of Earth, but his eyes needed to adjust from the dim illumination of the spaceship.

  The door opened wider. KLL-12 lurched from the airlock and straightened. He could feel a breeze on his scales; he could smell the Martian dust. His breathing

  stabilized.

  A giddiness came over him, a sense of delight such as he had never experienced. Spreading his arms, KLL-12 savored the sensation of pure and simple life.

  The humans had succeeded, after all.

  His body was working as it should.

  The tiny chip subcutaneously embedded behind his left ear chirped and he pressed the spot to activate the link.

  “….are you there, handsome? Can you hear me?” KLL-13 anxiously asked. “Did you survive?”

  “I am well,” KLL-12 said.

  Her laughter this time pleased him.

  “Look out, Mars! The BioMarines have landed! I’ll be right out to join you and we can start kicking Martian ass.”

  “Must you?” KLL-12 said.

  “Must I what?” she said.

  12

  As a precaution, Archard stayed airborne while the Thunderbolt landed. If they were right about the spire, countless Martians might dwell somewhere under it. Not until Lieutenant Burroughs and her strike team had emerged in their EVA suits and formed up with their Individual Combat Weapons at the ready did he reduce his thrusters and descend.

  The RAM came down with a loud thump. Facing the junior officer and her four troopers, Archard said, “Everyone locked and loaded?”

  “Need you ask, sir?” Private Everett responded. Smirking, he patted his ICW. “I was born locked and loaded.”

  Private Keller laughed.

  “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” Lieutenant Burroughs said. An extra ICW was slung ove
r her left shoulder.

  “Listen up,” Archard addressed them. “The lieutenant, Sergeant Kline, and Private Everett have fought the Martians before so they know what to expect. Private Stratton, Private Keller, you haven’t. Keep close to the others and watch your backs.”

  “That goes without saying, sir,” Private Stratton said.

  Archard supposed it did. Turning, he moved to the base of the spire and examined the presumed entryway close up. It appeared to be solid rock, with no openings.

  Bunching the battlesuit’s massive right fist, he struck the spire with all the RAM’s might. A spider’s web of cracks blossomed. Drawing back his fist, he struck it again, and yet a third time, the boom of his blows resounding like thunder.

  Whatever substance the ‘door’ was composed of---

  Archard was of the opinion it was some sort of artificial stone---buckled. Inserting his metal fingers into the largest cracks, he pried and pulled until he exposed the dark maw of a tunnel.

  “Look out, Martians, here we come!” Private Stratton said.

  Bending, Archard switched on his helmet spotlight. As he expected, the tunnel wasn’t high enough or wide enough for the RAM. Stepping back, he straightened.

  “We’ll have to leave the battlesuits here.”

  “So that’s why you’re wearing an EVA suit inside it, sir?” Private Everett said. “I was stumped as to what you were up to. Mighty clever.”

  “Enough chatter,” Lieutenant Burroughs said. “From here on out, maintain radio silence except as necessary. That goes for all of you.”

  Archard put the RAM in sleep mode and opened the chest plate. Without a ladder, he had to hang from the bottom of the opening and drop to the ground.

  “Here you go, sir.” Lieutenant Burroughs held out the extra ICW. “Just like you planned.”

  Experience had taught Archard most Martian tunnels weren’t large enough for the battlesuit. He could have flown in the Thunderbolt with the rest of the ops team, but the RAM gave them added firepower should they be forced to retreat with the creatures breathing down their necks.

  “Let’s do this,” Archard said. He brought up the holo display on his EVA helmet, in reality a form-fitting skullcap that expanded to enclose his entire head. He also turned on his spotlight. “Remember,” he said. “The creatures don’t show up on infrared. They don’t have heat signatures like we do.”