Species War: Battlefield Mars Book 3 Page 4

  “That’s why you keep your motion sensors at max,” Lieutenant Burroughs instructed the others. “It’s the only way we can detect them.”

  Hefting his ICW, Archard warily entered. Burroughs immediately glued herself to his side. The rest followed, two by two.

  Deep scratch marks on the sides and overhead reminded Archard that the creatures, like spiders, were capable of scaling sheer walls and hanging from a ceiling. “Who has the locator beacons?”

  “I do, sir,” Sergeant Kline said.

  “Plant one every two hundred meters,” Archard directed. No larger than small coins, the L.B.s would keep them from becoming lost in the underground maze they were sure to encounter.

  A deathly stillness prevailed. No sounds reached them, either from above or rose from below.

  “Feels like a tomb,” Private Stratton muttered.

  “What did I tell you about talking?” Lieutenant Burroughs said. Suddenly stiffening, she exclaimed, “Picking up motion.”

  Archard checked his own holo, but nothing. “How far in?”

  “Fifty meters or so. It was there and it was gone.”

  “Single file,” Archard commanded, “with Private Everett bringing up the rear.”

  They assumed the new formation.

  Sweeping his spotlight from side to side, Archard advanced toward a darker area on the left wall. It resolved into a junction. Raising a fist to signal the others to halt, he crept forward and poked his head around the bend.

  What he saw caused him to doubt his own senses.

  13

  Had there been humans to witness the ascent, those humans would have been in awe.

  KLL-12 and KLL-13 were literal blurs as they scaled the volcano’s gigantic cone. Able to find purchase where humans couldn’t, their biogenetically engineered forms appeared to flow up Albor Tholus. All without the aid of a single rope or carabiner.

  KLL-12 reveled in his strength and speed. Seldom was he able to cut loose like this. Their creators had put them through interminable training sessions but he had never really had much of a chance to unleash his full potential.

  KLL-13’s laughter pealed in his subcutaneous commlink.

  “What now?” he said.

  “Don’t tell me you’re not as exhilarated as I am,” she replied.

  “We’re scaling a volcano,” KLL-12 made light of their feat.

  “I swear,” she said.

  Springing to a higher handhold, KLL-12 paused to survey the sweeping vista below. They were about midway up the cone, nearly two and a quarter kilometers above the Martian surface. The view was spectacular.

  KLL-13 stopped when he did. “Magnificent, isn’t it?”

  “Rocks and dirt,” KLL-12 said. “What’s so special about that?”

  “You have no poetry in your soul.”

  “I have no soul, period,” KLL-12 set her straight. Nor, he was convinced, did the humans, despite the convictions of many among them.

  “You don’t know that,” KLL-13 said.

  “Prove to me we do.”

  “Here and now?”

  “The simple truth is you can’t,” KLL-12 said. “Which is just as well. Unlike our human creators, I’m not desirous of living forever.”

  “Maybe your birthing vat had a crack in it,” KLL-13 said. “That would explain a lot.”

  KLL-12 was about to ask what she meant when his he detected a faint buzzing from far above. Tilting his head back, he spied half a dozen dark specks rising out of the volcano. In a tight group, they swept over the rim and went into a dive.

  “Martians with wings!” KLL-13 exclaimed.

  “Captain Archard Rahn mentioned encountering them in his report,” KLL-12 remembered from their briefing prior to their departure from Earth. “Flyers, he called them.”

  “They’re heading straight for us!” KLL-13 said. “How do they know we’re here?”

  “They probably heard you flapping your gums.”

  “Did you just make a joke?”

  KLL-12 looked down. His companion was grinning from ear to her, her razor teeth a white against the copper of her scales. “At a time like this? The utmost seriousness is called for.”

  “Life is too short to be serious about anything,” KLL-13 said.

  His eyes on the Martians, KLL-12 resumed climbing. Based on his estimate of their speed and the distance they must travel, he calculated it wouldn’t take the creatures more than two minutes to reach them.

  “Our first fight!” KLL-13 said cheerfully.

  KLL-12 would rather they weren’t clinging to the rock cone. He glanced about for a better vantage point and spotted a meter-wide projection about twenty meters long. Pointing, he called out, “There! A ledge!”

  KLL-13 nodded.

  Together, they poured on the speed. Together, they scrambled up and over the ledge and stood with their backs to the cone.

  “There isn’t much room to maneuver,” KLL-12 said.

  “Enough to kill,” KLL-13 said, and flexed her claw-capped fingers.

  The creatures were a lot closer. They were exactly as Captain Rahn had described them; black carapaces, eight pair of stubby wings and a pair of forelimbs that ended in spikes capable of punching a hole in a RAM. The captain had made it plain that their thick shells and incredible speed made them hard to slay.

  KLL-13 nodded at the abyss. “If they knock us off, we better hope our membranes work.”

  “Is that doubt I hear?” KLL-12 said. “I thought our creators are infallible.”

  “Bite me.”

  “I’ll leave that to the Martians,” KLL-12 said.

  Further talk was nipped in the bud by the arrival of their attacks. Buzzing noisily, the creatures streaked out and in, coming at them head-on.

  KLL-12 had no time to think, no time for anything except to react on the most instinctual level. The foremost extended its spikes and closed on him, and he twisted to evade them and swatted the creature’s forelimbs aside. The Martian was on him again in a heartbeat. Instantly, he backhanded it with his fist, striking a ridge that ran along the front of its carapace. The force of his blow knocked the flyer back into two others.

  Quickly recovering, they regained altitude.

  KLL-12 was aware that KLL-13 was battling for her life but he couldn’t divert his attention to help her. Already the three Martians were angling toward him, their spikes as rigid as spears. He might avoid one or two but not all three.

  KLL-12 did the last thing any being would expect. Bounding high into the air, he landed on top of the middle Martian. Before it could think to flip him off, he flashed his claws in a windmill of ferocity. The creature’s carapace withstood his assault for all of five seconds. Then a green ochre spurted and went on spurting, splashing his arms and chest.

  The creature went limp and dropped but KLL-12 was already in motion. A prodigious leap, timed perfectly, carried him to a second Martian. Grabbing at its uppermost wings, he gained a hold, only to have the creature buck like a wild horse trying to throw its rider. Again KLL-12 used his claws like scythes, ripping and rending in abandon. Its organs, or what passed for them---tubular bits and ovoid pieces and cord-like filaments---spilled out.

  The creature started to lose altitude.

  Once more, KLL-12 leaped, this time toward the cone. He snagged a crack wide enough for his fingers and hung suspended by one arm. Above him, KLL-13 was still on the ledge, battling fiercely.

  For a few moments, KLL-12 let himself be distracted by her fight, and it cost him. Without any forewarning, a Martian flyer slammed into his back.

  14

  No one on Mars knew more about the Martians than Archard. He had encountered every kind---or so he thought. There were the yellow ones, the rarest, that he took to be their leaders. There were the reddish crab-like workers, or soldiers. There were the huge blue warriors. There were the gigantic drillers. And the flyers.

  The creature he now beheld was so different, he stood riveted in astonishment.

 
The thing resembled a slug on steroids. Two meters wide and five meters long, it had an orange carapace much like those of the other Martians. Except that this creature was covered in slime---or was it mucus?---from one end to the other. It didn’t have legs or forelimbs or wings, only four long antennae, if that is what they were. At the end of the four long rods were large black eyes that waved back and forth and up and down.

  It was unlike any of the other Martians.

  The thing had turned broadside and was making loud squishing noises as it sucked at the dusty tunnel floor with a mouth as long and flexible as an elephant seal’s snout.

  Bewildered, Archard raised his ICW but didn’t fire. The thing posed no immediate threat, and the shots might bring others. He hoped it would go its merry way along the side branch. But as if it somehow sensed his presence, the creature raised its four long stalks and swung its four black eyes in his direction.

  “Hell,” Archard said under his breath. He braced for an attack but unexpectedly a new element broke onto the scene---literally.

  Above and beyond the slug, a small hole suddenly appeared. It swiftly widened. Bits and pieces of rock rained down, pattering like hail. Reddish-pink limbs protruded, appendages with crab-like grippers that were tearing at the solid stone as if it were tissue paper. In moments, the hole was wide enough that the creature making it scrabbled out of the opening and down the tunnel wall, moving like an oversized spider. Behind it came another and then more, seven, eight, nine, and still they came.

  Martians. To be precise, the ‘worker’ or ‘soldier’ Martians. They were the most common, and the smallest, barely a meter round. They were also savage beyond belief.

  Archard was about to turn and shout into his commlink for Lieutenant Burroughs and the strike team to prepare for an assault when yet another unexpected occurrence kept him glued where he was.

  The crabs attacked the slug.

  The slime-covered creature had sensed or heard the rain of rocks and shifted its massive bulk toward the newcomers. Its giant body rippling, it started to back away but the soldiers were on it in a rush, swarming up and over its slimy mass like army ants swarming a lizard.

  The slug erupted into violent motion, bucking and heaving, seeking to throw the Martians off. Several went flying but most clung fast with their grippers. Changing tactics, the slug slammed its body against the tunnel walls, smashing Martians to pulp. It succeeded in slaying half a dozen. But that was nowhere near enough.

  Over forty Martians now covered the slug, all of them ripping and tearing at its carapace to get at the flesh underneath. Sprays of purple blood turned into gaping wounds.

  The slug fought for dear life but was overwhelmed by sheer numbers. The Martians rendered its body into pieces and sections, much as humans might butcher a cow. At least, that was the analogy that popped into Archard’s head as he

  watched the slug suddenly extend its snout, give a last convulsive shake, and collapse.

  “Captain?”

  The crackle of his helmet nearly made Archard jump. He had been so intent on the slaughter, he’d neglected to alert the others. “Lieutenant Burroughs…” he began and stopped.

  The Martians were spreading out.

  Archard realized he should have gotten out of there while he had the chance. His mistake might prove costly. If he and the others were discovered, the Martians would be on them in a flash.

  “Captain?” Lieutenant Burroughs said again. “Is everything all right?”

  Archard saw a Martian scuttling toward the junction. “Not hardly,” he said.

  15

  The Earth fleet decelerated out of EmDrive and assumed a stationary orbit over Bradbury, appearing like great silver stars out of the dark ether of space. One instant they weren’t there, the next they were.

  General Constantine Augusto surveyed the three immense golden domes on the Avenger I’s view screen and grunted in satisfaction. “They’re still there.”

  Admiral Thorndyke, standing beside the command chair that General Augusto had appropriated, didn’t hide his surprise. “You thought they wouldn’t be?”

  “Why else did I rush things like a madman back on Earth?” General Augusto said. He didn’t wait for an answer. “We’d lost two colonies, and I’ll be damned if we’ll lose a third. I expedited the provisioning and armaments procurement for our fleet so that we could reach Mars in record time. Which we have,” he concluded proudly.

  The communications officer raised her head from her console. “General Augusto, Governor Bradbury is on line four. He would very much like to speak to you.”

  “Would he now?” General Augusto said. “On speakers.”

  The governor’s voice was tinny and laced with static. “General Augusto? Are you there?”

  “If I’m not, you’re talking to yourself,” General Augusto said.

  “Eh?”

  “What do you want, Governor?”

  “I’ve just been notified that you’re here already. The fleet, I mean. We weren’t expecting you for another week and a half.”

  “We teleported,” General Augusto said.

  “General?”

  “A joke, governor.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t get the allusion.”

  “That’s all right, Governor,” General Augusto said. “What you need to do is snap out of your lethargy. Yes, I am here, and I’m assuming complete command of all Martian personal, military and civilian, for the duration. Until this crisis is resolved, you will follow my orders explicitly. Is that understood?”

  “The secretary-general, in fact, notified me that you---” Blanchard started to say a trifle indignantly.

  “Good,” General Augusto cut him short. “Our drop ships will be landing within the hour. I want you and Colonel Vasin and Captain Archard on hand at Dome One when I arrive.”

  “About that,” Governor Blanchard said.

  “Yes?”

  “Perhaps you should speak to Colonel Vasin.”

  “I’m speaking to you,” General Augusto said. “And I don’t like vacillation.”

  Governor Blanchard coughed a couple of times. “Captain Archard won’t be able to greet you.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “How’s that again? I gave specific orders.”

  “The good captain accompanied the strike team on their mission. Colonel Vasin is quite upset about it.”

  General Augusto rose out of his chair, his fists clenched. “The devil you say? The colonel didn’t see fit to let me know?”

  “He probably figured it was best to wait until you arrived.”

  “He was wrong. I’ll deal with him when I land. As for Captain Rahn, I made it plain that he’s the single-most valuable resource we have on the Martians.”

  “Apparently he felt his proper place was with his troopers.”

  “You have a GPS fix on their chip implants?”

  “Colonel Vasin does, I believe, yes.”

  “Have him relay the coordinates, ASAP,” General Augusto ordered. He motioned at the communications officer and she broke the connection. “Get me the BIO-M,” he said, referring to another ship in the fleet.

  Not ten seconds elapsed and a deep voice acknowledged, “This is KLL-1, General. Our drop ships are about ready, per your orders.”

  “Excellent,” General Augusto said. “In a minute or two, I’ll send you some coordinates. You’re to take your unit and assist a special ops teams in extracting a Martian prisoner.”

  “All of us, sir?” KLL-1 said. “They require that many?”

  General Augusto chuckled. “Don’t get cocky.”

  “Cockiness is a human trait,” KLL-1 said. “I prefer to think of us as supremely confident.”

  “You should be,” General Augusto said. “You’re Marines.”

  “BioMarines, sir,” KLL-1 amended.

  “Booyah,” General Augusto said. “Now get cracking.”

  “Sir?” KLL-1 said.

  �
�What is it?”

  “Has there been any word from KLL-12 and KLL-13? The rest of us have been wondering.”

  “They were under orders to maintain radio silence,” General Augusto said. “For all I know, the Martians might be able to monitor our commlinks.”

  “I hope all is well with them.”

  “You and me both,” General Augusto said.

  16

  The Martian flyer thrust a forelimb spike into KLL-12 between his shoulder blades.

  If his heart had been where a human’s would be, KLL-12 would have died. As it was, even with the pain inhibitors genetically encoded into his body’s nervous system, the discomfort was excruciating.

  Reacting instinctively, KLL-12 whipped around, seized the flyer, and smashed it against the cone. Given his immense strength, that should have been enough to slay it. But no. The thing’s other forelimb lanced at his neck. He saved himself by grabbing hold of the spike.

  Locked together, they struggled, bio-engineered construct against an alien lifeform. The outcome hung in doubt until suddenly a scale-covered copper figure hurtled down from above and landed on top of the Flyer. Gore-smeared claws tore at its wings, ripping them off as if they were a butterfly’s. The Martian was yanked loose of KLL-12 and cast down.

  Tumbling as it plummeted, the creature never made a sound. When it struck, far, far below, it was no more than a black speck against the backdrop of ground.

  Clinging by one hand from a crack, KLL-13 grinned and said, “Miss me?”

  “I didn’t require your aid,” KLL-12 said.

  “You’re welcome,” KLL-13 said. Tilting, she examined his back. “That looks nasty but it’s already healing.”

  “It is supposed to,” KLL-12 reminded her. Their accelerated healing factor was yet another of the biological upgrades incorporated into their bodies by their creators.

  “Do you feel anything? Pain, I mean?”