Cydonia City, Cydonia Mensae
‘Many lumps of incense,’ said Robert Pauly.
‘Excuse me, Mr Pauly?’ replied the major. Robert strolled through the training village, near Cydonia crater’s central spire, with Major Kader Hameed. Derelict pods, too old for the Old Town, and hfalf-built brick structures littered a landscape scarred with trenches and tangled with razor wire. The sol was beginning and the sun's disc was emerging in a cloudless sky.
Robert hunched his shoulders, flicking his gaze at the menace around him. He had been detained in the boardroom and in security briefings for most of the previous sol and he had slept. The morning cold soaked through his Polyskin and seeped into his bones.
‘Today we commence the war,’ Robert said. ‘This sol is the beginning of humanity’s evil on Mars. I thought a death poem would be appropriate.’
‘Surely you knew this was imminent,’ said Hameed. The major was a stocky man, a head shorter than Robert, and he strolled through the training ground without flinching. ‘Watch out.’ Four armoured guardsmen broke from a bunker and slipped forwards in a rapid, overlapping formation. Hameed took Robert’s arm to guide him clear of the fire team. ‘Second fire team, forward,’ Hameed snapped. ‘Too slow, too slow.’ He looked back to Robert, ‘We’ve been preparing for this for some time.’ He pointed at the fire team who took cover in a shallow ditch. ‘We’re still preparing.’ The second fire team emerged from the bunker. The leader levelled his assault rifle at the gutted remains of a brick building and opened fire. The machine gunner, the most heavily armed member of the team, joined him. The leader advanced and his team followed. One of them fell to the ground, Robert couldn’t see the cause.
‘I knew this was coming, of course I did,’ Robert said. ‘But we humans are about to fuck up planet number two. Suspense doesn’t lessen tragedy or make it easier to accept. This planet has more land and resources than we could ever ask for, and no native population. All we had to do was share it amongst ourselves.’
‘It is your apparent surprise that astonishes me, Mr Pauly,’ said Major Hameed. ‘Look here, the fight is inevitable – the only question is who will win. That’s why your board has spent a fortune on us. Wars don’t fuck up planets, Mr. Pauly. People fuck up planets. People consume and we compete, and you only become the successful species by being good at both. The first human feet declared war the moment they crunched into the red Martian turf. We’ve fought the planet to survive and now, having won that war, we fight each other.’
Hameed cursed and waved his arms forward. ‘Corporal, have Second Team bloody moving – now!’ He looked at Robert and shook his head. ‘They’re new,’ he said in explanation, ‘still acclimatising.’ Robert was silent and Hameed continued. ‘A healthy body requires months to fully adjust to the gravity and life in a Polyskin. Do you remember all of that?’ He shook his head again. ‘Some of these guardsmen have been here only six weeks,’ he said. ‘They’re not near combat readiness, but we are pushing them.’
‘Then you also think we’re rushing into this?’ asked Robert watching as the two teams advanced in loose order towards the old brick structure.
Hameed broke away from the conversation as another guardsman fell. ‘Come now,’ he shouted, ‘pick up your feet.’ Hameed urged them. ‘Mr Pauly, the enemy is on the move – and cannot be allowed the initiative.’
‘Yes, I understand that – that’s why I need to get to Naktong,’ said Robert. ‘They’ve cancelled all dirigible flights to anywhere near the equator. Captain Arundel told me that I had to wait. He said I would be more needed here and that there’s nothing he could do.’
‘And he’s exactly right,’ said Hameed. ‘Let us do our jobs. We are exceptionally more efficient at doing our job when there aren’t civilians involved.’
‘But there are civilians involved,’ Robert said, ‘there are eighty of my people involved. My wife is there. You think I’m going to stay here? I am going to Naktong.’
‘This is the curse of being second in command,’ said Hameed. ‘So close to the sun, yet always in the shade. I report to a colonel and you answer, in whatever way, to the Director General – both of whom have banned all southbound flights.’
Robert kicked at a nearby stone sending it skittering in the direction of the skirmish that took place nearby. ‘My wife could be dead. She could be captured. I’m going to Naktong. If I can’t fly there, I’m riding there.’
‘My hands are tied, Mr Pauly,’ said Hameed, ‘but I suggest you approach Grace Mitchell. I hear she’s called an emergency briefing.’
A clamour caught Robert’s attention. He glanced over to the ruins where the trainee guardsmen still fought their unseen enemy. One of the men had reached the structure’s upper level but dropped now, with the odd pace at which bodies fell on Mars, to the turf below. Only two guardsmen remained in action.
‘I came to you,’ Robert said. He turned his back on the major to leave.
‘Mr Pauly, wait,’ said Hameed. ‘As it happens, I shall travel to Cassini to later this morning– I’m overseeing our deployments. Go to the briefing – talk to your boss. If you’re not satisfied, I’ll take you with me.’
‘To Cassini?’ Robert asked. ’You just told me all southbound flights were banned.’
‘This is a Redbourn Security fight, Hameed said. ‘Cassini isn’t one of the disputed territories and it’s well guarded. It’s safe, and it’s as far south as any civilian is going today.’ He looked over to the ruins where both remaining guardsmen lay in the dust. ‘Useless,’ Hameed barked. ‘Well up you get, do it again.’ He turned back to Robert, ‘That was more pathetic than last time.’
‘Who are they fighting?’ Robert asked.
‘D0G3’, Hameed called with a grin. ‘Front and centre.’
Robert watched as, from behind the ragged brickwork ramparts, D0G3 unfolded. ‘Is that…’ Robert began.
‘An autonomous combat unit,’ Hameed finished. ‘An ACU, she certainly is.’
‘I was going to say “drone”‘, said Robert.
‘She is no drone,’ said Hameed, ‘no mindless contrivance. Our D0G3 thinks and learns – intelligence, self-contained and unique.’
‘I don’t even want to ask how much it cost,’ said Robert.
‘She’s worth every cent,’ Hameed replied.
‘This is what it costs to train guardsmen?’ asked Robert, ‘you can’t make them fight each other?’
‘You misunderstand, Mr Pauly.’ D0G3 had descended to ground level and pulled up in front of the major. To Robert, D0G3 resembled an oversized gun barrel on six double-jointed legs, each ending in radials instead of feet. Hameed gestured to the ACU which edged closer to him. ‘She’s the one in training.’
‘You’re training it?’
‘Learning algorithms need training data,’ said Hameed. He tapped D0G3’s primary barrel. ‘She is our child,’ he said. He swept a stout right arm in an arc, ‘and we are her tutors.’
‘And are these also tutors?’ Robert asked meaning the guardsmen who were either resting on a knee or lying prone on the turf.
‘Toys,’ said Hameed. ‘Get on your feet, teddy bears,’ he ordered the two fire teams. The battered guardsmen, in a testament to their discipline, stood to attention.
‘ACUs are illegal,’ said Robert.
‘In combat,’ Hameed wagged a correcting index finger. ‘They’re must not be deployed in combat. The UN doesn’t trust them to make battlefield decisions. Guardsman! Yes you, come here.’ The guardsman jogged over and stood to attention.
‘Sir,’ he said.
‘The UN thinks you’re more intelligent than this fine machine. It trusts you to make better decisions. Are you smarter than D0G3?’
The guardsman hesitated then said. ‘No, sir.’
‘Speak up, man so she might hear you,’ said Hameed, ‘are you smarter than our D0G3?’
‘No sir!’
‘Bloody right, now fall back in,’ said Hameed, and the guardsman turned about and jogged back to his team. ‘Of course,’ he continued, ‘even Guardsman Bhat over there is more intelligent than D0G3 – but only for now and not by very much. I’m aware of the delicate legalities around ACUs – they’re not a cause for concern.’
‘You are a major cause for concern, major,’ said Robert.
‘That’s my job. But I don’t want you to worry.’ Hameed lowered his voice and moved closer to Robert. ‘My hands aren’t completely tied. Come and find me at the boarding platforms.’
‘Count on it,’ Robert said.
Hameed nodded and turned to march back to his beaten guardsmen. His scolding voice faded as Robert left the training village.
Naktong Vallis, Arabia Quadrangle
There were only two guardsmen, a pair of lightly-armed, ciclon-mounted scouts. They had found Sarah just before iMicor’s soldiers had caught up. The two scouts fought iMicor now, using a boulder on the rocky ridge as cover. Stingers and killing bolts zipped through the air and slapped the rocks around her. The sol had begun in desperation and promised to end in death, but Sarah discovered that she was not afraid. Adrenaline removed fear’s spectral hold and killed the pain in her leg and back. She counted more than eight iMicor soldiers at the foot of the hill and the sound of rovers approaching meant that there would be more. The guardsmen fought on in silence, or they spoke to each other and excluded her. They took single shots with noiseless rifles at the oncoming enemy. The search and rescue drone was gone but a new black-hulled craft the size of a Rottweiler floated above the hilltop now.
The guardsman nearest to Sarah called a warning.
‘It’s a hunter,’ the woman said. ‘Get down’. Sarah was already down, but there was nowhere to hide from the airborne hunter-drone. The guardsman leaned across Sarah and fired upwards, but the little aircraft was quick – and armed. It slipped aside, tiny vapour jets propelling it, and strafed the guardsmen with a shower of bolts. The guardsman gave a wretched cry and fell backwards, landing on her side in the open. Sarah reached out and hauled her back behind the cover of the rock. Her partner turned his head briefly but couldn’t help. The bolt had the guardsman’s shoulder plates and torn through the Polyskin. Sarah unfastened the plate and threw it aside. A messy gel scab had already frozen over the breach. The guardsman tried to sit up but cried out and collapsed back down. Without thinking, Sarah drew the fallen guardsman’s side arm and fired, without aiming, in the direction of the drone. The craft spun away in awkward, jerking motions, its envelope punctured. Sarah looked to the other guardsman, but his attention was on the enemy. The enemy halted their advance, only single rover rolled up to the hill’s foot. The soldiers retreated behind its armoured, black bulk. A voice sounded on an open channel.
‘Come down,’ it said. ‘You are cornered and you need medical attention. Leave your weapons where they are. You will not be harmed. You have one minute.’
Neither of the guardsmen responded.
‘What’s the rush?’ Sarah shouted back on the open channel. ‘The way I see it, this is an illegal grab.’
‘We responded to your emergency beacon. You are out here without a flight plan.’
‘Is that why you shot me down?’
‘Your Sparrowhawk had ruptured. We meant you no harm.’
‘I’ve got a nasty fucking bruise on my leg that says otherwise,’ said Sarah.
‘Unfortunately, you were caught in the crossfire between us and those Redbourn mercenary scouts. Unlike them, we use non-lethal ammunition only.’
Sarah glanced at the wounded mercenary scout who was tending to her own shoulder, calmly packing more freeze-gel into the breach.
‘Come down,’ the voice said again. ‘We’re here to help. We already have your friends. We’re helping them now.’
‘I’ll bet you are,’ said Sarah, ‘fix my balloon if you want to be helpful.’
‘Come down,’ the voice said, ‘please.’
‘Thanks, but I think I’ll take my chances with these mercenary scouts,’ said Sarah.
The uninjured scout tapped her shoulder. Sarah followed his finger to the northern horizon where a dust trail rose behind a fast approaching vehicle.
A bolt, lit up like fire, tore across the plain and slammed into the black armoured rover. The impact folded the vehicle and sent it tumbling to the foot of the hill. Two of the iMicor soldiers lay motionless nearby, the others ran. Two more armoured vehicles appeared but stopped when the Single Battle Tank came into view. They paused for an indecisive moment before wheeling about and disappearing behind the south side of the hill. Sarah was about to move, but the wounded guardsman scout stopped her. She had managed to sit up and now she snatched her sidearm back from Sarah’s grasp.
‘Lucky shot,’ she said.
‘Well,’ Sarah replied. ‘I am lucky.’
‘We’re all lucky,’ the other scout said. He pointed his rifle and fired at one of the retreating iMicor soldiers then pointed to the armoured vehicle that approached. ‘Lucky he found us.’
‘Who found us?’ Sarah asked.
The tank came to a stop near the hill. The squat, muscular frame rested on four large radials and sported a flat, polygonal rail gun barrel. It wore the Redbourn Security Martian Regiment’s red, orange and yellow camouflage pattern.
‘Lieutenant wants to know how many others are with you,’ the wounded scout said.
‘Two,’ Sarah replied.
‘Only two?’
‘Yes.’
The scout held up two fingers and the tank pulled away. Then she tapped Sarah’s shoulder and pointed to the ciclons parked at the hill’s foot. ‘Can you ride?’
‘No,’ said Sarah.
‘You can fly the Sparrowhawk, you can drive the ciclon.’
‘What about the others? What about you?’ asked Sarah.
‘Air support and reinforcements are on the way. You leave now.’
‘You’re prioritising me,’ Sarah said.
‘Lucky,’ she said. ‘Now move. Go with them.’
Two of the scouts moved down the hill. Sarah wanted to say something to the wounded scout who had protected her with her own body. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Guardsman,’ she replied.
‘Thank you, guardsman,’ said Sarah as she climbed down the hill. Reinforcements from both sides were arriving. Dust clouds rose from both north and south horizons. James and David approached with the latter limping severely with an arm draped around the former’s shoulder.
‘Pauly,’ said David.
‘Sarah,’ said James. ‘You’re all right.’
‘I thought they got you,’ Sarah said to James.
‘They did, but they left us and ran when they saw the tank,’ said James.
‘Courser,’ said David. ‘It’s a Courser.’
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