There were two ciclons. Sarah would take one and the uninjured scout the other.
Sarah looked for the wounded scout but couldn’t find her among the rocky ledges.
‘Don’t worry about her,’ the other scout said. ‘The lieutenant’s here.’
‘There’s going to be fight,’ Sarah said as she mounted the ciclon.
‘Just keep up,’ said the scout and then he snapped to attention. The Courser had wheeled back around and its hatch was open. The pilot climbed out and dropped to dusty ground. He cocked his helmet-covered head as if noticing the north horizon for the first time and then strolled over to ciclons.
‘At ease, guardsman,’ he said.
The scout pointed at the broken rover. ‘Not a bad shot, sir.’
Alessandro ignored that. ‘Ride north and don’t stop, understand? No passengers,’
‘What?’ Sarah said.
‘They’ll slow you down,’ said Alessandro.
‘These men are Cydonia employees,’ said Sarah, ‘and your other guardsman needs medical attention.’
Sarah caught sight of the officer’s name tag. ‘You’re Dino Alessandro?’ she asked. ‘I’ve heard about you.’
‘I’ve heard about you,’ Alessandro replied. ‘I have orders to extract you.’
‘I’m not going anywhere without them,’ she said.
‘The enemy will be here in a few minutes,’ said Alessandro. ‘I will not have you recaptured so I can return empty-handed.’
‘You can’t make me leave,’ said Sarah.
‘Guardsman,’ said Alessandro quickly. ‘Dismount.’ The guardsman did as he was told. Alessandro gestured for David to take the man’s place. ‘You’ll ride with him,’ Alessandro said to James. ‘Go now, and don’t stop for anything.’
‘I can take her,’ Sarah said, meaning the wounded scout.
‘Not with her shoulder in that condition,’ said the other scout as he walked back to the hill.
‘Don’t worry about her,’ said Alessandro. ‘Now she has her partner back.’
Cydonia City, Cydonia Mensae
‘You’re back, Mr Pauly,’ said Major Hameed. Robert climbed the ladder to the boarding platform where the major waited. Hundreds of guardsmen boarded dozens of ships across the airfield. ‘You have something to tell me?’ Hameed crouched to help Robert on to the platform.
‘Tell you?’
‘From the emergency briefing,’ said Hameed. ‘Do you have something to tell me?’
‘There was no briefing,’ said Robert. ‘You’re still going south?’
Hameed chuckled. ‘You’re a bad man, Mr Pauly. You ought to be ashamed. Colonel Rosen himself has given me orders. He’s just left that briefing.’
‘For me, there was no briefing,’ said Robert. ‘Are you going to Cassini?’
‘You weren’t invited or you abstained?’
‘For me, there was no briefing,’ Robert said again.
‘Oh, you’re a bad man,’ said Hameed. ‘But you’re welcome to join us. Our destination is Cassini Crater and we’re leaving now.’ Mars’ largest airship blackened the sky over the airfield. A chain ladder ascended from the platform to the vast, black envelope. ‘I normally ask my guardsmen if they’ve ever flown in such a craft before, but you’re no stranger to the Cygnus. Would you like the ladder retracted?’
Robert brushed past the major and clamped hands on the rungs. ‘I prefer to climb.’
Cygnus hovered high above the deck. Hameed extended an inviting hand skyward. ‘After you.’
Robert fastened his belt to the ladder’s safety cord and started to climb. Hameed waited until he had cleared a few rungs before following.
‘What is she worth?’ the major asked when they had ascended ten metres.
Robert’s shoulders had already begun to ache. ‘That depends on who you ask.’
‘I’m asking you,’ said Hameed.
‘You first.’
‘All right,’ Hameed began. ‘Well, she’s absurdly expensive – Cydonia wastes good money to maintain her and good guardsmen to protect her. She’s slow to rise and even slower to descend. She has no real use or purpose except as a trophy – a boardroom vanity-project.’
‘So she’s worthless then?’ Robert asked. His voice strained and his muscles screamed.
‘Ah ha,’ Hameed laughed, showing no discomfort as he climbed. ‘Whatever happens, we cannot allow her to fall into enemy hands. Her destruction is out of the question. We are obliged to protect her regardless of the cost. So to me, she’s priceless. What’s she worth to you?’
Robert risked a downward glance and paid for the mistake. Circles filled his vision. The airfield and the land around it spun wildly, pivoting around the ladder that dropped into nothing. It was as if the planet rotated around him.
‘Don’t look down,’ Hameed advised, but Robert couldn’t bear to look up. Muscle and bone were the subjects of torture, yet the Cygnus appeared no nearer.
‘Are you sure I can’t retract the ladder?’ Hameed asked.
Robert swore the man was grinning behind his visor. ‘No,’ he grunted. ‘Pass me if you want to. I’ll see you at the top.’
‘Okay.’ Hameed climbed on the other side of the ladder. He picked up his pace and was soon face to face with Robert.
‘Stop,’ Robert said. ‘You asked me what she is worth.’
Hameed stopped climbing. ‘Yes.’
‘How many of your men is she carrying now? There are plans to use her as a mobile field hospital. She may be slow to rise, but when she’s in the sky, she is magnificent. There will never be another Cygnus. She’s priceless not because we can’t lose her, but because we have her.’ Robert clamped his jaw shut and crawled upwards, rung by rung, to his priceless destination.
Arabia Terra
Two ciclons streaked across Arabia Terra’s dunes, but Captain Markus Arundel’s gaze was drawn passed their rising dust trails to the pursuing force behind them. Arabia Terra is Mars’ oldest landscape, battered, crater-scarred, and gnawed upon by endless winds and Hellenic storms. Somewhere in that pocked, wavy landscape Markus would have to choose his battleground.
‘How far?’ Markus asked the pilot.
‘20 kliks, sir,’ the pilot said.
‘Find the nearest suitable site and descend,’ Markus said, ‘now.’
‘Sir.’
Markus restored his seat to the co-pilot and left the cockpit. The Kestrel airship’s unpressurised cabin carried four guardsmen from his company’s First Platoon. Two Coursers fixed beneath the cabin completed its payload. Another Kestrel, this one also carrying two Coursers, and three Sparrowhawks made up the rest of the fleet.
Markus addressed the guardsmen over a tactical channel. ‘Lieutenant Alessandro and two of our scouts find themselves on the wrong end of at least twenty iMicor RVs.’ Markus wasn’t certain how many armoured vehicles iMicor had brought to Arabia Terra, but he preferred to overestimate. He felt the ship begin its descent. The distress beacon was still 20 kilometres away, but it wouldn’t do for his platoon to deploy in plain sight of the enemy. ‘If we fail to retrieve them,’ Markus continued, ‘I shall be tasked with selecting a new lieutenant for you – and I rather think it better to avoid both the selection and the administrative tasks.’ A few of the guardsmen chuckled. Markus turned back to the cockpit. The pilot had chosen the deployment site well. The two Kestrels dipped towards an even patch of Martian turf. The ship first jettisoned the Coursers which fell under sprawling, transparent parachutes to the windswept deck. All four tanks hit the hard ground, and then it was the guardsmen’s turn. Markus and his men wore full battle armour over their Polyskins and parachutes on their backs. The captain jumped first. Some instructors describe a Mars jump as being no different than an Earth jump. Thin atmosphere means less resistance; the gravity may feeble but so is the drag. Markus didn’t agree. He had jumped on both planets and whether physical or cognitive, the drop felt slower on Mars. The parachute, an array of cushion-like balloons joined together in a parachute-shape, opened. He glided through the sparse, toxic air until his boots hit the Martian dust. He rolled once, instinctively checking his sidearm as he rose and cut the parachute. Three guardsmen landed around him. None of them carried rifles – these were stowed in the Coursers. The three Sparrowhawks pressed on while the Kestrels circled overhead. Markus opened his Courser’s hatch and dropped into the cockpit, his men manned the other three vehicles. Without signal or command, the platoon formed up and started south.
‘Major Hameed,’ Markus said.
A voice replied on his tactical channel. ‘Hameed. Go.’
‘Swan located – twenty kliks. First Platoon deployed and en route.’
‘You have your orders, captain,’ Hameed replied.
‘Sir,’ Markus said. He cut the channel and addressed his men again. ‘We’re running dark.’
His men knew their orders and had one reply before they cut their communications. ‘Sir,’ they said in chorus. The four Coursers set off towards their quarry, beyond the reach of radio and satellite, running dark as their radials cut oversized tracks in the pristine Martian floor.
Aboard the Cygnus Airship
‘You have your orders, captain,’ said Major Hameed.
‘Who was that?’ Robert asked.
‘A captain,’ said Hameed.
‘You’re in charge of First Battalion, right?’ said Robert.
‘Yes,’ the major replied.
‘I thought Second Battalion was stationed at Cassini?’ Robert said. ‘So who were you ordering?’
‘A few of my men are scattered about,’ Hameed replied leaning back in his chair. He shared a table with Robert on the Cygnus’ dining deck which offered the generous gifts of fresh oxygen and Earth-like pressure. ‘Let me tell you,’ Hameed said. ‘I’ve been in that ‘skin and helmet since 04:00am. I’ve spent longer than that before of course, I’ve spent entire sols sealed up, but practise makes it no comfortable.’
‘One can survive on Mars,’ said Robert, ‘but never truly live. That must be why I’ve never seen your face.’ Until then, he had seen only profile images of Hameed’s mug. That face grinned at him now from the other side of the little table. Twin black scars ran from the thick hairline to the left eyebrow. Hameed claimed that he had received the scars in a successful duel with a wild tiger. The walnut-coloured face was otherwise unremarkable save for pale green, almost yellow eyes. Robert wondered if the major had taken those eyes as prizes from his vanquished tiger.
‘Quite possibly,’ Hameed said. A wide grin that curled at the corners completed the impression of satanic mischief. ‘We should never have left it this long. You and I will be working closely together on this operation – yet we’ve never spoken properly. I’ve only ever managed to reach your proxy.’
‘We’re speaking now. So tell me what you are doing about Naktong?’ said Robert.
‘Very well, but you missed the last briefing, so we must commence from there. Do stop me if I bore you,’ said Hameed. ‘Yesterday, the iMicor Group pressed its claim to our interests in the Naktong Vallis. You know all about Naktong and why iMicor want it.’
‘Four degrees north of the equator, rich in Molecule B and water ice,’ Robert said. ‘iMicor registered a claim three sols after we announced our own plans to expand there. That is the past. Tell me what you’re doing now. Tell me about the eighty people there.’
‘Eighty people including your wife,’ said Hameed. ‘But we’ll come to her in a minute. Naktong is dark to us – no comms in or out. You missed the briefing so I’ll tell you that we have orders to reclaim it immediately. This will be warm work. Our nearest friendly port is Cassini and that won’t do as a staging point – it’s a lengthy voyage even without dust storms. They are expecting us and they will see us coming, warm work, my friend. It might be better were we to write Naktong off and focus on our defendable assets.’
‘Write off eighty people?’ said Robert.
‘Including your wife,’ Hameed continued. ‘Tell me why she was there.’
‘That’s not your concern,’ said Robert. ‘Your concern is what the fuck you’re doing about getting her – and those others – back.’
‘Only I understand she was working in construction, said Hameed. ‘Why is Grace Mitchell’s niece working in the ranks? Someone with her background should be in research or at least management.’
‘Great questions,’ Robert said. ‘But I don’t want to discuss them with my security guard.’
‘The pit bull,’ Hameed grinned again, ‘the pit bull and the swan.’
‘You can ask her these questions after you’ve secured her release,’ said Robert, ‘and when you do, I don’t recommend you call her “swan”.’
‘I hear she was training to fly dirigibles too,’ said Hameed, as he swept his sharp gaze around the room, ‘nothing like this, of course.’
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