‘I’ll be taking your pod, lieutenant, clear out your gear, leave the flask.’ said Markus. The lieutenant would take one of his sergeant’s pods who in turn would displace one of his corporals. The chain would continue until some poor guardsman would be obliged to share an already-crammed pod with indignant comrades.
‘This must have been some river in its day,’ said Barnsley. He stooped to climb down the ladder to the riverbed. ‘Imagine what this planet would have been like filled with water instead of dust.’
‘Maybe we would have come here earlier,’ Markus said. ‘Then I wouldn’t have led the first armed engagement on this planet.’
The new airship approached the airfield and, after finding no berth at the docking platform, shot its harpoon into the valley floor. A Redbourn corporal slid down the harpoon’s cable and saluted Markus. He checked the harpoon’s depth and the cable’s tension. Satisfied, he signalled to the craft which dropped low enough to run out its ladder. Markus watched as the chains and rungs uncoiled to dangle five metres above the deck. Two guardsmen, one of them an officer, followed by a civilian in a bold, blue Polyskin emerged from the hatch and crawled down the ladder. Markus recognised the Redbourn officer by the three stars on her shoulder plate. Major Ajido of Redbourn Security’s Martian Regiment, Second Battalion reached the ladder’s end and leapt. She landed gracefully, hardly disturbing the dust. Now it was Markus’ turn to stand to attention and salute.
‘Major Ajido,’ he said, ‘welcome to Naktong Vallis.’
Ajido’s visor stared past Markus, taking her time to observe the encampment and the guardsmen. Finally, as if noticing him for the first time, she flicked an armoured hand. ‘At ease, captain,’ she said. ‘Where are the civilians? Where are my guardsmen?’
‘We found the site abandoned, major,’ said Markus. The other guardsman dropped to the turf behind the major followed by the civilian who crashed to the deck, cursing and tumbling in a mess of limbs and gravel.
‘I want a full briefing,’ Ajido replied, ignoring the commotion. She pointed to the command hub in the centre of the camp. ‘I will station myself there,’ she announced. One of her guardsmen, the corporal who had slid down the harpoon line, snapped to attention.
‘Sir,’ he said. He marched ahead to the pod while the major’s other aide climbed back up the ladder to retrieve the officer’s gear. The civilian was on his feet now, patting himself down.
Markus clasped his hands behind his back, standing to ease, his boots a regulation shoulder-width apart. Major Ajido didn’t move.
‘It’s a pleasure to have you here, major. But we are leaving with the first light,’ said Markus. ‘I’m surprised to see you here.’
‘And I am equally disappointed by your presence, captain,’ Ajido replied, ‘this area is under Second Battalion.’
‘My orders,’ Markus began.
‘I’m aware of your orders, captain,’ said Ajido. ‘I am nevertheless, disappointed.’
They stood like sculptures, facing each other with faces hidden behind visors until finally the civilian strolled over to Markus and clapped his shoulder.
‘Hello, Markus. I was just telling the major how happy you would be to see us,’ the civilian said.
‘Report for debriefing in thirty minutes, captain,’ Ajido said before pacing away to her commandeered pod.
Markus turned to civilian. ‘You fucking idiot,’ he hissed, ‘what are you doing here?’
‘You said I should get out more,’ Robert Pauly replied. ‘Anyway, I told you. I’m investigating asset loss. It looks like we lost a few assets here,’ he said. ‘Tell me, where was Sarah staying? Which pod was hers?’
Markus’ visor seemed to glare at Robert. Robert’s visor gave the impression of grinning back.
‘I will guess,’ Robert said. ‘She took the one closest to the airfield?’
Markus nodded and led the way to a single-sleeping survival pod at the end of a neat row less than twenty metres from the airfield. Like the others, it was dome-shaped with a crawl-space airlock.
‘That’s my Sarah,’ said Robert, ‘she’s been taught well - be fearless, but nearest to the exit.’
‘You put us all at risk,’ said Markus. ‘Why are you here? How did you convince Ajido to bring you?’
‘You were right about getting out more,’ said Robert. ‘No media-drones here, and look at that view. That is pure Mars. Do you know how little of the planet I actually get to see? A six-month voyage to a new planet, and I spend most of time under the dome. Maybe Sarah has it right.’
‘She came here because like you, she is a careless fool,’ said Markus, ‘we haven’t yet secured this site – iMicor can hit us easily – now, during the night or at first light,’ Markus said. ‘It is not safe for civilians. Why is Ajido here?’
Robert shrugged. ‘This site and its eighty people were taken under her watch. She’s here to save face. She can’t be seen to be doing nothing.’
‘And you,’ said Markus, ‘why did you not remain in Cassini?’
‘I thought your guardsmen might have brought Sarah here,’ Robert lied.
‘You can’t bullshit me,’ said Markus. ‘You didn’t come here for her or for the view. You also came here to save face. You can’t be seen to be doing nothing either right? Better to look brave and foolish rather than merely foolish.’
Robert nodded. ‘I do not fail to recognise that I am capable of that thought process.’
‘Ajido made a mistake bringing you here,’ Markus went on, this isn’t a safe planet. You Paulys tour this planet for your contrived reasons and let Redbourn do the fighting. What did you say to Ajido, why did she bring you?’
Robert kept his gaze on valley. ‘That I am the Deputy Director of Cydonia. That I have signed off on Redbourn Security’s every purchase order. I have, in a few months, re-tooled our factories and plants to produce weapons – I’m the guy arming you. I’ve had the UN Marshal breathing down my neck and half of the board opposing my every move and I make new enemies every day. So far, I’ve done more fighting than the lot of you. If I have earned anything, it’s the right to not be called a civilian. I can’t give you orders, I accept that, but I am not a civilian. And I will move around this fucking planet at my will. Now shut up and let me enjoy this view.’
Shadows slid across the valley as the sun slumped towards the horizon. The sun’s tiny, blue disc reflected off visors and the glossy envelopes of the blimps that crowded the airfield where guardsmen toiled to ground the fleet before nightfall.
‘Enjoy it while it lasts, non-civilian. We leave at first light,’ said Markus turning away. ‘Did you ask either of the majors why Naktong was so poorly guarded?’
Robert didn’t answer. He leaned against Sarah’s survival pod and watched the sky blacken, the cold soaking through his Polyskin as he took a final glance at the open night. Familiar stars burned smugly in an unfamiliar, Luna-free sky. The Milky Way’s silver bow arched over the valley. The empty riverbed meandered into the unsettling, close horizon. Robert checked his radiation gauge before retreating into the vacant pod.
Cassini Crater, Arabia Quadrangle
The last scheduled arrival approached Cassini narrowly beating the sunset. The airship tethered itself to a docking platform. Sarah noticed with annoyance that it had come from the north. She watched the lit-up airfield through one of the windows worked into the flank of the airport terminal. The segmented, chrome-coloured terminal structure lay adjacent to the airfield like a silver caterpillar crawling towards the platforms, twin eyes at its head glowing in the darkness. Cassini was a younger and more modern version of Cydonia’s capitol city, though half its size.
‘What did you tell the marshal?’ David Forbes asked. He offered up a mug of coffee with a hint of homemade ethanol to invite Sarah to join his little table in the terminal’s cafe. Sarah left James Ogunba at the window and accepted the drink.
‘I answered his questions – he asked them over and over.’ Sarah took a seat, still watching the windows.
‘What did you tell him about Nirma?’
‘Like I said,’ Sarah replied, ‘I answered his questions.’
‘Did you tell him that we lied to Redbourn?’
Sarah’s gaze shot from the window to David. Like her and James, David was beyond exhaustion with only burnt, Martian coffee keeping him awake. ‘What are you talking about? I didn’t lie to anyone.’
‘Out there you told the Redbourn guy that there were three of us.’
‘There were three of us.’
‘What about Nirma?’
‘She wasn’t with us, remember? She was with iMicor. She lit the beacon and literally ran to them.’
‘That was not your call,’ David said. ‘You were afraid Redbourn would go after her, had they known and that would hurt your chances of rescue.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Sarah. She sipped her drink and turned back to the windows.
‘I know I’m right,’ said David. ‘I’m right because I made the same calculation with the same result, and I decided to shut up about her too.’
Sarah stood and returned to the window. ‘Keep drinking, Forbes.’
‘I will drink. I will drink because I am guilty – as we all are.’ His raised voice filled too much of the lounge for Sarah’s liking. Two Cydonia employees looked up from their conversation at a nearby table. Sarah stalked back to the table and crouched near David, close enough to smell his bitter breath.
‘So what did you tell the marshal – did you come clean? Did you make a full confession? What would you have done if you were in my position?’
David stared into his empty cup. ‘I would have told him that there were three of us.’
James turned from the window. ‘I didn’t say anything to the guardsman either. I could have but I didn’t. If he had asked me, I also would have told him that there were three of us.’
‘Damn right.’ Sarah drained the coffee and thumped the mug back onto the table. ‘She lit the beacon, she gave us away. She made her choice. There were three of us.’
‘If that helps you sleep,’ said David.
‘I’ll sleep just fine,’ said Sarah.
A cleaning drone shuffled across the floor, sucking at the slick surface with rows of round brushes.
‘I’ll sleep just fine.’
Naktong Vallis, Arabia Quadrangle
Someone must have dragged Markus from his pod during his sleep. He awoke in the dust on a dry valley floor turned sickly pink by the cold starlight. The camp had vanished, the fleet was gone. Cold breeze touched his skin, his head was bare. Markus froze, where was his helmet? He sucked at dry poison as freezing, bitter air cut through him. He fell to his knees. If the suck doesn’t kill you, the air will, if the air doesn’t kill you, the cold will. Exquisite pain boiled through his eyes, his lungs closed as he fell, face-first, into the dust. He looked around desperately, but there was only him and Mars. The planet took its revenge for the captain’s bloodshed. Markus rolled onto his back; the stars burned, their constellations came to life as he died. Cygnus drifted along the Milky Way. Orion raised his bow and took aim. Markus awoke in his bunk, still awake, still suffocating. His thick arm lay across his face, smothering the nose and mouth. He wanted to move, but the arm was dead wood. He tried to breathe but could not. Move your arm, he thought. Just move it. He commanded his arm to move, he implored it. His body jerked, but the arm lay in place. He closed his eyes, move your arm, he thought, move your arm. He squeezed his eyes and bit at his sealed lips. The arm muffled his cries and he almost fell from the bunk as his legs kicked out. Finally, the arm shifted and the air found his lungs. He lay there for a while, gasping in pod’s cold, stuffy air, not moving, but staring at the empty bunk above him. He waited until his breathing slowed and then sat up. He had suffered from sleep paralysis since childhood. As a boy, he would dream of drowning in a pool or a pond, unable to find the surface. He would awake in time to draw breath – free to live another day and to relive the nightmare another night.
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