‘This is where it all started. Zubrin has been here before the Mars Treaty, before the corporations. We were the first permanent human settlement outside of Earth. This was merely a refuge in those days. It was humble oasis in a desert world. This is where our forensic archaeologists found the first discovered Molecule A, and then Molecule B soon after. There wouldn’t be a trillion dollar bio battery industry on Earth if it weren’t for this place.’ Zubrin’s Dean, Professor Dennis Cheung, stood hands on hips, surveying the massive expanse of crater wall around him. ‘I love this crater. I love this site. This crater has history, Robert. It is beautiful.’
‘It’s a nightmare to fund,’ Robert replied.
‘And a nightmare to defend,’ said Captain Vijay Ramjas. He sighed and checked his time display, ‘Sir, about the warehouses... ‘
Cheung waved a hand, ‘Yes, you can use my damn warehouses to store your damn weapons, captain.’
‘It will only be temporary,’ began Ramjas, but Cheung waved him away again. ‘Just remember the history you’re helping to destroy.’
Robert watched as the dean stormed back to the clustered domes that made up Mars’ oldest settlement.
‘Tell me again why you’re here, sir,’ said Ramjas.
Despite the upcoming war, Robert still ran the enquiry into the corporation’s asset loss. ‘The investigation,’ said Robert.
‘Can’t you investigate from the city?’ Ramjas asked.
‘No, captain, I cannot,’ said Robert.
‘So this isn’t a good time, most of the staff aren’t here anyway,’ the captain started.
‘That makes it the best time,’ Robert replied.
‘Okay,’ Ramjas said. Until I find someone to guard you, I must ask that you stay with me or one of my officers.’
Robert and Sarissa Company’s new captain stood for a while, staring out across the vast crater walls.
One of Sarissa Company’s lieutenants stood nearby and spoke on the local channel, ‘Don’t worry, sir,’ he said. ‘We’ll make a new crater. We’ll make a nice new one, just for him.’
Ramjas shook his head but kept his gaze on the steep, rust-coloured slopes in the distance. He turned eventually and followed Cheung’s footprints. ‘Lieutenant Alessandro,’ he said, ‘we have a briefing.’ He pointed to Robert, ‘You stay with us.’ Dino Alessandro shrugged to Robert as they followed the captain. Armoured boots crunched over gravel that soon changed to paved surface. Robert slowed his pace, waiting until the captain was beyond the local channel. ‘Lieutenant Alessandro,’ he said.
‘Dino,’ the lieutenant replied.
‘Dino,’ said Robert. ‘How long have you been with Redbourn?’
‘Twelve years, sir,’ said Dino. ‘Four years in Sarissa.’
‘Do you think you can hold this site?’
‘No one can hold this site. It’s too easy to attack.’ He pointed to a smooth causeway that ran from the top of the crater wall to the floor. ‘That ramp is an invitation, and the town is too close to the wall.’
‘I thought this was the best fighting unit in the regiment,’ said Robert.
‘We are,’ Dino said, ‘but we’re not going to hold this site for long. Nobody is going to hold it for long.’
Robert had expected fearsome discipline and military precision from Redbourn Security. He had dealt with their high-ranking officers and executives but, until recently, had almost no contact with the fighting ranks. These were a ferocious breed somewhere between soldier and brute. They lived violence, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder against their enemies or toe-to-toe amongst themselves. Robert was certain that their military-style structure was redundant. They weren’t an army but a pack, each platoon submitting to its Alpha Male. Robert had earned the nickname of “pit-bull”. Now he felt like a poodle amidst the wolves.
As well as being Mars’ first permanent settlement, Zubrin Town was also the poorest. Limited Molecule B stocks had throttled investment and each year, fewer staff returned to the twin geodesic domes that made up its core. These dated structures, each about half the size of Cydonia City’s Old Town, were hand-crafted works of art, costly to maintain and costlier to replace. The path led away from the famous twin domes and towards a nearby cluster of sand-based structures. These immense, oblong houses were accessed through pig-snout entry tunnels and they reminded Robert of giant, sandy igloos. Early settlers had spent months constructing these habitats. Robert had since seen swarms of builder drones assemble more sophisticated structures within days. He followed Captain Ramjas through the nearest airlock into the nearest building and dragged off his helmet. He spent some time breathing deeply and massaging his eyes. The door hissed open again to usher in Lieutenant Alessandro who was already pulling off his own helmet and showing no reaction to the pressure change.
Robert straightened and followed the Redbourn officers through the warehouse, passing high racks stacked to the roof with crates. Giant distribution drones rolled along the aisles, shifting crates with long, forked arms. Robert had to stop himself leaping back against a wall of shelves as a forklift monster lurched passed, its rubber tracks centimetres from his boot. He had to stop himself again when Alessandro tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Sir, the briefing room is this way,’ said the lieutenant.
‘Lead on, Dino,’ replied Robert, ‘I’m still finding my way around.’
Alessandro led the way through the colossal maze to a small door that Robert reckoned was the back of the warehouse. Two more Redbourn officers sat at a small plastic table. They both stood to attention with a synchronised salute. ‘At ease, gentlemen,’ said Captain Ramjas. The briefing room’s only other furnishings were three chairs and . The two lieutenants sat again and Alessandro offered to the remaining seat. Robert shook his head and instead leaned on a wall. Dino shrugged and slouched against the same wall. The chair went unoccupied until Ramjas dropped his helmet onto the seat and fussed with his PX until a projected display lit up one wall of the small briefing room.
The captain addressed his small audience, noting that it was his pleasure and privilege to work with a company of Sarissa’s standing. He assured the lieutenants that their accomplishments and reputations were the pride of Redbourn Security, and he expressed his own pride in working with them. Thereafter he reminded them that he looked forward to the same level of professionalism enjoyed by his predecessor.
Ramjas concluded by introducing Robert. ‘Deputy Director Pauly will be working at this site for a while,’ he said. ‘We will discuss security details later.’
Robert straightened as four pairs of eyes watched him. ‘I won’t be long. I’ll be out of your way soon.’
‘Proud to have you, sir,’ one of the lieutenants replied. The man that spoke was a pale-skinned monster with frosty eyes and a shaved scalp that stretched over a rounded boulder of a skull. Robert, through his own research and his friendship with the previous captain, knew something of these officers. Their names were for various reasons, eminent in private security. The big one was Alexander Okan. He was a head taller than Robert, who was not himself a short man. His thick neck, arms and trunk bulged with the muscle mass of two men. When he grinned, the corners of the thin-lipped mouth stretched to almost touch the nearest ear. The former NATO man sat at ease in a small chair that under a more severe gravity would long ago have crumpled under the pressure, and turned his unsettling grin on Robert. ‘I heard you did well in the Suicide Circle.’
‘Sounds like a challenge,’ said Robert.
Okan’s grin remarkably widened. ‘You might not find a proxy that can beat me.’
Alessandro snorted.
‘What?’ Okan asked.
Dino Alessandro was a career mercenary with almost no known background prior to his career in Redbourn. The third Lieutenant was Vincent Barnsley, a British Marine who had recently changed to private security.
Captain Ramjas thanked Lieutenant Okan and then gestured to the tactical map of Zubrin Town that decorated the wall. ‘As you know, our assignment is to guard this site - simple. Zubrin is one of the five sites that iMicor have labelled "redistributable". Our Intelligence Services think that iMicor will move on Zubrin first.’ Robert wished he had taken the empty seat as Ramjas explained, in technical detail decorated with combat jargon, how Redbourn would protect this expensive, worthless town.
The projected images panned over the base. Ramjas gestured and spoke while his small classroom listened. Robert couldn’t understand Ramjas’ briefing but knew from the officers’ attitude that they were already familiar with its content. They nodded occassionally and feigned polite attention as if their new, young captain delivered old news.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt, captain,’ Robert said. ‘Could you explain it so an idiot can understand?’
‘Yes,’ said Dino. ‘Explain it so Okan can understand.’ Okan flashed a psychotic, ear-to-ear grin and turned his marble statue head slightly on its cast-iron neck. Something in that grin disturbed Robert.
Ramjas was young but disciplined; he concealed his irritation from his employer as he explained, in plain terms, the plan for and the difficulties involved in defending Zubrin Town. Sites like Zubrin Town are harbours in the inhospitable Martian desert. To gain territory, an aggressor must to travel to the harbour and capture it one sol, before its soldiers burnt their batteries and froze to death in Martian night. Capturing a site required a staging post. Now that iMicor had Naktong they could use it to stage an attack on Zubrin Town. If they took Zubrin, they would be in striking distance of Izu Oshima which would itself be the last rung on ladder before Cydonia City.
Ramjas kept gesturing at the map, making circles around the crater with his hand. ‘The enemy can land anywhere outside the crater – that’s a lot of area and we can’t guard it all.’ The image zoomed in to a ridge on the northern side of the crater that sloped gently down from the lip to the crater floor. ‘This is the only way in for heavy vehicles. This causeway as it’s been nicknamed represents the main threat. They’ll have to first secure that ramp before they can bring in their big guns. Holding the causeway, gentlemen, is our main objective.’
‘What about the ceiling?’ asked Lieutenant Barnsley. Robert had studied the former marine officer’s record and despite being Deputy Director of Cydonia, he felt junior to the man.
‘Our men can deal with paratroopers. They might try and drop armour, but that will be too risky,’ said Ramjas.
‘Our artillery will shred them before they land,’ said Barnsley.
‘Let me go through the deployments,’ Ramjas continued. ‘Lieutenant Okan’s mechanised platoon will dig near the site, ready to defend the causeway. Lieutenant Alessandro’s infantry platoon will cover crater walls – especially here on the east. It’s much too steep to attack elsewhere. Lieutenant Barnsley, your platoon will cover the base itself. You will control the artillery and also sweep up anything that gets through us.’ Ramjas pointed a finger upward, ‘That includes anyone who drops in from above.’
‘Two platoons covering outside and only one to cover the base, sir?’ Barnsley scowled at the map on the screen, ‘My platoon is ready, but we will be stretched.’
‘I understand,’ said Ramjas, ‘every fighting unit in the regiment is stretched, but this is the situation for now. There may reinforcements available at a later stage, but for now we work with what we have. Now this is an elite company - elite among the elite. I have every confidence that we will be successful here. I’m sure you all will have reviewed the estimates of the enemy strength - you know we will be outnumbered.’
‘At least three to one,’ said Alessandro.
‘At least,’ repeated Ramjas. ‘We have two dedicated drone swarms deployed in a fifty kilometre radius around the site, we will see them coming, and from which way. We have the best artillery on the market deployed here and we have the Coursers. If you need reinforcements, I will try and make them available, but it will be best endeavours only - no guarantees.’
Okan’s face creased into a grin as the display changed to show a rotating image of the Courser Single Battle Tank. Okan was smiling and nodding, his teeth bared, ‘You and your boys can fall asleep in those hills, Alessandro. Give me one platoon of those, and I’ll stop an army.’
‘I see your platoon has been training with them already,’ said Ramjas. ‘These battle tanks are custom- made and field-tested for this planet – and now they are combat-proven. We don’t think they will have anything to match them.’
There was nothing else to discuss so Ramjas ended the briefing and dismissed his officers. Robert stood to leave but Ramjas stopped him. ‘I have enough to worry about without you here, sir.’
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