‘Call for you,’ the scout said.
‘Robert.’ Robert froze at the sound of his name from the voice of his only superior.
‘Grace,’ Robert said, turning to the command pod’s entrance.
‘Stay in the pod,’ snapped the scout.
‘This is the Director General,’ Robert said.
‘You can speak to the DG in here,’ the scout replied. She handed him an earpiece. Robert had been standing, face almost pressed to the display wall, but he found his seat now.
‘Robert,’ said the voice of Grace Mitchell. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said.
‘Unfortunate situation there,’ said Grace Mitchell. ‘We’re doing everything we can to bring you home. You are the security staff’s top priority.’ Robert glanced to scout who was engrossed in the battle, gesturing sometimes with her good arm or yelling commands and warnings to her hard-pressed comrades on the field.
‘I’m perfectly safe here,’ said Robert.
‘The colonel here informs me that you will be on the first flight available home,’ Mitchell said.
‘Our little fleet is grounded for now,’ said Robert.
‘The situation there is in hand. Have you made a breakthrough in your investigation?’
‘Yes,’ Robert said, ‘I have what I need.’
‘Good,’ Mitchell said. ‘Put one of your people on it, I need you here.’
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ said Robert. ‘You’re watching this engagement?’
‘Of course I am,’ Mitchell replied.
‘Has anyone from iMicor tried to make contact?’
‘We’re running dark, Robert,’ Mitchell said. ‘You know that.’
‘I’m in a good position,’ Robert said. ‘If you authorise it, we could try and open a channel directly from here.’ Robert glanced back to the display wall where in that instant, Lieutenant Alessandro’s infantry platoon made a bloody fire fight on east slope. A bolt from Alessandro’s rifle took a bulky machine gunner in the neck. The armour was thick but the range was close. The man fell. Blood hissed and vanished into the freezing the vacuum. It took an eternity before the geyser stopped. ‘Maybe we can dissuade iMicor from this madness now that they’ve seen its cost.’
‘They won’t back down after one defeat,’ Mitchell said, ‘if they do, then I like our chances. No one is talking. Just make sure you get back here.’ The call ended.
The sun reached its zenith long after the battle’s peak. iMicor’s armoured platoons, though depleted and beaten, were obliged to make another effort. Tanks assembled for another assault. Redbourn’s hired mercenaries still fought on the east slope while their tanks patrolled the ground below. Robert watched as the enemy’s forces emerged again from the wilderness. Hameed’s voice spoke on the tactical channel.
‘Are you there, Mr Pauly?’ he said. ‘We can’t raise the enemy on any channel.’
‘No one is talking,’ Robert said.
‘So go out there and talk to them,’ Hameed said, ‘face to face. Tell them back off before this skirmish becomes a bloodbath.’
‘Why would they listen?’
‘Look at them, they’ve already lost. Their tanks are moving but there’s no belief, no enthusiasm.’
‘I meant,’ Robert said, ‘why would they listen to me? Why not send one of your officers?’
‘A humanitarian ceasefire offer would be more convincing coming from you,’ Hameed said.
‘You mean they might not shoot me on sight,’ said Robert.
‘I understand if you’d rather stay where you are. Captain Ramjas is unconscious. I can order Alessandro to go once he’s finished slaughtering everyone on that slope.’
‘No.’ Robert said quickly. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Tell them to collect their wounded and their dead. Give them a chance to think this through. You alone can save lives here.’
‘You’re an accomplished manipulator, Hameed,’ said Robert.
‘Am I? I’m not the expert. I’m just trying to avoid losing more men.’ Hameed rattled an order another on another channel. ‘I’ve given the orders. A fire team will collect you from the pod and escort you. Good luck, Mr Pauly.’
It was midday when Robert stepped through a concealed airlock that led to the open. Two guardsmen led the way and four more followed along the track to the causeway. Lieutenant Barnsley joined appeared from somewhere and filed in behind them.
‘Is the captain all right?’ Robert asked.
‘He’ll live,’ Barnsley said.
The Courser squads had vanished but the mess of artillery scars and broken mechs betrayed their awful presence. The guardsmen at the rear kept eyes on the east as they marched while the two leads watched the causeway. Robert couldn’t decide which battlefront frightened him more. The little procession stopped at the causeway’s foot when a tank appeared at its summit. The lieutenant raised an armoured fist to halt the march while one of his guardsmen levelled his Panzerfaust at the causeway.
‘Stay here,’ Robert told the lieutenant.
‘You’re here because the major ordered it,’ Barnsley said, ‘but I’m still tasked with keeping you alive. Allowing you to walk up that ramp is dereliction of duty.’
‘Then you can answer to the major,’ Robert said.
‘This isn’t a game,’ Barnsley said. ‘They will kill you. You should at least let us escort you.’
‘The major was clear that I should go alone,’ said Robert.
Barnsley shook his head. ‘Those are hostiles. There isn’t a code of conduct here – no rules of war. They could gun you down without anyone questioning the legality of it.’
‘Conflict isn’t about legality, it’s about opinion,’ Robert glanced upwards at the media wasps that hovered above him. ‘They won’t open fire on a lone civilian with two worlds watching,’ said Robert.
‘I can’t question the major’s orders,’ said Barnsley. He nodded and his men stepped aside. Robert took a single step towards the causeway and then stopped. ‘We’ll be here,’ the lieutenant said to Robert when the latter didn’t move.
The longer you wait, the more of a coward you seem, Robert thought. Boot followed boot as he set off up the battered causeway which, when on foot, was steeper than it looked. He worked his way through the debris that cluttered the track, sometimes weaving around tank wreckage, sometimes stepping over shredded armour. He kept his eyes on the waiting tank, averting his thoughts from the soldiers, alive or otherwise, that must be trapped within the mangled ruins.
The black tank taxied down the slope to meet him, shunting rubble from its path. Robert stopped as the vehicle came into sight. A black-armoured pilot sat cross-legged on the hatch, as if controlling his terrible weapon through prayer. The tank’s wheels stopped just short of Robert’s boot. Robert stood his ground and considered the meditative pilot. Three silver stars bolted to the tank’s black hull matched the three stars bolted to the iMicor major’s shoulder plate. Though dusted in a layer of rusty powder, the hull was undamaged.
‘Who is the ranking officer here?’ the pilot asked without moving.
Robert turned to gaze down the causeway where Lieutenant Barnsley and his men waited, weapons ready. ‘I am in charge.’
The pilot uncoiled smoothly and dropped to the turf, less than a meter from where Robert stood. ‘And I,’ he said, ‘represent iMicor Corporation. I am Major Zhao. You have one Redbourn company stationed here and we have taken down one Redbourn captain. Might I ask his name?’
‘If you came here to talk,’ said Robert, ‘you can talk to me.’
‘I came here expecting Captain Markus Arundel,’ said Major Zhao.
‘Arundel?’
‘Arundel,’ Zhao said. ‘He’s the highest rated security operative on both planets, the guardsman who saved a thousand lives in one night in Odessa, the one who killed the Mogadishu Madman, the same one who defeated two armoured squads solo.’
‘As you’ve said, you’ve already taken down our captain,’ said Robert. ‘He’s in sick bay now. There have been considerable casualties on both sides.’
Zhao leaned forward, ‘I know that wasn’t Arundel. Though, I suspect that his men are here.’
‘Have you come to converse with my security guard?’ Robert asked.
‘No,’ Zhao said stepping closer to Robert, ‘I did not come here to talk to him. Where is he?’
Robert took his own forward steps, moving passed Zhao towards his tank. ‘I don’t know the exact locations of all of my staff. Are you not paying your spies enough? Is this Arundel the only reason you’re here? Do you have some business with him?’
Zhao kept his position and stared over the crater valley below. ‘Arundel and I will meet another time. He can’t hide from me. For now, Robert Pauly, do you wish to discuss surrender?’
‘No,’ Robert said. ‘Why would I?’
‘I will lead the next attack personally and you would not withstand it,’ Zhao said. ‘We will break your Redbourn forces and we will take this site. Or you can surrender this site without further losses. The outcome cannot change, only the cost. Save lives and surrender now. I offer that choice.’
‘I have a counter-offer for you,’ Robert said. He used his PX to open a public channel. The hovering media wasps would broadcast his words to both planets. ‘I offer you a humanitarian ceasefire, Major Zhao. You may collect your wounded and dead. We already have some of your men in our care, and they will be treated well. But I am concerned about those still on the field. You can collect them now, no one will oppose you. However, this site belongs to Cydonia Corporation and we will not surrender it.’
Zhao turned and stood close enough to see his own reflection in Robert’s visor. ‘Clever,’ he said. He connected to the public channel and turned back to his mount. ‘iMicor Corporation acknowledges your offer.’ The tank started moving before Zhao finished the sentence. He vaulted gracefully onto one wheel and then again onto the hatch where he folded his legs and dropped back into the contemplation crouch as his war machine carried him away.
‘Will he agree to the ceasefire?’ Lieutenant Barnsley asked when Robert he had returned.
‘He won’t, but it’s not up to him now,’ Robert said. ‘Please have your men escort me to sick bay instead of the command pod.’
‘Are you injured?’ Barnsley asked.
‘Not unless you consider damage caused by excessive passes through an airlock,’ Robert said. ‘I trained in Advanced Aid as part of my voyage vocation. I can help in the sick bay. The wounded must be coming in by now.’
In some way, Lieutenant Barnsley understood that he was not altogether in charge anymore. ‘Guardsmen,’ he said, ‘escort the Deputy Director General to sick bay.’
Izu Oshima, Arabia Terra
The guardsmen of Assegai Company ran their drills. Captain Markus Arundel marched among them through the training ground that Redbourn Security had built near Izu Oshima’s primary dome. Two guardsmen, both resting on a knee, stood to attention and saluted as passed. The sun would soon be setting. A Courser approached and came to a stop. One of Markus’ new lieutenants, he couldn’t remember the man’s name, emerged from the hatch. ‘Recharge until sunset and then bring them back out,’ Markus told him.
‘Sir,’ the lieutenant nodded and dropped back into his cock-pit. Markus stopped when he reached the docking platforms where two pilots disembarked from a Sparrowhawk. One of the pilots wore a blue civilian Polyskin, the other wore camouflage armour. ‘Rest until sunset, then back in the air,’ Markus told him.
‘Sir,’ the guardsmen pilot saluted.
The civilian pilot did not salute. She turned her visor to the sun that was already dipping behind Izu Oshima’s primary dome. ‘Less than two hours to rest?’ she asked. ‘Your men are exhausted. The civilian pilots are exhausted – it’s dangerous to fly in this state.’
‘Are you combat-ready or not, Pauly?’ Markus asked in return. ‘We can’t rely on Robert to talk the enemy out of every battle.’ Markus turned to follow his men to a nearby shelter. The bunker was a temporary fabric structure, the kind normally used as a greenhouse. The airlock led to a cleared out space where worn-out guardsmen and civilian pilots slumped over benches or sprawled out on the trampled soil. Some closed their eyes, soaking up the rare downtime but most of them watched a view-screen. There, images from a thousand electric eyes rendered the idyllic landscape that was also a war zone. Markus pulled off his helmet and watched as the video of Major Zhao’s tank wheeling about. He watched Robert stride victoriously down the causeway. Sarah approached Markus, dropped her helmet, and slumped down to the turf.
‘Did he end the battle or did he delay it?’ she asked.
‘The fight is over,’ Markus said. ‘They’ll retreat without attacking again – iMicor have conceded.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Because,’ Markus pointed at the pilot, a statue of tranquillity perched on his killing machine, ‘he knows I’m no there. That’s Danny Zhao – one of Earth’s highest rated private security operatives. He didn’t fight today, but he would have if he thought I still led my old company.’
‘And who is he?’
‘He’s US-born, but changed his citizenship to Chinese – it’s easier to work for the big private security firms that way. He is one of the highest rated operatives on Earth – now on Mars.’
Sarah tilted over, resting an elbow on her helmet as she pulled the heating tab on a meal pack. ‘You never explained how ratings work. What makes you the best?’
‘The highest number of confirmed kills,’ Markus said.
Sarah tapped the Redbourn insignia on her shoulder, blue wings on a white field. It was a new emblem designed specifically for Redbourn’s new civilian volunteer initiative. ‘We’re on the same side now,’ she said.
Markus dropped to the turf next to where Sarah sat. ‘How do you fly that Sparrowhawk? You use the controls, right? You don’t use brainwaves or EEG?’
‘No one does,’ Sarah replied. ‘No serious pilot does.’
Markus pointed to the viewer again. ‘He operates that mech without a hand on the controls. A complex machine like a Sparrowhawk or a Single Battle Tank requires years of training, focus, and meditation. He’s barely into his thirties yet he’s mastered it.’ Markus shook his head, as if in wonder. ‘He’s also mastered conventional combat – artillery, small arms and hand-to-hand. He speaks several languages, and he’s attended elite military academies.’
‘So he’s another you,’ said Sarah.
‘He is here to fight me so he can be me,’ said Markus.
‘Either you have an exceedingly lofty self-opinion, or your profession is more primitive than I thought. Is he another madman?’
‘There will never be another Mogadishu Madman,’ Markus said. ‘At least I hope not.
‘I hope not too,’ said Sarah. She had finished her meal-pack and stood. ‘The last thing a bully wants to meet is a stronger bully.’
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