“And you came back here?”
“Yeah. Aliens are thick as locusts to the South, so… well, we advanced to the rear and didn’t stop until we hit the Dead Sea. Probably just dumb luck, but soldiers from all over hell were already here, and Al Saif just sorta happened.”
Charlie looked the group up and down. “Anyway, we’ve got plenty of time to catch up, but you guys look like crap. Let’s get you a warm meal and some bunks, eh?”
Charlie was right. They looked like crap, and they felt twice as nice. Together, they went to the mess hall laughing, and Jack’s team ate the first warm meal they’d seen in months.
Chapter 22:
Red Carpet
“They said ‘aboard new vessel’? Whaddya think that means?”
Sal had tapped into the orbital traffic system, and she was watching her monitor for any kind of strange activity. She didn’t bother to look away as she answered him. “I’ll tell you what I’ve been telling my father for the past three weeks, Kaz. I don’t fucking know.”
The lab was quiet and dim, just the way she liked it. Other than her monitor, the only light in the room came from a series of faintly blue neons hanging over the large worktable. That table was covered in tools and small bits of mechanical flotsam and jetsam, pieces of experiments in various states of completion. Other larger projects in various states of assembly were arrayed along the walls.
Kazuo was leaning against Sal’s desk, idly toying with the gears of a broken servo which occasionally let out a whir. “I mean, where could they even get a new vessel? I bet the expedition was just a cover for a secret military project.”
Sal reached out and snatched the servo from his hands, then set it down next to her keyboard. “Maybe, but the Foundation wouldn’t have any part of that. They take non-proliferation seriously.”
“Sure, but what if they were conned. The way they changed the Shackleton’s mission all of a sudden smelled mighty fishy to me. Maybe Donovan works for Blade Aerospace.”
Sal considered what she knew about Donovan and his Gypsies. He’d become one of Sal’s heroes over the past few years for his ability to get jobs done despite bureaucracy’s best efforts. He was a divisive figure in the Foundation for precisely the same reason, and there were always rumors flying around about him. But this was the first time she’d heard anyone accuse him of working for a military contractor. It was damn near heresy.
Kazuo had been a Carbon Corp soldier before he came to Mars though, and nobody slung conspiracy theories like military men. Every single one she’d met saw hints of secret dealings wherever he looked, and that fact disturbed her to no end.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right. You think that Marcus Donovan, a well known and respected astronomer, was hired by Blade to construct an experimental, not to mention illegal, warship in Earth orbit?”
“Plus or minus. Just tossin’ ideas at the wall, seeing what sticks.”
Sal was badly in need of an aspirin. “I guess that makes as much sense as anything else these days.”
The one thing she knew for certain was that this new vessel had to be fast, whatever it was. Fast enough to cross two-hundred and thirty million kilometers in three weeks. She was familiar with the Shackleton’s engines, and the ship just wasn’t up to snuff. It would need to accelerate for more than three straight hours to achieve that kind of velocity, and there was no way it could carry enough reaction mass. The math just didn’t add up.
Not that it was any easier to believe Kazuo’s theory. An advance in propulsion technology that revolutionary would be impossible to hide. The cost, the complexity, the testing. There would be too many people involved and it was just too big to cover up.
That was the thought running through Sal’s head when the alerts started to sound. Red lights and klaxons went off across the colony, and Kazuo jumped out of his skin. “What the hell’s going on?”
“God damn it!” Sal shouted over the noise, and she punched the keyboard. “Incoming asteroid. Big and hot.”
“What do we do?”
She shook her head. “Pray,” was all she said.
The blip streaked across the display and she watched it with wide eyes. It had to be ten kilometers long or more, and was coming at them like a bullet. It was a planet killer, and they should have seen it years ago. Her breath caught in her throat and her thoughts were eerily silent. Wasn’t she supposed to see her life flash before her eyes in a situation like this?
Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the object slowed to around two kilometers per second and dropped into orbit around Mars.
Sal started to breathe again. Kazuo was standing behind her with his fingers digging into her shoulders. “What just happened?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said, “but I hope that’s Donovan’s new vessel.”
It took ten minutes for someone to finally shut the alarms off, much to Sal’s chagrin. She still hadn’t found any aspirin, and her head was thumping something fierce. Another five minutes later, the colony received its first message from the object in orbit, confirmation that the massive thing was in fact Marcus Donovan’s new vessel. Somehow.
Donovan requested permission to land a small craft at Ares, and after a heated debate among the senior staff, permission was granted. The situation was too strange not to proceed with caution, though, and even if they were short on weaponry, the colonists decided that a show of strength was in order. Sal and Kazuo were chosen for the task.
Thirty minutes after first contact, Sal found herself in the southern mission readiness bay giving her MASPEC a quick inspection, with Kazuo on the opposite side of the room doing the same. Five other maintenance workers were pulling on pressure suits, a collection of aged and dusty rifles waiting beside them. It was a decidedly half- assed combat squad.
The bulky armor stood in front of her, the hinged panels of its back splayed apart like the petals of a mechanical lily, revealing the padded cavity within. It bridged the gap between suit and vehicle, giving its pilot the strength and durability of a machine, but Sal had never considered using them as weapons. They were an answer to a problem and nothing more — the efficient combination of worker and construction equipment in one tidy package.
She keyed in the power-up code then grabbed the rails above the docking clamp, lifted her legs up and lowered them inside. Once in up to her waist, she put her arms out in front of her and levered herself into the cavity, allowing her hands to slide all the way through to the ends of the mechanical arms. The MASPEC detected that she was safely inside, and it adjusted its own padding and braces to fit snugly, then closed and sealed the rear hatch.
Kazuo was ahead of her for once. Her docking clamp had just released while he was already taking a few warm-up steps, the heavily booted feet of his suit making hollow clanks that echoed throughout the bay.
She stepped away from the clamp and turned, and the rest of her impromptu squad stood at attention. “Everyone sealed up and ready to go?”
“All green, chief. Just waiting on you.”
“Good. Let’s cycle the lock, and get ready to roll out the red carpet.”
With that, they entered the airlock and proceeded to stand around doing nothing while the chamber depressurized. It took even longer than usual, and the wait was excruciating while her imagination ran away with her, inventing all kinds of alien menaces lurking on the other side of the door. She just wanted to get it over with.
Then Sal started to have second thoughts. She turned to Kazuo and asked, “If this goes wrong, you have any idea how to fight in one of these?”
She could see Kazuo’s face clearly in the multicolored glow of his heads up display, and he had an evil smile from ear to ear. He punched his left palm with his right fist, producing a heavy thud, and said, “The old fashioned way, Sal. Honestly, I’ve been waiting for a chance to bust skulls since the first time I climbed into one.”
