One Day on Mars

Yes, Senator. But with the global down, I'm not too optimistic on the maps.

Just do what you can. Try the local library.

Senator, the Marine AIC says that you should stay put.

Abbey, I don't take orders from the Marines and haven't for a long damned time. You tell them that we are not going to sit around here to be taken hostage. We are coming to them if they can't get to us!

Yes, Senator.

Alexander glanced around the adventure store at the adrenaline junkie paraphernalia available. Then he thought of his wife and daughter being tortured to make him do and say things he shouldn't, which was exactly what the grunt Separatists would do to him if they caught him here. Who knows, they might just torture and kill all three of them for show like they did poor Congresswoman Zander on Kuiper Station. The gruesome video of them chopping her hands, then arms, and then legs off with a laser welder flashed in his mind for a split second. The welder cauterized her wounds so she didn't bleed to death and the Seppy doctor administered adrenaline to her to keep her conscious. Then finally, Elle Ahmi appeared on video with that long brown hair trailing out from under her red, white, and blue ski mask and doused the poor congresswoman in alcohol. Ahmi then calmly and nonchalantly set her on fire.

No sir, he was not going to let that happen to his wife and daughter! Though he didn't expect Elle Ahmi would be a problem. Nobody had heard from her since the assault on the Belt three years ago. There were rumors that Ahmi was dead or had left the system. But whoever was leading this faction of the Separatists would be just as nasty, for certain. Alexander knew they had to escape.

But there was no way to cover the tens of kilometers to the evac point in time. The roads were likely destroyed, blocked, or any traffic on them being shot. Stealing a hovercar was probably not a good idea. Flying was out. Any vehicle using that much power would set off all sorts of sensors. Think, Major Moore! What would a good Marine do?

Alexander picked up a pair of jumper hiking boots, and began eyeing the gliderchutes on the far wall of the store. Abigail, is there a way to get to the outside top of the dome?

Perhaps, Senator. I will see what I can find out.

'Reyez, my good man, have you ever done any base-gliding off the dome?' He grinned at the store manager while trying to ignore the look his wife was giving him.

Oorah! he thought.

Chapter 5

9:45 AM Mars Tharsis Standard Time

'Oorah!!! Take that, you goddamned Seppy motherfuckers!' Sergeant Clay Jackson shouted as he brought down three support troops for a drop tank about seven hundred meters down Lowell Street, the last rounds from his railgun punching through the Separatist armored environment suits with little effort. Jackson could see the midsection of one of the soldiers splatter red against the brick behind him. The enemy soldier fell forward dead. The return fire that had been chewing up the street and building behind the sergeant finally ceased. He looked down the side at the garbage truck he was perched on and saw several railgun pellet entry holes. The wall of the building behind the truck was blown to pieces. Fortunately, the drop tank hadn't taken him seriously, yet. Sergeant Jackson had only had to deal with the ground troops.

'Sergeant Jackson!' Marine Second Lieutenant Thomas Washington called out over the deafening crunching and whirling sounds of the collapsing skyrise building down the street. Dust plumes and a rolling cloud of debris washed down the main street of the southern borough of Mons City. He looked over the body of Private Allfrey as he knelt by him. The unfortunate private had taken the brunt of support fire as a drop tank landed across the street from them. The second lieutenant had the presence of mind to take cover. The private had frozen. Then he died.

Shit! Shit! Shit! he thought to himself as he gathered the private's ammo and ordnance, snapping the containers on the pack belt of his armored e-suit. The dust filling the air from the crashing buildings blocked out most of the sunlight, and the small white light diode lamps of the suit helmet cast a cold still deathly hue on the dead private's face and the red blood oozing from the corners of his mouth.

Sir, the VIP thinks he is going to come to us, the young officer's AIC, Second Lieutenant Tammie One Niner Seven Oscar Hotel Three Three, alerted him.

Shit, what does the idiot think he is doing? Tell him I said to stay put.

I did, sir. He says he doesn't take orders from the Marines.

Goddamnit all to hell! Where is it he thinks he's going?

To the evac point, sir, the AIC replied.

Evac point. Shit again! That's ten or fifteen klicks from us! Has to be forty or fifty or more for them.

He says they will be there, sir.

Goddamnit.

Yes sir. Goddamnit, the AIC agreed with her counterpart.

'Sir!' Sergeant Clay Jackson squawked back over the net without letting up on the trigger of the hypervelocity automatic railgun (HVAR). The lieutenant could hear the spitap spitap spitap of the railgun fire over the net. The standard-issue firearm tracked small three-millimeter-diameter maximum density packed pellets of carbon and aluminum atoms at near one percent the speed of light across the street, leaving whirlwinds and pockets of inflow in the rolling smoke that filled the street along with a faintly glowing ionization trail acting as a tracer.

The pellets impacted and cut through the building four hundred meters north. Larger debris was flung wildly from the pellet impacts, while near the actual impact point the building materials were vaporized in a green