One Day on Mars

Alexander dropped back through the hole in the elevator ceiling, landing astraddle of one dead Separatist soldier. A second lifeless bloody mess lay against the back left corner of the elevator. The Stop button was still depressed and the doors of the elevator open wide.

'Wait out there for a moment, girls,' he warned his wife, holding out his left hand palm forward. Sehera was peaking around the hall corner at the elevator to see if the coast was clear. 'Reyez, come here a minute.'

Reyez peaked his head around the corner to see if it was safe, then he straightened himself up and walked tall to the senator. Seeing the red bloody mess in the elevator, the adrenaline junkie had to turn his head and vomit.

'Aw shit!' Alexander moaned. He grabbed the body closest to the elevator door and dragged it out by the feet. 'Get out of my way if you can't help,' he told Reyez.

'No, I can help. I just never . . . uh!' Reyez began to heave again. Alexander just pushed him away from the elevator door with a swift kick in the ass and then set about moving the other body.

'Soft kids these days.' Joanie Hassed, the little Triton woman, stepped in over the first dead body and gave Alexander a hand. 'Saw a lot more than this on Triton during the raids.'

Alexander understood what she meant. The raids on Triton were some of the bloodiest battles in the past decade—in human history, for that matter. Even the civilians ended up fighting for their lives. The Great American Plan to bring peace throughout Sol and the four colonies was still a long way from being successful. Many of the kids from this generation and one prior who lived on Earth or the Moon and a few places on Mars—like Mons City—had no idea of the utter horror humanity was still inflicting upon itself elsewhere.

'Thanks. We need to . . . ' Alexander was about to explain that they needed to strip the two men of their e- suits and take all their weapons and gear, but the little Triton native was halfway through the process on the first body.

'Uh huh.' Joanie nodded.

'Right then.' Alexander smiled. A good Marine had to smile when he saw a real survivor.

' . . . Manuel . . . Charlie . . . are you there? Report!' Alexander heard faintly out of one of the e-suit helmets.

These suits are still keyed into the Seppy coms! The Seppies had older, less state- of-the-art, suits that did not go encrypted when the occupant was incapacitated like the American e-suits did. That technology had to be fifty years old.

ON IT! Abigail immediately started handshaking with the suit's low-level AI functions.

Can you spoof it?

Just a second. There. You can eavesdrop on this channel. I'll keep the audio open for you, Abigail replied.

Great work. Are they connected to the jamming signal at all? Alexander asked the AIC.

No. Not as I can tell.

Damn.

Yes, sir. Damn.

Well, keep on it. That jamming signal was the key to this whole mess, Alexander just knew it was.

Senator? the AIC added.

Yes, Abigail?

These suits are keyed into the Seppie IFF. The AIC said into Alexander's mind with what felt to him like excitement. The IFF or Identify Friend and Foe system in the Separatist e-suit helmets were keyed to understand the encrypted wireless signals and signatures of the Seppy troops and enabled their locations to be followed and mapped in HUDs or direct-to-mind maps. The U.S. troops used similar systems but ones that were more state-of-the-art. DTM had been the way of the warrior for many generations—it went as far back as the first Martian War in Sienna Madira's day.

Can you transfer the code to me? Senator Moore thought.

I think so, sir. But it will take a minute or two. And I'm not sure we have a minute or two. We'll have company soon.

Can we take his helmet?

No sir, we'd need his AIC. The average Seppy didn't carry an AIC but years of intelligence on the troops showed that they apparently did. Or perhaps, Elle Ahmi required it so she could keep tabs on all of them. General Ahmi was either brilliant at understanding and managing massive amounts of data or was a stone cold paranoid whack job—or maybe a little of both.

Where is it?

Here. The image of the Seppy appeared in Alexander's mind with a spot on the back of the dead man's head highlighted in red.

'Uh huh.' Moore grunted and unsheathed the knife he'd liberated from the adventure shop and then twisted the man's e-suit helmet off. 'This is gonna be gross.' He nodded to Joanie to look away but instead she took the blade from him. Reyez looked as if he'd vomit again.

'Wait. I've done that before.' The little woman from Triton hefted the dull gray two-decimeter-long monomolecular blade in her hand and studied its point for a second. 'This'll do.'

Joanie slid the point of the blade just behind the man's ear and pounded the base of the grip with the palm of her hand hard enough to crack through the skull bones. She twisted the knife and then pulled it out slowly. Dark red