One Day on Mars

10:06 AM Mars Tharsis Standard Time

"Holy shit! There's mecha all over the place! Where did they get that much mecha? Jesus, the Seppies have been busy." Lieutenant Commander Boland dropped his bombing-run load over the mass of Seppy drop tanks that were wreaking havoc on the fleet's ground assault forces. The counterattack on the far-side dome farms of Elysium was going as planned although the resistance was considerably higher than the fleet had expected.

Although the sun had long set, the mecha were easily detected with the IR and QM sensors. The curious thing to Jack was how did the Seppies build or acquire so much mecha without the orbiting reconnaissance platforms detecting them. Even if the factories were underground there would be telltale signs that the orbiting sensor stations would have uncovered over the years.

"You still hanging in back there, ma'am?" He pulled the Ares fighter into a roll-out to avoid surface-to-air fire from one of the tanks. Flak spitanged off the shield plating and shook the fighter harshly, giving Jack and Nancy wild jerks and shudders even after onboard systems implemented the inertial compensation field.

"How much further to the drop site?" Nancy asked through gritted teeth. Her knuckles were white from gripping the safety restraints on the backseat of the little fighter-bomber. Of course, her AIC knew exactly how far it was to the drop site, but she had to show some sign of coherence or the lieutenant commander might think she was unconscious or dead and not carry through with the mission.

She had to make it past Elysium—Elysium was the edge of the Martian Separatist region that Sienna Madira had forced the civil disobedient citizens to retreat into—to Phlegra or perhaps Propontis, which were two of the major untouched Separatist stronghold cities deeper within the Reservation. Her mission was to figure out just where the hell the Separatists had been getting all of their recent military buildup from and who was supporting them under the covers—and how.

Thirty years ago, an inspection team would have just flown into the region to see what the hell was going on. But that was before Elle Ahmi in her destinctive red, white, and blue ski mask, long brown hair, Martian desert camouflage, and black fingernails. Ahmi had appeared as if from nowhere as the new terrorist leader and set a fire in the bellies of all the Separatist of the Sol System and perhaps even in the other colonies as well. Nobody was quite certain what Ahmi looked like without the mask, but the various intelligence agencies had been working the problem for three decades.

Once Ahmi became the undisputed leader of the Separatist Union she gave any non-Separatists two Earth days to leave the north region of Mars from Elysium all the way up to Propontis. Then the Seppies began a cleansing effort the likes of which mankind had never seen. The cleansing wasn't genetic; it was philosophical. The Seppy troops used special AICs allegedly developed by Ahmi herself to determine the thought patterns of the Separatist citizens. If they were sympathetic to the U.S. they were fried on the spot—literally fried, doused in oil and set aflame. Fire seemed to be a preferred ritual execution method with the Seppies.

Mankind had often imagined a "thought police" but the day had finally come when over four hundred thousand people were murdered because of the thoughts in their heads. What it had left in the Reservation was a core million or so of pure Separatist zealot U.S. haters. And after thirty or so years of polygamous procreation the projected population of the Reservation was around eleven million fighting-age adults and twenty million children. Of course, the Seppies considered an adult to be fourteen Earth years old. All thirty-one million of them were most certainly pure Separatist brainwashed zealots. Allison, Nancy's AIC, had been training almost all of her life to overcome and fool the "thought police." Hopefully, the AI CIA agent was up to the challenge.

The administration at the time thirty years prior was too spineless and public-poll-driven to send the full military might in to stop the Separatist cleansing. Instead, the damned politicians had an insufficient number of troop divisions dropped into the Reservation borders expecting the Separatists to bow down to the might of the United States military. It was a massacre instead.

Only a few Marines from the Luna City Brigade even survived the conflict. Entire Army mecha platoons were lost and the artillery was completely overrun and destroyed. Due to political reasons air support wasn't used. Had the campaign been run from space instead, history might have turned out a lot different. But as history had unfolded, the last thirty years had been a mess of war, uncomfortable peace, and "skirmishes" that from any sane frame of reference were clearly battles in a continuous war effort.

The handfuls of Marines that did survive the original Desert Campaigns had been captured and had spent years in prisoner-of-war camps before they were released back to the U.S. government officials at the Elysium Embassy. Since then, the Separatists had fiercely guarded their borders. They conducted business negotiations at the Elysium Embassy or in Mons City but never within the Reservation. Outsiders were simply not allowed within the borders of the Separatist country—ever. They had been receiving support from somewhere, but from where?

"We are still another three hundred kilometers west of the drop zone, ma'am. We'll be there lickety-split." If we don't get killed first, he thought as he loosely held the HOTAS (hands-on throttle and stick) controls of the Ares fighter.

SAM, Commander! The lieutenant commander's AIC warned of the approaching surface-to-air missile.

Got it, Candis!

"Hold on!" Jack squeezed every muscle in his body to force blood to his brain as the fighter took evasive maneuvers from the surface-to-air missile rapidly encroaching on their personal space. Candis automatically released countermeasures but they were too late. The countermeasures triggered the missile detonation too close to the fighter, rocking it into a hard yaw to the right. The shield plating held but the fighter was tossed into a flat spin.

"Holy shit!" Jack screamed and pulled the HOTAS controls full back, which didn't help at all. He continued grunting loudly and squeezing his abdominal muscles as the fighter whirled helplessly out of control, spinning its occupants at mind bending g-force levels.

"Oh my God!" Nancy let out a panicked cry as the world around her began to tunnel in. She could see a dim light at the end of the tunnel way off in the distance.

Nancy! Nancy Penzington! Breathe, two, three, grunt! Allison screamed in the CIA operative's mind.

"HOTAS full forward, Jack!" Candis said over the speakers and into his mind at the same time. "Full forward on the HOTAS!"

"Warning unsafe g-loading . . . " the fighter's "Bitching Betty" voice blasted over the cockpit speakers.

"No shiiittt!" Jack grunted.

The Ares fighter was built tougher than any fighter craft mankind had ever managed but even it could take only so many g's before the wings ripped off. As the fighter rolled within its now tumbling spin, Jack could see lights high in the horizon that must be the Phlegra Montes in the distance. He sure as hell didn't want to see them any closer. Ares fighters had been flown into mountains before—the mountains always won.

"Goddamnit all to hell!" Jack forced the HOTAS as hard forward as his g-loaded arms would allow. His AIC began automated recovery controls and between the two of them the tumbling spin began to dampen out. Jack eased back on the stick and grunted again to force more blood back into his brain.

"Shit that was close!" he said. The fighter righted itself and he pushed it full throttle forward to put more distance between themselves and the SAMs.

"If I'm going to get killed, Jack, I'd prefer it be after I'd actually started my mission." Nancy grunted and panted for breath. She was slowly regaining her sight from the momentary tunnel that had been closing in on her caused by the massive g-forces the evasive maneuvers and the tumbling spin had imposed on them.

One would wonder why not just drop in from space on the Reservation rather than taking such a circuitous and extremely dangerous route. That had been tried by at least seven agents over the last decade. A few had tried just walking in and several had tried going in through transports from Kuiper Station. None had ever reported back.

Nancy had worked with analysts for more than four years to determine the best plan of action for getting into the Separatist trust and there really wasn't a good solution. The brightest boys back at CIA headquarters deep underground in McLean, Virginia, were still baffled as to why they lost contact with the other operatives. But this mission plan was different. Nancy had confidence in it. If the plan worked right she would appear to be a survivor from the first deep attack within Separatist borders in decades. The missile silos and factories along the western side of the Phlegra Mountains were about to be toast. Hopefully, so would most records of the people from that region. Nancy then could join the survivors fleeing the attacks and moving farther inward over the mountains and into Phlegra City on the eastern side of the mountains. It would succeed. But isn't that what all the other agents thought before their missions?

Everything had to look real, had to be real, and there was nothing more real than a sortie in the middle of a war. As the battle raged, pushing into the periphery of the Separatist Reservation, the hopes were that some misplaced Separatists could be replaced, joined, or infiltrated. And Jack had a "special surprise" under the belly of his little snub-nosed Ares swept-wing fighter that would add to the confusion. A small twenty-kiloton tactical nuke should render enough confusion for most, and then some. Once the missile base was "softened" then a second wave of fighters would follow behind Jack by exactly twenty-seven minutes. The time wasn't an arbitrary choice; four years of simulations suggested it to be the best window for mission success. But Nancy would have very little time to get to ground, cover her tracks, and join up with survivors moving eastward through the mountain chain.

Jack held the HOTAS gently and continued to push the fighter to full speed. The g-forces weighed heavy on Nancy and she was more than ready to get her feet back on the ground. Jack on the other hand, was in his element. In a dark and testosterone-filled sort of way, he had even enjoyed the tumbling spin and recovery, but only inasmuch as it hadn't killed them.

Nancy scanned the area through the QM sensors as they passed over the Phlegra plains. The giant conifer trees of the plains could just barely be discerned with QM sensors after dark, and at that altitude and velocity it took a trained analyst or a computer with special sensors and algorithms to find them. The trees were there and as they approached the mountains were increasing in number.

Jack, we are approaching the target zone, Candis said.

Roger that. Prepare arming sequence, authorization Boland, one, one, three, one, four, alpha.

Arming sequence verified and target has been acquired, sir.

"Okay, Penzington, we are about to lower the boom. Prepare yourself for deployment," Jack said, smiling at her in the rearview.

"Thanks, Jack. Let's get the show on the road, hey?" Nancy returned the smile.

Nancy, you should take your injection now, Allison reminded her.

Right.

Nancy pulled the radiation dose treatment from her breast pocket and unsheathed one of the one-centimeter-long needles. She pulled back an armor plate on her left thigh and slid the needle through the puncture-seal layer into her leg muscle. The needle quickly made a hissing noise and then clicked. Nancy pulled the needle from her leg and watched as the puncture seal filled the tiny hole in her suit leg. She replaced the armor and then squinted her eyes and gritted her teeth as the serum began working its way through her body, causing her ears to ring and her eyes to sting. The ringing in her ears got louder, the stinging in her eyes worsened, and her head began to pound like a repulsor hammer.

"We've got a good target lock and are ready to go on Hellstorm missile," Jack said into the coms.

"Roger that, one three three. You are authorized to go Hellstorm," replied a voice over the net.

Jack depressed the fire button and the little missile zipped out from under the starboard swept wing of the fighter. The missile cleared the fighter and then accelerated toward a moderate Separatist city a few tens of kilometers from Phlegra. Nancy watched as the missile contrail traced its trajectory downward into the periphery of the Separatist Reservation as deep as any U.S. vessel had ever made it before. The propellantless propulsion system of the missile whizzed it through the Martian atmosphere, creating a faint blue ion trail that tracked behind the missile all the way to the target.

Multiple SAMs and heavy AA fire, Jack!

Evasives, Candis! He yanked and banked at the HOTAS.

"Nancy, this is as far as I go! Time to make your exit. Good luck." Jack yelled as he banked the fighter left then right. Then he pulled straight up to gain as much altitude for Nancy's deployment as he could manage in the anti-aircraft fire.

"Roger that, Boland. Thanks for the lift. You take care of yourself. Retracting rear ejection portal!" The canopy above her slid backward into the aircraft's fuselage, leaving an open circle above her head. The airflow was dampened some by the inertial dampening field but the noise and pounding from the Martian air was debilitating.

"See ya, Jack! Eject, eject, eject!" Nancy hit the ejection switch and then depressed the handle.

The miniature catapult field system ejected her upward and out of the Ares fighter at over four hundred kilometers per hour into the cold Martian night sky. The inertial dampening field and the e-suit protected her from the harsh g-forces and the Martian environment—the flak and anti-aircraft fire was another matter all together. Nancy spun wildly for a couple of microseconds and then the seat released itself from her and the inertial dampening was no longer available. For a brief instant she felt as if she would be torn asunder but the atmosphere quickly dampened her motion to critical velocity which was much more tolerable. Just as she began to gain her wits a brilliant flash filled the sky about thirty kilometers to her north.

The mushroom cloud rose to a perfect round peak with a bright red and yellow fireball filling it. Rings of dust and smoke encircled the stem of the mushroom cloud and rose upward until they collided with the head of it at the forming and rising fireball. Nancy could see the shock wave spread out surrounding the blast area. She continued to fall toward the surface and stabilized her skydiving position. Focus, she thought.

Nancy, shock wave in three, two, one! Allison warned.

The shock wave hit with high velocity but with low pressure at that altitude. Low pressure or not, it was plenty of force to send Nancy tumbling in a wild chaotic fall. She fought the g-forces of the spin by spreading her body out as flat as she could to slow the neck-jarring tumble. With a few adjustments of leg and arm positions and the arch of her back, she managed to right herself into a flat spin and then into a skydiver's prone falling position.

Engage the gliderchute! Nancy thought to her AIC.

Gliderchute engaged, Allison replied, and the harness around her waist and shoulders yanked her tight and Nancy's diving descent rapidly averted from a downward plunge to a slow sauntering enjoyable glide. Nancy shook her head and squinted her eyes until she regained her senses.

IR and QM, she thought to the suit's sensor array. The night vision system kicked in with a big white saturated bright spot over the target zone. The nuclear blast over the outpost was still too hot to view directly. Allison, adjust the contrast nonlinearly on the hot spot, please, she thought.

Right away. Tree detection system is active and will be marked in the view, the AIC replied.

Good. Overlay latest map on the view, also.

Roger that.

Any pedestrian or vehicle motion? Nancy asked. The AIC ran motion detection and change detection algorithms, searching for any flickers of motion within the view of their sensors that might be something other than random. There were no telltale signs of motion with a purpose.

None.

Nancy guided the gliderchute through the now chaotic winds of the aftermath of the explosion. There were occasional whirlwinds and updrafts that would alter her course and cause problems with the gliderchute harness chords, but she managed to stay on course and avoid the chute being ripped away. As the gliderchute fell through the Martian night and closer to the now devastated mountain basal city, Nancy caught a glimpse of Phobos to her south and just above the faded and scattering mushroom-shaped dust cloud. She surmised from the southward-stretching misshapen mushroom cloud that there must have been a high-altitude jet stream moving in that direction. She spiraled her flight path southward around the edge of the total destruction zone and closed in on her landing target zone.

Radiation dose is growing rapidly but still within the parameters of the injection, Nancy, Allison informed her.

Mm hm, Nancy thought as she checked the altimeter readout on her visor. She was at five kilometers above the westernmost part of the total destruct zone, flying southward and counterclockwise around the periphery of the aftermath of the nuclear explosion. The sight was anything but tranquil or serene. Fires raged across the outpost city, and secondary explosions triggered every few seconds from gas mains or escaping oxygen. To the north in the distance Nancy could see occasional AA fire and missile contrails. The fighting was getting closer. Time was getting short.

Her plan was to bleed off altitude and drop into the eastern edge of the moderate destruct zone at the three-o'clock position. She put the gliderchute in a slip and checked her tree detection system. The Martian conifer trees could reach as high as three hundred meters tall, so they could cause problems when gliderchuting at night. But her detection system was functioning perfectly. There were just no trees or buildings of much concern. The blast had taken care of that. It had taken care of other things too.

There was very little activity beneath her. The AA fire that had tracked the Ares fighter Jack Boland brought her in had stopped once the nuke detonated, and she could see nothing in the local vicinity flying. The electromagnetic pulse and general mayhem due to the devastating tactical nuclear device had done their job and disabled the local perimeter sensors of the Reservation periphery mountain city defenses. This allowed Nancy to slip in undetected—the plan had been carefully calculated for years. It was all working well, so far. Detonating a small nuke just to infiltrate the Reservation might have seemed like overkill, but all the recent intelligence suggested that bad things were on the horizon from within the Seppy homeland and the CIA needed to know just what those bad things were. After all, the president had approved the plan, including the tactical nuke.

Nancy kept a close eye on the altimeter reading—one thousand meters and dropping. The moderate destruct region of the city surrounding the Separatist missile base looked anything but moderate. The shock wave from the blast had strewn debris to and fro and fires raged in almost every direction. She looked for a dark spot with no fires but they were few and far between. Altimeter reading—six hundred meters and dropping.

There! she thought as she spotted a dark spot in the flames. Allison, zoom in there. She pointed.

Got it. The AIC zoomed in on the dark region and increased the sensitivity levels of the QM sensor suite of her e-suit helmet. Then the spike detector went off.

"What the . . . " Nancy muttered to herself.

Trees. Allison responded matter-of-factly.

Why aren't they burning then?

Who knows? Blast dynamics are weird that way, Allison explained.

Well, whatever. It looks like a park. Those buildings there to the west must have shielded them. Trees around the periphery and a flat field in the middle, looks like a jumperball field, I think. This should do nicely. Nancy brought the gliderchute into a tight spiral over the field, careful of the trees as her altitude was now dropping. She spiraled inside the circumference of the circular field and increased the illumination of the IR and QM sensors, her night vision visor at full intensity. The ground was coming up fast. Altimeter reading was at one hundred meters . . . fifty . . . twenty . . .

Nancy hit her IR diode helmet lights and the ground lit up beneath her just in time for her to flare the gliderchute and stop her descent about one meter from the surface. The gliderchute caught some last-minute ground-effect turbulence and jostled her around, causing her to lose balance. The left wing of the chute dipped and then jerked upward again. Nancy was tossed forward and slammed into the Martian ground, very very hard.

Shrub-grass, she thought as she saw it dragging under her helmet visor a couple of centimeters from her nose. The chords of the gliderchute twisted and turned in the wind, dragging her through the clearing. The chute continued to billow in the eastward chaotic winds and overpowered her senses for a brief moment. Nancy's speed picked up across the small circular plane's floor as she was dragged facedown. She managed to pop the harness from her left shoulder strap, allowing her to roll over onto her back. The harness still held her from the right shoulder and the waist and the chute pulled hard on her rotator cuff, straining her shoulder muscles to keep her arm in place.

Nancy fought against the wild jumbling ride with her free hand managing to stay on her back, but having little luck releasing the right side harness fasteners. She could feel painful impacts against her back but the e-suit's armor protected her from anything serious. Then she saw a tree several meters in diameter streak by her head only a meter or so away. She fought panic because she knew that if she hit a tree trunk at the speeds she was being dragged it could be fatal, especially if her head hit the tree first.

Knife, Nancy! Your knife! Allison screamed in her mind.

Nancy quickly squelched her panic and set about the business at hand. Another tree, near miss. Then another. But Nancy had unsheathed her knife from the left shoulder scabbard and was slicing away at the harness on her right. It gave way, leaving only the attachment at her hip. She sliced at it with one quick motion and then the gliderchute pulled free of her and whisked away with the wind out of sight into the dark Martian night. Nancy rolled over onto her stomach and slammed the knife blade, her free hand, and her toes into the grass to slow her to a stop.

Completely still, Nancy did a quick assessment of her body and decided nothing was permanently damaged. Minor bruises, she thought as she rolled over. There were no stars above her. Between her and the sky was a canopy of conifer trees and beyond that was smoke, dust, and radioactive fallout all glowing in the eerie orange and red tint of the burning city. Nancy stood and dusted herself off and then sheathed her knife. About fifty meters away she could see the remains of her gliderchute tangled high in a conifer tree.

Now, that's a pain in the ass, she thought. How the hell am I going to get up there?

Too high for jumpboots, Allison said.