Martian Invasion (Star Breaker Book 3) Page 2

  My team! The lieutenant thought desperately.

  WARNING! DOME BREACH . . .

  Sirens and alarms had joined the automated systems. Holly knew what she had to do.

  I have to get the senator clear.

  “UP!” she screamed at the woman as she grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her, swaying, to her feet. “Head down!” she shouted into the woman’s ear as she peered through the storm of dust at where the nearest airlock was.

  Which way did I come from—left or right? The lieutenant could no longer tell. She thought she saw a shadow not far away that could be the arch of an airlock door or might not be, already with bodies struggling toward it. With panic lending speed to her limbs, Holly held Senator Rosewater close as she pushed her ahead of herself, just as a shadow loomed out of the murk in front of them. The shadow was large, and she felt the senator’s panic shudder through her hands.

  “Cropper!” She could hear her name as she recognized Bastion reaching up to grab at her shoulder.

  “Where’s Marshal? I have the senator—we have to get her to safety!” Cropper was saying. Although she didn’t know if Bastion could hear her, she saw the man nodding as he pointed back the way he had come and pulled at her.

  “The commander?” Holly shouted, but Bastion didn’t respond as they hurried down the balcony toward the nearest arch. At the same time, her lungs started to ache.

  Oxygen is leaving fast! Holly thought, doing her best to take sips of air and hold them for as long as possible. How long would it take for all of the oxygen in this dome to be sucked out into Mars—and to be replaced with nothing but dead, red dust?

  Holly wished she’d studied a little harder in her geophysics class, and then was instantly glad that she hadn’t. She didn’t really want to know if she only had seconds to live or not.

  Bastion had almost tripped over a shape on the floor—a body, ruined by red as something must have collapsed on them. Holly saw that the body wore a white suit. One of the commanders? One of the generals? Silas?

  But they were at the airlock archway, and Bastion was hitting the door controls for a light above them to flicker from alarming red to a mere warning amber.

  “Back!” This time Bastion heard Holly as she grabbed and pulled at his shoulder, knowing what was going to come next when the door opened.

  The lieutenant pushed both the private and the senator back as the airlock door opened. A sudden burst of oxygen and atmosphere released from the room inside, exploding past them as powerfully as any grenade.

  “In!” Holly pushed the pair inside to find that it wasn’t the same corridor lined with guards that they had marched up a moment before in order to get their medals before the eyes of a hundred people. This room was much smaller, barely big enough for them all to fit in.

  A lift.

  “Close the doors!” Holly was still sheltering the senator as Bastion leapt to the door control, just as a white-gloved hand grabbed the side of the closing door, and a figure pulled itself in. It was Commander Silas, his cap lost in the maelstrom of dust and wind outside, and he was holding one arm awkwardly in front of him. A tapestry of red decorated one side of his face from what looked like a nasty cut.

  “Commander!” Bastion grabbed the older man and pulled him in as the door to the lift closed, and all four of them were gasping for scant oxygen as the lift started to descend speedily downwards.

  “Uhm . . .” With an almost sedate whimper, the senator slumped down the side of the lift walls to her feet as Holly, Bastion, the senator, and the commander struggled to breathe.

  Don’t let us die in here! the lieutenant thought as pain like a vice started to spread across her lungs.

  Amazingly, Commander Silas managed to jerk toward the lift controls and hit the buttons, forcing them to keep on tracking down past the ground floor of the Liberty Plaza before he pulled the emergency stop.

  Holly was beginning to feel light-headed as she slumped beside the senator, even as the air filters inside the lift started to chug and repressurize. She breathed in soft breaths of fresh air.

  “People, get control of yourselves!” croaked Commander Silas, and Holly panted.

  “Senator?” she turned to ask. She could see that the woman was wide-eyed with fear, but she was nodding as she gulped down the fresh air.

  “I—I’m okay, Lieutenant, I’m okay. What happened?” she was saying as the Commander growled, dropping the small, portable screen from his pocket. Holly reached down and snatched it up for him. He clearly had a broken arm, and something had caught his forehead.

  “Martian Main Servers haven’t updated yet.” Holly watched as their commanding officer paled slightly and winced, and she realized that the older man must be in agony—and he was still managing to take charge, even now.

  “It just says a major incident in Liberty,” the man growled. “All personnel to rendezvous to nearest emergency centers.”

  “It was a strike, sir,” Holly said suddenly, remembering the glint of light that she had seen in the second before all hell broke loose.

  “A strike? You’re sure of that?” Silas gasped, already awkwardly hitting buttons on his screen as he held it up to his ear. “Martian Main Array, this is Commander Silas, Authorization Gold-Gold-voice,” they heard him snarl. “I need access to the Defense Grid Satellites. I need to see what is going on!”

  “I’m sure, sir,” Holly nodded. “Something struck the top of the dome. I saw it.”

  “Then we have to make it back to the secure bunker,” Silas decided. “Every Martian dome and habitat has one . . .” he was saying as his personal screen bleeped, and the small lift was filled with the noise of marine personnel on the other side.

  “Commander Silas, this is Main Array. We have eyes on your location. Seven minutes ago, we registered movement on the plateau outside your location, and then Liberty Plaza dome experienced a breach. We believe it was an attack.”

  “Movement? What movement?” Silas barked his question.

  “Sending data . . .” the marine of the Martian Main Communications Array said in a remarkably calm tone. Silas held out his screen in one hand for a light on its surface to blink and a holo to flash into existence over it in the air.

  The image was a little hazed and indistinct, but Holly and the others could make out that this was a view from above, looking down on the large curve of the Liberty Plaza, half of its panels gleaming with weak, reflected light.

  Holly could see where two of the corridors extended a short way from the dome’s sides. One traveled a little ways out to the place where a bulky transporter sat, while the other had only an empty landing pad.

  And then there were little gusts of movements on the holo as several patches of dust burst abruptly upwards.

  “What is that?” she heard Bastion Li murmur. His question was answered a moment later when small, dark shapes emerged from the dust bursts and started racing toward the docking corridors. The image froze, and there was a glitch as it suddenly magnified . . .

  Revealing a stilled image of a pack of loping, hunched-over killbots.

  It was the Jackals, Holly saw. Someone had sent the Jackals after them.

  3

  “Jackals? But who . . . ?” Senator Rosewater said in horror as she pushed herself up the wall to her feet. “I thought Verondas was in custody?”

  “She was,” Holly said grimly, her eyes meeting Bastion’s as they both nodded. “Or she should be, sir.”

  The Jackals, created by ex-Chief Scientist Uliana Verondas, were supposed to be the latest in military technology—a fully automated, self-guiding drone defense robot, built from sabotaged alien technology. Holly had fought them on Venus and Hephaestus. And it never got any easier, she groaned to herself. They could stalk through a hail of bullets. They had claws that could slash through marine defense armor . . .

  But we captured Verondas on Hephaestus and handed her over—how could her creations still be out there? Holly was suddenly angry.

  “Didn’t we stop the shipment of Jackals to Hephaestus? What went wrong?!” She demanded of anyone, everyone.

  “Easy there, Lieutenant,” Silas snapped at her, before hissing in pain. “However they got out there, it doesn’t change the facts. They’re there, and someone is using them to attack us. Your awards ceremony saw some of the top Outer and Inner Command officers come together in one place—and now they are in danger.”

  “Sir,” Holly said sharply, although she could feel the slow burn of anger in her gut. It’s not my fault that someone decided to attack Mars on my special day! She could have laughed. Just her luck.

  “I can get Rosewater to the emergency bunker, but I need you and Private Li to get to the nearest arms depot, suit up, and recover the other commanders. Do you understand me, Lieutenant?” Silas said, hitting the door release for the lift to suddenly chug downwards.

  “Sir, yes, sir,” Holly said quickly. “But . . .”

  “But, Lieutenant?” Silas shot her a sharp look as the lift clanked to a halt, and the doors opened to reveal a wide corridor brimming with running people in marine and Martian service uniforms. There was an air of panic and tension as alarms blared, and bright orange-and-green arrows flashed in the air near the ceiling, directing people of various trades to their nearest bunker.

  “One of my men, sir. Private Marshal Smith,” Holly was saying as the commander requisitioned a nearby Martian guard to open the closest equipment locker and start undoing the locks on the defense suit holders within.

  “Find the commanders, Lieutenant. First priority,” Silas said abruptly, but then his tone lessened just a little. “However, I understand. I hope that you find your man up there. Here.” He nodded at the equipment being offered to them, and Holly knew that it was the best answe
r that she was going to get.

  “Sir, yes, sir,” Holly said, taking the offered helmet, emblazoned with the star and swords of the Earth Alliance Marines.

  These PDS’s—or personal defense suits—were military issue, but much lighter than the ones that she was growing used to. They weren’t the heavy encounter suits that her team had been wearing for most of the last few operations, Holly thought. She rushed to put on the red (Martian colors) and blue (Marine colors) of the overalls, zipping them up for the intelligent padding to tighten around her body.

  Field belt. Next came the large, bulky belt of attached modules that every encounter suit had, featuring minimal life-support systems as well as medical supplies and tools. Last came the multilayered polycarbon plates of the breastplate and greaves, strapped to the chest, arms, and legs, before the final helmet.

  There. Holly felt the click of the helmet against the seal of the overalls and then the quick buildup of pressure as the inner lining of the overalls allowed her to be able to walk—and fight—outside of Earth-normal atmosphere if necessary. There was a dim electronic blip in her ear as the transmitters in her suit linked up to Bastion and the Main Array outside. Everything else, her suit microphones would be able to pick up.

  These lighter suits would only protect their wearers for about an hour or so against the extreme temperatures of the Mars climate, Holly knew. They were not as long-lasting as their heavy encounter suits—but it was better than not having them!

  “The Martian main defenses are sending a squad in, but you’ll get there faster,” she heard the Commander of the Outer Command say. He handed out the marine rifles that had been stored in the cabinet alongside the personal defense suits. “Do your world proud, Marine.”

  “Sir,” Holly said, stepping back as Bastion accepted his rifle. Commander Silas awkwardly saluted them with his one good hand before he turned around sharply and led the senator at a jog into the throng of panicking Martians.

  “Boss?” Bastion Li said.

  “We got our orders, Private,” Holly said, turning and running back to the lift. “The other commanders and generals were on the balcony with us, weren’t they?” They jumped inside the lift and hit the door controls. The small compartment jolted, chugged with hidden gears, and rose upwards into the heights of the dome.

  “We’re going to be pressurized compared to the dome,” Bastion growled as they passed the ground floor, and he settled his gloved hands on the side railings and gripped firmly. His message was clear—hold on when they opened the door!

  With a smooth bump, they reached the balcony, and the warning light flushed from red to amber to indicate that there was not much atmosphere on the other side of the door.

  “I’m ready. Hit it, Private,” Holly said, grabbing the railings. Bastion kicked the large, red manual release button, and all the air swiftly hissed through the opening gap.

  “Agh!” Holly tightened her grip on the railings even harder. Her legs flew out from underneath her for a few seconds in the sudden vortex of escaping gasses—before she crunched back onto her feet again.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Holly shouted, kicking off from the railing and taking lunging steps forward. The gravity had normalized with Mars, meaning that it was only a little bit lighter than Earth’s as she jumped through the open door and into the destruction of the Liberty Plaza beyond . . .

  To suddenly be hit by the swirl of orange-and-gray dirt striking her suit from all angles. She heard Bastion growl as he hit the balcony floor behind her, suffering the same onslaught of Martian sandstorms.

  “Dammit, these suits don’t even have life sensors,” Holly growled, wishing that she were in a heavy encounter suit with all of its impregnated live scanners.

  “We’re eyes-only, Bastion,” she said, raising her rifle and peering through the murk.

  There was the edge of the balcony, sagging in several parts where something had hit them from above.

  The dome plates. Holly’s eyes tracked upwards to see more rushing brown air. It was impossible to see how many of the massive plates had come down in the strike. But she could see the dark shadows of girders lying across at various angles over the space, smashing down railings and skewering into the plaza circle below.

  This whole place is gone, she thought. Anyone left in here without a suit or an emergency breathing apparatus would be dead. What was the chance of finding any of the commanding officers alive in a zero-atmosphere environment?

  And, as if she needed proof of her grim revelation, her boots hit on a humped shape on the ground: a human figure in the light red overalls of a Martian general service suit. She couldn’t tell what designation—whether personnel, civilian, or military.

  “Marshal?” she heard Bastion whisper behind her.

  “No sign,” Holly said, seeing another humped shape by the balcony railings and another. The Martian air pushed and roared at them as more of the red dust was forcing its way into the dome from the outside, and her PDS microphone was picking up the constant howl of the winds. She wouldn’t be able to hear him even if they used their suit speakers to shout for him.

  “Keep an eye out. I’m going forward,” Holly said, stalking ahead onto the balcony, ducking where the shadow of one of the dome’s girders suddenly loomed out of the murk.

  There! A lighter shade against the railings and, as she walked toward it, the unmistakeable sheen of white in the gloom.

  A commander’s suit. She didn’t know which one as she reached him and knelt by the man’s side to see an older figure in his sixties, his features grotesquely contorted from sudden asphyxiation.

  “Main Array?” Holly clicked the transmitter on the side of her helmet. “This is Lieutenant Cropper at Liberty Plaza. I have one commander, DOA . . .” she said the words grimly as she hunkered by the railings. Somewhere in the dark behind her, Bastion was continuing to search the bodies.

  “Lieutenant Cropper, this is Main Array. I got your suit location on the satellite scanners. Registering ID tags . . . Yep, that’s Inner Command Commander Westinghouse,” the voice of someone very far away and much safer said over her shoulder.

  “Our scanners are reading no live personnel on your level. Repeat—no live personnel on your level . . .”

  “Dammit!” Holly growled. Marshal! Did that mean . . . ?

  “But we have live identifiers on the southeast corridor. Martian Academy Commander. Captain Badiou. There might be others . . .”

  “Southeast corridor?” Holly looked up, and all she could see was the wall of the dust storm. “Where is that?”

  “Straight ahead! Halfway around the circumference of the dome—but you’ve got incoming, Lieutenant! Two unknown vectors converging on your location!”

  There was a sudden, sharper sound through her speakers, and Holly looked up to see that something—a shadow like a leaping cat—had leapt upwards onto the railing ahead of her from below. Its edges were indistinct in the dark of the storm, but as the gray-and-ochre air shifted, she saw it raise its head. And there was the singular, glowing, red eye of one of the Jackals, looking straight at her.

  “Bastion—contact!” she yelled as she dove forward.

  “Contact!” Holly yelled as she hit the metal floor of the balcony and rolled, spinning around with her rifle up high as the Jackal jumped . . .

  “Grah!” she growled in anger and fury as she let out a burst of fire against it. The Jackal leapt through the lighter atmosphere and slammed into the balcony behind her, where she had been a moment earlier. The murderbot’s impact made the entire balcony section they were on shake and vibrate, and if her bullets had done any damage whatsoever, then Holly couldn’t see what it was in the storm.

  She saw the Jackal flip itself over in one animal, inhuman movement—and then it leaped again from its powerful hind legs . . .

  And disappeared into the murk.

  “Dammit! Bastion!” Holly said, spinning around to try and track where the thing had gone—but the dust and sand in the air all around was too thick, and she couldn’t even see the railing or Bastion Li.