She pressed the jack-gun against another neck and the machine began to vibrate and dig into the captured female’s flesh.
-21-
After passing Pavonis Mons and with Olympus Mons towering in the distance, Marten saw SU jets once more.
The commandos skimmed eight meters above huge red dunes, with the sand below drifting in ominous swirls. All day, Marten had fought against an increasingly strong headwind. Omi now tapped his shoulder and pointed into the reddish sky.
At first, Marten thought Omi meant the wispy ice clouds kilometers high. Then Marten noticed slow-moving specks.
“Can the jets climb that high?” Marten asked over the com-link.
“Did you see that flare?” Omi asked.
“Flare?”
“It was near one of those jets, might have been one of them.”
Marten made a shrewd guess. “Martian orbitals must have jumped the jets.”
During the next few minutes, there were four more flares. Likely, it was aircraft dying a violent death.
Marten hoped that meant some Martian space defenses still existed. The thought of being trapped on Mars for good made him queasy. He had been trapped in Australian Sector for years. He wondered sometimes if he ever should have escaped from the Sun-Works Factory the day his parents died. He’d yearned for freedom all those years in Australian Sector. He’d resisted Social Unity, just as the Martians had resisted here. The Storm Assault Missile had changed him. He no longer resisted because he no longer accepted either Social Unity or the Highborn as even nominally in charge of his life. Until he found a free society, a free government, he was his own government, his own self-run State.
Marten squinted up at the wispy ice clouds. He searched for specks, but the jets and orbitals had either perished or left for somewhere else. The Planetary Union was the closest thing to freedom there was in Inner Planets. Yet they followed Unionist doctrine. It talked a good game, but essentially meant the union leaders made the decisions. It leaned heavily on original Social Unity doctrine. The great difference was power. Social Unity wielded it and the Planetary Union wanted it. Because the Unionists fought like a wounded beast, it granted its individual members greater autonomy than otherwise.
To pass the long hours riding the skimmer, Marten had spoken to Squad Leader Rojas about the Planetary Union. It’s how he’d discovered the majority of his information concerning Martian ideals.
Rojas’s major credo and apparently the Planetary Union’s as well was—Mars was for the Martians. That was reasonable. But Marten no longer found socialist theories acceptable in any form. As far as he could tell, socialism always led to a police state, with a heavy emphasis on thought control.
Marten wanted a free state, where free people united to achieve goals they genuinely desired. Instead of Thought Police, individual people would work toward individual goals. His mother had taught him about such systems. They had existed in the past and might possibly exist farther out in the Solar System. Yet his mother had also taught him another truth. People were not inherently good. Each human possessed an evil streak and a propensity toward bad actions. Each person needed a code of conduct that corralled that propensity toward bad actions. For his mother, it had been God and the ancient book called the Bible.
Do not steal was one of the ancient maxims. Social Unity stole a man’s labor and stole his freedom. Social Unity theory spoke about equality, using it so the State could plunder the production of the individual.
Marten shook his head. He refused to let anyone plunder him anymore. His stint in the Storm Assault Missile had torn the last veils from his eyes. He had no allegiance to Social Unity or the Highborn. Both systems sought to enslave him. So the sovereign State of Marten Kluge—the germ to an ancient method of governance—was going to leave Mars before the Planetary Union tried to usurp his freedom and mold him in its likeness.
The great question was how to achieve his dream. If the SU Battlefleet had moved into near orbit, it meant they had likely captured his shuttle. If they held his shuttle, how was he going to tear it out of their grasp? Perhaps just as importantly, how was he going to get into space again to try to wrest his shuttle back into his rightful control?
Twelve hours later, Omi drove the skimmer into a low garage at the base of Olympus Mons. Marten had the men line up in an oxygen zone. They actually looked strange without their EVA helmets on. Most had matted hair and dark circles around their eyes.
Marten spoke tersely to them, commending some and giving others Highborn axioms concerning combat. Then he dismissed the men and told them to get some sleep.
As the men filed away, Major Diaz strode up and saluted. The major looked as dangerous as ever and his hair, incredibly, was swept back hard into perfect form. Diaz had lost weight, but none of the harshness to his features.
“I will report to the Secretary-General,” Diaz said. “I will tell him you are a crafty soldier. I will tell him your courage and quick action saved the commandos from almost certain destruction. I refer to the jets, of course.”
Marten waited for the kicker. He didn’t have long to wait.
“However, I demand satisfaction from your lieutenant,” Diaz said.
“It what form?” Marten asked.
“A duel,” Diaz said.
“Are you tired of living?”
Major Diaz stiffened. “Without honor, a man is an animal.”
“I ordered Omi to disarm you,” Marten said. “Therefore, your desire for satisfaction should lie with me.”
“I have no desire to kill a soldier who could teach the commandos useful skills,” Diaz said.
“That’s something, at least. Major, why not wait for satisfaction until we find out if Martian space defense still stands? If it doesn’t, the Planetary Union is going to need each one of us. I know that I want you with me when Social Unity launches drop-troops.”
“The weight of honor compels me—”
“Major Diaz,” Marten said. “Honor compels you to save your planet. Mars is for the Martians, remember? Honor means that you must forgo your personal desires until the emergency ends. We are free and wish to remain so. As much as I dislike your murder of prisoners, I recognize your combat ability. You are what the Highborn refer to as a ‘natural soldier.’ You’re a killer. Omi is also a killer. I’ve been trained to mimic one. Killers are always rare and always feared by the vast majority of people. It is strategic and tactical stupidity for the killers of one side to eliminate its best warriors. So despite our personal dislike for each other, we need to work together for at least a little while longer.”
Diaz’s lips had compressed tighter throughout Marten’s speech. Now both his hands gripped his belt. Diaz glanced at Omi, who seemed to watch the major indifferently.
“Your words are compelling,” Diaz said. “I hadn’t realized you possessed honor as well. This changes the issue. …I will agree to your suggestion if you will cede me one concession.”
“What?” Marten asked.
“You must show Secretary-General Chavez Martian dignity.”
In surprise, Marten lifted an eyebrow. “You mean I should stand up when he enters a room?”
“Yes.”
“…agreed,” Marten said, and he held out his hand.
Diaz and he shook. Then the major turned around and hurried away for the door the rest of the men had used.
“You never know,” Marten told Omi.
Omi remained silent.
“Come on,” Marten said. “I need a shower and then I want at least an hour’s sleep.”
Marten had his shower, but not the hour nap. He and Omi were summoned to join Secretary-General Chavez in the Olympus Mons command center.