Gagarin’s impassive face did not show the pity he felt or the rage that was building. Although he didn’t like the lieutenant, he didn’t wish him any harm either. But a choice was made: to let one prideful arrogant man to go to his death, rather than have his platoon slaughtered. It seemed cold-blooded, but it wasn’t. The lieutenant was dead either way, but 30 good marines didn’t die with him.
“Now what are we going to do?” asked a marine corporal.
“I got an idea,” Gagarin thought up an improvised solution. “Take your squad and hold-up here. Don’t do anything! We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Roger that,” the corporal gratefully acknowledged.
Sergeant Gagarin and twenty marines then retreated to the entrance.
* * * * *
The black uniformed security guards waited nervously behind their steel barricade; their hands sweated as they gripped their weapons tightly at the ready. They mistakenly deduced that the one-man charge was a reckless and unsuccessful probe of their defenses. Still, Martian Marines were never known to give up. The guards sensed that another attempt was shortly coming and probably more violent in its invocation.
Over the next few minutes, it became strangely quiet, and the Earthmen strained their eyes to see the end of the corridor for the imminent assault. As every second dragged by, they each waited, accompanied by their fears, which filled every chest with heaviness.
Then something was vaguely heard invading the silence of the corridor as it drew nearer. At first it was unrecognizable, but as the noise continued, the distinct whine of electric motors stirred near.
Suddenly, a volley of “popping” sounds pieced the air, like corks being pulled out of wine bottles. This was quickly following a “hissing” that grew intense.
“SMOKE GRENADES!” someone yelled as the explosive containers were unexpectedly heaved into the hall by the marines. The grenades jumped and ricocheted in every direction, filling the corridor with a dense choking cloud. The whining of electric motors then grew louder once more. Immediately the guards began shooting although their targets were well concealed behind the smoke.
The salvo of plasma bolts was tremendous, but the marines began returning fire—and advanced unhindered. Some on the security guards began falling wounded or dead as the assault relentlessly continued.
“KEEP FIRING! KEEP FIRING!” yelled an Earth officer to rally his men.
Suddenly, several small dark towers on wheels burst out of the thick haze. The unexpected vehicles took the security guards completely by surprise, rousing an immediate hysteria within their ranks. The marines had created a few makeshift armored vehicles by lashing pried-up flooring plates to several of the transport carts. As crude as they were, the vehicles were devastating. From makeshift gun ports, Martian Marines raked their enemy’s position, while the machines kept advancing steadily.
“NOW!” screamed Sergeant Gagarin to the marines following behind the vehicles.
In unison, every Martian Marine pulled the pin on a concussion grenade and heaved it at the barricade. Most of the grenades arced precisely into the titanium bunker and detonated among the defenders. Although a single type of this grenade gave off a small explosion to temporarily stun an intended enemy’s senses, the barrage of grenades that was thrown into the small confined space created enough of a high pressure shock wave to kill. In that moment, the remaining soldiers of the Earth died at their positions—all from brain hemorrhages—and resistance promptly ceased.
The Martian Marines then climbed into the bunker and over their fallen foes, making their way to the security room. Two minutes later after a brief firefight, it fell into Martian hands.
* * * * *
Chapter 7: Command Center
The first phase of the Martian Marines’ plan was accomplished almost flawlessly, but the ensuing strategy rapidly fell apart. In horrific exchange of laser discharges and pulse weapons, the two space stations dueled ferociously in the endless night. They cleaved off chunks of each other in flaming pieces as their weapons penetrated weak spots in each other’s energy shields. Guardian Two was launching more of its fighters as a Martian supply ship hurriedly withdrew from a docking bay of Guardian One.
The ship’s mission was to bring in more reinforcements while evacuating the wounded, but no one foresaw the waves of Earth fighters being launched from Guardian Two. Although the Martian ship was ray shielded, it sustained several major hits while unloading the marines. This incited its civilian captain to panic and then flee without any prior warning for the safety of deep space.
The ship pulled away with such suddenness and speed that its steel tethers and mooring clamps were sheered off while several concourses were wrenched from the station in the shrill groans of the bending and breaking of metal. This action caused several connected compartments to rip apart into fragments and collapse, unintentionally killing over a platoon of the last of the disembarking marines by pulling them out into space, or impaling and crushing them. As the ship started its erratic getaway through the bodies and debris it had just created, enemy fighters swarmed in around it, strafing the vessel with their pulse cannons.
The battle inside Guardian One was no less as fierce. Countless firefights between Earth security forces and Martian Marines were happening everywhere throughout the station. In one such battle, Earth forces were being driven back into the reactor room by the hard charging marines.
From catwalks, work platforms, and behind equipment, constant fire was traded. Hand-to-hand combat, considered a primitive method of last resort, became the rule. As in any such battle, uniformed men and women turned from training to instincts and savagery to survive. They gouged, clubbed, stabbed, punched, and kicked just to stay alive.
The command center of Guardian One was secured only fifteen minutes earlier in the same gruesome way by Martian Marines. A thick haze of carbon smoke from different burning materials still filled the room, while bodies littered the floor in a mosaic of death, but the center was far from idle. Marines in their gray camouflaged space suits and black field gear manned the control panels and worked the equipment, as did their Earth counterparts in Guardian Two.
Major Franks, a tall well-built black man, momentarily glanced at his commanding officer, Colonel Lon. As the ranking officer yelled out orders and guided the weaponry of the station, Franks was glad that he didn't have Lon's job. It seemed to have the intensity of a forward observer, and yet, required the tactical abilities of a naval officer, and that just didn't quite suit him. The major was happy with the more mundane duties of coordinating the marine assault forces in securing the station.
Franks barked out a stream of constant commands, as he listened to reports and viewed his marines' progress on a set of combat tactical control computers resting on their own portable tables. He became totally immersed in the situation, and the last thing he needed was an interruption. A line of prisoners, however, was being moved from one compartment to another. This quickly became a source of rage as one prisoner stumbled into the major's equipment, almost knocking it over.
"Sergeant Gagarin! What the hell are you doing with these prisoners?" Franks thundered as he stood up.
"Sorry, Sir," the sergeant offered apologetically. "We were just making room. We've got a whole bunch more coming and we can't find any place to put them."
"Sergeant, I don't have time for your bullshit! Just get them the hell out of here! I don't want these turds breathing my air!" the major was curt with his subordinate.
"Then what shall I do with them, Major?" the sergeant asked.
"Stick them in evac-pods and get them the hell off the station! There's no way we're taking them with us!"
"Aye, Sir!" Gagarin snapped a reply.
Walking to the head of the detail, Sergeant Gagarin pointed the muzzle of his weapon at the first prisoner and indicated a direction with it. "ALL RIGHT YOU BUNCH OF MAGGOTS, START MOVING!" he commanded.
As the prisoner detail marched off, Franks glared at them hatefully.
"Those poor dumb grunts are just doing their duty," Colonel Lon's voice surprised Major Franks.
The major turned to face his commanding officer now standing next to him. "Does the Colonel mean like when they shot up Dome-One thirty years ago? It must have been really tough for these Earthers facing down a bunch of unarmed workers, striking for better conditions."
Major, hating these people for past sins is not going to bring your father back," Lon offered sympathetically.
"No, Sir, it won't," Franks reply was emotional, "but they've always treated us as sub-human. Personally, I don't give a rat's tail what happens to them. I just want to be free of them."
"We're doing that right now, Ed," the colonel reassured. "So what's the situation, Major?" Lon's tone changed back to a military professional.
"Sir," Franks once more buried the past and became a marine again, "although we caught them by surprise, they're still putting up a tremendous fight. We've have just secured the reactor room, but there is still sporadic fighting and flare ups throughout the station."
"It's no better out there," Colonel Lon confessed. "They recovered quickly. They're launching fighters and continuing to fight regardless that we knocked out over half of their batteries. I think that…."
Suddenly, a small explosion blew off the hatch to the engineering crawlway, choking the room with dust and smoke. Major Franks and many other marines automatically threw themselves to the floor and readied their weapons. And luckily too, for plasma bullets sprayed from the opening, and mowed down those marines that didn't. A second later, figures in the Earth’s black security uniforms jumped out of the hole with the objective of taking back the control center.
"BREAK-THROUGH! BREAK-THROUGH!" screamed Franks as he began shooting his weapon from a prone position.
Franks killed the first two soldiers out of the duct, however, many more followed. The Earthmen poured through the hole, shooting, clubbing, and bayoneting in a hateful frenzy. But marines are marines, and countered the attack with their own fervor and tenacity. For many moments, the struggle lay in the balance, with the advantage shifting constantly from one side to the other.
Finally, Sergeant Gagarin, leading marine reinforcements, charged into fray. The marines’ withering fire and wild onslaught took a heavy toll upon the Earth security forces, driving survivors back into the duct. Several concussion grenades were then heaved into the engineering access. Their detonation announced the end of the battle.
As Major Franks watched Sergeant Gagarin and ten other marines climbed up and disappear into the duct, he rose slowly to his feet.
"The sons of bitches, they're using the engineering and repair ducts to filter in behind us!" the major's voice boomed. He turned quickly to where before his superior officer once stood. "Colonel, I think we better…." Franks voice suddenly trailed off. Colonel Michael Lon, Commandant of the Martian Marine Corps, lay dead from a blast to his face.
The death of his friend and superior officer instantly stunned Franks. He stared stupefied at the corpse unbelieving of the colonel’s demise. He then bowed his head with closed eyes in mourning and out of respect, but the situation demanded no time for lamenting.
"MAJOR, WE GOT A PROBLEM HERE!" a marine manning the communication's position yelled out.
Franks spurted to the control consoles. His attention quickly shifted to the Martian freighter fighting for its very survival. Although the ship was heavy shielded as well as bristling with armament, it was not able to fend off the multitude of fighters that attacked it mercilessly. Soon gaping breaches from the hull belched plumes of water vapor, contaminated with other particles, reminiscent of smoke.
Franks redirected some of Guardian One's batteries in support of the languishing ship, but the inevitable could not be forestalled. With a single missile from an Earth fighter, the huge ship was transformed into a massive expanding orb of fission that scattered burning wreckage in all directions.
Flaming metal chunks were spewed across space in deadly shards as well as large sections. Fighters that were too close disintegrated in smaller explosions from the freighter's aftermath while other debris rained upon the two space stations with total disregard. The two stations careened wildly from the enormous shock wave of the blast and the impact of the last physical remnants of the ship that pierced both of them. Many minutes passed before the effects of the explosion were spent.
Franks displayed a slight sneer. "Looks like we'll be walking home! WHERE THE HELL IS OUR SUPPORT!" the man roared in frustration.
Suddenly, an electronic buzzer echoed through the room.
"Shit!" cursed another marine. "Major, the gate controls just went red!"
"Can you trace the problem?" Franks yelled back.
"I'm trying to, Sir! There seems to be a break in the converter circuits!" the marine responded.
"Try to bypass them!" the major ordered. Franks then abruptly grabbed at his throat mike. "Left Guard to Pistol Pete! Left Guard to Pistol Pete! Do you copy, over?"
"Pistol Pete to Left Guard! I read you, Six! Go!" the voice of Captain Benson filled the radio receiver.
"Benson, were the hell are you! We've got all reds on the hyper-gate controls! Over!"
As Captain Benson squatted behind a huge piece of machinery in some unknown room, plasma bolts whizzed furiously passed his head. However, he quickly returned fire, hitting one of his assailants sniping at him from an elevated platform. "We're a little busy right now, Major! Between trying to stabilize the reactor power and these damn snipers, we’ve got our hands full! We'll try to get to it as soon as possible! Over!"
"Don't try, just do it!" Franks sternly decreed.
"Aye, Sir!" Benson replied as he shot another sniper.
Suddenly, Guardian 2 shook from several explosions on its unseen side in bright evanescent flashes. Its batteries then eerily went silent as all power faded from the station in a rolling blackout.
Major Franks stood amazed as he gazed out a large porthole and watched as Guardian 2 began to drift further away. He did not believe that the fighting between the two stations was so unexpectedly over. As he continued to stare out into the dark void, his eyes caught a ship approaching from behind the wayward station. A lone Dolphin destroyer in Martian colors drew closer.
Franks dashed over to the communication's position and keyed the audio transmitter. "Left Guard to Right Guard! Left Guard to Right Guard! Do you copy? Over!"
There was a short pause and some static, and then the voice of Captain Richard Wakinyan was heard over the speaker. "Major, you needn't be so formal. I would know that loud and irritating voice of yours anywhere," Wakinyan tried to lighten the situation.
However, Franks was in no mood for joking and grew very annoyed. "You're ten minutes late, damn it! Where the hell have you been?" he demanded to know.
"A few Earth ships took a complete disliking to our existence," Wakinyan explained becoming more serious. "They cost us time— and casualties."
As the Crazy Horse glided by, Franks clearly saw the damage to the ship. "Sorry, Wakinyan, I guess this morning hasn't been pleasant for either one of us."
"It’s okay, Major." Wakinyan assured. "I suggest you send your success code. Paladin is probable a little worried by now."
"I will. By the way, have you got room on that garbage scow of yours? Our ride got zapped, and there's wounded all over the place," Franks asked respectfully.
"Start shuttling them over, we'll make the room,” Wakinyan did not hesitate to answer. “You'll have to use your own boarding pods and anything else that you can find though, but be advised—only Bay One is operational."
Franks shook his head as he spied the gapping hole in what was left of Bay Two of the Crazy Horse. "Thanks, Captain," Franks was relieved and grateful. "It's too bad that not all the transports are equipped with hyper-drives," the major turned and saw a tarp bei
ng placed over Colonel Lon's body, "it would have saved a lot of grief."
* * * * *
Chapter 8: Eye of the Devil
The planet Mars was an outwardly angry and hostile world that inspired both imagination and myth, but it also instilled feelings of fear and awe in all those who looked upon it. Ever since man first gazed up into the night's sky at it, the planet glowed in a flaming red and orange like heated coals. However, "The Devil's Eye" as it was once nicknamed, held an overwhelming magnitude that left many visitors to this world in breathless wonder.
Dust storms moving in splotches of browns and blacks appeared as bellowing wisps of smoke that seemed to float over the Martian landscape. They intermittently blurred and distorted terrain features as if excessive waves of heat were swirling about. This added to the illusion of a world on fire. Not even the white polar caps were able to cool this fervent impression. However, the impression was now reality.
Olympus Mons boiled and roared upward in fiery explosions. The huge volcano smoldered eerily against the heavens as it spat lava and ash furiously in plumes of pungent sulfur. Its physical contempt reached well beyond the atmosphere, threatening space itself. Truly, this inferno was a most fitting tribute to the Roman God of War, especially as dead hulks of ships and human remains slowly circled the planet in space. So were the thoughts of Admiral Selena Darius who held an obsessive loathing for the planet and its people.
Selena’s fixation of hatred against Mars and the Martians grew out of her ordeal of her only command in the Arris War. As she stared out a porthole on the bridge of the Quinton, she was mesmerized by the volcanic violence of the red world that imperiled its surrounding space. It led her mind back in time, and then Darius remembered why only one moon now circled Mars.
* * * * *
Almost a score of years had passed since the Arris had attempted to invade the Earth’s system. An insect race that was driven by their own basic instincts, they had exterminated all other beings before them to ensure their own species future survival. And seventeen years ago, they had turned their malevolence upon humanity after accidentally discovering and destroying several human colonies at Alpha Centauri A.