An hour later, the last full humans aboard the Quinton were rounded up. They were beaten bloody, pushed, and dragged into an empty, but repaired shuttle bay by their cyborg shipmates who were armed. The humans did not understand reason for their physical abuse and begged for it to stop. Their pleas, however, fell upon deaf machine ears as they were quickly sealed into the chamber.
As every member of the group pondered their fate, they nursed their injuries as best they could. Suddenly, they heard the sound of huge motors and hydraulic systems rumble above their frightened voices. The sound was steady and unrelenting, and as the reverberation continued, the terrifying hissing of an air breach joined in without warning.
“THEY’RE OPENNING THE OUTER DOORS!” cried out a man.
Bloodcurdling screams quickly followed, as the people panicked. They clawed and tugged at every hatch or door that might provide them with safety—but none were granted escape. Every soul was then wrenched out into space with the howling and disappearing atmosphere of the bay. What followed afterwards was a deathly silent.
Selena stood on the bridge of the Quinton, gazing out of a massive window plate. She was extremely contented to see the countless human bodies struggle for life and then die in the cold, dark void as each ship emulated the Quinton’s lead.
“There’ll be no traitors’ help this time,” she said to Renee. “Get us underway!”
“Yes, Admiral,” Captain Renee affirmed.
Within minutes, the entire Crimson Fleet vanished into multitudes of hyperspace wormholes that all lead to Valamars.
* * * * *
Chapter 23: It Begins
Because the Martian fleet lacked any type of space probes, they were always forced to rely on manned reconnaissance. It was a costly way of providing needed intelligence, but there was no other choice.
A small Martian patrol ship, MPS Tepid, glided to its observation point on the edge of the Valamar System. The craft was part of a squadron of twelve that was to monitor for the arrival of the Earth fleet. Its position was roughly 200,000 kilometers from the slowly tumbling cipher scout. Considered a safe distance for observation, the tiny five-man crew vessel began its reconnaissance duty in the hope that it and its eleven sister ships would go unnoticed.
While four of the crew diligently worked their instruments and watched for any signs of the invaders, the fifth crewman readily handed out mugs of coffee, prepared in the ship’s midget kitchen. As he passed the last cup to the ship’s captain, he gazed out the front window plate at the serene view of space and stars.
“See anything, Captain?” the crewman asked concerned.
The captain took a sip of coffee to wet his lips. “Nope, sensors all show clear, too.”
The crewman frowned nervously. “When do you think they’ll come?”
“Soon enough!” the captain spoke honestly. The captain then glanced at his chronometer. “It’s about time for a communication check. You better do it before someone gets worried.”
“Aye, Sir,” the crewman answered, taking a last look at the stars. He then turned made his way back through the cramp compartment with an uneasy feeling crawling up his spine.
* * * * *
As the Crazy Horse passed lazily over Valamars, Wakinyan and Randall stood on the bridge in their space suits that were donned beforehand, save for the helmets they held in hand. All that could be done was accomplished and they waited, like every other Martian, for the enemy fleet to emerge.
The planet presented a beautiful and picturesque view from the 25,000-mile high orbit. It was sunrise for some of the magnificent, but unfilled Martian cities. Nevertheless, it enabled the duo with a breathtaking sight and the hope of a new day: the birth of Valamars.
“You think we’ll ever get to see them inhabited by our people?” asked Randall candidly, guessing at Wakinyan’s answer.
“Probably not,” Wakinyan was truthful. “But they will be filled—with a better future than what we had.”
Randall frowned mindfully. “You know, I been thinking. In all of Earth’s history, Martians have always been portrayed as the bad guys. We’re the green creatures with huge heads and nasty tentacles ceaselessly looking to obliterate mankind. At this moment, I don’t find that idea very amusing,” James sounded offended while his face betrayed a hint of anger.
Wakinyan placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “The Earthers have always had the problem of projecting their inner most fears—or their own hatred upon something they don’t want to understand. It’s an easy way of justifying their self-righteousness—and their actions of destruction. I hope we, as Martians, never become like them.”
“Well, we’ll be long beyond caring if it ever happens,” added James. “But the funny thing is that the Earthers view of us even stems back to ancient times. Mars, God of War, they made him out to be a bully and a coward.”
“It’s a myth, Jim,” Richard pointed out, “and those bastards out there are about to find that out—the hard way!”
Suddenly, the communications crewman called out to the two, “Commander, Captain, we’ve got company!”
* * * * *
The bow of the MPS Tepid floated near its patrol station on course, while the rest of the tiny ship—and the bodies of its dead crew tumbled and spun in all other directions. Dismembered by an accidental ramming by an Earth scout ship coming out of hyperspace, the craft was destroyed in an instant.
The MPS Catter had watched the horrific scene from less than 30,000 kilometers away as it raced to get to its own patrol area. It had, however, alerted the Martian forces of the tragedy and the invasion.
In quick succession, the rest of the Earth fleet soon appeared out of dazzling rotations of swirling neon energy. The Earth fleet then reformed itself and prepared for battle, while the Ruthann hunted for the cipher scout. The big ship founded it very easily.
On the bridge of the Quinton, Selena paced the deck deliberately, her boots clicking to the metal plates. She stopped, however, and turned to Captain Renee, who approached her.
“Admiral,” the cyborg captain began his report, “the entire fleet has arrived and the cipher scout has been retrieved.”
“Good,” Selena was anxious to end this. “As soon as all ships have regrouped, the fleet will proceed at space normal speed until we make contact,” Darius ordered.
Renee, however, was troubled. “Admiral, what about the destroyed Martian patrol ship?”
Selena paused in thought. “It might have been a coincidence, but the Martians aren’t stupid. Send some of our fighters out to cover the fleet. I also want you to divide up two squadrons of destroyers and have them patrol ahead of us. We will not be caught by surprise again!” she affirmed to the Quinton’s captain.
* * * * *
From the bridge of the Crazy Horse, Randall ended the conversation with the captain of the Catter. He took a deep breath and turned to Wakinyan. “MPS Catter reports that the Tepid has been destroyed and that the enemy fleet is moving forward, on course.”
“So it begins,” Wakinyan thought out loud. “How much time before they reach the asteroid field?”
James then made some quick calculations. “At present speed, approximately two hours,”
Wakinyan nodded a confirmation, as he bit his lip. “Mr. Randall, notify General Franks to get into position. Bring all ships to general quarters and give the signal to prepare to blow atmosphere. Once atmosphere is blown, move them to their respective jump off points for the rendezvous,” Wakinyan commanded.
Randall immediately pressed a button on the communications console. A claxon sounded through the ship, as a command signal was transmitted to the fleet.
Throughout every Martian warship, supply ship, and mutant freighter, crews scrambled to get their space helmets on. A minute later, Wakinyan gave the command to blow atmosphere.
Martian ships then began expelling their air supply of oxygen/nitrogen gas impregnated with water vapor from breath
ing. As it was pumped out of rows of vents along the sides of each ship, it formed a fine mist of ice particles, which partially obscured the vessels. Swiftly the ships move out of the ice clouds and proceeded to get underway. The battle was about to begin.
* * * * *
Chapter 24: Recon
The main asteroid belt of Valamars surrounded two thirds of the inner system, similar to that of Earth’s. Unlike the Earth system, however, it was not a sparsely populated area of distant rocks loosely separated by as much as tens of thousands of miles. On the contrary, it was a tight formation of ice, rock, clumps of charged particles, and other forms of primordial debris within a compact loop. The largest pieces tumbled aimlessly less than a few thousand yards apart, while the gaps in between were garnished and filled with smaller rubble.
Held together by a complex gravitational field embodying six nearby circling gas giants, a binary yellow dwarf sun system, and several thousand shepherding planetoids within the belt itself, the circling ring of stone was a foreboding specter in the rays of the system’s distant stars. The desolate region ranged over 150 million miles wide and 30 million miles at its deepest, and the majority of objects within the belt were battered and cratered from the frequent collisions occurring over the last two billion years. Furthermore, the region was still extremely volatile, something that would never change through its entire existence.
Born of a colossal collision with a wandering star system, the leftover rocky material was torn away or smashed apart in a titanic gravitational and physical struggle that lasted over many thousands of years. Finally after the rogue system had eventually merged with the Valamars system, the debris settled into its present elliptical orbit. This not only added uniqueness to the Valamars system, but also a dangerous element of orbiting planet killers.
Although it filled the night’s sky with these menacing rocky projectiles, it also provided the Martians with a means of self-defense. For the asteroids’ random courses within the orbiting ring stood as an obstacle to any spacecraft that was so unwise to attempt to penetrate it. It was a natural barrier, one that Wakinyan intended to take full advantage of.
Among the vast amounts of debris and bodies that orbited within the belt, however; a somewhat shiny objected floated with them. Its peculiar shape and size to the untrained eye would be hard to classify, but to every Martian Marine who saw it, the vehicle was the familiar workhorse they called a boarding pod.
Its irregular shape blended in well with the asteroids, as the craft drifted casually above them. However, it was anything but casual inside the vehicle, where a squad of spacesuited marines commanded by a newly commissioned officer, Captain Stephan Gagarin, sweated out every minute as they waited for the arrival of the enemy fleet.
The pod was hastily crammed full of different instruments and equipment for detection and tracking. However, with stealth as much as its mission goal, the instruments were the craft’s only source of illumination. In the dimness of its airless walls, the marines keep up their solitary vigilance.
Gagarin’s eyes ached from the strain of constantly scanning the eternal void of space for the gleaming reflections of the Earth fleet. Although the passive scanners were supposedly more than capable to detect the armada, Gagarin trusted his eyes more than he trusted the equipment. The asteroid field was way too dense, creating a number of false returns, confusing electronic noise generated by different orbital bodies in space, and rebounding echoes from by numerous meteors of iron ore.
There was a lot riding on this mission, and the marine did not want to leave anything to chance. So as time ticked slowly by, the man refused to budge from the porthole that he kept a faithful watch from.
“See anything, Gunny—I mean, Captain,” Corporal Jerry Enders asked his friend and former platoon leader.
Gagarin shook his head “no” to indicate he saw nothing. “I think I’m going blind,” he said while wishing he could rub his eyes. I’m catching some nasty reflections off my visor from those damn small chunks of ice.”
“You try adjusting your visor’s tint control?” Enders offered advice.
Gagarin just sighed in disgust. “Yeah, but it just makes it worse,” he said.
Suddenly, Gagarin jerked his head to the side as he caught an unexpected shimmer in the corner of his eye. He gawked fearfully through the porthole as a lump came to his throat. Detected by his peripheral vision, the black void now sparkled in a direction it had not done so before, and it made his heart pound in his chest.
As he stared directly at the new twinkle in the never-ending night, his eyes squinted unblinking upon it hoping it was just the annoying glare of more ice. But the truth fell upon him like a lead weight, and he realized that it was the vastness of the Earth fleet that was caught in the distant suns’ radiance.
“RAISE THE COMMANDER, NOW!” Gagarin bellowed over the intercom as he positioned himself behind the pod’s helm controls.
* * * * *
“Magnify 10 times,” Captain Renee ordered as he fixed his vision upon the asteroid field. The huge circular viewer on the Quinton’s bridge for a moment flickered in video loss, but then became a crisp sharp image.
“Again!” he repeated, while his apathetic face betrayed not his thoughts. Once again the viewer’s magnification zoomed in closer.
Renee studied the vast asteroid field with his cold machine eyes, while his heart felt a great tempest of fear welling up deep within him. The belt of rock and debris was as welcoming as a graveyard. The sea of orbiting tombstones was immense—and ready to claim any invader to this system who was foolish enough to wander into it.
O'Donald’s report was crystal clear; the cipher scout had showed signs of being tampered with and data altered. Surely the Martians wanted them here, leaving no doubt to the captain of the Quinton; this was an ambush.
Renee turned to Admiral Darius, who sat unconcerned in her command chair. “Admiral, this coincides with Admiral O'Donald’s report on the cipher scout. It’s a trap!” Renee’s fear leaked out in a raised tone. “They want to keep our fleet from maneuvering when they attack!”
However, Darius just smirked. “Of course that’s what they want,” she answered, “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“So what are we going to do?” he became somewhat anxious.
Darius just smiled. “Halt the fleet, but send some of our fighter patrols to probe the field. Let’s see if our Martian friends grow a little impatient—and a little careless.”
Renee nodded in relief and then turned to the command and control computer. Within minutes of Darius decree, flights of small blended upside–down dark gray triangular boxes with stubby and raised swept-back “gul” wings packed the space in front of the Crimson Fleet. The drone fighters then armed their side–mounted weapon pods and headed directly into the asteroid field with one mission: to seek out and destroy any Martian threat.
* * * * *
The news from Gagarin was not wholly unexpected to Wakinyan. He knew he had to provide an incentive to draw Darius into his snare. If he didn’t, it might turn into a stalemate with the Earthers possibly bringing in more reinforcements. This ultimately spelled not just defeat for the Martians—but annihilation.
“Signal Trager, Mr. Randall,” Wakinyan ordered.
* * * * *
As minutes passed uneasily by, every member of the marine pod team assumed his or her combat position. The two ball turrets of the craft continuously swept the space around them for any intruders, while its scanners keep track of the enemy fleet. No one aboard really wanted to think about what would happen next. For Earth fighter patrols grew so intense that the possibility of discovery was likely. Yet, each marine hoped and prayed that they would pass quickly out of range—and unobserved.
“Still no movement with the enemy fleet,” Arasuki Hoshi’s soft female voice communicated through each headphone.
However, Gagarin sat checking and fingering his controls. Not even her ple
asing and gentle tones changed the seriousness of the situation.
“Anyone want to bet that they are still sitting there after we lose contact?” Enders tried to start up a betting pool.
“SHUT UP AND STAY OFF THE INTERCOM UNLESS YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO REPORT!” Gagarin made his authority clear.
“Sorry, Captain,” Enders apologized.
Gagarin didn’t like pulling rank on his friend, but he wanted chatter kept to a minimum. Besides, that kind of fool’s bet always seemed to tempt fate, and Stephan knew they needed all the luck they could get. Still, Gagarin valued his friend and did not want any bad-blood between them.
“Sorry, Jerry,” Gagarin spoke words atonement over his microphone a minute later.
“It’s okay, Stef,” Enders regarded the tense strain upon his long-time buddy.
Suddenly, Arasuki’s voice broke in over the intercom, blasting each marine’s eardrums with a warning, “SIX ENEMY FIGHTERS COMING IN AT TEN O’CLOCK AND THEY LOCKED ON TO US!”
Without hesitation Gagarin immediately brought the pod’s engines to life, dropping the small craft diagonally lower into orbit of the asteroid field. As the pod descended, it was buffeted by tiny chunks of debris, which were traveling somewhat faster and laterally. The ice and stone rubble pelted the craft’s armored hull, denting it thoroughly even though its speed was only slightly slower.
“BALL TURRETS, FIRE AT WILL!” Gagarin directed, maniacally maneuvering the small craft as the six fighters burst into view.
The pod’s ball turrets spewed a lethal barrage of pulsed traces of plasma bullets in their general vicinity. The shafts of energy lit the asteroids as they passed, and devastated any small debris that got in the way. The drone fighters, however, swiftly dodged the tracers and returned fire in an effort to destroy the vehicle.