Reunited with his own Marine Company, Lieutenant Derek Watson trudged across the forbidding Martian landscape towards the defensive ridge.
After his last abortive attack on the major, he had lain low, recovering from the beating he took at the hands of that Navy pilot. His emergency med-kit wasn’t much help, and he couldn’t go to sick bay without being discovered. He crawled into his hiding place amongst the conduit between the decks aboard Nautilus not far down the corridor from the major’s quarters to wait for another attempt to frag her. It was a good thing he had the dampening field device. It kept his life signs from being detected by the security teams who swept the area in an ongoing attempt to locate him.
His nose was broken and still ached fiercely, but the swelling had gone down on his eye so at least he could see out of it once more. When the engagement with the enemy ground forces was over, he could receive treatment for his injuries. But not before he dealt with the major.
That Major Bitch …
Watson and his brother had heard rumors about Major Sandy Cooper. Solar Warden was replete with legends that wouldn’t be repeated unless the teller knew they weren’t being monitored. Most of the narratives swirled around the wardroom tables, the gymnasiums and the shared quarters of officers and enlisted alike. Always spoken in hushed tones, when senior officers were conspicuous by their absence. Many stories had become embellished and took on a life of their own, much like the legends of Bigfoot or the Lock Ness Monster. Like the rumors of a massive enemy ship, as big as a city. Watson had even heard it was the size of a small moon, like the death star of Star Wars lore. No one had actually seen it, but it was out there somewhere, you could be sure of that. At least, so the story goes.
There were also rumors of collusion between the Cabal and the snakeheads. The Cabal–a clandestine organization President Eisenhower called the “military-industrial complex,” was a government within the government that ruled from behind the scenes and was loosely connected to Solar Warden. There were rumors that a covert group within the Cabal was systematically undermining Solar Warden’s efforts to protect Earth.
And then there were the stories about Major Cooper.
It was obvious Watson’s younger brother was excited when he shared that his Marine Company would be ferried to Mars via Nautilus. He was going to see if he could meet the major, spend some time with her, and who knows? The Watson brothers had only been in the Program for six years, but they had come across several tales about this enigmatic, female Marine company commander.
The brothers had heard accounts intimating that even though Cooper only appeared to be in her late 20s, she was older–much older. That she was the daughter of a Nazi scientist who had been contacted by the snakeheads during the Second World War. It was rumored he was developing advanced technology under their guidance, and was a member of the team that had worked on the infamous Die Glocke and Haunebu programs.
There were rumors the major was also a founding member of the Vril Society, an occult group of beautiful women that had been contacted by the snakeheads through medium channeling. That she was personal friends with Maria Orsic, leader of the Vril Society. That she might even be Heike, one of Orsic’s lovely female mediums. The legend hinted that along with her father, Cooper had come to the United States under Operation Paperclip, changed her name, and thus avoided prosecution for war crimes. That she had joined the EDF Marine Corps to hide her Nazi past, and she was on the team that formed Solar Warden in the early1980s. That she actually murdered her fiancé on LOC ten years ago, because he had discovered her connection to the Nazis and the Vril Society.
This German connection, as wild and far-fetched as it was, seemed to be supported by the fact that those who shared these fables claimed Cooper spoke fluent German. Indeed, many of the Marines who served under her command confirmed that from time to time, when she got frustrated or angry, they heard Cooper curse in the Teutonic dialect.
The younger Watson told his brother if he could ply her with alcohol, perhaps it would loosen Cooper’s tongue enough that she would confirm some of the tales they’d heard. And also, if he poured on enough charm, perhaps he might even be able to add another notch to his bedpost. If the stories were indeed true, what a coup that would be. A young lieutenant, bedding a woman old enough to be his great grandmother, their pillow-talk rife with stories about Nazi experiments and psychic contact with the enemy.
Alas, it was all for naught. Watson the younger was now dead, and Cooper was responsible. His brother had probably found out something she desired to remain hidden, and Nazi or not, Cooper had murdered him to keep him from revealing her secret, then made up the story about his brother attacking her in the women’s head.
The elder Watson no longer cared about stories, tales, or legends. About Nazis and Vril. All he cared about was vengeance. Cooper was going to pay for his brother’s death. That’s all that mattered now.
He enjoyed scrawling his warning on the mirror in her head. He’d thought of trashing her quarters, then decided against it. He managed to bypass the lock on her hatch without leaving any evidence like he’d done several times before to other female Marines who needed to be taught a lesson. No sense running the risk of dropping some DNA for security to find while he tossed her stateroom. He felt the lipstick on the mirror was effective. Hopefully it unnerved her enough to let her know her days were numbered.
Too bad they moved her to the captain’s in-port cabin. The device he and his brother had contrived to fool the CCSS kept him from being seen, and the dampening field generator, which cost them both almost a year’s salary–purchased on Solar Warden’s black market–kept the internal sensors from detecting them as well. It would have been easy for him to sneak into her quarters while she slept and smother her with her own pillow. And who knows? He might’ve even been able to have a little fun with her before she expired. That would have given him great satisfaction. To know he’d finished what his younger brother had started.
He almost had her in the wardroom, but that pesky mess specialist got in the way. He should have shoved the little jerk aside and spirited the major away right then. He was just about to when that annoying Navy pilot showed up with the rear admiral. He almost got caught then.
He ducked out just in time while they were occupied with their precious major. He should have used a less potent dose of the date-rape drug–a special concoction that left the victim paralyzed but conscious so they were aware of everything while he played with them. That way they would experience everything done to them, and they would learn their lesson before he killed them. If the major was still able to move, he might have convinced the mess specialist to let him take her to sick bay. With a little detour on the way, of course.
When the call came over the comm for the Nautilus Marines to mobilize, Watson donned his H.A.R.N.E.S. body armor. When he pulled on his helmet and activated the suit, he felt the surge of adrenaline caused by the armor’s connection with the electromagnetic field of his own body, a feeling the EDF Marines called the “H.A.R.N.E.S. armor rush.”
He was ready to find the major and avenge his brother’s death.
Watson managed to sneak into the Nautilus Marine ranks. Everyone was focused on the coming action, so no one questioned his presence among them, until a corporal tapped him on the shoulder.
“Sir, you’re not with our company–”
“Just got out of sick bay,” Watson replied, his voice curt. “My company was ferried here by Nautilus and deployed a few days ago. I’m trying to rejoin them.”
Watson held his breath as the corporal shrugged, accepting his lie.
Watson snarled as he stepped through the transporter and hurried off to find his Company. All that mattered to him was the fact that he now had another opportunity to target the major. And he couldn’t forget her first sergeant, either. He was going to burn down that muscle-bound buffoon as well. Both had contributed to his brother’s death, so both would pay.
First the major. The V.I.S.O.R. system contained a feature that identified each Marine the wearer was looking at–who they were, their rank, and what company they were deployed with. Watson would find an excuse to rejoin Cooper’s Company, then use the feature to locate her. Once the battle was fully engaged, he would end her miserable existence just as she had deprived his brother of his. He would enjoy that. And afterwards, if he got the chance, he would frag that meddling Navy pilot as well, for breaking his nose.
All the way from the Mars Base to the defensive ridge, Watson ran scenarios through his mind. He needed a plan to eliminate both the major and the first sergeant. He couldn’t simply open fire on them in the midst of their comrades. No, first he had to think of an excuse to make his way over to the Nautilus Marine Company, then wait for an opportune moment when everyone’s focus was forward, engaging the enemy. When all eyes were looking away, and not at him. It wouldn’t be easy, but he was patient. He’d waited this long. He could wait a little longer.
Perhaps the enemy would do my job for me, he thought. He was quick to dismiss the idea. He wanted the satisfaction of killing the major himself–of knowing that it was he who avenged the death of his brother, and not some seven foot gecko.
When the call came out that Cooper’s Company was burning through the power packs for their weapons at a much faster rate than anticipated, Watson now had an opportunity to put his plan into action. A group of Marines headed back to the Mars Base to retrieve as many power packs as they could find, and Watson made the excuse his Company was short as well. On their return, Watson stayed with the Nautilus Marines, and waited for his chance.
At last his moment came. A pocket had formed behind the parapet, right in line with the major. It was small, but everyone was facing away, towards the advancing enemy ground troops, just as he had hoped. He took advantage of the situation and jumped in behind the major, who was down on one knee behind the parapet, firing at the enemy. He knew he had to be quick, because the pocket could close again at any moment. Regardless, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to let her know who it was that had killed her.
“Hey! Major Bitch!” Watson had switched to a private comm channel and shouted at Cooper as he raised his rifle.
Cooper straightened up in her crouched position at the parapet and looked around trying to spot who had just addressed her with the familiar, yet rude sobriquet. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw Lieutenant Watson, the phantom Marine, standing only feet behind her, his weapon leveled at her head. She couldn’t see his face through his helmet, but her V.I.S.O.R. readout identified him.
“That’s right, Major Bitch! You and your lap-dog first sergeant killed my brother, and now it’s time for you to pay the piper. I’m gonna kill you both.” He stiffened as he prepared to shoot. “It’s too bad, though …
“You would’ve been real fun to play with.”
Cooper tensed, waiting for the shot.
“Reynolds to transporter room. Are you ready, Chief?” the rear admiral’s voice broke into the air in the transporter room.
“Almost there, Admiral,” Petty Officer Banks replied in his gruff British accent. “We’re just puttin’ the final touches on the delivery system, and the transporter techs are finishing up their calculay-tions. Give us … three minutes, Sir.”
“Contact me when you’re ready, Chief,” Reynolds ordered.
“Aye, Sir.” Banks turned to his team. “Ahlright you blighters! Let’s finish up and send ol’ Auntie Gladys on ‘er merry little way!”
Scarecrow and Hutch sat in their TR-3Bs at the vanguard of the Solar Warden attack wing. All of the Solar Warden carriers were now present. The battle group was assembled, ready to advance and engage the enemy fleet. Everyone was focused on their respective tactical displays, waiting for the execution of Scarecrow’s plan–the deployment and detonation of the Corseque warhead. Regardless of its success or failure, they were prepared to FTL from the far side of Jupiter and engage the enemy now in orbit over Mars.
One good thing was the sensor net indicated the enemy’s shields were down. The longer they waited for the chief to finish up and give the signal to deploy, the greater the chance those shields would activate. Their window of opportunity would vanish like a wisp of vapor in a stiff gust of wind, and they would be forced to resort to plan “B.”
Scarecrow stared at his tactical display and counted the enemy vessels for the umpteenth time. Still 12 mother ships. Still 23 destroyers. At least their numbers hadn’t increased. They were also in a somewhat tight formation. Just what he had hoped, what he had prayed for. There was never a more opportune moment than right now.
“Come on, come on…” he said as he chafed. He was sure they were going to lose their window of opportunity at any moment.
The comm clicked.
“This is Nautilus command to all Solar Warden vessels. The tip of the spear is ready to be deployed. Charge weapons, activate stealth systems and raise shields. Everyone will jump to FTL and follow the pre-determined approach vectors on my mark. Confirm command, over.”
Every carrier and TR-3B flight lead sounded off.
“Nautilus command to all Solar Warden vessels. Deployment in five … four … three … two … one …
“Mark!”
Nothing happened. The tactical display was quiet.
“What the–?” somebody said.
“Wait for it …” Scarecrow replied. “… Waiiit forrr iiit …”
Cooper stared into the face-shield of the phantom Marine, holding her breath as she waited for him to take his shot.
But it never came.
Instead, the first sergeant stepped out of the press, grabbed the muzzle of Watson’s rifle with his left hand and yanked it upwards, away from the major’s head. Then with his right hand, he delivered a backhand stroke under the raised weapon, driving the blade of his Ka-Bar through the lieutenant’s armpit and into his heart, twisting the blade as he drove it home, avoiding his body armor as he did so.
Lieutenant Derek Watson, the phantom Marine, was already dead when he fell into a crumpled heap at the first sergeant’s feet.
The first sergeant turned and stared at the major for a moment, blood dripping from the tip of his combat knife as he held it at his side. Then he reached down, wiped the blade on the dead Marine’s environmental suit, sheathed it, and pulled his FX-15 from off his shoulder.
“I monitor all your communications, Ma’am,” he said as he saluted, and then folded back into the press.
Cooper didn’t have time to consider what had happened. She turned her attention back to the conflict before her. The enemy was getting ever nearer to their position. Their progress was slow and deliberate, but they were now a few hundred feet from the MDF shields, which were only 20 feet in front of the parapet. Cooper clicked her comm.
“Where are those tanks that are supposed to be providing cover fire for us?” she shouted. “We need them to thin out these snakehead ranks in front of us, over.”
“This is Captain Alex Fontaine, Marine Armored Corps. We’re trying to keep the enemy artillery from raining on your parade, Major. But I’ll see if we can give you and your crunchies a hand, over.”
Four of the 20 tanks behind Cooper’s position redirected their fire and blasted into the enemy line in front of her Company. Hundreds of reptilian soldiers vaporized while hundreds more were blown apart. However, it took no time at all for them to be replaced by the seemingly inexhaustible corps behind them.
As the MDF tanks were thinning the reptilian ranks, several enemy artillery rounds thudded into the shields directly above the heads of Cooper’s men, jarring the Marine’s teeth and causing the shields to flicker and fluctuate. As they did, several of the enemy tanks directed energy blasts managed to penetrate the shields, and a number of Cooper’s men were vaporized as a result.
“Sorry Major!” Captain Fontaine shouted over the comm. “We have to keep on that artillery or you’ll start losing more men, over.”
“Understood, Captain,” Cooper replied. “We’ll just have to manage on our own, over.”
Major Jeff Billings, whose Marine company had been tasked by General Patrick to support Cooper’s Company, was standing by to feed his men into her Marine’s ranks to reinforce them. There was only so much room at the parapet and many of them couldn’t squeeze into the 80 yard stretch that Cooper’s company occupied. The first rank was on their knees, resting their rifles on the parapet itself, while the second rank was standing behind them, firing over their heads. The third and fourth ranks were firing over the shoulders of the second rank, but after that, there simply wasn’t room for any more Marines to direct fire at the enemy. Those at the rear simply stood and waited, unable to assist.
“Billings, Cooper! Have your men push their way to the front, and I’ll have mine pull back to give them room to replace them. My boys on the front line need to resupply, hydrate and recover. Let’s rotate our Marines so we can maintain our rate of fire, over.”
“Cooper, Billings. Roger that, over.”
Cooper’s men slid back from the parapet to allow Billings’ men to replace them. Once in the rear, they began a search for water as support personnel ran to meet them, carrying the precious liquid with corpsmen aiding those wounded by the enemy tank’s blast through their weakened shields. Cooper stayed in the front line as Billings elbowed his way through the press and joined her. The enemy was getting dangerously close to the MDF shields, and it reminded Cooper of what General Patrick had said about the snakeheads being able to push through the electromagnetic wall. If that happened, they would find themselves fighting an entirely new battle.
“We’re gonna be overrun,” a private said through the comm. “We should fall back, Major, over.”
“We’re Marines, Private!” Cooper shouted back. “We don’t fall back for anybody. Hold your position, over.”
“But Major. I’ve drained five power packs already, and I’m half-way through my last one. What am I supposed to do when it’s drained too, over?”
“I’ve sent several squads of men back to retrieve more power packs for us. Didn’t they give you any, over?”
“No, Ma’am. What do I do if I run out, Major? Over.”
“For crying out loud, Private! Then throw rocks if you have to!” Cooper shook her head as she blasted a reptilian’s head into pink mist, or in its case, yellow mist. “But keep fighting, over.”
“It didn’t work!”
A voice crackled over the comm, its tone betraying its disappointment. “They must have anticipated our attack, and redirected the wormhole, over.”
“Have a little fai–” Scarecrow didn’t get the opportunity to finish his statement when the tactical display on every Solar Warden vessel went white with a brilliant flash.
“This is Nautilus command, to all Solar Warden vessels. Jump to FTL in five, four, three, two, one, mark!”
The Solar Warden fleet swept to super-luminal speed as a single entity, and Scarecrow kept his eyes on his tactical display to determine what they would be facing when they arrived at Mars. Secondary flashes lit up the display, and Scarecrow hoped that each one was another enemy mothership being eliminated by the initial blast. In their current positions, Jupiter and Mars were 3.7 AU apart, and at nine times the speed of light, it would take the fleet three and a half minutes to reach Mars. By then the initial explosion and its resultant secondary detonations should be ended. Then they could assess the success of Operation Tip of the Spear with more accuracy and follow the most effective attack scenario of the several they had devised.
Three minutes felt like three hours when the fleet exited FTL. Every eye was glued to their respective tactical displays as they scanned the situation.
It wasn’t much longer and the enemy combatants had reached the MDF shield wall. Unable to stop because of the ranks behind them pressing ever forward, several reptilians began to force their way through the electromagnetic sheet that separated them from Cooper’s Marines. The MDF shields somehow cancelled out the personal shields on the lacertilian’s chests, and they succumbed to the Marine’s fire with much more ease as they pushed their way through the heavy sheet of undulating light.
However, the sheer volume of numbers began to tell, and more of the reptilians began to make it through. Once on the MDF side, their weapons fire that heretofore had been stopped by the shield wall began to have a deadly effect on the Nautilus Marines. The amalgamation of metamaterials in the H.A.R.N.E.S. body armor was a highly dense, conductive medium that emitted an electromagnetic charge, powered by a small zero-point collector, producing a tight shield canopy around the wearer. The combination of armor-plate and electromagnetic shield was able to absorb most of the enemy fire, but when struck by multiple blasts at once, Cooper’s men began to succumb.
“Major watch out!” A Marine beside her noticed several reptilians that made it through the shields take aim at her. They identified the officers in the Companies and were targeting them. The enemy combatants fired at Cooper in unison. The Marine lunged and pushed Cooper to one side just as the enemy unleashed their deadly salvo. The reptilians missed her, but the Marine who shoved her out of the line of fire took the full force of multiple blasts to his mid-section. The plates of his body armor were joined to each other by a composite fabric comprised of a network of carbon nanotubes containing nanites acting as microscopic repair drones, moving throughout the armor to repair any damage. Unfortunately, the system was insufficient to protect him from the intensity of the barrage. It cut him in half, and the two parts fell at Cooper’s feet. The enemy directed energy weapons had cauterized the wound, so there was very little blood, but Cooper peered down through the Marine’s face shield to see him staring up at her, his eyes still blinking. It was several moments before he expired.
“Major I’m out of juice, over!” A Marine shouted into the comm and snapped her back to reality.
“Then use your machete or your Ka-Bar!” she shouted back. “But keep fighting, over!”
The standard issue EDF/MDF Marine Corps machete was a vicious weapon. Cooper hated them. She never carried one, even though she’d trained with them and was skilled in their use. They were designed to be an all-purpose weapon, with a blade of almost three feet in length and a saw-tooth back-edge. They had a strong, flared, double-edged point that not even the tough, scaly reptilian hides could withstand. The blade was anodized, had four diagonal slots near the tip to lighten it, and the cutting edge extended all the way back to the hilt to make it a formidable slashing as well as a deadly thrusting weapon.
Suddenly, Cooper’s FX-15 died. She reached back and clawed for another power pack, but her belt was empty. All of the EDF/MDF Marines were normally issued three, and the Mars Base had issued them an additional three, but Cooper had just drained her last one. I sure wish those eggheads back on Earth could miniaturize a zero-point collector with enough juice to power our weapons. Then we wouldn’t have to suffer with these lousy power packs that keep running down.
“Corporal Stewart!” Cooper shouted into the comm. “Where are you with those extra power packs, over?”
“We’re back, Major, but they would only issue us 200 of them. That’s all they had left, over.”
When this is all over, some pencil pusher in logistics is gonna be in for a world of hurt. “Well I’m out. Get over here with one right now, over.”
“Sorry Major. I just gave away my last one. D’you want me to look elsewhere for more, over?”
Yes! And make it quick, over.” Cooper switched to General Patrick’s private comm. “General Patrick, Major Cooper. The Twentieth Maine is running out of juice, and the snakeheads are breaching our shields. Request you send somebody over here with more spare power packs pronto, over.”
“I’ve already sent a message back to the Mars Base to send more ASAP, Major,” General Patrick replied. “But I know that Bud’s men still have spares. I’ll get him to send some of his boys over to your positon with their extras, over.”
“Make it quick, General. We’re holding them, but without our rifles, I don’t know how much longer we can keep them at bay. Some of my men are being forced to fight hand-to-hand, over.”
Cooper shouldered her rifle, drew her pistol, and continued to fire, but it was all but useless against the enemy’s personal shields. She re-holstered it and drew her Ka-Bar. She was beginning to think that perhaps it would have been a good idea to have a machete after all.
At least on this particular day.
Suddenly, an overly large reptilian appeared in front of the major, not five feet from the parapet. It swung its rifle around and aimed at her chest. Aided by the weak Martian gravity, Cooper lunged forward. Stepping up onto the top of the parapet and pushing off, she launched herself straight at the mammoth lacertilian. She stepped onto its forearm, grabbed the air hose leading to its respirator and swung around to land sitting on the oxygen generator on its back. She sliced through the air hose with her Ka-Bar as her scaly opponent dropped its weapon and attempted to reach back with its bulky arms to grab her. Its anatomy betrayed it–it couldn’t reach her.
Cooper lifted her Ka-Bar high into the air and plunged the nine inch EDF blade up to the hilt into the side of the reptilian’s thick, muscular neck. At the vicious stroke, the giant lizard shuddered with a violent lurch and spun around to bend over backwards across the parapet in an attempt to dislodge her. Its arms flailed in vain as Cooper dug her heels in between the air supply and the reptile’s back and held on.
With her free hand, she reached under and across its neck to grip her Ka-Bar with both fists. It was a good thing her H.A.R.N.E.S. system melded with her body’s own electromagnetic field, augmenting and increasing her mobility and strength three-fold.
With every ounce of strength Cooper could muster, amplified by her body armor, she began to chop, hack, saw and slice her way across her opponent’s neck with the stout combat knife. A fetid, yellowish, bile-like liquid that was the reptilian’s blood began to ooze and spurt from the deep gash Cooper was now carving across the front of its neck. Thick rivulets gushed from the sides of its mouth to splash down onto her.
By the time she reached the opposite side of its lower jaw, the massive reptilian stopped its violent flailing and began to slump back onto the parapet. Before it could crush her beneath its massive weight, Cooper slipped out from her perch on its back. With a dexterity that surprised even herself as she was encased in all of her combat gear, she executed a half-gainer, landed on her feet behind the parapet, once more amidst her own troops. She spun around and stared at her handiwork to see that the head of the huge beast had dropped over the inner edge of the parapet. The only thing that was holding it onto its body was the spinal column–Cooper had managed to carve her way through everything else. She looked down at her knife and noticed that her arms were covered in putrid, flavescent snakehead blood beyond her elbows.
The enemy ground troops had kept up a continuous rate of fire with their shoulder weapons in an attempt to weaken the MDF shields, so the reptilian soldiers in the front ranks were also running out of power for their own alien rifles. Instead of shouldering them however, they tossed them to one side and drew a formidable blade weapon akin to a glaive. Six feet long, half shaft and half blade, they were as alien and lethal-looking as those who wielded them. And it quickly became obvious that to stand beneath one was perilous. Cooper was busy trying to divest herself of all the reptilian’s putrid hemoglobin smeared on her arms, when another lacertilian appeared across the parapet from her, wielding its sinister glaive.
It raised the weapon high to strike a death-dealing blow to the hapless Major Sandy Cooper …