GEARE Chapter 1-3

TRAVIS FARRAR

SENNIN PRODUCTIONS, LLC Lafayette, Louisiana

G.E.A.R.E. is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used ficticiously.

Copyright © 2013 & 2014 by Sennin Productions, LLC & ® or TM where indicated.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, in any form, without written permission from the publisher unless by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages.

First Edition 2013 Published by Sennin Productions, LLC 506 Eraste Landry Rd. Lafayette, LA 70506 Edited by Jon Russo, Cover art by Robby Musso Interior design by Jon Russo www.mechacon.com

Coup d’État

1

CHAPTER 1

COUP D’ÉTAT

A

nother explosion rocked the ship. The sudden rush of air through the corridor could only mean a hull breach, but the two young girls were trained for it. They crouched and wrapped their arms tight around the handrail, exhaling forcefully. Unless the Voltaire lost power, the ship’s internal bulkheads and force fields could seal a hull breach quickly. In less than a second, the rush of air slowed, then stopped. The noise in the corridor subsided, and they could again hear the steady thrumming of the exterior cannons firing almost constantly.

The taller of the two girls stood slowly, her jaw working as her ears popped from the sudden change in air pressure.

“Mitsuko,” she said to the smaller girl, “let’s go before they hit the hangar bay.”

“Right,” Mitsuko replied, pulling herself to her feet.

Mitsuko was a full head shorter than her companion and her light bronze skin, high cheekbones and black hair were a stark contrast to the vibrant red hair, blue eyes and pale complexion of the other girl. Both wore the same cadet’s flight suit, white with blue trim that marked them as United Fleet mech pilots.

Mitsuko dusted herself off and glanced over at her companion who 1

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was gazing intently at her own reflection in a control console and pulling frantically at her hair.

“Jett!”

“What?” Jett responded, turning away from the console and flushing.

“You’re fixing your hair now?”

“So?” Jet gave one pig tail a final tug, then started back down the corridor. “There might be another hull breach. I just –” The ship shuddered and a loud metallic ripping sound rang through the hull. The girls exchanged a meaningful glance and started towards the hangar at a sprint.

“That sounded like something tearing through the outer hull,” Mitsuko said as they ran.

“Can’t… be,” Jett panted. She was already winded. Even to a Mars native, the air in the ship was still thin from repeated hull breaches.

“Raptors? Who would be attacking us with Raptors? Jovians don’t have that kind of tech.”

The girls rounded a corner and nearly ran head-on into a group of technicians and cadets coming from the other direction. Jett recognized the lead officer. Roughly the same height and build as Jett, Lieutenant Garber was an attractive young woman with steel blue eyes and shortcropped blonde hair who went by the call sign “Elle.” She slowed as the rest of her group passed. Mitsuko and Jett snapped to attention.

“You two!” Elle snapped. She and Jett had a history of rivalry, despite Elle’s higher rank. Jett was technically a lieutenant as well, but hadn’t officially graduated from the academy yet. At twenty-one, Elle was also Jett’s senior in age, if only by a couple of years.

“Figured it’d be you two screw-ups, have to save our asses,” she continued. “You better move it. We may have to seal off the hangar decks if there are any more breaches.”

“But sir, who’s attacking us?” Jett asked.

“We don’t know. Came out of nowhere, piloting our own Raptor mechs. Let command worry about that. Just get to that damn GEARE, cadets!” With that, Elle moved off after the rest of her group.

Jett and Mitsuko moved off again at a run.

“Our own Raptors? I really wish… someone would tell us… what’s going on,” Jett huffed between labored breaths.

“Me, too. I don’t –”

Coup d’État

3

A deafening roar drowned out the rest of Mitsuko’s words, and as she turned to look down the corridor towards the sound, a large piece of jagged metal bulkhead slammed into her upper body and threw her several meters through the air. Mitsuko smashed head first into the far wall of the corridor and fell, the piece of bulkhead pinning her in a seated position.

Flames and other pieces of debris rushed down the corridor, blinding Jett for several seconds before the ship’s fail-safes sealed off the newly damaged sections. Once she could see, Jett rushed over to crouch beside Mitsuko’s limp form.

She was afraid to touch anything. Blood was already starting to pool on the floor beneath the torn bulkhead, and Mitsuko’s face and shoulder were a mess of bruises and jagged cuts. There were obviously broken bones in both, and there was no way to tell if her neck was injured.

Worst of all, the jagged edge of the torn metal had sliced deeply into her lower abdomen.

“Mi-chan,” Jett said into the unconscious girl’s ear, “can you hear me?”

Mitsuko moaned softly and her eyelids fluttered, but she did not respond.

“Mi-chan, please, I need you!” Jett all but screamed the words. Still, Mitsuko showed no signs of consciousness.

“Damn it, Toku, wake up! That’s an order!” Jett shouted, trying to sound the part of a commanding officer, praying that Mitsuko’s radio call-sign would elicit a better response.

Still nothing. The injured girl’s chest rose and fell with her breathing, but it was irregular, and each breath was followed by a violent shudder.

Jett reached out and touched her friend’s cheek. “Mitsuko, please. I can’t…” Jett’s voice caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes.

A moment later, Jett let out a long, slow sound, almost a growl, and her eyes snapped open. Shouting in frustration, she slammed her fist full force into the wall and shoved herself to her feet. She sprinted the few meters to the nearest command console and punched in the emergency medical code, praying the Owaan medics would get here in time, and wondering angrily why there weren’t dozens of the paleskinned androids swarming the halls already.

Another missile impact thrummed through the Voltaire’s hull,

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cementing Jett’s decision. With a final concerned glance back at Mitsuko, Jett forced herself to move, taking a new route around the damaged corridor. Tears streamed down her face. She ran, gritting her teeth against waves of anger and despair. The Voltaire shook almost constantly, and the screeching sounds of tearing metal from all around her told her that there were quite a few Raptors still on the outer hull.

The Voltaire’s short-range laser turrets might not be able to get them all, which meant Jett might well be the only hope to save the ship.

Just me, Jett thought, and a prototype mech that only works with two pilots.

The prototype mech, GEARE, or Genetically Enhanced Armored Robotics Experiment, was a completely new design; a huge humanoid robot, larger than the fighter jet-sized Raptor, and with a unique control interface. It was also the reason the Voltaire was out here between Earth and the moon in the first place, running combat trials. Jett and Mitsuko were the only pilot and copilot, out of nearly 50 cadets and flight officers, who had gotten the experimental and very unusual biomechanical fighter to respond at all, and even they hadn’t gotten it to perform to the satisfaction of the admiralty.

And now the ship was under attack with only the GEARE for defense. And Jett was alone.

It had been less than three minutes since she and Mitsuko had left their quarters, but Jett felt like she had been running forever when she finally took the last turn to the hangar bay. She had passed a few straggling groups evacuating towards more central parts of the ship as she made her way here, but now everything was eerily deserted. While she could still hear the sound of the ship’s cannons firing and feel the ship vibrate with the impact of incoming fire, it seemed oddly quiet.

Suddenly, from up ahead, there was a loud clang of metal on metal, followed by an angry voice.

“Damn it, stupid...” the speaker grunted. “…door.”

This was followed by several more clangs in rapid succession.

Jett recognized the voice, though she was used to it coming out of the GEARE’s comm system.

“Zee?” she called, “is that you?”

A girl in a grease-stained, red-trimmed United Marine Corps flight suit poked her head around the edge of the door. The young girl’s black

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hair stuck up on one side, matted in grease, her left cheek was smudged with something dark and wet-looking, and she was holding a large wrench which, from the sound a moment ago, seemed to be doubling as a hammer.

“Jett! Sir. Thank goodness.” Zee looked flustered, and her speech was rushed, almost frantic. “I need some extra hands. Lieutenant Garber ordered me to seal the door, but the GEARE – “ Zee trailed off, peering over Jett’s shoulder. “Sir, Toku’s not here. Is she coming?”

Jett pushed past Zee into the hangar and stalked off towards the GEARE test chamber, a large cylindrical structure in the center of a cavernous hangar that had once housed an entire wing of Raptors.

“No.” She answered Zee’s question without breaking stride. “Leave the door. You’re with me.”

Jett knew the young Marine mechanic only in passing, but Zee had often provided the best advice regarding technical issues with the prototype mech during combat trials. Jett hoped that knowledge would be useful now.

Zee, like Jett, was not yet an academy graduate, and she was even younger. At seventeen, she was too young, in fact, to have a legitimate commission. In spite of that, the insignia on her collar said she was a 2nd Lieutenant, and everyone knew that Admiral Russell, the Voltaire’s commanding officer, had pulled strings to get her out of the academy early, specifically for duty on the GEARE project.

Zee glanced back and forth between Jett’s back and the open access panel for a moment before she dropped the wrench and ran to catch up with Jett.

“Look, sir –” Zee began.

“Don’t call me ‘sir’.” Jett interrupted her without turning her head.

“Jett,” she started over as they reached the door to the GEARE chamber, “I know we don’t have a co-pilot, but we can’t let the Owaan get to the GEARE.” They reached the door and Jett began punching in the door code, jabbing angrily at the keypad with a bruised knuckle.

“And there’s another problem,” Zee continued. “The GEARE isn’t –” Jett’s hand froze centimeters from the door lever. “Hang on. Zee,” she said, her voice shocked and angry. “Did you say ‘Owaan’?”

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Jett took a step forward and glared down at the waifish young engineer.

“Yes,” Zee said, taking a step back as Jett’s eyes narrowed and her fists clenched. “We, uh, we had the comm open down here when the attack started. The Owaan… turned on us. They took the Raptors from our own escort ships and attacked us. Same thing on the moon.”

Jett was stunned. What Zee was saying seemed impossible. The Owaan were a race of pacifist androids designed to serve and assist mankind. They were one of the fleet’s greatest assets and, for decades, had been trusted in homes, businesses and military installations on Earth and throughout the colonial worlds. It was inconceivable that they had attacked humans. But as she thought about it, Jett knew there should have been Owaan all over the ship at a time like this. Owaan served as medics, technicians, maintenance crew; in a situation like this, they should have been swarming everywhere, repairing, treating injuries. And she hadn’t seen a single one. Worst of all, if the Owaan were the enemy now, then Mitsuko was all alone back in that corridor, dying, with no help on the way.

At that moment, Jett wanted nothing more than to run back to her friend. She even took a step back in that direction before an especially heavy blast rocked the ship and the floor tilted beneath their feet. Zee’s hand clutched at Jett’s forearm as the girls struggled to keep their balance.

“Toku?” Zee, asked as the floor leveled out. She was following Jett’s gaze towards the exit and looked worried.

“Yes,” Jett replied, her jaw clenched. “But,” Jett threw the door lever, pushing her way in to the GEARE chamber, “we have a job to do.

Maybe we can clear a path to the moon. They’re gonna need a place to land this ship, and soon.”

The GEARE chamber was a large, round room dominated by a second cylinder in its center, this one made of darkened glass with holographic readouts projected on to it, showing the status of the prototype mech inside. This interior cylinder reached almost to the ceiling, over 30 meters above. On the wall nearest the door were rows of lockers and benches. Closer to the cylinder was a row of control consoles and a small communications station. Zee rushed past Jett to the control panel closest to the central cylinder, as Jett pushed the locking mechanism down, sealing the door behind them.

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“There’s another problem. I’ve been trying to tell you,” Zee said as she pressed a few buttons. There was a sudden, loud hissing noise, and the glass tube slid slowly into the floor, revealing first the head, with its strange bulbous eyes, and then the torso of the massive GEARE mech.

Jett’s heart stopped. The GEARE’s exterior armor had been removed, exposing an almost insectoid bio-metallic ‘skin’ that seemed to shift between blue and green as the light hit it. Outside of its armored shell, the mech barely passed for a machine. The GEARE was slender and might have seemed fragile if not for openings in the chitinous skin over the arms and upper torso that exposed the thick, layered cables that made up its musculature. The “waist” and legs of the mech were only partially visible, one level down, below a large opening in the floor of the chamber. Jett had never seen the mech in this state. She knew that many of the internal components were a blend of organic and synthetic materials, and that the GEARE was, in a crude sense, a living organism, but until now she’d never seen just how unusual the prototype really was. It looked vulnerable.

“Uh, Zee,” Jett turned to face the young engineer, fury blazing in her eyes. “Why is there no armor on the damn mech?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. We took it off for some mobility testing. I was trying to put it back when the attack started, but Lieutenant Garber ordered me to seal the door first. I got the hip cannons and part of the chest plate on, but that’s all.”

“Fantastic. How long will the rest take?”

Zee looked down at the control console, her shoulders slumped.

“Twenty min –” Another blast rocked the ship, hard this time, and as the deck pitched, Jett lost her footing and fell, smacking her forehead on the metal decking as she slid on her stomach toward the large opening in the floor. Zee, who was holding on to a console when the impact came, had better luck.

Jett watched, horrified and helpless, as the hole in the floor grew closer, and the GEARE tilted precariously, pulling loose from some of the cables that connected it to its suite of diagnostic devices. Directly in front of the GEARE was a large gap in the safety rail, and she was headed straight for it with no way to slow herself. She leaned hard to her left, pulling in her legs and shifting her weight, trying to angle for the

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guard rail. She stretched out her left arm, hoping she would pass close enough to grab one of the supports below the railing. She was certain she wasn’t going to make it, but suddenly, the artificial gravity caught up to the ship’s new position, and the floor began to level out, slowing her slide.

With one last desperate kick, Jett shifted herself far enough that she was able to grab on to the support with one hand just as she slid over the edge. Her body flew out, jerking to a stop and almost breaking her grip. She barely managed to hang on as she swung down, slamming hard into the wall.

“Hold on, Jett,” Zee called from above.

There was a loud mechanical whine and a steady, low hum as Zee activated the lift, and the GEARE and the floor beneath it began to rise up under her. Jett hung on until the floor of the lift was only a couple of meters below, and then dropped, landing in a crouch beside one of the GEARE’s massive feet.

“Thanks,” Jett called as her head came level with the floor of the chamber and Zee came into sight.

“Sure. Are you alright?”

“Good enough to fly,” Jett responded, stepping off of the lift platform and moving to grab a ladder. She had to struggle to dislodge it from a pile of miscellaneous items that had crashed in a jumble against the far wall.

Just as Jett was pushing the ladder in to position below the GEARE’s pilot compartments, she heard Zee gasp behind her. She turned to the security monitors over Zee’s shoulder. A group of fifteen or so Owaan was running across the hangar towards the GEARE chamber holding shock rifles, their chalk-white, hairless skin gleaming under the bright light of the hangar…

“Halt, please, madams!” The lead Owaan shouted through the door.

His words were polite, but there was something in his tone that gave Jett a chill. The Owaan’s brow-less, inhumanly pale green eyes showed only the same benign expression all Owaan seemed to have when they weren’t smiling, but there was definitely something wrong about them.

“We don’t want to harm you,” the Owaan continued, “but we will if you do not comply. We have secured this section of the ship and in a matter of moments we will breach this door and destroy the abomination.”

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Zee threw Jett a questioning glance before smashing her hand down on the control pad, dropping a large blast door between them and the Owaan.

“Get Geary powered up. I’ll seal the door. It’ll buy us a couple of minutes, at least.” Zee said, seeming suddenly calmer and more focused.

Jett climbed the ladder and dropped into the pilot’s seat, her mind turning over all the different ways they were about to get pasted by a bunch of robot janitors.

Zee had finished re-programming the door controls and ran up the boarding ladder seconds behind Jett, dropping into the secondary control pod situated below and behind Jett’s.

As the pods closed and sealed, Jett began flipping switches and activating systems. “Ready?” she asked. I’m going to try to initiate the bio-sync.”

The synaptic relays slid out of their seats, attaching the base of the neck the base of the spine. A warm, tingling sensation spread out from those points, slowly spreading to the rest of their bodies. A holographic display lit up before each girl, projecting virtual controls within easy reach of their hands, and showing the GEARE’s systems information overlaid transparently over their field of vision.

Then, suddenly, both girls’ vision blurred, shifting to a view of the GEARE hangar from a new perspective, as though they were seeing through the eyes of the GEARE, rather than their own. The HUD and the holographic controls were still clearly visible.

“What the hell is this?” Jett asked, blinking furiously.

Bewildered, Zee responded, “I’m not sure, but according to these readings, the bio-link…” “… is reading full sync.” Jett finished reflexively. “That’s new. Check…” “all systems. Got it.” Zee finished. The girls’ conscious thoughts seemed to be overlapping, even as they retained their unique perspectives.

“Everything…” “seems to check out. This is…” Jett continued. “weird,” they both said in perfect unison.

“Okay, Zee…” Jett began, just as Zee flipped a switch and the tubes and cables attached to the GEARE began to disengage. “Uh. Thanks.

Now, cross your fingers. If this thing moves like it usually does, we won’t even…”

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“make it out of the hangar, I know.” Zee finished Jett’s sentence again. “I think maybe we should stop talking. I can hear you just fine without it and that echo effect is distracting.”

“Right. I mean…” Jett caught herself and fell silent.

Focusing her conscious thought, Jett continued mentally, How’s this?

Better. Zee replied silently. She pushed a few more buttons, checking her scanners.

Damn. It looks like we’re gonna have to blow the cargo doors. The launch tubes are caved in on the outer end and I can’t clear it from in here.

Got it.

The GEARE moved forward smoothly at Jett’s mental command. It was an odd feeling, as though she was the GEARE. She maintained only a muted awareness of her own body. She’d experienced it before, but this time was different; more intense.

Turning slightly, Jett, with the GEARE’s hand, grasped the customized plasma rifle from the rack behind the docking rig. She marveled at the ease with which she was able to control the GEARE’s hands. She felt the cold of the gun grip, the texture, as surely as if she had picked it up with her own flesh and blood hand.

It’s never been this responsive before, Jett projected to Zee. Their ‘conversation’ was suddenly interrupted by a loud explosion nearby. Both girls, with the enhanced vision of the GEARE’s optics, could see that the outer door to the GEARE chamber was bent inward.

Maybe now isn’t the best time to worry about the ‘how’. Zee thought urgently at Jett.

Right. Well… here we go.

The GEARE moved forward, lifting the plasma rifle to its shoulder and taking aim at the door to the mech chamber. Jett activated the weapon link in the mech’s palm and fired. A blast of superheated plasma and focused energy struck the door, which buckled and exploded violently out in to the docking bay. The GEARE emerged into the open hangar in a cloud of smoke and flame, a group of Owaan bodies crumpled on the floor at its feet. A few still twitched feebly, trying to rise in spite of broken limbs and fused servos. From farther across the docking bay, another group of Owaan opened fire on the GEARE. Warning lights began flashing on the HUD as the GEARE was pelted with Owaan plasma fire. If the armor was still on, Geary wouldn’t

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even be feeling that. Zee said angrily. How are we going to get those bay doors open?

Same way we opened the last one. And we’ll take those Owaan out with us. Jett replied.

The GEARE fired plasma blasts toward the Owaan as Jett sprinted them to the far side of the hangar where the cargo doors waited. As the GEARE ran, she could feel Zee through the link, her thoughts stabilizing, supporting the commands being sent to the GEARE’s limbs.

For a moment, Jett almost lost her concentration as she realized she could feel the physical sensations from Zee’s body as well.

The Owaan fired another volley, snapping Jett back to the moment, but the smaller weapons were ineffectual at this distance. The GEARE fired plasma blasts at the large docking bay door several times, but all the blasts left behind were scorch marks. She tried a high-yield plasma grenade, but it did no more damage, and she knew they needed the heavier ordinance for the battle outside. Realizing her assault on the door was useless, Jett maneuvered the GEARE into a crouching position behind a stack of cargo containers.

This isn’t working! Jett said frantically, Any ideas?

I can hotwire the doors, but not from in here, Zee replied.

If you disconnect the link, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make this bucket move at all. Jett worried.

The ship lurched again, tilting almost 90 degrees and then bouncing back to a shallower angle. A cargo container broke free from the top of the stack, falling on to the GEARE’s head as warning claxons rang inside the docking bay.

There go the stabilizers, Zee observed. We can’t just sit here. We’ve got to get out there.

I guess those boarding parties weren’t enough. They’re determined to sink this ship. Jett mused. Can we get in close enough for you to hotwire the door without disengaging the bio-link?

Maybe. I don’t know. It’s worth a shot, right?

Standing, the GEARE walked over to the side of the docking bay door. The girls could see that the crate that struck the GEARE was not the only one to come loose, and a few of the Owaan had been crushed by other loose cargo. Jett clamped the rifle to a mount on the GEARE’s back and turned to the task of ripping a large panel off the wall near the door.

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Zee opened the hatch to the secondary pod and the GEARE moved forward to position itself up against the wall. She leaned out of the pod, hands stretched out, but she was still too far away to reach the wires in the exposed panel.

She examined the synaptic leads connecting her to the GEARE. I’m gonna have to unstrap and stretch out from the pod, but I think the leads are long enough to keep me connected. If I’m careful. And if nothing hits us…

Zee wrapped part of her flight harness around each ankle and wedged her left leg around the back of her seat. She carefully maneuvered herself so she was hanging almost completely out of the pod, praying she wouldn’t slip and disconnect the link. She reached out and started sorting, clipping and re-connecting wires. The ship rocked again and she began to slide, barely hanging on to the support bar.

“Zee?” Jett said aloud.

“Still here. Gimme just… another… second.” Zee responded in kind as she twisted two wires together. “Got it!”

The bay doors began to slide open and the pressurized air in the bay began to rush out of the slowly widening gap.

The ship rocked again, tilting violently. The GEARE began to slide. Jett grabbed on to the edge of the door, both girls willing the biomechanical hand not to let go. Cargo crates, loose debris and Owaan bodies flew past, sucked out into the vacuum of space. Suddenly, Zee’s left leg slipped free and she slid out of the pod, held only by the strap around her ankle. She strained to bend her knee, reducing her distance from the pod just enough to keep the synaptic leads from pulling loose, but the vacuum was still pulling her toward the open bay doors.

“Zee! Hang on!” Jett reacted instantly, feeling Zee’s struggle to keep panic at bay. “Sorry, this is gonna suck. Now exhale!”

The GEARE released its hold on the door and was immediately sucked out into space. Zee, feeling the harness slipping down to her heel, struggled to stay conscious. Her eyes felt dry and too large for their sockets and every centimeter of her body felt like it was caught in a vice.

In a split second that felt like a lifetime to the two girls, the GEARE reached for the struggling Zee and shoved her back into the control pod.

As it sealed behind her and re-pressurized with a loud hiss, Zee began gasping air, her lungs on fire. Jett fired the maneuvering thrusters to stop the GEARE’s spin and turned them back to face the ship.

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As Zee wiped the involuntary tears from her eyes, she heard Jett simultaneously think and mutter under her breath, “Oh, God.” Re-focusing her eyes through the GEARE, Zee got her first look at the battle.

They floated in space, eyes fixed on the horrifying sight of the Voltaire. The cruiser hung in space, rotating slowly. The outer hull was covered in blast marks, entire sections of hull plating missing, many of her cannons smashed to scrap, and she was venting atmosphere in a dozen places. Farther out, against the backdrop of the moon, smaller escort craft could be seen being ripped apart by Raptor mechs, gouts of flame and chunks of hull shooting from them in every direction. The surface of the moon itself was littered with explosions as escape craft were propelled away from it, escaping the fallen Luna Base. Behind the GEARE, the Earth loomed, nuclear explosions across the planet’s surface visible from orbit.

Voltaire

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CHAPTER 2

VOLTAIRE

J

ett turned to survey the vast bulk of the Voltaire. The ship was only a mid-sized cruiser, barely larger than a frigate, bulbous at the bow, all engines at the stern; far from beautiful, but faster and more maneuverable than most ships of her class. She was one of the oldest ships in service, still bearing the traditional naval gray paint job. She was certainly one of the oldest Faster-Than-Light capable ships in the fleet.

In spite of her age, she appeared to have held up fairly well in the attack.

The hull showed definite signs of damage, but nothing catastrophic, and with the exception of a few laser turrets that had been ripped to shreds by attacking Raptors, all of her crucial systems seemed to be intact.

Zee, keep an eye on those scanners. I wanna make a pass around the Voltaire and see how bad the damage is. And keep the comm open in case the Voltaire No time, sir, Zee interrupted, two groups of Raptor mechs just broke off from one of those transports, heading this way.

I see ‘em. And don’t call me...

Sir. Got it. Sorry.

Jett toggled the thrusters and brought them around so they could see the approaching attack force. They weren’t quite in visual range yet, 15

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but from the tactical readout, it looked be about a dozen Raptors. More than enough to take out any normal mech, but Jett was banking on them being unprepared for an experimental, one-of-a-kind GEARE. This mech was almost twice the size of any Raptor, and with better reaction times and greater strength.

She hoped she wasn’t about to be proven wrong.

Armor would’ve been nice, she thought.

Next time there’s a sudden android uprising, Zee shot back, I’ll be sure to ask for advanced notice.

I didn’t mean... Sorry. We have bigger problems at the moment.

The GEARE’s tactical proximity alert was beeping loudly, and both the girls’ compartments pulsed with a garish red light. The Raptors were coming in fast, now, within visual range. The girls could make out the markings on the Raptors’ white fuselages; red stripes with gold outlines on the lettering.

Those are the 607th’s Raptors, Zee thought, her fear rising. If those are Owaan in those things, the moon...

Is taken, Jet finished for her. You’re right. No way the 607th surrendered those mechs without a fight. Just try to stay calm. The 607th didn’t have Geary.

We’re good to go. Or as good as we can be, anyway.

A sudden burst of static broke over the cockpit comm speakers, startling both girls. It was followed by a mix of squeals, beeps and what might have been a garbled human voice. The speakers then went dead briefly before the voice came back, clear and strong.

“GEARE, this is Voltaire, do you copy?”

Voltaire, this is GEARE Jett, Zee projected sheepishly, You’re not speaking out loud.

“Dammit,” Jett said. She toggled the comm switch with her thumb.

“Voltaire, this is GEARE, we copy. We are tracking incoming. Looks like the 607th’s stolen Raptors.” She glanced down at her tactical display.

“And they are weapons hot, sir.”

A new voice came over the comm, deep and commanding.

“Lieutenant, damn good to hear your voice.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Jett responded, feeling herself smile in spite of everything.

He’s alive, she thought, relieved. Against all reason, Jett couldn’t

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help but feel a little better about their odds with Admiral Russell on the bridge of the Voltaire.

“Sir,” she said into the mic, “Toku is down. I have Zee - Lieutenant Phillips - with me. And the GEARE, sir. It’s working.”

“Good to hear,” the Admiral’s voice replied, with only the barest hint of surprise. “Now, listen, we’ve got engines and most of our cannons intact, but the Owaan on board managed to damage the main reactor before we could take them out. We can get power back, but it’s gonna to take us a few minutes. And we have no Raptors to assist. You’re all the cover we’ve got.”

“Understood, sir,” Zee said over the comm before Jett could respond.

“We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”

Jett was surprised at the wave of determination she was feeling from Zee over the mental link. Apparently, Jett wasn’t alone in her admiration of Admiral Russell. Still, Jett couldn’t help but think that even one minute could be an eternity in an even dogfight, and this was far from an even fight. She gritted her teeth.

“On it, sir. We won’t let you down.” Jett made one last check of her systems.

Get ready, Zee. Those Raptors are coming into weapons range just.

About - Jett concentrated her thoughts on the GEARE’s body, feeling her senses re-route into its bio-mechanical nervous system. She vaguely heard Zee’s quietly whispered “weird” as the GEARE’s external sensors linked to the pilots’ tactile senses. Jett focused on the large gun in the GEARE’s hand, shrugged her shoulders, and the GEARE hoisted its massive rifle to its shoulder.

- Now! Zee finished the thought just as the GEARE pulled the trigger, and a stream of superheated gas and metal rocketed towards the incoming Raptors just as they came in to sight over the Voltaire’s hull.

Jett expected the Raptors to break formation once they were in weapons range, spreading out to surround the lone opponent, or even sending a few Raptors to attack the Voltaire. They didn’t. One of the Raptors flew straight in to Jett’s shot, exploding in a blast of escaping gasses and ignited fuel. The others kept flying straight at them as though nothing had happened.

Well, Jett thought, wondering if that tight feeling in the pit of her stomach was Zee’s fear or her own, so much for all that tactical training.

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They don’t have any tactical training, Zee’s responding thought came back. Left!

Jett didn’t even have to look. She knew what Zee saw the moment she saw it, and reacted. One of the Raptors had outpaced its fellows just enough to get to the left of the GEARE, and then suddenly arched in towards them, leading with its feet. The Raptor, named for the threetoed hull-ripper claws that served as its feet, was going for an easy kill, trying to cut through their outer skin and rip the pilots out into the void of space. It was an obvious, foolish tactic that no trained pilot would have attempted.

The GEARE dodged to the right of the oncoming mech as its left arm shot out, grabbing the Raptor around its ankle and using its momentum to spin the GEARE and its opponent out of range of the remaining attackers. Jett drug the struggling mech around in front of the GEARE, where Zee, already aware of what Jett was planning, fired a point blank shot at the Raptor’s torso with the laser cannons mounted on either of the GEARE’s hips. At such close range, it only took one shot to cut the Raptor in half.

Before the GEARE had time to completely release what was left of the destroyed Raptor’s leg, Jett was already moving again, thrusters launching the GEARE towards another of the enemy mechs.

In the secondary control pod, Zee was having some trouble adjusting to her interaction with the GEARE’s combat mode. While Jett’s link seemed to be very physical, her vision focused to a single target, Zee could sense everything from every sensor. It was disorienting, ‘seeing’ in every direction at once. And instead of checking screens and readouts, it was as though she could feel the GEARE’s systems. Power levels, shield angles and frequencies, thruster temperature; all of it was part of her.

For a moment, it threatened to overwhelm her, but then the GEARE’s shoulder slammed into another Raptor at over 300 kilometers per hour, and she forced herself to focus.

The Raptor they had just crashed into was spinning head-overfeet away from its companion, and Jett launched the GEARE at full acceleration towards the second of two, trying to stay in close. She knew that, with their enemies’ greater numbers, if she let Raptors use their rockets and lasers this could all end quickly and badly.

As she approached the new target, she made a last-second course

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correction, bringing her just above the Raptor’s head, which she grasped between the GEARE’s powerful hands. She let momentum carry them in a flip over the Raptor, then fired her forward thrusters to increase the spin, and swung the Raptor like a club at its disoriented companions.

The two Raptors collided heavily and one immediately lost its reactor in a burst of blue-green flame, while the other began leaking atmosphere and spinning lazily, out of control.

By now, the other Owaan Raptor pilots seemed to have figured out that they couldn’t beat the GEARE in close combat. The eight remaining mechs began to spread out. Jett moved to keep one of the damaged mechs between them and the enemy, hoping they wouldn’t destroy one of their own. For the moment, it seemed to be working.

Jett, there are so many. Zee’s fear was threatening to overwhelm her.

She’d never been in actual combat before, and this was not like any simulation.

I know, Jett responded, trying to project confidence, but we can take ‘em. The bastards killed Mitsuko. We will take them out.

Jett thumbed her comm. “Voltaire, this is GEARE. We are a little outnumbered, here. What’s the status on that reactor?”

“GEARE, Voltaire, make that two minutes. Can you hold?” The voice wasn’t the Admiral’s this time. Whoever it was sounded young.

And scared.

“Copy, Voltaire, we are not out of the game yet.”

Game? Zee’s thoughts were tinged with irritation.

Just a figure of speech. Jett didn’t want to give Zee too much time to dwell on their situation. The young Marine had probably never been in a real life-or-death situation before, and this would be a bad time for her to panic. If the Owaan hadn’t taken her copilot…

We’re fine. Jett tried to project confidence along with the words; tried to mask the overwhelming sense of loss and anger she was really feeling.

You’re doing great, Zee. Zee knew Jett was trying to be encouraging, but there was a deep and frightening rage barely concealed behind Jett’s calm façade, and, for all of Jett’s efforts, Zee could feel it.

Jett! Zee had spotted one of the Raptors as it rocketed forward suddenly, coming around the limp form of its damaged comrade, looking for a clear shot at the GEARE.

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Jett grabbed the damaged Raptor and flung it between them and the new aggressor just as the enemy fired. The damaged craft intercepted the shot, but exploded, blasting the GEARE off-balance, spinning it backwards and knocking the rifle out of its hand. Jett got the GEARE back under control quickly, but the rifle was spinning away in the wrong direction, and every remaining Raptor had a clear shot at them.

Zee sensed what Jett was about to do.

Jett, no!

But it was too late. The GEARE blasted forward, towards the nearest Raptor, which immediately began firing. Zee reacted to the plan by throwing all of their shield power to the forward screens, which was probably all that saved them, as one, two, and then a third blast from the Raptor’s laser cannons pounded into the GEARE, the last one at point blank range, before they closed on the target.

The GEARE, at Jett’s command, used one hand to wrench the laser cannon from the Raptor’s hand, and the other to punch at its cockpit, shattering the canopy and exposing the Owaan pilot to the vacuum of space. Zee didn’t need an order. She aimed the GEARE’s hip cannons and fired, vaporizing the Owaan instantly. The suicidal attack, and its brutal effectiveness, seemed to have bought them a moment of hesitation from the other enemies. It had also terrified Zee and knocked their shield power down to less than fifty percent.

Dammit, Jett! Are you crazy?

What?

Jett wasn’t in the mood to worry about Zee’s scolding at that moment.

The Raptor pilots proved to be quick learners, as two of them broke-off and moved towards Voltaire. This was not a good development.

“Voltaire,” she almost shouted into the comm, “You’ve got incoming!

We are moving to intercept but they have cover.”

To Zee, she thought, Hang on. This is not gonna be fun. And watch those shields.

What shields? Zee replied mirthlessly. Nevertheless, she turned her attention to the power levels and pulled everything she could from the other systems to bolster the shields.

Jett ignored her copilot’s annoyance, concentrating on finding a hole in through the five Raptors that separated them from the vulnerable Voltaire. There wasn’t one. She could go around in any of three directions,

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but even the untrained Owaan would be able to react to that before the GEARE could get past them. There was only one way, and Jett could only hope the bold move would catch them off guard. Either way, shed take at least one more of these murdering appliances out with her. She could feel Zee’s tension as her intent translated over the mental link.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Zee murmured quietly as Jett leaned the throttle forward.

Jett…

Jett smiled, grimly. She focused on the center Raptor and opened the throttle. She toggled the comm to an open channel.

“Here I come, you traitorous piece of scrap!”

The GEARE was launched toward the Raptor, fists extended, the thrusters at its feet glowing blinding blue-white. Zee pushed so much reserve power into the forward shields that there was a rippling yellow aura in front of them. Bits of dust and debris smashed against the shields, lighting up little bursts of rippling energy along the surface of the GEARE’s force field. The girls braced for the impact, expecting a sudden stop and a brutal fight. The impact never came.

The Raptors broke. They were through. The GEARE rocketed towards the Voltaire, Jett still snarling obscenities over the comm. Zee, knowing what was coming, rotated the GEARE’s hip cannons behind them and began firing wildly as a barrage of missiles flew towards them with flaming tails and blinking red tips. The first three missiles exploded well shy of the GEARE, but one kept coming, and Zee just didn’t have time to lock on to it.

Fortunately, Jett instantly knew whatever Zee knew. As the rocket came within inches of the mech’s right leg, the GEARE lurched up and to the left, slowing suddenly as Jett frantically applied the braking thrusters. As the missile flew by, Zee finally locked on and blasted it into dust. The concussion pushed them further off-course, but did only cosmetic damage to the front of the GEARE. The reprieve didn’t last a full second before another wave of missiles launched from the pursuing Raptors, but they were closing on the Voltaire’s two attackers, and with any luck that would stop the others from firing a third wave. The second volley was rapidly closing-in, though, and Zee wasn’t having the same luck as with the previous volley.

Two of the five incoming missiles went down quickly, but the other

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three were still coming. Fast.

Zee! I know. I’m trying.

I need a freakin’ gun! Jett raged as the first of the missiles got in too close and she dodged frantically.

The missile went wide, but the maneuver had put them directly in the path of another.

“Can’t. Get. It.” Zee growled aloud through gritted teeth. “Hold on!”

The missile collided with the GEARE’s left leg, just below the knee. The detonation sent the GEARE rolling towards the Voltaire, the bio-metallic skin on half of its leg vaporized, the structure underneath twisted and torn, the thruster destroyed. Zee threw reserve power into the maneuvering thrusters and Jett wrestled the GEARE back under control just in time to avoid colliding with the trailing Raptor they’d been pursuing. The missile hit had damaged them, but it had also put them in close to the Voltaire and her attackers.

The GEARE and the Raptor came together only feet from the Voltaire’s hull, wrestling in a rotating bear hug, each trying to push the other into the ship. Jett smashed, grabbed and pulled anything the GEARE’s hands could get a grip on, until she finally felt one of the Raptor’s shoulders give. She pulled the arm free, peeling the mech-sized laser pistol from its limp grip, and fired it point blank at the Raptor’s head. Free from the Raptor’s grasp, Jett pulled-up hard, barely avoiding smashing into the ship’s hull.

She started to move toward another Raptor, but before she could, it disintegrated in a blast of red and green flame. The Voltaire’s laser turrets were firing. The remaining few Raptors, having followed the GEARE in close, were caught unprepared for the sudden attack from the damaged cruiser, and were all scrap in a matter of seconds.

The comm crackled to life. “GEARE, this is Voltaire.” It was Admiral Russell’s voice again. “We’ve restored weapons and sub-light. We’ll have FTL capability in just over a minute. Can you reach the hangar bay?”

“Roger that, Voltaire,” Jett all but screamed into the mic. “We’ll see you short - Oh. God.” As they came up over the top of the Voltaire, the GEARE’s tactical alert system went crazy. Less than two miles away and moving in fast was a group of fifteen mechs, larger and bulkier than Raptors, and each

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with a massive beam weapon in place of a left arm. Behind the mechs, slightly farther away, were three large and heavily armed battle cruisers.

Are those - Zee began.

Jesters. Jett finished.

Jester mechs, originally called Utahraptors, were more powerful with far heavier armor and shields than the smaller Raptors, but were less maneuverable. They had gotten their new name years ago, during the Jovian rebellion. The Jovian rebels called them Jesters because, with their powerful EMP projectors that could disable any electronic system in their path, it was said that they always got the last laugh.

Please, Zee thought, let those be ours.

Almost before she finished the thought, than the incoming Jesters began firing their long-range missiles towards the Voltaire. The cruiser’s port laser turrets sprang to life, trying to take out as many of the incoming missiles as possible.

How long? Jett asked.

Missile impact in eight. Forty-five seconds to EMP range.

Damn, damn, DAMN! Jett thumbed the comm. “Voltaire, GEARE. You’ve gotta get moving. If they get here before you engage the FTL, we’re all dead.”

The first volley of missiles reached the Voltaire, taking down what was left of the cruiser’s port shields, and blasting more holes in her hull.

Neither Jett nor Zee said anything, nor bothered to project any words. They both knew they couldn’t defeat this enemy, and they both knew they had to try anyway. The GEARE throttled-up and moved toward the incoming Jesters at full speed, the stolen laser pistol firing steadily. Zee pumped all the remaining shield power into the forward screens, then shrugged, shut down life support, and pushed that energy into the shields as well, feeling Jett’s wordless approval.

The first laser blasts slammed their forward shields, slowing their forward momentum and causing spikes in the reactor levels. That’s when it occurred to Zee that there might be a way to save the Voltiare.

Jett, she said, calmly. The core. The reactor core. It would mean...

I know what it means. Jett took a deep breath. “Do it.”

“Jett… It was – “ “I know. Me too. Now just do it.”

Zee ejected the reactor core. As the glowing cylinder slid from a

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panel in the GEARE’s back, Jett reached and grasped it, then flung it full force at the incoming attackers, letting it drift until it was as close to the enemy line as possible. The lead Jesters saw what was happening and tried to change course, but it was too late.

“Nothing can hurt me,” Jett said quietly as she pulled the trigger, “only kill me.”

The stolen pistol fired a single shot, hitting the reactor core dead center. It exploded with the light of a second sun. The Jesters vanished, rendered into subatomic particles in the blink of an eye. A split second later, the GEARE was hit with a powerful shockwave that blasted off what was left of the GEARE’s chest plate and sent it careening out of control towards the planet below.

Without its power core, the GEARE had only a few reserve batteries for life support and maneuvering thrusters. Inside her cockpit, Jett glanced at the controls and then let her hands fall to her sides. They didn’t have enough power to escape orbit. They were falling.

Great job, Zee. Thanks. You, too.

Both girls closed their eyes as the GEARE started accelerating, striking the edge of the atmosphere. The GEARE was spinning and rocking wildly, the g-forces rapidly increasing, and both girls were quickly on the verge of blacking out. They could hear someone calling frantically over the comm, but the words were impossible to make out.

Jett, fighting to move, managed to switch the comm off before she lost consciousness.

Zee, looking down at the Earth, realized they were over North America, and couldn’t help but think that home was so close. Just down there, she thought. Just to the left of that mushroom cloud.

The GEARE spun again, so that Zee, fighting to keep her eyes open, could see the familiar white flash of a ship entering FTL. The Voltaire was safe. She had just enough time to smile before blackness engulfed her.

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CHAPTER 3

SURVIVOR

S

he can smell it; taste it through the breather that’s pressed against her face. Mars tastes like iron. Like blood. The control stick in her hands vibrates and tries to pull left. In front of her, through a battered canopy, sandblasted by high velocities through too many Martian dust clouds, she sees the gravity generator pulsing madly. Jett – No, not Jett. Not yet. Not here. Here, now, she’s Nina – fights the falling sensation, forcing herself to remember she’s looking forward, not down. It’s the first thing a sled jockey has to learn, and the hardest.

Beyond the concave backside of her gravity generator, Nina sees the familiar rippling surface of the Ares Vallis outflow channel; a bed of red sand speckled with darker rocks. A few meters above the rocky surface, a dozen brightly painted grav sleds, each towed behind a bulbous gravity generator shaped like a half-filled beach ball compressed in on itself, jockey for position in the narrow channel. The half-meter below each sled ripples with the gravity distortions from the lift plates that push against the ground, keeping the vehicles aloft. Nina knows there are twice as many sleds behind her and the knowledge widens her smile, even as she pushes the throttle farther forward and the pressure on her ribs compresses her lungs. Her eyelids flutter and her field of vision shrinks, 25

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as though she’s looking through a narrow tube. She backs off ever so slightly, riding the razor edge between consciousness and obliteration.

At these speeds, a forward collision will cram her and her sled into the gravity generator as little more than a speck of super-dense matter.

“Can’t hurt me,” she says to herself, still smiling, “only kill me.”

Her sudden burst of speed has her right on the tail of a neon green, triangular sled covered in sponsor logos. Someone famous, then.

Probably Australian. The sled’s movements are a little too loose for a Mars veteran.

The jockey weaves his sled back and forth slightly, trying to keep Nina guessing so she can’t shoot past him. Each subtle movement lets the sled slip a little farther than it should. Nina knows she has the speed, but if she and the other jockey pick the same direction as she accelerates, she’ll get the worst of the crash. In a grav sled, it’s always better to be hit from behind. Nina bides her time. She knows this course. She grew up on it, watching her father deliver his sales pitches to some of the biggest names on the circuit, selling his own custom grav generators and lift plates. Most of all, she knows that today it doesn’t matter how many jockeys are ahead of her. She’s going to win. She’s certain of it.

As the sleds rocket out of the canyon mouth into a wide, flat, featureless plain, she sees it. Ahead, rising from the Martian surface, is the largest manmade structure on the planet; the Ares Helix.

A giant loop, its apex almost 200 meters above the ground, the structure twists around itself three times before terminating in a 40-meter loop that connects the two sides of the Helix. Even in Mars’ lower gravity, the acceleration required to reach the apex and make the final loop without flying off the track is dangerous for the most skilled sled jockey. On Earth, it would be impossible.

For those willing to try, the Helix offers an even greater challenge.

Once, and only once, a jockey has managed to “split the Helix.” According to the rules, if a jockey can drop out of the loop and dive straight down through the center of the structure, their sled is still considered within the bounds of the race, as long as it reconnects with the track before the Helix flattens out at the base. Success means gaining enough distance on the competitors to almost guarantee a win. Unfortunately, the only jockey to ever succeed, 30 years ago, tried again the following year and died in the attempt. Just like the dozen or so others who’ve tried it since.

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Today, Nina is going to split the Helix. She knows she can do it. She also knows that if she’s wrong, she won’t survive the attempt.

The run up to the base of the Helix is a two-kilometer cylindrical tunnel bored through a natural plateau, and the entrance is coming up fast. The tunnel is much narrower than the open, flat-bottomed canyon they are in now, and the lead sleds are fighting for good position as they are forced to close in on each other.

The green sled in front of her is still sliding back and forth, trying to keep Nina behind, but the movement is less pronounced, almost tentative. Nina smiles knowingly. The green sled is afraid to move too much for fear he’ll miss the narrow entrance to the tunnel. And if he’s afraid, she’s already got him beat. Nina pulls in a deep breath and opens the throttle, surging forward until she’s less than a meter from the back of the other sled, then yanks the control stick hard to the left and jams the throttle again. The two sleds are side-by-side now, Nina’s right thruster housing bumping lightly against the green sled’s left stabilizer wing. She can see the jockey now; a man in his mid-twenties, an angry look on his face. He quickly turns his head towards Nina and mouths something.

Probably something vulgar. Nina smiles and waves.

The tunnel mouth looms too large and close. Another few seconds and one of them will have to give ground, or crash into the stone wall of the plateau at deadly speed. Nina doesn’t blink; just edges her sled gently to the right, still smiling, her head turned just enough for the older jockey to see her grin. She sees he’s willing to cut it close, but if he had the nerve to win this contest, she’d still be behind him. The wall keeps getting closer and she begins counting down – five… four… three… two…

The green sled suddenly vanishes from her peripheral vision just as she runs out of room, and Nina pulls hard to the right, her left stabilizer wing sparking against the wall as she barely clears the tunnel entrance, now a good twenty meters ahead of the green sled and its fuming jockey.

Her heart is pounding and her head is throbbing from the acceleration, but Nina doesn’t let off the throttle yet. Just ahead, she can see two more sleds, one a garish red with a huge Titan Industries banner emblazoned across its tail, the other light blue with yellow stripes, fighting for better position, sliding high up the curved tunnel walls in their attempts to pass each other. She closes in to ten meters

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before easing off the throttle. She settles in at this distance, watching for patterns in the maneuvering of the two sleds.

When she sees it, she knows. She doesn’t know how and couldn’t explain it, but she sees what she’s looking for. She waits, watching Red Titan and Yellow Stripes slide and weave, counting silently to herself. Then the opening is there, exactly as she expected, and she opens the throttle again. At the same time, she changes the angle on her left stabilizer wing and eases the control stick to the right, shooting forward and angling up the curved wall, corkscrewing twice around the cylindrical tunnel before shooting through the narrow opening between the two competing sleds. Just like that, she’s in fourth place.

Nina’s maneuver forces Red Titan to break and he’s falling behind now, but Yellow Stripes is sticking tight to her tail, angling to pass – which means he’s good; not intimidated by her risky move. She knows she’s got to get some distance on him if she wants to succeed with her plan. She’ll need some breathing room if it’s going to work. She eases the throttle up until her vision starts to narrow, then nudges it back just enough to make sure she stays conscious. Still, Yellow Stripes is hanging on, barely five meters behind. One wrong move on Nina’s part and he’ll shoot by, possibly forcing her to decelerate.

Nina bites her lip nervously, considering her options. She could let him get ahead, and she might still have enough time and room to split the Helix, but if she doesn’t…

Not an option, she thinks as she slides to the left, cutting off Yellow Stripes’ attempt to ease up. She can see daylight ahead. She’s running out of tunnel.

“Aww, screw it!” she yells into her breather as she flips up the fins on both stabilizer wings. The front of the grav sled suddenly jerks upward, and she slams the control stick hard to the left and angles her right stabilizer back down, swinging her entire grav sled around 180 degrees without slowing her forward momentum. Yellow Stripes tries to use her sudden, seemingly insane maneuver to his advantage, shooting to the right. But as her sled swings around, Nina changes the polarity on her gravity generator, and the fronts of the two sleds swing towards each other. She catches a glimpse of the jockey, his eyes wide with terror, as the two gravity generators swing within less than a meter of each other.

At the last second, just before the two gravity generators collide,

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Nina switches the polarity of her generator again, and the two sleds rocket away from each other, sending them both into a spin; hers forward, his backwards. She’s got all the room she needs now.

Nina’s sled spins wildly for nearly a full two seconds, an eternity at these speeds, before she finally forces it back on to a straight trajectory.

Almost as soon as she gets the sled back under her control, she’s bathed in sunlight as the track begins to slope up from the desert floor ahead.

Nina quickly glances up at the apex of the Ares Helix almost directly above her, and her pulse quickens.

I can do this, she tells herself sternly. It’ll work. It will work.

The track suddenly turns sharply up curves slightly to the right, and Nina makes a few small adjustments to the output of her gravity generator, making it push against Mars’ native gravity field. She is going almost straight up now, and still her body tells her the front of the sled is down. Only a few meters into the ascent, the track tapers to barely the width of a single grav sled. There is no passing on the Helix. Just staying on the narrow ribbon of track is a daunting task that requires a precise balance between the gravity field and directional thrusters. Nina has done this a few times before, and it doesn’t worry her.

Knowing she is only seconds away from either victory or death, Nina begins to prepare herself, taking rapid, sharp breaths and breathing out slowly. She’s been practicing for weeks, figuring out exactly how many g’s she can tolerate and for how long before passing out, precisely how long it takes her to regain consciousness, and how long her sled’s backup safeties take to kick in after a resistor failure. Sled jockeys live at 8-9g’s for the duration of a race and will push that up to as much as 15g’s for brief periods when passing or trying to increase a lead. For her plan to work, Nina will have to push 40g’s. It will last less than one second, but it will knock her out. All she has to do is wake up in time to pull out of the dive and hit the track at the base of the Helix.

As she nears the apex, Nina can see the third place sled complete the loop above her. Less than a second later, just before she hits the apex, she tenses every muscle in her body, angles her thrusters and stabilizers straight down, and cranks the power output of her fusion reactor past the safety limits, blowing out the primary resistors between the reactor and the gravity generator. The sudden power surge pulls against the planet with the force of a dense star and Nina is pulled straight down,

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out of the loop, towards the ground below.

For the briefest moment, everything around her seems to stretch impossibly. Then there is nothing.

Her heart beats and it pounds through her head. Her left ear pops painfully. She tries to take a breath and tastes blood. Real, liquid blood.

She gags. Her left eye opens to a red blur. Her right eye sees nothing at all. Her heart beats again.

Two heartbeats. That’s too many. Too much time. She gropes madly with her hands, grabbing desperately at the control stick and the throttle.

She blinks blood from her one working eye until she sees the blurred image of the Martian surface rushing up at her. She sees no mercy there.

Only oblivion.

There it is. Barely visible through blood and pain; the base of the Ares Helix. She changes the angle on her gravity field and fires her dorsal thrusters, and as her heartbeat pounds through her aching body for the third time, her sled slams hard into the track and then levels out, following the gentle slope of concrete and steel back on to the rocky surface of the canyon.

She eases the throttle to its maximum safe cruising speed and holds the stick steady. All that remains is a kilometer-long straightaway. She’s won. She hurts everywhere, and her right eye may never work again, and her father may not speak to her for a few days, but she’ll be a legend on the grav sled circuit.

A part of her – the part that knows it doesn’t belong in this time and place - knows the truth of what is to come. The heartbreak, the anger, the bitter disappointment. But as the sled coasts across the finish line, the cheers are so loud that the glass of the spectator observation domes vibrates visibly as onlookers clap and scream and stomp. Even the True Martian onlookers, tall and slender and usually all too stoic, stand up on their open-air bleachers to wave and shout down to her. In the face of all of this, she feels only the joy and exhilaration of success.

Nina Palazola, winner of the 2321 Martian Cup, closes her eyes, savoring her victory.

*

*

*

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It wasn’t the pain in her leg that woke her, but it was hard to focus on the deep, gravelly voice once the pain set in. Jett moaned and tried to reach for her leg, but her body didn’t respond. She began to panic, trying to sit up, force her eyes open, scream, anything, but nothing worked.

The rumbling voice kept talking, and since it seemed to be the only thing she was capable of doing, she forced herself to listen. “…breathing, Lieutenant. This will sting.”

There was a sudden, sharp pain in her shoulder and instantly the fog began to clear. She slowly opened her eyes, her left eye squinting against the bright light, while the finely tuned electronic iris of her right eye adjusted more quickly. Above her was an unfamiliar ceiling; roughhewn wooden beams and heavy planking, like nothing she’d ever seen in person. Earth construction. An unfamiliar face, dark-skinned, male and topped with silver hair, looked down at her.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” he said in a resonant and slightly accented voice. “We were starting to worry.”

As she turned her head to get a better look at him, he smiled warmly.

He was leaning forward in an old-looking wooden chair, backlit by a large window that looked out on to a cloudless blue sky and, in the far distance, the golden tops of wheat stalks.

“Where–“ Jett tried to speak, but the word came out as a dry croak.

“Don’t try that just yet,” the man said. Then he turned and shouted over his shoulder. “Zelda! She’s awake! Bring water.”

Jett tried again, whispering this time. “Where am I?” “Oklahoma. Zelda’s family farm.”

“Zelda?” Jett was still trying to figure out how she’d gotten here. The last thing she remembered was the GEARE falling towards Earth with no power. Even with crash webbing and a cockpit full of impact gel, she should be dead. But a quick mental inventory told her that, aside from the intermittent stabbing pain in her leg, she was intact.

“Your copilot. Zee, I believe you call her.”

“Zee? She’s alive?” She said it a little too loud for her sore, dry throat, and was wracked by a sudden coughing fit.

As Jett began to recover and was about to speak, Zee walked into the room carrying a cup and a pitcher. She was wearing a pair of filthy coveralls, her hair was crammed haphazardly under a black bandana, and she looked exhausted.

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“You’re awake,” Zee said, obviously forcing herself to sound cheery.

“Well, I guess we were due for some good news.”

“How long?” Jett croaked, reaching for the glass Zee offered her. She started gulping it down without waiting for an answer.

When the glass was empty, Zee took it from her and started to refill it.

“Twelve days.”

Jett was shocked. “Twelve days! What the hell happened? I can’t have been out that long from a broken leg.”

“Your canopy cracked during re-entry and the impact gel wasn’t contained. You got bounced around pretty good. Skull fracture, concussion, two broken ribs, broken femur. It was bad.”

“My God. How am I even alive?”

Zee gestured toward the dark-skinned old man. “Hasan. Best medic the Corps ever forced into retirement. He’s a pretty brilliant mechanic, too.”

Jett propped herself up on one elbow and held out the other hand to Hasan.

“Thanks. I didn’t expect to wake up from that crash, but I’m not complaining.”

“My pleasure, Lieutenant,” he replied with a toothy grin. He shook her hand firmly. “You are quite the hero, the way Zelda tells it.”

Jett glanced over at Zee, who was blushing and concentrating hard on looking at her own feet. She turned back to Hasan.

“Yeah? Did Zelda mention that she saved my ass at least twice?

‘Cause she did. And call me Jett.”

“She might have left a few things out,” Hasan said, getting to his feet. “Sorry we couldn’t do better, but we had to fix your leg without a cellular regenerator and let your head heal the old fashioned way. All I had was an old osteo-accelerator, or you’d have been up and around days ago. Now, I’m going to go find you some clean clothes and then run you a bath. That leg will appreciate a good soak. You two heroes can take a few minutes to catch up.”

He tossed a sly wink Zee’s way as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Zee handed Jett another glass of water and wandered over to the window.

“Thanks.” Jett gulped the contents of the glass greedily, took a deep, contented breath, and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “Now, why am

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33

I alive at all? How the hell did we get here? And what the hell is that guy so happy about?”

“Hasan?” Zee turned, putting her back to the wall, and slid to the floor, pulling her knees against her chest. “I think he’d smile through the end of the world. He might be doing just that, in fact.”

“That’s not very encouraging. What about the crash?”

“We came down 3 klicks from here. I blacked out before we even entered the atmosphere. I remember looking down and seeing North America. That’s it.” Zee shrugged, half-smiling. “Then I woke up in a wheat field within spitting distance of my parents’ farm. How we didn’t disintegrate on impact is beyond me. There’s absolutely no explanation for how we could have decelerated enough to survive. I wasn’t even bruised.”

“Oh. That’s gotta be the best luck in pretty much ever,” Jett replied.

“So, how did you get us 3 klicks with a broken mech and me completely out of it?”

“Well,” Zee said, her expression darkening, “first of all, I don’t believe in luck. Second, the GEARE was awake. Partially functional.

Whatever you want to call it. I had enough reserve power to basically drag us along with one arm. It was slow going, believe me. Especially without the bio-link working. And... I don’t know how, but I think the GEARE brought us here on purpose.”

“How–” Jett began.

“I just said, I don’t know.” Zee got to her feet and started pacing the length of the room. Her voice was strained. “I don’t know how. But the last thing I thought of was home, and then–here we are. That can’t be a coincidence. And, Jett, the GEARE… isn’t what we thought.”

“What are you talking about?” Jett managed to finally get herself into a seated position and was roughly massaging her sore thigh. It hurt, and she was still fuzzy, and Zee wasn’t making any sense. Suddenly, she had a headache.

“Later.” Zee stopped her pacing and sat in the empty chair next to the bed. She reached out and put her hand on top of Jett’s, stopping the massaging motion. “Stop that,” she said firmly. “You’re gonna make it worse. You should be able to walk on it, but it’ll be sore for a few more days.”

“Do we have a few more days? What’s been going on? I passed out on the first day of what I’m guessing is an all-out war, remember?”

34

G.E.A.R.E.

Zee leaned back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling. She was silent for several seconds, then she sighed deeply.

“We don’t know much,” she began. “We are getting information mostly from the enemy. Some Owaan named Oru-6 is calling himself the leader of the rebellion. He makes speeches just about every hour on damn near every broadcast frequency, and they post lists of captured and killed military personnel and civilians pretty regularly. This Oru guy spends a lot of time apologizing for ‘necessary evils of this righteous war,’ as he calls it.

“Occasionally, though, we do pick up scattered military signals, civilian transmissions, things like that. All we do know is that Earth is pretty much completely in Owaan control. They nuked every major city with a functioning spaceport, and took out all three of the skyhook junctions; Oklahoma City, Amman and Melbourne, all in the first wave.

It’s just about impossible to get anything larger than a freight-hauler on or off the planet. And the casualties…” Zee shrugged wearily, slumping in the chair.

Jett leaned forward impatiently. Her rising anger was beginning to cut through the fog in her head.

“What about Mars? The Moon? The fleet?”

Zee looked momentarily horrified.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking… Mars is fine. Or as much as it can be.

There weren’t enough Owaan there to do too much damage, apparently.

As far as I know, civilian casualties were light. I’m sure your family is fine.”

“Just my dad.” Jett leaned her head back and sighed with relief.

Zee nodded and continued.

“What’s left of the fleet and most of the survivors from Tranquility regrouped at Phobos. Admiral Russell and General Barnes set up a command post at the Olympus Mons skyhook. So Mars is probably about the safest place in the system right now.”

Jett nodded thoughtfully. Knowing her dad was likely safe allowed her to refocus on more the more urgent issue of her own situation.

“So there’s no military left on Earth?”

“Well, there are rumors that a couple divisions managed to avoid capture, but if it’s true, they’re keeping quiet. At the moment, it looks like we are on our own.”

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35

“I’m guessing the GEARE won’t be back up and running any time soon?”

“The GEARE.” Zee leaned forward, elbows on her knees, fingers steepled under her chin. “Where to begin? I’ve been re-configuring it so we can get out of here, regroup with the Fleet. And once I got past the external systems that I was familiar with, I was in completely new territory. It’s not a machine at all, Jett. Not really. And the more I learn about it, the more questions I have.”

“Well, I only have one.” Jett leaned forward and used Zee’s knees to brace herself as she got stiffly to her feet. “Can you get it working?”

“Already have,” Zee responded with obvious pride, despite her equally obvious exhaustion. She rose and tucked her shoulder under Jett’s right arm. “Now we just need to get our pilot back up and running.”

Jett forced a smile and took a couple of tentative steps, grateful for Zee’s assistance. Her leg was stiff, and putting any weight on it was extremely uncomfortable, if not exactly painful.

“So, Hasan said this is your family farm?” Jett asked between the grunts that accompanied each step.

“Yeah,” Zee replied grimly, glancing towards the window. “The only reason the Owaan haven’t found us yet is because everyone was evacuated from the area after they nuked Oklahoma City. That and Hasan has their aerial patrol schedule down to a science. The Owaan may have rebelled against us, but it looks like they’re still slaves to a chronometer.”

As Jett realized the implications of what Zee had just said, she turned her head slowly to look Zee in the eye.

“Wait. Your family. They’re not–?”

Zee’s face broke into an actual smile as she slid out from under Jett’s arm, keeping a steadying hand on her shoulder and turning to look her in the eye. Jett couldn’t help but think that Zee, in that moment, looked far more like an excited little girl than like Marine who just survived a brutal space battle.

“They’re alive,” Zee said, a little too loudly for Jett’s taste. “I found out this morning. The Owaan posted a list of civilians taken into custody at a camp about 60 kilometers north of here. They were on it.

“And don’t worry. No radiation here. Either the people were being overcautious, or the Owaan used it as an excuse to herd people out of the area.”

36

G.E.A.R.E.

Zee stepped back suddenly, just out of arms reach. “Now try a few steps on your own.”

Jett took a halting step forward. Zee stepped back farther. They repeated this for the entire length of the room. It was exhausting, but Jett was already getting her balance back, and the stiffness in her leg seemed to be receding slightly. As they completed their third circuit of the small room, they could hear Hasan start running water across the hall.

Zee walked over and took Jett’s arm again. “Guess I better get you into that bath, or Hasan’s liable to come in here and scrub you down with a toothbrush.”

“Ah, Zelda,” Hasan boomed as they stepped into the hall. “How is our hero’s leg?”

“Ask her yourself,” Zee shot back. “Her ears are fine.”

Jett was taken aback at the relatively lighthearted exchange, and had to remind herself that while she’d been unconscious, they’d had twelve days to adjust to a bad situation. And, she realized, watching their faces, they were making a concerted effort to keep each other’s spirits up. She decided to play along.

“Leg’s not too bad,” Jett said, even as she winced slightly. “Pretty good work for a retired guy with antique tools.”

Hasan actually chuckled softly. “A joke, Lieutenant Hero? Good, good. Dinner should be ready soon. Nothing fancy, but it will be better than the liquid nutrients we have been injecting you with.”

Zee guided Jett into a small tiled bathroom across the hall, gently helped her out of the one-piece gown she’d been wearing and assisted as Jett lowered herself into the steaming hot water.

Once Jett was settled, Zee turned towards the door.

“I’m gonna go help Hasan with dinner. If you need help getting out, just yell. I’ll be right downstairs.”

“Hey, Zee.” Jett stopped her before she could close the door completely. Zee leaned through the doorway to see the young pilot wearing a sly half-smile as she soaped her pale arms.

“Yeah?”

Jett raised an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling.

“Zelda?”

“Shut up.”

Voltaire

CHAPTER 4

COMING SOON

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