Visionary of Peace: The Vallar Series, #2

Chapter 1

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I picture a Mars full of biospheres, with homes for everyone – Kayla.

A vibration went through the clear ceiling of the biosphere, followed by a clank. I stopped packing dirt around my newly planted evergreen sapling and looked up through to the orange Mars sky. Lucy, a brown mutt, had become the resident pet. She lay by my side as I worked alone in the middle of an almost empty domed biosphere. Her ears went on end.

What is it? I asked, my voice echoing.

Her head came up as she looked toward the open door to the tunnel. From the center of the biosphere, it looked like the opening to a dark pit. Her head went back down. I got up, brushed the dust off my overalls and circled the area, looking for a leak. The last thing I needed was a stray meteor punching a hole in the biosphere barrier. As usual, Lucy followed with her nose to the rusty ground.  

Perhaps it was vibrations from an unmanned Earth cargo ship taking off with a payload of platinum. Yet, it was too late in the day for that.

The sound could’ve been a footstep echoing from the tunnel, although the miners were all eating dinner in the mess hall. Miners never lingered in the tunnel after their shift. Maybe it was a falling rock from the nearby cliff. 

Scattered bushes, patches of grass and an occasional small evergreen tree made up the vegetation of the small contained area. Miners had set up a goal post at each end of the enclosure so they could play soccer. The barrier allowed me to see a section of the canyon known as the Noctis Labyrinthus where the high walls created long shadows from the setting sun. At night, the thin Mars atmosphere was ideal for star gazing, and several people would come in the late evening. Most would pretend they were on Earth or Hinun for a few minutes. Other than that there wasn’t anything else for them to do.

Sometimes I imagined myself going outside and exploring the canyon free of the bulk of an envirosuit. Earth people had a breathable atmosphere and didn’t have to pretend about such things. Working on a biosphere gave people a chance to experience a small piece of Earth. I was lucky to get the job, but not satisfied.

One Mars year of pushing to complete a decent home for the miners and this was it. At least I had a chance to talk to Admiral Meta Reese about getting more supplies and workers. I grumbled at myself for having dabbled in so many things – an assistant diplomat, an artist and an operative. Now I was designing a biosphere.

I returned to my tools, tossed them back in the box and broke into a jog toward the tunnel, in a hurry to get cleaned up for dinner. Something clanked again. I stopped and listened. Lucy growled softly. Her tail went straight.

Having worked around men in a repair hangar and now a mine, it wasn’t the first time one of them tried to spy on me. Although, I thought that keeping my hair pulled back and wearing baggy overalls would keep me off most men’s radars.

Tiny drops of water condensed on the stone walls of the dimly lit tunnel. As I walked, a louder clank came from the dark far end. The hair on Lucy’s neck rose up. I found it odd because she only growled at strangers, and she knew everyone at the mine.  

Calm down. It’s probably just someone working on an air vent.

Clank, clank, clank.

Someone was definitely working overtime. I paused at a shadow of someone near a control panel. It was an oddly thin shadow. Most of the men who worked here were muscular from lifting heavy equipment. 

I turned the corner. Lucy broke out barking. A being with a metal head and glowing red eyes was opening the control panel. It had lanky metal arms and legs. I recognized the design as a Marscorp product. Tiny holes at the tip of each finger were used to release laser blasts. It was armed and programmed to kill anyone who stumbled upon it. How did it get in here?

Its head turned in my direction.

I ducked into a doorway of another tunnel and snapped my fingers. Lucy, come. I opened a door to a side tunnel and slipped inside with Lucy.

My knees trembled. Stay, I whispered, pulling out my com. There hadn’t been any incidents since Ian killed Admiral Beacon. The Marcs had even stopped raiding. It’d been quiet.

Security, I spoke into the com. Answer already.

Kayla? What’s wrong? asked Tiller, the security commander, in a rough old voice.

Clank, clank, clank.

The metal footsteps headed my way.

A Marscorp drone S-series is in tunnel twenty-three. It has me trapped. Get someone down here quick.

Security cameras could see almost anywhere in this facility. The thing kicked the door, putting dents in it. I scrambled away, reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a small Kahr pulse pistol that had been handed down from my great grandparents. However, the Marc infiltrator models were almost completely blaster proof. The only chance I had with the pistol was to hit a small weak point in the robot’s neck, and I frantically tried to remember the exact spot because nothing else would stop it.

The door caved in. The robot stepped over it. Blasts shot out from its finger tips. I ran down the hall. A sharp pain grazed across my left shoulder. I got around the corner and pressed the emergency button on my com. Pain from the burn made me bite my bottom lip.

An alarm went off and blared through the tunnel. I reached an airlock, but without an envirosuit, I could not go out that way and couldn’t risk turning back. Lucy scrambled behind my legs. If the robot came, I had nowhere to go. My knees broke out trembling again. Feeling lightheaded, I tried to control my breathing and ducked down in the corner, clutching the pistol.

Ian...

He was at Gentech. Half a Mars year had passed since I’d visited my home. Those damn metal footsteps started up again. I missed Gentech. Why did I stay away so long?

There was no escape. What if I died and never told him why I broke things off? What if? I flipped the com back open, scrolled for his name, slumped down, and winced from the pain. I had to ignore it to get the message out.

Ian, it’s because of things that happened with Layne and not because he died. Sorry for everything. I love you, but I became afraid...

As I was about to hit send, the sounds moved away. Why? The Marc drone had another agenda. The clanks moved south toward the biosphere. Perhaps the drone had come to destroy it.

I slammed the com shut and dropped it into a big pocket on the pant leg of my overalls. Back into the main tunnel, I turned left and yanked open the control panel. I punched in my security clearance and shut the door before the biosphere and another one to trap it.

Tiller, I trapped it. Hurry! Where were they? It’s trying to destroy...

A loud boom shook the walls and cracks ran along the ceiling. The robot had either detonated itself or set off a bomb. I ran with Lucy leading the way out of the tunnel. Bits of rock tumbled down. I reached the lobby where I found Tiller, a paunchy slow-moving man, with a gray reef of hair. He had three other men with him.  

What took you so long? I asked, dreading that the biosphere may have been destroyed.    

We came as fast as we could, Tiller said, breathing heavily.

I pointed down the tunnel. The robot is that way, but it’s trapped.

He checked a scanner. The tunnel is collapsed down there.

Another group of security arrived, along with Admiral Reese.

She ran over to us, out of breath with her silver hair full of dust. A drone getting into this facility is inexcusable. She glared at Tiller while the security officers were running about and checking behind every door. Where is it?

Down that tunnel, ma’am. It’s probably crushed.

Her eyes bore into Tiller. I don’t care what you have to do, but I want a full report on my desk first thing in the morning. Is that clear?

As she reprimanded him, I ran up a flight of stairs at the back of the lobby. Once at the top, I reached a large porthole and sighed in relief at seeing the clear barrier still intact. Footsteps came up the stairs followed by heavy breathing.

Reese glanced at my wound and winced. Are you all right?

Yes, it’s just a graze. I looked back at the biosphere, grateful.

So it was a Marc drone?

Yes... My thoughts went back to all the raids the Marcs had inflicted on my people. We mostly hid until Vallar formed. The cowards were forced into peace since we had a military equal in strength.  

The Marcs wouldn’t stir things up for nothing, I said.

She stepped up to the porthole and looked out. Maybe they still want this mine.

I shrugged, remembering my thoughts about Ian when I thought I was about to be killed.

Are you sure you’re all right? Reese asked.

Yes.

She turned for the door. See you in one hour, and feel free to wear something casual.

Chapter 2

I had built a wall around myself and didn’t know how to take it down – Kayla.

Back in my room, I slowly put my bandaged shoulder into a fresh shirt. The pain medication dulled the burning sensation, but it also made me drowsy enough to fall on the bed and sleep. This was not the time to let fatigue show. Lucy had passed out in the corner on her blanket after her long day. The four blue parakeets chirped for my attention, but I had no time to talk to them.

I readjusted my ponytail, buttoned my shirt and pulled the com out of the overalls pocket. The message was still on the screen. Ian deserved for me to say something, but I couldn’t bring myself to send it. I shut it off and plopped down on the bed. It would’ve been nice if Ian had seen this robot coming in a vision, but he had told me several times he was not at his full ability.

Last time I’d seen him, he’d just turned eighteen. I paused, thinking it ironic that we kept track of our ages in Earth years. Some habits couldn’t be changed.

Although still somewhat lanky, overall Ian had a good frame that would fill out someday. He’d let his hair grow a bit longer. I could still remember the silky feel of it beneath my fingers. His eyes had a way of piercing me, an ocean I often forgot myself in. My father said he was too young for me.

Yet, I’m only twenty. Besides, he is a man now.

He was also a wanted man ever since he killed Admiral Beacon and escaped from Marscorp. Life expectancy on Mars was dismal to begin with, let alone for someone with a price on their head.

Before leaving, I glanced back at the messy room. A painting of a beach with a large ocean hung over my cluttered desk. A room full of charts and monitors, all about the biosphere, not to mention the rabbit’s cage needed to be cleaned out again.

I headed out. People talked in the hall about the robot incident. Had Tiller found anything useful? No doubt, the Marc drone had transmitted data back to Marscorp about whatever it saw - tunnel layouts, weapon capabilities and population.    

After a short flight of stairs, I entered the observatory dining room. Its circular design and clear walls allowed guests a wide view of the terrain during the day and the brilliant stars at night.

Reese was already seated at the table, sipping on some red wine and wearing an evening gown with a light purple robe. I paused, never having seen her out of uniform. She had a large frame, and I’d never considered her feminine looking until today. Even though she was in her early fifties, she looked younger, despite never having dyed her silver hair. A few wrinkles surrounded her blue eyes, but other than that her face was smooth.    

Please be seated. Reese motioned while staring at her com with hint of irritation. Sorry for the interruption, but I’m making arrangements to transfer Tiller to a quieter, less complicated job.

Understandable. I took a seat at the side of the table in front of the place setting. Reese walked over to a small control panel near the door and pushed a button. The floor rumbled as the room rose up and emerged at the top of a flat hill. A clear barrier surrounded the room. We viewed a rusty landscape lit up by the two moons in the distance. Brilliant stars went on in the dark of space as far as the eye could see.

Ah, no dust swirling tonight, such a clear beautiful view. Reese sat back down.

How’s your arm?

A little better.

Good, I was looking over personnel records today when I happened to notice you have not taken a vacation in months.

I will, eventually. I paused. I-I’d like to discuss the biosphere.

Of course, you need more workers, more supplies. After touring the mine today, I too would like to see the biosphere completed and will use my influence to convince the council.

Thank you. I visualized the first of the small houses going up. The miners will be extremely grateful.

Yes, yes, of course, she said. And feel free to call me Meta in private. I think we know each other well enough that we can talk on a more personal level.

I-I guess. I suspected Meta wanted something.

You and I have something in common. Do you know what that might be?

I tried to think of something. As far as I knew, our careers weren’t anything alike. Are you an artist?

No, no, dear. We have something in common regarding men.

I scrunched up my face. What are you talking about?

I happened to notice you were dating Ian Connors for a few months when he first joined us. Then you stopped. Could it be that you’re afraid to lose him?

I shifted, uneasy about the change in subject. What is she doing? Prying into my personal life?

I too lost a partner when I was young. Like you, I feared that if I became close to someone they would die and I would be devastated all over again, but I got over it and found someone else.

But I heard... I hesitated, trying to decide if it was too personal.

Meta smiled, looking amused. You can speak freely.

Didn’t you break up with your last partner?  

Yes, but that’s a different story. The point is I got over it and moved on. Come to think of it, I miss the company of a good man. She sipped her wine.

I gripped the sides of the chair and struggled not to tell her to mind her own business. Yet, she was an Admiral. I needed her to get the work moving. I thought I heard one of the captains ask you out?

Sure, some of the officers would like to date me, but I’m just not attracted to any of them for some reason. She swirled the wine around in her glass.

I don’t talk about this much, but things weren’t perfect between Layne and me before he died. I paused, determined only to tell her so much. I wanted him to give up being a fighter pilot, but he refused. He said it was his duty to defend Gentech and the mine. I fidgeted with my hands under the table so Meta wouldn’t see my nervousness. He was a workaholic and was always too busy to spend time with me. We probably would’ve broken up.

Meta’s eyes widened. This is uncanny. My last partner was the same way and that’s why I ended our relationship. She got up and drifted over to the barrier, lingering and staring up at the blue orb - Earth. If only Layne could see the progress we have made.

I believe he does. I suspected Meta of changing the subject on purpose.

Then look at it this way. Just because one relationship didn’t work out, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try again with the right person. Although, I don’t know if Ian Connors is a good choice.

Why wouldn’t he be? I asked, wondering if I was going to have to deal with strange comments all evening.

Meta came back to her seat and leaned forward. I’m curious about Connors because he was unusually valuable to the late Admiral Beacon.

I held my breath. Meta’s skill at controlling a conversation made me feel like I was being pressed into a small box. However, it was too dangerous to tell her about Ian’s psychic ability.

Kayla? Meta asked gently.

Yes, I’m listening. I blinked, wishing I was somewhere else.

Nobody has told me why Beacon wanted Connors so much. I only hear that he is gifted at military strategy, which makes no sense. I mean why would an average young man studying mechanics in school be so great at military strategy?

I shrugged, squirmed and forced myself to stop. It’s a gift. I would not give in, even if that meant no supplies or extra workers. No matter how much pressure Meta tried to wield.

So you still won’t tell me? Meta peered at me. What else can I do to earn his trust and yours?

Can you trust me when I say there is nothing to be concerned about? Ian is safer the less people know. His gift is a blessing and a curse. He hates war and doesn’t want to use it anymore. He only wants to live a normal life. Please let Ian live in peace.

Meta was speechless for at least fifteen seconds. She cleared her throat. I can only hope one day to earn Ian’s trust and don’t worry. I would never need strategy help from an eighteen-year-old junior ensign. No wonder Beacon ended up dead.

I didn’t believe her and a nervous chuckle escaped. Meta was known for hunting down talented people and trying to win them over to our organization. This wasn’t a bad thing, but in Ian’s case, it was too complicated to consider and not my place to decide. 

I’m glad we’re such good friends, Meta added. I hope I didn’t ruin your appetite by bringing up bad memories?

No, I lied, wanting to call it a night.

Good, you’re tough. I like that. Just remember one thing. When you get older, love is much harder to find. Don’t waste it. Meta pressed her lips together, clearly holding back a chuckle. Her words felt like knives.

Footsteps headed up the stairs. It was the cook with our dinner.

Chapter 3

A great teacher is to be appreciated forever – Ian.   

A warning light blinked. A buzzer sounded. The speed gauge dropped. I glanced over all the controls. One of the gauges for the fuel injectors edged a few points too low.

C’mon, Ian... Bret let out a shaky breath. Faster, you don’t have this much time in a crisis situation.  

I know it’s one of the fuel injectors. I pulled back on the throttle and switched the midrange into hover mode.

We need more details than that.

The heads-up display showed us rushing through wispy clouds as we moved over a reddish landscape. I rifled through the diagrams on a dataviewer to analyze the glitch. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the clock, glowing 2359 hours. I found the correct calculation and entered it into the console to rebalance the injector. A green light blinked, indicating I had solved the problem within the time limit.

The scene on the heads-up display dissolved to reveal a dimly lit hangar and a few other parked midranges.

Can I be done now? I leaned back and yawned. I have to get Nate back to the facility.

Very well. Bret flipped a switch. I have to be at the lab early tomorrow, anyway.

The day had started out lousy because I had dropped the aerojet basic flying class. Not just because I quit, but because I was the only guy who was already failing the class.

One guy had said, I knew he’d fail. The only thing is I’m going to miss laughing at him.

Other students were more like, Man, what is your problem? Flying in a straight line is not that difficult.

Most of the students laughed, and I laughed with them. That way they didn’t know their jabs bothered me.

At least the end of the day turned out awesome because I was sitting next to Captain Bret Yargar in the co-pilot’s seat late at night in an old midrange, which he had given me to fix up and keep for my own. Bret insisted he would give me some co-piloting lessons in my midrange since mechanics were expected to be able to both co-pilot and solve problems on a midrange if they ever wanted to someday pass the certification.

Tonight’s practice run reminded me of the time we hid from the Marcs in the bottom of a cave blasted into the side of a deep crater for several days. Bret taught me that the Phantom was self-sufficient and could stay out in the barren land for six months if necessary. It had taken the Genners ten years to create such an advanced ship. They didn’t have the resources to produce another one until Vallar formed.

Soon I found out that Bret and his adoptive father, Larus, were the ones who had developed the Phantom. Bret had turned out to be more than a highly trained operative and pilot. Having been raised by scientists, he was also a physicist, although by looking at him no one would ever know. He still looked like a tough operative in his tank top and muscular bronze arms. His dark hair was always short and spiked up, making him look like someone never to mess with.   

However, in the last Mars year, the Vallar alliance and the Marcs were at a stalemate. Bret had left the military and turned to helping Larus develop a wormhole activation device, which would someday allow travel to the Earth-like planet Hinun. Best of all, Bret was teaching the midrange repair class.  

I stretched my arms. Thanks for taking the time to help me study.

No problem. Since I’ve been working with Larus so much, I miss flying midranges.

It’s great that we seem to be at a standstill with the Marcs.

It’s like how the Cold War was back on Earth, two superpowers too strong to attack each other without blowing up the world. He huffed. It’s a good thing and has allowed us to return to progressing in our science.

We climbed out of the seats before the console and stretched.

Now you trust me, don’t you? Bret asked.

The question caught me by surprise. How could I not?

Bret raised a critical eyebrow. Then why didn’t you tell me you dropped the basic aerojet flying class?

I hesitated, feeling myself flush. At least the class wasn’t required to get a degree in midrange repair. Bret nudged me. He wasn’t one to wait for an answer.

It’s not a big deal. More heat rose up. I pulled my sweater off the back of a chair and took a step toward the airlock. I just hadn’t gotten around to mentioning it yet.

Bret frowned at my attempt to avoid the subject.

I hated disappointing him. So maybe I couldn’t pass the Sierra Kilo pattern. I always end up aborting it because I become disoriented.

Bret tapped his dataviewer. You should have told me. I could’ve set up some simulator training for you.

I’ve tried that. I’m great in the simulator. The real thing I suck at. Anyway, it doesn’t bother me. My main focus is becoming a top mechanic, and it’s not a required class for mechanics.

Bret looked at my hands. If it doesn’t bother you, then why are you fidgeting?

Somehow, I’d wound the sweater into a ball. Because sometimes it would be nice to be normal, like the other guys.

Who’s normal? Bret threw up his hands. At least you’ve been competitive with your repair skills. That’s the kind of mechanic I want working in the Phantom hangar.

My cheeks warmed. You would consider me?

Of course. You’re a hard worker. He paused. And I understand what you’re dealing with. After being rescued from that Marc prison camp, I barely spoke to anyone. How do you think that went over with the other students?

Badly.

Yes, and I failed the first year. If it wasn’t for Larus, I don’t know what would have happened to me. Anyway, I can take you flying until you pass, not to prove anything to those idiots, but for yourself, if you still want too.

That would be great.

He gave me a friendly tap on the shoulder and pointed toward Nate.

Oh crap... I set the dataviewer down and followed him into the galley.  

Nate sat at the table working on one of the cognitive exercises the doctor had prescribed to improve his short-term memory. Thin blond strands draped over his pale scalp. Since coming to Gentech, he’d lost half his hair. It’d been thin to begin with, and the doctor said sometimes this could happen to brain injury patients.

The holo projected various orbs floating in front of him. Each one lit up in a different color, flashing a random pattern. He tapped the orbs to repeat the sequence. He had made it up to six lights – a new record for him. Perhaps the hyperbaric oxygen treatments along with a new medicine were helping. Bret also noticed and watched.

Nate looked at me out of the corner of his eyes and turned his focus back to the orbs. I bit my lower lip as the holo flashed seven orbs and increased the speed as well. He reached out and touched the orbs to repeat the pattern. At the last one, he hesitated, leaving his finger in front of the correct blue orb. I squirmed wanting him to tap it, but he hated it when I helped him. 

At the last second, he changed his mind and tapped the red one.

The holo buzzed. Incorrect, said an uncaring, metallic voice.

Nate’s pale face reddened. A vein bulged near his temple right next to the scar left from when the Marcs had implanted a control device into his brain. His muscular arms bulged. He yelled, stomped his feet, swung at the orbs and knocked several small parts off the table. Nate had grown strong from a lot of physical therapy and didn’t know his own strength. I hurried over, fearing he might break the holo or fall out of the chair.  

With one hand on him, I flipped the holo off. Calm down. It’s late.

I want remember! he blurted out, still struggling with his speech after all this time.

You’re doing great.

Am not.

C’mon, you’re just tired.

Bret and I helped him up. He hobbled alongside of us as we helped him to the rear of the vessel. As I neared the back hatch, I flipped a switch and turned off the auxiliary power. The lights went out in the ship. We helped Nate down the ramp and out the back hatch. He walked awkwardly and long distances took forever. We helped him into his wheelchair because he tended to bump into things a lot, and in a hangar it was safer this way.

Don’t want to trouble.

You’re not, and I’m sorry about keeping you so long. I put a blanket over him. The rear hatch clanked shut and echoed off the metal walls. I pushed Nate across the floor while Bret walked beside us.

My com buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket and lifted it open. A small holo image of Sonny in his robe appeared, his white fluffy hair on end.

He looked between Bret and me. Bret! Would you let Ian come home already?

He’s on his way, Bret said.

Good, we’re getting up early because I got Friday off so we can pack. We’re going on that little trip to Olympus Mons Saturday.

Bret folded his arms. Already? I told you to wait for me.

Sonny waved his hand at Bret. I waited forever. You’re always working, but don’t worry about it. We’re going with a group and there will be security.

Okay, but are you sure you’ll be all right with that new leg of yours? Bret asked in a teasing tone.

Sonny knocked on his prosthesis below the knee. It’s rock solid, baby.

Bret glanced at me and back to Sonny. You know what. I need a break. I’m going too.

Excellent, Sonny said, ’bout time you took a break. I’ll see you in the hangar at noon on Saturday. His image flickered out.

I smiled at Bret, knowing he was mainly coming for our safety. I also couldn’t wait. Even though I had to study, there would be time to relax and spend some time with friends. We had planned to do some exploring and rock climbing. Since undergoing an operation on his leg that included a new prosthesis, Sonny wanted to do more athletic things. He said he had partial feeling in that leg now, and it was about as close to feeling like a real leg as one could get.

Bret stopped in front of the elevators. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but have you attempted to have a vision lately?

I hesitated at his question. The last time I tried it led to horrible nightmares. No, I haven’t. Why? Is there something you need looked into? Whatever it was, I doubted I could handle it.

Have you ever seen anything in the past? Bret asked, touching my arm.  

I scoffed. No, not even when I was at my best. Yet, I was curious. What do you need to know?

Some technology was lost during the Marc raid on Orissa.  It’s important for wormhole development.

About nine and a half Mars years ago, Orissa had no military and was plundered – their base destroyed. Oddly, when I was trying to have visions, I’d often remember what was left of Orissa when I saw it from the bridge on Admiral Beacon’s flagship.

I’ve gone over Orissa a couple of times with a search party. It’s a difficult area to search because of all the debris, Bret explained. One of the biggest problems is that I only remember bits and pieces of the raid on Orissa. As far as I know, my father hid the data somewhere.

So it could be anywhere in those ruins?

Yes, and for a while, I thought of asking you to try and find it, but Sonny told me about the nightmares.

I grimaced. Did everyone have to know?

I hate to ask, but the truth is Larus and I haven’t made any progress on developing this last piece of wormhole technology. Is there any possibility you could you try and find the data?

I hesitated. It’s not that easy. Look, I escaped from Admiral Beacon, but he still managed to rob me of most of my psychic ability. I paused, not wanting to talk about how it made me sick to my stomach. What am I supposed to do? I couldn’t concentrate and was on the verge of failing my classes. I had to stop trying. After the first year of peace, I was glad to be an average guy - at least as normal as possible for me. If I start trying to have visions, who knows what might happen. Normal would go right out the viewport.

Bret sighed. Never mind then. I-I didn’t realize you had that much trouble and don’t want to cause you any harm. Larus and I will manage.

I blinked. Where was the usual nagging of Bret? He never gave up that easy. Something about him saying to never mind made me want to try. Not only that, but a small breakthrough could change our world. I had the chance to be the one who helped us reach Hinun. Yet, finding this lost data was going to be like finding a pebble in a dust filled crater.

I grumbled. Well, I-I don’t want to give up too fast.

Bret stepped into the elevator on the left. We can talk more on the trip. I’m already behind on packing. He gave me a friendly two-finger salute as the doors slid shut.

Nate hung his head, dozing as I wheeled him into the other elevator and headed back to the medical facility.

As the elevator rolled along, I thought back to the battle of the mine when Nate tumbled out of a crashed midrange. Later, I found him on life support at an aid station.

Since then I hoped for Nate to be healed. Dr. Clare, my former mentor, would’ve been able to help, but she had died protecting Nate and me. This was only after she let Admiral Beacon use her to turn Nate into a psychic robot. I had managed to kill Beacon in self-defense, but the organization he’d built, Marscorp, continued to run the southern hemisphere of Mars. His protégé, Admiral Kodet, had taken over.  

Over these two years, I’d only had one vision of Kodet. His voice came to me shortly after I had killed Beacon. Ian is the worst traitor of Marscorp and must be executed.

The tone reflected outrage, and I thought of these words often, knowing that beyond these walls an entire organization wished me dead.

Chapter 4

It took me years to stop blaming myself – Ian.

I lingered outside Nate’s door as he slept in the darkened hospital room. The incident that caused his brain injury often replayed in my mind.

The Marc midrange swayed and slid, threatening to fall at any instant. The crack streaked across the window like a lightning bolt. I held my breath. The large transparent shield bowed outward and exploded. Clear particles flew outside and blended into the churning heap. Men screamed as the craft depressurized.

Somebody help him! I yelled.

Nate’s hands slid off the wall. His arms flailed about as he tried to grab something. Two crewmen flew into