Hell's Hoplites - Book 1 - Thebes - 4 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 -

December 17th 2525 - 22:45 MST Fordtland, Mars

Intersection of Rathbone Avenue and Brett Street

“Oh I think I drank too much wine,” Angela Di’Eriqua told her sister.

“Gee, whatever could give you that idea,” Her sister Aireal said sarcastically. “And I don’t think it was just the wine Angela, could it be the two dozen tequila shots or the half dozen pints of Sam Adams,” Aireal said with a wicked grin.

“Hey I haven’t been this drunk in a long time,” Angela said in a sober tone of voice. “It’s just…,” she paused organizing her thoughts. “It’s just when the holidays come around it makes me think of Erskine and the fact that we never got to spend even one Christmas together as a family before he was killed,” Angela said quietly and wiped at the wetness that threatened to spill from her eyes.

“I know dear,” Aireal said patting her sister’s hand as they started through the intersection. “You should…,” Aireal never got to finish her next sentence as a GMC Topkick slammed into the side of her SUV.

The vehicle came out of nowhere and struck so hard that the door pillar broke free from the door frame and pinned Aireal to her seat nearly killing her instantly. Angela’s seat was broken free of its mounting bracket and slammed her against the other side’s door frame bouncing her head hard enough to shatter bone.

Ensnarled with the front grill of the vehicle that had hit them the SUV stalled to a stop under the intersection’s stop light. The sound of a door opening and slamming closed and then the sound of feet rapidly running away were loud after the horrendous noise of the accident and soon the only sound was that of fluids dripping from both vehicles and the clicking of the light’s solenoid as it changed colors several times before first responders arrived.

'''December 18th 2525 - 03:20 MST Fordtland, Mars'''

Fordtland Memorial Hospital

Sgt. Major Jackson Daine Sikorsky of the Martian Marine Corps Atmospheric Drop Troopers 1st Battalion, 2nd Company would have loved to slam the tip of his marine combat knife through the seat of the uncomfortable chair he was sitting in. Between that and the long time that he had been sitting there his frustration level had grown to massive proportions. He was only able to maintain his calm by staring straight ahead and knowing that his best friend Gunnery Sergeant Samuel Zion was just as uncomfortable as he was.

Jack was still wearing his dress grays with the black stripe running down the outer seam of the pant leg to denote his status as a drop trooper with his cover tucked under one epaulette of his dress jacket.

The two marines had just come from an awards ceremony where their company of two-hundred and fifty marines; missing almost half the unit after the last mission; were receiving various awards for valor and wounds. Jack snorted at the thought of the awards; he would rather have the one hundred and seven men and women back who had died on the mission to rescue a downed shuttle from the hands of terrorists on the far side of the planet.

Out of the twenty-five squads of marines only Sikorsky’s unit had come through intact. The other eight members were now sitting or standing in the waiting room with him. Recently promoted Gunnery Sergeant Samuel Zion who was sitting next to him, with 1st Sergeant Suzanne Di’Espinoza his on again and off again lover and demolitions and entry expert being book ended by the twin brothers Sgt.’s Renfield and Fuji Satokawa who were experts in infiltration and CQB and tech and medical respectively. Suzanne flipped through a magazine while the twins sharpened various implements of death they kept hidden in various locations on their persons and did it probably just to make the regular people in the waiting room sweat.

The squad’s pilot Corporal Rick Shepherd was talking up a nurse by the coffee machine and was probably failing at getting her comm number as he usually did and most likely because of his ridiculous mirrored aviator shades. Sergeants Steven Finkelstein the RTO and Dave Masters the squad’s anti-armor specialist were passing an electronic video game back and forth near the entrance to the restrooms and 1st Sergeant Paul Hammer the squads driver and mechanic walked into the room carrying a tray with donuts and fresh cups of coffee just as Jack snorted.

“Any word from the doctors yet Top?” Hammer asked sitting down next to him after handing out coffee and donuts to the rest of the squad. Although both were sergeants Jack held the rank of Sergeant Major and was likened unto the right hand of god and was listened to even more than the company’s former commander Captain Jean Belduer who had died on the last mission when his drop pod’s gravity chute system failed to function.

“No; not yet,” Jack told the other NCO.

“I think we’re making the civvies nervous,” Hammer opined.

Samuel the team’s heavy weapons expert added a snort of his own. “Of course we are. The civilians are all good and happy when they have us off kicking someone’s ass; but if they have to be confronted by the hard facts of it they go all limp dicked,” Zion relaxed his posture and crossed his legs leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, I won’t disagree with you on that one Samuel,” Jack said rubbing a hand across tired eyes. “But that’s what we are here for is to protect the sheep, and be wolves that take out the others wolves that threaten the flock,” Jack continued while he stared down one of the room’s occupants till the man blanched and looked away. He’d gotten more than he had bargained for playing the staring game with Jack’s cold green eyes.

“Probably don’t like the fact that we’re armed either,” Suzanne added from across the room as she continued to flip through her magazine.

Jack laid his hand on his holster’s flap almost completely forgetting that the entire squad was armed, unlike most other militaries the Martian Marine Corps required their personnel to go armed at all times even when off base.

They’d also just been issued the new Sterling Model 99, the sidearm fired the massive .50 Action Express round. It had been named the “Drop Top” after the fact that a Sergeant Major from one of the other companies of Atmospheric Drop Troopers had helped design the weapon.

Jack slid his hand from the flap of the holster and stood up stretching, pacing over to Shepherd who had just struck out and was watching the nurse walk away a disappointed look on his face. “Get some coffee and donuts Rick,” he ordered and left the waiting room to head towards the operating rooms.

Jack was almost to the doors when he saw one swing open and a doctor in blood splattered scrubs walk out pinching the bridge of his nose not noticing as Jack came closer.

“Doctor, how are my Aunt and Mother doing so far?” Jack asked.

The doctor jumped back a step having been startled by the fact that the taller man hadn’t made a noise on the tile flooring of the hallway.

“I’m afraid we just lost your aunt on the operating table, a piece of the door pillar pinned her to her seat and did too much damage to her internal organs and she just lost too much blood,” the doctor said shaking his head.

Jack drew himself up feeling the “and” left hanging in the air by the doctor, “and what about my mother?”

“I…” The doctor paused for a second. “I’m sorry your mother is still alive but the chances are that she won’t make it through the night the condition she is in, all of her ribs were crushed and she has a very severe skull fracture,” the doctor explained.

Jack felt as if someone had rammed a combat knife through his heart as he was told that he would lose both of his only living relatives by the end of the night.

“They’ll be taking her to an ICU room here shortly,” the doctor laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry son, there just wasn’t anything we could do, and the trauma she sustained to her head was just too severe,” he said apologetically.

Jack nodded woodenly. “What about the driver of the other car?”

The doctor got a weird look on his face, and hesitated before he spoke. “That’s the weird thing,” he said quietly pausing to order his thoughts. “The other driver was missing from the car and there was no trace of him, no blood, no hair, no nothing,” the doctor shrugged his shoulders. “It’s really weird and I’ve talked to a couple of the officer’s on the scene but they can’t seem to come up with anything at all,” the doctor told him.

Jack’s eyes narrowed for a second but only for a second as he schooled his features to the wooden mask it had been. “Thank you doctor; if you need me I’ll be visiting my mother,” he informed him.

Jack walked back to the waiting room after his conversation with the doctor and told the others the bad news. Every one of his team members offered their condolences; Samuel and Suzanne said they would stay with him.

“Hammer I need you to get the others back to the base, you should all be able to fit into a single HUMVEE no problem. Tell the BATTCOMM where the three of us are at,” Jack ordered.

“Won’t the Lt. Colonel consider you AWOL?” Finkelstein asked worriedly.

“No Colonel Paulson already knows that we’re here at the hospital and he already said he’d put us all in on the bases scheduling system has having a family emergency,” Jack paused for a second. “I think with the severity of the situation he’ll understand and probably grant us some leave considering most of us haven’t been able to take any for the last couple of years,” Jack explained.

The other members of the squad nodded their heads and filed out of the waiting room and down the corridor to the parking lot.

Suzanne and Samuel walked in lock step with him to the ICU the two of them a few steps behind and to his sides; none of them were paying much attention and didn’t notice as the few people who were in the corridor at this time of night shied away from the three grim faced marines that marched in lockstep down the corridor their backs ramrod straight.

Jack stopped at the reception desk on the ICU floor and asked for his mother’s room number.

“Room 15A, but she can’t have more than one visitor at a time,” the nurse said and then cringed at the look in Jack’s eyes.

“They’re with me,” Jack said coldly turning smartly and marching down the hall once again. Behind him Jack didn’t see the nurse shiver and mouth the word okay.

The three of them arrived at the room shortly and Jack opened the door walking in.

Suzanne followed and gave Samuel a nod; peeling off he leaned against the wall next to the door nonchalantly cleaning his nails with a hook bladed pocket knife.

Inside the room Jack found his mother lying back in the bed; bandages swaddled her head and she looked shrunken and small; not at all like the six foot tall take no prisoners engineering professor that he had known all his life.

Jack sat down in the chair next to the bed grasping his mother’s hand lightly; he sat like this for several hours; Suzanne sat quietly next to him and dozed on and off in her chair. Jack managed to stay awake all night and around 07:00 his mother whispered something that he couldn’t quite hear leaning over he listened as she repeated what she had said.

“No…., not a terrorist attack, no murdered, all murdered,” she moaned in her semi-conscious state and then settled back into darkness.

Jack sat with his mother till the end mulling over what she had said. Although during the entire time she didn’t repeat another word save just as she slipped to the other side.

“Erskine,” she said the name with great love a small smile gracing her lips as her last breath sighed out and her chest settled. The machines in the room started going off and Jack angrily flicked the main power switch.

Suzanne awoke at the sound of the alarms going off. Standing up she left the room when the clatter of a crash cart and running feet reached her in the ICU room. Entering the hallway she found a tableau that would normally make her smile if it weren’t for the current situation.

Samuel had one orderly by the throat and was holding him six inches off the floor against the wall next to the door with his other hand he had his service pistol drawn with it jammed into the nasal canal of another one who was going cross eyed from trying to keep it in sight.

“…..I will put a fucking bullet through your skull if you don’t back off,” Samuel finished the last part of his sentence as she came out of the room and shut the door behind her.

A female nurse fluttered around the stalled crash cart agitatedly trying to talk sense into the Marine. “Sir, we are only trying to do our jobs,” she pleaded with him.

“At ease Gunny and holster your weapon,” Suzanne ordered.

Suzanne looked at the nurse sternly as Samuel holstered his weapon and dropped the other orderly back onto his feet causing the man to stumble for a second.

Suzanne pulled the nurse aside pulling a sheaf of papers from her pocket that Jack had given her earlier and handed them to the older nurse. “This is a DNR signed by the patient several years ago,” she told the woman quietly as Samuel looked menacingly at the two male orderlies who cringed from him keeping the crash cart between them and him.

“This is highly irregular,” the nurse said a frowning crossing her face as she examined the Do Not Resuscitate order. “These are supposed to be filed as soon as the patient is admitted to the hospital,” she explained to the marine.

Suzanne looked at the nurse and then looked around to make sure Samuel wasn’t getting violent all over the place. Grabbing the nurse by the arm she pulled her around the corner. “Look Nurse…,” Suzanne looked at the woman’s name tag, “Galloway, the Sgt. Major, my friend lost his father over thirty years ago at the terrorist attack on the Olympus Mons archeological site and has now just lost his mother and aunt. It may not look like it but he is badly broken up inside, he was devoted to both of those women and he comes through this the same man I’ll frankly be surprised,” Suzanne explained with a pleading expression in her eyes.

The nurse gave a go on gesture with her hand.

“Look I realize that you have a job to do, but my team just came back from a tough mission where we lost a lot of friends, and now on top of that Jack has just lost his last living relatives. If we can for once just skip the red tape bullshit we‘d both appreciate it,” Suzanne had a pleading look in her eyes as she looked at the nurse.

The nurse hesitated for a second and then nodded. “Alright I guess I can fudge the paperwork filing times a little,” she relented with a sigh.

“Thank you,” Suzanne said shaking the woman’s hand. “Give us about half an hour and then you can come for her body and alert the funeral home listed in those papers,” Suzanne told her.

The Nurse just nodded again both going back around the corner.

Suzanne came around the corner and found Samuel glaring evilly at the other nurses and orderlies and then she nodded at Nurse Galloway.

Wading into the group of hospital personnel the Nurse started making shooing gestures and barked orders telling them to return to their normal routines as Zion and Suzanne looked on.

Suzanne turned to her fellow NCO. “Gunny go and warm of the HUMVEE we’ll be leaving soon,” she ordered.

“Aye, Ma’am,” the Gunnery Sergeant replied and headed for the door giving the two orderlies one last glare.

Suzanne sighed ignoring Samuel’s misuse of rank; slipping back into the hospital room she found Jack sitting and staring at his mother’s body. Moving up behind him she laid a hand on his shoulder leaning over. “Jack, we have to get going, I’ve taken care of the arrangements but you still need to get some sleep,” she quietly her voice filled with concern.

Jack nodded numbly; standing up he pulled the hospital sheet up over his mother’s head only then did he let Suzanne lead him out to the red and gray HUMVEE that was idling in the pick up lane outside the hospital’s entrance.

Suzanne helped him into the rear seat and climbed in beside him. “Alright Gunny let’s go,” she ordered tiredly.

Traffic was light during their return to base and they arrived back at Camp Colonel Elliott Pierson in forty fives minutes.

Gunnery Sergeant Samuel Zion stopped the HUMVEE in front of 1st Sergeant Suzanne Di’Espinoza’s on base house watching as she helped the Sergeant Major into her home before pulling away slowly and easily.

'''December 18th 2525 - 08:02 Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland'''

Home of 1st Sergeant Suzanne Di’Espinoza

Suzanne unlocked the door to her home and held it open for Jack to enter waiting till Samuel had driven off before following him inside.

Pulling shut the blinds as she went Suzanne followed as Jack headed for the master bedroom. She entered just as Jack started stripping off his mess dress and the jacket with it’s plethora of medals. Not just ribbons folks but actual medals, can’t have our service men looking their best without dragging down one side of their bodies without the usual abundance of fruit salad. Jack had a lot of those including several Purple Hearts, although thankfully the ribbons holding them had appended stars attached denoting the number of times he had earned it otherwise his entire dress jacket would have been covered by them. Not that Jack was clumsy or anything or even an idiot he just tended to be where the fighting was the thickest seeming to attract more than his share of bullets, grenade shrapnel, knife wounds and even one wound was from when a 205mm shell landing less than five meters from him and only partially detonating. Oh and few were also from friendly fire incidents, that just seemed to be the way that Jack’s luck ran.

Jack’s dress tunic, pants, and tie soon landed next to the dress jacket but he was careful to loop his gun belt over the corner of his side of the bed and lay down in just his skivvies.

“You know you’re going to have to iron those in the not so distant future right?” Suzanne told him as she hung her own Mess Dress on a hangar to be sent to the dry cleaner at the end of the week.

Jack just shrugged and tossed himself back onto the pillow and watched as Suzanne pulled on an OD t-shirt with the logo Death Or Dishonor emblazoned across the front in faded letters an ace of spades was in the background of the image under the letters. The image also showed several soldiers on Skeletal Horses, the soldiers themselves were dressed in various uniforms dating from the United States Civil War with the most modern being dressed in battle rattle that was only a few years out of date, the soldiers themselves were skeletons as well and were firing various weapons in different directions as dust billowed around the skeletal horses hooves.

The image on the shirt didn’t keep Jack’s attention long though as Suzanne contorted for a second and pulled her sports bra out one of the sleeves and slung into the clothes hamper five meters away.

“Nothing but net,” Jack said quietly with a sad, tired smile.

“You betcha,” Suzanne replied with a small smile of her own and stood splay legged with her hands on her hips. Due to her top physical condition her perfectly proportion breasts didn’t sag a single millimeter after the bra was removed and her nipples stood slightly erect against the t-shirts thin material.

Suzanne prowled around the side of the bed, her many years of martial arts training giving her a cat like grace that made her seem as if she were stalking some prey. She sat on the bed folding her legs up under her at an angle and held still as Jack laid his head on her thigh.

“You mind if I read for a little while?” She asked him.

Jack just tiredly nodded his head in the negative and settled his head back on her thigh closing his eyes as he pulled her scent into his nostrils. Although Suzanne did not use scented shampoos and perfume; a perfectly good way to get oneself killed on the battlefield especially if you are trying to hide or sneak up on someone; it was a strong clean scent even after twelve hours in her mess dress uniform.

While Jack lay with his head on her thigh and relaxed Suzanne pulled a dog eared copy of Sun Tzu’s Art Of War off the small shelf that also held a volume of Robert Frost Poems, as well as several volumes of Kipling, of course it also held numerous paper-back sci-fi books that mostly revolved around futuristic space battles and ground based action.

Suzanne flipped through the pages with one hand as the other gently played with locks of Jack’s hair, this was probably about the fiftieth time she’d read the ancient volume and while some parts contradicted one another the Ancient Earth General had a good understanding about Mr. Murphy and his often disastrous appearances during combat. Among other things Suzanne needed to clear her head and think better and Sun Tzu usually helped with that and didn’t tend to put her to sleep like the quarter read volume of Clausewitz’s On War did from it’s little moved space on one of the other shelves.

Suzanne felt Jack’s breathing change and deepen as he fell into an exhausted sleep. Setting the book down she looked speculatively down at him and ran a light finger across the scars that criss-crossed his body like a road map. Her pinky lightly followed a hair thin scar along his upper chest that had been received while the Squad had been on embassy duty on Earth when a crazed Earthist had tried to attack the Ambassador. Jack had subdued the would be assassin by breaking both of his arms but not before the killer’s blade had sliced through his dress blouse and cut him lightly.

Suzanne ran her thumb over a star-shaped scar that was on his upper back where an Islamic Jihadist had shot him while attempting to blow up the Martian Pyramids as a plot to destroy the so called false god of the Martian Republic.

Suzanne sighed as she turned the light off and slid under the cool sheets with Jack repositioning his head on her shoulder as she did and leaned her own against the pillow. Sometime during the night Suzanne was woken by wetness on her shoulder and found that Jack was crying in his sleep. Suzanne pushed sweat soaked locks of hair off of his forehead and snuggled closer to him wrapping her arms around him lovingly whispering to him and after a while the tears stopped his breathing becoming that of uninterrupted sleep.

'''December 18th 2525 - 08:30 Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland'''

Home Of Gunnery Sergeant Samuel Zion

Several blocks away from Suzanne’s house Gunnery Sergeant Samuel Zion sat at a table in his basement and methodically cleaned his duty weapon and his own personal fire-arms, an unlit cigarette lolling from one corner of his mouth.

Spread across the table in their component parts were his Sterling Model 99 pistol, the new Colt M98 7.62mm assault rifle currently being used by the Martian Military with attached grenade launcher, a SPAS-16 Magazine Fed Gas Operated 8-Gauge shotgun, several knives and a pair of antique Colt Mk. IV Series 80 Governmental Model 1911A1 .45ACPs that had been handed down in Zion’s family for several generations. The table was littered with cleaning equipment, empty magazines, and boxes of ammo; although littered would be the wrong word to use since everything was in neat precise rows.

Samuel methodically cleaned his weapons soaking the patches with gun cleaning fluids of his own creation. After cleaning the weapons the Gunnery Sergeant quickly and deftly reassembled the weapons and then tackled the job of reloading the assorted magazines.

Two hours after he had started reloading the job was done and his callused fingers didn’t even ache. Samuel slid a full magazine into each of the weapons chambering rounds in the two Colts and then put them at half cock and slipped the safeties on. After he slid the pistols into a twin shoulder holster hanging from the back of one of the chairs at the card table he sighed and rubbed at his eyes smelling the pungent aroma of solvents and oils.

Sighing again he looked at his callused hands and thought to himself. “Now if it were just that easy to find the guy that killed the Boss’s aunt and mother,” he muttered.

Samuel contemplated his hands for a few second longer and then slapped them against the table admonishing his self in the process for trying to act like a detective rather than the hard trained Marine that he was. Pushing up from the small table he stood slinging the twin holstered pistols over one shoulder and flipped the lights off as he walked up the basement stairs and turned in for the morning.

'''December 18th 2525 - 08:30 Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland'''

Home Of Gunnery Sergeants Ren and Fuji Satokawa

In a modestly small house not far from Suzanne’s the twin brothers Ren & Sato Fujikawa stood in shorts and muscle shirts juggling half a dozen thin bladed throwing knives each and occasionally tossed one to the other brother.

What most people didn’t know about the brothers is that they grew up in the Mars branch of Cirque Soleil and their family had been carnies for the last ten generations. Both brothers had trained under the parents till they were in their teens. Their father had been a sword swallower while their mother had a deadly eye with any edged weapon.

Oddly enough while most kids run off to the circus the twin brothers had run away at age sixteen to join the Martian Marine Corps.

Needless to say both parents were not at all happy.

Frankly Ren and Fuji had been bored by the circus and had hungered for danger and risk taking beyond those in every day life as a circus performer.

Fuji threw two knives at once to Ren who added them to his juggling rhythm easily. “What should we do about the Sergeant Major?” Fuji asked.

“The Sergeant Major is the Sergeant Major; he’ll either pull through it and do what needs to be done or be helped along by the Gunny and 1st Sergeant Di’Espinoza,” Ren told his brother in an exasperated tone as if his twin were a totally dummy.

Fuji shrugged at his brother’s answer and the two of them continued to juggle the knives back and forth for a few more minutes before turning in.

December 18th 2525 - 08:30

Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland

Home Of Corporal Richard Shepherd

Rick Shepherd sat shirtless in a pair of cargo shorts in front of his big screen TV while his fingers flew across the game system’s control as he played his favorite fighter simulation; Sky’s Of Mars - Jovian Crusade he potted UEF fighters out of the electronic sky.

Rick had been watching some of his porn earlier but had tired of it and switched to the video game and was now only staying up long enough to finish this level.

December 18th 2525 - 08:30

Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland

Home Of Sergeant Steven Finkelstein

RTO & Electronics expert Steven Finkelstein cleaned the lenses of his glasses with a soft cloth and put them back on and then patted his upper chest where the Star of David he wore was under his shirt.

Finkelstein was sweating profusely and wiped his forehead as he carefully edged the last rheostat into the radio. Putting the cover back on he tightened the screws down, flipping the radio around he plugged it in and crossed his fingers as he pushed the power switch. Finkelstein was rewarded by a low hum instead of the pop he expected and whooped in exultation.

Picking up the mike he spoke his HAM radio ID and handle into it and talked well into the afternoon. Once a geek always a geek.

December 18th 2525 - 08:30

Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland

Home Of Sergeant Dave Masters

Sitting at his desk in the den of his home Dave Masters had a CAD program open and running as he fine tuned some weapon design ideas that had been rattling around in his head. Scattered and clustered around the room on chairs, tables, the desk, and even on the floor were several weapon manuals as well as ballistic velocity charts and other things such as the latest issue of Jane’s.

Staring at the CAD program he muttered around the stylus in his mouth as he flipped one of the books open to a new page as he looked for what he wanted. Manipulating the mouse he pulled the stylus from his mouth and made some corrections on the touch screen of the computer. The routine of flipping pages, pausing to do calculations in his head and then working with mouse and stylus in CAD until he got the results he wanted had been going on for months and he was nearly to the point he wanted to be; the only thing he was really missing from the design was how to power the weapon and make it compact enough for what he was planning. However he was still somewhat distracted by the events from early this morning.

December 18th 2525 - 08:30

Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland

Home of 1st Sergeant Paul Hammer

Paul Hammer skinned his knuckle on the engine mount bolt as he tightened it and then jumped upwards where his head connected with the underside of the hood causing him to real back and curse long and vehemently as he traced the ancestry of the designer of the 1969 Chevrolet Camaro that was currently in pieces on the floor of his garage.

Paul stomped over to the tool box and was about to slam the wrench back into it’s molded holder but restrained himself and set it gently back in the tray and then closed the drawer and locked the whole chest.

Stalking over to a refrigerator in the corner he pulled a frosted bottle of Sam Adams from it and then stomped outside to kick the crap out of his trash can.

Feeling better for the nonce, Paul alternated drinking the beer, rubbing his throbbing head and sucking on his skinned knuckles.

December 18th 2525 - 14:00

Tokyo, Japan

Kawamura Industries - CEO Penthouse Office

In an office in the main headquarters of the Kawamura Industries building, Toyatomi Kawamura neatly clipped the end off of his cigar and set it in the ashtray. “What do you have to report?” He asked the man sitting across the desk from him.

“The Sikorsky woman and her sister are both dead,” the slim figure of Edgar Rice told his employer as he crossed one leg over the other.

“How thorough were you?” Toyatomi asked regarding the European sitting across his desk.

“The woman’s sister was killed instantly in the wreck and the Sikorsky woman slipped into a coma and died of her injuries several hours later at the hospital,” Rice told him pulling a slim cigarette case from his pocket and lighting one of the thin cheroots that he removed from it.

“Did she pass on any information?” Toyatomi asked picking up the cigar and lighting it.

“Not that I’m aware of; but she was alone in the hospital room with her son for several hours,” Rice informed his employer.

Removing the cigar from his mouth Toyatomi sucked on his front teeth and made a small hissing sound like steam escaping from a slow leak.

“Do you want me to eliminate him?” Rice asked casually as if discussing something as mundane as what color of socks to buy.

Toyatomi considered the thought for a moment and shook his head in the negative. “No not unless he uncovers something incriminating,” he finally ordered.

“I’ll have some of my men keep an eye on him,” the security specialist told him.

“That would be a good Idea,” Toyatomi told the man blandly and stood up crossing to the bar set along one wall. The CEO of Kawamura industries poured himself a small portion of Parrot Bay Rum and with the bottle in one hand and drink in the other he turned back to his guest and found the man gone. Toyatomi couldn’t help himself as he felt a small chill at how quickly and quietly Rice had left.

December 18th 2525 - 14:30

Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland

Home of 1st Sergeant Suzanne Di’Espinoza

Suzanne woke the next afternoon to find Jack and his Mess Dress Uniform gone, a note was on the side table. Picking up the note she squinted at it trying to decipher his hand writing. She found herself thinking for the billionth time that Jack could give a doctor writing prescriptions a run for his money in the horrible hand writing department. The note only told her that Jack had gone home to get cleaned up and change into some fresh clothes.

Swinging her long legs over the side of the bed she ran a hand through her short luxuriant red hair then flipped the crumpled note into the waste basket next to the nightstand as she stood up. Heading for the bathroom she pulled her t-shirt and panties off depositing them in the clothes hamper next to the closet.

Hopping into the shower she quickly washed her body and lathered and rinsed her short hair taking a few extra minutes to luxuriate in the hot water before stepping out and toweling herself dry.

Suzanne stood in front of the mirror on the back of the bathroom door and considered herself for a moment. Several scars of her own stood out white against her olive complexion and her breasts were high and firm and somewhat on the perky side at the moment after stepping from the showers most humidity into the cooler air of the bedroom.

Flexing her muscles and doing a few stretches in front of the mirror she then snorted at herself sticking her tongue out at the reflection. “Girl you are getting way too enamored of your own body,” she told her reflection.

Walking over to the nightstand she saw that the message indicator on her comm unit was blinking. Picking up the comm she punched in her access code and listened to the message that had been left by the Company Commander’s secretary telling her to be a the office at 17:00 hours.

Suzanne finished getting cleaned up and belted a robe on and taking her time as she ate a light breakfast. She wasn’t due to report to company HQ until seventeen hundred hours so she took the time to enjoy an extra cigarette and a cup of coffee and once those were done she dressed quickly in her duty uniform.

Once dressed again Suzanne stood in front of the mirror and double checked her appearance. This time it wasn’t vanity as she finished tying the knot in her black tie and slipped the tie tack in the shape of an Eagle clutching an assault rifle in one claw and a hand grenade in the other super-imposed over Mars. Finally satisfied that she wouldn’t get gigged by the battalion Sergeant Major she stood staring for another second just to be on the safe side.

While the Martian Marine Corps’ uniforms weren’t the most comfortable in the solar system; they weren’t the most uncomfortable either. She could think of several others including the UEF’s own Marine uniforms. The standard duty uniform of the Martian Marine Corps consisted of a mid-gray color long sleeve button shirt with a spider-silk high necked t-shirt worn underneath, the aforementioned black tie, darker gray cargo slacks with the requisite knife sharp creases that also had a black stripe running down the pant leg to denote the fact that she was in the AADT and finally a pair of highly polished combat boots.

Stepping back into the bedroom Suzanne belted her pistol around her waist and made sure she had her wallet and essentials before leaving the house. Pausing on the front step she pulled her cover; a beret the same color as her pants with a Martian Marine Corps patch stitched on the front out from under her shirt’s epaulette and placed it on her head. Walking down the sidewalk to her driveway she climbed into her fire-engine red Triumph Virgo and gunned out into the street.

Suzanne may have held black belts in several martial arts but she was possibly the worst driver in the solar system. When she had first gotten her license she managed to run over her dog, back into a brick wall and hit a parked car so badly that the owner had to scrap it. Unfortunately Suzanne’s driving skills had not improved over the last sixteen years. On the way to company HQ she managed to narrowly avoid side-swiping half a dozen cars, failed to stop at three stop signs, and took out two mail boxes.

Suzanne finally arrived at Company HQ and entered the building. Walking up to the desk in front of the Company Commander’s office she stood at attention. “1st Sergeant Di’Espinoza reporting as ordered,” she said in a loud voice.

Master Gunnery Sergeant Hakim Parker lazily eyed the 1st Sergeant for a second and then pressed a button on his comm’s console.

“Yes what is it Gunny?” the harried voice of the acting company commander asked over the intercom.

“Sir, 1st Sergeant Di’Espinoza is here to see you,” Park told his boss without batting an eyelash at the harried tone of voice.

There was a pause on the other end and then with a sigh the ACO replied, “Send her in.”

“Yes Sir,” Parker answered and then looked at the NCO in front of his desk. “Go on in Sue,” Hakim told her leaning back in his chair and pulling a drawer open.

Suzanne just nodded at the senior NCO and walked past him into the Company Commander’s office, once again bracing to attention and snapping off a perfect salute.

“At ease Sgt., go ahead and sit down, I need to finish a couple of things before we talk,” the ACO ordered her not looking up.

Suzanne sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk and relaxed slightly; she tucked her cover under an epaulette and sat at attention.

It was almost fifteen minutes before 1st Lt. Isaac Davis dropped his pen on the desk in what could almost be considered disgust. Normally 1st Platoon commander but after the death of the Company’s Commander Captain Belduer he had been tapped to be the interim commander of a company that was now over 40% under strength. No one knew if they would bring in an outside commander to take over 1st Battalions Echo Company or if Davis would be promoted to the rank of Captain and be given the company.

During the fifteen minutes that Suzanne sat ostensibly with her eyes two inches above the head of her commander she was able to study him from the corners of her eyes.

Isaac Davis was generally an easy going officer with wheat yellow hair cut in a short military fashion and always with a boyish grin even when the fecal matter was hitting the rotary air circulation device. However right now he just looked plain tired; there were bags under his eyes, his skin had taken on a slightly gray caste, and his tie was pulled down and his collar was un-buttoned. Even though the Martian Marine Corps prided themselves on the punctiliousness and dress of their Marines there was only so much that could be done when a person had to make sure that what bodies could be recovered of the 107 dead AADT troops were shipped to the proper place, that condolence letters were written and that the proper benefits were instituted for the dead Marine’s families.

Davis dropped the pen on his desk and rubbed a hand across his face as if trying to wipe away the last 96 hours that he had managed to cram over three weeks worth of paperwork into.

“How’s the Sergeant Major Doing?” Davis asked tiredly.

Suzanne relaxed into her chair a little more at the line of questioning. “As well as can be expected when losing his only living relatives on the heels of losing over a hundred of his friends and fellow marines,” Suzanne answered.

Davis frowned. “That’s not much of an answer 1st Sergeant,” Davis finally said.

Suzanne came more to attention in her seat. “Sir?”

“What I need to know Di’Espinoza is whether or not the Sergeant Major is going to crack?” Davis asked coldly.

An angry expression flitted across Di’Espinoza face for a second, “Sir, I…”

Davis raised a hand to forestall the rest of what she was going to say. “That came out wrong, I’m not implying that he will snap or anything and climb a water tower and start shooting people,” Davis explained.

“What’s a water tower?” Suzanne asked confused.

Davis grunted and went on. “Never mind, what I need to know is whether or not he’ll go AWOL on us and try and track down the person or persons that caused the car accident that his mother and aunt died in?” He asked in more graphic detail.

A thoughtful look colored Suzanne’s features as she tried to answer the question. “I don’t think he will Sir, but if given the chance to do so without being considered AWOL he may do it,” Suzanne finally relented.

“Yes and probably in a spectacularly messy manner that in no way incriminates him,” the Lt. said under his breath.

“Sir?”

Davis sighed. “Nothing just talking to my self,” straightening in his seat he looked at the Marine. “1st Sgt. Di’Espinoza you and your squad including Sgt. Major Jackson Sikorsky are hereby on R&R for the next thirty days,” he ordered in a clear tone of voice.

“Yes, Sir,” Suzanne acknowledged the order.

“Take a vacation; get Jack off of Mars if possible. I know for a fact since joining the AADT neither one of you has taken more than a week end off at a time. Just make sure those other goofballs in your unit don’t do anything stupid,” Davis said with a grin.

“Yes, Sir,” Di’Espinoza said with a small grin of her own.

“Dismissed Sergeant,” Davis said and went back to his work.

Suzanne stood replaced her cover, saluted, and left the office.

Stopping in the outer office Suzanne chatted with the company’s Master Gunnery Sergeant for a few minutes before leaving.

December 18th 2525 - 18:00 

Fordtland Mars

Intersection of Rathbone Avenue and Brett Street

Jack rocked back on the heels of his motorcycle boots as he bent down in the middle of the intersection that had been cordoned off with yellow police tape.

Shards of plastic, scraps of metal, and slivers of broken glass littered the scene as well as two dried puddles of various fluids.

Standing up he dusted the legs of his jeans off and walked to stand in the middle of the intersection closing his eyes for a second imagining the scene as it had been described to him.

''Angela and Ariel had just returned from a late dinner at a local restaurant with friends from the clinic and the Engineering Department at Fordtland University. It had been an enjoyable night touched with a bit of sadness as the holidays grew closer the friends toasted other friends and loved ones that were no longer there.''

Leaving the bar around midnight the two sisters have drank a little but not even enough to be considered tipsy, Ariel is driving her SUV through the green light of the intersection when suddenly the vehicle is slammed across it from the side.

''A huge dual cab pick up truck has t-boned their vehicle and the wham of metal striking metal almost drowns out the tinkle and crash of broken plastic and glass, Ariel is dead on impact but Angela is barely conscious with life threatening wounds. The vehicles automated emergency response beacon has already gone off alerting authorities to the accident and a few minutes later the first responders arrive.''

''Firemen, emergency workers and police race around the intersection, the firemen ensure that there is no chance of a fire starting and the police cordon the intersection, one group of paramedics head for the sisters’ SUV while another group heads for the dual cab pickup. The first group manages to get Angela out and into an ambulance but Aireal‘s injuries are more extensive and more dangerous, the door column has punched completely through her torso and the seat she is sitting in effectively pinning her in the vehicle, it takes a battery operated carbide bladed rotary saw fifteen minutes to cut through the metal of the post and then she is also rushed to the hospital.''

A paramedic from the other group shouts that there is no one in the other truck and that there are no signs of injury to whoever had been in it, police, paramedics and fire fighters spread out searching for the driver in case he had received a head injury and wandered off.

Around him the intersection faded back to day and Jack shook himself as he looked around for a few more minutes, he heard the click of the traffic light above him on the deserted street and the sound of leaves rattling in one of the gutters.

Zipping his jacket up the Marine heads to where he had parked his motorcycle placing the helmet on his head and then roaring off.

December 18th 2525 - 18:10

Fordtland Mars

Intersection of Rathbone Avenue and Brett Street

The bum in a rumpled trench coat smelling of booze and stale urine crushed out his cigarette and lifted a miniature comm to his lips once Jack’s motorcycle sped past. “He’s been to the accident site,” the bum said into the unit.

“Is he suspicious?” Rice asked over the comm.

“Not really sure, he just kind of stood there and then left,” the bum told him.

“Alright, other units are trailing him. Go ahead and return to your quarters and get a shower,” Rice wrinkled his nose. “I think I may actually be able to smell you through the comm unit,” Rice ordered.

“Yes, sir,” clicking off the comm he chuckled walking back down the alley and towards the small storage facility that he was using as base of operations.

December 18th 2525 - 18:45

Fordtland Mars

Parking Lot of O’Hara’s Pub

Jack’s thoughts were elsewhere and he hadn’t even realized he’d pulled to a stop in front of O’Hara’s Pub. He saw Dave Masters aging Volkswagen Jetta and Paul Finkelstein’s Ford Explorer Sporttrac and decided to pull in.

Kicking the stand down Jack hopped off the bike and tucked the helmet under the storage compartment on the rear.

Entering the Pub Jack stepped to the side for a second to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. Inhaling the scents of the bar he felt at peace for a few minutes as the familiar smells of the Pub hit him. The Pub had a distinctive odor of good beer, Irish whiskey, cigarette and cigar smoke as well as Paddy O’Hara’s pipe smoke that smelled of a cherry flavored soap factory on fire; and who was about as Irish as a three dollar bill; all of this overlaid the faint smell of beeswax and brass polish.

Eyes accustomed to the lower light level Jack walked to the bar and ordered a bottle of house brew from Paddy’s daughter Eileen O’Hara who deftly popped the top and handed it to him.

Leaning against the twelve foot mahogany bar with glowing brass fixtures that ran the back length of the bar Jack surveyed the area and found that as usual there were only a few people in at this time of day and was able to easily spot Dave and Paul.

Reaching the table he saw that Dave was doodling on a napkin, squinting he saw that there was an MMC firing some kind of anti-tank weapon at a UEF M-50 Cougar main battle tank with a maniacal looking tank commander standing up through the hatch waving his arms.

Paul wasn’t paying much attention browsing through an antique car parts magazine.

Hooking the chair on his end of the table with the toe of his boot Jack pulled it out and sat down. “So what are you two losers up to today?” He asked.

“Nothing much,” Dave said finishing the doodle and tucking it in his pocket.

“Nothing much for the next thirty days actually,” Paul tossed in.

Jack looked at Paul questioningly.

“You don’t have your comm on again do you?” Paul asked without looking up.

“Oh, no I shut it off last night and didn’t even think about turning it back on today,” he answered reaching into an inside jacket pocket and pulling the compact comm out. Flipping the comm open he turned it on and was immediately greeted by a message that told him he had five missed calls and a single voice mail. Going through the list of missed calls he saw that they were all from Suzanne.

Jack’s grunt at seeing that all of the calls were from Suzanne was a mixture of annoyance and trepidation.

“How many times did she call you?” asked Dave.

“Five times,” Jack mumbled.

Both of the other men at the table grimaced.

Sighing Jack held down the one key and got his voice mail. “If you get this message Jack, the ACC Lt. Davis has put us on thirty days leave, we’ll discuss things later today,” Jack ended the call with a wince at Suzanne’s frigid tone.

Dave and Paul acted like they hadn’t heard or seen anything, Paul was typing order numbers into his comm for some parts and Dave was drawing a new picture showing an MMC shoving a hand grenade down the front of a UEF Marine’s battle rattle.

“So is anybody hungry?” Jack asked after a few minutes.

“Sure.”

“Why not.”

“Wings and onion rings?” Jack asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Jack stood and walked to the bar where Eileen was wiping it down with a damp cloth.

She looked up at Jack and smiled. “Whatcha need Jack?” She asked.

“Uh,” Jack always had problems talking to Eileen O’Hara. She wasn’t beauty queen material but her dark red hair cascaded over shoulders that were a pale cream color and her green eyes twinkled. Jack shook his head at the thoughts. “Three orders of wings and rings, puh-lease,” he told her with a smile.

“Not a problem,” Eileen said whipping out an order pad scribbling quickly then tucking it into the order spinner and running it around so her father could see it on the other side.

December 18th 2525 - 19:00

Fordtland Mars

Parking Lot of O’Hara’s Pub

Needless to say Suzanne wasn’t too happy about the fact that she wasn’t able to get a hold of Jack and had tried to contact him all morning. After not receiving an answer after five calls she’s finally left him a voicemail. Although she now regretted the tone she had used to leave the message.

Now she was driving around the base trying to locate him and in her distracted state was leaving a wake of honking horns, swerving cars, shaking fists and not to nice descriptions of her family tree.

Deciding to stop for a bite to eat Suzanne pulled into the parking lot of O’Hara’s Pub and found Jack’s motorcycle wedged between Dave’s Jetta and Paul’s Sporttrac. Getting out and locking the doors she walked into the pub letting her eyes adjust the same way Jack had and zeroed in on the table where the three men were sitting, Jack unusually had his back to the door.

He is out of sorts if he’s doing something that dumb, she thought to herself.

Paul and Dave saw her coming though and scrambled out of their chairs.

“I gotta go take a leak,” Dave said and headed for the restrooms.

“Need to make a call,” Paul muttered starting to head for the same area as Dave.

“You were just using your comm,” Jack pointed out suspiciously.

“Batteries dying see,” Paul flashed the comm at Jack attempting to make a beeping sound without moving his lips.

Jack stared at his friend as if he had grown a second head and then just shrugged his shoulders and reaching to pull a hot wing from the platter in front of him to only have his fingers hit the hardwood surface of the table. Jack glanced over and saw his food platter now sitting in front of Suzanne as she started eating his wings.

“These are pretty good,” Suzanne said as she made a twisting motion pulling the wing apart and separating the meat.

“Yeah they are,” Jack said annoyed and twisted in his chair starting to raise his arm to wave at Eileen behind the counter for another order.

“We can share, I’ll even pay for it,” Suzanne said sliding the platter between them.

Jack twisted back around and looked a little sheepish. “Sorry for not having my comm on.”

“Not a problem, I shouldn’t have gone all Ice Maiden on that voicemail,” Suzanne reassured him. “I was just a little worried and Lt. Davis had some questions of his own along the lines of your stability,” she told him nonchalantly.

“Oh, he won’t have to worry about that, I’ll make sure my aim will be perfectly stable when I shoot the bastard that killed my mother and aunt,” he said a dark cloud rolling across his face.

Suzanne jabbed him in the side with two stiffened fingers and was rewarded by a grunt of pain and the dark cloud leaving Jack’s face.

“Don’t be a complete idiot,” Suzanne told him.

“Sorry, I guess the melodramatic, lone wolf, alpha male side of my personality got the better of me for a second,” he said with a crooked but sad grin rubbing a hand along his ribs.

Suzanne returned the grin and ran a hand down his cheek lovingly, and then as if to break the endearing scene she gobbled another chicken wing down. Soon Dave and Paul returned to the table slowly and reluctantly realizing that the storm had passed.

One by one the rest of the Squad joined them at O’Hara’s, throughout the night until the bar closed the beer flowed, chicken wings were devoured and at one point onion rings were used in an impromptu game of ring toss using a coat rack. And while the Marines acquitted themselves well in all but the ring toss department they were still stone drunk by the time they left the bar and were dropped off at their homes one by one by a local cab company.

December 19th 2525 - 02:00

Fordtland Mars

Parking Lot of O’Hara’s Pub

Ferrer Amago managed to stifle a yawn before pulling his comm unit out. “They just left the bar headed home in a single car,” he told Rice as he pulled in behind the cab.

“Stay with Di’Espinoza and Sikorsky, if they separate stick to Sikorsky and get someone else to keep on eye on the woman,” Rice told him. “I’ll be there in three days,” he informed Amago.

“Three days,” Amago said surprised.

“Yes our boss just got done refitting one of his ships with the new Mk.3 Carmine-Yushima drive,” Rice absently explained.

Amago was impressed and surprised that Kawamura would spend the money to refit even a vessel with the latest generation of Carmine-Yushima drives. Given the fact that it was astronomically expensive to do so with the price resting somewhere in the one hundred billion dollar range to do so. Although the Carmine-Yushima drive had been in use for the last century and a half it was only up to the third generation level of engines which were still slow and ponderous.

Amago was no space travel fanatic but the Carmine-Yushima drive had intrigued him. As Amago followed the cab at a distance he kept himself occupied with thinking about the Carmine-Yushima drive. The Carmine-Yushima drive was basically capable of boring a hole into Hyperspace and allowing the vessel to travel at high speeds and then boring another hole to exit. At this point in its development Carmine-Yushima drive vessels were only able to travel approximately 25,000,000 kilometers through normal space per Hyperspace Fold and took approximately five hours to recharge the drive between folds.

1st and 2nd Generation Carmine-Yushima drives had been even wore with distances traveled only being in the thousands to hundreds of thousands of kilometer with the drive down time being measured in days as it recharged.

Now with the 3rd Generation drives starting to get into wider use a person could travel from Earth to Mars in a little over three days.

Refocusing he saw that the cab was dropping off Sikorsky and the female marine at the woman’s house. Even without his windows down Amago could hear them belting out a bawdy marine march as they weaved up the pathway to her house. The woman was slightly louder than the man and also a bit off key.

Amago winced at the amount of alcohol it must have taken to get the two that drunk. Pulling around the block again he slid his car into a slot about a quarter of a block down with a good view of the front of the house.

December 19th 2525 - 02:45

Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland

Home of 1st Sergeant Suzanne Di’Espinoza

Jack and Suzanne weaved down the front path to her porch singing at the top of their voices about a bonnie Scotsman and a blue ribbon. The two of them reached the front door and Suzanne fumbled with her keys and dropped them to the wooden porch floor.

“The car followed the Taxi,” She whispered in a stone cold sober voice.

“Probably circling the block,” Jack whispered back weaving back and forth to keep up the pretense of drunkenness.

When the two of them had realized that the cab they were in was being followed the two had instantly sobered up and threw together a mini-operations plan.

Suzanne fumbled around on the porch for a few more seconds and then brought the keys up trying half a dozen before the right one slid into the lock; she did both actions just in case there was a second team of shadows.

The two of them stumbled into the house slamming the door and making enough noise to wake the dead as they made there way into the bedroom. In the darkened bedroom Jack pulled an 8-Gauge Saiga shotgun from the closet. Dropping the magazine he checked to make sure it was loaded and then slid it back into place with a click. Pulling the bolt back on the Saiga quietly was a chore considering it was modeled after that on the Kalashnikov but he was rewarded by a soft grate and snick as the shell chambered.

Suzanne stopped next to him and he saw that she was holding one of his numerous handguns, this one a Desert Eagle chambered in the humongous .50 Action Express round.

The two of them nodded to each other and padded to one of the front windows Suzanne peered out spotting the gray sedan that had followed their cab.

“He’s about a quarter of the block back,” she whispered to Jack.

Jack just nodded and started gliding quietly towards the kitchen at the back of the house where another door let out onto the small backyard and alley that ran down the middle of the block.

Suzanne peered around the blinds in the kitchen and called the all clear, and then the two of them quickly scooted out the back door and started jogging down the alley between the two rows of houses.

Thankfully it was late and everyone was either asleep or not paying much attention as the two figures jogged silently down the alleyway and circled the block.

Jack made his way to a car just behind the gray sedan and waited as Suzanne circled around the house that the car sat in front of.

December 19th 2525 - 03:02

Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland

Quarter of a Block from the Home of 1st Sergeant Suzanne Di’Espinoza

Ferrer Amago just about had a heart attack as he heard a metal on glass clinking sound next to his ear. He had been watching the home of Suzanne Di’Espinoza intently, maybe just a little too intently he thought to himself.

Turning he saw the woman standing next to his window bent over smiling and waving the barrel of a massive pistol at him. Grinning sickly he rolled the window. “Yes something I can do for you?” He asked as innocently as he could.

“Hi, we’re with the neighborhood pizza delivery and wondered if you would like Teflon or lead on your pizza,” Suzanne said nonchalantly.

Amago started to whip around and possibly get out the passenger door and was stopped by the quiet snick of a safety. Turning his head towards the front windshield he found himself staring down the barrel of an 8-Gauge shotgun.

“Oh by the way I wouldn’t do anything stupid, the Sgt. Major’s weapon is loaded with Armor Piercing Flechette shells,” Suzanne told him still smiling. “Now are you going to try anything stupid?” She asked sweetly.

Amago shook his head in the negative and Suzanne reached a hand through the window and patted him on the head. “Good boy, now scoot over,” she ordered.

Amago slid across the console into the passenger seat while Suzanne opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. The car’s suspension compressed as Jack climbed into the back seat the shotgun for the moment being replaced by another large bore handgun that was screwed into the base of Amago’s skull.

“Let’s go someplace quiet shall we,” Jack said settling into the back seat.

“Road trip, yeah,” Suzanne proclaimed mock seriously.

By the time they had reached their destination of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the towns industrial distract Amago was more in fear for his life because of Suzanne’s driving than he was from the gun held rock steady at the base of his skull.

Suzanne pulled the car around to the loading dock of the warehouse and opened the lower loading door and then drove the car in.

Jack and Suzanne hustled Amago into one of the darkened corners and Suzanne searched him thoroughly.

“Hmm, let’s see, 9mm handgun, wallet, lock-aid gun, zip cuffs, stun gun, black jack,” at the last item Suzanne looked at the man. “Really a black jack in this day and age?” Amago just shrugged and she continued to go through the stuff. “Expensive watch, and a wad of 5,000 credits,” Suzanne finished flipping through the pile of junk that she had confiscated from Amago and picked up his wallet and flopped it open.

“Let’s see you would be one Ferrer Amago, age 42, resident of Prague, 5’ 9” tall, 235lbs,” Suzanne paused and looked at the man and snorted.

“So mister Amago,” Jack said moving within the man’s personal space menacingly with the large handgun that had earlier been making nice with the base of his skull. “Why exactly are you on Mars and why exactly would you be following us?” Jack asked.

Amago started to say something and Jack interrupted him. “Oh just to let you know. One; if I think you’re lying I’ll shoot you and it won’t be any of that piddly blow a joint off until I get the answer I want crap. I’ll shoot you stone cold dead the first time. Two; if I don’t like your answer I’ll shoot you, Three; I may just shoot you on a whim, especially if I get the notion in my head that you were a party to the death’s of my mother and aunt.”

Amago swallowed and determined that he would be 100% honest with these crazy Martians.

“Now are you going to be totally honest with us?” Jack asked with a wolf like grin.

Amago shook his head and beads of sweat were slung from his hair and forehead and he managed to croak out a reply. “Yes.”

“Good now we can all get along, I can get my answers and you can get to go home in one piece,” Jack tried to smile reassuringly but it showed too many teeth.

Jack stood thoughtfully for a moment. “Okay first question: did you have anything to do with my mother and aunt’s death?”

“No I wasn’t part of that team,” Amago croaked.

“Good, that means that there is more than one group of you?” Jack asked.

“There are three teams, one to take out your mother and sister and two to keep on eye you and your team,” Amago spilled the answer quickly.

“And who is your boss?” Jack prompted.

December 19th 2525 - 03:38

Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland

Abandoned Warehouse in Former Industrial Sector

“Rice this is Mahmud,” Mahmud Rafghani said into his cell comm as his driver behind the wheel of the full size Ford Econoline pulled into a parking lot across the street from the warehouse and doused its lights.

“Yes Mahmud, what is it?” Rice asked a bit irritably.

“Amago has been captured by the targets and taken to a secluded location,” Mahmud informed his employer.

Aboard the Kawamura Industries Passenger Ship Edo, Edgar rice sat up in his bed where he had nearly been asleep.

“What’s Amago’s disposition?” Rice asked.

“We believe the targets are interrogating him,” Mahmud said turning his head towards another man leaning out the sliding door with a laser mike. With a nod the man confirmed Mahmud’s unasked question. “It is confirmed the targets are questioning Amago,” the man told his boss.

“Take them out and send the other two teams in to wipe out the rest of the marines on the target’s team,” Rice ordered as dispassionately as if stepping on an ant.

“Yes Sir.” Mahmud answered clicking the comm off. Turning to the other nine men in the van he quickly sketched out a plan sending one of the men out of the van and onto the roof of the warehouse whose parking lot they had stopped in. Mahmud detailed one group of three men to go in through the loading bay doors another to come in a fire door and Mahmud and the remaining two men would come in through a warren of offices.

When his men were in position he received two clicks from each team and the sniper and returned the signal with three clicks confirming their readiness, when Mahmud was himself in position he clicked his transmit button four times.

December 19th 2525 - 03:47

Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland

Abandoned Warehouse in Former Industrial Sector

“He’s an Englishman by the name of Edg--,” before Amago could finish the sentence his head exploded into a mist of blood, bone, and brain matter that fanned out against the wall and splashed Jack and Suzanne with bits of gruel.

The echo of a high powered rifle followed the shot a few seconds later and then automatic weapons fire started peppering the corner where the two of them stood.

Jack dove over the hood of the gray sedan and popped back up firing off three quick rounds into a trio of assailants that slammed through the fire exit door, two of the rounds missed but the third found the shoulder joint of one of the men and the massive round blew the joint to vapor spinning the man in one direction and his arm in the other.

Suzanne had jumped behind a stack of old semi-tires and was exchanging fire with another trio that came through the loading bay door. She managed to put one down with a center shot but return fire pinned her down and an errant round found a crack between the tires leaving a stinging, bloody trail across one arm. Suzanne’s arm burned from the graze and a slow trickle of blood trailed down her arm as she emptied her magazine into the trio taking a second man down but a new wave of automatic weapons fire from the front of the warehouse caused her to duck back.

Seeing Suzanne pinned down from two directions Jack dumped the last four rounds from his Desert Eagle into the barrels the first group Suzanne had been shooting at was hiding behind. At least two of the rounds found the man blowing him back across the warehouse.

Dumping the spent magazine from the weapon and replacing it with a fresh one Jack brought it back and over his shoulder and then brought it surging back forward spinning the heavy gun through the air and over the truck tires. “Suzanne!” He shouted getting her attention.

Hearing the shout Suzanne glanced up in time to see the huge chunk of metal arc over the tires towards her. Stretching one hand out she snatched the gun out of the air by its barrel and then deftly spun it in her hand flipping it around so she had it by the thick grip.

“One….,” Jack breathed out bringing the Saiga 8-gauge off of his back and flipping the safety to semi-auto.

“Two….,” Suzanne tightened her grip on the two Desert Eagles.

“Three….,” Their timing was perfect as Jack and Suzanne exploded into action coming out from behind their respective covers.

Suzanne emptied both Desert Eagles firing them in series to better control the massive recoil. Her first shot blew Mahmud’s head off just above his lower lip, the second shot missed but the third, fourth, and fifth impacted on the man to Mahmud’s right and he exploded in a welter of gore as huge dinner plate sized chunks were torn out of his body. The man on Mahmud’s left tried to bring his gun into play but took five rounds from Suzanne’s guns that stitched him from navel to the top of his head pretty much cutting him in half along a vertical line.

Flipping up over the hood of the Sedan Jack gave the last two men a double tap of armor piercing Flechettes from the Saiga, all four finned darts took the first guy in the legs with the second blowing him apart at the waist. The third shot missed but all four darts from the fourth shell found their way into and then out of the last guy’s torso, the Flechettes made small entry wounds but the large fins at the back tore silver dollar to fist sized holes out of the man‘s center of mass.

The dead silence after the violent exchange of gunfire was broken by the slam of a car door and the squeal of tires from the across the street as what the both of them assumed was the sniper that took out Amago fled the area.

“I feel like a beer,” Jack said.

“I’m horny as hell,” Suzanne said.

“You would be,” he snorted. “We’ll see about fixing both things once we get the hell out of here,” Jack said flipping what was left of one of the bodies over with a boot toe and searching the body.

Suzanne joined in and between the two of them they come up with about 90,000 credits spattered with gore as well as various middle-eastern and eastern European drivers’ licenses and ID cards.

“So either we’ve pissed off some Muslim fundamentalist group,” Jack started to say.

“Nope this guys name is Abraham Goldschmidt,” Suzanne said holding up one of the driver’s license.

“Okay a couple of religious fundamentalist groups,” Jack tried to finish.

“Nope this guys wearing a St. Christopher’s medal,” Suzanne said holding up the gore spattered medal.

“Yuck, put that back,” Jack said and then mumbled under his breath. “No wonder I can never get any brainstorming done,” and then kicked over another dead body more violently than what was needed.

“Got to have a brain to do any storming sweetie,” Suzanne told him impishly and shoved the roll of blood soak credits into a pocket.

Jack gave her a dirty look and a rather flatulent raspberry. “So now we figure out what to do,” he stood for a second tapping his foot.

“How about a shower?” Suzanne suggested.

“Right we are kind of blood spattered,” Jack said turning towards the gray sedan and grunting as he got his first good look at it since the firefight started.

“Shit,” Suzanne summed up the feelings of both of them with that single word.

The gray sedan that Ferrer Amago had been driving had two flattened front tires and the engine compartment was riddled with bullet holes; coolant, oil, transmission fluid and what was most likely power steering fluid made a spreading pool of sludge underneath the car.

“Well I guess we won’t be getting out in that,” Jack stated.

“Uh-huh,” Suzanne agreed.

“That means hoofing it, and I won’t be able to carry this around with me either,” Jack said and deftly disassembled the Saiga. The longest part the barrel he took over to an old work bench and moved things around till he found a vise. Laying the barrel in it he tightened it down and then used a sledge hammer to bend the barrel in half and left it laying there. The other parts of the gun save the polymer stock; which he stomped on till it was destroyed he distributed amongst his pockets.

After Jack finished his destruction of the Russian weapon the two of them quickly left the building and made there way out of the industrial section of town. Back in the main part of town they made their way to a Baptist Church Mission clothes container and exchanged their gore spattered clothing for tattered and faded ones from the bin. Along the way Jack had tossed the pieces of the Saiga into various sewer drains and the two of them were down to just the handguns and one full magazine each.

“I really liked that gun too,” He said sadly as he tossed the bolt into an open sewer grate.

“We’ll get you a new one, don’t worry,” Suzanne said patting his cheek consolingly.

After exchanging clothes they found a small motel and checked in paying cash using the least blood soaked bills they could pull from the roll in Suzanne’s pocket and then raided the vending machines.

Jack felt Suzanne fall asleep on the motel bed against him as he thought about what their next move would be; he would call the rest of the squad in the morning he finally decided.

Jack was just about to lean his head back against the headboard and doze off when Suzanne pushed herself up against his shoulder and leaned into his ear. “I’m still horny,” she said and shoved him off the bed onto the floor landing on top of him.

December 19th 2525 - 07:15

Somewhere Between Earth and Mars

Privately Registered Vessel - Edo

Normally calm and unflappable Edgar Rice was storming around his cabin where he would occasionally pick something up and throw it against a bulkhead and then contemplate the object for a moment and then if it didn’t meet his standards of destruction he would walk over and stomp on it.

Finally calm after half an hour of destruction Rice glared at his comm that had forty-five minutes earlier relayed the message that the attempt on Sikorsky’s life had failed with complete destruction of the team sent against him save for the sniper that had called him.

At least the other teams managed to kill two of his squad and seriously injure another, Rice thought to himself and it managed to bring some calm to him.

There would be time enough to finish Sikorsky later and if he had the chance he would do it himself.

Pulling a knocked over armchair from the ground he righted it and sat down then started furiously punching buttons on his comm.

December 19th 2525 - 10:00

Martian Marine Corps Base Colonel Elliott Pierson, 60 Miles Outside Of Fordtland

Stars & Stripes Motel

The next morning Jack and Suzanne took a shower together and then a second colder one separately and dressed quickly.

While Suzanne was taking her second shower Jack wandered down to the vending machines and bought a disposable comm from one of them and started making calls.

The first call he made was to the comms of the twins but got an out of service message; most likely the twins had purposely deactivated their comms. Dialing another number he then called their house.

“Hey, you’ve reached the home of Ren and Fuji Satokawa we’ll be away for the next month visiting family, so we won’t get any message you leave till we return,” the machine said in Fuji’s voice and then beeped.

“Yo, this is Fly Boy, I’ve go the time if you’ve got the dime,” Rick Shepherd answered his comm.

“Hey Rick, this is Jack.”

“Hey what’s up Sgt. Major?” Rick said over the drone of aircraft in the background.

“Where are you at?” Jack asked.

“I’m at an Air Show outside Cidonia,” Rick told him.

“Alright stay there and stay around crowds,” Jack told him and hung up before he could reply.

Jack called Steven Finkelstein next. “This is Sergeant Monroe of the Martian Police Bureau, who am I speaking to?” Jack quickly hung the comm up.

Dialing in Dave Masters’ home comm number it was picked up by his girlfriend. “Janette where’s Dave at?” He asked her.

“Some guys broke into his house last night and attacked him, he’s in ICU at Fordtland Hospital with a broken back and a severe concussion,” Janette Milner said distraughtly over the comm.

“What happened to the guys who attacked him?” Jack asked worriedly.

“They’re still scraping them off the walls with a spoon, for some reason Dave had a Claymore in the room he was able to get to,” Janette told him sniffling.

“Alright Janette, stay with Dave, do not, I repeat do not go back to his house alone. If you do need to go back to his house contact Master Gunnery Sergeant Hakim Parker and have him send a couple of MP’s along with you,” Jack told her.

“What’s going on Jack?” She asked crying softly.

“It’s better that you not know, tell Dave I’ll see him again sometime,” Jack said and disconnected.

Dialing Paul’s number he got another MPB Sergeant and then hung up again.

The final number that needed dialing was Samuel’s and he quickly dialed it, the comm rang five times and then there was a squelch of static and several clicks. “This is Zion.”

“Samuel, are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine, can’t say that much for the guys that attacked me last night however,” the Gunnery Sergeant replied.

“Samuel, we’re looking at a Case Able here,” Jack said referring to a situation where they were under attack by unknown entities. “Go ahead and implement your go to hell plan,” he ordered.

“Aye, Sergeant Major, it was an honor serving with you,” Samuel told him.

“And you Gunny,” Jack said disconnecting the comm and dropping it to the ground he stomped on it a couple of times and then tossed it in the trash can.

Jack bought another comm and made a quick call to a friend in BuPers, tomorrow morning the ACC would receive six set’s of discharge papers, his, Samuel’s, Ren’s, Rick’s, Fuji’s, and Suzanne’s.

Before going back in the room Jack downloaded 2.5 million credits onto a disposable cred card from one of several blind accounts he’d set up years ago after his first run in with terrorist factions.

After making the comm calls and downloading the credits to the disposable card Jack hurried back to the room to find Suzanne standing in the bathroom door toweling herself dry, her short cut red hair was already dry and he watched a second as she finished drying off her lithe, muscular body.

“Are you done staring?” Suzanne asked with an impish grin.

“Not quite yet,” Jack said grinning back and received a wet towel to the face.

Suzanne completed her ablutions and dressed in the ragged rummage bin clothing they had gotten the night before.

“So what’s the plan?” She asked him sitting on the bed next to him and quickly stripping the Desert Eagle down to do a perfunctory cleaning.

Jack explained the comm calls to her and that Steve and Paul were dead and that Dave was in the hospital, the twins and Rick seemed to be safe but Samuel had beaten off an attack and would disappear as completely as he could.

“So where are we headed?” She asked.

“We, aren’t headed anywhere. We’re going to split up and go our own ways,” He told her.

“WHAT?!?” She barked exploding off of the bed with her hands on her hips in the classic female stance of ‘You Don’t Make My Decisions For Me.’ Little did Jack know how similar her pose was to that his mother had made thirty years ago when Erskine had tricked her into leaving the Olympus Mons dig site.

“Look it’s the safest thing in the world for us to do, we’ll go our separate ways thus making it harder for the bad guys,” Jack curled two fingers on each hand in the air. “To find us and kill us, plus I think they’re actually after me and not you guys, you just seemed to be collateral damage,” Jack told her.

“If you think I’m going to go along with that stupid idea your nuts,” Suzanne started to yell her voice rising in level.

Hating his self for what he was about to say and the only way he could think of to keep her safe he said it anyway. “Look Di’Espinoza you were a good fuck and all, but you aren’t someone I would want to spend the rest of my life with,” he said as emotionlessly as he could bile rising to the back of his throat at the words.

Jack was ready for it when it happened but the attack still almost got through. Suzanne threw a lightning fast right hook at his temple which he deflected and then a left jab to his kidneys he was able to block. Jack swept Suzanne’s legs out from under her and pushed her down on the bed, with one hand he held both of hers above her head and pinned her legs against the bed with his own.

Jack dug into his pocket and tossed the cred card on the bed next to her and then released her stepping back.

“There’s 2.5 million credits on that card, use it however you want,” Jack told her then walked out the door shutting it quietly behind him.

Behind him he heard the card impact the door with enough force that it probably was sticking from the door. As he walked away he had to keep himself devoid of emotion as possible as Suzanne traced his family tree back to the Stone Age in an uncomplimentary manner and then screamed through the door. “I’m not a whore you bastard,” there was a sob in the words.

Jack kept walking hailed a cab and then vanished as completely as he could.

Back in the motel room Suzanne glared at the door where the cred card still vibrated, her eyes were red rimmed and watery but she refused to cry. Packing her own meager possessions she plucked the card from the door and left the motel as well.