Warzone: Nemesis: A Novel of Mars (27 page)

The next three days were spent in Russian language class. We were informed we weren’t tourists, and we had to get prepared for our service ahead. On the third day, CPT Ripsnort said, “Okay children, we’re going to your new home. Pack your gear.”

I got to know the other young officers fairly well. 2LT Ricochet, who was my friend “Brown” in basic training, became my best friend. It was a long trip. We arrived sixty-six days, sixteen hours and eight minutes after we shoved off. CPT Ripsnort announced, “Okay children, we’re home, and may God help you.” As the transport freighter made its rough descent, we saw an ever-growing image of a post similar to the one we left on the moon. There were differences. The terrain around Eagle 2 on Luna was tan, and the surface was pockmarked with craters. As we approached Mars, the globe resembled Arizona, albeit without any plant or animal life, and with fewer craters than Luna. I looked out of the ship’s porthole, and the sight the Martian Grand Canyon left me breathless. It made Earth’s Grand Canyon look very small indeed. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the terrain. As we made our descent, I ventured to look out of the window, and saw flames reflecting off of our heat shields. As we neared our landing, I noticed that the ground color was that of whitish sand. I didn’t know what else lie in store, but to me it was beautiful and knowing where I was settled my spirit somewhat. It reminded me of the Sahara desert, but with a red sky and some mountains to the distance. I was told that Mars usually had a blue sky. It was only later that I learned that the red sky color was caused by the presence of dust particles that were suspended into the thin Martian atmosphere by a recent dust storm, effectively diffusing the blue spectrums and creating the red sky effect. It was only later that I learned that the red sky was due to the presence of dust particles from a recent dust storm wind that was suspended in the thin Martian atmosphere, effectively diffusing the blue spectrums and creating
red sky
effect.

CPT Ripsnort skillfully landed our vessel, and the aircraft conveyer moved our freighter through the transitional airlocks, and then into the freighter hangar. After unloading, we were met by LTC Exit Wound. Immediately his wingman, 1LT Night Hawk announced, “Attention!”

We all snapped to attention. The post’s first officer looked like a bull, but my internal klaxon alerted me that this man was as dangerous as a tiger stalking his prey. In boot camp, MSG Darkside was intimidating, but was a pussycat compared to this man. I controlled myself and remained stiff as a board, eyes forward.

“Men, this theater of war isn’t cold, and the battle lines aren’t confused. Cowardly politicians haven’t compromised our mission. Protestors won’t harass you. Here, there are no innocent civilians that you have to keep an eye on to see if they’re in reality the enemy. Everyone on Mars is either your friend or your enemy. Our turnover rate is high. We’re in a desperate struggle with the Soviets. Keep alert and fight as a team alongside your fellow pilots. 1LT Night Hawk will show you to your quarters, schedule and duties. Each one of you will be called to meet COL Squid personally after you’re settled in. The colonel is currently out on maneuvers. You’ll find this unit is the best in the solar system and we all stick together. Dismissed.”

1LT Night Hawk led us to our quarters. “LTC Exit Wound is as tough as boot leather. You’ll all do well to remember that. The same is true for COL Squid, though he’s more of a thinker than LTC Exit Wound. We’re a brotherhood here, and we’re all family. We live together, eat together, drink together, fight together and sometimes die together.” He dropped me by my quarters. “It’s all about loyalty. You watch your brother’s back, and he watches yours. Understand?”

I nodded as he handed me a printed copy of my schedule and a map of the post. “The buildings on this post are all underground and constructed of concrete, bricks and Martian steel. The cement for concrete we import from Earth, but we make the bricks and steel here. Martian steel is high in magnesium which we mine from regolith. It’s light and very strong. We get basaltic sand from here to add to the cement to make concrete. The main building you’re in now is our post HQ. It contains the command officers’ offices, barracks, mess hall, sick bay, exercise and rec rooms.

This post is built like a wheel underground, with spoke-like corridors from each building to the post HQ in the center, and a corridor around the outside circle of the wheel. There are only two structures outside of the wheel. One is the above-ground satellite tower, though there is an underground corridor from the wheel to get there for the technicians who have business there. The other structure, or structures, rather, is the green house complex, where we grow and process food. It also has a corridor from the main wheel to get there.”

Once his speech was over, I thanked him and entered my new quarters. It appeared as though one other pilot was already living here. The room had a TV and two PCs, two bunks and some sparse furnishings. I saw some pictures of a tall, blond man holding up a big fish and another of him kneeling before a Virginia whitetail deer that he’d killed. A placard next to one of the computer desks said CPT Chainsaw. I didn’t know it then, but there was a reason for this. I was going to be his wingman and he would be teaching me. I unpacked my bags and opened my pistol carrying case, taking pleasure in the dark glow of the polished walnut.
No shells
, I thought. I guessed I’d have to hang them on the wall as ornamental. I’d spent the short time in Vietnam flying and wearing them on my hips, as Seawolf pilots weren’t armed. If an enemy got past the door gunners, they were already in the helo. For a pilot, the only sensible weapon for a pilot was a pistol. I had given up my share of the family farm to my brother. The pistols my grandfather had given me were now my only inheritance, and as such—my most prized possessions. My familiarity with them gave me confidence, and were a symbolic bridge to my family.

CAPTAIN CHAINSAW

Earth date: March 6, 1971—Martian year 192, Sol Mercurii, sol 3 of the Martian Month Taurus—sol of the Martian year 303

I settled my clothes in the empty dresser and mounted my pistols on the wall next to my new bunk. I heard the door open and the man in the fishing picture greeted me. He was about six-feet tall with sandy-brown hair and brown eyes. He opened his mouth in a deep southern accent and said, “How ya doin’? I’m CPT Chainsaw.” I went to attention and saluted. He laughed. “This will get old real quick if you think that’s necessary in our quarters. At ease. You’re excused from saluting in here from now on, and never salute me in the field. Saluting in the field is called a
sniper check
. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good,” he said, extending his hand.

“By the way, what’s your first name?”

“Captain,” he replied with a gleam in his eye. “I believe my mamma named me Captain.”

“So it isn’t encouraged to reveal much about your identity, I take it.”

“Affirmative. That way if you’re captured by the Soviets, you can’t tell them anything. It will be my job to teach you everything I know and your job is to guard my six. I want to finish my four years, go home, get married, get fat, have a couple of kids and hunt or fish every weekend. Allowing me to get killed is a violation of a direct order. Got that?” I nodded an affirmative.

“Good, we’ll be sticking closer than any family you’ve ever had. For you to keep me alive, I must keep you alive.” He spotted my pistols on the wall. “Nice colts.”

“My grandfather’s, I wore them in Vietnam when I flew.” I took the box down, removed one of the pistols from the display case, and flipped open the cylinder out of habit. Finding it not loaded, I handed it to him.

He inspected its nickel-plated finish, scrollwork and pearl handles admiringly and then handed the pistol back to me.

“Any questions?”

“What can you tell me about this place?”

“Mars,” he began, “is a subject of many legends and myths. These are the facts. Mars has two moons, Deimos and Phobos, but they’re smaller than most cities, 12.6 and 22.2 kilometers, respectively. They’re so small you can’t see them as they pass overhead. I wouldn’t call them moons, they’re more like asteroids from the asteroid belt between here and Jupiter trapped in Mars’ gravity. They have no alloy-x as we have long picked them clean and they’re too small for posts.

A Martian solar day or sol is 24 hours, 39 minutes and 35.244 seconds. They keep us on schedule by resetting the clock back to midnight thirty-nine minutes and thirty-five seconds after midnight. We go by the Darian calendar. A Darian month is twenty-eight days: every sixth month it is twenty-seven. The twenty-fourth month of the year, Vrishika, is twenty-eight days, except leap year. Days are referred to as sols here, but don’t get hung up on trying to change the whole English language. We still say yesterday, today and tomorrow. The sols of the week are Sol Solis, Sol Lunae, Sol Martius, Sol Mercurii, Sol Jovis, Sol Veneris, and Sol Saturni. A Martian year is 668.6 Martian solar days.”

He stopped and smiled. “I hope you know if you signed up for a four-year tour it is 7.53 Earth years. Leaves are 3.57 years apart, Earth time.” He grinned at my shocked expression.

“Just kidding. We go on the Martian calendar and day here, but your papers were signed on Earth, so your service is in Earth years.”

“One question?”

“Shoot.”

“How do we keep track of that extra thirty-nine minutes and some odd seconds added to a day? I mean, we have to be able to keep time properly for mathematical calculations.”

“Okay, the best way to explain it is this. Let’s say it’s twelve minutes after midnight. On Earth it would be referred to in military time as zero hundred twelve. Here is said to be twenty-four hundred twelve. Zero hundred doesn’t occur until after the extra 39 minutes, 35.244 seconds are added into the previous day. This keeps our time square with the Martian sol. Our computer programs adjust and keep accurate track of the time. However, if you get an Earth standard clock in your quarters, you must set it back 39 minutes, 35 seconds each night when you go to bed to keep it on time.”

“So adding them after midnight gives us more time in the rack, or a longer work day?”

“This is a hardship post and in the short time we’ve been here we’ve seen a high mortality rate. You might’ve noticed that there are no women here. They give us more rack time when they can to improve morale.

Let me see, where was I? Oh yes, Martian gravity is only thirty-eight percent of Earth’s. You’ll need to exercise regularly in the exercise room that has corrected gravity to keep your heart strong. Mars is a cold place and a desert. You wouldn’t guess it by the pictures. The surface temperature can get down to -200 °F at the poles in winter and up to 68 °F at the equator during summer days but it isn’t typical. However, the air temperature rarely gets above 30 °F. There’s surface water that’s liquid in briny pools and ice patches, mostly where the Martian crust is broken by meteors making craters. The crust is broken and the underground water rushes out, only to have half of it quickly sublime away while the rest freezes. In almost all temperatures, the sublimation rate will cause the water to evaporate to salts and minerals. The two icecap-covered poles have a mixture of frozen water and carbon dioxide sandwiched between layers of dust, although the South Pole has more water ice than the North Pole. The water that sublimes around the globe winds up as snow over the poles.

There are shallow pools of water underground close to the equator. This is one of the reasons we built our post here. The second reason is a more moderate climate than elsewhere. Last of all is position. Valles Marineris is to our back and a fracture system north of us which makes the enemy go through narrow canyons to get to us.

Our main buildings are underground and heated. We have five wells on the post, which are under part of the complex to keep the water from freezing. The good part about the water here is it has no pollution or harmful microbial life in it, but we have to run it through a desalinization process to remove the peroxides and salts. The atmosphere is composed of ninety-seven percent carbon dioxide. The atmospheric pressure here is about what it is on Earth at twenty-two miles above the surface. For all practical purposes, it is a soft vacuum. We produce breathable air from peroxides that we extract and refine from Martian regolith. Our suits and the main buildings have carbon dioxide filtration systems, but we lose a little air when we open an air lock or take off a suit. Our production facilities make enough oxygen to make up for the loss.”

“What’s our commander like?”

“COL Squid was a green face on SEAL Team Two, as were LTC Exit Wound and MAJ SEAL. This is a
Navy-only
post. COL Squid teaches Okinawan karate classes to all pilots three times a week and it is mandatory that you train. He likes competitive games: running, boxing, karate and chess. He expects your best. If he challenges you to some contest, beat him if you can. If you throw a match to try sucking up, he’ll put you on crap detail for a month. Oh, by the way, COL Squid is back from maneuvers. He wants to see you in his office,” he said, grinning. “I’ll notify your next of kin. If and when you make it back, I’ll take you on a tour of the hangar deck and show you around.”