Battleground Mars (5 page)

It was the Taurons who’d first discovered and exploited the precious mineral. For twenty years they’d travelled vast distances across space to reach this miserable flyspeck of a planet that the humans called Mars. They’d invested immense resources to exploit the precious resource and transport it back to Tauron, where it was needed so badly. It was not something they could ignore, for trevanium had the rare ability to scrub polluted air to make it breathable again. After thousands of years of building and advanced society, Tauron, unique in the Alpha Centauri system, was a planet polluted to the very edge of distinction. By a miracle they’d discovered trevanium here on Mars, and by making one last gigantic effort had put the enormous resources of Tauron into mining it and bringing it home. That meant the development of faster than light speed travel, a process that had bankrupted and pauperized almost the entire planet. Yet it had worked, the precious mineral was shipped back to Tauron on their transports. The atmosphere on Granat’s home planet was already showing signs of recovery. Until the humans arrived. They were searching for the same mineral, for they were also desperate for the trevanium for their own planet. They even dared to claim this planet as theirs. After the initial skirmishes, they’d met to discuss terms. It was difficult, they had no common language or speech patterns, so they used sign language. But they came away without an agreement, Tauron needed the greater part of the Mars resources and the humans insisted that the planet was theirs by right of its position in their own solar system. There was only one solution, if the humans would not retreat, they must be destroyed. He made a last check of the ground they would fight on. Then he nodded to his men.

“Attack!”

* * *

They’d been on Mars for eighteen months, with only mixed results. Every crew was working harder to make up the quotas, the bonuses were astronomical. But there were only six months left in which to achieve the targets. It meant they’d have to take risks. Grant Merkel was excited, the trevanium deposit looked better than anything he’d seen for several weeks. It was worth the risk of travelling further from base camp, despite the warnings. The colony manager had protested when he told them where he was going.

“Grant, there’s been a lot of Tauron activity in that sector, it’s too much of a risk.”

He grinned at his boss, Jacques Fechter. Drilling crews were contractors, and technically they could drill where they wanted. Jacques could only advise them, and he knew it.

“We’re going there, Jacques. The recent samples showed a strong concentration of the mineral in that area. Besides, there hasn’t been a Tauron attack in several months. I think we’ve got them beat.”

Fechter shook his head. “No way, my friend. They’re anything but beat, our recon team picked up transmissions that suggest a new military squad has arrived from Tauron to reinforce their mining operation. We think they could be planning more attacks.”

Merkel looked exasperated. “Jacques, I respect what you say, but we’ve had a lean time lately. When the relief gets here my boys want to go home with their boots filled with money. I promise you we’ll be careful in the Nepenthe Valley, and if there’s any sign of trouble we’ll come back. If the Taurons are already there we’ll stay away and find another drilling site. How’s that?”

Fechter shook his head. “You know I can’t stop you, so I’ll have to let you go, but at the first sign of trouble, get out.”

Technically, it wasn’t true. He could stop Merkel’s team by voiding their contract, but once that was done they wouldn’t be allowed to drill before the relief ship arrived with the General Manager of mining operations to re-negotiate it. That would mean he would lose many months of production, that wasn’t possible if they were to earn the big bonus when they returned to Earth.

“Make sure you’re well armed, Grant,” he ended lamely. What more could he do?

“We’ll be fine. I guarantee we’ll come back overloaded with trevanium this time.”

Grant took a last look around the rig and signaled to his crew. “Start the drill, Eddy, as soon as we’ve gone down the first thousand feet, get the vacuum retrieval system working. Let’s pull what we came for and get out quick.”

“Suits me, boss.” Eddy Moss, his toolpusher, felt uneasy. What was it about this place? Why had none of the other teams not drilled here before, all of the surveys showed it to be a viable site? He’d like to finish this job fast and get back to base for a cold beer. He made himself concentrate on steering the complicated series of rods and drill bits, for the last thing they wanted was a break. Crews were stationed on Mars for two years at a time, which mean everything they needed had to be here on Mars ready for them to use. The incredible journey was massively expensive and complex. It was also dependent on planetary and solar alignments, so that intermediate resupply operations were out of the question. Men, equipment, machinery, food, water and most precious of all, air. Thank God for the air scrubbers, before then they were dependent on huge tanks of oxygen and nitrogen to keep them alive. The slightest leak or damage meant the threat of an agonizing death, but now they used reprocessed air. It allowed for larger crews on the planet and the returning ship could take a much bigger cargo, which meant more money for all of them. Thank God for trevanium, it was the mineral that would make them all rich. The drill was biting down straight and good, it promised to be a good bore. He went to shake his head, for perspiration had formed on his forehead inside the helmet of his pressure suit. As he did so he caught a reflection in the clear faceplate. What the hell was that, had something moved? He lifted his head and studied the ground around them, but it was clear. With relief, he bent back to the drilling operation. It was more a sixth sense than anything else. It was enough to make him look up again. He gulped and stood up fast. Taurons. Five of them, and they were heading straight towards them.

They were huge, eight feet tall, powerful and muscular. They were humanoid in appearance; bipods with two claw-like arms each equipped with five digits. Their skin was scaly in appearance, tough and hard to pierce. Other than that their similarity to humans was uncanny, except that no human would wish to possess such ugly, angular features. In the early days they had even learned to adapt their speech so that they could communicate with humans, using a combination of grunts and sign language. Their superior skills were beyond doubt, as they’d developed faster than light travel just so that they could exploit the trevanium deposits on Mars. But the main factor that set them apart from humans was their behavior, their colossal brutality. When they fought it was with a savagery that would be typical of an insane serial killer on Earth. To the Taurons, battle was little more than a pleasant activity, part of normal life like eating and drinking. It was something to be savored and enjoyed. They even managed to combine the activities of eating, drinking and fighting. Early Mars crews had been horrified to see Taurons tearing apart the corpses of their victims, eating the flesh and drinking the blood. Grant heard Eddy scream into his helmet microphone, but it was too late. The Tauron that stood over him was gigantic, even bigger than most he’d seen. It leapt at him, and it was only because of the low gravity on Mars that he was able to twist away as the huge alien monster hurtled down on him.

He raced for the buggy where the weapons were stored. He could hear screaming inside his helmet and knew it was his own voice. Then one of his drillers shouted.

“Grant, where are the fucking guns? They’re all over us.”

Merkel cursed the fact that he hadn’t noticed the attack earlier. He’d been busy checking the instruments that measured the drilling speed and depth, alongside the all-important sensor that detected the presence of trevanium. One of the Taurons snatched his body away from the equipment and dashed it against the Martian rock. Three other Taurons were slashing at the crew, two of them were already lying on the surface, their pressure suits ripped to ruin, the life-giving air pouring out of them. Two others were trying to draw their weapons. Damnit, how could he have been so stupid as to forget to put armed pickets out? Had he really expected the Taurons to have packed up and gone home? But there was no time for anger, as another Tauron loomed in front of him. They were so big, the Taurons, two feet taller than the average human. The only way to deal with them was to shoot the bastards and then they still kept coming. But this one was gigantic. He’d never seen one of the aliens so tall and muscular, like a two legged tank. He managed to claw his pistol out of the holster and fire a laser burst at the nightmarish alien. His scaly skin looked to be extremely strong, the shot punched him in the chest and he staggered but kept coming. He made for the buggy, it was his only chance. He was only halfway there when the huge Tauron was on him. He felt the impact drive the breath out of him as the creature smashed into his back. Despite the slow movements dictated by the low gravity, mass was unaltered. The impact was as heavy as if it had been on Earth.

He felt himself lifted up high and thrown down onto his back. He glimpsed the Hadriaca Highlands in the distance as he went over, the dramatic peaks they had yet to explore. Then the monster crashed down on top of him and started to rip his pressure suit away. As his air supply hissed out of the rips in the suit, he felt a sharp pain. He looked around wildly, no, surely not. The monster had ripped off his right arm, yet it was still clutching the pistol. It held him down with one huge paw while it tossed the arm to one side and started ripping off the other. He was going lightheaded with the trauma of his pain and loss of blood. When he blacked out, it was a blessing.

* * *

Granat ripped the rest of the body apart, and carefully stacked the body parts of the human into a huge game bag that he carried for the purpose. Granat’s feast was assured; tonight he would gorge on the flesh and blood of his victims. He would join his companions in singing the warrior songs that had been handed down to them over the millennia, songs that told of the many battles and conquests on Tauron. Discovering this rich source of trevanium had the potential to save his planet from extinction, from a slow, suffocating, polluted death. But since the ending of tribal warfare on Tauron, warriors like him had little to look forward to. The discovery of Mars had given fighters like him a chance to live again, to experience the fierce pleasure of warfare, of conquering an enemy. Of scattering fear and death over a battlefield and the joyous celebrations afterwards. Life was good.

* * *

They were in the canteen when the news came through. After six months on the planet they were veterans at traveling across the Martian plain, ripping out the precious mineral and returning to eat and sleep before the next day and the next, boring cycle. After the slaughter and decimation of the last relief, they’d expected more attacks, but so far it had been quiet. They returned after another hard day that was no different to the hundred-odd hard days that went before. Saul pulled face.

“My God, where the hell do they get that stuff from? They call that food? We ought to get a bonus just for eating that stuff.”

Rahm grinned. They’d all been thinking the same thing, the slops they served, thinly disguised as meals, and were not getting any better. “Maybe next time we should bring some supplies of our own with us.”

“They wouldn’t give us the weight allowance,” Kacy looked up and replied. “They even weighed every member of the crew, they’re like misers. They watch every extra ounce.”

They all knew why, the fuel required to escape Earth’s gravity was colossal. And expensive. Extra weight added to the expense. The balance sheet was the Mars Mining Corporation’s God. They wolfed down the usual tasteless meal and were sitting around drinking coffee that tasted like mud. Only the addition of a shot of bourbon made it palatable. There was a buzz in the room, something indefinable, but they immediately knew there was a problem. A bad problem, the Mars contract was a hard option, true, and it meant a life filled with risk, with difficulty, with the constant danger and threat of accidents that often resulted in death. But there was always the worry of other deaths that were no accident. Jacques Fechter, the site manager, entered the canteen and stood in the middle of the room so that they could all hear his words. He’d been dragged from his bed after being on duty the previous night. His face was haggard, his eyes bloodshot. He looked scared.

“Can I have your attention? We’ve lost a crew.”

The room had been buzzing with muttered comments, now it went quiet. They waited.

“Grant Merkel’s crew were working in the Nepenthe Valley, they’d found a rich seam of trevanium. It looks as if the Taurons were waiting in ambush for them. They’d barely started drilling before they were hit. One of our militia recon teams was able to set up an observation point on Hecate Mountain; they couldn’t get any nearer because of those damned aliens. As far as they could tell, all that’s left is the ruins of their buggy and a shattered drillhead. That’s it.”

“What about the bodies?” Rahm called to him. “Any chance of getting them back for burial?”

Fechter eyed Rahm with distaste. The crew boss was highly skilled, well-liked and respected by his people, and he brought back above-average yields. But for the management he was a pain in the ass, always criticizing, chewing them out to get more resources for his crew or more safety equipment. This was Mars, for fuck’s sake, not New York City!

“There’s nothing left, no bodies. I’m sure you know by now what they do with them.”

“What were they doing out there without a security squad, Jacques? You know it’s too near the Taurons, we can’t drill in that area without armed backup.”