Reclamation by MacGregor

Chapter 5:

Startling awake, Taro pressed gently against his chair's gel cushions. Across from him, Fatima and Zupong leaned into their restraining belts. After traveling for nearly a day, the transport was making its final circularization burn to match velocities with Judian. Like the rest of the passengers, Taro was glued to his terminal reviewing images of the giant orbital. The massive cylinder rotated as it slowly grew in size on the screen. The transport made a few braking maneuvers and began to roll in synch with the station as it approached one of Judian's two end caps. Enormous red radiator fins stretched out from the station giving Judian an oddly piscine look.
A rectangular outer door opened, revealing a well-lit docking bay. To Taro, the once sizable transport was little more than a small speck of bread being swallowed by a giant metallic koi. In the hangar, two large robotic arms swung out from the walls and took hold of the craft with such precision Taro was unsure if the slight vibration he felt was merely psychosomatic. On the hull, he heard numerous bots scampering about, sampling and prodding for several minutes before the gangway extended. A voice came over the ship's speakers- different than when they boarded- and explained disembarkation.
If the precautions against contagion leaving Watkins seemed thorough, the elaborate steps during in-processing at Judian felt downright excessive. All passengers were separated from each other and their belongings as they practically floated through the various pristine white decontamination cells. Alone, Taro was told to strip and toss his clothes through a circular chute. He was washed, first by various beams of the electro-magnetic spectrum, and then by articulated brushes and jets of air. In the next chamber, yet another small room but this time with a bench, his clothes awaited him neatly folded and warm to the touch. Also present were new contacts and a thin ebony-colored bracelet. A voice instructed him to dress and wait. The wall screen aired a pro-Republic newsfeed. The whole experience was disorienting, not least due to the heavy Coriolis force present at this part of the spinning habitat. That and lingering fatigue from the journey broke over Taro like a wave. Lying down on the bench, he dozed off for nearly an hour before the wall screen opened. Taro wiped the drool from his face and hurried out into a spacious sitting area where two dozen people, successfully emerged from their own quarantine, gathered. In the center of the oval room, two tall humanoid sculptures of polished red stone stood grasping each other's raised hands, forming a narrow arch. The rest of the room was elegantly decorated with vine-covered walls and scattered clumps of armless sofas and chairs. Besides Dr. Abassi-Winton and his three friends, Taro recognized no one in the crowd, the other passengers on the transport having been directed elsewhere.
As usual, Taro sought out Kapoc's towering mass, the unspoken rally point. Approaching his friends, Taro said, "Well, looks like we made it."
"That sure was invasive," said Fatima sourly as if wanting to temper Taro's optimism.
The friends compared their decontamination experiences until a figure glided up through a hitherto covered opening in the floor between the two red statues. Reflexively, everyone fell silent and turned to face the newcomer, an attractive woman with auburn hair neatly pulled back into a bun. Stepping forward the woman stood for a brief moment and smoothed out nonvisible wrinkles on the skirt of her dark gray suit. Smiling, she began in a pleasant voice "Allow me to officially welcome you to Judian, governmental seat of the Republic of Mars. I am Kanda Seydoux, a public relations coordinator with the Directorate of Information. I will be your guide through orientation and during your stay here on Judian. We are all thrilled that you have agreed to travel here and take part in our Republic's great crusade. You undoubtedly have many questions about your role in this project. All will be addressed tomorrow at the conference. In the meantime, I'm sure you are all tired and hungry. I will give a quick briefing on available amenities and show you to your quarters. Please follow me."
The crowd followed Seydoux through an adjacent room which looked like a cross between a sterile operating room and a vac-train station. They packed into a rectangular car with glass sides and roof which at present offered no view besides the spotless pale ivory of the walls. The passengers grasped clear plastic straps hanging overhead as the tram moved effortlessly into a dark tunnel. The shortening interval between the tunnel lights and the steady increase in relative gravity gave the distinct sensation of gaining momentum despite the near absence of sound. Suddenly, the tunnel's blackness fell away and the tramcar was flooded with exterior light. Gasps filled the air as everyone stared slack jawed at the expanse beyond. Overhead, the sky burst with bright yellowish-white light emanating from an elongated fusion powered sunbeam. On either side, the horizon curved upwards until it became lost behind the glare. Having spent most of his life in the cramped slanting corridors of Watkins Station, Taro's brain struggled to comprehend what he saw. Despite having experienced simulations set in similar O'Neil cylinders, Taro stood dumbstruck as the car sped along what looked like the bottom of a gargantuan tube world. Even the boundless breadth of space experienced during his two EVAs on Watkins's exterior had never generated the sense of agoraphobia creeping over his mind. Outside the car, Judian's interior came into brilliant focus. Lush green vegetation covered most of the landscape, broken by various ponds, fields, and roads. The occasional building poked above the treetops, but regardless of their inclination on the cylinder they cast no shadow. Reaching across the width of the habitat, slender pillars stretched upward before seemingly disappearing into the overhead light. At 16 km long and 4 km wide Judian's interior was an ecosphere all in itself. White clouds billowed overhead as a front of darker ones swirled up the cylinder's arc. Unnoticed, Seydoux smirked to herself as the tram's passengers nudged each other for better views.
"Can you believe all this?" Fatima said, clutching Taro's arm.
"Nope," he replied, trying not to smile at her embrace.
"How many people live here again?" asked Fatima.
"About 13 million permanent embodied residents based on what I could find on the intranet. Of course, most don't live on the central plain but in the shell. This," he said waving his free hand, "is almost all public land."
Fatima hummed in acknowledgment.
Taro studied a group of youths rowboating as the tram skirted along the shores of a lake before it slowed to pull into a building. Foliage covered the structure's sides and roof giving it a hill-like camouflage. Only the sizable windows and beach chairs near the water betrayed it as a hotel. Filing out of the car, Seydoux ushered them into a fashionable marble lobby permeated by the smell of flowers.
Seydoux quickly covered the basic details of the establishment, Trinh House, lauded as one of the premier visitor accommodations on Judian. "Your luggage has already been sent to your rooms. You'll find ample credits on your bracelets to fabricate any needed items. We will all meet here tomorrow at 0900 local time for orientation. In the meantime, I suggest you make full use of Trinh House's pools, dining rooms, and facilities. Please feel free to contact the concierge if you have any questions."
After Seydoux's finished her remarks, the crowd of visitors dispersed. The four friends compared room assignments. Taro and Fatima were both on the third floor and started towards the elevator together. Taro was exhausted, and looked forward to stretching out on what he expected to be a full-sized bed. "Meet you in the pool in five?" asked Fatima. Taro's pulse quickened. "Sounds good," he replied, trying to hide his excitement at the invitation. They parted ways and Taro hurried to his room. As expected, his bag, which looked decidedly cheap surrounded by such plush furnishings, was sitting on the gigantic double bed. Taro accessed the wall screen and selected a tab for clothing. Inputting the appropriate dimensions, he ordered blue swim trunks. By the time he had finished unpacking his few belongings, a bot had arrived with the warm newly printed shorts.
The pool was massive to Taro. He had swum in the small resistance pool on Watkins Station, but the wide crystal blue water before him appeared as a veritable lagoon. It being late afternoon on Judian, the pool abounded with a wide variety of people. Two middle-aged men held hands as they sunbathed. A bonobo family splashed as the parents tossed their child between them while a small waterfall at the pool's edge stirred the waters. Taro found an open lounge chair and dropped his shirt and towel to reserve it. Unsurprisingly, Fatima had not arrived yet. He waded into the refreshingly cool water. Swimming on his back, Taro looked up at the bright deuterium-fueled sunbeam, some 2 km distant. It stretched across the sky along Judian's central axis. He could not help but grin. A week ago, this would have all been unimaginable. "I should be taking my chemistry lab final right about now," he thought. Two adolescents paddled on an inflatable nearby, briefly disturbing Taro's Zen.
After ten minutes or so of Taro lazily floating about, Fatima finally arrived. Over the din of the other swimmers and utsav music, Taro motioned Fatima towards his chair. With her back towards him, Fatima removed her floral-printed kimono. She wore a one-piece pomegranate swimsuit. Fatima walked first to the poolside bar, and ordered a glass of baijiu before entering the water. Swimming over to Taro, "Isn't this great Blondie?!" bobbing her head to the music.
"Not bad for two kids from high orbit," said Taro.
They moved slowly around the pool, alternating between marveling at the scenery rising up around them and making the occasional snarky comment about the other swimmers. The pair eventually found themselves more or less alone near the waterfall. Fatima smiled and Taro could smell the liquor on her breath. She looked at him as if expecting him to say something. Taro placed a hand on her waist and leaned in to kiss her. She pulled back, "What are you doing?"
Taro removed his hand and stuttered "I, um, I just thought…"
Fatima gave Taro a bewildered look that cut him to the core. Shame welled up inside of, him as Fatima stood there wide-eyed, glass in hand, waiting for him to explain himself. Taro was about to attempt to speak again when a geyser erupted behind him, showering the pair with pool water. Zupong surfaced with his long fur drenched.
"Got a drink here, Zu!" Fatima exclaimed, covering her beverage.
"Sorry."
Fatima moved past Taro towards Zupong, evidently content to use the provolve's cannonball as an excuse to end the awkward standoff.
Humiliated, Taro swam by himself for a minute before retrieving his towel. Back in his room, he was too agitated to sit and instead paced by the window. He could not decide whether what he felt was closer to anger or embarrassment. Had Fatima led him on? Maybe it was the setting. Sure their first kiss had been in a crowded rec-bay, but there was an anonymity to be found in crowds he thought. In the shower, Taro mulled over every conceivable possibility. However, by the time he had dried off, he was no closer to a satisfying explanation.
Taro was tired, but with Fatima's rejection playing on a loop in his head, he knew sleep was not an option. He donned his running shoes and shorts and headed out down the route recommended by the concierge sim. A little shy of 13 km, the run route took Taro along the circumference of Judian's central plain before returning him to Trinh House. However, even by the fourth kilometer, with the endorphins and startling beauty of the bucolic scenery kicking in, his spirits refused to lift. The sunbeam slowly dimmed and turned orange to simulate the fall of dusk. Unnoticed by Taro, the lack of lengthening shadows would have made the ambience seem off to a planet dweller. Although the light was fading, the number of pedestrians out and about did not decrease. As Taro crossed over a bridge, a sizable pack of canid provolves approached, moving in the opposite direction. The alpha barked a perfunctory "excuse us" to Taro as the noisy group dogtrotted past. Over the bridge's railing, Taro spotted a cetacean splice diving beneath the water. Nearby on a low hill, three wheeled vecs adorned with bright yellow illuminations circled each other, kicking up a cloud of dust. Was it a race, a dance? Taro was unsure.
The sunbeam issued a strong bluish moonlight by the time Taro looped back to Trinh House. Taro, Covered in sweat and panting, Taro moved quickly through the lobby, not wanting to be seen. Unfortunately for him, Kapoc boomed a greeting from the room's edge. Fatima, Zupong, and two other individuals- a man and woman he did not recognize- sat with him around a low gaming table. They craned their necks in Taro's direction. Frustrated, Taro walked over to the group, conscious he smelled.
"Would you care to join us?" asked the tall vec. "
"Went for a run around the plain," said Taro, "I need a shower."
"How was it?" asked the unidentified woman. She had shoulder length brown hair and was in her late twenties.
"Not bad. It's still jumping out there even though it's night time. Trail was certainly scenic."
"Excellent," replied the woman while smiling, "been meaning to try running the cylinder myself."
Fatima did not say anything, but instead took a long drag from the hookah she shared with a bearded young man in a tan suit.
Taro stood there for a moment before saying "I'm gonna go wash up, maybe I'll catch you all later." A chorus of goodbyes ensued as Taro left. He had no intention of returning.

Chapter 6:

The hall used for orientation was not on the central plain but located a couple of hundred meters away from Trinh House in the station's walls. Seydoux led the group into a large semicircular room where rows of tiered seating faced a stage. A recording of orchestral music played softly while a handful of camera bots hovered discreetly overhead. Nearly four hundred people of all varieties filled the chamber. Taro and Fatima were two of the younger individuals present. Ushered to their seats, an opaque plastic page lay on the table in front of each of them. Taro pushed a thumbprint on the lower right corner of his. A welcome message flashed and an event program appeared. Scanning through it, Taro was pleased to see Krisna Nur Nnamdi's name listed as the keynote speaker. A few more names followed including Chao Fillopav, the Legate Taro had first seen in the governor's office on Watkins Station.
Of further interest was the attached roster of attendees. Most of the names were unknown to him but several stood out: the musician Sevak R. Baldev, tweak civil rights campaigners Kolton Dyer and Mala Dwi Aruna, vec guild leader Min-Seo Gangcheol, and splice intranet personality Eleuterio Bao.
"Check out all these high rollers," stated Taro as he perused the list. They were the first words he had said to Fatima since last night in the lobby.
"Makes you wonder what we're doing here," she replied.
"Flag code," said Zupong. His head hung down as he slowly scrolled through his page with a long dark finger.
"Flag code?" asked Fatima, her face scrunched up in disbelief.
"The Republic of Mars Flag Code establishes guidelines and correct procedure for the proper display of the Martian tricolor. Certified by the legislative assembly last year, the.. "
"Yeah I got that much," Fatima interrupted Kapoc. "Where are you getting flag code from Zu?"
"Look at assignments."
They tapped through their pages. There the four friends' found their names and details about giving presentations demonstrating proper flag etiquette.
"So they want us to teach folks on Judian how to fold the flag or some shit?" asked Fatima to no one in particular.
"Not Judian," replied Zupong.
"What do you mean?" asked Taro.
"Not on Judian."
They returned their gaze to their pages. Under group designation, "Aachen City Contingent" was clearly displayed. The friends fell silent as each stared at the letters. His father's words that he would be fine as long as he stayed in orbit played in Taro's ear.
"Nobody mentioned anything about going planet-side," said Taro.
"They didn't say anything about not going," remarked Fatima, shaking her head in a mock display of wit.
"There has been a Republican presence in Aachen for the past two years," said Kapoc. "It is one of the largest hubs for refugees coming from Earth. Presumably, the government would like us to instill some civic pride in these new citizens."
"That's not what we signed up for," said Taro. "There're still plenty of dangerous areas down on the surface."
"Well, what did you think we'd be doing?" said Fatima.
"You were expecting this?" asked Taro.
"Not specifically, but I did expect us to get shafted."
The auditorium lights dimmed for a second before a voice instructed everyone to take their seats. Around a dozen figures assembled on the stage including Seydoux. Legate Fillopav was also there, seated prominently in the front row. A quadruped vec introduced Nnamdi in flowery language, as a large projection of her appeared to hearty and sustained applause.
Thanking everyone for the warm welcome, the dark-skinned woman began her remarks. "These are extraordinary times. Times that will define the fate of this planet and this solar system for millennia to come. You represent a cross-section of our great new society: biological and abiological, native and immigrant, youthful and experienced. You are academics, economic and cultural leaders, athletes, performers, activists, and influencers. Members of every clade, race, language, and religion which fill our ranks. You are the bedrock upon which our Martian civilization is being built. We have invited you here to Judian, your capital, to place this noble charge before you- that as the old Earth fades, a new Mars rises. From our former disparate allegiances, a new united Martian nation will lead the vanguard of mindkind. Many do not share our vision of a red world whole, safe, and free. Your actions in this laudable program to which you have joined will promote the Martian republican ideals of democracy, unity, and development. Make no mistake; this program is vital to binding our new nation together. Indeed it is one of the few things Legate Fillopav and I can agree on." Laughter rippled through the chamber, though why the comment was funny escaped Taro. "In this day and age, the proliferation of malware, forgeries, and imposters makes physical presence necessary for people to believe. That is why we are asking you to brave the perils of travel and reach out towards your fellow citizens. It is my sincerest hope that, when your missions are complete, you will return to your home habitats and continue to impart these values. Safe journeys and the Republic is grateful for your support. Mars forever."
Nnamdi's image disappeared. As the applause died down, Fillopav strode across the rostrum. His bald head, framed by the high collar of his long navy-blue coat, gleamed under the bright lights. Placing his hands on either side of the podium, he gave a brief introduction before stating, "Many of you are concerned about this program's safety, and for good reason. We, either directly or through our parents, all bear the scars of the Technocalypse. Most of us grew up under the mantra 'interconnectivity means death.' Some of you might even remember the dark days when we fled the surface. I'm told times have changed. Krisna Nur Nnamdi herself has assured me every precaution is being taken. Though we have had our differences in the past, I will lead the largest group down to Aachen City personally, as a demonstration of my trust in her leadership. Rest assured the full faith and credit of the current administration is behind this project." Fillopav wrapped up his comments. A few other speakers followed, each discussing more mundane details of the project.
The conference over, Seydoux came and collected her selectees. While leaving, Taro and Kapoc became separated from the others as they joined the crowd heading for the exit.
"Nice speech, but I'm not sold on all this," said Taro.
"There is one positive aspect you are likely overlooking," said Kapoc.
"And what's that?"
"You should keep so busy with this, your mind will not have as much time to think about Fatima."
Taro bit his lower lip. He was going to protest, deny it, but what would the point be arguing with a vec? "Super," Taro said sullenly and he thought the time might have come for him to make new friends.

Chapter 7:

Taro had thought he would never tire of Judian, but after a week of briefings, classes, and rehearsals he was surprised to find himself eager to leave. Ironically, his was one of the last ships to depart. The shuttle ride down to the planet's surface had been considerably more pleasant than the one from Watkins Station. Taro was assigned a spacious seat away from his friends- just as well since he and Fatima had largely avoided each other since their awkward encounter in the Trinh House swimming pool. As the transport flew through the lower reaches of the Martian atmosphere, Taro sat enraptured as details of the ruined landscape came into focus on his seat's monitor. The terrain was mostly rust colored desert scarred by intermittent lines extending from the dull gray patches of battered cities. Periodically, the vestiges of large circular structures appeared. "Likely old agricultural fields or perhaps the foundations of destroyed arcologies," thought Taro.
Aachen City first came into view as a string of small lights on the horizon. To the east, the barren waste of the Argyre Planitia basin stretched into the distance. As the craft began its final approach, the remains of the outlying settlements increased in frequency as the city proper swelled in height. The jumbled mass that was Aachen City stretched across most of the 138 kilometers of Hale Crater. Over the past week, Taro had dived into the city's long and storied history. Originally settled by the old European Federation in the 22nd century, it became the largest and most vibrant city in Mars' southern hemisphere. Sadly, its reign as one of the planet's cultural and economic capitals collapsed during the catastrophes of the Technocalypse. Claimed by Republican forces decades later, its twisted remains served as one of the new government's principal hubs to cement its control of the surface. Martian natives and an increasing number of Earth refugees occupied refurbished towers and domes. However, many districts remained dark derelict shells, with structures often appearing melted from the ravaging nanite swarms of the past.
Approaching from the west, Taro made out the Acropolis in the city's hilly center. It loomed over the rest of the crater. Though in ruins, the city still made an impressive sight, made even so by the fact that most of the city was hidden underground. Taro switched feeds to one of the external cameras facing north, where the walls of the giant crater were highest. Suddenly, a large plume of dust and smoke sprouted against the horizon, joining others on the ridgeline. "Mining blasts?" Taro mused. An alarm sounded, and the shuttle banked hard to the right. An explosion shook the craft violently, as passengers screamed. A voice came over the intercom, "We are taking evasive action, brace for emergency landing." Taro's heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest as his mind raced. "What are we evading? Who? Emergency landing where?" The shuttle dove sharply, prompting another round of yelling. On his monitor, Taro briefly saw bright streaks of light pass nearby until all screens switched to airing crash procedure steps. "Touch down in 60 seconds," the voice declared with a flatness that did nothing to calm the terrified passengers. The shuttle cabin plunged into darkness as they hit the ground with such force that Taro was sure they had plowed into the Martian dunes. A woman screamed, a noise surpassed by a fearful shriek that must have come from an infant. When the interior lights returned, Taro found himself with his head between his knees trembling. Surprised to be alive, a collective sigh of relief echoed through the cabin until it was cut short by the percussive boom of an explosion. All of the forty or so occupants were out of their seats at this point. With no access to external cameras, Taro was unsure whether they had landed at a spaceport or merely skidded to a halt on some piece of ground.
A middle-aged man in uniform entered from the cockpit.
"What's happening!" a female passenger yelled.
Clearly distressed, the man brushed sweat drenched bangs away from his eyes then raised both hands to gain everyone's attention. "We gotta get off this bird as fast as we can and clear the landing strip. Leave your bags and when the hatch is dropped head directly into the ground transport."
A cacophony of questions and shouts arose from the bewildered passengers.
"Quiet!" the uniformed man yelled, stretching the word out into three long syllables. "Cover any exposed skin with clothing, and grab your respirator masks, they're under your seats. You'll be fine, just keep moving."
"What the fuck's going on?" Fatima yelled at such volume it momentarily stymied the panicked chatter.
"Whole city's under attack! Don't know who. The back hatch is opening in two minutes whether you're ready or not. Get moving!" The man turned and hurried back to the cockpit.
Utter pandemonium ensued as the passengers scrambled to don their respirators. In the row in front of Taro, two children cried as their mother fitted the plastic face guard and tube over their heads. Taro grabbed the framed picture of his mom out of his bag and slid it into his waistband. True to his word, the man and three other individuals in uniform soon returned and forced their way to the back of the craft.
"Keep your eyes forward and head straight to the recovery vehicle. Do not take your shit," a uniformed woman said, her voice slightly distorted by the mask. The cabin lights flashed a deep orange as the back bulkhead of the shuttle swung down to form a ramp. A rush of air blew towards the open door as the cabin lost pressure.
"Go, go, go!" said one of the crewmembers swinging his arms in a circular motion. Though he was yelling, the thin Martian atmosphere muted his words to a polite whisper. The passengers pushed against each other as they sprinted towards a white eight-wheeled bus parked at the base of the ramp. The frigid dry air hit Taro like a brick wall. He wrapped his arms around his torso, tucking his hands into his armpits. Despite the instructions not to, Taro stole a quick glance towards the city. Masses of drones buzzed overhead as flashes of light darted across the smoked-filled sky. A shove from the back nearly toppled Taro, as he stumbled up into the transport. He saw Kapoc huddled into one of the vehicle's corners. Taro instinctively headed towards him. Fatima and Zupong were close behind and the four friends lay in a heap on top of each other as the rest of the freezing passengers pressed inside. Sealing its doors, the transport sped away from the shuttle in the direction of a nearby clump of buildings. A moment later, an unseen projectile smashed through the crashed spacecraft, destroying it in a ball of flames. Taro and Fatima looked at each other, neither able to say a word.
It was a short journey, no more than a kilometer, from the crash site to a large warehouse structure dwarfed by the ruins of surrounding towers. The transport skidded to a stop as hanger-like doors shut swiftly behind it. Though jam-packed, Taro could see through the windows as white jets of oxygen filled the chamber with a breathable atmosphere. Bewildered, the passengers staggered out of the craft as the rumble of detonations outside shook the ground beneath their feet. Two vecs with orange and white markings corralled the terrified gaggle into an adjoining room where over a hundred people were huddled in clumps on the floor and along the walls.
"You are still wearing your respirator," said Kapoc.
"Right," replied Taro. He pulled it off, still breathing frantically.
A heavy concussion shook the building, prompting another wave of screams, as trails of dust slowly descended from the ceiling. Taro thought the structure must be a maintenance facility for the airstrip, but its overcrowded condition and state of disrepair made identification impossible.
"Maza!" Fatima yelled, attracting the attention of a tall bearded man. He was bandaging the ankle of a middle-aged woman in a plaid frock and leggings. Taro recognized him from the Trinh House lobby. The man hurried over to the new arrivals. "You guys alright?"
"We're ok. What's all this?" said Zupong as he kneaded Fatima's shoulder to reassure her.
"Best anybody can tell," said Maza as he rubbed the back of his neck, "whole damn city's getting hammered, don't know if it's a slaughter-bot outbreak, GAIA, local power play, nobody's got a fuckin clue." He stared up while he talked as if the answer might fall out of the sky. Explosions continued, each sounding closer than the last.
"Listen up, listen up!" screamed a man at the top of his lungs. He wore a security uniform and had climbed atop a waist high container to command attention. "It's not safe to stay here. We've got to all move to a secure location as fast as possible. There's an elevator into the understructure one building over. We're heading there now. Those that are able, help the injured. Be sure to…"
A deafening explosion echoed overhead. Instinctively, everyone covered their heads as bits of burning metal flew through the room. The beams of pale light raining down from the ceiling through the dust filled air were more than enough evidence to prove that the roof had been pierced. Panic gripped the crowd and they surged forward towards the speaker as the temperature plummeted.
"Stay calm, follow me!" the speaker bellowed over the hiss of the depressurizing room. He and some other individuals in uniforms channeled the crowd through a small airlock and down a dingy corridor. Kapoc scooped up two screaming children in either arm. As they ran, Maza went back and pulled the middle-aged woman onto her feet, draping her over his shoulders. Taro clutched the respirator around his neck, debating whether donning it was worth slowing his speed.
The scramble to the causeway quickly turned into a stampede. Taro vaulted over an old man who lay sprawled on the floor. The growing crescendo of gunfire outside added to the panic. As he neared the end of the corridor, Taro was suddenly flung to the ground as an explosion ripped apart the walls behind him. The air rushed out past him as again the Martian cold swept inside. The loss of pressure softened surrounding sounds, giving the scene a dreamlike muteness.
"Respirators!" a voice tried to scream. Struggling to his knees, Taro pulled the mask up over his face. He crawled forward as a number of figures, most in uniform, ran past him towards the opening. The muffled clatter of automatic weapons fire drove home the realization that whatever the threat was, it was close enough to shoot at. Taro had spent more than his fair share of time in combat and adventure virches but those entertainments had failed to prepare him for the fear and confusion that temporarily paralyzed him.
Through the smoke behind him, Taro could make out Kapoc carrying the flailing children. He was unsure whether Fatima had been in front of him or not. Resuming his rush forward, Taro quickly came to the lift. The terror-stricken masses pressed against each other as a large cyborg with a gun slung over his shoulder pushed back against the onrush. Behind him, a woman wearing coveralls managed loading passengers onto the elevator. Around Taro, the wounded moaned and sputtered on the floor, a few assisted them with their respirators. To his rear, security was shepherding individuals across the gap. Others discharged their weapons through the breach at an unseen enemy.
The large cargo lift descended, crammed full. A chaotic din engulfed the area, permeating through the thin atmosphere. Taro estimated that two or three more carloads would need to be transported before he was able to board the elevator.
"Children and injured to the front," the cyborg shouted.
Taro made his way over to Kapoc, and took one of the sobbing kids, a brown-skinned girl with braids, from his grasp. "I'll carry this one," he said. Taro held the girl over his head, as he and Kapoc cut to the front of the mob. The child shivered in his arms. Suddenly, the gunfire rose to a near constant roar. Down the corridor, another explosion erupted in the same place as the first. The breach's defenders disappeared inside of a ruddy conflagration of smoke and debris.
A few able bodies charged blindly into the haze to help the wounded. The elevator returned to take the next contingent. As the doors slid open, screams and assorted shots punched through smoky murk at the breach. A second later, a shattered torso sailed through the air before skidding to a bloody stop at the edge of the crowd. The blood drained from Taro's face. His brain struggled against the cognitive dissonance that the mangled hunk of flesh was a person a mere moment ago. He did not feel sick, but a confused detachment came over him like a dog watching a recording of his dead master.
Using his broad mechanical arms to sweep those nearest by into the elevator, the cyborg hollered "Load and go!"
"Jon don't," the woman in coveralls begged.
"Do it!" the cyborg snarled.
Taro was pinned against the side of the broad elevator wall as people clambered in to flee the approaching horror. As the plastic doors shut, Taro could make out the tall cyborg pushing through the unfortunates banging against the closed entrance, his rifle raised and pointing towards the breach. The weapon's muzzle spewed bullets in a pulsating torrent. The last image Taro saw before the car dropped down the dark shaft was a thick geyser of blood issuing from the cyborg's neck as large metallic blades sliced through him. The young girl screamed in his ear.
The descent lasted no more than a couple of minutes, but for Taro it felt interminable. He tried to comfort the girl, but she continued to wail. He had not had a lot of experience with children and his thoughts remained consumed by the recent carnage. The bloodshed was different from virch replications. No more vivid, but the permeation of fear made the real a different animal entirely. When the doors opened, the elevator expelled the overstuffed passengers into the dimly lit tunnel outside. Clutching the crying child, he shuffled through the traumatized crowd trying to locate his friends. Kapoc was easy enough to find, and he made his way over to the vec.
"What was that thing?" It killed that cyborg, it killed all of them!"
"It appeared mechanical, at least in part. I could not identify it with any certainty," said Kapoc.
Fatima came running up to them, having evidently managed to squeeze onto the elevator. He was relieved she had made it, but felt a twinge of guilt for not having cared about her absence until now. "Where's Zu?" she panted. Taro stammered he did not know. Kapoc swiveled his head from side to side scanning, failing to locate the ape. A moment later, Maza approached with the injured woman.
"Mamãe!" the young girls in Taro and Kapoc's arms cried in unison. The woman pulled the children to her, overcome with relief. The family reunited, the mother choked out a few words of thanks between sobs then limped off with her children down the tunnel.
"Where the fuck is Zu? I can't find him," Fatima asked Maza, manic concern clear in her voice.
"I'll go look. Wait here," Maza dived back into the disorganized mass of people, disappearing.
Fatima was sweating despite the cold, "Where are we?"
"Aachen City, "answered Taro.
She stared back with a look of irritated incomprehension.
"You know… from the briefs. Most of Aachen is subterranean, these levels run under most of Hale Crater. Back in the day..."
"Zu!" Fatima yelled.
Maza struggled over to them, the orangutan's limp body lying across his arms. Zupong's eyes were closed but the faint mist inside his respirator showed he was still breathing. His green coverall's were soaked with blood.
"Get outta the way!" a voice barked. A young woman wearing a medic's tunic and a headlamp beat a path towards the wounded ape.
"Help him!" pleaded Fatima.
The medic knelt down and after a few seconds of triage called for a stretcher team. Two vecs with white and red markings high stepped over and quickly loaded Zupong before sprinting away.
"Where are you taking him?" Fatima asked.
"He's going to the infirmary, keep moving." The medic was up and assisting other casualties.
"They'll know what to do," said Maza, his shirt smeared with the provolve's blood. "We should get away from this elevator shaft."
Taro, Fatima, Maza, and Kapoc joined the others in the trek down the tunnel. As they walked, medical and security personnel headed in the opposite direction. Nearly all had their respirators off, but Taro could not bring himself to remove his. It felt protective and safe over his mouth. Taro had long wondered what his reaction would be in a life and death situation. Panic, victimization, and fear, he realized.
After several hundred meters, the drab semicircular tunnel came to a metal wall. Judging by the light colored foam caulking the seams, the wall must have been a recent construction. Weapons barrels protruded at various points, silently standing sentry. People queued up uneasily outside the barrier's single brightly lit door as armed guards paced alongside the crowd, trying to keep order.
Taro barely registered the details of the decontamination procedures endured at this airlock as the yellow clad technicians hurriedly brushed, blew, and swabbed him. Everyone involved was determined to shepherd people to the other side as quickly as possible. Taro was no exception, and he could not lose the sensation he was still being pursued. Towards the end of the brightly lit chamber, a man clamped an olive green bracelet around his wrist, and pushed him out the exit without saying a word.
Taro had expected after leaving the airlock he would continue down the tunnel. To his surprise, he emerged on the second floor of a large open concourse. Colorful projections of text and images filled the open spaces accompanied by the noise of announcements issued in a calm but authoritative voice. The air smelled amazingly fresh, compared to the moldy soil of the tunnel. Security personnel scurried about as civilians gathered in clumps or stood in lines at kiosks for information and supplies. There was a nervous energy but it differed markedly from the panic in the tunnel. His friends and Maza soon joined Taro by the railing.
"Well, whatever is happening on the surface doesn't seem to have gotten to this place yet. Old though, definitely pre-T," said Taro.
"Likely the converted remains of one of Aachen's bazaars," commented Kapoc.
Maza gave a low whistle as he took in the sight.
"Come on, let's find Zu," Fatima said.
With difficulty, they made their way through the multitude of people and down to a central atrium covered in news feeds.
"There's gotta be a hospital listing on one of these," muttered Fatima.
As they scanned the myriad of scrolling projections, the images suddenly coalesced as the concourse lights dimmed. Three horn blasts heralded the appearance of a large government emblem with the gold tinted words "Public Safety Announcement — Republic of Mars" circling it. Craning their necks up, a hush fell over the crowd. The broad torso and bald head of Legate Fillopav manifested. He wore a Martian military uniform, dark gray with red facings.
"Always with this fuckin guy."
A stranger gave Fatima an angry "Shush!" as Fillopav spoke.
"Citizens, in the last few hours Aachen City, along with the outlying and underlying settlements of Hale Crater, has come under sustained assault. I regret to inform you that Rita Guetta and most of the territorial council were killed in the initial fighting."
Taro was unsure exactly who Guetta was, but judging by the gasps she must have been popular around these parts.
"The exact origins of this threat are under investigation, but it appears to be a latent malware bloom with a severe mil-grade bot infestation. Despite the repeated assurances of the administration, it is clear that this portion of the surface was not properly cleared for resettlement. Communication with the Legislative Assembly on Judian is being corrupted, and the status of reinforcements is unknown at this time. As Legate Extraordinary and the ranking official present, I have assumed command here. You have my pledge as a servant of the Republic that I will see us through. Make no mistake; we are fighting for our lives. Accordingly, I am ordering a levée en masse to restore security. Wardens are granted emergency powers over their cantons to coordinate defenses. Stay vigilant, back the authorities, and together we will triumph. Mars Forever."
As soon as the broadcast ended, excited chatter erupted. Everyone was debating whether the message was legitimate or a malware induced forgery.
Fatima turned to Taro, "What's 'levay in mass'?"
"It's old Euro-speak for… requisition, no, conscription."
A moment later, their olive drab wristbands started to vibrate.
Taro stuck out his bracelet. "What's this?"
"Mine too," said Fatima.
Maza bent a muscular arm across his chest, "Same here."
"What about you K?" asked Fatima
Kapoc's bracelet was orange unlike the others but vibrated nonetheless.
Having returned their contacts upon leaving Judian, they lacked the means to read the message, and instead made for an info-panel at a nearby pillar. After pushing through some bystanders, Maza placed his over the scanner. The Republican seal followed by a wall of dense legal text scrolled on the screen.
"What does it say?" asked Fatima.
Maza kept his eyes on the screen, "That I've been drafted."
"Drafted? Drafted into what, the army?"
Maza leaned against the column with a single hand, "Nope, not the army, RDF."
"Which is… what again?"
"Republican Defense Force," interjected Kapoc.
"The Red Militia," Taro drawled the group's more infamous name.
The others scanned their bracelets in turn, unsurprised to find the same notification. Even Kapoc's contained a RDF summons for maintenance duty.
"I say we ditch these bands and find a way out of here," said Taro.
Fatima raised her hands; palms upturned, "And go where exactly?"
"Home! This isn't what we signed up for."
"Blondie, what aren't you getting about this? The flag etiquette class is canceled! We're stuck here like everyone else."
"Even comms are being disrupted, It's not like you'd be able to get a shuttle back into orbit," Maza added.
"This doesn't concern you big guy, you can do whatever you want," said Taro.
Fatima placed a hand on her hip, "Don't be an asshole. How far do you think you'd get with no ID, no money, and the crater overrun by slaughterbots? Plus, I'm not leaving without Zu."
Taro pointed to the ceiling, "Did you all not see it?! Did you not see those people die? They got ripped apart!"
He argued the point for a few minutes, but it was clearly a lost cause. Fatima's mind was made up, and Kapoc was hardwired to obey the authorities. Taro thought that once they linked up with the RDF, he could explain their situation. Maza, who had accepted the Red Militia notice with few reservations, plotted their path to the location listed.
They pushed through the crowded concourse for nearly a kilometer. Ruined shops turned into makeshift dwellings lined the corridor's walls, packed to the gunnels. The concourse swarmed with an eclectic mix of people; native Martians, refugees from Earth, humans; many cybernetically or biologically augmented, along with smaller numbers of provolves, splices, and vecs. Some were crying, all were worried. At intersections, mobs of civilians crowded around information displays or badgered the few fatigued-looking officials that bothered to speak with them. Most wanted news about the fate of loved ones, though others clamored about food or lodging.
Eventually the foursome arrived at their destination. It was an old commercial section barricaded off with a floor-to-ceiling plastic wall. An old street sign read Kohlstrasse. The outside looked more like a fumigation tent than a barracks. Next to a turret, two armed guards manned the entrance- a thin woman in her forties sporting a crewcut, the other a heavily tattooed teenage male. Both wore dark gray fatigues overlaid by body armor in Martian camouflage, marbled in red-brown splotches.
"Bracelets," the woman demanded. As Fatima extended her wrist, the other guard grabbed her forearm, yanking her forward. He gave it a quick swipe with his gloved hand.
"Head in, turn right, report to S1 immediately," said the woman.
The scene repeated without alteration for the other three. Taro was the last to pass through the dual hatches in the wall, having to wait through a few minutes of scanning. The corridor on the other side was three levels high. The Republican flag hung on a line running from one side to the other. With no through traffic, the street was divided for different functions. Crates and bins filled much of the space, but tables and exercise equipment occupied certain portions. The exercise equipment might explain the distinctive gymnasium smell that filled the area. Taro guessed the base had been here for a few months, but not much longer. The walls still had the faded advertisements of the civilian establishments from before the Technocalypse. All were dark except for a large marquee spelling Otto, though the lights in the Ts were out, making the Os look like a pair of large asymmetrical eyes. A loudspeaker droned out announcements. In an open section of the street, around thirty militia members, visors up on their helmets, stood in ranks as a short officer inspected their equipment. Besides the formation, RDF personnel hurried around, paying no mind to the new arrivals.
A loud whistle cut through the noise. Taro turned to see a militia sergeant beckon him to come over to his table with a sharp jerk of his arm. His two friends and Maza stood off to the side.
Taro approached the haggard looking sergeant. "They told us to go talk to the S1. Is this…"
"Bracelet," the sergeant interrupted.
The sergeant grabbed Taro's wrist after he failed to move rapidly enough for his liking, then shined a red-light iris scanner into his eyes.
"You Taro Hashimoto?"
"Yes, yes I am," he replied with surprise as if the sergeant had somehow pulled his name from thin air. "I think there's been a mistake. We came from Judian on a public relation…"
"Hey, I don't care where you're from. We got a bit of a situation going on here if you haven't realized." Taro tried to speak up again, but the words failed to materialize.
"You're assigned to Corporal Jeong, 2nd Squad, 1st Platoon, Bravo Company, 303rd. Fourth door on your right." The sergeant concluded by adding in an off-putting stage whisper "Welcome to the Red Militia."

A headless vec with a facial display screen on its torso guided the new arrivals down the crowded street of the compound. Though not wearing a uniform over his frame, a single chevron stenciled on the vec's mechanical left shoulder denoted his rank. They passed several militiamen carrying wounded on stretchers. Two hauled a body bag, large, black, and still. They all stopped and stared as the stretcher-bearers hurried past, even Kapoc. As Taro stood to the side allowing them to pass, the color fled from his face. A sinking feeling, the same as during the carnage at the elevator, crept back over Taro. "This way," the RDF vec said as if awakening them from a daze. After another fifty meters, the vec stopped and pointed to a converted storefront, "This is 1st Platoon. Wait here for further instructions."
Taro imagined that the barracks room had been cramped even before the call up swelled the 303rd to its current strength. As best he could tell, the platoon bay had been a restaurant before the Technocalypse. The thin rectangular room had a long counter on the right-hand side with two large rusty sinks behind it. A falafel-esque smell was present, but more likely due to the poor ventilation and masses of unwashed bodies than any lingering culinary orders from decades past. Bunkbeds, metallic lockers, and dark plastic trunks filled all available space. A dozen other individuals milled around or sat with arms folded. Their confused looks and civilian clothes identified them as new recruits too. Taro clutched the framed picture of his mother wedged into his waistband under his shirt. It dawned on him that this picture and the clothes on his back were his only possessions.
A young man in uniform pushed his way in from the street entrance. The rank and name tag on his jacket marked him as Corporal Jeong. He could have been Taro's doppelganger if not for the larger muscles and shorter hair. He gave a loud whistle for attention, unnecessary as all watched him as a condemned man might the approach of his executioner. "Captain Beason's addressing the whole company at Otto's, time now." The group looked at him, then at each other, but nobody moved. "That means you guys," the irritated corporal said louder.
Led by Jeong, the group joined the others heading towards the dilapidated marquee. They pressed inside of what must have been a bar or nightclub but now served as a cafeteria of sorts consisting of tables and low stools. Roughly half were in civilian attire while everyone else was in an assortment of military garb. Nervous chatter drowned out any other sound.
"At ease!" a voice in the back of the room bellowed, silencing the noise almost instantly.
The captain jumped up on a table in the middle of the room. He was an unassuming man in his late thirties with black skin. "Listen up Bravo Company. I know you've heard a lot of rumors about what's going on. Here's the situation. If you're wondering how bad this is, I'm not gonna bullshit you, it's bad. The whole northern rim has been completely overrun." Muddled curses rippled through the air. "Upcrater Aachen's gotten the worst of it, the Acropolis's been battered with multiple breaches reported, and it looks like all the landing strips are non-mission capable." A heavyset middle-aged militiaman standing to Taro's right mouthed an inaudible "fuck" at the last comment, spewing bits of spittle. "The Regulars are working to shore up the flanks. RDF's tasked with securing everything south of the Acropolis heights. For those who just got here, you're gonna have to get smart quick. Normally basic training takes weeks; you'll have a few days. Lieutenant Colonel Nasratullah and most of the rest of the 303rd have already pushed out. This fight's moving fast. We're to get out there as soon as possible to help contain the outbreak, I say again, as soon… as… possible."
Captain Beason continued for several more minutes, issuing orders to the platoon leaders. From combat virches and studying history, Taro thought he had a good grasp on military lingo but Beason's instructions were barely intelligible. He exchanged a nervous look with Fatima, and wondered whether she would have been as adamant about reporting into the Red Militia if she had received this brief beforehand. Maza was as composed as Kapoc, but a hard swallow betrayed his emotions. Questions flooded Taro's mind along with an acute sense of being trapped. He thought of Zupong, wondering where he was and how he would find them if and when he healed.
After Beason had completed his remarks, the company poured out of Otto's into the street.
"Maza!" an excited young woman cried, running towards them.
"Laura!" Maza scooped her up in a hug. "I didn't know if your shuttle made it. When'd you get here?" he asked without letting her down.
"A few hours ago. They got me assigned to headquarters, communications and systems, in the, uh… S6."
Lowering her to the ground, Maza cupped the back of her brown hair and kissed the top of her forehead. It took him a moment, but Taro recognized her from Trinh House, the evening he ran the cylinder. He glanced at Fatima. She was studying the pair, a blank expression on her face.
Laura straightened her shirt, "Hey, I got to get back. Which company they put you in?"
"Bravo," replied Maza.
"Got it. I'll catch you later if I can break away." Laura said over her shoulder, already moving.
The rest of them headed back towards the platoon bay, except for Kapoc who was directed to the vecary. The platoon bay was now filled to the brim with militiamen and new recruits. Corporal Jeong and the other squad leaders assigned bunks and started distributing uniforms. Taro had heard stories about the military and the intimate accommodations that it placed men and women in, but their bay had a black sheet dividing the room into male and female sides. Taro pulled on his ill-fitting gray trousers. Judging by the smell these had been around for a while. A far cry from the freshly printed garments he enjoyed on Judian.
"1st Platoon new arrivals!" Everyone turned around towards the booming voice. There, standing by the door, was a tall man with short salt and pepper hair. An obvious splice, two rows of spots ran down his neck, his lower jaw protruding slightly with canines peeking out of his lower lip. "I'm Senior Sergeant Stach, the acting Platoon Sergeant. I got three days to turn you into soldiers."

Chapter 8:

"Don't bunch up," Corporal Jeong said, his voice over the radio calm and focused. The platoon moved in a staggered column down either side of the dim tunnel. Civilians, many of them injured, trudged passed between the two files, heading the opposite way. Four centuries of haphazard colonization and decades of neglect since the Technocalypse had left Hale Crater's substructure a perforated maze of passages and service ways. Despite this, Lieutenant Khanna had led them well so far. She periodically designated the route with digital markers for the RDF and luminescent paint for the evacuating civilians.
Taro was tired and this mission, their first, was far from over. Before setting out he had tried raising his objections to being in the Red Militia several times, once even to Khanna herself, but to no avail. The last few days had been crammed with armor fittings, crash courses on equipment, and a rushed performance at the makeshift target range. Moreover, the supplements and steroids the RDF had put him on caused his muscles to ache as they were torn down and rebuilt. Taro grunted, hoping his microphone would not pick up his fatigue. Two of the platoon's support drones moved with them, one on legs, the other an older model on articulated treads.
"Do you know where we are?" asked Fatima.
"Not sure," Taro stepped over a rusted piece of ductwork. "You heard Lieutenant Khanna. Captain Beason wants 1st platoon to secure one of the metro stations handling the flow of evacuees from upcrater, so I'd say we're several klicks north of base, maybe a klick beneath the surface."
Fatima exhaled, "How much farther, you think?"
"Don't know," he responded. Taro thought that if he was feeling the strain of the patrol, she must be exhausted. Exercise was never Fatima's strong suit. "Let me get that," stopping to take a medical bag that hung on her back.
Fatima gave him a smile, "Thanks blondie." Taro thought she had been exceptionally friendly as of late. With Maza reassigned to third squad and Kapoc often tasked out conducting repairs elsewhere, the two had spent nearly all of their time paired together. Taro had even received a shoulder rub from her yesterday after training. An act he was pleased to reciprocate.
"Keep it moving Alpha Team," Sub-Corporal Luo said, the first comment he had made in nearly thirty minutes. Taro wondered whether Lou's terseness was his default setting or reserved specifically for recruits like them. He was the only experienced militiaman on the team, but gave advice sparingly if at all.
After a few hundred meters, they arrived at their objective. The train station consisted of a long central hall with two smaller parallel corridors. Columns and spacious archways formed an easily traversable barrier between them. A waypoint marker appeared on his helmet's HUD, instructing Taro to move down towards the edge of the platform. The area's minimal lighting came to an abrupt end as the tracks disappeared into the blackness of another tunnel. On the wall, large block letters read METRO DE CRATERE E23. Accompanying it was a tarnished mural of a pastoral scene from the European Federation long defaced with graffiti.
The whine of the approaching train reached Taro before the light on the lead car appeared. He had read somewhere that restoring the metro had been one of the top priorities when the Republicans first reclaimed Aachen City: that is to say the electric city metro, not the continent spanning vac-train network of old. The fact that at least some of it was still running during the present crisis struck him as a good sign. The subway slowed to a halt, and another wave of evacuees disembarked.
Corporal Jeong swung his arm in a ninety-degree arc, "Proceed down and to your left, down and to your left. Follow the markers." Taro studied the dreary civilians; most held assorted bags though some carried nothing except their respirators.
Lieutenant Khanna positioned herself in the center of the middle platform. She was doing her best to placate a couple who were gesticulating widely. Taro could not hear what they were talking about exactly over the noise of the other evacuees. However, the torn child's backpack the man clutched gave some indication.
"Watch your sector Hashimoto," Platoon Sergeant Stach's gravelly voice startled him.
"Right, sorry" Taro replied twice, having forgotten to key his microphone.
Stach walked the rectangular perimeter of the platform, occasionally altering a militiaman's position to better cover one of the tunnels or access ways that fed in from all directions like the wiring on an integrated circuit.
Taro turned back towards the track, gripping his G71 assault rifle. Secretly, he had been thrilled when they issued it to him- a weapon of such utility and longevity that it was synonymous with the Red Militia since well before the birth of his grandfather. He had used replicas of it before in a number of different virch scenarios, but carrying the real thing was something else entirely. Though he would rather be anywhere else but here, Taro admitted that the weapon gave him a sense of power.
Several more groups of evacuees arrived. Each time the train, once unloaded, returned empty back up the track. On the last arrival, a bipedal vec had limped out of one of the cars. Kapoc, designated the platoon's maintenance tech, assisted as best he could. He was unarmed of course, but with armored plates in Martian camouflage fixed to his frame the mild-mannered vec now had a decidedly martial appearance. Crouching down next to a pillar, Kapoc wielded a small welding torch on the fellow vec's leg. He stood when finished, "This should hold you, but seek further repairs for full operability."
Taro rocked on the balls of his feet near the tube's edge. With the latest batch of evacuees having left, he could see Fatima across the other side of the platform. She wore the same armored suit as he did but fitted to her slender frame it had an appealing svelteness. The travails of the last week were putting things in perspective for him. He still wanted her. Working in such close proximity for the last few days had only accentuated that. If they could get off this rock and back to their lives on Watkins things would be different he thought.
"Alpha Team look alive, we got movement reported," Sub-Corporal Luo's voice jolted Taro from his fantasy.
"What is it?" asked Fatima.
"One of the drone sensors picked up some vibrations to the north. That's you Hashimoto."
Taro swallowed, "What do I do?"
"Just cover your damn sector." Luo replied, as he moved to confer with Jeong.
Taro switched his stance as he strained to detect anything, likely a fool's errand, through his booted feet. Soon the sound of an incoming train grew. Curiously, the accompanying light failed to materialize. Taro staggered backwards as the first car pulled into the platform. Blood coated what was left of the windows. Hissing to a stop, the train's doors opened to reveal a red carpet of body parts and shredded flesh.
Fatima rushed to where Taro was standing. She grabbed his suit's arm, "What…What?" unable to complete her question. They both stared at the oozing remains.
Stach's voice came over the platoon channel, "Guns up!" A moment later, the distinctive noise of G71s firing filled the air.
Taro sighted his rifle along the ruined metro cars half expecting a threat to emerge from the mounds of offal. Both Fatima and Taro unconsciously tottered backwards towards the center of the platform.
"Keep your position!" Sub-Corporal Lou said. Fatima hurried back to her spot.
The sound of gunfire was increasing but Taro struggled to make sense of the map graphics displayed on his HUD. The blue circles representing the militiamen were arranged in a rough rectangle along the platform while a number of red diamonds blinked in and out of existence outside their perimeter at different points. He fought the urge to turn inwards away from his sector to face the noise.
To his left, Fatima shouldered her rifle and stammered "I got.. "before squeezing off a long burst down the metro tunnel on her side.
Lou hurried over, "What is it?"
"I don't… I don't know, something moved down the tunnel."
The Sub-Corporal leveled his weapon and shot off an orange flare. It produced a halo of light down the tunnel before embedding in the wall at a turn in the track. "Mark your targets, and report what you see"
In front of Taro the destroyed subway buckled and lurched. Sparks flew as the wheels skidded against the track. The shock flung him on his back, his weapon slipping from his grip. A dark gap appeared between the end of the train and the tunnel wall. Metallic arms hoisted a slaughterbot onto the platform. Bending its legs, it lunged towards Taro. A bladed appendage scythed down towards his head. A flash cut across Taro's visor. He gasped as the bulk of the slaughterbot thudded into him. Petrified, he lay there, arms crossed over his face, waiting to be torn to pieces. A moment passed and the only thing Taro felt was the pressure of shuddering machinery against his suit. Was this what dying felt like?
Another flash, and the slaughterbot lay crumpled next to Taro, two holes glowing in its side. Sub-Corporal Lou stood over Taro, the barrel of his Gauss rifle smoking. The slaughterbot attempted to stand. "Move!" Lou dragged Taro by his arm. The slaugherbot made another attempt to stand before self-destructing. The explosion rolled Taro like a wave. Smoke and dust blanketed the platform. Through the haze, Taro saw Lou's boot twitching. He crawled over to him. A shard protruded from his suit's neck joint.
"You okay?"
Lou spat wads of blood into his helmet's visor as he clutched at his throat.
Fatima sprinted over through the dust, "Taro!"
"Get his legs!" he pleaded.
They carried Lou towards the platform's center. Taro keyed his microphone "Got a wounded man here, Kapoc."
"Heading your way now."
The tall vec knelt down to examine Sub-Corporal Lou, "He is pulseless. Leave him with me." Kapoc hit the fast release buttons to remove Lou's armor.
A round struck the pillar by Kapoc's head. The lights went out, plunging the platform into darkness.
Jeong's voice came over the radio, "Switch to lidar"
Taro toggled through his helmet's settings until a digitized image of their surroundings appeared. Gone was the blinding dust, but the sterilized false-color image still did not look good. Militiamen were down to rockets and grenades attempting to hold the threat at bay. On the map, large gaps had formed in their perimeter.
"All squads, bound back to the entrance" Lieutenant Khanna ordered.
Jeong piped in, "That's us, second squad."
Kapoc slung Lou's body over his right shoulder and another wounded on his left, "I have the Sub-Corporal." They ran together down the platform to the tunnel entrance, stepping over piles of debris and dead as they went.
Fatima radioed "Don't shoot!" as they passed Lieutenant Khanna at the entrance. She hit each of them with the side of her hand "14, 15, 16…" as they jumped over the berm of rubble that marked the edge of the platform. On either side, groups of militiamen returned fire over the heads of those coming in.
"Platoon Sergeant, you moving?" Khanna asked on the platoon channel.
Stach's anguished voice replied, "I'm fucked up, get outta here."
"Negative," Khanna replied over his objections.
"I'm sending in a team to get him." Taro's HUD identified the voice as the third squad leader. Three individuals charged into the chaos-swept room. Firing increased to its zenith. Two on the team returned carrying Senior Sergeant Stach between them. Taro's helmet identified the taller of the pair as Maza. Stach's legs were bent and bloody, still encased in crumpled armor.
"Keep up the fire," Lieutenant Khanna strapped down two plastic satchels to the platoon's remaining support drone. The red diamond icons on Taro's map massed on the far end of the platform.
"Everyone, fall back." As the RDF moved deeper into the tunnel the support drone scampered into the melee. "Hit it!" Khanna yelled. The militiamen flung themselves on the floor. Viewed through lidar there was no bright light but the sound was tremendous. The shockwave bounced Taro off the ground. He had the acute sensation that the roof of the tunnel must have collapsed and that he was buried alive. But as he rose, all seemed quiet. Tomb-like after the din of the battle. To their front, a pile of dirt and concrete formed a sloped wall sealing the tunnel.
"Squad leaders, we're following the waypoint back. The commander's sending second platoon to meet us. Give me a weapons and ammo check" Khanna said, panting.
"Where's your rifle Hashimoto?" asked Jeong.
Confused and numb, he looked down at his empty hands.
Jeong thrusted a G71 into Taro's chest. "It was Lou's."
First platoon trudged back into their barracks bay, placing their weapons in the rack by the door. Taro sank down on his bunk. The silence was deafening. They had only left for the metro station earlier that day but it seemed as if a week had gone by. The rectangular room was noticeably less crowded. Over a third of the platoon had been killed or wounded. Taro was exhausted but every time he drifted off to sleep, he would lurch awake with a half-shout. Try as he might, the images refused to leave his mind. The slaughterbot climbing up on the platform as he lay helpless felt more bedeviling than the bodies or explosions. Now all he could do was lay there on his side, staring at Lou's footlocker.
Jeong turned on the lights, "Wake up, formation then a briefing at Otto's. Let's go."
Taro slipped on his boots and with the rest of the remaining platoon shuffled across the street to the repurposed bar. They sank down on the benches, many resting their heads in their hands.
Fatima sat next to Taro and Kapoc, "I feel like shit."
"You should see the medic," Kapoc offered.
Fatima stared ahead "Kay, I'll remind you again that you're a doctor for bots, vecs, and synthetics. Leave us bionts to our own devices."
Taro thought about backing Kapoc up, before a cry of "at ease" interrupted.
Lieutenant Khanna mounted one of the metallic tables. The platoon leader was short with an athletic build, her arms and shoulders unnaturally muscular. She looked haggard with dark bags under her eyes.
"I'm not going to sugarcoat it. It fuckin sucks, ok? We lost a lot of good militiamen in the metro." Khanna mentioned the names and some stories about the fallen.
A man from first squad started to break down in sobs.
Khanna hooked her thumbs into her belt, "It's alright to grieve. The RDF always honors its dead and there'll be time for memorials later. But we gotta get back out there if we're going to stop this outbreak. Battalion's given us a few days to refit and retrain."
"Retrain? You have to be trained first," Taro muttered to Kapoc.
Corporal Jeong kicked his seat, "Quiet."
Khanna pretended not to hear, "We're going to have to make some adjustments until we get back up to strength. Maza and Harris get up here." After a moment's hesitation, they picked their way around the benches to where the Lieutenant was standing.
Khanna pointed down to the pair, her fingers joined together in that characteristic military knife hand gesture. "These men here charged into hell to get Senior Sergeant Stach out. Thanks to them, he's going to make it." Militiamen pounded on the tables in approval. "Captain Beason's approved brevet promotions to Sub-Corporal for you two. Harris you're going to First Squad's Bravo Team. Maza you'll take over Alpha Team in Second Squad. Congratulations."
Another round of drumming on the tables. Fatima joined in. Taro studied her face. She didn't seem at all disappointed that Maza would be their new team leader. Khanna put out some more information about personnel shifts and the training plan for the next few days before dismissing the platoon.
They walked back out into the street as Fatima lit a cigarette. Taro stared up past the suspended Republican flag to the ceiling. He might have grown up in the bowels of an orbital with infrequent views of space, but somehow the knowledge that hundreds of tons of Martian regolith blocked him from the stars unnerved him.
"Do you miss orbit?" asked Taro.
"Zu!" cried Fatima.
Taro squinted at her, "Huh?"
Fatima pushed past Taro, "It's Zu!"
The orangutan limped towards them, as Fatima rushed to embrace him. His long furry arms wrapped around her back.
"How you feel?" asked Fatima.
"Better," Zupong replied, taking the cigarette from Fatima and putting it in his mouth as if he had not been nearly killed just a few days ago.
Taro clasped him on the shoulder, "Looking good, Zupong." That was not strictly true. Besides the limp, computronium filled stitches laced together the provolve's wounds, monitoring the healing.
"I am glad that you have joined us," Kapoc paused for a moment then added, "Your sutures are extensive. That will leave scars."
Fatima flipped her palms upward, "Kay, what did I just tell you?"
"Already had scars, few more won't matter," Zupong shrugged.
This was the first time Taro had ever heard Zupong directly mention the dark streaks that cut through his orange fur. Taro had never felt it appropriate to ask how he got them. Kapoc did not know what caused them and once when Taro had asked Fatima all she would say was that it was a "long sad story."
"Well, It's good to have you back."
Zupong took a drag, "What I miss?"
"You've missed some shit." Fatima said, lighting a new cigarette.
"What platoon they put you in?" asked Taro
"First."
Fatima blew a stream of smoke, "Good, do you know what squad?"
"I'll make sure he gets put in Alpha Team," The group turned to find Maza standing behind them.
Fatima stretched out a hand, "Zu, this is Maza, RDF just made him our new team leader."
Maza strolled over to Zupong and the pair fist bumped a greeting.
"I'm not sure you can do that," remarked Taro.
"I'll talk to the LT," said Maza. "Khanna knows we're short."
Fatima placed her hands on her hips, "That'd be great. Thanks, I..."
Taro interrupted, "Come on, let's get you some food Zupong."
"Chow's about to open at Otto's. I'll go work the assignment," Maza's bearded face broke into a half smile. His gaze lingering on Taro for a moment longer than normal before he turned towards the command post.

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