The Hand of Raziel: Daughter of Mars, #1

By Matthew S. Cox

Risa Black will decide the fate of an entire planet. After all, an angel told her so.

Orphaned young, she grows up among the resistance, fighting to give the people of Mars command of their own destiny. Two governments from Earth vie for control of the Red Planet. She wants them gone, regardless of how many explosives it takes.

To the outside world, she's an emotionless, broken marionette. Inside, her father's fiery end haunts her every waking moment. She never cared for destiny or politics, until the angel Raziel focused her anger. Both friend and foe alike believe her grip on sanity tenuous, but she knows he is real, and pities those who will never feel his divine presence.

Whenever her adrenaline wears off, guilt at what her bombs did cuts deep, as does the apathy of the citizens she fights to liberate. The pain worsens after unexpected love cracks open her armored heart, causing her to question the role she plays in the bloody conflict.

Torn between duty and desire, she learns change never comes without loss.

Even to the Hand of Raziel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Division Zero Press
• Release date: Feb 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781949174366

Matthew S. Cox

Matthew has been creating science fiction and fantasy worlds for most of his reasoning life, which early on, took the form of roleplaying game settings. Since 1996, he has developed the “Divergent Fates” world, in which Division Zero, Virtual Immortality, The Awakened Series, The Harmony Paradox, and the Daughter of Mars series take place. Matthew is an avid gamer, a recovered WoW addict, Gamemaster for two custom systems, and a fan of anime, British humour, and intellectual science fiction that questions the nature of reality, life, and what happens after it. He is also fond of cats.

Book preview

1

A Test of Loyalty

Cold air blew from unseen vents in the tunnel roof overhead. Deep below the surface of Mars, the air moved in silence, the fans too far away to sense any mechanical thrum. Scuffing echoed in the passageway, eight pairs of boots on a mixture of gravel and dirt. The new guy walked at her right, five escorts followed them, and one man about fifteen paces out in front led the way. Darkness wobbled in the light from the handheld e-lantern in the leader’s outstretched hand. Rough, exposed stone along the ceiling glinted wherever metal wire conduits snaked among peaks and points. Long shadow fingers stretched across the grey plastisteel walls from open panels, gouges, and the occasional abandoned bit of machinery.

This has to be a test. Risa glanced at the man Garrison insisted she bring along on the pickup. So many things seemed wrong about this job. The Martian Liberation Front had been buying explosives from a man named Denmark for years, but never in person. It seemed strange to bring a new recruit along the first time the man agreed to a transaction not by proxy. Perhaps the size of the package this time around made the difference, or maybe he didn’t trust a go-between handling so much money.

She shot a suspicious squint at the new MLF man. Too convenient.

Traces of white appeared along the ridge of his brow and nose whenever the lantern dipped to the left. She hadn’t gotten much of a read on him in the briefing room. Hard to look around when you’re staring at your boots. She gritted her teeth. Why would they send an unknown along the first time we have a face-to-face with the source? A sigh escaped her lips, loud enough for him to glance her way. Bad enough I have to plant another bomb. She put a hand over her stomach, trying to catch butterflies. How many will die this time? Why the hell did he choose me? Guilt morphed through sadness and settled on loneliness. After twenty more minutes of walking in silence, it fermented to bitterness.

Garrison knows. He’s trusting me to kill this idiot before he can get Denmark.

A glow appeared two inches above eye level to her right, bobbing in time with the clanking of boots. It brightened for the span of a deep inward breath before it vanished—a cerulean firefly in the dark. The new guy exhaled. The rhythm of his footsteps broke into a stumble.

This is not going to happen, she whispered. I’ll do the job alone before I go in with you high.

It’s only Icewhisper. He coughed, thick and wet. You oughta give it a shot sometime; it’ll loosen you up.

His breath carried the warm essence of reassembled fish and ’shine, a sickening undercurrent below the overpowering smell of blueberry vapor. As awful as the combination was, she found it almost a welcome break from the metallic dirt flavor that had been in her mouth ever since they’d gone into the old shafts. This guy’s either arrogant or an idiot.

The silhouette ahead of her leaned left and ducked. She mimicked the motion. The new guy didn’t.

Clank.

Son of a— The recruit staggered and put a hand to his forehead.

Mind the pipe, said Risa, wearing a smile he couldn’t see. If that shit makes you hit your head on a bullet, I’m not coming back for you.

Stifled chuckles echoed from behind. She closed her eyes and let the Wraith take over. The cybernetic implant rendered the motion of the bodies behind her in whorls of grey, traced into her brain on platinum wires: five men, five heavy rifles, ten spiderbombs, and a mix of knives. She could take them all before the leader got the pistol off his belt.

No problem.

The azure firefly returned, then faded. You got some pair, for a chick.

Vapor exuded from his mouth, folding back over his cheeks as he walked through it.

Blueberry.

Pair, huh? She leaned against him, rubbing her breasts across his chest as they stepped past a long-dead ore carrier. They’re natural.

I’m talkin’ balls. He shoved her to arm’s length.

Risa laughed; as hard as he pushed her, she should’ve gone over sideways, but boosted agility had its benefits. She recovered her confident stride and palmed a small, rectangular object into her weapons harness.

He adjusted his dark trench coat with a sharp tug. Gettin’ on me for the whisp and you’re the one everyone says hears voices.

One entity did not constitute ‘hearing voices,’ but she hadn’t known this guy long enough to care about correcting him. An annoyed strut filtered into her gait. What I hear won’t get me killed by the MDF.

Hrmph.

Minutes passed as the procession advanced through an abandoned section of mine sixteen hundred meters below the surface of Mars. The ore pulled from these walls had long ago been made into the rusted and tarnished ‘grand’ subterranean city of Primus far overhead. Most of the locals avoided coming down this far. All it took was one ghost story and a few unexplained deaths for grown men to refuse to enter the old shafts in groups of less than five.

So, said the new guy, drawing another hit off his vaporizer. You think there’s a haunt down here?

Risa didn’t bother to look at him, speaking in monotone. I’m the one that talks to angels, aren’t I?

Five grey shadows behind her stiffened.

Afraid of the dark at their age? She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

Their guide led them through an open chamber with six exits. Deep trenches remained in the dirt, the scars of knobby tires from drilling machines decades gone. He went for the second tunnel from the left like he’d taken this walk hundreds of times.

A few minutes later, he stopped by a shadowed grey wall. Boss is waiting for you.

The man’s face lit green in the cast-off light of a pre-holographic keypad on the wall.

Damn, this place is old. Risa glanced to the side, making an obvious show of not watching him. Disdain spread through her expression as she appraised the new recruit again. Garrison’s voice replayed in her thoughts, asking her to take the man along and make sure nothing went off the rails. Pavo? Is that his name? She tilted her head left and right, stretching her neck.

The man with the e-lantern huddled over the keypad, pecking at chirping buttons. She could have lifted the code if she’d bothered turning her cybernetic eyes’ night vision mode on, but that sort of information was healthier not to have. Light from an opening door split the darkness; a patch of brick red expanded over the black ground, crossed with long shadows from a scatter of fist-sized rocks.

Inside, glowing LED bulbs hung naked on loose wires, their drift sending shapes dancing through shelves of old tools, scrap metal, and junk. Industrial stink saturated the air, the sort of chemical reek a person stops noticing after months of basking in it. The five men formed a horseshoe behind her and Pavo, rifles down but ready. Electronics in her nostrils lifted atomic traces from the air, feeding data to the processor grafted somewhere on her brainstem. Neon green text slid across the underside of her vision with a series of chemical names: explosives.

Perfect.

Risa stepped through the door first, moving between claustrophobic shelves packed with boxy components reminiscent of driller batteries. After fifteen meters, the space opened into a small clearing where a middle-aged man waited behind a desk, clad in olive drab and dirt. He smiled through the swirling dust, his eyes going over her every curve. Her glistening black armored bodysuit covered her from the ridge of her jaw to the top of her shin-high boots, but the relatively thin material left little to the imagination—but it would stop slugs and knives.

I was expecting someone… more military looking. She edged closer to the desk, glancing around like a girl visiting her father’s office.

You have an exquisite ass. The chair creaked into a lean. Who’s the new guy?

A mile below the surface of Mars, Risa Black finally met the man called Denmark.

Denmark tensed as she approached, gaze locked upon her figure. He fixated on her swaying hips until her thighs all but touched the edge of the desk. Gloss black stretched tight over her stomach, creating a surrealist world painted in reflection. She stared down at his warped face as it danced in the glare from the overhead light. Her posture took on the aspect of a limp marionette: head forward at a rightward tilt, long black hair draping over her face, arms lax at her sides, and porcelain cheeks lit by the pale violet glow of electronic eyes.

Denmark’s men tensed; the climb of rifles stalled when he raised his hand.

Hello, Denmark, she said without moving. Is the gift wrapped?

He fidgeted, leaning sideways, trying to force eye contact.

Good. He’s scared. I’m more than a nice ass.

His chair creaked to the right as he glanced at her companion. You didn’t answer my question. Who’s the new guy?

Risa shifted her weight and looked back. Pavo stood at eye level with Denmark’s men, which made him tall. His long, black coat obscured his build, but a few seconds of thermal vision gave away concealed muscles, traces of white indicated cyberware. Athletic but not ridiculous. Wiring in his arms but not legs, some metal in his skull over the right eye. Dexterity boosts. He’s a shooter. Risa let her eyes go back to normal; the bright violet flash caused Denmark’s security team to take a step back. Pavo wore his hair in a severe buzz closer to a dark stain on his scalp than hair. His posture swayed somewhere between nervous and drunk.

Damn amateur.

Pavo Aram. He raised his arm in an uncoordinated salute. I’ve been with the movement a week.

Risa let her head loll around to the front, like a broken toy. Garrison sent him along as a special request.

Denmark eased forward. One week? I did not know the man to trust so quickly. Mr. Aram must have made quite an impression.

A hint of a smile threatened to pierce her blank face. She glanced back at him, disappointed by the lack of a bruise on his forehead. He certainly made an impression on that pipe.

Pavo glanced out of the corner of his eye at the snickering behind him. He squared his coat on his shoulders and grumbled. She shifted toward Denmark again, staring at his desk as if to burn holes through it. A second later, the violet glow shifted across the desk when she flicked her gaze up to fix upon the man.

There a problem? asked Risa.

The nascent mirth on his lips fell flat. You have enemies, girl. There is much risk in bringing you here.

Risa grinned as if she’d gotten away with something. No worse than yours. You made us wait two years to meet. I thought you’d at least have offered us coffee.

Her hand crept toward the harness that held a pair of Hotaru-6 laser pistols, one under each arm.

Five rifles rattled as the men all aimed at her back. Pavo took another long hit off his inhaler, exhaling a flood of blueberry vapor through his teeth. She tugged a three-inch plastic fob from the holster, then held it up between two fingers so Denmark could see it before she set it on the desk and covered it with her hand, leaning forward. Jet hair spilled off her shoulders, a finger’s width from touching the surface. A shifting ghostly shape caught her attention in the shelves beyond the desk, someone trying to stay out of sight. Risa smiled. The Wraith allowed her to see everything around her, even in complete darkness—as long as it moved.

The grey silhouettes of the men behind her leaned tall, craning their necks.

That’s it. Keep looking at my ass. You’ll never see me coming.

Risa spread paper-white fingers. The lime-green display on the credstick beneath her hand read 120,000.

It’s a pleasure to finally see your face, Denmark. Would you be a dear and have your friend in the back retrieve the gift?

Denmark’s guffaw rolled over the men with the force of a shockwave. Rifles clattered. Even Pavo jumped. Her grin widened.

The end of Denmark’s laugh rolled into a shout. Krause…

Risa straightened. Close call, old man. I don’t like sudden, loud noises. The billowy shape in the back of the room drifted closer, growing defined until it coalesced into a large human form. Color spread over the figure as he entered the light, revealing a man, wide and square-faced, with silvering hair. To his chest, he clutched a box wrapped in a drab crimson duffel. When he stopped at the side of the desk, she reached over and pulled the bag open, caressing the top of the matte grey case within.

Pavo sidled up alongside her. So that’s what I’m doing here. You couldn’t lift that thing.

She swiped her fingers over the box and drew them to her nose, inhaling a trace of a chemical aroma like silica dust mixed with industrial cleaning solvent. A wireframe of green neon lines superimposed themselves over reality, courtesy of her electronic eyes. A long formula rendered itself in virtual reality. Chemical names flashed by: nitroamine, periculum chromate, dioctyl sebacate, polyisobutylene, mineral oil, ceresium perchlorate. The cycling text stopped, flashing ‘Generation six non-Earth-element enhanced explosive.’

NE6? Impressive, Denmark. I see your reputation is well deserved.

She released her grasp of the credstick on the desk.

His hand fell upon it like a mousetrap. As is yours.

Krause pulled the duffel closed and handed the ponderous bundle to Pavo. Risa turned on her heel, then headed for the door. Perhaps he’s not entirely useless then. She paused when the five men didn’t move out of her way. After four seconds, she lifted her head in a sharp snap.

Is there a problem, or were you just staring at my tits?

Tits, said one.

Three of them cringed.

Risa shot a cold glare at the man who spoke. Lines appeared in midair around his face, pointing out features of a stress response indicative of fear.

Her hard expression shattered to laughter. I like this one. At least he’s honest.

The men backed off, and she walked out of Denmark’s ‘office.’ Without the guide leading them, she trusted the Wraith to guide her. Her motion allowed the component to render the walls as four perspective slabs of grey with a square of black at the center. Every ten minutes, she stopped to let Pavo catch up. Each time she went still, the world around her went dark except for his wispy ghost wobbling up behind her.

The seventh time she stopped, he stomped to a halt three steps to her rear and grunted.

Can you slow it down a bit? He gasped for air.

It’s just a little farther, she half-whispered, and edged left against the wall.

Easy for you to say, he wheezed, still addressing the spot she’d spoken from. You’re not carrying this damn thing.

Good. He can’t see in the dark, and he won’t be able to fight tired.

No night vision? She asked.

He jumped at her full volume coming from somewhere other than where he expected her to be. Nope. Just a bit of a dex tweak for shooting and an internal comm. I got a problem with putting too much shit inside. If we were meant to have wires everywhere, we’d have been born that way.

Fuck you too. She stormed ahead. You’re really going out of your way to make this easy on me, aren’t you? She half-closed her eyes and let a mental sigh slide over her brain. Just go ahead and call me a monster.

With each clank, grunt, and groan Pavo made as he stumbled through the field of old machine parts, she squeezed her fists tighter, envisioning every bump causing him pain. She found herself watching his shadow out of the corner of her eye, hoping he’d trip or wipe out, but alas… something about him picked at her guilt.

Watch your step, there’s junk on the floor up here.

Where is it? he rasped.

Thirty-six meters ahead on the far side of another junction chamber. She didn’t pause at the ten-minute mark that time, continuing at a brisk walk for another quarter mile before stopping alongside a metal cage around an elevator shaft. Here it is.

Light flicked on about thirty meters behind. The source, a tiny flashlight, wobbled as Pavo struggled to orient it at the floor while keeping hold of the bomb. Risa shook her head. This guy is so clumsy, I might actually feel bad for getting rid of him. He couldn’t be any more obviously a DF officer than if he’d worn the armor. She pulled the safety bar up and dragged the gate to the side, opening the path to an elevator that hadn’t moved since before she was born.

Sweet shit, said Pavo, as he staggered up to where she stood. He panned the light over at least an inch of silt. Does this thing even still work?

So I’ve been told. She gestured at the platform. After you.

Pavo stomped in and stooped to lower the duffel. He let the explosive drop the last six inches, tamping a starburst of bare metal out of the red dust. Risa flattened against the rock wall as the clank repeated through the darkness of three tunnels leading out from the chamber.

Heh. He took a few breaths. Impact alone won’t set off NE6, and leaning a little farther away won’t do a damn thing if a charge this size goes off.

Pavo tugged at the door on the control box housing, finding it locked.

It’s not the explosion I’m worrying about. She squinted, straightening the fingers of her right hand. Transparent claws sprouted from her fingertips—multiple segments of synthetic diamond extending forward, then together into eight-inch blades. Pavo, how long have you been with the MDF?

Nano claws… that’s not a cheap part. Guess we’ve got a bigger budget than I thought.

The MDF, Pavo. How long? Risa held her hands out to the sides. Droplets of blood crept down ten glinting edges, razors on the inside of a curve.

He raised his hands and eyebrows. MDF? Where’d you get that from? He tapped the flashlight to the side of his head. That damn voice of yours?

She adopted the stance of a broken marionette. Pavo leaned back.

Icewhisper reeks of peppermint, not blueberry. Risa ambled a step closer, moving with the jitters and jerks of a Class 1 maintenance doll in the throes of shorting out. It also causes hypervigilance, edginess, and paranoia… not a drunken stumble. You don’t have a whisp-head’s glassy rattle in your breath, which means you’d still be on the first week of use… and should be flat on your back wondering what time tastes like.

Pavo leapt back as she lunged, swiping past him. A faint click echoed as the claws passed through the plastisteel locking bar on the control box housing. He stared mute as the panel squeaked open. Three finger-width ingots clattered to the ground with a series of melodic pings.

You know what I think, Pavo Aram? She looked him in the eye. I think Garrison sent you on this run because he wants me to get rid of you. The only thing I don’t understand is why you didn’t make a move on Denmark. The violet glow from her eyes shimmered on his chest, sinking as she bowed her head. Damn it, Garrison. You know I despise this sort of thing.

He held his left hand out, fingers apart. Wait… His right crept to his sidearm.

"He is testing one of us. She turned her back on him and stared into the dark tunnel. The claws on her left hand snapped back inside her fingers with a click audible only to her enhanced ears. She tugged a three-inch rectangular object out of her harness and twirled it over her shoulder. Claws on her other hand glinted as they curled over her hip, catching the light of a weak service lamp. You dropped your e-mag."

The brush-up. Cute. He grumbled, letting go of the laser. I faked the whisp, but it’s not what it looks like. I’m not a mole; I’m PVM. I know I have defense force written across my forehead. I thought the drug use would calm them down.

Pueri Verum Martis? I’d like to believe you. Her voice, lifeless as her posture, trailed off. Do you even know what that means, or did you pick it up on the police blotter?

True Children of Mars, he muttered. We who were born here and reserve the right to govern ourselves. Not beholden to a government that has never drawn one breath of Martian air.

She jabbed the e-mag at a button. Half a second later, a shudder rocked the platform. The elevator jerked up an inch and halted in a cloud of dust. Shit. Why do they all think I’m an assassin? She sighed at the floor. Probably because you never tell them no. Well, I guess this is as good a place as any. I’m sorry, Pavo.

He peered upward into the rolling smoke consuming distant utility lights. "Do honorem Marti, ad ei inimici dabo ira mea."

How could he possibly…? Relief fell on her like a cool breeze. Might it be possible she didn’t have to kill him? She straightened, whispering, "Ab umbris vigilemus donec exiguntur."

Pavo drifted closer, his breath brushing her neck. "Et vae qui minentur, nam prævaleamus."

She stood as still as a statue.

I give honor to Mars, my wrath I give her enemies.

Risa gazed into the dark distance. From the shadows, we watch until required.

And woe to those who threaten us, for we shall prevail.

He sounds so different… proud. Not a bumbling idiot. Slivers of synthetic diamond retreated into her fingers once more. She watched the tiny slits in her fingertips close, a small army of nanobots rebuilding her skin. Does Garrison know? Was he expecting this?

She offered the e-mag over her shoulder. He grasped it, and with it her hand. His touch lingered, fingers interwoven. When he pulled away, she let her arm fall limp. I was ready to kill him. Risa scowled. Why didn’t they tell me? Maybe he’s just a good infiltrator. Behind her, the weapon chirped to life after the battery clicked into the pistol grip. She didn’t react. Metal scraped as he fussed with the panel, pulling at wires and muttering.

I’ve been in some dirty boxes before, but this is…

Pig. You don’t think I’m crazy then… She wiped droplets of blood from her fingertips.

The elevator wobbled, sending a reverberating metallic shudder echoing down the tunnels. Seconds later, it labored upward after a shower of sparks burst from the panel.

What gave you that idea? Pavo swatted dust from his sleeves.

She spun, hair dancing in the downdraft, and made eye contact with him. You said—

Out of the smoke and the darkness came a deep and lustrous sound beyond mortality. The presence embraced her in sheltering warmth. Energy tingled along every muscle fiber. Risa fell to one knee, arms wrapped about her chest as the very air vibrated from the power of a voice only she could hear.

Raziel.

Pavo speaks the truth.

2

Complicated

Endless red scrolled from the distant horizon marching inexorably closer until vanishing past the bottom of the windscreen. The great six-wheeled beast clawed through the Martian dust; rocks the size of autocabs imparted the occasional sway. Risa perched in the captain’s chair, curled against the wall in the forward-left corner of the cockpit. The prowler rode nine feet off the ground, reducing even huge stones to minor bumps in the terrain. On either side of a dimmed display panel, control sticks wobbled idly. A flash of lime swept over the screen as a puff of smoke, sparks, and obscenities flew from beneath the dashboard.

Pain exploded in her head, as though someone perched behind her chair had beaned her with the pointy end of a crowbar.

Ow! Risa jumped, hand flying to the wire plugged into her skull behind her ear. Watch what the hell you’re doing down there. You just cooked my damn brain.

Waist-deep in the console, Pavo grunted. We overpaid for this hunk of crap, even stealing it.

It was a gift. She rubbed the burn out of her neck while steering the rover around an immense boulder with a thought.

More like gifted to the scrapyard. He thrust his arm out, slapping his hand onto the rim of the hatch in an effort to hold himself steady through the hard turn. What the hell are you doing up there?

Driving. Unless you’d rather we plow straight into a stone the size of a drop pod.

Pavo’s voice echoed around the console. I got half a feeling you wouldn’t mind that.

Oh? She raised an eyebrow.

You’re not what I was expecting. Seems like you’re not all that charged up about our job. He squirmed around, rolling over so he lay flat on his back, still waist-deep in the console. I think I found the problem. Gotta replace a few connectors and a wire bundle.

Risa picked at her fingernails, hiding her face behind a curtain of black hair. If Raziel hadn’t asked me to do this… I’m sure you’ve heard the stories, but it’s mostly dustblow. I don’t enjoy killing. She sighed. Especially when the targets aren’t soldiers.

The stories got out of hand, said Pavo. And don’t forget. A person doesn’t need to wear a uniform to kill civilians.

She scowled, glancing at his crotch sticking out of the dash. You’re hardly in a good position to piss me off.

He banged his head on something inside. Huh? Oh… Not you. I mean the damn politicians and scientists.

Yeah… Sure. Risa turned her sour face to the left and glared out the window at the terrain.

Fifteen minutes later, a flurry of lit pixels appeared on the console screen, darting around like a swarm of luminous green gnats beneath a layer of dust.

Looks like you licked the right contact. We got a couple dots. She blew on the glass, lofting a cloud. I feel like I’m driving with my eyes closed. This ancient shortrange only sees out to thirty-five meters.

"Could be why they call it the shortrange. He slid out far enough to flash her an exaggerated smirk and waved at the window. Perhaps you could watch where we’re going? There’s nothing but flat open out here, and we’re headed for ACC territory."

Flat open full of giant rocks and ravines that’ll make this thing roll over. There’s too much light on the surface. She shut her eyes, transfixed by a column of shimmering text floating against darkness, status readouts from her link to the prowler’s systems. So much flashing red. Do you always worry this much? The transponder codes will work; we look friendly.

Yeah, real friendly. He slid once more into the hatch, pounding on something out of sight. A metallic clank preceded a fusillade of sparks. I’d feel better if I knew where they came from.

The screen flickered, flashed, and bathed her in the green monochromatic glory of a three-dimensional wireframe map of the terrain ahead.

Pavo took a few loud breaths. I don’t believe in angels bearing gifts.

It’s on, and you should. Her rubbery armor creaked as she leaned forward and smeared finger trails of clean through the grime on the glass panel in front of her. What century did this come from? An actual physical screen? When the system diagnostics scrolled by, she blinked at the last firmware revision date: Feb 11, 2353. This damn thing is sixty-five years old.

Not that impressive. I’m sure you’ll handle rather well at sixty-five too.

She kicked him. I’ll be lucky to see thirty.

He let off a yowl as if it hurt, and rubbed the back of his right leg. Easy… I’m tender.

The display caught her attention with a bright flash. Beneath a layer of bullet-resistant resin with an embedded hairline grid, a wireframe map of the terrain scrolled along. The tiny digital prowler in the middle resembled a loaf with a pointy end and six huge wheels. It reminded her of an ancient video game on a datapad she’d found in the deep vents as a child. She stifled a laugh at the absurdity of getting misty eyed about such a thing. Nine years old, alone in a maintenance shaft, up late with a monochrome green space man blowing up aliens.

His fingers curled around the hatch. Sensing he was about to pull himself out, she gave a hard mental tap on the accelerator. He slid out into the cockpit, coming to a stop with his legs through the door behind her. The maneuver lined up his head with her seat. Pavo sighed at the roof and lay still, tapping his fingers on the floor. Risa smiled out over the Martian surface. The prowler’s electronics suite drew vast orange spheres in the distance. They settled like swollen glowing bubbles upon the horizon. Each graphical sphere gave a visual representation of the enemy’s sensor range, allowing her to navigate the dead spaces between adjacent lookout stations.

The Cyclops came up, said Risa. Impressive. You’re better than you look.

He winked. I’ve heard that before.

She rolled her eyes. Basic competence surprised me.

He drew in a hissing breath through a wince. Ouch. I suppose I can lay off the slacker bit now.

I told you this would be easy. I can avoid the effective radius of all their sensor posts. They won’t see us at all until we’re too close for it to matter.

Pavo folded his arms over his chest. I thought we were supposed to look friendly.

We do. She put her boots up on the console, relying on the wirelink for all her sensory information. There’s no point being careless.

Upon reaching a steep incline in the terrain, Risa steered straight into it to prevent rolling. Once they reached the bottom of the other side, she turned sixty degrees right to resume their former course, heading for a clear path between two of the enormous bubbles.

Pavo got up, grunting and groaning, and fell into the passenger seat with a whumpf. Wisps of pale blue overhead, a bubble of partial terraforming, sank out of sight as the windscreen filled with indigo and black. She didn’t need the sensors to tell her they’d left an area of breathable air. One of the ‘promises’ the Earth-controlled government had been breaking for the past hundred years was a ‘fully terraformed Mars’ where no one would need e-suits to breathe. Whether the ongoing war caused it or merely lobbying from the companies that manufactured e-suits, no one knew. Hell, half the people in Secundus City thought the terraforming machines were all broken and grinding away doing nothing other than making noise and devouring money.

She glanced at him; he’d laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes.

Napping? she asked.

I guess there’s no point doubting his claim that we won’t need suits at the site. If your invisible friend’s codes are shit, we’ll be vaped before we get that far.

Have a little faith, Pavo.

Faith won’t protect us from the ACC.

Her face warmed with indignation, but she let it go. He couldn’t possibly know what it feels like. An angel chose me. We’ll be fine.

She closed her eyes and let her consciousness slip down the wire into the machine. An angel wants me to kill people. Why does that feel wrong? Cameras on the outside of the prowler became her eyes; giant wheels became her boots. The yellow spheres grew larger, sliding like gargantuan soap bubbles across the planet’s surface. Risa focused on a gap between them, where the field would be weakest and their chances of being detected close to nil. With her consciousness linked to the vehicle, she turned off the internal mic to spare herself Pavo’s snoring.

After an hour, they entered a canyon of shimmering virtual walls.

A drift of thirty-six inches to either side would pierce a digital bubble where enemy sensors would likely set off a dozen alarms in a command bunker somewhere. She sighed in her mind, dreading a long, slow, and tedious drive.

The sun traversed a long strip of blue overhead where the induced atmosphere came close to Earthlike. Pale rose grey fog blanketed everything on either side, the breathable air flowing like a river between what remained of the native Martian gases. Six hours later, waning daylight tinged the sky violet. She brought the prowler to a halt on a ridge overlooking a shallow valley, where the Allied Corporate Council had set up their ‘science outpost.’

She sat up and pulled the wire out of her head and then the console, coiling it into a loop around her fingers before stuffing it in her harness.

Raziel told her where to look. Despite her novice skills in cyberspace, his instructions led her straight to where someone had left a stack of data tiles. The hacker who stashed it there has to be fuming. Information like that would’ve been worth six times what they paid Denmark for the bomb to the right parties. Data proving a supposedly civilian research station concealed a military weapons lab would make someone very rich—or very dead.

She lifted her boots off the console, swung her legs ninety degrees to the right, then stood. A few feet behind the driver’s seat, a four-step stairwell led down to an armored hatch that offered access to the outside. A green light shone over the door, signaling breathable air. Risa rested her palm on the button. Atmo-seal broke with a loud hiss. The door extended outward, then swung down to form a ramp between the front and middle wheels. The prowler’s massive tires, nine feet tall and four feet wide, blocked her view until she took a few steps closer to the edge of the overhang and squatted. Fading sunlight glinted in harsh tones of orange along a cluster of drop-pod buildings congregating in the gorge below. From her vantage point, the temporary structures resembled a child’s attempt to make a model village from plastic take-out food boxes. A length of snapped cable dangled from a ring mount at the corner of one pod. The corner of the pod appeared lightly damaged and scuffed. The UCF didn’t usually allow anyone to be inside drop pods during transport, but the ACC tried to save money wherever possible. Why pay for separate personnel shuttles when they could load their people in the pods?

I wonder how many people died when they botched the drop.

A wave of nausea crept through her stomach. How many are going to die because of us? Risa flattened herself out on the ground and crawled to the edge. Pain pressed into her hip as she slid forward, the slow, sharp drag of a stone unmuted by the impact-hardening gel in her armored bodysuit.

Pavo crouched at a distance safe from prying eyes. How does it look?

Not as good as your view of my ass. She lifted her hips enough to swat the bothersome rock aside. This isn’t a military camp. I see only six guards with small weapons.

Not to bring up a stupid point, but if you had doubts like this… it’s a bit late to mention them.

She suppressed a sigh. "I have to be sure before we do it. I… We don’t kill civilians."

This is Mars, Risa. Everything’s below the surface. You never see the whole picture of anything until you dig way underground.

Risa grumbled.

He crawled on his elbows to the ledge, holding binoculars. Risa intensified the zoom mode of her electronic eyes. Lines of green spread through darkness before a magnified image rendered in. Forty meters below the ridge, workers in plain maroon jumpsuits marched antlike from the rightmost pod building, dispersing among the other structures. From the looks of the windblown regolith built up around the legs, the temporary buildings had been in place for quite some time.

She zoomed in more, sweeping her gaze back and forth as she studied anyone in view. I don’t see rank insignia. This doesn’t feel right.

"You know most people are afraid of the dark." He held the binoculars out to her. A moment later when she didn’t take them, he glanced over.

She smirked, waiting for him to notice the purple glow shining from the electronic irises in her shiny, silver eyes.

Oh, Right. He peered through the binoculars again at the compound below. The intel you found pegged this place as a weapons facility.

I don’t kill civilians, even Corporates. We are trying to save them from their government, not hurt them. She slid away from the edge with a contemptuous shove.

He kept watching. There’s no way all those people are coming out of that little pod. The facility is definitely underground. I bet their bunks are in the long module over there. Most of them will survive, though they might go rolling. He lowered the viewer.

She stared at nothing, her face a mask of guilt.

Pavo gestured with the binoculars at the camp. "They’re developing unconventional weapons the ACC will use against civilians. If I have to kill a couple of sociopaths in lab coats to prevent militarized nanobots from causing the horrible deaths of innocent settlers and their families, I will. You saw the file, right?"

Risa shuddered, thinking of her father’s face engulfed by fire. The memory had tortured her for years; the idea of an entire settlement reduced to bones atop puddles of slime made the idea of what she had to do easier to accept. Yeah. Flesh degenerating nanobots.

Who would you rather see dead? People who’d make a weapon like that, or a bunch of settlers’ kids who have no idea why they’re liquefying?

Fuck’s sake, Pavo. All right, all right.

She rolled onto her back, gazing up at the fluttering interface of starry space and breathable air. When the sun vanished over the horizon, Pavo leaned into her vision, hand extended. She grasped it.

Besides, your angel helped us. He was right about the air, so they must deserve it. He pulled her upright, but didn’t let go for a moment. You okay?

Armpits made a poor place to conceal trembling hands. I’ll be okay once we get moving, it’s the waiting… the quiet. She looked off to one side for a few breaths, then approached to the start of a footpath she’d spotted on the ride in.

He’s mocking me. Must think I’m Cat-6. Heck, I probably look it. Sullen, hair wild in the wind, kicking at rocks like a frightened kid. She concentrated on metered breathing. This isn’t fear. It’s guilt. How can I feel guilt for something I haven’t done yet?

Pavo gathered the explosive and followed, seeming to find every inopportune stone and patch of soft dust on the way down. She cringed at each grunt, scrape, or muttered oath, expecting three hundred pounds of man-bomb to come barreling down on her.

You’re as graceful as a Cydonian crab.

He bumped into her sudden halt. "Considering those things are the size of hovercars, they are graceful. You’re more than welcome to carry this thing if I’m being too noisy, princess."

Electronics in her artificial eyes peeled away the darkness—brick-red ground became gradient green, weak searchlights flared into blinding orbs. At the bottom of the path, she crouched against a three-foot-high rock, waiting, watching. As soon as the expected sentry passed, she darted from cover in four silent strides to the largest drop building. Augmented hearing alerted her of approaching boots; a guard rounded the corner a second and a half after Myofiber boosters in her legs launched her straight up, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a bewildered guard. She flipped over him, hanging upside-down for a few stretched seconds, mere inches from his head, and landed without a noise behind him. Before he could take another step, she pounced, muffling his scream with a hand over his mouth as her canine teeth extended with a motorized whirr that echoed through her skull.

She bit down on the side of his neck, injecting venom by mental command. The metallic taste of blood brushed her tongue; repulsive as it was, she held on as the struggling man pulled a pistol from his belt. His weapon slipped from his unresponsive fingers as soon as it cleared the holster. Risa guided the inert man to the ground and spat, a thin trickle of crimson running down her paper-white chin. Pavo shuffled across the clearing when the spotlight abandoned it, arriving as she rolled the guard under the elevated pod.

He lifted an eyebrow. Tranq?

Yeah. I try not to load my teeth with neurotoxin. Risa scooted into the two-foot gap between the bottom of the portable building and the ground.

You know, most people use a spitting cobra for that. Less intimate. He held up one finger. Or a shock prong.

Spitting cobra? She glared, clenching her jaw at the high-pitched vibration in her skull from the fangs retracting. "That’s worse. I don’t want to kiss them."

Pavo sighed. Oh, and biting them on the neck is much less personal.

She crawled past the sleeping guard to a maintenance hatch embedded in the ground.

This is it. Her claws brushed away bolts as easily as if she dusted away loose pebbles.

After giving him a little scowl, she opened the hatch and peered in at a polished plastisteel surface glinting silver from several weak lights. Her eyes calculated the distance to the subterranean floor at forty feet. It would make for a stiff landing, but the Myofiber assists in her legs that boosted her agility would also absorb the fall.

No ladder, said Pavo. Must be an emergency vent. We’ll have to look for—

Risa glanced at him again and jumped. Ten feet of smooth metal ductwork shot by in a blink; after a short free fall, she landed in a three-point stance inside a large storage area.

Pavo’s voice crackled with static in her head. A little copy of his face appeared floating in the top-left of her field of vision.

She panned over tarp-covered cargo boxes and canisters. Something moved in the dark. She froze stock still, watching.

Grey metal panels lifted, expanded outward, and rotated amid the whine of actuators. One of the giant cargo boxes reconfigured itself from an eight-foot cube into a towering humanoid robot. Glowing red eyes glared down at her from ten feet off the ground. Shit. Combat bot. Heavily armored. It snarled, a demonic, digital rasp like two slabs of metal scraping over each other. This thing went well beyond augmentation. It had never been human. If some sick bastard installed a living brain in it, the sensitive organ would be protected by at least an inch of armor.

Risa sighed.

3

Machine Panic

Darkness provided a sense of security Risa had grown to trust. No sooner had she landed in the room than the primal part of her mind that had kept her alive as a child kicked in. The construct of plastisteel and menace stared down at her. A military model would surely have thermal vision. A faint tremble rattled her limbs. Not since her first night alone in a vent with the scent of burned innocence in her lungs had she felt afraid in the dark.

For an instant, she heard her father screaming.

Her muscles tensed, waiting. The sentry bot raised one massive metal limb, two doors on the forearm snapped open as a cannon mechanism popped up and extended its barrel.

Heat traced lines through her muscles as speedware boosted her perception, agility, and reaction time past the edge of human potential. She sprinted to the side, inches ahead of a pulse of laser blasts that melted spots into the storage room floor. The bot ceased firing as she dove into a somersault between a stack of cargo boxes and slammed to a halt with her back against cold metal.

Heavy clonks reverberated across the chamber as the great war machine maneuvered in a circle, searching for an unobstructed line of sight on her. The hazy grey ghosts of shipping containers surrounding her shimmered into view briefly in time with each metal footstep, her Wraith translating the vibration into vision. She clung to the hope a large war bot would not have significant speedware. Heavy hitters usually didn’t. Combat models of that size relied on armor and strength. Out in the open, its targeting computers could tag her no matter how fast she went in a straight line. Staying in close quarters, with plenty of boxes to hide behind, would be her only chance, especially since her laser pistols likely lacked the power to penetrate military grade armor.

Risa shut her eyes to focus on the grey-on-black world fed to her senses by platinum wires. Motion illuminated a hulking phantasm. The vague approximation of the bot’s outline, estimated by acoustic resonance, drifted among unmoving cuboids. She kept low and scurried on all fours behind cargo boxes, circling to the side in an attempt to get behind it.

It pointed its arm at the container in front of her.

Shit! It can see me.

She leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding a beam of orange light searing through her former hiding place. Wires in her arms and legs burned; her muscles screamed. Her dive landed in a roll that became a run. The already lumbering cyborg slowed further to her accelerated perception. Two more blasts left glowing