Raider’S War

By John M. House

An archeologist team that is part of Earths colony on Mars goes missing. Sergeant John Raider, a colonial brigade scout section leader, cannot find them. Shortly afterward, a mining team has an apparent accident in the asteroid belt that kills all but one miner. No one believes the rescued survivors story of an alien attack. Within a matter of days, aliens attack and abduct several scientists from an outpost on the planet. Sergeant Raider and his scout team are nearby, and the battle for humanity begins in earnest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512779509

John M. House

John House is a retired army colonel and part-time university instructor. He has written two nonfiction books on military topics and over three hundred opinion columns and articles. John and his wife, Marilyn, live in Midland, Georgia, and they spend their time helping several nonprofit groups and visiting children and grandchildren.

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Copyright © 2017 John M. House.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5127-7951-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7952-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-7950-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017904154

WestBow Press rev. date: 03/27/2017

CONTENTS

Chapter 1. A Morning On Mars

Chapter 2. The Asteroids

Chapter 3. The Rescue

Chapter 4. The Outpost

Chapter 5. Raider Payback

Chapter 6. Interception

Chapter 7. Meanwhile, Back On Mars

Chapter 8. Prisoners

Chapter 9. Another Colony

Chapter 10. The Moon Strikes Back

Chapter 11. The Approach

Chapter 12. The Invasion Begins

Chapter 13. Battle Joined

Chapter 14. Raider’s Move

Chapter 15. Battle Goes On

Chapter 16. Lawaan’s Surprise

Chapter 17. Prisoners Break For Freedom

Chapter 18. Death In The Tunnels

Chapter 19. Final Act On Mars

Chapter 20. Aftermath

Chapter 21. Recovery

Appendix A. The Earth Coalition

Appendix B. Canis And The Canisians

Appendix C. Characters

Chapter 1

A MORNING ON MARS

T HE ARCHEOLOGIST WAS DETERMINED to find evidence of life on Mars. Ever since he had been a kid, he had always looked for some indication of extraterrestrial life in the ancient civilizations on Earth, like the Mayans or the Egyptians. He had to be careful where he made his true feelings known because few respected scientists shared his belief. You might see a special on some television station, but no one published serious work that claimed Earth’s ancestors came from another planet. Nonetheless, he still believed. He felt led to join the colony on Mars to fulfill a lifelong dream to prove that humans were not alone in the universe and owed their heritage to beings from another world.

Thanks to this dream, Dr. Rusty Flack found himself in a small open-air wheeled carrier scooting across a desolate landscape on Mars. The carrier kicked up a plume of lightweight dust almost twenty feet high. He was just glad that he wasn’t following anyone, because the red dust would have covered him from head to toe. He and his assistant, Miles Jones, managed to sit just forward of the majority of the flying sand, so they wouldn’t eat too much dust until they stopped. Terraforming had thickened the atmosphere, but not enough so that anyone could walk around with no life support system for very long. They’d still be able to breathe in the dust thanks to their masks, but seeing more than a few feet would be difficult.

Flack smiled to himself as he and Jones sped toward the caves recently reported by a survey crew out to add more detail to the maps of the planet. Caves could be nothing more than natural rock formations, but they also might be more. If the climate had started to go bad many years in the past, an advanced civilization might have sought shelter underground. Caves could be an entrance … if, if, if. That was always the problem, Flack thought. Believing and proving were different sides of the same coin.

*      *      *

Today was like any other day in the Alliance Colonial Army on Mars. The soldiers ran patrols in order to keep busy. There was no enemy to fight. Most people had long ago given up on any thought of a dying race on Mars. A few archeologists still poked around caves looking for signs that some sort of civilization had preceded man’s arrival on the fourth planet of the solar system. Most scientists looked for some evidence of life that had disappeared or never matured. Sergeant John Raider and his scout section were trailing the archeologist named Flack by about two hours. This was boring duty, but at least it got them out of the dome and a day of classroom training on the metamorphosis of terraforming or some such subject.

Soldiers had too much time on their hands, and the government had finally realized that. Everyone in the brigade expected orders soon to inactivate some of the units. With peace in most places on Earth and no one to fight in the solar system, the budget cutters had their knives out. The scuttlebutt was that 50 percent of the brigade on Mars might simply cease to exist soon. Finding a job would be a problem then, especially if ex-soldiers couldn’t get a ride back to Earth. No one wanted to be a janitor on Mars. The pay might be decent, but who would want to sweep floors?

Stay alert! ordered Sergeant Raider. The sergeant wore his hair trimmed so short that it was difficult to tell that it was brown. His dark blue eyes were sometimes hard to read. Hours outside in the bright sun had tanned Raider’s face and hands to the point of them looking like leather. Years of physical training kept him in good physical condition. He was still sure he could take anyone in the squad or platoon in any combative competition that might be held.

Okay, Sergeant, responded Private Chuck Smith, known as Smitty, a one-year veteran of Mars duty. Corporal Stephen Klingenfelt, known by his friends as Kling, was the assistant patrol leader. He had spent a year on the moon and then transferred to Mars a year ago. Privates Robert Mafen and Walter Lamack had been on Mars for about six months.

The scout car was actually a six-wheeled light armored personnel carrier. It carried a plasma cannon in a top-mounted turret and had missile racks for two surface-to-air missiles (SAMs) and two surface-to-surface missiles (SSMs). Storage inside could raise the total SAM and SSM count to six each, but this patrol was using most of the space to carry extra food, water, and fuel. They were much more apt to have to rescue a lost scientist or extend their patrol to check out a new rock formation rather than fight a war. They only had one extra missile of each type.

The scout car cruised down the desert track at a steady twenty-five miles per hour. The dust billowing up behind it left a trail visible for miles. Speeds up to sixty miles per hour were possible, but speed wasted fuel, and that reduced the ability to observe the surrounding area on a long patrol. Round-the-clock movement was possible by using headlights, thermal imagers, and light-amplifying vision blocks. Onboard positioning devices relied on a combination of satellite signals and gyroscope sensors to provide a constant update on location. The scout car was a formidable combat vehicle, had there been any combat.

The pressurized cabin provided Earth-like comfort. Even though terraforming had made a major improvement in the Martian climate, the temperature extremes and occasional raging wind and dust storms made the inside of a scout car or any other vehicle a welcomed refuge. The planet atmospheric oxygen level was not adequate to sustain human life without an oxygen respirator as part of the standard equipment for anyone working outside the protected environment of a habitation dome.

Why are we chasing this guy? asked Mafen over the vehicle intercom system. Corporal Klingenfelt just shook his head and looked at Mafen as he would a poor demented soul who did not understand reality.

Mafen, have you been in the army longer than a day? We’re chasing this genius because he’s a genius and we’re not, said Klingenfelt with a somber expression. The colonel told the lieutenant colonel. The lieutenant colonel told the major. The major told the captain, who told the lieutenant, who told Sergeant Raider, who told us. That’s why we’re here. Somebody told somebody, and the lousy jobs roll downhill until the bottom. That’s us … the bottom. We are the bottom of the universe. Without us, the planet might just slide off into nothingness, taking us with it.

Mafen opened his mouth to speak and thought better of it. Lamack was struggling to hide a smile. Klingenfelt smiled and grabbed a handhold along the edge of the roof to pull up so he could stick his head into the rear observation blister and look around. Mafen sat back with his arms folded, shaking his head. Mafen’s dark hair and brown eyes made him look thoughtful and warm to other people. Lamack’s straw-colored hair and green eyes hinted at his mischievous nature that kept people laughing and made him fun to know.

Raider looked out the cannon turret toward the rear blister and smiled. Klingenfelt returned the smile and gave Raider a thumbs-up. Raider grinned. He had a good crew. He didn’t think this mission was much to brag about, but at least it was something to do.

*      *      *

After what seemed like an eternity of monotonous red-colored landscape, Flack saw the cliff formation he wanted to explore and pointed toward the previously surveyed cave openings. An aerial reconnaissance drone had spotted the caves, but no one had actually visited them yet. Flack and Jones would be the first. Jones simply nodded as Flack excitedly gestured in the direction of the cliff side. Many hours shepherding scientists around the Martian surface made handling the small carrier easy for Jones. He made a gradual turn because he knew that sometimes a hard turn would break through a crusty surface and drop an unsuspecting group into a pit of soft sand that could be hard to escape. He also began to drop his speed slowly in order to decrease the following sand plume and reduce the mass that would cascade over Flack and him when he stopped.

Flack pointed to a flat spot near a large opening in the face of the cliff. Jones and the carrier seemed almost to glide into position and stop. A last-minute turn into position resulted in most of the cloud of sand billowing against the cliff instead of engulfing the scientist and driver. The fine sand looked like reddish water splashing against the cliff face. Some of the particles fell to the surface, while much of the sand seemed to float away as if it were a mist burning off on a hot morning on Earth.

While Jones was still shutting down the carrier engine, Flack unbuckled his seat belt and hopped out of his seat. Without a moment’s hesitation or interest in Jones or the vehicle, Flack quickly walked into the cave, intent on finding whatever was there. About twenty-five feet in, the tunnel turned to the right and narrowed, forcing Flack to duck his head. He paused at that point for just a moment to let Jones catch up, carrying a small backpack with tools and a larger light. Flack traded lights and pressed forward.

There has to be something here, Flack thought as he rushed through the cave with one hand along the tunnel wall while he continued his impatient pace. The darkness outside the beam of his light was disconcerting but expected. After all, he was in a cave. Visions of fame and justification of a professional career risked by believing in the impossible flashed through his head.

After a few more minutes of hurriedly but carefully walking through the tunnel as it made small turns left and right, Flack and Jones suddenly found themselves in a much larger cavern. Flack quickly stopped so that Jones bumped into his back, thanks to having his head down.

Watch where you’re going, whispered Flack to Jones.

Jones mumbled, Sorry. He then caught himself before he said more.

Why are you whispering? asked Jones. Not really waiting for an answer, Jones slowly began to move his flashlight beam around the cavern, not looking for anything special, just looking.

Flack glanced at Jones and opened his mouth to speak. He stopped before he said anything as he noticed Jones looking around the cavern. Smiling to himself with the satisfaction of someone who is convinced he knows what’s on people’s minds, Flack turned back to the cavern and played his light against the far wall.

This easily could have been a meeting place for an ancient race, said Flack.

With one eyebrow raised askance, Jones replied, Really? It looks like a naturally formed cavern to me. I don’t see anything to indicate that this—

Stop! yelled Flack.

Jones stopped talking with his mouth open and looked in the direction Flack’s light was pointed. He could see a shape but not quite make it out.

That’s a spacecraft, said Flack in a puzzled tone. How can that be here?

Flack glanced back at Jones, who could only shrug his shoulders while staring at the strange and obviously alien craft.

Both men slowly walked toward the object, keeping their lights focused on the strange sight. Neither spoke as they neared the craft.

Flack tentatively reached out and touched the black surface, then snatched his hand back in surprise. It’s vibrating, he whispered.

*      *      *

Wind’s picking up, announced Klingenfelt matter-of-factly.

Yep, agreed Sergeant Raider. It looks like we have some sort of windstorm brewing ahead. The terraforming has made a mess with the weather on this rock. We’re not going to be able to see squat soon.

Klingenfelt nodded his head and spoke into his headset intercom. Smitty, did you hear that?

Smitty pushed the gum he was chewing into the side of his mouth and said, Got it. GPS sensor is already on. I can still navigate as long as you know where you want to go.

The global positioning satellite (GPS) suite put in place a few years before was critical to navigation on the planet. Some terrain simply lacked features, but the need to map the planet in detail to enable navigation was still ongoing. GPS signals allowed almost anyone to be able to make his way around the planet. The featureless nature of much of the surface made navigation difficult until the satellites were set in orbit with additional ground-based relay towers and survey markers to help.

Roger, answered Raider, indicating that he understood Smitty’s comments. Keep up the speed until the storm hits.

Wilco, answered Smitty. His response showed that he understood the instructions and would comply with them.

Raider and his scout section pushed ahead, trying to catch up to Flack and Jones, not knowing of their discovery.

*      *      *

How can it be vibrating? asked Jones.

Flack turned and looked at Jones, shrugging his shoulders.

A low hum sounded as a door opened with a faint glow. Flack and Jones jumped back with their mouths hanging open, both afraid to speak.

*      *      *

The wind was starting to pick up now. Raider’s scout car would drift a little to the left as blasts of wind hit it. Smitty calmly corrected for any slide and brought the sturdy machine back on its path toward the scientist and his assistant.

Smitty, can’t you keep this thing pointed in one direction? asked Mafen over the scout vehicle intercom.

Smitty laughed and chided Mafen. What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever surfed?

I came to Mars to get away from water. Why would I want to surf on sand? answered Mafen.

Even while listening to the friendly banter, Raider was watching the location readout. They were getting close. Raider decided to try radio contact.

Flack, this is Legion Scout Three. Over. Silence greeted this first call.

Flack, this is Legion Scout Three. Over. After waiting for a few seconds with no answer, Raider then announced to the scout section over the intercom, No answer from Dr. Flack. I’m going to head toward the last reported location on the vehicle tracker. Then we’ll look around.

No one responded, and no comments were expected. Visibility was virtually zero now as the scout section plowed through the sand storm toward Flack and Jones. The scouts all grew quiet as the wind buffeted the scout car. As long as they could move, they knew they were okay. A key military tactical requirement was never to lose the ability to maneuver. If that ever happened, they would feel trapped.

After about twenty minutes of driving almost blindly, the wind started to slack off and Smitty could see out the front window a little. He was happy because the strain of staring at a scope and trusting that to keep him out of an unexpected hole was nerve-racking. Sergeant Raider noticeably relaxed too. He had not wanted to show it, but navigating without being able to see anything worked on his nerves as well.

Smitty, angle about forty-five degrees to the right. The map shows some cliffs in that direction, and I remember somebody saying Dr. Flack was looking for caves, said Raider.

Smitty replied, Wilco. He turned in that direction, and within a few minutes, the wind stopped and the soldiers could see the cliffs ahead, as well as several caves. As they came closer, Smitty slowed their speed so he could stop without a jolt.

Halt, directed Raider. He then told the section, This is the last position recorded for Flack and Jones. Where are they?

Raider and the rest of his team peered through their side windows and could see no sign of Flack, Jones, or their carrier. The civilian vehicle was no longer transmitting a location either. Puzzled, Raider said, All right, you knuckleheads. Dismount. Let’s look for this lost sheep. Smitty, stay in the vehicle. Monitor the radio and GPS locator. Move it, meatheads. We’re losing time.

Klingenfelt, Mafen, and Lamack scrambled out the personnel hatch at the rear of the scout car. Raider and Mafen moved into the closest cave, while Klingenfelt and Lamack moved down the side of the cliff to a smaller opening. Neither team could find any evidence of the archeologists. Every cave they explored ended no more than fifty feet into the cliff. Several showed signs of recent collapse. None showed any sign of human activity. After an hour of fruitless searching, Raider assembled his section again.

I see no sign of Flack and Jones, announced Raider. The rest of the team nodded their heads in agreement. All looked uneasy. They had been on babysitting missions like this before but had never found anything. A few times, there had been evidence of the lost person or group falling into an unseen hole or even driving off a cliff in the dark. Once they even found evidence of a suicide, but they had never found any sign of activity.

Raider looked solemn as he crawled inside the scout car. Taking a seat along the inside wall, Raider pulled back his helmet, picked up a radio microphone, sighed, and reported, Legion TOC, this is Legion Scout Three. Over.

Scout 3, this is Legion TOC, came over the speaker.

Legion TOC, Scout 3. No sign of science party. We’re at the last reported location where they stopped. There’s no sign of them personally or their vehicle. I have no response to calls to them and no locator signal either.

Sunset was coming quickly. Moving around in the dark was certainly possible but added an element of risk not previously there. Driving in a sandstorm in the dark was especially dangerous and always a possibility until the terraforming included true weather control as on Earth.

This is Legion TOC. Roger. No contact from here either. Wait. Out.

What’s this ‘wait’ and ‘out’ stuff? asked Lamack.

With a look of pity for the ignorant, Raider replied, Well, Private, since you’re clearly a military genius, do you think you have all the answers?

Lamack quickly decided that discretion was wise and did not answer. Raider looked at him for a moment and then grinned as you would expect a lion to look just as he was about to attack a rabbit. I thought you might realize that you don’t know quite everything and sometimes we need to give headquarters a chance to come to a smart conclusion. While we wait, why don’t you and your fearless companion, Private Mafen, set up the ration heater? I think we’re going to be here overnight.

Yes, Sergeant, answered the two privates meekly as they started pulling out the ration warmer. This was not proving to be a quick and easy trip.

Legion Scout Three, this is Legion TOC. Over, blared over the radio.

Raider smiled and picked up the microphone. This is Legion Scout Three. Over.

Scout Three, this is Legion TOC. Best if you remain overnight in location. Make radio checks with this station every three hours. Attempt contact with the science party every hour. Report results. We’ll try something else tomorrow. Over.

Raider nodded to himself and answered, Wilco. Out.

The scout section started to settle in now with a robotic patrol for ground security and an unmanned aerial system overhead. There wasn’t anything to see. No one had noticed the brief flash of light during the earlier sandstorm.

In the morning, the scouts looked around the cliff but found nothing. The side of the cliff had collapsed, and the blowing sand had covered any tracks. There was nothing to do but return to base.

Chapter 2

THE ASTEROIDS

J ACK, SHUT UP! YELLED Sid Boreman, the crusty mining crew boss on the Morning Star . Jack, you talk too much. Can’t you just be quiet long enough for the rest of us to listen to the news on the radio? Sid had been running mining operations in the fringe of the asteroid belt surrounding Mars for almost five years after learning how to mine for precious stones on the job for fifteen years on Earth. His tough demeanor was evident physically and in his language and treatment of others. Accidents had broken his left arm twice, leaving it with a permanent crook. Prominent veins coursed his face and hands, where decompression and cold had damaged his skin. The red veins in his face betrayed a life of hard drinking to battle the loneliness and fear of dying alone on a cold rock flying through space.

I was just trying to pass the time, Sid, pleaded Jack.

I don’t care. Shut up!

Jack stopped humming. The rest of the crew members were trying to sleep or listen to the news, the same as Sid wanted to do. Jack’s nervous energy on this first mission had resulted in an endless torrent of humming interspersed with bouts of talking to himself. His incessant and seemingly pointless production of noise was grating on the mining crew’s nerves.

Jack, you really need to learn when to shut up, said Steve Conder, a geology student before becoming a miner. His three previous trips to the asteroid belt with Sid meant that Steve was a veteran. Steve shook his head in disgust while looking at Jack. His dusty blond hair fell over his blue eyes as he shook his head. Steve brushed his hair back with one hand. His eyes squinted into tiny slits while he thought about what to say next.

Leave Sid alone while he’s trying to figure out where he wants to put this thing. Grab a cup of coffee and anchor yourself over here. Talk to me, continued Steve.

Thanks, Steve, said Jack. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.

Jack, Solarium Mining has been mining asteroids out here for five years. How did you manage to show up now? asked Steve.

I was bored, started Jack. "I saw an announcement where Solarium was looking for single young men and women to join their mining operation. They promised adventure beyond our wildest dreams."

How much training time? asked Steve.

Three months on Earth, said Jack. Then we had a week on Orbiting Station Three. That’s the one just renamed as Omega Station. The stop was supposed to get us ready for the four-week trip to Mars.

Four weeks, huh? said Steve. It took me five.

I guess the ships just keep getting hotter, replied Jack. Without trips like this, we’d never have been able to start colonizing full speed.

Yeah, it’s still no picnic. But the trip is sure better than the first six-month-long ones, said Steve, while Jack nodded thoughtfully. The development of a nuclear-powered plasma engine has made a real difference in getting around the old vacuum.

The three months in the mines dirt side rounded out the training. I volunteered for asteroid mining because it looked exciting and really different, said Jack. I was tired of being plain old Jack Bennett.

A few seconds of silence passed as Jack stared at nothing. Steve eased back in his seat, studying Jack. He understood that desire for something different. After all, Steve gave up the quiet life of a student to join the dangerous life of an asteroid miner. The special camaraderie from being part of a team where each person depended on the other attracted Steve, Jack, and many others. The danger added to the adrenaline rush, and the pay made the work lucrative for someone with few attachments and time on his hands.

Well, Jack, said Steve. "I understand what you mean. With a crew of three plus six miners on the Morning Star, we depend on each other and need each other. Empty spots in the team are bad, so your joining us was a good thing. You just need to sit back, watch what’s going on, and be quiet. Sid can be a bit gruff, but he’s really a good boss. The unmanned sensors coasting ahead of us should give us an idea of where to look soon. Then you’ll have a chance to make some real money."

Steve’s eyebrows rose expectantly as Jack grinned.

Conder, Bennett. Report to the cargo bay. We have a hit, blared over the loudspeaker.

Steve and Jack looked up as they were summoned. Both glanced at each other and grinned. Steve said, "Looks like the robot found something. Remember to watch for the flashing light. It will help as a guide, but we’ll still have to do some looking to find the exact spot.

The Morning Star crew carefully guided the ship through the small rocks and