Sample From Chapter 17 - "Mars"

The troopers moved in single file to the hatch of the drop-ship and quickly found their places. Trenchard and Bird sat near the front behind Hedges, Skelat and the two pilots. Lorna, Hap and the others were close by. They strapped in and listened to the pilots talking to flight control over the radio.

‘Hand of Valour control this is delta sierra two-five-niner requesting clearance for launch. Over.’

There was a crackle of static and then the controller’s voice answered back.

‘Delta sierra two-five-niner this is control. Clearance granted for runway one four. Go on green and follow beacon to Camp Whitley landing strip. Be prepared to queue for landing. It’s very busy down there today. Clear skies and calm sailing. Control out.’

Technology had advanced considerably since Trenchard had first left Earth from Berlin aboard the rocket boosted orbiter. The drop-ship they were travelling in was an all in one, re-usable shuttle, capable of flying into a high altitude and then boosting itself to escape velocity without the need for massive rocket engines. The descent to a planet’s surface was merely a matter of dropping in a controlled manner. The belly of the drop-ship was covered in a micro thin coating of a heat resistant substance that worked in a similar way to the thick tiles on the orbiter. It made troop deployment much simpler and infinitely faster.

Trenchard felt a sudden lurch as the jet engines of the drop-ship fired up and it hovered away from its holding station towards runway fourteen, like a Harrier jump-jet on four large engines. He watched the lights of runway fourteen flash in a pattern going away from the drop-ship and towards the gaping mouth of the hangar bay. The vehicle in front was given the green light and it ramped up its engines to full as they twisted from vertical to horizontal and blasted the drop-ship through the magnetic field and out into space. Their vessel now lurched forwards into position and waited for go. Trenchard suddenly had a thought and turned around.

‘Hey, Crichton! Have you taken your pills?’ he called.

Sickbag gave a confident thumbs-up.

Suddenly the drop-ship revved its engines and Trenchard saw that the runway light had changed to amber. He gritted his teeth as the light changed from amber to green and the drop-ship lurched forwards, pressing all the troopers back into their seats. As the craft shot out of the gravity envelope inside the Hand of Valour and into open space, Trenchard could feel gravity suddenly disappear and the strange, sickening sensation of weightlessness take over. He heard a shout and turned to see where the noise was coming from. He should have known it would be Hap.

‘Whoooooeeeeeee!’ Hap yelled at the top of his lungs. ‘I never get tired of that!’

The drop-ship now barrelled in space and the disc of Mars came into view from the bottom of the cockpit window. The red planet had begun to take on a distinct brown and green hue. The atmosphere processing was by no means complete, but the planet was much more habitable than before. The ice caps had begun to melt, releasing water. Vegetation had started to grow. The atmosphere had a sickly, purplish-blue haze to it, but it had fluffy white clouds and distinct weather patterns. There were still huge barren wastelands, deserts of rock and dust where no life survived. Every now and then huge dust storms would engulf the planet for days at a time. Mars still had a long way to go.

In front of the drop-ship, Trenchard could see hundreds of other small craft. Each was gradually adjusting its flight path to follow the same line down towards the planet’s surface. As the drop-ship grew nearer to Mars, the thin atmosphere began to buffet the tiny craft with turbulence. Mars now completely engulfed the view out of the forward window. The light inside the drop-ship became tinged purple. The huge magnetic field generator satellite could be seen in fixed orbit above the north pole, protecting the atmosphere from the erosion of the solar wind. Ahead, Trenchard could see a large city, the only one on Mars. It had been named after a lesser known Celtic god that was equivalent to the Roman god of war, after which the planet had originally been named and inscriptions of which had been found all along Hadrian’s great wall.

Belatu-Cadros sprawled across the view under the shadow of Olympus Mons, an extinct volcano fourteen miles high. The heart of the city was a collection of concrete structures, built to withstand the fierce dust storms. These petered out towards the edges of the city into shanty like buildings of metal and plastic. The tarmac roads in the centre of town gave way to dusty tracks as they left the city. Even the street lighting stopped at the city limits.

‘What a shit hole!’ cried out Hap, voicing what was inside most of the trooper’s heads.

‘Don’t be fooled by appearances,’ said Skelat darkly. ‘That “shit hole” has a population of nearly five hundred thousand. Most of the buildings are tunnelled deep underground to avoid the storms and in the early days, to avoid the poor atmosphere. The first settlers spent most of their lives underground. Even now there are those who prefer not to come up to the surface. Martians are tough bastards, bred from tough bastards. Pay them respect and never turn your back on one of them.’

As with all conflicts through history, a certain amount of racism and prejudice had developed between those who were born on Mars and those who were merely visitors. There was an uncomfortable silence that was eventually broken by Hap once more.

‘So, these three Martians walk into a bar…’ he began.

Skelat gave him a hard stare. ‘Knock that off, Hazard!’ he growled. ‘Or you’ll be the first trooper to go into battle with my size ten sticking out of your arse!’

The rest of the journey continued in pensive silence, broken only by the chattering of the pilots. After a while the drop-ship veered off to the east of the great city towards a settlement of obviously newer buildings that were surrounded by high concrete walls and a razor wire fence. Along the centre of the settlement was a long runway which drop-ship after drop-ship was landing on and then taxiing to one side.

‘There we are ladies,’ said Skelat. ‘Camp Whitley; your home for the foreseeable future. It ain’t much, but it’s the safest place on Mars.’

The huge naval base of Camp Whitley was built on the edge of the flat plain that stretched from the bottom of Olympus Mons towards a huge drop off into a deep canyon. One day, when the melt waters rose up, the military base would be on the edge of a wide bay leading to a vast ocean. Backing onto the canyon as it did, meant that the camp had only to be defended on three sides. This gave it a perfect tactical placing to police the nearby city.

The drop-ship now banked sharply and descended towards the runway. It came to a gentle hovering rest over the runway and then peeled off to one side before landing in a bay designated by flight crew waving luminous batons. Skelat was the first out of his seat and stood before the troops.

‘You’d better be ready for this,’ he shouted. ‘The gravity is lower than you’re used to, which will make moving around easier, but this is balanced by the lack of oxygen. Breathing on Mars is like being on the top of a tall mountain on Earth. The air is thin and is only just survivable by humans at this point. There is also a substantial amount of fine dust in the air. If you find your breathing is becoming laboured, use your masks. That is what they are there for.’

Skelat indicated a facemask that was strapped under his chin and attached to a small bottle on his webbing.

‘The mask will slide under your chin guard and filter out dust. If you require a boost of extra oxygen, simply press the button on top of the bottle.’

Skelat put his mask on and demonstrated.

‘First sign of a headache, use the oxygen and take on water. I don’t want any of you collapsing with altitude sickness. Exit the vehicle as quickly as possible so that the pilots can manoeuvre for take-off again,’ he said in a voice now muffled by the mask. ‘Form two lines outside and I’ll find out where we are bunking. Move it, move it!’

Skelat operated the hatch mechanism and as the hatch opened, a howling wind whistled through the gap. The interior of the drop-ship was instantly filled with a smog of fine brown dust particles. Immediately every trooper dropped their visor over their eyes and rushed to fasten their dust mask in place. Quickly they exited and formed lines outside. Walking on Mars felt to Trenchard a little like walking on a trampoline or through water in a swimming pool. His legs moved more easily, but it took longer than usual for his feet to hit the floor.

‘The low grav makes thing a bit easier, doesn’t it?’ he yelled to Bird over the howling wind.

‘I suppose,’ Bird replied. ‘But this freaking atmosphere is going to take some getting used to. I’m already out of breath.’

Skelat exchanged a few words with a nearby trooper who was holing a tablet computer and checking off the arrivals. Then he moved to the front of the platoon.

‘This way ladies,’ he shouted. ‘Let’s get you girls settled into your bunks.’

Then Skelat and Hedges led the wheezing and coughing troops across the tarmac towards the welcoming sight of distant sturdy metal huts.