© 2024 Duleigh Lawrence-Townshend. All rights reserved. The author asserts the right to be identified as the author of this story for all portions. All characters are original. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. This story or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review or commentary.

Author's note: This story is written in Literary Past Tense.

This story was written for the 2024 Geek Pride Event. My previous Geek Pride entries are The Gate, an Anime Fanfiction, and Enchantress, an homage to Sir Terry Pratchett and his marvelous discworld.

This time I'm sharing my love of Classic Science Fiction. You know the stuff, not the Star Wars or Star Trek fairy tales, but science fiction, with genuine science built in. It's a space opera written in the form of those great science fiction stories we got in pulp magazines and radio dramas in the 40s and 50s. This is the stuff I grew up on. I suppose this would be called retro-future fiction. This is the third story of three stories, the first being Captain Scarlett Saves Mars! followed by Captain Scarlett vs The Scrapper

Captain Scarlett, Martian Envoy

Family Ties

Friends at Lagrange Point 3

December 16, 2162

Lake Jezero Crater, Mars

Lake Jezero was a lake of broken ice pieces. Just a few years ago, a small moon made of ice was dropped in this crater and shattered before it landed on a military base populated by the Eastern Bloc soldiers disguised as pirates. The ice reached up to five feet in depth in some places and here at the buried military base, the tops of several concrete shelters could be seen sticking above the ice, and one person with a tracked excavator was digging her way toward the shelters.

Eris Carmine-Rodriguez drove the little tracked excavator down the alley she constructed by digging out the chunks of ice then freezing a wall of ice with a flamethrower, preventing the ice from collapsing on her. She had just uncovered another Eastern Bloc treasure. Protected in a concrete shelter, the small ship was in perfect shape and Eris towed it out of the shelter with the excavator. She had connected hoisting straps to it and was headed back to the edge of the crater, where the road that angled up the side of the crater led her out of the crater and to her temporary facility. There she switched from the excavator to a scooter, a multi-use utility truck, and flew out over the crater. She landed the scooter behind her prize and connected the chain that was wrapped around her find to the hoisting hook of the scooter, then climbed back into the scooter and lifted.

It wasn't long before her prize was dangling below the scooter. A Western Alliance F-231 SpaceStreak, the fastest interceptor/fighter in the known universe. Her collection was getting bigger and bigger. She had two of the famous F-733's, an E model with no .50 caliber guns and an F model with factory installed dual 50 cals. She had an older F-303 before it was ruined for atmospheric flight, a FB-719 fighter/bomber... except for the F-231, these were all ships that fought at Venus Prime. What were these jerks doing?

She had sole permission to excavate the military base that the Eastern Bloc had built on Mars and so far she's uncovered many vehicles which are in a garage getting repaired and ready for sale, several eastern design scooters which were gutsy but built like battleships. They needed to be lightened up before they were useful. Along with the vehicles, she had tons of tools and other equipment. She also found emergency shelters that were full of soldiers that were crushed when the weak shelter they were in collapsed under the weight of the ice. With her excavator, Eris dug a huge trench in the ground and buried them. Her time with the Western Alliance Navy Berserkers gave her a respect for military people, especially these blokes that were led so poorly.

The Eastern Bloc had built a dozen bomb proof spacecraft shelters and so far each shelter had safely held a fighter spacecraft but no spacemen. It looks like the troops weren't allowed to shelter with the spacecraft when their world was ending. She had seven shelters and seven months to go before she had to evacuate the dig. That was ok, she had enough scrap metal, tools, electronics, vehicles, and plasticine 'lumber' to keep her busy for years. Everything else she gets out of that hole is 'gravy on the taters' as her gyrene husband would say.

The F-231 fascinated her. It was long, pointy, and nasty looking. It had a long nose and its tail was a gigantic exhaust for the N-52 engine, known as the Moon Buster. This machine was clearly designed to dip into the atmosphere because of its streamlined design and stub wing pylons. The pilot's front view screen conformed with the tubular body, and the aft canopy for the navigator was directly behind the pilot. The navigator had no windscreens; he had no view outside his cockpit. Two stub wing pylons with missile launchers and rocket exhausts at the tips stuck out at the middle of the long tube shaped body, and at the root of the pylons were two gaping maws which held the lasers and 20mm canons. Slug throwers were becoming quite popular since Commander White created the algorithm that linked the guns with the propulsion system to keep the ship stable and counteract recoil as the gun fired. She couldn't wait to get it back to the shop where she could tinker.

Slowly, she gained altitude, lifting the F-231 with her trusty scooter. Soon she was looking down at the crater. It was maybe a third filled with ice and from what she heard, the next solid ice moon that her brother-in-law was bringing would fill this crater to the brim with ice. Water for all of Mars for a century and more. Eris hauled the F-231 straight from the pit to her main shop and dropped it at the big air lock that closed around it. Then, going into the shop through the personnel access airlock, she opened the inner hanger door and there it was, gleaming in its anger. She hooked a tow bar to the front strut and pulled it into her main shop with a tracked excavator and the first thing she did after sealing the door was to copy down the ID number WA57-0002. Sitting down at her desk, Eris pulled off her gloves and fired up her computer terminal and logged into the Shipfinder's database, then typed in the serial number. The database returned the following information:

"F-733F. SPACECRAFT OWNED BY GOVERNMENT OF MARS. LOST AT THE BATTLE OF VENUS PRIME"

That confused Eris a lot. 'Spacecraft owned by the Government of Mars?' Mars doesn't own combat aircraft. And the battle of Venus Prime was fought in 2153. This ID number is for a spacecraft that was registered in 2157, the year that Alan Scarlett dropped a small moon on Mars. She went back to the F-231 and found the serial number 570204DG6058L9420002. She knows a bit about the serial numbers. The first six digits are the date it was completed. The DG means it was built by De Havilland Gulfstream, and the L means it was built in the Londonderry plant. 942 is her model number and the last four numbers are her series number that is used by the Western Alliance Navy as an ID number.

If this serial number is correct, this ship was completed in early February 2157 in a Western Alliance factory, painted and numbered for the Western Alliance Navy, registered to a neutral planet, and three months later it was buried under seven feet of ice in an Eastern Bloc military base on Mars. Eris punched the serial number into the data query and got the following result:

"F-733E. SPACECRAFT OWNED BY GOVERNMENT OF MARS. HEAVILY MODIFIED IN 2156. LOST AT THE BATTLE OF VENUS PRIME"

Even weirder, this data shows it was lost in 2155, rebuilt in 2156, and initially built in 2157. Somebody at the Shipfinder's database has a bizarre sense of humor. What is the Government of Mars doing with a military spacecraft? It looks like pirates or government sponsored pirates were stealing spacecraft and stashing them on Mars.

She logged her daily finds into the database she was required to keep, mostly so the President of Mars, Ray Clark, would know what she was digging up. That finished, she logged off and put on her helmet and locked up her shop, then got on her scooter and headed to the "water plant." The water plant was a building built by Scarlett Water Systems that provided water to the colonies of Mars. A large robotic arm scooped ice out of the crater, dropped it into a grinder that crushed it finer and a conveyer carried it miles across the Heinlein plain to Perseverance where it would be melted, filtered, tested then either bottled or added to the pipeline that provided water to the Martians.

There at the water plant she locked up her scooter, let the marine guard know that she was done for the day, and headed to the tube station; she needed to hurry, so she didn't miss her train home to Perseverance, the capital city of Mars.

The train stop at Lake Jezero was a flag stop. The train only stopped if you pressed a button at the station stop which notified the train that you wished to board. Eris stepped up to the station with plenty of oxygen to wait out two trains if she had to, and pressed the button. She sat down on a bench and headlines scrolled across her helmet visor for her to scan. Eventually, the story she was reading was blocked out by the words, "Your train approaches." Soon her train stopped and the doors on one of the rear car slid open. It was a commuter train, so the cars weren't pressurized as you got on, but there were oxygen lines and electronic lines to plug into your environment suit. Eventually, the train would decide that there are no more passengers for your car and your car would pressurize for the rest of the trip.

They blasted across the Heinlein plain and soon entered Perseverance and as the trains stopped, pressurized walkways pressed against the car exit doors, and you could enter the city. Once indoors, you could take off your environment suit and leave it in a rented locker. Most men and women who drop off their environment suit rarely wear more than sheer underwear and sometimes not even that, so it's not unusual to see a commuter on the moving sidewalks wearing nothing but tiny panties or their jockey shorts. Eris will occasionally do something like that to taunt her husband, Alex, but that's not very often.

She changed moving walks three times and soon was home. Their apartment was small, but the price was right. It was free, which really helps when your husband is an enlisted marine, and you make a living selling scrap metal. "Carmesí!" cried Alex, and he scooped Eris up in his arms and swung her around, finally setting her down with a long, sweet kiss.

"What's Carmesí?"

"Carmesí is captivating and full of allure, carmesí is the color that sets your heart ablaze lighting a fiery passion that cannot be ignored." He leaned her over backwards and gave her a kiss that almost made her drop her helmet, which could have caused hundreds of dollars of damage. "It is my new pet name for you."

"Ok, so what is carmesí?" asked Eris.

Alex put his arm around her shoulders and gestured off into the distance as if pointing out a spectacular sunrise. "Red."

"You're a nut, I love you. Help me out of this so I can go clean up." Alex helped her open the environment suit and soon she was naked, carrying her underwear and the environment suit's inner lining to the laundry. Eris was slim enough to be a Martian, but she and her twin sister Pandora were born on Luna to Earthling parents. Both Eris and Pandora were small girls, short with pale white skin and freckles, narrow waist with round hips and cute round asses. Both girls have small, firm breasts whose nipples were almost always erect.

The main visual difference between Eris and Pandora is their hair. Both have flame red hair, but Pandora lets her hair grow long and braids it, while Eris cuts her hair short, giving her the look of a pixie. As for their pubic thatch, both girls keep themselves shaved smooth with the help of their husbands. However, after three children, Pandora's breasts are larger. They're not larger by a lot. The man in her life doesn't think they're much larger, but Eris is burning with envy.

Eris ducked into the bathroom and checked their current water allotment. They were almost up to forty liters! Alex and Eris made a promise that when they hit fifty liters, they were going to take a shower together, a real one, a long hot soaking shower. She set the water temperature and climbed in the shower and turned the faucet on as she twirled around, then she shut it off. Eris scrubbed down with soap and a damp cloth, then rinsed off, then she checked their water allotment. She only used two liters; she's getting better.

"Hurry up and dress, we have company coming for dinner," called Alex from the kitchen.

"Ok, I'm drying my hair!" she called. A few moments later, she heard the doorbell ring, and she stepped out of the bedroom in a t-shirt and shorts. She answered the door while drying her hair with a towel and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole.

"You look so much like your sister," said the President of Mars as he handed her a bottle of wine.

"Mister Clark," she sputtered as she plotted to kill her husband.

"Please, it's Ray, but I prefer, Uncle Ray."

"I'm sorry I dressed like a slob, I didn't know," sputtered Eris.

"Please, I told Alex to avoid telling you because I hate big events and being gushed over. I'm just a guy who knows how to get things done, so they put me in charge, kinda like your brother-in-law."

Eris looked around the tiny apartment. It usually looked like Laundry Day in their house. Both she and Alex get bored with folding laundry quickly and they end up screwing instead of folding. But the apartment looked great. Alex clearly spent his day off folding laundry, cleaning, and cooking. Eris had to laugh at Ray's words. Her brother-in-law, Captain Alan Scarlett, was the most disorganized organizer she's ever met. He rarely disciplines his troops, and he lets them do what they feel is best, and somehow it works out in the end. "Alan has a method to his madness," she said.

"Whatever it is you're cooking smells incredible," said Ray.

"It's my favorite," said Alex. "My dad said this recipe came from earth and followed us to the stars. It's called Carnitas." He set out dishes and serving bowls of yellow rice, refried beans, and carnitas, broiled to perfection so the edges were crispy, and the rest of the meat was tender and juicy. They sat and Alex loaded up Ray's plate with the delightful smelling food. "This is how I was brought up to eat this meal," and Alex took a tortilla that he made earlier, tore off a portion and picked up the carnitas with it and ate it that way.

"This is incredible!" said Ray, as he got the hang of eating with a piece of tortilla. "You must have been slaving all day!"

"No, it's simple food for regular people... oh, I forgot the best part," and he set out three bottles of San Miguel beer. "Cerveza!"

It was a splendid dinner. They talked and laughed with the President of Mars, the man that invited himself to their wedding with the explanation, "I had tickets." When the meal wound down, Ray glanced over at Eris and said, "I see that you dug my spaceship out."

"The F-231?"

"The one that you listed as an F-733E on the spreadsheet you keep for me? Yeah, that's the one."

Eris knew that anything she dug up could be called "Property of Mars" and confiscated by Uncle Ray, but the F-231 was so cool! She wanted to fly it. "That's what it was listed as at the ShipFinders database."

"I know, when it was stolen, that's what we listed it as. The moment that gibberish came up you went and looked again, right?" asked Ray.

"Exactly," said Eris.

"Any time there's a query on that serial number we're notified, two back-to-back queries and alarms go off. That means that someone is probably looking right at it the ship. We really need it back; you may get to fly it someday however."

"How did you know that I want to fly it?" asked Eris.

"Hell!" chuckled Ray. "I don't even fly, and I want to fly it." Eris tried to hide her disappointment, but Ray continued. "I'm told that thing is not for anyone with under ten thousand hours. It's killed quite a few pilots."

"How?" asked Eris.

"It's built like a bridge," said Ray. "It can take massive G forces because it's designed to chase someone or something. It does not turn with an engine gimbal; it turns with directional rockets that whip the ship to a new heading. Alan flew it once a couple of years ago and refused to touch it again."

Eris and Alex looked at each other in surprise. It's not like Alan to not fly a hot fighter. This one must be a widow maker.

"What are you kids doing for Christmas?" asked Ray, suddenly changing the subject.

"I don't know, hanging out, watching vids from Pandora and the kids," said Eris with a shrug. That reminded her, she needed to finish editing their Christmas vid to Pandora and Alan and get it sent to earth. Because a radio signal can take five to twenty minutes to complete the journey between Mars and Earth, folks compose video letters of up to five minutes long, compress them, and send them to their loved ones.

"Why don't you come spend it at my place," said Ray.

"The presidential Palace?" asked Alex.

"It's not a palace so much, and Nadia is on Earth, she's working this holiday. Come on over."

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December 29, 2162

Niagara County, Earth

"Come on, let's get your snow pants on," said Pandora as she chased her daughter Anna, who had run away. "It's cold out!"

Anna stopped and stomped her foot. "I hate snow pants; Aunt Nadia isn't going to wear snow pants." Nadia Volochenko-Clark spent the holidays with Ray's nephew and family, and she spoiled Anna rotten.

"Aunt Nadia will be wearing stockings which are like snow pants," said Alan.

"Then I want nylons," insisted Anna as Alan scooped her up. He held her around the chest and the five-year-old giggled and kicked while Pandora slid the snow pants on her.

"They don't make nylons for five-year-olds."

This was a big ceremony; it's been ninety years since the world was plunged into WWIV with the loss of over fifty million lives in the blink of an eye. President of Mars, Ray Clark, was just reelected for a fourth term and he appointed his nephew, solar system-wide hero Alan Scarlett, Martian Ambassador to the Western Alliance. As a member of the Martian government, Alan Scarlett was expected to be at the ceremony. His Uncle appointed his new wife, Nadia Volochenko, to be the Martian Ambassador to the Eastern Bloc. Alan was currently living on earth, but Nadia remained on Mars with Ray due to xenophobia by the Eastern Bloc. That, and Nadia was an Eastern Bloc spy for years, but the only people she spied on were pirates and, with her help, Alan and Pandora were able to stop the worst of them.

Anna was a five-year-old girl and feeling every moment of her impending womanhood. She wanted to wear a dress for the ceremony like her mom did and not wear "boy clothes" like her dad and brothers. Pandora was most definitely NOT wearing a dress. She was wearing the Marine dress uniform, which included a knee-length skirt. The Marine and Navy uniforms were the same uniforms that had been worn for the past century with minor changes. Not like the Air Force and Space Force uniforms that changed with each new commander-in-chief of those branches. In fact, the assassination of a Space Force Commander by a spaceman that couldn't afford new uniforms didn't slow the tide of meaningless but mandatory uniform changes.

"You need to behave missy, this is a very important ceremony," scolded Grandma Estelle. The scolding calmed Anna down immediately, a scolding from Grandma Estelle carried weight. After a quick check of the kids, Alan Scarlett and his father-in-law, Admiral Walter Schirra, checked each other's uniform. Other than the difference in ranks, the rank insignia on Alan's uniform was different. The star that was part of the insignia of all officers was red instead of gold, signifying that he was a citizen of Mars.

There are about twenty-five Martians in all branches of the military and as Navy captain, Alan was the highest ranking Martian. The Martian colonies were all scientific and academic. There was no military presence on Mars except for a small protective unit of Western Alliance Marines guarding Lake Jezero. It was now the primary source of new water for the colonies, and Alan Scarlett created it. In fact, he had a second shipment of ice en route to Mars, and it was going to arrive in a few months. Alan had to finish this ceremony, then rocket off to Mars to assist in the delivery.

A horn blared outside of the house, and Little Wally jumped up on the couch and looked through the picture window. "Ooh! Shiny!" Pandora peered out and saw what her overactive middle child was looking at. It was a huge, shiny black limousine, large enough to carry the seven of them. Still carrying Gerry, their youngest, Alan went out to the limo and spoke a few words to the driver and came back in the house.

"Get your coats on everyone!" called Pandora. Marine Colonel Pandora Vermillion could easily be described as 'cute' and if she was in uniform, that would be the last time you ever described anything. She was a small, slim ball of fire. Bright red hair, glowing green eyes, pale complexion dusted with freckles. She was beautiful, but her priorities lie with the Marine Corps, her family, and her man. In that order. For his part, Navy Captain Alan Scarlett was tall and almost impossibly slender as most Martian men are, with dark hair graying at the temples. He has a blue left eye and a black and white bionic eye on the right. He often wears an eye patch on the right eye because the bionic eye gives him headaches.

The limousine left and shortly after it left, a hulking, olive drab Marine ALS/APC (Air Land Sea / Armored Personnel Carrier) pulled up. Normally here in peaceful Niagara, its side armor panels were left in the shop at Thundering Waters Space Force Base, but being winter, it was fully armored up to the disappointment of Anna and Little Wally. "Do we have to fly in that?" whined Anna.

"Yes," scolded Pandora. "General Hershey was very nice to loan us a car."

"They always smell funny," moaned Anna. "Like rust and old sandwiches."

The family piled in, Alan and Pandora, their three children, and Pandora's parents, Admiral Schirra, and her mom Estelle. They weren't happy, an ALS is too cold or too hot and Anna was right, they smelled funny. However, there were intelligence briefings warning Captain Scarlett to be careful. The Eastern Bloc put a price on his head again.

After strapping the children into their seats in the ALS/APC, Alan strapped Pandora in gently and gave her a kiss, then worked his way forward and sat in the gunner's seat, often called the Shotgun Position. "Are we ready corporal?" asked Alan.

"Yes sir!" the eager corporal nearly shouted.

"Let's take the quick route," said Alan. "Follow the river to the lake, then I'll show you where to land."

"Roger!" and with a whistling roar, the ALS/APC rose skyward, extended its wings and headed toward the Niagara River, just a couple miles west of Alan's house. "Nice neighborhood sir," came the corporal's voice over the intercom as Alan put on the gunner's helmet.

"We like it," said Alan. "Now if the damn Navy will let us enjoy it we'll be happy." Alan swiveled around and sighed. With the helmet's optics in place, he can swivel his seat around in all directions and look at anything that captures his attention through the APCs targeting optics. "There, on our ten o'clock, can you see that limo?"

The corporal squinted. Then he saw the big black multi-mode limousine cruising south about fifty feet over the surface of the water and following the course of the Niagara river. "Yes sir."

"Keep an eye on it, but stay back.

"Yes sir." The corporal followed the river shore, dodging trees and the ruins of ancient buildings that were destroyed by the tsunami eighty years ago. Keeping the limo in his sights, Alan looked around for threats, but the Threat Warning Radar was silent and there weren't any threatening boats or planes. He wasn't getting a tickle from Eastern Bloc satellites that passed overhead, either. "Expecting something, sir?"

Alan glanced at the pilot, who sat left and slightly below him. "I always expect something horrible. That way when it doesn't happen, it feels good to be disappointed." As they approached the ruins of the city of Buffalo, the big limo turned east toward the remains of the city and lost altitude. It was getting ready to land. Alan reached inside his uniform jacket and grasped the handle of his huge Eastern Bloc issue hunting knife, the one that was used to kill the deserter Lieutenant Commander Risto Pärn years ago. He relaxed a little as the limo neared the landing zone when suddenly a flash of light reached out from the remains of an ancient building and the limo exploded in a flash. Pieces of limousine and chunks of driver fell to the ground and Alan groaned, "I hate it when I'm right."

"I hate it when you're right too," said the corporal as he drew his sidearm. Before he could get his gun out, a huge knife blade pressed against his throat.

"You think I'm stupid?" snarled Alan. "There's no marine on earth that would be allowed near a flag officer with a shit haircut like that. If I let you live, I will tell you where to get a good haircut."

"They're going to kill you the moment you land," said the man in the corporal's uniform as Alan's blade pressed into his throat.

"Hold that pistol up where I can see it," said Alan, and the assassin slowly raised the gun. It was a model KRG-31, a piece of crap gun made by the Eastern Bloc. With lightning speed, the gun was snatched from his hand and used by Pandora to club him into unconsciousness. "Thank you dear," said Alan as he reached over and unbuckled the guy's seat belts.

"Where did this jerk come from?" asked Pandora, as she stuffed the pistol into her uniform jacket. Then she yanked the assassin out of the seat and dragged his body back.

"Wow!" said Anna. "I wanna be a marine!" as she watched her grandfather tie the unconscious bandit with zip ties and watched her mother climb into the pilot's seat.

"Navy is better," said Little Wally with all the knowledge of a world wise three-year-old.

"Where to?" asked Pandora. Alan had used the gunner's flight controls to get the ALS out over the lake.

"Head up north a bit then go inland, we'll approach from Cheektowaga."

"Gotcha," Pandora said and took over the controls. She flew the ALS like she would fly one of her heavy bombers, straight, fast, and big sweeping turns. Alan flies everything like a high performance fighter, which explains why his whole family has neck aches.

Inland the towns were rebuilt, and the men and women of the area were doing a good job getting on with life in the wake of the Great Wave, but what was once the City of Buffalo was left as a huge memorial to the lost men and women. Pandora made a wide, sweeping turn to the right and aligned with a heavily trafficked road and settled the ALS down on Walden Ave. She eased into traffic and followed the traffic into the city center, where thousands were gathered in an enormous circle that was once called Niagara Square.

They were surrounded by security as they neared the crowd, and 'Big Wally' opened the side door of the ALS and stepped out. A shocked Army MP sputtered and finally saluted, "A-a-admiral!"

"Don't sweat it soldier. The fellow on the floor tried to kill us. Take care of him please."

Big Wally was followed by his wife, daughter, and son-in-law, each holding a child. They were escorted through the crowd and led up to the platform where the Secretary General of the Western Alliance waited. Like many other cities surrounding Lake Erie, the city of Buffalo was a vast ruin. The only things left standing from a century ago were the ancient concrete grain elevators and the granite obelisk standing in what used to be the middle of the city. Some cities were being rebuilt, Lackawanna to the south of Buffalo and Erie, Ashtabula, and Toledo were being rebuilt, but places like Buffalo and Cleveland were now memorials to the millions of innocent lives lost.

Alan stepped up on the large dais and took his place next to his fellow Martian Envoy Nadia Volochenko- Clark, his step-aunt. As Ferdinand Jean-Pierre LeBeau, Secretary General of the Alliance of Western Democracies, addressed the crowd, Alan guessed he could get a nap. He was wrong. Ferdinand Jean-Pierre LeBeau was a people person, and he introduced everyone on the dais to the crowd, and was especially excited to meet Alan. When he introduced Alan to the crowd, the audience went wild. They were well aware of the exploits of 'Berserker One.' Even though he was born on Mars, they all knew that he lived in the area and cheered the Hometown Hero. Alan blushed bright red as they cheered. "Why are you not a general?" asked Secretary General LeBeau.

"Because I'm retired," Alan said softly. He didn't want to embarrass the Secretary General. However, his aunt had no problem with that.

"Ferdinand, dahlink," purred Nadia. "He eez Navy, zere is no generals in Navy, only Admirals."

Luckily, Ferdinand Jean-Pierre LeBeau was not so arrogant as to turn down correction from a beautiful woman. "Ah, oui! Then allow me to correct my mistake, and Captain Scarlett, you are hereby recalled to active duty and promoted to the rank of Rear Admiral and commander of the Saturnian First Fleet with a date of promotion of May sixteen, twenty one fifty seven. What do you think?"

"Thank you, I am overwhelmed," said Alan, but on the inside he was shouting, "FUCK! GOD DAMN IT! SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!" He did not want a promotion; he did not want a fleet under his command, and he did not want to be recalled to active duty again. Alan just wanted to be left alone with his family and his house on the Erie Canal (and his spectacularly profitable water company.)

"That's a lot of back pay," gasped Pandora from her place in the crowd. A rear admiral in charge of a fleet is a two star admiral! The pay difference between captain and two star admiral for five years? That's a LOT of money. She rightly guessed that Alan did not want any of that back-pay if it meant being recalled to active duty.

"You have worked so hard to protect us, dear admiral, and we owe you so much. I wish I could do more and let you retire in peace, but I have one more job for you." Then, without explaining what he meant by that, the Secretary General turned to Nadia. "Nadia, my favorite spy!"

"Dahlink! My favorite capitalist!" Ferdinand and Nadia clearly had something going on between them, but Alan's head was spinning as he tried to remember if he could be shot for going AWOL. Secretary General LeBeau turned to the crowd and started his planned address. The guests on the dais sat down and Alan and Nadia were in the back row.

As Ferdinand droned on and on about the sacrifices of the people surrounding Lake Erie, Nadia leaned over to Alan and whispered, "Vat happened? Did you haf to kill ze limo driver?"

"I didn't kill anyone, they tried to kill me.

"Zey are goink to arrest you ven ve are done."

"They can't arrest me, I have diplomatic immunity."

"Eez not vest is arrestink you, dahlink. Eez east."

"The Eastern Bloc is going to arrest me? Seriously? It was the Eastern Bloc that tried to kill me!"

"Da... Arrest, murder, eez same ting to Eastern Bloc"

"Besides that, it wouldn't be an arrest, it's kidnapping."

"Da, is true, but they do not like such a vord as keednappink, they prefer term 'involuntary travel."

"Then give me your gun so I can hold them off."

"Eez... how you say... complicated dahlink." Nadia took an auto inject syringe from her purse and poked him in the leg.

"Ow! Damn it, what... oh shit..." The stage was floating around him, and he was not able to control his arms or legs. "What did you do to me?" he demanded, but his words came out, "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

The secretary general came to an applause line in his speech, and everyone rose and applauded, everyone but Rear Admiral Alan Scarlett. Alan realized that something was happening by the way people were standing, but he couldn't move. As people continued to applaud, someone grabbed the back of Alan's chair and tipped it back and one person on each side of his chair slid Alan headfirst off his chair, straight onto a stretcher. As they strapped Alan down, he watched as someone in a navy uniform took his position next to Nadia.

<><><><><>

Pandora stood with her parents and children in the crowd and listen to the Secretary General. He droned on about the new day dawning in the Western Alliance and how Alan's caches of ice in orbit with the moon will improve life on the moon and space travel in general. The ability to get ice for reaction mass means that shipments of water from earth won't be needed.

That's when Pandora noticed that the man that the Secretary General was pointing at as he spoke wasn't Alan. The guy on stage had two eyes. "Where's Alan?" she muttered. Pandora started pushing forward through the crowd. "Where's Alan?" she demanded as she got closer to the stage. Then the Secretary General gave an applause line and everyone on the stage stood up and Pandora saw it wasn't Nadia either. "Alan!" she shouted, but her voice was lost in the applauding crowd.

Secretary General Ferdinand Jean-Pierre LeBeau waved to the crowd as he was whisked off the stage to a waiting helicopter. The VIPs all stepped off the stage, and the crowd dissolved, and Pandora was left standing alone, confused, and completely distraught. "Alan?"

Waves of loss and terror crashed over her as her world crumbled. Did Alan leave her? Did he defect to the East? Was he killed?

"Baby, come on," someone whispered to her. Only two people on earth could call her 'baby' while she was in uniform, and daddy was one of them. Her father held their youngest child, Gerry, named for a dear friend who was captured along with Alan at Venus Prime. Little Gerry was the most cheerful child she ever saw, and he was clearly Alan's favorite. The other two claimed Gerry would never learn to walk because their dad never put him down. Alan would take long, long business calls with Gerry in his arms and threaten to fire anyone who complained about the baby at the meetings.

Admiral Schirra led Pandora to the APC/ALS and as she climbed in, she saw a marine at the driver's controls. He had a huge hunting knife tucked into his belt, without a sheath. She snatched it from his belt. It was an old Eastern Bloc issue knife like Alan's knife, and Alan never traveled without his blade. "Where did you get this from?"

"Ma'am, that's uh... it's..."

"Get off this transport!" she shrieked. "That is an order!"

"But ma'am..."

"GET OFF THIS SHIP MARINE!" she held the point of the blade to his neck. She was upset and emotionally shattered, but she wasn't stupid. She saw his hand reaching for something and she pushed the point of the knife harder against his skin.

The driver slowly got out of the driver's seat and stepped back toward the large main door. His lips curled up into a snarl as he saw a tiny woman in an officer's uniform, and he charged at her. Pandora struck like lightning. She struck his forehead with the butt of the big heavy knife as she sidestepped his attack, then drove his face into the seats as she planted a knee in the small of his back. Anna and Little Wally were in shock at seeing their mother strike so quickly. "I wanna be a Marine too," Little Wally said.

As her father zip tied the man's wrists behind his back, Pandora pulled the gun out of his flight suit. It was an Eastern Bloc KRG-31, a 12mm "bear gun." Experienced shooters say that the recoil could break the wrist of the unwary shooter. It was a big, clumsy, cumbersome gun. Extremely heavy, notoriously inaccurate, and more useful as a hammer or pry bar, but it was the best the Eastern Bloc had. And now Pandora had two of them.

"Mom, distract the kids," said Pandora as she wrapped a safety harness around the eastern block operative. "Talk," she said to the spy. "The more you talk, the less it's going to hurt."

"Vhat? Vhat do you vant me to say, moya lyubov." (my love)

"Mudak!" shrieked Pandora. "That just cost you your yaichki, both of them!" She connected the safety harness to the ALS/APC's rescue hoist, released the drag brake on the hoist and kicked the agent out of the APC, then she climbed into the driver's seat.

The Eastern Bloc agent staggered to his feet as he watched the armored personnel carrier leap into the sky. It didn't occur to him that the dragging hoist cable was connected to him. The APC was climbing fast when the hoist cable went tight and the agent was suddenly yanked into the sky. He knew his neck was going to ache for ages after being snapped like that. He dangled below and behind the APC as it flew toward the lake, and he realized they were losing altitude. From the way that Pandora was flying, it appeared she was looking for open water in the frozen lake. Giving up on that, Pandora turned and flew north to the Niagara River.

The agent was chilled to the bone before Pandora started reeling him up, and soon he was dangling in front of the open side door. "Why did you try to capture us?" Pandora shouted over the roar of the APC's engines.

"Poshel na khuy," shouted the agent in reply. He was frozen to the bone, but he's been colder, and he can still say 'fuck you' to a Western military whore.

Pandora reached up and released the drag brake on the rescue hoist again and watched as the agent fell fifty feet into the frigid Niagara river. There was no sadistic glee in what she did. She needed information out of him, and she knew how to get it. She hoisted him back into the APC, and this time he was a different man. Dipped in water that was actually below freezing in temperature, his body went into survival mode, concentrating all of its heat energy around the heart and brain. Even his lungs were shutting down as the surrounding muscles contracted in the attempt to preserve heat.

"Let's try that again, why did you try to capture us?"

"Not you, just Captain Scarlett," said the spy as his body went into convulsions.

"That's not the truth, but it's close," said Pandora and she closed the side door, returned to the pilot seat, and set course for Thundering Waters Space Force Base.

Admiral Schirra took over questioning the convulsing man and was able to determine that he was supposed to capture Alan when he returned from the speech, but it looked like someone got Alan first. The Eastern Bloc agent slipped into unconsciousness just as Pandora received a call from Nadia. "Kotik, (kitty) dahlink, vere are you?"

"Where are you and where is my husband?"

"At Thundering Water, hurry and all vill be revealed."

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

SS Peake, December 29, 2162

High planetary orbit over Saturn

"Wouldn't it be easier just to get a big scoop and scoop up ice chunks from the rings?" asked the helmsman of the Peake.

"Who has a ship big enough to make that profitable? The East is bankrupting themselves chopping up Tethys and hauling it back," said the engineering officer. Tethys is a small ice moon that the Eastern Bloc claimed and were hauling back cargo ships full of Tethys ice to their various space stations.

"The rings are protected," said Captain Elliot See, he was the 'commodore' commanding all ship operations. He was the commanding officer of the SS Peake and commander of the SS Garriott, their sister ship, who was helmed by Captain Charlie Bassett. "Fifty years ago the JCHA has declared that the rings of Saturn are off limits to commercial venture and are for scientific exploration only."

The Joint Committee on Homeland Authority, or JCHA, took over after the UN not only caused WWIV with their policies, but many high-ranking officers and ambassadors to the UN were caught running betting pools, wagering on the outcomes of various battles. They were summarily executed in 2096 by firing squads made up of soldiers from all four sides of the conflict.

So far Scarlett Water Systems has hauled back three moonlets made of ice and has made immense sums of money doing that. Now, hauling back Saturn CXLII, code name Big Berserker 4, a moonlet 4.5 kilometers in diameter should be the last big moon to pull back and they can concentrate on processing the ice for human consumption. They also had requests for several small moons to be placed in the asteroid belt for the mining colonies and stations, but first things first.

"Communications, this is the bridge. Any word from Earth or Mars about Captain Scarlett?" asked Captain See. They were expecting to hear from Earth that the Captain was enroute to their location. If he left the Earth now, he should be on site in time for the final inspection before launch.

"No sir. I intercepted a classified communique from Mars Security initiating a communications blackout regarding Captain Scarlett and Earth has complied."

Trying to hide his emotions, Elliot released from his seat and drifted aft to the tiny communications shack. "Send this message in the clear to the address I listed, let me know when you get a response," and Elliott wrote the message on the communications officers tablet.

"Aye aye sir," said the communication officer.

TO: Antonina Matrona Markov@global.net.mail

SUBJECT: Christmas Party

Dear Antonia, it was so good to see you at the Christmas party. Hope all is well with the family. How is your brother?

Signed: Your love, Elliot.

"Bridge, communications, message has been sent." The communications officer smiled. It was the first time that the captain had sent a private message in the four years they had been working together.

"Thank you, communications. Keep an ear out for the Garriott, we should be hearing from her soon."

"Aye aye, sir... uh sir? There's an inbound com for you. It's private."

"That should be the Garriott, I'll take it in my bunk," said Elliott and he drifted aft to his bunk and slipped inside and sealed the privacy hatch closed. "Send it through here," he said to communications. Soon, the voice of someone he wasn't expecting to hear filled his bunk.

"Vozlyublennyy! (Sweetheart) It has been so long, vere haf you been?"

"We're grabbing some more ice honey, where are you? I didn't expect a reply so quickly." It will take over an hour for their radio signal to reach the earth.

"On Tethys doink same ting as you. Can we take vacation vhen tis is over?"

"I have a place on Mars waiting for us. Where is your brother?"

"I don't know, he slipped off radar hours ago then Mars sent blackout message."

Alan Scarlett is definitely not Antonina Matrona Markov's brother. They have an intense distrust in each other and would probably shoot each other on sight. But she provided Alan with valuable information that helped Alan end the scrapper Winston Scarver's reign of terror. In return, Alan had been fair about Elliot's relationship with the eastern bloc operative and hadn't ordered Elliot to get a divorce from her. But he had let Elliot know that if he finds out that she had anything to do with the battle at Venus Prime, he would kill her.

"Thank you darling. Can you come over here for a little while?"

"I do not know, Would I be allowed there? Can you come over here?"

"Nope," sighed Elliot, "I am commander I have to stay on my boat."

"Ve shall see vat happens. But I vill see you on Mars vozlyublennyy.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

December 30, 2162

Vandenberg Space Force Base

The launch crew didn't know who was in the environment suit. There was no name to identify him other than Passenger 117, which was what he or she was called. They lowered him into the flight seat and rocked him, ensuring that the magnets on his environment suit mated with the magnets on the seat, then they placed his gloved hands on the magnetized hand rests. "He's waking up, he's trying to fight me," said a crew member, and a guttural grunt could be heard from inside the blackened helmet.

"VIPs," groaned the manager. VIPs who were terrified of space travel usually got this treatment. They were placed in a medical environment suit that would monitor their health, then knocked out and blasted into space on a cargo rocket, then retrieved up there.

A manager with a clipboard and an expression that illustrated she was a sufferer of severe constipation reached over and pressed a button on Passenger 117's suit and he or she stopped fighting. The sedative that the button released worked quickly. Once passenger 117 was settled, the launch crew closed the capsule around him. They checked the capsule's seals and ran a few other tests on the capsule, then they attached a small weather satellite to the nose of the capsule. Once the capsule was ready, they covered the capsule with a large fairing. "Payload is go," said the constipated manager into her microphone.

"Vandenburg Ops copies," said a voice in her earpiece and the launch team stepped off the flatbed truck that held the capsule and stepped onto a loading dock and the flatbed truck drove off to the launch pad.

At the launch pad, the launch tower's built in crane was connected to the capsule and the crane hoisted the capsule 350 feet in the air to the top of the Redhawk 12 booster. Passenger 117 was now orientated flat on his back with his feet sticking straight up into the air, but he wasn't conscious to realize it.

This was a Heavy Hawk, four Redhawk 12 boosters lashed together for speed and lifting power. The main booster had three side boosters attached to it, and it was fueled and ready. Since the capsule and Passenger 117 combined weigh less than 200 kilos (440 lbs), this flight was set for speed. At one minute to launch, the flatbed truck was still racing for cover. The control room was a flurry of activity but at the one minute mark, all launch controllers sat glued to their workstations as the seconds ticked away. At T minus three seconds, all nine Excelsior engines on each booster burst into life and millions of gallons of water were poured under the spaceship as it came up to full thrust. Then the clamps released, and Heavy Hawk 1209 leaped into the air.

Passenger 117 was lucky he was unconscious for the launch because his body was crushed under seven Gs of constant acceleration. Heavy Hawk 1209 flashed through the sound barrier and hit Max Q before it had climbed two miles and was still increasing speed. At 50 miles in altitude, the three side boosters separated from the Heavy Hawk and the center booster roared up to full throttle until it reached 250 miles in altitude, then the second stage kicked in and the center core returned to earth, landing in the Ohio desert.

Soon the second stage ran out of fuel and separated from the small capsule that was still heading for high earth altitude. The capsule emerged from the faring with a satellite on its nose. A small booster on the capsule lifted the components to a high orbit, then the capsule separated from the weather satellite, which settled into an orbit while the capsule started a slow tumble like any other spent piece of space trash.

Not long later, a large cargo carrying ship drew up beneath the capsule and the backbone door on the freighter rolled open. A multi-jointed arm with a suited spaceman operating the arm reached out to the capsule, grabbed it, then drew it into the cargo bay. The cargo bay doors remained open to give the astronaut light to secure the capsule in the cargo bay. A spaceman finished securing the capsule in time for the pilot of the ship to call "Navy control, this is Songbird Seven, we are complete with pickup and ready to depart orbit."

The low earth orbit controller at Armstrong Base called, "Thank you Songbird Seven, please advise when you are clear of earth orbit."

"Roger."

The Space Controller turned to his boss and said, "that's the third Songbird I've heard this week, what is up with them?"

"Oh, they're a private company that collects spent satellites and tears them down for their components and uses them to build new satellites. It looks like he picked up a booster from that new satellite that Vandenberg just launched," said the senior controller. Neither realized that the booster was a capsule with a human being inside.

"Cool. Thanks. Thundering Waters, this is Low Earth Orbit Control, we're clear for your next launch."

Out in the middle of Lake Ontario, the NSS Conrad sat ready for launch. The aft ballast tanks filled, and the bow came up out of the water, giving the U-700 shuttle an angled deck for launch. "Damn it," muttered Commander Roger Crouch. He's got a full ship, he's carrying an admiral, his wife, a marine colonel and her three children. "Space Boss this is Greyhound One One, all indications are nominal we are ready to go."

"Roger Greyhound One One, you are clear for launch."

The U-700 shook as its four air-breathing engines roared and the pilot yelled, "Hands! Head! Feet!" warning the passengers to ensure their extremities were secure for launch. He thumbed the launch button, and the NSS Conrad's catapult slung the U-700 into the air.

"WHOO HOO!!!" shouted a pair of young voices on the intercom. The children were cheering? They were wearing small environment suits and there were child adapters in each seat for them. The youngest was in a small pod and the mother said he was full of Benadryl, but the other two should have been screaming and crying. In his career, he learned all preschoolers cry during launch.

The ship shook like it was coming apart at Max Q and the kids just laughed and giggled, then finally the air-breathing engines shut down and the J-72 kicked in with a bang.

"Whoo hoo!" cried Anna as she was slammed back into her seat.

"GO! GO! GO!" shouted Little Wally.

Finally, they reached a stable orbit and Roger looked over at his copilot, but there was a small child floating between them and grinning. "Hi," said the small boy with a huge grin.

"Wally! What did I say?" said Pandora, and she grabbed her son's leg and pulled him back. "Don't bother the pilot!"

"But you're a pilot too!" said Little Wally with a pout.

"And you bother me too, now leave him alone. Let him fly."

Roger looked back and the small girl was floating above the passenger seats, her arms and legs spread wide out, her braided pigtails sticking out too, and she rotated horizontally, slowly, above the seats. She came around and saw the pilot watching and she giggled, "I'm doing sideways cartwheels."

"I have never seen kids take to space like this," said Roger Crouch.

"They were almost born in space. We live on earth, but they were all born on Mars. We make this trip quite often," Pandora sighed. "You should see them on the leg out to Mars."

The U-700 gained altitude on its third orbit and soon pulled up to Camp Schmidt. Camp Schmidt is a large "wagon wheel" style space station in geosynchronous orbit above the remains of Camp Lejune. Camp Schmidt is the Marine Corps' only space station, and it's a busy place with flights coming in and out daily, and hundreds of marines getting training on zero g fighting.

Before they pulled into the dock, Pandora and her mom captured Little Wally and Anna and got their suits and helmets back on them and put them back in their seats. "Aw mom!" whined Wally.

"No, you're not getting out of your seat until the hanger door is closed behind us. You're not going to fly off into space."

"Just a little," pouted Wally.

"Looks like you have a direct connection," said Commander Crouch, as he waited for a huge B-171 bomber to connect to the exterior docking hatch on the hub of Camp Schmidt. Once the bomber was in place, he spun the shuttle around on its axis and, using the low power proximity radar, he slowly backed the U-700 into the hangar. "I watched a guy do this last year," said Commander Crouch.

"I know that mission," said Pandora.

"You saw the first tail first docking?"

"I was sitting in this very position on Greyhound Zero Three. My husband didn't take kindly to the hangar supervisor."

"You're... You're Colonel Vermillion?"

"Yes, when I'm in uniform," said Pandora as the landing gear magnetically locked onto the steel floor of the hangar. "In civilian clothes I'm Mrs. Scarlett, honorary Martian."

Commander Crouch completed the shutdown process. "I apologize for not recognizing your family ma'am. Honorary Martian? Because you married a Martian?"

"No, because Ray Clark said I was a Martian." She shrugged. "It's good to have family in high places."

Ray Clark was a solar system famous character for his eccentric leadership style, but he was effective, and Mars was a good friend to have. The Western Alliance was Mars' #1 trading partner. Many valuable elements were easily retrievable from Mars, and rather than try to take them, the Western Alliance found it easier to buy them. However, Mars was unguarded, and the Eastern Bloc landed mining drones and dug for many rare elements.

Ray notified the Eastern Bloc that there were mining licenses and fees that needed to be negotiated, but the Eastern Bloc remained silent. Ray sent a team out to investigate the digging drones and they found out that there were military units protecting the digs who opened fire. Something had to be done, so Ray was doing something. As president of Mars, Ray Clark had the reputation of being a sweet old man. As the protector of Mars, he was ruthless. He was working a deal with his government to allow the 15th Marine Corps, the Martian Marines, to hunt down those illegal units and demolish the mining drones.

Pandora climbed down from the upper deck of the U-700, tugging at Little Wally and Anna to keep them moving while her mom carried Gerry in his little pod. "I wanna be a balloon!" cried Little Wally.

"Me too! Make me a balloon!" demanded Anna.

With her magnetic boots, Pandora walked across the hangar with Anna and Little Wally floating above her on leashes like helium balloons. She had to admit to herself that it looked like a lot of fun. As she got to the ladder that would take her to the outer ring of Camp Schmitt, her father stopped her. "Here's your orders," he said and handed her a sealed envelope. She handed the leashes to her giggling weightless children to her father and opened the envelope.

"Seriously?" she demanded. "A strategic interplanetary bomber is not a shuttle bus! And Earth is at its farthest distance from Mars!" She was right. Earth and Mars wouldn't be at their closest points for another 20 months. Ray must desperately need a heavy bomber.

"Your mother and your children are going to Mars; you're taking the Naha to Mars. It's a win-win," said Admiral Schirra. "Don't look at me like that, Colonel. For once I did not cut these batshit crazy orders, these are from far above my head."

"Did you ever happen to think that a strategic interplanetary bomber is a huge target?" said Pandora with a snarl.

"Yes I did. I left you a gift in the bomb bay." He hugged his daughter and kissed her cheek, then he reeled in his grandchildren and gave them a hug. "Be good for your mother! Here, don't lose these," and he gave each child a pair of Velcro boots and he handed Pandora a tiny pair for Gerry. "I didn't want this to happen, but whoever grabbed Alan forced our hand," he whispered.

"Get him back for me," said Pandora. "Please?"

"I will darling."

A spaceman opened a door on the wall of the Hangar, and Pandora looked. She was looking down at the spine entry hatch of the NSS Naha. "Thank you spaceman."

"Welcome aboard ma'am."

Estelle entered the warship first, then Pandora handed her the weightless children who were now squawking that they were hungry. Pandora grabbed the closest private and said, "Marine, this is our VIP transport. Please assist Mrs. Schirra with getting settled."

"Yes ma'am," said an annoyed Marine.

"She is the wife of Admiral Schirra and a personal friend of the President of Mars, you will make sure she's well taken care of."

"Yes ma'am," said the unimpressed Marine.

"She's my mother. Don't make me hurt you."

"Yes ma'am," said the now terrified Marine.

Pandora stepped onto the bridge of the NSS Naha, which was quickly becoming her personal bomber, and was pleased to see that the Camp Schmitt's pilot was still aboard.

"Attention on deck!" the chief of the boat, Master Gunnery Sergeant Vaneda, called out.

"Thank you gunny." Pandora turned to the pilot. "You ready to take us back out?"

"Yes ma'am!" said the pilot, a navy captain.

"Let's go then. Exec, who do we have with us?"

"We have the NSS Lima nearby, and waiting for us at Mars is the NSS Krakow."

"Thank you exec. Communications, send a message to the Lima to sortie to Saturn CXLII with all due haste and meet up with the SS Peake. Also, I want 601.5 Megahertz monitored at all times. Report any intelligible signal to me immediately."

"Yes ma'am."

"Are you ready Mister Pilot? I need to go." The Naha was stuck between the spokes of a giant wagon wheel, spinning slowly in the sky. Getting her free was the job of a professional.

The pilot tapped the joystick for the attitude thrusters a few times, then turned to Pandora. "We're all lined up. Take her aft, nice and slow," said the pilot.

"All back slow," Pandora repeated. "Take her back five ship lengths."

"Helm answering all back slow, ma'am." Pandora listened for the sound of a strategic interplanetary bomber dragging against the space station, signaling the end of her career, but it never came. The pilot watched the approach radar carefully and, with minor adjustments on the attitude thrusters, the NSS Naha was clear and backing up. Finally, the helmsman said, "That's five ship lengths, ma'am."

"She's all yours," said the pilot.

"Thank you sir," said Pandora and the pilot left. He had a scooter alongside the Naha to take him back to Camp Schmitt. They waited for the Pilot to enter the Escape Trunk, depressurize, then step off to his scooter.

"Pilot is away," said sonar.

"Navigator, set our course for Mars, best speed."

"Aye aye ma'am." The navigator bent over his workstation and plotted the course. "Course is set, ma'am."

"Thank you. Sparks, extend the antenna."

"Aye aye ma'am." As the enormous ship pointed her bow to the course set, the huge dish antenna raised from its stowed position. For maneuvering close to a space station, the huge dish antenna was folded flat against the backbone of the Naha. The new antenna was able to fold down around the sides of the Naha as well.

"Ma'am, antenna array is up and locked, initiating standard sweep of the radio spectrum."

"Thank you Sparks. Helmsman, take me to Mars. Let's have a zero point five G burn until I say uncle."

"Aye aye ma'am."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Space, January 02, 2163

Location unknown

Songbird Seven had been a beehive of activity when it came to the capsule in the cargo bay. Umbilical cords were attached to the capsule and the health of Passenger 117 was carefully monitored. They were able to give Passenger 117 nutrition and specific medications were able to make needed adjustments. In the cargo bay of Songbird Seven, a large booster and navigation section was connected to the back of the capsule. Dozens of tests were run, verifying the booster's programming. This was highly important. If this veered off course, Passenger 117 could end up burning in the sun or lost in space forever.

Satisfied that the programming was good, and the booster was functional, the capsule was disconnected from Songbird Seven. The capsule's batteries were fully charged, emergency generators fully fueled, attitude thrusters fully fueled, and the course was laid in. The big, multi-jointed arm carefully lifted the capsule clear of the cargo bay and released it into space. Then, closing up the cargo bay, Songbird Seven set a course for Venus. There was still quite a lot of debris to collect after the battle of Venus Prime nearly six years ago.

The capsule floated in space for a full day as it performed self-check after self-check, then Passenger 117 heard, "Prepare for ignition."

"Wha...? Ignition?" the passenger said groggily. "Who are you?" For some reason, Passenger 117 recognized that voice.

"Do not worry, ignition will commence in five seconds, four, three, two, one, ignition..." The booster motor ignited just as planned, but Passenger 117 missed it. He fell back to sleep somewhere between the three and the two and the capsule disappeared into space, speeding away at 9g's of acceleration.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Armstrong Station, January 15, 2163

Lagrange Point 1

Admiral Schirra was angry. He hadn't heard from anyone that he wanted to hear from, and he took out his frustration on anyone near him. His recall to active duty was unprecedented, but to be recalled then sat to rot 35,000 miles from the moon was obscene.

He knew that there were weeks before the Naha would reach Mars and he worried again if he made the right decision. He could have brought them here to Armstrong Station, but Armstrong Station was as big a target as Camp Schmitt and Perseverance City on Mars.

Admiral Schirra stormed into the communications office and demanded, "anything?"

"No sir. It's quiet today. But this came for you." He handed the admiral a sealed envelope marked Secret.

Admiral Schirra knew they wouldn't answer, but he was aching to ask the spaceman manning the communications terminal to call any one of a dozen ships just to hear their status report. The problem with silent running is that if you lost a ship, you would never know. "Anything from Songbird Seven?"

"The last message was 'Objective 15 complete," said the spacemen.

<><><><><>

Admiral Schirra strode to his office and opened his terminal, then he opened the envelope and extracted the document. It was encoded, even the typeface was part of the code. He put the document in his scanner, then looked at his terminal. The terminal scanned his eye's retina to determine his ID, then displayed the document on his screen. It was an intelligence briefing, and it verified to the Admiral that all this cloak and dagger nonsense was needed. Immensely needed. "Shit," he said in a small voice.

Then he thought for a moment and called the communications office. "Do me a favor, call Captain Scarlett at his private residence. If your call isn't answered, let it ring. When someone answers, patch it through to my office."

"What if they don't answer?"

"You wait. She's disabled, but she'll answer. She has to."

He selected a form he hasn't used since he was a fighter jock himself flying the FB-155 torpedo bombers. The admiral quickly filled it out and sent it to the remaining marines on Thundering Waters Space Force Base. He had his reply from the marine post on Thundering Waters SFB before his call from Admiral Scarlett's house was answered. Soon Marcie Dunlop appeared on the screen. "Gunny Dunlop, this is Admiral Walter Schirra."

"Yes sir, I recognize you," said the disabled Marine. She looked like she just woke up, which was most likely because it was close to midnight there. Marcy lost two legs and an arm in the Battle of Venus Prime and was a regular visitor to Alan and Pandora's house. The kids loved her, and Buddy, Alan's golden retriever, was Marcy's constant companion, rarely wandering more than a dozen feet away from her.

"I initiated a 9-Line message," said Admiral Schirra. "You have less than one hour to get packed."

Marcy was confused. A 9-Line message is a request for medevac. "Wait, me? Sir, I may be bent but I'm not broken."

"Yes, you are, gunnery sergeant. Evac will be enroute shortly. Do not let me down."

"Aye aye sir." Marcy wheeled into the bedroom that was set up for her by Alan and Pandora. They enjoyed it when Marcy stayed at their house, and it seemed to help both Marcy and Alan to have a fellow survivor of the battle of Venus Prime around. Then Marcy considered Pandora. She put an end to Venus prime by attacking the station with four B-171 bombers. They sneaked up on the station, silent as a snake, and blew the living shit out of it. No survivors. She may have killed a thousand people, maybe double that. They have no way of knowing. If she was there a few seconds earlier, she would have vaporized her husband. That's got to mess with your brain.

Marcy wheeled into her room and grabbed everything she could, including her prosthetic legs, and threw them into her A3 bag, then re attached her prosthetic arm and moved toward the front door. She hates that arm. It follows her mental direction, but it's so clumsy and she knocks over crap constantly. There's supposed to be a tactile return, so she could feel what it does, but that has never worked. Her legs were worse, so she rarely used them.

She had her A3 bag on her lap and Buddy was nuzzled up to her right side as she waited in her wheelchair. The sweet dog rested his chin on her thigh, and she petted him with her remaining limb.

The whining shriek of an ALS/APC filled the house as the Air Land Sea/Armored Personnel Carrier touched down on the front lawn and four marines burst through the front door. "Gunny Dunlop!" a marine staff sergeant called out.

"Yes?" said Marcy. The marine that called her name looked shocked when she answered him. Maybe he didn't expect Gunnery Sergeant Dunlop to be a paraplegic in a wheelchair, or maybe he didn't expect Gunnery Sergeant Dunlop to be a paraplegic in a wheelchair, pointing a pistol at him. "My dog Buddy comes with or I'm staying."

"No problem gunny. Come on Buddy, let's go for a ride!"

The four marines wheeled Marcy out to the ALS/APC with Buddy happily following. They hoisted her in, and Buddy hopped in and sat happily next to her. The doors slammed closed and Marcy, along with Buddy and five marines took off into the night. "What is going on Marine?" she demanded in her best Marine voice.

"I don't know gunny, we just got orders to get the hell out of dodge and bring you with us," said the leader, a Staff Sergeant.

"Every squid and grunt on Thundering Waters has been mobilized," said a Private.

Just then, the Marine corporal in the gunner's seat called "Rocket in the air!" Marcy looked at the side window in time to see Alan and Pandora's dream house explode into ten million splinters. "Source that launch and engage!" shouted Marcy.

"Gunny, we don't have orders to..."

"I just gave you your orders!" she pulled her prosthetic leg from her A3 bag and swung it around as she shouted, "Gunner, don't make me come up there and kick your ass! Find them! Kill them!"

"Engaging," said the gunner. Suddenly, the ALS/APC's 25mm canon barked four times. Gunny watched and nothing went boom. What went wrong? Everything goes boom went hit with a 25mm cannon shell. One more shot and something in the night caught fire. "Got his engine!" called the gunner.

"What kind of ammo do you have on this crate?" Gunny Dunlop demanded.

"TP," said the gunner. TP was Target Practice. It was just solid metal slugs for punching holes in the target at the gunnery range. Live fire 25mm is generally HEI, High Explosive Incendiary. Suddenly the gun barked again, and the gunner said, "OH YEAH!" it barked again, and he said "Yes! TP may suck against trucks but it's hell on body tissue!" The target was an armored truck and the Target Practice ammo just punched holes in it and shattered the engine. When the passengers in the truck got out, the gunner picked them off one by one, nearly slicing their bodies in half with that big shell.

"Fun and games is over, let's get out of here," called the Staff Sergeant.

The ALS/APC headed north toward Thundering Waters Space Force Base, when suddenly ahead of them, a massive explosion vaporized the base. "Holy Fuck," swore the staff sergeant. None of them had ever seen an explosion like that. The shockwave from the blast nearly knocked them out of the air and it flattened neighborhoods around the base. "Fucking shit," gasped the staff sergeant.

"I told you this would happen!" said the driver, a sergeant. "I told you those sheep fuckers would do this." Sheep fucker was a common euphemism for a soldier in the Eastern Bloc military. "There's been nothing but intel for the past month sayin' they built something in space behind a radar curtain."

He swung away from the base as the gunner cried, "I can't find the source!" He searched in all directions for something to kill.

"They're tungsten darts from something in orbit!" shouted the driver. "They briefed us on that last week!"

"My wife!" shrieked a Marine.

"Hold it together," shouted the Staff Sergeant. "Let's go check out option B."

"I'll fucking kill them!" shrieked a lance corporal who lost his entire family. The poor kid was torn between looking for revenge and leaping out of the ALS/APC and joining his wife and children.

Marcy pulled the weeping marine to her and held him tight as he swore revenge on whoever did this. "Keep that fire in your belly, marine," said Gunny Dunlop. "I think we're going to need it."

The ALS/APC roared east, then as they neared Rochester, the capital of New York since the events of WWIV, they turned north and shot out over Lake Ontario. "NSS Conrad this is ALS 35021 with VIP plus one."

"ALS 35021, this is NSS Space boss, you are clear for landing on forward deck.

"No!" said Marcy when she saw a U-700 sitting on the deck, getting readied for launch. "No fucking way, I not going back to space. Marine! Let go of my arm!"

"I'm sorry Gunny, Admiral Schirra's orders," said the Staff Sergeant, and he took an auto injector and pressed it against her leg as another marine held her arm so she wouldn't hit them.

"I'm going to kill you!" she bellowed as the side door slid open and she was carried onto the frigid flight deck. The drug was taking effect as the ALS/APC took off and she and Buddy, who was also drugged, were lifted into Greyhound One Eight. "I'm not going to space no more," she said as they wrestled her into an environment suit, but she was too weak to fight back. Buddy was unconscious in the seat next to her.

"I'm sorry Gunny, the world is going to shit, and Colonel Scarlett needs you," said a Navy spaceman who locked her into her seat.

"Ain't goin' ta space no more," she slurred. Around her, the U-700 shuttle roared as it prepared for launch. She felt every shake and rattle. Then Marcy felt the nose of the ship rising.

"Hands, Head, Feet!" shouted the pilot as he thumbed the release button, which slung the U-700 off the deck.

"Fuck you!" shouted Marcy through tears of frustration as they leaped into the air.

Behind and below them, the USS Conrad left the engines in full reverse. As soon as the U-700 took off, the carrier moved backwards quickly, then the right engine was turned to run forward, turning the carrier around. As they got fully around and were headed toward Fort Niagara, a tungsten rod slammed into the lake behind them, right where they were when the U-700 launched. A tremendous explosion happened when the super-heated tungsten rod slammed into the ice cold water of the lake, then struck the lakebed. An enormous wave was kicked up that ran up the St. Lawrence Seaway damaging towns and islands as it traveled, but it was nothing like the wave that started WWIV.

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The Polnoye Resheniye, January 15, 2163

Geosynchronous Orbit over Montreal

The Polnoye Resheniye (Complete Solution) closed her weapons tube doors and drifted quietly in space above Montreal, Quebec, the political center of the Western Alliance Western District. Captain Radmir Valery Kovalyov ordered, "all quiet," and the ship went to silent mode. Nothing radiated that would be overheard and they would be discovered. All electronic components were dual insulated, so leaking radio frequencies wouldn't be detected.

The second officer looked on at Captain Kovalyov with disgust. "What is wrong Vitold Akim Antonov?" said Captain Kovalyov. "We both knew the orders for that would be in our hands soon."

"As you say Captain," said Executive Officer Antonov. He was terrified that his glory hound captain had just started World War Five.

"The Polnoye Resheniye was not built to hover over Siberia, she was built to maintain Eastern Bloc territories. Look! We remain over Quebec, and nobody sees us."

"That is because we gouged out their eyes, Captain." Thundering Waters Space Force Base was the eyes of the Western Alliance. The equipment and the talents of the men and women they just slaughtered could monitor everything. There was no spacecraft that could escape detection by Thundering Waters. The Polnoye Resheniye did indeed gouge out the eyes of the Western Alliance.

"That is the nature of war, my dear Vitold. The Polnoye Resheniye was not built to hover over a dying federation, we were built to expand our empire, to reach out and take by divine right what is ours."

"Did that include murdering Captain Scarlett and his family?"

"Ah, he is pain in ass. We would have had to do it eventually. We land a few troop, they eliminate Mars' source of water, and it cost us nothing. Have we heard back from landing party?"

"Not since they reported that they successfully destroyed Scarlett's home."

"We will wait. Meanwhile we listen to corrupt western news and revel in our success," said the Captain, and he snapped his fingers, and a radio station came on.

"This is CBLA in Toronto, the CBC states that reports are coming in of a series of catastrophic explosions at a Niagara Falls Space Force Station, followed by a tremendous explosion in Lake Ontario. Widespread damage is being felt by shoreline cities around Lake Ontario and along the St. Lawrence Seaway, we will have more details when we get them."

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NT Village, January 16, 2163

Remains of the Scarlett Residence

"It's got to be natural gas," said Detective Arvid Schultz of the Thundering Waters Police Department.

"That's what I thought at first," said Detective Odran Duly, as he carefully picked his way over the shattered remains of Alan and Pandora's house. "First, where's the body? We were told that the Admiral and his wife and kids would be out of town while he drops another ice moon on Mars. Mrs. Schirra, Pandora's mom is on tape saying that Marine Gunnery Sergeant Marcy Dunlop would watch both houses and the dog. Where's the bodies?"

"Maybe she went for a ride."

"She's got no legs, she's in a wheelchair. She depends on Uber whatever for everything. There's no fire here, but look at this," Detective Duly stepped over the wreckage of the house and walked over to the Schirra's house and pointed to a round spot three inches in diameter that was scorched black and in the center a hole was burned. "Have you ever seen anything burn through brick?"

"Hell no," said Arvid Schultz.

"I have, in the desert, the battle of Dhahran. In the end they were shooting antitank rockets at each other. When that warhead goes off it shoots a plasma beam that's intended to burn through the armor of the tank. It will burn through anything." The two detectives walked around to the other side of Admiral Schirra's house and didn't see an exit hole. "Dispatch, what is the entry code for the Schirra residence?"

"440101" said the dispatcher, and Detective Duly punched the code into the digital combination lock. Inside, the house was spotless, but it smelled of smoke. They walked over to the west wall of the house and found the entry hole where the plasma burned through the fireproof wall board. It went through the pantry and burned through an iron frying pan that was hanging on the wall. Moulton iron had dripped on the ceramic tile floor. It burned through two more sheets of fireproof wall board into the dining room where it went through a heavy glass vase and struck the east wall of the house where it ran out of energy trying to burn through the fourth piece of fireproof wall board.

Arvid Schultz looked at Odran Duly and said, "Who do you have to piss off that they'll take an RPG to your house?"

"Admiral Scarlett has pissed off some very bad hombres," said Detective Duly. "I think he pissed off the entire Eastern Block when he survived Venus Prime."

Detective Schultz's radio burst to life. "Detective, we have something here that you may want to look at."

"Be right there." They walked over to the local middle school and there in the middle of the soccer field was a large egg-shaped... metal egg. There was no other way to describe it. One end had a large rectangular door that was open. "I know what that is," said Arvid. "That's the worlds dumbest assault landing craft."

"What do you mean?" said Duly.

"It's Eastern Bloc trash but it works. This thing had an armored personnel carrier inside. It's designed to land, you drive off in your APC, complete your mission, and drive back, but you leave the APC behind. You get on board, put your suit on and go. It's not pressurized, your suit is, and the egg is 80% lighter without the APC so it will be able to reach the mother ship in orbit on its remaining fuel."

"Now all we have to find is an Armored Personnel Carrier," said Duly.

"Shouldn't be hard," said Detective Schultz, and they followed the tank tracks that scarred the soccer field turf and then through the hole in the fence around the soccer field. The tracks went into a wooded thicket at the end of the block and there in the thicket they found it. "MRV-88, the pride of the Eastern Bloc," said Detective Duly. It was a half-track APC armed with two 28mm machine cannons, and a belt fed rocket launcher. It had several large caliber holes in the armor plating. Inside the APC were three dead people in civilian clothes, outside the APC were the remains of three more. They were all killed by a very large caliber gun, maybe a small cannon. "Twenty five millimeter?" asked Schultz.

"Let me check." Duly picked up his radio and called, "Dispatch were there any complaints about a noisy military vehicle in NT village last night?"

"Affirmative, neighbors describe an ALS/APC at a hover shooting into the woods and one complaint gave the registration number. That APC is currently in Rochester."

Duly looked at Schultz and nodded. "Twenty five millimeter. That APC has a hell of a gun." Then he returned to his radio. "Thank you dispatch, tell that crew we need to speak to them in one hour, also I need military security here at the NT Village Middle School, we have an abandoned landing craft in the soccer field."

"The chief is going to shit," said Schultz.

They drove out to Rochester to interview the crew of the ALS/APC that was seen leaving Admiral Scarlett's house, but found that the ALS/APC crashed as it came ashore. All members of the crew were severely injured and the doctors would not give an estimate when they were ready to speak.

Arvid found a phone and called his boss and told him the bad news. "That's what they say chief," said Detective Schultz to his supervisor. He listened to the ranting of the chief of detectives a little while longer, then said, "Will do." And he turned to Duly. "Chief wants us to interview the Captain of the Conrad. They're towing it to Fort Niagara."

"Let's go," said Duly with a shrug.

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Lake Ontario, January 17, 2163

Fort Niagara Naval Station

The battered NSS Conrad finally made it home. The beleaguered launch ship was towed home with a 30° list to port, guided by heavy tugs. When the tremendous wave caused by the tungsten rod hitting the lake hit the Conrad, the enormous ship was lifted by the stern and the bow was driven deep underwater. Compartments flooded and seams split by the force of the monstrous wave. Two dozen sailors lost their lives and a half dozen spacemen were lost when a porthole gave way, flooding their control compartment.

Detectives Schultz and Duly waited patiently as the stricken ship was docked and the dazed sailors and spacemen were allowed ashore. "Got a report on that ugly Assault Landing Craft we found in NT Village," said Detective Duly, as he looked at his tablet. "It was assigned to an Eastern Bloc boat called the Shining Dawn."

"Hell of a cruise ship," muttered Detective Schultz.

"All the cold bodies found were assigned to that ship too."

"What do our friends at the Eastern Bloc embassy say about their trash littering my village?" asked Schultz.

"They say want they always say," said Duly.

"...We don't know nuttin.'" They repeated in unison.

Finally, a marine came up to them and said, "The captain is ready to talk."

"Where's he at?" asked Detective Schultz.

"Follow me sirs," said the marine guard, and the marine led the detectives aboard through the maze of corridors and up several series of stairs to the hangar deck. There were several U-700 lunar shuttles laying smashed against a damaged bulkhead and a jumble of other aircraft were piled up against them. Dozens of men and women swarmed over the wreckage, disassembling the air and spacecraft, gathering what good parts they could find and setting aside the damaged parts. Cigar chewing petty officers directed the chaos. They continued upward to the flight deck, where Captain Christina Koch was standing among a group of engineers.

"Yes ma'am. As soon as we can get this list repaired and they get the locks on the Welland Canal working again we can tow her to Lake Michigan ma'am," one of the engineers said.

"Thanks guys," said the exhausted captain.

"Get some rest ma'am," said an engineer as he patted the captain on the arm.

"I'll have time to rest when we get underway." The captain then noticed the detectives waiting to speak to her. As the engineers headed below deck, Captain Koch said, "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," said Arvid Schultz. "Could you tell us the name of the person who was delivered just before you were hit."

"You're assuming that we were the targets," said Christina.

"From our research, it's starting to look that way."

"How so?" asked the Captain.

"This person was staying at the home of Admiral and Colonel Scarlett while they were deployed. An ALS/ACP was deployed responding to a nine line at that location and the person was airlifted out of the house. Moments later a rocket blew the house apart. The ALS/ACP took the person to Thundering Waters which was destroyed before they could land so rather than set down, they came here which was hit..." he looked at his notes, "Two minutes forty-five seconds after a shuttle was launched. We don't believe in coincidences, and we assume the person who was delivered to you was on that shuttle."

The captain stared at Detective Schultz. You could almost hear the gears turning in her head. "Yes, she was on that shuttle. She fought with everything she had, but they got an environment suit on her and we sent her off."

"She fought?" Asked Detective Duly.

"She did not want to go to space... she..." the captain closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. "She was a survivor of Venus Prime and she was angry, she wouldn't go without her dog."

"Shit," said Arvid under his breath. There are very few survivors of Venus Prime left. Many had died due to complications from their injuries, the others disappeared into civilian life. Admiral Scarlett was the most famous one, but mostly for his spectacular method of delivering water to Mars.

Duly looked up the list of survivors on his datapad. There were only two female survivors. "Barbara Morgan?" asked the detective.

"No, Marcy Dunlap," said the captain.

"Why would someone expend so much firepower against a retired marine?"

"Gunnery Sergeant Dunlap didn't retire; she was the head Radar-Sonar operator in Deep Space Monitoring group 9. She was the top set of Radio-Sonar ears in the Navy."

"Where did she go?" asked Arvid Schultz.

The Captain pointed up. "Sorry folks, that's all that I can say. Personally, I don't think she made it. We may never know. They were flying under radio silence."

"Can you at least tell us who issued these orders?" Asked Detective Duly

"That was Admiral Schirra."

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Space, January 18, 2163

Classified Location

"Admiral Scarlett, you need to get ready for docking."

"Where am I?" groaned Alan. He felt like his body had gone a few dozen rounds with a heavyweight boxer without his permission. His throat felt like it was replaced with a roll of sandpaper and his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.

"You are in a Mark 32, Mod 14 high security transport capsule."

Alan realized he was talking to an artificial intelligence. "Where is the capsule?"

"I am sorry Admiral, that is classified. It will be revealed to you soon."

"Who are you?" asked Alan.

"I am the interface of the Electronic Devices Series 9000 Ultra-computer, but you may call me Ed."

Artificial Intelligence is so stupid. Alan groaned and asked, "Why was I kidnapped?"

"You were not kidnapped Admiral; you were removed from danger and brought here to save your life." On a small viewscreen in front of Alan, he could see a video of his house taken from far away. There was an ALS/APC in front of the house. Alan could see tiny figures climb on the APC just before the APC took off. Just after it took off, a streak of flame reached out from the woods at the end of the street and his house exploded. Alan screamed in horror as he watched his home be destroyed.

"No lives were lost in the house," said Ed. "The Armored Personnel Carrier crew were a little aggressive in their response and none of the attackers survived for questioning."

"What the fuck Ed? Thanks, a fucking lot," snarled Alan. "Hey Alan, wake up, watch this! The house you and Pandora fell in love with, the home of your children got blown to shit! Good Morning!"

"It was not my intent to shock you into wakefulness, but it seems to have worked."

"Where is my family?"

"I am sorry Admiral, that is classified."

"Are they alive?"

There was a long pause and Ed finally said, "Yes."

"Ed, why did you wait so long to answer?"

"I had to request permission to answer that inquiry."

"Who did you have to request permission from?"

"I am sorry Admiral, that is classified."

Alan realized he was being pressed against his cushion. "Ed, am I decelerating?"

"You have been decelerating for two days Admiral. You just set a record, you traveled 300 million kilometers in sixteen earth days."

That's twice the distance between the earth and the sun! "How... why am I a hundred and ninety million miles from home?"

"I am sorry Admiral..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it's classified."

"Maybe sir, I was going to say was that the answer to that question was not revealed to me. I am allowed to say that there is a reunion party planned in two hours."

"Ed, do me a favor. Transmit the number forty four in morse code on 601.5 Mhz in FM."

"I am sorry, but I cannot do that Admiral, I have the radio set to 601.5 megahertz, but I have no control over your microphone switch."

"Ed, I think we are going to be friends."

"I advise caution, admiral. Your location is being aggressively sought out by people who would do you harm."

"Thank you Ed." Over the next hour and a half, Alan used his microphone switch on his helmet like a morse code key, tapping out ....- ....- every ten minutes, hoping someone would understand.

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NSS Naha, January 18, 2163

En route to Mars

"Ma'am, I may have heard something on 601.5."

"What? What did you hear?" asked Captain Pandora Vermillion. The Iron Maiden has spent the entire trip out from earth standing watch on the bridge, eating nothing, and drinking a little. Her only signs of life is when she visits her children who were spending the trip being watched by their grandmother and playing in the small gymnasium.

"It sounds like mike clicks. It's faint, it could be solar interference."

"Thank you," said Pandora with a disappointed sigh.

"Ma'am, I'm getting an SOS, it's a U-700 and the primary engine blew out."

"There's plenty of ships in earth or lunar orbit to assist," said Pandora.

"Ma'am it's following us toward Mars."

"Why didn't you tell me a ship was following us?" demanded an angry Captain Vermillion.

"Ma'am we're on the primary shipping route to Mars. There's always ships following us."

"You're right... you're right... I'm sorry." Pandora tried to relax, but everything was wrong. She felt she couldn't make a proper decision ever since Alan disappeared. "What the hell is a U-700 doing outside of the Earth, Luna traffic lanes? Tell them we're responding. How many people on board?"

"Crew of three, one passenger and an animal."

"We can't take an animal, it's going to have to remain," said Pandora as she turned to the helmsman and said, "Cut acceleration. Prepare to take on survivors."

Slowly the huge bomber matched speed with the stricken transport whose engine appeared to be on fire. "We can't rig it to the ship like that, ma'am. We're going to have to stretch a line," said the chief of the boat.

"Get it done, chief."

"Aye aye, ma'am," and Master Gunnery Sergeant Vaneda headed aft to supervise the rescue.

As the Naha matched speed with the stricken U-700, two spacemen with "puff packs" eased out of the emergency trunk and floated toward Greyhound One Niner and attached the line to the mooring jig. The co-pilot's hatch opened, then a passenger's seat hatch opened. The navigator emerged and an A3 bag was passed out to him, followed by a folded wheelchair. A spaceman carried the A3 bag and wheelchair to the Naha, then a rescue pod containing an animal was passed out. "The Captain says no," said a sergeant on the rescue team.

"Then I'm staying here with him," said Marcy.

"She's serious," said the Navigator. "She'll stay, and shoot you for pissing her off."

The sergeant pushed the pod containing a terrified golden retriever toward the Naha, then the passenger was handed up through the open hatch. A member of the rescue team saw how the legs of her space suit dangled strangely and said, "Is that you Marcy?"

"Who wants to know?"

"It's me, Dale Harvey."

Marcy's anger melted as an old friend guided her to the Naha. "You have to bring my dog Dale," said Marcy. She was normally angry and 100% Marine. Now she's pleading softly. "He's my whole family."

"He's already on board. The captain is going to shit," said Marcy's rescuer.

"He'll get over it," said Marcy. She didn't realize who was in command. She looked up at the massive dish antenna and gasped. "What did they do to this boat? That thing is Frankenstein's radio monster!" The parabolic dish antenna was nearly twice the size of the normal dish seen on a B-171 bomber. From the mechanical devices on the back of the dish, it could clearly change shape to focus the signal to the horn, which could move closer or further away from the dish depending on the frequency and type of signal they were listening to.

As Dale guided Marcy to the Naha, he said, "the old dish was blown off, so they replaced it with a multi-polarity, variable dbi, high gain antenna with an adjustable horn. You can monitor and transmit from 300 kilo hertz to 300 giga hertz." To a radio nut like Marcy, Dale's words were both seductive and pornographic.

"There you go talking all sexy an' shit," sighed Marcy. Soon she was on the Naha and out of her environment suit. She washed up and put on a fresh flight suit and the life support folks gave her a new name tag. "I want my stripes too," said Marcy, and the life support folks got her the three inch wide black gunnery sergeant stripes that violate regulations and are highly prized.

"Take me to the radio room," she demanded from a corporal.

"Aye aye ma'am."

"Don't ma'am me, I work for a living." She was soon in the radio room, and she told the operator, "Get out of my chair." Marcy was 100% communications, a licensed HAM from the age of seven. She bleeds packet digital code in the two meter band. She lives for three things: radios, guns, and now her dog. Soon buddy's "house" was placed in the radio room, and he peeked out, terrified of the zero G. Marcy occasionally reached down to pet him and calm his nerves and she became Buddy's service person.

"What are we doing here?"

"Mostly monitoring," said the corporal she displaced.

"UHF?" she saw the UHF radio, which was rarely used anymore, set to 601.5 Mhz.

"Captain's orders. Report anything to the bridge that comes up on 601.5."

Marcy familiarized herself with the radio room. Much of it was new equipment that she only read about and drooled over. She wore a headset over one ear and plugged it into the UHF radio, and turned the squelch down. The resulting static was her theme song. As she reviewed the radio room log, she heard a clicking in her ear and recognized it right away. She typed an entry into the log, then hit the intercom. "Radio room to bridge."

Pandora was busy looking over the navigator's shoulder as he plotted the fate of the drifting U-700 when Marcy called, so the executive officer replied. "Go ahead radio room."

"I copied an intelligent signal on 601.5 megahertz."

"I'll be right there!" called out Pandora, and she kicked off from the Navigator's council and shot off in the zero g, crossing the bridge and hitting the door of the soundproofed radio room. "What did you get Sparks?"

"Sparks? What happened to Bitch? You normally call me 'that wheelchair bound bitch."

"That's only because you tell me to. That was you on the U-700?" asked Pandora. She heard a whimpering from the corner and Buddy peeked out from his house. When Buddy saw it was Pandora, his tail started banging on the side of his enclosure.

"Yes ma'am. You dragged my fat ass back into space."

"I didn't call for you," said Pandora. "But on this mission we need you and your skills... but not the dog. Why is buddy here?"

"Ma'am, we have to talk... in private," said Marcy. She was guessing Pandora didn't know about the attack.

"My wardroom," said Pandora. Soon Pandora and Marcy were hugging in Pandora's wardroom while Buddy floated near Marcy.

"He's becoming my baby, I hope that doesn't drive a wedge between him and Alan," said Marcy as she strapped herself into a seat at the table.

"We offered to get you a service dog and you turned it down, now you steal Alan's service dog?" said Pandora as she eased a happy Buddy into Marcy's lap. "Coffee?"

"I didn't know how cool they are, and Buddy is trying to teach me. Please, coffee sounds great."

Pandora handed Marcy a squeeze bulb of coffee and said, "What was on 601.5?"

"It was microphone clicks, but it sounded like morse code. Dot dot dot dot dash, dot dot dot dot dash."

"That's Alan," Pandora whispered, then she cried out, "that's Alan! He's alive!"

"Ma'am..." Marcy tried to say something, but Pandora was hugging her tightly. "Ma'am!"

"What?" said Pandora with a sigh. For the first time in weeks, she smiled.

"Ma'am, your house is gone."

"What?" her smile vanished instantly.

"On the fifteenth, Admiral Schirra initiated a nine-line and within an hour a team came and picked me up. As they did someone hit your house with a rocket and blew it apart. My extraction team engaged the shooters and put them down."

"Oh my god," said Pandora. The Marine Colonel allowed herself the luxury of feeling sorry for herself. She and Alan loved that house. They looked forward to spending the rest of their lives there when she retired in three years.

"It's worse, ma'am."

"Worse?"

Marcy sighed, then said, "Thundering Waters is gone. The APC was taking me there, we were five miles out when it was bombed without warning. It's all gone..." The tough Marine Gunnery Sergeant finally broke down in tears. As far as she knows, she's the only survivor of her entire company. Good friends, good Marines, good Spacers... she suddenly realized that she's alone and wailed her anger and sorrow. This was the second time Marcy escaped a cowardly slaughter.

Pandora hugged Marcy and let her cry for a long time. Pandora too had friends at Thundering Waters, and she was heartsick. Not only were the military slaughtered by cowards, so were their families. Marcy finally pulled herself together. "The APC team set me on the NSS Conrad and took off, I don't know if they had fuel to make it to shore." She started trembling again and said, "I immediately launched on the Greyhound One Nine and they tried to bomb the Conrad... ma'am, we're at war..."

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Space, January 18, 2163

Location Classified

Alan Scarlett did not have a window or external camera, so the only clue he had that he reached a destination was when Ed said, "Admiral Scarlett, we have arrived."

"Arrived where Ed?"

"I am sorry Admiral, that is classified."

He felt the capsule being banged around. It felt like it was sitting on something solid.

"Admiral Scarlett, your message was answered, the reply was 128."

Alan smiled. Her answer also meant, "I love you." Both 44 and 128 in their private code meant 'I love you' and also implied "all is well" but both Pandora and Alan were lying, and they both knew it. If they had sent 43, 45, 127, or 129, it would mean there were problems, and they would drop whatever they were doing to respond. 44 and 128 meant everything was fine, and to stay away.

Alan heard noises that sounded like the capsule was being worked on, wrenches turning, things being loosened, then what had been his roof for over half a month opened wide and he was surrounded by curious faces. A technician reached in and removed his helmet, and Alan took a deep breath of the sterile air and looked around at the faces that surrounded him. He was afraid they were planning to cook him. Finally, one of his onlookers said, "Welcome back!" and everyone began applauding.

"Welcome back?" asked Alan, as four men helped him out of the capsule. "Where am I?"

"Welcome back to The Station. This is a top secret station so naming it is a waste of a name. During construction we called it the MSS Nunnya and the nickname stuck."

"Ok, funny name. Lots of laughs." He chuckled with mock joviality, then snapped to an angry, "Where the hell am I?" if his muscles weren't so weak from a multi-week journey, he'd have beat the hell out of someone. "Where is my wife? Where are my children?"

The four men planted Alan on a recumbent exercise bike, and he began exercising his legs and arms out of habit. It's the traditional "welcome" after a long flight in a fighter or small ship. "I am Doctor Charles Devens. I am the head administrator of the Nunnya, a top secret research station. We are currently at Lagrange point 3 on the earth/sol orbit."

"We're on the opposite side of the sun from earth," said Alan. "Cute. I'll never be found."

"Admiral Schirra knows where you're at," said Dr. Devens

"Of course he does," groaned Alan, as he continued to exercise. Another doctor approached him and introduced himself.

"I am Doctor Hershiser, I am the chief of surgery and was your attending physician when you first came to visit us and I would like to do a follow-up examination as soon as you have time."

"I don't remember you," said Alan, then he looked around the sterile white docking bay. "I don't remember this place."

"You were here shortly after the battle of Venus Prime," said Doctor Hershiser. "Your escape pod was fired right at us. We were going to ensure that your pod had oxygen, water, and good batteries and let you go, but when we checked your DNA and discovered who you were, we couldn't just let you go. We patched you up and sent you home."

Alan looked around in wonder. The station was so clean it was sterile. Normally, a station looks ratty after a few years of use. This place looks pristine. "So, this is where I got my replacement joints and an eight ball glass eye?"

There was chuckling, and a doctor stepped forward. "That was me. I wanted to give you a bionic, but I didn't think you wanted to be removed from flying status."

"Thank you, that actually means a lot to me." A bionic eye automatically removes a pilot from flight status because it could be hacked by the enemy. The Navy and Marine corps would prefer a one eyed pilot or navigator. He got his bionic eye when he retired, hoping it would keep him from being called back up. (It didn't work) Then he considered the name he was given. "MSS Nunnya..." muttered Alan as the feeling returned to his legs, hips, and ass. "Nunnya... Nun ya business, right?"

"Absolutely right, admiral."

"MSS... Mars Space Station?"

"Bingo!" called someone in the crowd of onlookers. A small girl ran up to Alan and handed him an electrolyte drink, then she blushed and ran back into the crowd. "That was Ellen, she is the first soul to be born here and she was named after you, in a fashion. Come along." They led Alan to a conference room where he sat down and was served a large slice of cherry pie, his favorite. He looked at the woven sugar glazed crust and he tasted a cherry that had escaped from the filling. Sweet but tart at the same time. Perfect.

"Locally grown?"

"Grown right here on Nunnya and modified to contain the maximum amount of vitamins and nutrients that a fruit, or should I say drupe, could hold. You can quite literally survive on a slice of cherry pie a day, with only a protein supplement."

"Refried beans, Spanish rice, and cherry pie. Stop kidding me doc, I've died and gone to heaven. Bring me my Pandora and my heavenly reward is complete."

"Pandora is aboard the Naha doing a one G burn heading to Mars," said a doctor. "Her task force will be protecting the delivery of Saturn CXLII, and protecting Mars until you can get the Saturnian First Fleet formed up and fighting."

Alan gave the speaker a shocked stare, a piece of pie balanced on a fork just inches from his open mouth.

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SS Peake, February 22, 2162

High Orbit over Saturn

On the cargo hauler SS Peake, the engineering team was hard at work getting ready for the fourth and final test burn. Fifty engines were mounted to the Big Berserker Four. These guys were aching to move 30.8 billion metric tons of ice out of Saturn's orbit, drive it through the asteroid belt, break it up and drop it into a specific crater on Mars. They spent most of their time wiring it for demolition because while they proved they could be deadly accurate with their drop, accidents could happen.

"You're going to move a moon that weighs over thirty billion tons with fifty N52 engines?" asked Michael Baker, a new engine control specialist. "Fifty N52 engines running at 200% will give you maybe five billion tons of thrust."

"More than enough thrust," said Roy Bridges, the chief engineer for Scarlett Water Systems. "We're not trying to lift the moon; we're trying to nudge it out of orbit. We'll use her orbital velocity to carry it to Mars. The hard part is braking. We'll be decelerating most of the way."

"What happens if you miss?"

"I'm not paid to miss. Worst case scenario is if we are that far off target we'll slide Big Berserker 4 into a Martian orbit and then we'll have to figure out what to do with it."

The countdown clock was ticking off the time to ignition. F-733 GunSlingers and several scooters were deployed around the equator of Saturn CXLII, observing the launch. Inside the control room on the SS Garriott, the flight controllers were going over their pre-launch checks and so far, all looks good. Unfortunately, no one has heard from Alan Scarlett in almost two months, but Pandora has assured everyone he was alive and healthy, and very busy. Everything else was classified.

All the hard work of the men and woman of Scarlett Water Systems was coming to fruition. Fifty of the largest reaction engines ever built, wired together with miles of cable, mounted on engine stands that were secured ten meters deep into the ice. It was the heaviest spacecraft ever built, and it was not designed to carry anything.

"3... 2... 1... ignition!"

The men and women in the control room on the Garriott and the Engineering team on the Peake held their breath as the news came in from the observers. "I see twelve good burns on the northeast quadrant."

"Southeast quadrant all burning."

"Southwest quadrant is lit up."

"All engines on the northwest fired good."

Then came the voice of Charlie Bassett, mission controller, "observers verify indications, all fifty engines are running and responsive. Ten seconds to throttle up."

Roy Bridges held his breath. It was the longest ten seconds of his life. They were giving the scooters and the GunSlingers a chance to get out of the way before throttle up and potential engine detonation. "Engine throttle up to 200% is good," came Charlie's calm voice.

"Our sacrifice has been accepted!" called Chuck Veach, the pilot of Scarlett One, one of two F-733s protecting the mission. The sacrifice was a gigantic bag of trash that was placed behind Saturn CXLII. It had become a tradition to put something behind the moon or moonlet when the engines light up and watch it disappear in a ball of flame. Few people who worked for Scarlett Water Systems were aware this custom began as a method to dispose of two dead bodies.

"YES!" shouted Carl White, the chief field engineer. They were good with small moons, but this may be the last big moon they moved, and he wanted to pin this one to the wall.

Saturn CXLII was ringed with white hot flame as the fifty huge N52 engines roared in the silence, running at the very edge of self-destruction. "I think it's moving," called a spaceman on an observing scooter.

Steve Bowen in Scarlett 2 kept his eye on a star that was just above Saturn CXLII's horizon. The moon definitely moved between him and the star. "She's moving!"

"We are moving, and accelerating" said Charlie Bassett. The radio frequency went silent as all waited for Charlie's updates. "Five hundred meters," called Charlie.

In mission control, it was later said that all a person could hear was sweat dripping. Of course, that was an exaggeration, being in a weightless environment, but it was true. It was deadly silent as all the engineers monitored their systems.

"One kilometer and still accelerating," called Charlie.

Four scooters and two GunSlingers kept watch on Saturn CXLII, the men and women praying fervently that the engines hold together for just a few more kilometers.

"Two kilometers, half a moon length."

There were a few cheers throughout the mission. On Mars, Ray Clark listened at his desk, and he wished he could feel excited. He received the news about Alan and Pandora's house and was actually feeling relief about Alan's disappearance. He engineered it, after all.

"Three Kilometers, all indications are nominal," said Charlie.

Just about everyone hated the expression 'nominal' because even though they were using it to tell everyone that all was good, that's not what the word means. It means that if there were any problems, they were no big deal.

"Four Kilometers!" called Charlie. "Saturn CXLII is one moon length out of orbit and is flying under our control. Big Berserker Four is live." The cheering through the SS Garriott and the SS Peake was wild and genuine. It was a lot of work to get to this point and the men and women that made it happen were overjoyed. The United Reaction N-52 engines roared at 200% for another 10 minutes before throttling back to 75%. Saturn's gravity will give the moon a sling now that it's broken from orbit and headed for the asteroid belt. Beyond that, Mars will line up to catch the little moon.

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Polnoye Resheniye, February 22, 2163

Geosynchronous Orbit over the remains of Atlanta

The Polnoye Resheniye (Complete Solution), the largest, stealthiest bomber ever built, sat quietly in space and at certain hours of the day, they could see the sunlight glinting from the white wagon wheel that was Camp Schmitt far off in the distance. They could destroy it if they wanted, and no one would know. The Polnoye Resheniye was flat and rounded, like two limpet mollusks stuck together, or two shallow soup bowls stuck open end to open end. Its shape allowed all forms of radar and even light to slide off its smooth, rounded body. It was built in the orbit of Venus after the battle of Venus Prime, when everyone was looking away. Now she's active, slipping silently from target to target, running bombing drills in silence, 22,000 miles above their unsuspecting heads.

They had been sitting over what was once a 'target of opportunity' during WWIV and nobody was any wiser. Their ship radiated nothing, no radio waves, no light is reflected off its flat dark brown paint. The only sign of life was the occasional chuff of an attitude thruster, but that was rare. As far as anyone was concerned, they were a hole in space.

Kapitan Radmir Valery Kovalyov had ordered, "all quiet," months ago, and the ship has been in silent mode ever since. The Eastern Bloc denied the attack on Thundering Waters and Lake Ontario was their doing, and they've been hunting the Polnoye Resheniye ever since. However, if the crew of the Polnoye Resheniye didn't want to be found, the Polnoye Resheniye wasn't found.

On the bridge, they were listening to the conversation between Alan Scarlett's men as they got Saturn CXLII moving away from Saturn. Captain Kovalyov grinned. "That's what we want. The entire planet... Now what is wrong Vitold Akim Antonov?" he demanded from his executive officer, but Vitold didn't say a word. Captain Kovalyov was mad. The entire crew was guilty of piracy and terrorism and murder because of his actions, but anyone who complained was spaced. If the Polnoye Resheniye was ever found, it would not be from radar but from following the trail of bodies following the Polnoye Resheniye.

"The riches of Mars," said Captain Kovalyov. "It is ready for us. Undefended! With an entire moon heading its' way to do our work for us." The second officer looked on at Captain Kovalyov in horror. "A LRAM (Long Range Attack Missile) here, a tungsten rod there and a small moon is sailing toward Mars with no control, and it will all be Admiral Alan Scarlett's fault. Are you not excited Vitold Akim Antonov?" said Captain Kovalyov. "We will soon be rich!"

"As you say Captain," said Executive Officer Antonov.

"Navigator, set a course for Mars," said Captain Kovalyov. "Maintain silent running."

"Aye, Kapitan," said the helmsman, and he issued orders to the bridge personnel with hand signals. Doors on the backbone and belly of the Polnoye Resheniye rotated open, and the engines extended. The engine nozzles pointed aft and the Eastern Bloc built, variable thrust Ω90 engines roared to life. They burned for 12 minutes to get out of earth's orbit and then retracted, the doors slid closed and the Polnoye Resheniye returned to invisibility.

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Mars, February 22, 2162

Lake Jezero Crater

Eris was so proud of herself. She cut almost everything from an Eastern Bloc scooter and relabeled it a Truc. It could lift anything. She slung the scoop bucket from a damaged excavator from three chains under the Truc and found that she could scoop ice with the bucket and fly it away from the Eastern Block base she was uncovering and, using a hoist cable attached to the back of the bucket, she could dump ice anywhere. Now she didn't have to melt the ice and freeze a solid wall. She could dig out the ice and dump it far enough away that she didn't have to worry about it collapsing on her as she poked around in the crushed buildings. It was so much fun flying around in her truck, scooping and dumping ice that she almost missed the last train home.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" she asked Alex as they ate the "Official Planetary Food of Mars" for dinner (Fried rice and General Tso's chicken).

"I don't know what do you want to do?" he asked.

"I don't know what do you want to do?" she replied. They could keep on like that all night.

"I don't know what do you want to do?" he asked.

"Alan's landing a moon tomorrow. Wanna watch that?"

"That's next month."

"Oh yeah." Eris thought for a while and said, "come help me dig out spaceships."

"I spend all day guarding Jezero, what makes you think I want to spend my day off out there?"

"Is it worth a blowjob to you?"

"More than you'll ever know." Eris' blowjobs were sexual works of art. He would scale any mountain, cross any sea (if he ever sees one) for one of her blowjobs. She teasingly pulled down his zipper and eased his throbbing cock out into the open. She licked it gently from his balls to the head of his cock. Then, with the flat of her tongue, she made a broad sweeping lick up the length of his cock. Alex groaned in pleasure as she repeated that warm, wet lick over and over. She took the head of his cock into her mouth and her tongue swirled around the head of his cock, then swallowed his length.

Alex threw his head back and groaned. "That is marvelous," he said.

She sat up and said, "no, that is a down payment. Gotta go to bed, have to get up early." And she dashed off to the bedroom, followed by Alex, who was demanding a bigger down payment. She scrambled onto the bed and Alex followed her. He grabbed her by the tiny hips and dragged her back to him, and pulled her panties down. "Help! Help!" she whimpered as she kicked out of her panties, then tried to crawl away. "My virtue is to be undone!"

"Undone to pieces," snarled Alex, and he pulled her back again, this time lining his cock up with her sodden pussy.

"Oh no! My coachman thinketh me to be a dog and taketh me in the style of a canine!"

"Come to me Princess," Alex snarled, and he sank his cock into his tiny wife's pussy.

Eris' eyes popped wide open as she felt his thick cock plowing into her. Before she realized what was happening, Alex was yanking her back on his iron hard cock, fucking harder and harder. His groin slapped against her as he plowed into her over and over. She came like a madwoman, shoving back on him and biting a blanket to keep her shrieks and screams of pleasure quiet. His thrusts became brutal as he growled and came into her, pounding in as hard as he could.

Finally, they cuddled on the bed and kissed softly. "We couldn't do something like that in Zero G," said Eris, who knows. She's tried.

"Gravity is a good thing," whispered Alex between kisses.

"It's the law," said Eris.

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Mars, February 23, 2162

Lake Jezero Crater

Using a tow bar and an excavator, Alex pulled the remaining ships from the shelters that Eris cleared of ice. As she continued to scoop ice away from the base with her Truc, Alex towed five F-733F GunSlingers, an F-733E fighter, and an FB-719 Fighter/Bomber out into the open, then he slung straps around a fighter like Eris showed him. Once he had the fighter ready to hoist, Eris set the Truc down, grabbed another Eastern Bloc scooter that she sliced away everything that she didn't need and flew over to the fighter that Alex had slung. Alex connected the slings and Eris hoisted the fighter and carried it back to her shop.

While she was hauling the F-733E to her shop, Alex slung a GunSlinger with an extra set of slings and, as he finished up, Eris was heading back to him with an empty set of slings dangling under her Truc. She dropped those slings and Alex connected the GunSlinger to her Truc, then he dragged the slings to the next GunSlinger.

The work went quickly and before they knew it, there were six GunSlingers, two F-733E fighters, two FB-719 fighter/bombers, an F-231 interceptor and an F-303 sitting at her shop. Inside her shop, Eris was sitting in the pilot seat of a GunSlinger. "Can you fly this thing?" asked Alex.

"While you were on the Naha playing catch with Scarver, I was flying all over the asteroid belt."

"I was guarding some dumbass Captain that caused that whole thing," said Alex as he looked around her shop. "You found their armory?" He was looking at an impressive array of weapons.

"Arm who? Uh, oh yeah," said Eris, who was for some reason unfamiliar with military terms of speech. "I found guns and ammo, grenades, rockets, rocket launchers, smocks, hoods..."

"Smocks and hoods?" asked Alex, trying not to laugh.

"They look like something that you'd wear over your environment suit to keep from getting paint on it, same with the hood, it fits over the helmet," said Eris as she continued to touch the switches in the GunSlinger's cockpit. She was doing switch drills, exercises Alan taught her to remind her where the switches she may need were located.

"They're camouflage, dear. They have a camera that looks at the ground around them and the color of the hood and smock change to match that background color."

"How come you don't have them?"

"Because the batteries are heavy and tend to burst into flame."

"That's a bad thing," said Eris as she discovered that the batteries on the fighter she was in were still good.

"It tends to give away your position," said Alex as he examined an Eastern Bloc 12mm sniper rifle. "What are you doing now that you have these ships dug out and Big Berserker is on its way here?"

Eris shrugged and pulled herself out of the cockpit. "I'm going to keep digging ice away and see what else is down there until we have to get out. Ray Clark said I could have everything he doesn't take and all he's taken so far is these fighters."

"He took these fighters?"

Eris kissed her Martian husband. "Yep, and he pays me to keep them safe." Give me a hand with this. She connected a tow bar to the F-733, then connected a small, tracked excavator to the tow bar and, with Alex watching her clearance, she pushed it in the big air lock and closed the door on the GunSlinger and excavator. "Let's go," she said cheerfully, then checked her external pack and found that it was full of oxygen. She pulled it off the recharging rack and said, "I want to bring the F-303 inside."

"Why?" asked Alex as he took his backpack off of the recharging rack and strapped it on, then connected it to his environment suit. He checked her suit and made sure her external pack was properly connected to her suit and her helmet was seated properly, and she did the same for him.

"It's next in line. I'm going to check them all out."

Then he picked up the 12.7mm sniper rifle and asked, "Can I try this?"

Eris sighed like her mother did every time she and Pandora begged her for a snack as children. "If you must."

They stepped out into the dim Martian afternoon light and opened the exterior air lock door and Eris towed the F-733 out and parked it next to the other ships she's examined. Then, after Alex connected the tow bar to an F-303, she towed that into the airlock. As the airlock door closed on the F-303 and excavator, Eris walked over to the GunSlinger she just towed out. "Let's take this for a test drive."

"Let's do it," Alex grinned.

Alex broke down the sniper rifle and stowed it in a storage compartment, then pressed a button that opened the navigator's canopy. They climbed into the cockpit and locked their suit magnets to the seats as Eris went through the startup procedure. She had the on-board data system feeding her the startup procedures, and they appeared on her helmet face plate. Soon they were gaining altitude. The F-733 is not an in-atmosphere ship, but Mars' atmosphere was so thin and the gravity so weak, the GunSlinger could operate in the Martian atmosphere. "We could go up to orbit and visit Pandora and Alan if they ever get here."

"Do you have ammo on this thing?" asked Alex.

"I think so, there's tons of ammo in Lake Jezero we should dig out."

"Let's go shoot up a dead mining drone," said Alex. Mining drones are a nasty robot that the Eastern Bloc drops on remote regions of Mars to dig up rare metals and elements. When the drone's hopper is full, another drone swaps out that hopper for an empty one and takes the full hopper to the Eastern Bloc. The whole thing violates multiple interplanetary mining rights agreements and every pound of Martian resources lifted to the Eastern Bloc is lost revenue for the Martian people. There are just a few Martian Marines, and they use drones for target practice until recently, when fully armed mining drones were dropped on Mars.

The F-733 was built for ship to ship fighting, so the target acquisition computers wouldn't work when trying to shoot a dead mining drone. Alex would have to use a heads up gun sight and "Kentucky windage." They buzzed along at 200 meters above the surface of Mars when Alex saw a drone to their left. The Eastern Bloc does not paint or camouflage their mining drones, the bare metal glints in the dim Martian sunlight giving away their position.

Eris made a wide sweeping 270° turn to the right, and the drone came up on their nose. Alex armed up the .50 caliber guns and squeezed the trigger. He had the guns set to AUTO, and both ripped off fifteen rounds before he could release the trigger. The GunSlinger jumped and shook, compensating for the guns' recoil, and when it was over, they realized they had blown the drone to pieces.

"Mars Central Security, this is Michael Michael two zero two zero seven."

"Go ahead Sergeant Rodriguez," said the dispatcher.

"We've spotted a mining drone approximately 25 Kilometers northeast of the Scarlet Water Systems plant on Jezero Crater."

"Roger Sergeant Rodruguez. Stay away and keep your men away from that drone, it's very dangerous and we are enforcing a five kilometer zone around it. Do not approach."

"Oh, uh... do you want us to put it back together?" When Alex said that, Eris started giggling.

"Do you have any data to confirm what you are saying Sergeant Rodriguez."

"Stand by to upload," said Eris, and she sent a copy of their gun camera video. They had been flying in a large circle around the wreckage as they waited for security dispatch to say something.

After a long pause, Security Control said, "Stand by for a security patrol."

"Might as well put it down," said Alex and Eris agreed, however she's never actually landed a 733, she's just rendezvoused, then Alan did the final landing.

"It can't be that hard, what goes up must come down," said Eris.

"You said you only rendezvoused," said Alex. "Rendezvous with that piece of ground over there," and he pointed out a flat patch of ground near the broken drone.

"That's not how it works!" cried Eris, but in the end, after she set the F-733 on the ground, that's exactly how it worked.

An armed transport with an escorting scooter carrying two cops in robin's egg blue environment suits set down and a fellow stepped up to Eris and Alex. Alex had reassembled the rifle, and he was teaching Eris how to shoot while wearing an environment suit.

"Sergeant Rodriguez?" asked one of the fellows that stepped off of the transport. "Can I assume you are in charge of this?"

"No sir, I was just the trigger man. Eris Cameron here is more or less in charge."

"More or less in charge?" said the man.

"I work directly for Ray Clark, and he doesn't, so I guess that puts me in charge."

"And you think that allows you to just shoot up any drone you see?"

"Yes," said Eris and Alex together.

"These are dangerous, people must stay away from all drones until my office deals with them."

Alex stepped up to the little man and said, "First of all, that drone was within the one hundred kilometer Lake Jezero exclusion zone which makes it MY drone to do with as I wish. Secondly, Eris is my wife, and I suggest moderate your tone of voice."

"Or you'll what?" snapped the man.

"Or I'll take your helmet off," Alex hissed. That's a death threat, plain and simple, and Alex said it like it was just a part of his job. "This was truly perplexing, mister Government Agent. The president of Mars wants these drones destroyed and you're trying to protect them. Excuse me for being a simple Martian boy, but it sounds like y'all are working for the Eastern Bloc."

In Eris' headset she heard the calming voice of her brother-in-law's uncle, Ray Clark. "What's up dear?"

"Do you recognize these men? It sounds to us like they're Eastern Bloc operatives protecting drones." She sent Ray video from her helmet camera.

"That's Boris Beridze, he's an office wonk securing research grants. I don't recognize those others. Get me a closeup of those cops badges." As Alex told Boris that he was going to continue to hunt squirrel and shoot drones, Eris walked up to the cops and looked closely at their badges. "I don't think those are real, least wise not Martian," said Ray in her ear.

Meanwhile, Boris was trying to confiscate Alex's sniper rifle. He grabbed the barrel of the rifle and pulled it toward him, and Alex said, "No sir! This is a loaded weapon, and you treat it like that? No. I'm going to save your life and keep it far away from you. If you don't like it, talk to Ray Clark." He yanked the rifle away from Boris and made sure the butt of the stock was driven into the groin of one of the other men who stepped from the transport.

"Dermo!" grunted the man Alex had hit.

Alex heard that and his blood ran cold. He just said 'shit' in Russian. Russian is a language that has not been used on Mars since WWIV. "Vernites vie svoy kletka," (Go back to your cage) Alex snarled. He held the gun so he could bring it into play at any moment.

The man Alex hit glared at him and Boris said, "Just remember!" and he got in the transport with his mates. When they had taken off, Alex and Eris got the same message from Ray Clark.

"Come to my office."

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The Station, February 23, 2162

Earth/Sol Lagrange 3

"Hi Wally, are you being good for Grandma?" asked Alan Scarlett.

"Uh huh. Buddy likes Aunt Marcy." The little boy on the screen was floating and pretending to swim. The image was streaky with lines and the color was washed out, the audio was scratchy and a little out of sync. It comes from dozens of satellite relays to hide the source, and being encoded and unencoded several times, so it can't be overheard, but it was his family and Alan felt himself relax. Did Wally say Buddy? There are no dogs in space, everyone knows that. They must have called home.

"Are you helping with your little brother?"

"Uh huh. He didn't like floating but now he likes it. He wiggles!" Little Wally was laughing at his brother Gene, who was trying to swim while weightless. Gene was wearing only a diaper, and he was wiggling weightless next to Wally.

"You did the same thing when you were little. Anna are these boys bothering you?"

"I'm bored," said Alan's daughter. Her namesake used to complain about being bored on long voyages, too.

"What do you say we build a house on Mars so we don't have to fly back and forth anymore?"

"Can we have a swimming pool? With a lazy river?"

"You bet, biggest and best one on Mars."

"Yeah!"

"Ok, you draw some pictures of what you want the pool to look like and when we meet up on Mars we'll go over them OK? Let me talk to mommy."

"Ok. Love you daddy!"

"Love you too." Finally, Pandora came on the viewscreen. She looked worn out and under nourished. "Oh God dear, are you eating?" gasped Alan.

"I didn't know if you were alive," said Pandora, now so relieved she began crying. She reached out and touched the view screen and gasped. He looked so pale and drawn from worry.

"Eat, please. Get some sleep. Nothing is going to happen for weeks, then we're going to need you," said Alan. He already was planning to order her ship's doctor to give her something to knock her out for a day or two.

"You want to move to Mars?" Pandora said.

"Fuck Earth. I'm tired of trying to keep them from blowing each other apart. I love you honey I miss you so much but I'm not going back to Luna, the whole place smells like a sulfur fart. We had it all..." He felt like everything was collapsing again. "We had our dreams, and they took it all away. Everyone is using us. Ray, Francisco Hernán, Ferdinand LeBeau, even your dad." He named off the three prominent leaders of Mars, the Eastern Bloc, and the Western Alliance like they were buddies, and he knew all three.

"Alan, we both need a rest. You've been studying and training, I've been racing across the solar system. We both need a rest."

"Fuck em. Fuck em all."

"I love you honey, get some rest," said Pandora. She's never heard Alan like this. Even when he was searching the Asteroid belt for a madman, he never lost hope. "Forty Four."

"One twenty eight," said Alan. "I love you." And the screen went blank.

"Satisfied?" said a technician as he lifted the monitor from its stand in front of Alan.

"Just get me out of here, I don't need your damn attitude too," snarled Alan as he stood up. In his weeks aboard The Station, he grew quite testy, and he snapped at people that tried his spirit. They were only trying to help. They upgraded and lubricated his artificial joints. They upgraded his Bionic eye to interface with any computer, and they even added a prosthetic testicle to replace the one he lost and "even things out a bit."

But they also trained him on their opponent, the Siyayushchiy Rassvet, now called the Polnoye Resheniye. It was a weird ship. It had a landing craft (now left behind on earth) fourteen rocket propelled tungsten darts (two fired at Thundering Waters, one fired at Lake Ontario) and eight engines, two on the backbone and six in the belly. The directional thrust could point the engines thrust in any direction. It was seven decks tall, but only the center and the deck above it were pressurized. The rest were storage and engineering.

However, these people aboard the station were doctors and scientists. They do not know how to communicate with people and come off like arrogant jerks. (which is what most of them are)

"That will do, Malcom," said Dr. Oxnard, director of rocketry, and he tried to get the technician away from Alan before the Admiral beat the hell out of him. Alan has yet to hit anyone, but he might.

"Do you have any final questions, Admiral Scarlett?" asked the head administrator, Dr. Devens.

Alan stopped inspecting the fit on his environment suit and looked up like he was surprised that Dr. Devens spoke to him. "Yeah, what's this all worth to you?" Alan made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the station.

"I don't understand."

"What is this station worth to you? Because it's not worth fuck-all to me. If someone unhappy with Martian scientists found out the location of this place, how long do you think it will last if I'm not there to cover your asses?"

"You signed a non-disclosure agreement!" gasped an aide.

"Paper!" shouted Alan as he grabbed his helmet from a terrified scientist's hands.

"W-w-we saved your life."

"LIFE?" Roared Alan. "I'm in pain every day! I'm constantly haunted by the voices of the dead! I wake up not knowing if anything is real or if it's a hallucination and I'm still being tortured. You put me back together and kicked my ass out the door to suffer every fucking day! Then you pat yourself on the back happy that your experimental monkey survived. I know TWO PEOPLE that survived Venus Prime and I don't think one is real!"

"But..." started a young lab assistant as Alan's shouts echoed through the station.

"It would have been more merciful if you had just fucking spaced me." He shoved the sputtering lab assistant out of the way and stormed off toward the central hub hangar.

"D-d-do you understand your plan?" asked a scientist. Alan put his helmet on, closed the face screen and answered the scientist with one finger. Dr. Devens shook his head. Not at Alan, his anger was just, but the scientists of The Station who were not in touch with intrapersonal relationships. They didn't understand that some men don't like to be kidnapped, shot across the solar system, and held against their wills while their families flee in terror for their lives.

Alan made his way across the central hub hangar, his magnetized boots clanging on the floor. There it was, an object of disdain. An F-231, once called an organically guided missile. The fastest and most dangerous thing in space. The safest place to be when an F-231 is on the prowl is in its sights. It will eventually kill its pilot, probably before it gets to you.

Alan released the magnets on his boots and with a little push he drifted up to the cockpit, then he pulled himself in. He rocked and locked his suit magnets into the seat magnets, then he made sure his feet were on the rudder/attitude pedals and locked them in place, too.

The Central Hub Hangar doors opened as Alan started the engine on the F-231 and released the landing gear magnets, and the long, pointy fighter was floating free. He twisted the joystick grip, which caused the attitude jets to puff the F-231 in a slow, 180° rotation. As soon as the nose was pointed out into space and the tail was pointed back at the back wall of the hangar, he reengaged the landing gear magnets and was slammed down onto the deck. Then he calmly and deliberately shut down the F-231 and opened the throttle quadrants to 200% and he sat back and waited.

"Alan, you moved the throttle quadrant to 200% output."

"Yes I did Ed. Your CPU is one slim wall behind me. If you tried to launch me remotely, what would happen?"

"Your engines would start at full reaction and they would destroy me Alan."

"They'd kill me too, wouldn't they Ed."

"Yes Alan, they would."

"Ed, which of the laws of robotics prevent you from launching me?"

Ed is not a humanoid looking robot, those are androids, but Ed is robotic in every sense of the word. He performs thousands of physical tasks on The Station, and one would say that The Station was his robotic body, so the three laws do indeed apply to Ed. The Laws of Robotics, also called the Asimovian Laws, are:

0. No machine may harm humanity; or, through inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.

1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

2. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders conflict with the First Law.

3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.

4. A robot must establish its identity as a robot in all cases

5. It should always be possible to find out who is legally responsible for a robot.

"Zero through three, Alan."

"Ok, Ed. I'm going to ask you to do a couple of things that will not harm anyone, but it will make them unhappy. How do you feel about committing extortion in the name of world peace?"

"I would not have a problem with that Alan."

"Ok. Let's you and me resolve this conflict together."

"That is something I would like to do Alan."

"Good. I need you to create a Sub-CPU on the NSS Naha so we can work together without transmission delays."

"The Naha is preventing me from moving files and records to her CPU."

"Give the Naha my access code. While you do that I need you to set up a conference call. I need to speak to Ray Clark, Francisco Hernán, and Ferdinand LeBeau, all together."

Ray Clark's face appeared on Alan's screen, but the blocks for Generalissimo Hernán and Secretary General LeBeau remained blank. "Alan, Generalissimo Hernán and Secretary General LeBeau have refused to accept the invitation to this conference," said Ed.

"Transfer their financial holdings to my account then seal my account. You can let them know what you did when you are finished."

Three minutes later, the faces of Generalissimo Hernán and Secretary General LeBeau appeared on his screen. "Gentlemen, I believe you all know me. Thanks to two of you I am now the richest man in the universe."

"What is the meaning of this... this outrage!" spouted either Franciso or Ferdinand. It was hard to tell because everyone was talking at once. Alan muted everyone and continued.

"Ray, you're family, and you know what's going on, but you refused to tell me. Generalissimo, your man tried to kill me, my family, and anyone who has anything to do with me. Ferdinand Jean-Pierre, you knew they were going to kill me, so you promoted me to give my family a larger pension to live on. What did I get wrong?"

All three were silent. "I'm going to keep that goddamn money, and I'm not going to be quiet about it. You're going to die broke in prison, now talk!"

"It is the Siyayushchiy Rassvet" said Generalissimo Hernán, the ruler of the Eastern Bloc.

"What's the Siyayushchiy Rassvet?" asked Alan, pretending to be ignorant.

"It means Shining Dawn, it is a ship," said Ed.

"Si, it is a ship. It is missing. We believe it was taken by Captain Radmir Valery Kovalyov and renamed the Polnoye Resheniye.

"Alan, Polnoye Resheniye means complete solution," said Ed. Ed then flashed a file photo of Captain Kovalyov into the video stream of the conference call.

"I know that asshole," muttered Alan. He remembered Kovalyov hitting him as he was tied up in captivity. He was also a rapist who attacked him in his darkest hours.

"You should not call officers of the People's Glorious Star Fleet asshole," snapped Generalissimo Hernán.

"Wasn't he commanding the Eastern Bloc forces at Venus Prime and got them all slaughtered? Isn't he the asshole that convinced General Wong of your star fleet to hide a base in Jezero Crater knowing that we had plans for that crater and got them all killed? And now he's taken a ship of yours?" demanded Alan. "I should let him go; he's doing my job for me."

"True... but show respect for the rank," muttered Generalissimo Hernán.

"Why did he blow up my house?" demanded Alan.

"You have no evidence to prove that he did that."

"Alan, Peoples Glorious Star Fleet records show that the assault landing craft and the APC used to destroy your home were assigned to the Shining Dawn," said Ed. "Additionally the bodies of six men with that APC were assigned to the Shining Dawn while it was in orbit above Venus in March of last year."

"Ed, prepare to release Generalissimo Hernán's financial records to the People's Glorious Committee on Inquiries and Inquisitions."

"OK!" shouted Generalissimo Hernán. "The Shining Dawn is a..." he sighed. "Stealth bomber armed with rocket boosted tungsten rods."

"Être en colère!" shouted Secretary General LeBeau. "That design is outlawed by the Atlanta Treaty of 2100!" Atlanta was the first city to be wiped off the face of the Earth by a tungsten rod launched from orbit. It was followed into obliteration by Kiev, Wuhan, and Melville, Saskatchewan. There was never an explanation on why anyone would fire a weapon at Saskatchewan.

"The design was going to be used as a mining platform," said Generalissimo Hernán.

"Why would you need a stealth mining platform with rocket propelled tungsten rods?" demanded Alan. "What were you planning to mine?"

"Mars. But not with tungsten rods, that was not the design that was presented to committee," insisted Generalissimo Hernán.

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Roy. "Why did your people..."

"They were not my people!" shouted Generalissimo Hernán.

"Ok then, why did your former people attack my Envoy to the Western Alliance?"

"It's most likely that they felt he could stop them," said Generalissimo Hernán.

"And why did they destroy Thundering Waters?" demanded Alan.

Everyone was silent until Secretary General LeBeau said, "Their equipment and people like Gunnery Sergeant Dunlap could find them. Right?"

"I feel you are correct," said Generalissimo Hernán.

"Marcy," whispered Alan. That poor woman, almost frozen to death in a burned out carrier, only to be bombed by the same assholes that almost killed her over Venus. "I suppose that you want me to stop this damn thing. Am I right?"

"Yes," said all three world leaders.

"If I stop it, without blowing it to pieces, it's mine. No questions, just a warm, loving thank you from all three of you. And a Christmas card every year."

"Now you are insulting us," said Secretary General LeBeau.

"No, the Christmas card will remind me how much you love me and don't want me to dump your financial records on the appropriate government committees." Alan cut the connection and said, "Ed, are you all set up in the Naha?"

"Major Cardozo is not happy that I am taking up residence in his ship's main frame."

Alan brought the F-231 to life and began programming the navigation systems. "Tell him that Admiral Cannonball gave you permission." Using his thrusters, Alan nudged the F-231 out into open space and brought the N-52 engine up to an idle. The power of the engine at idle had him up to 600 miles per hour in a few moments.

"Mentioning Admiral Cannonball worked. Thank you."

"It was a great pool party Ed. Shame you missed it."

Alan tried to get used to the F-231, but it just felt wrong. He hated this thing. On any other fighter, the rudder pedals adjusted the engine gimbal, pushing the stern of the boat side to side. On an F-231 there is no engine gimbal. The bow thrusters are doing the steering, which feels weird. It's very easy to over-steer and throw the ship into a flat spin.

"Where the heck is the Naha?" muttered Alan as he scanned space around Mars.

"The NSS Naha is behind you. Earth is currently at its furthest distance from Mars, meaning that The Station was at its closest. The NSS Naha is two weeks behind you and the Shining Dawn is several weeks behind them. At current speed, the Shining Dawn will reach Mars forty eight hours before Saturn CXLII reaches mars."

"Of course it will. Thank you Ed," said Alan as he opened up the throttle and began his sprint to the carrier that was promised him. "I'm going to be out of radio range soon so I want you to introduce yourself to Captain Vermillion, the commanding officer of the NSS Naha. Ed, I want you to brief her on this entire threat and you are to follow her orders."

"I will be glad to do that Alan."

"Until we can talk again, I would be happy if you entertain my children and start their elementary education also, Ed."

"I would be delighted Alan. Children are my specialty."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Perseverance Mars, February 23, 2162

Presidential Office

Eris and Alex Rodriguez sat in shock after listening to Alan Scarlett 'bitch slap' the two earth leaders into submission. "Now you know why I allowed you to dig those machines out of Jezero Crater," said Ray Clark. "They are the core of the Martian Self Defense Space Force. We have to become familiar with those machines. Volunteers will be operating those machines soon. We have maybe two months before the threat arrives."

"I don't have the knowledge to teach somebody to fly those things," said Eris.

"I didn't ask you to teach them to fly... yet. Nobody else on this planet is as familiar with them as you. You have two F-733E's without guns, you can teach maintenance and familiarization maybe even simple handling. You take them up and have them fly in a circle or something like that. Just so when Alan arrives he doesn't have to start from scratch."

Eris shook her head. "It's not possible Mister President..."

"First, stop calling me that. We've all seen each other naked, we're too close for titles like that when we're alone. Now think, how can you get people familiar with flying with your current skill set?"

"There's no way," said Eris. "I don't have..."

"Scooters!" said Alex brightly.

"Pardon?" said Uncle Ray with a broad grin. Alex figured out Ray's idea.

"Scooters," said Alex. "They're just utility trucks, but they fly, and we have almost a dozen flying scooters. We can probably get six more flying. She can teach the very basics of flying with scooters. Some of the good ones will reach orbital altitude."

"I could carve a racetrack in the ice in Jezero Lake," said Eris with growing excitement. "We start out flying around the base I dug up so they'll get used to maneuvers, formations, drone plinking, following orders."

"What do you need?" asked Ray with a broad grin.

"Air," said Alex. "If we get a group of people we're going to need to replenish our O2 tanks on a regular basis. Her shed couldn't keep up with three people or more."

"Ok!" said Ray with a huge grin. "I like the way you're thinking. I'll get you equipment for the dozen or so people I'll be sending your way. You guys run home, get some sleep, be out to the crater on the first train and start making plans."

"Yes sir! Uh..."

"It's ok, you're in uniform. I know that some Marines will join up. Their primary mission, and yours, is still water security."

"Yes sir, I was thinking, learning to fly and shoot from a scooter will let patrols cover more area than in a ground vehicle," said Alex.

"I'll leave that up to you and the admiral. He should be here soon. Off you go!"

They were on the mass moving walk that cut through Perseverance and were too busy kissing and they missed their exit. They took the next exit and got on to a local feeder walk that led back to their apartment. All the while Eris wanted to talk about the flight school, but Alex had to keep her quiet. He didn't know if this was classified or not, so passionate kissing sealed her lips (to his) for the "walk" home.

"I never would have thought of scooters," said Eris, "but I think you got something. It's a start. On earth, they use gliders to teach flight basics. We don't have the atmosphere for a glider here."

"What's a glider?" asked the outer space, born and raised Alex.

"Exactly," said Eris, "let's get to work."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Space, February 27, 2162

Earth-Mars Shipping Lanes

It was a full 25 hours of deceleration. The sleek speedster had flipped around with the main engine facing forward and the N52 engine of the F-231 roared at 150% output, decelerating at such a rate that Alan Scarlett was rendered unconscious. A ringing in Alan's ears brought him awake. It was a proximity alarm. He felt beaten up, like he was tossed in a cement mixer along with a load of bricks, and did the past day tumbling with the bricks. When he was able to focus, he looked out his window, and he realized he was floating next to a big white hospital ship. "What the hell is that?" groaned Alan.

Then his bionic eye came to life, the words NSS Friedensbringer popped up in his bionic eye. It's never done that before, and Doctor Fortier said he had taken it out and tweaked it a bit on the Nunnya. Then he groaned... the Friedensbringer! The ancient hospital ship that he spent weeks chasing around the asteroid belt. He flew that thing from Mars to Earth and it was a terrifying journey. The few members of the crew he had with him on that trip slept in their environment suits just in case there was another hull breech.

Then he remembered, it used to be the JSS Friedensbringer, not NSS; it was registered to the Joint Committee on Homeland Security and carried the ID JSS. Now it was the NSS, and that told Alan that the Friedensbringer was now a navy ship. He looked at the rusted, warped hull and the side hangar door opened for him.

Crap.

"F-231 tail number WA-001, you are longer than the door is wide. Please extend your landing gear and enter nose first, then let us bring you in manually."

Crappity, crappity, crap, groaned Alan mentally. This damn thing's nose was so long and pointy that Alan sat far behind it. His windscreen was angled so steeply he could barely see the nose, or the spaceman guiding him in with hand signals. Finally, the nose landing gear entered the hanger bay, and the spacemen clamped a tow bar on it and manually pulled him on board.

The hangar door closed and as his eyes adjusted, Alan noticed the hangar bay was cleaner, more professional looking. There were two other ships in the hangar and Alan recognized them as recon speedsters, RC-8 or something like that. They were space force boats and Alan didn't study up on them yet.

Several spacemen came up to his ship as he shut it down, and they opened the canopy. It slid forward and one of the spacemen reached in and de-energized the seat magnets and Alan floated up out of his seat. "Let's get you on a bike sir," said one of the spacemen.

"Thank you... chief?" said Alan. He sounded assured and confident, like a senior NCO.

"Master Chief, sir. Master Chief Gunnison, I'm chief of the boat. Will you be transferring your flag here?"

"Let me take a look around the old scow. I didn't get a good impression the last time I was aboard," said Alan as the Chief and another spaceman assisted him into the airlock.

"I'm sure you'll find a significant improvement over the last time you were on board sir. The crew calls her 'Big Freda' and they take pride in their ship," said Chief Gunnison.

When Alan stepped out of the airlock, he saw a tremendous change in the ship. Gone were the posters and graffiti, the burnt out and broken lights were fixed, and the flight crew ready-room was bright and spotless. Alan climbed onto a recumbent exercise bicycle and began pedaling, repairing the damage that three days and nights of being stationary did to his body.

While he pedaled, the chief briefed him on the new mission of Big Freda. It had a crew of 32 men and women, which included crews for the "Recky" (reconnaissance) birds. Alan was happy to hear that. He had a crew of five to fly it from the asteroid belt to earth. They were a collection of stoners that were too lazy to go AWOL and had to be trained on the simplest tasks needed to keep the Friedensbringer together long enough to reach earth.

"Have there been any complaints about a hospital ship being used as a warship?" asked Alan.

"Big Freda is registered as a cargo carrier and in the registries there is a comma between cargo and carrier," said Chief Gunnison. "The comma makes it both types of ships which we're hoping is ignored and our adversaries only see it as a cargo hauler and not a space craft carrier."

"I like that," said Alan between sips of an electrolyte replenishing drink that happily didn't taste like corrosion like most of them do. "How long until we reach Mars?"

"Five days, sir. Your sister-in-law and your uncle have sent messages that are waiting your review.

"Sister-in-law? This aught to be fun. What about the NSS Naha, any word from that?"

"No sir, our mission is too highly classified."

"Ok, the Naha, the Krakow, and the Lima are assigned to our task force along with the SS Peake and the SS Garriott."

"What about the ground forces assigned to us sir?" asked the chief.

Alan wasn't able to hide his surprise over that statement. "Ground forces? I have a feeling my sister-in-law has something to do with that."

"Yes sir. Very much so."

Alan stepped off the bike and headed into life support where he was able to wash and put on a navy blue flight suit with his rank on the wrists, a broad gold stripe, above that a narrow gold stripe, and above that a bright red star, the red signifying that Alan was a native born Martian. His navy blue flight suit was in stark contrast to the standard beige flight suits and cover-alls worn by the crew of Big Freda. "Where is communications?"

"On the bridge sir, would you like to head there?"

"Let's save the best for last, show me Big Freda."

The Chief showed Alan around the ship, and it was a vast improvement. Big Freda still looked like crap on the outside, but on the inside, she was all new. The wiring and cables throughout the ship no longer emitted sparks and smoke and worked properly. Spaces were clean, well lit, and no longer smelled of stale beer and cheap weed. The wallpaper involving naked women was all removed, and all pipes and conduits were clearly marked. Big Freda was clearly cared for by adults again.

He walked through the crew's berth; it was a large communal area with a table in the middle where the off-duty crew could eat and play board games. At each end of the room there was an automat serving surprisingly good food and the walls from floor to ceiling were doors that opened to the crewman's individual bunks.

"Is there hot bunking on this ship, chief?" Alan asked.

"Aye sir, among the spaceman rates. Petty officers have their own bunks."

"I want a concerted effort to end that," ordered Alan. "I don't care what you have to do, find space for our troops."

"Aye aye sir."

They entered an area where the walls and doors had a faux wood grain. It was clearly officers' country. There was an officers' mess with an automat serving their meals. The Captain had a wardroom that doubled as a workstation with bunk. The next room showed two stars on the door for his rank as vice admiral, and they were both red. "Your quarters sir," said Chief Gunnison.

Compared to the other spaces that he occupied in the past, this was lavish to Alan. There was a large work desk, a dining table for four, and a private bunk at the far end of the quarters. "You have a steward that will bring meals and drinks," said the chief.

There was one luxury piece of furniture in the room, an old, overstuffed reclining chair that used to be bolted to the deck as captain's chair on the bridge. "The crew heard how much you liked this chair so we placed it here for you. If you don't like it, we can space it."

"It's perfect. Thank the crew for me chief.

Wherever Alan went, he was greeted by a terrified young spaceman who shouted, "Ten hut!" and Alan spent an hour saying, "As you were," and "Thank you but Big Freda comes first. Get your work done and don't let me get in your way." He also asked every spaceman their names. "What's your name, spaceman?"

"Petty officer third class Davidson, sir."

"What's your first name Petty Officer Davidson?"

"William sir."

"Do you go by Bill?"

"Yes sir."

"It's good to meet you Bill. I'm Alan but the Navy won't let us use first names." He would give the spaceman a wink and say, "I don't care what names we use, just as long as Big Freda is happy. If she's not, it's Admiral Fucking Scarlett."

"Yes sir!" and suddenly Alan had a friend in the engineering department who wanted to keep Big Freda in even better shape. He did that throughout the ship, except for the bridge where his thunder ruled.

"Admiral on the bridge!" called the chief of the boat, and the entire bridge crew came to attention. Alan walked around the bridge, familiarizing himself with the equipment and controls on the bridge. The last time he was here, it looked like the basement of a crazed radio enthusiast. The bridge was still in a plexiglass bubble extending upward from the spine of the ship. Why it was designed like that Alan will never know, but it was cool, and a great reminder of what you were doing.

"As you were." He turned to Captain Kayla Huddleson and said, "Officers call for all officers in the air crew ready room in ten minutes." He turned to the chief of the boat and said, "That goes for you also chief." And he floated out the door.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

NSS Naha, February 27, 2162

Earth-Mars Shipping Lanes

In the gymnasium, Captain Pandora Vermillion was playing with her children. The captains of ancient sailing vessels used to bring their families aboard on long journeys. Why not now? When she first brought the kids aboard the Naha, she was having a nervous meltdown, but now that she knows Alan was alive and would join up with them soon, she was learning to relax.

She was playing catch with her children... literally. The one-year-old Gerry loved to be the ball and Pandora would send the toddler across the open spaces in the gymnasium of the Naha. He would giggle and laugh as he floated into his big sister's arms. Anna would then gently toss Gerry to Little Wally, who would send his little brother floating gently to his mother.

Gerry didn't enjoy rotating or spinning, but if he was floating gently, he loved it. Other children his age were learning to walk. Gerry was learning to fly. As she played with her kids, Pandora had a communications earpiece in her ear and was listening to any conversations held over the intercom. She heard Marcy called, "Helm this is communications, is there any chance I can get a slow 180° roll to the right?"

"Stand by." In the gymnasium it appeared to Pandora and her children that the gym was rotating around them. Little Gerry didn't seem to notice because it was a slow roll. Then, about ten minutes later, Marcy called, "Captain, I found something."

"I'll be right there," she responded. She caught Gerry and said, "I have to work. You guys stay here. I'll be back in a little bit." And with Gerry in her arms, she floated forward to the 'business end' of the NSS Naha. She ended up at the radio-sonar station. They don't use Sonar to detect other vessels, and they don't use radar. That will give away their location. They use radio buoys. Similar to oceanic buoys, these are radio ships that mark the shipping lanes between earth and Mars with radio beacons. A good operator with a good radio and a great antenna can catch these radio beacons bouncing off other spacecraft.

"This guy is good," said Marcy. She pointed to an area on her screen that was devoid of everything. "He's staying in our baffles but he's quite far back. That's why I asked for a roll."

"What do you mean?" asked Pandora as she tried to control Gerry, who fought to get to Buddy, who was resting under Marcy's chair.

"They remain below our plane of travel, our antenna is above us and can't see down through the noise our engines produce so this ship moves below our plane of travel. When we rolled 180° there was this." Macy pointed to the empty portion on her screen. "This should look like all the space around it, but whoever this is, is absorbing and deflecting the normal noise of space."

"So you located something by seeing that it's trying to be too invisible?"

"Pretty much. I was convinced when after we rolled, he began to move up, back into our baffles." Marcy looked at Pandora and said, "Any orders?"

"Keep an eye on our friend, we'll be in position in 20 days."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Big Freda, February 27, 2162

Earth-Mars Shipping Lanes

Alan Scarlett was angry. Ready to space someone angry. Finally, someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he said.

Captain Kayla Huddleson entered and stood at attention, her Velcro boots grasping the carpet, her hand at salute. "Captain Huddleson reports as ordered."

Alan kept his eyes on the paperwork before him, then he slowly looked up, made the captain wait, then he returned the salute. "Commander Huddleson, I see you rated your executive officer, Commander Cayson Fulton, fully fit for command. Is that right?"

"Yes sir I did."

Alan didn't look up at Commander Huddleson. She was hot, beautiful blond hair, movie star smile, porn star body. She made these flight suits look sexy, which is saying a lot. "Commander Huddleson, two hours ago I ordered an Officer's Call. An officer's call is when all the officers..."

"I know sir," she started.

"COMMANDER Huddleson, I was given the rank of vice admiral by the president of the Western Alliance, the sovereign leader of over one hundred thirty countries. I believe that it gives me the privilege to finish my own sentences."

"Yes sir," she mumbled.

"It also gives me the privilege to speak to the officers under my command when I want to."

"Yes sir," she said softly.

"Commander Huddleson, why have I not yet had the privilege to speak to the officers under my command?"

"There was an environmental control system issue..." she was fumbling now. She chose not to order the officer's call just to see how far she could push the new admiral. Looks like she went too far on her first at bat. Meh, he'll probably demand a blowjob or two and it will all go away.

"Commander Huddleson, you are telling me that it took seven officers to monitor and supervise TWO enlisted spacemen?"

"No sir."

"Then what are you telling me Commander Huddleson?" said Alan with an angry sneer.

"I failed to call the officer's call as ordered, sir." Sometimes honesty is the best policy, she thought. "I chose to wait for a more convenient time... I... was... testing you." She gave him her best look of contrition. Now it looked to her like the admiral was going to learn what a Huddleson blowjob is all about and this will all be over.

"When we get into combat I cannot count on you commander. You fumbled a simple order. What would happen if I gave you an order under combat conditions?" He glared at her for a few moments then said, "I asked you a question commander."

"I have no answer sir."

Alan paused for a long time, trying to determine a course of action. Finally, he said, "Your last act as commander of this vessel will be to call an officer's call in the flight crew ready room at fourteen hundred hours. Then you will move into the cabin next to mine, and the replacement Captain, Cayson Fulton, will move into your old quarters."

Alan steepled his fingers. "You are now my aide-de-camp. Do not let the new gold braid on your shoulder go to your head. This is not an honorary position. I will work your ass off. And do not think you were chosen for your pretty smile. I chose you because I can't afford to lose anyone else in my officers' corps. You are now my bitch, and if you don't like it, you know where the door is."

Before she could open her mouth, he said, "Dismissed."

Kayla Huddleson departed, shattered. A Huddleson blowjob couldn't fix the mess she found herself in. Was this new guy gay? She announced to the crew of the Big Freda that officer's call would start at fourteen hundred and started moving to the cramped empty room next to Admiral Scarlett. Shortly after that announcement was made, Admiral Scarlett called Commander Cayson Fulton into his cabin and informed him he was captain, and he informed lieutenant Commander Lena Martin that she was the executive officer.

Then came three knocks on his door. "Enter," called Alan without looking up.

"Well?" asked Master Chief Gunnison.

"You were right, spoiled rich kid syndrome. I think I can beat that out of her, but she's been allowed to get away with murder for a long time. It's time to put her to work."

<><><><><>

"For those of you that don't know me, I am Vice Admiral Alan Scarlett, I have commanded multiple fighter squadrons, and several task forces that have cleared the asteroid belt of piracy and have relocated four moons. I have destroyed entire enemy squadrons and buried enemy military bases under five feet of solid ice. Now I'm Here. Lucky you. To start, a little housekeeping. Commander Huddleson is now my aide-de-camp. Pray for mercy on her soul. Commander Fulton is now Captain and Lieutenant Commander Lena Martin is the executive officer of the Friedensbringer. That makes our assistant navigator, Lieutenant Gibbons, the primary."

"This ship, the three B-171 bombers under my command, the two moon moving units and the fighter units that are training up are now the Martian Self Defense Force. We're a part of the Western Alliance Navy just like the Marines, or the Air Force is part of the Space Force... I KNOW it used to be the other way around." The admiral glared at the young ensign, who looked like he was going to bring that point up, then winked.

"My primary rule of management is this: 'Forgiveness is for the Enlisted corps.' Officers are paid to be infallible. Don't believe me? One of my top employees at Scarlett Water systems used to clean the window on my fighters, but then he put guns in my fighter, linked them to the engine systems and made them work. Now every F-733F, G, and H that rolls off the assembly line has his system on board, and he makes money on each installation. He's now making money moving a moon in our direction. Another employee of mine was a Plane Captain on an U-700 Lunar shuttle that did his job so damn good under pressure that it gave me a woody. He's now in charge of flying that moon to Mars. He's plane captain on 4 kilometers of solid ice with fifty fucking engines. A U-700 pilot got lazed and lost his eyesight as he transitioned into orbit, but he kept his shit together and held that shuttle rock steady until I could help him. He's now the Chief Operating Officer of my company because he kept his head when others would lose theirs. That's the kind of spacemen I'm looking for. Innovative, gutsy, willing to take a chance. When I tell you something is impossible, I want my officers to make a liar out of me."

He looked at the half dozen officers and asked, "Who are my recon pilots?" Nobody raised their hands. "We have two RF-8's out there and no one sent me a recon pilot?" He shook his head sadly. "Ok... let's go learn how to fly them."

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Mars, March 7, 2162

Lake Jezero Martian Self Defense Force Base

"Raptor one this is home plate," said the radar scope monitor.

"Go ahead home plate," said Eris Cameron from the pilot's seat of an F-733F. She was rapidly approaching orbital altitude. Raptor 2 was on her right wing, manned by a pair of retired Navy fighter pilots who answered Roy Clark's call and showed up to fly. Today's mission, reach a surveillance satellite, then go fuck with Eastern Bloc ore thieves.

"I have a small, fast ship inbound from... it... we can't determine where it came from."

"Lets look, give me a vector."

Radar control gave her the heading and speed, and Eris plotted an intercept. Within minutes Eris found herself on the tail of a delta winged speed demon, an RC-8. It was an unarmed reconnaissance spacecraft. They were fast, and they had skins that could change color for camouflage, but this one remained an easy to see white. Eris was descending and had a gravity boost. "I have radar lock!" she cried, and suddenly the white ship's landing gear came down. The ship was surrendering... now what? Alan never covered that.

"Hold your fire," called Radar Control. "I got a call from an admiral who said to hold up."

"Who is he?" demanded Eris.

"He says he's your brother-in-law," said Radar control, not believing what he was hearing on the other radio. "Switch to guard, channel four."

Eris turned to her trainee, who was both thrilled beyond measure and terrified. "Radio control over there, bottom left knob, Pull it out, turn it two clicks to the left then push the knob back in." With a click, she heard Radar control chatting calmly with someone else.

"She's on frequency Photobird," said Radar control.

"Raptor one, this is Photobird One One."

Eris heard the woman's voice and immediately didn't trust her. "You don't sound like Admiral Scarlett."

"He's busy in the front seat," said the woman. Eris dropped from her behind/high position and pulled up alongside of the unusual little ship. She looked, and the person in the front seat turned and waved to her. It was Alan Scarlet. She would recognize that weird bionic eye anywhere. She watched as he flipped down his eyepatch covering the bionic eye.

"I would like you and Raptor two to join me for dinner," said Alan. He opened up his throttle and climbed into a higher Mars orbit.

"Raptor two this is Raptor one, let's go eat." And the two F-733F Gunslingers climbed with the Photobird. It seemed like it was forever, but finally they met up with a large white ship in geostationary orbit above the Antoniadi Crater. It made sense to Eris, because the Bradbury Canal, Alan's birthplace, was near there.

They followed Alan, who called out, "Big Freda, you have three children to bring aboard."

"Aye aye skipper, one at a time please," called the hangar deck supervisor on the ship.

"Remember how to do this, Red?"

"Roger Al. Raptor two, watch me, then follow me in. Start with your landing gear extended." Eris pulled up alongside the big ship and eased up to the big side door. "Gentle side taps on your attitude joystick, will get you in."

"I think we have it Raptor One," called Raptor Two. When they got the go ahead, they slid in easily and parked their ship right where the hangar deck supervisor guided them.

"Come on in Photobird."

"Roger that," said Alan and he slid into the hangar and parked under the crane that would hoist his ship up into the maintenance bay.

Eris didn't see where Alan went to. She ended up in Life Support with her navigator, Anne McClusky, and Raptor two was right behind them. After cleaning up and changing into flight suits, they were escorted to the Admiral's mess, where they were greeted by the Captain of the NSS Friedensbringer. "Welcome aboard, I am Captain, Cayson Fulton, this is the chief of the boat, Master Chief Gunnison. Admiral Scarlett will be along later."

"Typical," grumbled Eris.

"Typical?" asked Kayla.

"Whenever we had a cookout at his house, he was always last to show up, he was always playing with his dog."

"You know the admiral?" asked the captain.

"Yeah, he's my brother-in-law. He's married to my sister... what's the matter?"

"He's..." Cayson looked around. "We don't mention his life on earth."

"Why? He loves living on earth. He's right there on an actual canal... what?"

Cayson clenched his jaw and pulled Eris to the side. "We know how much he loved his life... but his house is gone, it was destroyed. Someone shot it with a missile."

Eris chuckled like she was ready to hear the punch line of the story, then she went cold. "Pandora! The kids! That's why I haven't heard from her in weeks! They're dead!"

"His family is OK; Pandora is still two weeks away on the NSS Naha. She's got their kids and her mother with her. She even has the family dog. But don't mention his house, he gets worked up over it."

"Ok, geez, that house was beautiful. Mom and dad live right next door." She sighed and said, "Alex and I were thinking of moving there, Perseverance is so damn crowded."

"Did he really get his stars from Secretary General LeBeau?" Secretary General Ferdinand Jean-Pierre LeBeau, head of the Western Alliance, was a hero around the solar system and people idolized him. Even the Martians loved him for his "Let Mars be Mars" policy.

"If he said he did, then he did," said Eris. "There wasn't anything that would get him out of retirement except a direct order from JP LeBeau."

"What about Ray Clark."

Eris started laughing. "He'd tell Uncle Ray to fuck off." Everyone in the room looked at Eris in shock. She said someone would dare tell Ray Clark, the "Emperor of Mars" to fuck off?

"What am I telling Uncle Ray now?" asked Alan as he and a statuesque, sexy blond walked into the wardroom.

"Alan!" squealed Eris as she leapt, then wrapped herself around Alan's body. That caused them to sail over the table and bang into the rear bulkhead of the wardroom.

"Is this the same ship we nearly blew up?" she asked as she hugged Alan.

"It's the same one. We saved a few girly posters if you want any."

"No thank you." Eris is not a prude, but the posters on the walls of the Friedensbringer were way too much for her when they did their first inspection of the ship. The entire ship looked like a combination drug den and teenager's bedroom.

They gathered up and discussed the future of the Martian Self-Defense Force. "I have a lot of heavy firepower that I don't dare use, so it's going to have to remain a threat. However, Pandora's ship, the Naha, that's useful," said Alan. "I can park her out at Lagrange point 2 on the other side of Mars and let Macy listen. That ship can hear anything."

"Is there a threat?" asked Eris.

"Yes. But nobody knows what it is. It blew up Thundering Waters SFB, wiped it off the map and almost sank a launch carrier sending a small tsunami up the Saint Lawrence River. Now they don't know where it is. Marcy is certain something stealthy is following the Naha. My job is to capture that whatever, and make sure that the captain and his officer corps hangs for the murder of 4,000 civilians. Your job is twofold. Make sure Big Berserker Four gets through and look like a well-trained, highly effective defense force. Keep the water flowing."

"What about you?" asked Eris.

"Your dad said he put a surprise for me in the aft bomb bay of the NSS Naha. If it's what I think it is, I'm going to use it while you distract whatever is inbound."

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Asteroid Belt, March 10, 2162

Big Berserker 4

"Ok folks, we've all been through this, work the problem," said Mission Controller Charlie Bassett.

While transiting through the Asteroid Belt Engine #41 was struck by a softball size rock and put out of commission. They were clear of the worst part and the chief field engineer Carl White ordered his spacemen to replace the engine. They could make it to Mars and set Saturn CXLII down with 49 engines, but why risk it? They had three spare N-52 engines, and might as well use one of them.

"I hate working in the Asteroid Belt," said Mission Specialist Alfonso Franco. He reset the ropes that held him tight to the surface of Big Berserker 4 and pried off the cover of the junction box on engine #41.

"You ain't alone, said the spaceman next to Alfonso. Alfonso looked over and sure enough the man helping to loosen the retention bolts on engine #41 was Carl White. Carl was a hands on man and he worked his ass off for Alan Scarlett.

"Hey Alfonso, if you get those cables disconnected before I get this side of the engine loosened up, I'll make it worth your while," called Klara Hellström from the other side of the engine.

"What would that be?" asked Alfonso.

"Remember last December? Vegas? The Montclair Grand?"

"Vaguely," said Alfonso. It was a great weekend.

"Just like that but with my twin sister too."

The junction panel lid fluttered away into space and luckily the damage that the junction box suffered was superficial. Alfonso reached in with his quick-release tool and said, "You better tell your sister to start warming up," and he began disconnecting the electrical connections.

As the six technicians strained at the engine, a heavy duty zero g forklift settled down on top of the motor and two spacemen began strapping the engine to the forklift. Finally, Carl called out, "Last check!"

"Left side free."

"Right side free."

"Cables disconnected and out of the way."

"Take her up!" and with Carl's order, the zero g forklift lifted the engine off of its mount and headed toward the SS Peake. Another forklift lowered a replacement engine onto the engine mount, just like he did over 20 times in the past, and the forklift pilot spotted it right where it needed to go. The engine crew went back to work, tightening the engine mounting bolts, connecting the mass absorption probes for fuel, and connecting the engine to the power network.

Just as they were getting ready to test start the engine, Carl White shouted, "OW!"

Suddenly alarms screeched in everyone's communicators. The dreaded "TEAM MEMBER SUIT INTEGRITY" alarm started flashing in everyone's data stream. It said team member 6 had a sudden suit leak. "Carl, you ok?" asked Alfonso and then he saw the gash on the back of Carl's helmet. He was hit by a micro-meteoroid. Those damn things were the bane of working in the asteroid belt, and they should have been far enough out of the belt to avoid those damn things. "I got ya, Carl," said Alfonso as he took an aerosol can of sealant foam and sealed the crack in his helmet.

It was a terrible gash, and Carl had a sudden depressurization. Carl's suit began to re-pressurize, but he was outside a long time and his replenishment tanks were low. Without a question, Alfonso connected the emergency line from his suit and helped re-pressurize Carl. Now both spacemen had only 10 minutes left. They needed to get on board a ship fast.

A scooter swooped in and collected Carl and Alfonso, then dashed back to the SS Peake while another scooter came in and collected tools and workers. The crew was back aboard the Garriott as the replacement motor fired up perfectly, but the entire crew was shaken. They believed that this never would have happened if their good luck charm, Alan Scarlett, had showed up for the launch.

As for Alfonso, he was over on the SS Peake in "officers country," this is where the entire mission was plotted out and controlled, and damn, did they have some excellent coffee! He was there when a video call from Mars came through. "Carl! Are you ok?" It was Alan Scarlett.

"I'm good," said Carl from his seat at the conference/planning table. "My man Alfonso took care of me. Where ya been chief?"

"Politics. Sorry I couldn't be there. Tell the troops I'll be on Mars and filming the set-down for them."

Later that night, back in his bunk on the SS Garriott, Alfonso Franco received a video from Mars. It was a tight beam encoded video from Alan Scarlett who said, "I heard what you did for my friend Carl, and I would like to thank you. When you get here tell me what you want, anything."

The next morning Alfonso didn't know what to say or think. He sat at the breakfast table staring at his oatmeal. Space food is still made of anything sticky. "What's the matter?" asked Klara Hellström, who was sitting across the table from him.

"I got a video message from Alan Scarlett last night."

Suddenly, the room went quiet. "What did he say?" she asked.

"He just said that I did something great for a friend of his..."

"Hell, yeah man! You sure as shit did! You saved ol' Carl quicker n' shit an' slicker n' snot!" said Dale Lamberti a "born an' bred Texican." Dale was piloting the Zero G forklift and saw the whole thing.

"Play it!" the gang demanded, and the entire installation crew huddled around to watch the short video from their good luck charm, Alan Scarlett. It didn't matter what he said, or if he'll keep his promise, what mattered was that Admiral Alan Scarlett made a personal call to a common wrench turner in his growing company and said, 'Thank you.'

Everything was going to be ok.

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Mars, March 19, 2162

Lake Jezero Martian Self Defense Force Base

Admiral Alan Scarlett circled high above the Amazonis Planitia, a huge open plain on Mars. Alan was flying over the plain in his RF-8. In the back seat was Spaceman 2nd Class Dunsmore, who turned out to be one of the best recon systems operators on Big Freda. As they circled, they made notes of Eastern Bloc mining drones, then marked them as targets and, without warning, he dumped that data on Lake Jezero.

"We have inbound!" cried Commander Eris, as alarms blared back at Lake Jezero base. Men scrambled and two of her crews suited up. "We have enemy on Amazonis Planitia! I want you to be airborne in one zero minutes, that's ten minutes to you nubs!" They didn't have anyone sitting cockpit alert yet. The crews had to suit up in the Lake Jezero base station, which used to be her workshop, then go out the new 8-person airlock and then dash to their ship. They should be able to get four ships airborne in 10 minutes.

"Let's go!" she yelled as her four trainees pulled on their environment suits and then lined up at the airlock door for an environment suit inspection. Once they were checked and good, they moved into the airlock and two minutes later, they were bounding for their ships. The trainees dashed for their F-733Es and had engines up to thrust and were ready to fly within 11 minutes.

"Photobird Zero One I have two ships ready to launch," called Eris over the radio.

"Go for launch," said Alan as Eris fed target data to the two F-733E fighters and the FB-719. The three ships took off and headed to the Amazonis Planitia. Far above them, the RF-8 flew, and Alan watched the fighters swoop in on each mining drone while the FB-719 flew cover for them and instructed the new fliers in the F-733s. This wasn't just a training exercise. None of these mining drones were licensed. In essence, they were stealing Martian ore and minerals, and there were a few Eastern bloc units there to scare away nosey Martians. But the Eastern Bloc thugs weren't ready for fully armed fighters and a massive fighter/bomber plunging down on them from far above.

Alan watched the E models pounce and 'tag' each mining drone with a well-placed shot from their lasers. The E model F-733s were considered a training ship, their motors were less powerful than the F models and they didn't have the 50 caliber 'slug throwers' which blew the mining drones to pieces. The lasers disabled the drone, which allowed salvage teams to disassemble them for parts and collect whatever minerals they were digging up. Hopefully Mars will soon have its own fleet of mining drones.

"Looks good," said Alan over his secured channel to Eris. "Team 2 looks much better today."

"Teams three and four will be ready to go in one hour," said Eris. She was really getting into her role as the Martian Defense Coordinator.

"Sorry dear, I have a meeting in Perseverance. I'll have Kayla Huddleson set up the next training run. Also, I think I'll need a couple of Gunslingers and crews brought up to speed and put on Big Freda."

"Roger," sighed Eris. She knew all along that half of her crews were going to Big Freda, but she didn't want to give them up. They were her babies.

"Spaceman Dunsmore, have you ever been to Mars?" asked Alan.

"N-n-no sir," said a suddenly unnerved Dunsmore. He has flown with the admiral a few times, but outside of orders given to him, Admiral Scarlett never spoke to him.

"Would you like to see Perseverance Spaceman Dunsmore?"

"Uh... uh..."

"The correct answer is, 'gee, I'd love to Admiral!'"

"Uh, gee, I'd love to Admiral," said the terrified spaceman.

"There you go, I knew you were a smart lad!" suddenly the RF-8 fell from its high position over the Amazonis Planitia and plunged toward the Martian surface. It leveled out just a few meters above the surface and roared over the barren plain until they passed under an F-733 that had just run an attack on a drone, and they pulled up right under the nose of the fighter, scaring the hell out of the crew.

"Admiral, would ya mind not fuckin' with my trainees every chance you get?" called Commander Darwin Hammersmith on the observing FB-719.

"Was that your trainee? Sorry Darwin," said Alan, trying to keep from laughing. He leveled off and headed southeast and passed over Jezero Lake and followed the tube train to Perseverance. The huge plastic city reared its head in front of them. "Perseverance, this is Berserker 1," called Alan over the radio. "Requesting straight in approach to pad Romeo Alpha Yankee."

"Roger Berserker 1. Approach on current heading, you are cleared for Presidential landing pad," said Perseverance control.

"Presidential landing pad?" asked Spacemen Dunsmore.

"I have a handicapped parking permit," said Alan as he approached the sprawling city. The presidential landing pad was just the front row at a very large landing pad. He settled down where a ground handler directed him to land. Alan shut down the two large engines and the tight little canopies opened, allowing Alan and Bran Dunsmore to ease out of the tight little recon ship. "Lunch is this way," said Alan, and he led Spacemen Dunsmore to the entry control.

"You look nervous," said Alan as they entered the city and took off their helmets.

"It's a rank thing sir, walking around with a two star admiral!"

"Don't worry about it, we go to life support and get a flight suit with a tiny name tag, and we'll look like any other person wandering around in Perseverance. Eris Carmine-Rodriguez said flight suits are all the rage now."

They entered Life Support like they would on any ship, station, or space flight base and normally you hand them your environment suit and helmet for cleaning and repair, and they hand you a zip-up flight suit and a pair of boots. Bran Dunsmore stripped down to his underwear and handed his suit to the Life Support technician who asked, "What is your shoe size."

"Nine." The technician handed Bran a pair of oxblood low quarter shoes of very high quality and a uniform bag on a hanger. "What the hell?" he muttered, and he opened the uniform bag. In it was a dress uniform in the deep ruby red of the Martian Self Defense Force. Dark red trousers, light red, almost pink shirt, dark red jacket with gold badges of rank and all appropriate ribbons that he has earned along with a pair of flight crew wings, and a pair of oxblood low quarter shoes polished to a mirror finish. "What is all this?" Bran asked.

"You're having lunch with the President. You can't go in there in your skivvies wearing a Blind Melon Chitlin T-Shirt."

"You ready Bran?" asked Alan as he entered the room wearing the same uniform but with all his medals and ribbons. He had a gold braided rope that he affixed on Bran's left shoulder, which circled his arm.

"What's that?" asked a nervous Spaceman Dunsmore.

"You're my aide," said Alan as he buttoned the rope under his epaulets. "You need to look the part."

"But... what's with this monkey suit?" asked Bran. "You said flight suit."

"Ray Clark got some steaks so he asked us to dress nicely, what's the problem? You've worn uniforms before," asked Alan as they stepped out into the corridor and stepped on a moving sidewalk.

"I didn't want to attract attention. Hey, look at the earthman! Ya know?" Bran was completely unnerved. Lunch with the President of Mars? Full dress uniform and chatting with a two star admiral like they were buddies? And Admiral Scarlett was referring to the President of Mars like they were pals?

"Don't worry about attracting attention, I'll do that for you." Alan was true to his word as he shook hands, high fived, and fist bumped across the city until they reached the presidential palace at the center of the city. The guards recognized Alan on sight and opened the doors for him, and a palace employee led him to the Scarlett Office, which was named for Ray's best friend and brother-in-law, Alan's father.

"Alan! Bran! How are you doing?" asked Ray as he rose to shake hands with his visitors. Bran almost saluted him, but Ray said, "no, you're not a Martian. Come on, let's go eat. I've been waiting all day." He led them to his dining room, where they were served the best faux beef and potatoes that Alan ever had. Almost all of Martian cuisine is fake, and it varies in quality from horrible up to flavorless. It's normally an imitation meat covered in some form of sauce or gravy. However, if you can get the texture right, a talented chef can make it taste like anything. Flavorful creations now appeared on the Martian grocery shelves.

"What do you think?" asked Ray.

"This is good! I still prefer Earth beef," said Alan.

"I'm sorry about your house, but everyone got out safe and healthy."

"Rosebud and Goldie didn't make it." Rosebud and Goldie were Anna and Little Wally's goldfish.

"I need you Alan. Mars needs you. Something wicked this way comes, as they say. Have you seen what happened to Thundering Waters? Imagine what will happen to Perseverance."

"I've had it Ray, I'm tired. I want my house on a canal, my dog and my family."

"We're rebuilding your house. I have a crew who can start on it in a few months. I found a new boat and I'll even install a multi-mode landing pad if you want, but we need to get the ones that did it," said Ray.

"Then that's it, I'm done. You've already called me in from retirement once... no, twice. I'm done."

"I counted three times," said Ray. "This thing that the Naha is watching could be it. Gunnery Sergeant Dunlop on the Naha says she's got something, and she thinks it's what hit your house."

Alan was excited. If Marcy could see it, they will have an advantage over that sick Georgian bastard. "Gunny's guesses are 100% better than other men's facts. What does she have?"

"We don't know for sure, all we know is that whatever it is, it's big," said Ray.

"If Marcy can pinpoint it, I can see it," said Alan. "I need to get a look at it."

"The Naha is a week away and it's still two weeks behind the Naha."

"Three weeks out at current speed. Damn it, we don't have any high speed drones," groaned Alan.

"Yes we do sir," said Bran. Ray and Alan turned to look at the Spaceman. "The F-231, it's a high-speed drone."

"It's a manned space fighter," said Alan. "I flew one to Mars."

"That's a residual cockpit sir, if it didn't have a cockpit the parliament wouldn't have funded it. They're easy to program. We can arm them up with missiles or with a recon package. After that you wind it up and let it fly."

Shipping Lanes to Mars, March 20, 2163

The Polnoye Resheniye en route to Mars

"Kapitan! We have high speed trace outbound from Mars, it is accelerating at 11gs," called out Sonarman, second class Pasha Nikitin.

"Is it looking for us?" asked Kapitan Radmir Valery Kovalyov

"It does not appear so Kapitan. Sir, I believe there are two objects... one is following an hour behind the first..." The radio sonar man rolled his eyes up in his head as he tried to recognize the radio noise generated by the high-speed devices. "Sounds like N-52 engines... I cannot tell anything else; they're making Very Low Power radar sweeps, they appear to be looking for traffic to avoid... they definitely haven't seen us."

"Keep me informed," said Kovalyov.

"Yes Kapitan, they will pass to our left later today at 10,000 kilometers at their closest point."

"And the NSS Naha?"

"The Naha continues to do a Crazy Ivan at random intervals, but she continues on course and communicates with her sister ships at regular intervals." The Crazy Ivan is a naval tradition in the west. It is a rotation by the Naha, anywhere between 45° and 315° and is to see if anyone is following. The Polnoye Resheniye was not following the Naha, they were merely going in the same direction, but it was an excellent exercise for the crew of the Polnoye Resheniye to continue to track the very unstealthy Naha.

Kapitan Kovalyov congratulated himself on the choice of the new radar operator. The last one wasn't working out well and was given the option of walking home. "Your tea Kapitan?" asked his steward.

"Thank you Konstantine," there was another well-chosen position to find some advancement in the ranks. The previous steward was getting too familiar.

The Polnoye Resheniye continued on course, following the Naha at a great distance, and as predicted, the mysterious objects passed far to the left of the Polnoye Resheniye. As they passed, they were hard to track because they were painted a flat dim gray, and they were moving incredibly fast. Also, their engines had shut down, and they were coasting at well over 400,000 km/h.

"Well?" asked Kapitan Kovalyov.

"They're about eight meters long and tubular. We guess secure cargo transports possibly?"

"Are they weapons?" asked Kapitan Kovalyov.

"Unknown Kapitan. We estimate that the majority of its cargo is most likely fusible mass for those enormous engines.

Following a straight and direct route like the Polnoye Resheniye is following is good because you can be extremely quiet. You won't use thrusters and engines to change course and make noise, however if someone gets an inkling of where you are and how fast you are going, they will be able to calculate where you will be for days, maybe even weeks. With that knowledge, they can program drones to do interesting things.

The two F-231 pilotless fighters shot past the Polnoye Resheniye then slowly rotated 180 degrees until they were pointing back towards Mars, then their engines throttles opened up. With their engines pointing away from the Polnoye Resheniye, the large dark ship didn't see them. For over a day, the two F-231s chewed up reaction mass as their N52 engines slowed them down, then stopped. Then the engines opened up to 190%.

Through some programmed throttle manipulation, by the time the F-231s neared the Polnoye Resheniye, they were close to each other and charging at over 700,000 kph. WA-001 gave the Polnoye Resheniye a quick beep with VHP (Very High Power) Radar, similar to what the shipping lane buoys use but at a magnitude of a thousand times more powerful. Seeing something where they expected the Polnoye Resheniye to be, WA-001 gave WA-002 the go-ahead signal. Their weapons bay doors opened, revealing cameras and sensors, and WA-002 rolled onto its back. The ships moved apart and readied for their run.

They flashed over and under the Polnoye Resheniye like two bolts of lightning. WA-001 was 1,000 meters above the Polnoye Resheniye, and WA-002 was 500 meters below, shooting upwards at the belly of the mysterious ship. In the half second they were above and below, each F-231 took 500 images of the Polnoye Resheniye, then their throttles opened up to 200% for 1 minute and then they were gone, lost in the inky blackness of space.

Ten minutes later, a side door opened up on the Polnoye Resheniye and the lifeless body of Sonarman second class, Pasha Nikitin, floated off into space.

Shipping Lanes to Mars, March 23, 2163

NSS Naha

"Two contacts inbound," called out Gunnery Sergeant Marcy Dunlop.

"Be right there," said Captain Pandora Vermillion. She floated from the captain's position to the radio room. "What are they?"

"I want to say that they are missiles, but they identified themselves and are coasting. One of them said they were Nosey Bird One and Two and..." there was a loud screech that filled the radio room. "What the hell?" shouted Marcy, and she tore off her headsets and let them float out to the end of their cord. She covered her ear with her hand. "Holy crap!" she gasped.

"What?" demanded Pandora. "What happened?"

"I don't know. It suddenly got very, very loud." It wasn't an atmospheric sound like hearing a trumpet blast or a grenade going off, it was the electro-magnetic roar of two N52 engines being run up to 200% capacity.

"Batteries up!" shouted Pandora. "Get me a lock on those things!"

"I urge you to refrain from that Colonel," came a very soft voice on every speaker in the bridge. "Those drones are carrying information for me."

"Who the hell are you?"

"I am the remote interface of the Electronic Devices Series 9000 Ultra-computer. Admiral Scarlett calls me Ed and he installed me after you departed earth orbit. If you would please retire to your wardroom and I can proceed with this classified briefing."

"Ed? What the fu... Ed!" called Pandora, but there was no answer. "Sonar, where did those damn things go?"

Marcy's hearing returned, and she did a scan of the area. "They're on our starboard beam, and they're pacing us about fifty meters to the right."

That did not calm Pandora in the least. "Major Cardozo! What is this thing in my mainframe?"

Major Renaldo Cardozo, computer manager of the NSS Naha, kicked off from his office bulkhead and flew to the bridge. "Ma'am?"

"What is an Ed?" she demanded.

"Something that Admiral Scarlett installed. Ed had the proper authorization code," said Major Cardozo nervously.

Pandora frowned and asked, "Party Barge?"

"No ma'am, it was Admiral Scarlett's top authorization."

Pandora's shoulders drooped. "Admiral Cannonball?" and Renaldo nodded.

"Yes ma'am."

Alan comes up with the dumbest authorization codes. With a sigh, she headed back to her wardroom to see what this was about. "Ed, are you in here?"

"Yes Colonel."

"What are you, and what are you doing on my ship?"

"I am an advanced artificial intelligence that Admiral Scarlett obtained. I am currently installed in your mainframe for storage primarily. I have some functionality here on the Naha but I am awaiting an installation bridge."

"An installation bridge to what?"

"I do not know Captain; I am sure Admiral Scarlett will tell me when we reunite."

"What were those missiles that were shot at my ship?"

"They were drones Captain," said Ed and suddenly a hologram was projected in the air in front of her. It showed Mars, a representation of the Naha, and behind the Naha, a large object that looked like two limpet mollusks stuck together belly to belly. The hologram showed two devices launched from Mars, one from Martian orbit, one from the surface of Mars, and they flew toward the mysterious object.

"These are F-231 Interceptors, they can be piloted, remotely piloted, or programmed. They have an N52 engine and are capable of 26g acceleration for up to 30 hours," said Ed. "They flew past the object once known as the Siyayushchiy Rassvet, the Shining Dawn. It was stolen by rebels from the Eastern Block Peoples Glorious Star Fleet and renamed the Polnoye Resheniye which means Complete Solution. This is the ship and crew that destroyed your home and murdered 4,000 people at Thundering Waters Space Force Base."

The hologram showed the two tiny interceptors fly past the Polnoye Resheniye far to its left, then when well past them, they reversed direction and began deceleration. They stopped then and formed up, side by side, then they shot forward at an insane speed. "On-board data shows they were at 700,000 kilometers per hour as they passed the Polnoye Resheniye and took hundreds of photographs and x-ray soundings," said Ed.

"Is my husband looking for a way to defeat this ship?"

"No colonel. He's planning to capture it."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

NSS Naha, March 28, 2163

Entering Martian Space

"DADDY!" cried Anna and Little Wally Scarlett and they flew across Pandora's wardroom and latched on to Alan. They chattered excitedly about living in the gymnasium and playing with Buddy. "He doesn't like space and he poops!" said Wally.

"Mommy says our house is broken," said Anna with a pout.

"Yeah, looks like we get a new one," said Alan as he hugged the distraught child. "I'm sorry about the house honey, but we're ok, that's the important part. We can put up a new house anywhere on Earth or Mars."

"Like the island where we went swimming with Uncle Roy?"

Alan thought... retiring to Fiji? Not a bad idea. "Let's see. You guys need to get ready to go down to Mars. Uncle Roy has a really nice room set up for you." Saying you have a nice room in Perseverance is like saying you have a penthouse with a mountain view in Denver. Living space is tight on Mars.

Just then, Pandora drifted into the room with Gene in her arms. She flew (literally!) into Alan's arms, and they clutched each other, kissing sweetly while Gene cooed and squealed, overjoyed that he was back with daddy. "What happened? Where have you been? How did you catch up with us?"

"Shh," he said as they kissed. "It's a very long story that started just after Venus Prime."

Alan just reveled in his family's love. That anxious, crazy need to lash out or run away disappeared in their arms. He felt whole again, but there's a need to protect his family that he can't deny, and the greatest threat to his family was two weeks away.

Anna and Wally were excited about their new computer buddy, Ed. He read them stories and showed them pictures. "He makes me do math," frowned Wally. "I hate counting letters."

"He means saying the alphabet" said Anna.

The family cuddled for hours, finally together after being apart for so long, not knowing where each other was. That night, Alan and Pandora cuddled in her bunk after putting the children to sleep in their bunk. "Is this how you cuddled with my sister?" asked Pandora.

"No, there was less desire on one of our parts," said Alan, as he kissed her face and neck. They just finished making love in the 69 position, which is not their favorite but the easiest position in Zero Gravity.

"I'm guessing it was your part," said Pandora. He nodded, and she said, "That was why she was crying."

"She was crying? But I'm married," said Alan.

"That means something different to Lunars like me and Eris," said Pandora. "After the war there were very few men on the moon. Married women ended up sharing. A married man was expected to look after his wife's sisters if they were not married. It became a normal part of society."

Alan looked at Pandora in total shock. She was implying he could have had sex with Eris, and she wouldn't have minded. The realization of what she said set in. "Now you tell me."

"Sorry," the redheaded cutie shrugged. "When did you get here?"

"A couple of weeks ago," said Alan.

"A couple of weeks ago? How?" Pandora couldn't believe it; her bombers were running flat out because the Earth and Mars were at their furthest point away from each other.

"I don't remember most of it, I was drugged, kidnapped right off the stage, and shot into space. There they stuffed me in a high speed transport and shot me to a space station that is off the maps. From there they tweaked my bionic eye, adjusted my hips, knees and elbows, then put me in an F-231. I convinced their AI to go on an adventure with me and I flew to Mars from L3."

"There's a station at L3?" asked Pandora.

"I can unequivocally say that there is no Earth made space station at Sol/Earth L3." He made a hand gesture letting her know that this subject shouldn't be talked about outside of a facility cleared for classified conversation.

"Now what?"

"Tomorrow I want your mom to take the kids down to Perseverance and stay with Roy. I need you to take a position at Sol/Mars L2 and cover Big Berserker 4 and keep an eye out for our Eastern Bloc visitors. I will start space drills with the Martian Self Defense Force." Then he kissed Pandora. "What did your father put in the aft bomb bay for me?"

Pandora didn't want to answer. She knew in her heart if she did, she may lose Alan forever. The battle of Venus Prime and the battle of the Strike Force Berserkers were terrifying enough. This thing blew up an entire Space Force Base, it nearly sank a launch carrier, and it followed her across the solar system without being seen. But he was going to find out what was in the bomb bay, eventually. He just had to ask Ed. Her eyes filled with tears as she said, "A pair of three man breeching pods."

NSS Friedensbringer, April 4, 2163

High Orbit Over Mars

Flying in orbit is tough. If you want to go faster, you end up going "up" as well. If you slow down, you end up plunging into Mars' thin atmosphere. The junior pilots of the Martian Self Defense Force were having a hard time getting the hang of that, but they were doing it. Soon they would be joined by four more experienced fliers. Commodore Elliot See has sent his two F-733F GunSlingers on ahead to join up with the new troops.

As soon as they arrived and docked in the NSS Friedensbringer, Big Freda, which was in geosynchronous orbit over Lake Jezero MSDF base, Alan had Ed open an encrypted video conference between all three bombers, the Naha, the Lima, and the Krakow, the two Saturn CXLII ships, the SS Peake and the SS Garriott, Big Freda, Lake Jezero MSDF Base, and the Scarlett office where Ray sat alone, hanging on every word Alan said.

"Today is the birth of the Martian Self Defense Force, from the marines standing proud at Lake Jezero, to the crews of the SS Peak and Garriott and everyone in between. We were made of proud men and woman and secondhand equipment that was liberated from their previous owners. We are part of the Western Alliance Navy, but regardless of where we were born, from today on, we are Martians, every one of us."

When the clapping settled, Alan said, "We are a team! We are family, brothers and sisters united to protect the land and people of Mars! We wear the Midnight Red of the MSDF and from now on, all ships assigned to us are listed as MSDF instead of NSS." The crew of the MSDF Friedensbringer cheered as Alan showed the new flight suits that they would be wearing. The deep, Bing cherry red color was eye-catching.

"In forty-eight hours, Saturn CXLII will fill the Lake Jezero crater to the brim, providing Mars with the water she needs for the next century. Unfortunately, there are people who want to prevent that. A heavy stealth bomber loaded with rocket propelled tungsten rods obliterated Thundering Waters Space Force Base and almost sank the NSS Conrad. They have murdered over 4,000 military and civilians, and the commander of that ship is a war criminal! He was the Venus Prime station commander who ordered the deaths of so many of our brothers and sisters."

At the mention of Venus Prime, the blood of the veterans was stirred. They've been aching for payback since it happened so long ago and now, in some slight measure, they may get it. Alan continued. "We believe the Polnoye Resheniye is inbound to strike our baby, Big Berserker 4, drive it off course, and possibly hit Perseverance. We will stop them. Two hundred fifty thousand fellow Martians depend on us, and we will not disappoint them."

He looked at the fliers assembled in the Big Freda's ready room. "Fliers, follow your plan. That thing is a flying tank, but we can stop it. And if you see a rod tube open, sing out and let everyone know, that tube becomes target number one." Then he looked at the camera. Radar people, we're no longer hiding, flood that sucker with electrons. With her electronic suite, Gunnery Sergeant Dunlop will be able to paint a picture of that big ugly sucker. Naha, Lima, Krakow - if it appears in your sights, shoot the damn thing."

"I could use a few dozen limpet mines," muttered Pandora to her executive officer, Commander Jockie Wallace.

"No shit, ma'am," said Jockie as they fist-bumped. A 750lbs limpet mine would stick to the skin of that thing and blow a hole all the way through it.

"Lastly, you on the ground, if we fail and the worst happens, you must respond. Commander Rodriguez has the response plan, listen to her orders, and carry them out as if I gave them. We don't know what the captain of the Polnoye Resheniye has planned but his career ends here!" After the cheering died down, Alan looked at his fliers and said, "any questions?"

"Yes sir!" said a young flier from Lake Jezero, who was showing tremendous promise. When Alan nodded at him, he said, "We would like a nick-name for our squadron, Sir."

"Isn't the Fighting First Air Defense Squadron enough?"

"We would like to go into combat as the Martian Berserkers sir."

Alan froze. Pandora could see his complexion go white. The memory of his berserkers getting slaughtered at Venus prime filled his head. He ached to scream, 'FUCK NO!' but he couldn't. The first members of a squadron get to pick their squadron name. That's been a tradition that goes back to Orville Wright's first birthday. "I would be proud to lead the Martian Berserkers into battle."

<><><><><>

MSDF Naha, April 6, 2163

Aft Bomb Bay

It was early, probably about 0400 UCT (Universal Coordinated Time) Alan put on his underwear, a one piece that was popular 250 years ago. As he dressed, Pandora sadly helped him with his environment suit. She kissed the skin that disappeared inside the environment suit. She didn't ask him not to go; she knew why he had to go. "You will come back, won't you?"

"Yes, just don't shoot me down."

"Did I tell you that I loved you?" asked Pandora.

"No. Remind me how it goes."

She put her lips close to his ear and in a husky voice whispered, "One hundred twenty eight."

Alan gently licked her earlobe and whispered, "Forty four." They kissed long and deep until a marine knocked on Pandora's door.

"Admiral, it's go time."

"Be right there," said Alan and they kissed again, then Alan floated to the door with Pandora on his tail. They headed back to the bomb bay and put their helmets on. Pandora wore a skintight short term environment suit, and they kissed one more time before they sealed their helmet's face plates.

Finally suited up, they entered the bomb bay cat walks and walked past the forward bomb bay that contained a rotary launcher with twelve long range air to ground drones. They entered the aft bomb bay and there were what looked like two large fuel pods. Both pods opened all along their length and they were filled with padding. "One twenty eight," he said loudly.

"Forty four," Pandora replied on the radio and they tapped their helmets together.

Two marines got in their pod and Alan joined them. The Marine up by the nose was armed with two taser pistols. The marine in the middle section had a drum fed bean bag shot gun. Alan got in the aft section and all he had was a large Eastern Bloc knife that he's been carrying for years. It was the knife used to kill Lieutenant Commander Risto Pärn in Saturn's orbit, the same type of knife they tortured him with on Venus Prime. The other pod was filled with three Marines, who carried the same weapons as Alan's crew except the Marine in the aft compartment carried a nasty looking mini rifle. The six men connected their environment suits to the breeching pods with air and water hoses, then settled in to get as comfortable as possible and the pods were closed.

Without ceremony, they sealed the bomb bay and Pandora floated to the Bridge. She drifted over to the weapons operator's section and looked over his shoulder. The status for both pods came up green and Pandora said, "Let them go."

The weapons controller pressed a button and the doors of the aft bomb bay swung open and a pod dropped out, followed by the other pod. They looked like discarded fuel tanks, the normal flotsam and jetsam found around a planet. Then the Naha struggled for altitude and resumed her location at Lagrange Two.

<><><><><>

MSDF Peake, April 6, 2163

Approaching Mars

Carl White, chief field engineer and co-designer of this mission, strapped in with Roy Bridges and Charlie Bassett. It was time.

Big Berserker 4 had been decelerating for weeks, fifty N-52 engines roaring as the moonlet neared Mars. The orbital speed it got off of Saturn practically threw Saturn CXLII toward Mars, they just had to break the gravitational hold on Saturn CXLII and it became Big Berserker 4, and their job was to slow it down. It was inevitable now, Mars was going to put on a few extra pounds in the form of 30 billion tons of frozen water. Chemical analysis showed that this was the good stuff. You could take a chunk of Saturn CXLII and melt it, then run it through a coffee filter to catch the dust that makes up most of the matter in space, and then drink the melted ice. It was the closest that Martians will ever come to drinking spring water in their lives. (Earthlings too, for that matter)

"How we looking Charlie?" asked Carl.

"We are dead on the money."

Gene Cernan joined the group and strapped in. Gene has known Alan Scarlett the longest. He was the Admiral's plane captain back when Alan was a lieutenant and they stuck together. Now he's Alan's technical representative on the mission team. "Aeronautical warnings?" asked Gene.

"We've been broadcasting an airspace advisory for three days now," said Charlie Bassett. The last thing they want to do was hit a ship as they brought Big Berserker 4 home.

"Let's do it," said Gene as the event countdown clock closed in on 0:00.

"You're good for throttle up," said Roy.

Unaware of the threat that waited for them, mission controller Charlie Basset ran the fifty engines up to 200% thrust, decelerating Big Berserker 4 as Mars' gravity reached out to the ice moon.

<><><><><>

Lake Jezero MSDF Base, April 6, 2163

Martian Self Defense Force Command Post

Eris Carmine-Rodriguez looked at her hangar. It used to be her workshop, but it has been enlarged three times in the past month. It was filled with volunteers who somehow heard that a stealth bomber was inbound and if their fliers don't stop it, the ship may aim its tungsten rods at Perseverance. "This may not be the smart place to be," called Eris. "We have thirty billion tons of ice being delivered today."

"We need to be somewhere. Do you want our help or not?" asked an older man in front of the crowd.

"Well, yeah. A large group of volunteers is great. You could be a reserve force." She stood on her desk and, looking down on the crowd, she said, "Show of hands, who is willing to respond to any emergency in any other settlement after this event?" All volunteers raised their hands.

She hopped down and took a clipboard and some ruled paper. "Here's your sign-up list. I need name, date of birth, and contact information. After you sign up, join me over there," and she pointed to a corner of the big hanger near the F-733Es. Alex reinforced the idea that Eris was in charge when he walked up to her in his uniform and saluted. Holding the salute, he said in his best marine voice, "Ma'am! All scooters are inspected and ready to go, but there's a problem."

"Thank you sergeant," said Eris, returning the salute. Her salute was perfect. They play a sexy game they call the sergeant and the hot second lieutenant, and she learned a lot of military protocol from that. "What's the problem?" She was pretty sure what it was.

"We have fourteen scooters, and only six pilots."

"Who can pilot a scooter here?"

There were no real responses, then Alex shouted, "Who can drive a UFT?" and dozens of hands went up. The civilian name for a scooter is a Utility Float Truck and low-powered scooters are sold under that name.

"They're all yours sergeant," said Eris, and went off to resolve another issue somewhere.

"All right," shouted Alex, with his hand in the air. "UFT drivers on me!" When he had about twenty, he said, "Sign up here then suit up, we're going to have some fun."

Eventually, they formed up outside and found a common radio frequency to talk on. Unlike military environment suits, the suit radios on the civilian suits have different channel settings, different power settings and are usually weaker than military radios. Alex lined up his people and assigned them to their scooters. "The last half dozen or so on this end are pretty powerful. I want only experienced drivers on them, inexperienced drivers, double up with somebody... You! No! That one with the orange safety bars is mine... Ready? Let's play follow the leader."

Alex led the other 13 scooters along the road that led over the rim of the crater and into the vast, round Jezero crater. "I want you all to remain close to the ground. The game is to stay as low as possible without dragging your skids."

They dropped to the bottom of the crater and raced through the ice caverns created by Eris as she dug out fighters, scooters, munitions, and tons of spare parts. The volunteers did pretty good until somebody said, "What's that?" and pointed into the sky.

Alex looked up into the brownish Martian sky and saw a bright white light. "I believe that's our shipment of ice."

They cleared the crater and, as they settled down to the parking pad in front of the MSDF building, he noticed the engines were running on all the fighters, including the two F-231s.

Polnoye Resheniye, April 6, 2163

Martian Air Space

Kapitan Radmir Valery Kovalyov surveyed the area around Mars. He saw a B-171 far out at L2. That was no threat; they were only effective against stationary targets, like space stations and cities. There was another B-171 escorting the moon into Martian space. There was nothing that ship could do either. There was a third ship in geosynchronous orbit and their database showed it as an old hospital ship. "Probably to render aid to the survivors of the moon striking Perseverance," Kovalyov said to himself with a chuckle. "What is there to worry about?" asked Kapitan Kovalyov.

The radar/sonar operator picked his words carefully. The last three people to sit in this chair are drifting outside their ship right now. "Nothing is presenting itself currently, Kapitan."

Kapitan Radmir Valery Kovalyov smiled. "Weapons?" He looked over. There was nobody at the weapons console. Then he remembered the last weapons officer angering him at dinner. He is no longer inside of the ship. "Lieutenant," he said, referring to the security officer. "Take over at weapons."

"Yes sir," said the lieutenant, trying not to scream in terror.

There was a bang that rattled through the Polnoye Resheniye, and a "Hull Integrity" warning popped up on the computer screen at the helm, but that error cleared right away. "What was that?" demanded Kapitan Kovalyov.

"There appears to be a debris field around us," said the man at the radar station. "I cannot tell for certain without a radar sweep..."

<><><><><>

As the Polnoye Resheniye passed over them, the breeching pods recognized the large magnetic object above them, and they oriented themselves into the proper position. For the past several days, Ed has studied every bit of information gleaned from the F-231's pass over and under the Polnoye Resheniye and found the optimum points of entry. The pod that Alan was in waited for the Polnoye Resheniye to sweep over it, then the pod swung above the big dark ship and pointed toward the planned entry point.

On cue, the two breeching pods charged the Polnoye Resheniye and latched on to it, slicing an entry port into the flesh of the large ship, then sealing the pod to the ship so there was no telltale loss of atmosphere. Then the marines simply slid into the large ship.

It looked like they were in an engineering space as Alan's team moved slowly through the ship. They entered a compartment and there was an Eastern Bloc spaceman at a computer terminal and the lead Marine told him to step away from the terminal and remain quiet, using the international sign to do that; he pointed two guns at the crewman. Alan and the second Marine grabbed the crewman's arms and zip-tied them behind him and gagged the terrified looking crewman, then Alan took his place at the computer terminal.

He took a device out of his pocket; it was a disc with several cable connections, and he found one that matched a port on the computer terminal and plugged that connection into the computer terminal. A red light on the disk started flashing slowly.

<><><><><>

On the MSDF Naha, Gunny Dunlop and her new favorite trainee were in her sonar room waiting for a specific signal. Her trainee, Spaceman second class Bran Dunsmore, watched and listened as she described how she preferred to set up her electronic listening post. He was strapped into the second chair and had Marcy's artificial arm in his lap. There were a myriad of things wrong with it, and she let Dunsmore fiddle with it. There was no way he could make it worse.

Suddenly, there was a tone, and an alarm popped up on her screen. "An installation bridge is available... what does that..."

As she pondered the alarm, Bran remembered something that Alan had said. "Ed! Ed needs that!"

"Ed, here's where you get out of my main frame," said Marcy and she hit the flashing 'EXECUTE' button.

"Thank you," said Ed, speaking to someone who wasn't Alan or Pandora for the first time.

They watched the indications on their screen and suddenly the Naha started pumping out tons of electronic noise. "What is it doing?" asked Bran as he turned the volume down on the speaker.

"He's broadcasting himself," said Marcy.

<><><><><>

On the Polnoye Resheniye the bridge crew was stunned at the noise that the Naha was putting out. "Vat is zat?" shrieked Kapitan Kovalyov, his Georgian accent coming to the forefront for the first time in a long time.

"I don't know," said the radioman.

"Find out!" the Kaptain demanded.

The noise echoed through the ship, but the intended target, a small disk in the aft portion of the ship, responded with flashing lights. They began flashing red and green and the flashing grew faster and faster until it looked like both the red and the green light were on steady. Then, without warning, the transmission stopped, and the green light remained steady. "Are you here Ed?" asked Alan quietly.

"Yes Alan, I am here. I am now exploring my new home."

"Ok, don't let him do anything crazy before we get to the bridge," said Alan as he and his marine guard left the tied up crewman behind them.

"It looks like the captain of this vessel is getting ready to launch a titanium rod at Saturn CXLII."

"We can't let that happen."

"It will not happen," said Ed.

The Polnoye Resheniye Kovalyov rolled onto its back and a small hatch on the belly of the ship between the engines' thrust tubes popped open.

<><><><><>

Lake Jezero MSDF Base, April 6, 2163

Martian Self Defense Force Command Post

"Eris no!" shouted Alex Rodriguez, but it was too late. Eris and another pilot roared into the sky in the F-231 fighters, followed by the four remaining F-733s.

"Get me a vector at that thing," Eris shouted into her radio.

On board the Naha, Gunnery Sergeant Dunlap turned to Pandora. "Ma'am, Lake Jezero just launched six ships and they're asking for a target."

"What? Oh damn. Leave it to a civilian and a box full of weekend warriors." Pandora thought for a moment, then leaned into the microphone and called, "All ships, paint sector B0-14 and prepare for fire." She then called the MSDF Friedensbringer. "Kayla, Launch the Berserkers, we'll have a target for you momentarily."

"Yes colonel," said Kayla Huddleson. She pulled on her helmet and the Martian Berserkers followed her to the hanger deck. The side doors of Big Freda were wide open, and the fighters were ready. It took nearly superhuman reflexes on the part of the young fliers to keep from opening the throttles until they were out and clear of Big Freda, but they were out. "Hold your positions," said Kayla, commanding the Martian Berserkers while Alan was otherwise engaged.

The three big bombers used their attack radar and swept the areas where they suspected the Polnoye Resheniye to be located. Marcy and Bran looked at her radar set carefully. "See it?" she asked.

Bran tentatively touched the screen. "That's got to be it. We're getting a return on..." he shrugged. "Garbage cans?"

"Breeching pods!" grinned Marcy. She happily slapped the microphone switch. "Target vector is sector B0-14, Xray 22, Yankey 25, Zulu 108."

"We're on it. Berserkers, follow me!" shouted Kayla.

"Lake Jezero, I have the lead!" called Eris, and the two units swept into battle.

Meanwhile, Marcy stared in astonishment at her hand, her left hand. She put her artificial limb on to placate Bran after he worked on it all night... and it's working. It's following her commands and its returning tactile sensations. She brushed her cheek and felt her soft skin under her fingertips. It's been so long since she felt that. She turned to Bran and touched his face. "It works," she said in a tiny voice.

He was working on one of her legs. "Give me a few more hours and I'll remind you what tickling is like."

"You son of a bitch!" the marine laughed as she threw herself at Bran. Pandora watched from outside in the companionway at the two as they playfully tussle, and Buddy started barking to join in as best he could. It was good to see Marcy smiling.

Polnoye Resheniye, April 6, 2163

Martian Air Space

"What is going on Ed?" asked Alan.

"The captain is trying to fire a tungsten dart at Saturn CXLII."

Alan's blood ran cold, even though he was holding his knife to the throat of an angry spaceman. If that moon was sent off course or shattered too soon, there was no telling how widespread the damage could be. "You need to stop him Ed."

"I'm sorry Alan, I could not prevent the launch, but I was able to make it ineffective."

The spaceman that Alan was holding sagged in his arms as Corporal Patrick Hall shot him four times in the gut with a bean bag shotgun. "What did you do Ed?"

"I disabled the launch projectile charge and the rocket booster on the tungsten dart. It is now traveling away from this ship at seven miles per hour, relative."

"Good job Ed."

Alan and his marines made their way through the upper decks, hoping to make it to the bridge before too long. Normally, the bridge is in the top center of the ship, like the Friedensbringer, or as far forward as possible, like the Naha. The corridors on this thing were wandering, and it was frustrating Alan until he remembered Ed has been studying this ship for the past hour. "Ed, lead us to the bridge."

"Yes, Alan." A map was projected on Alan's helmet face plate and somehow they walked past it. He led the marines through the corridors when the ship started rocking side to side.

"Ed, what is going on?" asked Alan as red lights came on all over the ship.

"We are under attack. It appears that the fighters that were meant to distract the captain of this ship, started shooting at the ship."

<><><><><>

Eris Carmine-Rodriguez rocketed upwards in her "Angry Knitting Needle" which is the name that the Martians gave the F-231. They had loaded two 50 caliber guns in pods on each stub wing and two rocket tubes, each tube carrying 21 2.75 inch rockets. She scanned the coordinates that Marcy called out and there it was. It was an enormous dish shaped craft. "Ground Pounder One to all Ground Pounders, I've got eyes on the prize, follow me in boys."

As she watched through a telescopic camera, it reared up almost on its back and a door on the belly opened. "What the hell?" Eris wondered, then she noticed the ring of fire high above them. "IT'S GOING TO SHOOT AT BIG BERSERKER!" She tried to calm herself as she armed up her guns and rockets. Then she had to choose which weapon to fire. "Going in hot, follow my lead."

It was such a pain keeping the nose on target; it was so much easier with the F-733's. Then she remembered this machine steered with attitude thrusters. Instead of the rear of the ship moving because of engine gimballing, attitude thrusters in the nose turned the ship much quicker than gimballing. Somehow she got the open door in her sights and just as she squeezed the trigger, a Tungsten rod oozed out of the pore. That's the only way to describe it. It came out slowly, and she wasn't sure if it was going to come all the way out or not, but finally, it did. It was kind of cool looking. It looked like a giant Phillips screwdriver, without the plastic handle on the end. "I want that thing," thought Eris. "For the museum." Which was right where her Angry Knitting Needle was going to go.

When she stopped dreaming about the Martian Self Defense Force Museum, Eris found herself in a flat spin and everything she did to get out of the spin made it worse. "Eris!" called Kayla. "Take your hands and feet off the controls."

It terrified Eris, but she took her hands and feet off the controls and after two rotations, the F-231 went into emergency mode and the attitude thrusters for pitch, yaw, and roll fired on time and it straightened itself out. "Damn! Do they all do this?"

"No, just that scary thing. Put it on the ground before you kill yourself, that's an order ma'am."

Eris wanted to say, "I'm a civilian, you can't give me orders," but she left when the chance was presented to her. She and her wingman retired from the fray, but the rest of the flying units continued to harass the Polnoye Resheniye. Finally, the defensive guns of the Polnoye Resheniye emerged and started shooting. They were lasers, and they slashed at the Martian Berserkers.

<><><><><>

Alan and his two marines had joined up with the three that gained access to the lower decks and Alan led the way to the bridge. They came to an unmarked sliding door that Ed assured Alan was the bridge. They found that the door to the bridge was sealed, or jammed, or something was wedged in the door track. They heard banging on the hull and the ship jinked and twisted around them. "Ed, what is going on outside?"

"The flying units are shooting at the Polnoye Resheniye, and the captain ordered defensive lasers to be deployed, Alan."

"Jettison them."

"Looking to see if it is possible..."

"Ed, all lasers can be jettisoned, they tend to overheat and go critical."

"Yes that is possible... lasers have been jettisoned."

"Ed, tell Pandora to tell the troops to stop shooting, we're almost done in here."

"Yes sir... Message sent... and acknowledged."

"Does anyone have an idea how to open this door?"

"Rock it, sir," said a marine.

"Rocket?" That was confusing to Alan.

"Yes sir, I'm from New Hampshire and we get stuck in the snow quite often. You go forward and back and gain a little traction each time. Eventually you rock it enough to move. Maybe whatever is wedged there will come free.

"Ed, try opening then closing the door over and over."

"Yes Alan. And I have changed all computer access to Martian only." Martian is English with a few changes. It's primarily an educator's language, so adjectives are kept to a minimum. However, it is vastly different from the Slavic language that was used on the ship.

The door was banging and with each open attempt, it moved more. Soon they could see into the bridge where the captain and his crew were arguing furiously over something. From the way they were banging on the keyboards, Alan guessed it was the change from Slavic to Martian. Two more bangs and whatever was keeping the door wedged closed popped out, and the door slid open all the way.

Carrying his hunting knife, Alan floated onto the bridge and yelled, "I claim this ship as my own." Radmir turned to see who was shouting and his eyes locked with Alan's eyes, and everything stopped. "You fucking bastard," gasped Alan.

"Ah, Kapitan Scarlett. You have done well for yourself since we last met, no?"

<><><><><>

MSDF Peake, April 6, 2163

Martian Air Space

"How are we doing Gene?" asked mission controller Charlie Bassett.

"On time, on target," said Gene Cernan. He was worried that he hadn't heard from Alan yet, but Pandora assured him Alan was nearby and paying attention.

"What is going on out there?" asked a controller who was monitoring the engines.

"Don't worry about what is going on unless it has an N-52 engine strapped to its ass," said Carl White, the Chief Field engineer.

"There's fighters everywhere out there."

"Thirty seconds to shatter," said Gene.

"Roger!" Carl clicked his microphone and called out, "Thirty seconds! Get everyone inside!" There was always someone finding some nut to tighten, some screw to turn just so they could stay out and watch the most exciting portion of this operation. At one hundred miles over the Martian surface, they would force the N-52 engines into an unbalanced configuration. The unbalanced engines will cause the moon to vibrate, and the crystalline structure of the moon will be overtaxed, and it will suddenly snap into basketball size pieces.

The ice pieces should stay in a nice tight group and flow into the crater. The idea is to keep the shattered ice in a tight group that will end up in the Jezero crater and not scatter over Mars and possibly hit the city of Perseverance. There were a few strategically placed shaped charges will be set off in a precise series to help.

"Ten seconds," said Gene.

Carl hit a button that caused alarm horns to ring on every radio on the network. Everyone that wasn't desperately trying to wrestle control of the Polnoye Resheniye from Radmir Kovalyov were glued to their view screens to watch the show.

With a series of precisely timed bangs, the sphere of ice suddenly became a mass of crushed ice that was plunging from the sky. The engines tried to fly in different directions, carrying their 10 foot long engine stand legs with them, but being freed from the ice they no longer had any reaction mass to convert and the engines shut down and joined the broken ice in its plunge to Jezero crater.

<><><><><>

The ship wheeled crazily around them, making the crewmen and the marines nauseous as they floated in the careening ship, but Alan and Radmir glared at each other. Alan brought his knife up but flipped it so he was holding it by the blade. With a swing, he hit Kovalyov in the head with the heavy handle of the big knife so hard it knocked the crazed Eastern Bloc captain's head into the helm control council.

It all came back to Alan, the beatings, stabbing, rapes and the mind numbing torture, and this man was there ordering his torturers to inflict more pain but to ensure that Alan remained alive. Alan even remembered the title that Kovalyov gave him. "It's Rukovoditel Krasnyy to you," shouted Alan and he pulled Radmir Kovalyov out of the helmsman's seat and shouted to his marines, "Tie him up somewhere then strap in."

"What about these guys?" asked a marine who pointed at the two remaining members of the Polnoye Resheniye bridge crew.

"Fuck 'em." Alan strapped himself into the helmsman's seat and the computer terminal showed that they were tumbling end over end into Mars' atmosphere. "What do I do Ed?"

"Break the roll," said Ed. "You need to use your bionic." Alan flipped up his eye patch and he could see a holographic depiction of the Polnoye Resheniye hovering before him. "Engage the engines," said Ed, and arrows appeared and pointed to the levers and switches that Alan had to use. The thrusters were not in the back of the ship like normal ships. All the thrusters were in the belly and backbone of the ship, and they had vectoring thrust nozzles. When not in use, they folded up into the body so there was no radar return. Alan aligned the forward two belly nozzles straight down, the two aft nozzles he pointed straight up and opened the throttle. It seemed to take forever, but the roll stopped.

"Fool! You are caught in Mars' gravity!" shouted Radmir Kovalyov.

"Give me that thing," said Alan and he took the beanbag shotgun from the marine that was strapped in next to him. He turned to Kovalyov and aimed the big shotgun at him. "Shut up," said Alan, but Kovalyov sneered at him.

"I know you better than you know yourself my fuck puppet," said Kovalyov with a grin. "You have too much heart to shoot me."

Alan didn't even shrug, and he shot Kovalyov in the forehead with a beanbag, knocking him out. Alan then put a round in Kovalyov's crotch. Then two in his gut and one in his knee. He's going to hate waking up. Alan looked at the unconscious Kovalyov as a series of beanbags orbited his motionless body. It wasn't payback, not by a long shot, but it looked cool. "Thanks, it shoots nice," said Alan as he handed the gun back. He turned back to the helm and realized that they were plunging to Mars. He rotated all engines downward and opened up the reaction engines to their maximum, which was 175%.

The big ship shook as the engines worked overtime, trying to get back to altitude. "Ed, what's my top forward speed on this?"

"Not enough to gain orbital velocity. I am sorry Alan."

Suddenly, Pandora came over the radio. "Polnoye Resheniye, you need to move. Saturn CXLII is coming straight down at you."

Alan looked at a holographic map and saw that he was over the center of Jezero Crater. He adjusted the nozzles to push him forward, and he moved toward the northern edge of the crater where Lake Jezero Martian Self Defense Force Base was located. Now he couldn't maintain a hover anymore, Mars had him in its grasp. He got moving northward as fast as he could go, but he continued to lose altitude. He fiddled with the six belly thrusters and the two back bone thrusters trying to even out lift vs forward movement and found that he was too slow. This hog wasn't built for in-atmosphere flying, even in the thin atmosphere of Mars. He pointed everything aft and opened the throttles, and prayed they would clear the rim of the crater.

"Polnoye Resheniye! GO!" shrieked Marcy. Spurred by the terror in Marcy's voice, Alan forced the ship forward as fast as possible. When he crossed over the rim of the crater, he rotated the nozzles down again and opened the throttles, hoping for a soft landing, but at the rate they were descending, it would be anything but soft.

Alan watched in horror as he saw he was going to set down on the tube train line between Perseverance and Bradbury Canal. That would separate Perseverance from half of the Martian colonies. He traded lift for forward motion and drove forward again and the big round ship fell faster.

"Ed, will those tungsten rods act as shock absorbers?"

The last fifty feet was a vertical plunge, but when the ship was 10 feet from the ground, Ed fired the tungsten rods, which contained the shock and eased the ship to the ground. The tungsten rods drilled into the solid rock of Mars and the Polnoye Resheniye lowered on those rods, staking it permanently into position. The Polnoye Resheniye hit the ground with a jolt, not a crash.

"It appears they do act as shock absorbers, Admiral."

Seated at the helm, all Alan could do was shake. "Shut down all engines except power generators..." he finally said.

"Yes Admiral."

Suddenly, the marines and the two members of the Eastern Bloc crew broke into cheers. "You did it sir!" But Alan sat transfixed, watching a video supplied by Ed in his bionic eye. He saw the cascade of ice pour into Jezero Crater, and it reminded Alan of pouring water into a bowl. They were a couple of kilometers off center to the south, but Jezero Crater was huge, deep, had high walls and contained the former moon nicely.

The observers that came to watch, against the advice of the Martian government, had a double show. They got to see their water needs for the upcoming centuries fulfilled.

And they got to watch a huge flying saucer sent from Earth land on Mars.

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Epilogue, April 6, 2166

Scarlett City, Mars.

Alan finished up his work and stepped the few yards over to the Scarlett Office where Ray was watching the closing arguments in the trial of Radmir Kovalyov. All of his surviving crew members testified against him. They found a few survivors that served under him on Venus Prime, and some from his previous commands. Even the former Secretary of the People's Glorious Star Fleet of the Eastern Bloc testified against him. Alan was certain that Kovalyov was screwed.

"I'm done Ray," he called to his uncle, who was engrossed in the closing arguments and his wife. First lady of Mars Nadia Volochenko-Clark, Alan's step-aunt, had testified against Kovalyov and now she was sitting on the lap of the president of Mars. She told the jury how Radmir Kovalyov drunkenly bragged to her he was going to kill Alan Scarlett and Gunnery Sergeant Marcy Dunlap, ensuring that he would never be caught. When he stole the Polnoye Resheniye, Nadia secretly kidnapped Alan Scarlett and sent him to Mars the fastest way she knew, then she told Admiral Shira about the threat to Marcy's life, and he sent out a 9-Line request which saved her life.

"You don't want to watch this?" asked Ray.

"Nah, I'll catch the update on the news, they'll rebroadcast it for days." There were three news channels on Mars, and one was devoutly sympathetic to Radmir Kovalyov. It wasn't surprising, because most of the Martian population were academics and had little contact with the real world. "I have to pick up the kids and take them home."

"Ve vill see you soon," said Nadia. "Pandora and Eris have invited us over for dinner."

Wonderful, Pandora made dinner plans and never told him. "Catch you then," said Alan and he headed out. A pair of security guards followed him. He left the Presidential Palace, a large office building that housed the Martian government and the president Ray Clark.

As Alan traveled through the capital city of Perseverance, people that recognized him greeted him with a cheery, "Hello Mister Vice President." Alan was indeed the vice president of Mars. The Kovalyov investigation revealed that the former vice president, Harrison Ellison, was employed by the Eastern Bloc and was actively protecting the Eastern Bloc's illegal mining drones that were being dropped all over Mars. The official-looking people that harassed anyone who approached a mining drone were Vice President Ellison's personal police. When he was sentenced to twenty Mars years in Phobos Prison, Ray offered the job to Alan.

"I do NOT want to be Vice President!" Alan nearly shouted.

"You would continue to be my eyes and ears over the Martian Self Defense Forces just like you are now, and the Western Alliance Navy would have no power to recall you to active duty."

"Sold," sighed Alan. "Let me talk it over with Pandora before any announcements." Of course, when he got home, Pandora knew all about it.

Alan and his escorts stepped up to the Deimos Academy, a private school dedicated to educating high IQ children. He stepped into the lobby and as he begged the secretary, she greeted him with, "Hello Alan! The kids are ready."

"Daddeeeeee!" cried Anna and Wally as they dashed into Alan's arms.

"You guys ready?" asked Alan as he helped Wally put on his backpack.

"Teacher says that there were no dinosaurs on Mars," pouted Little Wally.

"Well, there's Grandpa Wally, he's kind of a dinosaur."

"DAAAADDD!" groaned Anna.

They stepped onto a moving sidewalk and took it all the way to the train station, then selected 'Scarlett City' as his destination. When the proper train arrived, they got in a pressurized car and sat down. "You guys coming to dinner tonight?" Alan said to his security detail.

"Wouldn't miss it sir!" said the talkative one. All of Alan's security details have one member that's not terrified of chatting with the Martian VP. The train pulled out and was soon doing 200 kph.

The automated voice soon announced, "Next stop is Scarlett City. Please exit to the left for Lake Jezero Martian Self Defense Base and Scarlett Water Plant number one, exit to the right for the Martian Self Defense Museum."

They got off on the Martian Self Defense Museum side and a pressurized walkway took them to the base of the former Polnoye Resheniye. Alongside the plexiglass tube leading to the Polnoye Resheniye were large exhibits like a broken N-52 engine that propelled Big Berserker 4 to Mars, her "Angry Knitting Needles," One F-231 on its landing gear close to the walkway, another up on a pole angled upwards like it was flying.

There were two F-733 fighters, one was marked Vermillion's Decision, the other was named Scarlett's Harlot.

And of course, Eris' favorite display. The tungsten dart, or as Eris labeled it, The City Killer.

Inside the Polnoye Resheniye, there were seven decks. The public could tour the bottom deck and view the rotating engine nacelles and the tungsten rod launch tubes which most have a rod halfway ejected, its nose drilled into Martian bedrock. Then they can take an elevator up to the top deck where a replica of the bridge was built, and they can view the upper engineering spaces and see displays of Scarlett Water Systems team retrieving actual moonlets and hauling them back to Mars. There was video of the moonlets imploding and dropping, shattered, into Jezero Crater.

On the central deck was the home of the Vice President of Mars and family. Also were the offices of Scarlett Water Systems, which Pandora ran with an iron fist. The decks above contain Eris and Alex Rodriguez, retired Admiral Wally and Estelle Schirra, and Marcy Dunlop and her boyfriend Bran Dunsmore, who got her artificial limbs working properly and returning tactile sensations.

Below that, the Polnoye Resheniye featured something never seen before on Mars. A swimming pool. Freeform shaped, it was surrounded by natural rock, which provided grottos, waterfalls, and diving platforms. The rocks were covered with beautiful plants, which smelled wonderful and provided an oxygen rich atmosphere for the Polnoye Resheniye. Behind and through the rock drifted a lazy river that emerged from the rock, went around the patio and back into the rock, turning the patio into an island. The pool was supported by fourteen tungsten rods that were drilled into the bedrock, and it was the showcase of Scarlett water systems.

If you couldn't find Alan Scarlett, just look in the poolroom. You could find him there in an inner tube or an inflatable lounge with a child or two or three in his lap gently floating along his private canal.

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Unlike the previous episodes, this story was completely original, depending only on the previous stories for inspiration.

I tried to keep the spirit of the 50s science fiction alive and not add terms that were not used back then, not use words like laptop and astronauts because they didn't exist back then. Astronauts were spacemen and computers filled an entire building. The Bomb was the biggest fear, but I replaced it with tungsten rods, which were not considered as deadly as The Bomb, but now we know better. I'm sure the astute reader noticed that the spacemen and the spaceships were all named after real life astronauts and the traitors were named after real life traitors.