One Day on Mars

Chapter 4

7:30 AM Mars Tharsis Standard Time

Senator Alexander Moore held his six-year-old daughter's left hand with his right. His wife, Sehera, held their daughter's other hand, and occasionally little Deanna would pick up her feet and swing from her parents' hold. The swing was a slow pendulous arc in the low Martian gravity that thrilled the precocious child. Deanna was cute in all the ways that a little girl could be and she'd been fortunate enough to acquire the best traits of each parent. Her mother's long full-bodied dark curly hair and milky white smooth Martian skin gave her a baby-doll cute appeal, while her father's Mississippi State University starting-fullback frame made her appear as a physical force to be reckoned with, even at only six Earth years old.

The three of them were thoroughly enjoying their low-gravity stroll through the shopping and mall district of the largest environment dome at the Mons City resort. The unearthly architecture, dim lighting from Sol mixed with city lights, and light gravity of the Martian city were a pleasant and welcome change from Capitol Hill, which was normally where the family spent all their few-and-far-between together moments.

"Look, Mommy!" Deanna pointed to a large holo projection at the doorway of a shop called Mons Adventures at a man hang gliding down the side of Olympus Mons. The image shifted a moment later to a group of carefree adrenaline-junkie tourist adventurers rappelling down the side of a Martian canyon and then again switching to tourist hiking across the open desert in jumpboots taking twenty-meter leaps at a time across the Martian desert scrub brush. "Neat! Can we do that, Mommy?"

"That looks like fun, doesn't it!" Alexander smiled. The senator missed real-life action-packed fun. His days on Capitol Hill seldom required him to work up a sweat and the only place he managed to do that was in the gym. He missed his more athletic days in college and the military—though he did not miss the pain and daily threat of death from the latter.

"Bah!" Sehera replied. "That is insanely dangerous and I'd better not ever catch either of you doing it."

"Mommy, you're a fraidy cat." Deanna laughed and repeated, "Fraidy cat, fraidy cat."

"Fraidy cats live long lives, dear. Nine of them," her mother said.

The three continued along, looking like nothing more than tourists. Alexander had not been away from the Beltway in a long time and this trip to the Martian Summit was proving to be something other than the political career booster he had originally intended it to be. It was more of a much-needed family vacation.

They continued through the shops along the sidewalks and into an open court area filled with local cuisine and hot dog stands. There were a few trees both of Earth and Martian variety casting shade over the blue-green grass-covered area. The sound of various Earth birds could be heard over the bustle of the tourists and locals with the occasional hovercar screeching by in the background noise.

The dome had a large transparent ceiling and a spectacular view of the south side of the Mons City skyline in the shadow of the great mountain itself. Olympus Mons covered an area nearly the size of the state of Arizona and the mountain was over twenty-five kilometers tall at the peak. Mons City's main dome was built on the escarpment over two hundred kilometers from the peak on the southwest side of the ancient volcano. Summit City was built atop the mountain along the edge of the volcano's ridges and surrounding the caldera of the ancient volcano. The caldera, or pit, of the giant volcano was over eighty kilometers across and more than two and a half kilometers deep. Summit City had sprung up around many different tourist activities that ranged from base-gliding off the caldera, to climbing and rappelling on it, to even the five-kilometer luge that snaked down the north side of the caldera ridge. The southern ridge of the caldera was peppered by several observatories and naval outposts that were adjuncts of the base farther down the mountain.

The caldera floor was covered with dwelling domes of the locals and a major shopping center dome that was nearly twenty kilometers in diameter. Interstate transport tubes covered the floor like a spider's web and turned up the ridge to Summit City at about every forty degrees around the pit's circumference. Smaller street tubes and tunnels cut in and out of the mountain walls. The peak of the giant Martian shield volcano had become a metropolis. Summit City was more like Las Vegas back on Earth than it was like New York City. Mons City, on the other hand, rivaled any of the huge megalopolises on Earth. It spiraled and grew out over most of the southwestern face of Olympus Mons from the escarpment to the summit.

The peak of the mountain was littered with hundreds of minor domes and highway tubules, but there were five major domes that were considered boroughs of Mons City by the locals. The main dome was over thirty kilometers in diameter with four ten-kilometer domes spread out equally around it. The four secondary domes of Mons City were spread out across the face of the southern side of the giant state-sized mountain at the three, six, nine, and twelve o'clock positions about the main dome. The domes were really cities within themselves. But the entire complex was the largest construct in mankind's history.

A little farther east and up the mountain one could see the naval base. There was continuous air and space traffic in and out of the base, a sign that there was more going on than day-to-day travel—like, a war. A war that had been waging on and off for more than three or four decades. A war that most of the American population wouldn't admit was even a war.

"What's that, Daddy?" Deanna asked, and pointed toward the large supercarrier hovering over the outskirts of the naval base.

Abigail? Senator Moore asked his staffer AI.

Yes, Senator. That is the U.S.S. Supercarrier Winston Churchill.

"That, my dear . . . " Senator Moore paused for dramatic effect, a trick he'd often used on the senate floor. "That is the U.S.S. Supercarrier Winston Churchill from the great state of South England."

"What's a supercarrier, Daddy?"

Alexander smiled at his daughter. She was smart and beautiful—it pleased him, a lot, that she was inquisitive. But the senator had other things on his mind. The summit meeting at the Olympus Mons resort had been dragging on for weeks now with no end in sight. Alexander had come to Mars with the hopes of making a name for himself in political history by bringing the war that was raging at that very moment on the other side of the planet, just a few thousand kilometers away in Elysium, and elsewhere in the Sol System, to a halt.

But he had had no luck. He had known for some time that he needed to be there at Mons City for the summit. But he was beginning to wonder why. He was a minor member of the Senate Appropriations Committee; he simply wasn't powerful enough to make the deals needed to sway the Separatist Laborers Guild to cease hostilities and get back to work—the "great" work of the United States of America. And somehow, the Separatists had become seriously armed with mecha and aircraft and other weapons far better than the ones he had faced in the Martian desert thirty years earlier. There were even rumors in the press that the extremists of the Separatist movement had acquired weapons of mass destruction, maybe even a gluonium warhead. Gluonium warheads had been developed in the past half century and were based on the so-called gluon force that binds quarks together. A single gluonium warhead could possibly take out a state-sized region. If it was true that the Separatists had acquired gluonium, then they could take out an entire megacity like Mons City with one bomb—if they could deliver it without it being detected.

There was more going on with the Separatists than people generally wanted to admit. The Separatists were getting materials from outside the USA—in other words, outside of the Sol System. But where? There were only four extra-solar colonies known to man: Proxima Centauri Planet Two, also known as Teradise, Ross 128 Planet Three Moon Beta, aka Xander's World, Lalande 21185 Planet Three, aka Utopia, and Tau Ceti Planet Four Moon Alpha, aka Ares. Alexander had a very good idea of what was going on, but he had desired and needed to know more about how the U.S. could handle the situation. He needed access to more information—to classified information.

So, Senator Moore had tried to finesse his way onto the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, or the SSCI—pronounced "sissy" as he had learned—for all of his latest term. Without being exposed to the intelligence and what was really going on in the Local Bubble, it was hard to be effective in negotiations with the Separatist delegation at the summit. The Agricultural Committee members just do not get the access to Top Secret and special access information that the SSCI does.

The fact that the current administration had chosen to send such a low-echelon, only second-term, politician as the representative for the U.S. government at the summit meeting hinted as to America's sincerity with the Separatists. In other words, the current administration couldn't care less about the Separatists and their plight. It was only a political "grass roots" hot button that had forced the president to take action and force the SSCI to brief Senator Moore into the pertinent information. After all, the young senator was the mouth of the "grass roots" folks. He had always wondered why they'd picked him, a senator from Mississippi, and not one from a Martian region. The GOP supporters would spin that they suspected the president was subconsciously a bigot toward Martians, or at the least that he was a class elitist.

More information on how the country was planning on winning the war and with what new technologies gave Alexander a better hold on the summit talks, even if the general population couldn't care less about the war between the U.S. and the Separatist movement. The "grass roots" groups simply wanted their tax dollars on Earth to quit going to a war on a planet that most of them had never been to. And the skirmishes in the outer part of the solar system were deemed an even bigger waste of tax dollars.

At times it seemed that only the Separatists cared. The latest news polls showed that most Earth and Luna citizens were so far removed from the actual war that the loss of life was being dismissed and Americans in general were sticking to their guns about "not dealing with terrorists." That battle cry, at least for now, would outweigh the cost of the war—but eventually the cost of the war would completely drive the politics.

By and large, the general population of inner Sol System thought of the Separatists as terrorists. But terrorists don't have armies, mecha, and air support. The Gnat aerospace fighter and the Orcus tank mecha were expensive pieces of equipment and the Seppies had been using them for decades. There had long been rumors that the U.S. government didn't really care about the aged combat systems because some of the spin-off companies in the Belt, or the Kuiper Belt, or maybe even at the Colonies, were manufacturing them at huge profits that were being used to grease certain politicians. Most of the components of the vehicles were manufactured on Earth, Luna, and Mars and then they were assembled somewhere else. So as long as the flow of money for the components and subsystems continued to keep millions in jobs across multiple congressional districts throughout the system, the purchase and therefore the assembly of the Separatist mecha and fighters was likely to continue.

Terrorists historically had not been known to have the type of economic and political power required to enable the continued support of what for all intents and purposes could be called an army. Of course, most terrorists throughout history hadn't had a region nearly the size of Africa cordoned off and given to them as their own place to live and protect. The Reservation was in essence its own country, separate from the United States, much like the American Indian reservations of the past.

Why would the government continue to allow them to arm themselves the way they had, for decades? The fact that the Separatists had mecha had come as surprise during the initiation of the Desert Campaigns thirty years ago, but for thirty years after they still had mecha pop up here and there in skirmishes and nothing had really been done about it. Alexander was quite certain that the Separatists were much more than just terrorists. The ones he had fought against in the Martian desert thirty years earlier most certainly were soldiers, not terrorists. Again he thought, Terrorists don't have armies, mecha, and air support.

Unless he could somehow get the Separatist representatives to guarantee no further actions and to begin talks of getting back to work, this trip had been nothing more than a Martian vacation for his wife and daughter. If people could only see the devastation on Triton, the bodies from Kuiper Station, and the fighting near the western edge of Elysium they would realize this was a war—a serious war and not just terrorists doing minor damage far away from Earth. Now, if the president had come instead, as the Martian delegation had begged of him, they could have gotten the media coverage to sway the Separatists back to work, Alexander was sure.

"What's a supercarrier, Daddy?" Deanna tugged at Senator Moore's sports coat impatiently, snapping him out of his mind-racing train of thought.

"Let's see. It is a very large spaceship that carries a whole bunch of smaller spaceships and thousands of people and tanks and is an awesome display of America's great strength and power. And Marines! You can't win any real war without a bunch of U.S. Marines!" He smiled and gestured flamboyantly with his hands open wide and his chest out. He then subconsciously turned his U.S. Marine Corps ring a few times. His wife grunted at his answer.

"Don't encourage her, Alexander." Sehera glanced at him. "It is a carrier, honey, because it carries other ships and people inside it. It is a supercarrier because it is superdy-duperdy big."

"I understand, Mommy." Deanna smiled and went back to swinging between her parents.

The supercarrier was indeed an awesome display of American military might. Its sleek structure over a kilometer and a half long, two-thirds of a kilometer wide, and a quarter kilometer tall, the U.S.S. Winston Churchill hovered over the largest mountain feature on the Martian landscape. The large vehicle turned on a slow arc and looked as if it would pass right overhead in a few moments, casting a giant shadow over the city domes. But the large brilliant orange, yellow, and red fireball erupting from the port side of the spacecraft caused it to list to starboard rapidly. Then the Churchill appeared to have lost all gravity-modification control and the supercarrier started losing altitude.

"Look!" Deanna let go of her parents' handhold and pointed.

"What the hell?" Senator Moore stopped dead in his tracks as the supercarrier lost propulsion and started on a downward trajectory.

"Oh my God!" Sehera instinctively picked up her daughter and held her tight to her, not exactly sure what to do but certain she would protect her child at all costs. The Martian childhood in her triggered years of instinct and hazardous-environment training. Alexander Moore, on the other hand, having grown up in the southeastern North American continent, knew not to stand in fire ants, not to play with copperheads and water moccasins, and to always steer clear of skunks and polecats. His youth couldn't help with the hazards of Mars. But the seventeen years he had spent in the Luna City Brigade Special Forces might.

"That thing is gonna hit one of the domes! We have got to get out of here!" Alexander grabbed his daughter from his wife and turned down an alleyway that led to the stairwell toward the main exit. Fortunately, they were not far from the exterior hall where the circumference interstate circled the city. There was a greenway that ran between the interstate and the dome that had leak shelters placed along it every few kilometers. "Come on! If that thing hits us we're going to lose atmosphere."

Abigail!

There is a leak shelter on the northwest wall greenway very near us. The AI staffer anticipated her boss's question.

"Run," Alexander yelled at his wife.

I have requested a Secret Service detail to pick you up, Senator. But, unfortunately, there are none available. There is a contingent of Martian Marine Reserve that has dispatched a squad of troops to us. They have all rallied to the governor's request for help.

Thanks.

"Stop, Alexander, wait!" Sehera grabbed at his shoulder.

"We'd better hurry and get to the shelter, Sehera," Alexander warned.

"No! Alexander, the shelter is on the other side of the greenway at the northwesternmost wall of this dome. That is over three kilometers away. It could take us a long time to get there and by then the crowds of tourists and locals will have filled it beyond capacity." Sehera was running survival plans over and over in her head. Any good Martian would tell you that the first thing to do is put on your suit and grab your air scrubber! And Sehera remembered seeing suits only moments earlier as they had been walking. Fraidy cats live nine lives, she recalled telling her daughter, and she planned to live all of them.

"Alexander, follow me!"

The supercarrier continued to fall on a ballistic trajectory until it clipped the bottom southwest side of the ancient Martian volcano mound. The large rugged ship ricocheted off the side of the mountain and fell right on top of the southernmost secondary dome of Mons City—the six-o'clock borough. The rupture of the side dome flowed precious atmosphere out into the Martian wind. With the air went the lives of hundreds of thousands of citizens in a matter of tens of minutes. Rescue crews were scrambled and several Naval Fleet ships were dispatched to the mountain but it would be more than half an hour before the fleet could arrive.

Over one hundred and seventy thousand survivors from the attack had been lucky enough to make it to the main Mons City shelters, and more had taken shelter in the northern, eastern, and western secondary city domes—though the travel tubes to the western, eastern, and main domes had taken some damage from what appeared to be secondary impacts and explosions. It was likely that casualties could reach into the millions by the end of the day.

Fortunately for the Moore family, they had been in the main dome of Mons City, which had not been damaged by the crashing supercarrier or the secondary effects. Senator Moore and his family, however, were too far from the shelters to risk the long hike. If the main dome gave while they were trekking to the shelter they would die in minutes of exposure or suffocation.

"Reyez, those goddamned stray cats got into the storeroom again," one of the adventure store assistant managers, Rod Taylor, called from the doorway leading into the back stockroom.

"Well, just chase 'em out if they're still in there." Reyez replied.

"Put the power pack there, honey." Sehera demonstrated for her daughter how to snap the vacuum energy power supply into the suit pack. She kissed her daughter on the cheek, then slid the environment suit over her head, twisting the seal ring tight.

"Don't close the faceshield down unless you need it. No need to waste our power and air if the dome doesn't crack." The Mons Adventures store manager, a young man in his early twenties, twisted his bright red helmet on and continued to instruct the few tourists and passersby who had the presence of mind to find a place that sold or rented environment suits.

"Makes sense." Alexander smiled reassuringly at his daughter and motioned to her how to release the faceshield hinge if she needed to. Sehera on the other hand needed no instruction. She had been in and out of environment suits most of her life.

"Anybody know what's going on?" one of the tourists asked. Obviously he was from Earth and had never been in a suit. A short fat man was having trouble sealing the life support ring.

"Yeah, the supercarrier blew up and crashed into the dome, duh," Deanna answered. Rod looked up from helping one of the others with their e-suit functions and burst out with laughter at her response.

"Ask a stupid question . . . " the other young man that worked there, Vincent, added.

"Be nice, dear," her mother scolded her. Deanna stuck her tongue out at the man.

Abigail, any info available? Senator Moore thought to his staffer.

The best source of news seems to be, well, the news, sir. The long-range wireless is being jammed. I do have a connection to the Marines that were dispatched to get us.

Well?

Their transport was shot down over the south dome and they are taking heavy casualties. And even worse, sir, they are cut off from us.

Casualties! From what?

This appears to be an attack, Senator. There is a ground force overrunning the city and parts of the naval base It is only a matter of time before they enter the main dome, Abigail informed Alexander.

"Hey, listen." Senator Moore got the young shop manager, Reyez's, attention. "Can you put the holo or a screen on MNN?"

"Of course. I don't know why I didn't think of that." The Mons Adventures manager looked up from adjustments to one of the environment suits and the wall monitors flipped to the Mars News Network, MNN. Then Reyez and the other two employees of the shop, Rod and Vince, went back to adjusting the suits of the few tourists that had at least been smart enough to find a place that had suits. There was just no telling how many tourists had gotten lost in the main dome and never found the leak shelter or a place with suits. No telling how many casualties there would be if the big dome cracked a seal.

Alexander held his wife's and daughter's hands and pulled them closer to the video monitors. The MNN correspondent was on the north side of the dome near the shelter. The scene behind her was of an overcrowded room with too few seats. The occasional local with an environment suit stood out in the crowd of tourists.

". . . the main dome is still holding as far as we can tell. A few minutes ago the U.S.S Winston Churchill, a Navy supercarrier, exploded in midair and then crashed through the skyline of southern portions of Olympus Mons City, destroying parts of the lower and smaller domes. We have no idea of the massive damage that must have been caused and are not certain of the casualties. The scene here is currently of shock and survival. We can only hope the leak shelters hold since the majority of the people here do not have environment suits. Shennan, is there any word as to what is going on?" The image shifted back to the MNN anchor desk and Shennan Haggarty.

"Right now, Amanda, we know very little. However, we do have some footage of the attack. That's right, attack. Mons City is under a full-scale attack from ground troops with aerial support. The data we have right now is still very sketchy, but it appears as if a cargo and waste disposal transport ship appeared out of hyperspace in orbit above Mons and dropped a full contingent of mechanized drop tanks, infantry, and fighter support. The ship then completed a suicide run at the naval blockade in orbit. It was engaged by the fleet but it appears to have self-destructed, destroying several ships along with it and damaging many others. These events seem to have coincided with the explosion of the Churchill. Right now we can only assume sabotage is what caused it to explode. Just a moment . . . I'm told we have audio from Gail Fehrer in the south dome . . . can we go to that?"

"This is Gail Fehrer. I'm in the south dome of the Olympus Mons skyline. The dome has a massive hole in it the size of several skyscrapers. There are giant girders from the geodesic ribs hanging from the gaping hole. Oh my God, there are skyscrapers collapsing along the path of the crashed ship and explosions going off in the distance. There must be thousands killed or wounded. Once again, just a few moments ago the supercarrier U.S.S Winston Churchill crashed here, destroying most of the southern borough of the city. Almost immediately following that several of what appear to be Separatist mechanized troop carriers dropped from the sky and then a squadron of enemy fighter-bombers plowed through leaving behind death and destruction. It looks as if the bombers may also have taken out portions of the eastern skyline as well, before they met any resistance from the Navy."

"Gail, can you see any of our troops anywhere?" Shennan asked.

"Shennan, I just saw a group of Martian Marines pass through toward the fairgrounds. One of the soldiers told us that they were heavily outnumbered and hoped their superior training and firepower would allow them to hold off the attack until the Martian 34th Mecha Unit arrived."

"Gail, can you give us a description of the scene and mood there?" the anchorman asked.

"Yes, Shennan. There are huge amounts of dust clouds and smoke all around us and there is rubble everywhere. There is the distinct crack of railgun fire and missile detonations in the background. The Marines just went towards what appears to be the most devastated part of the city and where there are still flames and explosions from secondary effects of the crash sounding in the distance. My guess is that there is where the first conflicts are . . . "

After more than an hour of waiting in the adventure store and feeling the large vibrations of exterior explosions outside the main dome, the survivors were more than just panicked. Many of the two dozen survivors who gathered and waited in the adventure store had AICs that were connected to the Internet, but what they found in terms of news was not very reassuring. MNN and local wireless seemed to be the only functioning communications. And the footage on MNN had been looped through so many times that it was getting old hearing the news analysts trying to think of new things to say about it. All other longer-range transmission systems were being actively jammed. This bothered Senator Moore immensely. Nobody, to his knowledge, realized that the Separatists had that type of advanced jamming technology. Sure, they had tanks and fighters and armored e-suits, but they were old technology and they were years behind the QM transceiver communications technologies used throughout the systems.

Abigail, what is going on? How are they jamming the long-range QMs?

Well, Senator, it appears to have been a full-scale attack on Mons City. A fleet of Navy ships was dispatched but apparently the Separatists were ready for them with surface-to-air missiles. A fleet of ships appeared in orbit out of hyperspace just now. MNN will start running that soon. Don't know about the communications jamming. I'll work on that.

How do you know all the other stuff?

I've tied in directly to the MNN anchor desk's producer AIC. I had to promise you would give them an exclusive later.

Good girl!

I try, Senator.

The ships that appeared in orbit . . . ours?

Apparently not, Senator. It would appear Mons City is surrounded and under siege, sir. And now there is sufficient orbital support. My guess is that it is only a matter of time before the main dome begins filling with Separatist ground forces.

What about those Marines? The 34th Mecha and the rest of the Army? Hell, I'd even settle for the Martian Air Force.

The Marines are cut off on the other side of the southern dome, Senator. They continue to take heavy casualties. The Marine tactical AIC I'm in contact with has received no contact from the 34th but they do expect an evac lift to be available in three to four hours. Since the transport tubes between the south dome and the main dome have also been destroyed they had to turn back. The evac is on the south escarpment of the mountain just outside the south dome. The Marines also expect the entire city to be overrun soon. They are fighting as best they can but with little luck. The attackers have a full fighting force, sir. There is a serious numbers advantage in favor of the invaders right now.

Could we get to them, to the evac lift? Alexander held on to his wife's hand as he thought of possibilities. He knew that if the Separatists found a U.S. senator and family they would be killed as spectacle and shown on a systemwide broadcast. Alexander was not about to allow that. He had spent seventeen years—seventeen hard years—in the Luna City Brigade during the first Martian Desert Campaign and he knew how to fight if he had to.

He had fought in units that had started out with hundreds and ended with two or three and then ended up captured and in a POW camp for years. The Separatists, on the other hand, had fared a little better than he. After years of hard fighting the U.S. with dated weapons and terrorist tactics, the Separatists made the war too expensive for the U.S. to desire to continue with it. So the Americans sued for peace, leaving the desert of Syrtis Major to the Separatists. Most of the Separatists went back to within the "Reservation" borders near Phlegra and continued on with working on the terraforming of Mars. But others, the leaders of the Separatist armies under the direction of Elle Ahmi, had maintained a continuously growing military structure within the Separatist community. There were weapons stockpile efforts and occasional terrorist activities against American outposts in the outer system outposts like the massacre at Kuiper Station. After seventeen years of the desert war between 2336 and 2352, an uncomfortable peace had lasted a decade or two—depending on which history book you read—and then Elle Ahmi, the general of the Desert Campaigns, finally rose to absolute power within the Separatist Union. It was unclear how exactly that had happened. Peace had been unraveling for several years and skirmishes were popping up throughout the system. And so once again Alexander was called back to Mars, but his time as a diplomat and not as an armored e-suit Marine.

Alexander had fought politically to aid in the peace process and that was why he was on Mars again, he thought. But there was always the nagging thought in the back of his mind that he was just a bone thrown by President Alberts and the Dems of the House to appease the snapping dog of the GOP and the Independent Party. The last time he had been on Mars he was wearing jumpboots and a USMC armored e-suit, but that had been over thirty years before. It didn't matter. There is no such thing as a former Marine, he thought to himself. He would not let his family be killed as a spectacle for terrorists.

There's no way to get out to the evac?

Perhaps, but the Marines are cut off from us, sir. The MNN reporter Gail Fehrer reports enemy mecha positioned along the remains of southern travel tubes and on the periphery of the dome. We would either need to go a long way around them on the outside or over or under them, Abigail explained.

Can't we get an evac to the main dome?

Apparently not, Senator. Without fighter support the Separatist mecha is bringing down most air transport.

Shit! We can't just sit here and wait to be captured. Been there and done that, got the freaking T-shirt. I'm not spending time in a Separatist prison or getting us tortured to death. Moore rubbed his nose and eyes with a thumb and forefinger as he let out a short sigh. There had to be something he could do besides sitting around with his thumbs up his ass.

The Marine AIC says the best bet for civilians is to hold tight.

Did you explain to them who I am? Did you explain to them what would happen to us if the Separatists take us captive?

Yes.

Shit.

Yes, sir. Shit.

All right, tell them we are coming to them and not to leave us. Moore had made up his mind. Sitting around couldn't be the safest thing to do. Download me as detailed a set of maps of Mons City as you can get. I mean down to the architectural and engineering drawings if you can get them. Street maps, tunnels, sewers, power conduits, everything. And get me the coordinates for the evac ship.

Yes, Senator. But with the global down, I'm not too optimistic on the maps.

Just do what you can. Try the local library.

Senator, the Marine AIC says that you should stay put.

Abbey, I don't take orders from the Marines and haven't for a long damned time. You tell them that we are not going to sit around here to be taken hostage. We are coming to them if they can't get to us!

Yes, Senator.

Alexander glanced around the adventure store at the adrenaline junkie paraphernalia available. Then he thought of his wife and daughter being tortured to make him do and say things he shouldn't, which was exactly what the grunt Separatists would do to him if they caught him here. Who knows, they might just torture and kill all three of them for show like they did poor Congresswoman Zander on Kuiper Station. The gruesome video of them chopping her hands, then arms, and then legs off with a laser welder flashed in his mind for a split second. The welder cauterized her wounds so she didn't bleed to death and the Seppy doctor administered adrenaline to her to keep her conscious. Then finally, Elle Ahmi appeared on video with that long brown hair trailing out from under her red, white, and blue ski mask and doused the poor congresswoman in alcohol. Ahmi then calmly and nonchalantly set her on fire.

No sir, he was not going to let that happen to his wife and daughter! Though he didn't expect Elle Ahmi would be a problem. Nobody had heard from her since the assault on the Belt three years ago. There were rumors that Ahmi was dead or had left the system. But whoever was leading this faction of the Separatists would be just as nasty, for certain. Alexander knew they had to escape.

But there was no way to cover the tens of kilometers to the evac point in time. The roads were likely destroyed, blocked, or any traffic on them being shot. Stealing a hovercar was probably not a good idea. Flying was out. Any vehicle using that much power would set off all sorts of sensors. Think, Major Moore! What would a good Marine do?

Alexander picked up a pair of jumper hiking boots, and began eyeing the gliderchutes on the far wall of the store. Abigail, is there a way to get to the outside top of the dome?

Perhaps, Senator. I will see what I can find out.

"Reyez, my good man, have you ever done any base-gliding off the dome?" He grinned at the store manager while trying to ignore the look his wife was giving him.

Oorah! he thought.