FREE STORIES 2012(22)

"It’s a ship, Ameera!"

"Don’t be stupid, Hersh, it cannot be a ship. There’s no way you can lift something that big and get it into orbit."

They flew along the enormous construct. The white, oblong shape gleamed in the crimson haze, like a theropod egg buried in a nest of sediment. There were no visible signs of boosters or fusion rockets. It couldn’t be a spacecraft, Hersh thought. "Okay, maybe it’s some kind of doomsday weapon?"

"If it is, we’re absolutely fucked, because the only point of something so big would be to crack open the planet."

"I know it sounds crazy, but I don't think this thing was manufactured here. There’s no sign of construction or equipment anywhere in the valley system." The sheer size and alienness of the thing dwarfed their petty romantic problems.

"Maybe they cleaned up after themselves."

"Look—there at the midsection, there’s some kind of vein, running from the city of Candor right into that thing." Hersh zoomed one of his cameras toward the connector. "It looks like a transit tube. Here, the closer we get the easier it is to make out humanoid forms on some kind of tram, riding toward the superstructure."

"Harpies! They’re loading harpies into that thing. The other rail running along side it looks like a supply tram."

"Maybe it’s a fort or a huge bunker and they’re moving everyone into it for protection?"

Suddenly, straight blue lightning flashed and the crack of thunder shook their glider.

"We’ve been hit!" Ameera tried to steer the shuddering plane. "They knocked out our engine, but I think I can guide us down. Luckily, we’re in a glider."

Hersh didn’t reply. He simply flicked on the power to the laser guns mounted on the plane’s wings and returned fire at the massive, elongated oval. Nothing! His beams were harmlessly refracted by the diamond matrix of its hull. The S-8 sank even lower into the dirty atmosphere. And still, the artifact stretched on for kilometers. It was strange that the enemy hadn’t fired on them again. Did they think them insignificant? Did they want them alive?

"Stop that and try sending a mayday to the Harpy Hunter!"

"If we couldn’t get a signal out higher up, we’re definitely not going to get through now." Hersh switched to cluster bombs and sent a volley down toward the alien citadel. Hot death bloomed like marigolds along their path. The fucking thing is still unscathed!

"I’m not going to park us on top of that structure in case it is some kind of super weapon. I’m aiming toward the gap between it and Candor. Readings indicate the air and pressure are synthetically maintained at normal levels down there, so we won’t explode if we survive the crash."

"My God, this isn’t a harpy artifact; the scale of it, the sophistication, the passive defenses, the single precise shot…" Hersh was shaken by his own realization.

"Machine Intelligence?"

"The robots have allied themselves with the posthuman perverts on Mars!"

The glider quickly approached the rail tube feeding troops and supplies into the massive robot machine and Hersh’s fear and frustration suddenly found a target he could annihilate. He launched three scorching javelins of light at the side of the tube and watched the whole thing blow to hell as the S-8 zoomed by.

They hammered into Mars and skidded and spun until the unforgiving ravine walls slammed them to a stop. The crash-gel in their seats cushioned them from the worst of the impact, but their stomachs churned, their bodies ached, and their heads whirled. Hersh reached out and took Ameera’s hand, then passed out.





Hersh came to first, but he was dazed. He contemplated his current predicament with almost drunken detachment. For reasons that utterly confounded him, about a hundred years ago, the original colonists of Mars had spiced up their genomes with archaeopteryx DNA. Some said it was a fad; flying in the weaker gravity was all the rage back then. What these idiots hadn’t taken into account was that transplanted DNA usually had more than one function, so genes associated with wings and claws and hollow bones also coded for cruel, reptilian aggression. The Hominocracy movement offered aid in the form of advanced gene therapies and reconstructive surgery to bring these poor, transgenic bastards back to humanity. Of course, they lashed out viciously and now they were embroiled in a war.

Slowly, he realized the glider was on fire. It was a puny, starved flame but it was enough to snap him from his trance. He tugged on Ameera and her bloody head rolled lifelessly off her control panel. His heart sank, then threatened to leap out of his chest when he saw she was still breathing. This morning, he was determined to split up with Ameera, but now—maybe it was the very real danger of loosing her—something stronger welled up within him. Caringly, he pulled her out of the wreckage and held her.