Gestapo Mars Read online

  A pause.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” she asked.

  I sighed, rolled my eyes. Max had foreseen this. “He told me about your birthmark,” I shouted. “On your left butt cheek, in the shape of a spider.”

  Meredith smirked at me from the marigolds.

  Another pause, longer this time.

  A latch clicked, and then slowly the front door creaked open. A sturdy woman came out, black hair with flecks of gray. From somewhere, my brain found the words frontier stock. Two children stood behind her—boys, one seven or eight years old, the other maybe eleven, both with wide, haunted eyes. I didn’t even want to guess what their lives had been like these last few weeks.

  “Come with us, ma’am,” I said. “We’ll keep you safe.”

  She studied my face for a long moment then nodded curtly. “Give me five minutes,” she said. “I’ll pack a few things.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Max and I pushed the big handcart along the dim tunnel. So far the spaceport’s emergency lights had held up. I planned to be long gone before they faded.

  “Flip on that radio again,” I said.

  Max frowned. “It’s just the same shit, over and over.”

  “I’m new on this planet, remember?”

  “Okay, you’re the boss.” Max snapped on the little radio hanging from the side of the cart.

  “—to this frequency for Revolutionary Radio,” a smooth voice said through the static. “We have burnt the world of the Reich to the ground, and from the ashes we will rebuild a better society, a just society, but we can’t do it without you, friends. Even now, pockets of Reich resistance threaten our new world order. If you see something, say something. Tell one of our roaming justice squads if there are still Reich scum hiding in your neighborhood.”

  Max shook his head. “The guys killing and raping across the countryside are called justice squads now,” he said. “I mean, what the fuck? The Reich wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough. Sure they controlled what was in the newsfeeds, and regulated the information we got, but that was to maintain a stable society, right? If riots in the streets and mass starvation are their idea of justice, they can keep it.”

  I tuned him out so I could focus on the radio.

  “For our friends under siege in North Hamburg, hang tough,” the voice said. “Help is on the way. Everywhere the Nazi scum attack, our righteous brethren turn them back. We have the power of justice on our side. But, friends, I need to make you aware of an even greater threat. Something that could threaten all of our achievements so far. There are those even worse than the Reich—extremists so vile they would squash even what little freedom we had before, in their obsessive quest for total purity.”

  My ears perked up, and I saw Max was listening closely, too.

  This was new territory for the radio voice.

  “My friends, I speak of the Dragon Nazis, those elitist, fascist, naturalist assholes safely ensconced on their fortified island. They think they are safe, but our people know their movements and their plans. Oh yes, friends, we have our ways. Tune in tonight for the evening broadcast, and we shall reveal even more. In the meantime, stay strong.”

  I looked at Max. “Dragon Nazis?”

  He shrugged. “Never heard of ’em.”

  I had my suspicions, but said nothing.

  “How much farther?” I asked.

  “Your lady friend parked her ship near the commercial hangars,” Max explained. “We’re going to the government hangars. This tunnel is a straight shot. Don’t have to expose ourselves and get ass-raped by a fucking justice squad.”

  “They’ve been doing a lot of that, have they?”

  “Oh, hell, I don’t know, but they sure as hell ain’t worried about justice. Just gangs of dumb fucks, looting and killing. I saw a bunch of ’em take a woman out of her vehicle and shoot her in the side of the head just because she had a government tag. Probably worked at a toll booth or some shit, and they killed her for it.”

  We reached the double doors to the government hangar. Normally they’d split open for us automatically, but not so much with the power out. Max removed a maintenance panel near the doors and started turning an iron wheel to crank them open manually. The wheel must not have been used in a while, because it refused to move at first. Max’s muscles bunched beneath his coveralls as he wrenched the wheel loose, the door opening a few inches at a time. He was covered with sweat by the time he was finished.

  We pushed the cart through and the area on the other side opened up into a large hangar. The lumpy starship sitting in front of us had been there since the planetary uprising. It was on a huge lift which had been lowered to an underground maintenance chamber. Most likely that was why it hadn’t been looted, like everything else.

  We might have just taken this ship, since the translight drive worked, but the ship was in for repairs because the life support was shot. And anyway, it was only a two-seater. The little craft was a postal delivery ship which served a six-planet route in the cluster.

  Max was pretty sure some of the parts could be used to repair Meredith’s yacht. He entered the code on the keypad near the ship’s main hatch. There was a muffled clunk as the power system came online. The interior lights flickered in the portholes, and the hatch slid open.

  Inside, he headed aft to find the parts while I scavenged the rest of the ship for anything useful. There was a small closet with a pressure suit and a box of tools similar to ones Max already had. No food or weapons.

  Max returned with some unrecognizable parts that he said would make Meredith’s translight drive work, so I helped him load them onto the cart and we headed back to Meredith’s yacht.

  “What are we looking at, time-wise?” I asked him.

  Max squinted at our haul, rubbed his chin. “A few hours to install the new parts and run a diagnostic through the ship’s computers, but we can’t jump with cold coils. They’ll have to charge overnight. First thing in the morning we’ll be good to go.”

  “But where? That’s the real question. With revolution sprouting in every system, we need to know which planets are safe, and which aren’t.”

  “Revolution might be a moot point,” Max said. “If what you said about the Coriandon is true, all of human space might be overrun with big snotty blobs by now.”

  “Well, our first priority is to get off this planet,” I said. “Once we’re in open space we can try to pick up some signal, maybe catch up on current events.”

  * * *

  That night, I lay next to Meredith trying not to belch up my vending machine dinner of Cayenne Crunches, Marshmallow Fluffs, and cream soda. There’d been a small store of food aboard Meredith’s yacht, but she’d given it to Max and his family, saying that the children at least needed to have a proper meal.

  We curled together in the stateroom of her yacht. Max and his family had spread out through the rest of the ship. It was a bit crowded, but Meredith’s yacht had become a lifeboat now. The impromptu rescue mission made me feel better in all the obvious ways. Support the Reich or support the rebels, either way, Max and his family didn’t deserve to have their simple lives knocked into the toilet and flushed. I wasn’t an operative on a mission, not any longer. I was just a man doing the right thing for people that needed help.

  Yet my thoughts drifted ever back to the daughter of the Brass Dragon. A mysterious creature with eyes like deep wells, and no way to know what—if anything—was at the bottom. She was a mystery that would never be solved.

  I was relieved.

  A little sad, too.

  And that was funny, and made me smile because I was stupid.

  Meredith nuzzled closer, her sigh a light and airy thing, a noise a drunk fairy might make, contented without really knowing or caring why. I wanted to be there with her. If the Coriandon had broken through and overthrown the Reich, then I was free. What that meant seemed as mysterious and as far away as the daughter of the Brass Dragon.

  The galaxy still seemed u
nreal to me, something thrown together by a confidence trickster while I was looking the other way, a matte painting tossed up to make me think I was where I was supposed to be. Except the man behind the curtain—the one pulling the strings—had been replaced by a chimp pumped full of meth. Planets and stars flew every which way, bumping or not, and there seemed to be little rhyme or reason.

  Order. Chaos. A grilled cheese sandwich.

  None of it mattered.

  Except it did because it had to. How could anyone live if it didn’t matter? Why even get up in the morning? Maybe if I—

  I sat up in bed, Meredith rolling off me and starting awake.

  “What is it?” Voice foggy with sleep.

  “Somebody’s out there,” I whispered.

  Through the big bubble window I saw a half dozen flashlight beams playing in the darkness between hangars.

  “Who is it?” she asked. “Have they seen us?” An edge of panic in her voice now. “What do we do?”

  “Open your weapons locker.” I pulled on my pants and shoes.

  She punched in the code, and the hatch slide aside. I took the sniper rifle and slung it across my back. Two big pistols and a belt with extra magazines, 12mm with exploding tips. There was a little shredder with a barrel clip, probably about ten thousand rounds. I took it, cocked it.

  “I’ve got to go out there.”

  “No,” she said. “We’re locked in. Stay. It’ll be okay.”

  “No,” I said. “It won’t. Because we don’t know how many of them are out there or what they have. If they have a shoulder-launched missile or a mounted laser, then this ship isn’t getting far. It’ll be a sitting duck as soon as it lifts off.”

  “But—”

  “You’ve got to get dressed now, and help Max with preflight.”

  She looked at me and I looked at her and the whole story was right there in the silence between us. And then I told her the lie we both knew was coming.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  One of her hands went behind my head, pulled me close, and she kissed me hard. We kept it that way for what seemed like a long time, but really it was only a second or two.

  I pulled away. “Help Max.” Then I was vaguely aware of Meredith reaching for her clothes as I left the main cabin behind and padded through to the lounge. I stepped over Max’s kids, Seth and Gerald, who’d made a nest of blankets and comforters. Max and his wife slept on the acceleration couch, which folded out into a double bed.

  I put my hand over his mouth, and his eyes popped open.

  “It’s me,” I whispered. “You need to listen to me and do everything I say, okay?”

  He nodded, and I took the hand away.

  “We can’t wait,” I whispered. “There are people outside, and we all know it’s not a rescue party. It’s people who are going to want to kill us and take what we have. Maybe that means raping the women. I don’t know about the children. I’m going outside to kill them. When I go out the rear hatch, you close it again. Just pray the coils have charged enough. Give me sixty seconds to draw them away, then fire the engines.

  “Nod your head if you understand.”

  Max nodded.

  “Follow me.”

  We stepped back over the kids and moved quickly aft. I opened the hatch and stepped out. The night was cooler than I thought it would be. I should’ve grabbed a shirt. Too late now.

  “Okay,” I told Max. “Close it.”

  “How long do I wait?” Max whispered. “For you to come back, I mean.”

  “Don’t wait.”

  A pause. He looked back into the ship, and I knew he was thinking about his wife and children. I’d laid it on thick just for this moment, about what could happen if they caught us.

  He turned back and offered his hand.

  “Good luck.”

  I shook it. “And you.”

  EIGHTEEN

  I was already turning away when I heard the hatch click shut again. No time to dwell on what I was leaving behind. I moved sideways fast, targeted the flashlight beams, and fired a short burst from the shredder.

  It blasted about five hundred rounds a second, and a “round” was a little razor-sharp needle about a quarter-inch long. Not much use against a trooper in full power armor, but clothing and flesh might as well be wet tissue.

  Short bursts at the beams followed by screams. I knew they’d see the muzzle flash, so I made the bursts quick and kept moving, leading them away from Meredith and the others. Some of them returned fire, shooting at the spot where they’d last seen me. It sounded like small arms mostly, mid-caliber pistols, but they still could have something big in reserve.

  They’d wised up and put out the flashlights. There was a lull in the gunfire and I closed my eyes, opening my other senses to the night. I heard their steps, movement, crouching for cover, shifting in the darkness. Maybe twenty of them. It was a guess, but a calculated one. I gauged the distance and gave them five more seconds to feel brave enough to break cover and come looking for me.

  Then I cut loose with the shredder.

  I hosed down the area where I thought most of them were gathered. A storm of deadly pinpricks sprayed the intruders and the hangar behind them, sparking and tinging off metal. The men who immediately dove flat to the ground saved themselves, for the most part. Any who turned and ran took it in the back, going down screaming and bloody.

  It took a full ten seconds to empty the weapon. I’d stood in one place too long. They returned fire, still not seeing me in the darkness but making a pretty good guess. Bullets whizzed past, inches away. I tossed aside the empty shredder, turned, and ran for the control tower, unslinging the rifle. I stopped every three seconds and took a knee to fire back at them, not hitting anything, but I still wanted them following the muzzle flash.

  About the time I reached the tower, the engines of Meredith’s ship fired. It rose into the air, turning slowly and angling to launch for orbit. The engines flared bright and the ship shot away. In the glow of the engine thrust, I momentarily saw the scavengers coming across the clearing.

  There were still a dozen of them, and they were a lot closer than I’d thought. I dropped the rifle and pulled the pistols, blasting off a half dozen shots to slow them up, then entering the tower. There was no more time for hesitation. I took the long service tunnel Max and I had taken to the underground maintenance hangar. I’d asked him to give me the code that let me into the postal ship. Some instinct had told me I might need a plan B.

  Unfortunately, my instinct had been right on the money.

  I keyed in the code, entered the little spacecraft, and locked the hatch behind me.

  “Lights,” I said, then, “Computer, do you have a quick-start option?”

  The lights flickered on in the main cabin. I felt the deck hum beneath my feet as systems came online.

  “Quick-start option available,” the computer in dulcet tones said. “However, for safety concerns and optimum performance, the manufacturers recommend a full and complete startup pro—”

  “Shove it up your ass and start the ship.”

  “I am a Hamilton-Douglas K-class ship’s systems computer. It is anatomically impossible for me to—”

  “Just start the fucking ship!”

  The computer blooped and beeped, lights blinking around me. I grabbed the pressure suit from the locker and checked the air gauge. Half a tank. It would have to be enough. I put it on.

  Then I headed for the cockpit.

  “Quick-start sequence halted.” The computer voice almost seemed smug about it.

  “What the hell?”

  “The maintenance log indicates that repairs to the life support system have yet to be completed.”

  “Override.”

  “The oxygen currently contained within the spacecraft is not sufficient to reach any destination.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but just do like I tell you, you stupid machine.”

  A pause.

  “I am authorized to
intervene if pilot error seems inevitable.” The computer sounded eager, like maybe it had been waiting for this chance all its life.

  “Look, I’m wearing a pressure suit, okay?”

  “The oxygen capacity in your standard-issue pressure suit is insufficient to reach any destination currently in my data bank.”

  “I’m not interested in a destination,” I shouted. “I just want to get the fuck out of here!”

  Another pause.

  “Please provide an explanation.”

  “What?”

  “All Hamilton-Douglas K-class ships’ systems computers are equipped with state-of-the-art problem-solving and decision-making artificial intelligence software. I must determine if your intended use of this government postal ship is in keeping with—”

  “The government who owns you has fallen,” I said. “There are men chasing me who want to kill me. I’m trying to escape, and you’re wasting time.”

  “Your life is at stake?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  Another brief pause.

  “Preservation of human life falls within acceptable parameters.” I swear the fucking thing sounded disappointed.

  Strapping myself into the pilot’s seat, I sealed on my helmet. “Open the hangar doors overhead,” I told the computer.

  “As the result of the starport electrical outage, there is insufficient power to open the hangar doors and operate the aircraft elevator,” the computer said cheerfully.

  “Well, you don’t have to sound so glad about it.”

  “I am incapable of gladness or any other emotion.”

  I glanced out the cockpit window. No sign of the scavengers. If they were still coming, then they were being careful about it. I still felt pretty urgent about hauling my ass out of there.

  “Computer, are the hangar doors armed with explosive bolts to open them in an emergency?”

  Something that sounded like a sigh.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you just sigh?”

  “No.”

  “I heard something that sounded like a sigh,” I insisted.