∞∞∞

  Targeting lasers lost their sightlines when Raf hugged the other edge of Noctis pulling a high-G loop just twenty metres above Syria Planum.

  A scorched acid smell filled the cockpit. Raf brought his fist to his mouth.

  Beside the copilot's chair, a weapons panel sparked and smouldered. "Put that out, Xylia."

  The sparking stopped. Frost etched across the control panel. Within Xylia's eyes, clouds swirled. "It's out."

  "How did you—" Raf shook his head. No time. He nudged the screen heaters as mist formed on the cockpit glass.

  The Galvex-1 resonated. They needed to land. Fast.

  "We're going lower." Raf tapped the descent motors and used the thrust to hug small valleys as he nudged his fighter to the western edge of Noctis's southern approach. Almost every half minute, a dust plume shot up from the edge of a crater's rim.

  It wasn't the high-Gs that knotted his stomach. Krrel—Catharine's father—couldn't have reindustrialized Mars's largest military complex this fast. The mad king had lost his grip on the Stratocracy. Someone had ignited the weaponry of Mars again. With brutal efficiency.

  Weaponize Mars? She couldn't have. Not the Queen's daughter.

  But the targeting lasers said otherwise.

  Descent engines rasped. If they were lucky the billowing cloud would shroud their exact location.

  Red dust settled on the faceted hull of the Galvex-1 when it touched down a half kilometre south of the Syria canal terminus. Behind a six-metre high berm that concealed the southern approach, they should remain unseen. Not far away, the Noctis shipyards once again prepared for war. Catharine’s war. Here artillery had crusted much of the surface and each step broke through like walking on autumn leaves. The footprints of Mars, all around them, should have collided—smashed together leaving blood, casualties, or death. They did not.

  “It’s really quiet.” Raf kept his head low as he crawled out, staying just below the ridge. Krrel’s reborn Noctis Shipyards were not far from where they landed. “Too quiet.”

  “Will the Galvex-1 be safe?” Xylia crouched behind him, then stopped.

  Nodding twice, Raf wasn’t confident, but he feigned it anyway.

  “There’s a tunnel entrance just over here.” Ten metres ahead and his arms and body went stiff. “Wait, what are these clothes doing here?”

  Bearing a Battalion Commander’s mark and the Strata Freya crest, a uniform lay there on the ground. Folded precisely. Meant to be found. Pericles colours.

  A pin gun lay beneath. Kneeling, he felt the warm fabric. “This is too tidy for a deserter. It looks like someone just changed allegiances.” And weapons.

  Xylia wasn’t paying attention. “What are you looking at?”

  Inspecting a blue-green smudge near Libra, Xylia leaned back—-transfixed on the sky. "Something in near-Mars orbit," she murmured. "I can feel it."

  “We can look at the stars later.” Beckoning with his arm, Raf lifted the tunnel hatch. “Let’s go.”

  Light washed over the stone floor every fifteen metres, and no dust lay there. Too clean. He grabbed Xylia’s arm anyway and ran faster than he should have.

  “Raf… don’t. Please—” Xylia froze halfway past the entrance. Her eyes shifted back and forth from each tunnel wall. Ahead and behind, then up, sensing something he couldn’t. Instead of moving, she spread her arms, letting both palms face upwards while her eyes glazed over until the tunnel shook.

  “We should go back… Rafael it’s not what you think it is.”

  Droning vibrated in the tunnel ahead, as if there were some unseen lumbering machine.

  Reaching out with his hands, he took hers and mirrored her stance. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  Both the tunnel and the flickering lights ended in a ladder—each rung worn to a polish where boots had scaled. For the first time, he wanted a hand weapon. Pressing the tunnel hatch release, Raf climbed up first emerging in the middle of the shipyards. The centre of Noctis reborn—blinding light, clanking transports, thrumming machinery and the gnarled rasp of welders and grinders. Two tower cranes were lifting a fuel tank the size of a rocket itself across the shipyard gantries to an awaiting light destroyer.

  “How did Catharine fix it this fast?” Covering his ears, Raf shook his head when a fuel line hissed into a cloud of eye-stinging vapour.

  “Rafael…” Pointing left to a large platform, Xylia’s voice deepened.

  Shapes in his peripheral vision loitered then came an uneasy discord of voices.

  Nearly choking in his own breath, he saw him. Branik, standing among the missile racks in Catharine’s colours. My friend.

  “Branik!” Raf ran towards him, arms wide open. “What are you doing here?”

  When he reached him and grabbed him in an embrace, he didn’t return it. Other silhouettes behind him stood there fixed.

  Dozens of footfalls moved closer from the south. A quickening march. Branik’s body stiffened. “Raf—you have to leave now.”

  Shaking his head briefly, Raf looked at the fear in friend’s eyes. “Where did you get that uniform?”

  The sound of boots echoed across the decking. Dozens of them. Getting closer. Sirens blared.

  From around them stilted voices cursed his appearance. Recognizing a few of them as miners, Raf glared back sternly. “What are you doing with these missiles?”

  Xylia whipped her head around. “Rafael, they’re coming… so many.”

  Either he didn’t hear the warning or he was too focused on Branik. Unbroken, marching boots fell louder by the second.

  Slamming their boots on the deck, they came to a halt. Soldiers with long pikes and miners in Catharine’s colours encircled them. “They don’t have weapons.” The fourteen year old miner shouted.

  “I-I’m sorry Raf, she’s going to save Mars.” A tear strained at one eye but, Branik wouldn’t look at him.

  “You would have let us die for nothing.” A miner raised his fist and then pointed at him. Men he'd saved, men he once called friends, scowled like enemies on a battlement. Hoping he would cower.

  Raf’s head turned and he appraised the whole of Noctis. Ships being rebuilt, and the workers he fought so hard for—now aiding Catharine. Krrel’s shipyards reignited and the miners wearing her colours.

  Shipyard spotlights glanced the silver comm on Branik’s wrist where red letters scrolled across it. He couldn’t make them out but his friend’s face paled.

  “Please forgive me Raf. Pericles’s guns advanced on Krrel at Sisyphi Bastion. Catharine saved us from death.” His cheeks hollowed as he sobbed.

  “All the miners there are probably dead. She’s worse than Krrel himself.” Raf’s voice went flat. Krrel had stabbed the knife in. Catharine twisted it. “You left them there”

  “No you did Raf. You did. You left us, and for what.” Branik’s voice broke and he stepped forward clenching his fists. The young miner wrenched his arm back. “Don’t.”

  “All of you are being deceived." Sweeping his arm in a wide arc, Raf caught the eye of every miner he recognised. “This is how the palace is going to keep everyone safe?”

  Raf reached for Xylia’s hand. “You don’t know what she did to her own sister.”

  As if wind chimes on the plains of Tharsis, the cables within the gantries rang on steel sharply. A storm? Here? Now?

  When Xylia ran her fingers through his short hair, it stood up straight and his ears popped. “It’s alright, he doesn’t need to understand. It’s too late for him, Raf. It’s too late for all of them.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Air pressure dropped. Now men around them laboured to breathe. Wind spun the booms of the crane all in one direction simultaneously. A sound. Metal hitting the ground. Fracturing. Rocket parts dropped from the cables. Catharine’s web was being cut.

  Grey clouds pooled in her eyes, as if she was on the edge of a nightmare. The colour before the black. Ice coldness met his hand. “What do you mean?”

  Around them, miners and soldiers covered their eyes as cutting sand whipped—fifty kilometres per hour, etching their skin red. Flesh peeled raw from some of their faces. Protecting them both, a heated tempest of fast moving air lifted their hair. Within the storm, a distressing calm. Xylia touched his hand. Silence. Not peace.

  “Something I saw. The Face has chosen.” A small step brought her closer but his body shivered. “The miners won’t listen to you any more, I’m sorry Rafael.”

  Deeper, Xylia’s voice echoed. Just like that day before the mines of Pavonis collapsed. The wind stopped. Everything stopped. Heat radiated from her body. Raf shivered harder.

  Now the shipyards became like a crypt. Still air, but it felt like death was near. Awaiting its claim. One miner bled from the eyes and he ran.

  With a tempered bluster, pikes rang on the metal decking and the soldiers took another step forward. Wiping the sand from their faces they closed the circle around them.

  When Catharine’s guard advanced, Branik shrugged and stepped aside. “Catharine’s too strong. She’s going to keep us safe lad.”

  Turning their backs other Miners jeered, letting the guards slip between.

  “What lies did you tell the workers about me?” Raising his chest, Raf squeezed Xylia’s hand harder until his fingers whitened.

  “That you’d sacrifice us for your pride,” The young miner holding Branik retorted while they walked away.

  Vega glowed above him. Raf released a weary breath and shook his head. They believe in the palace. Catharine’s lies.

  Letting go of Xylia’s hand he cupped his hands around his mouth. “You’ll die in the mines, just like before.”

  The floor started to shake, a tear grew at Xylia’s eye before they both turned black. She shook her head and grimaced. Using this much power hurt her. “No Raf, he won’t die there. He’ll die at Hellas Planitia.”

  Blaring sirens fell silent, the cranes tried to move then stopped moving and a biting wind whipped through Noctis. Hot enough to burn flesh, yet he remained untouched. Protected, but by what?

  One by one the guards dropped to the ground, as if gravity held them there. A subsonic rumble shook all of Noctis and miners attempted to back away. Some covered their mouths yet others simply stared at Xylia in horror, shivering. Crane cables ticked like clocks against the metal frames then froze. A faint smile crossed her face. Her eyes winced and her fists clenched. “Not—much—time.”

  This time many men cried. Soldiers and miners alike. The ground heaved again. An ocean of rock. At this moment, he both feared it and wanted it and brushed Xylia’s hand. It feels like she’s not really here!

  Raf’s perception changed. Time dilated. It wasn’t about redemption, it was about preserving what remained of the Mars he knew.

  Bursting through the immobilized soldiers, Raf grabbed Branik’s shoulder and spun him back. “Where are you taking all these missiles?”

  Branik stood there dumbstruck.

  When the kid started to speak, Branik raised his hand to stop him.

  “Because of you, Catharine’s going to find anyone willing to defy her and—”

  “No Raf, she’s going to save them.” But his eyes said otherwise. Some miners around him fell to their knees.

  A smell. Cooking flesh and plasma weighed the air. Heavier each second. Miners clutched their chests and struggled to breathe.

  Raf looked back to Xylia. Her body trembled and her eyes glistened. Polished obsidian.

  She was changing… the pretty girl who loved the stars. And Branik’s betrayal was pushing her further into the darkness. At this moment he wanted this for him. Revenge?

  The thought sickened him but he didn’t want her to stop.

  “Where’s Catharine now?’ Locking eyes on Branik, Raf grabbed the kid’s shoulder and moved him aside.

  Branik’s chest heaved. “Canal Syria Terminal, but be careful—”

  “Don’t say anything else. I… don’t need you anymore.”

  Raf started walking then looked back at him. “Maybe I never did…”

  “You were always afraid.”

  ∞∞∞

  A half hour later, their one chance to stop Mars’s collapse. Each single step echoed.

  Raf's fists clenched as he walked the wide access road to the Canal Syria Terminal. A kilometre behind him—hidden in the Noctis shipyards where they’d climbed from the service tunnels—Xylia waited. Unseen. But her power reached across the distance. Icy air pushed him forward. Fury swelled between his fingers.

  Ahead, loaded tractors and track crawlers lined the road. Each bearing supplies: weaponry, rocket motors, soldiers, food rations. Mounds of Martian rock and soil sheltered the broad roadway on either side.

  A hundred metres away, soldiers aimed a flamethrower toward him. Its pilot light flared orange in the darkness. The sharp acidy odor of armaments and missile fuel drifted back.

  They watched him.

  Unaware of what they were facing. Not yet.

  When Krrel was of sound mind, this terminal had served the shipyards—transports carrying the weapons and industry that built Mars. Then the king's mind faltered. Catharine wrested control from her father and the Stratocracy. These weapons, these soldiers—the key to her ascension.

  With the big ships Krrel built now under her command, nothing would stop her. No force on Mars.

  Raf had to try anyway.

  Confronting Catharine might save his friends. The workers. He remembered the late Queen—Catharine's mother—who had cared for the miners. For him especially. If he could guide Catharine back to that compassion...

  But if she wouldn't listen, he had Xylia's strange powers.

  And the soldiers ahead didn't know that.

  Raf's strides became quicker. Heavier. Veins protruded in his dust-covered forearms as his eyes found Catharine.

  The flamethrower's pilot light burned brighter.

  Ahead, Catharine was there. Waiting. Flanked by two guards that looked more statues than human. Their pikes glowed and Catharine wore the full assemblage of her mother’s jewelry. Blue and red faceted gems on gleaming silver chains.

  "You turned them all against me." Raf stopped at her shadow. Alone. "Even Branik."

  "Branik chose me, Rafael. They all chose me. Because I offered them what you couldn't—safety." Something metallic flashed on her wrist, for a moment.

  “Betrayal and control.” Raf crossed his arms. “Your mother would be ashamed.”

  Catharine laughed and dismissed her guard. “The miners had lost faith in their hero so I showed them a new Mars. A Mars without you.”

  Picking up a large stone, Raf gritted his teeth and hurled it at a supply crate. It clattered harmlessly off the metal. Pointless, but it felt good. If I had Xylia’s power just now, would I use it? “All you care about is the throne.”

  "Your dreams are so small, Rafael. You wanted to save a few miners. I'm going to rebuild Mars."

  "By enslaving them? By putting implants in their brains? That's not Mars. That's a prison."

  “The palace has to be the centre of control. You know that.” Catharine gazed to Noctis. “I’ve already ended wars, saving countless soldiers and workers. Indeed your favourite miner.”

  "Ended wars?" Raf gestured at the convoy. "You're loading missiles, Catharine. This isn't peace—it's preparation."

  Adjusting her mother’s jewelled necklace, she smirked and looked away, hoping he’d react. “You used to love the palace, Rafael.”

  “No Catharine, I loved the crayons. You always let me know where I belonged.”

  "You loved the stars. And I daresay you loved me." Catharine's smile was cruel. “I’ve already taken away your people and I will take away that little ship of yours as well.”

  "I loved the girl who drew spaceships with crayons." Raf's voice dropped. "That girl's dead. You killed her."

  Catharine locked eyes. “I have many ways of taking away dreams, including Xylia. What will you do then Rafael? Mars won’t have you. Xylia won’t have you. No one will have you.”

  In a drunken gait, a soldier in Pericles’s strata uniform moved forward. His forehead bearing a six-pointed scar. Without saying a word he systematically removed his uniform and folded it neatly then set it at Catharine’s feet.

  Raf's stomach turned. The six scars. The Tractability Laboratory. She'd done this to him—erased whoever he'd been.

  "You monster," Raf whispered.

  "You will swear allegiance to your new queen, Rafael. Very soon." Catharine smiled. A new uniform was brought forward and Catharine raised her hand. “Put it on.”

  “Never.” Raf pointed at her. “You’re still the little girl afraid of her father.”

  “No Raf, but maybe you're right. One should remove obstacles in their way.”

  “Like you hurt Xylia. Your own sister.” Raf’s voice deepened and he fixed eyes on Catharine. Behind her, the flamethrower sent a fireball into the sky.

  “But first I’m going to strip you of all your dreams.” Now wearing Catharine’s colours, the man with the scarred forehead moved beside Catharine.

  Raf felt his stomach leave him.

  A giant snake slid from behind. Black and gold, its scales glittered. The core of it thicker than the man’s waist, yet he stood there. Unmoving. No fear. Nothingness.

  Now, it coiled around him. Spiralling. Climbing. Spiralling. Climbing.

  Entombing the man as his legs started to buckle. Eyes staring at him. Empty. He thought there was a tear as man and snake tipped to the ground like a felled tree,

  Catherine adjusted her jewels and smiled at Raf. Assessing him. “Echus’s appetite has grown, as has mine.”

  The snake flicked its nearly half-meter long pink tongue. Tasting. It looked almost pleased.

  Air left Raf’s lungs. Somewhere unseen, one of Catharine’s guards retched. It was an example for him. An example for everyone around them.

  The snake’s muscular coils knotted and bones snapped. The sound like rocks breaking and then a last sickening wheeze.

  Time stopped. The snake's body tangled and writhed until there was no sound at all.

  Catharine… this was who she’d become. And he’d just watched. Watched, like the rest of them.

  A wind whipped along the road behind Raf as the air around them began to freeze. Metal frames contracted and machinery ticked and ice formed along the edges. Frost tipped Catharine’s hair and the wind swept over her soldiers. Everywhere. She stepped back, eyes widening. "What is this—she—"

  Wind howled and men covered their ears. Some fled. Others shivered and dropped.

  Catharine's wrist comm flared and she tapped it twice. "Deploy the Alba. Now."

  “You don’t belong anywhere Raf.” Catharine shouted, leaning into the wind. “You’ll look up at the stars and never be able to leave.”

  Raising her hand, she looked at him. “Witness…”

  Moving from the Noctis Shipyards, a half a kilometre to the west the black profile of a ship’s hull floated just over the horizon. Three pair of missile launchers and four clusters of heavy short range chain-guns, it could only be the Alba.

  Turning back to Noctis, back to Xylia, he didn’t want to give Catharine the satisfaction of seeing him run, so he walked.

  Heat from the Alba’s lift motors floated over the Canal Syria Terminus. Its warmth radiated across his back, thawing the cold. Raf set his jaw and let his feet fall loudly. Catharine would not see his fear this day.

  Each second the wind grew in strength, until it was just a sound tearing beside his ears. Xylia could stop her, but could she stop the ship? He hoped—catching the black ship in his peripheral vision. Don’t look back. Don’t fear her.

  The Alba's weapons tracked him, but didn't fire. Catharine shouted something, but the wind tore her words away. Xylia's power still protected him—barely.

  Xylia's waiting. And I have something to finish.

  Or someone.