The God Mars Book Three: The Devil You Are (27 page)

“Colonel Ava is adamant that you don’t come back,
don’t do anything that could make this worse. Personally, I don’t
think it matters. Worse is coming.

“I really don’t understand what you are. But Colonel
Ava does seem to be Colonel Ava. So… I mean… What I’m trying to say
is you still have friends here. I’ll flash you updates whenever I
can.”

I almost can’t hear the end of the message. I’ve got
my flyer turned for Melas Two. I’m nothing but rage. I want to kill
them all. But most of them are my people. And I expect they’ll put
up a defense out of duty. Especially if I show them I really am a
monster.

(What kind of god am I going to be?)

More of them are coming. Killing Burns and his
cohorts will only justify Earthside’s fears, justify escalation to
who-knows-what extreme. And if any of my friends and former command
help me, Earth will target them too.

Unless…

I don’t have an “unless”. I’m flying in circles,
spinning scenarios that end in dead friends (
really
dead—I
only have the one remaining conversion seed, and I have no idea
whose it is), maybe even nukes.

I even consider seeking Chang out, forcing an
alliance, forcing him to comply with my rules, my terms. I feel
sick even thinking about it.

(And what would Lisa do if I came in swinging? Would
she defend them, protect them from me? Fight me? Of course she
would. She’d have to. She’d know it was the only choice that keeps
this from becoming planetary genocide.)

The “unless” comes to me, or at least I hope it does:
Even before we contacted Earth, I’d spun the fears of what might
happen (and curse myself now because it’s my fears and not my hopes
that have materialized, as if somehow this is my fault, that I
willed this to happen with my career pessimism). But I had a plan
then, a dream: Stand unified—all the peoples of Mars together.
Against Earth if need be. But too many (I hope) to justify
slaughtering. Especially if we could show the
people
of
Earth what we are, what we have here.

I pushed the ETE to help me with that dream then,
needing their strength. Now… I still don’t know why they’ve
withdrawn back into their Stations, like they’ve given up on their
own dream. (And I wonder what part of that is my fault.) But maybe
I don’t need them.

Maybe I still have other friends.

10 May, 2117:

Locating my old friends proves more challenging than
anticipated. Abbas has moved his camp off his usual migration
pattern, likely to hide from the new UNMAC, who would have all the
intel from our files. I have to grid-search the open floor of Melas
Chasma, careful to avoid UNMAC air patrols (thankful my flyer has
developed stealth skin and geometry to defeat radar). Otherwise, I
am trying to be seen from the ground as I fly my patterns, and I
use what I know are popular tapsites to refuel, including the one
where Sakina last ran from me.

As my companions become more confident on their own
flyers, I reluctantly agree to allow their assistance. Time is
pressing: Brimstone has not made another run at Melas Three in four
days, longer than the intervals between her prior assaults. I
wonder if that means she’s preparing for a final push. But I’ve had
equally poor luck finding Aziz’s camp. I need intel. And
allies.

When our morning flyovers are unproductive, we decide
to linger after we refuel. I’m concerned for my more vulnerable
teammates—Two Gun and Murphy—but Paul keeps close in case a
defensive field is needed.

Bel suggests a bit of deception, color-changing our
cloaks to match Nomad patterns, but I point out we’ve surely been
seen, and the tactic would be taken as evidence of intent to trap.
So I exercise my enhanced patience and endurance, climb up on the
feed line, stand tall, draw my pistol and hold it by the slide up
over my head. And wait.

They make me wait a full hour. Then, in the haze
maybe two klicks west, I see a single figure in thick robes stand
up on a hill and mirror my gesture. I can tell it’s Abbas even from
here.

I decide we should all go, but slowly, sliding in
barely a dozen meters off the rolling terrain, setting down a
hundred meters from the figure that still waits for us. We
dismount, walk in, keeping our hands away from our weapons. (I’m
sure the sight of Bel and I walking on the surface of Mars without
masks is disturbing enough.) When we get to the base of the low
hill—still forty meters from Abbas (and it
is
Abbas—I can
see him clearly now)—we are suddenly surrounded by over a hundred
Nomad cloaks, all armed with firearms (some of them provided by me
in slightly better days). All pointed at us.

“It’s still me, old friend,” I try to reassure.

“I would very much like to take you at your word,” he
tells me through his mask. “Who are your friends? I know the Jinn,
but not the others.”

“This is Two Gun, leader of the Tranquility Cast,
where your traders get your food from. And this is John Murphy,
ambassador of the Tranquility Hammond-Keller Council, where you got
your revolver from. Former enemies.”

“Brothers now,” Two Gun spontaneously insists.

Abbas laughs.

“Still playing Peacemaker? Even back from the dead,
returned to us as Jinn?”

“Not Jinn,” I correct him. “Maybe Ifrit. Maybe worse
than that. But still the same man.”

“And the other no-mask? Another Ifrit? Or worse?”

I open my mouth to make my introduction, but get cut
off by a shout.

“
I know him!
”

It’s Sakina. And she doesn’t sound happy.

I see her come up the rise behind Abbas, step
forward.

“Oh no…” I hear Bel whisper.

I have urgent questions, but let the moment happen.
She comes down the slope at us, but ignores me, faces Bel. I can
see her eyes through her goggles: pain, horror.

“I am so sorry, girl…” Bel mumbles. “Sakina…”

He knows her name. She responds by doing something
uncharacteristic: she slings a heavy rifle out from under her
cloak—a fifty-caliber bullpup designed to take down aircraft—and
points it at his face.

“
What are you?!
” she almost screams at
him.

He just stands there, offering his open arms. He
looks like he’s going to cry.

“I didn’t do this,” he tries. “Please believe me. I
am so sorry.”

Two Gun, Murphy and Paul stand frozen, not sure of
what to do. Paul’s got his hand on a Sphere, ready to shield us,
ready to dissolve her weapon. I gesture them to stay as they
are.

“What is he to you?” I ask Sakina as gently as I
can.

“He’s
nothing
!” she spits over her rifle. “A
monster! Wearing my father’s corpse! Just like you wear Mike
Ram’s!”

Oh no.

“Chang,” Bel recounts like it hurts. “He told me a
warrior came to him. Many years ago. Hunted him. Fought
hard—impressively so, even though he was hopelessly powerless to do
Chang any harm. Chang said he kept him to study, kept him
preserved. Then used the body as a host for my seed when it was
time. Left enough memories so I would know something of this world.
But otherwise, he was destroyed… I know his name: Abdullah Rashid.
I remember his wife. His daughter. His daughter by his
daughter…”

Sakina is frozen. Her eyes are full of rage and loss.
I look uphill at Abbas, who looks like he’s feeling at least some
of her grief. I can only shake my head to convince him I had no
idea.

“Please,” I try reaching Sakina. “He isn’t your
enemy. And he had no choice in this.”

She keeps the gun leveled for several unbearable
seconds, then lowers it. Turns on me.

“But
you
did.”

She turns and marches off, back over the hill. I move
to go after her, but Abbas raises his hand to discourage me.

I turn back to Bel. He looks crushed, sick.

“I guess I should have mentioned that…”

“We have heard extremely disturbing news,” Abbas
tells me, once we’ve set up an impromptu “shelter” using one of
Paul’s Spheres, since Abbas wasn’t yet willing to trust us with the
location of his camp (at least he was willing to dare entering a
Sphere field to sit with us). His warriors remain surrounding
us.

“Chang sent emissaries to Mohamed Aziz: an angel in
white with golden hair, a demon in black armor, and a mechanical
monstrosity armed with grenade launchers. He offered an alliance:
power and protection from the Unmakers and the Jinn, in exchange
for their loyalty and assistance in securing the territory
including your secondary base. The angel offered Aziz his choice of
one of her two companions to fight for him. He chose the
mechanical. The angel told him to attack the thing with his best
men. Their strongest weapons could not hurt it. Then it showed them
what it could do.”

I’m assuming the emissaries were Astarte, Bly and

“Brimstone,” I name the monstrosity in question.
Abbas nods heavily and continues:

“That evening, the Food Trade caravan arrived. Aziz
tried to seize everything they were carrying and forbid them to
trade with us or Hassim’s people. When they resisted him, he
unleashed his monster. He slaughtered them.
Families
worked
that caravan. He showed them no mercy. And showed his intent to
starve us all.

“The next morning, Aziz marched his people into
Unmaker guns, eager to take your base, blinded by the opportunity
for conquest. Many were killed. After that, a few of his people
fled. They surrendered to us, told us this tale, warned us what was
coming. We sent scouts to confirm, including your former bodyguard,
who came to us one month after we thought you had died, refusing to
speak of your fate.”

At least he’s referring to me like he believes I
am
me. I tell him:

“Bel crippled Chang’s main ship. He’s limped off
somewhere to repair it. But he knows another relief fleet is
incoming from Earth, this one much bigger than the first two, due
in a little more than a month from now. Taking out Melas Three
would be a severe setback. They’d lose their only other airbase,
limiting their flight range and giving Chang more maneuvering
room.”

“And who is the enemy here, friend Ram?” Abbas has to
ask. “It feels like we should let the two sides destroy each other.
Do you know what the new Unmaker commander demanded of us?”

“I’ve been told. It’s a question of the lesser evil.
Chang doesn’t care who dies in his righteous war, including his
allies. He also doesn’t consider the brutality of who he arms, only
that they will serve him because they want that power. Aziz has
made a deal that will slaughter his people. Unfortunately, others
will be harmed. Your people. Hassim’s.”

“And how is Earth better? They will take our lands by
force, imprison us, kill us if they can’t.”

“I’m hoping we can convince them otherwise.”

“Your old plan of a unified Mars?” But he sounds like
he’s lost the idealistic hope he once had.

“Maybe it takes a larger enemy,” I consider.

“And we are facing
two
. What about your Jinn
friends? We have seen no sign of them in weeks.”

Paul looks sheepishly down at the rock and sand.

“Something’s driven them to ground,” I offer an
explanation. “Hopefully to develop a means to defeat Chang.” But I
don’t believe that. And Paul looks like he doesn’t believe it
either. Still “If someone on this planet can prove effective
against Chang, Earthside might decide it’s in their best interest
to negotiate rather than force. And they’ll lose their biggest
excuse to escalate.”

“Unless that excuse is
you
,” he cuts back
sourly. “The Unmakers would kill us all just out of their fear of
the Jinn. And you say what you are is even worse. How afraid are
they of you?”

“Which is why I can’t afford to get into a war with
Earth,” I admit.

“So you need to convince them that you’re more asset
than monster,” Abbas concludes.

“Or we could disappear,” Bel unexpectedly suggests.
“There’s a lot of real estate to get lost in. We could even survive
outside of the terraformed valleys.”

“I’m not leaving while there are people in this kind
of danger,” I state my bottom line.

“I know,” he validates. “Nor could I. But eliminating
Chang’s threat may not be enough. What happens when this Earth
decides to keep pushing its ‘rescue’ agenda at gunpoint?”

I don’t have an answer for him. I look at Abbas.

“Do you have any way to contact the Knights?”

“We have an agreed method,” he admits after mulling
over what he can still trust me with. “A place to leave them a
message.”

“I need to meet with them. Whatever ground they
choose.”

He nods, but still looks unsure.

“Thank you, old friend.”

Abbas says his goodbyes and goes back to his
warriors. My companions go back to their flyers, get ready to make
the run home. I decide to linger, watching the Nomads fade into the
terrain (probably retreating in a deceptive direction to prevent me
guessing where their camp lies). They’re almost out of sight when I
get what I’m hoping for.

“He really isn’t my father, is he?”

Sakina has appeared behind me with her usual stealth.
Even enhanced as I am, I barely heard her over the wind.

“No. I’m sorry. Just Chang being sadistic.”

I can see Bel watching her from his flyer, still
looking sad and ashamed, like he’s personally responsible for her
loss.

“And what does that make you?” she finally asks.

“Still me. Mostly. Where it counts.”

It only seems to make her angrier.

“Why did you run away from me?” I ask her, not
condemning.

She stews in her mask, conflicting feelings doing
battle across what little of her face I can see.

“You don’t know, do you?” she finally gives. I shake
my head, honestly confused. “That thing. That woman. You called her
‘Star’… She said you weren’t regenerating properly. After a few
weeks… She would come and go. Then she brought back a body. Dressed
in a Chang uniform. But she’d cut off the head. Laid it on top of
you like a blanket. I watched…
things
… come out of you… into
the corpse… I watched you
consume
it. All of it. Even the
clothes and body armor. Like watching it decompose, only faster. A
few days… When that wasn’t enough, she brought another one. She
told me to be careful not to touch you…”