The God Mars Book Three: The Devil You Are (52 page)

“I think that’s a good idea,” he agreed, but I’m
still not sure of how all he meant that. Then, after a tense pause:
“We’ll be seeing Chang again, won’t we?”

“At the very least,” I confirmed what I’m sure he
already knew he will be facing. “You know how to get my attention
if you need me.”

“I expect if I do, you’ll already be offering.”

We didn’t discuss politics, command issues (Burns and
Jackson), or whatever pressure is on him from up-world. He did dare
shaking my hand, which he followed by giving me a salute, which I
returned like I actually still work for them.

I wonder how much the people of Earth know about what
their desperate stupidity has wrought here. How much is being made
public? How much is being withheld or distorted? (Apparently enough
to make Jackson into a hero.)

I didn’t say goodbye to anybody else.

I expect they have eyes on me as I fly “home”.
They’ve proved they’ve gotten smart, put priority on securing
orbit. They managed to destroy Chang’s “Disc shuttle” before it
could deploy. Only one drone managed to separate, and was quickly
shot down by their waiting guns.

Just one more reason to leave Tranquility behind
me.

Kali doesn’t come out to meet me (and neither does
Lux, perhaps attesting to Kali’s success at revenge seduction). Bel
and Azazel come to make sure I’m okay after whatever my visits
dealt me. I let them know there’s still no sign of Chang or
Asmodeus or Fohat, that the UN personnel at least played tolerant,
and passed along Abbas’ plans to explore eastward. Azazel reminds
me needlessly that the Avalon Knights have already encountered
violence as they’ve been slowly moving that way: hit-and-run night
raids by some unseen force wielding those rocket-propelled
spearheads.

Bel also lets me know that Bly left while I was gone
(not that he said goodbye to anyone). I know he’s heading east as
well, still hoping to find something left of his people. I expect
I’ll see him again. I wish him luck.

“We’re not staying either, are we?” Bel reads me.

“I thought you were getting antsy,” I lighten it.

“That was Lux. I was enjoying the garden.”

“It’s even greener east. More entertaining, too.”

He nods his agreement without giving me crap about my
obsessive need to play hero, to save people whether they want me to
or not. Azazel just gives me a conspiratorial grin, up for whatever
adventure. Then they both decide to give me some privacy, realizing
Star has been watching us from one of the terraces.

“How are you holding up?” I ask her, standing next to
her as she takes in the green below us.

“Recovering.” She still sounds tired. Her trick on
the Stormcloud required her to generate a simple mindless
remote-directed semi-clone by interfacing with and reshaping one of
the missing UNMAC personnel (killed like the others were by Chang’s
bots when they saw the wrong thing and threatened to expose his
trap), but it took a lot of her own resources. And then she
expended a lot of energy during the fight as Ra. “You?”

“Knee still hurts a little.”

“Not what I was talking about.”

“Lisa makes her own decisions. Just like you do.”

“It’s just that I do stupid shit because it appeals
to me,” she sort-of praises. “She does it because it’s the ‘right
thing.’ Or whatever. Duty.” She leaves it at that, then gets around
to what’s pressing. “So you’re taking the band on the road?”

“You should come with us,” I throw out lightly.

She doesn’t answer for a few breaths, like she’s
deciding how to tell me.

“Someone should hang around and keep an eye out for
Chang.”

“And Asmodeus,” I add, trying not to sound like I’m
condemning. She turns to face me, her face playing a dozen
different emotions.

“I didn’t know. Chang… He was careful. He didn’t
trust me. Or maybe Ange told him not to.”

“That wasn’t Ange Apollyon,” I have to insist.

“Close enough. You saw. You talked to him. It.
Whatever it was. Clone. Copy. You fought him. And if Chang was
telling the truth, that Ange Mark Two did all his best planning for
him… It makes sense. That’s Ange. Close enough.”

And Ange Apollyon wouldn’t have gone up with that
ship. Ange Apollyon was always all about himself.

Chang might be more powerful than we are, but
Asmodeus is infinitely more dangerous. He’ll kill this world just
to be the last one standing, just to prove that he can.

“We once had a conversation in a cave about how you
needed me,” I remind her. “I was kind of out of it at the time, but
I remember. And I would have said yes, except I sort of dropped
dead while I was playing cool.” I almost get a smile. “Now I’m the
one that needs you. Especially if that thing
is
anything
like Ange Apollyon.”

“And I’ll be there,” she tries to reassure. “But for
now, you need to go play hero again. Smurfette Kali can watch over
this place. Bly is off to save his people. And I at least have a
relationship with the PK holdouts at Industry and Pioneer—maybe I
can get them moving in the right direction, save some lives. But
here we go in opposite directions again. Just like old times.”

I manage a smile. Nod my acceptance. Just like old
times.

“It’s funny…” she eventually says, something striking
her. “Yod. He sent seven of us. Seven ragtag champions to save the
world. Seven Samurai. Magnificent Seven. Lucky Seven.”

I do some quick math in my head, ruin it.

“Actually, there are eight. I still have one seed
left. Whoever it is.”

“Ah…” She processes the awkward moment, comes back:
“Maybe eight is a more fortuitous number.”

“The Chinese had Eight Immortals,” I try. “Eight
Trigrams. Eight directions…”

She shrugs. Goes back to looking at the green,
watching the people, breathing this fragile ecosystem.

“I think this place is growing on me,” she says,
finally.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

She slides close, presses herself against me,
side-by-side.

The God Mars continues in
Book Four: Live
Blades

About the Author:

Michael Rizzo is an artist (yes, those
god-awful covers are his), martial artist, collector (and frequent
user) of fine weaponry, and a pretty good cook. He continues his
long, varied and brutal career on the mental health and social
services battlefield, trying to do good work while writing about
very bad things.

He is also the author of the
Grayman
series.

He causes trouble in person mostly in the
Pacific Northwest.

For updates and original art, visit Michael
on
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Discover other books by Michael Rizzo at
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