Mars hadn't changed much in the last few centuries, as far as David Ironheart knew. It was still the same ball of dust and rock it had always been. The only real change was the arrival of the human race.
As the Valkyrie interceptor cruised low over the terrain on its return flight path to Cydonia Tria, David cast his eyes out across the expanse of red dust and rock and more red dust and rock. Same terrain he saw on every single planetary patrol, no matter where the computers told him to fly. The only reason he hadn't gone around the bend was the occasional belt or deep- space patrol. Brown and gray rocks were almost interesting after nothing but Martian red.
Those patrols also required a lot more concentration than the planetary patrols, not only because the control computers were unreliable at that distance from the planet, but because hostiles-- be they terrorists or aliens -- could pop up at any time. David lived for those patrols. Out there he could go to manual control with impunity and prove that he really was a decent pilot, unlike some of the 'drivers' and 'pilots' on the roads and in the skies these days.
Today, though, was fated to be a day of superfluity as the autopilot kept a firm leash on the Valkyrie. Manual control wouldn't happen unless there was some emergency, and that was unlikely. That left David with little more to do than sit in the cockpit and comply with the aesthetics laws at the appropriate times, such as right now:
"Valkyrie Foxtrot-One, Tria Patrol, to Tria Control."
"Foxtrot, Tria Control receiving five by five. Report."
"Roger Tria. Clear sailing planetwide, area is secure. Request clearance to land."
"That's a roger, Foxtrot. Transmitting landing vector for silo two."
"Confirm synced and locked." "Welcome home, Captain Ironheart. Tria out."
David hated the autopilot. Sure, it was a highly intelligent control system with an unmatched record of safety, but what it didn't offer was actual experience for the people who sat in the driver's seats of all the vehicles under its control. David couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the control systems were to fail one day -- highly unlikely, yes, but not impossible -- leaving all those 'drivers' and 'pilots' with a sudden need to actually do the work they pretended to do most of the time.
Well, at least *he* wouldn't panic if such a thing were ever to happen.
The landing was, predictably, uneventful and picture- perfect. The computers brought the Valkyrie in low over the colony, on a straight course for the spaceport. The craft paused over the second landing silo, waiting for the outer airlock to iris open, and then descended down the three-story airlock shaft into the subterranean landing bay. Once there the plane floated over to its predesignated slip and settled to the ground. Having determined that the plane was safely down, the computers informed the pilot that he was cleared to cut the network connections and power the machine down, which he did. As the Valkyrie fell silent David gratefully extracted himself from the pilot's seat and wandered toward the exit hatch, situated near the center of the passenger compartment.
The smell of dirt and heavy machinery in the air was thicker than usual, he noted. Perhaps they'd found another untapped vein of Elerium to work on. Usually he would go straight to the resiblock to get cleaned up, but his stomach had spent the better part of the flight complaining loudly about a lack of digestible resources, so he decided to go deal with that problem first.

The commissary was like the rest of the mining colony: basic, meeting the needs of the Solmine labor force and management, and the Marsec security troopers who watched over them. Like everything else it was a constant reminder that nobody in this place was here for a vacation. Solmine was here to dig up Elerium ore and refine it, and Marsec was here to keep an eye on the Solmine personnel to make sure nobody in labor or management decided to do anything destructive, as often happened in a "Hard Work for High Pay" environment. It was a very good working relationship for the two companies: in exchange for a cut of the Elerium being mined, Marsec all but guaranteed a disciplined and efficient workforce for Solmine, which in turn cut down on Solmine's overhead and contributed to a more efficient mining operation on all the colonies both here and in deep space. Both companies remained in the black, and would continue as such, so long as there was Elerium to mine.
And so long as Marsec could actually maintain order.
David selected a couple cheeseburgers -- made from soybeans, just like everything else from Nutrivend, but it tasted just like the real thing; you honestly could not tell the difference -- and headed for his usual table. The room was largely empty; the day shift had not yet ended so most of the miners were still working, but a few Marsec personnel whose shifts ended a little ahead of the Solmine day shift were beginning to trickle in. Mostly Mutants, David noted with mild disdain as he sat down. Made sense they'd get in here before everyone; nobody wanted to hang around with them, what with those mental powers they had.
David focused his attention on the central holovision display, on which a news broadcast was currently running about the continuing degradation of the social fabric of Mega-Primus. David snorted as the video feed from the city displayed another open conflict between the Psyke and Diablo gangs, and resisted the urge to make verbal commentary when another inane diatribe by the Cult of Sirius made its way across the broadcast channels. So much for the grand and glorious Mega-Primus experiment. Four decades to create, and now in only four years it was in ruins, the border streets dominated by the gangs and the news stations giving airtime to those religious freaks.
Just like the autopilot, David thought. It goes bad, nobody knows what to do with themselves because they're so used to everything being done for them. Morons.
"You complain a lot, don't you?"
Resisting the urge to start, David swung his head toward the source of the voice: a woman in the uniform of a Marsec ground trooper, seated at the same table. She had shoulder- length black hair, an athletic body which filled out that uniform quite nicely, and wraparound mirrorshades which concealed her eyes. A large patch bearing the letter Psi and the roman numeral 7 adorned one of her coat lapels. David recognized her right off.
"Don't recall asking your opinion, Araizumi, and what the hell are you doing in my head?"
"I'm not," she answered evenly, not looking at him. "But you're broadcasting like a fucking pulsar so I don't have a choice."
"uh-huh, so why don't you go sit over with the rest of the Mutants like you're supposed to, 'specially if I bother you that much?"
"I'll sit wherever the fuck I want to, aerojockey," she growled. "And I'm only over here because I'm supposed to tell you to report to the Supervisor's office at the start of the secondary shift."
"Fine, you told me. Leave whenever you feel like it."
"I'm also supposed to make sure you go there."
"What the hell is this?" he demanded, turning to face her fully. "Am I under arrest or something?"
"If you were under arrest you'd be cuffed and on the floor right now," she replied, looking right back at him evenly, her eyes unreadable behind the shades. "But something's going down, and people need to be talked to, and that's how it is."
David glared at her for a long moment, then rolled his eyes and went back to eating. "Fine, I'll come quietly."
"Make sure you stop by the resiblock first," she advised, getting up and walking off. "You stink."
"Fuck you."
"You're not my type."

ONE HOUR LATER
Washed, shaved, in a fresh uniform and generally feeling a hell of a lot more civil than he'd felt in the commissary, David made every effort not to think anything offensive as he and Nagisa Araizumi rode the gravlift up to the top levels of the command center. Sure, Marsec trained its Mutant personnel -- and anyone else with a psi index of 5 or more -- to block out the voices which were always intruding into their heads and keep their own minds to themselves, but Araizumi's job as a high- level security trooper regularly included doing just the opposite.
She was well-known in all three Cydonia mining colonies for her ability to drop troublemakers with her mind alone, psi- blasting some of them so bad they needed reeducation therapy for a few days. And if she had probable cause that someone might be a problem, she would have no qualms about poking around in their head. (Granted she would have to justify such an intrusion, but that justification was usually there in spades after the fact.) No surprise, then, that people tended to get a little skittish around her, even if they didn't have anything to hide.
David wasn't about to let on, but deep down, he did respect Nagisa. He'd been the transport pilot for a couple of her squad's antiriot sorties. He'd seen her fight. He knew she was damn good at what she did. She didn't need any autopilot telling her what to do.
If she just wasn't a damned Mutant...
Then the time for private thoughts was over as they reached the topmost level. Nagisa swiped her security pass through the card reader and the door slid open with a loud mechanical hiss. "After you," she said.
"Oh, of course," David quipped, stepping through.
He'd never actually been in the Supervisor's office before; it was considerably bigger than the cubes most of the Solmine management drones got, but aside from the large windows offering a marvelous view of the mining colony and the surface of the red planet beyond, this place was not particularly opulent. It was just as gray and featureless as all the other offices. Maybe a little cleaner, but that was about it.
Guess even the VIPs aren't allowed to forget why they're here, David mused to himself. The Supervisor, a tall Aryan man named Makepeace Fox, looked up from his datapad-infested desk as the two approached. Anyone who'd ever seen him would say that he always seemed to be working no matter what the time or place; some of the miners wondered if he even knew what the word `vacation' meant.
Originally a management drone on one of the thousands of tiny rocks in the deep-space asteroid field known as the Fragmented Sector, his work habits had taken him up the corporate ladder with amazing speed. Fox's ability to almost singlehandedly supervise a dozen asteroids had quickly marked him as one of the most valuable human resources Solmine had ever had, which had in turn led to his posting as Supervisor for the Martian colonies. He was a bit distant and impersonal where the labor force was concerned -- most of the miners knew him only as `the Supervisor' -- but that was expected given his responsibilities. All that really mattered to Solmine was that he did his job and did it well.
"Ah, Captain Ironheart, Sergeant Araizumi," he nodded as David and Nagisa entered.
"Reporting as ordered, sir," Nagisa replied with Marsec precision.
"What's going on, sir?" David asked. "If you don't mind my asking."
"Are you aware of the situation on Earth?"
"I've been watching the news," David replied. "So I suppose I know as much as anyone."
"Mm," Fox nodded. "According to Marsec the problem is a little more severe than anyone in the City is letting on. The Senate has already petitioned the Colonies for reinforcing personnel in order to bolster civic security. I wasn't given full details, but Marsec has requested transfer of the best available forces to Earth, effective immediately. This means you. You can expect to be part of some high-level antiriot battalion, most likely suppressing the gangs in the Deregulated Zones. You may also have to deal with Sirius terrorists."
"The Cult's gone that far?"
"Not yet, but Megapol has every reason to believe they will if an opportunity arises. They need to be able to deal with the Cult more effectively, and that's why your presence has been requested. You're one of the best pilots Marsec has, Ironheart, and Nagisa is one of your company's best ground troopers. They need you on Earth right now."
"Are you sure everything will be okay, sir?" David asked, trying not to sound overeager or anything. Would be nice to breathe Earth air again after so much processed oxygen. Nagisa did not react.
"We'll be fine, Captain. Thanks for your concern," Fox grinned. "Right now I'm more worried about the situation on Earth. Effective immediately you are released from Solmine authority and returned to exclusive jurisdiction of Marsec. You have five hours to pack your personal effects and get any other affairs in order. Your starliner will be departing Cydonia Prima at the end of that time."
"Yes sir!" Nagisa replied, saluting sharply. David also came to attention and saluted.
"Good luck, people."

"Well that was interesting," David remarked aloud as he and Nagisa rode back down the gravlift and headed for the transit tubes. "Must be pretty bad down there if the Senate's willing to swallow its pride and ask us to jump in."
"They should have done this sooner," Nagisa said flatly.
"No shit," David quipped. "Things must really be getting desperate."
"More than you can imagine."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That's not exactly `nothing', Araizumi," David snapped.
"What do you know that I don't?"
"Don't worry, you'll find out."
"Uh-huh," David replied, unconvinced, but he left it at that, unwilling to press the issue. Nagisa always knew something everyone else didn't, and it wasn't a good idea to push for that information without good reason, or at least seniority.
Hopefully whatever it was he was supposed to find out, he'd discover at a good time. Otherwise, he was going to be pissed.


TUESDAY, MARCH 7
PLANET EARTH
AVENGER CORVETTE XC-0003

"A lot has happened while you've been asleep."
"This is obvious," Lyudmila Mannski replied distractedly,
her eyes taking in the changes to the planet as her mind continued to take in the changes to the people with her in the old Avenger. It was a little disconcerting to see Himiko Nagano aged 40 years while she, and Zen and Marcelle -- the only three troopers who elected to return to cryo after the Second War -- had aged comparatively little. Steffie had changed too, though with her it was not in her overall appearance but the way she carried herself. She'd been little more than a frightened child when Lyu had first met her; now her obsidian eyes crackled with experience, and she carried herself with a leader's confidence.
"Looks pretty empty out there," she went on, still looking out at the vast green expanse of the Earth's surface. There had been civilization here once; now it was as if human hands had never touched the place. "Plenty of places to hide a base or three."
"Actually no," Himiko replied. "The only activity we've run into has been in the megacities, mostly Mega-Primus itself. Nothing's ever been spotted anywhere else on the planet."
"They may not need planetary bases," Zen mused. "If they can just jump through those Dimension Gates you mentioned."
"So the bugs are coming from another dimension this time?" Marcelle quipped. "Man, what is it about this planet that they're so hot to get hold of it?"
Himiko started to say something, but her cellphone chose that moment to ring, so she focused her attention on it instead, picking it up and keying the TALK button. "Senator Nagano. ... Yes, Captain..." For a moment she was silent, then suddenly animated. "Where and when?! ...... Damn. Right, get as many people out of the building as you can and seal it off. I'll have people on-site as soon as possible. Keep me posted."
"What's going on?" Zen asked as Himiko deactivated the phone again.
"Another alien was just spotted at Rescue One," Himiko replied tensely, starting to dial another number. "I'll have to see if Marsec has any security forces free yet so they can deal with it."
"How long will that take?" Lyudmila asked.
"No idea."
"The hell with that, then," Lyudmila said. "Let's get down there ourselves."
"What?? Lyu, the guns and armor we bought are all at the new base. You need--"
"We need to get rid of the bugs," Lyu cut her off, part of her mind wondering when Himiko had become more politician than soldier and trying to decide whether that was good or bad. "Before they can get entrenched. You of all people should know that. And you do run the police, so I'm sure your people have plenty of equipment to spare."
She did have a point, Himiko had to admit, and chided herself for thinking differently.
The Avenger's engines flared, and the vehicle accelerated to supersonic speed in an eyeblink, several sonic booms marking its passage.


TWENTY MINUTES LATER
RESCUE STATION "RESCUE ONE", MEGA-PRIMUS

#Gee, this is just like old times, huh Lyu?#
Lyudmila did not laugh, although she did find Zander's mental quip amusing in a morbid sort of way. There had been a time, back in the year 1999, when X-Com had consisted of eight green (relatively speaking, since all of them had been picked from the elite forces of their respective armies) troopers, two of whom had been Lyudmila Mannski and Otto Zander. They had gone into the field armed only with M1981A1 pistols, and with only standard-issue brown BDUs serving as their armor.
To be sure, the Megapol Lawpistols they now carried were significantly more sophisticated and powerful, and the red X-Com duty uniforms they wore were laced with lightweight Kevlar capable of resisting small plasma bolts, but the same feeling of deja vu, being poorly armed and unarmored and facing a completely unknown enemy, prevailed significantly, bringing with it brief flashes of unease which the three soldiers, veterans of two Alien wars, fought down just as quickly. When dealing with bugs, there was no margin for panic, or error.
Marcelle, on point, froze and raised a hand, motioning for the others to listen. Lyu and Zen immediately halted, and they heard it too: heavy footsteps, accompanied by a low, throaty growl not far away. A moment later, a much higher-pitched noise, sort of like a nasal trumpeting sound, echoed through the corridor they were in. Zen felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. They were *VERY* close by... and getting closer. His grip on the unfamiliar Lawpistol tightened a bit. Marcelle crouched low to the ground, edging slowly forward toward the shadowy end of the corridor.
And a shadow lunged at him.
"SHIT!" he yelled, reflexively mashing himself solidly to the floor as the brownish basketball-sized alien flew through the space where his head had been a moment before, crashing instead to the floor behind him. Regaining its footing with amazing speed, the little beast spun on its stubby legs and prepared to make another grab at Marcelle's head, but a bullet from Zander's Lawpistol pierced it through, and with a squeal it sagged into a lifeless puddle of flesh.
The noise had attracted the other bugs, as the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps indicated. Lyu didn't even need to order the other two to get down or aim their weapons; they were already down and in position as the footsteps grew closer and closer.
A bulky blue hominid, with a huge toothy mouth and evil red eyes, rounded the corner, the weapon in its clawed arms already raised. It squeezed the trigger on the weapon even as Zen and Marcelle both shot it between the eyes, spraying a purple ichor against the wall.
"GRENADE!!" Lyu shrieked as the projectile sailed through the air in a lazy arc toward her. Zen and Marcelle reflexively lunged forward and around the corner, startling another of the blue aliens. Zen was the first to raise his pistol, pumping three bullets into the monster's chest before it even had time to react. The creature wailed loudly and collapsed to the floor.
Meanwhile Lyu had backpedaled into the nearest doorway, braced for the explosion she thought was coming. Instead, however, an odd tearing noise was heard from the place where the projectile had landed. Risking a look around the corner, she saw that it was not a grenade, but an egg of some kind, out of which another of those basketball aliens had just hatched and was now bolting straight for her.
No, I don't think so, she thought as she brought her weapon to bear. The thing had lunged into midair when Lyu snapped off a single shot, nailing it squarely between the eyes. It dropped back to the floor like a stone.
"Lyu! You okay?" Zander's voice was heard as he glanced back around the corner, having heard the shot instead of an explosion.
"Fine, Zen," Lyu answered. "Watch out for these pods," she said, kicking the husk of the egg with her boot, then doing the same to the dead basketball. "They hatch into these things."
"Right," Zen nodded.
"This one was carrying the same kind of gun, Zen,"
Marcelle reported, examining the second alien corpse carefully, mindful of the brown egg pods now lying on the ground next to the dead alien. "Don't see any other weapons here unless you count the pods."
"Nothing else?" Lyu asked as she joined them. "No plasma weapons or anything?"
"Don't see anything, Lyu," Marcelle replied.
"Strange..." Lyu said. Each of those aliens was armed only with an egg launcher and three rounds of 'ammunition'? Granted, those little basketballs had proven themselves to be dangerous, but the brief reports she'd read on the way here indicated that they didn't live very long, perhaps eight hours at the most. What were the bugs planning to do once they'd emptied their launchers, use harsh language?
"This is too easy."
Zen nodded gravely. "Let's check and see if there's any more of these things in here."


FIVE MINUTES LATER

A small wave of relief went through Himiko as she saw the three troopers emerge from the building, a bit rumpled but looking unharmed.
"What happened?" she asked as she and Steffie moved forward to meet them.
"Two big blue aliens armed with these things," Marcelle answered, holding up the launcher he carried. "They shoot pods that hatch into these brown buggers," he gestured at the dead basketball in Zen's left hand. "They had a total of six of those pods, and that was it."
"That's all?" Himiko looked understandably incredulous.
"That was it," Lyu nodded.
"What in the world did they hope to accomplish?" Steffie wondered aloud.
"I was wondering the same thing--"
"SENATOR NAGANO!! What is the meaning of this outrage?!?"
"...oh lord..." Himiko groaned, rolling her eyes as most of the attention in the area turned to a small but vocal weasel of a man storming toward them. He was dressed in a garish green and purple uniform adorned with a large pyramid emblem.
"We saw the envoys passing over!" the weasel ranted.
"We saw them stop here! The emissaries were to appear *here*, and what have you done??" He gestured wildly at the corpses which were being carted out of the building. "Sent your hooligans in to slaughter them!! Mordecai will *NOT* leave this be!! These acts of brutal savagery will NOT GO UNPUN--"
There was a flash of energy behind the man, and he suddenly wobbled and collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Marcelle had, unseen, procured a Stun Grapple from one of the nearby policemen, and used it to zap the little weasel into silence.
"Oops, sorry about that, it went off," Marcelle said.
The cops found this unbearably amusing. Some even broke into applause. "Is this one of those Cultists you were telling us about, Himiko?" Marcelle went on with a rakish grin.
"Er... yes," Himiko replied, not sure whether to be amused or mortified, since now the Cult definitely would not be pleased with Megapol, or X-Com. She sighed, mentally resigning herself to a very long day when next the Senate held a public forum.
"I can tell we're going to get along splendidly," Lyudmila deadpanned.
"Building's cleaned out, ma'am!" a maintenance worker called from the back of the Avenger. "Cleaning crew's on the way up to take care of the rug now!"
Himiko nodded acknowledgement to the man, then turned to her former commander. "Good work, although I suspect this was just the tip of another iceberg."
"I'd be very surprised if it wasn't," Lyu replied.
"Now, I believe you were going to show us our new home?"

From the shadows of the adjacent office building, a lone figure seated on a Blazer Turbobike watched as the Avenger lifted into the air and disappeared over the tops of the buildings. "They're airborne, Lord," the figure spoke into a transmitter in her helmet. "Shall I attempt to follow?"
"No, child," a deep male voice responded. "They have maneuverability you lack. I have seen what I wished to see; you may return."
"Yes, Lord," the figure answered. The bike's turbine whined to life as it harmonized with the road antigravity generators and lifted the small red vehicle off the ground. The figure activated the throttle, and the Blazer shot off down the road, returning to its point of origin.


END ELEMENT ONE