1Blood on the Sand
1 billion years ago, water had still flowed across Mars.
Or at least that was what he'd read at some point. It was common knowledge that at some point, Mars had been more like Earth than it was now. Less common was just how recent the similarities ended. And, he had to admit, cruising above the Martian desert, it appeared that what went around came around. 1 billion years ago, Mars was well on its way to becoming a desert, while Earth was green and beautiful. Now, in the year 2145, after centuries of over-exploitation and environmental degradation, Earth was on its way to becoming like Mars. Certainly there was a lot more desert, and a lot less green.
He knew this. The marines on the Spectre -class gunship might have known it. Chances were that he was the only one who knew that up to a few millennia ago, Mars had hosted an indigenous sapient species. One that had mastered teleportation technology and made its way to Earth before Man had even conceived of the wheel. What had caused that exodus was something he wasn't sure of, only that from what files he'd been able to access, it had been sudden, violent, and had made the species functionally extinct. Fleeing to Earth might have saved the remnants of that race, but it hadn't saved them from extinction. Their end on Mars had been sudden, their end on Earth had been sudden as well, geologically speaking. Certainly there was no fossil evidence to be found.
He sat there in the command chair of the gunship, watching a feed from one of the craft's cameras. Sand, dust, and more sand. Millennia ago, a great battle had been fought here. A billion years ago, water had still flowed across Mars. With the lack of that water, with the lack of any tectonic activity to speak of, he thought there'd have been something, anything, to stand in testament to the ancient Martian civilization that had called this planet home. Some standing edifice, some blood on the sand, so to speak. But there was nothing – certainly nothing that had been readily apparent to mankind even into the 22nd century. What artifacts remained had been found underground – possibly that was where the Martians had relocated their civilization as their planet died around them. But still…
Still he couldn't help imagine if this was the future of Earth. Mankind huddled below ground, waiting for Mars to be terraformed so they could jump planet. Heck, there might even be teleportation involved this time. Ferrying 10 billion people across 55 million miles of space took time and fuel.
"Spectre One, come in, over."
Well, no time for daydreaming. He activated the feed on his command console.
"Spectre One here."
The face of Captain Roseberry looked back at him. "Direct your gunship to sector thirteen, sub-sector eight."
"Any particular reason?"
"Do it lieutenant."
"Yes sir. Of course sir."
He had a good idea as to what the reason was. No doubt the fleet would be tracing the gunship's movements, so that as soon as they arrived in the sector, Roseberry would give the order that needed to be given with as few words as possible. No-one wanted to discuss "the incident" over open channels.
"Nav," he said. "Take us to sector thirteen, sub-sector eight."
"Roger that, bearing two-five-nine degrees."
One of the gunners looked up at him. "Any particular reason sir?"
"No reason."
"Really? You spend time hacking into UAC files and you don't know nothing?"
"I know a lot of things. One of them is that you're going to have to return to your post before I boot you off my ship."
"Yes sir. Of course sir."
"Good man."
He leant back in his chair. Only a few knew about his hacking activities. Most people didn't care. Within the fleet, the information he could wrangle up had less to do with the UAC, and more to do with the fleet itself – where they'd be going (the dead of space), what they'd be doing (nothing). Still, knowledge was power, and he'd managed to use it well when the opportunity presented itself.
He glanced back over the interior of the ship – most of the Spectre was automated. There were three gunners, one navigator, one pilot, and one captain. Of course, the extent of their jobs was really to make sure that the systems were in working order. Spectres were mostly deployed Earthside, taking part in the numerous conflicts that ravaged the globe. Still, it could function on Mars well enough – if anything, given the lower gravity, it could arguably function even better. And without any hostiles on the surface to fire up at them, it meant they could stay closer to the surface than otherwise.
He changed the feed to get a good view of the structure they were orbiting – Mars City. Technically not really a city at all, but a collection of structures that made it look more like an industrial site. Something had happened there – something that had left the site itself intact, but had eliminated most of its staff. A distress call had been sent, the fleet had come running, and…silence.
You seeing it too?
He looked up from his screen. Navigator Archwood was typing something at her console.
You're meant to be focused on navigation. He typed back.
And you're meant to keep your nose to yourself.
What?
Know you're a hacker. Know you know stuff.
He didn't answer.
The hell happened here anyway? Heard there was only one survivor.
That's greatly exaggerated. Casualty rate is more like 80-90%.
WHAT?
Focus on nav.
Seriously, what happened? There's some people saying it was aliens.
Focus on nav.
You bastard, you know what happened don't you?
Focus on nav.
Archwood gave him a look. He gave her a look back. Scowling, she returned to the console.
He was regretting answering already. He doubted that Archwood would rat him out. Still, it got lonely out in space. Might meant his bed got less warm.
The crew remained silent. Right up to when Archwood said "arrived in sector thirteen" and Gunner Nguyen muttered "and we've got nothing to show for it."
"Sweep us over the area," he said.
"Sweeping," Pilot McKenzie answered.
He cycled through the external cameras. Sand, dust, and more sand. More desolation. What the heck were they out here for anyway? They were miles away from Mars City. Were there survivors here? People who'd fled into the desert rather than stay to be slaughtered by whatever had caused the incident at the base itself? He-
What the hell?
On one of the portside cameras. Two figures. Running across the dust. Figures that were humanoid, but without any protective covering.
"Sir?"
He looked at Gunner Xing. He'd seen what he had.
"Orders?"
"I…" He looked back at the viewscreen. "McKenzie, track targets, bearing nine-four degrees from our location."
"Yes sir. Tracking our…aliens, sir."
Aliens, he reflected. Well, that was as good a name as any. Course there were some UAC files that suggested different but-
Lieutenant King.
It wasn't from Archwood. It was from Roseberry. His screen blacked out, and what was on it now was green text, with a small picture of the captain in the upper right corner.
Captain?
First order – when you land, use those hacking skills of yours to delete the gun cam footage. Officially, you never left Mars City.
And the other?
Terminate the hostiles.
Frowning, he typed, Like to know more about the hostiles sir.
They can't harm you. You're too high up. But they've got to go. We can't let the site suffer contamination.
Contamination?
Do your fucking job lieutenant. These things were meant to be off Mars when the soul
He frowned. Soul what?
Eliminate them lieutenant. That's an order.
The feed was terminated, and the screen returned to normal. Normal, as in, sands of Mars with a pair of aliens running across it, the lack of atmosphere and below freezing temperatures apparently not harming them in the least.
"Gunner Xing," he said. "Open fire. Eighty-calibre."
"Sir…yes sir. Opening fire sir."
He switched the feed to Xing's port. Before he did so, he shared a look with Archwood.
She knew. The whole crew knew. What was happening would never have happened at all. First contact with non-human life, and they were going to blast it out of existence.
"Firing."
How human.
He watched as the rounds tore into them. The aliens didn't stand a chance.
"Targets hit."
"Hold position."
He zoomed the camera in and stared. Their bodies were there in the dust before they vanished.
"The hell?" Xing asked.
He kept staring. No bodies. No blood. He didn't doubt they were dead, but they were leaving nothing behind. They were vanishing. Like…like demons, he reflected. Or ghosts. Anything supernatural.
Are you them? He wondered. Are you the same creatures that eliminated the civilization here? Are you the creatures that slaughtered the people of Mars City?
He didn't know. He might never know. He did know that he'd never be able to speak of it. That if he did his job right, there'd be no record of it. But if his hunch was right, then it might explain why there was no blood on the sands of Mars. No bodies of the invaders. No monuments to the vanquished.
You didn't need water to remove blood it seemed.
A/N
So I read an article recently stating that Mars might have had flowing water as recently as 1 billion years ago. Course that means that it would have dried up before the Martians fled to Earth in Doom 3 continuity, but anyway, drabbled this up.
