Task Force Mars - Kevin Dockery [35]
“Tanks?” Dr. Sulati said in alarm, coming to his side and squinting into the distance. “I see them out there. Do you think they’re what attacked MS3?”
“Can’t be sure,” Ruiz said. “The Team mixed it up with a few of them on the way back here. They’re robots but must be controlled from somewhere. They have guns that could punch a hole right through one of these domes, and that’s probably how the attack on MS3 started.”
“Maybe that control center, the place where these robot tanks are operated, is the installation that your lieutenant found and is attacking,” the consul suggested.
Ruiz nodded; the idea made sense. “Get below—and spread the alarm.”
The two women went to the hatch, Dr. Sulati starting down the ladder with the grace and speed of a gymnast. Char-Kane followed more deliberately, and Ruiz took another look around while he waited for his turn on the ladder.
The flash of light came from the west, and he almost missed it. Stepping closer to the window, he watched and saw more of them: explosions, fiery sparks lighting up the ground, spewing into the dark sky, where, momentarily, they were visible against the background of space. A column of fire shot straight up, brilliant and blazing for a moment before vanishing. Even the smoke that would have remained in a normal Terran atmosphere vanished almost immediately in the low pressure of Mars.
The SEALS were attacking, he knew instinctively. He was still watching as Char-Kane came back up the ladder.
Spying him, she came to his side. “Is that your warrior Team?” she asked.
“I’m pretty sure it is,” he said. They watched for another few minutes, but there were no more fireworks. Shaking his head, Ruiz glanced around at the distant tanks, wondering how much closer they’d gotten. He saw the three to the south and six to the east, just where he’d last seen them.
“They’re not moving anymore!” he exclaimed.
“You’re right,” the Shamani woman agreed. “Do you know why?”
“My Team took out the command center; at least that’s going to be my guess until I’m proved wrong!”
“That is indeed good news,” the consul said approvingly. “Perhaps, then, we do not have to flee to this—what you called it?—hardened place.”
“Well, we need to keep an eye out. But it looks like the threat might be put on hold, at least.”
This time he followed the two women down the ladder. They found Director Parker, Ensign Sanders, and Professor Zaro in the command center. Quickly Ruiz described his observations.
“You think the attack neutralized the tanks, then?” Professor Zaro queried. His tone was oddly casual, but Ruiz didn’t think anything of it. As usual, the academician’s eyes were watering, and he pulled out a bulky handkerchief.
“That’s my best guess, yes, sir,” he replied.
“Then we shall need another plan,” the professor noted.
“What?” the chief asked.
Too late, he saw that the man was concealing something small and round in that bulky handkerchief. The alarm popped in the chief’s mind: grenade! Zaro tossed the device past him, and Ruiz lunged too late.
Something loud popped behind the chief. He felt a blow to the back of his head, and then, for some reason, the floor was coming up to smash him in the nose.
He didn’t feel anything after that.
Lieutenant Jackson led the file of SEALS across the surface of Mars. He had inspected one of the robot tanks after they had destroyed the alien installation and was relieved to find it out of operation. The power source was a heavy but compact battery, and when Falco did a quick check with his electronics array, they learned that the power was shut off, the whole vehicle resting in the alien equivalent of standby.
He wanted to get back to the station quickly to confirm his initial estimate, and so they were making a beeline for the MS1. Jackson didn’t