Mercs on Mars Chapter 1: The Cold War
Logan prepares for the greatest battle of his life so far
MERCS ON MARS Chapter One:
“The Cold War”
PODCAST AUDIO:
TRANSCRIPT BELOW:
(All Satellite images captured by Polaris II.
Local Audio / Visual courtesy of Blue Sword Company’s High Hawk Drone 24C3.)
MERCS ON MARS CHAPTER 1: The Cold War
It was a chilly Martian morning, like most others. Not that Logan Forest felt the cold with his skin or in his limbs, nor in his bones or blood. The chill did not touch his heart; it did not reach his soul.
It merely brushed the edge of his peripheral perceptions and passing thought. It existed only for a moment as a simple temperature display in the bottom right of his visor’s HUD: (-96.07 F = -70.556 C = 202 K)
So, in a cool and aloof manner, the cold was read, interpreted, and tucked away. Just another floating, fleeting detail in a blizzard of extraneous information. Then the readout ceased to be, giving way to other, more significant or insignificant snowflakes of data. Some other minutia to notice briefly and then promptly ignore.
Because Logan himself was warm of course. He was very comfortably warm, snug as he was in the four important layers of a Texan Colonial Merc.
The first and second were his uniform thermals and his vital E-COR, the soldier’s classic “padded jack.” Insulated, air-tight, rad-resistant, and vacuum-ready, his Exodome Combat Roamsuit was the first real layer between him and death.
He was also firmly fitted with the Rangers’ standard third: a grayproof swift-motion slendorplate of battle-alloy.
And, of course, Logan was even warmer at the moment, because he was currently piloting a VME. He was enfolded in the sturdy, reassuring, climate-controlled interior of his Wolf-Class human-scale Voltaic-Motile Exoframe.
(To civies, i.e., he had his army PJ’s beneath his rover-wear getup, and he was all decked out in marine-armor, not to mention safe inside a full suit of powered armor.)
Logan Forest was kitted this way almost every every day. Because it was an important part of his job, because most of his days on Mars were indeed martial, and today was not likely to be an exception.
It was a planet well named, and its namesake god would surely smile on the efforts of Logan and his band of eleven Texan Colonial Mercs… Eleven. There had been twelve. But then Scooter Travis fell to the Russians.
And now there was a nest close by, underneath them soon. Xenos. A whole hell of a lot of them, if HQ could be believed. And at this point, Logan was too tired to argue with them again.
They’d be back in the comforting climate controlled bubble capital of Lonestar on Mars soon enough. But not soon enough that they wouldn’t be ambushed. Logan knew it in his heart, mind, and soul.
The cold did not reach those areas, but the heat of battle did.
And apparently, the sneaky Rooskies were creeping back, possibly to attack them before the Texan capital was in sight. They wanted to turn this Cold War hot, in Logan’s estimation.
The Dirty Dogs were near the lip of the Long-Fall; the Mariner valley stretched below them. And Bradbury County behind it, to the SouthWest.
He could already see the little towns of Brightbed and Marshall. And his scanners were picking up the Diaspora locales of Rest Traverse, Minora, and Priu Kosóva, and the two New Indian colonies on the outer edge of their Northeast domain: Fort Nepal and Fort Bengal.
Beyond those were the former Czech’s former home: Póla Nuóva and the Great Praděnča with Práhamály, and Little Žovíe’s House.
The Arc Domes were shining bright beneath the frosty fog and the light of the dusty solar winds. No sand storms today, thank God. Logan sighed.
But the Xenos were his first concern, as well as all the colonists on this planet. And there were Lurkers, Slithers, and Limmers and Skimmers ready to pop from their tunnels. It would all pop off today.
The Russians and their Han allies would just have to wait their turn.
He wished for one last smoke. He was burned out. And he needed something to kick him into gear. He hoped that would be something at the end of the day. Whatever it was. Just something.
It was a small hope, but it would certainly prove big enough, as the Chroniclers later would say. Logan just might save the day.
Thanks for listening to/reading this Mercs on Mars podcast episode.
I hope you have been entertained today! :-)
