We inched closer and closer, each side taking potshots at the other. I could hear the hum of the laser rifles, the thud of the rocks as they were struck by the beams, and the occasional shouted command from our sergeants.

  “Private Starn, move to the left and try to flank them,” Cox shouted.

  I nodded and began to crawl along the ground, trying to keep my head down as I made my way to the side of the other squad’s position. I could see them firing in our direction, their laser beams cutting through the dusty air.

  I took a deep breath and fired off a series of shots, aiming for the enemy’s feet to keep them on the move. It worked, and I saw them start to scatter, trying to avoid getting hit.

  “Keep advancing, marines!” Cox yelled. “Move around them and hit their flanks!”

  We continued to exchange fire, moving and dodging as best we could. It was a tough fight, but in the end, our squad emerged victorious. We’d gotten too close with more troops than they could handle. The other squad surrendered, and we all came together to congratulate each other on a job well done.

  As we made our way back to Camp Sulci, I felt a sense of pride and camaraderie with my fellow marines. We’d proven that we were the best, and I knew that we were ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.

  At the time, there was no way for me to know how wrong that feeling was.

  Chapter 15: Olympus Mons

  Red Company had just received orders to start a new mission on Mars. Our objective was to learn low-gravity repelling techniques on Olympus Mons, the tallest mountain in the known universe. We were excited, but we knew the training would be intense.

  As we prepared to leave, we loaded up our gear onto the carryalls. They were large balloon-tired vehicles designed to transport troops on the rugged Martian terrain. They were our only way to get to the site, and we knew we would be spending a lot of time in them over the next few days.

  I climbed aboard one of the carryalls and took a seat next to Sergeant Cox. I’d wangled a seat inside the vehicle this time. I’d done so by jumping in first, which was usually a successful strategy. Cox threw me a frown, but at least he didn’t throw me out. I studiously avoided looking back, and soon his attention shifted elsewhere as the engines buzzed with electrical life.

  The rest of Red Company piled in around us, strapping themselves into the seats as the big vehicle lurched into gear. The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable, but we were used to it by now.

  We made our way across the Martian landscape, and we could see the towering peak of Olympus Mons looming in the distance. It was a breathtaking sight, but it looked like a ballbuster of a mountain to climb.

  Climbing a relatively gentle slope took all day. After camping for the night and finding a cache of fresh oxygen and batteries that someone had left for us, we finally arrived at the training site.

  The Martian sky above was a deep, rusty red hue. The sun appeared as a small, distant ball of light, casting a weak, orange glow over the surrounding terrain. The edge of a cliff was nearby, and it was alarmingly easy to fall off it. Nudging myself up to the cliff, I found it was the rim of what amounted to a sub-crater.

  Down below I could see an almost endless desolate landscape stretching out to the limits of my vision. The reddish-brown Martian soil was barren and dotted with the occasional large rock formations, with the occasional hint of dust blowing in the thin air.

  The sheer drop-off of the cliff itself was intimidating, but we knew we had to conquer our fears and learn the techniques necessary to survive in this harsh environment. Over the next few days, we practiced repelling down the mountainside, using our low-gravity training to our advantage. We were only given so many minutes to reach the bottom and scale our way back up to the top. It was tough going, but we all managed to pull through and meet our required timing. In the end, we emerged stronger and more confident—but that’s when the real trials began.

  “All right, losers,” Sergeant Cox boomed in our helmets. “Now, we’re racing against each other. All you privates, line up on the rim. We’re employing the buddy-system, and your team will be competing. The first team to make it down and back to the top wins an early stripe.”

  That got our attention. We’d been offered jack-squat in the way of promotions so far in Red Company, as the current recruits weren’t considered to be eligible for a second stripe until we were fully trained and certified as marines. Up until this camp had begun, I’d never received any of the ground-based training required. Many of the physical skills could only be demonstrated under the gravitational pull of a real planet.

  “Hey, Sarge?” Private Ledbetter asked. “Does that mean I might become a corporal? Is that even legal?”

  “That’s what I said. This isn’t your granddaddy’s Earth-Gov service, Ledbetter. We’re under corporate rules here. The conglomerate approves ranks on the basis of performance, not just time served.”

  Ledbetter came to me, his eyes big with excitement. “You and me, man,” he said. “Let’s make a team and win this thing.”

  “Deal,” I said without argument or concern. I knew Ledbetter was one of the best out here.

  “Hold on, hold on,” Sergeant Cox said, walking among us. He pointed at me and Ledbetter. “You two ringers are planning to team up, aren’t you? Well, I’m changing the rules. Each of you boys has to pick a date from that pile of sad-sacks over there.” He pointed at the newest recruits, the losers we’d just picked up from Mars City.

  There was a general groan and a lot of grumbling from guys like Ledbetter and me, but we obeyed him. Walking along the line, I picked the recruit who had fallen off the carryall back when we’d just started out. His name was Desai, and he looked as happy as a stray dog with a new owner when I lifted a finger in his direction.

  “Come on, Desai,” I said. “Let’s earn another stripe.”

  Ledbetter’s attitude had changed dramatically now that I was the competition. He moved away and chose a female recruit who’d shown promise. He sneered at my choice.

  “You took Desai, huh?” he laughed. “That loser would fall off a toilet seat.”

  He seemed to think this comment was uproariously funny, but I ignored him. “All right, Desai,” I said. “No fuck-ups today, okay?”

  “I’m on it! I’m on it! We’re going to win this!”

  “Okay, okay. Settle down. Let’s do an equipment check, and—”

  A loud whistle sounded, blasting my ears and making me wince.

  “Everyone is teamed up!” Sergeant Cox boomed. “This thing is on. First team to make it to the bottom and back up again wins the prize—and yes, suiting up and getting organized—that’s all part of the drill. Do you think you’re going to have all day to do your hair when you’re on deployment and performing a real mission? Go, go, go!”

  I had to grab onto Desai just to keep him from throwing himself off the cliff, he was so eager. I had to wonder what kind of sewer-dwelling life he’d left behind under the Mars dome to be so motivated. “Hold on a frigging second, Desai. Anchor this bolt!”

  He followed my instructions and soon we were ready for the descent. I sent him down first—I could barely hold him back.

  We were supposed to stay together, but he was taking wild jumps downward. Swiveling my helmeted head, I took stock of the competition. We were already in third place, by my estimates, which put us in the middle of the pack.

  “Steady, steady,” I told Desai, but he didn’t really listen to me. “Even jumps, don’t try to hot-dog it a hundred yards down with one leap. If you slip, you’ll crack your faceplate.”

  “We’re going to win this, Starn,” he told me, grunting with effort. “I was born on Mars. This gravity feels perfect to me. I know how far I can jump.”

  Shaking my head, I followed him steadily, but he kept getting farther ahead. We were supposed to stay more or less together, but he took it to the limits of our anchored lines with every bound.

  He was, I had to admit, encouraging me to take greater risks and longer jumps. Each time I threw myself away from the cliff face, aiming my boots toward yet another distant jutting spur of rock below, I felt an exhilarating thrill.

  Back on Earth, these jumps would have been deadly. The lower gravity was giving us super-powers—but it felt strange to me all the same.

  In the end, Desai made it to the bottom in second place—just moments behind Ledbetter.

  “That’s a good touch,” Sergeant Cox said. He was monitoring our progress through the eyes of a drone that was buzzing around watching us. Naturally, he wasn’t hopping up and down these cliffs like a demented jackrabbit, he was standing up on top of the rock formation relaxing and no doubt enjoying our efforts.

  Desai reversed directions and began climbing again the instant his landing was accepted. “Come on, Starn!” he laughed. “You’re slowing me down!”

  Muttering a few choice words, I reached the bottom and touched base, then began the climb back up to the top.

  Climbing wasn’t anywhere near as much fun. Instead of jumping with a safety-line paying out, we had to use that same line and good old-fashioned muscles to force our bodies upward.

  But again, it wasn’t about sheer strength. If it had been, I would have won this contest easily. The cables we’d left behind, anchored by bolts shot into the rock, were being sucked back into our climbing harnesses. Motors in each harness whirred, spooling up the line as we climbed. At each point where we’d anchored ourselves on the way down, we had to disconnect and then climb up to the next spot.

  Of course, there were obstacles in our path along the way. Desai was sending crumbling showers of pebbles and dirt into my face as I caught up to him.

  Grunting and straining, he reached the seventh bolt and paused to catch his breath. “You’re doing good, man,” I called out to him. “Don’t give up on me now. We’re winning this thing.”

  And it was true, we were winning. Looking off to either side, I saw struggling forms—but they were all farther down the cliff than we were. Desai’s mad dash to the bottom had put us in the lead.

  But now, things were different. Desai was running out of steam. He’d exerted himself so much, like a sprinter in a marathon, that he was puffing and probably hyperventilating.

  “Just catch your breath,” I said, climbing after him at a slower but much more maintainable rate. “We’ll get there.”

  “We’re going to be first,” he said. His voice was raspy.

  Then, he did something that wasn’t in the playbook. Instead of pulling his way up with his arms, he threw himself outward, into open space. Then he hit the rewind button on his harness, and he held it down.

  Swinging out there in the open, a good five yards away from the rock wall, he was drawn up quickly without using his arms at all.

  “What the fuck—?” I began, but before I could finish the words, Desai was already crashing into the cliff.

  He didn’t stop there, however. He kicked off again, throwing himself far from the rock wall and let his harness do all the work, whirring as it spooled the line back into itself and pulling him upward at a surprising rate.

  This wasn’t how we’d been trained to do this exercise, but I had to admit—it was working. I followed along, using my old-fashioned technique. Desai was shooting up the cliff, leading me now by a hundred yards or so.

  I was lagging, but I knew it didn’t matter much. If he reached the summit first, he could haul me up to his position with relative ease.

  Beginning to think I’d bet on a dark horse that was going to pay off big, I began to grin inside my helmet.

  Right about then, though—I heard it. There was a snap, and shout—then I looked up, and something was falling—something big.

  The dark shape of Desai was tumbling down the cliff face, directly at me. His arms pinwheeled, and he tumbled, out of control and flailing.

  When I first realized Desai was falling, I couldn’t believe it. But then, that moment passed, and I tried to save him.

  I reached out an arm that was one of the strongest on the red planet. I reached out, and I tried to grab onto his flailing, spinning body.

  I couldn’t do it. Even though we were on Mars, where the terminal velocity of a falling body was quite a bit lower than it was on Earth, I couldn’t stop his fall. All I managed to do was slap him as he went by.

  My gloved hand touched his foot, then his hand—but I couldn’t get a grip on either. A tangle of cord came down after that, and I managed to get my glove hooked onto that.

  My arm was wrenched terribly. Desai, who had been spinning out of control, slammed into the cliff. He was limp now, but I didn’t have time to worry about that.

  Instead, I grunted with effort as I called in the accident and requested help. I was dragged upward by Sergeant Cox himself. The man never seemed to stop cursing the entirety of the following seven minutes that it took to get me and Desai to the top.

  He glowered at me as I levered myself onto the edge of the drop and lay there, panting. Desai lay beside me, but I didn’t have anything left in me to worry about him. I was utterly exhausted.

  “Corpsman!” Cox shouted. “Check on that idiot over there.” Then, he loomed over me, his eyes staring into mine. “What kind of a fool stunt was that, Starn?” he demanded.

  “Desai… he wanted to win…”

  “I know that, you idiot! Every man here wants to win! That doesn’t mean you ignore all the—”

  “Sarge!”

  It was Corporal Tench, and he looked worried. “This man isn’t responding, sir! We need real medical help, pronto!”

  Sergeant Cox left me struggling to rise. I walked over to Desai, checking on him in concern.

  I think I was the first one to see it. There was a crack in his helmet. He’d lost air pressure—and heat.

  The average daytime temperature on Mars was still subzero, even with all our efforts to change that. Worse, far worse, were the oxygen levels. When we’d started our terraforming efforts, there had been less than one percent oxygen on Mars. Now, we’d gotten it up to two percent—but that wasn’t much.

  All the rejuvenation efforts on this planet had been to raise the carbon dioxide levels first. Plants breathe CO2, just as humans and animals do oxygen. Oxygen was a byproduct of normal plant life. The essential terraforming plan, as I understood it, was to get the CO2 level up, then grow plants, which would in turn produce the oxygen we needed.

  All that hadn’t happened yet. It was a bit warmer, sure, and there was more air pressure than there had been—but it wasn’t enough for anything as big and needy as a human to survive. The air was so thin, it would have been infinitely easier to breathe on top of Mt. Everest. That fact, combined with the cold and the lack of oxygen in the atmosphere meant we had to have spacesuits to survive for more than few minutes.

  Desai had been exposed to the harsh clime of Mars, the planet of his birth. It was killing him—or maybe it already had.

  “I got him up here as fast as I could,” I said, stooping over Desai and trying to help.

  “Get away, you’ve done enough!” Corporal Tench growled, shoving at my groping gloves.

  He worked on Desai for several minutes. He didn’t give up, I had to give him that. He patched the recruit’s suit and pumped in fresh air and heat—but Desai didn’t respond.

  An emergency team showed up ten minutes later. They shocked the body and used special gear to force oxygen into the lungs—but it was all for nothing.

  Private Desai was dead.

  In the end, no one got the stripe we’d been competing for. Private Ledbetter dared to ask about it, since his team was the first to reach the top intact—but he was rebuffed.

  We returned to base camp in a glum mood. Commander Kaine himself came out from the spaceport that night, but he didn’t come to console us.

  Instead, he walked in front of our ragged line of weary trainees, fuming and reviewing vids of the action.

  “This is entirely unacceptable… Sergeant Cox?”

  “Yessir!”

  “When did you give these soldiers permission to let go of the cliff face and use their harnesses on an emergency basis?” The flopping computer scroll Commander Kaine held in his hands was shaking. On the display side of the scroll, you could see Desai jumping around like a maniac.

  “I didn’t give anyone any such permission, sir,” Cox responded.

  Kaine set his jawline firmly. He turned on one heel to face the squad again. “Who was Desai’s partner?”

  With a heavy heart, I raised my hand.

  “Starn…?” he said, nodding to himself. “I might have known. I hope you’re happy, Starn. You’ve killed one of our greenest recruits.”

  “I didn’t tell him to do it, sir,” I protested. “I—”

  He walked toward me with aggressive, angry steps. He shook the computer scroll in my face. “I didn’t hear you telling him to stop either, did I?”

  I shook my head. “No, sir. We have the same rank. I could give him some advice, but I couldn’t give him an order if I tried.”

  Commander Kaine squinted at me. “You’re a cold one, aren’t you, Starn? I can’t believe you’d try to suggest you deserve a promotion on a dark day like this one.”

  “No, sir! I didn’t mean—”

  “Next time a junior man breaks with safety regulations during an exercise, try harder to stop him. Dismissed. You’re all dismissed!”

  The meeting broke up. Afterward, Private Ledbetter came to talk to me personally. “It wasn’t your fault, man,” he said. “You did say something. Desai was crazy to win, that’s all.”

  I nodded, happy that at least some of the squad saw things my way. But the truth was, it didn’t matter what any of the enlisted men thought. The officers were blaming me. It was bullshit, of course, but there wasn’t anything I could do. I’d just have to keep my head down and try harder.

  We held a ceremony and shipped the remains back to Mars Colony. Corporal Tench personally stripped Desai’s spacesuit off and brought it to me.