The God Mars Book Three: The Devil You Are Read Online Free PDF Page A

Discs. But there’s a new
uplink sitting on top of it, not the patchwork “Staley’s Tower”
cobbled together by Anton and Simon. And new uplink must mean new
satellites overhead. (Which means I’ll be seen soon enough if I
keep standing out here.)
    There are also a full set of new battery guns on the
perimeter, and even anti-personnel turrets on the bunker roofs. I
wonder again how long I’ve been gone.
    The greenhouse looks pretty much like I’d left it,
west of the base over one of our buried reactors for heat. But I
can’t see the Nomad camp for the semi-resident workers who’d come
to help with our garden project (and to help defend us whenever
needed).
    One of the pads opens its shield doors and raises for
launch. On the deck is a ship I haven’t seen before: Mars camo red,
delta wing, but much sleeker than our ASVs. I remember Richards
saying they were sending prototypes. But that shipment wasn’t due
until…
    Another pad opens and raises, bringing up an
identical ship. They burn engines and lift, taking off and gliding
south-southeast, possibly heading for Melas Three. A patrol? Or
just moving resources?
    I realize I can hear chatter in my head. I’m picking
up command Link. Comm between the two ships and base. One voice I
recognize: Wilson Smith, apparently acting as Aircom Officer. I
don’t know the pilots. But they go by silly call signs: “Goldenboy”
and “Red Leader”.
    And then I get a snippet of another familiar voice,
hailing them off: It’s Colonel Burns.
    What the hell is he doing on planet? How long have I
been gone?
    Answering me, I get a flash of a time and date stamp
that looks like MAI’s:
    27 March 2117.
    It’s been over two months.
    I hunker down and hide like a criminal as the ships
go, sure my black dust-proof goofy costume is a big dark spot on
satellite imaging. But then I realize: it isn’t black anymore. It’s
turned itself a perfect Mars camo.
    I run the next step—the part I’ve been stewing the
whole walk here—through my head for the thousandth time: What
now?
    I can’t go in like this. They’ll be terrified of me.
Especially if any of the new Earthside Command are on planet. (And
where is Lisa?) They’ll probably shoot first, or shut me in
containment, treat me like a dangerous bio-weapon sent by the
enemy.
    I’d been thinking that maybe I could lie, present
myself as some kind of new ETE Guardian, then get close enough to
Lisa or Rick or maybe even Anton to tell them the truth (and be
ready to run for it if said truth isn’t well received).
    I’m getting more than date-stamp from MAI now. I’m
getting feed . Scanning. Radar. Uplink. Base Link. Battery
control. Security. All straight into my head.
    I stand up. I put myself where the sentry systems can
surely see me but there’s no good window view for human eyes. And
the sentries do react to me, target me. But I can apparently tell
them to be quiet.
    I’m in. I’m hacked directly into the base AI. At
will.
    I could sneak inside. I could get to Lisa. Or…
    No. I imagine screaming and panicking and lots of
guns pointed at me. And then they’d really get to see what I am
now.
    I wish I looked like I used to.
    My face goes more numb than usual, feels like the
skin is coming loose. I can’t really tell through my gloves, but my
skin is changing, becoming thinner, looser. Sagging. Aging. I run
my fingers back through my rock star hair and it all falls away in
a mass like I’ve been shorn. And then I get the sickening sight of
the hair melting, liquefying and soaking into me. Gone.
    I pull the knife and widen the blade for a makeshift
mirror, look at my face.
    I’m me again. Old me. Scars and all. Even my eyes are
plain.
    I remember some of the nano mods sold for cosmetic
vanity, entertainment, and military/intel applications. I wonder
who else I can look like.
    I get creative. I have the rebreather, canisters, a
field heater. I focus on my armor, will it to reshape. Get rough.
Handmade hand-cut