The Great Martian War: Breakthrough

Great Martian War- Breakthrough

Scott Washburn

Zmok Books

The Great Martian War

Breakthrough!

By Scott Washburn

Cover Art by Michael Nigro

The Great Martian War: Breakthrough

This edition published in 2016

Published by Winged Hussar Publishing

Zmok Books

1525 Hulse Road, Unit 1

Point Pleasant, NJ 08742

ISBN 978-1-9454302-3-7

Bibliographical References and Index

1. Science Fiction.  2. Alien Contact.  3. Military

Winged Hussar Publishing 2016 All rights reserved

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To Victoria and Rebecca, the two best kids any dad ever had.

Prologue

Cycle 597,843.7, Holdfast 32-1

"Controlling our machines is little different from controlling our own bodies, said Qetjnegartis. Grasp the controls with your tendrils and let your awareness flow into the machine as you would let it flow through your body. Go ahead, try it. The rapidly maturing bud, who had been designated Davnitargus, did as it had been directed, extending two of its manipulating tendrils and wrapping them around the control rods of the training machine. A third tendril continued to clutch one of Qetjnegartis’ to maintain the neural link. Do you feel it?"

            I… believe so, replied Davnitargus. At least I feel… something.

            Excellent. Do not be alarmed or discouraged at the crudity of it. No machine can match the perfect melding of minds that our links provide. It is but a substitute, just as spoken words are a substitute for direct communications when distance prevents a physical link: inferior, but necessary.

            I understand. How do I make this machine respond?

            Let your awareness explore the structure of the machine. It will feel very strange at first, but try to find the way to the center light of the three that sit atop it. Qetjnegartis could sense the bud’s fumbling attempts—and its frustration—but was pleased when it finally succeeded. Good. Now turn on that light.

            How?

            Trace the circuits back to the power supply. Find where the switch controlling the power to the light is located and close it. This proved much more difficult for the bud, but it applied itself with a determination which Qetjnegartis found very commendable. After a considerable time the light came on. Davnitargus was pleased and Qetjnegartis complimented it on the success. It had been over a hundred thousand cycles since Qetjnegartis had last instructed a new bud, but the perfectly preserved memories of that event included the same sense of satisfaction as it was feeling now. And with the conquest of this new world, this will become common! On the exhausted and dying Homeworld, a new bud was a rare thing. But here! Here the Race could grow and grow and grow!

            This seems very inefficient, observed the bud. Why not simply have a mechanical switch where it could be operated with my tendrils?

            Qetjnegartis radiated amusement. In some situations you would be correct. But for more complex machines that would not be practical. The construction and fighting machines will require you to carry out scores, sometimes hundreds, of operations simultaneously. Physically manipulating switches would not be possible. But do not be dismayed! You have just begun to learn the process. Soon, turning on this light will be as easy—and as automatic—as breathing. Later, operating complex machines will become just as easy.

            If you say so, said Davnitargus. It still seemed dubious, but it proceeded with the exercise and before long was able to turn the central light on and off at will. Qetjnegartis was just starting it on controlling multiple lights when a deep rumble shook the underground chamber, bringing down a small cloud of dust from the ceiling. Almost immediately came a communications from one of its subordinates.

            Commander, the prey-creatures have commenced a heavy bombardment. I believe that a major attack may be intended.

            Understood. I will come directly.  Qetjnegartis turned its attention back to Davnitargus. I must go. You shall remain and continue to practice as I have shown you.

            The prey-creatures are attacking again? They have done this many times before and failed each time. Why do they persist?

            I do not know. Perhaps they believe they have grown strong enough to succeed this time. Now, I must go.

            Can I help in the defense?

            Not yet. You must master controlling our machines first. That is what these exercises are for.

            I understand.

            Qetjnegartis left the chamber and pulled itself into one of the travel chairs which were necessary due to the strong gravity of the target world. It set it in motion toward the main control center, its metal legs clicking and scratching on the stone floor. The corridor was just a crudely cut tunnel through the rock. There had been no time to smooth the walls or line it with tiles as was proper. The demands of defending the holdfast precluded such niceties.

The rumbles were more frequent now and Qetjnegartis twitched in annoyance as several drops of water splashed on it. The roof was leaking—again. The amount of uncontrolled water on the planet was almost beyond belief. In addition to the oceans, which covered three-quarters of the surface, there was water almost everywhere else, too, and it was proving a serious difficulty. Precipitation from the atmosphere turned the surface into sticky morasses, often immobilizing the fighting machines. Water vapor in the air reduced the range of the heat rays and caused corrosion of delicate equipment, and water in the ground seeped into the chambers of the holdfast, despite repeated vitrification of the walls. The effort required for basic maintenance was exceeding predictions by a factor of three, and this was mostly due to moisture. We must change our methods.

            Qetjnegartis reached the control center and stopped its chair next to that of Zastranvis who had the watch. Status?

            A very heavy bombardment from the prey-creature’s projectile throwers has commenced in Sector 9, Commander. Three of the defense towers have already been put out of operation. Many of the prey and their vehicles are massing opposite the bombardment area. I predict they will attack once enough of the defense towers have been destroyed.

            That has been their pattern in the past. What steps have you taken?

            I have ordered the constructor machines to deposit spare defense towers in the area to the rear of Sector 9 to create a secondary line outside the bombardment zone. I have alerted the others to prepare their fighting machines for combat.

            Very good, said Qetjnegartis. The reply was automatic, but in fact, the situation was not very good at all. Zastranvis’ reference to ‘the others’ meant the three other surviving members of the group. There had been fifteen of them to start, select members of the mighty Bajantus Clan. But one of the five transport capsules had been lost on the journey to the target world and against all expectations seven more members of the clan had been slain in battle after arrival. Only five remained; a dangerously small number. True, all five had spawned off new buds, but it would still be another eighth of a cycle before they were matured enough to operate the machinery effectively. No matter that more than a score of new fighting machines had been constructed, there was no one to operate them.

And the holdfast was under siege.

            The stunning defeat in a battle off to the east had forced Qetjnegartis and the others to take refuge in the partially-finished holdfast. If the prey-creatures had been able to follow up their victory with an immediate assault, they might well have overrun the holdfast and killed them all. But the large weapons, on which they depended, could only move slowly and it had been many days before they had reached the base. Qetjnegartis had put the time to good use, and while the defenses were far from complete, they had proved sufficient to repel the first few attacks.

            From that point it had become a race to see who could build up their strength the fastest. The prey-creatures had rebuilt their crude transport system and used it to bring forward warriors, large projectile throwers, and more of the armored vehicles which had proved decisive in the battle. Qetjnegartis and the others had used the constructor machines to add more defense towers to the ramparts which had been thrown up around the holdfast. The defense towers held heat rays as powerful as those carried on the fighting machines and could obliterate an attacking force with ease - if they could survive.

            Unfortunately - and unexpectedly - the weapons of the prey-creatures could actually throw their projectiles farther than the effective range of the heat rays. They could stand off and safely shower the holdfast with their explosive shells and there was little that could be done about it. The projectile throwers were protected by thousands of warriors and a hundred or more of the armored vehicles, and scores of smaller projectile throwers. No sortie from the holdfast to destroy the heavy weapons could be safely attempted. Only the extremely poor accuracy of the prey-creatures’ weapons had allowed the defenders to survive so far. The prey-creatures had to fling hundreds of projectiles for every one of the defense towers that they destroyed. Since they seemed to be unable to sustain their bombardments, Qetjnegartis and the others were able to replace the destroyed towers during the lulls.

            But now they were attacking again and it was the heaviest bombardment yet seen. Obviously the prey-creatures had brought up more of their heavy weapons. The barrage went on for some time and one defense tower after another was destroyed along the section of rampart facing the enemy. Qetjnegartis made no attempt to replace them while the attack continued. The possibility of losing one of the precious constructor machines was too great to risk. Instead, a secondary line of defense towers was erected well to the rear of the rampart. If the enemy tried to penetrate into the holdfast once they had created a breach in the outer defenses, they would be met with scores of new heat rays.

            And that, indeed, did seem to be their intent. The bombardment had begun before dawn, and by shortly after midday, over twenty of the defense towers had been destroyed, creating a gap in the coverage. The enemy could now approach the rampart without being fired upon. The fire of their projectile throwers, which had been concentrated on the rampart, now split into three groups. Two groups continued to fire on the rampart and the defense towers, but to either side of the gap, apparently in hopes of widening the hole. Then a third group began throwing their projectiles beyond the rampart. Qetjnegartis observed this in growing concern. The prey-creatures had not done this before. This did not pose any great threat to the holdfast itself since it was all deeply underground, but if the secondary line of defense towers was also breached, it could become a major danger.

            Fortunately, the enemy was firing blindly. The high rampart, a thick wall of stone and rubble, blocked their ability to see beyond. The projectiles rained down randomly and while a few came close to the secondary line of towers, none did any significant damage. And shortly after, the entire bombardment began to slacken.

            They are massing to attack, Commander, observed  Zastranvis.

            Yes, it was true. Swarms of the prey-creatures were emerging from their trenches and forming up; others, riding draught animals, were moving forward, and the boxy, smoke-spewing, armored vehicles were dragging themselves into position on their bizarre rotating tracks. They will attack soon, said Qetjnegartis. I will take a fighting machine and join the others. You will direct the fire of the defense towers from here.

            Yes, Commander.

            Qetjnegartis moved his travel chair quickly through the corridors to the main hanger where the fighting machines were kept. Most of the machines were standing erect on their three long legs, but several were lowered into the loading position and Qetjnegartis maneuvered below one of them where the access hatch was open. Pulling itself aboard against the heavy gravity was awkward, but it had done this many times and was soon in the pilot’s seat. It grasped the control interface and activated the machine, along with five of the others. Using those others in battle was beyond even Qetjnegartis’ capacity, but they could follow along in slave-mode. They would be kept as a reserve in case any of the piloted machines became damaged during the coming fight.

            As it guided the machine up the ramp to the surface, Qetjnegartis evaluated the situation. Not the immediate tactical situation, but the overall situation, and there was no denying that it was unsatisfactory. Almost a half-cycle ago the great expedition to conquer the target world had begun. Two hundred transport cylinders, in forty groups of five, had landed. The previous, failed, expedition that was launched four cycles earlier had landed in a densely populated region and with the benefit of surprise had inflicted great damage on the prey before any resistance could be mounted. But the Council of Three Hundred had decided that with surprise no longer possible, a repeat of this strategy could lead to disaster. Each transport cylinder carried three fighting machines, but they had to be assembled after landing. This created a serious window of vulnerability. If the prey-creatures attacked quickly, the landing forces could be overwhelmed before they could defend themselves.

            To avoid this, the landing sites of the second expedition had been deliberately selected to be as far from the major population centers of the prey-creatures as possible which allowed them enough time to assemble the fighting machines before the prey-creatures could respond. The plan had worked perfectly and not one of the landings had been disturbed. The machines had been assembled and when the time was right, the attack was launched.

            Overall, this initial assault had gone very well. Vast stretches of the planet had been overrun. And while it was true that a mere six hundred fighting machines could not hope to actually control so much territory, they had smashed the local resistance to the point that there would be no trouble securing those regions when the following generations of buds had matured. Three of the southern continents, numbers 2, 4, and 6 as the Race had designated them based upon their size, were mostly subdued except for some of the coastal cities. The South Polar Region, continent number 5, had proved completely unoccupied by the prey-creatures. The central part of the largest continent, number 1, had been swept of most resistance. Heavy fighting was expected in the western and eastern parts of that continent, but those regions would be left for later. This was also the case on the other northern continent, number 3—the continent where Qetjnegartis’ group had landed. Five groups had descended on the sparsely populated central regions and the continent had been nearly cut in two. The eastern and western regions would be attacked later, when all was ready.

            In addition, one of the most vital parts of the invasion plan was working: the measures taken to counter the contagions which had wiped out the first expedition. Procedures which kept exposure to possible sources of infection at a minimum were proving effective. Only a few members of the Race had developed symptoms so far, and drugs had kept them in check long enough for the victim to bud off a replacement body which, as expected, proved more resistant.

            Yes, everything was going very well - except for here.

            Of all the landing groups, only this one, Group 32, had run into serious difficulty. Other groups had taken casualties, of course. There had been some serious fighting on the largest continent and the occasional fighting machine had been destroyed. And this planet was fraught with dangers. More losses had occurred due to mishaps than to the actions of the prey-creatures. Group 39 on the south polar continent had lost three machines and their pilots at a blow when an ice sheet had collapsed into the ocean.

            But none of the other groups had suffered the sort of setbacks as Group 32. Even before the landing, something had gone wrong and one of the transport cylinders never arrived. Twenty percent losses right from the start. At the time it had not seemed critical, but Qetjnegartis sorely missed those clanmates now!

            The landing site for Group 32 had proved to be in a region poor in resources, so Qetjnegartis had decided to move northward in search of a better location. They had swept all of the prey-creatures before them, slaying and destroying their habitations at will until they found a suitable location here. Construction on the holdfast had begun. But then, against all expectations, the prey-creatures had massed powerful forces in the region and despite a first crushing defeat, they had come on again and lured Qetjnegartis and six others into a trap. The armored gun-vehicles, nothing of which had been seen before, attacked in large numbers and only Qetjnegartis had managed to escape. One more clanmate had been lost in a still unknown fashion. It was then that Qetjnegartis and the other four survivors had taken refuge in the holdfast.

            It was an unacceptable situation. Not only were they in danger of annihilation, but their status among the other clans had dropped drastically. Qetjnegartis had been forced to ask - plead! - for aid from Group 33 to the north. And while the aid had been promised, it had not so far materialized. Even when it came, Qetjnegartis was uncertain what the end result would be. Would the leader of Group 33 demand to take charge of Group 32? It was a distinct possibility.

            The fighting machine reached the surface and Qetjnegartis pushed those distant problems to another compartment of its mind and focused on the immediate problem.  The other three machines, piloted by Ixmaderna, Namatchgar, and Utnaferdus, were waiting and they all moved off toward Sector 9, the spare machines in tow. The rampart in that zone was wreathed in a cloud of smoke and dust. Explosions erupted from time to time, but it was clear that the prey-creatures’ bombardment was tailing off. This was the usual pattern: fire until a gap had been created and then send forward the warriors. It didn’t understand why the prey-creatures didn’t continue their bombardment while the attack took place. Perhaps for fear of hitting their own warriors? That was a possibility, but it made little sense to Qetjnegartis. They had so many warriors, why would they worry about sacrificing some? The behavior of these creatures was still a mystery. No matter. If they chose to make it easier for Qetjnegartis to defend the holdfast, so be it! They reached the new line of defense towers and halted to wait developments. They were not long in coming.

            The prey-creatures are advancing, reported Zastranvis. Swarms of the foot warriors in front and the gun-vehicles following. Commander, some of the vehicles look different than the usual ones.

            Relay the image to me. Its subordinate complied and Qetjnegartis studied the information that one of the surviving defense towers was gathering. For the most part the attack was developing just as the previous ones had, but as Zastranvis had said, there were some unusual vehicles following along behind the main line. It was difficult to see clearly through the smoke and dust, and Qetjnegartis could not determine what function the vehicles served. They appeared similar to the armored gun vehicles, but they had no obvious weapons mounted on them, although one had some strange device projecting from the front. They would have to be watched carefully when they got closer.

            The prey foot-warriors neared the base of the ramparts and passed out of sight of the defense towers. This blind spot was annoying, but it was assumed that the enemy would begin to climb the slope. The outer face had deliberately been left a jumbled mass of loose rocks to make this as difficult as possible. The armored gun-vehicles could not negotiate the slope at all, and halted farther away where they could still be seen. But those other, strange vehicles continued onward until they too, disappeared into the blind spot beyond the curve of the ramparts.

            Ready the defense turrets in the second line to fire as soon as any of the prey appear, commanded Qetjnegartis. Zastranvis confirmed that all was ready.

            A considerable time passed, but nothing appeared on top of the ramparts. What can they be doing? asked Namatchgar.

            I do not know, replied Qetjnegartis. But it is important to find out. Ixmaderna, you will take your machine and cross the rampart. Cross in Sector 11, well away from their heavy weapons, and then move south and east until you can get a clear view of the outward face of Sector 9.

            At once, Commander.

            Take no risks. If you cannot reach a good position in safety, return. You cannot be spared.

            Yes, Commander. Ixmaderna moved off immediately, the long legs of the fighting machine carried it quickly, and before long it mounted one of the ramps leading up to the rampart; then it vanished beyond.

            In the meantime, Namatchgar, use the eradicator against the area where they are massed.

            Yes, Commander, but it is unlikely to have much effect; the prey creatures have developed measures to protect themselves.

            I know, but it may interfere with whatever they are doing. The eradicator was a toxic chemical weapon which the first expedition had developed. Initially it had been quite effective, but the prey-creatures now had protective garments which mostly nullified its effects. Still, it was the only weapon they had which could hit targets which were out of a direct line of sight. Namatchgar readied the weapon, which was an unwieldy tube carried by its fighting machine, and then fired it off. The projectile flew in a shallow arc and disappeared behind the rampart. A moment later a black cloud billowed up and then slowly dispersed.

            This situation of not being able to observe parts of our defenses is unacceptable, said Qetjnegartis. We need to take thought about inconspicuous vision pick-ups which could be planted beyond the rampart in places unlikely to be bombarded.

            Or pick-ups mounted on some sort of flying device, said Utnaferdus. It is intolerable that the prey-creatures are able to fly and we are not.

            No doubt they were inspired by some of the flying creatures native to this world, said Namatchgar. The Homeworld’s air is too thin for such things.

            The suggestion took Qetjnegartis by surprise. While it was true that the prey-creatures possessed some crude and flimsy flying devices, it had never occurred to it to try and produce ones as well. But before it could pursue the thought further, a report arrived from Ixmaderna. Commander, the prey have directed some of their fire against me and sent some of their vehicles and animal-riders in my direction. So far I am in no great danger, but I do not know how long I will remain so.

            Understood. Can you see what the prey-creatures are doing?

            They are clustered around the base of the rampart, but I cannot… wait, they are moving away… retreating!

            That is very odd. Why would they…?

            A sudden eruption of smoke, dust, and flying debris from beyond the rampart cut Qetjnegartis’ question short. A moment later a strong concussion slammed into its fighting machine.

            They are trying to breach the rampart! exclaimed Utnaferdus.

            And so it appeared to be. Once the smoke had cleared and the dust settled, Ixmaderna was able to transmit a clear image of what was happening. Fortunately, despite the size of the explosion, only a relatively small crater had been blasted in the outer face of the rampart in Sector 9. But the prey-creatures were swarming over the area again, probably planting more of their chemical explosives. If they were permitted to do this repeatedly…

            Commander, if they can create a passage through the rampart for their armored vehicles, this could be very bad, said Utnaferdus. We must prevent it!

            Yes, that is so. The explosives they are using must be held in those new vehicles. If we can destroy them, it will foil their plans. Ixmaderna, you will make a feint toward the enemy’s large projectile throwers and try to draw off some of their forces. Again, you are to take no undue risks. Zastranvis, you will have two of the constructor machines bring defense towers into a ready position. If the prey-creatures’ bombardment on the rampart ceases you will have them start repairing the gap in the defenses. The rest of us will move to the top of the rampart and destroy those new vehicles.

            Everyone acknowledged the orders and began to move. Qetjnegartis advanced, flanked by Namatchgar, and Utnaferdus. The five slaved machines followed along—they would probably be needed. They reached the base of the ramparts and paused to position themselves. The inner face of the rampart was steep, but in addition to ramps at intervals, there were carefully designed steps which would allow a fighting machine to move to the top very quickly. Speed was going to be critical.

            Very well. Attack.

            Qetjnegartis piloted its machine to the top and the prey-creatures’ army was spread out before it. Thousands of the creatures on foot or riding animals and scores of vehicles covered the ground beyond the rampart. A number of the riding animals were lying dead, victims of the eradicator, no doubt. Close by, the vehicle with the mysterious projection was revealed to be some sort of drilling machine. It was working in the crater the first explosion had created, black smoke pouring from the tube on its back. Drilling a hole for more explosives! The other different vehicles were, as it had suspected, transports to carry the explosives. Some stood with open doors and their cargoes being unloaded by the creatures.

            Almost instantly, the prey began to fire their smaller weapons and the steady rattle of impacts on the skin of Qetjnegartis’ machine filled the control chamber with noise. I will destroy the drill. You two fire at the cargo vehicles. Three heat rays lashed out almost simultaneously. The two firing at the explosives produced huge balls of flame, but oddly, no explosions - had it been wrong about what these were? No matter. They must destroy all that they could. Namatchgar and Utnaferdus turned their rays against several more of the cargo vehicles which were still closed. Qetjnegartis’ own ray was focused on the drilling machine and quickly burned off anything flammable. The metal underneath began to glow, hotter and hotter.

A heavy impact slammed into the fighting machine causing the ray to swing off target for a moment. The enemy gun vehicles were firing now and it was only a matter of time before they caused serious damage. This needed to be finished quickly so they could retreat behind the rampart again.

The boiler, which provided the steam to power the drill vehicle, ruptured and a cloud of steam enveloped it. The steam would disperse the energy from the heat ray, but the machine was clearly disabled. Qetjnegartis turned its attention to the remaining enemy. What else needed to be done to stop their attack?

At that instant, two massive explosions ripped through the packed enemy warriors. The cargo vehicles were carrying explosives and they had finally been detonated by the heat rays. Two columns of smoke and flame climbed skyward. Moments later there were a series of new detonations as the other cargo vehicles exploded, too.

Qetjnegartis looked on in satisfaction until it noticed a large piece of one of the vehicles tumbling end over end directly toward it. It tried to dodge aside, but it was too late. The wreckage slammed into the fighting machine and despite all Qetjnegartis’ efforts it lurched backward and fell off the rear of the rampart. Even with the padding in the control cabin, the impact was enough to stun it momentarily. Most of the machine’s systems suddenly ceased responding.

Commander! Are you injured?

Taking a quick internal check of its body, Qetjnegartis, replied in the negative. However, this machine is disabled. I must transfer to one of the others. Stand ready to carry me. It pulled itself toward the hatch, hampered somewhat by the fact the machine was now horizontal rather than vertical. The main power had failed, but the emergency batteries were enough to open the hatch at a touch of its tendril. It pulled itself into the opening and then waited for Utnaferdus to move into position to grab it with the manipulators on its machine.

Before it could do so, there was a sudden clatter of projectiles bouncing off the sides of the fighting machines. Something struck Qetjnegartis a stinging blow. Beware! The prey are on the rampart! exclaimed Namatchgar. Qetjnegartis tried to look in that direction, but the too-bright sunlight was blinding and an instant later Utnaferdus unceremoniously seized it with the manipulators, snatching it into the air.

Disconnected from its machine, Qetjnegartis could relay no orders, but its subordinates took the initiative admirably. Namatchgar fired its heat ray in a long sweep across the top of the rampart and a moment later Zastranvis, from the main control chamber, activated the secondary line of defense tower as well. Qetjnegartis could not see the results, but the enemy fire diminished noticeably.

They reached one of the spare fighting machines and Qetjnegartis awkwardly pulled itself aboard. It examined itself and determined that the wound was superficial. It wrapped its tendrils around the control interface and activated the new machine, but before it could take any further action Ixmaderna reported. Commander, the enemy is retreating from the ramparts! I believe they have given up.

Qetjnegartis permitted itself a long slow exhalation. Excellent, it said. Continue to observe, to make sure they plan nothing else, and then return to the holdfast. Zastranvis, begin repairs on the defenses. You others shall safeguard the construction machines.

Its subordinates began carrying out their orders, but Qetjnegartis remained immobile, thinking. That was far too close! The prey get more aggressive and more innovative day by day. How many more attacks can we survive

Chapter One

June 1909, Santa Fe, New Mexico Territory

First Sergeant Frank Dolfen, 5th United States Cavalry, led his detail through the streets of Santa Fe, heading for the rail yards. It was a typical late-June day in New Mexico, which meant it was hot as blazes and dry as dust. Dolfen had spent most of his adult life on one western army post or another and the weather, hot or cold, wet or dry, didn’t bother him anymore. The same could not be said for many of the people crowding the streets. Most of them were in uniform and they looked like they were going to melt right out of them. Either that, or pass out from the high altitude of Santa Fe. Easterners.

            Dolfen had been an easterner once himself. Born in the coalfields of Pennsylvania, he’d joined the army and headed west almost twenty years earlier. The heat and the altitude didn’t bother him, but the crowds did. The wide-open—and empty—spaces of the west were what he loved, but sleepy Santa Fe was mobbed. The town of five thousand, bypassed by the main railroad lines, had been slowly dwindling away despite it being the ‘capital’ for the territorial government, but that was before the Martians had landed in New Mexico.

            Albuquerque to the south, larger and on the main railroad line, had become the central assembly point for the army besieging the Martian stronghold in what had once been Gallup, off to the west. The influx of men and materiel had quickly overwhelmed that town, so Santa Fe had been pressed into service as a rear staging area. Huge camps had grown up all around, right up to the towering Rockies just to the east. The army personnel now outnumbered the local inhabitants by at least ten to one and it seemed to Dolfen that every one of them was here, blocking the street.

            Make way! he growled, urging his horse forward. While no one paid any heed to his command, they couldn’t ignore the horse and slowly he pushed his way through, followed by the other eight men of the detail.

            The nearer they got to the rail yards the more crowded it became. Trains were arriving constantly and troops were debarking, forming up, and marching off to camps outside of town. At least most of them were. Some who arrived were not part of any unit; they were replacements for existing units. Those were the ones Dolfen was coming to get.

            The 5th Cavalry had the dubious honor of being the very first American soldiers to meet the invaders in battle. It had not gone well. The Martian fighting machines with their deadly heat rays had proved more than a match for lightly armed cavalry. Most of the 5th had been wiped out. Dolfen and only a handful of others had managed to escape and then only because they’d been ordered to escort a civilian to the rear.

            Not the whole regiment had been there, luckily. There was still enough of a cadre left to rebuild around, and that was what was happening now: rebuilding. Dolfen had orders to collect a new group of replacements and escort them back to the regiment’s camp north of town. This wasn’t Dolfen’s first trip to the replacement camp.

            Hey, Sarge! called Corporal Jason Urbaniak from behind him. "Ya suppose any of this