Doom Star: Book 06 - Star Fortress Read Free Page A

storm and entered one of the long Martian valleys that crisscrossed the planet. The shaking and rattling quit. Now Ricardo heard the laboring jet engine. At the same time, he noticed the sharp decrease of illumination. They were at the bottom of the dust cloud and had huge canyon walls on either side of them. He glanced right and left, and estimated each wall as about a kilometer away.
    “Where are we?” Ricardo shouted.
    “We’re nearing Salvador Dome, amigo.”
    Ricardo blinked several times, until he grew aware of the extinguisher in his hands. He shoved it back into its holder so it the locks snapped.
    Like this jet, just about everything was old and aging on Mars. Ricardo wouldn’t have been surprised if the extinguisher had lacked foam. Salvador Dome was a grim reminder of the luck and disrepair here.
    After the Third Battle for Mars, everyone had died in the dome. Against odds, a boulder-sized piece of Phobos had flashed into the valley, streaked the half kilometer to the bottom and shattered the main structure. The moon-meteor had proceeded to smash through every level of Salvador Dome. No one survived the impact. To save time and effort—critical commodities on Mars—workers had dumped the corpses down the meteor-made hole. It was a sealed mass grave now and a ghost-haunted dome.
    Why take me halfway across the planet to bring me here? It made no sense in terms of jet-fuel and use of the aging Comet 9.
    The pilot’s radio crackled into life. “You have ten seconds to identify yourself,” a female operator told them.
    Ricardo frowned. Ten seconds? That would imply a military capacity to do something about non-compliance. That made even less sense. Large-scale defensive equipment was among the rarest of commodities on Mars. Why station anti-air missiles down here at a dead dome?
    A constant whine sounded from the pilot’s console.
    “Ground control has lock-on,” the pilot informed Ricardo. “I guess I’d better answer.” The pilot clicked a switch, saying, “This is an Omi Operational flight.”
    Omi? That was the name of Marten Kluge’s best friend. That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?
    “I’m bringing Captain Ricardo Sandoval to the site,” the pilot said. “Those are per the orders of Secretary-General Gomez.”
    Ricardo looked up in wonder. No one had said anything about the Secretary-General. “What’s going on?” he asked.
    “You have permission to land,” the operator said. “But if you deviate from the flight corridor, you will be targeted and shot down.”
    “They want us to feel welcome,” the pilot said over his shoulder.
    “Salvador Dome is defended?” Ricardo asked.
    The pilot laughed. “They’re targeting us with Veracruz SAMs.”
    Ricardo knew those were the highest-grade Surface to Air Missiles the Mars Planetary Union possessed. What he couldn’t fathom is why they ringed Salvador Dome, a dead city.
    “Do you know what’s going on?” Ricardo asked.
    “Yes I do, amigo. The SAMs have lock-on and the operator means exactly what she says. We stay in the flight corridor all the way down. With your permission, Captain, I will concentrate on that.”
    “Yes, please do,” Ricardo said. He leaned near the canopy as the jet banked slightly. Below was a great dome, with a jagged hole to the left of center. He spied the SAM sites flanking the dark dome. What did they guard down there? He supposed he would find out soon enough.
    The rest of the flight proved uneventful. They soon taxied down a runaway, put on their masks, climbed out and entered an APC. The military vehicle took them to a large garage separate from the dome.
    There Ricardo parted company from the pilot and soon found himself alone on a chair in an empty room. It was more of a large box with a metal floor and walls. There was a faint drone coming from somewhere and the slightest vibration against his feet. Ricardo was used to this: move here, go there, hurry up and wait. It surprised him High Command