Free The God Mars Book Five: Onryo by Michael Rizzo

we’d be seen as cowards, Valueless or worse than, and
that would cost all of us dearly.
    I’m hoping Negev isn’t just a stubborn idiot, eager
to die.
    “I guess we’re going to Eureka,” Murphy states the
apparent decision.
     
    In a few more klicks, we start moving into the shadow
of the South Blade’s divide rim. It does get cooler, and moister.
The ground underfoot is rocky and laced with Graingrass vines, and
other clinging species I haven’t seen before. The tall-standing
growth is lush and denser than what we’ve passed through, slowing
our pace, and the Katar proceed through it with much less
surety.
    And we’re still climbing. On my maps, the belly of
the South Blade rises slowly but steadily all the way up to Planum
level, eight thousand meters above the Central Blade lowlands.
We’ve already climbed fifteen-hundred meters above the Katar
homeland. We’ll be at least another fifteen-hundred higher before
we get where we’re going, assuming Eureka is still where the old
maps say it should be.
    The pressure has dropped a few more points. I’m
finally starting to see the Katar feel it: They’re obviously
breathing harder, their already unnaturally large rib cages
stretching and expanding so much further on inhaling that the
scales of their armor have to flex. They look like the steady climb
is taking effort, and taking a toll, but they refuse to let it slow
them much. I assume it’s a matter of pride: they’ve devalued us
because we rely on oxygen supplements, and now we have an advantage
over them because of it. And then there’s Straker, who’s had to
stop and wait for them to catch up three times already, her Mods
easily compensating for the low pressure.
    I catch a few of the formerly sure-footed Katar
stumbling a bit, like they’re beginning to lose fine motor
coordination or peripheral sensation. The Keepers may not be the
only reason they stopped coming here. Once they totally gave up
breathing gear, the South Blade may have just been too
inhospitable, too debilitating. Time may let them adjust, but I
wonder how impaired they’ll be went we get to Eureka. (And I’m sure
the Keepers will be using their breathing gear and their
pressurized armor suits.)
    I also expect the Katar are much less confident of
their navigation, as we’ve crossed out of their familiar home
territory. They do advance with much more caution now, as they know
someone else controls this canyon. They do their best to make no
sound, but the green makes that a slow exercise, even for them, and
the rocks are loose underfoot. This isn’t a path that’s been
well-traveled by anyone.
    But then, the Keepers I’ve known in Melas didn’t
leave their Keeps, so if their fellows here follow that strategy,
we’re not likely to encounter them for awhile yet.
    (I expect it was a shock for those at Industry,
Pioneer and Frontier when they joined Chang and were mustered onto
his airships, his flying fortress, and taken to remote bases. I
remember Straker saying that many of her people had never been
outside, except to serve as sentries and snipers. Their civilians
only went out to make repairs on the false surface structures. And
then she took three hundred with her to Melas Two when their
rebellion failed, likely never to return home again.)
    So what was a lone Keeper doing wandering the Central
Blade? Do the shipments of scrap indicate that they’ve joined
Chang’s—now Asmodeus’—army? And what has that bargain cost
them?
    I wish I could ask Straker more about her people,
beyond her briefings about their usual tactics. But right now,
stealth is priority, precluding conversation.
    I remember her commanding officer, Colonel Janeway.
He was a charismatic leader, a strong personality, and his only
priority was to protect his way of life, his home. Unfortunately,
his choices cost him both, cost his people both. Then, when he
tried to take command of Chang’s forces after his first defeat at
Melas Two, Chang infected his body