DENVER MOON: THE THIRTEEN OF MARS BY WARREN HAMMOND AND JOSHUA VIOLA Book No. 3 in the Denver Moon series: It's been more than two years since Denver Moon discovered that alien shapeshifters infiltrated Mars Colony. Their attempts at human mind-control have failed, but when Denver opens a vault beneath a terraforming facility, she discovers what they really want: to exterminate all inhabitants of the Red Planet. Tatsuo Moon — Denver’s grandfather and the co-founder of Mars City — has been gravely injured. To save him, Denver will need the help not only of her friends, Smith, Nigel and Navya, but also of humanity’s archenemy, Doctor Werner. To save Mars, she'll need a miracle. [ Excerpt ] I pushed the heavy metal door open, wincing at the squeak of its hinges. We didn’t want to be heard. Not yet. Not until I had Smith’s muzzle placed against the doctor’s temple. Then I’d have plenty to say. Holding Smith out front, I stepped through. Navya and Nigel fanned out beside me. Before us was a room the size of a warehouse or a shipyard hangar. The door behind us slammed shut, and the locking mechanism clanged into place. Another half dozen doors all around us did the same. In the center of the room was a glassed-in facility that was so brightly lit, it stung my eyes. A voice came from a speaker up high on the wall. “Denver,” said the unmistakable voice of Doctor Werner. “Finally, I have you where I want you.” <Shit,> Smith said. <Glad you’re still paying attention,> I subvocalized. “What just happened?” asked Navya. “We’re locked in,” said Nigel. “Welcome,” said the doctor through the speaker. “I’ve never known Denver to take no for an answer, so I figured you’d be breaking in at some point. Kudos to you taking the stealthy underwater route. I thought shooting your way through the security forces guarding one of the access tunnels would be more your style.” I smelled something burning. The odor was unpleasant but somehow familiar. “What is that smell?” I asked. Nigel, Navya and I approached the glassed-in structure at the center of the room. Its walls stood twelve feet high but it had no ceiling. Instead, it was topped by an intricate latticework of tracks and rails busy with dozens of long-armed robotic machines zipping from position to position. Standing just outside the glass, we could see gurneys inside, dozens of them lined up in neat rows. On each gurney was a person covered by a white sheet pulled up to bared shoulders. The robots moved from person to person, red lasers drilling into their heads. “My god,” said Navya. “Hair,” I said. That was the smell. Burning hair. I turned away, rage welling inside. Next to me was a bin filled with clothes and other personal effects. Near the top was a purple plastic bracelet. “The refugees,” I said. “This is what happens to them.” “No wonder they have so many security guards around,” said Nigel. I thought of the mayor shaming me over Mars not embracing more refugees like her people did here, and I found my fingers squeezing Smith’s handle so tight my hand hurt. I hadn’t felt such a sting of betrayal since I learned of my grandfather’s traitorous deal with the same son-of-a-bitch doctor over twenty years ago. But I’d learned from that experience that my purest rage must always be directed at the doctor. Towing the moral line was never easy for those in desperate circumstances, and it was the doctor who so expertly victimized them. As on Mars, he’d only been here for a few months before he’d already perverted this rare oasis into something disgusting and self-serving. “What are you doing to them?” I asked. When there was no response, I tried asking again, this time louder so the audio system could pick me up. “I’m just about done perfecting them,” he said. “This is why I was sent to this system decades ago. To take control of the human mind. Although most of my kind has given up, I’ve made great strides since I severed ties with them and came here to Earth.” “You’ve gone rogue?” “As you already know from the first wave of attacks on Mars City, the Alvearu have decided on a policy of extermination, but when I prove human mind control is indeed possible, they’ll change their position. You should be thanking me, Denver. I’m saving your pathetic kind from extinction.” “Who is this Alvearu?” asked Nigel. “We need to talk to them. We need to negotiate.” “For such an intelligent machine, you stun me by how little you seem to understand your situation. First, as I’ve told you before, the Alvearu do not negotiate. Second, when this conversation is over, I’m going to ask you to remove your chip, which I will then destroy before dumping the pulverized remains into the ocean. The rest of you will share the same fate as the refugees. Your minds are mine.” I waved Smith for the camera. “We’re still armed, asshole. Good luck coming in here and taking my gun.” He let out one of his beetle-like snickers. “That’s not going to be enough, I can assure you of that.” I pressed my back against the glass and inched to the right to be in position to see most of this space’s entry points. “Nigel, cover the entrance to our rear.” Navya said, “Denver?” “Stay close to me,” I told her. “Smith has a full charge. When Werner sends in those kids playing security guard, they’ll be in for a rude awakening.” She tugged on my sleeve. “Denver?” I looked at my friend. Her face was a pale mask. “Look.” I turned around to look through the glass. The refugees had sat up, their eyes blank, their mouths hanging open like I’d only seen on the dead. Their skulls had been drilled through in several places, the wounds weeping with dark, thick fluid. Probes had been inserted and riveted in place. In unison, they stood like a well-disciplined army platoon. I saw the girl from the cafeteria. She’d looked beaten and defeated then, but every little bit of humanity was now stripped completely out. 31
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