Scalpel and Hammer - 4 / S&H: Martian Records - 1

Above the clouds, three Martian ships flew over a field. Two of them were the big, bulky, and square troop transports that carried a group of Martians, plus any supplies. The other ship was smaller than the other two, with a tear-shape design.

Inside were a group of eight Martians sitting across from each other. Some were nodding off. Others checked their weapons. And some stared at a screen that would show the ground view. Useful for seeing what is happening on the ground.

“Visual in five.” The pilot’s voice went through the intercom, readying those that were waiting for something to show up.

The image of an alien airfield appeared on the screen. Crater marks dotted the area, and the lines of broken machines still appeared on the runway.

From the right, the two transports came into view. They circled around the airfield before landing down just near a couple of damaged buildings. Immediately, Martians came out of the ships and headed inside.
But this was no takeover.

No, the Martians on the ground were medical personnel, rushing to treat the wounded and to count the dead after the aliens sent their own flying craft on a bombing run, sending their explosive ordinance down on fellow comrades.

“Reminds me of what we did to them near a year ago…”

That thought came to the mind of Cell Leader S’ka’r. He had been in this alien planet since High Command decided to subjugate it nearly a year ago. He remembered their projections: in 6 months, this world would be completely under our control. And we would all be going back home as heroes of the Martian world.

Instead, the aliens have resisted all attempts at subjugation. They have managed to defend their ground, and we are slowly becoming bogged in it. And it’s because of idiots like Commander Ja’bri’ll, who decided to base himself and some of his squadrons onto an alien base that he didn’t know how to use at all.

“Good thing the slaghead is dead,” said another Martian inside the ship. He was taller than the others sitting around, although not by much. “Should have scrapped the whole thing and made something useful!”
“And what would that be?” another Martian, with visor and backpack said. “Your oh-so-favored multi-barreled masers that are heavy, bulky, and eat thermals like crazy?

The first Martian gave a laugh to the second one. “When a couple of natives with their slugthrowers come in and fire at you, you’ll thank me when this comes in and rips them to shreds.”

“And what would happen if that thing burns out? Malfunctions? I bet you Orbiters would come to us Techs and cry that your favorite toy is broken, even though we’ve made several other masers that work just as well with more reliability.”

“And when you make them simplified enough that our men won’t spend an assload of time getting the damn thing’s safety off, we’ll eat our words.”

The two broke contact with each other, preferring to look away.

“Well…” a third Martian spoke up. “You two solved that quick. Thought you would get into a fight, like you usually do. Refreshing, actually.”

The Orbiter looked at the third Martian. “So, you finally enter, Mariner. Wondered where you were.”
“Gonna tell me I was in space?” the Mariner replied.

“Maybe. At least you have the nads to get down here on this planet instead of lofting around in space….”

“Never mind that without us Mariners, you couldn’t get into your ‘glorious’ fights, Su’fe’t."

Su’fe’t grumbled as he relaxed in his seat, offering no comebacks. The Mariner turned his attention to S’ka’r.

“So, do you have an opinion, Cell Leader?” he asked.

S’ka’r glared at the Orbiter and Technician before answering.

“How about we focus on actually fighting the humans instead of waving our tentacles over whose toy is better?” he said angrily.

Su’fe’t scoffed at S’ka’r, not impressed with his answer. “Indecisive. Just like Comman-“

S’ka’r suddenly leapt out of his seat at Su’fe’t, maser pistol in hand. Before he could even react, the Orbiter had the pistol jammed under his head and S’ka’r breathing down on his face.

“You NEVER, EVER compare me to THOSE bastards,” S’ka’r screamed, twisting the barrel of the maser pistol even deeper into the Orbiter.

Su’fe’t froze for a moment, waiting for the Cell Leader’s next move.

With a smirk on his face, he spoke.

“Won’t matter if you pull the trigger, sir. You know I’m already ‘dead’.”

“’Dead’, huh? Makes it easier, you know.” S’ka’r said coldly. “It’s so easy to pull the trigger, so easy to not care at all, if you’re not in danger.”

S’ka’r pulled the maser away from Su’fe’t’s head before pushing him down on the seat. “Now, I suggest you shut up and sit down,” he said before taking a seat.

“…I like it, I like it.”

A Martian, sitting down far away from the group, said with great interest. He was wearing some sort of white coat that didn’t quite suit the Martian physique.

“This…” He was moving one of his tentacles around in a circle, trying to figure out what to say. “energy, this antagonism. Really moving stuff. Didn’t get much of that from your predecessors.”

“Excuse me?” S’ka’r said with worry. “Did you say ‘predecessors’, Head Researcher Car’vel?”

“Oh, nothing you need to worry your head about, Cell Leader S’ka’r.” Car’vel replied dismissingly.

“This DOES worry me, Head Researcher, if it concerns the team AND my men.”

Car’vel gave a blank expression at S’ka’r. “So, umm…” He pointed at Su’fe’t. “You were going to blow his head off a moment ago, and now…now you CARE?”

“Yeah, Cell Leader, you were about to blow my damn head off…” Su’fe’t added.

S’ka’r took a moment to recompose himself. “Well, I may hate your fucking guts, but I care about you living, Su’fe’t.”

“Oh, how thoughtful, sir.”

“Yes, yes. What a delightful change of heart indeed.”

Su’fe’t turned to the Head Researcher with a smile. “I like ya…for an egghead.”

“And I like you, Orbiter, for the meathead you are.”

The craft jerked at that moment, then slowed down to a stop. “Landing now.”

The pilot’s voice came out just as the whole ship descended vertically. Little by little, the whole ship hovered until one final jerk signified the end of the descent and onto firm ground. All of the occupants stood up when a small hiss echoed through the bay, signifying the doors opening.

“Ah, here at last.” Car’vel said with enthusiasm. “Finally, I can actually walk.” Car’vel approached the edge of the entrance before a tentacle grabbed onto him.

“Stay here, Head Researcher.” S’ka’r said as he pushed Car’vel slightly out of the way. A human village was right in front of the ship, populated by many other Martians doing patrols.

“…It’s just our own brothers, Cell Leader.” Car’vel pushed S’ka’r out of his way, stepping down the ramp.
“And what if it was a couple of natives with their slugthrowers, Head Researcher? You would have been killed the moment you set foot!” S’ka’r said angrily. This damn egghead, going outside without any care for his own life, he thought. And I have to serve under him…

“Oh, please, Cell Leader, you worry too much.” Car’vel responded, waving a tentacle in the air. “I don’t have just you to command. These guards have also been under my command…and they’ve checked the area three times already!”

Car’vel turned around and started walking towards the village. “To this place of primitive wonder and joy, we go. But an escort, I need. Would you be so kind as to do the honors, Cell Leader S’ka’r?”
S’ka’r sighed. The Head Researcher was a nutcase on his own. But orders were orders, and no matter how…eccentric his commander would be, he was to follow orders.

“Alri-“ he said before begin cut off by Su’fe’t moving towards the Head Researcher.

“And where are you going,  Su’fe’t?”

“Car’vel said he needed an escort.”

“And I didn’t order you to.”

“Then I volunteer for the position of escort…sir.” Su’fe’t kept on walking, catching up to Car’vel.

S’ka’r shook his head. This Cell was going to be a handful.

“Cell Leader, go on.  The Tech and I will guard this ship,” said Ro’bal.

S’ka’r nodded. “Thank you.”

“No problem. And S’ka’r?”
“Yeah?”
“We’ll get used to it.” Ro’bal said with a smile.

“Yeah…I bet.” S’ka’r responded in kind before catching up to the Head Researcher.
---
“…You seem like you been with him.” The Technician said to Ro’bal.

“With who?”

“You know, with our Cell Leader.”

“Ah…” Ro’bal said, dragging the word out. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

The Technician flatly replied, “…You’re screwing with me, are you?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

The Technician grumbled. “Just because I’m the new guy, huh?”

“Especially because you’re the new guy in this cell. Well, you and Su’fe’t.”
“Su’fe’t…guy’s an ass.”

“Comes with the territory, Tech. Deal with it.”

The Technician sighed. “And that Cell Leader of ours…I expected a more controlled one.”

“A’la’ya, was it?” Ro’bal said, facing the Technician.

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t worry about S’ka’r. He’s a good leader in my books. He just has a bone to pick with Command. Their track record isn’t the best, you know.”

“But,” A’la’ya replied, “Why does he hate Command so much?”

Ro’bal shrugged. “Not my place to tell you. And that's one of the rules here in this business: you can ask, but if you want to know about someone's past, you better ask them, and no one else.

A’la’ya went silent for a moment, before asking, “How did you get in this whole Cell business?”

“Well, you first.”

“Agh, fine then. I came for the bonus pay. Plus, it was better than being sent to sit around and watch sensors…”

Ro’bal looked at him in disappointment. “Bonus pay…” he said, shaking his head. “you should have picked a different assignment, A’la’ya.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” A’la’ya responded.

“What’s wrong is that they get suckers like you for this shit.” Ro’bal answered grudgingly. “I bet you don’t even know what being in a Cell means.”

“Hey, they told me that this was dangerous, but well-paying. I knew what I was getting into.”

“You THOUGHT you knew what you were getting into.”

A’la’ya got frustrated with Ro’bal. “Then fucking tell me what I got myself into, damn it!”

“Alright…” Ro’bal said. “I’ll tell ya. They have you sign up being in a Cell. They tell you ‘Oh, it’s pretty dangerous work, but the pay’s damn good.’”

Ro’bal got up close to A’la’ya before continuing on. “What they didn’t tell you was this: ‘Oh, by the way, your identity will be erased and when you die, your family won’t even know you were here.’”
A’la’ya’s face turned pale. “You-You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.” Ro’bal answered with a straight face, unnerving the Technician. “Well, there is a way to get out of this…”

“R-really?”

“Yeah, just finish a set amount of missions.”

A wave of relief passed through A’la’ya as he eased up. Just get through a couple of missions, and then freedom. At least there was a way out.

“Don’t get too comfortable.” Ro’bal said, recognizing that A’la’ya eased up “there’s a catch.”
“…What’s the catch?”

“The one who commands the Cell decides how much missions are needed to get out. Unfortunately, not a lot of commanders like the idea of Cells.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because of the fact that Cells are where the unwanted go.”

“Unwanted?” A’la’ya was confused.

“Insubordination, desertion, stuff like that. They take people who’ve done shit like that and stuff them there. Problem is that you tick off someone high up for some reason, and you can end up here.”

“And what does that have to do with mission counts?”

“Some commanders change the requirements to get out.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” A’la’ya said out loud.

“You don’t exist, A’la’ya. They can do anything to you. Some commanders count a success only if nobody’s wounded. Some set really high mission counts. And some commanders make sure their Cells don’t end up even getting through their first mission. What’s worse is that the regular soldiers are ordered to not deal with us at all. So if you get hit and we’re not around…that’s it.”

“Shit…” The explanation scared him, gave rise to worries in his head. Nobody knows you exist and your commanders could do anything to you. You could be bleeding to death on this goddamn planet, and if your Cell wasn’t nearby, you were dead. And your family wouldn’t even know that you were here at all, let alone dead.

“So, you told me how you came here. Want me to tell you how I came here?” Ro’bal asked.

“Y-Yeah.”

Ro’bal replied in a calm tone, “I just got screwed over. That’s it.”

“I-I see…” A’la’ya was one part scared, one part amazed on how Ro’bal answered his question. He probably had been with other Cells for a long time.

“Enjoy the view, A’la’ya.” Ro’bal said, looking around the ship. “It might be your last.”
---
Martians lined the streets of this human village, going about their assigned jobs. S’ka’r took a glance at what everyone was doing. Some were patrolling the area, wary of any foreign movement. Some were standing guard outside one human building, a “church” if memory served him correctly, and some were putting Martian bodies inside body bags. All had one thing in common: they wouldn’t even take a glance at Car’vel, Su’fe’t, and him.

This reaction was natural to S’ka’r now, and he gave himself a small chuckle. The first time he was put into the Cells, it was a shock. Nobody outside gave a shit about you, and commanders were less than pleased to have you. 5 months later, and you got used to the lack of stares, the assholes sending you into missions that you had a slim chance to get out of but did.

And now, S’ka’r was in charge of one for the first time, Cell 422. But an un-cooperative Orbiter and a Technician without any combat experience? Frustrating to say the least. And that wasn’t including this egghead, who seemed to not care that they were on a planet where the humans, despite being technologically backwards, had the numbers, tactics, and sheer audacity to fight on Martian forces and grind them to a standstill.

What a good day indeed.

Looking at Car’vel and Su’fe’t, S’ka’r noticed that both of them were happily chatting to each other. Reading the files, it seemed odd that Su’fe’t would chat with a superior. Normally, according to the file, he’d argue. Guess being an egghead for a commander works wonders.

“…So, where’d you get that?” Su’fe’t asked, pointing at the white piece of clothing that Car’vel was wearing.

“Oh, this? I got it off a native who I had to kill. Believe it was called a ‘lab coat’.”

Su’fe’t grinned. “Wearing a trophy, huh? Didn’t know you killed one.”

“Well, I didn’t intend to, honestly.”

“So, what’s the story?”

“Well, it was shortly after I had come here. We didn’t know much about the natives at that point, so naturally, I was in charge of figuring out what the natives are. I get called up to a base, where some natives had been taken prisoner, and get my pick.”

“What’d you do with them?” Su’fe’t asked curiously.

“Study them, dissect them, the works.” Car’vel waved his tentacles up in the air, as if it was nothing special.

“Anyway, I was pointing out which ones to take and I get to this native wearing this ‘lab coat.’ He was different from the other natives: kept on shaking and screaming. So, I point to him and tell the commander that I want to take him.”

Car’vel laughed for a moment. “And then he gives me this coat, speaking in whatever language. It was awkward, really. But I decided, what the hell, and took it. Wearing the damn thing was difficult, but I managed.”

“So, what’d ya do?”

“Told the grunts to drag him off and there he went, kicking and screaming. Somehow, though, he managed to shake him off and come after me.”

Car’vel raised a tentacle, pretending to shoot a maser. He made a ‘pew’ sound as he jerked the tentacle back. “Managed to hit his head, put a good hole in it. I’m not a very good shot, but it was close enough. Still, a waste of a test subject.”

“I’ll be damned.” Su’fe’t said, lightly hitting Car’vel’s side.

“Yes, yes…and here we are.”

The three of them stopped in the middle of the village right in front of a building with a tower on it.
“Gentlemen.” Car’vel said, turning around to face them. “We are here.” He then pointed to S’ka’r. “I’ll need you to come with me, we have things to discuss.”

“And what about me?” Su’fe’t said loudly to the both of them.

“You stay and guard this area.” S’ka’r said forcefully.

“To hell with that, I’m going.” Su’fe’t walked a short distance before S’ka’r stopped him.

“And to hell with you, Su’fe’t,” he said angrily, “I am your superior, and you follow ME.”
“Bullshit.”

A fight was imminent, and Car’vel decided to act, before it got ugly. Didn’t need to lose two men BEFORE actually sending them, he thought.

“Gentlemen!” he yelled out, putting himself between the two. “Stop this silliness. S’ka’r you really need to control your temper. And Su’fe’t, I’m sorry, but I really do need to speak with S’ka’r alone. Take some time to calm down.”

“…Alright, I’ll stay here.” Su’fe’t muttered.

“Good, good.”

Car’vel motioned S’ka’r to follow him inside.

---
“Well, this is…boring.”

Car’vel took a moment to take a glance at the wooden seats. From S’ka’r’s point of view, he looked disappointed.

“Just seats and a block of rock. How boring, indeed.”

It was a bit plain, to be sure. Just a couple of elongated wooden seats and a rectangular stone, front and center, complete with openings that were made up of glass.

But S’ka’r had seen more elaborate ones. He knew what this building was about; he had seen many humans take cover in similar areas. They called it a “church,” a place where they prayed to their god in the naïve hope that somehow they could be saved and live. All it did was to give the troops a convenient place to find humans.

His mind drifted off, remembering the screams and yells of the humans as Martian troops massacred them en masse. It didn’t matter that they were of a different race. Seeing something die was an unpleasant experience for S’ka’r. Car’vel’s voice knocked him back to the present.

“…Would you be so kind as to move out of the way, please? I believe they aren’t so keen on waiting.”
S’ka’r quickly noticed the two Martians hauling a bag right in front of him. Stepping to the side, he noticed that the bag was big, enough that a Martian could fit into it. And then, it hit him: that was another body bag.

“That’s my assistant. Or rather, was my assistant.” Car’vel said, pointing to the bag. “Poor man shot himself when the second group came.”

“Second group?”

“Yes, the ones that turned that airfield into a mess. The first group is here, Cell Leader.” Car’vel walked to a door, motioning S’ka’r to follow him.

Human bodies lay about, all wearing uniforms. Soldiers, no doubt. But there was something odd about it. Their clothes showed signs of being pierced by masers, and yet there were no noticeable burn marks. The only thing that was of notice were blotches of red everywhere on their skin.

Car’vel picked up on the oddity as well, muttering something as he walked over the bodies. That wasn’t his goal, though. It was a simple kit that lay on the ground. He picked it up and checked inside.
“Good, good. Everything’s here,” he said before closing the kit and taking it with him. “Now, let’s get out of this building.”

As Car’vel made his way out of the church, S’ka’r asked a question.

“What’s going on here?”

“What do you mean, Cell Leader?”

“Well, why would a researcher need a Cell if all he’s going to do is take a look at some human bodies? What’s so important in that kit that we have to be here?”

Car’vel turned around and looked at S’ka’r, thinking for a moment.

“Yes, it is odd that I would need a Cell for escort, and it is odd that I came all the way here from Station One to pick up a kit,” he said, before giving a small smile.

The tone in his voice changed from a friendly tone to a cool and critical one. “But the fact is that you haven’t had all the information yet to make a choice, do you, Commander?”

Commander. That word sent shivers throughout S’ka’r, and brought back memories. Unpleasant ones.

“I read your file, S’ka’r. You were quite the star in the North American Campaign, weren’t you?”

“…And what does that have to do with the situation at hand?” S’ka’r asked angrily.

“Simple.” Car’vel replied, changing back to a whimsical tone. “Redemption.”

“Redemption? I still don’t understand.”

Car’vel shook his head in disappointment. With a sigh, he said, “Well, time to fill you in. It’s about the pseudo-psionics.”

Pseudo-psionics, the bane of Martian forces everywhere. Little humans that flew around or ran around in legs that was different from other humans. They carried the same weapons and they seemed to be just as durable as a regular human soldier. But those pseudo-psionics could pull out shields that block maser fire easily. They could dodge the best Martian craft available and tear through walkers easily. One of them was a match for swaths of Martian men and materiel. But they always worked in groups.

“They are a key instrument on both sides. Key for the natives because they are integral to the survival of their existence and key for us because they are integral to our conquest of this planet. “ With a small twirl, Car’vel continued on. “We just simply have to capture a bunch of them."

“…And if we do capture some pseudo-psionics?” S’ka’r asked cautiously.

“I can put you back in the Landers in about, oh, three days.”

“Sounds too good to be true.”

“But it is.”

Capture some pseudo-psionics. Those were the terms Car’vel laid out in order to go back. To S’ka’r, it seemed like a joke, really. But an opportunity was there, and it was one he didn’t want to lose.
“I’ll help you capture one.”

Car’vel happily smiled. “Oh, you are a good man. I knew you’d take it!” he said.

“But the humans aren’t stupid. They have them placed in heavily guarded bases and will fight to the last man to make sure they escape. How are we going to go through that?”

“Oh, that’s for later, my good sir! Besides, even if you DID manage to infiltrate those bases, and if you DID manage to avoid the various riffraff, those pseudo-psionics can still block most of our weapons, and stun prods are dreadfully short. Then it’d be all over for all of you.”

S’ka’r had to agree with Car’vel was saying. A fight would alert an entire base, and it would be difficult to break out. “So, I’m guessing whatever’s in that case is going to help us.

 “Of course. First thing is this: how to stop those pseudo-psionics from doing their psionic-ish thing. And the answer, ironically enough, is a native invention: a dart.”

“A dart?” S’ka’r asked. “What the hell is a dart?”

“A little projectile that has wings and stuff. Apparently, some natives here use them for hunting small game. Silent and portable. It doesn’t do much damage by itself, and that’s where the case here comes into play.”

Car’vel tapped the case. “You see, these darts look like our injectors, really. So I was thinking this: what if we could combine both of them together? Then we could inject stuff at a distance!”

“I see. And how would these…’darts’…get to the target?”

“Modified weapons, of course. It’d be idiotic to expect them to get pricked by an injector.”

“So, you intend to poison them, Head Researcher?” S’ka’r said.

Car’vel gave him a weird look. “No, silly! Just to paralyze them!”

“Paralyze?”

“Yes. Shut down their movements, so that they can’t protect themselves or call for help or something.”
S’ka’r pointed at the door they came out from. “Well, it doesn’t seem like it, from what I’ve seen inside that room.”

“I admit, it is a weird combination. The current formula seems to have both toxic and restorative properties to natives. Of course, I don’t want to kill them or let them run amok. And that’s where you and your Cell come in.”

Car’vel took out a small, rectangular item from one of the pockets of his coat and tossed it over to S’ka’r.

“A storage drive,” he muttered to himself. “What’s inside?”

“No, no, no, can’t tell you, Cell Leader. That’d be spoiling it, and spoiling is no good.” Car’vel replied, with S’ka’r giving an irritated growl.

“But I can tell you this: you will capture regular humans as your first mission. I need the test subjects.”

“…I see.” S’ka’r gripped the storage drive in his tentacle.

“Now, let’s get out of here. I’m starting to hate being here.” Car’vel said before heading outside. S’ka’r took a moment to look at the church before heading out with him.
---
Both of them saw Su’fe’t standing guard outside the church, now surrounded by a group equipped with incendiary weapons. The group was waiting to burn the whole church down, it seemed.

“You done?” Su’fe’t said to both S’ka’r and Car’vel.

“Of course. It’s time to go back to the ship.” Car’vel replied.

“Agh, stood here for nothing, then.” Su’fe’t grunted.

“For nothing, huh?” Car’vel said. He approached the group and yelled, “Who’s the one in charge here?”
“I am, Head Researcher,” said a Martian making his way. “What do you want now?”

“Give that man your weapon. He needs some fun.”

The Martian looked at him in disbelief. “You are out of your mind. What makes you think I’ll do as you ask?”

“Well…” Car’vel wondered, leaning closer and closer to the Martian. “Pi’not, was it?”

“Yes…”

“You think of yourself as a model soldier and a family man, right?”

“…Your point, egghead?”

Car’vel smiled, and said to him slowly, “Well, it would be a damn shame if, you know, someone revealed that you’ve been getting kickbacks from some of the soldiers that have more…wealthier background to escape their duty. And it’d be a damn shame to reveal those affairs you had, delivered straight to your home, where your wife will see.”

“…How the fu-“

“I have my ways. And now, you will give that man right there your weapon, so that he’ll enjoy himself,” he said, pointing to Su’fe’t. “He’s been standing awfully long without doing anything, so…”

“Agh, fine. You are a bastard, you know that?”

“Duly noted.”

The Martian approached Su’fe’t and put the weapon right in front of him. “Here. You get to go first,” he said grudgingly.

Su’fe’t grabbed the weapon, readied it, and looked at Car’vel, waiting for a nod before firing at the building in glee. The building caught on fire quickly as Su’fe’t emptied the whole thing into it.

“…How-“ S’ka’r asked Car’vel before being cut off.

“Easy to influence others if you give the right push. And find the right files. They don’t call me Head Researcher for nothing.”

S’ka’r stayed silent and looking at the burning building. By this point, Su’fe’t handed the now-empty weapon back as the others started firing at the other buildings in the area, careful not to get themselves and others trapped in the blaze.

“Oh, one other thing, Cell Leader S’ka’r.” Car’vel said.

“Yes?”

“Welcome to Cell 422.”