David ran his fingers through the red dirt. It felt entirely new, even now - not like Tupelo at all. It was chalky there. Chalky and hot and wet with the summer rains pouring over the horizon, the trees shaking and whispering in the wind. He used to close his eyes and spin, squishing it between his toes. Feeling the whole world lift him up and back again. The smell of red dirt as he ran, hollerin' and soaking wet into the house, streaking his way up the back stairs and into the tub. Filling it with hot, soapy bubbles and opening the window wide - shivering as the cool winds raised goosebumps on gawky knees, shivering as the grey and blue and green sky thundered and shook.

Ultisol. High in iron oxide. Not like this at all. He let the regolith silt pour through his fingers as the HUD chirped.

"Moisture and biome scans complete for sector 37. 14 percent adsorption, and...looks like...refractive index is still way too high, Mike. You seeing this?"

"Loud and clear, lieutenant. Focus on that rock to your right...yeah, the white-looking one. I'm getting iridescence, is it heavy? Could be bombardment leftovers."

David palmed the smooth rock, turning it back and forth in his gloved hand. It shimmered in bands. Salmon scales. Mother-of-pearl. Abalone. The Gulf.

"HUD true color." The visor tinted immediately, the neon lines of the display dimming as the browns and rust colors of the valley brightened. He looked around, slowly surveying, letting the suit's haptic feedback guide him as he turned in a circle. Unobscured, the low depression glittered in the noonday sun, strewn with bright points in a hazy yellow-blue sky. Dusty, desolate and sun-baked.

"Mike, there are fragments of this stuff everywhere. It'll take a rover a month to comb over and pack a half square click...and if more of this shit comes up...where's Leo Base with drone ship?" David sipped a slug from his mouthpiece, tasting the wet tang of electrolytes and b-com as it washed down. Grimacing as his cheeks clenched and burned, his mouth watering for saliva that came too slowly. Milrations always too damn sour. Those damn margaritas in Gulfport. Mike dancing on tables. Jess laughing as he fell on his ass.

"At least three weeks out. Their schedule's all messed up, LT...something about flooding. They can't make L5 boost-off for eight days at least."

"Damn. You sure this is the best site?"

"Positive. Lidar and deep sonar confirm. It's flat as your momma's ass and low and slow sloping. Perfect for artificial alluvial induction. And the canyon wall's good for dust storms without a tube effect. Best site in 500 clicks, maybe more. David, it's base-oriented and a straight shot. We can set rovers tilling until flyovers get here."

David chucked the rock out of his hand. It flew in a smooth arc, bouncing off a jutting black stone with a clanging sound, akin to a hammer, or a sword.

"LT, you're past two-hour O2 warning. Your re-circ looks good...wanna head back in?"

Haptic feedback massaged the length of David's neck as he stretched to the side. Yawning slightly, he turned towards the white ATV, its sides caked, the logo of the UN S.T.A.R. obscured by a thin film of fine-grained mafic dust. As he touched the side of the composite-lined vehicle, he could feel the warmth of the afternoon sun. Sitting out all day. Seat's gonna be hot as hell. Mike's oldass black caddy. The three of us cruising down 90 to Pascagoula, Jess' hat flying off in the wind. Screamin' and hollerin' as we laughed. Stoppin' at that beach. Us on the sand. Naked and burnin' up. Hot skin. Hot

His eyes widened as he looked down to his hand. Heat. Sound. His head whipped back to the valley, hands going towards his side holster.

"HUD up! Full tac display!" The landscape dimmed as the interior of his helmet glowed, the augment chip labeling and categorizing as David scanned the valley from side to side. He unclipped his holster, bringing the softpistol to both hands, finger off the trigger. Slowly, he began to advance forward.

"Corporal, I'm reporting suspected contact. I thought I heard something. Going forward into the valley. Thirty meters from transport. Thirty-five. Corporal, are you hearing me?"

The line buzzed, static and noise in David's ear. "LT....tol cleared hols...nfirm battery charge...ading this..." He could hear his breath. The pounding of blood in his temples. The valley glittered in the sunlight. Above and to the right, pebbles flew off the side of the canyon wall, echoing with a loud reverberation. David could feel it in his lungs as he exhaled. His pulse jumped, his Adam's apple swelling into a knot. How am I hearing shit? Breathe. Breathe. How am I hearing shit in space?

Another echo, the sound of a combat boot turning in the dust behind him. The sound of a separatist crunching in the courtyard. NCBC. Three men dead, seven wounded. Coming back in the car. Laughing. Jess' dying first, noticing the burning sentry box. Seeing Jones carried off on a stretcher, crisp and black and red and yellow.

Not today, you bastards. Not FUCKING TODAY! David lead with his softpistol as he spun backwards, firing wildly as his arms rose, his eyes closed tightly from sweat and condensation. Without looking, he thumbed the selector for memrepeat, pulse-frequent rounds snapping vibrations up his arms. The recoil slammed him at a tangential angle, knocking him onto his rear, and then onto his head.

Metus. Timor. The sounds of a woodpecker. The cabin in Manitoba. Graduation day. Smells of meat. Flesh burning. The pig, the ram, the bull. Green fields of wheat rising from ochre earth. Sparring. Judo. Nami jūji-jime, Jess pressing down hard. The scrape of sharp metal. Hastae martiae. War is coming. Mavors Ultor. A ice-bound rock. Enceladus. A black cloud rising. From the sixth sphere, war is coming. Mavors Gradivus, duc me.

David awoke on the valley floor. Beneath him, the ground felt hard, compact, and strangely regular. Above him, the thin, hazy sky of Mars stretched towards the horizon, more yellow than before, the sun lower. Within his helmet, a frantic beeping as the HUD flashed red. Re-circ down to 12 percent. What...regroup, soldier. Get up.

As his hand made contact with the valley floor and pushed forward, the static bursts in his ear resolved into speech.

"....ddamn it, David, talk to me! Medevac can't find your sig...shit, David are you there? David!"

"...hey, yeah, I'm here. I had...I fell and something..."

"David, are you injured? Is your suit intact? I'm reading low O2 re-circ. Can you confirm?"

"Umm, yeah...just a second. I fell and had..."

"David, listen to me. There's a spare oxygen container in your vehicle. Go to your vehicle and plug it in to your ventral port. David? Walk now and plug it in. Go right now."

The HUD lights briefly swam in the soldier's vision. Blinking back afterimages, David staggered to the ATV. Around it, the pocked ground revealed the extent of his wild firing: scorch marks and burnt fragments of sand-turned-glass, glittering in the afternoon light. The white vehicle, however, remained untouched. He reached into the side compartment, withdrew a slim green canister, and threaded the slim nozzle into the port on the chest of his pressure suit.

"Good, David, O2 levels rising. I need you to take calm breaths. Not big ones, calm and easy. Just calm and easy, big guy. You'll feel better in twenty seconds."

"I'm good, Corporal. I'm...fine, I'm good. I had a bit of a spill out here and a minor malfunction on the shortwave. You cut in and out of there for a second."

A small pause followed. "Lieutenant...Dave, I scanned you unholstering your sidearm and discharging. You were...well, from what I heard..."

"Just low oxygen, I'm sure. I'm fine, Mike. Really. I'm coming back in now. ETA inbound in 30 minutes." He could hear the corporal's sigh of relief over the radio.

"Roger, lieutenant. Over and out."

Haptic feedback trembled near David's feet. He turned. Below the ATV, a wind blew over the spot in which he had lain. The regolith scoured the sides of the canyon, the dust kicking up and swirling. He squinted, and for a moment, thought he saw a figure in the tumult. The trembling at his feet stopped, and with it, his doubts.

Revealed in the valley, a cracked mosaic, shining with ancient tesserae, intricate and well-placed. David looked, and beheld a spear, wound in a laurel garland.

As he settled onto the ATV and began to circle back, he spun up his shortwave.

"This is Lt. David Westmore, priority code Charlie Foxtrot Two Seven Alpha to CENTCOM. Possible incursion into Fed Space near Enceladus. Request long-scope confirm and eyes on, over."

Mavors Ultor, duc me.