Prologue
John Hanlon wore white on the day he was to make first contact with an alien civilization. Actually, he and his crew were the aliens as they were visitors from another world, Mars to be exact. His people had lived in exile from Earth for over two hundred years. Now they were back, and they were here to stay.
He sat alone on a cliff overlooking a fjord located on the eastern shore of an island once known as Iceland. A flock of puffins flew in circles above an ancient cruise ship, which dwarfed the fishing village that hosted it. Bird guano caked the ship’s deck, and mussels clung to the hull near the waterline.
He brushed a speck of dirt off his EVA suit, which resembled a workman’s coverall. It wasn’t his best outfit – that was still in his trunk awaiting the day of his daughter’s wedding – but he figured the primitive Earth natives wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
He glanced down at the village where his crew of engineers worked on a power transformer station. Solar Express had sent them here to restore the island’s hydroelectric infrastructure, a necessary first step for establishing a new colony here. They had chosen this island because of its geographic remoteness. They hadn’t expected any visitors… until their satellites detected a large fleet of longboats departing from the British Isles.
He patted his Kinetoshock P500 Gauss-rifle, which rested on the ground next to him. Nobody wanted a violent first contact. Nevertheless, they must be prepared for the worst.
Far in the horizon, he spotted a red sail rising above the grey ocean. He grabbed his radio off his utility belt and spoke into it. “Boys, get ready. They’re here.” He grabbed his gun and made his way towards the edge of the cliff. He picked up the safety line that he had affixed to the ground, attached it to his suit and rappelled down to the village. He detached the safety line and joined his crew of twenty men.
Each man carried a Gauss-rifle. And no, they didn’t care that they would come off as aggressive and unfriendly. They weren’t here to make friends. They were here to build a new home and defend it. They walked towards the harbour in single file. They stood in a row and pointed their rifles at the foreign sails.
Half an hour later, the longboats ground ashore. Hairy men clad in rusty chain-mail leaped off the side of their boats. They formed a shield wall and banged their axes against their shields, roaring like the savages they were.
John glanced at his crew and gave them a subtle nod. They aimed their rifles at the ground in front of the Viking-wannabes and opened fire. A thunderous clap rolled down the Martian line. The ground exploded before the feet of the native warriors. They jumped back with a startled cry. To their credit, they held their line, but they were quiet now. They watched with cold eyes partially veiled behind their steel helmets.
A moment of silence followed, punctuated only by the squawk of frightened puffins.
A stunningly beautiful woman wearing a red dress and a fur cloak threw herself between the native warriors and the Martian engineers. She had jet-black hair, snow-white skin and tattoos on her face and arms. She held her palm to each side. “Stop. We did not come here to fight.” She looked to the Martians. “We seek our Goddess.”
As if that meant anything to the Martians.
John lowered his rifle. “Good. You speak English. Ain’t no goddess here. Now get off our island.”
A husky warrior stepped forward and growled.
The woman motioned for the warrior to back off. She turned her gaze back to John. “Who are you?”
“We’re the Sons of Mars.”
“Who?”
Had these Earthlings lost so much of their culture and history that they didn’t even know who or what Mars was? John walked forward and loomed over her. “He’s the Roman God of War.”
The woman held her ground, unfazed by his intimidation tactic. “Our Goddess is the Mother of All Creation. If Mars is your god, then he is her child.”
John chuckled. “Mars is also the name of our world. We have returned to Earth to reclaim it for our people.”
The woman arched her left eyebrow. “There are people living on other worlds?”
“Liar!” The husky warrior shouted.
“Quiet!” The woman snapped. To John, she asked, “Will you permit us to explore this island?”
John glanced at the husky warrior whose face was beet red. “Not with that army. Leave our island and never come back.”
“What makes this your island? You’re not even from this world.”
“My crew and I have restored power and running water to this piece of rock. That labour makes it ours. Also, we’ve got boom-sticks.” John patted his Kinetoshock P500.
The husky warrior pointed his axe at John. “There’s only twenty of you and a thousand of us.”
“Twenty that you can see,” John said, “and that’s all we need to turn you into fish-bait.”
The native warriors shouted indignantly at John and his crew.
The woman cut her hand across the air, and the warriors fell silent. She glared at John. “We are not leaving until we find our Goddess. If you’re willing to harm innocent women and children, then by all means do what you must to stop us. Sisters, with me!”
Dozens of women came running out from behind the line of warriors. They gathered around the first woman. They all had jet-black hair, snow-white skin and tattoos on their faces. Their tattoos were each unique, but beneath all that ink, their faces looked identical to one another. John could no longer tell who was the first woman he had talked to.
One of the engineers threw off his radio headset with a pained cry. A piercing shriek screamed from his headphones. “Chief,” he said with gasp, “something’s jamming our radio.”
John shuddered as fifty women turned their identical faces towards him. Their eyes seemed to glow under the glare of the sun. “We shall awaken our Goddess,” they chanted in unison. “Eden will be restored and humanity punished for your sins...”
