Chapter 25: Echoes of the Past

The Martian dawn broke over the village, twin suns casting long, crimson shadows across the wreckage strewn along the rise. Smoke curled from the twisted hulks of Earth's airships, their sleek hulls now pitted and scarred, a testament to the night's brutal victory. Max Carter stood atop a rise overlooking the battlefield, the pendant glowing faintly against his chest, its rhythm steady but subdued, as if it, too, were catching its breath. His leg throbbed where Kane's beam had grazed him, but he ignored it, his soldier's discipline locking the pain behind a wall of resolve. Beside him, Lyra adjusted the bandages on her arm, her staff resting against her shoulder, its crystal tip dull after hours of blazing light. Zorin paced nearby, his repaired staff tapping the red soil, amber eyes scanning the horizon with restless energy. Colonel Hughes barked orders to his squad, directing villagers as they salvaged weapons and tech from the fallen fleet, his grizzled voice cutting through the morning stillness.

Max's gaze drifted to the portal in the distance, its shimmer muted but unyielding, a silent promise of more battles to come. "They'll be back," he said, his voice low, rough from exhaustion. "Kane's down, but Command doesn't quit. They'll hit us harder."

Lyra stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm, her touch a quiet anchor. "We've got time now—time to prepare, to fight on our terms. You gave us that, Max."

He met her emerald eyes, her faith softening the edges of his guarded heart. "We gave us that," he corrected, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "But it's not enough. Not yet."

Zorin snorted, leaning on his staff. "Your Earth's licking their wounds, but they'll crawl back with something nastier. We need to know what's coming."

Hughes trudged up the rise, wiping soot from his face, a salvaged rifle slung over his shoulder. "Zorin's right. Command's got deeper pockets than we thought—Omega was just a taste. We've got their scraps now—airship cannons, exosuit plating. Let's rig it into something they'll regret."

Max nodded, resolve hardening in his chest. "Then we fortify. But first, we need answers. The pendant—" He lifted it, its light pulsing faintly. "It's tied to this war, to the portal. If we're going to win, I need to know what it really is."

Lyra's brow furrowed, her fingers tracing the pendant's edge. "It's ancient, Max. Older than Maris, maybe older than Earth's records. There's a story in it—one we haven't heard yet."

Before Max could respond, a sharp crack split the air—a villager stumbling from the wreckage, clutching a scorched metal box engraved with Earth's insignia. "Found this in the command ship's bridge," the man rasped, dropping it at Max's feet. "Locked tight, but it's humming—thought you'd want it."

Max knelt, brushing dirt from the box's surface. A faint vibration pulsed through his fingers, syncing with the pendant's glow. He exchanged a look with Lyra, her curiosity mirroring his own, then pried it open with the tip of his spear. Inside lay a cracked data crystal, its facets flickering with distorted holograms—fragmented images of soldiers, ships, and a voice, cold and clipped, reciting orders: *"Carter, James. Terminate with extreme prejudice. Asset recovery critical—pendant must not stabilize."*

Max froze, the name slamming into him like a fist. James Carter—his brother, lost three years ago on a black-ops mission Earth Command had buried deep. The pendant flared brighter, its light searing his palm, and the crystal's hologram shifted, revealing a grainy image: James, younger, sharper-edged, standing in a Martian canyon, the pendant glowing around his neck.

"James…" Max's voice cracked, memories flooding back—training missions, late-night promises, the day Command told him James had died in a reactor breach. A lie. "He had it. He was here."

Lyra's hand gripped his shoulder, steadying him as he swayed. "Max, what does this mean?"

"He didn't die in an accident," Max said, his tone hardening as anger clawed through the shock. "They sent him after the pendant—then covered it up when he failed. Or didn't fail." He clenched the crystal, its edges biting into his skin. "Why'd he come to Mars? What did he find?"

Zorin crouched beside him, studying the flickering hologram. "Your brother's tied to this mess—maybe he knew something Command didn't want out. That box might have more."

Hughes scowled, crossing his arms. "If Command hunted him, they'll hunt you twice as hard now. That pendant's their obsession—and you're its keeper."

The pendant pulsed again, hotter this time, and Max's vision blurred. Shadows coiled around him, unbidden, sharper than before, and a voice—faint, familiar—whispered through the haze: *"Max… find the gate…"* His knees buckled, Lyra catching him as he gasped, the shadows snapping back into the pendant like a whip.

"Max!" Lyra's voice was sharp, her arms tight around him. "What happened?"

He shook his head, the echo of James' voice lingering like a ghost. "He's… he's in here. The pendant—it's showing me something. A gate. He said to find it."

Zorin's eyes narrowed. "Another portal? If it's hidden, it could be leverage—or a trap."

Hughes grunted, hefting his rifle. "Either way, Command'll come for it—or you. We need to move fast."

Max steadied himself, Lyra's grip grounding him as he rose. "Then we dig. James was here, on Mars. Whatever he found, it's our next step. Lyra, can Kael scan this crystal—pull anything else from it?"

She nodded, determination flashing in her eyes. "He'll crack it. If there's a trail, we'll follow it."

Zorin smirked, twirling his staff. "A hunt, then. Let's see what your brother left behind."

Max turned to the horizon, the portal's glow a challenge in the distance. The pendant hummed against his chest, its power stirring, whispering secrets of a past he'd thought lost. James had carried it—died for it, maybe—and now it was Max's burden, his blade. Whatever gate his brother meant, it was out there, buried in Mars' red dust, and Max would find it. For answers. For vengeance. For Maris.

The suns climbed higher, bathing the village in harsh light, and Max squared his shoulders, Lyra's resolve at his side, Zorin's strength at his back, Hughes' grit in their ranks. Earth's shadow loomed, but this time, they'd strike first.

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