The Malcontent of Mars — Chapter IV: Bad Penny
I | II | III | IV | V | VI
INT
VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII
EPI
This chapter contains violence and physical abuse.
“How are you feeling, Mister Silva?” the doctor asked.
Maxwell blinked a couple of times and a blurry shape came into focus.
The doctor was a small, molish man in a white coat. “The operation was a complete success,” he said.
Maxwell looked around the room. It was clean and sterile.
“Operation?” Maxwell asked, in a hoarse whisper.
“Yes, Mister Silva,” the doctor said. “We had to remove your larynx, unfortunately. That bullet gave us quite a scare, Mister Silva. If the bullet had been a couple of centimetres to the left, it would have surely…well, it’s best not to think about it, sir. You’re a very lucky man.”
“My voice,” Maxwell whispered, pointing at his throat.
“Yes,” the doctor said, with some reluctance. “The Nanocea we infused you with was more focused on replacing the blood you lost. I’m sure you’re aware of how some injuries can become ‘burned in’. This is one of those cases.”
Maxwell looked at the doctor. Years of practise had allowed him to hide the horror and rage he felt behind an expression of bored indifference.
“Therefore,” the doctor continued, “We have taken the liberty of replacing your larynx with an implanted electrolarynx.” The doctor reached over a gloved hand at Maxwell’s neck and gently applied pressure. There was a quiet, biomechanical click as the doctor switched the device in his throat on. “Try it out,” he said.
“Thank you, doctor,” Maxwell said, in his new voice. The voice sounded cold, electronic, not at all like his former voice. This upset Maxwell quite considerably, though, again, his face didn’t show it. “I’m feeling much better,” he added.
“Very good, Mister Silva,” the doctor said, smiling. “We can discharge you today.”
“Good news,” Maxwell said, climbing out of bed. He walked around the bed, towards the doctor, pressing something into his hands. “Please, accept a token of my gratitude.”
“Thank you, Mister Silva,” the doctor said, as Maxwell smiled back at him, then ran from the room.
The doctor gave a puzzled look at the door, then looked down at what Maxwell had put in his hands.
“Oh—” was all the doctor was able to say before the grenade detonated, by which time, Maxwell had long since disappeared into the quickly massing crowd.
●
The Sledgehammer was, by all accounts, a very large ship. It had at one time been a Terran Federal Republic command ship; a large, blunt block of a ship with its bodywork in dark grey. During the Insurrection, Terran command ships had become known by Insurrectionary forces as “Big Blacks”, due to their colossal size in comparison with the smaller ships built using the limited resources of the Insurrectionary forces, and the fact that their immense size was capable of blotting out all the light on the side farthest from the Sun.
Maxwell entered through the airlock. Standing in the docking bay area was Aeterna Fittone.
“Maxwell!” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “How did it go?”
Maxwell looked at her, with a slight frown.
“What’s wrong?” Aeterna asked him.
Maxwell sighed a little. “They couldn’t save my larynx,” he said, in the electronic voice. Aeterna’s hand shot up to her mouth at the sound of it. “This was the best they could do.”
“Shit, man,” Aeterna said. She kissed him. “But hey – it’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back,” Maxwell said.
“Aye-aye,” Aeterna said. “Come see the rest of the crew.”
Maxwell nodded and followed her up a winding series of staircases and passage-ways. During the Insurrection it was said that if a Republican sailor didn’t get lost on board a command ship at least once, then they weren’t truly a sailor.
The bridge was a very large room, staggered, with projections and video feeds on every wall, though admittedly switched off most of the time. This ship didn’t see much combat, these days, and had been sold off at the end of the war to anyone that needed a cheap mode of interplanetary transport and didn’t mind being slightly uncomfortable. This had, after all, been a military ship, not designed for the comforts of home.
“Look who’s back!” Aeterna called.
Jefrey Thompson ran down. “Hey, Maxwell,” he said, cautiously approaching him. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” Maxwell said.
“Your voice,” Jefrey said.
“I know,” Maxwell said. “You’d better get used to it. Where’s Richards?”
“He’s in the galley,” Jefrey said. “Preparing dinner.”
“Thank you, Jefrey,” Maxwell said, with a smile. “Nice to be back.”
●
The Sledgehammer had a crew of four people: Maxwell Silva, Aeterna Fittone, Jefrey Thompson and a fellow known only as “Richards”, a very tall and willowy man with long red hair, quiet, with a beard framing an unnerving grin. He was, however, an excellent cook, and knew his way around a TFR command ship’s computer well enough to be the chief engineer. As such, he spent much of his time in space, keeping the ship spaceworthy.
He had cooked them a pork loin with potatoes, vegetables and gravy, which they were all eating in the ship’s galley. Maxwell was back in his usual clothing: A pair of black military boots, into which were neatly tucked a dark pair of jeans, a black T-shirt on his torso, a shark’s tooth necklace round his neck, and a longline black leather jacket.
“The food is delicious, Richards,” Maxwell said, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Good job.”
Richards did not answer, he only nodded and smiled.
“So,” Maxwell said. “What progress have you made in my absence?”
Aeterna and Jefrey looked at each other. “Well, we destroyed the British Library after destroying the stilt,” Aeterna said. “We’ve managed to destroy most records of your existence on Terra. Which means the police won’t be able to find you as easily.”
“Good,” Maxwell said. “As far as the authorities are concerned, I don’t exist. I tied up a loose end at the hospital, too. Have you managed to push the Martian terrorist story?”
“Yes,” Jefrey said. “After we took out the stilt and destroyed the library, we were able to spoof a Martian signal to a few Terran news agencies, saying that we’re this new Martian liberation organisation. And the virus we released into the AnsiNet has scrubbed away any remaining records.”
“Excellent,” Maxwell said, nodding. “Looks like we’re well on our way to Phase Two. And the Martian who shot me? Did you deal with him?”
Jefrey shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Well, we thought we had,” he said. “But then we saw this.”
A holographic projector in the middle of the table buzzed to life, and there appeared a small wireframe of a Martian frigate manoeuvering under the stilts. The city cut away to reveal two small specks disappearing into the ship, before the ship wormed its way out from under the city and disappeared into space.
“I see,” Maxwell said, calmly.
“Are you upset?” Jefrey asked, uneasily.
“No, no,” Maxwell said, looking at his fork. Then, without warning, he jammed it into Jefrey’s thigh. Aeterna flinched. Jefrey screamed.
“No, I’m not upset,” Maxwell said. “I’m just disappointed.”
“Oh Jesus,” Jefrey yelped, tears streaming down his face. “Oh God, it’s all the way down to the muscle!”
“Aeterna,” Maxwell said, calmly, in a low electronic growl. “Get Jefrey some ice, a bandage, and a shot of Nanocea.”
“Aye-aye,” Aeterna said, anxiously, running to the med-bay.
“Consider yourself lucky, Jefrey,” Maxwell said, cheerfully. “I momentarily considered blinding you.”
Jefrey whimpered, clutching his leg.
Richards continued eating, unfazed.
Aeterna returned, holding a green first-aid kit with a white cross on it. She tended to the wound as Maxwell continued. “No matter,” he said. “He cannot stop what we have already set in motion. Set course for Luna. There’s someone I need to pay a visit to.”
*
“This is the Martian frigate California Dreamin’ calling all nearby colonies. We are requesting sanctuary. Repeat, we are requesting sanctuary.”
Contrary to popular belief, the asteroids were actually one of the safest places to live in the entire Solar System. The chances of an accidental collision with an asteroid were billions to one against, and the chances of an asteroid colliding disastrously with another were also very low. This made the asteroids a very safe place to live, but also a very boring place to live – in more ways than one. Most asteroids were occupied by automated drilling machines whose job it was to mine ore. Some larger asteroids even had ironworks and steelworks built on the surface to allow for the processing of ore on-site, instead of exportation across the Solar System to Mars. However, those asteroids that were not – or were no longer – rich in ore had become home to a variety of small colonies and communes, most of whom were not technically answerable to the Federal Diet. This political grey area made the asteroids a good place to seek refuge and sanctuary, outside the jurisdiction of the federal government.
“Does anybody out there read?” Kowalski said. “I repeat: This is the Martian frigate California Dreamin’, requesting sanctuary.”
There came no response. Kowalski slammed a fist down on the console. “God damn it,” he said.
“No answer?” Christine asked, sitting by a dusty panel, out of which hung a few ratty old cables in black, red, yellow and green.
“No,” Kowalski said, rubbing his temples. “Nobody’s answering.”
“Have you tried turning it off and on again?” Callie said.
Christine looked at Kowalski, who shrugged.
“Is this Callie?” she asked.
“Yes,” Callie replied.
“Where are you?” Christine asked, looking around her, as Kowalski reconfigured the ansible.
“Well, that’s a question with multiple answers,” Callie said. “Physically, I’m attached to the ship’s control panel. But meta-physically, I guess I’m more or less everywhere on this ship.”
“What do you mean?” Christine asked. Then her eyes widened. “Wait, you’re a…computer?”
“I’m an artificial intelligence system,” Callie said, slightly indignantly. “A very advanced one, I might add. I’m no more a ‘computer’ than you are a computer.”
“Be nice,” Kowalski said, toggling a few switches under the control panel.
“I’m sorry,” Christine said. “I’m not used to interacting with weak AI, let alone AI like you.” She shook her head. “I hope you don’t take that the wrong way.”
“Was there a right way to take that?” Callie asked, feigning offence. Christine looked momentarily panicked. Callie decided to clarify. “I’m joking.”
“And I thought this week couldn’t get any stranger,” Christine said, folding her arms.
“I feel that, sister,” Callie said.
Kowalski came out from under the panel, and transmitted again. “This is the Martian frigate California Dreamin’ requesting sanctuary. Does anybody read?”
There was silence, for a few moments, and then the ansible rang. Kowalski pushed the button to answer it. “Hello,” he responded.
“Salutations,” came the voice on the other end. “Ten-four, we read your signal loud and clear. Transmitting coordinates as we speak.”
“Who is this?” Kowalski asked.
“This is the Church of Our Lady of Annihilation speaking,” said the speaker. “You are clear for descent.”
“Roger that, over and out,” Kowalski responded, before hanging up. “Great,” he added, sarcastically.
“What?” Christine asked. “Is that bad?”
“Spending God-knows-how-long with COLA nuts is gonna be a real pain in the ass,” Kowalski said. “But it’s our only option.”
“Cola nuts?” Christine asked.
“Did you receive the coordinates, Callie?”
“Yes,” Callie said. “I’ll plot that trajectory for you now, cutie pie.”
There was a slight jolt as retro-boosters pushed the ship into position, then a hum as the plasma engines fired up, and the ship was on its way.
●
Mehmet Öztürk collected up a few empty tea-glasses and plates on which there remained a few crumbs of baklava. They gently clattered as he took them over to the kitchen and placed them in the ultrasonic dishwasher. He was preparing to close the shop, as he did every day, to get some sleep.
Just as he was going to flip the “COME IN! WE ARE OPEN!” sign, some people – two men and a woman – walked up to the door and pushed their way in.
“Sorry,” Mehmet said. “The shop’s closed.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said one of the men, in a strange, electronic voice. “We’re not after any tea.”
He had long grey hair, and a deceptively affable smile. Mehmet recognised him.
“Y-you,” he stammered.
“Oh, look, another one,” Maxwell said. “I’m already on my way to being famous.”
“You sure are,” said the other man, who was standing uneasily on one of his legs. His face was twitching.
“It is my understanding that you are in possession of something that is of a great deal of importance to me,” Maxwell said to Mehmet, smiling. “Give me it, and that will be the end of it.”
“Wh…what do you mean?” Mehmet asked, feigning ignorance.
“Come now, Mehmet,” Maxwell said. “Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Mehmet hung his head. “I…don’t have it. I gave it to someone.”
“Oh. Do you hear that, Aeterna? He gave it to someone. Well, isn’t that a pity?”
The woman pulled a sawn-off shotgun out from inside her coat and pointed it at Mehmet’s face.
Mehmet put his hands up. “Please, don’t shoot!”
“Tell us where it is and I won’t,” Aeterna said.
“Aman Allahım!” Mehmet exclaimed, almost involuntarily. “I don’t know. I gave it to an old friend who passed through the other day. He has it now, but I don’t know where in the Solar System he could be.”
“Hmm,” said Maxwell. “Well, that narrows it down. Aeterna.”
Aeterna went to pull the trigger.
“Wait, WAIT!” Mehmet yelped. “She – it – it’s missing a piece.”
“Oh?” Maxwell asked. “And what might that be?”
Mehmet walked over to the counter.
“Don’t fucking move,” Aeterna said.
“I don’t have any weapons, I promise,” Mehmet said. “Please, just let me grab it for you. I’ll even throw in the surveillance footage of my friend’s visit.”
“Alright,” Maxwell said. “Give me it, and then we’ll see.”
Mehmet went under the counter and pulled out a small wooden box, which he opened. Inside was a small piece of circuitry with a single chip on it. “This is an Asimov circuit,” he said. “It, er, limits the thing’s free will. Makes it obey you. Very important, you see – it’s not like other AI. It doesn’t always do…” He looked at the shotgun. “…as it’s told.”
“Ah,” Maxwell said. “Well, that is very useful.”
“Okay,” Mehmet said, nervously. “I’ll get the surveillance footage for you, and you’ll leave and won’t kill me. I’ll never speak of this to anyone.”
“Well, it depends,” Maxwell said. “Let’s see the footage, first. And then we can talk about leaving.”
Mehmet nodded, then, with his hands up, walked into the back room, where there was a small recording machine. The other man, he noticed, locked the front door and shut the blinds.
He went to the computer and scrubbed through the recordings, before finding the one of interest. There was Kowalski, sitting at the table, drinking his tea.
“Ah, now that is interesting,” Maxwell said. “I believe I’ve met this man before.”
“You…have?”
“Yes, he gave me a rather nasty injury. To my throat. But I’m sure you noticed that.”
“N-not at all.”
“Hm,” Maxwell said. “And this man is in possession of the device that your traitorous battalion looted from Cytherean Advanced Laboratories during the Occupation?”
“Um, yes.”
“Well, this is a turn of events,” Maxwell said. “Aeterna, Jefrey, if you were a Martian and shot a Terran in the throat, very nearly killing him, where would you flee to?”
“Well,” Jefrey said. “I guess I’d fly to the asteroids…”
“Yes,” Maxwell said. “Quite hard for the police to find you in the asteroids, isn’t it? But we’re not police. Well, let’s not delay. Much to do.”
He got up to leave.
“So, we’re cool, right?” Mehmet said. “You’re not gonna kill me?”
“Well, Mehmet, you’ve put me in a good mood,” Maxwell replied, putting his hand on Mehmet’s shoulder. “So, no, we’re not going to kill you. Aeterna.”
Maxwell unlocked the door and walked out.
“I’m sorry about this,” Aeterna said, taking the shotgun and holding it by the barrel, and with one swing smashing it into Mehmet’s right kneecap. Mehmet screamed in pain and collapsed.
By the time he came to, they had long left.
He propped himself up, choking back tears, and crawled painfully over to a medkit containing a pack of Nanocea, to heal his wounded leg.
“That was a mistake,” he murmured, though the man he had intended to hear it was now far away.
*
The church colony was based in Cybele, a small asteroid that was was sufficiently far from the Sun and near to Jupiter that it shared an orbit with both the Sun and Jupiter at a ratio of two-to-one. It took a little over six Terran years to fully orbit the Sun.
As the California Dreamin’ approached the seemingly-lifeless rock, a set of doors, set into a hole blasted into the rock, opened. Liberty-class frigates were designed with hydraulic legs and feet for landing, but they were seldom used, and an old one like this, whose legs had almost never been used, produced a horrible squeal when in use, though of course only audible inside the ship and not in the vacuum of the landing bay.
The ansible rang and Kowalski answered. “California Dreamin’, welcome,” said the person on the other end. “Please draw your attention to the three red lights visible in the hangar.”
Kowalski walked over to the porthole and looked outside. “Roger,” he said.
“Please do not leave your craft until all three, I repeat, all three lights are green. We do not wish to have to clean up the mess after an explosive decompression.”
“Roger,” Kowalski said.
He looked across the compartment at Christine, who had gone a little pale.
“Should…should we be concerned about that?”
“I don’t think so,” Kowalski responded. “Any environment which opens out into space needs to be pressurized.”
“I’m sorry,” Christine said. “I’m not used to space travel. I’ve lived on Terra my entire life.”
“You get used to it,” Kowalski replied, looking out of the porthole, as the first light went green. “Eventually.”
“What are we doing, Ralph?” Christine asked. “God, we’re halfway across the Solar System, miles away from civilisation.”
“I know,” Kowalski said. “And I promise you, I will find a way to get you back to Terra.”
Christine nodded. “I hope so.”
The second light went green.
“Well,” Kowalski said. “We’d better prepare to disembark. Callie, get ready to open the hatch.”
“Sure thing,” Callie responded. “Ralph?”
“Yes, Callie?”
“Are you sure I’ll be safe here?”
“That’s a pretty heavy blast door, Callie. You’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Callie said, tentatively. “Keep in touch.”
The third light went green.
“That’s it, Callie.”
“Opening the hatch,” Callie said, and Kowalski beckoned Christine to follow him with a flat palm.
~
The first thing Christine noticed about the hangar was that it was freezing. On Mars it had been summer, but this asteroid was cold. It reminded her of the harsh winters in Old London, where the total lack of sunlight combined with frequent extreme weather events made shelter a life-or-death necessity. She recalled her old dormitory in what had once been an underground railway station called Euston, which had been just as cold.
A set of blast doors opened at the other end of the hangar, and two men carrying some very old, dented rifles stepped out. “Welcome,” said one of them, a tall, dark-skinned man. “Please, step this way.”
Christine and Ralph walked through the doorway, behind which was a tunnel, clearly blasted out of the rock some time ago. They were lit with yellowish sodium lamps, which washed out all the colour except for a sickly yellow.
“This used to be a mine,” said the other man, who had lighter skin. “Now it’s our home.”
“Where are you taking us?” Ralph asked.
“We’re taking you to meet Joni, the Sovereign,” said the first man. “They will explain everything. Right this way.”
The tunnels wound on for quite a way, occasionally broken up by an atrium or a door. Eventually, they came upon a large blast door.
“Here we are,” said the second man, pressing a comms button. “We have two people to meet you, Your Majesty. They are requesting sanctuary.”
There was a pause. “Send them in,” said a voice.
The doors opened on to a very large chamber, which Christine supposed might have once been a mess hall for miners. There was a sudden transition from the yellowish sodium light to white fluorescent light. It was filled with people, some dressed in the plain uniforms of their escorts, some wearing very beautifully decorated silkwear and jewellery, now fully iridescent in the white light.
“This ain’t your typical COLA joint,” Ralph said. “What is this?”
The room gradually fell silent as they noticed the newcomers, regarding them with suspicious eyes.
“Presenting the Martian who requested sanctuary, Your Majesty,” called the first man. From the ceiling descended a floating object, whose back was turned to Ralph and Christine. It looked like an egg from behind.
The object slowly turned to reveal a chair, and sitting on it was a person with long, curly hair and dark skin, wearing ornate silken robes, patterned with images of flowers, depictions of Christ and of the Virgin Mary. On the lower half of their face they wore white makeup, with a red upper lip and a white lower lip, and they had a piercing through their left nostril, attached to which was a small gold chain, which ran to their left ear. They wore nothing on their feet.
“Thank you, Micah, and you also, Julius,” they said, and Christine knew immediately that this was Joni. “Welcome to the Sovereignty of Cybele.”
“Sovereignty?” Ralph asked.
“Sovereignty, Your Majesty,” Joni corrected him. “We are a small, but independent nation of some three thousand-odd people, Mister…”
“Kowalski,” Ralph replied. “I thought this’d be some kind of church camp. Why’d you claim to be COLA?”
“Officially, the state religion of Cybele is still the Church of Our Lady of Annihilation, Mister Kowalski. And we would thank you to refer to us as Your Majesty.”
Joni did not appear to be male or female, but both, and neither, simultaneously. Their voice was quite low, but their patterns of speech sounded distinctly feminine.
“Alright, Your Majesty,” Ralph said, begrudgingly. “We’re requesting sanctuary for a short time. Can you take care of us?”
“That depends, Mister Kowalski. We do not, strictly speaking, answer to the Terran Federal Republic, but we are not keeping you here any longer than necessary.”
“Okay, a month, tops,” Ralph said. “Your Majesty.”
“Very well,” Joni said. “Being as you are our guests, we will not hold you to the same standard as the average citizen. But you will be expected to conduct yourself in a manner in line with our values.”
“Those being?”
“You are to keep the peace and not cause problems. I trust that, in itself, will not be a problem.”
“Not at all,” Ralph said, in a way that indicated that it seemed like a problem.
“Very good. Micah, Julius, please show Kowalski and his young charge to their room.”
*
The room was more prison-cell than hotel, though warmer than the hangar had been. It was a small chamber blasted out of the rock, the same as the other rooms, although this one had a small wooden desk with a desk-lamp, and a metal-framed cot-bed with a mattress on which Christine now sat, as well as an unsupported sleeping bag on the hard stone floor, which Kowalski had, politely, offered to use.
“Joni is quite the character,” Christine said, idly.
“Yeah, you find a lot of strange people out here in the asteroid belt,” Kowalski said. “There’s not a lot out here, so it’s where all the outcasts go.”
“What was all that about cola?”
“Cola? Oh, yeah – C-O-L-A. It’s an abbreviation. For, uh, ‘Church of Our Lady of Annihilation’, I think. They used to set up missionary outposts out here to try and convert people in the mining operations. When the war came along many of them ended up dissolving and moving on, while a select few held on and evolved into this.”
“I didn’t know that monarchies still existed outside of fairy tales.”
“They don’t,” Kowalski said. He laughed. “I mean, come on, that parlor trick with the chair and the royal we. Who do they think they are? This is the only place you still find people who believe that ‘divine right of kings’ crap.”
“Well, I don’t mind it,” Christine said, folding her arms. “I think it’s interesting.”
“Ah, it’s just me being a grouchy old bastard,” Kowalski said. “Never did have time for rulers.”
Christine looked up at the ceiling. “How long are we going to have to stay here?”
“Well, it depends. I shot a man shortly after the stilt was bombed, and then the British Library was blown up. The Terran authorities will probably be wanting to pin that on somebody, and chances are they won’t be pinning it on a Terran. But I’ll get you home, don’t you worry about that.”
“I hope so. It’s cold out here.”
“I promise.”
Christine smiled a bit. “Thanks, Ralph.”
“It’s okay. I’m just sorry you got mixed up in all this.”
“Don’t be,” Christine said. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Out here’s no place for a kid.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“So you keep saying.”
Christine didn’t reply except with a sullen look.
“Alright,” Kowalski said, easing up. “Let’s find out what’s to eat in this place.”
Christine nodded. “Alright.”
*
Walking through the corridors was an eerie experience. The entire asteroid seemed dead silent in the corridors, owing to the many pressurised rooms and layers of sheet rock. Occasionally there would be a burble of conversation here and there, a person hurriedly rushing down a corridor carrying objects for which Kowalski assumed there was some use, but a use to which end, he didn’t know.
Christine walked behind him. He could tell the kid didn’t like it here. He didn’t, either. He didn’t like “COLA nuts” at the best of times – so he certainly didn’t like them when they were putting together these ludicrous micro-monarchies.
They continued down the corridor, when a blast door opened, and they were immediately hit by bright lights and a waft of humidity, and an earthy smell, mixed with the sickly-sweet smell of compost. They found themselves wandering in, perhaps entranced by the prospect of plant life in this otherwise barren rock, and the prospect of some warmth.
A person was standing in a white plastic suit with a gas-mask, clearly intended as some sort of hazmat suit that had been repurposed.
“Back so soon, Rebekah?” the person said. “I only sent you out a couple of minutes ago—”
They looked over at Kowalski and Christine. “Oh,” they said. “Pardon me.”
They walked over, removing their mask and hood, revealing a woman with short, blonde hair, who curtsied as best as she could in the clothes she was wearing. “I do apologise,” she said. “I’m Rachel, the royal gardener. You must be the visitors. Mister Kowalski and his young charge.”
“Not a problem,” Kowalski said. “We’re just lost on our way to the cafeteria.”
“Oh, I see. Yes, the passageways are confusing to a newcomer. You want to take the second left and follow the arrows.”
“Thank you,” Kowalski said, his eye being drawn to the various plants strung up around the place, growing out of every available space, with a small gantry walkway to avoid accidentally trampling anything.
“What do you grow here?” he asked, curiously.
“All sorts of things,” Rachel replied. “Orchids, grass, fresh herbs.”
“These lilies are beautiful,” Christine said, quietly, examining a big white flower with orange stamen. “You hardly ever see anything like this growing on Terra. Not for free, anyway.”
“Thank you, I’m glad you noticed them.”
“So what do you use the plants for?” Kowalski asked.
“Well, firstly, just because,” Rachel said, grabbing a trowel and working the soil. “It just looks nice, doesn’t it? It’s nice to let something grow, as the Lord did you and me.”
“And the other reason?”
“To help cleanse the air of impurities. We keep these plants under artificial sunlight so they can photosynthesise and create oxygen.”
“Interesting. Do you grow your own vegetables?”
“And how, mister! Freshly picked broccoli straight out of the garden can’t be beat.”
“I’ve never eaten broccoli,” Christine said, sadly.
“It’s never too late to try new things,” Rachel said. “You should try it. And we have plenty of other vegetables where that came from. Carrots. Cabbages. We even grow a few tomatoes.”
Kowalski walked along the gantry towards a flower that had caught his eye. A purple rose with white highlights around the petals, with a thorny stem. He sniffed it. It had a perfumed scent.
“Ah, you’ve found our rose, I see,” Rachel said. “The centrepiece of our garden.”
“I’ve never seen a rose like this before.”
“It took a lot of breeding. We call the variety Joni’s Rose. Unfortunately we can only grow about one a year. Darn thing refuses to breed. We have to keep cloning it.”
“Joni’s Rose, huh?” Kowalski said. “So you really revere, uh, them?”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “Joni’s a kind leader. They bear so much weight on their shoulders.”
“If it’s not too rude of me to ask, what’s with the—”
“Makeup? We’re not sure. The sovereigns of Cybele tend to find their own signature appearance. Joni wears makeup on their lower face, we think, to reflect their duty to all people of races and creeds. All of us live through Joni, in a manner of speaking. They are our leader and our ambassador.”
“Hm,” Kowalski said. “Isn’t that a little…paternalistic?”
Rachel looked at him with a mix of shock and disdain. “I beg your pardon? We choose to live here, Mister Kowalski. Joni isn’t holding us hostage. We come here because we want to be here. Many people come through and don’t plan to stay, just the same as you.”
“I apologise,” Kowalski said.
The gardener folded her arms indignantly.
“Perhaps you ought to examine why you view us with such suspicion, Mister Kowalski.”
Kowalski opened his mouth to respond when another woman, younger, who Kowalski presumed to be Rebekah, walked in carrying a few packets of seeds and a bag of soil. She looked uncomfortably at the two visitors, then clumsily curtsied.
“Second left, did you say?” Kowalski said.
“Yes,” Rachel replied, curtly. “Goodbye, Mister Kowalski.”
Sensing that his presence was no longer welcome, Kowalski put a hand on Christine’s shoulder and led her from the room.
~
Cybele was far from the fairy-tale kingdoms Christine had read about when she was little. Almost everywhere you went it was cold and dimly lit with those dreadful yellow lamps. The canteen, along with the garden, was one of the few places that had white fluorescent lighting, she supposed, because otherwise everything looked washed out and sickly yellow, which was not particularly conducive to the appetite.
Ralph and Christine entered the room, where a queue of people were being served food from large metal trays.
Ralph grabbed a tray and joined the queue. “What are you serving?”
“Today? Curry goat and rice.”
“Nice,” he said, turning and smiling at Christine.
Christine hurriedly grabbed a tray and joined the queue behind Ralph.
“Where’s the meat from?” Ralph asked, genuinely interested.
“Mars,” the cook replied. “We pay for it by selling surplus grains and spices to other colonies.”
“Makes sense,” Ralph said.
The lid was lifted from a metal tray, and Christine noticed how delicious the food looked – goat stewed in a light brown seasoned stock, and some spiced rice. You could find this sort of food in Lower London if you knew where to look and who to ask, though it was expensive.
The food was generously served on a plate which they then placed on their trays. They moved further up the line, where they were given small sponge cakes and glasses of water.
“What do I owe you?” Ralph asked.
“Suggested donation is twenty quids,” the person at the end said, “But it’s optional. Make yourselves at home.”
Ralph reached into his bag and pulled out a few quids, and handed them over.
“That’s thirty.”
“Thank you for your generosity, sir,” the person at the end said, amazed.
“Hey, Mister Kowalski!” a voice shouted. Sitting at a table across the cafeteria were Micah and Julius. Christine and Ralph walked over and sat at their table.
“How you finding your new digs?” Julius said. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, but had a very warm and friendly personality.
“I’ve lived in space for ten years,” Ralph said. “Compared to that, this is practically a hotel.”
“And you, young lady?” Julius asked.
“It beats living in a train station,” Christine said, shyly.
“Ah,” Julius said. “I understand.”
“We’ll take good care of you,” Micah said. He was smaller and skinnier, and perhaps took his job more seriously than Julius.
“That’s good of you,” Ralph said, eating a bite of the food. “Damn. That’s good. Pardon my French.”
Christine took a bite and she silently agreed.
“You ever been to space before, kid?” Micah asked.
“No,” Christine said. “This is my first time. It’s all very new to me.”
“Ah, you get used to it,” Julius said. “After a while, anywhere can become home. I was born on Luna. Came here when I was eighteen after I got into some trouble. Cleaned my act up, didn’t I, Mike?”
“Sure did, Jules,” Micah said. “You’re a totally different person now.”
“Aw, Mike, don’t bring that up.”
“Jules used to be awful angry. When he first moved in with me I was a little scared of him, ‘til I realised he’s really a big teddy bear.”
“Well, it took me a while to get to that point. Had to do a lot of praying and hard work on the hydroponics, and then one day, it just clicked.”
“So you’ve been here how many years?”
“I’m twenty-five now, so, gosh – must be seven years.”
“Seven years? Wow, time does fly, doesn’t it?”
“How old’s this one?” Micah asked, pointing at Christine.
“I’m seventeen,” Christine replied.
“Ah, very young,” Julius said. “You seem nice. Not at all like me at that age. I was a real terror.”
Christine laughed politely. “Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I just find it hard to keep conversation.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I talk too much,” Julius laughed. “How’s the food?”
“It’s good.”
“I’m sure the cook told you where it comes from.”
“He did,” Ralph said. “Pretty self-sufficient operation you’ve got running here.”
“Well, we pride ourselves on hard work and hospitality,” Micah said. “Can’t exactly call yourself a Christian colony without having Christian virtues, can you?”
“I suppose not,” Ralph said. “This is really good food.”
“Once you finish your food, you must tell me what you think of the honey cake. That’s one of Joni’s favourites.”
“I’m getting to it,” Ralph laughed. “Speaking of Joni—”
He never got to finish his thought.
A bell started to ring and Christine covered her ears.
“Christ, what now?” Ralph said, too distracted to censor the blasphemy.
A public address system began blaring. “This is NOT a drill, this is NOT a drill, all hands, man your battle stations!”
Micah and Julius looked at each other. “We’d better get over to Joni’s court.”
“We’ll come with you,” Ralph said, loudly, over the alarm.
“No,” Julius said. “Stay here. It’s safer.”
“I’ve got a kid with me,” Ralph said. “If we’re in danger I’d like to know what’s going on.”
As the men argued, the noise was rattling around Christine’s head. She had totally seized up, unable to move. It was horrendous. Her heart leapt into her throat. She began rocking back and forth with her hands over her ears, her face scrunched and her eyes shut tightly.
“Christine?” Ralph was saying, loudly, over the blaring alarm.
She did not respond.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to go with Micah and Julius.”
Christine seemed to be paralysed by the noise.
The bell stopped ringing and Christine uncovered her ears.
“We have to go,” Ralph said. He held out his hand, and she took it.
*
Kowalski and Christine arrived at Joni’s court with Micah and Julius.
“Your Majesty, requesting permission to enter,” Julius said into the intercom.
“Who’s with you?”
“Micah, Mister Kowalski and the girl, Your Majesty.”
“Civilians?”
“I’m a veteran of the Insurrection,” Kowalski said. “I used to be a warp engineer. I might be able to help.”
There was a pause.
“Very well,” the voice said.
The door opened, and the four entered the room to find that the court had become a ramshackle tactical war room, with screens showing camera feeds and radar. In the centre of the room was a large metal table with a green holographic projection of Cybele and her surrounding environs. Some distance from Cybele was a large, blocky object, which Kowalski recognised.
“Wait here while we find out what’s going on,” Micah said, and they disappeared into the room to find out what was happening.
Joni was sitting in their hover-chair, wearing a squidcap connected to a sort of control system similar to the one Kowalski had seen the boy using on Rapture.
“What are they doing?” Christine asked.
“Telepathic control,” Kowalski replied. “They must be hooked up to a mainframe in control of Cybele’s automated defense systems.”
“Very good, Mister Kowalski,” Joni said, removing the squidcap. “But in that instance, we were surveying Cybele and her capabilities to defend against the incoming threat.”
“Which would be?”
“We have detected a Terran vessel entering Cybelean space.”
“A Terran vessel?” Kowalski asked. Then he put a hand to his mouth. “Oh, no.”
“What?” Christine asked.
“I think we’re in trouble,” Kowalski said.
Suddenly the holographic projection on the table went red and an alarm tone went off, causing Christine to cover her ears again.
“Your Majesty!” yelled a young soldier, who didn’t look much older than Christine, from across the room.
“Yes, Caleb?”
“Incoming torpedoes in Sector A6. Impact approximately five minutes and counting.”
“Ready defences, we shall try to intercept. If not, brace for impact.”
“Aye-aye.”
“He’s here,” Kowalski said. “He’s found me.”
“You brought these people here?” Joni asked. “When you asked for sanctuary, we thought you had committed a petty theft, not an international incident!”
“Well, you really need to fix your vetting process,” Kowalski said.
“Your Majesty!” Caleb called. “Torpedo is on course to strike the hangar doors!”
“The hangar doors?” Kowalski said. “Oh God, Callie.”
He switched on his watch. “Callie, do you read?”
“Read you loud and clear, chief. In case you’re wondering, yes, I did hear the alarm, and yes, I have readied the engines for launch.”
“There are torpedoes on course to strike the hangar doors. We need you out of there as soon as possible.”
“That won’t be possible unless you get those doors open.”
“Joni,” Kowalski said. “Can you get the hangar doors open?”
“The hangar is on lockdown, and it’s Your Majest—”
“Shut up! Callie, is there any way you can shoot your way out?”
“Not without blowing the ship up…”
“Shit!”
“We can intercept the torpedoes,” Joni said.
“You can’t intercept them,” Kowalski said, his eyes momentarily glazing over. “I know from experience.”
“Well, then, what do you suggest?” Joni said.
Kowalski swallowed. “Only one solution. Two people have got to manually open the hangar doors from inside the hangar.”
“Do you have spacesuits?”
“In the hangar, yes,” Joni said. “But not with enough time to put them on and pressurise them.”
“And even then you’d have to deal with the torpedoes striking the hangar,” Kowalski said. “Alright. I’ll go.”
“What?!” Christine said. “No!”
“If Maxwell’s found me, then he’s gonna kill me anyway. Might as well save a few lives in the process.”
“No, Ralph,” Christine said, gripping his arm with both of hers. “Please, stay. Please.”
“It’s that or let him wipe out this entire colony. No matter what kind of nut is in charge of it.”
“I beg your pardon?!” Joni exclaimed.
“Take me to the hangar and I’ll do it.”
“No, Mister Kowalski,” someone said. “We will go.”
It was Julius, and standing next to him was Micah.
“No,” Kowalski said. “I brought this on you, it should be me that fixes it.”
“We have given our whole lives to protect this colony. Take care of the child.”
Kowalski looked at Christine, still holding on to his arm. He sighed. “Too many deaths,” he said.
“Be not afraid for us, my brother. We shall live on in the Kingdom of Heaven. But your destiny lies elsewhere.”
Kowalski shook his head. “No,” he said. “This is my cross to bear.”
“Mister Kowalski, please,” Micah said. “Let us do this.”
Kowalski thought for a moment, weighing it up in his mind.
“Okay,” he said, drawing the awful conclusion. “Go.”
“We shall await you at the end of days,” Julius said, embracing him and patting him on the back. “Be strong, my brother.”
The two men nodded and then saluted Joni. “For Cybele,” the men said, then left the room.
“Torpedoes less than two minutes to impact,” Caleb shouted from across the room.
“Callie, be ready to get out of there as fast as you can,” Kowalski said.
“Aye-aye,” Callie said.
Joni walked over to a screen, on which a camera feed from the hangar was visible.
“Don’t watch,” Kowalski said. Christine walked away from the screen, covering her eyes, unable to bear it. Kowalski felt a pang of guilt. She’s a kid. This is a fuckin’ warzone. What am I doing?
“They are our people,” Joni said. “We shall not suffer them the indignity of forgetting.”
On the screen, the two men entered the hangar and walked over to two control panels, switching them on. The audio feed was low-quality, but their voices were clearly audible.
“Ready to engage,” Micah said.
“Aye,” Julius said. “It has been an honour serving with you, my brother.”
“You, too,” Micah said. “For Cybele.”
“For Cybele!”
They both hit the switch at the same time, and there was a horrible sound followed by silence as the room rapidly depressurised, instantaneously causing the water vapour in the air to condense, filling the room with what looked like steam. Kowalski was thankful that hypoxia would likely kill the two men before they could feel the sensation of their blood boiling out of their veins and their lungs collapsing.
Joni did not speak, but their eyes brimmed with tears.
“Godspeed,” they said, softly.
Kowalski felt his hands begin to shake again. Somewhere, Christine was crying.
“Hangar door is open fifty per cent,” shouted a soldier from across the room.
“Torpedo strike imminent, less than fifty seconds to impact!” shouted Caleb.
“Callie,” Kowalski said into his watch, forcing the words out past bile. “PUNCH IT!”
Through the fog, the glow of a plasma engine could be seen as the California Dreamin’ reared up.
“Finally, an excuse,” Callie said, firing the railguns upward as she rose out of the entrance tunnel.
Somewhere in the bowels of the California Dreamin’, powerful electromagnets which had not seen use in over a decade moaned as though unwillingly roused from a deep slumber, and shunted a projectile at supersonic speed upwards.
The doors would have made a tremendous crash, had there been air to carry the sound, as she blew the doors clear and surged out into the vacuum of space.
“BRACE FOR IMPACT!” Caleb yelled, throwing himself to the ground and covering his head.
Kowalski, and Joni crouched low. Kowalski noticed Christine was still standing – confused and in what appeared to be in a sort of fugue state brought on by the stress. He crawled over and pulled her to the ground with him, putting an arm around her in an attempt to calm her. He watched on the holographic projection as two tiny specks that looked for a surreal moment like flying ants entered the hangar.
There were a few moments of horrible silence, then on the camera feed, for only half a second, a cigar-shaped object with a trail of fire behind it was visible, and there was a terrible vibration as the torpedo wrought its awful effect. The camera feed cut out. The holographic projection went green. The entire room shook and screens fell. Debris fell from the ceiling and lights smashed, plunging corners of the room into darkness.
“Oh my God!” Christine screamed.
“Christ Jesus,” Kowalski exclaimed. “That’s the kind of explosive power you’d use to take down a destroyer.”
“Damage report!” Joni shouted.
“Corridors A, B, D and F have all depressurised, Your Majesty,” a soldier said. “Emergency seals are in place.”
“How are you, Callie?” Kowalski asked.
“I’m okay,” Callie replied. “But I think we’re in trouble now. Look at the size of that thing.”
“Terran vessel entering close proximity, Your Majesty,” Caleb said.
Joni ran over to their hover chair and put on the squidcap. “Fire at will,” they said. “I’ll cover the turrets.”
“No!” Kowalski shouted, but to no avail, as Cybele aimed her weapons at the ship. “That’s a Terran command ship—”
He watched on the holographic projection as a volley of shots flew towards the craft, exploding against its shielding. The ship was unaffected.
“Damn it,” Kowalski said. “It’ll take more than that to get through those shields, you idiots.”
“Incoming ansible transmission from Terran vessel, callsign Sledgehammer,” Caleb said.
“Answer it,” Joni said. “Patch it to speaker.”
Caleb did so. On the other side was a man’s voice. It sounded cold, electronic, and malicious. It was laughing.
“A noble attempt,” said the voice. “But not good enough.”
There was a pause.
“My turn,” the voice said.
The projection showed a set of missiles being fired from the Sledgehammer.
“No time to intercept,” Kowalski said. “Brace, brace, BRACE!”
There was another horrible vibration as the missiles struck the surface of Cybele.
“They’ve struck…oh dear God…” Caleb said. “They’ve hit the life-support system!”
●
“It’s almost too easy,” Aeterna said, watching the surface of Cybele explode on the central bridge monitor.
“Lambs to the slaughter,” Maxwell said, inspecting the hologram. “They’ve fallen right into our trap.”
“Direct hit on the Cybelean LSS confirmed,” Jefrey said. “That Martian and whatever other poor bastards are stuck in there with him are toast.”
“Wonderful,” Maxwell said, laughing. “Can you believe the Martian was so stupid as to think we weren’t tracking his callsign? Now nothing stands in our way!”
“It looks like we’ve drawn out the Martian’s ship,” Jefrey said. “No life signs detected on board. It’s on autopilot.”
“It must be flying the ship,” Aeterna said. “We have to disable it.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Maxwell said. “Richards, stand by to intercept that Martian frigate. Meanwhile, concentrate your fire on that asteroid. I don’t want a single person on that rock left alive.”
Richards smiled and nodded from the controls, pressing buttons to calculate trajectory.
“On my mark,” Maxwell said, as the large screen filled with a crosshair aimed at the asteroid, moving and centring up the shot. “Ready, aim—”
Krakoom.
The entire ship shook. Aeterna and Maxwell were knocked off their feet as Jefrey held on to his control panel. Maxwell rolled over, holding a graze on his head. “What the – what the fuck was that?!”
“I…I don’t know, Maxwell,” Jefrey said. “It can’t have come from the Martian ship, I’m not detecting a heat signature.”
“Well, clearly it came from somewhere, you moron!”
The ship was suddenly shaken by another impact.
“For God’s sake, find out where that’s coming from!”
“Uh, Maxwell,” Aeterna said, staring at the holographic projection. “You might want to take a look at this…”
*
The air was getting thinner, Kowalski could tell. He could already feel the tingling in his fingers and toes.
“How much oxygen do we have?” Joni asked.
“At current levels, I give us about forty-five minutes,” Caleb said, gravely. “The life support system has been damaged by a direct hit, but we need time for repairs.”
“Time we don’t have,” Kowalski said.
“Right,” Caleb responded. “There is a backup life support system that should buy us a few hours, but that’s only going to be effective if we manage to repel this attack, which isn’t looking likely.”
“How do we get to it?”
“Well, since the corridors that normally lead to it have been sealed off, you’d have to take the long way round,” Caleb said. “About twenty minutes.”
“So that leaves me a twenty-five minute window.”
“If you’re lucky. The more time we spend talking the less air we have. Realistically you’d have about fifteen minutes. Plus, we’d need to get the volunteer into a suit in case of depressurisation we haven’t accounted for.”
“They’re centering up another shot as we speak,” Kowalski said. “Christ.”
A grave silence fell.
“Are we going to die?” Christine said, desperately.
Kowalski looked at her, then to Joni.
“I’ll activate the backup life support system,” he said. “Get that suit on me as fast as you can.”
“Ralph, no,” Christine said.
“I’ve already let two men die in my name,” Kowalski said. “No more. Suit me up.” He pressed a button on his watch. “Callie, try to find a way to take down that ship. Don’t use the railguns.”
“Wait, so now I can’t use the railguns?”
“We can’t take chances with those shields. You’re our best hope.”
“Gee, thanks,” Callie said, sarcastically. “Warms my cold, metallic heart.”
“Above all else, keep yourself safe,” Ralph said, as some technicians ran up to him with a spacesuit.
“Aye-aye,” Callie said, reluctantly.
“There’s no way this plan will work,” Caleb said. “We’re sitting ducks.”
“The best we can do is try,” Kowalski replied, pulling the suit trousers over his legs.
“We are grateful to you, Mister Kowalski, for volunteering,” Joni said.
It’s the right thing to do, Your Majesty,” Kowalski responded, pulling the suit’s top half over his head and torso, sliding his arms into the arm-pieces, and tucking the helmet under his arm.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s get this show on the—”
Something out of the corner of his eye caught him off-guard.
“What the hell—”
He stared at the holographic projection. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The Sledgehammer appeared to have been hit by something. The others turned and watched in amazement.
“Callie,” he said into his watch. “Did you do that?”
“Nope.”
“Then who—”
The Sledgehammer was struck again.
“No goddamn way,” Kowalski said.
“Who did that?” Joni asked.
“New vessel detected nearby!” Caleb shouted.
“Another one?!” Joni exclaimed.
“Yes, but this one’s different, it’s smaller. Designation Romeo-Lima-Fife-Wun-Zee-Ro.”
“RL-510,” Kowalski said, shaking his head, almost laughing. “Son of a bitch.”
“Vessel identified,” Caleb shouted. “Callsign…Rock Lobster!”
The Malcontent of Mars — Chapter III: Cities In Dust – C R E Mullins
6 July 2019 @ 10:19 am
[…] To be continued… […]