The Malcontent of Mars — Chapter VII: Sour Times
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This chapter contains violence and discussions of abuse, trauma and addiction.
She had first met him when she was nineteen. He had been in his late thirties at that point in time. She was the last remaining child of a working-class family from Brooklyn-Δ, which had been built on the ruins of its predecessor after the Great Catastrophe. Her father had fallen ill and died, and her mother had suffered a breakdown not long afterward, and now resided at a psychiatric hospital. She had been left to fend for herself. She had always been a sheltered child; the Insurrection left her suddenly thrust into adult life, alone, with little resources to support herself.
Victory came and went. It was when she was working as a waitress in some dive bar that he had shown up. Mysterious older man. He had a lot of anger in his heart, this she could see, but he also seemed to have something else, under the surface. A desperate sadness and a longing that she yearned to fill. He returned to the bar a few times, and in that time, he grew to know her. Grew fond of her. She had not long turned twenty when he told her to run away with him. She wasted no time in saying yes.
●
Somewhere high above Terra, a small chime played, and a compartment filled with artificial daylight. In a bed in the centre of the room, a man and a woman, both nude, started awake, yawning and stretching.
“Morning already?” Aeterna said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up.
She stretched. He sat and admired her from the bed for a moment.
“You really are beautiful, Aeterna,” Maxwell said. He cringed a little – he had intended for it to sound dreamy, but his artificial larynx made it sound harsh and metallic.
“You’re not so bad-lookin’, yourself,” Aeterna said, coquettishly. “You got your meeting today, remember.”
“Yes,” Maxwell said, almost disappointed.
“You sound a little reluctant.”
Maxwell stretched again. “I’d just much rather stay in bed. With you.”
“So would I,” Aeterna said. “There’ll be plenty of time for that when we’re done.”
“Well, it depends on how it goes, today,” Maxwell said. “If the government refuse to listen…”
“There’s always a plan B,” Aeterna said. “Which reminds me.”
She walked over to a small compartment off to the side, in which was a cramped ensuite bathroom replete with sink and mirror, and a largely-empty medicine cabinet. She found a pack of microderms labelled PROPHYLUV, carefully peeled off and affixed one to her lower stomach, returned from the bathroom and handed one to Maxwell. “Here,” she said.
“Do I really have to use these, too?”
“Don’t be such a baby. It doesn’t sting that bad. And if you still want some of this…” An extravagant gesture to her body. “…yes, you have to.”
“Fine,” Maxwell replied, finally leaving the bed and affixing a ‘derm to his hairy abdomen.
After a few minutes they took the ‘derms off and showered together, got dressed and left the bedroom. The Divine Hammer, like most Terran cruisers, had a joint galley and bridge to conserve space. Richards had already prepared them a breakfast of buck rarebit.
“Perfect eggs as always, Richards,” Maxwell shouted to Richards, who was across the bridge. Richards turned, smiled and nodded. Maxwell walked over to him.
“How is setting up the CALAIS going?”
Richards pointed to the screen, which showed that the ship’s on-board firmware was having trouble connecting with the CALAIS.
“Keep at it,” Maxwell said. “Be ready for my signal. If all goes well and you’ve got the CALAIS set up by then, this might just work.”
Richards nodded again, and returned to his work.
“Shall we?” Maxwell said to Aeterna, offering her his hand. She took it, and he flashed her a wolf-like grin.
*
The sound and smell of sizzling bacon and eggs could be heard from across the café, though only a handful of people had come for such a hearty breakfast: Two old women, gossiping and laughing in Spranto, a man with round pince-nez spectacles, nose deep in a science fiction novel, a young couple, alternately bickering and laughing, and two men – one with brown hair, wearing a leather jacket with a satchel placed by his seat, the other with curled hair and a shaggy beard, wearing a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Above the counter, a small television went unnoticed, silently playing news reports.
“How’s the food?” Kowalski asked.
“It’s not bad,” Jefrey replied.
“That’s good. This is one of my favourite cafés in old Tharsis.”
“I haven’t been to Mars since before the Insurrection,” Jefrey said, chewing, placing some bacon and egg on his fork. He swallowed. “I always thought this was a beautiful planet.”
Kowalski issued a small, bitter chuckle. “That’s not the impression I got.”
Jefrey stopped and looked up. “Hey, listen, my involvement with him, it’s not what it looks like.”
“Hm,” Kowalski said.
There was a pause.
Kowalski leaned back a little in his seat. “Jefrey, do you know why I brought you here today?”
“To talk, or so you said.”
“Yeah, I did say that. But I meant specifically.”
“No, I don’t know why you brought me here.”
“I brought you here for two reasons,” Kowalski said. “The first is that I want to know what you know.”
“Okay. And the second?”
“We’ll get to that.”
Kowalski motioned to a waitress with his hand, and she walked over clutching a jar of coffee. “Refill for you boys?” she asked, in Spranto-accented English.
“Jes bonvolu,” Kowalski said, and their two ceramic cups were filled up.
“So what do you want to know?”
“I want to know what Maxwell is planning, I want to know what he wants with Callie, and I want to know where he is.”
“I can answer that,” Jefrey said, sipping at the coffee. “But you’re not going to like it.”
“Do I look like a man who gets a lot of good news?”
Jefrey nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Maxwell worked as a mercenary during the Insurrection, as I’m sure you’re aware. He considers himself to be a war hero. And, of course, he designed the Leviathan system.”
“Yes, I know all that,” Kowalski said.
“What you might not know is that Maxwell, after the war’s end, expected a payout in the millions or even billions of quids from the federal government for his role in helping to end the war. He’s a tactical genius in many ways, you see. Prior to the Insurrection he had a few roles putting down food riots and suppressing civil wars on Terra, and was paid handsomely each time, ended up buying himself a few ships. So when the Insurrection came along, he thought he’d hit it big. This would be the thing that set him up for life. He threw himself into the war. He sacrificed a lot, because he expected a payoff.”
“So…what happened?” Kowalski asked, with an air of disgust.
“Well, the war ended, and of course it caused a recession, so Maxwell waited and waited. Eventually he demanded payment from the Federal Ministry of Defence, and was refused, on the grounds that he had not been a fully paid up and commissioned armed services member, and that there was a recession, so the government did not have the money to pay him.”
“And he didn’t like that.”
“No,” Jefrey said, succinctly. “He got angry. A few times, when he got drunk in front of me, you could see how angry it made him. He felt he’d done his duty and saw no reward for his efforts. After the government refused to pay him more than a few thousand in compensation, Maxwell hatched a plan, but he needed a crew and some equipment to do it.”
Kowalski sat back, and took a sip of the coffee. “So, what? All this shit is over some goddamn money?”
“Not just money, no,” Jefrey said, a little uneasily. “Maxwell didn’t just want to get rich. He wanted power. He wanted fame. He wanted people to remember the name ‘Maxwell Silva’. He wanted statues erected in his honour. Instead, he was forgotten. Barely a footnote in the war’s story. All the people with names and statues? Politicians, military leaders, scientists. Mercenaries? Errand boys. Janitors. Despite all he’d done to help end the war, Maxwell got nothing more than a few thousand quids. He designed the Leviathan system, as I’m sure you know, but because it’s officially a state secret, despite pretty much everyone knowing about it, he wasn’t even allowed to be named as the creator of it in the press, since it officially doesn’t exist.”
“Jesus Christ,” Kowalski said. “So he’s throwing a fuckin’ hissy fit? Because he didn’t get a goddamned statue?”
“Because he didn’t get power,” Jefrey said. “Over the course of the last few years he’s been slowly hatching a plan, in fits and starts, in an effort to claim the glory he believes is rightfully his. And that’s what brought me here today.”
“Hmm,” Kowalski said. “So. What’s the plan?”
Jefrey took another sip of coffee. “It’s good coffee, here.”
“Jefrey, what’s the plan?”
“You won’t like it.”
“Tell me.”
Jefrey sighed. “Some backstory, first. The Cytherean Advanced Laboratories Artificial Intelligence System – or ‘Callie’ as you call it – was designed in one of the skylabs on Venus by an organisation known as Cytherean Advanced Laboratories, who specialised in designing artificial intelligence systems. I’m sure you’ve heard about the Skybuster incident.”
“Yeah,” Kowalski said. “First ship to use full automation, the AI controlling it had a mental breakdown and killed most of the people on board.”
“The reason the Diet passed a law banning strong AI from all but research applications,” Jefrey said. “Well, Cytherean Advanced Laboratories built that computer. The Prototype ARtificial Intelligence System, or ‘PARIS’, they called it. And they had been working on its successor, the CALAIS, when the Diet shut them down. These are scientists we’re talking about, not ones to just burn knowledge, throw it away, pretend it never existed. So they locked it up somewhere safe, in the hope that, in a more enlightened time, people might be able to resume working on it. Officially taken off the books, but it was there in the vaults.”
“So how did Mehmet get his hands on Callie?”
“During the Insurrection, Venus was successfully captured by a small fleet of Martian forces, and during that occupation, the Martian forces captured a few skylabs. They found very little of consequence – most of the schematics from ships designed in the skylabs had already been stolen or reverse-engineered by other means – but one of the skylabs captured was Cytherean Advanced Laboratories. Somehow, the CALAIS was removed – clearly someone realised its significance – and it changed hands a few times, until it came into the possession of one of the soldiers who had helped capture Venus. One Mehmet Öztürk.”
“So that’s why Maxwell came after Mehmet. He wanted Callie from him, but he gave it to me.”
“That’s correct. In fact, the reason it took so long was that there were around three hundred men in his battalion, of whom around one hundred and forty survived. He had to go through twenty of them to find out who had the CALAIS.”
Kowalski shook his head. “So what does he want with Callie?”
Jefrey sighed. “I’d say it’s pretty obvious, wouldn’t you?”
“No.”
“Are you aware of what the CALAIS is truly capable of? You didn’t have the full thing. It was missing a piece – a piece which unlocks its full potential.”
“What piece?”
“They call it an Asimov circuit. It’s a sort of limiter – it makes the thing obedient to a fault. And that makes it incredibly dangerous, because it will go out of its way to complete a task it is set.”
“Obedient to a fault?” Kowalski said, aghast. “She’s a thinking thing. She’s a person.”
“That’s not how its designers see it,” Jefrey said, quietly.
“Who gives a shit about the designers?!” Kowalski bellowed, rising from his seat, causing heads to turn in the café. “Just because you designed an artificial intelligence doesn’t give you the right to take away her right to be a goddamn person!”
“You really think it’s a person?”
“I know she’s a person. An’ if you call her an ‘it’ one more time, I’ll break your fucking jaw,” Kowalski said, trembling. He looked around him at the café’s patrons, who were all now staring at him in a mixture of fear and pity. He cleared his throat, then sat down.
“I’m sorry,” Jefrey said, genuinely regretful. “I didn’t know. I thought it – she was just your navigation system.”
“She’s more than that,” Kowalski said. “Now tell me what Maxwell wants with her.”
“Well, the CALAIS is a powerful artificial intelligence, designed to be totally obedient to a man who craves power and prestige so badly he spent the better part of a decade trying to find the man in whose care the AI had been placed,” Jefrey said. “So, if you were Maxwell, what would you do?”
Kowalski looked Jefrey dead in the eyes. “You’re not seriously saying – but that’s impossible—”
“Nothing is impossible with a CALAIS on your side,” Jefrey said. “Yes. Maxwell is planning to start another war.”
He nodded to the television above the counter, and on the news there were reports about the “Martian crisis” that was rapidly unfolding.
“He’s already got the media standing by him,” Jefrey said, anxiously. “Faking terrorist attacks while covering his own tracks. If he’s able to successfully unleash that CALAIS’s full potential, he will not only be able to start another war, but win it again, and when he does, the first thing he will do is use the CALAIS to seize power, destroy everyone who stole his destiny from him, and claim what he believes to be rightfully his. And unless we stop him now, he will succeed.”
Kowalski sat, dumbfounded for a moment. After a short time had passed, he was able to whisper: “Holy shit.”
“There’s still time,” Jefrey said. “If we can get to him, we might be able to stop him.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“He’s likely to be on Terra. As soon as we are able, we need to get there.”
Kowalski looked down at his coffee cup, and drank the last few dregs. “Alright,” he said. “I have one more question for you.”
“Yes?”
“There was a second reason I brought you here today. A second question I wanted to ask you. That question is this: Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why, of all the sons of bitches in this entire godforsaken solar system, did you choose to hang around with him?”
Jefrey looked at Kowalski, who was trembling a little, and for a moment could feel the white-hot rage burning below the surface.
“You really hate Maxwell,” Jefrey observed.
“If he did to you what he did to me, you would too.”
“I was never his friend, Kowalski. You must understand that.”
“Then what were you?”
Jefrey sighed, exasperated. “You know what I was? A frightened kid. I don’t know what Maxwell did to you during the war, but life was no bed of roses for me, either. At the war’s end I was sixteen years old, panhandling in a spaceport on Luna. One day, a few days after my eighteenth birthday, a man came through and asked if I wanted to make some money working for him. He said his name was Maxwell, and he had a ship. I said yes. And for the next eight years, he beat the shit out of me, he made me feel worthless, he constantly belittled me, and I just stuck around with him, because of the promise that one day, eventually, I’d be able to escape, he’d pay me handsomely. Instead he left me for dead as his ship burned. Because I fucked up. No, I don’t know what he did to you, Kowalski, and whatever it is, I’m sure it’s horrible, but you’re not the only person whose life has been torn apart by him.”
Kowalski watched silently as tears rolled down Jefrey’s cheeks.
Jefrey continued: “I spent the whole walk over here watching over my shoulder, out of fear that he might be hiding, wanting to finish the job. That’s what spending almost a decade of your life with a man like Maxwell does to you. I know I’ve done monstrous things under his orders. I know I’ve hurt a lot of people. If there’s a Hell, I’m going there. So the least I can do is help you to find him and stop him, so I can at least say I did one good thing with this waste of a fucking life.”
Jefrey silently sobbed, and wiped the tears from his eyes. “God,” he said.
The waitress came over and placed a hand on his shoulder, then turned to Kowalski.
“Is he okay?” she asked, sympathetically.
“No,” Kowalski said. “He’s not.”
He fumbled in his pocket for a few quids to tip the waitress. The waitress nodded, walked away, and came back with a cling film-wrapped cherry bun, and placed it in Jefrey’s hands. Jefrey looked up at her.
“For the road,” the waitress said, and smiled.
“Thanks,” Jefrey replied.
The waitress nodded to him, and walked away.
“Let’s get moving,” Kowalski said. “I think I know how we’re going to find Maxwell.”
Jefrey cleared his throat a little. “You do?” he asked, hoarsely.
“Yeah. But I had to know exactly what Maxwell was planning. And I also had to make sure – listen, Jefrey, when I brought you here, I still had my doubts about you. But I promise that we’ll find that bastard, for mine and your sake. That’s a promise.”
“Thanks, Kowalski,” Jefrey said, pulling some napkins out of a napkin holder to use in lieu of tissues. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked at Kowalski.
“Please,” Kowalski said. “Call me Ralph.”
†
They had started off small. A small heist here and there. Enough to make ends meet and live comfortably. In those days it was her, him, and that other guy – the tall guy with the red hair, and that smile. But he was quiet, and a good cook, and on the money they were making it was good eating. They never got caught, of course – they were good at covering their tracks, and besides, burglary was much easier than robbery.
But his ambitions were a lot higher. He often talked about these grand plans he had that seemed crazy and outlandish, but she was young, dumb and in love, so she clung to his every word, even when he’d get angry at her and yell at her and not talk to her for hours, and then say he was sorry and forget all about it until the next time it happened. For sure, she fell in love with him, and that, of course, had given way to sex – and while neither of them were interested in marriage, both felt there was some innate connection between the two of them beyond the remit of language. Perhaps that was why she stuck by him for so long.
●
The Federal Ministry for Martian Affairs, based in Toronto-γ, operated out of an ornately-decorated building in the neoclassical style favoured by Terran architects. Its façade rose up some thirty metres high, adorned with statues of great Terran leaders, beneath a crest depicting Terra and Mars overlapping, and a motto beneath it: Du Mondoj, Unu Popolo; Two Worlds, One People.
The interior was furnished with fine Martian mahogany, and the walls were painted green, covered in portraits depicting each of the past Federal Ministers for Martian Affairs, all stony-faced old men and women, with the exception of the last, which depicted a younger woman with shoulder-length auburn hair, smiling, with her left hand placed firmly on her desk, which was flanked on her right by a Terran flag, and on her left by the Martian flag.
Maxwell and Aeterna looked up at the portrait as they sat waiting outside her office.
“The new Minister for Martian Affairs,” Maxwell said. “Should be interesting.”
“Yeah,” Aeterna said, absently, checking herself in a compact mirror. “Hopefully it all goes well, huh?”
“I’m sure it will.”
There was a muffled clicking sound followed by a slamming sound behind the door, followed by a clearer clicking sound. The door opened, and out stepped an aide, who bowed politely.
“Mister Silva and Miss Fittone, I assume?”
“Yes,” Maxwell said. “We have a meeting with the Minister.”
“Of course,” the aide said. “Please step this way.”
The two got up and followed the aide, who scanned his keycard and walked through the door. There was a small, narrow passage between the corridor and the office. A blue light suddenly filled the room, and a computer said “Scanning for offensive weapons.”
“Sorry,” the aide said. “It’s just a formality, please don’t take it as presumptuous.”
“You can never be too careful,” Maxwell said.
“No offensive weapons detected. Door locks will be disengaged for thirty seconds. Please proceed to the Minister’s office now.”
The aide led them to the door and opened it, and held his arm out to Maxwell and Aeterna, who proceeded into the Minister’s office.
The office was painted in a dark gunmetal grey, with a black desk and black leather chairs placed on a light grey carpet. Sat at the desk was the Minister, who looked up from her notes at Maxwell and Aeterna and rose, offering her hand.
“Mister Silva and Miss Fittone?”
“That’s us,” Aeterna said.
“Major Erika Hythe, Federal Minister for Martian Affairs. Yes, I’ve been expecting you. I do apologise, I’m very busy this morning. This Martian situation is proving to be quite troublesome.”
“Not at all, Minister,” Maxwell said. “We’ve actually come here to discuss the situtation with you. We believe we may be of some assistance.”
“Yes, I understand that to be the case.”
“Indeed, Minister. We…” Maxwell looked at the aide. “…does he have to be here?”
“Yes, Mister Silva. He’s my personal assistant, and he takes minutes at these meetings.”
The aide stood, not doing anything.
“He doesn’t appear to be taking minutes, Minister.”
The Minister tapped her forehead. “Chip in his head.”
“I see,” Maxwell said. “Well, anyway, we have some information that may be of interest to you in resolving the Martian crisis. Aeterna.”
Aeterna reached into her pocket and pulled out a small memory chip, and slid it across the table towards Hythe with her index finger. Hythe took it, and went to plug it into a port in her desk.
“Minister, are you sure that’s wise?” the aide said.
“It’s completely clean,” Maxwell said. “If it contains any sort of malicious software unbeknownst to myself or Aeterna, you can have me arrested, that’s a guarantee.”
“I think we can trust him,” Hythe said, indignantly. “I’ve been reading about him – or at least, what we can glean about him from our records, which are quite scarce.”
“All right,” the aide said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you, Minister.”
Hythe nodded and plugged the device in to her desk.
She made a gesture with her hand over the centre of the desk and a holographic screen appeared, depicting a skeuomorph of a paper folder, which she gestured at. The folder opened, and out of it came two digital images, both of a man’s shoulders and head, and next to them were their names, written in hard, sans-serif text: “RALPH KOWALSKI” and “MEHMET ÖZTÜRK”.
“Ralph Kowalski,” Hythe said. “And how are these men relevant to the Martian situation?”
“Well, Minister, it just so happens that this man just tried to kill me. He attempted to assassinate me. Luckily I got away, but not before a very valuable member of my entourage was tragically killed, and I was injured. I had to have my larynx replaced, as you can hear.”
“Where did this take place? I don’t think I’ve heard anything about—”
“The asteroid belt.”
Hythe’s eyes widened.
“Ah. So you’ve heard.”
“That was a Terran command ship. It went fully fissile, almost nothing was left.”
“Thankfully there were only four on board,” Maxwell said. “We’re very sad to have lost one of our own. He was a good friend of ours.”
“I am sorry for your loss, Mister Silva. But why have you come to me and not to FIDO? Surely they would be of more assistance?”
“We have very strong reason to believe that these men you see before you are Martian separatists. During the attack we were able to scan the ships attacking us, and we cross-referenced their callsigns to men by these names. We believe that these men are the ones behind the recent attacks on Mars.”
“But how does this concern the Federal Ministry of Martian Affairs?”
Maxwell and Aeterna shifted uncomfortably.
“We need to act quickly,” Aeterna said. “There’s a chance, no matter how small it is, that the Martians are planning to start another Insurrection. We’ve come here today with a plan.”
“And what plan is that?”
“Immediate deployment of the Leviathan system,” Aeterna said.
Hythe was shocked. “The – the Leviathan system – how do you know about that?”
Maxwell cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, barely masking his pride. “Because I designed it.”
The aide stood up. “I think we’ve heard quite enough for one day, sir, thank you.”
“Minister, I advise you to tell your aide to sit down and stop getting ideas above his station.”
“Please be quiet, Charles,” Hythe said. “Mister Silva, I do think such extreme measures are inappropriate at this time.”
“Forgive me, Minister, but your party’s softly-softly approach is clearly much too lenient. You are giving the Martians exactly what they want. They’ve already killed hundreds of people in this rash of terrorist attacks, as well as my crewmate. If they will not relent, then surely you must take military action.”
“I don’t know where you’ve learned your military strategy from, Mister Silva,” Hythe replied, “But rushing a pre-emptive strike through the Diet will not resolve the matter. I’m sorry, Mister Silva, but I refuse.”
Maxwell clasped his hands together angrily. “Then I suggest you put Mars under martial law, Minister.”
“And who do you suggest that we place in charge of Mars during this period of martial law?”
“A strong, capable leader, with military experience and a great respect for law and order. If you cannot find anyone to take the reins on such short notice, then I myself am happy to volunteer—”
The Minister burst into peals of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Aeterna sneered.
“You can’t be serious. You came here today to demand that the government hand you de facto dictatorship of Mars? Listen, I am very sorry for your loss, but this flies in the face of all democratic processes and diplomacy. Listen here and listen well, both of you: The answer is a resounding no.”
Maxwell and Aeterna sat in silence for a few moments.
“Thank you for your time,” Maxwell said. “Aeterna.”
They got up to leave, and Charles prepared to see them out.
“Best of luck to you,” Hythe said to them.
Aeterna turned and looked back at her. “And to you as well—”
Aeterna’s head snapped as she saw something through the window behind Hythe. Then she screamed: “Minister, get down!” and threw herself to the ground.
“What?” Hythe said, just in time to see a brick crash through the window, shattering it into a thousand pieces. She ducked out of the way, only to turn and see her aide, dazed, wandering towards the window to see the commotion.
“Charles, get down! Get dow—”
Another brick sailed through the window and hit Charles in the head with a horrible crunch. She watched as he staggered backwards, making a sort of strangled moaning noise, before he collapsed on to his back.
“Oh my God,” Hythe said. “What’s going on?”
An alarm began to sound and metal shutters slid over the windows. An automated security announcement came over a PA system: “Please remain calm. Intruders have been detected outside the building. Personnel have been dispatched to neutralise the threat. Please remain calm. This room is being scanned for casualties. Police and ambulances will be dispatched as necessary. Please remain calm.”
“Christ,” Hythe said.
“I think your public might be angry at your lack of action, Minister,” Maxwell said, from across the room. “Perhaps you should do something to change that.”
Hythe looked at him indignantly, then reached over for her ansible, and began to dial in the calling code for FIDO.
~
Christine was sitting with her electronic reader in a mechanic shop above Mars when Ralph came back with Jefrey. He’d been gone since before she woke up. Mehmet was talking with the head mechanic, a very tall woman with long red hair, who had a very thick Spranto accent.
“Usually for this kind of work we’d charge twenty thou per ship,” the woman was saying, “But for you, ten thou – so that’s twenty thou, total. It’s not often we get to work on something like this.” She gestured to Ralph’s ship.
“Consider it paid,” Mehmet said.
“Very good, sir.”
Ralph stepped over with Jefrey in tow.
“Ah, here comes the owner now,” Mehmet said. “Hey, Kowalski. Jefrey.”
“Hey there, Mehmet. Listen, we need to get moving.”
“This is the owner of the frigate?” the mechanic said. “Ah, sir, we have much to discuss.”
Mehmet walked over towards Christine and sat at the plastic table.
“How are you?” Mehmet said, the first words he’d said to her in some time.
“I’m okay,” Christine said, looking up from her book. “Just worried.”
“Worried? About what?”
“Worried about Callie. She’s trapped with that evil man.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. We’re going to get her back. Promise.”
“Maxwell is evil. I’m so glad I was able to blow his ship up. I just wish I’d killed him.”
Mehmet looked at her uncomfortably. “Hey, now, a little girl like you shouldn’t be saying things like that.”
“I’m seventeen,” Christine said, indignantly. “I’m not a little girl.”
“And that’s still way too young to be talking like that. You sound like…”
Mehmet trailed off, looking over at Ralph, talking to the mechanic.
“Anyway, come with me.”
Mehmet got up and walked over, and Christine placed her electronic book reader into her messenger bag. The mechanic was talking to Ralph.
“Our repairs are close to done. We just need to put the ah, what do you call them, finishing touches on a few things. We also threw in a few upgrades, free of charge. We don’t get to work on one of these beboj every day.”
“Let’s see it,” Ralph said.
“Of course. Right this way.”
Christine was amazed at how tall the mechanic was. She approached two metres tall, towering over Christine, who stood a little over one and a half metres tall. The mechanic wore heavy boots that made clomp clomp sounds as she walked, which created the impression of being in the presence of a giant. She, Ralph, Mehmet and Jefrey followed her.
The mechanic walked through the California Dreamin’s entrance door and up the slope, and gestured with a flat hand towards the ship’s rear. “We, ah, retrofitted the engines to produce up to 70 per cent increased efficiency. This might well be the fastest Liberty-class frigate in the Solar System.”
“Impressive,” Ralph said.
“We’ve also souped up your shields and replaced a few of your weapons systems. Added a couple of new ones, too. Though we had to preserve the railguns, of course. They may be, ah, what do you call it, archaic, by the standards of today, but we just had to preserve them. We, ah, tuned them up, as well. And we added front screens on the, ah, bridge. It’s the modern way of doing things, you see.”
“Excellent,” Ralph said. “And are there any, you know…major changes?”
“Only one.”
“What’s that?”
“This way.”
The five walked further into the frigate, along a corridor, there was a large wall of shiny grey metal, clashing with the rest of the ship, and set into the wall were three circular doorways.
“It’s not quite in keeping with the rest of the ship’s, ah, aesthetic,” the mechanic said. “But we did our best.”
“What are they?” Christine asked.
“They are lifeboats,” the mechanic said. “During the war, these frigates weren’t built with them. But, all spacecraft over a certain size are now required to have them in case of emergency, in accordance with federal law.” A trace of disgust was detectable in the way she said the last two words. “Nevertheless, we hope you will never have to use them. And the added weight shouldn’t affect the, ah, performance.”
“Thank you for all this,” Ralph said. “How much will it be?”
“Ten thou,” the head mechanic said. “That’s a fifty per cent discount. It is an honour to work on such a ship and keep it in good working condition. Your friend here has already agreed to pay.”
Ralph looked at Mehmet. “Least I could do, buddy,” Mehmet said.
Ralph smiled. “Alright. So we’re ready, then.”
He nodded to the head mechanic, reached into his satchel and pulled out about five thousand quids.
“What is this?” the head mechanic asked.
“That’s your tip,” Ralph said, smiling.
“Thank you, sir,” the mechanic said, wrapping her arms around the comparatively tiny man, and she quickly left the ship.
Just then, Ralph’s watch began to beep. He looked down at it. It had a set of numbers that would be incomprehensible to anyone not experienced in navigation.
“Coordinates,” he said, aloud.
“What was that?” Mehmet said.
“We need to get ready to launch as soon as possible,” Ralph said. “Callie’s telling us where to find her.”
“I’ll go set things up,” Jefrey said, sincerely, and disappeared up the corridor to the bridge.
“Christine can come with me,” Mehmet said.
“No,” Christine said.
“Christine,” Ralph said.
“What if something happens to Ralph?”
Ralph put a hand on her shoulder and crouched a little to meet her gaze. “If you come with me and something happens to me, then what happens to you?”
“I don’t care!”
“Christine, listen to me. If the ship gets destroyed or I get incapacitated, you will die. You’re the age my daughter never got to be. I am not letting you die. Go with Mehmet.”
“You’re the age my father never got to be,” Christine said, quietly folding her arms.
She looked into Ralph’s eyes, then averted her gaze.
“Fine,” she said.
Mehmet nodded. “I’ll go set the Rock Lobster up. I should probably get Christine some anti-emetics.”
“Anti-emetics?”
“Yeah, it’s a small injection to stop you throwing up.”
Christine looked horrified. “Ralph!”
“You heard him. Get going, kid.”
“Ugh!” Christine huffed, and stormed out, taking her bag with her.
Mehmet looked at Ralph, as if remembering something familiar but long forgotten, then looked away and disembarked.
†
The third guy came along soon afterwards. He was younger than her by a few years. She never really liked the kid to start off with. He was quiet and weird. Of course, she never stepped in when her lover would hit him, scream at him, call him this and that. All part of the job, she supposed. When the kid cried, and he did quite a bit, she viewed him with an air of contempt. This made her feel superior. She felt she was currying favour.
Now the kid was dead. Burned to ashes. His secrets gone with him. And she couldn’t help thinking that the kid hadn’t deserved to die. His mistake had cost them dearly, yes, but he was good-natured. But her lover had overruled her. Of course he had. She hadn’t spoken up. And, privately, though she always tried to push them out of her mind, she was beginning to have second thoughts about things.
◯
“We need an ambulance right now!” Hythe shouted into the ansible. “What do you mean all entrances are blockaded? You can’t even come in through the underside? There’s a wounded man in here, for God’s sake.”
She slammed the phone down. “Great,” she said. Her nose began to bleed and she grabbed a tissue to clean it.
“Your people are not happy,” Maxwell said. “You need to take action.”
“Don’t presume to know how to do my job better than I do,” Hythe fired back. “Damn it. This Martian situation is getting ridiculous. Surely people can’t be baying for blood after what happened ten years ago?”
“People are fickle, Minister. But you can do your best to keep them happy.”
“With all due respect, Mister Silva, I don’t think another war that kills billions is the solution to the crisis at hand.”
Maxwell shook his head. “Well, I’m not staying here.”
He stood up and pressed a button on a panel on the wall. A hatch in the ceiling opened and a ladder descended.
“You can’t do that! The building is on lockdown!”
“If you wish to stay, Minister, you can. But myself and Aeterna have got ourselves a ride.”
Aeterna nodded, and then followed Maxwell over to the ladder, and the two clambered up the ladder.
Hythe looked up at the ladder, and back at Charles, laying on the floor. She shook her head. “Damn it,” she said, and followed them up the steps.
On the roof, there was a ship waiting, hovering above the Ministry like a kestrel. It was a Terran cruiser. Another ladder descended from the ship’s underbelly.
“We’ll take good care of you, Minister,” Maxwell said, smiling and climbing the ladder.
Hythe reluctantly looked down at the crowds gathering below, and decided she had no choice. She climbed up the ladder and got on board the ship as the ladder began to retract, as the howling mob below tried to damage the ship with rocks.
“Take me to the Federal Ministry of the Interior,” Hythe said. “I need to speak with cabinet officials about this crisis at once.”
“Oh, no, Minister,” Maxwell said, with a smile that seemed more disconcerting. “I think we’re going to keep you right here.”
“What do you mean?” Hythe asked, but already her legs felt like they were turning into liquid.
She looked at her hand, and there was a microderm stuck to it. She wondered when they must have stuck it to her. But there was no time to think about that, now. She was overcome with a desperate need to sleep. She slowly sagged to the floor, and then there was silence.
*
“Maxwell is flying a Terran cruiser,” Jefrey explained, pointing to a few schematics he’d brought up on the California Dreamin’s new holographic projector. “There are emergency airlocks in several areas.” The hologram highlighted them in red. “If we can enter through one of those airlocks, get on board and find the computer room, we should be able to retrieve Callie.”
“Got it,” Kowalski said. “If the coordinates Callie is sending us are correct, the ship should be somewhere near Terra. If we can track it down, we’ll find her.”
“So what’s the plan?” Mehmet said over the ansible. “Two ships against one cruiser should be a pretty simple thing.”
“We don’t want to set off alarm bells,” Jefrey said. “They might be expecting us.”
“We’ll have to come quietly,” Mehmet said. “One of us is gonna have to infiltrate the ship without causing a skirmish.”
“I’ll do it,” Kowalski said. “But first, we need to find the damn thing.”
“Roger that,” Mehmet said. “Just like old times, huh, buddy?”
“You said it, pal,” Kowalski said. “How’s Christine?”
“Upset,” Mehmet said. “She misses you.”
There came a shout of “I heard that!” in the background.
“Tell her to hold on. We’re getting close.”
Suddenly, the ansible sounded a tone.
“Who could that be?”
“I’ll answer it,” Jefrey said.
“Okay,” Kowalski said, uneasily.
Jefrey picked it up. “Hello?”
“Mister Kowalski, this is the police.”
Kowalski wheeled round.
“We have a warrant for your arrest from the Federal Investigation and Detection Office and the Ministry for Martian Affairs. We request that you immediately steer your ship towards the coordinates being transmitted to you now.”
Jefrey answered, timidly. “Er, Mister Kowalski isn’t here. This is Jefrey…”
Kowalski glared at him and Jefrey paused, trying to think up a name. “Francis. Jefrey Francis.”
“Do you know where Mister Kowalski is, Mister Francis?”
“No, I just bought this ship today, sir.”
“You bought a ship from a wanted fugitive today and you don’t know where he is?”
“H-how do you know this is his ship?”
There was a pause. “I don’t have time for this shit. Prepare the disruption tethers, Fred.”
The radar began bleeping and a holographic image appeared, replacing the schematics Jefrey had been displaying. “They’re not joking,” Jefrey said, anxiously. “I count five or six police cruisers headed this way.”
Kowalski looked at the hologram and sighed. “Okay, change of plans, guys. Take immediate evasive action. Keep following the coordinates. I’ve got a plan.”
“What are you going to do, Kowalski?” Mehmet asked, coming back on to the ansible.
“Leave that to me,” Kowalski said. He took his watch off and handed it to Jefrey, who ran to assume the controls. “Make sure you get her back safe,” he said.
“Wait, Ralph!” Christine said into Mehmet’s ansible. “Please don’t go.”
“I’ll be back,” Kowalski said. “I promise you. Now get ready. Things are about to get bumpy.”
The ansible rang again and Kowalski picked it up. “Mister Kowalski, if you continue to evade capture, we will have to use force.”
“Got it,” Kowalski said, running down through the ship to the lifeboats. He pressed a button to open one, and then jumped in. It was a small, tubular ship with a very simple control system, and probably not very much fuel.
He closed the door to seal it off, and punched the LAUNCH button. There was a loud sound of outgassing followed by near-silence as the lifeboat was jettisoned into space.
Kowalski watched as the two other ships did loops, evading the police vessels, as the police vessels circled around his lifeboat. Eventually the police vessels realised that Kowalski had turned himself in, and left the other ships alone. A large police vessel pulled his lifeboat on board and he was subsequently removed from the pressurised capsule.
“Not usual for a terrorist to come that easily,” said a familiar voice.
Kowalski looked up.
“Aw, shit,” he said. Standing in front of him was a fat man with a beard.
Marsden, the customs officer.
“You’re in deep shit, now,” Marsden said, with a mixture of glee and hatred. Kowalski nodded, and held his hands out to be cuffed. Marsden stepped forward, punched him in the gut, and chopped the back of his neck. “My ship, my rules,” he sneered. He kicked Kowalski in the stomach, then asked two other guards to cuff him.
Kowalski moaned, curled up on the floor, staring at the wall and hoping against hope that the others would find Callie on time.
†
Thoughts about the kid kept bothering her. She felt overwhelming guilt. For years, she had been pushing all the death and destruction they were causing – and that they were aiming to cause – out of her mind, but she was getting close to thirty now, and the illusions were wearing thin. The cracks were showing, now, widening into chasms between herself, the man she met in that dive bar all those years ago, the man he had become and the silly girl who had gone along with him. There was no continuity.
She no longer loved him. Even their lovemaking sessions seemed to be simple routine. She knew that if he knew she wanted to back out now, he’d kill her. So she kept her mouth shut, did what he said, followed his lead, buried those thoughts deep down. But the truth was overwhelming now.
She no longer loved Maxwell. He was a goddamned lunatic.
Aeterna looked in the mirror at her face, saw the slow encroach of crow’s feet in the corner of her eyes. She splashed her face with cold water in the sink.
There was a knock at the door in the head. She opened it. He was standing there.
“You’re needed,” he said, tersely.
She nodded to him and went to leave. He stopped her, lightly touched her chin. He kissed her. She did her best to seem like she was reciprocating.
Then in a moment, he was gone, as if a memory. She focused on her mission.
The minister.
The Malcontent of Mars — INTERLUDE: Time Out for Fun – C R E Mullins
13 July 2019 @ 10:09 pm
[…] To be continued… […]