The Malcontent of Mars — Chapter XII: The Chain
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EPI
“Our long-range sensors are detecting some movement…is it…could it be…yes, it is! The Martian frigate is flying away from the weather satellite! We are trying to get in contact with the pilot,” the reporter said.
Christine and Erika watched, holding their breath. Once the call was answered, they would know for sure who had emerged victorious…
The small Martian frigate shot across space like an arrow in the dark.
“I think…yes…we’ve managed to get in contact with the pilot,” the pilot said. “We’re putting them on now. Hello!”
“Hey,” said a voice, which Christine recognised as a very weary Ralph. “How’s everyone doing?”
Erika leapt from her seat when she heard the news, punching the air.
“Yes, Ralph!” she whooped. Erika usually affected quite formal received pronunciation, only occasionally slipping into what Christine supposed was her true, Northern accent, but she had never heard Erika sound quite as Mancunian as she did right now. “Get in there, my son!”
“He did it,” Christine said, relieved. “Oh my God, he did it.”
“He did it, alright,” Erika said. “I’m on cloud nine.”
“I can’t believe it either,” Christine said, shaking her head. “I’m so excited to see him again.”
“You and me both, girlie. My God, what a day.”
“We’re doing great, sir,” the reporter said, after a short delay. “We’re not quite sure what we just witnessed. It looks to us like you’ve managed to stop the intruder on this, er, weather satellite. I’m sorry, it’s hard to keep up with. Would you mind filling in a few blanks for us?”
“Absolutely,” Ralph said. He coughed a couple of times.
“So, er. What exactly just happened?”
“I’ll tell you what just happened. A former Terran mercenary just tried to start another Insurrection.”
“Oh, er, really? Can – can he say that on the air?”
“With all due respect, sir, he’s dead. And anyone who ever gave a shit about him is dead, too. So I think you’re all clear.”
“Can we ask you to refrain from swearing on the air—”
“No.”
“Er—”
“Look, I know I’m just one guy, but I can confirm that he is the one behind the attacks on Terran cities. There is no Martian separatist organisation. He faked it all to start a war for his own gain.”
“Well, that’s a rather spurious claim to make—”
“Sir, considering he just tried to kill me, I’m gonna ask you to kindly shut the fuck up.”
Christine and Erika looked at each other.
“Er…” said the reporter. “Well, we definitely can’t air that live…”
Ralph coughed again. “Yeah, cut off the man at the centre of the most important news story of the year, I’m sure that’ll do wonders for your career.”
“…you have a point.”
“It was all lies. All of it. The bombings. The media frenzy. The riots. All of it was an attempt to start a war for profit. I won’t name the terrorist behind this, because bein’ remembered, that’s what he wanted. But know this: Not a single Martian separatist was involved in this. It was just one man and a small team, trying their hardest to start another war…and in the end, it was just him, a lone wolf.”
“Do you have any evidence for—”
“I know you’re just going off my account, but who are you gonna believe – the federal government that bought into his bullshit, excuse me, let me rephrase, total bullshit, or me, the man who heard it straight from the guy? And believe me, tomorrow, when the government comes clean about the whole thing, you’ll know I wasn’t lying. So enough of your gotta-hear-both-sides crap.”
“My God, Ralph,” Erika said, laughing. “Keep going…but don’t give me so much work to do!”
Christine smiled as well.
“Well, I suppose I get where you’re coming from…but we try to keep it fair and balanced at this network,” the reporter said.
“I respect that,” Ralph said. “But I’m not really in a diplomatic mood right now.”
“Alright,” the reporter replied. “Well, can you at least tell us what this man wanted with a weather satellite?”
“Oh, that’s a doozy.”
“Well, we’d love to hear it.”
Ralph laughed a little. “Well, not like I’ve got anything to lose,” he said.
“He’s not going to say it, is he?” Christine said.
“Oh my God,” Erika said.
“It’s not a weather satellite. The people in charge of your network know this. The people in the government know this. Hell, a lot of people on Mars know this. But we keep pretending it’s a weather satellite, because admitting the truth jeopardises the continued existence of the Republic. Oh yes, I imagine your bosses are makin’ a whole buncha calls right now, demanding you take me off the air, tryin’ to spin me as some kinda nutjob.”
“Now hold on a second, that’s sland—”
“Because Terra doesn’t want to acknowledge what she did, on the advice of this man, ten years ago. She doesn’t want to acknowledge that several million tons of metal was dropped on Olympus City, written off as a munitions accident. She doesn’t want to acknowledge that the same man who cooked up that plan also designed this satellite. You know what this is?”
“Go on, Ralph,” Erika said. “Give it to them.”
“What?” the reporter asked, in disbelief.
“On Mars, we call it ‘The Killing Moon’. It’s designed to level Martian cities without causing damage to the food supply. But of course, most of the people sitting on your board of directors already know this.”
“Ex…excuse me?” the reporter spluttered.
“For ten years, we’ve lived in this thing’s shadow, afraid to speak up, afraid to do anything to change our situation, because we know that if we did, Terra would destroy us in a heartbeat. And that makes you uncomfortable to hear, I’m sure. I’m sure your listeners are uncomfortable as well. And they’ll roll their eyes, they’ll scoff, they’ll say ‘Typical pro-Martian propaganda’, and change the channel. Fuck ‘em. I’ve learned a few things in these last few days.”
“Well, that’s just about all we’ve got time for—”
“Don’t you cut me off, you jackass. I want you to listen to me. I want all of you to listen to me. Every act of violence, every act of repression…it’s like forging links in a great chain. Someone told me that the other day…every force in human history has conspired to keep forging that chain. And we never learn, not since we were goddamned apes fighting over caves with bones and sticks…”
Christine and Erika were listening intently.
“So what are you going to do?” the reporter sighed, indignantly.
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” Ralph said. “I’m going to send out a message.”
There was a long pause.
“I’m sorry,” the reporter said. “Could you summarise what you plan to do, in a few words?”
“Sure. You want to know what I’m gonna do? All of you watching at home? I’m gonna break the chain.”
There were a few moments of silence. Christine and Hythe could not look away from the screen.
“What does he mean by that?” Erika asked, quietly.
“I don’t know,” Christine said. Something was bothering her. She felt anxious. Her stomach was in knots.
“…and how do you plan to do that?” the reporter asked.
“You’ll see,” Ralph said. “I just want to mention a couple of people who I can’t contact right now, so here’s better than anywhere to do it. This goes out to Erika Hythe, the Minister for Martian Affairs, the only cabinet minister I’ve ever met that has been worth a damn…”
“Thank you,” Erika said, to the screen, quietly. “You’re welcome.”
“…and to Christine. You’re a good kid. You deserve the world and then some. I’m sorry. I wish it could be different. But, kid – don’t ever stop living, even when it seems impossible. Take care of yourself. And, hey. See you around. Maybe.”
They were both very quiet.
“What did he mean by that?” Christine asked. “Ralph?”
“Well, that’s, er, very nice to hear,” said the reporter. “But we really must be—”
“Oh, you’ll want to stay on this,” Ralph said. “Trust me.”
The ansible call disconnected.
They both realised that the ship had flown some miles away from the weather satellite now, and it was beginning to turn around.
*
Kowalski sat at the ship’s controls. He was breathing deeply now, somewhat serenely. It was like he’d been practising for this moment his whole life. The ansible rang again and he picked it up.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hey, Kowalski. It’s Mehmet, calling from the Happiness is Easy. We just managed to find out what you were saying. What you just said was really weird, what are you doing?”
Kowalski sighed. “Something happened while I was fighting him. The Killing Moon’s propulsion system is failing,” he said. “It’s about to fall out of Martian orbit. I didn’t want to say anything and cause panic, but it has to be knocked into a trajectory away from any population centers.”
“Okay,” Mehmet said, taking a moment to process it. “So what are you about to do?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question, Mehmet.”
Mehmet paused, then sighed. “Is this the only way, Kowalski?”
“He’s dead, Mehmet. I won’t let his final act be the murder of billions, accidentally or otherwise. That’s what he wanted. I’m gonna end this.”
“We can figure something out. Call the military in. You don’t have to do this…”
“Not enough time,” Kowalski said. “The only way to stop it is by ramming it, and the only one who can do it is me.”
“Don’t do this, Kowalski,” Mehmet said. “Damn it. Don’t do this. We lost too many in the war. We can’t lose you, too.”
“Hey, don’t worry about me, pal. Worry about yourself. Keep livin’.”
“Kowalski…Ralph…I’m not sure I can do this without you.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Kowalski said. “I’m sure of it.”
There was a very long pause. Mehmet sighed.
“Alright, buddy. Do what you gotta do. May you be sped into the halls of Jannah, inshallah.”
“Thanks, Mehmet. And hey, if I don’t see you again…it’s been a pleasure knowing you.”
“The same to you, my friend. Farewell.”
Joni came on.
“Thank you for your service, Mister Kowalski,” they said. “You saved our small colony from the most vicious attack, and we are ever in your debt.”
“Consider it paid,” Kowalski said, flipping switches and beginning to turn machines off. “Best of luck to you and the rest. But for God’s sake, consider becoming a republic.”
“Ever the malcontent,” Joni said. Kowalski could tell they were smiling.
“Well,” Kowalski said, “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Indeed it is,” Joni said. “And wherever your soul may end up, I hope that you can at least know peace.”
“See you around,” Kowalski said.
“Goodbye, Mister Kowalski.”
He ended the call.
He took a deep breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Gotta focus,” he said, to himself.
He walked over to the table. He’d laid everything out, almost ritualistically. He carried each object on the table to one of the lifeboats – his record player and record collection, his satchel, containing his revolver and Joni’s rose, his jacket.
The last thing on the table was a wooden box. Gently, he opened the lid, and placed Callie’s circuit board inside it, then closed it and locked it. Slowly, he walked to the lifeboats and placed the box on one of the seats, strapping it in place with a seatbelt. Then, he placed the key inside the jacket pocket. He walked out of the lifeboat.
He entered a storage cupboard and retrieved from it a breathing apparatus, and walked with it, back towards the ship’s bow.
He sat in the front seat. Outside, he could see the blackness of space, and a blue and green disc, and just above the dead centre of it, a small black spot.
“So, this is it,” Kowalski said.
He remembered how, not long ago, this ship had been in orbit around Mars, and his conversation with the visa office. He remembered how he had smuggled a revolver into Terran space, with the sole intention of killing a man he had never met, and how, by chance, he had met Callie and Christine. He was glad that he had known them.
Gazing out into space, now, he could imagine the ones he had lost just beyond the horizon. There stood Claire, Michelle, Micah, Julius, Jefrey.
He could imagine the acceleration, the planet he had called home for his entire life drawing nearer and nearer, and then a transition, not into cold, empty darkness, but into a world of warmth and light.
He no longer feared death.
Kowalski put the breathing apparatus on and took a deep breath. He flipped switches and changed settings. The LSS went offline. The graviton pumps went offline. All internal electrics went offline. The shields went offline. All power was diverted solely to the engines. He felt himself begin to float and the air begin to dry out. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
There he was, meeting Claire for the very first time. There he was meeting Callie for the first time. There was his wedding day. There was Jefrey’s death. There was the birth of his daughter. There was the destruction of Olympus City. There was his first kiss. There was Christine knocking him off his feet. There was his first victory on the battlefield. There was his meeting with Mehmet in the tea room. Every moment and conversation he had experienced linearly, now interlinked through memory and sensory experience, and yet happening simultaneously, eternally, and out of the tumult came a voice that said loudly, in a voice that reverberated throughout the aeons: “My name is Ralph Kowalski, and I existed.”
Kowalski smiled. “Well, old friend,” he said to his ship. “It’s been fun.”
The ship’s engines began to hum loudly, as if in response.
Kowalski nodded, then pressed the button to begin acceleration.
~
The cameras were transfixed on the California Dreamin’, and all eyes were on the screen now.
“What the hell is he doing?” Erika said, disbelievingly. “He can’t possibly be…”
There was a small flash of plasma as the engines burst into life. The ship was now pointing back in the direction it had just travelled. Toward Mars. Toward the satellite.
The ship began to accelerate.
The camera tracked it, as though a racing car, a golden javelin, a shining teardrop, traversing black, empty space. The plasma jets trailing behind the ship gave it the appearance of a comet or a shooting star, leaving a pinkish streak, as though the speed alone was setting the cosmos alight. It was racing, faster and faster now.
The reporter was shouting. “What is he – what is he doing?!”
The two watched in disbelief, unable to process what they were witnessing.
“Ralph, stop,” Christine said, quietly.
There was no stopping it now. The most powerful braking in the solar system could not possibly avert the fate that had been ordained for the California Dreamin’. Christine knew this, but she didn’t want to believe it. She began to cry, releasing long, anguished sobs as she watched the ship gain more and more speed, until it resembled an electric, pink line.
A small burst erupted from the ship’s side, flying off and out of the camera’s view, as the camera continued to track the ship’s run, struggling to keep up with the immense speed. It was getting closer now, closer, closer. Christine’s hand came to her mouth. She inhaled sharply.
“Ralph, no!” she screamed. “NO—”
The California Dreamin’ struck the Leviathan satellite.
The satellite immediately shattered, pierced as though a bullet going through a pressurised canister. Enormous swathes of the ship instantly sublimated from a solid into plasma, such was the terrific speed of the impact, causing crackles of bright, pink lightning, as pieces of debris were flung northward, falling into Mars’s northernmost points, far away from any human population centre.
Christine collapsed to the ground, crying out in anguish.
Erika came to her side, and embraced her.
“He did it,” she said, as though distant, shell-shocked. “But…why?”
Christine could not form words or language to respond. Her mind was filled only with images of the Martian that, not long ago, had saved her life. For reasons she did not and could not understand, he was dead.
The Minister of the Interior entered the room. His face had gone deathly white.
“H-he…” the Minister said. “He destroyed the Leviathan system…”
“Yes,” Erika said. “He did.”
“Does he not know what this is going to cause?” the Minister said. “He might have just destroyed the Republic! We’re finished!”
Erika stood up.
“Get the hell out of here,” she said, angrily. “That was our friend.”
Christine remained on that floor for a long time, and Erika stayed by her side all the while. By the time she was able to stand up, she only had one image stuck in her mind. One single image from that horrible sequence of events.
A small burst from the side of the ship.
☾
Mehmet watched from the Happiness is Easy as the FIDO vessels and cleanup crews began to move in to pick up the bodies and clean up the wreckage, in accordance with Kessler laws. Kowalski’s body was long gone, now, he was quite sure, and his soul far away. He was reminded of Kowalski’s visit to him in the café a short time ago – how he had suddenly resurfaced and come back into his life. It hadn’t occurred to him right now how much he had missed Kowalski until that point, and how much he missed him once again now.
Mehmet again felt the sting of hot tears on his cheeks.
Joni came up from behind him and placed their hand on his back.
“Are you going to be all right?” Joni asked, quietly.
“I don’t know,” Mehmet said.
“That’s perfectly fine. I’m not sure, either.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know. But wherever it is, I hope it is beautiful.”
“I’m gonna miss him, Joni.”
“We all will.”
“I don’t know what this means for the future,” Mehmet said, worried. “Whether there’ll be another war.”
“There’s no use worrying about things like that. We did our best. That’s what matters.”
Mehmet gazed out of the front screen one last time, then turned away.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Joni nodded. “Caleb, set course for home.”
The small freighter turned, flying towards the warp gate for the asteroid belt. As it did so, it passed Mars and the flurry of vessels that had now entered Martian orbit to watch. Mehmet did not get the sense of hostility or morbid fascination from these vessels, but a show of solidarity. None of them knew what had taken place, but perhaps they all got the sense that a man had sacrificed himself for the greater good.
Mehmet smiled and took comfort in this idle thought as the freighter passed Mars and travelled towards the warp gate.
They look behind at every step, and believe it is a dream,
Singing: “The Sun has left his blackness, and has found a fresher morning,
And the fair Moon rejoices in the clear and cloudless night;
For Empire is no more, and now the Lion and Wolf shall cease.”
William Blake, “America: A Prophecy”
The Malcontent of Mars — Chapter XI: Day of the Lords – C R E Mullins
16 August 2019 @ 8:12 pm
[…] To be concluded… […]