by F Stephan
Boris cut the radio, certain their employer had activated the diversion. At least they kept one of their promises. Out of the extraction team, only Igor had made it to the rendezvous. Boris hoped any of the other crew that survived could reach the smugglers and find a haven somewhere.
“What is it, Boris?” asked Igor in his deep, rumbling baritone. “Can you tell me why we took this commission? It’s not like you.”
In his hands he held the two small objects that had been waiting for him in the secure box he had in the old Gedächtnis Kirche, the free bank set up in the antique church. Two of his crew were dead, along with five of their former employers who had been monitoring the drop box. After all, Boris knew too much about his customer.
In his left hand he had a small container filled with syringes. “Nanites for Sacha.” No doctor on Earth could save his daughter from her degenerative sclerosis. Maybe this could. “They said it will work. From what Maritschka has been able to verify, it may be true.” Before committing all of them, he had read all he could find about nanites, even stealing access to the Core Data Sphere, the knowledge base the Federation had offered the Earth.
“But in the other hand?” He heard the worry in his brother’s voice.
“Anti-nanite grenade. I saw those Marines use one against the thing on the ground.”
“If Sacha can’t manage it?”
He nodded, unable to speak. He’d done all he could to save his daughter. But he wouldn’t let loose another bioweapon on the planet. It had suffered enough.
Igor’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. “She’s a strong teenager. She’s going to make it.”
Who are you trying to convince, Igor? You, or me? But I hope she does, Boris thought as he drove into the wild, leaving civilization behind for one of the few places on Earth deserted by men.
Tasha
Space station Acheron, July 2, 2140
Leopold, in the front of the main airlock, looked at the small figures riding up the cable from the antiquated Earth shuttle. Tasha had disliked the transfer from Adheek to space on their return trip, but now she remembered how scared she had been of Earth’s version. It was an old-fashioned vehicle with a design nearly two centuries old. How come we have done no better?
She knew why. Wars – for water, for food, for arable soil, or against the weather. Earth had spent a long century looking inward, with just a token presence among the stars. Could she fault this?
“Going back to the Cape?”
“Oh, yes, as soon as we are cleared to go. Any idea when?”
“Soon, I hope. There was a terrorist attack yesterday in Berlin and they announced it was connected to the Federation. Not sure they will allow us down after that. I have a talk tonight with the president, Anaru. I’ll know more by then.” The attack was a disquieting thought. Adheek had been a mostly peaceful and secure world. Earth wasn’t.
Beside her, Leopold refused to let a grim mood mar the day. “There’s going to be a huge party there, you know. You should be joining?” He flashed a bright smile at her.
“Nope. Big party in the Urals for me. Maybe a drink or two.”
“In Russia? The return of the prodigal daughter?” He laughed again. “And you’ll take Wilfried with you as well?”
She frowned at that. Prodigal daughter? The one who had left everything behind to see the stars, the girl whose father died fighting tigroids to help his family escape? Who was she? And could she truly come back?
“Yes. It seems he doesn’t want to go to Germany. Told me he had no parents he could visit since his grandfather died. I didn’t press.” She had felt a wound deep inside, without knowing what it was or how she could help. Leopold was usually so serious and now suddenly so touching.
“One day or another, you will have to stop mothering all of us, you know?” Despite his bantering tone, there was more to it. A lot more.
“Only if you grow up! Really considering?” She cocked her head quizzically while he laughed merrily. “There, in the airlock.” She pointed to the flat screen above them. In Adheek, they had used 3Ds everywhere but here on Earth they were too expensive to be sent to the space station. Something else to remedy.
“Look, it’s Aysel,” shouted Tasha. She had missed the little brunette from Istanbul. She had had few friends in the Earth Academy not Emily, the brightest and coldest of all students, but Aysel had been one of them.
Her friend waved from the other side of the airlock. Four other students removed their helmets. Georges, she remembered as well, an Irish Sectarist, too young to go into space before. It had been difficult to link with him. Maeva, Guylian and Xiaong, she didn’t know at all.
“They are so young and unprepared,” sighed Leopold by her side.
“Unprepared? Georges and Aysel have had three years more than us. They’re a lot more prepared than we were. And they’ve had feedback from Li Bao to get themselves ready.”
Tasha saw a flicker of grief in Leopold’s eyes. He had been close to Li Bao before she had become addicted to nanite drugs. She had been exiled back to Earth when they had found out, forever banned from using nanites, forever isolated from her power and abilities, on pain of death. Her body couldn’t take any new nanobots and live. Leopold had never talked about it after her departure, but Tasha felt the scar was still unhealed. Time would tell more when they flew back down.
She continued, “Come, let’s go to the cafeteria. We still have some time before they can join.”
“Party meal! What a treat!” Leopold spat ironically.
“Which is?” Sometimes, his jokes got on her nerves.
“Same as yesterday? Stale water and canned rations.”
“What? Do they ever eat anything else?” Tasha wondered.
“No, everything comes from Earth. They don’t grow anything here. And on this flight, they took a lot of cargo for our future students. No delicacies today.”
“And the water?”
“The entire energy and fluid grid is unstable. We could have better water if it worked properly. It doesn’t.”
Tasha looked at him and caught his eyes. He nodded slowly. We’ll have to seriously upgrade the space operations if we want to build a real trade facility up here. She took him by the arm, leading him back to the module’s central room, used for lunch, research, engineering – everything happened in the same place. On the wall grew hydroponics farms, which released a mushy odor.
In the corridor, Leopold murmured, “I’ve made a tour around the whole structure. They all live one upon another. But they don’t work together, Tasha. This station isn’t finished or complete, but it’s a lot worse than that. We don’t have a crew here.”
“I’ve noticed. Great individuals. Great station mistress. But no team.” Tasha winced. Space was harsh enough without having to manage in-fighting. But another conviction was growing in her. This place might be antiquated, but this was her planet’s biggest achievement in space and she wouldn’t let it down. “Well, one step at a time. Derantor and her crew will leave soon, and we need to pick their minds about station management until then. Maricar will work on the team’s spirit in the meantime.”
“She hasn’t succeeded yet. What will change now?” Leopold continued more seriously. “But, yes, I get the message. I’ll talk with Droum about cargo handling in the major hubs. And to Hawkeyes Noul. We need to use this time as best as we can to get the ship ready for action. No sense complaining about the station if the ship isn’t up to task.”
“Thanks!”
Very soon – too soon – they would be alone in the solar system without senior pilots like Derantor to guide them. I hope we’ll have a short break at home before then.
Anaru
Geneva, Leman lake, July 3, 2140
Anaru Metre, the President of the United Organization, loved water. He might be one of the most powerful men on Earth, but he had kept his childhood fondness of sailing. This was one of the few days in the year where he indulged his passion. The aged Maori was a massive
man, broad-shouldered, with a square face and deep-sunken eyes. Today, he had left the harbor at the Geneva Secure Compound with a small catamaran. Not a good boat to fish, but one that reminded him of his youth sailing in the Puget Sound in NorAm.
Opposite him sat the Chief of the Federation Marines, Poiz Grayt, a muscular, golden man from Alkath. Anaru had always thought he looked like a god from ancient times descended upon the planet. Next to them, a smaller, skinnier, weasel-faced woman held the wheel. Yasmina Iakoubi might be less impressive than the two men but her big jacket, labeled CPC Chief, identified her as the head of the central force coordinating police operations on Earth. Sailing might provide a break from Anaru’s routine, but it didn’t stop him from working.
“We’ve got a real problem, sir,” Yasmina said, breaking the silence that had filled the catamaran since their departure. The weather was still cool in this summer morning, and Anaru had enjoyed the blissful sensation of the rush of fresh air on his face. Until now.
“What, missing a net? You’ll miss your share of the barbecue, that’s all. Enjoy the sun, chief.” He had enjoyed leaving the harbor and wanted to keep the light feeling just a moment longer.
A few minutes ticked by before Poiz raised his voice. “We’re all clear now. No one can listen on us, no radio transmissions from here, and sight shield activated.” He was a serious man, performing a serious job. He had to secure his passengers even if today there were only three. From what Anaru had seen, he had triggered the shield three hundred yards back and waited its full activation before announcing it. He probably didn’t want the exact ranges of the Federation Devices known to anyone, even trusted ones.
“Thanks, Poiz. Let’s keep it brief. I’d like to sail today, still. And some fishing if we can. I’ve heard carps are back.” Anaru gestured at the blue lake around them. It had suffered a century ago, attacked by global warming and algae, but was now back to normal. Or at least close to it.
Yasmina dived into it. “Charon made it home a week ago. Since then, we’ve been facing new attacks on the Federation. Five already accounted for. They’re tracking our covert agents and assassinating them one by one. We lost one in Berlin yesterday who, we believe, had infiltrated our strongest opposition.”
“Chief, no one had acted against the Federation since the Selection Riots. And now we face multiple concentrated attacks. Someone prepared for a long time and is now ready to act. What made you ask for a ride across the lake this morning?”
“Your pilots have asked to come back here, meet their families. They will become targets,” Poiz intervened in his deep, rumbling voice. “They’re too valuable to lose.”
All Federation Personnel were protected by their Marines and he had already stretched his resources thin with the random attacks occurring everywhere at once.
“They aren’t a target, you’re wrong. Not yet, at least. In a year, maybe. In two years, certainly. Whoever is working against us has been running actions against covert agents and Federation Personnel. No evidence against them or us. They won’t attack the kids – trust me on this.”
Yasmina remained worried, despite the reassurance. “So, do we allow them back?”
“Yes, they have already asked me. It should calm our opponents, whoever they are.” Anaru knew full well that his actions were opposed. Old conglomerates, nations, lobbies – he had been trained to handle all of them. And yet. He had seen in recent years how their action was concerted and organized, which meant there was a puppeteer behind the scenes, even if Anaru had never proved it. “We will make it as public as we can. We want them visible, for their own safety.” He rose to take the wheel, motioning to Poiz to prepare the fishing lines. “You’ve got two weeks before they come.”
“You’ll expose them?” Poiz was incredulous.
“Absolutely. The whole planet is proud of them. Our people need to see them. If they’re shot now, they’ll become martyrs. No, our enemies will expose themselves first and then show themselves as fools or incompetents.”
“Yes, sir,” both security executives said in unison.
They don’t like it. Different worlds, same mindset.
“And find who is operating against us. I believe they precipitated their attack with Charon. Acting too soon, they may make a mistake. Get all your agents to work. We haven’t had a terrorist war for thirty years. I don’t want to pull back everyone to safe compounds once again. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” This time, only Yasmina answered. She had lived through the terror of the Brotherhood, a death cult which had attacked governments all over the planet, trying to bring the world down to chaos and anarchy.
Anaru looked at her, then flicked his eyes toward Poiz. Yasmina nodded. She would explain to him what they had been through. Inwardly, the President cursed. Soon, he feared, his security wouldn’t allow him to go sailing around the lake anymore.
Susanna
Earth New Mexico Spaceport, July 10, 2140
“This is Susanna Loewre, live from New Mexico Spaceport.”
Around the golden journalist attired in a tight dark blue jumpsuit, the crew busied itself with the countdown to landing operations. Ten small drones flew around her, building multiple live 3D captures of the scene. Watchers at home would follow her story in virtual reality from the command center. Before Susanna, live events had to be recorded and remastered for full virtual experience. Real time was her brand, her idea, her achievement when she left the Earth Academy. She had built her career on her own when her parents had disinherited and rejected her. A space freak, her mother had said. Today, at barely twenty-six, she welcomed her fellow students back to Earth. She was now an entertainment star and the owner of a large communication network with activities all over the planet. Until a week ago, when the returnees from Adheek had taken the light off her. The first starpilot from Earth cast shadows over everything else. They are nothing here. They won’t steal the light from me. They’ll be my puppets on my stage.
“Station control has reacquired radio contact. Illyam, what can you tell us about it?” She turned to Illyam Dayton, a former student like her, an old lover as well. He wasn’t even sad or unfair about their relationship, which had greatly improved her opinion of him. Not a whiner, like so many she had met.
“Everything is under control, Susanna. In station three,” he pointed to one of his assistants, motioning to the drones to focus on her, “Mylena is guiding Angelo, one of our pilots, to the ground. Five minutes to touchdown! And your watchers will see Tasha, Wilfried and Leopold as no one else will be able to.”
Susanna smiled inwardly. Definitely improved. He was a round-faced Afro-American with huge dreadlocks. Quite good looking, when one ignored the discoloration spots, results of the 2121 plague. His appearance would unsettle many, but it would give her show an air of authenticity. We’re hiding nothing and no one.
“A quick reminder for our watchers. Miss. Natalya Podorovski has been nicknamed Tasha at the academy for many years.” She adopted a more serious voice. “Why this security, Illyam?” With a quick command on the monitor wrapped around her arm, a virtual window opened in the air between them, showing the armed forces massed inside the secure compound. Only their viewers would see it, but she had briefed Illyam beforehand.
He turned and motioned to the window. Two external drones took over at this stage, continuing to build a full experience for the watchers. “Currently, we’ve got two protests at our door, from EarthFirst and the Ecowarriors. The warriors have been threatening the lives of our pilots, and we don’t want any risks. Especially with the recent attacks all around the world.” The drone would show the protesters outside, under the unforgiving sun, a weak crowd in appearance, with old and worn placards, but also with their backup crew five hundred yards back in their brand-new caravan of heavy trucks. Perfectly dramatic. Susanna smiled. The Federation had robbed her of everything, and she enjoyed showing its troubles.
The shuttle aligned for the last time with the runway. After three long minu
tes, it touched the ground, guided over the last klick by an electromagnetic grid, a recent improvement brought in by the Federation. Susanna saw one Federation scientist in a gray uniform, the white triangle on the left shoulder, monitoring its behavior. Green light? Too bad. It’s working.
At last, the door of the shuttle opened, and everyone in the command center jumped to their feet, cheering wildly. Outside, the two drones were feeding live images.
Her voice rose in exaltation. “Dear watchers, Natalya Podorovski–or Tasha, for my friend Illyam here – Wilfried Bauer and Leopold Sengare are now back on Earth!”
With her tiny hand-controller, she meshed in a grand finale: a closeup shot of Mylena, the assistant, crying openly, the pilots raising hands to shade their eyes, and then the protests of rage outside.
Another record audience today. Dad, I hope you’re watching, ‘cause I’ll soon be taking over your company.
Wilfried
NorAm Alliance, New Mexico Spaceport, July 10, 2140
The drive from the space center to the government headquarters was a blur of people and movement, and Wilfried found it slightly frightening.
Tasha nudged him in the ribs. “Not used to crowds anymore?”
She always senses my discomfort.
“Adheek had barely half our population. Even after the plagues and millions dying.” He thought grimly of recent years. “But, it’s more than that. I’m ashamed of all this. Look. The old skyscrapers there.” He indicated the structures in the distance, still not dismantled. No one could live in those towers nowadays, not with electricity rationing that forbade air conditioning, global warming transforming these plains into an oven, rivers dry from heat ten months out of twelve. “And around us. All those people with the marks of the red blotch plagues. Did you activate your nanites?”
