Raymond recalls the last time he’d made a trip to Luna base – in a shuttle like this - with a host of Senators from around the world daring enough to make the journey. It was seven years ago, and one of his fondest memories. They were treated to a full orbit around the Earth and a trip to the Moon. Once they’d landed at Luna base an extravagant dinner awaited them at the gravity-wheel restaurant; essentially a maglev train on a banked track dug into the moon’s hard surface and protected under the high, massive dome. The setting was a clear indication of how far humanity had come in the years following the perfection of AI Hosts. So much had been accomplished. The trip was made in celebration of the first interplanetary ship built on the moon.
Mining operations began humanity’s interest in the Moon’s renaissance, followed by facilities designed by man and built by machines. The machines toiled in the plants for the last seven years and humanity now enjoyed over thirty ships of varying classes and capacity orbiting the Moon and making weekly trips to Mars Where mining operations and research was ongoing. There was seemingly nothing that could stand in the way of peaceful progress.
Now there was Tobias and his group of Shadow Broker Anachists. Are they to be held accountable for the downfall of utopian society which was so carefully orchestrated over the last hundred years? If what the general has told him is true, Raymond knew he had to do something to stop it before Fran let loose her arsenal of missiles to the moon, killing hundreds of innocent people and setting human development back to pre-date the first Moon-landings.
The view was as incredible outside his window as he’d remembered; the Earth falling away and the Moon advancing, and blackness in between. His arms rise slowly above his head as does anything not bolted, or strapped down. SENTA’s heavy limbs stay at her side.
Surveying the others sharing the upper seats with them, Raymond feels a great unease enter his chest. They laugh and toss objects between them like children. These people are only interested in causing discontent and unrest. Why play this game? Why use Hosts as a kind of cruel distraction while you insite war and infighting amongst a peaceful society?
“Hey,” a voice roars from a few seats over. “Hey, Chancellor, is that your synth-sex model?”
Another joins in, “He couldn’t leave her down there, she’s too ugly for anyone else!” They laugh louder.
“You do that to her face? Sick, prick!” One of them unbuckles himself and floats towards Raymond and Sam. “I know what goes on in those places, hell, I made seven of ‘em myself. But you’ve got some strange tastes cut’n up her face like that.” He reaches for SENTA and grabs her chin, turning her face so the others can see.
Sam swats at the man before Raymond can act, sending him carrening into the ceiling and yelping as he hits the solid ribbing. Sam seems shocked at her own strength. The upgrades really work.
The rest of the anarchists just laugh it off and berate the man who had been slapped by a Host. The same Broker pushes off from the ceiling with his legs and charges through the empty space excellerating as he comes closer and closer. He’s angry, he wants a fight, but Raymond knows SENTA has no skills, and depending on the man’s implants, he might seriously hurt her. He unbukles himself, pushes off his seat and intercepts the Shadow Broker, slamming a shoulder into his stomach, sending him head over heels backwards again into the ceiling where he cracks his head this time, and floats unconcious for the remainder of the trip.
“The chancellor’s got a pair!” States a Broker wearing what looks to be the hollowed-out crown of an E-class for a helmet. The others errupt in more laughter and from his new vantage point, Raymond watches as a number of wineskins are passed between the group. They’re drunk.
Navigating his way along the wall he pulls himself back into his seat and secures the belt.
“Thank you,” Sam tells him. Raymond takes her hand and squeezes.
“We need to get through to Tobias. These people are animals. They’ll piss on everything good we’ve accomplished as a species.” His adrenaline is spiking.
“We will, Raymond. You need to be calm.” He feels her fingers run through his desheveled hair.
“Listen, Sam, what the general said, what Fran said to me -”
“I know, Raymond. It’s upsetting, but I don’t feel any different about who I am.” SENTA’s voice is low and reassuring.
“I just, I don’t know how you could know the things you know otherwise. About Mom’s favourtie dessert, the hymn…” He shakes his head and places it against her cold, metalic shoulder. He feels very heavy suddenly, and Samantha kisses his forehead.
“We will fix this,” she tells him. He nods, closing his eyes hard as the shuttle slows entering the Moon’s orbit. “Oh, Raymond, look.”
He lifts his head to meet her gaze, following it to the window and beyond. There are dozens of shuttles in orbit, some beginning landing operations. Tobias floats out to address his motely crew of Shadow Brokers.
“Reports we’ve intercepted from Earth say we lost over a hundred shuttles. That’s roughly two-thousand of ours dead for the cause.”
“How many Hosts?” Asks Samantha.
“Hosts? Who cares? They’re fodder. Pawns amongst generals.” He speaks directly to his people and they cheer.
“Those Brokers that went down, went down believing in those of us who would survive the exodus,” Tobias continues. “Well, look out your windows, there are over one-hundred-fifty shuttles out there. We will take Luna Base, and await what further instructions Allfather has to win this war, while they tear eachother apart down there.” He points at the Earth, now a bright marble in the darkness.
LUNA BASE
Luna Base is not fitted with anti-aircraft armaments, nor do they have a significant military presence. But after what General August relayed to Commander Darla concerning the one-hundred-fifty-three shuttles now beginning their decent on her location, she has no intention of allowing them easy entry.
“Raise the alarm,” she orders her small military compliment, devised of a single captain, two lieutenants, a sergeant-at-arms, twenty-six corporals, twelve F-class and six G-class. “Place the G-class outside and cover as much of our parimeter as possible, we can’t allow these rebel Cells access. This is coming from General August herself. After launching, the rebels destroyed the Off-World Stations, and with no more shuttles left to carry further reenforcements, this is our fight.” She’s nervous, but rather then focusing on her fears she adopts a calm exterior, conveying commands with a composed, steady tone.
The work is carried out quickly and most are placed before the first shuttles land. An order to open fire the moment they touch down is carried out efficiently and effectively as the G-class artillary rips into the shuttles fuselage. No one escapes the initial landings, but the base is a sprawling complex with well over two-million square metres to protect between the command centre, living quarters, manufacturing hubs and mining operations. Another one-million square metres exist to house the shipyard alone.
Though the landing pads are only located in a singular location, the shuttles could effectively land anywhwere within the circumfrence of the base deemed level enough.
“Send the F-class to circle the base.”
“What of the out-buildings, Commander?” asks Captain Grumman, the military lead placed by General August as a precaution, along with a compliment of soldiers and F and G-class Hosts.
“It’s Luna Base I’m most concerned about, Captain. We have one-thousand lives to protect here. The other buildings are manned by Hosts. It was my understanding that the rebels were after the base. We need to focus our efforts on protecting this building.”
The captian looks pained by the Commander’s orders, but radios them to his team and the F-class move along the perimeter. The human contingent of their military force remains inside to thwart any attempts to breach the base.
______________________________________________________________________
From his orbit, Tobias watches as shuttles land
and are systematically destroyed by heavy artillary on the ground. G-class, he surmises. Luna Base, with its domed exterior looks impenetrable through a ground assault. His heart falls at the devestating losses his group continues to take.
His embedded com lights up. It’s Allfather.
::Place the bulk of your numbers at the shipyard.::
He responds. ::Why the shipyard?::
Allfather replies with a new folder offering schematics of the ships stored within the yard. Three different classes. Long range, which he knows travel as far as Mars and the moons of Jupitor and Saturn, short range, which shuttle from the Earth to the Moon, and a new type classified as corvette; which have been developed in secret.
He gives himself a moment with the corvette designs and realizes why he’s never laid eyes on these plans.
::Corvette are warships,:: Allfather replies. ::Untested.::
He wonders why they weren’t employeed in the fight against his team.
::Untested.::
He has the feeling that Allfather will want them tested. ::Are we to pilot these against Luna Base?:: He waits a milisecond for the answer.
::Earth.::
That’s good enough for him. He turns on the com and gives his crew and those left orbiting the Moon new orders to take the shipyard. Within moments the shuttles target suitable landing areas along the massive building and begin their invasion.
______________________________________________________________________
“Commander,” alerts Captain Grumman. “The shuttles are deploying further north now, along the eastern ridge of the shipyard,” he wears his customary scowl. “Commander, I suggest we route eighty percent of our forces to the yard.”
“What? Why? They can’t access the ships without the proper codes. No, I want Luna Base defended.”
“Commander,” The captian pleads, his grim expression tilling deeper lines in his already weathered face.
“Captain,” Darla reads Grummans expression. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I’m worried they may have acquired ship codes. Those shuttles are full of Shadow Brokers. They come from every corner of the world and from every walk of life.”
“Do you fear they’ll escape to Mars? There’s nothing there but Hosts working to pull water to the surface and mining the rock. They won’t last six months.” She rounds her desk, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t see the risk. The plan does not change, Captain.”
This is the trouble with secrets, Grumman ruminates. He’s never been a Humanist, and holds no ill-feelings towards either Hosts or the activitists. But, like everyone under her command, he’s aware of General August’s political leanings. He knows that she wants only the best for humanity, and had released the order to build the corvette-class to further protect their interests from potential Host uprisings. He’s also known about the secret military operation which has been manufacturing the warships the past two years. Twelve in all. He’s run the operation at the moon shipyards under the general’s protected orders, without Commander Darla’s knowledge. The ships are untested, yes, but ready for their initial run. If the rebels managed to access the codes, to get them operational, this battle is lost.
Captain Grumman nods and steps out of Darla’s office. He pulls the velco flap from the sleve of his black military uniform and enters the general’s secure line on his EC.
“Captain,” General August greets him. “What can you tell me?”
“The rebels are moving on the shipyard, General. As you’d feared they might.”
“Then there’s a good chance they have the codes to the corvettes.”
“I suspect that might be the case.”
“I have two operatives on one of those shuttles, Captain. They’re alive, and will likely be heading to the shipyard. I gave them twenty-four hours to report back to me with the rebel plan. They have twenty hours left. Can you route your forces?”
“Commander Darla is insistent that I keep them at Luna Base.”
“You have my permission to explain the situation, Captain. She may be upset to know what we’ve been doing in her shipyard, but if she cannot be reasoned with, use your own judgemnent on how to deal with her. We must keep those ships out of enemy hands.”
“Understood. Can I ask what you plan to do in twenty hours if you do not hear from your operatives?”
“I will bury Luna Base and everything and everyone presently on the moon to protect earth, Captain.”
“As I expected you would, General. I will do my best to stop them.”
“As I expected you would, Captain. I’m hesitant to push the button. I want this resolved with as few casualties as possible. Those corvettes represent our future. Update me hourly.”
Grumman enters the commander’s office once more. She seems surprised to see him. He softens his stance, knowing the commander will take this news personally.
“Did you not just leave?”
“I did, but, Commander, there is something you need to know.”
______________________________________________________________________
As their shuttle fires it’s landing jets, Raymond’s heart lands in his stomach. The shipyards. Quite a distance from Luna Base, but consdsidering the casualties they are taking at the landing pads, he imagines it makes good sense.
Over the com, he listens as Tobias recommends slipping on the jumper and helmet located under their seats. Raymond obeys. Minutes later the sound of the bay doors releasing below accompanied by the rush of air ripped from the cabin suggest his suit is working. It is a state-of-the-art zero-atmosphere suit; thin, white fabric with dark lines running this way and that interpreting vital information onto the maliable headpiece with wide viewing window. He notices a velcro EC accessable flap on his forearms in order to access his communications device with a nano-plast shield which will take direction from his fingertips in order to operate this embedded com system. He hops along the cabin and down the steps holding the railing and pushing himself lower and lower until he is in the bay. Sam follows, her increased payload of armour keeping her feet grounded. The rebel Hosts have already moved out of the cargo bay along with the Shadow Brokers.
Raymond feels a bump from behind. Tobias pushes past him and turns. “Coming?” He queries via the suits’ open com.
“Where are we going?”
“To see a Host about a ship.”
This is why we’re at the shipyard, he thinks. They’re going to run. But to where? Mars is hardly habitable for humans. They couldn’t live on the long-range ships for more then a a few weeks, and the other class are no better then the shuttles they’ve come in on. He decides to alert the general on his EC, cancelling the open status on his suit com.
“Raymond, you’re safe?”
“For now, we’ve landed at the Shipyard. Tobias says we’re here for one of them. That’s all I know right now.”
“You need to stay with him. You may be visited by a few G-class momentaily. Possibly a few soldiers as well. Can you mark yourself with something? Something I can tell them not to fire on?”
Raymond looks around and pulls a can of high-powered compressed paint from the cargo bay wall. He shakes it in the slow-motion way the Moon’s gravity allows one to shake anything and sprays his sister and then himself across the chest, the force of the air pushing his arm back in the low gravity.
“Orange industrial paint on our chests,” he tells her.
“I will relay that to my team. The G-class will have that added to the objects they cannot fire on. In the meantime, keep up with the group.”
The chancellor looks at Sam and nods towards the door. They move to catch up with Tobias.
Inside the yard the building seems to disappear with the horizon it’s so massive. Tobias is at a control panel reading from his EC. He has codes for the ships, Raymond realizes. Still though, what’s the point?
In the distance, a ship ignites its engines and rises slowly above the others. This is not a lon
g nor short-range model, it’s something else entirely. The vessel looks slick but bulky - heavier than the Moon to Mars ships, resembling more the design of a personnel shuttle than an interplanetary ship. It is huge by shuttle standards and bigger still than the Earth to Moon runners, but did not include the circular living space deemed necessary for long-term travel. Along its port side, traditional yellow and orange equipment decals adorn the vessel, and a designation of numbers printed, their matte white finish complimenting the dark grey of the hull. Raymond’s obeservations are interrupted as he hears Tobias raise a victory cry through his helmet com.
“Climb aboard!” He urges both Shadow Broker and Host alike. The ship navigates to their position and hovers effortlessly in the low gravity atmosphere just enough to allow the group to hop through the open door. Te other groups follow, punching code into panels, igniting engines, and boarding these strange new ships.
A.I. Insurrection_The General's War Page 11
