Wren agreed.
“I’d say he’s likely dead, Wren.” He peered down toward the 3D image of Europa. “But if he’s alive, he’s probably on Titan or Europa. That’s my best hypothesis.”
Titan or Europa. They’d start with Titan.
Ace
“Oliv, let’s bring them in and head down,” Ace said from the cockpit of his fighter. Six of them were in their ships outside their envoy, leading the Pilgrim into the space dock above Mars. While no one owned the planet, it acted as a barrier between the two sides. A year ago, Serina had gained control of the station and fixed it up. So far, they hadn’t seen any sign of the Watchers taking offense and attacking. That was a good sign. Ace suspected that if their enemy learned the Fleet had made a home there, they’d attack out of principle.
“Roger that, Ace. Quite the sight, isn’t it?” Oliv asked, and Ace nodded to himself. Mars. He’d never seen it before, though he’d often dreamed of visiting when he was younger. It had sounded so exotic and luxurious then. Now he knew otherwise. Flint had called it a cesspool of broken government and mismanagement. He also said that once someone was born there, they never left. Flint didn’t think it was much different than coming from Earth. Maybe Mars wouldn’t have been so bad. At least there weren’t winters to contend with.
The Pilgrim slowed, and a clunky square vessel came to meet it, clasping onto the front of the colony ship. It dragged it slowly to the side of the station, and Ace followed along, agonizing over how much time it was taking. His thoughts kept drifting to the colony below. He couldn’t wait to set foot on it.
Barkley’s voice cut into his speakers. “Ace, Oliv, head to Hangar Five. Wren, Charles, and the lander are awaiting your arrival.”
“Roger. We’ll be right there,” Ace said a little too excitedly. Finally, something cool to do. The last two weeks had been nothing more than a blur of training with Jonesy and the others. The rough pilots must have heard about Ace calling them out for keeping the Watchers, because they each gave him the cold shoulder as they trained. Ace thought that was for the best. He didn’t want to be in their clique anyway.
Oliv took the lead, and Ace followed, staying outside the hangar in his fighter. “You take the lander, and I’ll bring the fighter down.”
“We weren’t asked to do that,” Oliv said. She was forever worried about being reprimanded.
“It’s for everyone’s safety. I’ll escort us. If anything happens, at least we’ll have weapons to fight back,” he said.
“Good point. I’m touching down. I’ll let you know when we’re loaded into the lander.” Oliv’s connection cut out, and Ace grinned to himself beneath his mask. He was finally going to see the Mars colony, and in his very own Fleet fighter. Granted, it wasn’t his, it was borrowed, but that was just semantics. He felt like a true hero embarking on an early expansion mission to the colony below.
Minutes later, the lander burst from the hangar’s containment field, and Ace led the way toward the red planet. The dust-covered world that had always interested him was about to become a reality.
Flint
“Don’t even think about it,” the Boss said. “You’ll put everyone at risk.”
Flint scowled at her. “You think I’m putting anyone at risk? There’s eighty of you, and they’re coming to pluck one away every few weeks, never to be seen again. You’d rather we sit back quietly while they decimate your population? The only chance at freedom is to risk it all.” He had a feeling there was more to this old woman before him than she was letting on. So far, she’d avoided his questions on it.
Clark spoke up from his spot on the floor. The three of them were alone in the corner of the space; everyone else was getting into their beds. “I’m with Flint. I only have so many weeks left in this old body. I’d rather die trying to escape this hell than wait for it to claim me.”
Flint hated calling the woman by her nickname. He couldn’t do it any longer. He leaned closer to her. “What’s your real name?”
Her gaze met his, and her eyes sparkled. “Wouldn’t you like to know? You can continue to call me as you do. This place isn’t getting my identity. That person died years ago, instead of in the escape pod that ended up flying into the enemy’s clutches.”
“Fine, but you have to agree, it’s our only chance.”
The Boss folded her hands over one another on her lap. “I’ll consider it. In the meantime, stop drawing so much attention to yourself. You’re wandering around every day, poking and prodding into everyone’s business. You’re making yourself a target. God knows I’ve almost outlived my usefulness here.”
Flint couldn’t believe it. What did these people want? To stay here until they were killed? It was pathetic, and he wasn’t going to stand by waiting for death like the rest of the herd. Her last statement dripped with meaning, but he pushed it to the side for the time being. “Fine. I’ll stop trying to connect with these former soldiers and their families. You’d think they’d be happy to consider revenge on their captors. I’ve been here two weeks and I can’t wait to wrap my hands around one of the Watchers’ thick necks and squeeze the life out of it.”
Clark grimaced, and the Boss’s eyes sprang wide open. “Lancaster, you better mind your words. There are those among us who’d betray you for good favor with those you call Watchers.”
Flint glanced around, trying to determine if anyone else was within earshot. He lowered his voice. “You can’t be serious, can you?” he asked, and she nodded. He noticed her nails looked trimmed, her hair always cleaner than the others. This had him wondering if their self-proclaimed leader had been on the take. Perhaps the Watchers supplied her with a few requested goods in exchange for keeping her people in line. It was too big an accusation to make, so Flint bit his tongue and stood up.
“Just think about what I offered. I predict it will work,” he said, not trusting himself to look at her. Clark also rose and followed Flint to their bunk beds.
“If they come tonight, do nothing. We aren’t ready,” Clark said quietly. “But we will be. Soon.”
Flint hoped the old man was right, because they still had a lot of work to do.
Wren
Wren had never been to Mars either. The only one of their group that had was Oliv. She’d been to all the colonies as a kid, and why wouldn’t she have? She was the daughter of Jarden Fairbanks. She claimed they had a home in Mars Major, and asked if they could stop by to visit it.
“I don’t see why not, as long as everything’s safe inside the dome,” Wren said, getting a brief smile from the young girl in return. She heard Ace’s boots hit the hangar floor as he hopped down from the fighter, running toward them. Wren adjusted her jumpsuit and checked her pack to make sure her breathing mask was charged before leaving the hangar. The readouts told them the air was breathable, but they wanted to be prepared.
“This is so awesome. I can’t believe we’re on Mars,” he said, wrapping an arm around Oliv and squeezing her close. His gaze dropped to the ground, and he spoke softly. “I wish Flint was here with us. He’d love this.”
Wren saw the signs of young love all over the two of them and was thrilled they’d found each other amid the ongoing war.
“I am surprised they let us come down here without an armed escort,” Charles said, and Wren eyed the guns at each of their hips.
“They made us come armed, so even though they tell us we shouldn’t encounter any living creatures, they’re not one hundred percent sold.” Wren started for the glass corridor that would lead them into the Mars domes. She felt an air of anticipation around her, as if they were exploring a new world for the first time.
“They always make you take a weapon anywhere you go. Fleet protocol, I think,” Ace said, running ahead of the rest of them. Oliv chased after him, leaving Wren and Charles behind.
“What are your objectives, Charles?” Wren asked the android. He’d been oddly quiet about it.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. I am to assess the pressure of the
dome, ensure it’s functioning properly, and do maintenance if required,” he answered.
“And you know how to do that?”
“They’ve uploaded the manuals into me. I can fix almost anything in the control room, if necessary.”
Charles wasn’t exactly the same since he’d been ripped to shreds by the Watchers and rebuilt, and Wren was worried about him. He’d lost some of his edge, but she could understand why. If she’d been told that her first thirty years were a lie, and she was created as a fully-grown human and thrown into prison, she’d be upset too.
“Don’t touch the entrance!” Wren shouted toward the teenagers.
They arrived at the corridor that would lead them inside, and Ace and Oliv stood by the keypad impatiently.
“Impulsiveness can get you killed, Ace,” Wren said, hating how harsh she sounded.
“It can also save your life,” Ace retorted, and she couldn’t argue with him.
Charles stepped to the controls, a probe pushing from his index finger. It stuck into the panel, and his eyes changed to blue for a split second before returning to orange. “From what I can read, the dome is sealed and operational. The pressure needs adjusting, but we’ll be okay to walk freely within.”
The doors hissed open, and Wren stepped through first as Oliv held Ace back with a gentle touch. The girl was letting her go first. The rounded corridor tube was a quarter-kilometer long, and ten meters wide. She saw the surface of Mars outside the glass as she walked the length, ending at the next set of doors. Charles once again confirmed the safety of Mars Major, and they entered the main dome.
It was dim inside, the dome tinted from the sunlight that currently cascaded high over the planet. “Charles, can you adjust the tint?” Wren asked.
“When we reach the control room, I’ll be able to, yes.”
They walked through the docking guards’ stations and passed a few turnstiles into the open dome. It stood higher than Wren had assumed, and inside was an abandoned city. Flint had called it a dump, and in its current state, she had to agree with him. She tried to picture it in its heyday: their first colony, credits galore being dumped into it, private investors funneling corporate profits into their very own condo blocks on the exotic Mars Major.
That hadn’t lasted long. A hundred years later, anyone with common sense had vacated it, leaving behind those who couldn’t afford to leave. Generations of Martians were born never knowing any more than what they had inside the dome. It was a different life, but Wren didn’t think it would have been that terrible. A simple existence with few concerns: you went to work, went home, ate with the family, went for a walk in the manufactured streets, and did it all again the next day. It was an oddly comforting thought.
Now the buildings, which were mostly comprised of metal sheeting and rock that was probably native to Mars, decontaminated and radiation-deflecting, sat empty. They had a specific charm to them. They strolled by a series of storefronts that were all in the long row of a single building, separated by thin walls. The shelves sat pilfered, glass broken on the concrete pathways in front.
Wren closed her eyes and inhaled. The air was stuffy, unused, and she wondered what it used to smell like inside. There were a few food stalls overturned in the streets. Their aromas would have wafted down the Mars Major entry, the smoke billowing and venting from the dome above.
“Wren, are you okay?” Charles asked, and she realized she’d stopped in the middle of the street, standing with her eyes closed.
“Sorry, I’m just dreaming of another time.” She gave the android a soft smile. Now, as she looked around, Wren felt a sense of profound sadness for all they’d lost as a race. She hadn’t seen the after-effects on Earth yet, but they were heading there next. It would never be the same again. She would never take a bath in her luxurious tub in New Dallas or walk downtown, stepping into a lounge to hear Old World jazz and sip an overpriced martini. The world was in chaos, desperation gripping them as a species while this war slowly raged on, the threat of conflict often more damaging than the battles themselves.
Ace had become quiet as well. “What do you think, Ace?” Wren asked the boy.
His eyes were wide as he constantly turned his head, trying to take it all in. “I think I’m here about a hundred or so years too late.”
They passed through the first section of the city, heading to the left toward an apartment block. It was about eight stories high, red like the surface of Mars, with tiny windows and no balconies. This was what most of the people on Mars had lived in.
“Now this reminds me of Old Chicago,” Ace said, staring up at the building.
“Which way to the control room, Charles?” Oliv asked, and Charles pointed forward.
“This way, another two kilometers,” he said.
They kept moving, still seeing no signs of life anywhere.
Ace ran to the side of a building and ripped a piece of paper off, bringing it back to their tightknit group. “Look,” he said, passing the sheet to Wren. She didn’t see paper often anymore. It was more of a luxury item than anything, and had been for years.
Martians Against the Earth Fleet
Jan 17 20:00
Paula’s Diner
Have you had enough of the Fleet peeling every credit from your palms? It’s time to do something about it. Tell your friends.
MATEF
Wren wasn’t surprised at the note. She guessed there’d been a lot of groups against the Fleet over the years.
“Why were they so angry?” Oliv asked.
Ace rolled his eyes, and Wren found it amusing how the kid could be wearing a Fleet uniform, flying their ships, but still openly speaking out against them when prompted. “Because they were hungry and scared, and they never felt like anyone was listening. They dreamt of days when they could self-govern and live their own existence out here, out of the controlling grip of an oppressive force like the Fleet. They worked hard, but they were taxed incessantly so the Fleet could build ships.”
“Didn’t they do that so they could defend our solar system?” Oliv asked.
“That’s right, Oliv, they did.” Wren thought Ace better watch his step before he got into a heated discussion about it with his girlfriend, who, up until the colony crash, had been raised on Jarden’s wealth.
“Even before that, they took from the poor and lived like kings. Take the Council…” Ace noticed Wren shooting warning glances at him, and she was glad to hear him stop in his tracks. “All I’m saying is, as someone who grew up with nothing but the dirty shirt on my back, I get it.”
This seemed to smooth things over, and OIiv held Ace’s hand as they kept moving. They walked mostly in silence for the last kilometer, the landscape never really changing. It was squat red building after squat red building, making way for ugly boxy manufacturing plants and warehouses. As they approached the control room, Wren noticed how different it was in appearance. The walls were shiny unpolished metal, the doors heavy and thick; the few windows it had were covered by bars, and likely energy barriers when it was up and running properly.
“Can you get in?” Ace asked Charles, who was already tinkering with the door panel.
The thick metal slabs slid apart, giving them entrance. Charles glanced over, his eyes glowing brightly.
“I guess that’s a yes,” Ace muttered.
Wren heard it before anyone, and whispered to them, “There’s someone inside.”
10
Flint
Flint whistled a tune quietly to himself as he finished using the washroom. The Watchers were barbarians, but at least they kept the plumbing working. The showers weren’t functioning, but he utilized the sink to wash as best as he could. He’d had a lot worse washroom experiences in his day, and no one here wanted to hear his complaints.
A man walked in and came to the sink beside Flint’s. He grunted and started the water, splashing some of the cold liquid on his face. “You’re Flint, right?” he asked.
Flint had seen the man around.
It was easy to know everyone by face, but not by name. Most of them were closed books, unable or unwilling to talk to anyone or do anything.
“That’s me. And you are?” he asked, taking the man in. His age was hard to pinpoint, since he was so obviously sick. His thick hair had turned gray; a long beard concealed his face. He still had broad shoulders, and that suggested to Flint that he’d been a much larger man in his previous life.
“Tag.” The man stuck out his hand, looking down at it as if trying to remember what the gesture meant.
Flint shook the extended hand and smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Tag. How long have you been here?” It wasn’t a question most of them liked to hear, but he was trying to break the ice.
“Two years, give or take. Long enough to watch them remove about thirty people,” Tag said, continuing intense eye contact. His dark brown eyes had a desperate but determined presence to them.
“That must have been hard to witness,” Flint said, silently urging Tag to keep talking.
“It was. I tried to stop them that first time. It was an older lady. She went quietly, as if they’d finally come to whisk her away to a private vacation. I was told the lady had been here for three years, and after they beat me and left me for dead on the floor, I realized there was no saving these people. No one could save me either.” Tag turned to the mirror, staring at himself in the reflection.
“What if we could?” Flint whispered the question.
“Then you’re as crazy as Clark said,” Tag answered.
Clark. So it had been the old man who’d been spreading the plan to others, looking for the most capable among them. “I’ve never claimed to be anything more than a simple pilot.”
“I’ve heard of you before, you know,” the man said.
“How?”
“Flint Lancaster. One of the best pilots the Fleet had ever seen. Disappeared after a mission gone wrong. You were talked about by the old commanders as if you were an urban legend among the Fleet,” Tag said.
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