The Black Cell

by R. L. M. Sanchez

  6

  THE FLEET

  McKenna fiddled with a small wolf pendent that complemented his old dog tags from the Martian military. Etched on the back were the words Dare to Dream, a Martian motto stretching back to the founding of the colony itself over three hundred years ago. He looked at his watch before letting out a groan. The next available flight off world to Earth was a merchant vessel. Not how he expected to travel in his given situation, but it wasn’t unknown for governments to hire out independent charters for travel.

  McKenna didn’t think too much of it until he saw the actual ship he was meant to be traveling on. The ship flew in and hovered above the landing pad before slowly descending. It was an old model light-cargo ship that had to be at least seventy years old, off-white with stains of rust bleeding from the panels. Not sleek or curvy given its nature, its engines were of a cluster design with each of the four engines containing smaller units within.

  “What a piece of shit,” McKenna scoffed. Judging from the craft alone, the pilot was definitely an independent merchant selling to whoever he could. This small ship wouldn’t allow mass product to be sold.

  The vessel touched down and the pilot exited the ship, almost stumbling down as he did so. He then made his way to talk with the dockworker present in the area. Shortly after, three workers came to offload a few crates and load some more on. McKenna stood up from the bench, slinging his bag and proceeding over to the pilot, who was overseeing the workers.

  The pilot wore a layered caramel coat that was considerably worn and green cargo pants that were smudged all over with oil, or at least McKenna thought it was oil. He had quite a bushy gray and white beard growing as well. McKenna approached him nervously, thinking there was some mistake.

  The pilot already knew who he was, however, and spoke first in thickly accented English. “Ah, yes, Mister McKenna!” the pilot said. “I’m to be your chauffeur today to the magnificent blue marble that is Earth! If you need piss, take it now. The ride is not long, but some have bladder of my dyedooshka! But if you piss prematurely, it’s okay! I doubt you can damage the smell inside already, ha-ha!”

  The pilot smacked McKenna’s arm, hoping to arouse a smile at the very least, and McKenna slowly forced one out.

  The pilot had a screw loose, or several. McKenna wondered if he was drunk. “I think I’m good. You are?” McKenna asked.

  “Gregori Dubrovsky, at your full service! Well not full or there would not be enough for Gregori’s wife huh? Ha-ha!” Gregori smacked McKenna’s arm again, but this time McKenna didn’t smile. Gregori realized McKenna’s patience was being tested. “Uh, right! So, Council pulled me off my normal route to come here to pick up you, Mister Alan McKenna.”

  “Understood. So when can we leave?” McKenna asked as he looked over the old ship again. He felt, oddly, very eager to get off-world as his mystery assignment had kept him on edge.

  The two started walking towards the hatch of the vessel, where two workers were unloading the last crates. “Soon, Mister McKenna. Have to wait for these assholes to finish. I’m taking on a few goods to offload at the merchant quarter on Earth.” Moments later the workers finished slamming their hands on the hull of the ship, indicating their completion, then quickly ran off. “McKenna, hop in!”

  McKenna was still in disbelief at the ship, but he climbed in the old shuttle regardless. It was cramped, with crates stuffed from back to front, leaving little room to get to the two-seater cockpit. He placed his bag securely in a little space he could access easily later and ducked, passing a large cylindrical tube integrated into the ship itself. It looked to be a recent addition, around ten years old compared to the seventy-year-old ship.

  “Hey Gregori, what the hell is this thing? It sure takes up a lot of unnecessary space here,” McKenna said as he squeezed passed the object.

  “Oh that…?” Gregori mumbled. “MAK-02 Flare Launcher. Special item I keep for myself.”

  “You serious? Why would you need that?” McKenna laughed. He then saw Gregori’s face realizing he was completely serious.

  “You ever made any runs near the Kuiper? Pirates, man,” Gregori said as he squeezed past McKenna and up to the cockpit. “Very mean people. I owe myself a little bit of countermeasures.”

  McKenna made his way up and sat next to Gregori in the cockpit, which was rather comfortable and smelled oddly of roasted peanuts. He looked over and saw Gregori eating some said nuts.

  “Care for a taste? Can’t deny them going in as long as you don’t deny them coming out, yes?” Gregori said as he smiled, revealing his yellowed teeth.

  “No thanks, I already ate. They are good though,” McKenna said sarcastically.

  “I know what you mean, bratan.” Gregori said as he tossed a handful into his mouth. “But they go straight through me, I tell you. You’ve never seen such blitz in a shitter before.”

  McKenna rolled his eyes at the vulgar statement as Gregori began flipping various switches on the panel before him. The ship was old enough that there wasn’t a single holographic display, only levers, switches and analog screens. Gregori moved a small toggle switch next to his left thigh, then the ship began to produce a low hum as the thrusters on the rear and nose of the craft rotated vertically.

  “Okay, so, no smoking, moving fast, vomiting, singing – unless it’s in Russian – and absolutely no drinking!” Gregori said as he took a shot of something in his flask.

  “Has the Space Flight Administration ever told you that you shouldn’t drink and fly, Gregori?” McKenna said sternly.

  “A little for the road is okay though! Horohsho, now we go!” Gregori pushed a lever forwards on a small rail beside his leg and the vessel began to ascend. When it rose to a hundred feet the ship’s thrusters shifted back to their horizontal positions and accelerated them through space quickly and surely.

  McKenna personally didn’t like to fly, but his anxiety would have to be suppressed for now. The spacecraft cruised nicely towards the blue planet. McKenna gazed out into space and admired its beauty. Just out of the Sol System lay many star clusters inhabited by Aurorans and other species, but such places were out of humanity’s grasp. The Aurorans didn’t trust humans with extrasolar travel due to the Black Cell on Earth. It was a topic that had always been of great debate on Earth, and Aurorans closely guarded the Dark Space just outside of the Kuiper Belt to ensure no human ship went past.

  McKenna didn’t know much about Earth aside from the obvious, such as the virus and the super-metropolises or things he’d seen on vidcasts back home. The cities were spectacles from the sky but it was a different story once you landed, or that’s what McKenna had been told. The crime rate was astronomically high in the undercities, and it was hard to regulate due to understaffed police. He could only speculate whether this was what his recruitment involved, but if that were the case a simple recruitment brochure would’ve sufficed, not the cryptic messages the Council had offered.

  The old clunker-craft had large but subtle engines, and their low hum made it comfortable for McKenna, and no doubt the campy pilot. He was beginning to pick up why the pilot kept the vessel serviceable. It gave him enough reason to doze before they reached Earth. Not too long after he nodded off, however, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder.

  “Sorry to wake from daydreams but Council sent me with, quote, care package when I left Earth. Must have slipped my mind,” Gregori said as he rustled around for said package. “Ah, here we are!”

  He handed McKenna a shiny aluminum case the size of a shoebox. McKenna took it and placed it in his lap while Gregori began half singing and humming a song. There were two red buttons on the lower corners of the case. McKenna pressed them both down with his thumbs until they turned bright green. The lid slid forward to reveal the contents: a half-mask breather device set in place of a black silk mold.

  “First time going to Earth, eh?” Gregori asked.

  “What makes you say that?” McKenna asked.

  “Usually everyone who co
mes and goes already has a breather.”

  “Yeah, it’s my first time. Special assignment.”

  “Well then, you’ll need that doodad if you want to survive death by natural causes on Earth, if you catch my meaning.”

  McKenna scanned the breather with his OPIaA for some quick tips, waving his hand over it and reading the holographic display screen. Information appeared on the device, and he scrolled over to the technical specs and help page.

  VALIANT CORP. MODEL I-5 BREATHER

  MANUFACTURE DATE EY2470

  FOR USE IN TOXIC ENVIRONMENTS

  EARTH ATMOSPHERIC USE APPROVED

  ATTACH TO LOWER JAW, TEMP SEALANTS WILL AFFIX.

  FOR MORE INFO, CONTACT VALIANT CORP CONSUMER CARE.

  He closed the display and looked at the other object in the case, a small warranty card should the breather fail while using. He shook his head and placed it back in the case.

  “Seems like a lifetime burden,” McKenna groaned.

  “Maybe when you are making the big bucks, you can possibly afford an Aether then,” Gregori said, slightly displeased by the newcomer’s opinion.

  “An Aether?”

  “Bio-lung. Cybernetics. Only a few years old. Only the wealthiest can afford it. Even then, it’s sure to squash a pig or two.” Gregori saw McKenna look at him, confused. “The pigs, McKenna! Pig Banks!” McKenna shrugged and placed the breather on his belt. “Heads up, bratan, we’re heading in.”

  McKenna looked up and gazed upon Earth. He had never seen Earth in person before and it was quite a sight. The real sight to him, however, was a massive armada of ships encircling the planet. Smaller ships could be seen coming and going from the fleets.

  “This really is your first visit,” Gregori said.

  “It’s my first look as well. My first real look,” McKenna said as he scanned the blockade. “Why so many ships? It looks like an invasion fleet.”

  “The Earth Naval Fleet is very strict about sickly people leaving the planet. Last thing System wants is Earth’s problems. Every ship that wants off goes through lengthy screening process with luck. Ironic really. The Earth Naval Fleet protects not Earth itself, but rather the rest of the System from Earth.”

  The quarantine was one of the Six Laws of Sol, always to be maintained to prevent the Black Cell from spreading off-world. For almost five-hundred years, it hadn’t; any ship that broke the blockade without proper screening was shot out of the sky without hesitation.

  “There must be hundreds of ships if the blockade encircles the whole planet,” McKenna said as he saw the blockade stretching around the planet. “Are they all ENF?”

  “Most of them are. Many of them are privately owned by the Tianlong Group, contracted by Earth to fill in some gaps. Ships never leave blockade except to be serviced.”

  “The Earth fleet has definitely grown since the war,” McKenna said under his breath.

  “So, you really don’t know much of blue planet?” Gregori asked.

  McKenna couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed. He did his best to justify himself in the conversation. “Like I said, not much. I’ve heard of the Black Cell, the blockade, but I never realized it was so massive.”

  “Earth is Sol’s black sheep now. Funny considering it is human homeworld. Despite you being a Martian we both come from this place, Mister McKenna. It’s in our blood.”

  McKenna watched the ships they were approaching. Two destroyers and two smaller cruisers sat directly ahead of them. The destroyers were quite large, extending almost two thousand meters in length. Like all of Earth’s naval ships, they were deep gunmetal grey and had the ENF insignia on them. The destroyers had several cannons protruding from the starboard and port sides with a dozen rail guns and doubled anti-aircraft Gatling turrets. The destroyers were built for front-line combat and boasted large amounts of firepower.

  Higher above the small formation was an old but still powerful dreadnought class ship, the last of them having been produced over a hundred years ago. They were colossal, sitting at just under five kilometers in length. On top of their production cost, maintaining them was astronomical, and there were only three left in existence. Two belonged to the Earth Naval Fleet, the ENF Spirit and the ENF Freedom. The third was the MCN Fortuna’s Gambit, built by the Mars Colonial Navy, but it had long since been decommissioned and was now a museum attraction.

  Dreadnoughts were capable of singlehandedly quelling a planetary uprising or suppressing a small war. A dreadnought class ship dwarfed all modern-day Assault-class ships, and comprised the second largest ship class in Earth’s fleet. Boasting rotary gun clusters, rail gun systems, master-key beam and missile batteries, Masterson Assault Drivers, hellfire salvos, artillery canons, shore party invasion capabilities, mass fighter deployments and all but impenetrable armor, they were a sight to behold.

  Gregori’s craft came to a stop in a queue of other ships waiting to be cleared.

  “So, what’s it like down there?” McKenna asked.

  “Generally, the more levels you go down, the shittier it gets. Not too sure myself, I never go past the merchant stations,” Gregori said quickly, almost trying to avoid the question. Gregori then moved his hand back to a crate behind him. McKenna gazed at Gregori in shock as he opened the small crate and fished out a small pastry, which he then proceeded to eat.

  “Don’t you need to sell this stuff?” McKenna asked.

  “Trust me bratan, once you’re down there, you too would rather get your lunch in early. I set up shop near the door, then leave. The less time here, the better.”

  Gregori’s lack of confidence in Earth’s safety worried McKenna, each detail getting worse than the last. He feared his recent commitment.

  The ship moved up and stopped again just below a cruiser, the ENF Atlantis. Gregori reached up and flipped a switch above him, opening a communication channel to the checkpoint. Gregori then spoke into the microphone boom attached to his helmet.

  “This is merchant ship MSS Sasha, Registry ID AZ-4506. Requesting docking permission in Blue Sector, Freedom Tower, Pad 105.”

  “This is Gate Three, ENF Atlantis. We copy that, MSS Sasha. Scanning ship for hazards. We’ll try to be quick about it, the checkpoints have been loaded to capacity up here.”

  “What’s got everyone running?” McKenna asked Gregori.

  “Hard to say,” Gregori said as he covered his mouthpiece to avoid being heard on the other end. “Last I was here the skyports were flooded. No idea why.” He let his hand down and talked to the checkpoint officer, looking a bit nervous. “Perhaps it’s faster to say I have no hazardous materials on board?”

  “Cute,” the radio operator said. “Expecting to find much trouble with that flare launcher?” The item wasn’t illegal, as personal defense countermeasures were encouraged in the system, but a civilian cargo ship equipped with it drew attention from authority.

  “Shit happens, man,” Gregori said.

  “I hear that. Alright, scans complete, you’re clear to land. Have a better one.”

  Gregori piloted the vessel past the Atlantis at a nominal speed. McKenna glanced to his right to see dozens of small civilian vessels awaiting clearance off-world. The ratio of people leaving to entering was no comparison. People wanted off Earth for some reason. McKenna saw several dozen other merchant vessels and couldn’t help but think how difficult and tedious it be to trade between Earth and other colonies and planets.

  “You come through this mess every time?” McKenna asked.

  “It’s usually not this bad, bratan. Things must have escalated below since I’ve been. Too bad for you man, I’m feeling your dread.” Gregori said, followed by a soft chuckle.

  McKenna shook his head. Suddenly he felt a shudder towards the rear of the craft, followed by a low buzzing noise. He looked at the panel in front of him and saw an Engine Cluster Failure light blinking constantly.

  “We have an engine out, Gregori.” He sighed, surprised that it took as long as it did for something t
o break on the aging craft.

  “Thank you, Mister McKenna, I can read my own damn instruments,” Gregori said, operating various switches in a specific order. He obviously had a deep attachment to his ship, as McKenna heard him whispering to the ship in Russian.

  McKenna let out a deep sigh. “Don’t you have a spare Gregori?” he chuckled.

  “A spare cluster engine? What are you smoking, cop?” Gregori said, clearly not understanding the joke.

  “We still have three clusters burning,” McKenna said as he crossed his arms. “This can’t be rectified on the skyport?”

  “We need all four burning for my re-entry course. If we’re off by few degrees we’ll be burnt ass-first during our descent into atmosphere,” Gregori said, frantically scrolling through a diagnostics page on a screen in front of him. “Ha! Auto fuel pump is ruptured to cluster three!”

  “And this is a good thing?”

  “Yes, because now, I can fix problem!” He flipped a switch above him. “Do me a favor, Mister McKenna? Give me a reserve fuel cut over to cluster three. It’s that green switch above you.”

  McKenna looked just above his head and saw several switches, including a reserve fuel cut over switch. He flipped the toggle for it and pressed the 3 symbol below. A small readout on McKenna’s screen in front of him confirmed what he had done, showing a small diagram of the ship with a line from the reserve tank to cluster three.

  “Cluster three is tapped to reserve. What now?” He asked, feeling a bit silly as they sat motionless in space.

  “Now I pump fuel, heh-heh.” Gregori reached above him, grabbing a small pump lever and trying to pull it down to manually pump fuel into the engine. McKenna slumped his head on his hand as he watched Gregori struggle with the apparently stuck handle. Both were startled when the communications line burst to life.

  “CS-1. CS-1. This is gun line Epsilon; Five, no six bogies just exited the atmosphere! Vessels are in attack speed, they’ve almost past our FOV, permission to engage?” The radio transmission was coming from another ENF vessel further down the blockade.