Virion_The Black Cell

by R. L. M. Sanchez

  Gregori saw him gazing and seemed to know exactly what the newcomer was thinking about. “I know what they say about Earth, bratan. What I’ve said. Corrupt, virus, crime. It paints a picture. But when you see it from up here, it really looks quite…”

  Before Gregori could finish, only one word came to McKenna’s mind. “Beautiful…” McKenna mumbled.

  “I could put her in a hover if you need me to,” Gregori said.

  McKenna smiled as he leaned back in his chair, taking in the view. “Just take us in, bratan.

  7

  THE BLUE JEWEL

  The Sasha cruised towards the skyport as McKenna took a moment to admire the sight from thousands of feet in the air. The weather was clear, giving him a photo view of Earth. He saw a large statue in the water far below them: the Liberty Statue. It was a relic from Old Earth, still standing tall to this day. The city they were entering was Freedom City, a metropolis built on the remnants of Old New York.

  There was one skyscraper after another as far as he could see. These dwarfed any normal skyscraper, with most Earth superstructures being in the kilometer range of height. Most notable was Freedom Tower, their destination, which boasted to be one of the tallest in the Sol System at just over four kilometers. McKenna couldn’t imagine a structure any taller than those he saw at first sight, but the architecture of Earth was already vastly different from any other colony. Thousands of people roamed the streets below as thousands of VTOLs flooded the skies. They comprised the most common form of transportation within cities in the Sol System and came in many variations and uses. At any given point or view, one could look around and see a hundred craft in the sky, making them more than common sights.

  The skyport was another sight to behold, with hundreds of ships coming and going and dozens upon dozens of landing pads littering the skyport. As the Sasha came to hover over its landing pad, McKenna looked at his ‘care package’ once more.

  “So, I guess I’ll put this thing on now?” McKenna said as he looked at the breather.

  “You don’t want to be a rebel here, friend.” Gregori watched McKenna glance outside a few times. “At first I was skeptical it would even work, but I soon came to terms with the fact that if you don’t wear it, well, you die.”

  McKenna grabbed the breather in his hand and pressed it up against his jaw line, covering his nose and mouth. It had no back straps or upper mask to keep it on, instead using micro-adhesion to stay firmly in place. The micro-adhesion technology in the seal meant it was safe for any activity without fear of losing its hold, as it took quite a bit of force to get it off. Wearing it was not strenuous, and there was no leftover residue when taken off as the bubbles reacted with the air and dissolved into water on the face.

  Gregori securely affixed his own breather to his face. “Ready, Mister McKenna?” Gregori asked.

  McKenna nodded his head. Gregori exited the shuttle with McKenna shortly behind. As he stood in the shuttle’s doors he let out a sigh of relief, still grateful to have not been decompressed in space. He stepped down from the shuttle and touched his boots to the Earth for the first time.

  The landing pad was attached to an arm extending over the sky, with busy traffic lanes flying below. Ahead of him was a market and terminal mixed into one. McKenna didn’t necessarily like heights, and looking down would make anyone not used to the conditions queasy. Still, the temptation was too great. He looked over the side and took a quick gander at the other buildings around Freedom Tower. Most buildings were connected by several sky bridges, webbing each of them together at multiple levels. Sky cars were always around to offer reliable means of transport as thousands of ants tried to move in an orderly fashion below.

  As McKenna walked down the landing pad’s bridge, he saw red and blue lights further ahead, with Police Enforcers waiting at the end of the bridge. Interpol: the Earth Police.

  “No doubt they have questions on what happened up there,” McKenna said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all worked out, bratan,” Gregori said. “I always have a line for situations like this.”

  “Situations that involve smuggling a turret around with you and blasting it through space?”

  “That was all you, McKenna.” McKenna groaned and shrugged at the comment. “I kid, I kid! Like I said, bratan, don’t worry.”

  The two approached the Interpol Enforcers, coming to a halt just ahead of them. Their uniforms were a dark navy color with various shades of blues forming a digital camouflage. Classic white and black checkered stripes ran across their shoulder pads, and their ensemble was completed by armored vests with the letters EMPD written across their backs. This was the acronym for Earth Metropolitan Police Department, Interpol’s main police body made up of Enforcers, the general keepers and protectors of the law.

  The Enforcers had their hands on their weapons, still in their holsters but ready to draw just in case. One of them stepped forward with his OPIaA already out.

  “Whose vessel is that?” the Enforcer asked harshly, keeping to his OPIaA and not looking at the two in question.

  “Mine, Enforcer, sir,” Gregori said. “MSS Sasha, Registry ID AZ 4506.” Gregori looked at McKenna, who returned his glance. McKenna was waiting for Gregori’s award-winning explanation

  “And your name?”

  “Gregori Dubrovsky, FMC.”

  The Enforcer continued scrolling through various files and screens. McKenna tried to make out what they were, barely seeing through the holographic display. “I can’t say I’ve seen a pilot from the Free Merchant’s Coalition shoot his way through a military blockade,” the Enforcer said as he finally put down his OPIaA and locked eyes with the two. “So. Statements, gentlemen?”

  McKenna didn’t say anything as he turned to Gregori, still waiting for him to talk his way out of a ticket. Instead he saw Gregori trying to find words, his mouth making half movements, anxiety quickly overcoming whatever confidence the merchant may have once had. As it turns out, Gregori wasn’t as brave as he turned out to be and lost himself in a panic before law-enforcement.

  McKenna rolled his eyes and scoffed inwardly realizing that his pilot couldn’t talk himself out of a ticket “We were attacked,” McKenna said, stepping in for Gregori. “I don’t know why, but we barely got down here alive.”

  “So those fighters up there just decided to go after merchant vessels today? It must be Friday then, right?” the Enforcer said as he briefly turned to his partner, both smiling behind their transparent breathers. “Any particular reason they felt the need to chase you guys through the atmosphere? You fellows have some kind of bounty? Syndicate trouble?”

  “That’s a thing to say.” McKenna smiled. “This is my first visit here.”

  “Colony visa and quadrant ID, right now.”

  “Is there a problem here, Enforcer?”

  The Enforcer was interrupted by a man approaching him from behind. He looked at the man’s unique bomber jacket and the uniform underneath, but more importantly, the rank insignia on his suit. It was military to say the least, and much higher than the Enforcers.

  “No problem, sir, just trying to get some info on the attack,” the Enforcer said, almost disappointed. While there was a clear separation of powers between police and military, jurisdiction wasn’t always black and white.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Henry Stoker, Space Angel flight leader,” Stoker said as he extended his hand to Gregori.

  Stoker had served with the Earth Naval Fleet for over fifteen years, and having fought in the Solar War, he carried vast experience. The Space Angels gained their fame during the Solar War. Originally a reserve squadron, they turned the tide for air supremacy during The Battle of Callisto, a crucial aerial victory for the Earth Federation at the time. McKenna knew the famous squadron well.

  Stoker himself was a career military man, and at just over fifty years of age, he’d amassed exceptional experience and respect. His crew-cut hair had gone almost completely grey and he showed signs of wear in his face
, but he was still physically fit as the job demanded. He wore the standard gear for an ENF pilot, which was a grey G-suit with an integrated flight helmet. When not in use, the helmet could collapse itself into a special compact housing around the collar, conveniently retaining a durable combat breather should the user be in hazardous environments such as Earth. To top it off, he wore a brown leather fighter jacket over his G-suit, which bore a gaudy angel motif, his squadron number on the back and a squadron patch with a female pinup style angel painted on it.

  “Gregori Dubrovsky. I’m the pilot,” Gregori said, chuckling as he shook Stoker’s hand.

  “A pleasure. You kept your cool up there, I respect that.” Stoker then extended his hand to McKenna.

  “Alan McKenna, Temp Gunner,” McKenna said with a smile.

  “McKenna, huh?” Stoker said as he raised an eyebrow. “That was some good shooting.”

  The Enforcer behind them began shuffling and whispering to his partner, growing impatient. “Sir, we haven’t finished screening these guys yet,” he said.

  “Your men are dismissed, Enforcer, I’ll take care of them,” Stoker said.

  “With all due respect to your rank, sir, these men were involved in an aerial battle within the atmosphere. This isn’t military jurisdiction, this is under Interpol’s—”

  Stoker turned to him and presented a badge. McKenna couldn’t quite make out what the badge said, but the Enforcer took a large gulp of air at the sight of it.

  “It’s under neither. It’s mine,” Stoker said, putting the badge away.

  The Enforcers saluted Stoker, their cocky demeanor changing instantly. “Sorry for the confusion, sir!” the Enforcer said as he turned around and walked back to the skyport, fidgeting in frustration.

  “Don’t mind those guys, they’re just being thorough,” Stoker said. “We’ve had traffic through here increase by fifty percent. We can’t be too careful.”

  Meanwhile, Gregori looked to be getting impatient, even though they had just caught a break with the overzealous cops. “Mister Colonel Stoker, I sincerely thank you for your hospitality here, but I need to offload my cargo. Time is somewhat of an enemy of mine,” Gregori said.

  “As it is to everyone,” Stoker said. “Don’t worry, Mister Dubrovsky. Your vessel checked out at the blockade and you’re in the Earth registry. Micro turrets are legal to FMC vessels that run the Kuiper. Don’t know why you’d conceal it. Deterrent alone might help you out.”

  “Well I can’t let everyone know what I’m packing, man! That’s why I wear pants after all!” Gregori let out a heavy chuckle.

  “Yeah, well, just stay out of trouble. You’re free to go,” Stoker said with a disgusted look on his face.

  “Ah, thank you sir,” Gregori said.

  McKenna turned to Gregori. He couldn’t help but admit his time with the ragged Russian pilot had been amusing and exciting. “Well, bratan, sadly this is where we part ways,” McKenna said.

  “Ah, my good friend. If I ever see you again, drinks are on me. Hey, I tell you what,” Gregori said as he began inputting some data in his OPIaA. “Look me up sometime. I set up special discount for you on my wares, even access to my more questionable items,” Gregori said as he peeked at Stoker, who in return shook his head from side to side.

  McKenna looked on his OPIaA for the store name and saw a location completely alien to him. Gregori’s General & Antiquities. “I’m sure I’ll visit once I’m seasoned here. Take care, Gregori,” McKenna said as he shook his hand.

  Gregori walked off and went out of sight, lost in the massive crowd in the skyport.

  “So, you’re new here, Mister McKenna?” Stoker inquired as he accompanied him into the skyport.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You looked down,” Stoker smiled. “Off-worlders always look down.”

  “That’s quite an eye you’ve got there, Colonel.”

  “Someone once called me The Eagle, stuck ever since. Of course, with my aging, I get slapped with White Eagle now. A joke the young guns throw around.”

  “You got me. I’m fresh off the boat from Mars, Ex-MCP.”

  “No kidding?” Stoker smirked. “Given your own age there’s no doubt you’ve got that famous Martian military experience. Made you a hell of a gunner too.”

  “And you? A Space Angel in the flesh. I’ve heard about you boys. You made the skies a scary place during the war.”

  “Sadly, fear alone doesn’t win battles. And I’ve heard of you, McKenna. Actually, to be completely honest with you I recognized your face the moment I approached you. Practically everyone who served in the war has at least heard the stories, though far less know the actual name.”

  McKenna stared straight back at Stoker. “Don’t worry,” Stoker continued. “You’re somewhat of a legend to Earth military. For better or worse, all soldiers follow orders. You won’t get any flak from me.” McKenna wanted to stop the conversation seeing where it could possibly be going, but he got the feeling he’d have to get used to such conversations on Earth “I won’t lie. Animosity is still high between our homeworlds, but I’d like to think that on this planet, there’s far worse things to worry about.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” The two had arrived at the busy terminal, where they would part ways. “So, I’m free to go?”

  “I have no intentions of detaining you, McKenna, nor do I have the time.”

  “Not as thorough as those Enforcers you dismissed, are you?”

  “Your ship was an ECG sanctioned charter vessel, so my problem isn’t with you. But just know, I’m opening an official investigation for what happened up there. Don’t be surprised if someone comes to you with questions.” McKenna nodded his head as he shook Stoker’s hand again. “You ever need anything around here, just let me know. Some thanks from my men you covered out there.”

  “It’d be nice to have Angels on my shoulders,” McKenna said.

  “Till next time, Martian.” Stoker smiled and walked off into the mess of people within the skyport.

  McKenna took a deep breath, not noticing any difference between breathing through a device. The message from Councilor Windsor said an emissary by the name of Brooks would meet him here at pad forty-five, but no picture was given nor a frequency for contact.

  Just then he noticed something bizarre. A pair of young women walked by him, high class judging by their expensive clothing and jewelry. They chuckled at him and stared as they went past. Neither were wearing breathers, and McKenna noticed two-coin sized implants in between their clavicle bones. Bio-lungs.

  McKenna was used to seeing wealthy, high class citizens with privileged accommodations and tech. Mars was a haven for such groups after becoming a business mecca post-war. A cybernetic augmentation that bypassed an unbeatable super virus seemed all too necessary – but the two women were the only two out of hundreds, if not thousands, in the skyport that had the upgrade as far as he could notice.

  “Creep!” one of the women said in disgust. He may have stared too long. Oddly, the second glanced at him and smiled. McKenna chuckled and pressed onward.

  He walked past a few merchant kiosks. One was offering Revente-prepared aus’rana, a type of fish indigenous to the Auroran homeworld of Nera’Revente. Another merchant was offering advanced breathers and OPIaAs. McKenna found a quiet corner with an empty bench and dropped his bag onto it as he sat. He looked across the market to see a shady-looking man dressed in a pale grey coat with black inlay. He was wearing a hood which covered his eyes, but McKenna knew he was being watched. Still, plenty of Enforcers were about the port, and even a few Earth Marines were on leave. He doubted anyone would try something.

  McKenna had his handgun under his coat, but he wasn’t ready to test engagement policies on Earth, let alone be caught with a Martian weapon. Mars Pattern Industries weapons were now illegal in the System after the Treaty of Titan was passed. It was a condition of Martian defeat in the war, a successful attempt at neutering a future Martian military. Pre-war Mar
tian weapons, armor, and MSC, were all illegal throughout the System.

  No one carried pre-war Martian weapons, not even the MCP, and most had been destroyed after the war. A few still floated about either privately or on the dark market, the illegal underground trading networks of Sol. Pre-war Martian weapons were regarded as the best human made weapons in the System, crafted with quality and ingenuity in mind, lending their fame to reliability, stopping power and advanced features. McKenna’s MPI R-48 Ripper, while just a handgun, was no exception.

  The man in grey looked away gracefully as if trying to avoid eye contact. McKenna would disregard him for now except that he knew that he always had to be on guard. Just then, he received a message on his OPIaA from a private frequency. He tapped the screen, revealing a message:

  Sorry, pressing matters arose.

  Meet Council at 1200 hours tomorrow, Freedom Tower Plaza, Council Chambers, Level 499. The Council is expecting an audience with you. Accept the enclosed payment for lodgings.

  Lyle Brooks, Relations Officer, Earth Council

  “Great,” McKenna groaned. It wasn’t many credits at all, but it was enough for a one-night room, plus he still had a healthy sum in his own bank account should he need it. He opened his OPIaA and downloaded a map of Freedom Tower, setting it to automatically download new areas as he progressed. “Break’s over.”

  He made his way out of the market and through a set of sliding double doors to the interior of the tower. The doors hissed open quickly, opening into a security airlock with yet another set of doors in front of him. The doors behind him closed and a female voice was audible inside.