“You okay, Flint?” Kat asked as they stepped out of the hangar corridors and into Europa Proper. It was one of the largest full-scale domes out there, only to be outdone by Mars Major. Europa had over a thousand individual domes, most connected by corridors under the surface.
“I’m fine. My nerves are a little fried.” Flint glanced at Kat, and he could tell she felt about the same. They’d made it to the surface, past security, using their tags, and he counted that as a huge win. Now he just had to find somewhere for Kat to stay while he found his new benefactor.
Only the wealthiest had their own self-sustaining domes, and Flint couldn’t even begin to imagine how expensive they’d be to operate, let alone build. The address he was given showed one of those domes when he searched it on his localized Interface.
“Where to?” Kat asked him.
Flint looked around at the open air and took a deep breath. For recycled air, this was fresh. Europa was a vast step ahead of cesspools like Mars. There were hovercarts parked nearby, waiting to take new tourists to their destinations. He motioned for the nearest one. “Shall we?”
The carts were small, made for transporting four at the most, and Flint tossed their small packs into the back seat as they took the front. “The Towers on Third,” he told the cart, and they were off. He much preferred the driverless hovercarts to the ones with an operational android in them. No meaningless conversation this way.
Kat fiddled with a strand of hair as she looked around. “That’s a nice hotel. Aren’t we trying to stay under the radar?”
“We are, but we have nothing to hide,” Flint said quietly, leaning into her ear. He didn’t trust the recording devices on any of these machines. For all he knew, the Earth Fleet had bugs in all of them, searching for him with voice recognition. It was a stretch, but he figured better safe than sorry.
The hotel was a few blocks away, and they passed a variety of businesses along the way. The whole place had a very “ancient Earth” feel. He’d seen pictures of Old New York, before the Wars, and whoever built Europa Proper had used that style as a baseline.
Faux bricks covered the outsides of the high-rises; awnings hung over doors with androids in uniforms waiting to take residents’ bags up to their suites when needed. It was antiquated, but something about the vibe drew Flint in. He wasn’t sure he could live like that for long, but it might be worth trying for a short while.
His home was aboard his ship Perdita, in space, with no one around for millions of kilometers. Flint glanced over to Kat, who watched it all with curiosity. She’d been here before too, but her trip had been quick, and she’d hardly stepped off the ship.
There were more people here than Flint remembered, and he did a quick search on his holotablet, using the Interface to see how many resided here. He was surprised to see statistics of over three million on the moon. He let out a low whistle and put the device away.
Another thing that struck him as odd was the fashion. It had a mind of its own on the Moons. There was a mixture of colorful tones and long, sweeping fabrics, reminding him of capes. Half of the women wore their hair short, dyed any color of the rainbow, in juxtaposition to the muted colors of the buildings.
The holocart stopped, and Flint tapped his payment to the vehicle before grabbing their packs from the backseat. He looked down at his own clothing and decided they should do something about their out-of-place appearance before heading into the hotel.
“Do you see a clothing store around?” Flint asked his co-pilot, who started to scan the block.
“Over there.” Kat pointed a half-block down, and Flint followed the finger to a small brick store, where some affluent women were walking away, drones carrying large packages for them. “Do I have to wear what they do?”
Flint smiled. “Only if you want to live.”
Kat smiled back. “Fine. I can’t wait to pick out your outfit.”
They made for the store, Flint growing more anxious about his encounter tomorrow with each step.
15
Ace
“This is not a drill. Enemy drones have been tagged five thousand miles from here. Their locations are programmed into… Hold. The bastards have sprung a trap. Infantry to the surface. They’re coming in hot and heavy on the ground.” Ace flinched as he heard the cacophony of sounds in the hangar. Someone was invading the Moon, and potentially, Earth. There were only a handful of trained EFF-17 pilots at the facility, and that meant the ten pilot recruits had to fly the mission.
Ace had spent the last week inside the cockpit of a real fighter, but had only been in space twice so far, practicing basic maneuvers. It was much the same experience as the simulator, only way different. He felt each movement, each roll, and each acceleration coursing through his bones. He loved it.
Now, sitting in the cockpit with the top open, awaiting instructions, his stomach ached. This wasn’t play time anymore, and Ace knew there was no way he was ready. He hadn’t logged enough hours in, and even though his instructors told him he was a natural, he didn’t yet have the muscle memory that would allow him to survive.
“Fighters, seal up and get out there!” the lieutenant shouted at them. There were fifteen of the Earth Fleet fighters in total on the surface, and Ace fired up his engines, feeling the now-familiar rumble underneath his body. He closed his eyes, worried he might vomit on himself.
“You can do this. You can do this.” Ace repeated the phrase over and over as he strapped his mask on, taking a deep breath of the oxygen.
The row of ships faced an energy barrier that stretched along the far wall. It was all that sealed the hangar dome in from death. It hummed with blue energy, and Ace was drawn to it. It was now or never. None of the other ships had left yet, but he spotted a caravan of armored vehicles heading out to the surface, where the invaders had been spotted. If they were here, had they hit Earth too? Ace assumed they must have. The Fleet had a huge presence there, and Ace had no doubt they could take care of themselves.
Ace urged his ship forward, lifting it off the ground as his thrusters powered up. In the corner of his eye, he spotted the blinking red icons of the enemy drones. Those were his target, and he was going to do everything to protect the base from them. He had no one on Earth he cared about. They were all here: Buck, Serina, and the others he’d struggled through boot camp with.
They were his only friends in the universe, and he wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to them. With that in the forefront of his mind, his fighter roared forward, out of the safety of the dome. Instead of making for the incoming drones in space right away, he veered off course to where the enemy was rolling on the dusty ground, heading for the dome.
There were at least twenty vehicles on the Moon’s surface, but he only had a couple of bombs loaded onto his fighter. The intruders were funneled in between two hills, according to the 3D readout showing in the top right corner of his viewscreen. This gave Ace an idea. He raced toward them, staying high enough to make his target small. He saw enemy fire zing past his viewscreen and all around his ship. There appeared to be half a dozen large mechs, each at least ten feet tall and nearly as wide.
The recruits had learned some terrorist groups had access to machines like this. When he’d seen the devastating footage of what they were capable of, Ace almost hadn’t believed it. Now, seeing their icons plodding along below, he was glad he was in a fighter high above them. The infantry recruits wouldn’t stand a chance against a real force. It made Ace wonder why there were so few enemies. And how had they arrived undetected?
When the enemy vehicles reached the narrowest point of valley, he arced down before straightening out a kilometer over the surface. He chose his target and released the bomb. He didn’t stick around to see the results, but if it worked, he’d just blown the ground in front of them to shreds, drastically hindering their advancement.
Nervous chatter rang through his earpiece, and he heard Lieutenant Clemments shout through the noise. “546B, what the hell do you think you�
�re doing?”
“Slight detour, sir. I apologize. I’m on your tail.” Ace found his team and raced toward them as they carried into space beyond the moon.
“Get into formation!” Clemments shouted, and Ace obeyed the order, pulling in behind one of the others. The team was much better now than during that first simulator mission. Ace wasn’t sure he was the top student any longer. The girl with the call sign Bullseye had taken the reins after taking down the most enemy vessels in the last three straight contests.
Ace saw her ship number on his screen, and he made sure to stay close to her when things got dicey. He was all for being a team player, but at the end of the day, he wanted to survive too. They were getting closer to the attacking drones.
It was a common thing for the militant groups out here to use drones instead of manned craft. First, Ace was taught that the Fleet didn’t have enough manpower to lose lives, if they could avoid it. Second, the cost of fighters was astronomical, and the militant groups weren’t as well-funded as the Earth Fleet.
The terrorists traded for used machinery, and rumors around the base said that the Earth Fleet even bartered some of their previous-generation vessels to the groups. That didn’t make any sense to Ace, but he guessed there was more at play than he’d understand.
These particular drones, which registered to his console as TEL-1400 models, were being controlled by someone in a simulator, probably somewhere back on Earth in an underground bunker. They packed a punch but were supposed to be much easier to kill than an EFF fighter, and now that Ace was out here feeling the thrill of the fight, he was looking forward to watching one explode as his finger rested on the trigger.
They were coming in fast, and with only a thousand kilometers remaining before they met, the squadron broke apart, spreading far enough to not be a target cluster. They staggered their positions, and Ace found himself beside Bullseye, as planned. They’d make a great team.
The icons were growing, going from small blinking red icons to solid ship-shaped images. This model would have pulse cannons, but not much else. Ace hoped his shields were strong enough to take a few blasts before giving in.
As he saw the first drone through his viewscreen, his hand locked up on the throttle. “You can do this,” he whispered to himself and snapped out of it. He tried to imagine this was just a drill, and that he was still inside the simulator. It seemed to help.
“Ace, three incoming bogeys. I’ll take the port two, you take their friend.” This from Bullseye.
“Deal.” The drones were shaped like fighters, only smaller, and they had less power to them. It was another drawback to using them in place of the real thing. They couldn’t move like an EFF-17, and it showed as Ace easily avoided the incoming blasts from the bogeys.
He locked in and fired a volley of shots, one striking home. It clipped a wing, and the ship spun out of control, carrying past him, incapacitated. He saw a quick explosion through the viewscreen, and another red icon disappeared.
The rest of his squadron wasn’t performing as well. Some had warnings blinking on Ace’s screen, and he spun, cutting the thrusters before hitting them again, heading directly for a group of seven drones huddled around two Earth Fleet fighters. It was Hudson and Turtle, and Ace fully expected they’d be scattered in pieces before he arrived.
But as luck would have it, the drones were slow to act, and he targeted one after another, hitting the first with a direct shot. It blew up as the drone behind it soared through the flames and directly at Ace.
“Behind you,” Bullseye said, and Ace dipped his ship, once again cutting his engines and slingshotting himself away from the attackers. He saw the icon blink out as Bullseye hit her target.
“Woohoo!” Ace shouted, and counted the remaining enemies. There were only four left.
The lieutenant’s ship was staying a safe distance behind, and Ace realized he hadn’t seen the man involved in the skirmish at all. Ace pulled around, hearing the lieutenant call the damaged fighters to retreat while the others dealt with the threats.
Ace arrived just in time to see one of the EFF-17s was on the wrong side of the drones. He scanned for the ship number and saw it was Onion. “Hold fire, Onion,” Ace said, seeing the crossfire potential coming. On the other side, Bullseye was screaming forward, guns rapidly firing toward the last few drones.
“I have them, firing now!” the girl yelled through Ace’s earpiece, and he saw the next few seconds in slow motion. The drones hit Bullseye’s shields at least three times as they were decimated. Onion’s shot carried through the carnage, and in the unluckiest way, it struck Bullseye’s ship, which exploded on impact.
Ace screamed. He felt the urge to do something, to save her, but it was too late. The best shot in their squadron was gone. Ace saw that one drone remained, and was turning its attention on Onion, who must have realized what he’d done. He shouted at Onion to move, but he was unresponsive.
The other fighters were still spread apart from the altercation and were beginning to get back into formation. Ace chased the now departing drone, and when he heard the lieutenant’s voice telling him to return to formation, he ignored it.
His only goal was to stop the fleeing drone, as if that would somehow bring back the dead girl he’d only just met. He targeted it and fired, watching without satisfaction as the drone blew into thousands of small pieces.
It was an hour later when he parked inside the hangar and lifted the cockpit door open. He pulled off his mask, anger still burning hot in his chest. He looked for Onion, who was white as a ghost, his fighter parked as far from Ace’s as it could be.
He started for the other recruit, when Lieutenant Clemments’ deep voice carried across the room. “Stand down, Recruit Smith!”
Ace almost didn’t recognize the name thrown at him, but when he did, he stopped in his tracks, his senses coming back. He was a nobody, a poor street rat with no ground to stand on. This was the Earth Fleet, and it wouldn’t be the last time he witnessed someone dying around him. He needed to firm his resolve or he wasn’t going to make it.
“Sir, yes, sir!” Ace said, standing straight-backed.
“Everyone line up!” Lieutenant Clemments said, and the recruits rushed out of their fighters and ran to form a line, some on wobbly legs.
When they were all in a row, Clemments removed his own mask and tucked it under his arm. “Good work out there today. We suffered a loss, and that I regret. Rarely do we go through a first live training drill without some casualties.”
The words washed over Ace, and it took him a moment to hear the meaning behind them. Training drill?
He looked around at the other shocked recruits, especially Onion, who was standing at attention with tears falling down his face. Ace realized he hadn’t even known Bullseye’s real name.
Ace wanted to blow up on the lieutenant, but he was just following orders. He listened to the rest of the speech, failing to retain any of it. As soon as they were dismissed, Ace headed back to the bunks, crawled under his blanket, and tried to remember why he needed this so badly.
Wren
Wren had never seen deep space before. She’d been to the Moon after being hired by the Earth Fleet for her research project, which in turn had resulted in her incarceration. She had no love for the Fleet, or for being in space, but from the moment Saturn appeared on their viewscreen, she was in love with the beautiful world.
No one could survive on Saturn, and the cost to even consider bringing a colony to the gas giant would be astronomical. She’d heard that at one point the Fleet had mined parts of the planet, purely by robotics.
Either way, it made for an amazing sight as they roared toward Titan. The rings were visible, ethereal even at this distance. Wren found herself stretching her hand out toward the viewscreen when Charles wasn’t looking, wishing she could run her fingers through the ice and dust.
“What are you doing, Wren?” CD6 asked. She corrected herself: Charles asked. It was going to take some time to rememb
er to call the android, who looked like every other prison guard, by a human name. It felt strange, but after spending time with him, his nature was quite human, if a little odd.
She threw her hand to her side and smiled at him. “Nothing. I was just appreciating the view.”
“Did you know that winds can reach eighteen hundred kilometers per hour on Saturn?” he asked, as if this was something she should know.
Wren held in a laugh. “I didn’t know that, Charles. Thank you for sharing.”
“You are welcome, Wren. How is your hand?” he asked, his orange eyes peering toward the end of her arm.
“It’s fine. A little sore.” Wren observed it and saw the pink healing line from where Charles had done the surgery to remove and reprogram her ID chip. She was now Mara Heart. When he asked what name she’d like, Wren didn’t hesitate, taking her dead friend’s first name. “Your alterations are done?” she asked him.
He nodded like a human. Guards back on Caliban didn’t do gestures like that; they weren’t programmed with human motions. “I belong to you, a well-off socialite who comes from old investment lines. Your great-grandfather was Jonathan Heart, one of the initial Titan investors.”
“Did he really exist?” Wren asked.
“He did, and that’s why I gave you the last name. You also happen to have a hundred thousand credits to your name.” CD6 – Charles – looked pleased with himself as he set his hands to his hips.
Wren was surprised by this. “How’s that possible?”
His eyes glowed brightly. “You don’t want to know. I had to resort to some unscrupulous behavior. I hope that’s permissible.”
Wren shook her head. She really didn’t care where it came from, as long as it resulted in them being safe. She couldn’t return to prison. She wouldn’t.
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