A Wilderness of Mirrors

by R J Johnson

  He lowered them and extended his right hand to Emeline. “Name’s Peter. I’m the foreman around here.”

  “Emeline,” she said, returning the handshake. “It looks like you’re working hard around here.”

  He nodded, accepting the compliment.

  “We spent the last three years building this beast,” he said, a gleam in his eye. “Last one took me twice that long. Eventually we’ll have these rolling off the assembly line like hotcakes.”

  “Then where will everyone live?” she asked, chuckling.

  “Anywhere but here,” he said. “After all, the Last War nearly drove humanity to extinction. The Consortium and Coalition owe a debt to humanity because of that. They’re trying to spread us out through the galaxy to ensure our species’ survival.”

  “And the generational ships are the way to do that huh?” she asked, looking back down into the shipyard.

  “It’s a good start,” he said. “That’s all anyone can hope for these days.”

  She had to admit, the man had a point. Peter eyed her for a moment.

  “Want to take a tour?” he asked suddenly.

  Emeline considered his offer. It might be a good way to get a look into the shipyard’s operation. She might even be able to figure out how the professor and his wife were connected to the facility.

  “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” she replied, glancing down at the crew crawling all over the ship. “I mean, your crew looks like they have a lot of work to do.”

  “More than you know,” he said. “But we’re ahead of schedule, so I doubt one tour will delay us much. Come.”

  He turned and waved his armbar over a lock to the elevator that led down to the shipyard’s main operations.

  She hesitated, looking down at her armbar and considered sending Meade a message about what she was doing.

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked, an eyebrow raising.

  “No, of course not,” she said, closing the display to her armbar. “I was thinking about the first ship and its launch. When does it happen?”

  He glanced at her with a strange look.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Do I have a smear of grease on my face?”

  “No, but I’m betting you’d look cute as a button if you did,” he said smiling.

  Her stomach churned in disgust. She hated it when men called her cute.

  Instead, she flashed her 10,000 megawatt smile at Peter, hoping to keep him talking.

  “Well, no matter,” he said. “The launch is scheduled to happen precisely one minute after the treaty renewal is signed between the Coalition and Consortium.”

  “Puts the cherry on the diplomatic sundae huh?”

  “That’s the idea,” he said.

  They entered the elevator and Peter turned to face her. “We aren’t paying for it and I’ve found it’s far easier to get money out of politicians when they’re good and plastered.”

  “I’ve learned politics requires a strong liver myself,” she said. “Plenty of politicians like to lobby their constituents at my bar when they’re doing something similar.”

  “Really?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. “Where is your bar located?”

  “New Plymouth,” she said, fully expecting the man across from her to be derisive about it.

  “Mars?” he said excitedly. “I love the red planet. I grew up there myself you know.”

  “Is that so?” Emeline said. “C-Block born and raised right here.”

  “I was a child of boomtown parents myself,” he said. “We moved to Centralia once the ORI mine ran out.”

  “Weren’t too many boomtowners who survived in the outback,” she said. “That must have been a rough up-bringing you had.”

  “So it was,” he said, his voice suddenly sad. He looked up at Emeline and cleared his throat, smiling again. “But those days are behind me now and I’m onto bigger and better things.”

  The elevator doors opened, his smile widening, “Much bigger.”

  Emeline turned to see the full size of the enormous multi-generational ship in front of her and gasped.

  “Say hello to the CSS Gargantua,” Peter said, escorting Emeline out of the elevator and into the construction bay.

  She was awestruck as she watched the crew of men and women work around the massive vessel detaching hoses and removing scaffolding that lined the sides of the ship. The gray and white exterior was brightly lit by dozens of enormous lights that spotlighted large portions of the hull. Now that the project was finally complete, they were preparing to move the ship out of drydock and launch it into orbit before the treaty renewal.

  “I know, I feel the same way every time I see it too,” Peter said, moving beside her. “Want to see the inside?”

  “What else do I got to do today?” Emeline said with a smile. “Lead the way.

  “Come with me,” he said. They moved toward a steep ramp that led into the interior of the massive vessel.

  As they entered the generation ship, Peter waved at the workers on the drydock, occasionally stopping to speak with one about a minor problem or another.

  What surprised her most of all was how at ease everyone seemed to be at their jobs. People looked genuinely happy to be there and working on the ship that was ready to send thousands of their fellow human beings into the deep unknown.

  The attitudes were a big change from what she saw from the miners on Mars who spent their lives digging through one hole or another for the precious ORI that powered the Coalition and Consortium’s economies.

  Peter turned back to Emeline and shook his head, “My apologies. Being the foreman here comes with a certain amount of responsibilities.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Please take your time. You’re the one doing me the favor.”

  He extended his hand, pointing toward the door on the side of the ship. “After you.”

  “Thanks,” she said, moving into the ship’s stark white interior. Peter followed her a few paces behind.

  “All the major systems are in place and have been tested,” Peter said, beginning the tour. “It’s all the latest and greatest tech both sides have to offer. What’s amazing is how often we’ve found that one side has the solution to another’s problem.”

  “Sounds like the symbol of a new era to me,” Emeline replied, looking around the ship’s interior.

  “Something like that,” he said. “Lotta people feel like the two hyperpowers have been at each other’s throats long enough and they’re tired of it.”

  “More than long enough,” Emeline replied. “You should see the shit we put up with back on Mars.”

  “I’ve seen it,” Peter replied. “That’s why these ships are so important. They represent both sides coming together, not as Coalition or Consortium citizens, but as humanity. And together we can reach out to the stars and learn everything the universe has to offer.”

  “You certainly know how to sell your product,” she said, impressed with Peter’s passion.

  Peter chuckled, “Sorry. When you spend most of your life working on a project that’s only a few days away from being completed, it’s hard not to get excited about it.”

  “Don’t let me bring you down,” she replied. “I appreciate the optimism. It’s a quality sorely lacking these days.”

  “I believe it’s the lack of optimism that has led to so much of the world’s pain,” he said. “What point is there in trying to make things better when you think things are as good as they’re ever gonna get?”

  “I’ve never been a fan of letting things lie,” she replied.

  “Then you belong on this vessel with us,” he said. “I wonder if I could tempt you with an invitation to join us on the generational ship?”

  “Us?” Emeline asked, looking surprised. “You’re going with them?”

  “My life’s work is finally complete,” he said with a smile. “What better way than to go off and start the next chapter on something I believe in so passionately? There are plenty of peo
ple in place who can continue my work and build these ships for future generations.”

  “It’s a big moment. I’m glad you have the chance to see it through,” Emeline said. “Accomplishing a lifelong dream is all anyone can ask out of life.”

  “What do you dream about Ms. Emeline?” Peter asked suddenly.

  She found herself unable to answer. Emeline wasn’t expecting the conversation to turn around on her. Besides, it was a good question – and one she was having trouble answering.

  After all what good were dreams when you spent most of your life trying to survive?

  But that’s not what Peter meant, and she knew it.

  The truth was scary. She wasn’t sure if she had any dreams for herself. Even Meade had his own business. The best she could say was that she had hobbies. She knew how to brew the best whiskey on Mars, but that was in service of keeping her bar afloat. She served as a general in the Martian Independence Movement. By any metric, she should feel more than fulfilled.

  But she found herself wondering, were any of those things really her dream? Why did that question throw her off so badly?

  “Dreams are for people who are asleep,” she finally responded. “I’ve got too much work to do in the real world to worry about dreams.”

  “A pity,” Peter said. He stopped for a moment and then looked up at her with a look on his face.

  “Mind if I show you what my dream accomplished?”

  She nodded.

  He extended his hand toward her again and this time she took it, surprised by the warmth. He began leading her down another passage and she followed, wondering how the day could possibly get any stranger.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Terminate the Contract

  Meade ignored the stares he was getting as he walked through the lobby of the hotel, but it wasn’t easy – he knew he looked ridiculous in the Ambassador robes. But that was the part he was playing now, and he didn’t perform as everyone expected, then he could end up dead.

  He moved through the lobby keeping his head high, refusing to look at the people who were busy eying him and whispering behind their hands to each other.

  He spotted Gabriella waiting impatiently at the other end of the lobby. He made his way over to her and she handed him another envelope.

  “Seems like every time we meet, you’ve got mail for me,” he said, cheery at her sour disposition. “Retirement for National Directive folk must be easier than I thought.”

  “This card grants you access to the floor of the U.N.” she said, ignoring him. “Simply scan the ID and the credentials will be uploaded to your armbar.”

  “When do I meet Palmetto?” he asked.

  “When he says so,” she said. Her armbar chimed and she glanced at it. She opened the display and examined it for a minute.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She sighed. “You know you’re being followed right? Sloppy Meade, your reputation led me to expect more out of you.”

  He kept his eyes on her, not moving. “Friend or foe?”

  “Since when do you have any friendlies looking out for you?” she asked, a smirk appearing on her face.

  He winced. She was right. It was a dumb question. And one he was getting tired of asking.

  “Any chance you have a bead on them?” he asked.

  “They’re on the second-floor overlook,” she said, looking bored as she typed into her armbar. “Might be one of the professor’s people babysitting you.”

  “That’s not surprising,” he said.

  “It’s a problem,” she said, withdrawing a gun from a holster on her back. She checked the magazine and let the slide fall forward.

  “Not necessary,” he hissed. “Put that away.”

  “You’ve got exactly ten seconds to get out of my way,” she said, in what he figured was a pleasant tone for her. “After that, things get considerably bloodier for you.”

  Suddenly a shot rang out and he felt a bullet hit his jacket that sent him sprawling to the ground.

  Gabriella didn’t freeze as she leapt into action – literally. Her boots were equipped with portable Higgs Field generators, that gave her the ability to defy gravity and effortlessly jump up to the alcove where Meade’s would-be assassin had been lying in wait.

  Meade gasped in pain, feeling for a wound that he was certain had to be there. But as he patted himself down, he grew calmer. The robes had done their jobs, protecting him from the assassination attempt.

  Ambassadors were prone to assassinations and the robes they wore were normally equipped to handle that. He thanked Emeline, wherever she was, for having the foresight of having the robes made of bulletproof material. Unfortunately, he was still writhing in pain thanks to the round that had hit him square in the chest.

  He heard a commotion from the alcove where the shots had come from. People began screaming, running out of the hotel lobby, trying to get away from the gunfire.

  Suddenly, as soon as the shooting began, it stopped.

  “Gabriella?” Meade called out, opening his armbar, scanning the area.

  He felt for his grandfather’s pistol, but it was nowhere to be found. He had left it back in his hotel knowing he wouldn’t get past Consortium security with it.

  All he had at his disposable was the taser on his armbar. He activated it and aimed it up toward the alcove where Gabriella had disappeared into.

  She emerged, looking down on him, shaking her head.

  “Can’t even take a bullet properly,” she said, sounding disappointed. “They really mean it when they say, ‘Never meet your heroes.’”

  He groaned. “Getting shot tends to take the salt out of a person.”

  She pulled a body up and over the ledge and turned it, to show the man’s face to Meade.

  “Know this man?” she asked.

  He did. It was the pale white albino man who lured the men and women from Roxanne’s casino to Shangri-La. Except he was supposed to be dead.

  “Yeah, friend of mine once told me he was harmless,” he said, thinking back to Roxanne’s initial description of the man. “But he’s supposed to be dead and dissolved back on Mars.”

  She let go of the man’s body allowing it to fall to the ground. She jumped back down to the lobby floor with a catlike grace.

  “That ‘harmless’ guy shot at you with one of the most advanced rifles in the Coalition’s armory,” she said raising an eyebrow.

  “He’s a clone,” he said.

  “How can you tell?”

  “Because I know what the professor and his wife are capable of,” Meade said, sounding irritated. “It’s literally what people pay me for.”

  “Well then, nice detective work, Dick,” she said derisively. “But that doesn’t explain why he was trying to kill you.”

  “I’m a popular guy,” Meade said. “My guess, the professor was sending a warning after the Mercer situation.”

  “Situation,” she said, snorting. “What a polite name for assassination.”

  “Look,” he said becoming irritated with her. “They don’t know they missed. I can use this.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “But if the professor is trying to kill you, then he no longer considers you an asset.”

  Meade considered this for a moment and the grinned, getting to his feet and dusting his ambassador robes off. He turned and began walking out the lobby, his shoes clicking on the marble floor.

  “Wait,” Gabriella called out after him. “Where are you going? If the professor and his wife are trying to kill you -”

  “Then the last thing they’d expect me to do is continue working on their kill list,” Meade said confidently.

  “Are you nuts?” she asked, her face in disbelief. “That’s exactly where they think you’ll go.”

  He ignored her and walked out the door, leaving Gabriella fuming.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Gathering Clouds

  Meade opened his armbar and pawed through the documents Gabriella had given him ba
ck at the hotel.

  The ambassador pass she had given him looked official enough. Even Palmetto wasn’t good enough to fake something like that.

  He removed the thin red card stamped with the official seal of the Martian delegation for the Coalition and inserted it into his armbar. The status lights on his armbar changed, signifying his new status within the Coalition.

  He gazed at the amber lights on his armbar for a moment, thinking about what they meant. So far as the system was concerned, he was a full-fledged ambassador with all the ranks and privileges that came with.

  He never felt so fancy in his life.

  Meade exited the hotel, finding himself in the middle of a brightly lit courtyard. He opened his armbar and summoned one of the Venusian bubble-cars. When it appeared in front of him, he gingerly stepped in, sitting down on the seat that formed for him out of the clear molded glass.

  Typing in his destination, the bubble-car rose, flying efficiently through the stream of other commuters in their own bubble-cars.

  His vehicle reached the tops of the city’s skyscrapers and zipped toward the Consortium side of San Angeles where the Consortium headquarters were located. The view, while beautiful, only served to make his stomach uneasy, so he forced himself to look at the documents Palmetto slipped him earlier.

  Meade wasn’t sure if the Consortium Ambassador would give him an audience, but from everything he read, the man would be obliged to meet with him thanks to the brand-new credentials provided to him by Palmetto. Protocols among ambassadors were strictly enforced, which meant he should have no trouble getting through the door and an audience with the man’s assistant.

  Beyond that, there was no way of knowing what might happen.

  The bubble-car began to rapidly descend toward a dark and imposing looking tower located on the far reach of San Angeles. He frowned, looking at the building, which was different than the rest of the colorful and creative architectural wonders that surrounded it.

  The bubble-car gently came to a stop in front of the building’s main gate where two guards were stationed. He stepped out of his vehicle and cleared his throat.