by R J Johnson
Her mentor looked back at her, clearly not following what she was telling him. “I don’t understand.”
Emeline took his hand. “Kansas, you… died… back on Mars while assaulting the professor’s complex. They cloned a new version of you for some reason.”
He stepped out of the pod and looked down at his naked form and breathed in the recycled air on the dreadnaught.
“Guess that makes as much sense as anything else,” he said, still looking a bit perplexed at his overall situation. “Looks like they made copies of Meade and you too.”
He glanced over at the Meade and Emeline clones who were busy making out like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks – which according to their memories – they hadn’t.
“They look happy,” he commented. “Does that mean…”
“No, Meade’s alive, still causing trouble back on Venus,” she said.
“Back on Venus?” Grayborn asked, confused. “Where did you say we were again?”
The ship rocked with another explosion and she nearly fell to the deck.
“Sorry, you’ll have to catch up as we go,” Emeline said. “Just know that we need to stop these guys before they destroy the Coalition and Consortium navies.”
The Meade and Emeline clones let go of one another and looked at each meaningfully.
“Let’s get you all covered up,” Emmy said, looking at Meade’s clone. “You can’t fight evil in your skivvies.”
“Maybe you can’t,” Meade joked.
Emmy tossed him a set of workman’s clothes she found in a locker that would help them blend in.
“Put these on,” she said. “Maybe we can get up to the nerve center by pretending to be another member of the crew.”
“Your disguises leave a little to be desired,” Meade’s clone told her as he zipped up the jumpsuit.
“You want to be comfortable? Or do you wanna be alive?” Emeline asked. “Put it on and quit complaining.”
She moved to the door where she could hear another distant explosion sound.
“We ready?” Emeline asked the motley crew standing behind her.
“’Bout as ready as we ever can be,” her clone said, still standing close next to the Meade clone.
“Then let’s go save the system,” Emeline said, hefting up the pack filled with explosives.
Chapter Sixty-One
Rush Hour
Meade watched the Consortium Board of Elders and the Coalition president squeeze into the largest bubble-car the app offered, which he found amusing on several levels.
His first plan to use the professor’s teleportation device to bring the VIPs directly to Central Command was immediately vetoed by the Elders. Apparently, the sensations one experienced while being transported weren’t exactly pleasant and they weren’t keen on going through that again.
Meade decided it wasn’t worth arguing about and had settled to get them there the old-fashioned way. Besides, he was able to take some pleasure in telling some of the most powerful men and women in the system to sit down and shut up.
“Get in,” Meade told them, his irritation finally breaking through. “No wonder people think you’re a bunch of cry-babies.”
That seemed to silence most of the bickering, and the group eventually crowded inside the car for the journey to their next destination.
“How far to Central Command?” the Coalition president asked after a few moments in the air.
“Shouldn’t take us long,” he said, calling back to his passengers. “It’s only a few klicks away.”
“What makes you think the professor will allow us to get anywhere close?” one of the Elders piped up from the back.
“Luck and sheer force of will,” Meade replied, touching the controls, increasing the bubble-car’s speed. The diplomats hung on to each other for dear life as he zipped through the massive skyscrapers that were becoming harder to navigate thanks to the driving storm that surrounded the city.
He squinted, looking into the rearview mirror thinking for a moment someone was following them.
Then he got his answer. The bubble-car was rocked by an explosion and they were thrown around inside the cab. He hung onto the steering grips and pushed them down, forcing the bubble-car to dodge the on-coming fire.
He opened a display on the bubble-car and called up the rear-view camera where he could see several of the professor’s meat puppets pursuing them on high-speed aerocycles.
Meade grimaced in envy. What he wouldn’t give for a good aerocycle right now.
He yanked on the controls, hoping to bank his way around one particularly massive building and lose one of the aerocycles in the fog that surrounded the city of San Angeles.
“Hang on!” he called out to the Coalition and Consortium leaders.
The bubble-car looped up and around a nearby skyscraper, as he pressed the accelerator hard, hoping to lose the meat puppets in the dense urban jungle of the Venusian city.
The dignitaries groaned out loud, with several of them covering their mouths in a vain attempt to keep their dinners in their stomachs.
A second explosion rocked their craft, and a piece of the delicate bubble-car’s outer hull flew off. The vehicles weren’t designed to do much besides survive a basic commute through the airborne city and the hulls weren’t exactly rated for explosions or high-flying maneuvers.
Meade pushed the controls down, forcing the bubble-car to plummet toward the deck in a vain attempt to lose the meat puppets chasing after them on the high-powered aerocycles.
One of the meat puppets didn’t adjust his speed in time and crashed his aerocycle into one of the buildings on San Angeles, leaving a blossoming explosion in their wake.
He looked back in satisfaction, even as one of the Consortium Elders shrieked in terror at the maneuvers. Meade looked back at the radar on his armbar and saw they still had a few kilometers to go before they made it to the safety of Central Command.
That became his one and only goal. Meade focused on the dot that told him his destination was and pressed the throttle of the bubble-car to the limit, hoping to out run the professor’s meat puppets.
One down, two more to go, Meade thought to himself. All he needed to do was be smarter and faster than the two security guards behind him.
That shouldn’t be too difficult.
Unfortunately, their vehicle was becoming sluggish and difficult to control as he weaved his way through the alleyways of San Angeles. He took a moment and glanced back at the rear stabilizer on the bubble-car. It had been badly damaged, which explained why the vehicle suddenly had the turning control of a doped-up elephant.
It didn’t help that his bubble-car was weighed down with fourteen people, a decided disadvantage to the quick and maneuverable aerocycles his pursuers were using.
An explosion rocked the right side of his vessel, causing several warning alarms to sound off in the cockpit. He looked down at the warning panel that let him know the bubble-car’s primary engine was about to fail.
Meade didn’t see any other choice. He looked back at the aerocycles and saw they were getting close. The warning whoop of the failing engine told him he didn’t have much time left if he wanted to get these people onto the ground safely.
He cut the bubble-car’s engines, placing the vehicle into a controlled dive, heading straight for the marketplace below. He pulled up at the last second, skillfully piloting the bubble-car into the underground market, forcing several vendors to dive out of the way as their vehicle crashed through their stands.
Then, what sounded like hail began raining down on their bubble-car. He glanced back at the rear of the vehicle to see the professor’s meat puppets firing on their vessel.
A POP sounded and he knew they didn’t have much time left. The cabin’s integrity was about to fail. Several tiny cracks began to spiderweb their way across the front windshield and his eyes went wide.
Meade swallowed back the panic, looking down at the distance remaining to Central Command.
“Han
g on!” Meade called out. Another fusillade of bullets ripped at the back of the bubble-car, and this time, air began sucking out of the cabin. He wrenched the controls and forced the bubble-car into a steep dive down toward the courtyard hundreds of feet below them.
The vehicle dropped like a rock, and the two pursuing meat puppets followed on their aerocycles. Some of the diplomats behind him were screaming in terror and fear, with some silently praying, and others hiding behind their hands not wanting to see their almost certain demise.
He steeled his grip and it was only at the last moment that he reset the thrusters, putting everything the ship had into its retro-thrusters, hoping to avoid killing the entire power structure of the Coalition and Consortium.
The bubble-car skipped off the pavement of San Angeles and skimmed over the main drag toward a narrow alleyway that led back into the protective seal that surrounded San Angeles. He only hoped it was wide enough to accommodate their vehicle, steeling himself as he looked at the narrow opening, knowing it would be close.
One of the meat puppets behind him didn’t pull up in time and his vehicle exploded, sending parts scattering across the area. Pedestrians dodged the falling machinery as it exploded into smaller pieces across the lawn.
His companion was faster, pulling up in time to get bead on their vehicle.
He didn’t dare looked back at the meat puppet still behind him. His entire world shrank to the size of the opening leading to the courtyard only a few hundred feet away. The bubble-car’s engine screamed as they raced over people’s heads toward Central Command.
At the last second, the meat puppet fired his cannon, catching the rear stabilizer on their bubble-car seconds before they entered the alley.
He shouted for the diplomats to hold on, but he knew it was useless. They were at gravity’s mercy now. There was no controlling the vehicle as it slammed up against both sides of the alley, destroying everything in its path.
Smaller bubbles extended out from each seat, forming a small protective layer around each passenger as bubble-car’s hull lost integrity. What remained of the vehicle shot out of the other end of the alleyway, busted and on fire.
It was only when they finally came to a stop that Meade dared open his eyes. He looked back at his charges with a sigh of relief.
The meat puppet’s aerocycle flew over their heads and arced up and around for a second attack run.
Meade watched the aerocycle loop around and knew they didn’t have much time before the meat puppet was back to fire on him and his charges.
He fiddled with the controls of the now dead bubble-car and found them useless. He pulled out his grandfather’s pistol and aimed it directly center at the clone driving the aerocycle bearing down on them.
He fired once. Twice.
Neither shot had any effect.
Not that he expected they would, but at least he would die trying to protect the system that had never given him a second thought until now.
Meade fired again and again until the hammer clicked on an empty chamber. He swore and thought for a moment he could see the maniacal eyes of the meat puppet behind the control stick of the aerocycle, the lethal .50 caliber weapons extending out from the vehicle.
That’s when the aerocycle exploded in a bright flash of light and fire, shrapnel falling all around him and the busted-up bubble-car.
A bright light began shining on him and he raised an arm to shield his eyes from it, trying to see who had saved their bacon.
It was the CSS Spartan – Sarah’s ship. Of course.
He waved weakly at the ship and she pinged him on his armbar.
“That’s two you owe me,” Sarah said over the loudspeaker.
Meade chuckled. Her face popped up on her armbar with the biggest shit-eating grin he had ever seen from her.
“Sarah, thank God you got the ping,” he said. “It’s the generational ships. They’re dreadnaughts and they’re about to unleash hell on the Coalition and Consortium navies.”
“We heard,” Sarah replied. “A general alert has gone out among the fleet about the generational ships. When I heard you were in trouble, I knew you had something to do with it.”
“It’s a curse,” Meade replied. “Sarah, you have to know, those dreadnaughts, they’ve got hardware that hasn’t been seen since the Last War. So you need to stay frosty out there.”
“Roger that,” Sarah replied. “Get those VIPs into Central Command. I’ll contact you there when I know more.”
“Got it,” he said. “And Sarah?”
“Yeah?”
“Emeline is on board one of those dreadnaughts. The MiMs use a special transponder to keep tabs on each other. I’m uploading that frequency now. Keep an eye out for her, would ya?”
Sarah paused and looked at him with sympathy. “You got it.”
“Thank you,” Meade said, meaning it. “I really do owe you.”
She laughed. “Get my boss and the rest of those bums safe inside Central Command and we can talk about who owes what at another time.”
“Meade out.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Taking Charge
Meade closed his armbar and turned to look back at the Consortium Board of Elders and the Coalition president who were still trying to pull themselves out of the wreckage.
“You folks make it through that all right?”
“Most of us are fine,” the president said, assuring him. “But one of the Elders was hurt in the crash.”
He looked back to see a woman in her sixties holding her ribs, blood gushing out of a wound. Her face looked pained as one the other Elders removed a compress they had been holding.
Meade got out of his seat and moved back to the injured woman. He could see a what looked like a short white bone poking out of her rib cage and he winced. That was a bad wound. Treatable and survivable if she got help. But if they weren’t careful, they could puncture a lung when they tried moving her.
“Med kit,” he said desperately. “There should be a med kit on board this boat.”
One of the Consortium Elders handed him a small box with a red cross on the label and he looked at it in disgust.
“Great, this’ll come in handy next time someone has a splinter.”
He opened the kit and found a tiny package of Durablast – a medical compound designed to stem the bleeding and seal the wound while cleaning it of any foreign material. It wouldn’t completely stop the bleeding, but it was a good start.
Meade poured the contents of the envelope on the Elder’s wound and it began bubbling. The woman hissed in pain and writhed around on the ruined bubble-car’s floor.
“Hold her down,” he snapped at one of the other Elders. He grabbed one of the Elder’s hands and guided it down on his colleague’s wound. “Keep the pressure on her wound tight. When we move, you’ll need to stay with her holding that compress until someone smarter than me tells you to stop. Get that?”
The Elder nodded and kept his hand firmly placed on the woman’s wound.
Meade pointed to two of the other Elders who were watching him and pointed to the seat. “You two, use your armbars to cut the bolts off this chair. We’ll turn it into a makeshift stretcher for your friend.”
“You’re expecting trouble?” the president asked him. The man was watching from a distance as Meade tended to the Consortium woman.
“I expect the professor ain’t gonna give up on killing you all,” Meade said, turning to run a diagnostic on the bubble-car. “I’m hoping we can make it to Central Command before his reinforcements show up.”
“How soon?” the president asked.
“Sooner than we’d like, which is why we should get moving.”
He looked over to see the two Elders finish searing the bolts off the chair. He pointed to them, “You two will have to carry her.”
“I will do no such thing,” one of the men said stiffening. “She is…”
“Going to die unless you put your tiny little ego aside and think about
someone other than yourself for once,” Meade snapped. It felt good telling off one of the most powerful men in the system. Probably the only time he could do it without the fear of being shot.
“Now, get your ass in gear and grab one side of her seat and be ready to move,” Meade said firmly. His tone made it clear he wasn’t about to put up with another ‘no’ from the Elder.
The Elder looked shocked that a runabout dared speak to him like that, but he eventually complied, turning to join the other Elder by picking up the seat that held the wounded woman.
Meade glanced out the window at the expansive courtyard and opened his armbar. According to the coordinates, Central Command was a few hundred feet across the open space.
Unfortunately, his hunch that the professor would send reinforcements had been right. Over the last few minutes, his armbar had been quietly chiming warnings about unidentified individuals taking up tactical positions around their position. He knew they were likely more of the professor’s meat puppets, readying themselves to ambush Meade and his party when they finally emerged from the safety of the bubble-car.
“You see anything?” the president asked.
“I see many things,” he answered, studying the terrain ahead of them. “And they all add up to we’re fucked.”
“And the file on you said you were the optimistic type,” the president said.
Meade glanced up at the president with a slight grin. “There’s a file on me?”
“There’s files on lots of people,” the president said evenly. “Like it or not, you’ve become one of the more important pieces on the grand chessboard.”
“That so?” Meade said, considering this new information. “I don’t feel all that important.”
“And that is why you fail to achieve greatness,” the president said gently. “You should expect more for yourself.”
“I’ve got other things on my mind,” Meade said, pointing to the dozens of red dots on his armbar’s display. “For starters, like how we’re going to survive this. I count nearly two dozen of the professor’s meat puppets taking up positions between us and the safety of Central Command. I’m betting the only reason we’re still alive is that they’re making sure the fast attack isn’t hanging around.”
