Unsanctioned Reprisal

by Eddie R. Hicks

  The interior of Cassini City had everything humans would want to have in a city. Climate controlled to support a constant twenty-two degrees Celsius all day every day. Markets, houses, schools, various businesses, parks, trees, flowing rivers, rivers of water of course. While Titan did support hydrocarbon lakes throughout its surface those remained on the outside in the frostbitten moon.

  Trains were in constant motion, zooming back and forth through the glass tube tunnels that connected to other cities across the frozen moon, under Saturn and its grandiose rings appearing beyond the clouds. The walk from Avearan’s apartment to the train station wasn’t a long one, two escalators and a stroll across a bridge that hung above a promenade full of humans and nonhumans, mostly humans, moving about.

  The train platform she stood at was full of people like her, all carrying backpacks, showing off to their friends their ability to lift objects with their thoughts. One young woman, no older than eighteen at least by her appearance, crafted a paper plane from a napkin, just by forcing it to rise up before her, and make the right folds via telekinesis. That same telekinesis made it fly across the platform.

  Avearan and those around her vanished when the train arrived then departed. The brain train as most people nicknamed it. It pushed into the glass tunnels, gliding silently across raised platforms until it left the limits of Cassini City and out into the untamed landscape of Titan’s surface. It neared a mountain in the distance, one that had a prestigious-looking structure built next to its foot, König psionic academy.

  Her wrist terminal beeped, taking her eyes away from the windows. A news alert flashed, her news app had known she was watching the news recently from her apartment. It sent her an updated notification of the breaking news she was watching.

  The headline was as follows.

  ‘Contact with the XSV Johannes Kepler lost after entering Jacobus’ atmosphere.’

  7 Foster

  IESA Outpost

  Jacobus, Kapteyn’s Star system

  October 13, 2118, 08:19 SST (Sol Standard Time)

  The halls, though now darkened, were familiar to Captain Foster and Travis Pierce as their large party ventured through. It was the IESA outpost she spent less than half a shift at doing desk work during that dark moment when she lost her command.

  The stench of rotting bodies in the halls made her nose clench and squirm. Walking through ash that was once a person wasn’t any better. She began to wonder which of the two groups of colonists got the better deal: those left behind on Jacobus, or those that fled on the transports into deep space. It’d been over a month since she saw those ships flee. Their fates were unknown as was the status of their food and water supplies since the Johannes Kepler didn’t encounter or scan them on its FTL voyage to Jacobus.

  Past the high body count in the halls, was the administrative office. Miles used the superhuman strength of his suit to rip open the doors, to the surprise and panic of countless colonists and IESA staff huddled inside, hiding under desks.

  Foster entered the office, first grinning at the desk she was assigned. “I leave for two months and look what happens.”

  Multiple flashlights highlighted the presences of additional colonists that came out of their hiding spots within the office. They were all thin, covered in dried blood or soot, and had hair that clearly hadn’t been washed or maintained in days. A pile of empty food wrappers and cans was pushed into the corner. How they managed to secure food and water during this time was a question to be asked later.

  Or rather, a question to be asked to the dead bodies outside.

  “More survivors, Odelea, you were right,” Pierce said.

  A wide-eyed man approached the group, leaping up and down in joy. “Thank God, thank God . . . we were starting to lose hope.”

  “The Draconians had the wormhole guarded twenty-four-seven,” Foster explained to him and the survivors. “We had to fly in via FTL and create a whole lot of havoc to get them to leave.” She then gestured to the Marines behind. “So that these guys could come through.”

  “How many more are you?” Miles asked the survivor.

  “Just us and a larger group down below. Before the communication network went offline we heard cries for help in other cities.”

  “Foster, you gonna be able to fit ‘em on Kepler? I heard it’s pretty small,” Miles asked.

  “It will be cramped, but we’ll find away.”

  “This is a lot of people,” Schneider said, eying the newly discovered survivors plus their group. “If we take them outside, what’s going to stop the wyverns from picking a few of them up?”

  “There should be a docking bay not far from here,” Foster said. “Pierce and I used it when we first arrived on this planet.”

  “That’s right, it shouldn’t be far away,” Pierce added. “The Johannes Kepler shouldn’t have a problem fitting inside it, either.”

  “Then let’s get these folks to the docking bay,” Foster said, then spoke into her wrist terminal. “Chang, follow our signal, should be a docking bay door on the side of this mountain.”

  He transmitted back. “Yeah, I see it on sensors, it’s closed though.”

  “We’ll need to restore power to open it,” said one of the survivors.

  “Great, and with all the fightin’ I bet the grid is wrecked,” Foster said.

  “There should be a backup power source,” explained the survivor. “We had to manually redirect power elsewhere to prevent the invaders from finding us, and to keep power flowing into the plasma heaters, atmosphere processors, and gravity dampeners.”

  “Where’s that at?” Miles asked.

  The survivor pointed to a man wearing an IESA uniform lying on the floor. There were three blackened holes vaporized through his chest. “He was a worker here that knew, and, well, as you can see.”

  Foster grimaced at the sight. “Yeah, Miles here was kind enough to inform us how pointless talking to the dead is.”

  “I might know where it is,” Pierce said. “Remember, I spent a few hours here walking about. I do recall being turned away from areas that were off-limits.”

  “I’ll take it, lead the way, Pierce,” Foster said, then addressed her second-in-command. “Williams, help gather the last survivors and head to the docking bay, we’ll meet up with you after we’s get the juices going again.”

  Miles’ massive exosuited body stepped in front of Foster and Pierce as they headed to the exit. “Wait, you ain’t thinking about going down there with just the two of ya, eh?”

  She smiled at him, and gave the tachyon rifle she held a hearty shake. “I’d say this gun is bigger than yours, Miles, we’s should be fine.”

  Miles crossed his arms, shaking his head. “I’m a vet of the Celestial Order wars and fought me share of HLF terrorists.” Pierce rolled his eyes at the mention of the word ‘HLF terrorists.’ “I’ll go with the rest of the Marines; your ship needs its captain.”

  “My granddad taught me how to shoot rifles at fourteen,” Foster said, pushing past Miles.

  “Yeah, and?”

  “He was from Texas. I’ll be fine.”

  Foster and Pierce left, with him leading the way, as Miles grunted. “The fuck you will be.” And took his rifle to follow behind the two, ordering the remaining exosuit equipped Marines to accompany them.

  The group pushed deeper in the darkened halls. Miles’ flashlight mounted into his rifle lit the path for Pierce to lead the way and retrace his steps from a month and a half ago. No Draconians were spotted or dead colonists for that matter. Just creepy silence and the sounds of their footsteps. It was that silence that had them worried that maybe they’d become the dead bodies the hallways lacked.

  “So, what do you think they’re doing outside?” Foster asked.

  “Waiting for us to come out and kill us?” Pierce said drily.

  “I mean with the construction,” Foster said. “The Draconians did more than just take over the planet.”

  “Must have something to do w
ith the ruins,” Miles said. “They got them big ol’ dome-looking things built over them.”

  “The monolith,” Pierce said softly. “It’s only a few hours away via tram if I remember correctly.”

  “Most of their forces were found in this region,” Miles said. “We thought it was because this was the largest and most populated UNE city.”

  Foster licked her lips. “It’s gotta be the monolith.”

  “Well it’s under that construct now; no way we can see what they’re up to inside,” Miles said as Pierce turned at a fork in the hallway and they followed behind him.

  “We need to get inside then,” Foster said.

  Miles laughed at her. “Have you not seen that gong show?”

  “I know, I know,” Foster said, and mentally prepared herself to accept the fact that she’d have to leave the planet without gaining what she’d come back for, a chance to interact with the monolith. Getting off the planet with the survivors became top priority. “I just don’t think we’ll have the chance to come back and take another look.”

  The three stopped at a massive sliding door. Miles’ flashlight illumined the large letters written on it in English and Chinese, stating it was a restricted area, no doubt the power distribution room. Foster and Pierce stepped back, allowing the Marines and their exosuits to go to work, ripping the door open like it was made of a piece of tin foil.

  “Well, if we don’t get power restored, you’ll be right about that part,” Miles said, tossing the hulk of metal that was once a door behind them with loud clang. “We won’t have the chance, ‘cause we’ll all be dead.”

  They entered and noted the dormant computer terminals and power distribution equipment shaped like massive ovals. A window off to the left gave anyone that stood next to it a breathtaking view of the landscape. They were high up and inside a mountain after all.

  “I thought Canadians were supposed to be all positive,” Foster snickered to Miles with a charming smile as the three spread out to operate the cold and dark computers.

  “Ha! What gave you that idea?” he said, smirking back at her.

  Foster cocked her thumb at Pierce. “He’s from Vancouver, has been through a lot since joining my crew, and doesn’t complain.”

  Miles’ eyebrow rose, giving Pierce a perplexed look. “Vancouver, eh?”

  “Indeed,” Pierce said, keeping his eyes on his computer that just powered on, flashing its holographic lights across his face.

  “Get a lot of blowies from blues?” Miles asked him. Pierce replied with silence, and the shaking of his head. The rest of the Marines laughed and teased him. “Ha! That’s probably why yer all happy then, eh?”

  Foster stepped away from her computer, waiting for it to finish booting up and looked at the two Canadian men. “Come again?”

  Pierce broke his silence. “I haven’t heard that term in ages.”

  “I was right then, eh?” Miles pressed on.

  Pierce began to interact with the holo screens projected by the computer terminal. “If memory serves me correctly, computers like this should have a legacy mode for non-HNI use.”

  “Dodging the question, eh?” Miles spat. “Wait, you ain’t one of them HLF supporters, are ya?”

  Too many questions were being asked and ignored, including the one Foster couldn’t get out of her head. Before any other ones were asked, she had to know. “What is a blowy from a blue?”

  Pierce sighed. “It means to receive oral sex from a blue-skinned Hashmedai woman.”

  Foster face-palmed. “Oh, geez . . .”

  “Hashmedai with blue skin were known for their . . .” Pierce cleared his throat and grimaced before he continued. “Insatiable sexual appetite, more so than the rest of their species.”

  “Alright, so power?” Foster needed a subject change, ideally one that focused on their current problem, survival, and the solution to make that happen, escape.

  Pierce pushed a number of buttons and provided directions to Foster and Miles for what they should be doing at their terminals. The rest of the Marines took cover near the door, standing watch. Minutes later, the lights flicked back on, and the soft humming of the power distribution equipment sounded in the background.

  “There, that should do it,” Pierce said. “Power should be online now—”

  The windows behind them blew out.

  The howling winds from the outside world created utter chaos, sucking out the atmosphere within the room. Outside the shattered windows was the source of their destruction, three wyverns flapping their wings, screeching their cries, and sticking their heads inside. Neither of the three used their plasma breath, of course not, they needed food, and so the humans inside needed to not be vaporized.

  The chilly air from the outside world was disorientating, Foster was surprised she was able to hold on to a support beam, preventing her tumbling body from being blown outside. Mist began to form as a result of the cold air mixing with the heat and moisture from the interior and computer equipment. It was blinding mist, enough to obscure what was going on around the shattered glass window, enough for her to not know what became of Pierce, Miles, and his team.

  She managed to crawl her way back out into the access hallways where they came from. Her head spun, and her vision blurred due to the lack of air, making her question if she’d remain awake long enough to make it past the emergency force field that erected next to the entrance. Unlike emergency force fields from the 2030s, the ones in use at the colony were smart, and allowed personnel to freely pass through via self-irising after a quick scan.

  She took a massive gasp of air once she crossed over, while her body enjoyed not having rushing winds trying to relentlessly yank her by force outside. Two minutes passed, and she mustered enough power to stand and realize she was alone. Looking back, she saw no movement within the power distribution room, no calls for help, nothing but raging wyverns peeking inside, looking for their next meal.

  “Pierce! Miles!” She yelled out frantically. “Anyone!”

  There was no reply, not even when she cried out their names into her wrist terminal.

  They were gone.

  8 Pierce

  Southbound Tram

  Jacobus, Kapteyn’s Star system

  October 13, 2118, 11:45 SST (Sol Standard Time)

  Travis Pierce awoke, coughing twice in the process. It wasn’t the kind of cough a man with the PhDs he had should be experiencing, nor was the dust and soot that made a mess of his IESA uniform. He sat up having realized the floor he was on was warm thanks to his body heat, then realized he should be thankful his body was still producing heat on its own.

  A chair was next to him, one of many within the tram he was in as it glided across the maglev tracks to . . . Wait, he thought. How did I get in here? He went to scratch his head and ponder his thoughts. The pain that flared up made him regret that action instantly. “Argh, my arm.”

  “Wakey, wakey, sleep-in,” Miles said to him from behind.

  Pierce turned around and watched the lone Marine in his exosuit stride away from the rear of the tram, toward the front seats. “What happened?”

  “Fuckin’ dragon, sucker punched us,” Miles said, keeping his gaze at the forward window showing the hazy skies and rugged mountainous terrain around them. “We got sucked out and tumbled down the rock face. Lucky for us, the gravity dampeners extend beyond the mountains, on the steep hill we rolled down.”

  Jacobus had a gravitational pull much stronger than Earth. Terminal velocity would have been reached at a faster rate from a fall at the height they were in from the power distribution chamber within the mountain complex. Pierce had a newfound appreciation for the devices the planet had installed, from the plasma heaters to warm the colony from the extreme subzero temperatures of the planet, to the atmospheric processors pumping breathable air into the surrounding environment, and gravity dampeners.

  “Why are we on this train?” Pierce asked Miles.

  Miles shrugged. “The tram activated
once we hit the bottom. Guess its grid was linked to the power we just switched on. Dragons were coming down to finish us off, my team stayed back to cover our retreat. Had to drag you inside and hope for the best.”

  “Where are they now?”

  Miles held up a fist full of dog tags. “They didn’t make it; the dragons saw to that.”

  Pierce’s breathing became erratic and his face grew pale. “Foster? The survivors?”

  “No clue b’y, our fall put us knee deep in the HNI jamming field, and your wrist terminal won’t communicate with anyone either.” Miles continued to explain. “I’d imagine they made it off-world by now, it’s been a few hours since this tram left.”

  Pierce faced the floor frowning. “Hours . . .”

  “Yep, hours.” Miles pointed to the skies from the window, bringing to Pierce’s attention the UNE ships’ fighters carving a path through the thick hazy clouds searching for wyverns. “UNE forces are still here though, so don’t shit yer paints yet, our ride outta here is still in orbit.”

  “Yeah, but for how long?”

  “I couldn’t tell ya, just that I ain’t gonna get off this tram until I’m convinced it’s safe.”

  Pierce joined him at the front, and the two stood shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm to be exact, as Miles was half a meter taller than him, and that was when he was out of his suit. The two looked out the window, looking at the yellow mist before them blocking their view of the Draconian constructs they were no doubt nearing. Or so Pierce assumed as he looked to the left and noticed the somewhat familiar ancient city at the basin of the mountains, the city that was home to the monolith that changed Foster.

  “Lieutenant, did we pass any platforms?” Pierce asked to double-check their heading.

  “Aye, just one a few hours back inside the mountain settlement,” Miles said. “Didn’t bother to get us off at that stop, it was crawling with Draconian soldiers.”