“Anything to help our brave warrior!” Amy’s display switched to a blowing-a-kiss emoji. Rick smiled though he knew Amy was taking the piss.
Brock, Gary and Steve came back as the carriage was about emptied of passengers. Brock signalled everyone to get ready as he went over to Rick.
“Hey, how’s it going bud?”
“Meh can’t complain. You know, immobilised, drugged-up and crippled…” Rick sighed. He couldn’t help trying to be funny though he was not amused by his current predicament. Not even a little. “So what’s up?”
“Trying to figure out how I’m going to transport you. Can’t really drag you off the way we dragged you on. And your armour won’t bend which will make carrying you weird and attract unwanted attention.”
Rick just lay there watching Brock. He had his serious warrior-face on. Rick was processing all the scenarios. They all looked stupid and would get them noticed. Brock probably came to the same conclusion.
“Mr Archer? Rick Archer?” Two paramedics had entered the carriage and approached the group. “We’ve been sent to collect an injured passenger. A Mr Rick Archer.” Everyone but Rick turned to face them. He quickly changed to Brock’s sight, he followed his eyes as they carefully scanned every aspect of these strangers. Brock lifted his sleeve to reveal a tattoo on his inner forearm. The paramedics looked at each other and then back at Brock. They discretely revealed their own identical tattoos. Brock heaved a sigh of relief, and everyone relaxed though they didn’t fully understand what was happening. For once Rick understood.
“Thanks for coming. We could really use some help.” The medics smiled and pulled out a hover gurney. Both edges were pulled apart about three metres, and a forcefield activated.
“Hello, Mr Archer we’re here to help. We’re going to lift you up onto this stretcher and transport you to our facility on Mars for medical assistance. Is that OK?”
“Let’s just get on with it.”
“OK. Thanks, Mr Archer.”
“Rick is fine.”
“OK, Rick. Lifting you now.” Brock helped the medics get Rick on the stretcher. His armoured frame rested awkwardly on the gurney, he knew he wasn’t flat but could do nothing about it.
Moon came over and put Moondog down on Rick. She smiled at him. That smile did not heal his body, but it did wonders to his spirits. The moment they were out of the train they melted away in the crowd of travellers.
Rick didn’t like being immobilised. Especially the helplessness associated with lying down and being only marginally aware of his location and direction. He cycled through Brock, Amy and Steve’s eyesights’ to see what was going on. He stopped on Steve who was panning around and offered the best view of their situation. It felt very strange, watching himself through his surrogate’s eyes, like watching a live movie of himself. Rick’s group moved through the crowd with relative ease, the medic uniforms parted people like Moses did the Red Sea.
Rick caught a glimpse of himself on a giant screen up in the main terminal. The breaking news banner was flashing, and the anchor seemed agitated.
“Stop!” Everyone stopped and started glancing sideways. Worried looks appeared over their faces. “Look up. At the screens.” All eyes turned upwards scanning for screens. “Amy, Mom, can one of you connect me, I want to hear what they’re saying.”
“…breaking news from Luna! I’m Ronnie Bilfinger, here with your report. Moonland was the site of two major incidents yesterday, and authorities are calling this a terrorist attack.” As Ronnie talked, clips came on to show the attack as seen by different witnesses and security cameras. Very informative for Rick for whom this whole affair was a blur. “Luna City’s central plaza was the site of the first attack which claimed several lives and injured many others. A few hours later there was another attack in the station near the Solus Express terminal. Live from Luna with your story, Lily Wong.”
“Thank you, Ronnie. Residents in Luna City are still reeling from the plaza attack which killed four and injured dozens more. Witnesses say they saw an unmarked ship open fire on the plaza, seemingly aiming at the cast and crew of The Last Human Show. This information has been confirmed by footage captured in the area at the moment of the attack.” A few witnesses were brought on camera to describe their experience of the attack. All very dull to Rick so he started tuning out, but then he heard his name...
“… and do we have any more information on the station attack? Early reports claimed The Last Human was hurt.”
“Details are still sketchy concerning the second attack that claimed an as-of-yet unknown number of victims. The attack was broadcast live on several social media channels affiliated to The Last Human Show. Reports claim the live stream ended on cast and crew being shot, including Rick Archer, the last human. Since the stream ended fans have been clamouring for updates and more videos.” Rick needed to let them know he was alive. “We were able to speak to a few people who claim to have witnessed the attack, but we have not been able to verify their information with the authorities or security footage. Initial reports claim a group ambushed The Last Human crew on their way to the Solus Express and some witnesses claim to have seen Rick Archer get shot which corroborates the live broadcasts.”
“Do we know where the broadcasts’ were coming from?
“Well, it would seem the stream originated from The Last Human crew themselves and was broadcast through accounts they control. Reports also claim the stream opened with Rick Archer addressing the fans.”
“Thank you, Lily. Well, you heard it here first. The Last Human has been shot. Maybe even killed.” Ronnie Bilfinger looked straight up at the camera as it zoomed in. Rick would’ve recoiled if he could. It felt like he was being addressed personally. “Where is Rick Archer? Is The Last Human dead? Or perhaps this is all an elaborate PR stunt to get you to watch the show? Perhaps we’ll get some answers when fan recordings of the live stream start surfacing. So far we’ve had no statements from the production company that manages the show, nor the Agency’s TV PR branch. Stay tuned. Next, our panel of experts discuss these terrorist actions and the reasons they might be targeting The Last Human Show…” Rick had heard enough.
“Cut the feed.” The inside of the helmet went quiet, and Rick thought for a moment before calling out for Gary.
“Hey, Rick what’s up? Crazy shit this! The world thinks you’re dead!”
“Yes well let’s prove them otherwise, no?” Gary’s face lit up. “You know what to do. Get a nice station sequence edit up on social media. Let's show the world what really happened. Just omit the bit where I get shot. Brock kicking ass and some train, so they know we made it out.” Gary was pleased. The medics stopped.
“If you don’t mind Rick I think this should wait until you’re fixed. We have under twelve hours until the next Solus Express arrives and we’re practically certain it will be loaded with more mercenaries. It could be an advantage to let the world think you’re dead, just for a while longer.” Brock nodded in approval. Rick told Gary to wait.
◆◆◆
Rick daydreamed while the airbulance made its way down to Mars. He would have rather enjoyed Mars’ vistas, but that was still not an option from his horizontal prison. Amy had agreed to be his eyes, but it just wasn’t the same. At first, he’d seethed with frustration when the medics wouldn’t unlock the armour. He’d strained to no avail until resigned, he’d accepted Amy’s offer. Through her eyes, he glimpsed a little of the renown Martian coast, its long orange beaches, budding forests and growing cities.
Amy narrated for Rick. His own personal documentary. She was great at that. “The entire Martian population lives in the Cydonian coastal region. They’ve settled on both sides of the Marineris trench and around the seas of Hellas and Isidis.” Amy had maps and graphics pop-up on Rick’s display. The map showed dozens of Zero City inspired settlements that had appeared around the crater seas. “At first the settlements were sparse and few, a collection of domes and cylinder habitats erected by the first robot
ic colonists.” Cutaways of the first habitats appeared and faded before Rick. “Far from appealing, these homes away from Terra did little to entice the fleshy transhumanists to emigrate there,” Rick remembered these twentieth century inspired habitats from all the movies he consumed as a kid. They were small and cramped just like the crappy spaceships of that time. To this day transhumans were still amazed that humans had ever landed on the Moon in sixty-nine.
The first proper Martian homes came when the Second Exodus brought millions of new colonists over. For years the best scientists had worked on a variety of tools, engines, drives and shields in an effort to democratise space travel, and ensure it was a safer and less boring proposition. Now that Rick thought about it he realised the Agency had coined the term Second Exodus. Their adverts had blared out their messages around the clock. They were everywhere and on all the time. They drove people into space and to Mars with their Back-to-the-Future-upgrade-your-vehicle-and-go-on-adventures vibe. They sold the dream and life of a space colonist to millions.
“How do you like your matter? We like it exotic! Get your Exoticon Inertia Dampers by Graviton Inc. Show gravity who’s boss with Graviton!”
“Going into space? Don't go without your Space Guardian! For total peace of mind equip your ship with Space Guardian deflector shields!”
“With Solmag Shields protecting your spacecraft from cosmic rays, the only thing cooking on your ship will be the kitchen!
All these shitty slogans and messages peddled neatly packaged plug-n-play products. They flooded the market. The result was messy. The second wave had no kind of structure. Like the Gold Rush of the 1800s and the Wild West, it was mostly a collection of chaotic individualistic enterprises. With a horse and some balls, you could go looking for riches, except in this case the horse was a fusion drive.
The simultaneous commercialisation of dozens of space-faring technologies had given the average transhuman Joes the ability to travel in space using their own customised vehicles. And they took up that opportunity, pimped their rides and flew off into space. Rick was still doing Party Like A Human when the tech hit the market. He could have afforded one these “spaced-up” transports. Not a good one. Not that there were any good ones. Converted vehicles weren’t fast or particularly safe. But it was just too tempting a proposition to pass over for many.
Rick was pulled out of his reveries by Moon. “Did you know that the vehicle conversion industry was directly responsible for the birth of the asteroid mining industry.” That was weird. She was thinking about the same thing as he was. Rick perked up.
“Yes totally! Have you seen The Ceresian Connection and the Martian Job?” Gangster at it’s best.
“Ummm… Obviously! Have you seen Belt Runner?”
“Uh… Yeah! It’s a classic!”
Something in common. Rick and Moon went on listing movies they loved. And there were many. A new genre was born out the Second Exodus and space mining industry. The doors had opened on so many new topics to treat.
“Pirates of the Asteroid Belt?”
“The Fast and the Ludicrous?”
The mining boom had seen millions pimp their cars, trucks and boats and fly off to Mars, Ceres and beyond in search of fame and fortune. Many found it. Many more died. Deflector shields don’t deflect asteroids above a certain size. That was one of the many lessons wannabe miners were better off learning early on. Rick knew this from Solus Quest. He may not have been knowledgeable about much, but he’d seen a few hundred movies a few hundred times. Maybe some of this knowledge would come in useful on this voyage. If only to bond with Moon.
Those who learned from mistakes extracted wealth from the Asteroid Field and that wealth transformed Mars, built Ceres and funded the expansion, as well as all the movies Rick loved. He’d often wondered what his life would’ve been like if he’d travelled the stars instead of signing his life away. He could have been one of the many people from Earth that poured into Mars and helped the cities grow like mushrooms after an October rain. Just seemed to pop up overnight, clumped up near puddles.
The life of a colonist seemed hard. Mining was probably not the job for him. And the great Martian factories spread out across the tundra south of the cities had no need for a human. Rick thought of the fleet of supply ships that kept these giant structures grinding away, around the clock, swallowing metal, rock and minerals. Constantly churning out components for spaceships, orbital structures and whatever else needed building. Most of these factories were independent, as were most of the miners and transporters. This lack of oversight and independence had created an opportunity for crime. And nobody knew what to do about it apart from making cool movies.
Maybe Rick could be a pirate. He strained to get a look at Moon. Would she like a life of piracy? Crime had grown in sync with the mining industry, spaceship industry and with the Martian cityscape.
A vibrant industry, a growing entrepreneurial population, Mars was well on its way to becoming a second Earth... Except everyone now knew… It wasn’t a second Earth. It was the first. Earth was the second Mars. Rick’s mind drifted between realities as he remembered the words. He’d heard them at a party from some random. It had boggled his mind when he’d first heard them. “Earth is the second Mars.”
Rick had immediately gone online to find out more. While he’d been blitzed, they’d made some fascinating discoveries on Mars. Rick had stopped paying attention to the world in those days, but this had intrigued him. An ancient conflict that had almost wiped life out in Solus.
The Martian ruins were supposed to be episode five. Rick would have actually liked to do that episode. Not much information was left to piece together the story. Earth only had fossils, Ceres had nothing, and on Mars, one underground structure had been discovered among the old stone carvings. Most information on the subject came from one unbelievably well-preserved computer terminal found in the underground base. The information on it was limited, and the language was hard to decipher. But researchers had eventually found out the terminal once controlled the complex machinery that kept the last Martians alive.
The Great Solus War story had not evolved since Rick’s youth. The short version was that there were three inhabited planets in the system, Terra, Mars and Ceres. War broke out between the Humans on Mars, the Reptilians on Terra and whatever the Ceresians were.
The outcome was pretty clear; Ceres and all traces of its people were pulverised, and the asteroid belt and namesake planetoid were born from its remains. Life on Mars was savaged, its oceans vaporised and the magnetic field destroyed. On Earth, the dino-riding reptilians were wiped out, and the planet sent back to the ice age after a rain of fire that brought life to the brink.
Life was practically extinguished by this war. The doomed Martians eventually left Mars to colonise Earth after failing to save their world.
Rick still couldn’t believe his bad luck. He would have done the show like a good boy at least until after Mars. They’d forced his hand too early.
Robopops
Brock had been quiet during the whole flight. Amy and Moon had distracted Rick, and they’d almost reached their destination. All without Brock having to answer any questions from anyone. Good.
The airbulance began its descent towards Mars City 3 east of the Gulf of Chryse. Home of the Martian resistance. The resistance on Mars operated out of a clinic which seemed like an outstandingly convenient turn of events. Rick was unloaded and taken to an empty room on the ground floor of the suspiciously vacant clinic. The paramedics that brought him excused themselves and left through another door. The room was quiet. Brock could tell Rick wanted to speak. He hated awkward silences. Thankfully he didn’t have to endure too much, and Brock still didn’t have to answer any questions. The paramedics came back followed by a large robot with a screen for a face. It flicked on.
“Rick, Brock… I see you’ve been doing well…” Perfectly conveyed sarcasm. Pops had remoted into a medical bot. Brock began to speak, but he was silenced with a wave
from one the robotic arms and a frown from Pops’ digitally rendered face. “We can talk after I fix the idiot. You can all wait outside. Make yourselves comfortable this is going to take a while.” Pops made a waving get-out gesture towards the door. The paramedics led everyone out, and only Rick, Brock and Pops remained.
The Pops robot approached and pointed at the operating table. Brock grunted and picked Rick up. “Hurry up.”
“Yeah pussy!” Rick chimed in, and Brock dropped him onto the table. “Ouch! Motherfucker, I felt that.”
“I hope so.” Brock shot Rick a malicious grin.
“Enough!” Pops craned over Rick. “Let’s take a look at you.” Dozens of little arms, big and small, long and thin, with tips fashioned into different tools and devices started coming out of flaps covering the bot. They busied themselves over Rick, prodding, scanning, measuring and generally assessing the situation. “Well, one thing’s clear you’d’ve lost your arm without that fancy suit of yours. It filled your injury with livium and started the healing process. However, I’m sorry to say the bone and tissue damage is substantial, without serious reconstructive surgery you’ll never recover strength in your arm. Lifting even the lightest thing would be impossible.”
“At least it’s your left arm!” Brock made an obscene gesture towards Rick.
“Fuck you!” Rick’s eyes darted around trying to catch Pops’. He’d have tried Brock’s view, but Brock would look at him while he spoke to Pops which seemed like it would be weird. “Pops I can’t be one-armed! I need the operation.”
“Is there any way to repair the arm without modifying Rick?”
“Well, a targeted nanobot intervention could theoretically rebuild all the damaged tissue. But the extent of the damage means this would take weeks. And having a nanobot colony also goes against Rick’s contract.”
Space Shenanigans Page 2
