by G J Ogden
“So why not call it, ‘the Transparent Room’ or ‘the Open Room’, or something like that? Why call it the Teardrop?” asked Ethan. “It makes it sound so sad.”
Maria smiled. “Ah, well that’s the best part,” she said, clearly glad that Ethan was paying attention, and was interested. “As the story goes when the final governor to sign the document finished her signature, she also shed a single tear, which fell on the paper and mixed with the ink, creating a tear-shaped stain. It was considered the final mark of acceptance and approval, and so they named the structure after it.”
Ethan had to stare solidly at his feet to stop himself from feeling sick, and barely heard Maria. “That’s great, Sal,” he said, uneasily, “but couldn’t we have done this somewhere, you know, less high up?”
Unseen to Ethan, Maria smiled broadly. “It’s a great honor, Ethan. This room doesn’t get used much these days.”
“No world leaders left, I guess, huh?” Ethan quipped, and Maria’s smiled disappeared. Ethan hadn’t intended to be so cutting, and the sharpness of his response surprised even himself. It reminded him of Summer. He fought that image back; he did not want to be reminded of her right now. He felt sick enough as it was.
“Well, the sooner we start, the sooner we can get back to ground level,” said Maria, plainly.
Ethan looked from his feet and towards the center of the room, which helped to steady his stomach. It was then he noticed that two of the large black chairs were now occupied. The chair at the very top of the table was filled by an older man, perhaps similar to Talia’s age, dressed in the same uniform as Maria, but with many more adornments to the collar and cuffs. The chair to his left side was occupied by a severe-looking man dressed in utilitarian clothing, similar to the sort Ethan was wearing, again with the addition of some designs and metal studs to the collar and cuff. He was younger, perhaps late middle-aged, and looked like he’d seen a fight or two in his life.
Ethan approached them, still a little gingerly, and the man at the top of the table at once stood up, followed swiftly by the man sat to his side, who then took a step back and pressed his hands behind his back, puffing out his chest. The older man wore a warm, but carefully-controlled smile, not unlike the one Maria had given Ethan earlier, when they were discussing the restriction on his movements. This made Ethan instantly distrustful of him.
“Welcome, welcome!” the older man said, gesturing for Ethan to come closer. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ethan. Captain Salus has told me so much about you.” Ethan glanced over at Maria, wondering what she had been saying about him, but Maria was standing rigidly, hands by her sides, a plain, serious expression on her face. “All good, of course,” the man added, casually, still smiling, as if he thought this qualification was important. “I am Governor Archer, Thomas Archer,” he continued. “I have the honor and privilege of running this base and presiding over the UEC governing council of ministers. Please excuse the formality of the uniform; it’s merely protocol in these situations.”
“What situations?” asked Ethan, abruptly. He was genuinely interested, but the way he blurted out the question seemed to visibly disconcert Maria, who he could still make out in his peripheral vision.
Governor Archer’s face retained its easy smile. “Defense protocol, Ethan,” he answered, after a slight pause. “I am Governor, but also the commander of our combined security forces here – the defenders that protect us from GPS attacks and keep us safe and secure.” Archer walked around the edge of the table so that he was standing more directly in front of them, and then added, “I understand that Captain Salus has already briefed you on our situation?”
“Yes,” said Ethan. “Sal showed me some images on a holo, or whatever it’s called.”
“Already on first name terms, good!” said Archer, enthusiastically.
Ethan thought he saw Maria wince, and considered that his familiar tone perhaps wasn’t appropriate in this situation, though he was merely responding in the same, casual manner in which he had been welcomed. His mind was then overtaken with memories of what the ‘holo’ had shown him, and what Maria had said. It seemed like such a long time ago, and so far away, and in the excitement and strangeness of recent events he’d almost forgotten. He remembered the difficult meeting they’d had in the council chambers in the settlement, in far less grand circumstances than these. He recalled the thrill of learning the truth and the crushing disappointment and regret that followed. He recalled the suspicion, anger and resentment from Summer, and the ultimatum from Administrator Talia to Kurren and Maria, with its passive-aggressive undertone and its own sense of bitterness. In recollecting all this, he felt a sudden sense of unease, as something didn’t quite add up. And then he realized why.
“Maria, I mean Captain Salus, said that people up here were in danger?” said Ethan, conscious that he perhaps shouldn’t sound too personally attached to Maria. While it was clear that Maria and this Governor Archer had talked before his arrival, he was pretty sure Maria would have left out any personal details. “She said that it was related to the same sickness that causes the Maddening on the planet?” Ethan added, again phrasing the sentence more as a question.
“That is correct,” said Archer, a little hesitantly, the reason for Ethan’s question unclear to him.
“So where is the danger?” Ethan asked, annoyed that he was having to spell it out. “Forgive me for being blunt, but I don’t see anything wrong up here. Everyone seems just fine.” The more he spoke the more Ethan found himself becoming irritated. “In fact, it seems that you have it pretty good up here, compared to us planetsiders, anyway.”
The governor listened patiently, impassively, wearing the same, easy smile. For some reason he irked Ethan. He had felt uneasy ever since arriving; a feeling that something wasn’t quite right. And now, standing in front of these men, dressed in their immaculate uniforms, in this pristine room poised almost magically above their peaceful kingdom in space, with its artificial lighting, snug temperature and total lack of any apparent threats or dangers, the realization struck him. Life on this base was good. There was no suffering, no adversity, at least none that he had witnessed. Compared to the daily struggle and constant threat of danger that he had lived with his entire life, this base was a paradise. He questioned why he had risked so much – and sacrificed so much – to be here.
Maria comprehended the cause of Ethan’s agitation and was now also visibly uneasy. “Ethan, if you’d just give the General, I mean Governor, some time to explain…” she began, nervously.
The slip of the tongue didn’t go unnoticed to Ethan. ‘General’ she had said, not ‘Governor’. This was not a domestic matter, but a military one. Before Maria could continue, Governor Archer interrupted.
“It’s okay, captain,” Archer said to Maria, and instantly she stood down and assumed her previous, erect posture. “Ethan, I understand your frustration,” Archer continued. “Compared to the life you’re used to, this place must seem like a paradise.” Archer’s perceptiveness took Ethan by surprise.
“You’re right that life on this base is incomparable to life on the planet. You know that our conflict with GPS is what caused the devastation on the planet, and for this reason, any anger or resentment towards us is completely understandable. The imbalance between our situation and the hardships you have to endure on the planet is unfair and unjust.”
Hearing Archer admit this so freely deflated the bubble of anger that was threatening to expand into a cloud of rage around Ethan. He felt his heart rate ease and rationality begin to assert itself again. He noticed Maria, who was carefully observing him, also relax slightly.
“The Maddening, as you call it, does not pose a threat to us here,” said Archer. “There are areas of the base that contain dangerously high levels of radiation, but these are quarantined, and our medical technology is able to counteract the effects of the limited exposure levels elsewhere.”
“Then why am I here?” said Ethan, still baffled by the appar
ent needlessness of his presence.
“Because a grave threat is imminent, one that could destroy this base and all life here,” Archer said, adding a touch of dramatic flair for impact. He gestured for Ethan to take a seat, still with that easy smile on his face. Ethan looked at the chair and hesitated slightly before deciding to take up the offer and sit down.
Archer sat also, but Maria and the other man, as yet still to be introduced, remained standing. Ethan regarded the man momentarily from his new position in the chair. He had a hard look about his craggy, rough-shaven face. There was a scar around and below his right ear, Ethan noticed. Not a cut, but more a mottling of the skin, which was also darker than the skin around it.
“I’m sorry” said Archer, noticing that Ethan was staring at the man. “I forgot to introduce you to Major Kurren, here.”
“Kurren?”
“Yes, Major James Kurren. You knew his brother, of course, Commander Chris Kurren.”
Ethan’s heart sank. Kurren’s brother. Kurren who had sacrificed his own ride home so that Ethan could be here. Kurren, Maria’s friend and partner who, in all likelihood, was now dead. And even if he had survived, he would be at risk from the Maddening. For all Ethan knew, Summer may have killed him herself. He stood up and met Major’s Kurren’s eyes, which were a vivid blue; cold and severe.
“I’m… I’m sorry about your brother,” said Ethan, with genuine warmth. “I didn’t know Commander Kurren at all, really, but I saw how he acted, and he was an honorable man.” Ethan noticed the Major’s eyes waver momentarily as he said the word, ‘honorable’.
“He was a soldier,” Major Kurren replied stoically, not adjusting his stance. “He did his duty, nothing more.”
Ethan sank back down into his chair, his mind again a muddle of thoughts and emotions.
Archer regarded him carefully, allowing him time with his thoughts, waiting patiently for the optimal moment to speak again, so as to have Ethan’s full attention. When Ethan finally looked up, Archer continued.
“Ethan, what you see here on this base is the result of an uneasy stand-off with GPS, who are still out there on their orbital platform.” Archer made a sweeping gesture upwards with his right hand as he said ‘out there’. “But for more than two generations we have fought them, skirmish after skirmish, each one repelled, but each one cutting us a little more, and a then little more. Yet we survived and built a life here.” And then with more emphasis, he said, “We created life here. Families, Ethan, just like down on the planet. We are no different to you in many respects.”
Ethan still failed to see the similarities, but he was more curious about this new threat Archer had mentioned, “I take it then that this stalemate between you and GPS has ended?”
“Yes, very perceptive, young man,” said Archer in a way that sounded patronizing and false to Ethan’s ears. “We unfortunately did not see their intentions until it was too late. But, please bear with me, the background to what is happening now is important, and will help you understand.” Archer tapped at a screen built into the table in front of him and a three-dimensional display appeared in the center of the table, similar to the image that Maria and Kurren had shown him and the administrators at the settlement. Ethan watched intently as the display showed a huge object, constructed of a large center platform and a network of smaller platforms connected by conduits, which jutted out in all directions like an enormous spider’s web, hanging in space above a planet.
“What is that?” asked Ethan, leaning in to get a better look.
“That is the primary orbital base of the Global Power Security corporation,” said Archer. “Or, at least, it used to be. At first, it was simply the center platform, but over time it grew. Before the conflict began, the governments of the world tried to curb its expansion, fearing it was becoming too big; too self-sufficient and powerful. They were correct, of course.”
“And they’ve continued to expand it ever since?”
“Correct,” said Archer. “Now it has become even larger than this base, or at least what remains of the habitable sections of this base,” he added, casually. Archer started to tap at the console again. The images began to move. “One day GPS suddenly stopped their raids, which had been a regular feature of life here for decades, and started to direct their weapons onto an area of debris some distance from the moon base.” The images moved as Archer spoke, following his words and keeping in time with the events as he recounted them. “At first, we couldn’t understand it,” he continued. “There appeared to be no threat to us and no tactical benefit for them. We thought that perhaps they were looking to extract some orrum, and maybe they had run low on fuel. But since the destruction of the refinery, one thing we are not short of in space is orrum to use as fuel.” Archer let out a muted laugh as he said this, but no one reacted. “What we discovered too late was that this debris was the remains of a refinery node, still full of orrum, and that the detonations had not only altered the orbit vector of this debris such that it would eventually collide with this moon, but also atomized the orrum,” he continued. The terms were unfamiliar to Ethan and he frowned in concentration, trying to follow what Archer was saying, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the general and governor. “In simple terms, they had created a biological weapon of sufficient power to kill everyone on this base. To wipe us out, once and for all.”
The images moved along with Archer’s description of the events, and Ethan watched as the image projected a line spiraling from the debris cloud around the planet towards the moon base.
“But you stopped it?” said Ethan. “I mean, you’re all still here, so you must have found a way to stop it?”
“Yes, but not without significant consequences,” Archer said. He tapped the panel and the display updated, showing ships taking off from the base and heading towards the debris cloud. “We evacuated the station as far as possible, and launched everything we had at the debris field, including ships laden with orrum, to use as flying bombs. Our hope was that we could alter its orbit again, away from the station. Sadly, we were unable to fully succeed in this endeavor, and it cost us most of our ships and weapons.”
The display showed ships exploding in space, pushing the debris cloud off its deadly course, but not quite far enough. While most of the debris field missed the moon, elements remained on a collision course. Ethan watched as these smashed into the moon base. It again reminded him of the images he had seen back on the planet. How similar their fates were, he thought.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Ethan said, to no-one in particular.
Archer’s face contorted into a curious frown. “What is ironic, Ethan?”
“That you faced a fate so similar to that of the planet.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Archer said, with some agitation, as if he were slightly annoyed by the comparison.
Archer tapped a button and a three dimensional plan view of the moon base flicked into view. Suddenly, sections began to turn red – the first time the display had varied from its usual, pale white light.
“Fifty-eight percent of the base was immediately rendered uninhabitable. Over ten thousand died. Another three and a half thousand followed within days of the impact from intense exposure. There was no time for the Maddening, as you call it, to take hold with these unfortunate souls, which is perhaps a mercy.” Archer’s tone had darkened once again, and his easy smile had gone. “We set our emergency protocols into action and started to intensify our production of medicines to counter the radiation, while also funneling resources into creating newer, more effective serums. Still, another two thousand died within a year, either from the radiation, or the newly reinvigorated GPS, who again started their attacks with the hope of finishing us off.”
The more Archer talked the angrier he became. He paused, and after a deep sigh, his expression changed again, the easy smile returning. When he continued, the earlier, smooth delivery resumed.
“A democratic decision was made by the UEC council to place the
base under military control, which was when I became governor. We fought back against GPS and inflicted enough losses to keep them contained on their platform. But the damage was done. That was fifteen years ago.” The display changed again, now displaying a roster of names, with huge swathes turning red. The display zoomed out, and out again, with more names appearing and turning red. “We have now lost nearly ninety percent of our original number, leaving only two thousand five hundred and eighty seven of us on this base,” Archer said, his tone again carefully controlled. “Many are families; the descendants of engineers and orrum industry workers from decades ago. Our medical knowledge has contained the effects of the radiation. So what you see here, while peaceful on the surface, is still a fragile existence.”
Ethan thought back to his earlier comment about the irony of the situation, which he now realized was insensitive. While the loss suffered by the people on the moon was small compared to the billions who perished on the planet, they had still suffered and were still having to endure. It wasn’t fair to make it a numbers game. Also, the total number on the station had shocked Ethan. For some reason, he had imagined a vast population in space, while the truth was that life up in this black and cold void was as precarious as that of life planetside. The fragility of their existence was brought starkly into view.
“I am sorry if I came across as insensitive earlier,” said Ethan. “When I said that it was ironic that your fate was similar to that of the planet, I didn’t mean to make light of your situation, or suggest any sort of poetic justice.”
“No apology necessary, Ethan.” Again, the easy smile.
“I still don’t understand why you need me, though,” said Ethan. “Sorry to be blunt, but why am I here?”
Archer’s smile dropped a little, and he tapped again on the table. The display changed back to the view of the planet and the debris cloud in orbit, a line extending from its center and spiraling around the planet as before. “When we deflected the debris cloud, it remained in orbit around the planet, and we have monitored it ever since. It moves chaotically, changing direction from time to time as it collides with other debris, sometimes creating small detonations inside the center, also resulting in unpredictable adjustments to its course.” Ethan watched the display chart the erratic course of the debris field around the planet. “This has had the useful side-effect of significantly reducing the size and lethality of the cloud. It is mostly a dense cluster of dust and fragments now,” Archer continued, “nothing that could cause damage to the base in itself, if it were not for the toxicity.”