Callisto Deception

by John Read

  “What’s going on? Is your visor acting up, too?” Amelia said.

  Tayler stood up, and grabbed his gun. “Howard, what happens if there’s a forest fire inside the Ring?” he said, turning and walking over to the entrance of the cave.

  “It rains often enough,” Howard answered. “It gets pretty wet in here, and I assume that would put it out, eventually?”

  “Eventually,” Tayler said. “Eventually is not soon enough. They’re burning the whole damned forest.”

  Smoke billowed from the treetops as flames began climbing the hills. The smoke rose high in the sky, curling as it hit the ceiling. In the distance, steam poured from the Ring’s wall, creating the clouds that would eventually douse the flames, but it would be too late.

  “We gotta go,” Tayler said. “Now!” Amelia helped Howard to his feet while the rest of us ran to the adjacent tunnel. Serene grabbed her pack, sniper rifle attached to its side. I helped her sling it onto her shoulders.

  “We’re out of time,” Amelia yelled into our cave as smoke began billowing into the entrance. I grabbed my pack, weapons fixed to the sides. I slung it on as I ran, leaving my tunic and ration packs behind. Avro and the other men followed me out, weapons in hand. Nash poured water from a canteen over his clothes as he ran. I pulled my canteen from my side, and did the same.

  The smoke thickened and I lifted my dampened shirt to cover my face. We followed the stream that emanated from the caves, our feet splashing as we hustled down the hill. But the stream was exactly where they’d expect us to go, a bottleneck.

  Tayler motioned for us to follow him, to flank whoever waited for us. Trees and brush burnt around us, and I coughed. The air was thick with ash that flew around like snow in a blizzard. We jumped high over a jumbled wall of burning brush, a simple feat in Callisto’s gravity, but a stunt that risked putting us out in the open. When we landed, Kevin’s pants were on fire; he opened his canteen, pouring water on the flames.

  A dozen soldiers waited by the shore, pointing their guns at the stream. A beach craft rested in knee deep water. They didn’t see us. We slid below a felled log further up the beach.

  “Please don’t kill them, they’re innocent!” Howard whispered loudly.

  “The hell they are,” said Serene.

  “They killed my best friend,” Jamaal added.

  “I … I didn’t know they killed anyone,” Howard said.

  “Nash, shut it,” Tayler whispered. He took a moment to load a clip into his rifle. “We need to find a way around.”

  “Not going to happen,” Serene said. “Hold him back!” she yelled. Nash grabbed Howard by the arms,

  “No!” our hostage yelled, and soldiers on the beach began to turn in our direction.

  In a fluid motion, Serene unslung her rifle from her pack, flipped the weapon into automatic fire mode, and held the trigger.

  “Serene, no!” I yelled. Tyler slapped a hand over my mouth.

  Guided bullets flew toward the waiting soldiers, each one finding a home.

  The platoon dropped. We hopped over the log, and ran toward the fallen soldiers.

  “Gather their weapons,” Tayler said. “Throw them in the boat. Their watches will report them as deceased in thirty seconds, so get them off and place them on your own arms.”

  “Each of you, grab a tunic,” he continued. “The more we can do to confuse them, the better.”

  We pulled off their blue uniforms.

  Nash was still dragging Howard along. The boy was distraught; this was probably the first time he’d seen death.

  The commander walked over to him, slapping a watch on his wrist. “Howard, get on the radio,” the commander said. “Tell them you’ve been ambushed and direct them away from this location.”

  “I … I can’t,” Howard said. “You killed them! You killed all of them!”

  “Kill or be killed, Howard. You’re on our side now. We need you. We need your help to free this colony.”

  Howard nodded, bringing his wrist to his mouth. I half expected him to give us away. “This is Private Steiner. We’ve been ambushed, enemy moving north east, I repeat enemy moving north east.” He released the transmitter.

  “Good job,” Tayler said then unstrapped the watch from his wrist.

  I pulled a bloodied Callisto Defense Force tunic over my own, and helped the others do the same.

  “I assume you want to head to the capital,” Howard said.

  “Is that where H3 is?” Commander Tayler said.

  “Probably,” Howard said.

  “How far is it?” Tayler asked.

  “About twenty klicks,” Howard replied. “The river leads directly to Newport.”

  “Then I suggest we steal this boat.”

  The beach craft was grey, the color of metallic filament used by the printers. The barge opened with a ramp at the rear that doubled as the stern. The ramp lay in ten centimeters of water.

  At our height above the water, the horizon was less than three kilometers distant, and it was only a matter of minutes before several other boats came into view. Fortunately, they moved into the shore, far from our location, lowering their ramps as platoons of troops drove off on ATVs.

  Avro entered the wheelhouse and took the helm. Inside were minimal controls; the barge was printed from a primitive design. The boat purred to life as Avro adjusted the throttle. Nash and I pulled up the ramp. Tayler collected the watches and tossed them overboard. This would draw the enemy toward this location after we’d departed.

  We motored along the shore, trying not to look suspicious. Smoke billowed along the Ring’s ceiling, mixing with the rain clouds. The sky went dark as night, and it began to pour. Steam rose from the hills as the rain began to subdue the fires. Sooty rain pelted us with grey droplets that stained our clothes.

  The rain turned to a downpour and the surface of the river swirled with mist, visibility dropping to a few hundred feet. Under the blanket of fog, Avro gunned the hydrogen-powered boat toward the capital.

  "Keep an eye out for those guns on the shore,” the commander said.” It's only a matter of time before they realize we've got their boat."

  "I don’t like this, sir. We’re an easy target for their artillery," Nash said.

  "They don't have artillery," Howard said. "The sky is too low."

  Avro turned to Howard. "Then what do you have?"

  "Guns, lots of guns," Howard replied. "A few hover-platforms, no airplanes though. Those jets you built were impressive."

  “Hover-platforms?” Kevin said.

  “Levitating platforms for repairing the Ring,” Howard replied. “They’re jet powered, and the only thing on this rock that flies.”

  “And communication equipment?" Amelia said.

  "Radio app in our watches, a few directional beacons, and a device for signal triangulation. You don't need navigation aids when you live in a tube."

  After five miles, we entered a more populated part of the Ring. On our right, the town rose from the hillside, with pastures, and Cape Cod-style houses. Behind the houses were more barns and pastures where black, brown, and multi-colored horses pranced. The rain had stopped, and the holographic sun illuminated the lush grasslands.

  "Where are we?" I asked. "It’s beautiful."

  "The town is called Clydesdale. It's where the animal lovers live," Howard explained.

  “Animal lovers?” I said.

  “People formed towns based on their interests and values. There are Japanese tea garden villages to the south; Callisto has quite a bit of diversity.”

  A road ran along the riverbank, and several people sped by on bicycles. A pleasure craft zipped by, heading for shore. Avro waved to the occupants in the other boat, and they waved back.

  "Any ideas where H3 is hiding?" Commander Tayler asked.

  "He works from a boat docked in the harbor," Howard said.

  "Well, that's convenient."

  "Hey guys, is this barge bulletproof?" Kevin asked.

  "Probably,�
� Amelia answered. “The sides are anyway." She pounded the barge’s wall with her fist. “Why?”

  "Because I think they’ve found us."

  On the north side of the river, a military green truck matched our speed as it rumbled down the road. From the truck’s bed, a twenty-millimeter cannon erupted to life.

  "Get down!" Nash yelled. We ducked under the gunwales as bullets whizzed over our heads. Indents formed in the hull where bullets impacted, but the armor held.

  Avro ducked as bullets shattered the wheelhouse, covering him with glass. He knelt next to the helm, peeking out the wheelhouse window to see where we were going. His face was bloody from a cut on his nose and cheek. Amelia crawled forward, grabbing a first aid kit. She wiped off the blood and sprayed his wounds with liquid skin.

  We moved through the water at about twenty-five knots, a speed the truck on shore could match. "Got any ideas?" Avro said, turning back toward us.

  "Hug the southern shoreline,” Serene suggested. “Doesn’t look like there’s a road on that side of the river.”

  "Roger that." Avro yanked the wheel to port, and we banked left as bullets continued to impact the side of the boat.

  "We're about to have company," Nash said. "Bogeys, two o'clock."

  I peeked over the side. The gun fire from shore ceased as two speed boats approached at over fifty knots. I counted the soldiers. “Looks like five men in each boat.”

  "Your friends carry grenades?" Nash shouted at Howard.

  "Hand grenades," Howard answered.

  "Launchers?"

  "No, just hand grenades," Howard said.

  "Good. ’Cause we do.” Nash flipped a switch on his rifle and loaded a grenade into the barrel.

  Tayler said, “Slow down, let them get close, but not too close.”

  Avro banked the barge around, cutting the throttle. Our pursuers slowed to match our speed as they approached the barge. The soldiers stood behind their windshield, grenades in hand, ready to throw when they were in range.

  "Anytime now, Nash," Serene said.

  Jamaal stood up, firing at the closest boat. The grenade impacted on top the boat’s bow, exploding in a flash, but the boat maintained its pursuit. He launched another, and the boat banked left. The grenade hit the water and a jet of spray shot into the air.

  "Give me that," Serene yelled, taking the gun from Nash. She lined up a shot, aiming ahead of the boat. The projectile landed in the cockpit. Soldiers dove from the boat as the grenade hit the deck, bouncing once before exploding. Hydrogen tanks ruptured, and the boat disintegrated as the atmosphere rippled with fire and heat.

  The second boat retreated, following out of range of our launcher. Avro banked around, and began heading west again.

  Newport’s skyline rose above the not so distant horizon. Cobblestone streets wound through European-style buildings while birch trees lined the thoroughfares. Twenty CDF soldiers hovered in the air, levitating the primitive hydrogen platforms Howard had mentioned. This was their last line of defense.

  Nash peeked over the gunwale, and a barrage of fire rained toward the platforms. Avro tried to keep his distance; any closer, and we’d be sitting ducks.

  Buildings rose along the shore, and people watched from inside the windows. “If we start firing, the whole town will think we’re terrorists!” I said.

  “If we don’t, we’re all dead,” Nash retorted.

  The commander looked at Serene. "How's your aim?" he asked.

  "Do you have to ask?" She propped her sniper rifle on the bow.

  "The townspeople are watching. Keep that in mind,” the commander ordered.

  Serene rested her back against the forward bulkhead, and set her rifle on the hull facing the opposite direction. It was the most awkward and ingenious firing position I’d ever seen. She took careful aim, using the sight on her visor to hone in on the targets while keeping her head safely below the gunwale. Our barge bobbed up and down, but she compensated with her breathing, letting the rifle rise and fall with the rhythm of the boat. She fired. The bullet ripped through one of the platforms, sending the craft spiraling out of control. The solider jumped, diving into the water below. She took aim at the next platform, but the bullet missed it, hitting the soldier in the calf. His leg was blown clear off, and his body spiraled off the platform. Serene didn’t even pause.

  “Dammit, Serene,” the commander said.

  She moved onto her next target, and then the next, until all the sky above us was clear.

  Several soldiers trod water as Avro raced through the defensive perimeter, careful to avoid those in the drink. Howard looked distraught. He must have felt how impossible this situation seemed. Even if we convinced the colony we were from NASA, we still had blood on our hands.

  "What now?" Amelia asked of no one in particular.

  “We need to get the message out. Proving we're from NASA is our best defense,” I said.

  “Agreed,” Tayler said, “but we need to reach everyone at once. Otherwise, H3 might kill anyone who holds the information.”

  “H3 broadcasts from his boat,” Howard said. “I’m sure he’s got tech in there that no one else has. Holovisions and other stuff from his spaceship.”

  “Broadcast?” Kevin said. “To what network?”

  “Our watches are linked through a social network called Cal-Net,” Howard said. “Anyone with a connection has the ability to post messages to the entire colony.”

  “If H3’s got the hardware, I’m willing to bet we can log in.”

  “Is that H3’s boat?” Avro asked, pointing to a large black mass of hull and tempered blue glass. The yacht was docked at the end of a wharf extending several hundred feet from shore.

  “Do you really have to ask?” Howard said. “I bet H3 was as eccentric on Mars as he is on Callisto.”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” Amelia said. We approached the boat cautiously. It was high off the water, and anyone on board would have a perfect line of sight into our barge.

  It was clear where we were headed, and a platoon of soldiers began running toward the wharf, taking cover behind wooden stanchions. Serene and Avro fired warning shots at the dock to slow their progress.

  Nash pulled the surveillance drone from his pocket and tossed it into the air. I tapped my visor, adding the drone’s camera feed to my field of view.

  Howard said, “I haven’t seen one of those since I was a kid!” He craned his neck, following the drone through the air. “The people that founded this place were against anything that resembled drones or AI.”

  Nash shrugged off Howard’s comment, piloting the drone up and above the yacht.

  “Clear on deck. Infrared shows no bodies in the cabin,” Nash reported.

  Through the drone’s eye, we could see deep into the boat. The cabin was open concept and surrounded a flexi-glass enclosure. A staircase led to the lower levels, a replica of the grand hall from the Titanic.

  “He’s probably retreated to the capitol building,” Howard said.

  “Move in,” Tayler said, “but watch that fire from the shore.”

  Avro steered parallel to the yacht, making sure to drag our leading edge along the yacht’s hull, drawing a sizable scratch in the paint.

  Nash jumped, grabbing the bow railing, and climbing onto the deck. Amelia tossed him a line which he secured to the rail. He found an emergency rope ladder and threw it over the side. Serene and Amelia climbed up first, followed by Kevin and Avro. Tayler and I tossed our remaining ammo packs onto the deck, before climbing up ourselves.

  It was clear the entire boat was printed, but tastefully so. Keeping low to avoid the bullets from shore, we ran across the fiber-plastic mahogany deck. The cabin’s atrium rose above the deck, providing cover from any bullets coming from shore.

  The cockpit was locked. Avro reached into his pack, grabbed a charge, and blew the door. He used the butt of his rifle to smash his way in.

  Kevin placed a countermeasure detection system on the glass. “Clear,” he yell
ed.

  “Clear,” Nash yelled, as he went inside. The drone followed him in, and he piloted it through the interior. Inside, there was a large bedroom in the bow, but most of the ship held offices.

  It was obvious which one was H3’s. A tall wingback chair sat behind a large mahogany desk. Holovisions on the walls displayed hypnotic images of morphing art, including Salvador Dalí’s painting of melting clocks.

  Nash summoned his drone back. It landed in his palm and folded into a sunglass case shape. “I’ll stand guard,” he said.

  “I’ll join you,” Serene said.

  “Avro, cut the dock lines,” Tayler ordered. “I’ll use the barge’s engines to pull us out.”

  Bullets clinked off the boat’s hull and I wondered how much that would piss off H3; probably not much. If he won this battle, he’d probably just print a new one.

  Kevin, Amelia, Howard, and I entered H3’s office.

  “Here,” Kevin said, pointing at a large display on the wall in front of H3’s desk. He swiped away the screen saver and accessed the menus. The screen went blank. “Identity confirmation required,” came a computer-generated voice.

  Kevin clasped his hands, shutting off the system.

  “I’m completing a reset,” Kevin said. “When the system comes online again, we’ll generate a new social media profile.”

  “Let me know if you need me to come up with a good password,” Amelia joked.

  “Biometrics,” Kevin said. “His computer uses Turing Intelligence to confirm the user’s identity. It knows you by your look, your mannerisms, the same way your mother knows you’re her daughter.”

  “Please don’t bring my mother into this conversation,” Amelia said.

  “This should do the trick,” he said, removing his visor and reactivating the display. The screen showed an augmented reflection of H3’s office, including Kevin and me.

  “We’re in,” Kevin said.

  “We’re in?” I said, waving at our image on the screen and watching my projection wave back.

  “Welcome, Kevin,” said the holovision. The Picassos on the walls disappeared and security camera footage displayed on the screens, letting us see the battle raging outside.