Or, more realistically, history was erased by persons who wanted to keep the exact cause of the Fall a secret.
In the age of information saturation that was the mid-twenty-first century, that should have been impossible. An event big enough to end civilization must have been recorded and written about a million times and only one such record would have to survive to tell the world what happened. Yet one can walk to the edge of the gaping hole in our knowledge of human history, stare at it and declare that it doesn’t exist. Those words will also disappear into the abyss.
-from The Fall: The Decline and Failure of 21st Century Civilization by Martin Raffe.
Viekko heard Isra surrender over the radio but it gave him little comfort as soldiers surrounded and pinned him to the ground as two others pulled Althea to her feet. He wanted to tear the throat out of every bastard that touched her, but Althea walked with silent dignity to the blood-soaked chopping block. Meanwhile, the Houston kept the theater going as good as any showman who had ever lived. He ran his hand along the wooden block, held up a fist of blood and shouted some words of triumph. The crowd responded with a roar like a pack of hungry hounds teased with meat.
Viekko struggled some more against his bonds and the soldiers holding him to the ground but there was nothing he could do. “Cronus…” he said with a kind of pleading.
Cronus's voice came through among the clatter of manic typing. “I’ve almost got it.”
The two soldiers forced Althea’s head down on the block and the soldier with the axe approached. In that moment, Althea glanced back at Viekko. It was strange, there was no fear in her face, no pleading, just a kind of sadness like the end of a long goodbye.
“Cronus, we’re out of time. Do it now!”
“I need a little more time! Stall them!”
The executioner raised his axe.
More time. Fine. He could do that.
Viekko stopped struggling. A few soldiers relaxed their hold just enough for Viekko to lunge to his feet before the soldiers behind him could react, and he charged at the executioner. He lowered his head as they collided.
The impact sent Viekko sprawling backwards onto the stage and sent the executioner flying off. The crowd just beneath the stage spread out in an instant and the executioner’s axe clattered on the concrete below along with the executioner.
The crowd gasped and roared as Althea rushed to help him up. She got him to his feet and said, “Viekko we have to get out of here!”
The world was spinning. The screaming crowd and Althea’s voice all coalesced into a confusing mass. The only thought that formed in Viekko’s mind was the intense urge to flee. But it was Althea who grabbed him by the coat and pulled him toward the edge of the stage. She had, in the confusion, managed to pull her arms around so that her bound hands were now in front of her. A trick she no doubt perfected dealing with law enforcement on Earth.
They stumbled forward a few meters but didn’t get far before soldiers surrounded them. A couple pulled Althea screaming, struggling and kicking away from him. Two more took him by either arm while a third smashed in him the face with his fist. He crumpled to the ground and moaned in pain as another soldier kicked him in the area around the healing shrapnel wound.
He heard Althea yell his name somewhere behind him as more soldiers came to hold Viekko in place. He glanced back to see the soldiers holding her on her knees pressing her hands painfully behind her head. She still made a valiant effort to struggle but she could barely move. The Houston approached, looking at Viekko as if he were something disgusting that he would have to scrape off his fancy red shoes. He jammed a finger in Viekko’s face. “I’ve tolerated your disturbances too much. I will not do it—”
“I demand the right to speak!” The words shocked Viekko as much as it did the Houston.
He backed up and looked at Viekko with surprise. “What did you say to me?”
Viekko wasn’t sure. The words just seemed to come from nowhere. But they were out now and he thought it best to just roll with it. “I said I demand the right to speak.”
“You have no such—”
“On Earth those condemned to die are allowed to speak some last words. But you have never spoken to the Kompanio, so I don’t expect you to—”
The Houston moved fast for an older man. Before Viekko even saw him move, he felt the sting of his palm against his cheek. The Houston stood back, his face red with rage. And then, as fast as it came on, the Houston relaxed. A small smile even materialized. It was like someone pulled a stopper and let all the anger drop out.
He held out an open hand motioning to the crowd. “Very well, outsider. Go. Speak to them.”
Viekko hesitated. Maybe the Houston had a notion that Viekko had no idea what to say. If he did, it was accurate.
The Houston blinked in anticipation. “Come on then. They await your words.”
The crowd, silenced by the commotion on stage, waited for something. Viekko’s mind reeled for something to grasp. “A translator. I need someone to tell ‘em what I’m saying.”
The Houston shook his head. “That was not—”
One of Halifaco’s generals stood up despite the soldiers next to him. “I will. I will speak his words to the people.”
There was a flash of disgust in the Houston’s face. Viekko added, “He’s got rights to last words too. Might as well be mine. Kinda two-for-one thing.”
The Houston smiled and bent in a small bow.
Viekko stepped forward with his hands still bound behind him. Althea, still held on her knees by two Urbanoi soldiers looked at Viekko with eyes that said, in no uncertain terms, I need you to do something spectacular right now.
Viekko cleared his throat. “Er…People of Titan, I bring you a message. A message of peace. A message of hope. You are two people divided by a common belief. You need not fight anymore.”
He paused while Halifaco’s general finished translating. There were some stirrings in the crowd. A kind of low mumble that could become a frenzied, bloody riot at any moment. It held the same foreboding as the first thunder before a martian sandstorm. “The Kompanio has been calling to its people for years, desperate to reach those left behind so long ago. He wants to bring you all back home, but your leaders have denied that to you.” He motioned at the Houston. “They have blocked the voice of the Kompanio from its people so that they could maintain supreme power.”
The Houston folded his arms and remained silent.
“I can prove it!” said Viekko with a touch of desperation.
“Just a little longer…” said Cronus's voice over the radio.
Viekko swore under his breath and continued, “But before I do...I have just one more thing to say...”
“I think you have said quite enough, prisoner,” said the Houston, motioning for soldiers to put an end to this.
“Just one more thing. The people you hold as slaves. The people you have captured. They ain’t your enemy. You share this moon together. The fate of one…well, that’s what’s gonna happen to the other. You can’t destroy one without destroying yourselves.”
As Halifaco’s general finished translating, the crowd got more and more riled up, especially around the center where the Perfiduloi warriors were held.
“How are we coming?” asked Viekko, taking advantage of the momentary reprieve.
“Just a few more seconds,” said Cronus
The Houston bowed again, although this time it was little more than a slight bend at the waist and an impatient head nod. “Are you finished?”
Viekko looked around desperately. “Not yet. Don’t be mistakin’ me. The Kompanio is coming and it's coming right now. You kill me…you kill her,” he said nodding his head toward Althea, “and you ain’t never going to see the end of its wrath.”
The Houston held out his hand. “The Kompanio comes here? Where are they? Show it to us.”
Cronus's voice came over the earbud. “Another second.”
/>
“… I just. Need. A couple. More. Seconds,” whispered Viekko, mentally strangling Cronus with every word.
The Houston smiled, “The Kompanio speaks to its people already. They speak to me and they say to kill the enemies of Titan. Mortigi la eksteruloi. Restarigi ekvilibron!”
Those words kicked off a frenzied response from the crowd. Viekko tried to keep talking but anything he said was drowned out. Not that he had anything more to say anyway. One of the soldiers pulled Althea away and another kicked Viekko behind the knee. He fell forward and the soldier shoved him onto the chopping block.
“Cronus! …” said Viekko.
“One more second...”
“Li parolas mensogon,” bellowed the Houston to the delight of the crowd and pointed a bony finger at Viekko being held on the block, “Li moros unua!”
There was a particular dark emphasis on the word ‘moros’ that associated it with, in no uncertain terms, death. He tried to move but a soldier shoved Viekko’s face onto the bloody block. “Cronus!”
“Viekko!” screamed Althea struggling against the soldiers.
The executioner walked up from wherever he fell, gripping the axe with a sort of intense determination. Blood trickled down from the top of his head.
Cronus's voice crackled over the radio, “Just one more…there. I got it!”
The executioner raised the axe. Just as he brought it down, Viekko rolled off the block and the blade came down and embedded itself into the wood. Viekko fell onto the stage and two guards ran to jerk him back onto the block.
The Houston roared in anger. “Akiri lin. Tenu lin malsupren!”
The soldiers tried to force Viekko’s head down, but he twisted his body so he could kick one in the kneecap. Then he turned and head-butted the other in the face.
“Laban!” yelled Cronus over the radio. “You must begin now!”
More soldiers surged forward. Viekko yelled as they grabbed him. “Stop! In the name of the Kompanio stop!” Maybe it was the look on Viekko’s face. Or maybe because he invoked the name Kompanio. But they stopped as if gripped by a spell. Viekko stared up at the black screen towering over them. “You wanna see your gods. Here they come.”
In that moment, the crowd became unnaturally silent. Nobody breathed, the soldiers didn’t twitch a muscle and even the Houston stared up at the screen with a kind of wide-eyed fear like a child who’s just been caught in their parent’s dresser drawer.
And then, nothing happened. The screen stayed black and still.
“Well, shit,” muttered Viekko.
The soldiers jerked Viekko back and slammed him down on the block. His head bounced hard off the wood, scrambling his marbles. One of the soldiers planted his boot firmly into the small of Viekko’s back so that he couldn’t move.
The executioner raised his axe.
Viekko closed his eyes and waited for the thump of the blade into the wood. Would he be able to hear it? Or would the lights simply go out like someone flipping a switch? Viekko released his last breath. At the moment of death, he heard trumpets. Viekko’s thoughts flashed to the preacher of his martian colony talking about Hell and Heaven and the choir of angels.
Viekko always discounted it as arcane superstition, but was that preacher right all along?
Was this the afterlife?
Viekko opened his eyes. The screaming masses hushed themselves and focused on the space far above his head. The trumpet fanfare blared even louder. The guard relaxed his leg so that Viekko could turn over and see the screen for himself. The Corporation logo, a letter ‘C’ encapsulating an image of the globe, spun above him as large as the ringed orb of Saturn in the sky. The logo for the Corporation was rarely associated with anything but unfettered greed and an insatiable lust for power. But, right now, on that screen in front of all these people, it was more beautiful than anything Viekko had ever seen.
The image changed to a man in a suit sitting at a desk. The banners of the various Corporation consortiums flanked him on either side. Little holograms of the Corporation logo floated above the otherwise antique desk. Everything about the man was perfect. Perfect smile, perfectly pressed suit, perfectly styled golden hair. It took the resources of an entire planet to make someone look that good, but the CEO could afford that and more.
The leader of the Global Corporation clasped his hands together. “People of Titan. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Malcolm Moore, CEO of the Transplanetary Corporation of Earth. I speak to the...”
The man looked down at sheet of notes in front of him. “The per-fine-doo-loi and the urban-oi. Just as the various energy companies of Earth’s past came together to form the mighty Energy Consortium, just as those Consortiums now band together as the Corporation, I appear before you today to unite the people of Titan under one banner.”
The CEO paused and the crowd cheered.
“The CEO...” said Viekko as he stood up. “How?”
The man on the screen continued, “Our people have been separated for far too long. Much has changed on Earth as I am sure much has changed for the far-flung world of Titan. To help with the process of bringing the people back to the Corporation, I have appointed Vince Laban as my official representative on your planet…”
Althea bent, with her hands free to help Viekko to his feet. She used a knife she no doubt lifted from a soldier to cut Viekko’s bonds. “It takes more than two hours to get a signal from Earth. Laban…he must have known.”
“He will be arriving tomorrow,” the CEO continued. “Until then, let’s talk about getting you people home.”
The people of Titan cheered.
“Viekko, what is your status?” called Isra over the radio.
Viekko shook his hands as he watched Althea moved down the line of Halifaco’s men cutting their bonds as well while the soldiers and the rest of the people were totally entranced by the spectacle in front of them, “We’re alive. Wasn’t by much, but enough.”
“And Cronus?” asked Isra.
Viekko looked around as a slow, terrible realization formed in his mind. He called out, “Althea…you seen the Houston take off?”
Her face went white as she helped the Perfiduloi leader to his feet. “Halifaco, where did you leave the railgun?”
Halifaco stood up. “We made it to the pyramid before the Houston’s army stopped us. The weapon is still there.”
“Burkhdyn omkhii baas khamt. And I’ll bet he’s in a mood to rip down the entire Kompanio. Let’s go. Quick, before he does.”
Viekko had no idea how the pyramid still stood at this point. The top had been blasted off and the four walls, still reflecting the light from the moons, crumbled as they approached. At the edge of the courtyard, just on the other side of the short, dilapidated wall, Viekko saw where Halifaco left the rail gun. The bodies of both Urbanoi and Perfiduloi warriors littered the ground around it, a grim monument to a mad drive for power. And there was the Houston in full ceremonial regalia, working the controls and looking like a man who had long since sprinted past sanity and was deep in the dark recesses of madness.
Isra yelled over the radio, “Viekko! What is happening?”
Althea activated her radio as she ran alongside Viekko, “Isra… we might have a situation.”
Viekko left Althea and sprinted to the rail gun. The Houston’s face, lit by the screen on the gun, split into an insane grin as he flipped switches and pressed buttons at random. He didn’t know how to work the technology but, given its high pitched whine, he had figured out enough.
The martian ran full force across the field when, as much to the Houston’s surprise as his own, the weapon fired. He ran into the Houston at full speed, knocking that ridiculous spiked hat off his head. They tumbled and rolled in the grass and mud as the sound of the shot echoed off the buildings around them. He pinned the old man down and sat up to watch. The projectile hit its target and the remaining walls of the pyramid collapsed into itself. It was only a few seconds b
efore the pyramid in the center of the courtyard disappeared into a pile of dark rubble, dust and smoke.
The Houston laughed, “Mizera mensogo! I am the Kompanio! Those false voices will never—”
Viekko’s fist struck the Houston just below the jaw. His eyes rolled up in his head and he laid still. Viekko got up and staggered over to the railgun, pulled away a maintenance panel, and grabbed a handful of wires and a few metal pieces and pulled. White hot sparks erupted and burned his hand, but it was done.
Viekko looked up at the smoldering ruins of the pyramid.
Althea ran up and stopped next to Viekko, panting, “Oh Lord…Cronus!”
Viekko activated his radio. “Cronus, come in!”
No response.
“Cronus, damn it! If you are there—”
Althea touched his shoulder and shook her head. A few tears streamed down her face.
“Viekko, what is happening? Where is Cronus?” said Isra’s voice.
Viekko swallowed hard, “The Houston managed to fire the railgun and destroy the pyramid. Looks likely that Cronus was inside.”
Smoke rose gently from the smoldering wreckage as Viekko watched. Althea approached and put her arm around his shoulder, “We couldn’t….I mean we tried, but—”
“Yeah,” Viekko murmured. Then he activated his radio, “Isra we’re gonna check out the wreckage. As much as we can. See what’s left.”
There was a long pause and Isra said in a firm, clear voice, “I understand.”
Isra shut down the system and walked through the derelict. She wandered through the halls of the ancient ship until she came to the airlock. She twisted the wheel and pushed the thick, steel door open. The moonlit skies were clear of Venganto now. And it left a kind of dreadful peace in the air.
She leaned against the hull and looked at Saturn’s largest icy moon, Rhea shining like a great silver jewel. A stiff breeze kicked up and the air filled with leaves. She pulled her coat around herself. It reminded her of a brisk autumn day on Earth. But here, she had the desperate feeling that spring would never follow a winter. Even now the giant trees looked bare like mere skeletons of themselves. The once all-pervasive hum and screech of insects, birds and animals was gone replaced by a silence that was as cold as the wind.
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