As the Gravity Flipped

by Herschel K. Stroganoff

  "Muedin, please help!" Garrett called out as his approached the station.

  He smiled with relief as a medic leaned out of the door and ushered the pair inside. She was lean with sharp features and cropped blonde hair.

  "Can you pay?" she asked.

  "We're Affiliates. Boeki," Garrett said, gasping for breath. "We were ambushed. Ifan's been stabbed." Garrett lay Ifan down on the floor. He moved Ifan's overalls to the side revealing a deep wound at the top of his inner thigh. "You need to help him."

  "Can you pay?" she asked again, not looking at Ifan.

  "Yes. Yes, we can pay. Of course we can pay."

  "Treatment is four thousand Sols to be paid prior to treatment," she said.

  "Four--," Garrett paused, "--we can't afford that. Look, we're Boeki, we're good for credit. You know that."

  The medic hesitated, glanced at a pair of guards standing at far side of the room, then shook her head. "I'm sorry you'll have to leave if you can't pay up-front."

  "But Ifan's dying. Ifan's fucking dying," Garrett pleaded, his eyes wide with desperation.

  The guards stepped forward, seizing Garrett and Ifan by the arms. They dragged the pair to the street outside, then returned to the Muedin centre, locking the door behind them.

  "You bastards," Garrett shouted as Ifan fell lifeless in his arms.

  # # #

  Farmers call for better deal

  Originally published by The Martian, 23/06/6,542

  Independent farmers who say they are living in poverty are calling on United Solar to intervene.

  Farmers claim restrictions placed on seed and animal distribution make it impossible to make profit.

  Hans Schwartz, a South Mawrth vegetable farmer, has written to United Solar to end Aghoro's monopoly on seeds.

  He said: "All we are asking for is fairness. Aghoro control what we can plant, grow and sell. I have read ancient farming texts suggesting that seeds and plants can self-replicate - we demand that right."

  Rep Daan Bakker (Aghoro) said the farmers were 'jumping on the Free Mars campaign', adding their complaints had nothing to do with farming.

  He said: "The simple fact of the matter is that we have to make seeds that are safe for citizens and will grow in different environments. Self-replicating seeds will only cause damage to our fragile farming communities."

  Karl Greenberg, leader of the Free Mars party, said: "Farmers are suffering because they are being controlled by bureaucrats on Lunar who have probably never even set foot on Mars.

  "This is just one of the catalogue of reasons why we need to cut ties with the Lunarcentric United Solar."

  # # #

  Chapter Eight

  Akira: Offices of Lunar Chronicle, Insularum 2, Lunar

  01/07/6,544, 14:02 (IST)

  Akira felt Osuma's breath on her ear as he leaned over her shoulder. "How are you getting on?" he asked.

  "Fine, I'm just trying to get it right," Akira said, her eyes fixed on the display.

  Osuma pointed over Akira's shoulder to a line of text. "Change that line where it says 'A source close the Palace said Secretary Ozu ordered three guards to hold the Vice Secretary down as he performed the death ritual,' See. it's not clear who 'he' is - was it the source who said that?"

  "It was Ozu, obviously." Akira sighed. "I can't deal with this shit today," she muttered under her breath.

  "It's not obvious, though. This story needs to be tight - there's no room for mistakes, no room for sloppiness. And anyway, he wasn't the Vice Secretary at the point, so you need to change that too."

  "Yep," Akira said through a clenched jaw. "Honestly, I'll be able to do this better if you're not looking over my shoulder."

  "We need more colour about your meeting with Kurosawa's wife," Osuma said.

  "Yes, I know," snapped Akira, turning from her display. She glared at Osuma as a pulse throbbed in her right temple. "I'm not finished, yet. Can you please, just go away."

  Akira turned back to her terminal and tried her best to ignore Osuma. He was an ever-present shadow hanging over her - an annoying itch you couldn't quite reach.

  "Really pull out the emotion," Osuma continued. "Her husband's been executed - don't bother with any of that political stuff. What people care about is how she felt: how it felt for her not to be able to perform the cleansing ritual; how it felt for her when she found out that Ozu did it; how she felt when Ozu had the guards hold her down. It's a great story."

  Akira stopped typing and swivelled on her chair. "Do you want to write it?" she snapped, throwing her hands into the air.

  "Of course not - it's your story," he shrugged, then looked away. "I just don't want you to get bogged down in all that political stuff."

  "But it's all connected. Don't you see that?"

  "Of course I see that, but there are too many threads. We don't have room for nuance here."

  Akira rose from her chair. "No room for nuance? This whole thing is nothing but nuance," she said, glowering.

  "Where are you going?" asked Osuma.

  "I need to go to the toilet - or do you need to tell me how to do that as well?" Akira stormed through the office. Passing a row of empty terminals, she turned through a side-door and walked down a small corridor to the bathroom. The air was damp, mouldy.

  Akira removed her glasses. With a deep breath, she ran the cold water and splashed it onto her face. She looked at her face in the mirror. Her reflection was blurred and distorted. Replacing her glasses, she shook her head at the deep crease between her eyebrows. Turning, she strode back out of the bathroom and into the newsroom.

  "Ah, Akira, Osuma's saying you've got a great story," Ken said.

  Akira shuffled onto her seat. "Osuma would be best leaving me alone," she said. "He can check it over when I'm done, but he's not helping fucking hovering there like a bad smell. He's really pissing me off now."

  "Right," said Ken. "My office. Now."

  Akira frowned as Ken staggered to his personal office. "For fuck's sake," she grumbled.

  # # #

  Chao-xing: The Occulto, in region of Lunar

  22/08/6,543, 13:22 (IST)

  "I hate these archives," said Chao-xing, punching the side of the terminal. "If I was using a Yao connection, I wouldn't even have to think about stuff."

  "What's the problem?" asked Armand.

  She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I don't know. I keep thinking I'm onto something and I get to a dead-end or a gap in the files, or it just doesn't make sense. Look at this." She highlighted an area of text. "There are a few references to large-scale drones that are really recent, but that can't be right. Then, the actual designs for the drones we saw are ancient - I mean, at least three-thousand years old. But then when I try to find more information about them, there's nothing."

  "Or maybe, there's something in that," Armand said. "Perhaps information was purposefully removed? Could it be possible that you're mixing up two different things? There's no reason for these files to be linked, which means there's probably something going on right now that we're missing."

  Squinting. she cast her eyes back over the recent files. "I think you're right," she said. "How could I be so stupid?"

  "Since when has there been a station around Phobos?" asked Armand.

  Chao-xing shook her head. "There isn't one--."

  "Look: Phobos Mobius - that's got to be a station. The larger stations either orbit each other in pairs or around central rings - this has got to be an orbital platform of some sort."

  "That's where we need to go then," she said.

  "Right, I'll set a course."

  "Wait," she said. "I'm worried." She paused and switched off the display. "I think the Yaos destroyed Earth."

  She turned to Armand with a surly look.

  "Okay," he said.

  "You sound sceptical."

  Armand shrugged. "I don't know--."

  "Those huge miners we saw at the edge of the Lunar Band were ancient. You said it yourself: they could eas
ily gut a planet given enough time."

  "But why?"

  "I don't know," she shook her head. "Remember when I showed you those fragments I found about the slip? I couldn't make sense of them, but you thought it might have been describing a planet. I think that planet's destruction was caused by those drones."

  Armand gave a cheerless smile. "Then we need to get to Phobos before something else like this happens."

  # # #

  Inge: L17 Muedin Platform, Lunar

  22/06/6,544, 16:43 (IST)

  Inge rubbed her hands together as she walked along the row of twenty-four long-range clippers. She wore an immaculate dark blue suit, with delicate leather flourishes around the sleeves.

  Engineers struggled to manoeuvre a gleaming metal cannon to attach to the underside of a ship's hull.

  "These upgrades will certainly give us the edge over the Purdah," said Inge, gesturing towards a wedge-shaped craft.

  Second Engineer Arka Bormin nodded. "Any target within a hundred kilometres won't stand a chance," he said, wiping a large pool of sweat from his forehead with a sleeve. "We're working on how we can improve the targeting system. At the moment, it relies too much on having a skilful gunner."

  "We'll have our work cut out, that's for sure, but I don't think any other Affiliate are arming their ships - at least not yet, I don't think." she said.

  "Exactly - yet," Arka said.

  "We'll have the edge, and it's edge we need if this mission is going to work." Inge turned to Arka. "How long until we'll be ready to launch?"

  "We're a little behind schedule, but we should be ready within ten days."

  "That's interesting," said Inge, her eyes locked on Arka's. "You're in charge of this operation aren't you?"

  Arka looked down, fixing his gaze on a smudged fuel patch on the rough concrete floor. "Erm, yes Madam Tomas."

  "That's very interesting," she said. "So it's your responsibility to get the ships upgraded on time, and you're what? One, two days behind?"

  Arka looked up. "Actually, it's three."

  Inge breathed hard through her nose. "You're testing my patience Mister Bormir. It is your responsibility to get this done. Don't disappoint me."

  "Understood Madam Tomas."

  # # #

  Garrett: Shopping District, V5 Orbiter, Venus

  19/06/6,544, 18:11 (IST)

  Garrett strained and groaned as he dragged Ifan's body to an abandoned trade house. He placed it on the ground then keyed in the code reserved for Boeki traders. The door slid open as the stench of rotting vegetables wafted from within.

  Leaning through the door, Garrett looked around. When he tried the lights, nothing worked. He stepped over to a line of refrigeration unit's leaking a thick brown liquid. "Power must be down," he muttered to himself.

  He turned back to the door, then pulled Ifan's body inside, laying it back on the ground as he closed the door behind them.

  In the gloom, Garrett cursed as he stumbled over an empty vegetable crate, short and long and painful. He winced as he rubbed his shin then spotted an open door on the far wall. He stepped through and mounted a flight of stairs. Reaching the second floor Garrett turned down a corridor.

  He looked through each door until he found the room reserved for the Boeki. There was a bed, a chair and a toilet.

  Returning to Ifan, Garrett lifted the body, dragging it backwards as he hooked his arms beneath its armpits, Ifan's head wobbling this way and that against Garrett's chest with each step.

  Ifan's boots bounced off each step with a pair of dull thuds. At the top of the stairs, Garrett rested.

  After several minutes sitting cross-legged at the top of the stairs, Garrett rose to his feet and dragged Ifan to the room.

  He lay the body out with its arms at its sides, carefully, respectfully. He bowed his head over the body and whispered a prayer before sliding onto the bunk and drifting to a deep, dreamless sleep.

  # # #

  Akira: Offices of Lunar Chronicle, Insularum 2, Lunar

  02/07/6,544, 12:33 (IST)

  Akira was surprised when Takeshi Ozu arrived on time. She dug into her bag for a notepad and listened. There was something about the Secretary's demeanour - his puffed-out chest and raised jaw - that gave Akira the impression that this would be an important speech.

  Akira sat in the middle of the second row, adjusting her posture as the hard seat pushed against her back.

  "My fellow citizens," Takeshi began, his face taut. "At this time, United Solar security forces are in the early stages of operations to bring an end to the growing unrest we have seen across our Union.

  "On my orders, security forces have begun striking selected targets of strategic importance to undermine the Purdah and its operations. These are the opening stages of what will be a broad and sustained campaign."

  Akira's eyes widened as she turned to look along the row at the other reporters to gauge their reactions, but they were focused on the Secretary; unreadable.

  "Affiliates of United Solar have given their crucial support to the creation of a specialised military force codenamed Molotok. The Molotok will produce, distribute and operate the weapons that are so necessary for our ongoing security. The first batches of these weapons have already been distributed to security officers in locations on Lunar and Mars. As Lunar Secretary, I will be personally overseeing the Molotok's operations and have instructed their chief officer Barton Joster to act as my interim Vice Secretary until such time an election can be held.

  "United Solar is unified in its duty to protect our citizens. This is why it is necessary for me to call on emergency executive powers to institute a Union-wide curfew and deploy Molotok officers across the Union until the current crisis is resolved."

  Akira gasped. Placing her pen down, she pushed her spectacles up her nose and felt a rush of panic and confusion. She found herself unable to believe the words.

  "The security of our Union now depends on the brave officers of the Molotok. So I urge all citizens to support them in rooting out the Purdah wherever their presence is found and be assured that justice will be done.

  "In this battle, the Union faces an enemy that has no regard for stability, for trade, for morality.

  "Their leader Ajay Johal hides behind a veil of secrecy, of lies, of injustice. But let me be clear: justice will be done.

  "A campaign against an enemy whose network extends from Mercury to the far reaches of the Kuiper Belt will require a sustained commitment. The cooperation of all our citizens will make this process much easier to achieve the stability and security which is so crucial to our way of life.

  "We have no ambition except to remove the threat of the Purdah and take back control of our Union once and for all.

  "These decisions have been made reluctantly, yet our purpose is sure."

  Takeshi paused - a dramatic gesture, Akira thought.

  "United Solar and its Affiliates will not live at the mercy of a terrorist network that threatens our citizens, our Union, our way of life.

  "My fellow citizens, the dangers to our Union will be overcome. We will pass through this time of peril and carry on the work of peace. We will defend our freedom. Justice will be done. There will be no questions. Thank you."

  Akira watched as Takeshi left the briefing room flanked by guards. She stared for several minutes, making no effort to move out of the way when the other reporters filed past her. She could not comprehend what she had just heard - for the first time in her career as a reporter, she was shocked.

  # # #

  Natsuki: Efans Household, Insularum 5, Lunar

  04/07/6,544, 15:03 (IST)

  Natsuki held Riko's hand, smiling down as Riko jumped excitedly.

  "Please come in," Wynn said. "Can I offer you some tea?"

  "Please," Natsuki said, entering Wynn's reception room. She considered the room for several seconds, its simple furnishings at odds with Wynn's wealth. The sofa was beige and carpets a dull brown, worn, but clean.

 
; "And what about for you? Would you like a drink?" Wynn said, leaning down to RIko with a broad smile. "Is milk okay?" he asked, turning to Natsuki.

  "Can I have cold milk, please?" asked Riko as Natsuki lifted her up onto the sofa and took a seat next to her.

  "Of course you can," he said.

  Natsuki pushed the creases out of her white tunic while Wynn poured hot water into a metal teapot. "How are you doing?" he asked.

  "I'm okay. It's hard, you know?" Natsuki sighed, looking down at her chewed fingernails, resisting the urge to pick at a thick scab on the inside of her left thumb.

  "I do know," he said with a warm smile. "It does get easier."

  "It will never get easier,"

  "That's not true. When I lost Carys, I couldn't do anything - I couldn't cook, I couldn't clean, I couldn't wash myself - I was completely at a loss. But things got better. Things will get better."

  "What are you doing Mummy?" asked Riko as she kicked her feet, letting them bounce over the edge of the sofa.

  "I'm talking to Mister Efans, Riko." Natsuki bit her lip. "If you don't mind me asking Wynn, how did Carys die?"

  "It was cancer." Wynn swallowed. "She had the treatment for a while, but we couldn't afford the meds after a while. Then it was very quick." He cleared his throat then poured the teas.

  "My husband was executed," Natsuki said. "My husband was killed as a part of a political game. My husband had his name dragged through the dirt and his reputation destroyed." Natsuki gritted her teeth. "I'm sorry Wynn--." She took a cup.

  Wynn handed Riko a small glass of milk. Riko smiled. "Thank you."

  "Well, I hope you enjoy it," Wynn said.

  "When I grow up, I want to drink hot tea like Mummy and Daddy and you and Grandma and Grandpa," Riko said.

  "Honestly Natsuki, it's fine," Wynn said.

  "It's not fine, I'm--." Natsuki closed her eyes and breathed.

  "You're grieving," he said. "And you're doing it lot better than did, especially under the circumstances. I cannot even imagine what you're going through. Grief's hard enough as it is without everything else you've had to endure. Honestly Natsuki, you're a much braver person than I could ever be."