by Chris Hechtl
The bodies were gathered up over several days, documenting each. Even the ship's cats were found and enshrouded in plastic. Then they were given a mass space burial.
“Before we begin this solemn affair, I want to assure the people who will eventually watch this that the families of these colleagues were asked about their wishes. We also did our best to attend to their last requests listed in their personnel files. Those who did not want a space burial have been stored in an improvised morgue for return to Sol for eventual burial,” Captain Ford said quietly. She cleared her throat.
“We give these brave men and women to the void. Their spirits shall travel the sea of stars to where they will until space eventually gives up her dead.” She read a passage from the Koran, Bible, and several other religious texts that were requested by some of the dead in their files before she finished. The ship's Bosun played taps for the two former military personnel in the funeral and then Captain Ford hit the button.
One by one the bodies were sent out, a few seconds apart in a train to the stars beyond. In a hundred thousand years, they might find another star to call home.
-*-*-^-*-*-
“She really is a Dutchman,” Isley murmured. She'd gotten the news after the latest meeting. She and her crew had done their best to get Daedalus's engineering online but Captain Ford nixed that plan. An exterior scan of her force emitters had shown massive damage to two of her struts. She was stranded in place with no way to return home. Even with the fuel and parts they had brought along with them, there was no way to repair the extensive structural damage.
The decision was made to abandon her once more. Work crews moved through the ship quickly and carefully. She was stripped of data, black boxes were put in Faraday cages, and then the ship was left adrift once more. Isley heard a few people took mementos; she wasn't sure if that was wise or not. The captain called for a salute before the left her alone once more in the dark.
Isley had considered, hell, even planned on returning with her. The old girl deserved better than what she was getting. But the damaged spars and the threat of any lingering viruses within her network … just lurking to strike her coding made the captain think twice. “Yes, we can inoculate Sylvia, if anything of the AI exists. But I for one will not risk lives unnecessarily. I know this ship is a piece of history, but she is out of date and not worth the risk,” she said, shaking her head.
Her XO, Adela Oslo nodded grimly. “Besides, we now know her location, so let corporate figure it out what they want to do on their own time. If they want to send another crew with the right materials, it's their decision. They can use her for a museum piece or something. We're going home.”
Chapter 41
June 2199
Prometheus's return was celebrated even though the coming and goings of the starships was becoming a normal affair. The media was all over them since some of their own had been along for the ride for the first time. The Icarus crew was elated at their return when interviewed but sobered by their mission.
Prometheus's crew had confirmed the sabotage of Daedalus with images and data they had brought back. More importantly, with the images, video, and reporting the journalists and their camera crews had brought back as independent verification. There was a bit of speculation on why they hadn't brought the ship back as well as accusations of a cover-up. There were even a few nut jobs who insisted it had been staged with the journalists paid off or drugged. To Isley's dismay and disgust the journalists took such things seriously for a brief period before disproving them one by one. Even Oliver had bought into the crap.
They had also held off on explaining why the ship hadn't been salvaged. They “reserved judgment” since they weren't engineering experts and therefore couldn't comment on whether the ship's return would have been hazardous to the crew or even the solar system. That little fillip by one of the journalists had sparked a thoughtful debate over the danger of the virus.
Jack backed Captain Ford's decision. They had refused to risk additional lives on a sabotaged, damaged ship. He couldn't blame them. Daedalus was for the time being to be considered a derelict. He couldn't spare additional resources to go back and salvage her to use her in a museum. Perhaps in the future, but for now she would remain where she was, keeping company with her dead crew and memories of what had and could have been.
-*-*-^-*-*-
Jean Pierre was annoyed that Prometheus had made it back again. At least Icarus was mothballed, but he still doubted she would be mothballed forever. He was even more annoyed by the spin on the sabotage story and how it stubbornly refused to go his way. Nor go away, which was another problem. It had happened nearly two decades ago but the fresh return had brought it all up like a bad memory.
He confronted Saul and his direct action people about the problem after a round with Miss Winters hadn't turned up anything new for their defense.
“We didn't have to do anything to the Chinese ship,” Saul reported. Jean raised an eyebrow his way. The Russian shrugged. “It wasn't our doing. According to our experts and the media, their ships are short on range. The first three ships are proof of concept vessels. Apparently they thought they would be able to lay claim to a nearby system like Epsilon Erindani.”
“But they don't have the range, sir,” Krytos said, shaking his head. Krytos was a coder, one of the senior hackers of One Earth. He'd rapidly risen through the ranks despite his mysterious past and his insistence on having no last name.
Krytos had risen through their ranks over the past decade and a half. He was quite smart, ruthless, and loyal to the cause. He was tall and gangly thin with purple dreadlocks and a slacker look about him. He wore suspenders around his waist and tended to skate board wherever he went. Gerald had recruited him after the young man had pulled some rather nasty pranks on a few of his neighbors. Saul wasn't sure how the attorney had known it was Krytos. but the young man's gift for mischief had been put to proper use ever since.
“That nanovirus Descartes created never got through,” Saul said, glancing at Krytos and then back to their boss. “From what feelers we've picked up, its components had been delayed or only partially uploaded to each of the ships as they had been constructed. However, once the Lagroose Industries cyber techs got a whiff of what happened to Daedalus, they had pounced on them instantly,” he said making a face. “Our operative X isn't interested in further exposure so we've left them alone,” he said.
“In fact, we haven't attempted another cyber-attack in some time. We believe they are watching and waiting for such attacks,” Krytos agreed. “The best thing we can do is to steal their information and crack any coding right now. Direct action will expose us to unwarranted risks,” Krytos said, fingering his purple locks and bright silver DNA earring.
“Then we must be creative. And subtle,” Jean murmured. “Descartes?”
“He's gone to ground,” Saul said, thoroughly disgusted. “I'm getting a message whenever we try to contact him. Either he's laying low or something happened to him.”
“One can only hope it was fatal,” Krytos murmured. Jean snorted softly in agreement. Saul however wasn't in agreement. Yes, he wanted the leak silenced, but only on his terms. If Descartes had died and his lair was discovered, all sorts of nasty things could be found in there. Things that could come back and bite him personally on the ass.
“Can we focus on someone other than Lagroose for a while?” Krytos asked plaintively as he pulled up a tablet. “We've managed to do a little subtle sabotage with Pavilion's ships. Star Reach has taken themselves out of the running and our supporters have undermined the efforts of other groups to create their own ships or orbital infrastructure,” he said.
“Not to mention the megacorps are against any sort of additional competition,” Saul said snidely.
“Lagroose …” Krytos shrugged. “He has a long history of actually helping start-ups succeed in some way. I don't know if it is due to his history or not,” he said.
“Continue to find a way to stop them
. Their ships are the best, they are leading the charge. It must be stopped,” Jean ordered.
“Sir,” Krytos said carefully. “We are exposed a bit with Lagroose as it is,” he said, shooting a look at Saul and then Jean Pierre. “If we keep going after him like we did with the moon conference, he could get pissed enough to pull the gloves off and come after us.”
Saul frowned thoughtfully. He had kept Krytos out of the moon mission. Even he didn't know all the details, he'd used a series of secondary sources and enough cut outs to keep his involvement firmly in the shadows. Those cut outs had been severed neatly as the operation had gone underway. How had Krytos tracked him? The young man knew more than he should. That bothered him.
Jean sniffed in disdain however. “He won't do that. He can't. He can't be seen as a tyran, a tyrant. A bully.”
“If you kill a man's dream and his friends and family die along the way, he's liable to do anything. He is going to stop caring about what people think of him. Revenge will be a powerful incentive. He won't care about jurisdiction or possibly even body count. So far we've only had a few problems, a couple security leaks and one or two potential spies,” Saul warned mildly, turning to his boss and setting the question of Krytos's knowledge aside for the moment.
“Spies?” That idea made Jean nervous. He kicked himself mentally. It shouldn't, the opposition would eventually get its claws in; he should have allowed for it. He regretted working with Pavilion so long ago.
“I thought they were with Lagroose, but our contacts in the FBI informed me once they were pulled that they were FBI,” Saul explained. “Morales led them in that direction, but we were waiting. We stuck them in dead end positions. They didn't have the time or budget to go long term, and they were eventually yanked,” he said with a half-smile.
“Oh, them?” Jean asked dismissively. He remembered them now. Saul had reported their intrusion a decade ago.
“Yes. The authorities know we're doing some quasi-legal things. They are treating us like the Italian mob,” he said, smiling at the dig at his own background. “They've even tried to make connections with my family in my home country,” he reported with a snort. Jean eyes him for a moment. He shrugged. “It is nothing they can use,” he said in with a slight accent. Jean nodded. “So far they don't have enough of a case to move forward. I know they have been leaning on a few of our people, but they haven't gotten anywhere. Every single one of them knows to call Gerald's people and shut up.” He shook his head. “Justice has been leaning hard to get something done however. Now that they have the other cases tied up and aren't distracted, we're now center stage. Since we don't have the ties to this administration like we did with the last one, we may have a potential problem.”
Jean grunted in irritation. “Work on it. Isolate our action people from anyone new. We'll have to vet the newcomers very carefully. Set up some sort of disinformation plan to feed them, then see what comes out the other end,” Jean said.
“Already in the works,” Saul said smugly. He looked at his boss as Jean leveled a cool look his way. He spread his hands. “Hey, that's what you pay me to do remember? Be one step ahead? I'm doing my best.”
“See that you do,” Jean said with a thick accent.
-*-*-^-*-*-
“Are you serious?” “Honest Abe” asked, looking at the ancient disk in Miss Style's upheld hand. “What are we supposed to do with that?” he asked. He knew he had a reputation as a bungler, a buffoon. It was a cover, a mask to protect himself against those in power with the wrong connections. Whenever he succeeded in something he did his level best to pass it off as an act of luck or even arranged it so someone else got the credit.
“Play it apparently,” the FBI analysis said, shaking her head.
“With? Is it a record or something?”
“Blueray DVD actually,” the analysis said, examining the clear plastic case. “Why someone would use one though …” she frowned. No one had used DVDs in a century and a half.
“Where did it come from?” Abe asked, rubbing his brow. He could feel a headache coming on.
“That's the weird thing. A Mrs. Oneli's executor. She recently passed away and had a manila envelope with that in it and directions to get it to the FBI.” the analysis turned around and picked up an opened envelope. “We scanned it of course, but it was empty.” She held up the package with the hand written directions taped to it. There was no sender, just to the FBI agents in charge of investigating One Earth.
“Did you find a DVD to play it?”
“I've got a tech digging through the ancient hardware junk pile they seem to accumulate,” Miss Styles answered. She turned when someone knocked on the door. “Ah, here he is now,” she said.
“You rang, ma'am?” Odin asked, pushing an elderly AV cart in ahead of him. It was a bit rusted, one of the wheels was frozen up, but the LCD monitor looked good. “I had Ed go to the Smithsonian to pick up the DVD player,” the hacker said, pointing to small dusty black box. Abe and Miss Styles watched in amusement as the techie hooked up an adapter to power the devices then plugged it into the wall. The tech took the disk from the woman and then put it in to the player and turned it on.
“Let's see if it works,” Odin said softly.
“Aren't you supposed to be under cover or something?” Miss Styles demanded.
“Under cover to maintain my cover as … you know what, never mind,” Odin said as the menu came up. There was a series of video files there. “You want me to transfer this to the net?”
“Let's see what it is first,” Abe said, coming around his desk. He leaned against the edge of his desk and crossed his arms.
“Hitting play,” Odin said dutifully, using the buttons on the ancient remote. He struggled to press it hard enough. Finally the first file opened and the screen went blank. When it came back up, he blinked. “Is that who I think it is?” he demanded when the video of the late Megan Su came up. The woman settled herself nervously in front of the camera and then squirmed a bit.
“Shush,” Abe said, putting a hand up.
“You know we can't use this,” Miss Styles warned softly as the late woman started talking.
“This is for the FBI or relevant authorities. If you are watching this, then I am afraid I am dead. And despite what it looks like I believe I will be murdered,” the woman said then gulped. Her hands shook. “I think you know why, but if you don't here is my story.” She inhaled, nostrils dilating, then exhaled slowly. “Lord this is hard, but it has to be done. They are insane. I know that now,” she murmured.
“We can't use this; she can't be called to testify,” Miss Styles insisted.
“No, but we can use it as background. We need to know just how far down the well this group is,” Abe said, voice firming up. “And she's about to let us know. Now hush,” he urged.
“For the past several decades, Jean Pierre through his direct actions director Saul Roshenko, a Russian mobster,” Megan emphasized looking away, “ … has been waging a covert war against Lagroose Industries and others while also trying to take over the governments of the United States and United Nations. They hired the hacker Descartes to sabotage Daedalus as well as the other ships. The ships were supposed to disappear. When that failed I'm afraid his people have moved to more … direct actions to achieve their goals …”
-*-*-^-*-*-
The first “true” series of thunderstorms on Mars took place, not like the brief rain storms that had turned into snow as it hit the ground for the past half century. The downpour was an acidic rain, one that cut channels and did nasty things to exposed hardware. It went where it wanted to, self-leveling in the lowest areas as it filled ancient flood channels and dried lake and pond beds.
The rain did some damage to tent habitats as the series of spring storms marched across the planet. The planetary government was forced to scramble to deal with the issue before it became a major crisis. Little Green Men was contracted with Mars University and Mars Tek to find a solution to the problem while
Lagroose Industries was hired to assess the habitats and refit them with protection against the rain.
Colony towns and cities that were in flood zones or where they expected lakes, rivers, and the oceans to form were immediately advised to relocate. Haste became an issue as panic set in when a couple half buried habitats were compromised during the storm. Mudslides buried some entrances to a few habitats as well. Fortunately there was no loss of life beyond a couple pets. The Mars government went to work raising bonds to finance new colony construction in high ground locations.
Jack sent some of his best people and picked head hunters on Earth to hire architects who were experienced with dealing with rain water issues. They found a few in India, but they required that their extended family be relocated with them. That pissed Jack off when he got the word; there was no way he was going to pay for sixty or so people to move to Mars when only one was needed. He ordered the headhunters to pick up a few with small families if possible but only immediate family were allowed to be transported.
Drainage was also a concern on Mars so he had his people build additional equipment in orbit and on the ground in case it was needed.
“What they should have done was anticipate the need in advance and done something about it. That way they weren't caught out like this,” Jack said to Athena. “Is it just me or are they turning into another Earth?”
“Well, humans are humans,” the AI said flippantly. He stared up at the ceiling. “From analysis of past behavior, however, they won't allow debate to go on for long. Expect changes shortly.”
“Changes …”
“Prioritize colonies that aren't going to be evacuated while putting ones that are lower in status. Much lower. They will have to evacuate those colonies, take them down, and ship their goods and equipment to the new colony locations. That will take a considerable amount of effort and investment,” Athena reported.