by RJ Johnson
Greene’s trainer was droning on about tactics and how to best take advantage of some weakness he thought he spotted on Chau during the last round, but Meade wasn’t listening. He only looked at Chau who never took his eyes off of him.
The bell rang and the third round was about to begin.
Chau approached Meade slowly and they circled each other while the crowd roared above them, “You’re not Greene.”
Meade cocked his head, “I think you took too many blows to the head.”
Chau threw a punch that Meade easily swatted away, “Greene wouldn’t have let me live just now.”
“I’m not here to kill you Chau,” Meade replied, “You’re being used, and so am I. I’m just trying to restore some sanity around New Plymouth.”
“Who are you?” Chau asked, his eyes narrowing.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Meade said retreating through the 3G circles. The gravity within the ring was beginning to be dangerous. One slip up in this round or the next and it wouldn’t matter who he was, and what he needed to prevent, Chau would have his head on a stick.
“I swear, I don’t want to hurt you,” Meade said dodging another punch from Chau, “I just need you to stop this fight, the Ambassador...”
“There’s only one way this fight’s stopping,” Chau told him determined. He followed up his words with a series of body blows that sent Meade reeling, “And that’s with you in a body bag.”
Meade fell back against the edge of the ring exhausted. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up without getting himself killed – though, Meade supposed, that’d be one way to stop the fight.
To make matters worse, Meade could hear the telltale beep of his ArmBar alerting him that he was low on power and needed to get to a charging station. The camouflage was about to fail and he was exposed in the middle of the ring. The second he was revealed, the MPs would lockdown the arena and again, all his friends would be lost because of his stupid choices and actions.
He looked up wearily to see Chau launching himself at Meade with an animal intensity and he cursed himself for letting down his guard. Chau meant what he said when he told him that he was going to send Meade home in a body bag.
He collapsed against the onslaught. His entire world became the time between blows landing on his head from Chau’s massive fists. Meade was momentarily grateful that Chau had his attack of conscience for his bout against Greene. He would’ve stood no chance if Chau had elected to install his brass knuckles again. His head would likely be nothing but a bloody pulp by now.
Meade fell to his back and skidded into a 3G circle. His arms became instantly heavy and his hair (while camouflaged by the ArmBar) fell in front of his eyes, blocking his vision of Chau leaping up and landing a flying punch (with all the extra power given to him from the gravity well) directly in his ribcage. He cried out and moved out of the way to avoid any more permanent damage.
Breathing heavily, he stared up at Chau and as the man drew back his fist for a killing blow, Meade shut his eyes hoping that when death came, it would be quick.
Suddenly, he heard something blast over the arena’s speakers and for a moment, Meade thought it might’ve been the sound of Chau’s hand smacking against his head exploding it like a grape. But no, instead it was his voice and it was blasting from every speaker and viewscreen in the arena. The distraction from above made Chau pause in confusion as he searched out where the sound was coming from and most importantly, it gave Meade the chance he needed.
He clenched onto Chau’s thighs with his legs and twisted. He locked his legs into a figure four with Chau making the man scream out in pain and Meade leveraged his weight and the increased gravity well against the man’s thighs. Meade rocked forward and reversed the hold landing on top of Chau and punching him directly between the eyes four times in a row.
The light faded from Chau’s eyes and his head fell to the floor. Exhausted, Meade slide to the side and edged his way out of the increased gravity well. He stood and waited for the referee to come over to count Chau out, but the ref was too busy staring up at the viewscreen and at the movie that was playing everywhere the Coalition was broadcasting the fight.
On the screen broadcasting to every citizen in the Coalition was the Ambassador explaining step by step exactly how Cassandra worked.
To add to the fun, it was at that exact moment that Meade’s ArmBar choose to finally fail and expose his face to the shocked crowd who were still paying attention to the fight. Meade glanced down at his ArmBar and sighed, he was on his own now. He looked around at the crowd and saw they were slowly noticing that it wasn’t Titus Greene standing triumphant over Chau, but rather a very tired and beaten up Jim Meade.
Meade wasn’t sure what shocked the crowd more, the onscreen death of the engaged couple in love while the Ambassador explained Cassandra, or the sudden appearance of Meade in the ring.
He looked up at the Ambassador’s box and saw how white her face was. She was in shock - nothing could have prepared her for this. Meade gave her a mock salute when she noticed him standing in the ring and her face melted into one of pure spiteful hate and rage.
When it was all said and done, it was the whip crack sound of a shot being fired within the arena that he remembered most about that moment. The second was the feeling of horror he felt as he watched Sarah stumble and fall as she pushed the Ambassador out of the way.
Three more shots rang out as Kansas narrowed down where the assassin had shot from, killing him instantly.
And that’s when things got really interesting.
Chapter Thirty Two
There’d been riots in New Plymouth before. A few years ago, one of the warlords lost control of his people after becoming too sure of his position. The result of his madness incited one of the most violent riots between the Little Green Men and the Martian Marauders gangs the Martian colony had ever seen. It was weeks before the resulting gang war settled down. The riots spread through the colony like an especially virulent infection and the Coalition had struggled for weeks to keep the city from eating itself alive and burning to the ground.
Meade didn’t think it likely that the Coalition could get things back under control with promises of more supplies and higher wages this time after the revelation that their every move was being tracked and used against them. Many of the rioters were still figuring out what Cassandra was, but the overall message was clear – Corcoran was spying on every move they made and everything they thought was private was being used against them at every moment.
The second Meade saw Sarah slump over the Ambassador he leapt over Chau’s prostrate body and headed directly for the ring’s exit. He blew past Greene’s confused entourage and ran as quickly as his bruised ribs would allow.
He opened his ArmBar and immediately slammed it back shut in frustration. He cursed, remembering that he had used up all the power in the ring and for now, he was on his own. Without a charge his comm link to the rest of the crew was also down so he had no idea if Sarah was even still alive at the moment. He had to get up to the Ambassador’s box to see for himself.
A Coalition MP stepped up shouting his name. In all the excitement, Meade had almost forgotten that he was still a high priority fugitive according to the Coalition. He stared at the MP in his power armor looming over him in terror as the man aimed his gauss rifle directly at Meade’s chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, and heard a shot ring out.
The MP about to kill him clutched at his shoulder and howled in pain. Another shot thundered through the arena and the MP fell to the ground his power armor smoking where a hole the size of a grapefruit had opened up. Meade looked up and saluted towards where he thought Kansas might have taken his shot from.
It was always nice to have your very own personal guardian angel watching over you.
He leaned down and grabbed the MP’s gauss rifle, pistol and cattle prod, sticking the pistol in the tattered remains of his pants. He left the man’s ArmBar behind as it was mounted
within the power armor and would’ve taken too long for him to liberate.
Meade did his best to keep from being carried along by the crowd, but with all the panicked people crowded in around him, they had all come together like a flock of birds moving as one. The crowd was a had become nothing more than a product of emergent behavior. The panicking masses were all charging for the exit and people were going to get hurt.
He felt himself being carried along by the crowd and saw the exit doors just ahead. Unfortunately, the stairs to the luxury boxes were in a completely different direction. He tried his best to cut his way through the crowd sideways and towards a rear door that the map said led to the luxury boxes on the second level.
He reached the side of the hallway and moved towards a door. He went for his ArmBar again to check for a map of the interior and remembered that it was dead and he was flying blind. Not having that computer felt like he had cut a limb off, and it was really cramping his style.
He caught a passing citizen who squealed in surprise. Meade yanked at the man’s forearm, pulling him into the office, “Gimme your ArmBar!” he demanded.
“Don’t… don’t hurt me man…” the miner croaked in fear.
He rolled his eyes, and then decided to lean into the evil public persona the Coalition had crafted for the citizens. He loomed over the miner to look more intimidating.
“Show me how to get up to the Ambassador’s luxury box and you’ll live to see another sol.”
The miner extended a shaking hand and unlocked his ArmBar for Meade. He pulled up a map of the arena and zoomed into their location.
“Show me the quickest route to the luxury boxes,” Meade told the man’s computer. The route quickly outlined itself in front of him and he memorized it. He let go of the man’s arm and ran back into the hallway, following the route the citizen’s ArmBar had set for him.
He pushed against the crowd and made his way through the crowd of screaming people. He reached the west stairwell and was greeted by a pair of Coalition MPs who were flustered caught between their duty of protecting the fleeing upper crust and not being crushed by the stampeding masses. Meade ducked his head and moved up the stairwell hoping he wouldn’t be spotted in the confusion.
There was no such luck for him unfortunately, as the MP on the right spotted Meade and shouted for his companion. A shot rang out, and the people inside the narrow hallway screamed in earnest again while he dashed up the stairs, taking two and three at a time. The MPs screamed for him to get down as their rounds chewed up the concrete walls behind him. He ignored it all. All he cared about in that moment was getting to Sarah in time before she bled out.
Meade whirled and returned the MPs’ fire with his borrowed gauss pistol. One round glanced off the MP’s visor knocking him to the ground. The other one took cover as Meade scrambled up and around the stairwell, well out of the range of the MPs. He reached the second floor and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him. Out of breath, he whirled around, his eyes darting back and forth for where the Ambassador’s box would have been.
The second level was empty by now as most of those watching upstairs had been able to evacuate the building before anyone else realized what was going on. He spotted the Ambassador’s box and made his way down there, poking his head in while holding his pistol at the ready.
Inside was an ornate room with a view that looked directly down on the center of the ring. The red curtains and gold fringe muffled the sounds of the screaming crowds below. He moved into the room, searching for Sarah, who he found moaning on the floor at the front of the room.
“Sarah!” Meade shouted, and he rushed over to her, crouching next to her. He turned her body and saw blood pour out of her upper chest. She coughed, and blood poured out of her mouth.
“Jesus, Sarah, fuck…” Meade moaned. He looked down, feeling helpless until he kicked his brain into action. He tore at the red curtains that surrounded them and pulled off the gold fringe that lined it. He stuffed the curtains into her wound and tied the rope around her upper chest as tightly as he dared. She cried out in pain as he tightened the knot and he winced in sympathy.
“It’s OK lady, don’t you worry, we’re gonna get you out of here,” Meade promised. She shook her head and raised a shaky finger pointing out the end of the hall.
“I hacked the ambassador’s ArmBar, did Em…?” she struggled to finish the sentence.
“Shh…” Meade said, trying to sooth her. “She got the data and broadcasted it over everyone’s feed. Things are going nuts out there thanks to you.”
She smiled and coughed again, the blood trickling out the corner of her mouth, “Good.”
“Stay here,” Meade said getting up, “I’m gonna find a charging station and get Kansas up here to get you out…”
She shook her head, “Too late, you’ve got to stop Hugh. The second the assassin took his shot, he escorted her out of here and wasn’t giving her much of a choice from my view.”
He swore. Just when he had hoped it was all over with. They needed the Ambassador alive so she could clear his name. If Hugh had her and killed her at his leisure, Laszlo and him could frame Meade up anyway they wanted and the way he had popped into existence during the fight, it’d be an easy story to sell.
“Take my ArmBar,” she whispered unhooking the computer from her forearm. She typed quickly and unlocked it for him. “I jailbroke it so you should be able to do whatever you need with it…”
Meade stood and looked down, “I’m coming back for you.”
She smiled, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Rule Number ten.”
He grinned and put her ArmBar on his forearm and booted it up.
“See ya Sarah.”
“Luck to ya Meade,” she called out after him.
He opened the ArmBar and pinged Kansas and Emeline.
“Kansas, I’ll need you up at the Ambassador’s suite. Sarah was shot…”
“Is she OK?” Emeline’s voice sounded over the comm. Meade pushed past some stragglers fleeing the arena as he headed for the roof. The Ambassador wouldn’t deign to arrive by the street. No, her limousine would be parked in VIP located on the roof.
“I made her comfortable and dressed the wound with what I had, but she could use someone who’s got a better eye for that than I do, Kansas?”
“On it,” the old man sounded over the comm.
“Where are you now?” Emeline asked him.
“I’m heading for Corcoran, I think Hugh is going to take his shot on the roof,” Meade said hurriedly. He reached the stairwell that led to the roof at the end of the hall and opened the door.
“How much time?”
“Not sure,” Meade said, “Sarah said I was right behind her, so the sooner you can get to the roof to back me up the better.”
“On my way,” Emeline said over the comm. He heard it click off and he turned to the stairwell door in front of him. He checked the charge on his gauss pistol and rifle, took a deep breath, and wondered what normal people did on a nice night like this.
Chapter Thirty Three
He moved up the stairs and heard the sound of a door above him close. He redoubled his efforts to catch up to the Ambassador and Hugh. If the Ambassador died tonight, Meade figured that his odds of surviving the next week were low indeed.
He burst out on the roof and saw the Ambassador struggling against her chief of security William Hugh’s grip. He was holding her tightly with his right hand and aiming his pistol at her head with the other.
“What do you think you’re going to do HUGH?” Corcoran spat his name out at him, the disgust and contempt for the man evident on her face and tone. “You really think you’re able to kill me?”
“Not me Madam Ambassador. Gravity should do the trick nicely,” Hugh said softly, his gravelly voice hard to hear over the rioting crowds and passing traffic.
Meade kept his body low as he approached them cautiously to get a better handle of what he was gonna do to get them all outta this ali
ve. It was her fault she was up here with a pistol in her face, but Meade knew it wasn’t right for her to be assassinated. That wasn’t how you should do things in his mind. Besides, he would be still be guilty in the eyes of the public if he didn’t save her ass and get her out alive.
Corcoran sneered at her captor and wrenched her arm away from him and drawing herself up regally. She turned to face him, her ornate black dress making her seem more imposing that she was.
“And you think you can get away with it? There’s a not a square inch that I don’t have covered with video and audio in this city. You know better than most. After all, you helped me set it up.”
“Something I should have never agreed to…” Hugh said shaking his head. “Don’t you see what you’ve done to this colony? You’ve changed us all into rats running a maze of your own design. No one gets what they want, no one is able to escape who they are. You have us programmed into exactly the life you want to happen.”
“I’m trying to morph this colony from destitute dogtown that’s a laughingstock of the system into a shining city on the hill!” Corcoran snapped. “If an organism wants to evolve, it must learn to adapt to its environment. Cassandra is simply the next step in our evolution,” she stepped forward, while Hugh nervously pointed his pistol at her.
“Stay back Corcoran,” Hugh warned her, “I’m not afraid of Enzeli, I know how to survive in there, and more importantly, I know how to escape.”
She snorted, “Why? Because of this mythical Source that has you enthralled?”
Hugh’s eyes narrowed, “The Source never lies to me, unlike you.”
He aimed his pistol at her chest and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Corcoran smiled and withdrew a pistol of her own from within her body vest.
“Cassandra warned me you’d be coming. I never thought it true, but when she showed me how you were plotting against me and how my assassination would help elevate Laszlo, I knew I had to kill you.”
Hugh pulled the action back on his pistol again and tried to fire. Again, nothing happened. He pulled the action back and tried to fire again and again and again. Each time, the pistol remained frustratingly silent.