by Brett Patton
CONTACT: Physical metaphysical same/undifferentiated. Different acting in simplistic mass-based existence.
There was much more in that vein, complete with blurry diagrams that seemed to show molecular recombination. Matt shook his head. That was pure nanotech, and everyone knew nanotech didn’t really work. It was one of humanity’s lost dreams. Even the heights of the Expansion hadn’t produced true nanotechnology, other than pure biological processes.
But if that was true, what were Mecha? How did they work? If it wasn’t true nanotech, then what was it?
In their lust for power, was the Union using the same source as Rayder? Was this really magical technology from some unknown source? Were they covering up even more than Matt suspected?
Of course they were. Why did he even bother asking himself anymore?
* * *
When the mind-control reversal process was complete, they tried it on Rayder’s crew first. Crew members released from programming looked around in a state of confusion, and were able to recall more details from their life before Rayder’s mind control.
But when asked where their allegiance lay, every single one of them pointed to Matt and said, “Matt Lowell, sir!”
Rayder’s medical staff pointed to comparative brain scans, displayed on large nonphysical screens, and pronounced them significantly changed, and in line with unprogrammed brains. The process worked, they insisted. Every part of Rayder’s control had been removed.
“Residual imprinting,” Dr. Arksham told Matt, when he next went to see Ione.
The poor woman was still deep in the throes of fever. Her eyes had sunk down in their sockets, darkened by the virus burning its way through her system. She hadn’t suffered any physical changes, but her hand was slim and bony, almost anorexic.
“Will she survive?” Matt asked.
Arksham sighed. He’d softened toward Matt of late, as his real concern for Ione was apparent. “I’m doing everything I can.”
“Tell me.”
A head shake. “Impossible to tell.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying to you. I’d tell you if I knew.” Dr. Arksham crossed his arms. “I thought you were interested in the apparent failure of the mind-control reversals.”
Matt nodded. “Yes. Yes. Residual imprinting, you said?”
“Might be. Or it’s really failing. Why don’t you try it on Hector or Federico? You’ll know then.”
“And if it doesn’t work, and I turn their brains to mush?”
Arksham barked a laugh. “There are plenty of people on Esplandian who’d say it wouldn’t make a difference.”
“Not funny! Hector is a greater leader than he could pretend to be, and Federico is damn sharp.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But you have to look at the facts. The scans show the programming has been removed. It also shows there’s no damage to the person’s mind. The reversal process can’t hurt Hector.”
“Unless there’s something we can’t image, something we can’t measure,” Matt said.
Arksham crossed his arms and shook his head. “No. Now you’re going mystical on me. The process works. The person’s brain is unharmed.”
Matt frowned, but said nothing.
“You’ll never know if it works unless you try it on someone you’re familiar with,” Arksham continued.
Matt gave in. He had to know. He asked Gonsalves to come down to the chamber in Helheim where Rayder’s doctors had hacked one of the programmers into a reversal machine.
Gonsalves lay back on the working slab. But as the hood came down, something sparked in his eyes. He looked at Matt—really looked at him—and nodded.
Or at least Matt thought so. Maybe he had just imagined the whole thing.
Five minutes later, the hood came off. Gonsalves blinked and opened his eyes. “All hail Matt Lowell, successor to Rayder,” Gonsalves said.
The world seemed to collapse around Matt. “It didn’t work,” he said, to the doctors, to the room, to anyone who’d listen.
“Mr. Lowell will lead us to the prosperous future as the ultimate arbiter!” Gonsalves continued.
“He’s worse!” Matt said. “You made him worse!”
The doctors clustered close, muttering about their scans and readouts.
“We will all follow the former major into the glorious new age!” Gonsalves cried, his voice rising.
It was useless. Gonsalves was as programmed as ever, shouting propaganda about—
Wait. “Former Major?” Matt asked.
Gonsalves’s face broke into a huge grin, and he barked laughter. “Gotcha!”
“Asshole,” Matt grumbled.
Gonsalves turned serious. “You were so worried the deprogramming wasn’t working, when all the numbers pointed right. You just couldn’t accept that these guys would choose to follow you of their own free will. Of course I had to have a little fun with that.”
“You scared the hell out of me.”
Gonsalves grinned. “Good. Builds character.”
“What was it like? Being mind-controlled?”
“It’s hard to describe,” Gonsalves told him, his face twisting in troubled memory. His cavalier attitude had simply been his way of dealing with it, Matt realized. “It’s—it’s not painful. The ideas were always my own. But there were walls around them. I just couldn’t think certain things.”
“And you called me ‘sir,’” Matt reminded him.
“That’s the scariest part!” Gonsalves cried. “Seriously, you did the universe a favor by killing that crazy fucker. Now let’s get everyone deprogrammed and see where the chips land.”
“What if most of them want to go out on their own? Or want to be Rayder themselves?”
“I bet most of them will still choose to follow you,” Gonsalves said reassuringly.
“Why? I won’t have mind control.”
“Exactly,” Gonsalves said. “Because you don’t.”
PART THREE
TERRORIST
“Where liberty dwells, there is my country.”
—Benjamin Franklin
American Patriot
“This Expansion leads us outward to our fate, our destiny.”
—President Samuel Mayflower
Last President of the United States of America
COMPARISON OF BIOMECHANICAL TECHNOLOGY
Advanced Mechaforms vs. Corsair Sample
Version 0.4.4.3—ONGOING
CONFIDENTIAL: UARL ONLY/NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION
SUMMARY: This assessment is based on deconstruction of sample of a 2-gen Mecha from Advanced Mechaforms, Inc., aka “Hellion” and one captured pilotless Corsair Mecha, aka “Loki.”
SUPRA-LEVEL FINDING: Both the Hellion and Loki samples display advanced materials technology similar to that proposed by (ARCADIA—FURTHER IDENTITY REDACTED).
SUPRA-LEVEL INFERENCE: Both Dr. Roth and at least one Corsair faction are obtaining working knowledge from (ARCADIA) or offshoots thereof.
SUPRA-LEVEL RAMIFICATIONS: If this supposition is correct, the implications to the Union are extreme. Dr. Roth does not operate under the same constraints as the Union’s (ARCADIA POLICY DOCUMENT—REDACTED). In addition, if (ARCADIA) is in communication with others beyond UARL, additional technology leaks may be present.
DETAILED FINDINGS: (REDACTED)
15
PLAN
From space, Forest didn’t quite live up to a name suggesting vibrant greenery. Its tiny continents were dull olive and sand, striped with areas of darker green along mountain ridgelines. Slightly smaller than Earth and mainly ocean, Forest’s largest landmass was only about the size of Australia.
The rest of the planet was broken up into island chains, stretching grac
efully across the deep blue ocean. These chains were dark green, and it was here that Forest took its name—from the kilometer-high pseudo pines that were part of its rich island foliage.
Now we see how good our intelligence is, Matt thought as they began reentry into Forest’s thick, humid atmosphere. Forest was a prized Union world. They were going straight into the heart of the beast.
“They’ve accepted the entry codes,” Anne Raskin called back through the open door to the pilot’s cockpit.
Matt nodded. “Good.”
Matt and Anne were coming down in a captured Union shuttle, coincidentally the same model as the one that had taken him down to Mecha Training Camp on Earth. Matt’s Perfect Record replayed that moment in intense detail, as if on command. He’d been so excited, and so proud.
Look at you now, Matt thought as the shuttle windows began to glow orange from atmospheric friction. Plotting to topple the Union.
But that wasn’t really right. It wasn’t toppling. He was more trying to achieve an awakening. Awakening to what the Union could be, and allowing everyone to have the freedom to realize their dreams. Even if they were different.
The scream of the atmosphere rose to a peak, then deepened as the shuttle slowed. Soon the tiny windows cleared, and Matt saw an island chain ahead of them, against the still-curved horizon.
“We’re cleared to land,” Anne announced.
Matt nodded. The UARL access codes they’d gotten from Last Rising’s intelligence network were the key to their success. Rayder’s foresight and ingenuity had paid off again. Without his informants, they’d have no chance of dropping in on a Union planet undetected.
Their cover story was a UARL pop-and-drop, allowing the El Dorado to retreat as soon as the shuttle was launched. Gonsalves’s Corsair ship wouldn’t stand much scrutiny. All it would take is one bored FTLcomm ops with some time on their hands to check their orders.
But it wasn’t as if Matt had any choice. He had to do this in person. Proxies wouldn’t work. At best, they’d be killed. At worst, they’d be shipped off to Dr. Roth to have their secrets squeezed out of them.
Matt blew out a shuddery breath, as the enormousness of the whole plan came back to him again. And so much of it wasn’t a plan at all. More like playing by ear.
The bump of the shuttle touching down roused Matt from his thoughts. He leaned to look out the window, and got his first glimpse of where Forest first got its name. The landing strip had been carved into gray granite mountainside, and on either side of its stone expanse were towering pseudo pines, fifty to five hundred meters tall. The gigantic trees blurred by as the shuttle slowed to a stop.
Anne opened the door for Matt and lowered the steps for him, as if he were a real Union dignitary. She wore a Mecha Corps Auxiliary uniform, while Matt wore a plain black business suit, its lapel marked by a silver Union one-and-twelve-stars insignia. His holopaper documents, ID tattoo, and slate tags all called him out as Dr. Dexter Nantes, a UARL researcher with Multi-Max security clearance. All of it would bear some scrutiny, but the Last Rising techs had waffled when pressed on how much.
Matt stepped out of the shuttle into the bracing air. It was crisp with the smell of growing green plants, but it smelled nothing like an earthly pine forest. Instead, the pseudo pines had a cloying, musklike undertone.
At the end of the runway, utilitarian facilities had been hacked into the side of the mountain, and a broad exercise field of raw stone stretched into the distance. On it, two Demons grappled with each other, their bright red dulled by distance and haze. Around them, a half dozen Hellions looked up at the fighting Demons, like kindergartners watching their teenage brothers brawl. Matt grinned involuntarily as he watched them.
“See something you like?” Anne asked him.
“A little less familiarity, and ‘sir’ would be appreciated,” Matt snapped. “Hellions and Demons both have sensory enhancement.”
“Yes, sir!” Anne was suddenly all-business.
They walked in silence to the gatehouse that guarded the mountain facility. A small plaque on its side read:
ADVANCED MECHAFORMS, INC.
MECHA TRAINING CAMP 03
A UNIVERSAL UNION DEVELOPMENT
Matt tried to hide a frown. Despite being dressed down by the Union after the near loss of Mecha Base, Dr. Roth’s corporation still had top billing. How deep did his hooks go into the Union?
Very deep, the Last Rising operatives told Matt. So deep that much of the information was redacted, even at Multi-Max security level. The Union had an entire team devoted to examining Roth’s technology and his motivations. Every six months, they reported the same thing: Roth is unknown and therefore dangerous, but also indispensible.
I could tell them one thing they don’t know, Matt thought. Delving into Rayder’s records, Matt had found that Roth had spent several years exploring fringe space outside Corsair territory before he founded Advanced Mechaforms. He showed up in many Corsair colony records. He’d even negotiated with one of Rayder’s lieutenants at the time, seeking passage to HuMax worlds as yet unknown by any IGO.
He’d been searching for something, out here on the fringes of human expansion. Had he found it? Had that been the basis of all of his Mecha technology?
There were whispers of other HuMax worlds beyond Jotunheim—Mu and the Seven Cities of Gold, lost tech wonderlands beyond the imagination. But was that wishful thinking, or were they real places?
Unfortunately, Matt was only sure of one thing: he didn’t know.
Forest was one of three new Mecha training camps. The one on Earth had been deemed too limiting to meet the needs of an expanded Operation Pushback, so new training camps had been opened on worlds throughout the Union. The Union knew the HuMax and Corsairs were getting stronger, so they were pressing Roth to build and train an army.
And kill more cadets, Matt thought, remembering the two deaths in his own group. Out of thirty candidates he’d entered with, only four had made it to full Mecha Pilot status.
“ID and purpose of visit?” the guard at the gatehouse asked them. She wore a Mecha Corps Auxiliary uniform, thankfully of a lower rank than Anne’s sergeant stripes.
Matt and Anne presented their holopaper IDs, which the guard ran under a scanner. Matt’s heart beat double time until the machine chimed green. Matt took both sets of IDs back from the guard and turned to walk through the gate.
“Purpose of visit, sir?” she snapped.
Matt froze for just an instant. Then he remembered who he was supposed to be. Dr. Nantes would never take an ounce of crap from a lowly Mecha Auxiliary.
“Did you miss my UARL credentials?” he growled back.
The woman flinched. “No, sir, but—”
“Or my clearance?”
“No—”
“Then perhaps you were unaware my security level has de facto carte blanche access to any facility of the Union, especially a contractor installation,” Matt said.
“Go right in, sir,” the guard told him, looking down.
Matt glared at her a moment longer, then turned and walked crisply toward the office. The two Demons were still grappling on the exercise field, but now they were getting past the level of simple exercises. One of them used its thrusters to do a backflip over the other, then kicked it so hard the other one went skidding across the field with a metallic screech.
On a whim, Matt turned and headed toward the field instead.
“Where are we going?” Anna asked.
“Sir!”
“Where are we going, sir?” she repeated.
Matt grinned. “You’ll see.”
By the time Matt reached the exercise field, the victor Demon was helping the fallen one up. Both turned to look at their two visitors, which caused all the Hellions to turn and look as well. Silhouetted against the rapidly fa
lling sun, the troop of razor-edged Mecha were suddenly like golden colossi, ready to strike terror into passing merchant ships. Matt shivered, momentarily unnerved. If he wasn’t right about who was in the Demon, he might regret his impulsive detour.
The victorious Demon seemed to look at Matt for a long time. He swore he could see its biomechanical lenses, hidden deep under its visor, widen for just an instant.
Then it jogged to the edge of the field, where Matt and Anne stood. Anne squealed a little bit as the ringing metallic footfalls made the stone beneath their feet quiver. It knelt down, casting its shadow on them.
On the Demon’s chest, the pilot’s chamber irised open. A figure emerged and descended the ladder, wiping magnetorheological gel from his eyes. Clad only in a skintight interface suit, he was like a classic statue, perfect in proportion.
Matt grinned. “Major Soto.”
Soto’s eyes widenened in recognition. He took two faltering steps forward. “Matt—”
Matt cut him off, fast. “Dr. Dexter Nantes.”
Soto blinked, swallowed, and his expression hardened.
“It’s now Colonel Soto, Dr. Nantes.”
“Colonel Soto. Congratulations on your promotion.”
Soto nodded. “Congratulations on your balls.”
Matt jumped, then stifled a laugh. “We have Union clearance to examine any installation—”
Colonel Soto cut him off. “I get it, I get it. Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”
Matt nodded. The hulking figures of the still-active Demons hammered the point home. No doubt, they were listening with sensory enhancement up to full. No doubt, their records would eventually be examined.
“Lead on, Colonel.”
* * *
Soto took them inside the facility, which was constructed of drab gray concrete tilt-up walls bolted directly to the hollowed-out section of mountain. Rows of small, square windows looked out over the incredible vistas below, where the pseudo pines gave way to olive-colored grassland and wild rivers cutting through dark native stone.
Soto led them down to a door covered in aluminum mesh, at the end of a long hallway. He opened the door and motioned Matt and Anne in. Matt paused, looking into the room. It contained only one desk and an FTLcomm set, and the room was lined with the same aluminum mesh as the door.