by Jason Winn
“Yes.”
Dr. Rafferty looked up at a clock on the wall. “About twenty-two hours. We made the modifications as soon as you were brought here.”
“Where is ‘here’?”
“Washington, DC.”
Axel Nash made his way toward the old Capitol building. His head was clear after a night of a bit too much slate. Thankfully it was an overcast day. The clouds obscured the orbiting junkyard overhead. Every now and again the hull of the carrier Anacostia could be seen floating from the northwest to the southeast. Reminders of the opening salvos of the Solar War would bring it all back and he’d spend all morning trying to distract himself, forgetting the news of that terrible day.
The monuments to the pre-Values United States government still dominated the Mall, sprawling granite buildings done in the architecture of ancient Rome. However, the formerly white stone exteriors were now caked in grime from decades of uncontrolled pollution. Vegetation grew wild along the previously manicured lawns. Shrubs and trees dotted several rooftops. Most of the old-growth elm and oak trees that once shaded the tourists had been cut down for firewood years ago. Now all that remained were rotten stumps, between camps of homeless, where Blue Shirts passed out humanitarian rations.
Gun emplacements lined Constitution and Independence Avenues. Their barrels were aimed toward the streets that converged toward the capitol building. Soldiers, ever vigilant to prevent another violent protest, cast suspicious glances at pedestrians.
The rattle of power tools and thumping of heavy equipment filled the morning air as construction crews worked machinery to pull down the billboards on the facades of the national museums lining the mall. Everywhere, Jonas Petty’s face was falling to the ground. While Axel was excited to see the old face of Washington, DC, begin to return, he wondered if the removal of so much idolatry, so quickly, was a good thing. The Petty family still had millions of supporters out there. Not to mention, very strong ties with the multinationals.
Axel approached one of the checkpoints leading up to the capitol building. A guard carrying an assault rifle raised his hand instructing him to stop.
“Sir, the capitol building is off limits to visitors. Do you have an appointment with someone?” His tone was cold but professional; a good soldier. Axel felt a certain comfort talking to the young man. He remembered having to stand post thirty years before. It was, and he imagined remained, a boring, thankless job.
“Yes, Corporal, I’ve got an appointment with Royce Monroe.”
“What’s your name, sir?” asked the guard.
“Axel Nash.” He presented his phone with the government ID Cougar included in his message.
The guard examined it and looked at something on the tablet computer strapped to his forearm. “Good to go, Mr. Nash. You’ll need this.” The young soldier reached into his pocket and produced a metallic card with a lanyard attached. “Display this at all times. Do you know where you’re going?”
Axel took the visitor badge and put it around his neck. “I believe so.” With that, he walked past the guard post and up the capitol’s front steps, which were riddled with cracks and chipped stone.
A few moments later Axel entered the Rotunda. Cargo crates as tall as a man were stacked neatly in the center. Work crews in navy blue jumpsuits unloaded furniture and office equipment, carrying the items off on floating hand carts. No one bothered to look up at the stranger with the shiny visitor’s badge.
Scaffolding circled the base of the Apotheosis of Washington fresco high above. Axel knew what they were doing, removing all the religious imagery that the Petty family added. They had said the additions had actually been “uncovered,” and their version was the actual one painted by Constantino Brumidi. The heathen secular government of the twentieth century had tried to remove the godly accents.
“Nash,” shouted Cougar.
Axel turned to see his old friend weaving through crates, hand outstretched.
“Glad to see you made it.”
Axel shook Cougar’s hand with as firm a grip as he could muster. “You didn’t give me a whole lotta choice in the matter.”
“Sorry about that, old buddy. But,” Cougar’s eyes narrowed as he lowered his voice, “your country needs you again. Let’s go up to my office and I’ll brief you.”
Axel followed Cougar up several flights of stairs to the third floor in the Senate wing. Axel had never been inside the capitol before, but he marveled at the sheer beauty of the building’s interior. It seemed that every available space was filled with hand-painted scenes from the country’s founding. Everywhere he looked he saw visions of Roman or Greek gods assisting a generation of pioneering Americans to build their new nation. From the marble floors to the hand-carved eagles inlaid on intricate staircase banisters, everything exuded eighteenth- and nineteenth-century American pride.
Cougar pushed open an oak door that opened to a large office. The room was filled with flex screen monitors suspended from the ceilings. Some showed news feeds from all over the solar system, others were blank. Several more screens were rolled up into their packing tubes, waiting to be unfurled and added to the array on the walls. Behind the desk stood an original American flag, sans gold cross. The rest of the place was filled with small packing crates, some open. Axel noted stacks of documents and what looked like old paper currency inside some of them.
Axel pointed to one of the crates filled with old paper money. “I thought all of that stuff got burned up.”
“That’s for research purposes only,” Cougar said with a wink and a smile. “I guess you didn’t hear. The president announced this morning that we’re going to be bringing back paper currency. With all the troubles with the banks and the anti-crime measures put in by the past administrations, entrepreneurship has taken a bit of a nosedive. Putting paper money back into circulation is expected to stimulate small business growth. Let people spend money without worrying about the government spying on what they’re spending it on. At least that’s the hope anyway.” There was a pause. “Which means you won’t have to barter for slate anymore.”
Axel ignored the comment. What he did on his own time was his business.
Cougar pointed to one of the two chairs in the room. “Take a seat.” He closed the door behind them and locked it.
“So what the hell got you off that mountain?” asked Axel.
“Mending fences, big fences.”
Axel studied his old acquaintance. He hadn’t known Royce Monroe very well during the war. However, when the war crimes commission was hunting for Americans who had allegedly committed atrocities, he knew through a network of veterans that an individual known only as “Cougar” had been their guardian angel. Cougar was the head of an underground organization working to protect the falsely accused from Values politicians looking to save their own necks, multinational insurance companies seeking retribution, and scores of other desperate turncoats hoping to avoid lengthy prison sentences by snitching on their former battle buddies. Axel had been the beneficiary of Cougar’s work.
The two men had only met a few times after Axel was settled in the old capital, meeting up for beers and Cougar checking in on Axel’s mental state. He needed to know that Axel wasn’t going to lose control and bring Cougar’s work to the attention of the war crimes commission and the Luna treaty enforcement committee at the UN. Up until now, most of Cougar’s work was done out of his small home in the mountains of West Virginia.
Cougar flopped down into the other chair and put his cowboy boots up on one of the small packing crates. Axel couldn’t help but notice the pistol hanging from Cougar’s hip. “Need you to go back up there,” said Cougar, pointing to the ceiling. “The president has asked me to find somebody willing to go on an errand to pick up some VIPs.”
Axel took in a big breath and let it out slowly. There were about a thousand questions that popped into his head. He didn’t say anything though, preferring to wait and let Cougar keep talking.
There was a silence between the two men, as if
Cougar was waiting for some sort of reaction from Axel. After a moment, he continued. “As you can probably guess, it’s a little bit more complicated than just that, I’m afraid.”
Cougar looked over to one of the large flex screen monitors on the wall. The screen came alive with an image of a massive space station orbiting Titan, one of Saturn’s moons. Axel recognized the orange sphere immediately, having spent several months in flight training above the planet.
“That thing is the resort station, Pangaea. Simply put, it’s one of the most luxurious playgrounds for the elite in the entire solar system. The place is filled with everyone from high-ranking government officials from the major superpowers, to the multinational elite. I hear even some American ex-patriots have set up permanent residency there.
“This new administration is making friends fast,” said Cougar. “But for the time being it’s all just smiles and handshakes, nothing that we can actually leverage for the national good. The president campaigned on the promise of bringing the United States back into the fold as a superpower, and he means to do it. The problem is that decades of starting regional wars, failed nation building, and generally pissing off the few countries that still liked us, has really limited our options.”
Axel took note of the fact that Cougar failed to mention the humiliating Solar War loss and the crippling sanctions imposed on the country as a result. Nobody gave a shit about the United States anymore. They had neither the political capital nor the technology to compete with the reigning superpowers and multinationals. But he stayed quiet and let Cougar continue.
“A friend of mine in French intelligence has passed along some disturbing news. It would seem that the Chinese are about to have a civil war. Two weeks ago, there was an explosion that destroyed their newest Tang-class carrier, the Yang Liwei.” An image of a massive carrier ship appeared on the screen. “The selfish side of me is thankful that goddamned thing was blown out of the stars. However, French intelligence through their sources have concluded that this act was intentional and the beginning of a much larger action, possibly by a splinter force within the Chinese military. The French and I believe there is a coup underway. And the scary thing is, there are several members of the imperial family with residences on Pangaea. They, along with their close associates, would be prime targets if the emperor is attacked.
“The objective of your mission is about to be caught in the middle of all of this. You are going to go and get the son and daughter of a ranking French government official out of a potential war zone before the shooting starts. We estimate you have about one week before the Chinese government completes their investigation and concludes this wasn’t an industrial accident.”
“And I’m guessing,” said Axel, “that the French and the EU are unwilling to go do this themselves. Seems a little odd, doesn’t it?”
“On the surface, this does seem a bit fishy. However, the reason the French are not going in to pull these kids out is that the kids have gone dark. They are not answering any communications. There are no records of any financial transactions in the last week and the local authorities are mainly controlled by the Russian crime syndicates. If those thugs got their hands on the kids, they’d be sitting in a dark room with black sacks over their heads as the mob was issuing ransom demands. But that hasn’t happened…yet. As for the EU, their unofficial policy is to stay out of any internal Chinese conflicts. They have contracts with Sino-based energy and manufacturing consortiums and can’t disrupt those relationships.”
Axel shook his head. Five major superpowers in the solar system, all hamstrung by their reliance on the megacorporations to pick a fight with one another.
“If the EU were to go to Pangaea and be fired at, obviously they would defend themselves in order to save face. That brings the risk of drawing the EU into the conflict and nobody wants that. In short, the EU and, thus, the French government are too dependent on Chinese companies for some of their most vital industries to pick a fight right now. Maybe after the Chinese sort out their internal differences, things will be different.”
What good is being a superpower, Axel wondered, when you’re powerless to just go snatch up two rich kids?
“Why me?” he asked.
“Not going to lie to you, Nash. You have an ultra-rare combination of being trustworthy and expendable. If you’re captured or discovered, the US government will disavow any knowledge of actions taken by a suspected war criminal. That simple, Nash.”
Axel pursed his lips and let out a grunt. “Good to be loved, I guess.”
“This is a real opportunity to serve your country again. I wouldn’t have put you into hiding thirty years ago if I didn’t know you were a true patriot, the kind of guy who salutes the whole flag, not just the parts you like. The people I talked to about you wouldn’t shut up about your loyalty. And, even after the Pettys came in, you kept your mouth shut, head down, and held it together. I know it must’ve been hell for you to watch the country go to shit like it did. But we have a real chance to rebuild here. It starts with doing this favor for some powerful people. People who used to be our friends. You go back far enough, we owe them our very existence.”
Axel could feel Cougar’s eyes boring into him. He steepled his fingers. What did he have to look forward to tomorrow, or the next day? Rebuilding motors and scraping barnacles off the bottom of tourist boats in the shadow of Turtle Head Prison wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his days. The scowls from the tourists was wearing thin as well. And there was the constant threat the Sin Fist Brotherhood would kick in his door and drag him off to some kangaroo trial.
However, he couldn’t help but wonder if the ghosts of Luna would come back once he was aboard a ship. Would he puke after being launched through the first jump gate? He hoped not.
And then, what about Cougar? Could he be trusted? The man was a pseudo-politician after all. And even though President Gardner seemed genuine, what were the other angles at play here? Politicians who made it to the top left a pile of bodies in their wake. After a second of calculations, Axel realized he was merely a pawn. He’d never know all the details behind this operation, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Cougar had saved his life, that was undeniable. The least he could do was repay the favor.
Axel locked eyes with Cougar. “I’m in.”
“Excellent. You’ll be traveling to Pangaea with a companion, posing as a wealthy Canadian businessman on holiday with his trophy wife.”
Axel sat up at the mention of ‘trophy wife.’ His eyebrows went to the top of his head. “Really.”
“Don’t get excited.” Cougar grinned. “She’s a squib.”
Axel sank back in his chair at the prospect of traveling with some dumb artificial human. The thing was likely to get him killed.
“Oh, it won’t be that bad,” said Cougar, with the wave of a hand. “We’ve given her a few special modifications.”
“How exactly am I getting there? I can’t hop on a ship in the States.”
“Yeah, that’s where it gets a little tricky. We’ve made arrangements with the West African Alliance. They’ll get you on a converted passenger liner, where you’ll make your way to the abandoned Coinjock Shipyard in the Belt.”
The Belt was the asteroid field, between Mars and Jupiter, home to scrapyards, mining colonies, shipping stations, and gray market outposts.
“There,” said Cougar, “you’ll meet your contact, Javelin. He’s with French intelligence and he will have your paperwork to get into Pangaea, tickets, passport, and accommodation arrangements. You and your companion, Devon, will then make your way to the station and find the kids. Once you have them, hightail it out of there and bring them back Earthside. Their people will pick them up and take them back home.”
“And it will be just that easy, I’m sure.”
Cougar raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “And I’ve got this for you.” He walked over to a locked crate. He punched in a code and the lid clicked. After rummaging around for a moment, he
held out a box the size of a pistol magazine. “You’ll need this, once you get to Pangaea.”
Axel took it with a hand that almost trembled. He read the word “Hijack” down the side. He could feel a tingling from the IV plug in his arm.
Captain Jamal McKenzie marveled at how smoothly the frigate decelerated as it hit the Mars jump gate. He recalled that his first ship, a cruiser, which was older than his father, would rattle violently when going through the motions of deceleration at a jump gate. However, the frigate he’d stolen from the Yang Liwei had tenth-generation inertial control and AI-enhanced gravitational field modulation, fore and aft. It was a wonder of postmodern-physics spacecraft. Other nations had similar capabilities, but he was reasonably certain the Chinese were leading the field.
Mars loomed below, and he took a moment to observe in the dark side as he piloted into high orbit. The terraforming companies had made significant progress in the last fifty years, turning the once entirely red planet into one with oceans and the beginning of a vegetative ecosystem. Along the equator, storms from the atmospheric processors swirled across the sky, delivering water to the vast ocean in the northern hemisphere. The domes insulating the population-dense cities were still necessary for human life on the planet. Each glassy bubble glittered with city lights. High above the surface, commercial space stations made lazy arcs across the planet, their navigation beacons blinking. Elsewhere, cargo ships lined up to shoot through the jump gates to other parts of the solar system.
China had a small presence on Mars, mainly planetary embassies, a few research institutes, and satellite campuses for several renowned universities. There was also a sizable banking presence that financed mining, construction, and local infrastructure.
Listening in on the Chinese military communications channels, McKenzie noted the Dragon Armada had left Martian space and was headed back to Jupiter, which at this point was on the other side of the sun. The bridge’s video display silently ran state-run media, showing footage of the Yang Liwei collapsing in on itself before exploding into a halo of blue and orange light. Images of the debris-damaged stations, too close to the ship, showed escape craft shuttling people to safety, while emergency response drone ships sped toward the stations, all with the backdrop of Jupiter’s great eye. One government official after another babbled on, with cold, expressionless faces. Relieved the plan was progressing as expected, McKenzie placed a call down to the planet, careful to use an encrypted channel.