The world turns into blinding, searing light for an instant. That was just the reflected light from the ground around me. If I had been looking at it, or exposed, I expect I’d be dead. Radiation alarms are going off; even behind cover, I got a bad dose. A brief tremor shakes the ground; it must have been a ground strike or close to it.
There is no atmosphere to produce a fireball or spread a shockwave. Instead, a rain of glowing, orange, radioactive rock and metal streams overhead. I don’t want any piece of that. I get under the curve of the barrel of the cannon just in time. Glowing fire rains down—tektites and slag from the bombed refinery, all crackling with radiation.
Man, the Lunars are gonna be pissed.
The Terrans aren’t trying to capture me anymore; with the Lunars closing in, they decided they’d rather have me dead than let me escape. That they set off a nuke to get me tells me how serious they are.
The radiation is going to be a problem. My cyber-skin absorbed a lot of it, but all kinds of alarms are sounding, and nano-systems are going into action to limit the damage it’s done. It will get worse, the longer I stay exposed to it; this place is too hot.
All the radioactivity is messing with communications and sensors, and all the hot ejecta will mask IR. For a moment, I’ll be able to move freely. Keeping under cover of the main barrel, I glide toward the heavy structure on the Luna side of the cannon. It will provide shelter, and there may be some resources I can use. Anything can be a weapon.
Luna is already responding—powerful spikes of magnetism and bright flashes of light tell me the orbital defenses are now opening fire on this position. The ground shakes from time to time—kinetic impactors slamming home from orbit.
I want to join in the fighting and take out these murderous scum face-to-face. It would be a disaster. They have proper weapons and gear, and they have a network for coordinated fire. Then there is that assault-battloid. Even if I get there, I’d be in the middle of the Lunar bombardment, and they wouldn’t know I wasn’t another enemy.
I get my chance to join in as an assault-battloid comes looming into view.
* * * * *
Chapter 112
Looks like I’m not going anywhere, after all. Too bad. I wanted to see Earth again before I die.
The assault-battloid glides overhead, silent as death. Multiple limbs slowly extend, and its weapons rotate into place. The whole thing is covered in a mirrored exoskeleton, like a vast, jeweled insect. It’s beautiful. Blue light glows from underneath, its jump booster holding it aloft. It focuses its compound arrays of red, glowing sensors, and dozens of heavy weapons point my way.
I don’t move. None of my laser weapons could possibly damage that mirrored exoskeleton. That plate will shed rail-carbines, light plasma, and SPGs like rain. I see myself and the gray regolith reflected in that armor as it drifts closer. There is no way to run; point defense laser clusters would burn me to ash the instant I moved. There is no way to hide; it’s looking straight at me with those compound sensor clusters. I stare back into that hellish, red, faceted gaze.
What are you waiting for? I want to shout at it. It could kill me right now. It might be able to take me prisoner. It does neither.
A butcher’s collection of blades unfolds from its forelimbs as it drifts closer. Of course…there is a human mind behind that compound gaze. I can feel the malice from it. After all I’ve done, it wants me to die slowly and painfully. It begins to descend.
OK, then. Come at me, you bastard. Get within reach. Give me a chance, and I’ll take you. I may die, but I’ll tear your circuits out. The monster roils, and the world goes red as I get ready for my final attack.
An almighty flash fills the world. Only the boosting in my eyes keeps me from being blinded forever. When I can see again, two halves of the assault-battloid fall apart from a great spray of glowing, white-hot metal. Directly underneath the dead battloid, a geyser of rock vapor blasts out of a white-hot crater. The whole front of my body is covered in burns, and the remainder of my clothing has crisped.
Particle beam cannon. Likely either an orbital weapons emplacement or one of Luna’s assault battloids, out of sight. Good shooting, Lunars.
I dive back under the Maxwell Cannon as the rain of molten metal comes sleeting down. It’s best to get out of sight anyway; the trigger-happy Lunars might be firing at anything that moves at the moment.
The ground shakes as each of the pieces of the assault-battloid land. More Lunar fire hammers into out-of-sight Terran positions. Flashes of light burst in the sky and on the horizon. The ground trembles and shakes. Graceful arcs of molten rock soar through space from glowing craters. I can’t stay here.
I need cover.
The magazine compound for the Maxwell Cannon looms against the stars overhead. The Lunar fire is getting closer. I’m sure they don’t want to take out their cannon, but they will do it if they have to. Bursts of communications and magnetic pulses of Terran fire indicate they are advancing on the same building I am. It makes sense, it’s the only remaining cover on this battlefield.
The Terrans and Lunars are going to level the only remaining cover out here, and the follow-up bombardment will kill me for certain, if I’m exposed. Where does this leave me?
It’s clear the Terrans will never stop. The hospital, the moon-hopper, the refinery, and now the nuke; they will just keep coming and keep raising the stakes. I can’t keep fighting them here; more and more innocents will be killed as the war escalates.
I also can’t trust the Lunars. They are as human as anybody. Someone may decide I’m too dangerous and execute me. Others may decide the stakes are too high and try to appease Terra by sending me to them. That I cannot have. I swore to stop this, and I will.
There is only one choice left; I have to shoot myself with the Maxwell Cannon.
* * * * *
Chapter 113
The Maxwell Cannon isn’t a weapon, but it could be my ticket out of here. I could fit inside one of those shells and arrive on Earth undetected.
Maybe…if I can get past the Terrans, if I’m not hit by Lunar artillery, if the cannon still works after the nuke, if it isn’t destroyed in the fighting, if the launch doesn’t kill me, and if the landing doesn’t kill me. Still, it’s better than waiting here to die.
There isn’t any time to sneak inside, so I make a run for it, keeping behind cover as best I can, hoping the heat and radiation from the fallout and all the jamming will save my life.
It seems to take forever. The fallout now only glows in the IR, but the radio and magnetic universe has gone nuts from all the jamming. Stark flashes of light flare off to my right, and swarms of small lights race through the starry sky. Heck of a battle going on over there. I’m almost at the facility; I’m going to make it—
Something warns me to jump to the left at the last minute. The road in front of the building explodes in a white flash and a cloud of dust that spreads out in rays and then falls back to the ground. Kinetic impactor; the Lunars don’t want anyone going in there.
Then that is where I need to be, since the Lunars will burn anyone heading for it. My next jump carries me under the micrometeorite shielding by the main hatch.
“Sharron, can you pick the locks?”
“Of course…you now have full command access to all systems. I’ve also locked out any likely interference. What is the reason for coming here, though? It’s a dead end.”
Precious seconds go by, wasted, as the airlock cycles. Still, it’s good to breathe again. My internal oxygen cell starts absorbing oxygen hungrily. “I’m gonna use the Maxwell Cannon. Is it still working?”
“Yes, but why? It’s useless as a weapon.”
Inside, the air is thin and cold; mist and frost glow in the emergency lights. I can see the misty air stream out of small holes, one here, another there. A jet of flame from a railgun dart blasting through makes another set of holes. Tremors from the bombardment rumble through the building. An even deeper rumble, as regular as a heartbeat,
tells me the Maxwell Cannon is still running its automated routine. The crew have all fled; no one stayed behind to shut it down. Good.
I make my way through the dying building, and another roaring streak of fire from a railgun blasts past me. “I’m not going to use it as a weapon, Sharron. We’re leaving, getting off of Luna. I’m going to Earth and completing my mission.”
“You’d never survive the acceleration, or the lack of any environmental systems, or the radiation in transit…” Oh yeah, the radiation. Another way I could die. Thanks. “…you could be shot down in transit, boarded by a hostile craft, die on re-entry, die on impact, be captured by the capsule recovery team…” Yeah, there’s a lot of ways this could get me killed.
“Sharron, is the acceleration on launch and impact on Terra more than what I took when I hit the regolith earlier?”
“No, it’s less.”
“Then there’s a chance. And a chance is better than nothing. Let’s do this.”
Sharron goes silent as I head to the magazine room. I hope that means she will help.
The magazine room is loaded with thousands of shells in constant motion on automated conveyers, being handled by manipulator arms. Inside each is the treasure of Lunar trade—He3, refined super metals, nanotechnology, Lunar super ceramics, and a dragon’s hoard of precious metals. It’s the lifeline that has kept the Terran economy running…and it’s about to be cut off.
The massive manipulator arms swing over an empty shell, which opens as it is set down. Inside is a polished metal, cylindrical space not long enough to lay down in. I climb in, pull up my legs to fit, and cross my arms. It’s like a sarcophagus, but not as roomy. The hatch seals me inside in total darkness.
The capsule lurches as the manipulator arms pick me up and swing me over the loading mechanism. I’m loaded into the chamber with a loud Clang, and the breech seals behind me with a low Boom. Now, I wait for my turn to be fired out.
Every few seconds, there is a low rumble from a firing, and my capsule clangs up further into the firing mechanism. This would be the worst time for power to fail. I’d be trapped in here, behind thousands of tons of Lunar steel, unable to move, unable to escape…
Knock it off. I’m getting to Earth. This way or another, I’ll keep trying until I get there, or I’m killed. That’s all there is to it.
Rumble, roll, clang. Another shell fired. What condition is the cannon in? How many more shells until I fire? When it fires will I feel it? What will—
Darkness.
* * * * *
Epilogue: Falling
It will take me three days to fall to Earth. Three long days trapped in a capsule barely big enough to hold me. I tell myself the first men to Luna traveled in a free-drifting capsule not much roomier than this. Of course, they had luxuries like oxygen and radiation shielding. I’m relying on my oxygen cell, my radiation-proof skin, and nanotechnology to keep me alive.
The smooth metal walls of my prison are cold to the touch. The darkness is perfect, disturbed only by the occasional flash of light from the cosmic rays passing through my eyes. Sound echoes through the metal before dying away; there is no air outside for it to travel through. The weightlessness makes it impossible for me to forget I am, in fact, falling at hundreds of thousands of kilometers an hour. When I concentrate, I can feel the slow rotation of the capsule, keeping it steady on the long, long fall.
I was out for an hour. The monster had almost devoured me again. Putting it back down and getting myself repaired took another hour. Then, nothing much to do but wait. I should sleep, but I can’t.
“Sharron, what do you suppose is going on out there?”
“It could be a number of things, Brandt, but I have no way of knowing. I’ve run simulations of the different ways the war could go between Earth and Luna. A lot of them are pure nightmare fuel. Want to see them?”
“No.”
More silence, for a long time. Only two hundred and fifty thousand seconds to go.
“Brandt,” she says. “Why don’t you sleep? You’re wasting oxygen this way. I can wake you once we are scheduled to land or if there is an emergency.”
“I’m thinking about the war, but also about Singularity.”
“And?”
“Well, they wanted to make the next step in humankind. Look at us, I’m loaded to the max with nanotech boosting, you’re an AI, and the monster is a new symbiotic life form. We are what Singularity is trying to make, trans-humans. Maybe…we are the enemy now.”
“Not at all. Humanity has been changing for a while. The Martians and Jovians are both different from the men who left Earth, and well…the Venusians…I don’t know what to call them. Even the Lunars have changed over time. We’re just another change, but not what Singularity wants. Singularity is trying to force humanity into their vision of the future—one where they have absolute authority. That is what we are fighting against.”
“Right.” I nod. “I guess this is the final expression of the State of Terra. They controlled everything else, but now it’s all falling apart. So, they want to remake man into something they can rule. If we don’t stop them, they won’t stop with Earth and Luna, they’ll try the other worlds.”
I get ready for hibernation. My processes will slow to almost nothing, while the nanotech will try to repair the radiation damage I’ll pick up on the way.
Falling to Earth in a capsule.
It’s not a capsule; it’s a shell. I’m in a bullet fired at Terra. I’m a weapon, and I’m going to destroy the thing at the dark heart of the State of Terra.
Singularity, I’m coming for you.
# # # # #
About the Author
David Hallquist has a long history of customer service positions, including banking, call center service, and sales, all of which have served as a fascinating study of the human species. He lives in Rockville, Maryland, and is still waiting for the flying cars.
* * * * *
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of the Salvage Title Trilogy:
Salvage Title
___________________
Kevin Steverson
Now Available from Theogony Books
eBook, Paperback, and Audio
Excerpt from “Salvage Title:”
A steady beeping brought Harmon back to the present. Clip’s program had succeeded in unlocking the container. “Right on!” Clip exclaimed. He was always using expressions hundreds or more years out of style. “Let’s see what we have; I hope this one isn’t empty, too.” Last month they’d come across a smaller vault, but it had been empty.
Harmon stepped up and wedged his hands into the small opening the door had made when it disengaged the locks. There wasn’t enough power in the small cells Clip used to open it any further. He put his weight into it, and the door opened enough for them to get inside. Before they went in, Harmon placed a piece of pipe in the doorway so it couldn’t close and lock on them, baking them alive before anyone realized they were missing.
Daylight shone in through the doorway, and they both froze in place; the weapons vault was full. In it were two racks of rifles, stacked on top of each other. One held twenty magnetic kinetic rifles, and the other held some type of laser rifle. There was a rack of pistols of various types. There were three cases of flechette grenades and one of thermite. There were cases of ammunition and power clips for the rifles and pistols, and all the weapons looked to be in good shape, even if they were of a strange design and clearly not made in this system. Harmon couldn’t tell what system they had been made in, but he could tell what they were.
There were three upright containers on one side and three more against the back wall that looked like lockers. Five of the containers were not locked, so Clip opened them. The first three each held two sets of light battle armor that looked like it was designed for a humanoid race with four arms. The helmets looked like the ones Harmon had worn at the academy, but they were a little long in the face. The next container held a heavy
battle suit—one that could be sealed against vacuum. It was also designed for a being with four arms. All the armor showed signs of wear, with scuffed helmets. The fifth container held shelves with three sizes of power cells on them. The largest power cells—four of them—were big enough to run a mech.
Harmon tried to force the handle open on the last container, thinking it may have gotten stuck over time, but it was locked and all he did was hurt his hand. The vault seemed like it had been closed for years.
Clip laughed and said, “That won’t work. It’s not age or metal fatigue keeping the door closed. Look at this stuff. It may be old, but it has been sealed in for years. It’s all in great shape.”
“Well, work some of your tech magic then, ‘Puter Boy,” Harmon said, shaking out his hand.
Clip pulled out a small laser pen and went to work on the container. It took another ten minutes, but finally he was through to the locking mechanism. It didn’t take long after that to get it open.
Inside, there were two items—an eight-inch cube on a shelf that looked like a hard drive or a computer and the large power cell it was connected to. Harmon reached for it, but Clip grabbed his arm.
“Don’t! Let me check it before you move it. It’s hooked up to that power cell for a reason. I want to know why.”
Harmon shrugged. “Okay, but I don’t see any lights; it has probably been dead for years.”
Clip took a sensor reader out of his kit, one of the many tools he had improved. He checked the cell and the device. There was a faint amount of power running to it that barely registered on his screen. There were several ports on the back along with the slot where the power cell was hooked in. He checked to make sure the connections were tight, he then carried the two devices to the hovercraft.
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