by R J Johnson
More than a lifetime really.
“You’re asking me, the highly-decorated captain of a Coalition fast attack go rogue, disobey orders and head for the UN headquarters on San Angeles where you’ve told me you plan on committing at least a half-dozen felonies?” she looked at him as if he were growing a third leg out of his head.
“Listen, Sarah,” he said, pleading. “I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.”
“My orders are to patrol the belt to keep it free from pirates and conduct Search and Rescue operations while the treaty renewal ceremony is going on,” Gonzalez said, her eyes still watching Meade closely. “The higher-ups don’t want any problems interrupting their big show of diplomacy there. Besides, you want to be the reason a family of four freezes to death out in the black?”
“Oh, come on Sarah,” Meade said, pleading with her using his best puppy dog look. “You and I both know immigration is near zero right now thanks to the sun storms. No one in their right mind is out in the black right now.”
“You are,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, but I’m an idiot,” he said, trying to turn on the charm. “I’m telling you, I’m going to need back up in the next few days. The kind of back up only a highly-decorated captain of a Coalition fast attack can provide.”
She stared at him through the viewscreen, and he sighed. He wasn’t getting through to her.
“Sarah, believe me when I say, this is definitely the Coalition’s business,” he said. “The professor and his wife are up to something more than having me dispose of a few troublesome officials he thinks aren’t progressive enough.”
“What do they want you to do?” she asked.
“I have a list of targets waiting for me when I arrive at the port of San Angeles,” he said. “I have a feeling the Coalition will be mighty glad you’re around if things shake out the way I think they will.”
“What do you expect?” she asked. Her tone sounded curious for the first time in their conversation.
“I think Professor Benson and Dr. Hahn aim to completely remake the system’s power structure using the clones they’ve designed and raised in their laboratory back on Mars,” Meade said, a grim expression on his face.
Sarah looked at him through the viewscreen, the disbelief reappearing on her face.
“Clones?”
“Yes.”
“Goodbye Meade,” Sarah reached forward to switch off the connection.
“Wait, Sarah,” he shouted. She stopped and he decided to break out the big guns. “I’m telling you, I’ve seen them myself, hell I SAW myself. That’s why I’m on this stupid mission to begin with. Sarah, the things I’ve seen the professor do has me believing in a whole lot of weirder stuff I haven’t even told you about yet.”
He wiped his face looking at his friend in the eyes through the viewscreen. “We’ve through far too much together for me to lie to you. Believe that, if you believe anything.”
She paused, looking at him, searching for any reason to doubt him.
When she didn’t see any, she pursed her lips.
“Okay, so what evidence do you have?” she asked.
“You’ve got me asking for a favor on an open channel,” he said. “You really want me to go into more detail knowing that?”
She considered this, then turned to her helmsman.
“Pilot, come about and plot a course to Venus.” She turned back to the viewscreen where he was silently sighing with relief.
“You realize this could get me stripped of command, right?” she asked.
“You won’t. Like I said, the Coalition is gonna need you there. They just don’t know it yet.”
“We’ll be there in about thirty-six hours. Can you hold out until then?” she asked.
“I suppose we don’t really have a choice, do we?” Meade said. He’d take what he could get.
He moved to shut off the viewscreen but stopped when he heard Sarah’s voice.
“You swear?” she asked. “This is a Jim Meade No-Shit-Swear-On-Your-Mother’s-Grave promise?”
“And hope to die,” he said, nodding. “Which if I’m being honest, is a lot closer to the truth than I want to admit.”
Sarah nodded. “Take care of yourself then. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
The viewscreen winked out and he sighed in relief.
At least they had back-up on the way.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Deal With the Devil
Meade headed for the other side of the ship where Emeline went to contact Ambassador Michael Palmetto and found her screaming at the viewscreen.
“NO! I don’t want to be transferred to your supervisor. I want to speak with the ambassador. This is a diplomatic message on behalf of the Martian Independence…” the viewscreen winked out as the receptionist hung up on her.
“Goddamn it,” she shouted, throwing the tablet to the floor. “Bureaucracy giving me the runaround.”
“They won’t connect you?” Meade asked.
“They tell me he’s busy and then transfer me to some lackey who doesn’t speak Standard,” she growled.
“Must be your winning personality,” he remarked.
She scowled at him and he held up his hands in surrender.
“Palmetto’s one of those people who comes to you. He’ll call you when he’s good and ready. That’s more his style.”
The tablet began chiming with an incoming message. She looked over at him and shook her head.
“You learn a few things when a man tries killing you a time or two,” he said.
She picked up the tablet and turned it on. Palmetto’s face filled the viewscreen. “Ms. Hunan, I’ve been informed about your rather persistent attempts to contact me.”
“We need your help Palmetto,” Emeline said through gritted teeth. “We’re heading to San Angeles for the treaty renewal.”
“That so?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and chuckling. “On whose behalf? Because I can assure you, the Martian Delegation is well-represented.”
“The enemy of an enemy,” Meade said loudly, so Palmetto could hear him.
“Of course, Mr. Meade,” Palmetto said, rolling his eyes. “Where there’s one, there’s the other.”
“You came to me last week wanting to make peace, saying the enemy of your enemy was your friend,” he said, ignoring the dig. “Let’s make peace between the Coalition and the Martian Independence Movement and bring it to the UN together.”
Palmetto chuckled, and turned to address Emeline, “You really like this guy?”
“He makes me laugh,” she said.
“Me too,” Palmetto said, sounding amused. “Peace is a partnership Mr. Meade. I can’t say as I see what you offer to this partnership.”
“Oh, I dunno about that,” Meade replied. “Point of fact, I’m on a ship that belongs to the only man on Mars who scares the hell out of you. If that doesn’t tell you the kind of access I have, then perhaps I should start making peace with Professor Benson…”
“You’re with the professor now?” Palmetto asked, sitting up sharply.
He exchanged a look with Emeline. “I wouldn’t say that exactly.”
“Then what would you say?” Palmetto asked, an edge to his voice. He didn’t sound amused. “Is there a reason you’re wasting my time?”
“We’ve been tasked with destabilizing the Consortium and Coalition governments,” Meade said, gambling on the truth. “And we think you can help us prevent a larger catastrophe.”
Emeline slapped her head, silently chastising him with her eyes.
He knew he shouldn’t give up so much information to Palmetto without anything in return, but a Hail Mary play didn’t need to be pretty, so long as it worked.
Palmetto absorbed this information taking a moment before replying.
“I’m through underestimating you two,” the ambassador said finally. “If you’re coming to me, it’s clear you must have exhausted all other options. What exactly do you think I can do for y
ou?”
Meade and Emeline glanced at each other.
That was easy, Meade thought.
“The professor set us up in a swanky hotel with plenty of credits, but we still need full access to the U.N. Headquarters on Venus,” Meade said. “Full diplomatic access. Same kind you get when you visit.”
Palmetto’s face darkened, “You ask too much from me.”
“Come on Palmetto,” he said. “You could add us on as one of your lackies. A few more hanging around won’t raise any eyebrows.”
Palmetto stared at them through the viewscreen, completely stone-faced.
“I shall consider your terms,” the ambassador replied tersely. “But I think there’s a better way I can help.”
“Wait,” Meade asked, confused. “What does that mean?”
Palmetto’s hand paused over the button to switch off the transmission. “I suppose you’ll find out when you arrive, won’t you?”
The viewscreen winked off and Palmetto’s image disappeared.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Landing Party
Meade was standing on the observation deck when Emeline entered the lounge and moved to stand next to him, keeping a respectable distance.
There was no pilot and nothing to do. It was all up to the computer now. A landing as complicated as this necessitated an artificial intelligence capable of making on-the-fly decisions. Humans weren’t capable of navigating the maelstrom to San Angeles.
The ship finally reached the Venusian atmosphere and their ride became much bumpier. He glanced over at Emeline and moved to a seat, strapping himself in. He began to feel better when he saw Emeline do the same thing.
“Any idea what Palmetto meant by his offer?” Emeline asked.
“No idea,” he said. Meade had been refreshing his inbox hoping to see some sign of the ‘assistance’ the ambassador had promised, but there was nothing. For all he knew, Palmetto’s idea of assistance was turning them in to the U.N.’s Military Police.
“What’s your gut say?” she asked.
He grimaced. If there was one thing he could count on with Palmetto, it’s that the man loved chaos. He had a feeling Palmetto wanted to see his plan play out. That was how the corrupt warlord had raised himself up to the level of Coalition Ambassador to Mars in the first place.
“I think he helps,” he said finally. “He’ll try and use me as a weapon against his own enemies on the Coalition Council to elevate himself. That’s what he’s done before. And you can always count on animals like him to repeat strategies that work.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, strapping into a seat, preparing for landing.
He settled into a chair two rows away and groaned in frustration.
“Me too,” he said softly.
The ship pitched and rolled as it moved through the heavy cloud cover the blanketed the second planet from the sun. The runaway greenhouse effect turned the upper atmosphere of Venus into a churning maelstrom that threatened every ship – no matter how advanced it might be.
The UN Headquarters was constructed on Venus because the planet was designated a neutral site during the original Treaty of ’44. Citizens from both the Coalition and Consortium could live and work within their respective communities together. The idea being to build trust between residents of the two hyperpowers in safe and neutral space.
Both sides invested heavily in building the floating San Angeles city that sat among the clouds on Venus and it had paid off in dividends. More than 2 million Coalition and Consortium citizens lived and worked together in peace in the massive city floating over the clouds of Venus every day.
In fact, it was the successes of San Angeles and the near-disaster of Rosetta that brought both sides back to the table. Eventually both had agreed to a show of unity by renewing the most famous treaty in human history.
The turbulence began to ease as the professor’s yacht exited the upper atmosphere and approached the landing bay in San Angeles.
The ship whirred as its landing legs kicked out and rocked one final time as it touched down on the loading dock.
“Showtime,” Meade said.
They unbuckled themselves from the ship and moved to hatch that would take them outside.
He paused at the top of the ramp, “Last chance. We could ditch this plan, go back to Mars, try and find a cure some other way, or…”
He trailed off not wanting to say the other option.
“Or we never see each other again,” she said, finishing his thought. “You don’t know anyone even close to smart enough to figure out this nanite virus. I don’t either. So, we’re stuck with the option we got, ‘cause I don’t plan on giving you up.”
Meade grinned. “This is why I love you.”
“Good,” she said. She checked the charge on her armbar and put on her jacket. “Let’s go to work.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
San Angeles
The door to the ship opened on San Angeles and the expansive hangar bay where dozens of ships were flying in and out, waiting to pass, take off, and land safely.
Unlike most spaceports Meade had been to before, this one operated with a zippy efficiency he’d never seen before. There wasn’t a wasted movement among the ships as they took off and landed.
“Gotta admire how they do things around here,” he said, nodding in approval at the spaceport.
Emeline pointed to the dockmaster’s office. “I’ll check the ship in with the locals. See if you can find out if Palmetto came through for us.”
She stood there for a moment, watching him and they both knew they wanted to give each other their traditional hug goodbye, but it was impossible.
Instead, they exchanged a glance that said everything they needed to.
“See you soon,” he said.
A shadow crossed her face and for a moment, he thought she wanted to say something. Instead she turned and moved purposefully toward the dockmaster’s office.
“Mr. Meade! Paging Mr. James Meade,” a voice cried out over the din of the spaceport.
Meade turned to see a tall brown-skinned man walking confidently his way holding a manila envelope. He felt for his grandfather’s pistol, wanting to be ready in case the man was about to attack him, but realized he had left his weapon back on the professor’s yacht. He swore to himself and promised to get his head in the game. They were in dangerous, unknown territory, he needed to be prepared for anything.
The man approached, withdrawing a manila envelope from his jacket. “Mr. Meade?”
He eyed the man suspiciously. “That from Palmetto?”
The man shook his head and extended the folder for him to take. “I have no idea sir, I was told to hand this envelope to a man fitting your description and answering to that name at this exact time.”
He took the folder from the man who typed something on his armbar and then acknowledged him with a nod. “Good day sir.”
Meade watched the mysterious courier disappear into the crowd before opening the envelope. Inside were two badges, two passports, and two armbars.
Meade took out the armbars, eyeing them suspiciously. He unfolded the note and began reading.
Mr. Meade, Ms. Hunan,
By now you will have arrived at the UN Spaceport at San Angeles and are likely wondering what exactly we have in store for you.
Included along with this note is a list of names. You know what needs to happen to them. Please finish your mission before the treaty’s officially ceremony or our deal is null and void.
I have one note – I need you to target the Coalition Secretary of State first. Simply swallow one of the pills you were provided and mark your target using the app on your armbar. I leave it to you as to what happens next, but you should place the nanites on a delay, so the target doesn’t immediately dissolve once you touch them.
Discretion is crucial for these missions Mr. Meade, I must stress this.
You’ll be staying at a local hotel where we have an account. Th
e staff has been instructed to leave you alone and to ask no questions. There is a generous credit account available to you and Ms. Hunan for any expenses you may incur during your mission.
Security will be tight for the treaty renewal. If I were you, I would avoid doing anything that might make your job more difficult than it needs to be.
Good luck Mr. Meade, Ms. Hunan.
Professor Alex Benson and Dr. Julie Hahn
Meade spat on the ground after reading the letter. He was getting mad all over again, but that wasn’t going to help anything.
Taking a deep breath, he reread the letter the professor sent him and then exhaled. This was not going to be easy.
He looked up, seeing Emeline walking back to him. She saw the letter in his hands and looked at him hopefully.
“Palmetto get back to you?” she asked.
Meade shook his head.
“Our first assignment,” he replied, handing her the letter.
She read it and cursed.
“Pretty much my reaction,” he said dryly. “Turns out we may not need Palmetto’s help after all. We’ve got credentials, passes, credits, and even some custom armbars courtesy of the professor and his wife.”
He took out the equipment and handed one to her.
“Top of the line,” she said looking them over. “Makes sense.”
“It does?” Meade said, sounding confused.
“We’re going to have a hard time fitting in around here with these,” she said, pointing to her armbar.
Meade still didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”
She pointed to some of the citizens of San Angeles walking around them. “Look at these people. They all use have the latest and most expensive-looking gear. They’d peg us as yokels the second they see our secondhand embarrassments.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Meade asked, frowning. “We are after all, Martian outback yokels.”
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You be the spoilsport. I’m using mine.”
She tossed him her old armbar and he put it in his bag, placing it aside for her. She put on the new armbar. Once she did, it immediately lit up with directions to their hotel.