by R J Johnson
“But if we split up, we can cover a larger area,” Emmy argued. “Fifteen minutes shouldn’t make much of a difference.”
Emeline glanced at the bubbling cloning vat. Emmy was probably right. After all, who would know better than her?
She set a timer on her armbar. “Let’s meet back here with as much ordinance as we find in fifteen minutes. No more, no less.”
“Pinky swear on that,” her clone extended her hand and she took it.
“Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks. If you see anything, you’ll let me know?”
“The instant I find something, I’ll holler. The more explosives we stack up in that command center the more likely we’ll be able to kill this ship.”
“Then let’s hope they planned on blowing up a lot of stuff on the way to finding another planet,” Emmy said. “See ya in fifteen starting… now.”
Her cloned moved out of the lab, and turned right, jogging down the corridor. Emeline watched her leave, hoping they were making the right decision by splitting up.
“Too late now,” she muttered.
Emeline set the spanner down on the workbench and exited the lab, turning left down the corridor, hoping they might get lucky and find something that could blow this beast up.
After all, what else could they do?
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Deal
Meade moved through the crowds of politicians and dignitaries, all of whom were ignoring him. He was wearing the Ambassador robes to help him blend in, but all they did was make him seem important to unimportant people.
He excused himself from yet another bureaucrat who had proudly walked up to him and announced himself as the senior vice-president of some hydroponics firm in the Consortium. Meade pretended to be suitably impressed by the man, despite the fact he had never heard of him.
Maybe I am a natural at this politics thing after all, he thought to himself after skillfully extricating himself from yet another conversation he had no interest in having.
Eventually, he made it down to the aisle where his seat was supposed to be. He apologized profusely to the people, trying to edge his way through the tightly-packed audience of spectators.
This spectacle was going out over the wireless to everyone in the system. Billions of people would be watching the two powers renew the Treaty of ’44 tonight and it had become the most anticipated event of the year.
The lights winked off, and then back on quickly, letting people know it was time to find their seats.
Meade took a moment to appreciate the fact he was currently surrounded by the elite of the elite. There was more money, power and influence packed in this room since the Last War. He looked around and begrudgingly accepted there were several faces he did recognize – including Palmetto and his entourage who were arriving at the ceremony at the last possible moment.
He caught Palmetto’s eye and touched the brim of his hat, letting him know he was in position.
The Ambassador didn’t react. He was too practiced at the art of deception to allow his face to give them away.
Meade looked back to the stage, praying and hoping that everything back on Mars was going according to plan. If it wasn’t, the ambassador would have said something, so he assumed everything was still a go.
A series of trumpets sounded, which announced the arrival of the Consortium Board of Elders and the Coalition’s Supreme President.
Meade looked at the robes he was wearing and for the first time, felt like they might mean something. After all, he’d bled for the Martian Independence Movement and its fight to bring true democratic rule to the Red Planet. This case might have started off to prevent Emeline from being killed, but it might turn out that he could do some good in the end.
The two leaders of both sides approached each other and began shaking each other’s hands. So far, the ceremony was completely normal – by which he meant that it was boring and stiff. After all the Consortium Board of Elders weren’t exactly the most expressive of people.
The audience dutifully applauded the show of diplomacy between the two powers and everyone sat back down in their seats. He glanced around at the room, waiting for what was coming next.
The Coalition president and the Board of Elders sat down and began to sign a series of documents that they passed back and forth between the two. Applause followed each signature – which became tedious since the Consortium Board was made up of 12 people. Twelve signatures meant 12 applause breaks.
Finally, after it felt like Meade’s hands had become raw from clapping, the audience sat back down, and the mediator began to speak, welcoming all the dignitaries and VIPs who had made the trip.
He sat down, grateful for the brief break.
Then, there was the squeal of feedback inside the auditorium and the audience winced, crying out as they looked around in surprise.
The enormous screens at the front and sides of the room suddenly lit up with the image of Professor Alan Benson and his wife, Dr. Julie Hahn standing side-by-side in white lab coats, looking down on the VIPs and dignitaries who were attending the treaty renewal celebration.
“Good afternoon,” the professor’s voice boomed through the auditorium.
Meade looked for Palmetto, who was watching the proceedings with dispassionate interest.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Coalition and Consortium,” Dr. Hahn began. “For the last sixty-three years, an uneasy peace has been observed between the two hyperpowers in the system.”
“But five years ago,” the professor continued, picking up where his wife left off. “Decision makers in the Consortium decided that the balance within the system was no longer working in their favor. And so, they decided to try and bring a massive asteroid filled with the precious metals that run our economies closer to their base of operations.”
An amination began playing above them all, showing the path of Rosetta and how it nearly wiped out the Homeworld.
“It was only through sheer luck that catastrophe was averted,” Dr. Hahn continued. “We viewed that move by the Consortium not only as an economic act of war, but a declaration of war on humanity itself.”
Meade was becoming nervous and checked his armbar. He looked up at Palmetto who caught his eye and shook his head once again. The Coalition President and the Consortium Elders were glancing back and forth at each other, uncertain how to handle this interruption.
“It’s for that reason,” the professor said, looking down at the crowd, “we felt it necessary to reveal ourselves to you all.”
Meade reached for his armbar and pinged the Ambassador. They were running out of time.
“I’m aware of the issue Mr. Meade,” Palmetto answered testily. “My people are doing what they can, but they’re running into resistance.”
“This is our shot to keep the whole system from falling into chaos,” Meade hissed at him. “How long do you think the professor will drone on? Mercer could already have replaced some of the Consortium Board of Elders, or even the Coalition president.”
“Then we shall deal with it as we face those problems Mr. Meade,” Palmetto said. “I’ll call you back when I know more.”
Meade slammed the armbar shut, frustrated. He looked back up at the video screen that was still playing the professor’s video manifesto.
“The Coalition cannot be trusted,” Dr. Hahn said. “The Consortium cannot be trusted.”
Blueprints of the generational ships appeared on the viewscreen. “The two hyperpowers have been selling these ships as Humanity’s last great hope.”
The professor’s face reappeared.
“But what if we were to tell you that we discovered these ships built to represent peace were actually warships commanded by the Coalition and Consortium?”
A new set of blueprints appeared on the screen, this time, showing the vast armaments of the Dreadnaughts. Meade’s eyes grew wide. The professor was going to blame the dreadnaughts on a deep state conspiracy?
“They’ve
been lying to you,” Dr. Hahn’s voice said smoothly over the video. “Like they always do.
“Even now,” the professor said. “Two dreadnaughts are in orbit around Venus preparing to strike.”
The murmurs and shrieks in the crowd of elites began to grow louder. The Consortium Board of Elders looked at each other in confusion.
Meade knew they were running out of time. The professor and his wife were winding up for a big finish and he didn’t think anyone was supposed to survive it.
“We tell you this as patriots,” the professor said, standing next to his wife, placing an arm on her shoulder. “We only found out about this deep state conspiracy a few days ago and we were fortunate enough to find an ally who could back up our story and do what was necessary to protect all our peoples.”
A man appeared next to the professor. It was the Coalition Secretary of State, Rex Mercer. Meade tensed.
“Professor Benson and his wife Dr. Hahn contacted me a few days ago,” Mercer said, his voice booming over the loudspeakers, “after an attempt was made on my life.”
Mercer looked eagerly into the camera. “I’m here today to tell you I’ve seen proof of the conspiracy. I am duty sworn to protect the Coalition Republic by stepping forward and declaring the current president unfit for duty.”
The Coalition Secretary of State tugged at his uniform, smoothing it down with his hands. “Believe me when I say, those dreadnaughts are the work of some very devious people in the Coalition and Consortium.”
The murmurs in the audience were turning to shouts with many of the Elites in the audience demanding answers. Meade opened his armbar once again and pinged Palmetto. The man didn’t answer.
Dr. Hahn reappeared in the video and touched her husband’s arm, whispering to her. The professor looked grim, turning back to the camera and his audience of billions.
“I’m afraid our announcement has set the deep state off. The dreadnaughts are beginning to attack the fleet.”
The video screen switched to a view of the two dreadnaughts in orbit around Venus where a vicious firefight was currently underway. The Coalition and Consortium fast attacks, carriers, and destroyers that were in orbit for the treaty were being torn to shreds by the dreadnaught’s impressive weaponry.
The screen showed multiple ships being destroyed and the anger in the audience began to heat up even more. Some in the audience rushed the stage, demanding answers from the Elders and Coalition president, while others, looked fearfully at the third dreadnaught that still loomed menacingly over them a few hundred feet away.
Meade pinged Palmetto a third time.
“Where are they?” he hissed into the armbar. “They need to do it now before it’s too late. The audience is about to tear them apart!”
He looked back at the stage where security was forming a line against the crowd, pushing and shoving some of the Elites back. He swore, knowing they were going to miss their chance of having the Coalition President and the Consortium Board of Elders together at the same time.
That’s when the sound of crackling energy could be heard echoing through the enormous chamber. A bright blue flash of electricity began spiderwebbing its way across the top of the cathedral’s ceiling.
The audience, who was already in a state of near-rioting, began to panic when they saw the web of energy form above them. Meade struggled to get through the crowd of people trying to make it to the exits.
The cloud of energy began swirling and expanding through the entire room as wind began roaring loudly, echoing through the open-space.
Then, there was the sound of what Meade could only describe as an enormous sucking sound. A loud pop echoed through the chamber, drowning out the audience’s screams.
When the dust storm cleared, the Coalition’s President Supreme and Board of Elders had disappeared from the stage.
Meade looked up at the stage in awe. He had hoped the system would work as advertised but seeing the professor’s teleportation system in action was something he would never forget.
People in the audience began fleeing in earnest as the elites stepped all over each other, trying to escape the auditorium.
Coalition MPs and Consortium security staff made it to the stage at the same time, looking around at each other bewildered at how their VIPs could have disappeared without a trace.
A fire alarm began ringing out and the evacuation became official.
Meade looked around for Palmetto, but it seemed the ambassador was already evacuated from the arena ahead of the panicked crowd of elites.
He pushed his way through the crowds flooding the hallways moving as quickly as he could for the exit. He needed to get out before security realized they should lock down the facility.
Meade ran down the hallway through the U.N. Headquarters through the foyer moments before security armed the lockdown procedures. He kept moving, ignoring security’s shouts for him to stop. He couldn’t stop for anyone or anything at this point. There was too much at stake.
He still had a job to do and he couldn’t do it if he were locked up in the agency’s headquarters.
He sprinted for the door, knowing it would be close. At the last possible moment, he fell to his knees and slid under the massive rolldown doors, escaping the facility.
Meade picked himself up off the ground, dusting his robes off. They might be useful for gaining access to diplomats and other VIPs, but they sucked to fight and run in.
His armbar chirped and he opened it, seeing Palmetto’s face appear on the display.
“They’re safe?” he asked without preamble.
“They’re at the rendezvous point,” he said smiling. “Mr. Meade, if what my people are telling me the truth, the sheer power and technology available to us now -”
“Is something you’ll never see or touch again,” Meade replied sharply. “Neither one of us will. We’re here to prevent a war remember?”
“Your friends in the Martian Independence Movement proved to be a capable fighting force along with my people,” Palmetto said, his voice brimming with pride.
“We can kiss each other’s asses later Palmetto,” he said, growing impatient. “We still need to stop the professor’s dreadnaughts.”
“Gabriella confirmed she’s on board the CSS Olympic now and heading for the bridge with explosives as we speak,” Palmetto said, a smirk on his face.
“Good,” he said. “Remember, the MiMs are watching your people at Shangri-La. We’re destroying all that tech, so make sure it gets done.”
“I have not disappointed you yet, have I Mr. Meade?”
“We can talk about that later,” he said. “First, let’s find out what the leaders of the free system have to say about our current predicament.”
“Let me know the result of your conversation,” Palmetto said.
“Roger that Palmetto,” he said. “And… thanks.”
“Do not thank me yet, Mr. Meade,” the ambassador said sharply. Then, his image disappeared from Meade’s armbar.
Palmetto and the MiMs were a capable fighting force, but they had no navy to speak of and there was no way they would be able to take on the two dreadnaughts in orbit without the Coalition and Consortium coordinating together.
Hopefully they were smart enough to know an existential threat when they saw one.
Hopefully he could be convincing enough.
Hopefully.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Left Hand Turn
After another vomit-inducing ride in a Venusian bubble-car, Meade arrived at the location where the leaders of the Coalition and the Consortium were transported by the professor’s incredible teleportation technology.
According to the message Meade received, the joint attack by the MiMs and Palmetto’s Alpha Coalition guard had been an overwhelming success. Their combined forces were able to surprise security at the base with few problems and Shangri-La had fallen to the MiMs and Coalition forces after only a few minutes of fighting.
Unfortunately for the pr
ofessor, his people didn’t get the chance to sabotage the technology before the MiMs could get ahold of it. After all, the people living in Shangri-La were not made for war – they were mostly service and creative types.
The professor’s teleportation machine was an incredible piece of technology. It saw people as coordinates on an infinite space-time continuum. That meant there was no limit to how far it could reach – with one exception – a locator beacon had to be in place at the furthest point of transport. That meant you couldn’t go anywhere you hadn’t been before.
The MiMs used the professor’s technology to transport the leaders of both hyperpowers from the treaty renewal to a spare warehouse Palmetto had access to outside the UN Headquarters building on San Angeles.
Meade exited the bubble-car and looked around the alleyway cautiously. There was no one in sight. It was quiet on this side of town, but he could hear sirens in the distance which were probably headed for the U.N. Headquarters.
He approached the door and checked the area. There was no one hanging around that he could see. Meade entered the code Palmetto provided him and the door opened with a slight hiss.
He stepped inside the warehouse to see thirteen men and women milling about in a cage that stood twenty-feet by twenty-feet wide. When they spotted Meade entering the warehouse, they began to shout at him all at once.
“Where are we?”
“Who are you?”
“What do you want?”
“You’re going to die for this!”
“People please, one at a time,” Meade said, holding his hands up. “I apologize for taking you as our… umm, polite hostages… but, if you’ll give me a moment to explain -"
A tall dark-skinned man pushed through the crowd at stood at the center. He immediately recognized him as one of the Consortium’s Board of Elders.
“You must know that kidnapping the Elders will end in war for your people,” the man said haughtily.
“You’re mistaken,” Meade replied, holding the man’s gaze. “I’m here to keep the peace.”