A Wilderness of Mirrors

by R J Johnson

  “Of course I won,” the professor hissed at him. “I can look into the universe and decipher her secrets. Manipulating an idiot like you is child’s play.

  “But what did that accomplish?” Meade asked.

  The professor blinked several times as if he didn’t understand the question.

  “Think about it professor,” he said, feeling blood trickling out the side of his mouth. He raised his armbar’s display, showing him the indicator that another dreadnaught had been destroyed. “The Coalition and Consortium Elders have made it to Central Command and coordinated their forces.

  “Another ship of yours is gone and the two hyperpowers are united against you in a way that will be impossible to separate. All you’ve managed to do is create a common enemy,” Meade said, panting.

  The rage drained out of the professor’s face as he listened to him speak and watched the display being sent to his armbar from Sarah’s ship.

  “So you see professor, all those smarts didn’t let you accomplish jack shit. It doesn’t matter if you won against me here. You’ve lost the war. Your wife is under arrest back on Mars, the ships are destroyed, your plans exposed. You have nothing left.”

  The professor looked at him in alarm. Meade called up the video on his armbar.

  A team of Coalition MPs and MiM rebels were standing next to Dr. Hahn, who appeared on the viewscreen with her hands restrained and a sour expression on her face.

  “No,” the professor whispered. He dropped the pipe and ran over to a nearby display where he called up a display of the battle currently happening outside the Venus LaGrange point.

  “That’s not possible,” he said, pounding his fists against the glass. “That’s not possible.”

  The Coalition and Consortium ships had ceased fighting amongst themselves and were concentrating their fire on the second dreadnaught.

  Meade stood, limping over to the professor.

  “It’s over professor,” he said. He reached out, switched the display back to a feed from Shangri-La. MPs from the Coalition were marching side-by-side with MiM soldiers as they herded the clones the professor created out of the city.

  The plan to ally the MiMs with Palmetto’s Coalition troops back on Mars had seemed like a long shot. But, when the ambassador agreed to coordinate their attack on attack Shangri-La, Meade thought his plan was the longest long-shot he’d ever taken. But that was his luck, right? A series of long-shots that always paid off no matter how improbable.

  Meade knew he should feel victorious, but instead, felt uneasy, suddenly recalling Kansas’ warning about his bag of luck.

  The professor removed his glasses with a shaky hand and began cleaning them. Meade watched the man, fascinated by the care he took with them. Glasses were an anachronism in their time as low-cost laser eye surgery was as simple as scheduling an appointment.

  That’s when Meade figured the professor out. The glasses were an affect, something he presented to the world to help sell a story. It didn’t matter if it was true or not. All that mattered was the truth the professor wanted people to believe.

  Meade watched the professor replace the glasses on his face and turn his watery blue eyes back on him.

  “You took the pills I gave you?” the professor asked, staring at him intently.

  Meade nodded.

  “All of them?”

  He nodded again.

  The professor moved to the desk, typing something on his armbar. Meade raised his gun, training it on the professor, but the man waved him off.

  “Put that thing down. You were right. I’ve accomplished nothing. My life’s work has amounted to nothing. My wife is going to prison. My dignity and reputation are lost. Nothing matters now.”

  “Some things matter,” Meade said, still aiming the weapon at the professor. “Like justice. You’ll go on trial for your war crimes and pay for them with your life or a stay in Enzeli prison.”

  The professor chuckled and stood, shaking his head. “My dear boy, I won’t stand trial. I refuse to suffer the indignity.”

  Meade chuckled, still aiming his gun at the professor’s chest. “I don’t think you’ll have much of a choice after I turn you over to the U.N. authorities. That’s part of the deal I made.”

  The professor sighed.

  “I guess it’s enough to know that I tried. That’s all anyone can ever do, isn’t it?”

  The professor lunged for his gun and Meade instinctively pulled the trigger, shooting the man in the gut.

  The professor laughed and his body fell on him, touching Meade’s hand. He felt an electric shock race through his body and that’s when he realized what the professor’s plan had been all along. The madman disabled the safety protocol that prevented him from being effected by the nanites and now they were infecting the professor’s body, disassembling him cell by cell.

  Meade backed away, horrified as the man across from him cackled in glee.

  “Like I said,” the professor said as his body melted away. “I’ll never stand trial.”

  And then, the professor would do nothing at all ever again as the rest of his body faded into dust.

  Meade stood there, kicking at the ashes at his feet.

  “And I told you I’d kill ya.”

  Chapter Seventy

  SAR

  Dozens of fast attacks darted through space, firing everything they had at the remaining dreadnaught. The massive ship had run out of fight, that much was clear, but it had come at a heavy price. Hundreds of men and women on both the Coalition and Consortium had perished in the fierce battle against the massive warships controlled by the professor.

  Captain Sarah Gonzales leaned into her console, willing her ship to go faster. She’d never been engaged in such a brutal ship-to-ship battle like the one her crew had participated in.

  Meade told her to be on the lookout for an escape pod broadcasting a certain rescue signature, but so far, they’d come up empty. The frequency was one the Martian Independence Movement used, so it wasn’t likely they would confuse it with anything else. If anything, a transmission like that would stick out like a sore thumb in this quadrant.

  Her crew worked furiously in the background to keep her ship flying through space. The initial parts of the battle had not gone well for her ship. She’d lost people, good men and women who had served under her honorably. She had letters to write and she wasn’t looking forward to that.

  But Sarah couldn’t think about that right now. The only thing that mattered was the mission.

  She pushed the sweat back from her eyes and swore under her breath. She hoped environmental controls was on the repair crew’s list to fix.

  Sarah was incredibly proud of her people. They had fought back and repaired their ship on the fly, allowing them to rejoin the fight at a crucial juncture. Now they were one of only a few fast attacks still flying in space under their own power while they fired on the second dreadnaught that was currently exploding one section at a time.

  The demise of the second dreadnaught meant she could turn their attention to searching for Emeline’s escape pod. It wasn’t going to be easy picking up the signal in all this debris, but she owed Meade to look.

  Hell, she owed him a hell of a lot more than that.

  “Captain,” an ensign shouted behind her. “We picked up the signal. It’s weak, but it’s dead ahead, thirty thousand klicks.”

  “Thirty thousand klicks, aye,” she repeated. Sarah looked at her radar screen and saw the rescue pod was located inside a particularly dense debris field where the first dreadnaught had gone up in flames.

  The rest of the combined navies were still firing on the second dreadnaught, but the battle was won. Meade had warned them about a third ship, but she hadn’t seen it yet, which made her nervous.

  It didn’t matter, she would deal with that when and if she needed to. Until then, her mission was finding Emeline’s escape pod. She looked down at the tiny dot on her viewscreen hoping she wasn’t too late.

  Loud thump
s could be heard as pieces of the dreadnaught’s debris bounced off her ship’s hull. Sarah winced. The Coalition wouldn’t exactly dock her paycheck for bringing back a dinged-up bird, but the looks she’d get from the service crew would certainly make her wish they did. Sarah had a reputation of being the best captain in the fleet, not to mention the fact she was a legacy. She had a certain reputation to uphold.

  Then again, her ship was only one of a few still flying under its own power - which was a lot more than other Coalition captains could say right now.

  The fast attack pulled up to the escape pod floating in space and a gaffe tool extended from her ship to retrieve the tiny spacecraft.

  “Ensign take the conn,” Sarah said, getting out of the pilot’s seat.

  “I have the conn, aye,” he said, replacing her at the station the second she moved.

  “Soon as you can, get us the hell away from that battle and back to a friendly shipyard on Venus,” she ordered.

  “Aye captain,” the ensign said, who shouted several orders to the rest of the bridge crew as they worked to get underway.

  Sarah ran through the corridor down to the cargo bay, snapping off a quick salute to one of the engineering crew heading for the bridge. She reached her destination a few minutes later in time to see the airlock finish its cycle.

  A few moments later, the indicator turned green, letting her know it was safe for her to enter. Sarah pressed a thumb to the keypad and the door opened.

  She strode into the cargo bay, followed by several crew members who began working to open the escape pod.

  She frowned, watching her people work, hoping that only good news awaited her.

  “Captain,” one of the crewmembers shouted. “We’ve got two people in here. They’re both hurt pretty bad.”

  “Get them to sickbay,” Sarah ordered. “Ready position for atmospheric re-entry. We’re going back to San Angeles.”

  “Aye captain,” the crewmember acknowledged. They began helping the injured Emeline and Kansas get out of the escape pod.

  “Now we’re even Meade,” Sarah whispered.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Building a New Beginning

  Meade brought the professor’s yacht in for a not-so gentle landing on the now destroyed courtyard. He didn’t think anyone would mind. After all, the Venusian authorities would need more than a coat of paint to get the jewel of San Angeles looking tip-top again.

  He exited the yacht, moving to the door where Central Command was located, wearily knocking three times.

  The door hissed open, revealing several of the Consortium Elders with grim looks on their face.

  “The professor won’t be a concern any longer,” he said, exhaling a breath. “We’ve won.”

  He watched their reaction and thought it looked as if he told them someone died.

  “What is it?” Meade asked.

  “Follow me,” one of the elders said.

  Meade followed the Elders into Central Command where after reacting the interior of the building, he saw several other Elders speaking quietly on their armbars, giving orders to their respective clans. He briefly felt a burst of pride, knowing he’d assisted to bring all these people together in a fight against a common enemy.

  They turned a corner where a conference room was located, and he gasped. The Coalition president was laid out on the table, blood running down his side.

  “He was helping us reach Central Command,” the elder said, almost in reverence. “One of the professor’s clones got the drop on us and the president was mortally wounded in the fight.”

  “He sacrificed himself for us,” another one of the Elders said in wonder.

  Meade approached the president and saw that the Elder’s assessment had been correct. Judging by his wounds, the president didn’t have much time left. In fact, he wasn’t sure how the man was even still alive at this point.

  “Fellas, I don’t know what you want me to do,” Meade said, bewildered. “I’m not a sawbones or anything.”

  The president raised a shaking hand and beckoned him to come closer.

  Meade obliged, leaning down to hear the man’s final words.

  “You believe in something,” he said softly. “Use it to make your mark on the world.”

  The president coughed, blood spurting out of his mouth. “And make sure the Coalition doesn’t try and blame my death on the Consortium. I know how some of my people like their conspiracy theories.”

  “I’m a witness to everything, sure ‘nuff,” Meade said, looking down at the president in horror.

  “Good, good,” the president managed.

  A medical team arrived and pushed him aside to begin working on the president. Meade stepped back and watched the paramedics do their job. He thought about the president’s message to him and what it meant for his future.

  He looked down at his armbar and saw that the third Dreadnaught was still lit up with a green indicator. He felt a chill run down his spine.

  The clones hadn’t launched it. Why?

  Meade adjusted his hat and moved to find a ride back to the U.N. Headquarters where the third ship was still on display.

  He wanted to make sure there were no surprises left.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Second Chances

  Meade made his way back to the central area where the treaty signing ceremony had been scheduled to be held. The third dreadnaught still loomed over the city, in a ‘hold launch’ position.

  A team of Coalition Alphas and Consortium troops were standing at attention by the entrance to the ship. Teams of men and women were working to get into the dreadnaught using every tool both sides had at their disposal.

  But none of it was working. The professor and his wife designed the armor to withstand even the most vicious assaults.

  Meade stared at the ship, presumably filled with thousands of the professor’s clones and wondered what they were waiting for.

  Whatever it was, they didn’t have much time left. Several Coalition and Consortium fast attacks were hovering around the ship, ready to strike, in case the dreadnaught awakened and began to fire on the people in San Angeles.

  But so far, other than the docking lights, there was no sign anyone was even on-board the massive vessel.

  Meade knew better. The professor wouldn’t have allowed one of his prize possessions to fall under the control of anyone other than someone he trusted and so far, the clones had demonstrated a total loyalty to the man.

  So why hasn’t anyone said anything yet? Meade wondered, looking at the last dreadnaught.

  His armbar pinged, and he looked to see Sarah trying to get in touch with him. He opened his armbar.

  “Tell me you have them Sarah,” Meade said, diverting his attention down to his screen.

  “We recovered two people from the ship,” Sarah replied, smiling. “They’re a bit banged up, but they’ll make it.”

  Emeline’s face entered the viewscreen and Meade felt a huge wave of relief flow through his body. He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he had been holding onto this whole time.

  “Oh hello lovely,” he said, a huge weight lifting off his shoulders. “You have no idea how good it is to see your face again.”

  “That’s not the only person we picked up,” Sarah said, poking her head back into the viewscreen. “We also found this guy hanging around.”

  Kansas leaned forward into the viewscreen, smiling broadly, “Heya kid. Looks like I’ve got a second chance to kick your ass.”

  Meade felt his heart leap into his chest, seeing Kansas again. “You’re alive?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said, the smile fading from his face. “Longer than we got right now. Listen, kid, that third dreadnaught…”

  “I know,” Meade said grimly. “It’s still here in San Angeles. Why it hasn’t launched yet is a mystery to everyone.”

  “Listen to me, I don’t think it’s a threat,” Kansas said, his voice sounding urgent. “I don’t think it was staffed with
the same kind of clones the professor put on those other vessels.”

  “What do you mean?” Meade asked.

  “I’m saying those were grunts that were on those other ships in orbit,” Kansas said. “The professor could make all the musclebound meat puppets who didn’t think much for themselves any time he wanted. But, if he wanted to create a civilization, he needed dreamers and creative types.”

  “People he didn’t want to control,” Meade said, the realization coming fast. “The type of people who would take risks in art, science and research. You’re saying the basic clones couldn’t do that.”

  “Exactly,” Kansas said. “I think that’s why he made clones of people like you and me.”

  “People who use their brains to make unconventional connections,” Meade said.

  “That’s a charitable way of putting it,” Kansas replied. “It’s more about risk-takers. You can’t program that into a clone. You need the real-deal.”

  “That’s why he was taking people from Roxanne’s casino,” Meade said, making the connection. “He wanted people who had struggled through life and had to get creative to survive.”

  “I’d say so,” Kansas agreed. “But here’s something I really think will blow you away.”

  Meade eyed Kansas through the viewer. “Try me.”

  His mentor blew out a breath, “I’m of the belief you can trust these clones. I think they’re waiting until they know we won’t blow them all to hell just for who they are.”

  The engines of the dreadnaught began to whine as the ship prepared to launch. Meade looked up at the ship and then back down at Kansas in the viewscreen.

  “Then again…” Kansas said, his face growing red.

  “I’m gonna have to ping you back,” Meade said.

  Emeline poked her face back into the viewscreen and looked as if she wanted to say something, but then hesitated.

  “Em?” he asked, looking confused. “Something you wanna add?”

  She looked at him for a moment as if considering her words, but then shook her head.