by M. D. Cooper
This maneuver lasted only a few seconds. When it was done, the ship dropped back into a maintenance thrust that would keep it off Luna’s main shipping lanes. Secondary astrogation sent her a cheery nominal update, requesting further commands.
Breathing, Cara waited in the quiet airlock, listening for Camaris.
There was no sound from outside the airlock.
Moving slowly from the multiple bruises all over her body, Cara unfastened her harness and went to the door.
She accessed the environmental control sensors on her Link, checking for air movement anywhere in the ship.
Nothing. Should I wait, or just get this over with?
The airlock door was warped enough that it shrieked as it slid open. The walls of the corridor outside were scorched from flash burns.
Cara walked slowly out of the airlock, pulse pistol ready.
Camaris was nowhere in sight. Cara worked her way back around the hab ring, checking doors as she passed. At the second airlock, she found the bodies of the Andersonian soldiers Jentry’s TSF had killed, smashed against a bulkhead rib, the plas walls covered in bloodstains. Cara gave them a silent goodbye, because they had only been following Osla, and continued to the entrance to the command deck.
When she reached the command section, she quickly saw that the hard burn had done its work. The three TSF operatives had been tossed like ragdolls, leaving more bloodstains throughout the room. Jack however, hung unconscious where he had been strapped to the console chair.
Cara studied the room for a minute before continuing down the corridor. In a few meters, she found the drones she had released earlier, their claws clamped to support ribs on the wall.
“Good drones,” Cara said softly as she passed.
In another few meters, having nearly traversed the entire hab ring, Cara spotted a jumble of white armor just around the curve of the corridor, caught against another support rib.
She stopped and flattened against the inside wall, waiting for any sign of movement. When nothing happened, she eased closer, raised her pulse pistol, and fired three bursts into Camaris.
The armor jumped with each impact, but there was no other response.
Slowly, Cara approached until she was three meters away. Camaris faced away from her, one arm bent under her body.
“You can quit faking now,” Cara said.
There was no answer.
“Really,” she continued. “I’m just going to shoot you until I run the battery down on this pistol. Then I’ll toss another grenade. Or maybe I’ll just open with the grenade.”
Cara waited, shifting her stance. She checked in with the ship’s control systems and found everything as it had been when she left the shuttle. The Amplified Solution was maintaining its parking orbit easily, and Luna Port Authority hadn’t bothered to ping her yet. She had expected someone from the retrofit company to hail her before this.
Maybe they didn’t care about their boy Jack? Or maybe they knew no one would pay what they were asking for the Amplified Solution, and were looking for any opportunity to recoup the loss.
Cara mulled over that option. She would have to run that past Felix.
She shot Camaris in the thigh, then a boot, and then the side—where her kidney might have been, were she human. With each impact, the frame jerked, but didn’t move.
Cara checked the local environmental control sensors for heat or electrical activity in the corridor. As far as the ship was concerned, Cara was the only active thing within five meters.
“Fine.” She called the maintenance drones. “I’ll have my little friends here cut you into pieces and space you. That seems fitting.”
Making humming sounds, the drones rolled past Cara and approached Camaris’s body with their articulated claws outstretched and cutting torches hot.
The first drone reached Camaris and clamped down on her wrist, pulling the arm so that the SAI rolled onto her back. Camaris’s head rolled to face Cara, revealing that half her head was crushed flat. The remaining black eye stared lifelessly.
Cara raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I’ll be honest. I did not expect the burn to take you out. I guess that’s the risk you take when you put on a frame, right?”
The drones took nearly thirty minutes to cut Camaris’s frame and core to bits. Organic and non-organic materials stretched and smeared on the deck, and a cleaning drone appeared to scrub the metal once the pieces had been collected.
Cara took a deep breath when the work was done.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” she told the empty corridor.
Felix sighed.
Cara walked back to the command deck and found that other cleaning drones had been at work. The only person left was Jack, who was now snoring in the chair.
Cara walked over to the captain’s chair and brushed several bits of plas off the seat. She sat down and adjusted to the refined leather and g-responsive padding. Then she leant back and tried the view from the captain’s seat to the various control consoles.
Felix said.
Cara cursed, clenching her jaw.
Felix said.
Cara didn’t bother to remind him that the ship was supposed to be her payment to begin with.
Felix paused as if checking something, then said in a hopeful tone,
SOLAR FALLOUT
STELLAR DATE: 3.23.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: SolGov Assembly Tower, Raleigh
REGION: High Terra, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
“We need your suppor
t now more than ever.”
Senator Alma sat across from Folsom in a booth at the back of The Euro, a favorite restaurant amongst the major power brokers in Raleigh.
It was a common saying that any law worth the plas it was written on was invariably crafted at The Euro.
More than laws, many of the deals that kept the wheels of Sol turning were made here as well, both corporate and governmental. Nothing was more evident of that than the fact that Folsom had spent almost the entire day at the restaurant, dealing with the latest fallout in the Sol System.
“Is it true, then?” he asked, curious if Alma had different sources.
She sucked in a slow breath and nodded. “It is. I’ve heard it from the senate chair myself. By this time tomorrow, the Jovians will have left SolGov.”
“Fuuuuuck.”
Folsom didn’t know what else to say. He knew things would come to a head, but he didn’t think that both Mars and Jove would back out of SolGov—though the Marsians still claimed they had just paused active participation.
“Well, Hera’s not going anywhere. Without Terra’s support, we might as well join Mars—not that I think they stand a chance on their own,” he scoffed.
“Some are speculating that, with the Jovians gone, Mars will come back into the fold. Of course, they’re going to demand Terra to back them on their claims in the trojans.”
“Will you?” Folsom asked.
Alma shrugged. “Hard to say. Stars…it’s hard to say anything right now. The Scattered Disk is going to make a stronger play for recognition now, and with the Jovian Combine out of SolGov, they just might get recognized, maybe even be granted a few seats in the senate. Stars know that Makemake and Eris have enough people to warrant it.”
“And Nibiru,” Folsom added. “The colony out there is flourishing, from what I hear.”
“I wonder if that’s adding to Alexander’s depression.” Alma snorted, then took a sip of her wine before continuing. “Knowing that a bunch of unevolved humans managed to do what the most powerful AI ever created could not.”
“We don’t really know why the first attempt failed,” he replied. “Not a lot of information makes it insystem from there.”
“And fewer ships,” the Terran senator said. “Given the years of travel to get there, Nibiru is a non-issue for now.”
“True.” Folsom nodded, glad that it was one variable he didn’t have to consider. “So, what’s the mood regarding recognizing the Disk?”
“Stars, I have no idea. We’re all still reeling from the Jovians leaving. Who’s had time to form a solid opinion on the Disk? The real question is whether or not we can get Mars back in the fold now. That’s where we need to—oh shit.”
Alma’s eyes widened, and then she rose. “I have to go.”
Folsom nodded mutely as reports of attacks on government facilities all across Luna lit up the feeds he monitored. The Terran senator was striding away, and he didn’t even have time to call after her before a message from one of his agents came across the Link.
There was a short pause, which was expected given that the agent was currently on Luna.
The senator leant back in his seat, wondering whether or not that was a good thing. It was unlikely that Osla would stop the attacks taking place on Luna; the chancellor was an opportunist. He could play the innocent victim, the martyr, and the triumphant savior all at once by swooping in after the damage was done with promises of cleaning up and taking control.
Terra would probably storm Luna, burying it in millions of soldiers, and Psion would strike while they were distracted.
The senator pursed his lips. He’d been trying to avoid direct communication with the Sykes girl. She was wily enough to put two and two together, and he didn’t want to give her any more information than absolutely necessary.
Folsom snorted.
He took a sip of wine, savoring the dark red’s hint of bitterness as he sent his first message directly to Cara Sykes.
It was Cara’s turn to snort.
To his surprise, Cara laughed.
There was a long pause, then she said,
A smile formed on the senator’s lips.
Folsom’s heart skipped a beat, and his agent whispered,
The woman sent another laugh.
Folsom cut the connection and leant forward, elbows on the table. The day would either end all his aspirations, or propel him forward.
His future was in the hands of a junior agent and the Bloody Pirate Sykes.
PART 5 – GOODNIGHT, MOON
FREEFALL
STELLAR DATE: 3.23.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Near-Luna Orbit, TSS Transport
Shuttle
REGION: Luna, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
Without engines, Rondo fought to get the shuttle under control. The attitude thrusters weren’t strong enough to overcome the momentum from the blown airlock. Alerts warned he was tumbling into an active drone shipping lane, heading for collision.
Think, think, think, he berated himself. What have you got?
I’ve got a lot of trouble with the law if they catch me in this shuttle.
He tried hailing Jentry, but got no response. Same thing for Pedro and Amanda.
From inside his EV suit, Adama growled and dug his claws in Rondo’s side.
“I know, cat friend. I know. I’m working on it.”
The Port Authority NSAI sent word that it was dispatching a rescue drone. All Rondo could do was acknowledge the response and ensure the shuttle’s location beacon was operating properly.
The beacon didn’t matter much, but it would at least demonstrate he was trying to do the right thing.
How was he going to explain this?
I’m sorry, Magistrate. I was working for a TSF spy when my airlock exploded and sent me hurtling into a shipping lane.
No, I can’t pay for all that lost cargo.
What do I do for a living? Not much, just data storage.
Rondo growled at himself as he went down the rabbit hole of possible bad outcomes. It seemed the only way he was going to avoid jail time was to escape the situation all together.
What have I got? he wondered again.
The shuttle’s active scan still operated. Rondo sent out a wide-ranging network check on the local drone traffic. Out of a thousand drones, twenty responded with outdated software versions. He quickly narrowed his choices to a heavy cargo mover with over-sized engines.
Rondo broke into the drone’s system and reset its admin control, then sent the updated program.
On cue, the drone dropped its shipping container and shot out of the transport lane, heading toward Rondo.
While control of the drone was helpful, it wasn’t nearly large enough to affect the trajectory of the shuttle.
“Looks like we’re going to need to go EV, little guy,” Rondo said, patting Adama’s head.