2648

A futuristic novel that I have spent the past 2 years working on. The story begins in the year 2648, two centuries after the turbulent colonization period known as the Space Race in which nations battled to claim the moons and planets of our Solar System. Terraforming technology allows for the capability to chemically engineer atmospheres creating habitable climates for humans to live in. The storyline follows five main characters, coming from varied backgrounds and planets. Their stories begin to weave together as the plot thickens and a long-lasting peace finally comes crashing down with the emergence of an external threat from The Deep.

Timeline

2100

• Earth’s climate reaches significant deterioration. Nations work together to promote space exploration.

2164

• Major technological advancements in spacecraft mechanics allow nations to explore further and faster into the Solar System.

 2222

• Terraforming gasses are discovered. The capability to chemically engineer an atmosphere on the planets and moons of the Solar System becomes a reality. A world-wide arms race sprouts in its wake.

 2255

• World War III. Earth becomes a warzone as tensions boil over.

2280-2350

• The Space Race: 
• Ten major corporations unite to found the Pinnacle. The powerful faction claims Jupiter and its Galilean moons.  
• The Union, composed of North and South American countries, begins terraforming operations on Mars. Settlements are established on its small moons; Phobos and Deimos. 

• The Chinese Regime establishes military control over Earth’s moon, Apollo. 
• The Soviet Empire signs an arms pact with the Chinese Regime while they build their dreaded Red Armada on Earth.
• The Japanese Dynasty fends off competition, claims Venus.
• The Middle Eastern African forms the Alliance. Venturing to the Outer Rim, they claim Saturn’s great moon, Titan.

2375

• The War for Mars. The Regime, unable to defeat the Union, devastates Mars with nuclear warheads and retreats back to Apollo. Terraforming efforts are abandoned. Union elite establish modern utopias on the martian moons; Phobos and Deimos.

2400

• The Battle of the Belt. The Soviet Empire and its Red Armada contest the Pinnacle’s hold of Jupiter and the Galilean Moons, now known as Galilea. The two collastel powers clash at the great Asteroid Belt which separates Jupiter from the Inner Rim. The Pinnacle holds firm their claim, decimating the Red Armada. A small fraction of the Russian forces, a specialized squadron known as the Prizrak, escape into the Outer Rim where they burrow into Uranus’s frozen moons.

2648

• The current year is 2648, more than two centuries have come and gone since the Space Race. War is a thing of the past, a long lasting peace has replaced the turbulent colonization period. But as history has exhibited time and time again, peace, as idealistic as it is, is a frial thing when confronted by human desire…

Prologue

Stars twinkle through the flight deck viewing port, illuminating the black abyss. Captain Reynard is no stranger to deep space, but his story did not start here. It began back on the ancestral world, Earth. He sees it twinkling faintly in the far distance and pours another three fingers of rum into the glass tumbler. It has been a long night and his mind drifts easily to the past as he leans back into the well-worn pilot’s chair. Reynard fumbles through his pack of burners. Two left. Lighting one up, he exhales a torrent of smoke and allows tired eyes to ease closed.

In the early 23rd century, terraforming gasses were discovered and the capability to chemically engineer an atmosphere on the planets and moons of the Solar System became a reality. Upon its discovery, the powers of Earth immediately sought the means to exploit this great new frontier. Nations made pacts with other nations, spy espionage took roots, and an arms race like none before began, sprouting Earth’s third and final world war. With technological advancements in spacecrafts, the newly formed alliances made mad dashes to claim worlds and territory. Military presence was the first to arrive. Space battles were waged. Victors became owners of destiny, conquerors of worlds. Losers were utterly eradicated or pushed into the far depths of the Solar System. 

Earth was led to ruin during the volatile period of World War III as the great nations blew each other to shreds. When the Space Race began in its earnest the Chinese Regime strategically claimed Earth’s moon, renaming it Apollo. They cemented their control of Earth from Apollo, and over time, purged all competing powers. Like a dark tide, the Regime’s merciless hand swept over the planet’s circumference. They made slaves out of the stranded weaker nations that were unable to partake in the Space Race. Earth was conquered, every single continent seized and exploited, except for Australia. Instead of probing into the new frontier, Australia looked inward, making the preservation of its borders paramount. After years of failed attempts, the Regime finally drew tired of their fruitless attempts of conquering the great island. Reynard’s country remains defiant till this day, but in doing so it has become grossly impoverished. 

When his wife Chloe became pregnant with his son, Rey decided to cast his fortune to the stars. He would not allow his son to live through the same poverty he endured. Rey fell in with like-minded individuals seeking income from any avenue deemed profitable; smuggling and piracy being at the forefront of their efforts. In a few years he had enough credits for his family to be taken care of for life, most of it coming from a one last ploy against a wealthy mining company. As fate would have it, the future he was working so hard towards was stripped away when his identity was learned. The company owners’ found retribution in murdering his wife and child. It all seems so long ago to him now, some distant memory that someone else had, a young man with big dreams and endless aspirations. Now well into his forties, Reynard is a shadow of his former self. A pirate of the ink, the great black expanse has become his domain. Like a lion he takes what he wants and calls no place home. The captain is not a good man, he does not delude himself like the others, but neither could he be considered evil. He lives by a code, not that unlike the pirates of old Nassua; harsh, brutal, but practical. “Take what you want because you bloodywell can and to hell with anyone who tries to stop you.” His mentor had the habit of saying. Rey chuckles to himself remembering the savvy old drunk, a proper pirate king that Whitebeard.

“What is so amusing Captain Reynard?” Rey jolts upright in his seat, startled by the sudden intrusion. Nick saunters onto the flightdeck and Rey allows himself to settle back into the chair. Rubbing his brow, he sips his disregarded coffee. “Ah, nothing mate, just some old memory surfacing is all.” Nick walks around the room until he is directly in front of the viewing display, his narrow face reflected against the glass. “I have those as well, but they are not often… pleasant.” He sniggers scornfully. Reynard doesn’t know how to respond so he flicks open the pack of burners and lights up the last one. “Is there something I can help you with Nick? It’s a rather queer time to be awake. You can be assured we are on the most precise trajectory.” The young man considers the liquor cabinet before fashioning himself a healthy glass of vodka on the rocks. He gulps it down and swirls the ice around in thought. “Have you ever killed someone, Reynard?” Burner in hand, Rey scratches his gruff jawline. “Yeah mate…” Nick whirls around, directing his full attention towards the captain, a white smile slashes the man’s pale face. “Yes, of course you have, being a pirate of the ink in all.” Earnest eyes search Rey. “What did it feel like, you know, to cut a lifestrand?” There’s something unnatural about this young man Rey decides, and not for the first time. He had first met Nick a month or so back on New Nassau, one of many pirate dens scattered across the Asteroid Belt. Nick was looking to hire the best smuggler available, apparently Reynards’s name was the top of the list. When Nick approached Rey he promptly told Nick to fuck off. But when shown the credit chip he was to receive upon delivery, hell a man like Reynard, he just couldn’t say no. He finds himself wishing he had though, there’s something aberrant in those piercing bright blue eyes. “It is… ineffable.” Rey says bleakly, wanting Nick to retire for the night. Instead the gaunt man just stands there, yearningly returning his gaze to the stars. Unsettled, Rey’s thoughts become voiced. “Why do you ask?” The inquiry is met with silence. When Nick does answer, his voice is distant, tone darker. “The spheres are in motion, rotating as they always have. The assumption is that this is the way things are, the way they will always be. Humankind forgets itself though. The brilliant have the power to create wonders, but the strong, the strong have the power to destroy.” Nick pivots towards the captain. “Better to die on your feet than live on your knees, isn’t that what you Aussies say?” Distraught, Rey’s voice becomes little more than a whisper. “Something like that.” Nick walks over to him, setting his crystal glass down on the side table. His falsetto voice is intent and slightly slurred from drink. “What if you could live on your feet though? What if you were strong enough to kill everyone who wronged you, wronged your people?” With that, he pats Rey’s shoulder and walks out of the room. 

A feeling of dread washes over the captain as he realizes what’s what. Nick’s voice, it changed, and not just because of the liquor. An accent crept out, one that he had been hiding. Nick is Russian. Rey’s mind whirls around and begins racing trying to make sense of it all, Nick’s words, the queer melancholy of his men, the whole damn mission. Rey’s quick mind suddenly zeros in on the storage chamber he is restricted access to. The cams in the chamber have been disabled but he recalls that the corridor cam above the vault door is still active. He scrolls through countless hours of footage. Nick is no fool and covers the dial pad when entering the code, his men however, are not so diligent. Rey scribbles down the passcode on the back of his hand but then slumps back into the chair at odds with himself. “This has nothing to do with you, Rey.” He says privately to himself. “You know better than to meddle around in affairs like this. Don’t go doing something rash now. Stick to the course and the payout is as good as yours.” He pours himself some more rum, tossing it back with a flick of the hand. His fingers tap against the rim of the glass. “Fucking hell.” Rey mutters to himself. Finding his feet, he walks down the narrow corridor, and punches in the damn code. 

The doors retract and Rey steps into the chamber. A circular glass ball of gigantic proportions takes up most of the storage vault. Some peculiar metallic liquid vibrates in the center of the contraption. He should not know what this is, but he does. Strange tales had been spreading around New Nassau the past couple of months. Word was that the Russian Prizrak had engineered a Moonbreaker, an atomic so powerful it could destroy entire worlds. War was said to be on the horizon. Pirates thrive during wartime so the captain was indifferent then. However, it is one thing to sit back while the universe devours itself and a totally different feeling to play a part in the genocide millions. Moreover, no way Nick and his Prizrak are going to simply let him walk away from this Rey decides with a sudden certainty. He will be a loose end that needs to be put down. Despite the gravity of the situation, Rey’s mind stays cool and collective. He heads back to the flight deck coming to terms with what he must do. Accessing the central server, he initiates an emergency landing sequence that will set the craft down on the nearest landmass. He locks the server and then proceeds to fry the circuit boards for safe measure.

When the Venusians were crafting this custom corvette for the captain, he had them install a hidden compartment underneath the pilot’s chair, instructing them to leave it out of the vessel’s blueprint. Rey takes one last look out the viewing window. The ship’s trajectory has altered, bringing the red planet in full view. Snagging the last of the rum, he climbs down into the cramped stowaway. Captain Reynard chuckles darkly as he straps himself into the seat and uncorks the bottle, he is not one to fear death.

Part I

Spheres In Motion

“Earth is the cradle for humanity, but mankind cannot stay in the cradle forever.”

-Konstantin E. Tsiolkovsky

Russian Soviet Scientist – Pioneer of Astronautic Theory

A letter from Kaluga

1911

Elsa Chapter 1: 

The Higher We Climb

The sun sets over Nexus, bathing Ganymede’s capital city in a pinkish hue. I stand in SpaceTech’s corporate boardroom presenting the quarterly report. My fellow executives’ smiles do not reach their eyes as I break down financial statistics and forecast theories on how we might exploit our competitors shortcomings in the quarters to come. I conclude my presentation and comfortably ease back into my chair, pleased with my performance. Crossing my legs, I find myself gazing out over the forest of skyscrapers and become lost in thought. This is the life I created. No family to care about, no husband or kids to worry over, just my dominance over this room of liars and fools. A smile touches my face, unlike the rest of the board, I came from nothing. No money for schooling, no family connections, no shortcuts. I blackmailed, backstabbed, and grinded my way to this stature. I’m acutely aware of the schemes some of these bobbleheads have designed to unseat me. They can come and try. I’ve made it to the 152nd floor like hell I’m going down a single level. 

My focus returns to the room “Gain/loss analysis must be finalized before the end of the  day. This meeting is at a close, enjoy your evening.” I rise to follow the sheep funneling out of the room. “Elsa, a moment please?” I glide over to the front of the extended oak table where Edward H. Cassidy, President and Founder of SpaceTech sits. His fingers intertwine on the glass table. “Your insights today were… they were intuitive and incredibly far-sighted. I think your strategy to lower the price of our port barrel stabilizers will increase overall distribution by at least 11%, with the potential of cornering the market. You have done a fine job as of late, I want you to know that.” My shrewd eyes widen with surprise, Cassidy’s praise is a rarity few ever receive. He eagerly fingers through my report with meaty hands. A man of weight, Cassidy like myself, earned every notch on his belt. I’ve long suspected it to be the main reason why I have been elevated to his right hand.

Groomed in the untamed slums of Nexus, Edward clawed his way to the top of the advanced weaponry market. A visionary known for developing cutting-edge products ahead of their time, his fingerprints cover how modern warfare is waged. “Elsa, may I ask you a rather personal question?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Do you ever look back and wish you had done more with your life? You know, fallen in love, raised a family, that sort of thing?” I shrug, shaking my head. “Never sir. Always seemed like a waste of time to me. Besides, love is a bad investment.” He chuckles lightly. “A bad investment! Wisely spoken. But more to the point, what drives you Elsa, why commit your entire life to this endeavor?” He asks, gesturing to the boardroom with open palms. I pause to consider the question, remembering that above all Cassidy values honesty and self-awareness. “To get to the top.” He nods to himself as if confirming something he already knew. “That too has been the driving force of my life. But once at the top, what then? How can you continue the endless grind when you have already obtained your ultimate goal?” His imploring eyes dig into mine. “I’ll know when I get there.” I say slowly meeting his gaze. Mr. Cassidy goes quiet for a moment, his focus distracted by thought. I fear I’ve gone too far until he breaks the silence. “So you will.” He murmurs quietly. Clearing his throat, his attention returns and courtly voice regains its vigor. “I want you to look over these documents.” Standing, he slides over a vanilla folder. “I have achieved great things in my life, feats few could boast of. But now as I age and reflect on the distant past I find myself filled with misgivings. What is all this worth if I have no one to pass it on to? What will happen to my legacy, my lifetime of work?” He motions to the folder. “Open it.” My quick eyes scan the first page. Confusion grows as I flip through the paperwork. “What… sir, what is this?” My narrowed eyes flick upwards as he moves close. “This is my will. You, and you alone, will be my successor upon death. All income, titles, and possessions will be passed along to you, including the weight of my office. For too long I have gone without naming an heir, I think I will sleep much better knowing my work carries on. The higher we climb the farther the fall Elsa, I hope you find the answer to my question.” With that, he exits the boardroom leaving me in stunned silence.

Rain splashes against my chrome corvette the following morning as my vehicle maneuvers itself through the congested streets of Nexus. My com sounds and Mr. Cassidy’s bulldog face appears on the dashboard monitor. His thick jaw and heavy eyes fill the screen. “Good morning Miss McDaniels. I apologize for the late notice but I’ve been called away to a Pinnacle Summit on Callisto. There’s been some… troubling news coming from the Outer Rim. Our operatives on Titan have all gone silent. Intelligence suggests a high probability the Prizraks are up to something, what exactly it is, well there are many theories, none of them heartening. As a Pinnacle member, I’m obligated to caste my vote on the direction to proceed. Expect me back by Monday at the latest. Your papers have been accredited and clearances upgraded. Move forward with our new approach if the reports are favorable.” He stops for a moment stroking a well-salted goatee. “Elsa, I’ve been around for some time now and know certain things others could not. History has shown that change is inevitable no matter how permanent things may seem. There’s a chill in these old bones of mine, a chill that makes me believe the conclusion of this time-period is drawing near. I do not know what is to come, but I know we must be prepared, SpaceTech must be prepared. I have a few aggressive strategies and defense protocols I’d like to discuss when I return. Enjoy your first taste as apex. Cassidy out.”

The elevator dings as I reach the 152nd floor of SpaceTech’s headquarters. I make my way to the head office. Old rivals poorly hide their intrigue as I pass by. Their shift in character would be comical if it didn’t make me want to vomit. Two corporate assholes stand by Cassidy’s door jockeying for rank. As I approach, they speak over each other with nauseating pleasantries. I blow by them, slamming the door in their faces. I chuckle as I hear a squeal. Word must have gotten out. In an arena like this, by midday everyone in this skyscraper will know I am to be the heir. My head turns as I contemple Cassidy’s chair. Warily, I walk over to it and gently ease into the embracing leather. I exhale, eyes close, hands grip the plush armrests. A single teardrop escapes and trickles slowly down my cheek. “This is it.” I whisper. “Elsa fucking McDaniels made it to the top.”

Enzo Chapter 2:

Promises Broken

A beam of sunlight streaming through the blinds creeps its way up to my face. Eyes fluttering open, my world throbs from a bitter migraine. “Where am I?” I ask myself disorientated. A shape stirs next to me. “Bianca?” I tenderly shake her shoulder. “Bianca, where are we?” Stretching catlike, she rolls lazily onto an elbow and brushes the thick dark hair from her eyes. “Who’s Bianca?” My vision narrows as the morning fog lifts. This isn’t her. “No one.” I say sharper than I intend. “Well, I can be your Bianca if you’d like?” The girl whispers provocatively into my ear, a sly grin on her smeared red lips. “No.” I say too firmly. “No, sorry but I don’t believe you can. Where are we… ah, your name again?” “Darling, I’m Eva, surely you remember last night? We made quite the scene at the party you and I. No? Well, this might jog your memory.” She disappears mischievously underneath the silver silk sheets. I push her head away and stand to begin searching for my discarded clothes. “Eva, it’s been a pleasure, really, but I must be on my way. I need to be getting… Shit! What time is it?” I frantically power on my datapad. Missed coms and messages fill my inbox. My sister is getting married at midday and the ceremony has already begun.

My taxi screeches to a halt in front of Grande Cattedrale, the oldest cathedral on Phobos. Truly a grandiose venue, my father outdid himself by reserving it. I walk up rows of mortared stone steps and push open the tall ornament oak doors. Hinges creak as I step into the narthex. Sunlight from the open door gleams across the marble floor making its way up to the dias where my sister and her husband finish their rites. Four-hundred of the most powerful men and women in the Union turn to stare as I hurry down the aisle to my place of honor. Gino, my younger brother, snorts in humor as I slump into the seat beside him. “Bravo brother, bravo!” He says with a wide grin, clapping his hands in quiet mockery. My father Lorenzo Morretti, the most powerful man on Phobos, glances over and sighs, ignoring the hushed voices as they spread throughout the cathedral. I look up at Josefina, catching her eye. She raises a brow at me, a wry smile playing at the corner of her lips. I shrug and return the look. My attention turns to my soon to be brother-in-law. I have grown fond of Conner over the years, he’s shown himself to be a genuine young man who cares deeply for my sister. My only problem is, well, he is a Walker.

Since the pioneers first planted their flags on the Martian moons, House Moretti and House Walker have been the two most influential forces in the Union. Phobos, the ancestral home of the Moretti, is the larger moon. It is respected for its cultural significance and historic capital city, Rizzon, the first Union settlement established. Deimos, very much the younger brother of the two, was only first colonized after the grievous War for Mars. Today it is recognized for its vibrant pop-culture and Hollywood scene. The Walkers, owning nearly three quarters of the Martian mines, are by far the richest and most prominent family on Deimos. I glance at their eldest son across the aisle. Felix sits with an arm casually draped around Bianca, whispering something into her ear, she giggles and kisses him lightly on the cheek. I look away, my heart thumping so hard I fear it might jump out of my chest.

Many believe this union today will solidify the two families, in doing so, sprouting a monarchy of sorts. Just gazing up at them now, standing enveloped in the gothic backdrop, it’s hard not to think of royalty. Myself, sweltering in last night’s soiled clothes looking as if I might spew chunks at any moment? Not so much. “Conner, Josefina, you are now united in union until death. Go forth, live long and true lives. Forever together. Forever one.” The priest closes the ritual with extended arms raised high above his head. The newlyweds stride down the aisle blushing beautifully as Union elite graciously applaud their approval.

The reception does not come soon enough. The two great families of Phobos and Deimos sit around a rustic stone table smiling and laughing with one another. I concentrate on the seared tuna in front of me, poorly hiding my fervent repulsion and unease. The family heads sit to my left enthusiastically debating the finest vintage year of the past decade. To my direct right sits Josifina, Conner, and Gino, and across the table, Bianca and Felix. The reception takes place in the Moretti Estate’s Grand Courtyard. Torches spark to life around the perimeter as dusk approaches darkening the scene. The ceremony was a spectacle, an opportunity for the entire Union to witness the power of a united Walker and Moretti. The reception, in contrast, is a rather simple affair for close friends and only the most respected of families. While Bianca was invited to the ceremony on behalf of Felix Walker, her family was not. Bianca’s parents, coming from humble origins, struck it rich by discovering a dense pocket of mineral rich mountains in Mars’ Anemic Range in the southern hemisphere. Phobian elite still consider them ‘new money’ a social status not to be associated with. Cassandra, Connor’s mother, does little to conceal her disdain for Bianca’s lowbirth. While Walker’s proud lineage runs through her husband Johnathan’s bloodline, players are quick to learn all roads lead through Cassandra. 

My eyes flicker over to Bianca. The girl has been like a magnet to me ever since that summer on the cape long ago. Doe-eyed with her thick brunette hair curled for the occasion, she looks gorgeous tonight in a low-cropped beige dress. Her heart-shaped face blushes as she attempts to hold back a laugh from one of my brother’s more vulgar jokes. Seeing her happy fills me with conflicted emotions. My entire being just wants to go back to how things were. Yet, at the same time, I’m filled with betrayal, anger, and confusion. Felix catches my gaze. “Enzo, you’ve certainly been quiet this evening. Strange, isn’t it?” He looks around the table, voice gaining momentum. “I mean usually when I’m around you I just can’t wait for you to shut up.” He says with a false laugh, tone dripping with mockery. I grip the table and stare hard into those cocky brown eyes. My muscles tense as I prepare to launch across the table. “Enzo.” Father says firmly. I hesitate a moment before sitting back down. “Exactly what I thought, a craven.” Felix says with a dramatic sigh. He looks over at Bianca possessively. “Surely you must understand why she left you? She needed a real man in the bedroom.” Springing from my chair, I circle around the table and drive him hard into the grass. We both get in a few good shots before Moretti guardsmen pull us apart. “Enough!” Lorenzo commands. “Enzo, I think you’ve drank enough for one night, excuse yourself.” I look up at Bianca and then to my sister. Josifina shakes her head and looks away, fighting back tears. My anger dissipates as shame takes root. Head lowered, I turn away from the gathering and leave the courtyard on unsteady legs.

Back in my personal quarters, I strip off my muddy wine-stained shirt and wait for the bath to fill. Mind cluttered and likely concussed, I find myself staring into the mirror. My left eye is bloodshot, the right one bruised closed, my face a mess with blood and dirt. “How did I get here?” I ask myself quietly. Life wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Mother wasn’t supposed to die and Bianca promised to grow old with me. An image flashes of her kissing Felix today in the cathedral. Without thinking, my fist goes through the mirror. Glass shards skitter across the bathroom floor. I look down at my bloody hand as if it didn’t belong to me. “Enzo? Enzo, what was that noise?” My father’s voice is deep with concern.” He opens the bathroom door, eyes darting around the scene trying to make sense of it all. “Son?” His voice softens with understanding. “Son, come here. Let me help you.”

Lorenzo clears off the kitchen table and sets down two glasses of ice water. We sit in silence for a long moment, both waiting for the other to speak. “Father, I’m sorry…” I start but find myself unable to continue. He lifts his chin to face me. Lorenzo Moretti is exactly how a father should be; kind, patient, with boundless love for his children and bloodline. He looks at me now, not with anger in his eyes, but disappointment. It hurts more than I can say. “Life can be cruel at times. When your mother died… well son, a part of me died with her.” My body tenses as I look up. He never talks about mother, the pain buried too deep within. “At first, I didn’t know how to carry on without her, I was so… so damn angry. Our future together was promised and then to have it ripped away as she brings my son into the world? No. No, I couldn’t accept that. I carried that weight with me for many years. Acceptance is not an easy thing Enzo, but it is necessary in order to move on. I know your love for Bianca is deep, but you must move past this pain, not just for your sake but for the welfare of our people. Son, we are Moretti, we don’t have the luxury to waste away in grief. This shaky alliance with the Walkers is important for the future of our Union. Many may have forgotten but I have not, the people of Mars are our people yet we let them rot in the red wasteland below. With Walker support we can finally succor the Martians, undoing centuries of atrocities. But in order for that to happen I need you by my side.” His brilliant eyes search mine. “My boy, put aside your grief and become the man you were meant to be.”

Toren Chapter 3: 

Rise and Grind 

Howles haunt the cool dawn air as I awake from tormented dreams. “Rise and grind roaches.” Company squad leader Klaus Klein rumbles. I notice the man giving me a measured look as I strap on gear. Short for words matched with an even shorter temper, Klaus is an unnerving juggernaut of a man. Scratching his scarred bald head, veteran eyes fill with contempt as he surveys the new recruits. They settle on my childhood friend Cormac who sits cross-legged rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Mount up!” Klaus’s gruff voice cuts through the crisp air. He gives Cormac a sharp kick in the rear for encouragement. My older brother Ronin walks over to help him gear up. Once our outfit is ready, we hop back on our rusted-down gravbikes which date all the way back to the War for Mars. Engines roar as we speed across the hard sand. A wasteland filled with radioactive impact craters, forgotten minefields, and dramatic storm systems, the Nebula Desert is as treacherous a place as they come. Disconcerting as it is, we have other things to occupy our minds. Marauders. Society outcasts, crankheads, serial killers, psychopaths, you name it, they all come out to the sands to find acceptance under Bora, the infamous marauder king. This desert we are in, it’s his domain, and I know the nightales I grew up fearing could not all be fiction.

After covering roughly a thousand klicks, the sun disappears behind Mt. Olympus and we dig in for the night. The desert night sky is incredibly clear this evening. I look up to where Mars’ two moons orbit above. The fact that the people who abandoned our planet now sit comfortably up on their moons has always filled me with contempt. When the Union was first formed they needed manpower to build and develop the foundations for civilization. Poorfolk from every corner of the earth signed up for a ticket and a dream. But history has a way of repeating itself, and the indentured servants like so many preceding them, were atrociously exploited. When the War for Mars became lost for the Regime, Chinese Dictator Nánzu Zŏu scorched the planet with an unprecedented amount of nuclear warheads as he exited the theater. If he wasn’t to be allowed Mars, no one would. Before the war crime occured, the wealthy Martians abandoned the red planet to take refuge on its two small moons, Phobos and Deimos. Today they live lavish lives on their rocks while the Regime holes up in stout military forts on Apollo, Earth’s moon. Us poor bastards living down on the red toil our entire lives in a form of wage slavery for our masters above. Forgotten, we mine the minerals for their ships, cultivate the food they eat, and scavenge anything worth a credit so we can put food in our bellies and they can continue living like gods.  

Ronin saunteres over to my burgeoning fire. “How we holdin’ little brother?” Long of leg and standing well over six feet tall, my brother is a giant among Martians. Stoic by nature, his words are always well-weighted, as if the oxygen spent itself is calculated. His smiles are rare, reserved only for a select few. He offers one now. “Feelin’ righteous Ron, we be livin’ the Martian dream ain’t we?” Ronin ponders upon that for a short moment. “Soldierin’ ain’t easy but it does line the pockets better than workin’ down under like pa.” I become sullen, not wanting to talk about our parents. When my father died in a mining accident, ma went off the rails selling just about anything we had for a gram of spacedust. She eventually overdosed one Sunday afternoon, I was seven. That would have been the end for me as well if Ronin hadn’t stepped up to support us. Over the years, he has become a seasoned freelancer, showing himself to a resourceful and dependable operative. Hell, even Klaus bends an ear to listen when his lieutenant speaks up.

My brother spies Cormac struggling to pitch his tent and frowns. “Mac’s gonna get himself killed nice n’ proper out here. Should’ve stayed in the kitchens where it’s safe.” That he could, I think to myself. Cormac knocked up a waitress a few months back and was caught stealing food for her. He was fired on the spot fast-like, and Mac being Mac, hadn’t thought to stash away a single credit. He glances over at the blooming fire. Giving up on the tent, he heads our way. My friend is one of the few Martians you could ever consider being fat. Short and squat, he has a mouth made for eating, laughing, and cursing. The contrast between him and Ronin is so stark it’s almost comical. That said, my brother loves him and has been his protector since we were kids on the street together. “Ron, this solderin’ is shit work, my ass from ridin’ be as raw as my ladies after a long night. Look!” He says pulling down his pants. Ronin grimaces. “Put that shit away Mac, no one wants to see that!” I manage between laughs. He pulls his pants back up and plops down next to me beside the fire. “Should be back with Marlene right about now multiplying the family stock instead of shiverin’ in this dismal place. How far till we reach the target point anyway?” Ronin looks him dead in the eye. “Be there midday tomorrow Mac. Make sure to have that rifle of yours ready, we may be needing it.” There’s a brief uncomfortable silence. “How many you reckon ya killed with that thang?” Cormac asks, eyeing my brother’s heavy machine gun perched on the rock beside him. “Shit, don’t think I could even lift it.” Ronin’s brow furrows as he tries to recall. “Lost count a while back. Too many I guess. A man should know how many lifestrands he’s cut.” He hesitates. “Didn’t want to mention this before, been holdin’ back on tellin’ Klaus, but I mean for this to be my last mission. Have been savin’ up credits for some time now and have my eye on a storefront near Lorent Square. Gonna buy it when we get back, turn it into a proper eatery. Not that slop ya’ll made at your last joint Mac, I’m talkin’ real proper Martian cookin’. Might be I need a few extra hands though, figure I could do worse than hire you two degenerates.” I’m taken aback. It seems bizarre imagining my big brother trading in his gun for a pair of oven mitts. A laugh escapes me. Embarrassed, he looks to the side. I try to apologize but can’t seem to get a word out, can barely breathe as it is. Cormac is quick to join, and soon, so does Ronin. When the fit subsides, I walk over to my brother, wrapping my arms around him in a firm hug. “Congrats Ron, you deserve this.” I say, slapping his back. Cormac looks over at us deviously. “Alright, alright. I’m in, but only if you double my previous wages.” We all chortle as Ronin scuffs him upon the head.

The next day our motley crew of veteran freelancers and green recruits slither up a great dune to scout out our target coordinates. Sweat stings my eyes by the time I reach the peak and peer over its edge. “Time to sack up and earn your pay boys.” Klaus’s gruff voice barks over our central com channel. A strong gust of wind sprays sand across my face as I survey the crash site. Tightening my goggles strap, I zoom in on the wreckage. A corvette the likes I have never seen before lays split open on the valley floor ten stories below. Sleek and dangerous looking, the sun gleams off its jet-black exterior. Ranging just under two-hundred feet in length, it’s clear this deep-space ship is made for one thing, stealth. “What the hell kind of craft is that?” Cormac whispers next to me. “We take them now!” Klaus’s voice rasps. “Alpha strike hard right. Beta on me, we flank in full force when they bite. Eagle, wait for my signal before engaging. We get in and out fast-like, no messin’ around here boys.” Ronin grasps my two shoulders firmly and looks hard into my eyes. No words need to be spoken between us. I give him a sharp nod and he turns to lead the tactical faint. The keenest sight in the company, I was quickly promoted to Eagle after disgracing everyone in long-range support drills, excluding my brother that is.

Ronin looks like a god of war as he leads Alpha on their intrusion. I see him prop his massive F-120 against a boulder to stabilize the kick. Once his comrades are in position, he lets fly. A torrent of death rains down on the marauders as they are caught unaware. To his right, Cormac stands tall, fearlessly providing cover as Ronin reloads. I’m filled with pride watching the two of them fight side-by-side. The marauders take shelter and return fire just as Beta engages their backside, chopping them down to the man. The battle is over in less than minutes. 

Unexposed from my vantage point, I scan the horizon while our men search the wreckage for our objective. After several minutes, I hear a wave of shouts coming from below. I hail Cormac’s com, there’s intense static interference from the interior of the ship. “Fuck me bloody. Those bastards are trying…if the Regime…” Static takes over just as my eye is drawn to the opposing dune. Hundreds of marauders peer down at the crash site, encircling my team of less than twenty. My stomach drops as they creep in to close the noose. I com Ronin. He picks up but can’t understand me through the severe static. I see his tall figure step outside the ship. A single round takes him in the chest, he looks down face a mask of confusion before dropping hard to his knees. Blood pools out from the wound soaking his gray jacket a dark crimson red. Hearing the shot, Cormac rushes out to him, making it all of five steps before his head disappears. Gore splatters against the ship’s hull. My friend’s headless body crumples to the ground painting the sand with his lifesblood. 

Bullets fly. Men die. I have an out of body experience, lost in some twisted dream unable to grasp what my eyes are seeing. I feel my com vibrate. Snapping me back to reality I hear Klaus’s voice, it’s grim and resigned to his fate. “Toren, listen carefully. You need to make it back to Illium. No heroics here kid, we’re finished. There is a nuke onboard this craft, a ‘moonbreaker’ our contractor called it. If the Regime somehow get their hands on this, we’re done, all of us. You need to find…” The line cuts out. I look down to see a titan in heavy rusted metal. King Bora. A tattered black cloak flaps violently from broad shoulders as he raises Klaus’s lifeless head towards his howling men.

Numb to the core, I stumble down the dune’s opposite face and walk for what seems like days. I’m not exactly sure why I carry on, my brother and best friend are dead, and ‘saving the world’ is the last thing on my mind. I trudge onward though step after step for one simple reason, I’m too damn stubborn to give up. If this desert is going to take me I’m going to rage against it with every step. Twenty paces later the Nebula wins. I stagger and collapse face-forward, letting the soft sand caress me in its warm embrace. “This is it.” I think to myself. A queer smile forms on my cracked lips as the last of my strength drains away. All of a sudden, I feel an immense wind swirling above me. Rolling onto my back I discover a desert cruiser floating over me blocking out the sun above. A coiled tacnet falls out of its belly’s haul. Draping itself over me, the tacnet wraps snuggly around my body and slowly reels me upward.

Edward Chapter 4:

The Pinnacle

Jupiter’s 79 moons orbit slowly around the cosmic giant. I sit gazing out one of my shuttle’s passenger windows with a generous three fingers of brandy in hand and find myself reflecting on the Pinnacle and Galilea’s turbulent upbringing. Deep within Jupiter’s thermosphere is where the unique chemical compounds were discovered to foster terraforming, the seed for life. Upon the brink of the Space Race, Ten of Earth’s largest corporations met for a monumental meeting and the Pinnacle was born. Instead of staking claims to planets and moons of the Inner Rim, they intuitively understood that the ultimate prize was Jupiter’s thermosphere. Their combined resources dwarfed those of the other factions, allowing them to claim the Galilean Moons. The Pinnacle, however, were not the only ones fixated on Jupiter. 

The Soviet Empire patiently built their Red Armada on Earth before advancing in full-force many years later. The two armadas clashed at the Belt, the colossal band of asteroids which separates Jupiter from the inner planets. The space battle that occurred was of extranomical proportions, recognized today as The Battle of The Belt. Retreating was not an option for the distinguished Prizrak “Ghost” Division held in reserve. When the scales began to tip, they were commanded to venture into the Outer Rim to live to fight another day while the rest of the forces provided a divergence by fighting to the bitter end. Without access to the essential terraforming gasses of Jupiter, the Prizrak survivors were forced to burrow deep within Uranus and Neptune’s moons, creating underground worlds. More than two centuries have come and gone since The Battle of The Belt, yet so little is known about the mysterious Prizrak and what happens inside their frozen moons. So far from the sun’s warmth, few ever voyage past Saturn, the region beyond is simply referred to as The Deep.

My focus returns to the cabin as the pilots initiate landing sequences and we descend into Callisto’s thick atmosphere. The second largest of Jupiter’s moons and third largest in the entire Terra System, Callisto is a goliath in its own right. Once terraformed, it became the industrial center for Pinnacle mining corporations and today is the beating-heart of Galilean industries. Huge smoke stacks and factories rise high from the cratered ground. Half the size of Earth, Callisto is home to more than 300 million people, most being lower class workers who migrate from all across the system for the promise of fair pay. My corvette smoothly touches down atop the central government tower. Wind whips against my face as I exit the craft and hurry towards awaiting doors. 

The summit starts like every other, with pleasantly conversing with those nearest to you. These discussions build and build until all become a part of the same discourse. I have little patience for such pointless small-talk, never have, but it is necessary when dealing with people of such ilk. There could never be a majority leader in this band of alphas for it would offset the balanced equality, sending us lions into devouring one another. Tycoons of industry, each of us earned the right to rule our respective sectors through conquest. To my right sits Mr. Brooke, the aged owner of Jetrip Corp, the largest small-vessel manufacturer in the Terra System. His liver-spotted hands tremble as he pages through the report. To my left sits Ms. Durant, the flamboyant CEO of Miradesign. A star risen in Galilean realty, she is the youngest member to ever ascend to the Pinnacle. Durant’s attempts to flirt and flatter me fall well short of her intended mark.

I survey the room of puissant individuals who have risen to such lofty heights, the Pinnacle being the very vertex of ambition. Eight members have come to Callisto while two have opted to link-in from afar, holograms float in their respective places. Mr. Brooke snorts in disgust as the Bulgar brother’s transparent figures flicker to life. “The class of our Pinnacle these days, too important to even attend a summit it seems.” He mutters to himself. Mr. Griffin, the well-respected owner of Virtue Enterprises, clears his throat to signal attention. “Friends, it is good to see your faces around our platinum table once again. You have all been briefed on the recent developments coming from the Outer Rim. Our diplomats on Titan have forwarded concerning reports of queer activity occuring on the far-off moons of Uranus. They have requested immediate military aid as they believe the Prizrak are amassing an invasion.” Ms. Durant cackles. “The Prizrak are frozen in their holes my good sir, they don’t have the means to amass anything more than a legion of rats.” The room erupts with laughter. I do not join. “Ms. Durant, I can assure you this is no laughing matter. These reports are real and have been confirmed by credible sources. The Prizrak are amassing an armata. Where they’re getting the ships and personnel from is another matter entirely. There are still many unknown variables, which is why this summit is so imperative.” I clear my throat and stand to address the room. It is past time I let go of this weight. “My fellow members, I have something that must be brought to light. Over the past two years I have been working on a project…”

The room suddenly powers down and goes dark. Disturbed by the power outage, members whisper to each other in hushed tones. The room’s monitors abruptly spark on, painting the scene in dim blue lighting for several long moments. Then the wrinkled face of a man who we all thought died long ago appears on the screens. “The Pinnacle.” He spits the name like a curse, his ancient voice hoarse and pained as if each word was a battle. “Your ancestors and mine fought for the fumes of Jupiter long ago. Yours won. Mine lost. My people have fought the frost for centuries while you Galileans bathe in sunlight. But now we rise! We rise from The Deep, not to take your fumes or to rule your abhorrent spheres. We have come for one simple reason, to turn off the lights.” Supreme Leader Viktor Morozov goes silent, his face empty of expression, except for two empty pits of hateful white eyes which peer down on us with nurtured abhor. A gleam begins to materialize on Callisto’s horizon. Many dart to the windows, I stay seated. The light continues to expand and the room begins to shake. My colleagues lose their composure. Many yell empty threats at Viktor, some pray to gods they never believed in, others paralayzed by fear break down and weep. I stumble to my feet to walk toward the window. Closing my eyes, I press both hands against the glass until I feel heat radiating against my palms. Opening my eyes, I roar as the nuclear holocaust consumes me.

Enzo Chapter 5:

Call For Arms

A chill works its way down my spine as I watch footage from the annihilation of Callisto. What starts as a small speck of light expands rippling across the planet, much like a stone dropped in the center of a still pond. Once the blaze has scorched every living thing on the surface, magma red cracks show their color before the entirety of the sphere eventually collapses in on itself. I’m captivated by it for some reason. As unsettling as it is, it’s breathtaking to witness, maybe even beautiful if I didn’t know more than 300 million people had just been murdered.

I manage to tear myself away from the monitor. Rolling onto my back, I stare up at my vaulted bedroom ceiling focusing on the wooden beam above my head. It’s been two days since the wedding yet the words of my father still linger in my head. I woke today feeling tired. Tired of feeling hurt, of being angry, depressed, confused. Exhausted from missing and hating Bianca. I find my feet and make for the bathroom to brush my teeth. Setting my toothbrush down, I take a hard look at the man in the mirror. This isn’t working. Drinking to oblivion just to wake up with girls like Eva is not filling the hollowness inside me. Stepping back into the living quarters, I survey the disarray around me. Disregarded meals and half empty bottles litter my villa. A ripe scent wafts its way from the kitchen. My eyes find the liquor cabinet, I walk over and begin pouring bottles into the sink. When I’m finished I scan the room for more things to clean. Hours disappear until I’ve finally run out of tasks. I glance around the room feeling a sense of accomplishment. Remembering my father’s notification, I quickly dress and prepare for the day. I find him in his study with mountains of paperwork stacked on either side of his oak desk. Dark bags rest under weary eyes. I can’t remember ever seeing him this fatigued. “On time I see. Good.” Lorenzo offers a tired smile. “We must be on our way, the Union has scheduled the emergency meeting for noon.”

My father, brother, and I arrive at Capitol Hill just as the Walkers are stepping out of their shuttle. “Any word from your son Johnathan?” Lorenzo shouts over the loud engines. “Not yet, but I can assure you they are safe. Our island on Europa is probably the safest place they could be. In all likelihood they’re just hungover from an eventful evening. Trust me Lorenzo, our island is probably the safest place they can be right now.” My father nods his head but I notice the doubt behind his eyes. We make our way to the Assembly Room where Grand Ministrator Franz stands behind the podium waiting patiently for Union Members to settle into their seats. When they do, he begins. “Families of our Union, today is not the day for mourning Callisto and its citizens. There are no words that could give justice to the sorrow that fills our hearts, but we cannot allow our woe to distract us from the present moment. With no response from Pinnacle leadership it’s time we took matters into our own hands. The Prizrak have shown themselves to be the greatest threat to our system in the modern era. We must not sit idle while they wage mayhem. Today we vote on the declaration of total war.” Methodically, we each stand to cast our votes. “422 votes for, 78 against, we have a majority. As of this moment total war against the Prizrak is in effect. The Patriot Armada will burn into The Deep while the Spirit Armada takes a defensive perimeter around our dominion. It is plausible that the Regime have designs of their own. Our generals have informed us that the Patriot Armada will be ready for deployment by the week’s end. Families of old, call your banners. Let us do what the Pinnacle failed to do so long ago; erase these last Russian savages from existence.”

We fly home in silence over the Armantic Sea, the weight of the day falling heavy on all of our shoulders. After centuries of peace, our Union is at war. My father, a man who committed his entire life to peace and progress, hasn’t spoken a word since departing the capital. His wristcom rings and he moves into his personal suite for privacy. When he remerges there is a grimness on his face that terrifies me. “Father?” I start before he cuts me off with a raised hand. Turning his attention to the sea, he remains in deep thought as we draw near the Moretti Estate.

When we land he motions for me to follow him. We walk down flights of creaking wooden stairs to the dust-covered Moretti wine cellar. A place rarely visited, it’s damp and filled with a musky scent. Lorenzo walks over to one of the mortared walls and pushes against a stone of a distinctively lighter complexion. The wall groans as it pivots inward revealing a hidden passageway. “Come.” Father commands before I have time to question. We walk down a narrow corridor which eventually opens into a domed cellar. A young man around my age sits on a wooden stool, his dirty hands bound behind him. Father walks over and cuts the arresting twine before taking the chair opposite of him. “Toren, I must apologize for your treatment but these precautions were necessary. I promise no harm will come to you.” Rubbing his raw wrists, the wiry Martian shakes out his dirty-blonde hair and spits on the ground between them. “Grand, well seeing as I already told your goons everything I know, you can; Go. Fuck. Yourself.” Lorenzo nods to one of the guards. “Play it.” Callisto comes alive on the vintage projector. I watch the man’s face change as he witnesses the dramatic death of the great moon. There is a moment of silence in its wake. Lorenzo patiently waits for him to speak. With a deep sigh, he sits up straight and mutters. “What do you want from me?” “My name is Lorenzo Moretti, this is my son Enzo.” He jesters to me. “We offer no excuses for how the moonborn have treated your people over the years. A simple truth seldom few seem to remember is that Phobos, Deimos, and Mars are not three independent spheres but one union. Our survival depends on one another, it always has, which is exactly what brings us here today. I am told you are the sole survivor of a contract designed to locate a downed vessel in the Nebula Desert, a mission your brother and friend died during. That vessel turned out to be a stealth corvette transporting a moonbreaker, kin to the one you just saw destroy Callisto. Considering your loss, I’m assuming you care very little about anything right now. I’m not going to ask you to save our people, Toren, I’m here to offer you revenge.”

My father and I exit back into the dimly lit corridor. Lorenzo locks heads with me, his hand resting on the back of my neck. “Son, everything is at stake now. This is happening. This is real. The fate of our worlds balances on a razor’s edge. You and Toren must go down to Mars and find this desert king before he can sell the moonbreaker to the Regime. It is imperative this be done discreetly. We cannot permit our enemies to know we are aware or to provoke mass panic at this hour.” He pulls away, his stern face relaxing into a sad smile. “Enzo, my son, words cannot express the pride I feel when I look at you. You have a fierce spirit, much like your mother. The force in you has the power to move worlds if you can learn to wield it. If not, I fear it may destroy you.” Heavy hands fall on my shoulders. “Never hesitate, always trust your gut, and do not stop until you find that goddamn nuke.”

Toren Chapter 5:

Into Darkness

Hardened killers surround me. Lorenzo dispatched a platoon of Arditi to accompany us to Mars. The Arditi legionnaires are renown for their brutal efficiency and unwavering zeal to the Moretti family. The platoon leader, Viola, is an impressive woman who looks to be in her mid-thirties. Long midnight hair is bound tightly behind defined shoulders. Her chestnut skin is marked with white scars, one snakes across her right cheek from nose to ear. She is not beautiful, not in the conventional way, but there is something uncommonly alluring about the tall woman. A feline deportment matching that of a lioness which pairs well with laughing eyes. The way her men look at her, Enzo included, I can tell half of them worship her, the other half want to bed her, but all regard her with deep respect and loyalty.

Our convoy picks up dust as I once re-enter the harsh sands of the Nebula Desert. I don’t feel scared like the first time coming here, any fear has melted away and been replaced by sustained rage. With my guidance, we locate the remnants of the downed vessel. Marauders have picked the site clean, salvaging any parts they could. I walk around the scene before hiking up to the vantage point where I watched King Bora and his men butcher my friends. My memory has the raiders first appearing from the northeast dune. With nothing better to go on, we embark hoping the nomadic marauders are just up ahead.

Valles Marineris appears in the distance as I eye the changing sky above. The Arditi might not sense it, but there’s a nasty storm coming. The wind has picked up significantly. The sky is now an ominous red, lightning slashes the clouds. A low brontide vibrates through the air. I’ve tried telling Enzo shits about to get weird, but the entitled asshole will have none of it. Phobians don’t get many storms on their pristine rock, at least nothing close to the sheer savagery of a Martian dust storm. 

“We have much less than an hour till things get mental out here!” I shout to Enzo over the thunder. He sniggers. “I thought Martians were made of iron! Us Phobians do not run from the weather.” He’s exactly the type of Phobian we Martians loathe; handsome, rich, privileged, with a foot long stick up his arse. It takes more than a little restraint not to make a ruin of his perfectly angular face. Our pack continues on for another half hour before a massive wall appears in our rearview mirrors. Enzo eyes the tsunami of dust, awed by its magnitude. Viola is less impressed. “We make for Valles Marineris, prep jetboots, regroup at the canyon floor.” She drawls into her com seemingly blasé with the current dangers. I stare at her with disbelief, then Enzo. “Have y’alls wits gone rust? No one goes into Marineris. No one. Haven’t you heard the…” “I’ve heard the blasted stories!” Enzo growls at me in a low predatory voice. “But if V says it’s our best shot at surviving this, then it’s our best shot. Not even that storm will follow us down there. Unless you have an alternative in mind?” Damn him. Shit’s turning from weird to down right wrong. “Nah, got nothin’, let’s go for a dive!” He grins casually and clips a fiberwire to my desert tactical armor. “Hold on tight Martian.”

Over 2,500 miles in length and four miles deep, Valles Marineris is the largest canyon in the entire Terra System. The sheer size of the chasm channels makes Earth’s Grand Canyon seem like a minor rift. From orbit, Marineris appears as a large gash which stretches nearly a quarter of the planet’s circumference. Its genesis is a much debated topic. Some scientists believe it is the result of a large tectonic crack in the planet’s crust, others give credit to water or carbon dioxide erosion, some even suspect it was once a massive channel of lava flowing from Pavonis Mons. The Union’s Principle Planetary Engineer had hoped to fill the canyon with water and build cities along its banks. That dream, like so many others, was forgotten when the Chinese decimated the planet. What happens down there today is as much a mystery as its origin.

Darkness greets us as we plunge into the abyss. Our platoon safely ejected from the rovers just as the raging storm threatened to overcome us. I dangle underneath Enzo as we slowly descend the four miles to the canyon floor on jetboots. The temperature rises and air thickens with the bittersweet pungent scent of ozone making my eyes water. When we finally hit the ground I’m surprised to find myself standing on soft warm sand. We lower nightlenses from our combat helmets and group up around Viola who speaks in a low voice. “We wait out the storm here. Toren, how long until the hell above clears?” I look up, unable to see even a sliver of light. “We have several different forms of storms on Mars. That one up there, nasty as it gets, but things like that tend to blow over fast-like. I reckon one, maybe two hours till it’s safe.” Nodding to herself, Viola looks around her men. “Good. We sit tight then. Concentrate your charge packs, we’ll need every ounce of battery to make it back to the surface. Use your optics only…” One of the soldiers cuts her off. “What on Phobos is that?” I can’t see a damn thing until I switch my nightlenses to its torch setting. There looks to be a small cave or tunnel carved into the canyon wall. We approach cautiously. Sure enough it’s a narrow tunnel, less than ten feet in height but with no end in sight. Enzo walks up to its entrance. “Well shit, this could be one of two things; some kind of predator’s den, which would be fucked, or some kind of marauder hideout, which down here, would be even more mental. Either way we got time to kill. What do you all say we go down the rabbit hole?” Viola’s plush lips twist into a sardonic smile. She smacks his butt to the mirth of the platoon and we follow him into the tunnel. Damn, Moretti might be tougher than I thought.

We strip off our jetboots and creep barefoot through the compact tunnel emitting not a sound. It’s not long before we see a flicker of light ahead. Laughter of drunken men echoes off the walls. On Viola’s signal, we deactivate our nightlenses and advance into the dimly lit cavern. The Arditi drop half a dozen marauders before they can even get off a shot. It’s hard not to be impressed by their lethal precision. Muffled sounds come from a small side chamber. I enter. A torrent of emotion hits as I discover my brother sitting gagged and bound to seven other prisoners. Ronin’s head sags over his bare chest. He’s covered in dried blood and looks to be in critical condition. I rush to him. Kneeling, I take his head into my hands. “Ronin!” My voice breaks. “Ronin, it’s Toren. Ronin wake up, wake up!” His head rolls upward. Blinking, his green eyes squint up at me as if I were a stranger before lighting up with recognition. “Toren. The Regime has them.” He mumbles, battling for each word. Enzo, who had been standing in the doorway, comes forward, voice quick and even-toned. “Ronin, my name is Enzo Moretti. Are you certain Bora gave the moonbreaker to them?” “Yes.” My brother replies with a surge of strength. “But they have another. Evacuate your rocks, they mean to blow them both.” Enzo stares in shock at my brother. His nostrils flare as he inhales and turns to Viola who leans against the doorframe. “Is there a transmitter beacon down here?” She asks her men without bothering to look back. “Yeah V. That vessel’s transmitter is down here. Marauders hardwired it into a com-beacon, only something of that strength can make its way through all this mass to the surface, let alone orbit.” 

Enzo moves back into the main chamber to punch in the mission code. His handsome face looks to be made of stone as he waits. An operator finally picks up. “Swordfish requesting nest access. Clearance code: falcon 9-7-8-2.” There’s a momentary pause while the operator confirms the code. “Affirmative Swordfish, patching you through now.” A deep regal voice comes over the other line. “Lorenzo, go ahead.” Enzo wastes little time. “Father, the Regime have acquired not one but two moonbreakers. Our intel suggests they mean to use them on Phobos and Deimos. We must evacuate the moons immediately.” There’s a brief silence as the gravity washes over Lorenzo and everyone in the cave. “Understood. Initiating a full-scale evacuation. We will use Illium as the rally point for Union leadership. Assist the Walkers any way you can, we must be a united front in this.” Lorenzo’s voice becomes more personal. “Son, remember my words. Good luck.” The line cuts, Viola turns to address her men. “Luca, Marco, split into squads. Scan the area for any intel. Stefano, do what you can for those prisoners, they look to be in shit shape. Piero, stay behind and assist with the beacon. We need to reach as many Martian bases as we can before evac shuttles make landfall. Set your watches, we jet in exactly one hour.”

Enzo gives me a brief jetboot tutorial before we embark towards the surface. The Arditi field surgeon did what he could for Ronin, but his condition is dire. I wrap him in a bear hug as we lift off, the Arditi do the same with the surviving prisoners. Time moves slowly as we ascend out of the canyon. After what seems like an eternity, a sliver of light appears. “Ronin, we’re almost out. Everythings gonna be okay. Hold on. Just hold on!” We rise out of the canyon and land on the rust-red surface. The storm has cleared and the night twinkles bright as millions of vessels speed down towards Mars. I gently lay my brother’s large frame on the hard sand. The entire sky suddenly lights up with a bright flash followed by another burst in quick succession. When the blinding light dissipates, I look up in horror to see red cracks crawling over Phobos and Deimos. I’m pulled back down as Ronin struggles to breathe from punctured lungs. His last moments are not like those in the movies. There are no brave last words. No touching final goodbye between brothers. He just lays there gasping for air while I scream for help, unable to do a damn thing for the man who supported me my whole life. The color drains from Ronin’s face as his tortured breaths finally cease. Lifeless eyes remain open gazing at the genocide above. I close them, feeling the dark anger boil after watching my brother die a second time. Managing to find my feet, I stumble over to Enzo who remains deathly still, his eyes transfixed on the extermination of his worlds as if it were a dream. My voice is hoarse with emotion. “We will kill them. We will kill them all.” He doesn’t look at me right away but when he does his petrified eyes find strength in mine. I see rage replace fear as he nods slowly, a fierce look forming upon his face.

Part II

Friends & Foes

“We stand on the edge of a new frontier. Since the dawn of days we have looked up to ponder the night sky, wondering what lies beyond this sphere we call Earth. The time has come to find those answers, to push the limits of man. But make no mistake, we have opened Pandora’s box, and now there is no turning back.”

Christopher F. Morris

Atmospheric Meteorologist – Pioneer of Terraformic Theory

Monumental Planetary Address: 

August 4th, 2222

Akira Chapter 6: 

Bright Star

Ash blocks out the sun. The ground shakes as another plume erupts from Max Montes, shooting an ash cloud a mile high into the dim orange-tinted sky. Positioned fifty miles west of Ginru, the ancestral home of the Honisho Dynasty, the volcano stands dramatic in the arid landscape. Venus, the hottest planet in the Terra System, is a dry climate littered with active volcanoes. Upon arrival, terraformers struggled to tame the sphere’s turbulent disposition. An intense cooling initiative was undertaken before a hospitable atmosphere could be engineered. While the land today may seem dormant, not far under the surface lies a raging beast burning at temperatures over 900°F.

Venus completes a full rotation every eight months compared to Earth’s twenty-four hours cycle. When the sun finally reappears after four months of night, it is customary for Venusians to welcome it atop Max Montes, 36,000ft above sea level. My three older brothers undertook the ceremonial climb five years ago when the volcano suddenly erupted and claimed their lives. Thus is life on this volatile world, we defy the elements themselves by calling it our home. When my brothers died my mother went into a dark depresion, or so I was told. Father tried to return my mother’s smiles to no avail but was able to convince her another son could cure her sorrow. As fate would have it the cosmic joker made me a girl. On the very same day I was born, my mother threw herself into a lava flow to return to her boys. 

My name is Akira Hoshino but most simply call me Brightstar. Akira in Japanese meaning bright and clear dawn, Hoshino meaning starfield. I may not be the son my mother wanted but I am the daughter my father needed. At thirteen years of age I wake each day to train, study, eat, and sleep. Rinse and repeat. As the heir to the ancient Hoshino line there is simply no room for personal passions, something I learned at a very young age.

“Akira!” I snap back to my senses just as my opponent’s blade crashes down. My ears ring from the vibration of sword meeting visor. Kenji laughs and mocks me with a casual bow. My aged mentor Asahi scowls. “Child, you are dead. Oh the tears your father will shed when I inform him.” I shake away the dizziness and focus returns. “It won’t happen again Sensei.” I say tightly. “How could it child? You are dead!” Burēdomasutā of The Swords, Asahi is deeply regarded in Venusian culture. Over a century of life lived, there is still lethal strength in that bent back and gnarled hands. Graceful in both speech and movement, he is seemingly mindful of even the smallest of actions. “Still your mind, ease your pulse, surrender to the rise and fall of your breath. Do not just look at your opponent, look through them. Understand what moves them, how they think, only then will you become worthy of a pulse sword.”

“Again!” He growls. I revert my stance, shoulders squared, knees bent, I await Kenji’s charge. Three years my elder and two heads taller, Kenji is a formidable opponent. Apprentices of the blade, we have trained together since we were old enough to walk. Unlike myself, Kenji comes from humble origins. His father was little more than a household guard when he saved his emperor from an assassin. In the end, the hero succumbed to his wounds leaving his infant son Kenji an orphan. When Emperor Haruto learned of this, he took the boy into his very own house to honor his father’s great sacrifice. Without any siblings, Kenji has been as close to an older brother as one could. If he is thunder I am lightning, and while Kenji may be stronger than me, faster even, he lacks patience and grace. As his blade arcs down on me again, seeing his weight shift I suddenly pivot, throwing him slightly off balance. Spinning away to his exposed rear, I slash his hamstrings taking his legs out from under him. My sword pricks his neck as he lays in the dirt. Asahi sighs dramatically. “Kenji the Witless. That is how they will remember you boy if you don’t learn to control that spirit of yours. Do not simply attack your enemy, anticipate them. Once more!” We take our stances. “Burēdomasutā!” A young soldier with the Hoshino sun crested upon his breastplate strides into the training yard. He bows low to Asahi. “Sir, the emperor has requested your audience at once. Akira, Kenji, you are summoned as well.” The old captain stomps his foot in acknowledgment. “Let us make haste.”

Emperor Haruto’s quarters are not majestic. There are no Persian rugs to warm the cold granite floor, no decorative tapestries to display the power of his house, no arrogant self-portraits to give the impression of immortality. The room, like the man, is spartan. Nothing angers father more than rulers who flaunt their wealth. For him, power is duty, a great responsibility that should not be yearned for or sought after. At first glance you might mistake the emperor for one of his servants. However, if you look beyond the simple garb and gaunt figure, you will notice the heavy dark eyes sparkling with intellect, the rigid posture brimming with potential energy. The emperor does not dress himself in power, he embodies it, which is why he is so beloved by the one billion Venusians he shepherds over. Many think him to be a god, but I know better. They don’t see him in the quiet hours of the night waking from terrors. They don’t see how he contemplates the judgments he is forced to make, how the weight of the world can bear down on a single person. Only myself, Kenji, and his captain are allowed to see the man behind the armor.

As we enter the chambers, my father takes a short moment to consider me, eyes shining he grunts his approval. Pouring himself a small cup of unfiltered saké, he motions us towards the balcony. We stand in a comfortable quietude for several minutes gazing out over Ginru. The bustling city by day is tranquil at night. A gentle breeze washing over the balcony, the stars twinkle softly above. 

The emperor is not one to waste breath, the words he permits himself are measured and true. When he finally does speak, his voice is slow, methodic, each word bearing meaning. “I have always tried to make the right decisions, to do what’s best for our people, but all too often the choices I’m faced with seem impossible. Over my rule, I’ve come to learn that there are no right or wrong decisions, only the strong people who make them. That daughter, is the Hoshino inheritance. I tell you this now because I have come to a decision that will shake the very foundation of our world.” He turns from the railing to face us. “Long ago our ancestors made a pact with the Union, a promise to come to each other’s aid if the Chinese Regime attacked. We broke that promise, and in the hour of their greatest need, we watched with closed ears as the Regime laid waste to the red planet. Shame, not pride, is what I feel when I reflect back on our ancestors. We will not make the same mistake twice. Venus will answer the Martian call. We will align with the Union against this common enemy. Do not be mistaken though, this is far more than just absolution, this is about our people.” He pauses as if trying to find the right words. An eerie tone creeps into the depths of his voice. “Isolation does strange things to the mind.” He says with a measure of understanding. “The Prizrak have now been isolated inside their frozen moons for hundreds of years. They rise now not with the intent to conquer, but to destroy.”

A tall dark-bearded man solemnly enters the balcony and bows deeply to my father and Asahi. He winks over at Kenji before walking over to muss up my hair. I find myself smiling despite the weight of the moment. “Giovanni.” My father greets with firm affection. “Kuragari will not be pleased.” Gio says amused. “That concerns me not. An emperor commands, an advisor obeys. The politico will come to the understanding that some wars cannot be won with words.” Haruto looks us over, each in turn. “You four are my kazoku, my family, and I will rely on you all immensely in the coming days. Tomorrow I mean to announce our course to the people of Venus, but our preparation begins now. Giovanni, it’s past time you returned home, your nephew and people have need of you. Teach them The Way and guide them through the darkness to come.” Gio looks distressed but bows obediently. Haruto turns to Asahi with great admiration in his eyes. “Sensei, awake The Swords, tell them their emperor requests their blades.” He looks over at Kenji, a crack of a grin emerges on his face. “And give the boy one, it is his time.” Kenji stares back at his emperor, a man who has been like a father to him. He falls to his knees. When he looks up there are tears streaming down his bare cheeks. Asahi unsheathes his idle pulsesword and places it in front of Kenji. “The boy is dead. A man is born. Rise a knight of the sword.” Kenji slowly picks up the blade and finds his feet, his jaw clenches with determination. My father’s heavy gaze falls on me last. He steps close and brushes a loose strand of hair from my face. “My light. Get some rest, tomorrow we begin the long road to redemption.” 

I wake in the small hours of the night with the overwhelming notion that something is wrong. I do not wait long before my bedroom door slides open. Asahi enters holding a small glow-orb. “Child.” He whispers as he draws near. Tears flood ancient eyes as he kneels beside my bed. “Oh child, how am I to bring you such news? Your father…” His voice cracks with emotion. “The emperor is dead. Poison was found in his saké. As we speak, rumors spread that Giovanni is behind the assassination, that he murdered Haruto after learning Venus would not support Mars and his family. We know that to be false, but our world does not. Karugara is behind this, that I am sure. You must leave before…” “I will kill that snake. Karugara will die upon my blade!” I yell out, overcome with anger. “Quiet child, ease your spirit. Your heart is in the right place but your mind is not. Kuragari is much to be feared. He does not fight with the sword, but with that deviled tongue of his. If he has indeed slayed our emperor, he will have already set in motion his rise to power. Most likely on the premises that you are too young and I too old to rule. You are now the biggest threat to his designs.” Lowering his gaze, he shakes his head in shame. “I fear I cannot protect you like I might have in my younger years. Brightstar, you must leave Venus to safeguard the Hoshino line. This is not fleeing as it may seem, it is retreating to a place of strength. You will depart with Giovanni and take refuge with his family on Mars. I will deal with the traitor. You must go now before Karugara can lockdown the sky. Take nothing but your sword and the lessons your father and I have taught you.

Elsa Chapter 7:

Dangerous Games

It is a quiet night in the Cassidy estate. The mansion, like the majority of Edward’s belongings, was passed along to me in his will. I lay awake in an insomniatic state, the norm as of late. It has been over a month since the death of Callisto and my ascent to power. I’m troubled though, not by the complexities of my office, it is something else entirely, something I cannot quite pinpoint. This home, for one, is far too big for me. Walking the grounds, it’s as if a family who never existed wove their life stories within the foundations. It is too quiet and I find myself missing the constant chatter of traffic below my old flat. For all my efforts I cannot make this place feel like home. I often dreamt of owning an estate like this, but I always pictured it different… warmer, brighter, maybe less lonely? Here I feel a prisoner to solitude. 

After tossing and turning as the hours tick by, I submit to my insomnia. Throwing off the covers, I don my plum velvet robe with matching slippers and make for the kitchen. It is a much longer walk than I’m used to. The studio I lived in before was small and cramped. The kitchen, living room, and bedroom all being tucked together in one cubic unit. Anyone of the ten bathrooms in this mansion would easily equal that of the entire living space. I walk down the medieval hallway, slippers echoing faintly against the waxed marble floor. Priceless paintings hang systematically between sensored torches that spark activate as I pass by. Without any ancestors of note to commemorate, the portraits are of influential figures in Earth’s history. Firelight casts queer shadows against their faces, masking them in wavering light. I stop before Edward’s one and only self-portrait. He looks kin to the legends around him. The man’s intellect always awed me. A true genius, his mind worked in ways others could not, his engineering feats being second to none. In the months leading up to the destruction of Callisto, rumors had been floating around that he had finished a new creation, one unlike any before. However, I have yet to uncover any evidence of such a thing, even in his personal logs. Sighing, I shake my head and continue down the hall where I am greeted by the savory scent of butter and eggs. 

I find my butler Kumar humming pleasantly to himself as he prepares an early breakfast for the staff. I grin in amusement as he whirls around the kitchen. I call out to him but he can’t hear past his earpods. I walk over to tap his shoulder just as he pivots towards the center island. Startled, he recoils and drops the sizzling pan, egg yoke splatters across the tiled floor. Bombarding me with elaborate apologies, he cleans up the mess and gets started on my breakfast. I ask him to bring it to the courtyard when ready. His eyes light up as he eagerly suggests visiting the wishing well.

A gentle autumn breeze welcomes me as I push open the glass-paneled wooden doors. The sun threatens the dark as a subtle light illuminates the eastern sky. I decide to venture into the garden maze to see this wishing well Kumar seems so infatuated with. Winding my way to the center, I find The David standing proud. I sit down on one of the many granite benches and curiously analyze the sculpture’s figure. Unable to find fault, my mood sours and I reflect back on all the handsome assholes I’ve met over the years. Restraining the sudden urge to break the priceless sculpture, I divert my attention towards the well beneath his feet where ancient coins glitter in the moonlight. I stare at my reflection in the dark blue water. Ripples distort my image but I notice the deep frown set upon my face. 

I have never been considered a ‘beauty’ but neither am I homely. My frame is slim yet not toned. My narrow face is inlaid with a long delicate nose and close-set eyes. My forehead and jaw are both too pronounced, thick nutbrown hair lustrous but prone to tangles. The only thing that truly sets me apart are my bright green eyes. They look back at me now, scrutinizing my figure as intently as they did David. Snorting in ill-humor I decide to steal a coin from the bastard. My mind drifts as I sit rubbing the faded American quarter, contemplating what I could possibly wish for. For the first time in many years I find myself wishing for love. There is a beauty underneath the cold armor I’ve forged, but I have been too unwilling to ever let slip my guard. Growing up, I saw my father abuse my mother countless times. I loved my mother deeply but it angered me how pathetically weak she could be. One night after being fired from his latest job, my father came home in a drunken stupor. He forced himself on my mother, beating her bloody. I woke to the horror of my mother’s screams and father’s shouts. I ran into their bedroom and bashed my father’s head in with a table lamp knocking him unconscious. When I told my mother it was time to leave she became frantic, desperately bandaging his head despite the wounds of her own. Packing my belongings with angry tears streaming down my face, I promised myself I would never be used like my mother, I would rather die. I left home that night never to return. My past traumas fade as I hear leaves rattling across the cobblestone path. Belly rumbling, I decide to head back to the kitchen to check on my breakfast. As I turn to go, a sequence of beeps protrude from the well and a hologram flickers to life. “Hello Ms. McDaniels, we have much to discuss.” 

Leonardo Gerrard’s holofigure shimmers in the dim dawn light. “Your first question, of course, is where this transmission is coming from. I needed to speak to you privately, which these days has become more complicated with the Bulgar brothers spying on us. Fortunately enough, your butler Kumar is a resourceful man and was able to smuggle this device into your estate for me. A soundcloak has been established around us, meaning no little birds can tune into our chat here.” Leo pauses, as if contemplating a decision already made. “Elsa, you and I are pawns, nothing more than pieces on a board for the Bulgars to move about in their dangerous game. However, they have overlooked one critical detail. Pawns can become queens if they can navigate the board carefully.” 

“The Bulgars are rotten, something we all assume but are all too afraid to voice. I recently uncovered proof, undeniable proof that they are in league with the Prizrak. A bold accusation I know, and by telling you this I have now put my life in your hands. See, I have always viewed myself as somewhat of a ladies-man.” His boyish face breaks into a devilish grin before becoming sincere. “Meaning, I believe that I understand you Elsa. You play the bad chick, skin tough as nails right? But if I’m not mistaken, it is more of a defense mechanism rather than a personal quality. Which leads me to believe there is a whole lot of good under that steel armor of yours. Personally, I find it all quite attractive.” There’s that smile again. “But more importantly, I find it trustworthy. Frankly, the fact that old dog Cassidy trusted you is good enough for me.”

“Now, you’re probably deciding if this is some slick Bulgar ploy to test your metal. I mean, why on Ganymede would you trust a Gerrard right? My parents were bastards, I won’t deny it. They were corporate tyrants who didn’t give a shit about anything except wealth and rank. My parents were wrong about most things, but were precise about my worth. I truly haven’t done anything with my life. I grew up wanting for nothing, but over the years I’ve grown tired of the empty charade and aimless pursuit. Thirty-seven years of life lived and I have nothing to show for. No accomplishments, no great deeds, everything I have I’ve gained from the labors of my ancestors.” Leo grimaces, clearly uncomfortable with disclosing such profound insecurities. Clearing his throat, his tone becomes more formal. “The Bulgars have deceived themselves into believing they can simply manage the Prizrak. They themselves are but pawns though, pawns in a larger  more dangerous game. Sphere by sphere, the Prizrak mean to swallow us whole until there’s nothing left but dust. Their aspiration for extermination knows no bounds.” 

Glancing to the side he sighs. “ Look, I’m under no fantasy of heroism, but I do desire to avoid this end we’re running towards. As you well know, my family is one of the largest manufacturers of small-arms in the entire Terra System. After my parent’s death on Callisto, I gained access to my family’s private records. I did some digging and discovered a substantial weapons cache hidden on a small asteroid in the Belt. I’ve initiated the delivery of these weapons to Mars accompanied with an offer of alliance. You, however, have something far more important than guns for soldiers. SpaceTech’s advanced weaponry could just be the edge we need to win this war. God knows what destructive devices that genius Cassidy hid from the public eye. Together, you and I,  have the chance to make a difference, to do something bigger than ourselves. Even if that means losing it all.” Proposal concluded, Leo shrugs his shoulders. “If you accept this offer, wear a red dress at our next summit. If you reject it, wear blue and I will bother you no more. Any other color and I will assume you have yet to discover this transmission.” He offers a hopeful smile as the device self-disintegrates with a puff of smoke. 

I sit for what feels like hours on the stone bench. As convincing as Leo was, he could still be a spawn trying to weed away the unfaithful. Besides, what he proposes is insane, the scheme would surely unravel and we would both be killed in the worst manner. I flick away the quarter I had been clenching. But if we do not act… who will? Kumar finds me and in the quartyard, a trail of servants in his wake. The spread is of ridiculous proportions so I invite them all to join me in the grass. Halfway through my deviled-eggs I look over at Kumar, my green eyes gleaming from the newborn sun. “So I’ve been considering what to wear for my Europan cruise next week. I believe I will wear that old red halter of mine. Would you be a dear and have the maids prepare it for me?” Kumar’s brilliant face lights up with a knowing smile. “A wise choice my lady, a wise choice indeed.

Enzo Chapter 8:

Fractured Ties

My father is dead, along with my brother and nearly a quarter of the moons’ populations. Unwilling to abandon his people, Lorenzo died coordinating the mass evacuation. I was told Gino stayed to assist, refusing to leave my fathers side. Their efforts saved millions of people. How they were able to simultaneously organize two global evacuations in such a short period is beyond me. Some part of me takes pride in the notion they died heroes, the other half hates them for abandoning me for the void. On top of everything, my sister and her husband went missing during their honeymoon on Europa. It has been over two weeks since the death of our moons, yet those red cracks still haunt my dreams every night.

I take a deep breath trying my best to ignore the thousands of intense eyes staring up at me as I make my way to the front of the hoverstage. Hundreds of millions more tune in over netstream broadcasts. Dronecams hum as they circle around capturing the most attractive angles for their media networks. Everyone is waiting, waiting to hear what the son of the great Lorenzo has to say. They need answers, I have none. Much of the crowd glares up with a well-earned distrust, others with desperate hope written across their weary faces. I try to not notice as I settle in behind the iron podium overlooking Illium’s Commons. A near replica to Washington D.C’s old Lincoln Memorial, The Commons reflective pool stretches a mile in length, one-hundred yards in width, with a shallow depth up to the knees. I exhale the breath I was holding hostage and gaze out into the masses. The grounds are filled well past capacity with Martians. Their unwashed legs have turned the already polluted pool a dark brown. A pungent smell finds its way up to the hovering platform. I reach for the microphone, my fingers tremble against the cold metal as I turn it on. I’ve rehearsed this damn speech more times than I can count, but in this moment Cassandra’s words fade as fear threatens to overwhelm me. My father should be making this speech. He would have the right words to say to find common ground between us all. Yet here I stand, the pillar of my life and our Union gone. Pushing those thoughts to the side, I begin the address.

“People of Mars, you have come today with questions hoping that I might have answers. I give but one. We must unite! Us from the rocks with you of the red. We must stand together against the Regime.” I pause briefly to brace myself, dreading the next few lines. “The Union calls every man and woman of fighting age to report to your local government centers for enlistment. Soldiers will receive fair pay at the end of their first year of service. Failure to comply with this mandate will result in arrests.” The once distant murmurs have turned into angry shouts. Damn it Cassandra, I knew this show of force was the wrong play. “Martians, stand with us! Together we can…” I dodge a boot coming straight for my forehead. It tumbles to a halt behind me and a scent smelling suspiciously like feces wafts over the stage. Toren, who had been standing in the back corner of the hoverstage, surprises me by striding towards the podium. He gives me a reassuring nod but doesn’t say a word as he moves into my place. I’m more stunned than upset as I hesitantly hand him the microphone. He begins pacing the front of the stage, walking dangerously along its edge. “Phobians! Deimosians! Moonies! Their heavenly rocks blow up so they come down to the red to give us orders. They would have us fight their war while they steal our land. They would have us die in their places with raised chins. You know what I say?” Toren gives them a sinister grin. “Fuck that and fuck them!” The crowd erupts with approval. Fists jut into the sky with a surge of momentum.

“No, this is our planet. They don’t get to come down and order us around. Those days were done the moment their rocks turned to dust.” He stops and points up to where the moons’ remnants orbit around Mars creating a ring not unlike those of Saturn. “Do you not see? They orbit around us now.” He pauses briefly to allow the idea to take root. “This is a new age, an age where we decide how we live!” The crowd is lively in agreement. Whistles and encouraging shouts come from every corner of The Commons. He directs a finger my way. “The moonborn mean to use us. What do you all say, should we fight for them?” The crowd roars its response. “Nah, I won’t be dyin’ for them either. But this isn’t about them, this is about us. As we speak, the Regime is coordinating a large-scale invasion, one of incomprehensible size. I’m talkin’ about the same Regime that nuked our planet to shit, the same one that destroyed the future we were promised. Now, while they scheme and build their machines of war we sit around bickerin’ about our new neighbors. We, all of us, will die unless we find common ground. Live together or die separate. Those are our options, make your choice.” The once unruly crowd stands in consternation as a chilling silence unfolds. Toren places the microphone back into my hands and exits the spotlight.

Boarding my personal shuttle, I find Toren being held roughly between two of my personal bodyguards. “Leave him be!” I snap. He rips his shoulders free of their grasp, giving them each a promising look as he straightens his brown jacket’s high collar. “That was deftly done Toren, thank you.” His face scrunches up with ire. “What the fuck was that speech, tryin’ to get yourself a proper uprising? Thought you moonies were supposed to be the smart ones.” He spits to the side reinforcing his opinion. I don’t bother trying to explain the aristocratic politics at hand. Cassandra’s been running the show ever since she landed in Illium. Seeing as Walker Corp gouges miners for every ounce of cheap labor, she thought her words would sound better on Moretti tongue. Her gambit failed, fortunately Toren’s did not. He may have saved us from losing Martian support entirely. Toren’s message was clear, I can only hope it was enough. “You have a way with your people Toren and I think you could do a fine job in a leadership role.” His skeptical hazel eyes narrow. “I ain’t lookin’ for a handout. I’m…” Annoyed by the assumption, I plow over him. “This ain’t a fucking handout Toren. You and your brother are a big reason why we were able to save most of the moons’ populations. If anything, us moonies are shorting you once again.” I smile encouragingly at him. “Do your part Toren, your people need you.” He goes quiet, at odds with his emotions. “My brother needed me and I let him die in my arms. Nah Moretti, I ain’t no bloody messiah. All I want is to find Bora and put a round through that thick skull. I’ve been asking for weeks now for you to loan me the gear to take him down. You say you owe me? Fine, pay up.” I can’t fault him for wanting revenge instead of responsibility. Yet, if this is how we all act, following our emotions instead of our brains, we are already undone. I nod, pushing away my own personal feelings. “You have done my family a great service, we are indebted to you. Whatever you need from the Moretti is at your disposal.” I flip open my datapad and grant the necessary authorizations. “I have uploaded a Level 5 scanclearence to your pad. It will provide you ingress into restricted Union areas, that includes full access to our armory. In the event that you make it back in one piece, seek me out. My offer still stands.” A revenant to his rage, he exits the shuttle without even the slightest glance back.

That evening, a Union meeting is called for the families that survived the evacuation to Mars. Seats are left empty out of respect for the family lines that have been cut. One of the last to arrive, I settle into my seat. My family holotag floats above me signifying my status as family prime, leader of house Moretti. This meeting will set the course for the defense of the planet and you could slice the tension in the room with a knife. As expected, Cassandra is the first to speak, leveraging her power over what is to come. 

“We are alone.” Cassandra stands amidst the remaining families. “But not without.” She lays bare her slender forearms for all to see. “Ancient blood runs through our veins. Blood that conquered three spheres in the great race. Families that tamed the nature of worlds to their will. Two weeks we have waited, hoped, and prayed for allies. Our efforts have come to no avail. The Venusians are scared silent and the Pinnacle is either just as craven or bought by our enemies.” She sniffs the air as would a rat. “I suspect the latter.” Cassandra begins circling the long oak table, her hands waving around in dramatic fashion. “They have all turned deaf ears to our plight. Fortunately enough, we do not need them. We have over one billion soldiers at our disposal. The Martians are our vassals, they must comply with our demands. We own the red planet, not them, and if they want to stay they must protect it.” Mr. Galloway, an old family friend, shakes his head in disagreement. He clears his throat, unafraid to speak his mind. “Protect Mars with what exactly? The greater sum of military material and weaponry was destroyed along with our moons. How do you propose our vassals defend us? With rocks and sticks?” Perplexed by the interruption, Cassandra stares at him as if a dog had just spoken. “If need be Mr. Galloway, if need be. It is true, the Regime does have more arms than us, I will not deny the fact. But we have something far greater, an inexhaustible number of bodies to throw back the tide. I will not allow the Regime what is ours. If you don’t have the stomach for it old man I suggest you leave this table now.” Ignoring the gross insult completely, he turns his attention to me. “I’m curious, what the Moretti think on the matter?” Cassandra’s feline eyes dig into me. “Yes, please do tell. What do you think Enzo?” I couldn’t be more conflicted as I glance hesitantly between them. My answer will either tear the very fabric of our Union or give Casandra the reins to do as she pleases. Father’s last wish was for me to help Walker align the families. On face value, that is exactly what Cassandra is doing, creating a direction for us all. But deep down I know we are making a grievous mistake. We should be uniting with the Martians not using them. I falter in the end. “I’m in agreement with Cassandra. We must use whatever means are at our disposal.” I say weakly feeling the burn of self-contempt within. Drunk on her small victory, Cassandra advances forward. “A smart boy, he takes after his late father, but even a dullard could comprehend this logic. The matter is settled then, we will use Martian blood to lubricate our war efforts.” She surveys the room daring anyone to contradict her. “This is our course now and we will stand firm, even if that means spending every last red man and woman on this planet. The Union will survive by any means necessary.”

Mr. Galloway seeks me out once the council meeting is adjourned. A man well into his final years, he is as steadfast as they come. Instead of using his hoverchair, he attempts to walk down the hall on his own accord. When he begins to waver his great granddaughter Naomi steps in to assist. His wrinkled face is set with determination as a frail hand grips my forearm. Galloway’s body may be broken but his mind is still as sharp as ever. I notice the glimmer of resolve in his faded blue eyes. “Boy, your father was a great man. That cold bitch might not miss him, but I can tell you with certainty everyone in that room wishes his steady hand was here to guide us now. I knew your father when he was but a child, even then Lorenzo was single-minded. He always seemed to know the correct course to take, even in the most dire situations.” Galloway gives me a knowing smile. “Yet you and I are mortal. We are plagued by contemplation, always hesitating to follow our guts. You believe turning the Martians into slave soldiers is wrong, yet you are too afraid to act. Afraid, like everyone else, that one wrong step could fracture our Union. But there, in itself, is your answer. Our Union is already broken, so much so that we are willing to follow Cassandra off this moral cliff. A cliff that will most surely be our end as well if someone doesn’t steer us away from this madness.” His nails dig into my skin with more strength than I would have thought he still possessed. “Enzo, you were born a Moretti, groomed to lead not to follow. Your words have weight, you must use them.” I stand confounded, wondering why he would ask this of me. There are so many other Union members that are more experienced, better suited to lead our people to war. Even so, only he had the courage to speak out. Before I can find my voice, I see my personal assistant rushing down the hall. “Mr. Moretti, I’m sorry to disturb you but there is a matter that requires your immediate attention.” I nod my head and look back at Galloway. He raises a hand to protest an apology. “We will speak again young Enzo, until then remember my words.” My hair stands on its end as I hear my father’s last words.

Concern grows as I fly to my estate. My assistant deflects my questions, simply saying that ‘he’ will be able to answer them. Back in my quarters, concern quickly transforms to agitation as I impatiently pace a hole in my living room floor. All that is washed away when a familiar face appears through the door, a face I thought I would never see again. The man looks me up and down with laughing eyes. “My nephew, a man grown it would seem.” Giovanni’s quick face becomes rigid. “Enzo, I do not come alone.” He looks outside and motions in a cloaked figure. Removing the hood, a young Venusian girl bows deeply. Rising, she carefully keeps her gaze cast downward, a sign of deep respect in Venusian culture. “My name is Akira Hoshino. You have undoubtedly heard of me, but what you may not know is that my father, the emperor of Venus, has been assassinated and the throne usurped. Your uncle has promised me asylum until I’m able to win back my throne. My father had planned to bring you every sword on Venus, yet here I stand nothing more than a refugee.” She finally looks up at me, her dark oval eyes intent and filled with controlled emotion. “Our fathers were great men, but they are gone and we stand here in their places. It is up to us now, the young and unproven, to face the many trials to come. Enzo Moretti, I have come to honor the pact that my ancestors broke so long ago. Maybe together we can mend the fractured ties between our people.

Toren Chapter 9:

King hunt

Geared to the teeth, my companions and I exit the armory to begin our king hunt. I had stopped by the infirmary to see if the surviving prisoners had any leads on where Bora might be. I wasn’t able to uncover much intel but it turns out I am not alone in my need for vengeance. The three freelancers who survived Valles Marineris asked to join my suicide mission. Identical twins, Rick and Roy, small and wiry, would be completely indistinguishable without Roy’s slip of a mustache. The third, Gaston, is a giant with olive skin and corded muscles who originates from Titan, Saturn’s largest moon. The twins, rambunctious by nature, had the time of their lives sorting through Union-grade weapons and tactical equipment. As a martian gun for hire, your salary often corresponds to the quality of gun you own. Weapons like this would earn you solid pay but could also get you murdered if you didn’t have the skill to wield them. Arriving downtown Illium, we stash our gear in a grim budget motel (with much protest from the twins) and head to Union Station. I need information and it just so happens I know the right place to look. We board the 17:35 U-shuttle destined for District 11, my home. 

An air of melancholy washes over me as we draw near our stop. It’s been nearly six years since I’ve returned home, part of me never expected to. Memories from another life surface as familiar scenes from my childhood flutter by. Growing up here was tough, even harder when my parents died and Ronin and I were kicked to the streets. My brother supported us the best a young teen could, working all kinds of shit jobs to keep food in our bellies and once in a while a roof over our heads. I never would have made it out of here if it wasn’t for him. Returning to our roots makes me miss him more than I can say, it also reinforces the rage bubbling underneath my seemingly placid demeanor.

The U-shuttle screeches to a halt and we step out into D11. A jungle of power lines hang above us as we walk down narrow uneven streets. Neon signs and holotags cater to any type of debauchery or vice you could ever wish for. Hustlers, whores, and thieves eye us over as we zigzag through the nexus of alleyways. I hear the Hive before I see it. Slipping the ugly tattooed bouncer a cool fifty, he lifts the entrance hatch and we descend down the grungy concrete steps into the Hive. The club is a network of worm-tunnels which lead to various themed venues and bar rooms. Heavy martian dubstep vibrates the ground and walls as we search the numerous caverns. Hanging lamps oscillate with each bass note, painting the basalt tunnels with perpetual wavering light. Doubt begins creeping its way into the back of my mind. This is foolish, it says, he’s probably not even here, and if he is, the stories were probably nothing more than an empty boost of a drunkard. 

On edge and eager to get out of the tumultuous labyrinth, I start navigating our way back to the surface. Taking a different route up, we pass by a cavern previously overlooked. Stepping into the pool hall, the air is dense with smoke and the sour scent of stale vomit. Then I hear the unmistakable booming voice of Tommy Borne and make out his bulking figure by one of the far tables. He nurses a thick cigar while losing to some slick local youth with purple hair and a face covered with piercings. I chuckle to myself, some things never change. The old boy is without question the best pool player I’ve ever met. The slippery degenerate could probably even make an honest living as a professional if he didn’t enjoy the hustle so damn much. “Fuckin’ shit kid, ya beat me again fair n’ square. Reckon I’m improving though.” He booms a laugh. “Why don’t we up the stakes on one last game. Call it an even thousand creds, keen?” His victim greedily accepts. Slapping down the wager, the kid fails to hide the huge grin spreading across his face. I decide to step in. “Wouldn’t do that if I were you kid. Tom’s playin’ is on par with his actin’, if you catch my drift.” It doesn’t so I speak more direct. “He means to clean ya dry youngster.” Tommy’s beady narrow eyes glare menacingly in my direction before widening in surprise as I step into the light. He regains his composure in a snap. “Comin’ back to bust my balls I see.” He glances quickly at his subject, smoothly trying to ease his growing suspicion. “Easy now kid. Don’t listen to him, even I can get lucky once in a while.” He says with a nervous laugh. But doubt builds behind the players eyes. Spitting on the ground between them, he takes his winnings and exits the pool hall, flipping Tommy the bird as he swaggers out. “Toren fuckin’ Powell back in the D-1-1. Your rustyass cost me a pretty penny there. What gives, why ya gotta hurt poor Tom and his pockets?” I belly up to the bar. “Round of ambers for me and mine and a triple whisky for old sour here.” The squat woman snorts. “If you’re tossin’ creds around like a moonie why don’t ya go ahead and pay his tab as well? Ugly bastards been stackin’ it up for some time.” She throws Tommy a shrewd look. I surprise them both by slapping down a credit block worth more than the bar itself. “Done.” Tom stares at me dumbstruck. “Kid what… where did you…” I can’t help but smile seeing his face. “Come, I’ll explain everything.” Slapping his shoulder I motion towards the corner table.

Tommy and I sit drinking while the twins search the Hive for some honey. Gaston sits up by the bar customizing his new datapad. Tommy and I toss back fortified brews in the corner booth while he recalls old tales of my late great father. Lighting up my fifth burner, I toss the pack to Tom. He reads the signs and we get down to business. I tell him only what he needs to know, mentioning the time he bragged about raiding with Bora back in the day. Tommy, the functioning alcoholic that he is, quickly digests the opportunity to earn some extra credits. “Sure, I used to roll with Bora.” He shrugs. “Took a vacation from society for a year or two. Wanted to test out the taste of freedom. Turns out it wasn’t to my liking. See, old Tom here likes the easy life; girls, some booze, a bit o’ spacedust, not one for rotting in the desert taking orders. Might be I know where he likes to hunker down after big heists though, you know, blow off some heat.” He scratches the stubble on an oversized jaw. “Thing is, having trouble recalling at the moment. Might be a few creds could help…” My temper boils over. I slam both palms on the tables, his empty tumbler tips over to shatter on the dirty floor. “Fuck you Tom! You and I both know covering that tab of yours was enough to grease those slimy lips. Cut the hustle and tell me where I can find the man who killed my brother!” Tom raises his hands in defense. “Jeez kid, alright, settle down.” His mouth splits into a crooked smile. “Had to try, would’ve gone against my morals not to.” I roll my eyes and order us another round. Devious shit that he is, it’s hard not to like big Tommy Borne.

“Now don’t go tellin’ noone you heard this from Tom but there’s this old sportscenter in the Waste. Used to be named Armiate Stadium but marauders now just call it Oasis. Bora had it patched up nice n’ proper some years back. Installed one of those fancy oxygen purification systems that them Russian bastards use in their holes. Anyway, ain’t nothing worth finding in the Waste so Bora figured it’d be the perfect hideout. If whatcha sayin’ is true and he did help the Regime blow them moonies rocks, I’d wager he’s there now lettin’ the heat die down.” Nodding my head, I flip him a 1000c block. “Thank ya Tom, this should cover that game.” Quickly pocketing the credits, his mood changes and becomes uncharacteristically somber. “Son, your father wouldn’t want this. Your pa worked hard down in those mines so you wouldn’t be needin’ to get your hands dirty.” He shakes his head sadly. “Chasing down Bora for revenge? Nah, not the right play son, not at all. He’s probably got a thousand men around!” I stand to leave. “That’s not your concern. Good seeing you Tom.” Grabbing my brown leather jacket from off the chair, I make for the exit. Tommy rushes to his feet. “Kid wait…” His lips move as if to say something before thinking better of it. “See you around Tor.” My brow furrows, confused by his tone. “Sure, Tom. Sure.”

Rick is quick to voice his displeasure as we return to the brazen streets of D11. “What gives mate? Was halfway through me ale and had my eye on a nice looking bird. Well, maybe the lass was a bit plump, but decent enough for the night.” Roy punches his shoulder. “Oi, she was eyeing me that one was. Smart girl, knows who got the short end of the stick.” Rick tackles Roy, driving him hard into a trash can. Crashing to the cement with garbage littering the ground they tear into each other, neither one particularly winning. I look away, preoccupied by Tom’s odd goodbye. Gaston, who had been practically mute all night, startles me by suddenly speaking. His baritone voice is thick with a Titanese drawl but surprisingly intelligent. “We are all players in this game called life. We hold the ability to choose our direction, flawed as we might be, our moves are ours to make. However, we can be tricked into becoming a marionette. Demise is written when our hand is guided by another.” Lost, I stare back at him angrily. “Fuck ya tryin’ to say Gaston? This ain’t Titan, we speak plainly on Mars.” He jerks his thumb back towards The Hive. “All I’m saying is that Tommy Borne of yours is a good player.” I throw him a nasty glare. “You talk too damn much.” Vexed by a talking Gaston, I holler at the twins to get up and we catch a U-shuttle back to downtown Illium to grab our gear.

Two days later with 350 miles of featureless riding in our rearview, we reach the long mountain fold that separates the Nebula Desert from The Waste. We camouflage our gravbikes and scale up the granite face using grapples. The air is crisp and thin atop the rugged ridge overlooking the ruined city. Jaded skyscrapers pierce through a dense green smog that veils the city streets below. New Vegas, the emerald city, was a casualty of one of the worst radioactive fallouts in the War for Mars. The area’s radiation metric has become so toxic that to enter its green fumes without a radsuit would mean death in seconds. What was once the ‘emerald city’ is now simply referred to as the Waste, and in many ways, is a perfect epitome for the planet itself. 

Our fire dwindles down to its embers as my companions and I break into our Phobian MREs. The military meal is far better than the affair I’m used to. I savor the last bit of instant spaghetti while the twins fevery debate whether the abandoned casinos still have any credits stashed away in their vaults. I look over at Gaston who listens intently to the banter. Noticing the confused look on his face, I smile and toss him my dessert. His eyes light up as he tastes the gooey fudge center of the brownie. Coming from Jupiter’s far-off moon Titan, he is an oddity here on the red planet. I presume most Martians brush him off as being stupid, but I value his staunch attitude, his calm even-keeled demeanor reminding me so much of my brother. The big man grunts his satisfaction. “They don’t have brownies on Titan?” I ask Gaston bemused. “Not like this.” A broad smile crescents his mouth as he wipes the chocolate off his lips. “Sounds like quite the desolate place.” Roy blurts out. The big man frowns. “Not desolate, more like…expansive. People of the Inner Rim tend to forget that Titan is the second largest moon in the Terra System. We have oceans, mountains, and forests that you Martians would marvel to behold. Titans live on the edge of civilization, the true frontier, and our world’s beauty is a harsh one. While your kind fight over scraps, we battle the elements themselves just to survive. That, and the Prizrak…” He halts abruptly. Something resembling anger or fear flashing across his dark eyes. “Have you ever seen them?” Rick whispers quietly as if the Russians might be listening in. “Yes, many years ago. They raided my town, killed my parents, and abducted my younger sister. I tried to save her, but I… wasn’t strong enough then.” A heavy silence envelopes the circle. No one had ever bothered to ask Gaston about his life prior to Mars. Now that the lid is cracked I cannot help but wonder what the Outer Rim is truly like. We all drift into an uncomfortable quietude as we conclude our meals.

My alarm sounds at midnight. Donning radsuits, we prepare for the mission ahead. As we descend from the ridge into the green fog, our external radiation meter rises so high static begins crackling over our coms. Using the GIS map in my helmet’s visor, I guide our band through the corpse of New Vegas. Overturned cars from centuries ago litter the fragmented streets. Buildings stand tall and broken in the dimly tinted light. Dust particles float around us illuminated by our headlamps. After a little over an hour of careful navigation, we reach Oasis. Standing close to 500ft in height, the old sporting complex takes the appearance of a large rectangular metal box canopied by a giant glass dome. Using our tactical armor’s forearm grapples again, we began scaling the building’s vertical exterior. As I work my way up the retractable dome a madning idea comes across my mind, once we reach the dome’s vertex, it finds voice. “What if we found a way to retract this roof right here, you know, let in some fresh air for our friends. What do y’all say?” Rick eagerly claps his gloved hands. “Fuckin’ gorgeous mate! They gotta just be dyin’ for some o’ this crisp rad air.” Roy bobs his head eagerly and taps a steeled boot against the glass. “Yes indeed, a lovely proposition.” He spits downward, forgetting his helmet and cackles seeing the saliva drip down the inside of his visor. I hide a grimace by turning to Gaston. “You keen G?” The quiet man simply shrugs his massive shoulders and nods solemnly. “Pull up the stadium’s blueprint on your GIS maps.” Their visors light up, digital features displaying the building layout. “Rick, you’re the electrical genius, locate the control room and find a way to hatch the roof. Roy, you’re fond of blowin’ shit up, put these pulse bombs underneath support beams and any other elements of structural integrity. Gaston, find the radgear storage room and drop a few charges. I’ll be our eagle and coordinate the operation and exit route. Com-in when your objectives are complete. Rick, no drama if you can’t activate the roof, we’ll just jet out and call in the moonies.”

Using a Venusian moltsaw, I carve an entrance in the two inch thick glass roof. Roy carefully removes the glass circle using the suction feature of his tacgloves and we abseil down the steel scaffolding. The scene we encounter below makes my skin crawl. Thousands of marauders fill the stadium floor dancing to martian death-metal. The king sits upon his griddy throne in the rear of a massive stage. So far down, they seem like a sea of angry ants. My friends creep stealthy down the dome’s metal frame to undertake their assignments while I remain stationary. Methodically, I begin assembling my R-13 heavy caliber rifle with practiced hands. When ready, I calibrate the scope to allow for a clearer view of the madness below. The king lounges on his oversized chair drinking straight from a bottle of red wine. One leg leisurely hangs over the armrest while the mosh pit rages in front of him. I check my watch, twelve minutes have ticked by and still no confirmation from my companions. Down below, I see King Bora rise to his full height. Microphone in hand, he extends his arms wide to embrace the roars of his raiders. “Brothers! Sisters! Tonight we celebrate the dawn of a new age!” A ripple of adrenaline surges throughout the stadium. “Our coalition was founded to give purpose to us outcasts of society.” He spits the word like a curse. “We have done much and more together, yet this is only the beginning. One week from today the Regime will land in force on our red soil. They will come not as our foes though, but as friends! We will unite with Apollo! We will unite with the Prizrak! And together, we will crush all those who deemed us unworthy!” The zealots go absolutely mental, slamming against one another in violent bliss. In the corner of my eye I notice a large figure plowing his way through the crowd. At the throne’s base he bows his head before ascending the steps to his king. As the man leans over to whisper into his Bora’s ear a beam of light illuminates the left side of his face. I taste bile in the back of my throat as I recognize my father’s friend. Tommy Borne betrayed me.

“Friends, it would seem we have guests. Let us welcome them!” I feel ill as I watch Rick, Roy, and Gaston being forced through the crowd. A gauntlet of fists greet them on their way to the stage. Gaston’s face is almost unrecognizable by the time he is beaten to his knees under the stage lights. “One, two, and three, but where is the fourth? One of our guests has gone missing, please find him.” My mind frantically searches for a way out of this. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. Knowing what I must do I reach for my com. It takes several rings before Enzo answers, his voice is thick with sleep. “Toren? What is it, have you found Bora?” “Yeah… it’s time I called in that favor. I need an air strike. Like right fuckin’ now. Sharin’ my coordinates.” The line goes silent momentarily. “Fighter jets are being scrambled as we speak. The payload will drop in exactly twenty minutes, I suggest being as far away from there as possible. A shuttle will be waiting by the western ridge. Best get moving Martian.” 

I shimmy along the horizontal beam until I’m directly above the stage and com into my friend’s micro earchips. “Boys listen carefully. Moonies are dropping a mini nuke in twenty. On my cue, y’all are gonna turn around fast-like and sprint out of the arena. Radgear is located in the storage room by the south exit. Once outside, run like hell and do not stop until you make it to the western ridge.” I hesitate. “If we die at least these fuckers are comin’ with.” I activate the EMP grenade in my hand and drop it the four-hundred feet to the stadium floor. The shockwave blows the stadium circuit boards and the arena goes pitch black. I signal them to go. Removing the rifle from my back, I zero in until Bora’s crowned head takes up the entire scope. At the end of an elongated exhale, I pull the trigger. The round penetrates directly through his right eye, through the back of his head and lodges itself in the throne’s backrest. His lifeless head sags to his chest, sending the crown tumbling to the ground below. His body follows in tow. Shock ripples throughout the stadium. I use the brief moment to my advantage. Rising to my feet, I sling the rifle onto my back and aim my grapple towards the stands. A torrent of rounds sink into the metal bar underneath my feet. I leap before the shooter finds their mark. Swinging to the bleachers, I have just enough momentum to grasp the railing with two hands. Bullets find purchase in my right thigh and below my left shoulder as I pull myself over. I gasp, shocked by the pain. Cursing, I close my visor and toss a pulse grenade against the nearest wall. It shatters and green fumes seep into the stadium. Attaching my grappling hook to a nearby pillar, I jump out into the Waste. Once my feet hit concrete, I quickly scan my surroundings and stumble west as fast as my legs will carry me. Less than a mile out, I hear a deafening sound. Without bothering to stop, I turn my head and see a small gray mushroom cloud growing in the sky high above.

A desert cruiser spots me the moment my head surfaces above the toxic smog. I’m surprised to find Enzo himself piloting the craft. A Moretti medic kneels over me to attend to my wounds. Shoving her away, I crawl forward into the cockpit. Enzo glances at me twice before returning his attention to the flightdeck. “Your friends… did they make it out?” I swallow hard and shake my head. “I’m not sure.” Wincing, Enzo scratches his chin. “If they surface I’ll find them. Get yourself patched up, there’s nothing more you can do.” I nod absently and reluctantly slump back to the cabin. The medic shoots me up with morphine and anti-rads and gets to work on the slugs inside me. It doesn’t take long before my eyelids begin to sag. I faintly hear Enzo’s voice as my eyes finally succumb to the drugs. “Bloodyhell they’re alive! Toren, I’ve found them, they made it to the ridge!” A weak smile spreads across my face as I fade out of consciousness.

Elsa Chapter 10:

Nadir

Before the Space Race, scientists wondered if the water underneath Europa’s frozen shell held the answer to extraterrestrial life. When Pinnacle terraformers first arrived on Jupiter’s distant moon, they dramatically increased the atmospheric temperature in order to melt the ice. By doing so, they created a water world. Finally able to examine the mysterious moon, scientists eagerly probed deep within Europa’s ocean, and while they did find hydrothermal vents that could support organisms at a molecular level, life itself was not found. Even today, with all the advances in scientific equipment and satellites venturing to far-off systems no proof of extraterrestrial life has been discovered. We are alone. I feel that now more than ever as the gravlift rises to the ship’s boarding port. I survey the men and women around me. The newly appointed Pinnacle members, the talking heads, are all corrupted by some form of indebtment to the Bulgars. Donald has requested the audience of all members to discuss a ‘new course’ for Galilea. The gravlift comes to a halt atop the SS Trident and I find myself marveling at the sheer size of Bulgar Corp’s company cruiseship. We will sail aboard the SS Trident to an undisclosed location to then be ferried down to Nadir, Donald’s mysterious ocean floor compound. Queer rumors surround Nadir and what occurs deep within the depths of Europa.

With some much needed assistance from a passing steward, I locate my personal suite. Unlocking the door with a retina scanner, I walk through the entrance with a childlike excitement. The room is a paragon of opulence. Open white marble floors give way to high clear glass walls. Through them, a wide balcony overlooks the dazzling blue waters of the fabled Eonic Sea. Nerves and fatigue suddenly sneak up as I set my bags down sending my fingers into a jittering fit. I need to relax, get my mind focused, collected for the meetings to come. I notice my private bar and immediately head over to fashion up my favorite cocktail; two shots of mezcal ancestral with fresh squeezed lemon and lime, a splash of club soda, dash of tabasco, cherished off with a jalapeno. The liquid medicine works its magic, like it always does, and the drink disappears before I know it. My shoulders drop and finally feeling the built up tension dissipate. I step through the sliding glass onto the balcony. The fresh ocean breeze washes over me reinvigorating my senses. I activate the jacuzzi and slide into the warm water that bubbles on contact. Two jetstreams massage my spine. My eyelids close as I ease deeper into the foam.

The grandeur of the moment seeps in. Finally, I’ve finally made it to Europa. This small oceanic world, dotted with its vibrant islands, soft white sand beaches, and calculated tropical climate, is where all ambitious Galilians strive to retire. As a young girl I often fantasized about meeting some handsome Europian who would whisk me away from the unforgiving streets of Nexus. Instead, I met scumbag after scumbag, never making it beyond the city limits. Any kind of romantic notion of leaving soon faded as I gave into reality.

The past traumas and triumphs drain away as I begin focusing on the trials to come. All this splendor is an illusion. I am now firmly within the Bulgar’s grasp and one wrong step could very well be my last. Donald, in particular, has proved to be someone never to underestimate. Before Callisto’s apocalyptic event, Donald, while very wealthy and successful, had been one of the lesser members of the Pinnacle. His domain had been one of scientific research and equipment manufacturing. A tycoon he was, but his economic gain did not necessarily translate to significant power. That all changed the moment Callisto was destroyed. In the months leading up to that fateful moment, he had bought and sold stocks, corporations, and territory in such an anomalous and peculiar manner that no one, his financial advisors included, knew what the hell was going on. Most took to the popular notion that the eccentric scientist had finally gone completely mad. The aggressive moves paid dividends once the Galilean market crashed with Callisto. People were scared, everyone was selling, no one was buying, except the Bulgars who orchestrated massive buyouts from the bankrupt corporations, seizing control of entire industries and consolidating power. While Donald now oversees his shadow empire, his brother Kane presides over all Galiean commerce. Grossly increasing tariffs, Kane’s preeminence over trade equals that of Donalds’s corporations. If Donald is the velvet glove, Kane is his iron hand that bends Galilea to their will. On the outside it seems like nothing has changed, but anyone watching closely can see that the Bulgars now own Galilea heart and soul. My eyes open and I consider my small pruney hands. I must be completely insane. Our little rebellion seems so insignificant compared to Bulgar rule. My mathematical mind cannot even fathom a way Leo and I could ever overcome their dominance. Rising out of the tub, I dry off and wrap a plush white towel around my hair, a second around my midsection. I make my way to the wardrobe to dress for the evening meal. My eyes glance at the blue dress I stuffed away at the last minute. Transfixed, I feel my resolve draining away. My hair is dry before I finally clothe myself.

Rather than staying current with modern design, the ballroom is articulately fashioned in 19th century elegance. Glittering diamond chandeliers of incomprehensible value hang from high ceilings. Servers buzz around tables as wealthy patrons chat amongst themselves in Venusian dinner attire. I spot Leonardo at a far corner table sitting with Mr. Grant, a man with a gut almost as grand as his personality. Leo notices me and stops mid-sentence, his glibbed tongue struggles to find words. Fortunately Mr. Grant does not. “Ms. McDaniels, you look dazzling in that red dress. Doesn’t she Mr. Gerrard?” Leonardo’s eyes meet mine before quickly darting to the side in trepidation. “Yes. Yes indeed.” Oblivious to Leo’s discomfort, Mr. Grant rambles on. “Please join us, Mr. Gerrard was just reminiscing about a rather scandalous affair with a Deimian actress.” Leo concludes his story in short order as I settle into the seat across from him. Course after course of exotic sea-affair comes and goes and the sunset sky becomes dark. Mr. Grant rambles on about the daring exploits of his younger years and his numerous ex-wifes. Meanwhile, Leo continuously glances over at me, thinking me unaware. Pleasantly amused, I pretend not to notice. He and I eat sparingly while big Billy Grant eats for three. After the seventh course or so, his chin begins to sag and he slumps back into his chair snoring loudly with an occasional murmur. Leo and I are forced to conversate. The dialogue begins slowly and painfully awkwardly at first, but our drinking does not. The liquor smoothes our nerves and I find myself surprised to learn how much we actually have in common. Leo has a rather enduring quality to him and I find his dark humor hilarious. The hours tick by until we suddenly realize we are the only ones left in the ballroom. Noticing our waiter patiently waiting to clear our table, I decide it best to retire for the evening. A wave of drunkenness hits like a tsunami as I try to find my feet. Leo chuckles warmly and offers to help me back to my suite in a seductive tone. Grinning, I swat his hand away and tell him goodnight. 

Back in my apartment I ravenge the snack cabinet and find myself scrolling through Leo’s social media accounts on my velvet sofa. After dozing off, I’m woken to a soft knock on my door. Dazed, I open it to find Leo standing in the doorway with a hungry look on his face. He hesitates before rushing into the room to kiss me full on the lips. A dormant desire stirs in me as I cup his clean-shaven cheeks. I slam the door closed with my foot and yearning takes over. We rip off eachother’s clothes making love right there on the smooth marble floor. After we both have reached our climax, I pop open a bottle of champagne and bring him into the bedroom to continue onto the second course.

When we have finally satiated our lust, I rest my head on Leo’s chest breathing hard. He gently strokes my tangled sweat-soaked hair. I feel safe in his embrace, wishing this night could last forever. Eventually the sun resurfaces over the ocean though, and with it, my dread for what is to come. “Do you think we will survive all this?” I whisper barely audible. His fingers halt as he considers what to say. “No, I don’t imagine we will. But I’d rather die fighting for what’s right than to live the rest of my life in fear.” I roll off of his chest and look deep into his soft brown eyes. What I see in them fills my heart. I mount him once more and ride like it was my last day alive.

We break our fast together with biscuits and tea before Leo leaves to pack for the submarine journey down to the seafloor. I pour myself another cup of jasmine tea and stride out onto the balcony. I look out, scanning the endless blue that glitters from the bright sunlight above. With no landmarks to gauge our exact location we could be just about anywhere on Europa. A man of obscurity, Donald has always been careful to keep the coordinates of his underwater fortress a secret. A submarine slowly surfaces from the waves like a great whale. Gathering my suitcase and handbag, I make my way down to the docking port for embarkment. 

All passengers situated, the boarding hatch closes and locks with a metallic clunk. The submarine pressurizes and we begin the long descent to the ocean floor. My hands grip the cracked leather armrests. Leo gives me a reassuring nod but his face is as pale as mine. Within an hour the vessel thumps to an abrupt halt. Red lights turn green and the loudspeaker crackles to life. Donald’s polished voice fills our ears. Its pitch is high and honeyed. “Friends, colleagues, associates, welcome to Nadir! I know your journey has been a long and strenuous one, you will find solace inside. I, unfortunately, will be indisposed for the remainder of the day but do look forward to our evening meeting. We have much and more to discuss, this is an exciting time for the Pinnacle and our beloved Galilea. Please make yourself at home, my stewards will cater to your every need.”

Seatbelts unbuckle and Pinnacle members laugh away their unease. We exit the vessel and emerge into a place unlike any other. Rather than a cramped network of dark tunnels like I envisioned, Nadir is an open glass-paneled dome. Its dimensions are massive, appearing to be well over one-thousand feet in height and at least four times that in width. Smaller replicas can be seen attached to the main body snaking along in linked chains. Nadir’s interior is a spectacle for the imagination. We are guided through a lush rainforest by a handsome young man. Langurs swing amongst the vines while birds of paradise sing down to us as we weave our way through. The air is fresh and filled with the sweet scent of morning lilies. Our coalition chatters excitedly, each of us marveling at the natural splendor. Any previous tension has been uplifted with elation. I find myself wanting to hold Leo’s hand but refrain, too many eyes. The gravel path eventually leads to a circular cobble-stone plaza where an enormous redwood tree stretching high from its center. Young men wearing velvet red attire dance around the tree singing a harmonious tune. The men, I suddenly notice, are identical. So it is true, Donald has been growing humans down here I realize with a chill. While each one is stunningly handsome, I find their lifeless eyes disquieting. Leo flashes me a concerned look before one of them gracefully takes my hand and guides me to my designated quarters. 

I settle into the space and decide to uncork a Tuscan vintage dating before the Space Race. I try calling Leo to invite him over for a glass but the line immediately cuts out. Odd, Nadir must have some kind of wave barrier. Shrugging, I kick my legs up and resolve to finish the entire bottle myself. A digital notification appears on the room’s message board. I walk over to read it. “Mr. Bulgar requests your audience. A steward will escort you to his study in precisely 10 minutes.” My stomach drops with consternation.

My steward is a wall of quiet courtesy as we make our way through Nadir’s various climate zones. I try to keep my composure but my nerves are so shot I almost retch up in a patch of bushes on the way. My heart is pounding by the time we reach a pair of engraved bronze doors depicting krakens. The heavy doors part way revealing a nightmarish scene. Donald Bulgar gingerly sets down a steaming cup of tea and waves me in, asking kindly that I remove my shoes. The man is bone thin and rangy. Pale grey eyes rest in a long face that is split in half by an equestrian nose. Blue veins from age rejuvenation treatment cobweb across taut pastel skin. His plain white suit is unadorned except for a slim crimson red tie. Long fingers intertwine on a crossed leg as his alien eyes analyze me. His brother Kane stands across from him. Brother he may be, but his figure is stark in contrast. Squat and bulky, his physique is one made for violence. A round face is inlaid with protruding eyes and an enlarged brow. His meaty hands are bruised and bloody, one of them slicks back a retreating black hairline. 

Leonardo kneels between the two men. His white-collared shirt is a red ruin, face battered, and right eye bruised closed. Blood drools out of a broken jaw as he tries to speak. Kane silences him with a swift hook knocking him to the floor. Donald gestures for me to sit in the vacant chair across from them. “I do not believe in useless things Ms. McDaniels. If something holds no purpose then it is nothing more than a leech, a leech sucking the blood of our dear society. But, what I abhor even more, are false things.” He looks down at Leo, disgusted by the blood pooling on the otherwise pristine glass floor. The room itself emits an aroma of fear. Black abyss surrounds us, it feels as if a sea monster of the deep might lurk just beyond the vision of sight. Having steeled myself for the moment, I look Donald directly in his pale eyes. “What’s all this have to do with me?” I scowl despite my heart breaking in two. “What’s this have to do with me?” Kane mocks, voice deep and filled with practiced malice. “This, little lady, is my brother giving you a chance to live. If it were up to me I would strangle that tiny neck of yours right where you stand.” Kane cracks his bloody knuckles one by one. Donald clears his throat. “Elsa. May I call you Elsa? Elsa, I must apologize for this rather gruesome display and my brother’s… direct cander, but it is not without cause. A revelation has surfaced that we must address. You see, Leonardo here has taken it upon himself to smuggle a considerable amount of weapons to Mars with the notion that an alliance might be formed with what’s left of the Union.” He looks down at Leo and sighs dramatically as would a disappointed father. “We must now sort where you stand Elsa. Sources suggest you two being unfamiliar with one another, yet you were intimate on the voyage here. This leads me to my first question, what is he to you?” “What is he to me you ask?” I say, glaring at Leo with the corner of my eye. “Not shit. Barely know the entitled asshole. Sure I fucked the guy, I’m a sucker for a pretty face when I’m drunk, shit who’s not? Look, any schemes this prick has hatched has nothing to do with me.” My words are met with silence as Donald contemplates if what I say is true. Kane’s sadist eyes gleam at me like a kid looking into a candy store trying to decide which sweet to eat first. “You say he means nothing to you. You say you know nothing about the weapons. Words are wind, you must prove your truth.” He picks up an ancient silver magnum polished to a shine. “Kill him.” Without hesitating, I take the gun and shot Leo directly in the head. I then proceed to walk over and put three more rounds into the man I might have loved. “Anyone else you’d like me to kill?” I say venomly, whirling around with wild eyes. “No. No, I think you have proven your worth. Quite. There is one last question I’d like to ask you though.” I snort in contempt. “What do you want, Elsa?” Donald says slowly, asking the exact same question Edward once posed. I make a scene of pondering the question while Donald’s unblinking pale eyes wait patiently. “I want Ganymede. You, Donald, have Europa. Your hands must be tied overseeing the Pinnacle and all your corporations. Kane rules Io and prospers from its mineral deposits as well as Galilean commerce. Callisto is blown to shit. Ganymede, however, needs an owner and I can provide that service. Look at what I’ve already accomplished. Over half of SpaceTechs factories were destroyed on Callisto. Any other company would have gone under like that.” I snap my fingers. “Instead of going bankrupt or selling the company to you, like you so desperately wanted, I invested in SpaceTechs assets, rebuilt operations from the ground up, and diversified distribution. Now our stock is climbing at an astounding rate, even with Ganymede’s infrastructure on the brink of total collapse. I’ve proven my worth, let me fix Ganymede, let me fix it for you.” Fingering his lips, Donald’s gaze drifts to the dark water surrounding us. “Well spoken. As you wish Elsa McDonalds, Ganymede will be yours to rule over in my stead.” Realizing he won’t be allowed the pleasure of breaking my neck, Kane growls and storms out of the room muttering curses to himself. Donald stands to pace the space, a latent vigor in his step. “The Pinnacle has no purpose anymore, it is obsolete. You are smart enough to see through the members I’ve appointed. I grow tired of hiding behind this false pretense, why must I continue to drape myself in the cloak of equality? This is a new age, the time has come for the mighty to rule and the weak to fall, as is the very essence of nature itself. I propose a new form of governance. Away with the Pinnacle, away with its members. Let us establish a new framework… the Pyramid! Yes! We three will be in charge of our respective spheres. You and Kane will be the foundation of Galilea, but I, I will be the apex.”

Back in my room, I head straight for the bathroom and turn on the shower. I step into the torrent of warm water without even bothering to undress. My composure melts away. Crumbling to the floor, I sit cradling my knees and weep like I’ve never wept before. Leo’s dried blood trickles slowly down my leg before being washed away turning the tub water a diluted red. I don’t want it to wash away though. I want to go back to that morning with him, to wake to him smiling over me with that boyish face of his. Short of that, I want to drown in self-contempt, not to allow the evidence of my betrayal to just simply wash away. Deep down though, somewhere underneath my frantic state, I know that what I did was not betrayal, it wasn’t even survival, it was commitment, commitment to Leo and the cause he died for. Fact is, Leo was dead the moment his deceit was discovered and nothing I could have done or said would have changed that. But maybe this way I can salvage his dream, to give my life to the purpose that he was martyred for. Finding strength in that, I stand and rinse off the remaining blood. The Bulgars will pay. A debt is owed and that debt will be paid.

Part III

Escalation

“Tomorrow we go into the dark to find the light. What transpires at the Belt will shape the course of man for eons to come. We must utterly eradicate this Russian threat. Anything short of that, I fear, will not only lead to our demise, but inevitably to the expiration of mankind itself.”

-Richard S. Miller

Admiral of the Pinnacle Armada

The eve of The Battle of the Belt:

May 16th 2344

Yakov Chapter 11: 

Fall of the Titans

A chill works its way down my spine as I catch my first glimpse of Oberon through the circular port window. The perturbation I feel is not caused by alienation, nor is the anxiety rooted in returning to the cramped frigid underworld that was once my home. What troubles me is the icy displeasure that most certainly awaits below along with the cold-blooded man that will wield it. I have been away for two long years, searching far out systems and for a planet or moon our people could settle upon. It had been my father’s dream to leave the Terra System, a vision that my grandfather Viktor did not share. After my parents’ unexplainable death, Viktor raised my twin brother Nikolai and myself in his image. But as I grew older I became infatuated with my father’s vision of starting life anew in a system far from the petty factions that look down on us. On my 20th birthday I requested a vessel and a small crew to investigate worlds our astronomers deemed near replicates of Earth. We explored four worlds in three different galaxies, documented, analyzed, yet none held the necessary components to sustain human life. I failed, and while Viktor did not forbid my venture, he did not support it. The sovereign has groomed me to replace him when his long life finally concludes. His expectations of me are great, and I fear this quest has proven me a fool. 

Drifting away from the window, I begin preparing for my long-awaited return. Clothing myself in my Prizrak formal uniform I haven’t worn since departing, gray worsted wool slacks and blazer crowned with a high collar fringed with purple, I make my way to the flight deck where my crew coordinates our approach. They have become like family these past two year, and Kira, something more. She watches me with concern as I settle into the captain’s chair. I ignore her wanting gaze and punch in our clearance code when we are in range. An enormous black mouth opens on Oberon’s surface and we slowly descend deep within the moon to the landing bay. Our explorer’s hatch opens and I stride down the ramp to an awaiting crowd. 

My return is not met with applause, nor did I expect it would. Us Prizrak are a stern people who expect triumph, today I deliver only failure. For the few who shared my dream and the dream of my father, I return empty-handed. There are no worlds, at least none that I could find, that our people can settle on. They and I both know what this means. Our opposition will have cause to implement their agenda. My failure means war, we will take our new world. I try to ignore the murmurs and hushed voices as I push my way towards the main tunnel. Awaiting for me at its entrance is my brother Nikolai leaning casually against a rusted iron wall eating an apple. His bites are quick and measured. Seeing me, he discards the apple core to the ground for three scrawny youths to wrestle over. My twin is a near carbon copy of myself. The same height, bright blonde hair, and genetic structure, we are only slightly different in subtle features. His frame is lean and lanky, mine more dense and compact. My movements have always been more fluid and graceful, his sharper and more severe. The most notable difference though, are our eyes. His are the same piercing bright blue of our grandfathers, yet more wild. They routinely flicker about with disdainful humor. My own eyes are a slightly deeper shade, more soulful and less judgemental. It often feels like we are the exact same yet not at all alike. With a wry smile he wraps me in a firm hug. “Brother! So you survived your adventure it seems.” He says with playful affection. Our minds having always been linked, he is quick to notice my inner distress. “Ah, forget the peasants Yakov, what are they to princes? Come, grandfather is expecting us.” Nikolai puts an arm around my shoulder and catches me up on the latest as we wind our way through the various tunnels to the Grand Cavern. “Your return could not be better timed. We are finalizing preparations for the invasion of Titan. Finally brother, we will have clean air to breathe. Imagine living under the sky night and day. Done are the days of plotting in these miserable tunnels.” He quickly glances back at Kira who follows at a distance chatting with old friends. “How do you think she will take this news?” Agitated, I clear my throat. “Good I imagine, grandfather no doubt means to insert her as Queen, a title that is rightfully hers.” Nikolai smirks slyly. “And you king if you wish to marry the bitch.” I frown, disappointed with my brother’s tone. Unlike myself, he has never warmed to the Titanese princess. Fortunately, we arrive in front of the great bronze doors before Nikolai has the chance to provoke me further.

Fang Guardians, notorious soldiers of the most acclaimed Prizrak legion, part way as we stride into the Great Cavern. Knowing her place, Kira splits off, tossing me a wink for encouragement. Torches are the only source of illumination. They cast eerie shadows across the sculptures of Russian heroes of old. Enormous granite statues of the great Joseph Stalin, stoic Vladimir Lenin, and obdurate Vladimir Putin positioned on the dias grow larger as my brother and I cross the expanse to the Sovereign’s throne. “So, you have indeed returned my son. Looks like the ink was unable to swallow you.” My great grandfather Viktor breaks into a throaty laugh which quickly transitions into a coughing fit. I notice the fresh blood on the white handkerchief he produces from his pocket. His condition is startling. A man of incomparable power is now a withering corpse that refuses to die. Fluid tubes, varienting in hue, protrude throughout his sagging body. His breaths are labored and amplified by the oxygen mask he wears. My grandfather has always looked ancient, but he now looks to be on the last legs of life. His mind, however, is as nimble as it ever was. “So you see? Death seeks me out at last. Before it takes me though I mean to send many more to their graves, I will not go silent into the long night. You have had your little adventure, much like your father. Alas, you must now see how futile your endeavor was. We make for war and I mean for you to lead our assault on Titan.” Perplexed by my appointment, Nikolai interjects. “But grandfather, I made all the preparations. I am the one who has stayed by your side while Yakov searched the stars to no avail. Why would you displace me after all I’ve done?” Viktor’s face darkens. “You ask me this after your botchery on Mars? The mission was simple; transport the moonbreakers to the Regime. Instead you crash on the red planet and get yourself caught up with Martian marauders. It is because of you that the Phobians and Deimonese were able to evacuate their populations. As a result, our allies must now break themselves against Mars rather than Galilea like we intended. If you were not my blood I would have you killed. No Nikolai, you have shown your worth to me, it is your brother’s turn to take the lead.” My twin’s face twists with so much anger that for a split second I fear he will rush the throne. The moment passes. With great restraint, he obediently bows his head and storms out of the cavern. I look up at the sovereign who sighs as only someone of his stature could. “Truth be told, you are his better in every way, Yakov. I thank the stars you have returned to me. You will lead our people when I have turned to dust, not him. You’ve had your witch hunt, you must now accept your fate. War, not peace, will be the future of your generation. I have fashioned you into a weapon, it is time to wield it.” I bow respectively and turn to leave. “And Yakov…” Halting mid stride, I turn to look back. “Yes, grandfather?” His cold blind eyes dig into me. “Never disappoint me again.”

Titan, the third largest moon in the Terra System, was the final sphere to be terraformed. So far from the Earth, The Middle Eastern and African alliance was able to claim Titan practically unmolested. However, while they gained a great prize, they severely underestimated the capital necessary to terraform the massive moon. The effort to make Titan habitable nearly bankrupted the allies, making them egregiously indebted to the Pinnacle. It took nearly a century and all of their influence to finish the procedures. Once completed though, the moon’s biodiversity flourished. Being the last sphere to be terraformed did have its perks, over two centuries of technological advances and pin-pointing climatic methods yielded significant results. Titan’s pristine topography is a marvel to behold and has been the prolonged envy of my forlorn people.

Invasion preparations continued over the first few weeks of my return. When we landed on Titan, it was in force, and we quickly overwhelmed the soft resistance of the moon’s critical strong points. I stand in the midst of an evergreen landscape engulfed in carnage. The air is filled with the choking scent of burning flesh, the tormented screams of the fallen, and the triumphant shouts of my entourage. I take a moment to catch my breath. Retracking my visor, I scan the rolling fields of battle. Slaughter is left in my wake. Buildings and houses burn bright in the dying light. Mushroom clouds sprout from the ruins of Mor, the capital city. We have broken the Titanese spine in our 72 hour campaign. Our relentless blitzkrieg invasion has given us control over three quarters of the planet and almost all major cities. I haven’t slept since arriving on Titan’s fertile soil. Like most of my men, I am nourished solely on stimulants, military bars, and the ever present rush of adrenaline from near death encounters.

I glance to my left to witness my brother execute a perfect coup de jarnac, severing an officer’s leg from the knee down. He finishes him off with a hanging left through his jugular, his pulse blade piercing through like a crimson snake. Nikolai is much faster, form much more refined than I remember. No doubt he has been preparing for this moment for some time. My twin has always been compelled to prove himself my equal in the martial way, something I view as a curse and one fueled by our grandfather’s harsh expectations. He would never openly let on, but I know he fears my accomplishments overshadow his own. I wish he could acknowledge his own strengths rather than being so hellbent on matching mine. Over the short campaign he has been merciless, as hungry as a starving wolf for glory. It’s as if every kill adds another notch to his belt, one step closer to prestige. His actions have gained him fame though and a zealous following of the more battle-driven of our soldiers have mistaken his bloodlust for strength. I’ve given him the Second and Fourth Divisions to preside over which he has used tactically so far. What my brother may lack in physical prowess he makes up for in strategy. Our people have always thought far too much in strength and power. 

On a bent knee, Nikolai turns off his blade’s pulse and wipes its length across his pant leg. “The Titanese are meat for my sword brother, look how easily they fall.” I frown, taking in the grim scene. It seems wrong that so much death should occur on a day as fine as this. “This was only a fraction of the forces that we anticipated defending the capital. It seems they have abandoned Mor and taken refuge in some other location. My guess would be a stronghold in the Indovian Range. The tip of my sword points over Nikolai to where the ginormous ax-blade mountains stretch towards the darkening sky. “The natural fallback would be Vosh.” Rising to his feet, he claps me on the back and swings an arm around my shoulder. “The spheres will hear of this day Kov. Our names will be feared, our deeds renown.” I attempt a smile and pat his pale cheek. “Yes, but let us first take Vosh before we bathe ourselves in glory. I have an ill-feeling that this war is far from won.”

Toren Chapter 12: 

A Pirate’s Plan

Sleep does not come easy for me. This lavish suite Enzo has procured for me feels more like a gilded cage. I’ve been here close to a week since returning to Illium and while the Phobian meds have worked wonders I’m still in rough shape. Growing up in the slums, I’ve been shot before, stabbed, and cut my fair share of times, but the two gunshot wounds I sustained in the Waste festered and nearly claimed my life. I hold no delusions, if it wasn’t for Enzo’s protective care and Phobian advanced meds I’d be dead. Enzo instructed my attendants not to let me out of my room. He says it’s for my own good, but it’s driving me manic. Everytime I close my eyes I see my brother dying, his last breath extinguishing with the moons above. And if I’m not reliving his death, I’m dreaming of skinning that fat bastard Tommy with a dull knife. I’m swimming in so much anger and grief I think I might drown. I thought my rage would die down when I killed Bora. Instead it festered like my wounds and now I have become obsessed with Tom’s betrayal. It’s all I can think of as I lay in this large bed wrapped in these velvet sheets.

Enzo stops by daily to check in on me. He hints at doing big things together for Mars, what he sees though is lost on me. If I was ever someone before I am nothing now, a mere empty vessel sustained only by this poisonous hate. It’s not that I want to be this way, I’ve always been rather content despite my undesirable upbringings, but these deep tides will not let go. I have been drinking heavily ever since I was able to crawl across the room to the minibar. Shit, the things I’d do for a gram of spacedust. Not wanting to return to my nightmares, I manage to roll over to the edge of the bed to grab the depleted whisky that I tore into last night. I upend the bottle welcoming the warm burn as the liquor courses through me. Rubbing my eyes, I sit staring down at the carpet.

My room’s com beeps from an incoming messages. My anger surfaces, without thinking I hurl it against the wall. The device breaks into a million different fragments, which I find immensely satisfying. I proceed to fling my whisky bottle at the wall as well, chuckling like a maniac as it shatters to pieces. My madness gains further momentum and I start tearing the hotel room to shreds not caring a lick that the room’s nightly rate exceeds an average Martian’s annual wages. 

There’s a firm knock on my door. I tell whoever the fuck they are to fuck off and fling a lamp for good measure. The door clicks open and Enzo barges in, trailed by a young Venusian girl and a handsome middle-aged man. “Fuckin’ hell Toren….” Enzo groans, scratching his brow. The older man snorts in contempt. “So this is the Martian you’ve been hyping up? Huh, couldn’t be more impressed.” He says with an even tone. Ignoring the scene, the young girl walks quietly up to me. Not saying a word, she stands there studying me for a long moment. I look directly into her dark eyes before my eyes begin to water and I’m forced to glance away. “Looking is not the same as seeing. Feeling is not the same as being. Believing is not the same as knowing. Give him a chance Gio, I imagine there is more to this man than we could ever know.” With that, the young girl takes my hand and leads me out into the hall where Enzo helps me into an awaiting gravchair.

Exiting the hotel, we navigate through a maze of back alleys and side streets as traffic zooms noisily overhead. We stop outside an old crumbling brick factory. “You sure about this nephew?” Gio asks Enzo uneasily. “We must trust them if we are to survive. It’s time we took the first step.” His deep ocean-blue eyes lock onto mine. “And they us.” He signals the Alfani guard to open the large metal gate. Chains rumble as the metal sheet recoils upward. The dilapidated warehouse is filled to capacity with wooden crates. I look quizzically at Enzo who picks up an iron bar from the ground and hands it to me. “Open one up.” Shrugging, I move my chair forward and wedge the iron into the cracks of one of the nearby boxes. Raising the lid, I pull off the wooden cover and stare down at twenty virgin RF-50 automatic plasma rifles. Unable to comprehend, I look up at Enzo. “My father” He glances at the older man. “Your brother, dreamed of uniting our two peoples. The moonborn have used and abused Martians for centuries. We deserted you when the Regime ruined this planet. We began calling ourselves Phobians and Deimosians and the saga continued, but now our moons are dust and we are here. To survive we must all act as one. These weapons are for your people, Toren. That said, we cannot rely on the current Martian officials as allies, they are far too corrupt and uninfluential, as you well know. We cannot trust them with the distribution of arms, we cannot depend on them to lead. You, on the other hand, I trust. The entire world has already heard your voice and seen your face during my address, they will rally to you.” Enzo picks up one of the RF-50’s and places it in my lap. “I’ve decided to make you commander of the Martian Infantry Division and extend the same offer as I did the night you spoke truth to the masses. Toren, will you lead your people, will you help defend our planet.” “Y’all fuckin’ with me?” I ask bewildered, head darting from side to side. I notice the grave expressions on their faces and become deathly sober. “It depends…” Enzo’s uncle scoffs. “It depends, he says? Typical ruster, always scheming for a better deal. Enzo, I told you this was a…” I plow over him. “It depends on how you treat us. Us Martians are warriors, hardest killers in the system, you can bet on that moonie. This planet, it’s all we have. We’ll soak the soil red before we let outsiders take it.” My eyes narrow on the tall lean man. “It’s not hard guessin’ who you are Moretti, the long lost Giovanni, absent brother to the great Lorenzo. Truth is, you don’t know shit about me or my people, so that makes you an outsider.” I take a breath to settle my temper, genuine sincerity replaces my rigid tone. “Look, us Martians are fighters, we know this land, we know what death is, ain’t nothin’ to it. Give us some respect and we’ll fight like bloody monsters with you. You look down on us though and these guns will be aimin’ at your six.” Gio and I lock gazes. “And that ain’t somethin’ I want to be part of.” Gio exhales and looks away shaking his head. When he looks back he breaks into an earnest smile. “I like the kid’s carbon.” With a slow nod he looks back my way. “Had to test you son. Way I see it, we’re all bloody Martians now. I plan on doing everything in my power to honor my brother’s vision and mend our Union.” With a shared grin he and I clasp forearms.  

“We are all Martians, what an interesting notion Giovanni. One I’m sure my mother will be thrilled to hear.” Felix Walker, a face every Martian man, woman, and child loathes, comes striding into the warehouse like he owns the damn place. Gio grimaces. “What do you want, Felix?” He snorts. “As blunt as ever I see. Well, seeing as you are hiding a massive amount of arms from my mother and our dear Union, my request now seems so meagor. My modest request is to be in the loop on your designs, your plans, everything. “No.” Gio replies too gruffly. Felix scuffs, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Fine, have it your way. I’ll go ahead and inform Union officials of your treason who will arrest you, press charges, and hang you, all in short order. Moretti holdings will inevitably be transferred over to my family and my mother will reign supreme over Mars. She can be a devious bitch, but no doubt you already know this Gio.” Giovanni works his jaw but remains unmoved. It looks to be an impasse until little Akira steps into the circle glaring at us all with eyes well beyond her years. “There is no time for this! The Regime will be here in a matter of days and yet you squabble like children? No, Enzo is right, we can either work together or die separately.” She looks over at his uncle. “Shinrai”. Whatever the meaning, the word has a profound effect on Gio. He exhales and nods slowly at Felix. “Phobian and Deimion personnel are well provisioned with small-arms. The Martians, however, are not. If we mean to use them like your mother intends, we must arm them. If we arm them and order them about like slaves they will rebell and all will be lost. Our only avenue is to trust one another. This man, Toren, has gained my family’s trust and it is something we intend to utilize. Moreover, he has a way of speaking to his people. They will listen to him, they must listen. Toren will organize the Martian mobilization effort and work lock-step with us in the defense of Mars.” Surprisingly, Felix’s mouth remains shut. Inclining his head, he encourages Gio to continue.

“Even with Martian support the odds are significant. Fact is, Mars does not have enough artillery power to counteract naval bombardment, and with the Patriot Armada still two weeks away from returning there is no way of halting their advance. They will rain upon us in force, uncontested. While we might not be able to stop the Regime’s invasion, we may be able to hinder their coordination and preclude bombardment.” Enzo gives his uncle a look of intrigue.

“Look, it’s a long story, but an old friend contacted me earlier this week. He’s here now, I’m going to let him share the details. Rey, would you mind?” A gruff looking man that I hadn’t noticed steps into the circle. A seasoned brown leather overcoat matching his wrinkled skin wraps around a stocky build. Equal to height with Gio, he is broader in the shoulders and midsection. At first glance it’s easy to see the years behind his heavy-lidded eyes, crow’s feet wrinkling their base. He looks around the warehouse with mild humor. Clearing his throat, he scratches an untamed black beard spotted with gray. “Well, reckon I’ll start at the top. I’m a contractor of sorts, skilled in many things but smuggling items here n’ there is my speciality. I captain my own ship, live by my own laws, I enjoy what I do and do it well. About 4 months back, I was approached by a man named Nick. Nick wanted to smuggle a small crew and cargo from The Belt all the way to Apollo. Not an easy route, the zones are heavily trafficked and assiduously patrolled by several different factions. I’d done the route once or twice before and the pay was, well, it was more than Martians make in a few lifetimes, so I thought what the hell? Long story short, turns out I was transporting a goddamn nuke and a batch of Prizrak hardos to the Regime. Just my luck right? Anyways, I locked the autopilot and landed, well crashed, my craft on Mars. Hit a storm on my way down, damn shame. I reckon y’all can figure out the rest.” 

Enzo explodes. “You brought that fucking moonbreaker here? You helped kill my family, you bastard!” He charges the man but his uncle steps forward, blocking his path. Gio clasps Enzo’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length. “Enzo, hear him out.” Rey coolly lights up a burner, the end burns bright in the dim warehouse as he takes a deep drag. Scratching his jawline, he exhales a cloud of smoke that floats between us. “Sorry about your family son, truly am. This ain’t what I wanted. Should have known the contract was slagged from the get go.” Enzo’s eyes narrow. “You’re a goddamn pirate, aren’t you?” Rey winks and points a finger his way. “Got me pinned sharp, a man of the ink I am.”

His story doesn’t add up, I interject. “I was there at the crash site. Saw a shit ton of marauders but never the likes of you.” The pirate’s dark eyes twinkle. “Ah, you’re one of the freelancers that came. Well, I was there boy you just couldn’t see me. Your… arrival, was exactly the distraction I needed. See, I was hidden in a small stowaway when you and yours showed up. When the bullets started flying, I activated a ghostcloak and spirited away on one of those archaic gravbikes you boys rode in on. Much obliged by the by.” He tips his hat my way before returning his attention towards Enzo.

“I know a thing or two about debts, which is why I reached out to Gio as soon as I made it to Illium. I want to make good on the hand I played in all this and believe I know how. Over the years I’ve uncovered my fair share of censored information doing jobs around the system. About five years back, I was returning from Titan and needed to make a fuel stop in The Belt. The various asteroids are riddled with smuggler dens to hole up for a night or two. At a local tavern, I caught word of a rather enticing story from a Regime pilot gone rogue. Well into our cups, he let slip that the Zhànshì Armada, the same damn one that’s currently burning towards your sphere, is controlled and coordinated not from one of the flag ships, but from a central command center on Apollo. Even better, every ship has a self-destruct sequence. In the event a ship is seized by the enemy, central command can override the system and make the ship go nuclear.” Felix rolls his eyes. “I’m not one to trust a pirate, but even if what you’re saying is true, there is no way we would be allowed clearance to Apollo’s orbit. They have that place locked up tighter than a nun’s panties.” 

Captain Reynard reaches inside his jacket and produces a small rectangular datachip the size of a fingernail. “This right here is all we need. This clearance chip was given to the Prizrak I was transporting to Apollo. We make a quick stop on Earth, commandeer a cargo shuttle, and we are prime sailing.” He flashes a sly grin at Gio who pats him on the back and regains control of the conversation. “Rey and I will handle this mission, we are well-versed in these sorts of affairs. Enzo, Toren, I will need you to rally Martian support and…” Felix cuts him off sharply. “You both forget two important details. One, how the hell are you going to be able to hack into Central Command’s server? Sure, somehow you might be able to get past Apollo’s customs, maybe even intrude into the heavily defended base, but those are some sophisticated software defense systems you would have to crack.” “So what do you propose?” Gio comments grudgingly. “I know an intrusion hacker on earth. She costs a pretty penny, a little maniac to be sure, but she is the best there is. I have know doubt she will find a backdoor into their server.” “What’s number two then sunshine?” Rey says with a beat of mirth in his deep voice. “Number two, my dear pirate, is my mother.” Giovanni’s face drops. Felix plows forward, a measure of authority in his tone. “I’m under the impression that you have the best chance of taming my mother’s turbulent nature, something no one else seems capable of doing. You will stay. So, who should attempt such a fatal mission with our brave pirate messiah?” He gives Enzo a challenging look. “I will.” I spit out without hesitation. Felix laughs stridently. “I cannot trust a Moretti to complete such a mission. I will go with you. Walker and Moretti, a formidable force wouldn’t you say?” The attention turns to Gio who stands withdrawn, his eyes cast downward deep in thought. He suddenly winces, as if accepting an obligation he loathes. “Alright. Listen to Rey, he is the professional. Be ready to launch within the hour, make haste in your preparations.” We all begin to disperse, but before I leave I see Felix walk over to Giovanni and hear him whisper. “Do whatever it takes to subdue my mother. Make sure there is a planet for us to come back to.”   

Enzo Chapter 13: 

The Space Between 

Space, it has a rather sobering quality to it. Only something of this magnitude, this expanse, can make you feel so small, so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. For what are even the greatest men and women, rulers of worlds and corporate tycoons, to the endless stars and galaxies of the universe? A profound ease has unfolded in me since leaving the turmoil and chaos of Mars behind. The weight of responsibility now seems so very far away. Despite the immense challenges that lie ahead I feel calmer than I have felt in a very long time. 

Deep space is a new and exciting experience for me. I have never ventured beyond Mars’s orbit, my father forbade it. “A family heir is far too valuable to risk” he had the habit of saying. Giovanni might not have been around much but he did try his best to be a good uncle to me and my siblings. He would check in with us at least a few times a year and would always have unique gifts delivered to us on our birthdays. The few times my uncle did return to Phobes, I would sit with him and listen to his exploits and adventures, they would always fill me with so much awe. The bizarre tales of the Outer Rim, Titan and its sublime biodiversity, and the stories of the Inner Rim, the Venusians and their volcanic world and stoic culture. My uncle was my hero growing up and I often dreamt of the adventures of my own I would one day undertake. 

As my fathers heir, I became the prime of House Moretti when he died, a duty that should have fallen on my uncle’s shoulders. Before I was born, my father renounced Giovanni from the family after a feverly argument about his lack of commitment and selfish endeavors. Gio would stop by to visit his niece and nephews but he never truly repaired his relationship with my father. Before departing Mars, I reaffirmed him into the Moretti family, granting him back his rightful place as family prime. He muttered, cursed, and threatened, but in the end he accepted the title as he understood the logic was sound. His appointment will not be welcomed by the Union powers that be and he will have his work cut out for him in establishing himself within the viper nest that is the current landscape of our fractured government. Even still, he will hold much more sway than I ever could, because while they might look down on Gio, they do not understand him and there is a considerable advantage in that. 

My hand drifts away from my cabin’s window and I sink back into my twin bed. A sigh escapes me, there is a good chance that this time tomorrow I’ll be dead, or even worse, tortured in some grim Regime cell. I close my eyes and try not to think about it. Moments later, there’s a knock on my door. I know it’s her just based on the rhythm. Funny the subtle things you learn about the people close to you. I ignore it, pretending I am asleep. She knocks again with more force. “Enzo, get off your ass and open the door. You’ve been hiding from me this entire journey, I’m not going to let you get away with it!” Irked, I rub my face in  agitation and rise out of bed to open the door. Bianca’s face is flush, cheeks pink and rosy from drink. “What do you want, it’s almost midnight and I’m tired.” She snorts and rolls her eyes. A creature of moods, she’s tipsy and in one of her playful states. “Oh pardon me Mr. Moretti, I didn’t realize you were tired. Would you like me to make you some chamomile tea, tuck you in, tell you a bedtime story?” She grabs my wrist and marches me out of the room.” I laugh besides myself. “Where are we going?” She looks back with a twinkle in her eye.“You, and I, and Felix, the hacker and the pirate, are going to get very, very drunk. We found a crate of old Tennessee bourbon in the storage haul, Jack Daniels, I think it’s called. Seeing as we might be dead this time tomorrow figured we should live it up tonight.” I stop in my tracks, sternly shaking my head when she whirls around. Her expression changes when she sees my face, her eyes soften and find mine. “Come, it will do us all good.” 

We find Felix and company singing bawdy drinking songs in the cargo ship’s cramp lounge. The scent of smoke and whisky waffs over me. Their shirts are off, Lucy’s included, and they pound their chests like silverback gorillas. Felix, their fearless leader, has stripped down to his undergarments and stands comically on the rusted iron dining table. His feet stomp in tune with the song, beer splashing around in disregard. He spots Bianca and I walk in and points my way. “Moretti! Come! Drink!” Leaping off the table he swaggers over, snagging a bottle from the hacker Lucy on the way. He thrusts the whisky into my chest, “Best catch up, or are you too good to drink with us?” I glance quickly at Bianca who cocks an eyebrow at me. I upend the bottle, downing the final third to Felix’s great amusement. Grabbing my hand he thrusts it into the air like some boxing champ. They all howl and laugh, and gradually, so do I. We drink for hours playing customary Union drinking games and singing old legion songs. As the liquor sinks in, my eyes begin drifting to Bianca, as they always do. She is at home with the crew, her jokes even viler than then some of Reys. Catching my gaze, she brushes the hair from her eyes and tosses me a wink. We continue on for hours until everyone has met their oblivion except Bianca and I.

Well into our cups, we recount old memories of our younger years. Felix slumps in the corner booth snoring loudly, a waterfall of drool pools on the floor below. I snort in disgust. “What is it that you even see in him, Bianca?” My speech is slurred, and so is hers, but she takes great effort to collect herself as if she’s rehearsed this moment before. “Felix is … he is not the person he portrays to the world. You know his mother, can you imagine growing up being groomed by a woman of that nature.” She stops suddenly remembering I didn’t grow up with one at all. Her hand finds mine, our fingers naturally intertwine. “What I mean is, your father Lorenzo was a great man, not because of his prestige, but because of his enduring love for his children. Felix never had that, Cassandra’s a conniving bitch and Johnathan is far too passive a father to have ever had any influence on him. There is conflict inside Felix, he wants to be good, he just doesn’t know how. When he feels challenged he defaults to his mother’s conditioning. And he feels challenged around you because… because he knows that I love you.” Perplexed, I withdraw my hand and recoil from her. “You have a funny way of showing it.” I say coldly. Her warm hand brushes against my cheek. It takes great effort to remain stern. “When we first started dating things were perfect, I still cherish those memories to this day. But as the years wore on, things changed. Your happiness became dependent on me. I became your entire world, the only thing that mattered to you. You no longer were evolving, you were not growing into the person you were supposed to become, the man I knew you could be. You were so headstrong back then and could not see it, but I could. I had to break up with you to free you Enzo. Don’t you understand? There needed to be space between us.” Her pleading eyes break my composure, a single teardrop escapes and runs down my cheek. “Look at you now Enzo, you have evolved. Somewhere your father, your brother, your mother, are smiling down at the man you’ve become.” She kisses me then, not a quick casual peck, but tender and full on the lips. She doesn’t want to break away, there is longing in her. I try to speak but the words fail me. She takes my hand and leads me out of the lounge, down the hall, and to my room. 

We take our time undressing one another. It is not the hurried passion of lust between us, rather it is slow and deliberate, like the motions of an old dance rejuvenated. When we finish the room becomes very quiet. The words that were stuck in my throat before find voice. “What about Felix?” I ask, apparently concerned. Conflicted, she sighs. “I care about Felix, but my feelings for him are… different. You have my heart Enzo, you always have.” I roll onto my side to look at her. “So then, what happens now?” She cups my chin with her small hand. “Now, we destroy the Regime’s armada. Now we save our people. Everything else we can sort out later, we must stay focused on the mission, it is all that matters.” We share one last kiss before she quietly slips out of my room.

Giovanni Chapter 14: 

Judgment

Sand sprays across my face as I exit my ship. The sleek Venusian craft was gifted to me by Emperor Haruto himself. It was a token of his friendship and speaks to the quality of the man. The compact corvette is kitted for deep space and has a state-of-the-art cloaking system installed, one only recently developed by SpaceCorp Industries. I do not bother with a pilot as most of the moonborn prefer, I believe owning a craft of this caliber should be enjoyed.

I’ve come to the old capital city of Vinyl alone and unannounced. Mr. Galloway, one of my late father’s staunchest friends, informed me that a war council had been arranged, one in which only the most prominent families and council members would be attending. I see his savvy hand at play in choosing the location. The capital city of Vinyl was long ago forgotten just as the ideals that forged the Union. It resembles the likes of an old crone, once beautiful and vibrant now turned to decay and dust. The desert has reclaimed most of the area but here and there the fabled cobbled-stoned streets can still be seen. Formerly elegant Victorian manners of remarkable colors are now faded. Leaning severely, they support one another against the attest of time. In the middle of the ghost town, propped up on a hill overlooking the buried city sits the great statehouse where our Union was born. My desert cloak flaps violently in the wind as I chart a course through the ruins.

Before long, I arrive before the great oak doors. The doors are artistically sculpted, one of the few relics not pillaged by raiders. Dramatic scenes display man’s historical ingress into the Terra System. I take a moment to marvel at the craftsmanship. Men of that age were made of a sterner metal I decide. Sentries lean against the peeling paint walls as I step through doors. Judging by the reaction on their faces, they were not expecting Giovanni Moretti. All the same, I am granted entry and escorted to the Council Hall. The great hall is of immaculate design and looks to be painfully restored to retain a fragment of its former glory. Stained glass making up the domed ceiling basks the room in ambient lighting. Council members sit on velvet cushions spread out along the cement rows. They eye me as I walk down the steps, most with intrigue, some with malice, a number with welcoming nods. In the center-point of power, encircled by the room, stands a dignified Cassandra. With her dove white gown modestly stitched you would assume she was the embodiment of purity. Her speech grinds to a halt when she notices me. 

I may be from the distinguished Moretti genes but to them I am an outsider, moreover, a new threat to their power and influence. I ignore the smirks and hushed whispers as I settle down on one of the open cushions. I hold no delusions of the danger I’ve put myself in by coming here. In a viper’s pit such as this, one wrong word, one small misstep, can warrant death. These are ancient families I’m dealing with, bloodlines that date back all the way to The Race. They are a proud baleful breed of social elites who are quite adept at deception and not at all above murder. No doubt they are all aware of my past and the misguided tales of how I abandoned my brother and my family name for ‘darker’ passions. I’m not here to flatter or to make friends, nor have I come to follow or lend a hand. I am here to lead. Unlike many of their gross assumptions, I do not seek power for power’s sake, something most here would not comprehend. If it were up to me I’d be lightyears away from these petty people, it’s half of the reason I left in the first place. Unfortunately, I cannot. Despite my flaws, I am still a Moretti. Still brother to Lorenzo, still uncle to his children, still protector of Akira and forever friend to the Hoshina Dynasty. These are responsibilities I will not walk away from. 

It seems I have derailed the meeting. Good. The council engrossed, I decide now is as good a time as ever to plead my case. Clearing my throat, I scan the room with stern eyes. Some meet my gaze with raised chins, others look at me with brimming curiosity, a few look down or away unable to match my aplomb. The prime of House Morales chuckles with his wife to my left, emanating levity despite the dire circumstances we all face. Mr. Galloway gives me a wink of encouragement. “Members of the Union, I am Giovanni Moretti. Some of you knew me as a young man. Restless, bored, unaccomplished, I will not defend the man I once was, that is not the purpose nor the objective of my return. In contradiction to the general assumption, I am not here to seize power, stir up trouble, or create disunion amongst our ranks. I return because I must, because I am needed here. Something that is clearer now than ever before” Cassandra sees me gaining momentum and strikes her first blow. Voice false and dripping with mockery. “Gio, my dear, how we have missed you! Where have you been all these long years?” Her venomous smile bites, tone dancing with derision. “We all know how little you care about our Union, you made it so plaintively clear this past decade, abandoning your family for a life of vice and a Venusian whore. Now suddenly you return so… auspiciously following your brother’s death. You may have fooled your nephew into handing over his rightful rule, but you will not do the same with us.” Cassandra cocks her head, wagging a finger at me as if I were a child being scolded. “Your deceptive plots will not work Gio, I will not allow it.” I anticipated this might be the way things went and am not caught off guard by her assault. Cassandra’s defense mechanisms are a fearsome thing, something that became abundantly clear when we were lovers. “Cassandra, vivacious as ever. I’ve missed that deviled tongue of yours these long years. Please holster it for now though, save it for later would you?” I wink, disgusting her and earning a few nervous laughs from those familiar with our history. I steam forward, slashing the room’s tension with an enigmatic smile. “Now, where was I? Ah yes, the fact that we are walking, no running, towards a cliff. Cassandra would have us use our Martian brethren as slave soldiers to defend us. She has no plan, no defensive strategy, all she cares about is power. She…” Cassandra scoffs dramatically, directing attention back to herself. “And what are your plans Gio, what schemes are you conspiring behind our backs?” Her eyes dig into mine with such confident scorn that I know I’ve miscalculated something. A lump grows in my throat as I realize what. She knows. I should never have come to this place. 

Cassandra’s white knuckles grip the podium’s edge as she looks side to side, frivolity replaced by urgency. “I know his nature, his plots, his lies. This man does not speak truth! Do not be fooled by his charming mendacity. He has not come to help us, no, he has come to usurp us. Two weeks ago a cargo ship landed in Port Nueva carrying a large weapons cache sent from a Pinnacle defector by the name of Leonardo Gerrard. It would seem the two of them plan to arm the Martians and overthrow us.” Her pawns all gasp in ghastly betrayal. Galloway yawns.

I know better than to play into her game so I stand quietly as the room erupts in outrage around me. Cassandra’s underlings finish me off in short order with autocratic haymakers and rhetorical uppercuts. They mean to hang me for treason in the morning, a declaration that is widely accepted. When the vote comes to Mr. Galloway, he raps gnarled knuckles against his oak armrest in contemplation. He is a member of note, and despite Cassandra’s influence, there is not a man or woman here who does not hold immense respect for the noble figure. “An ill-timed revolution this would seem to me. Giovanni and the Martians would overrun us just to be massacred by the Regime.” He rubs a cleft chin “This coup would be absurdly short-sighted. Maybe some Martian warlord with a grudge would be dumb enough to set a plan like this into motion, but for Giovanni to sponsor a revolt of this lunacy? That is something I cannot even begin to comprehend. There has to be more to this than meets the eye.” He inclines his head to me. “Gio, why have you armed the Martians?” Knowing that my life rests on my next words, I take my time formulating a response. “Because it was, it is, the only way I can save our people.” I say with more emotion than I would have thought. Regaining an even tone, I peer around the room in accusation. “You all cannot possibly believe we can defend Mars in this state without allies. With assistance from Venus or Galilea there might have been hope of victory, but without them we are alone and terribly exposed. Using the Martians to defend us with shovels and pipes is not exactly a strategy, it would only delay the inevitable. Our only option, our only chance to survive this invasion, is to trust the Martians.” I let my eyes drift around the council. “To be honest, I don’t like many of you. All you care about is prestige, it sickens me. Frankly, I don’t care much for the Martians either. However, if any of us are going to survive this invasion we need to find a way to work together. History has shown the most effective way to do that is by finding a common enemy. We may not see eye-to-eye, we might even hate one another, but we loathe the Regime more.” I flash my most devilish grin. “I say we set aside our differences and murder the bastards.”

Cassandra slams her notepad against the podium. “We will murder the bastards, that is without question, but we will start with you! The votes are unanimous, you will hang in the…” Mr. Galloway’s baritone voice bulldozes over Cassandra. “You forget yourself Mrs. Walker, I have not voted.” His burly hands bang against his gravchair’s armrest. “I vote nay! And as a senior prime of the council, I enact Article 22 Clause 5, Trial by Combat.” A hush goes through the hall. Outmaneuvered by the old man, Cassandra stands baffled, gaping at him. Straightening her dress, her confident demeanor returns as she assures herself of my death. “Very well Mr. Galloway, we will let the swords cast their judgment.

Magnetic cuffs chaff my wrists and scrap my ankles raw. Dawn must be emerging outside for I see a ray of light emerging from a crack in the crumbling brick walls that imprison me. It illuminates a beam of dust which stretches across the room to the floor beneath me. I have been confined to what looks to be a dusty old storage room in the west wing of the statehouse. While I have the freedom to move around the cramped space I am not beguiled by any notion of escape. Walker legionnaires guard the entrance and can activate my magnetic shackles at their leisure. During the quiet hours of the night, two brutes came in to show me what’s what. The force of the magnets pinned my feet and hands to the floor while they beat me mercilessly, stomping on my chest and kicking my side until I felt my ribs cave in. My face, they left untouched, no doubt to hide the misconduct. It would not do to have the torture of an unconvicted man be known.

My manacles suddenly activate again, securing my arms and legs to the floor like a crucifix. I hear the metal door scrap against the grim tiles. The intruding light blinds me as I squint up at the stiletto of an emerging figure. The door slams shut and Cassandra’s heart-shaped face looks down on me with those beautiful brown eyes of hers. “Why did you have to come back Gio? You should have known better than to cross me, you lie here on your own accord.” She sighs, kneeling down, she wipes the bloody drool from my bearded cheek. “I did not wish for this. There was a time, not long ago, when I would have done anything to see your handsome face again. I would have been yours forever, but then you abandoned me. All those years we shared and you leave without even a fucking goodbye?” She sniggers scornfully. Her ringed fingers gently stroke my oily hair. “What a man you were, bold, ruthless, undaunted by anything or anyone. How we would look down and laugh at the world together. Now look at you… What happened? What changed?” Working my jaw, I look away pensively. “You wouldn’t understand Cass.” The warmth in her fades and she removes a syringe case from her purse. She speaks privately as she preps a needle. “I cannot let you survive this Gio, you must understand that. You openly challenged me in front of the entire council. As a result, either you or I will lead the defense of Mars.” She bits her lower lip passionately as she inserts the needle into my arm, pressing down until the substance is fully injected. “It will not be you.” She wipes the beads of sweat from my forehead and kisses me forlornly on the lips. 

Standing, she looks down at me for a long moment, as if searching for some indication of the man I once was. She frowns and makes for the exit but then pauses at the door. “He’s yours you know.” She says without looking back, her long red nails idly tracing the frame of the door. My stomach sinks in premonition. “What do you mean?” I ask, my voice a whisper. She whirls around. “Felix, he is your son Gio. You… disappeared before I could figure out how to tell you I was pregnant. We were both only twenty-two and I knew you didn’t want kids. When you left I needed to find a husband to support us, my family name wasn’t worth spit and I was drowning in debt. When I found out Johnathan’s wife was barren, I decided to seduce him into an affair. He needed an heir for the Walker line to continue so you can imagine how thrilled he was to learn that I was pregnant, claiming the child was his. Upon the news, I convinced him to divorce his wife and ask for his hand.” She looks down at me sadly, eyes pooling over. “Felix is now the same age you were when you left Phobos. Sometimes I wonder how things would have been if you never left, if I had found the courage to tell you sooner.” Her voice becomes thick with emotion. “And now you have sent our son to die on Apollo.” A single tear runs down her cheek as she turns to leave.

I lay curled up in a ball for what seems like days. The magnetic bands have been deactivated but whatever Cassandra poisoned me with has left me deathly feverish. My frantic mind runs in circles trying to make sense of what she said. Could Felix truly be my son? The door bangs open without warning and two guards grab my arms to heave me to my feet. I retch up as they lift, ruining their polished boots. My limp body is supported on either side as they haul me out of the room. My head sags, top of my feet drag against the wooden floor as I am carried through the various halls. Pyretic, sweat drips off the top of my nose leaving a trail behind. I hear a door pushed open and cringe at the blinding light. There is another prick in my arm. Roaring, my eyes jolt awake. When my vision narrows, I discover a mouse of a man with thick glasses and swirling gray hair blinking back at me. He methodically snaps off purple rubber gloves, folding them neatly he disposes them into the adjacent bin. “Adrenaline my good sir, courtesy of Mrs. Walker. She informed me of the severity of your illness and wanted to make sure you were fit enough for combat. Always the thoughtful one, isn’t she?” The adrenaline may have allowed me the strength to stand on my own accord but it has not derailed the internal effects from the poison nor cured my battered torso. I work my hands as the doctor scribbles notes on a form which he then hands to the guards. “Mr. Moretti is cleared for combat. Please deliver this to the council.”

An autumn breeze cools my perspiration, making me shiver uncontrollably in the crisp dawn air. I hear the jeering crowd as I near the central courtyard. I do not look up at their faces as I am pushed towards the dueling pit, an octagonal pool that looks to have  been vacant for centuries. Stained and cracked, it lies one story below the overgrown wilting grass. My gaze stays cast down as the metal on my wrists and feet are removed. I climb down the rusted ladder to the cement floor. An idle pulseblade is dropped at my feet. Stiffly, I bend to pick up the blade. Its smooth steel handle is familiar against my calloused hands. Finally, I look up. Across from me, my opponent stands as implacable as a mountain. Nearly two heads taller and twice as thick, his muscles are abnormally large and corded like an ox. Exultant from the chants of the surging crowd, he paces back and forth thrusting his sword arm into the painted sky. “Hassan! Hassan! Hassan!” They cry. I shake myself trying to focus but my drugged mind is too clouded to think clearly. Cassandra is thorough when she cuts a man’s hamstrings, in this state I will be dead within the first few exchanges. A bitter laugh escapes my cracked lips only to be turned into painful wheezing. I cough up a glob of blood which paints the pool’s floor. Simmering anger burns to a boil as I glare up at the spiteful faces that would have me die. Do they not know I am trying to save them? My heart skips a beat as I notice a small girl fighting her way through to the pool’s edge. At first I fear it to be a delusion, but then I know it is her. Brightstar. Her father’s eyes quietly plead with me to remain, to stay, to fight. She brings two fingers to the middle of her forehead. Closing them, she shows me The Way.

My eyes drift closed. Remembering my practice, I begin scanning my body from head to toe with my mind’s eye. Sounds become muffled and distant as if the pool was filled and I under water. I notice my fingers twitching from the adrenaline, body overheating and shutting down from the poison, ribs broken, lungs struggling for air. I let go of my firm grasp on life. My pulse begins to slow and gradually becomes steady. I stop fighting the circumstances, the pain, the emotions, and the strong current of acceptance floods through me. Suddenly, I am no longer on Mars, I am back on Venus with Emperor Haruto in his precious zen garden. He smiles at me as he sits cross-legged in a thick white kimono. His kind eyes are patient as he asks what troubles me. I struggle to find words, he nods as if he understands. His voice is calm, deeper than it was in real life, echoing as if it were a million lightyears away. “Regret. I know regret well Giovanni. It will consume you if you let it. But there is another path, peace. Find it now, let it soothe the pain and give you strength.”

The vision is gone as quickly as it came. I am back on Mars, back in the dueling pool facing my end. A seed of realization sprouts helping me to accept something I’ve been hiding from all these years. I always thought there would be time to make things right with Lorenzo and rekindle our brotherhood. As a boy I idolized my older brother, my protector, my best friend. It broke my heart disappointing him. And while I cannot regret leaving to experience life, to discover my truths, I do rue the day our bitter words tour us apart and regret that we were never able to truly make amends. It’s not these people’s judgment I care about, it’s Lorenzo’s. I have to believe that if he were here right now he would be proud, proud to see that in the end I am fighting to unite our people and live up to my family name. The thought vibrates throughout me giving me strength.

Blocking out the pain, I rotate the sword’s hilt in my hand testing its balance before activating its pulse. It’s blue electric current thrums as I give the blade a few practice swings. Hassan and I fixate on one another, his dilated pupils gleam bright from spacedust and bloodlust. Cassandra gives a long-winded speech, prattling on about honor and heritage, as armor is strapped to both of us. The battle begins with a flick of her fingers. Hassan comes at me straight away, his silver armor glittering with the newborn sun. My armor, the plum purple of the Moretti, saves my left arm from being cleaved off as one of his lunges finds purchase. I ignore the wound and the man’s ignoble taunts. He comes at me again, and again, surprisingly agile for someone his size but I dip, dodge, and parry, always a fraction quicker than his advances. I choose my counter-strikes with care, earning a few blows of my own. The battle wears on. Hassan is deadly fast, impossibly strong, but his stamina is draining with each frenzied attack. Cassandra notices this, jumping out of her chair she yells for him to end the charade and finish me. I continue to elude him and his frustration grows with each desperate encounter. His breathing quickens until he is forced to pause opposite of me. One hand resting on the ladder, he curses my cowardice between heavy breaths.

Blood leaking out of my punctured armor streams down to my gauntlets. Sweat stings my eyes. I let it all wash over me, wash through me, and my heart rate calms. It’s then that I notice a fresh variable, one that had only just appeared. Uncharacteristically, I charge headlong at Hassan catching him off guard. As I come within an arm’s length he side-steps to the left slashing at where my body should meet the wall. But I am not there. Kicking off the ladder steps, I backflip over him landing in behind. His killer instincts are quick to recognize my new positioning. Without looking, he swings his blade around with all his might. In concert, I drop to a knee. Sparks fly as Hassan’s blade scraps the top of my helm. I explode upward, with all my strength, with all the love I have for my family, my friends, my people, and drive the tip of my blade through the bottom of his chin up through the crown of his head. I stand there for a wavering moment. The wailing crowd becomes so quiet you can hear the gentle breeze flowing through the tall grass. With a deep inhale, I withdraw my blade and Hassan crashes to the ground, his blood seeps out into the pool. Fatigue hits like a boulder and I crumple to my knees. I faintly hear Cassandra franticly commanding my execution before she is silenced by Mr. Galloway’s regal voice. “Giovanni Moretti has proven his innocence. He has shown his worth and laid his heart bare for all to see.”

Delirious, I manage to roll my head upwards towards the sound of his voice. My eyes crack open to witness Galloway struggle out of his chair. Supported by his wooden cane, he finds his feet with great effort. His eyes are fierce and proud as he looks fixedly around the courtyard. “This man is the champion, the leader our people need. I notion his appointment to supreme commander during this period of war. All agreed, toss your swords into the pool in alliance. All opposed, raise them in protest. Idle pulse-swords rain down around me clattering to a halt against the cement floor. A handful of Cassandra’s chattel raise their swords in dissent, but not nearly enough. Mr. Galloway nods his head in confirmation. “Giovanni Moretti, your command is effective as of this moment. Rise! Rise and lead our people to victory!” Using one of the swords for support, I ascend back to my full height. Lifting the two blades into the air, I extend my long arms and embrace the devoted cheers of my people.

Enzo Chapter 15: 

Apollo

Our cargo shuttle takes a wide trajectory around Apollo to join in with the supply line coming from earth, the breadbasket for the Regime. The moon grows in size as we approach. It is a fortress of a sphere, taking on the impression of a giant metal-spiked morningstar. Hundreds of cargo shuttles line up in progression as they await clearance to Apollo’s orbit.  

As we draw near the sentry beacon our transmission server links and the video monitor turns on to display a plain faced man with the black and orange uniform of the Regime. His monotone voice is flat and bored from the mundane work. “Vessel AG262A this is Regime Flight Command. What is your clearance?” Our captain answers cheerily. “Good day mate, uploading the clearance sequence to your server now. Transporting a liquor shipment from Australia. Bringing in some good hooch for you boys.” The screen cuts and a long silence unfolds as our clearance code is processed. You can feel the anxiety in the flight deck. “Should it be taking this long?” I ask Rey who sits distracted cleaning his fingernails. “Pisser’s probably just having a wank.” Not exactly reassured, I rub my brow and try to wait patiently. Lucy’s eyes twinkle in amusement at my unease. Taking a long drag from her thin designer e-cig, she blows the smoke towards me through pierced nostrils. With her short-cropped neon green hair, body littered with discolored tattoos, and piercings beyond count, Lucy is the antonym of a moonborn lass. Since coming onboard, she’s made it abundantly clear that she’s only here for the credits. Her frivolous demeanor has been pissing me off the entire journey. Felix vouched for the trivial Parisian though, saying she’s the “best damn intrusion hacker this side of The Belt’ so I bite my tongue and let my foot tap out the agitation. After what feels like an eternity, the officer’s clean shaven face reappears. “Your sequence is expired. However, our liquor stocks are running low so I’m going to allow you entry but marking you down for a citation.” Outraged, Rey scoffs loudly. “A citation! Bugger that you bloody arse rag.” The officer clears his throat in annoyance. “Captain, I’m being lenient with a citation. Keep talking like that though and I will revoke your trade license all together.” Rey raises his hands innocently. “Easy, easy, was just having a go. Read you loud and clear, good on ya.” The man straightens his tie in an attempt to regain his dignity. “You’re clear for entry Captain, dock your shuttle in Port Green, Bay 74.” The transmission ends and I let out a deep breath. “Goddamnit Rey, did you have to provoke him like that?” Chuckling like a lunatic, Rey swivels his chair around and slaps his good knee. “Ah sorry mate, had to sell it. Nothing wrong with a little laugh from time to time, does wonders for the soul.” He runs a hand through his long oily brown hair and begins tying it in a knot. “All jokes aside, once we get down to the rock you follow my lead. This is what I do, kid. I’ll get us into central command, Lucy will handle the tech, all you and pretty boy over there need to do is hold your composure. Understood?” I nod reluctantly, Felix throws him an obnoxious grin.

We land in our designated bay and wait for custom agents to process our goods. We’re cheated royally, receiving less than half the credits due. Apparently with the newly applied citation and increased tariffs to support the war effort, the Regime is entitled to basically rob us of our goods. Haulers get to work unloading the shipment and we are granted a day pass to enter New Beijing. We follow the signs to the public transit center. Rey, Lucy, Felix and I board a GravTram destined for the Civic Center. Bianca stays behind with the ship in case we need a fast exit. The tram’s lights go in and out as we speed across the darkside of the moon. Lighting flashes throughout the clouds, a deep thunder rumbles in the distance. Blacks and grays dominate the landscape as if we had just stepped into one of those old black and white films my father used to watch. The seasoned pirate’s face is placid, body quiet, at ease with the high stakes. I can tell Felix is excited by the way his eyes dart around and lips curl upward in a sly smile. My nerves, however, are completely shot. Noticing Lucy’s mirth, I plunge my trembling hands in my jacket pockets. Rey looks me over and offers a reassuring nod. 

We reach the Civic Center and exit the tram. The weather is damp and cold. Shivering, I zip my brown leather jacket up to the chin. We are caught off guard by how deserted the financial district is. The central plaza is almost entirely empty save for a poor elderly couple. They hobble across the wet cobblestones with an old grocery cart filled with their life’s belongings. In the southwest corner we spy two pairs of patrolmen leaning against a handrail smoking burners, a flickering street lamp hangs above them. Rey gestures towards a narrow alley adjacent to the plaza and Lucy, Felix, and him set off. Remembering the plan, I wait a few minutes and then burst into the plaza startling the patrols. I talk frantically, acting very distraught after just being robbed by a dusthead. The men share a confused look but follow as I urgently lead them through the dimly lit alleyway. After rushing past a dumpster, I begin to slow my pace as if suddenly unsure of my direction. We hear the dumpster lid thrown open and pivot backwards to see Lucy laughing hysterically. She tosses trash in the air like it’s fucking confette. Priming their stunwands, they approach her cautiously. In the corner of my eye I see Rey and Felix creep in from behind on bare feet. One second the men are standing muttering curses at Lucy, the next they are bent and broken on the cement. “Quick, help me with their clothes, I don’t want them all bloody.” Rey shouts in a hushed voice. We disrobe the patrolmen and dispose of bodies into the dumpster. Lucy closes the lid and jumps back up humming pleasantly to herself as we don their Regime uniforms. She whistles provocatively as Felix and I take off our shirts. Disguised as patrolmen, we lower our helmet’s visors and exit the alleyway. Before approaching the Command Center (CC), we apply magnetic manacles to Lucy’s wrists. Felix and I hold her gruffly between us as Rey uses the patrol’s scan-clearence to gain us entry. He leads the way as we methodically navigate through the complex. Like the city, the CC is almost entirely vacant and we move throughout the building unmolested. Reaching the Command Room (CR), a tall guard in heavy plated armor squares up to us outside the reinforced steel doors. “What the hell are you doing up here with a convict?” He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “She smells like shit. Have you lost your wits, cells are on the…” “Mine!” Lucy springs at the tall man latching onto him like a monkey as she severs his head from it’s shoulders using a serrated blade. Her grim work complete, she looks back at Rey for approval. The psycho has a thing for the old pirate after riding him the entire journey here. Mildly amused, Rey chuckles as he casually picks up the head and pushes the eyes against the retina scanner.

The doors retract and Rey tosses in a pair of EMP grenades. They burst with a shockwave and the room goes dark. The EMP disables all electronic devices in its blast radius, energy weapons included. We make a bloody mess with our vintage gunpowdered Uzzis. Each blast lights up the room like a strobe light making our victims look like bizarre dancers. There is a loud thrum as the backup generator finally kicks in. Lights flicker back on. The few still alive look around frantically before settling their eyes on me. I stand trembling with a steel dagger pressed against the throat of the Supreme Dictator. Cold metal bites into Tao Zŏu’s jugular, blood trickles down onto his snow white uniform fringed with gold and now striped with red. I’m just as shocked as everyone else, my eyes flashing around nervously. We did not suspect he would be here. Zŏu’s presence could suggest a number of things, but I have a terrible suspicion I know what’s what. The bastard is initiating the invasion of Mars. I blink back a bead of sweat and tighten my grip. “Move and the Zŏu dies!” The greatest minds of the Regime look back at me with dangerous eyes. The Dictator is a living god in their culture, they would never do anything to jeopardize his life, at least that’s what I hope. 

Zŏu laughs the deep throaty laugh of a man who thinks himself immortal. “You cannot kill me and possibly make it off this moon. You are bluffing.” He looks around the room, power radiating from him. “Initiate the invasion!” Without hesitating, I slice his throat from ear to ear. Blood floods over the dictator’s white uniform. He teeters for a moment before collapsing like a felled tree, his head smacks hard against the concrete floor with a wet thud. I dart to the lead control operator, but it is too late, he has already relayed the command. Rey and Felix kill the rest as I stare at the red dots multiplying on the screen. Each dot represents landing shuttles, each landshuttle holds an entire battalion. The board fills with red as they speed towards Mars.

“Lucy! The ships!” She has already pushed the operator’s limp body to the floor. Her fingers a blur as she taps the buttons and dials like a mad pianist. The room’s video monitors fill with explosions. Mushroom clouds sprouting across the red surface. Chatter from idle headsets can be subtly heard as Lucy runs around to the different terminals. “How much longer!” I shout at her. Rey, walking up from behind, lays a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Let her work, Enzo” He says calmly. Knowing thousands die with each explosion, I brush him off and pace the room. I have never felt so utterly helpless in my life. “Systems are overridden, sequences interlinked, command is primed.” Lucy looks over at me and points to a small switch on the main council, the light next to it glows molten red. “Hit that switch and the Regime’s entire armada goes nuclear.” I drift towards it from across the room in a trance. The monitors are alive with the commotion of troop carriers being ejected. Ship captains can be heard shouting orders through com channels. They must now all be aware that the CC has initiated a fleetwide self-destruction. I’m far away from it all though, my attention solely fixated on the small red light that slowly lights in and out like the ocean tide. And then, all of a sudden, I’m in front of the switchboard, my steady hand opens the safety cover and flicks the switch down. One by one, in quick progression, the video feed goes dark as the armada’s thermal reactors go nuclear. Rey fastens a voice imitator to his mouth. He practices a few words to sync his voice while quickly referencing the building’s blueprint via his visor’s GIS map. “This is your Dictator, the CR has been breached. All personnel report to Sector D for immobilization.” 

We find Zŏu’s personal craft in an escape bay in the adjacent room. It is of Venusian design, one of the newest models by the looks of it. Fortunately for us, the same sonar-cloaking system as my uncle’s corvette is installed, making it invisible to the naked eye and radar alike. Rey fires up the engine as Felix straps into the co-pilot’s chair next to him. The bay doors open vertically like a giant metal mouth exposing the dreary cityscape below. Sirens fill the night air as Rey skillfully maneuvers the skies. I hail Bianca’s com and inform her of the altered exit strategy. We descend into Port Green and Rey sets us down in the bay across from the freight hauler we rode in on. Bianca emerges from the hauler and we lower down our ramp for her. Midway to our craft, she glances towards the entrance tunnel. I follow her eyes and see a platoon of soldiers flooding into the port. Her strides quickens until she’s at a full sprint. She makes it to the foot of our ramp. I extend a hand to pull her in as Rey begins to lift off. The soldiers unleash a barrage at the ship just as the ramp door closes shut. Bianca clutches me tightly as Rey spirits us away. It’s only when she faintly moans that I notice the wetness around her midsection. I extend her to arms length and peer down. Her jumpsuit is soaked red, blood begins to drip down between us. “Oh god!” She murmurs. “It’s okay, it’s okay, everythings going to be fine.” I say frantically knowing it won’t be. I lay her down gently. Rey hands over flight control to Felix and rushes out of the cockpit. He begins prepping the medical kit with Lucy’s assistance. She connects a heart rate monitor to Bianca while Rey kneels over her side. He presses a gauze strip firmly against the intrusion in an attempt to stop the bleeding. It soaks to saturation and he replaces it with another. Glancing my way, he shakes his head grimly and administers another dose of morphine.

She lays there on the cool metal floor with her head in my lap. I hold her hand delicately while gently stroking her face. Her eyes are barely open and her skin has turned a deathly white. “Enzo. Enzo…” She whispers weakly. I kiss her forehead. “Shhh, save your strength.” Her hand squeezes mine with fading vitality. “Enzo… I’m sorry. I love… you. I love…” Having spoken her heart, her voice trails off and the beautiful dark eyes of the girl I love close for the last time. The heart monitor’s beeping gradually slows before finally flatlining. Hearing the even tone, Felix looks back desperately from the cockpit. My wet eyes find his and we share the same sudden realization. We are alone, Bianca has left us both for the void.

Toren Chapter 16: 

Martians

Martians labor under the rising sun. Cranes sprout out of Illium’s cityscape like giant metal trees, casting long dark shadows over the bustling streets below. They hoist up railcannons, munitions, men, and material to install atop the ramparts high above the city floor. Scaffolding and rope ladders spread around the city’s perimeter as workers the size of ants scale to dangerous heights to repair the ancient wall. The city’s pulse shield stretches over the metropolis’s twelve mile circumference. The ‘City of Slums’ could never be described as a jewel, but it is our city, our home, and we will protect it with our lives.

Mars is far too large of a planet to defend a full-scale invasion. We simply do not have the time, the arms, or the training to defend the entire territory. With that in mind, Giovanni decided Illium should be the focal point of the war given that it is the only city with a functioning pulse shield. The massive luminous dome being our only protection from naval bombardment. Gio has given me autonomy to coordinate the city’s defensive and to command when assaulted. The moonborn, who have setup their headquarters in the ruins of Vinyl, will lead a guerilla war effort as Regime dropships make landfall. We anticipate they will utilize the same invasion approach they applied on Earth; sieging our strongest point while the rest of their forces spread far and wide to seize control of the planet. His strategy is intended to bleed them and cause as much havoc and disorganization as possible. Counterintelligence efforts have been aimed at the moonborn defending Illium in hopes of drawing the Regime’s eye while Gio and his forces cut them down one limb at a time. My instructions are simple; keep the enemy at bay, and whatever the cost, do not allow their forces to breach the city walls.

Giovanni and I have worked closely this past month coordinating Mar’s defense. I’ve felt a growing fondness for the man, similar to that of his nephew, Enzo. He is not like most moonies, he sees the world through a different lense, treating each man based on their character rather than birth or wealth. It is not where a man comes from that decides his worth, it is how he acts in the face of conflict. Theories are great, strategies even better, but it’s how you react when a barrel is pointed at your head that matters. There are hundreds of thousands pointing down on us now. I look up to where the Regime’s great armada dots the brightening sky. To the naked eye, they could be mistaken for stars. Unfortunately, they are not. The Black Armada arrived a fortnight. In a blink, thousands of ships appeared above Mars and all the misguided hope that the invasion was a myth drained away. Since the armadas’ arrival, the citizens of Illium have doubled their efforts with a vigor that was previously dormant. I have been preparing the city’s defense for over two weeks now. The progress is encouraging but it is not enough. Moreover, I fear that I am not enough. Only nineteen with very little military experience, I don’t understand why Gio appointed me command of Illium. I am no man of war, I have no medals or great battles under my belt. Hell, I’ve never even killed anyone before, but for some reason he overlooks my age and experience, instead believing ingenuity and charisma alone will throw back the tide. I try my best to look confident when I address my charges, but inside I fear I am still that small kid that wants nothing more than to hide in his big brother’s shadow.

Convincing the Martian warlords to unite was a battle in itself. I bribed, threatened, and murdered to bring them all to heel, sometimes in that order. In the end, I was successful in uniting the twelve coalitions together under one banner, something few would ever have thought possible. The state-of-the-art pulse-rifles sweetened the deal, and when faced with extinction, well, it was a rather easy decision for most. I suspect if we make it through the war though I will rue the day I gave them the guns, but that is a worry for another day. I look to the east where our unadorned red flag flaps proudly as Martian men, women, and children toil intensively to fortify the crumbling outer wall. It’s a full 24/7 effort to fix Illium’s deteriorated defenses that were last utilized in the first War for Mars. So far, I could not be any prouder of my Martian brethren. We are a hardened people who make the impossible possible simply because we must. Facing this coming death is not something new for us. Rather, it has helped unify the various divisions into a shared holistic drive. I have given each of the warlord companies responsibility for sections of the city. This will be a new style of fighting, a battle they cannot simply run from. 

Of the twelve gangs, two of them hold sway over the city and comprise nearly half of my total forces. Vincent Venditti, the shrewd old mob boss, head of the Venditti family, is a brutal but reasonable man. As the story goes, Vince’s father Franco, a once prominent member of the Union, was exiled from Phobos by Enzo’s grandfather, Tommasso Moretti, for running a contraband operation on the side. Banished to Mars, Franco methodically laid the foundations for his syndicate empire in Illium. The city was always a cesspool of sin and extortion, but it was with the coming of ‘The Godfather of Mars’ that corrupted the city beyond mending. His son Vince, now far into his twilight years, is seen as having a more temperamental disposition than his late father. His diplomatic attempts to legitimize his family within the Union elite that led to the infamous rise of Riz Garnet and his Enigmas. Riz grew up an orphan on the southside of the city. The quick-eyed red-headed bastard’s story is a long and bloody one filled with disturbing stories. Still shy of thirty, Riz has eaten his way up the food chain to be the second most powerful warlord in Illium. His Enigmas have rivaled the Venditti Family for control over the past few years skyrocketing the city murder rate to unprecentended figures. The two warlords do not trust one another but with my persuasion they have agreed on a truce until the Regime threat is erased. I can only pray that this uneasy alliance holds true. With the enemy at our doorstep, we will not survive fighting amongst ourselves.

Based on Giovanni’s latest estimates, Regime shock troops outnumber us by a margin of five to one. Even more distressing is that each trooper is undoubtedly better equipped and trained then the ragtag militia we assembled this past month. The only way I can possibly imagine us surviving a full-scale assault is if we can somehow change the algorithm, make them play into our hand. With that in mind, I have a few nasty gambits designed if I can properly bait the hook. A few more days, all I need is a few more days then the walls will be fortified and defensive procedures properly organized. As if reading my thoughts, the sky begins raining metal and the great guns of the Regime’s warships begin their bombardment.

Yakov Chapter 17:

Dinner At Dusk

Dusk settles over the vibrant landscape, turning greens, blues, purples and yellows, a grayish black. I have summoned all ranking officers to a small farming village positioned at the base of the Indovian Mountain Range. The planet’s invasion has gone near flawless thus far, the Titanese were caught unaware, or would seem. Rich in natural beauty but poor in wealth, the Titanese are severely under-armed resorting to relic weapons.

We have set up command in an old rural estate, our forces stretch for acres encamped in the neverending fields of lavender. We have been here for two days planning and organizing our tactical assault of Vosh. This isn’t the first time the ancient mountain city has been under siege. Titan may not have garnered much attention during the initial space race, however, it was a source of envy for the centuries that followed. Sovereign Maxim Morozov, Viktor’s father, had tried to conquer the great moon but the campaign was an utter failure. My people have salivated for another shot at Titan ever since, this is my inheritance. Occupying Vosh would be more than just a symbolic feat, it is a historic stronghold that has thrown back wave after wave of assaults.

Dinner is being served as I enter the dining hall. The long table is full with various Titanese delicacies. The affair is rich and hearty and displayed in wooden plates and bowls. Beaten and stripped down to his undergarments, the owner of the estate is bound tightly to one of the wooden pillars. His one remaining eye brims with primal distress as he watches his daughters and wife serve the two dozen Prizrak officers. My brother sits at the head of the table, his bawdy officers hoot and holler to his right while my own men behave in disciplined order to his left. The divide in the men is easily noticed. I clear my throat as I settle into the far seat across from Nikolai. Most of his men are too drunk to note my arrival. An officer sticks a hand up one of the serving girls skirt, she tries desperately to squirm away. Standing, the brute grabs her hair and pins her face to the table. Her father, pleading frantically, earns himself another blow to the head leaving him unconscious in a pool of his own blood. “Enough!” I command, but the man, lost in his vile lust, proceeds to rip off the girl’s clothes. Seemingly out of nowhere, Nikolai appears behind him and violently twists the man’s neck. There is a grotesque cracking noise and then a thud as the man cracks his head against the bench on his way to the floor. “Did you not hear?” Nikolai asks the dead officer. He gives the rest of the table a promising glare. “My brother said enough, the lot of you will listen or you will end up like Igor.” Straightening his high-collar, Nikolai settles back into his seat. With a smile, he inclines a hand for me to speak. I spare a quick glance at Kira to my right and begin. “Spirits are high throughout our divisions, that is good. We have won victory after swift victory, but we have not won this moon. Titan has never had the military presence to secure such a large territory. They have done what they always do, retreat to a position of power and defend.” I glare at several of my brother’s men who lean against the table with swaying heads, too drunk to hold the composure their rank deserves. They are notable killers, all of them, but their wits on the field of battle apparently do not transfer to the dining table. “The Prizrak have never, and I repeat, have never overthrown Vosh. You all drink and laugh like the campaign is over. It is not over! In truth, it has yet to begin in its earnest. Some say the mountain is impenetrable and that statement has held true up to this point.” 

Having earned the absolute focus of even the most drunken officers, I activate the digital map which floats directly above the table. A holofigure of Mt. Vosh slowly rotates clockwise for all to see. “The incline is severe and riddled with gun installments, hidden bunkers, and rigged with cunning traps. Vosh would not be hard to conquer with air superiority, but as you all well know, our air presence is insubstantial, even to that of the Titanese. Our military’s foundation is our army, and it is our army who will win or lose this sphere. To storm such a strongpoint will take unorthodox strategy and an enormous amount of will. Fortunately, I believe we have both. Brother, no one has ever questioned your resolve, I must rely on you more than ever before. You will oversee three simultaneous advances up the mountainscape. Your Second and Fourth Divisions will each be tasked with advancing up the southern and northernmost face. My armored Third Division of artillery and tanks will provide a support line around the entire circumference. It is vital that these advances are coordinated in unison and run parallel around the mountain, we cannot afford any gaps in our lines.” Nikolai gives a casual nod but I know inside he is belated to be given charge of three quarters of our forces. This is an opportunity for him to finally outshine me. “And what, dear brother, will you be doing while I win this war? Drinking and fucking your soon-to-be queen?” He raises his eyebrows at Kira in provocative humor. She casually sips her wine, completely ignoring him. I allow myself a small grin. “Kira and I will lead the Fang Legion in a tactical intrusion into the belly of Vosh. Kira, as you all know, grew up in the capital city of Mor. She was young when Viktor took her, but recalls a tale her older brother once told her. There is a secret way into the mountain, a hidden escape tunnel that leads directly into the very heart of Vosh. This planet is not ours until we capture and kill their king, Odin Vass. We need you to smoke him into the tunnels where we will capture him and stream his assasionation on the holonet for the world to see. That is the only real way we conquer Titan, by ripping out their beating heart.”

Kira and I retire to our temporary quarters after dinner. She discovers a handful of wax candles in the bedside cabinet and spreads them throughout the rustic bedroom. The flickering light paints the walls and ceiling in a soft warm glow. I unlace my black leather boots and nudge them under the bed. Release floods throughout my body as I slip underneath the down comforter. Kira disrobes and joins me under the sheets. Her almond eyes flutter as I trace her carmel tan lines, smiling softly as my hand glides across the tight curves of her body. A scent foreign to me fills the room, I sniff the air in an attempt to distinguish it. Kira giggles sweetly. “The candles are pine, they remind me of my childhood. Do you like the smell?” She whispers quietly, brushing a loose strand of fair hair from my eyes. She peers into them. “Yes, I think so.” I say distracted. Rolling onto my back, I consider the wooden ceiling. “How does it feel to return home? I haven’t had the chance to ask.” I hesitate, fearing to voice my real question. “We may very well have to kill your uncle before tomorrow is done. Do you regret fighting against your people?” Kira takes time to collect her thoughts before speaking, one of the many qualities I love about her. “They are not my people, if they ever were, they were replaced by the Prizrak the moment Viktor smuggled me away from Titan. My memories of this world are… blurry at best. It has been so long I can’t even recall the face of my father or mother, much less my uncle. My older brother is the only one I truly remember, he was always good to me. I don’t know what has become of him but he who I fear most to meet in battle.” 

I roll onto my side to gaze at the once shy girl who has grown into this brilliant, remarkably complex woman. Growing up together, she and I were different then the other children; quiet, reflective, introverted, among other complexities. Our relationship started similar to that of siblings before blossoming with age. The connection we share is something that has always irked my brother. Despite his coldness to her, I have the impression he secretly desires Kira. Nikolai has never been involved in a romantic relationship, at least none that he has bothered disclosing to me. He doesn’t allow others to get close, to see how his mind truly works. Being identical twins, he and I share a mental link that goes far beyond any kind of logic. It’s as if our minds are interlinked, our feelings, thoughts, and emotions, mutually shared. In his eyes, I fear my relationship with Kira is yet another thing that I’ve beaten him at. Nikolai’s rage is a cold one, practical in the most dangerous way. Losing as a child he would never give any emotional indicators that he was upset, never show anger or jealousy, yet the next time we would play he would always hold some sort of trump card. He is singley the most driven individual I have ever met and there are times when his relentless need to win terrifies me. It is this understanding that gives me pause to give him additional command of our forces. Nikolai has changed in my absence, I cannot read him like before. I have felt this change most distinctively here on Titan. It’s not the brutality of his fighting that bothers me, even I can get lost in bloodlust when my heart is pumping, but the madding urge dies down once a battle is over. Nikolai’s does not, and ever since having his first dose, his need has become insatiable. Kira notices the sudden darkness creeping over me. She doesn’t force me to share my troubles, she understands the deep underlying tides that move my soul. Instead, she wraps her arms around me snuggling close as I drift off into an uneasy sleep.

Elsa Chapter 18: 

Io

Rain streams down my office windows. Skyscrapers jut out of the fog, their dark spires illuminate with each flash of lightning making Nexus seem baleful and ominous. The storm season has arrived in the southern hemisphere of Ganymede and I haven’t glimpsed the sun since arriving home three weeks ago. As bleak as the weather is, my mood is even darker. My resolve for revenge has not diminished but it has changed me. I feel a specter of my former self. Worse of all, I cannot think of a way to contest Bulgar rule. Donald, in particular, keeps his communication channels air tight. I had assumed Kane would be the better bet for slipping up but until this point all my probing has proven a fruitless endeavor. A brute he may be but an idiot he is not.

The vintage grandfather clock strikes midnight. My eyelids begin to twitch with fatigue and I consider spending another night on the office sofa. I walk over to Edward’s liquor cabinet and pour a nightcap of his favorite scotch. I slump back into his leather chair and find myself wondering what he would do in my shoes. Certainly not submit to the Bulgar’s dominance. His brilliant mind would surely develop some strategy or invention to overcome the odds as he did so often in his life. Yet here I sit, behind his desk addled and irritated by failure. I feel the all too familiar rage creeping up the back of my neck and gulp down the scotch. I need to calm my mind and not allow these emotions to overwhelm me. My drifting gaze catches Edwards cigar box. Gliding across the room, I plump down into the thick suede cushions of one of the chairs that ring the desk. Opening the box, the bitter scent of tobacco wafts out into the room springing a memory of the first time I was here. I had received an overdue promotion and was elevated to Edward’s Executive Assistant. A laugh escapes me remembering how nervous I was in his presence, how skittish I felt. Mr. Bellomy, Edward’s Vice President of client relations at the time, had come to celebrate a newly acquired account. I was organizing portfolios on the corner table doing my best to remain invisible. Bellomy had purloined the account from a competitor to Edward’s great amusement. Inquiring how he accomplished the feat, Bellomy boasted; “I caught wind that the bastard kept a personal journal. Can you imagine Edward, a CEO recording all his deep dark secrets in a goddamn journal! Anyway, I paid a pretty penny to his secretary to procure it for me and had more than enough dirt to present to his clients.” 

My brow furrows as I recall the peculiar look on Cassidy’s face. It was only for a brief moment and went completely unnoticed by his Bellomy, but I saw the unmistakable reaction brought on by fear. My heart jumps, did Edward keep a journal? My immediate instinct is to tear the office to shreds to search for the diary. Instead, I coolly pour myself some more scotch. Edward was always practical, if he indeed did have a journal it would be in reaching distance from his chair. I let my eyes wander around the desk not bothering to look in the drawers. My gaze once again settles on the cigar box. Removing the contents, I inspect the finely crafted woodwork. I find a small circular hole in the bottom and gently press the tip of a pen into it. There is a satisfying click and the bottom panel parts way revealing a hidden compartment. Separating the wooden panel, I find a thick journal bound in supple black leather.

The clock ticks on as I consume page after page of the personal diary. There was more to Cassidy then I could have ever guessed, depths I never knew. The man was an island, brilliant with intricacies, but eternally alone. The passages of profound questions and meanings multiple as the years turn by. But then, in 2643, the journals focus turns to excitement over a new project, an engineering feat unlike any before. 

June 3rd, 2643

“…I have begun a new project, one that I hope will be a pillar for humanity, a true testament of our ingenuity and will. I believe I have uncovered a way to engineer a world, a planet created, not by the cosmos, but by man himself. This feat, however, will require a new energy source unlike any other. If I can somehow find or create this source, I believe this incredible dream can be accomplished…”

March 12th 2644

“…An important partner has joined my endeavor. Dr. Donald Bulgar, President and Founder of Bulgar Technologies, has decided to throw his entire support into this project. We share the notion that our research must be done discreetly, neither of us can afford the entire system learning of our aims just yet. It is a bold undertaking and the chance for failure is too high to publicize. We have begun researching and testing theories. Dr. Bulgar has graciously given over his entire laboratory on Io to this enterprise. Energy formats seem to be his speciality and his division of physicists are second to none…”

July 4th 2646

“…A major development! An exploration team sent to Uranus to further study it’s retrograde orbit have proven our hypothesis correct, the planet does in fact have internal heating. This has validated Lox’s Theory, a planet can be engineered with the right nuclei. My vision is possible…”

February 15th 2647

“…BulgarCorp and SpaceTech have worked lockstep in our coordination of transporting plutonium and Urianian gasses to Io for compounding. I am told that testing so far indicates continued nuclear fission. Internally, concerns have arisen in my mind, concerns regarding the creation of these nuclei. My partnership with BulgarCorp may have been particularly short-sighted. It feels as if this project is slipping out of my hands one finger at a time and I fear it could be corrupted by insidious aims. Speculatively, this nuclei buildup could be very dangerous if weaponized. Something of this power, well, I should not even write of such a thing. Maybe this is all just a bout of irrational fear, nothing more than an old man’s unease…”

August 1st 2647

“The situation has exacerbated. SpaceTech has fulfilled its end of the bargain, the Ioinian chemists have indicated no additional material is needed. I inquire daily for status updates but Donald ceaselessly deflects my probing requests. Worse, he has begun shipping SpaceTech representation off planet. My ears and eyes onsite are dwindling by the day. This damn scientist errors in believing he can swindle Edward Cassidy so easily!…”

November 10th 2647

“…A singular thought haunts my dreams, plagues my waking hours. The power these nuclei hold, no man should have. I now view it as a coin, one side offering life, the other, death. I do not know what Donald’s intentions are, but I fear the worst and loathe the day this idea took root in my mind. What have I done, what devilry have I helped create…”

January 31st 2648

“…This has all gone too far. Today, I fly to Callisto for a Pinnacle Summit. I am ashamed it has taken me this long to voice my blunder and the implications that could arise from it. This evening, I will hand over everything I know to my fellow councilmen. Do what they must with me, Donald must be stopped…”

An eerie stillness settles over me as the evidence solidifies. Everything adds up, even Edward’s need for a company heir now becomes clear. I pause, allowing myself a moment to consider it all. Io, I must go to Io. I check my watch, quarter past 5:00. The first glimpse of the sun shows its color over the plains of my most eastern view. I know I should sleep, let everything soak in and formulate a plan once rested. But fuck being rational, Donald’s building gooddamn moonbreakers! 

I strap on my wristcom, pop an anti-fatigue supplement, and hail my executive secretary. “Sarah, yes, good morning. I will be requesting outermoon transportation today. Cancel all my meetings for the day, the reason being that I am disposed due to a sudden illness. Arrange for Captain Goodwill to pick me up at SpaceCorp at the top of the hour. And Sarah, keep this trip off the logs.” Confused by the odd request but loyal to the bone, Sarah confirms the demand. “And what should I set as the destination ma’m?” I snort as if it were a dumb question. “Why Io, of course.” 

Io, the anvil that forged the golden Galilean republic, glimmers brilliantly from orbit. Ganymede may be the cosmopolitan commercial center of the republic, Ocean-rich Europa the glamorous tropical paradise, Callisto the once fertile breadbasket. Io, however, serves a unique purpose, it is the fabric that built the republic and binds it all together supplying Galilea’s insatiable needs. It is the moon where the metal is mined, the ships are built, the weapons are made, the fuel is obtained, without Io there would be no Galilea. I make a mental note of the sphere’s strategic importance as we enter its thin atmosphere. Lava flows course across the landscape taking on the impression of bright red veins. Kane’s space needle, positioned next to Lake Vollaros, stretches to an impossible height in the dense overcast. The lake itself is a giant thermal hot spring, its mist forms a thick layer at the tower’s base. I hail Kane’s personal com to coordinate my arrival. If he is surprised by my unexpected visit he does well not to show it. We land atop the Needle, an entire mile above the misted floor below. On top of the superstructure sits a giant disk that slowly rotates in perpetual motion. 

Kane greets me personally as I exit my flier and escorts me down into the viewing lounge. The Needle is peculiarly vacant and we don’t encounter a single other person. Kane and I settle down on white leather sofas across from one another, positioned adjacent to the viewing glass. The interior of the disk is designed in twenty-six century metallic fashion with glossy chrome floors panels and smoke-gray steel walls. Even though it is high noon the sun is blocked out completely by overcast. The view below is dim but for the bright trails of the various lava streams that stretch as far as the eye can see. Kane undresses me with a single gaze before leaning back and crossing one of his thick thighs. He wears an ink black suit studded with diamonds. His high-collared shirt has two too many buttons undone exposing a patch of coarse dark chest hair. The man reeks of musky cologne. I hide my repulsion behind one of my sweeter smiles. He returns the smile as would a hungry crocodile as he interlocks his butcher fingers on a knee. “So, Elsa, what brings you to Io?” I incline my head politely. “Business.” He snorts in contempt for the word. “Business, it’s always business with you. I had hoped it might be for… something else.” His eyes tell me what that ‘something’ is. I play into his perverse game. “Well, maybe there will be time for play. But first, business.” I slide a digipad across to him which he grudgingly picks up. “Ganymede’s job market is becoming unmanageable. The market has slowed to a standstill and unemployment claims are skyrocketing, there simply are not enough open jobs for citizens. I would like to propose a labor agreement between our two spheres. Surely the mines cannot have enough cheap labor?” Kane frowns, displeased with the offer. “That is certainly a generous proposal but Io currently has no need of additional labor.” Opening my mouth with fraudulent surprise, I pursue the issue. “And why is that?” He flairs his crooked yellow teeth in a poor attempt for a smile. “No, is my answer Elsa. Your sphere is yours to manage, as is mine. I am not in the mood for business talk. Let us move onto the fun. A drink?” I nod in agreement and he calls for an attendant. My blood runs cold as the attendant walks into the lounge. The man is no man at all but one of the  abominations Donald grows down in the depths of Europa. Seeing one here confirms my suspicions, no wonder Kane didn’t jump at the notion of cheap labor. Face a mask, I politely ask for a bottle of malbec.

We quaff down the bottle and move on to a second while Kane charms me with feeble advances. The wine helps sooth the bile in the back of my throat. Despite the air-conditioning, Kane is working up a sweat and a tangy ripe scent begins overpowering his cologne. Biting his lower lip, he rises to his feet and makes his move across the cocktail table to settle down next to me on the small sofa. The leather groans as it gives way to his mass. A thick arm casually settles around me. I giggle sweetly but flinch when his hand brushes up against my cheek. I make a show of accidentally spilling my wine as I slide closer to him. Feigning embarrassment, I apologize nervously and ask for a hand towel to soak up the mess. While he is distracted, I smoothly drain a small vile into his unattended wine. I thank him generously when he returns and toast to his chivalry with good humor. The substance works its magic faster than I had anticipated and before long Kane is unconscious drooling over himself. 

I give his plump cheeks a few slaps for safe measure and a few more for pleasure before taking the tower’s main gravlift down to the lowest level. I speed through the floors while prepping my ghostgen, a cloaking device Edward invented for spy espionage. It’s a small device useful in short stealth operations given that its battery has enough juice to last approximately fifteen minutes before needing a recharge. When the doors open, I activate the generator and emerge into a great cavern the size of a small city. I didn’t know what I expected to find down here but this… this baffles the mind. Everything you would need to start a war sprawls across the great expanse. Tanks, fighter ships, troop carriers, missiles of varying grades, small-arms, all in unfathomable quantities. And buzzing around the war toys, hundreds of thousands of Donald’s clones. Their movements are robotic, actions systematic like their minds function without any plausible notion of free will. Dead pale gray eyes rest in handsome faces that are split in half by hawkish noses. Hair so black it is almost blue, is cropped to the ears and slicked back to expose oblong faces with raised cheekbones. Monitors, that spread around the cavern perimeter, suddenly come alive. The clones halt their efforts to tune in. Donald’s face appears, it is an aged replica of the clones. Their sunken eyes, void of any emotion, stare back at him. 

“My children, you are loved beyond any measures that can define the heart. You have toiled for long years, labored for the day you might be able to climb out of the cradle to join the stars above. I have come to tell you we are on the very eve of that day. Tomorrow we rise, we rise out of the dark and into the light. Together, father and sons.” He smiles warmly with grandfatherly eyes. “Rise and fight.” Every clone in the cavern nods their head in uniform and begin chanting the phrase. My skin crawls and I feel sick to my stomach. I’ve seen enough of this circus. Walking back to the gravlift, I shoot back up to the sky disk. I com my pilot, ordering him to fire up the engines. Then I remember Kane.

 I drift over to the mass of flesh that is slumped over on the leather sofa drooling over himself. I consider what to do with the sadist. Taking Edward’s old snub-nosed revolver out of my purse, I point it at his head and prepare to shoot. I hesitate, a quick easy death is far too kind I decide, the bastard deserves a healthy dose of pain on his way out. Shuffling through my purse, I find my syringe case, something I always make sure to carry on my person as a precaution. Morphine, stimulants, and various antidotes are neatly arranged and prepped for use. I take out a syringe filled with adrenaline and stab it into his heart. Jolting awake, his eyes are wild with confusion. I grab the back of his head and jam the revolver between his crooked teeth. “Good morning motherfucker! Leo sends his regards.” Kane murmurs a squeal as I squeeze the trigger. The deed done, I stare down at the red ruin that was once a head. Noticing the blood splattered across my own face, I wipe off the gore using the hand towel Kane brought me for the spill, enjoying the simple irony of it. Numb to emotion, I feel a dark energy coursing through me filling the crevices of my soul. And I let it. I don’t care anymore about what is right, what is just, all that goes to hell when someone begins blowing up worlds.

Spiriting away in my shuttle, I see the molten moon grow smaller and smaller as we draw closer to Ganymede. My mind begins to slow down and process the byproduct of my actions. It will not take long for the news to reach Donald. This will mean civil war for Galilea. I must find allies, and quickly. My gaze is drawn to the great gas giant and the moons orbiting around her. I ponder the question Edward Cassidy once posed. “Once at the top, what then Elsa? How can you continue the endless grind when you have already obtained your ultimate goal?” I did not know the answer then, but I believe I do now. Aspire for more.