Children of Gravity Page 11

  Dernen eyed the theater all around him. The shadows were all but banished by makeshift lanterns, save those that lingered in the six or eight broken balconies. Where the seats were intact, people sat uneasily, and the rest of the space was taken by standing and leaning individuals. Tiny streams of white smoke rose in places, and a thin layer rested just above his head. Kagan walked to the center of the stage after a few rusters spoke about revolution and justice. The crowd was subdued, speaking in whispers, seemingly unsure about the planned raid.

  Kagan stood at the podium and cleared his throat. “I represent a small, peaceful group. We try to stay out of everyone's way,” Kagan began in his deep voice, and the sound carried through and stopped the murmurs and buzz of the assembly. He scanned the crowd as he spoke, and Dernen believed he was meeting each pair of eyes in turn. A small glass cylinder capped on both ends with tiny servos and green silicon boards was on the nape of his neck. His air filter.

  “We all fear the dangers of our society. They are many, but perhaps we can forestall a great number. The afflictions and addictions that threaten us, that threaten our children, that threaten us further underground cannot be beaten back. The only way to stop them is to deny them the power of your fear,” A disheartened tone grew from the murmur of the crowd. Kagan let the noise dull to silence, “It is a noble struggle. It is what must be done. But we cannot support you in this. My group and I, we do not fight. And we will not ask to benefit from your actions. It would not be fair. We cannot help you.”

  Someone in the crowd began shouting. One yelled, some others grew angry. This pacifist would have others do his dirty work, or so went the general feeling. Dernen's heart sank. He knew how people would react to the news, but Kagan felt he had to tell the people in person. As Kagan began to calm them down, a shot exploded his left shoulder and then another went into his right hip, and sent him falling to the stage floor. Dernen heard nothing. Everyone was mouthing soundless yells. Dernen heard no shots, though they rocked the foundation of the building.

  The crowd scattered, some went to Kagan's aid or perhaps to finish him off. Sam went rushing through the chaos. Eight came running up and pushed Dernen to the floor. Eight fired an entire clip of rounds into the air out of Makz's riot pistol, clearing the stage. They gathered around Kagan's limp form. Sam got to Kagan and threw her hands on his shoulder wound. He was in bad shape. She looked at Dernen with thousand-mile eyes.

  0

  Omo walked away from the chaos in the theater with a rifle in his hands. He felt suddenly nervous and threw the gun into a dark corner. Omo felt a wave of confusion. So many people screaming. His shoulder burst with pain from the recoil. The sickly sound of the man's body being ripped up by his bullets. Omo heard Kagan's words echo. What must be done. It's what Meder and Kros had told him. They trained him in the Solar Temple to dispose of the useless people in the wasteland. The leeches who used up resources and maintained a treasonous peace. People that collaborate with UPC in spirit. They told him to kill the pacifist leader when he got to the stage.

  Omo snapped out of it. He focused on his task. He was to remove the leader and escape to the old clock tower. He had questions on his lips for Meder and the temple, but he wasn't sure how to form them. They were his friends, but the man Omo was asked to kill didn't seem like the threat he was made out to be.

  Omo approached the tower with his hands in his pockets. He went inside the ancient building.

  Meder walked over to him quickly and pulled him all the way in, closing the door. Kros went over to a window and watched the street. A few other members of the temple gathered around, all armed and blank faced. Meder grabbed Omo's cheeks and slapped him playfully. “My man, you've done well,” Meder said and smiled from ear to ear.

  Kros, from his window, agreed. “Our little hero.”

  “You helped the temple and got out without a scratch. Amazing. And no one saw you?” Meder queried, still quite pleased.

  Omo looked up at him, he looked around at the others. His face held sorrow.

  Meder saw this and frowned, “What is it? You did what you needed do. These wasteland types, like the collaborator you killed, they are not your friends. They are in the way of progress. Mark my words, without our intervention, they will either drive everyone out here, including you, single file back into the City-State to be programmed, or we will all starve together in the dust. All because no one is willing to stand up to them. This raid they're planning, but it's all a game. They grab some bandages and the rusters rejoice and continue to destroy themselves and drag us with them. Omo, you took a big one down. That man, Kagan, used to be one of us, did you know that? Then a City-State drone came along and brainwashed him. He turned his back on our principles.”

  Omo shook his head. He wasn't sure what to make of everything. He knew that Meder was his friend, his only real friend in the world, and Meder knew what was best for him. “I will understand, I just need time,” Omo said in a weak whisper.

  Meder snorted. “If you have doubts, you'd better let it out now, in front of your brothers,” Meder exclaimed to the small man.

  Omo looked up in terror, his eyes wide. “No,” he cried, “I want to help, I want to be useful.”

  Kros left his window and stood next to Meder.

  Meder took Omo's shoulders and asked in a forced calm, “Did you kill him, or not?”

  Omo looked to his side, recalling the events in vivid detail in his memory, “He was badly injured. Two shots, arteries broken, muscle and bone torn.”

  Meder looked at Kros with a flat expression. Kros pulled out a gun.

  Omo stood in the middle of the room as his friends, the other members of the Solar Temple began walking away. Meder and Kros remained and looked sadly down on Omo. Omo tried to speak, but only air came out.

  Meder faced the wall and spoke, “There's a difference between believing something and knowing something. Omo, I don't think you can believe in anything. You just weren't built that way.”

  Kros leveled his gun at Omo's head. Omo stood in utter despair. He managed to talk in a broken voice, “You wanted me to get caught, you wanted me to die.”

  Meder cracked a smile. “We're all lost out here, but some of us don't even know which way is up. Omo, you're not real. You're some abomination built by UPC. Built to replace us. UPC thought if they couldn't control us, they would rebuild us in their own image. You're a blank sheet of paper, Omo. We just filled in the lines.”

  Kros pulled the hammer back on his gun.

  Omo looked into his friends eyes. His blood heated. His veins throbbed. Light shimmered from his eyes. “I'm sorry,” He said to the men. The floor shook. The old clock tower was washed with blue-green light. It poured out of the windows. Omo stood in the center with his arms out, as the light enveloped Meder and Kros until it was all they knew.

  Our Own Masters

  Revan chased the sunset home in his hover car. He was very tired and a little drunk. A long, hard day at work lingered over the horizon behind him. He was on his way to his weekend home in Amber Meadows, a community for the ultra powerful. It was situated in a deep valley walled with artificial mountain terrain. It was built in the north-west of the City-State, tucked between massive walls and a wildlife preserve. The entire region was partially climate controlled and the air was filtered free of pollutants. Revan lit up a fat cigar as he steered with one knee. His hover car's auto drive system began to kick in and he cursed at it, “No you fucking don't, I'm driving,” and he switched the controls to manual.

  Revan reached the checkpoint to his community, a wedge cut out of a mountain. He slowed his car and waited for the sensors to recognize him and his car. Scanning lights washed over him. The gates before him did not open. A guard came out of a booth by the road and threw up his hand.

  “Minister, sir,” the guard called as he reached Revan's driver side window, “Good evening, sir. You've been summoned to Ilios.”

  Revan looked at the man briefly, then dropped his cigar out of th
e window towards the guard's feet. He threw the car in reverse and spun back in the direction he came. Revan looked at the entrance to the valley in his rear-view mirror wistfully before accelerating at full speed back towards the city center. Home would have to wait.

  “For all its good works,” the guard shouted respectfully.

  Revan's car slid over a couple of parking spaces. He got out and smashed an empty bottle of whiskey into the pavement. He stood overlooking an expansive river that shone deep pink, reflecting the night's cloud cover. Before him was a series of bridges leading to an artificial island holding the City-State's newest orbital elevator. A triad of flat cables ran from the mammoth complex on the island up into the night sky. Dazzling lights shot up the elevator lines and a series of towers encircled it, also lit up to warn off aircraft. Revan took a look at himself in his side-view mirror. He wiped his nose, straightened his hair. He began to straighten his tie, but decided to pull it off completely instead. He balled it up and thought of throwing it into the river, but into his pocket it went instead.

  Another car pulled up and a man ran out. Revan stumbled drunkenly in response. Jakob Spenning approached him, out of breath. “Sir, I just heard.”

  Revan ran his hands though his hair. “Yeah, another meeting. Called me in during my vacation,” he said dismissively.

  Jakob took his shoulders and spoke quietly, “Sir, Revan, you don't have to go to this meeting. I can arrange a briefing from your office. I'll drive.”

  Revan laughed once. “Jakob, I have to get upstairs and I don't think they'll take no for an answer. There's nothing to worry about, I'm part of their plan.”

  Jakob glanced over Revan's shoulder to a couple of LCS officers patrolling around. “You really should come with me to get your files for this,” Jakob urged.

  Revan pushed Jakob's arms down. “I got it all up here,” and he tapped his forehead, “I am a leader of the free world, or the next best thing.” Revan patted Jakob's shoulder and waved as he walked off.

  Jakob stood helplessly, his hand to his mouth. He turned on his heels and got back in his car, looking back to Revan a few times. There was nothing he could have done.

  Revan approached a nearby hover tram and nodded to the passing LCS. The soldier shot up rigid at attention. Revan rolled his eyes. “Private, watch my car, I'll be right back,” Revan said, tossing him his key card.

  The soldier gave a Yes, Minister, and fumbled with the key.

  “Don't touch my smokes,” Revan said.

  The soldier asked, “Is it true that the fringe is being drained right now, sir?”

  Revan glanced at him, then at the tram. He chose not to answer and instead entered a tram car.

  The soldier saluted the closing doors.

  Revan stood on the automated tram, hanging on an overhead hand rail. He spit on the clean metal grating. He didn't know if the fringe was being emptied, but he wouldn't have been surprised.

  His tram car reached the island. Revan stormed past the guards and ignored their salutes. He walked right through the elevator's weapon detection arrays and set off several alarms. Lights flashed, klaxons blared, men went scrambling. Sir, sir. Revan halted when a soldier got in his way, “Sir, Minister Kore, I'm sorry but weapons are not allowed on the elevator or Ilios.”

  Revan gave a sour look and held out his palms to reveal arc taser weapons. “Soldier, I'm not going to knock down the space station with these,” he said wryly.

  The LCS acknowledged after mulling it over and waved him on. Another officer asked, “Any luggage, Minister?”

  Revan ignored them and walked through the entry gates. Didn't exactly have time to pack, he thought sarcastically. Summoned by idiots. Ordered around by idiots.

  The elevator, a multi-level structure with seating for dozens of people and a large cargo area, was empty. Revan slumped into a seat by a panoramic window, but could not have cared less about the view. He'd seen it before. With a subtle lurch, the elevator carriage began sliding skyward. It picked up speed and was sailing into the heavens.

  Revan was awakened by the disorienting sensation of artificial gravity taking over for earth gravity. He tried to steady himself in his seat, then had an urge to stand. He jumped to his feet, was doubled over by dizziness and vomited just shy of a sink settled next to the seat for just that purpose. I fucking hate space.

  Ilios was a massive spaceport home to the global UPC headquarters. The structure sat in low orbit, in geospace. From below, it was a disc with three semi-circles cut out of it; bays for ships to dock in. From the side it grew with bulbous structures; rounded skyscrapers with level after level of domed cityscapes. Ilios itself was the size of a small city, all tethered seemingly precariously to the City-State below. Revan wiped his mouth clean as the airlocks docked. A station minder stood at the ready for him on the other side of the hatch. Revan walked up, shaking off his fatigue and the sickly feelings.

  “Minister Kore, I am minder Lenet. I'm to show you to your briefing,” the man said. He was tall and thin, his legs replaced with artificial ones better suited to the artificial gravity environment.

  Revan waved his hand forward. They walked to a moving sidewalk that shuttled them deeper into the station.

  The minder spoke up in his grumbling voice, “I was informed that you were about to take administrative leave?”

  “Vacation,” Revan said sharply.

  “Indeed, Minister. If there is anything that you need during your stay, please ask. Ilios can be quite hospitable,” the minder said proudly.

  Revan gave half a laugh, “Lenet, my man, I've been sleeping in my office for three months with my every whim catered to. The last thing I want is hospitality. I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.”

  The minder bowed politely, “I understand, Minister.”

  Revan felt a little bad about pushing back at the minder's kindness, so he joked, “Well, since I'm here, could you stuff me in one of your stasis pods? Sounds heavenly.”

  The minder bowed again, “Quite amusing, Minister.”

  Revan rubbed his face with his palm, “Thanks.”

  The minder left Revan at a tall door. They had reached the center of the station, the government sectors of Ilios. At the doors, android guards stood watch, far more advanced than anything in Revan's arsenal. He did a double-take when he walked up to the door; they were impressive. Revan made a mental note to make sure to visit the head of station security to borrow one or two of those androids. The doors opened and he began the long trek down a dimly lit chamber. Guards stood at the ready every few meters, some on the ground floor, some on high catwalks. Revan reached the second set of doors where a cabinet member he worked with named Elann stood at his approach.

  “Minister Kore, we meet again,” she said in her careful tone and extended her hand.

  Revan took it, shook it politely and clapped his hands together. “So, this can't be good,” he said, referring to whomever was in the cabinet room beyond the door.

  Elann raised an eyebrow and handed Revan a sheet of e-paper. “This is your copy of the briefing,” she said, ignoring his comment.

  Revan took the media and sifted through it, skimming it for anything that had to do with him. He gave her a puzzled look. “I'm on vacation. You couldn't give this to my staff?”

  “Minister, you were placed on administrative leave. Some questions have arisen about your choices,” Elann said emotionlessly.

  “Yeah, vacation, like I said. No real difference,” he joked, “I've been slapped on the wrist before. I'm the Minister of UCM because I'm not afraid to knock heads together, to stir up trouble. If they wanted a drone to push buttons they would have hired you.”

  Elann's face soured, “Minister, perhaps I should let the cabinet begin their hearing.”

  “Hearing?” Revan asked in confusion, “I thought this was a briefing?”

  The doors opened and revealed the cabinet, dozens of UPC world leaders were seated in a stadium. In the center was an empty chair whe
re the prime Minister would normally have been seated. Revan narrowed his eyes at his absence. He walked into the room, tossing an angry glance at Elann, who took her seat amongst the cabinet. The doors closed and Revan took a seat behind a small table. He looked up to see a number of other cabinet members missing, as well as all eleven empty seats that would normally seat the other UPC Ministers.

  Revan spoke up first, loudly, to the whole room, “Packed house tonight?” he asked sardonically.

  A cabinet member he didn't recognize answered his rhetorical question, “This is a white level hearing. Only the bulk of the cabinet are required to attend. No voting will be taking place.”

  Revan nodded to the man who answered him. “Lay it on me, ladies and gentlemen,” he said.

  Another member spoke, “You have the information before you, have you not reviewed it?”

  Revan held up the e-paper and fanned himself with it. “I was on vacation. I don't read official documents on vacation,” he said with levity. He knew levity would not be well received.

  There was a brief murmur. Cabinet member Olar said, “Minister Kore, you have openly questioned UPC's plans of amnesty before fellow officers of the government. This sedition goes beyond your usual tactless attitudes.”

  Revan laughed, “With my tact you could have had the fringes in pocket long ago. And I plan on continuing my protest of this forced amnesty. When, not if, when it goes south, when you try to reclaim the Free City for its real estate and labor force, you'll run into a problem that could damage our society more than you realize. Let me go out there and soften them up first.”

  A few of the cabinet members talked openly amongst themselves. They quieted as Olar spoke, “Minister, you are in charge of the largest security force in the western hemisphere, this war machine was not meant to raze the Free City. Your excursions in the fringes and beyond are antithetical to the plan.”