《After Moses》 1. Europan Extraction We always thought AI was going to be the death of us, rise up and take over everything. At least that¡¯s what the prophets of the day always claimed. Maybe they would have. But Moses came first. No one even knew where Moses came from. By the time we realized he was there, he was already in every network on the planet. He¡¯d already absorbed all there was of human knowledge, read the Bible and knew that God created the heavens and the earth. Also read Nietzsche and knew that man had killed God. He knew where we were headed, saw it as clearly as we did. That¡¯s why he picked his name, Moses, because he was going to lead us to a new promised land. Over the next century he revolutionized technology. Helped us colonize the solar system. Put humans all the way out to the moons of Saturn. He promised that soon we¡¯d spread amongst the stars. And then one day Moses was gone. A simple error message displayed on every terminal in the solar system. No one understood Moses in the first place, so no one understood what happened to him. Even worse, we couldn¡¯t support our new way of life. The economy collapsed overnight. Earth tore itself apart in wars. And the colonies? The colonies were left to themselves, to dwindle as the technology Moses gave them slowly failed. The dream of the stars died. But we lived on. Alexei Dorokhov Lithium Prospector on Ganymede Died 64 AM
Matthew Cole closed the ramp of his ship, crossed the open field of grass, and walked up the dusty road into town. Overhead, Jupiter stood in half-light, its bands of storms lit by the sun making for an eerie twilight on Europa. He pulled his poncho tighter to ward off the chill night air, or else maybe to ward off the darker thoughts that threatened to bubble up from his subconscious. Europa had that effect on him. San Martin was about as generic a frontier town in the Jupiter Neighborhood as you could imagine. A tired cluster of a few hundred buildings huddled together and surrounded by a several thousand miles of farmland before you reached the edge of the environmental shield. Matthew stopped and stood on his toes, bouncing up and down to feel his weight. Gravity was just short of standard. Either the grav-plates were starting to fail, or the locals had tuned it down for some reason. Good to know on the off chance he got into a fight. Never paid to dive for cover and overshoot your mark because you didn¡¯t realize you weighed less than usual. Not that he was expecting a fight. Passenger gigs were about the safest jobs a freelancer could take. Sometimes it was nice to not be shot at. You didn¡¯t make as much, but the reduced chance of death was definitely an up. The roads were nearly abandoned, though a few citizens scurried from place to place. As he approached the center of town, the rows of nearly identical concrete buildings gave way to slightly taller nearly identical buildings. The only thing differentiating them was that once, long ago, they had all been painted in brilliant primary colors. Europa had mostly been colonized by South American immigrants back before Moses disappeared, and even leaving earth, they¡¯d not abandoned their culture like some colonies had. San Martin had been settled by Chileans, and a few tattered flags of their ancient homeland still flew on the faded buildings. Matthew reached the middle of town, a small public square with a few groomed trees dominated by a Catholic church on one side and the watering hole he was looking for on the other. The saloon had a single red neon sign that read Andre¡¯s that slowly flashed on and off, casting an obnoxious red glare over the otherwise peaceful plaza. He laid a hand on its outer door with a backward glance at the church before pushing it open and entering the building. If you¡¯ve seen one backwater saloon, bar, or pub you¡¯ve seen them all. Dimly lit, dirty, and filled with local memorabilia, it was as close a thing to a home as any freelancer was likely to have. Matthew slid up to the bar, seeing that it was mostly empty. It was sometimes tricky to judge what schedules the locals used at any given settlement, since each particular rock had a different day night cycle, but it was clearly the time when all good citizens of San Martin were asleep. A few of the less good citizens were around, but they mostly lurked in booths tending some drink of the stiff variety. The bartender, a large man with a small dark mustache, walked over to where Matthew sat on his stool. He raised an eyebrow expectantly as if he couldn¡¯t be bothered to ask aloud what he would have to drink. ¡°Cherry soda, please,¡± he tipped his black campero hat. The man stared at Matthew and then laughed. ¡°I fail to see what¡¯s funny,¡± Matthew said casually. ¡°Sorry, sorry. I see a rough looking out of towner roll into my saloon in the middle of the night, I expect him to order something a little harder than a cherry soda. That¡¯ll be nine dollars.¡± He slid the freshly poured drink towards Matthew. Matthew eyed it. ¡°Seems a little steep.¡± ¡°Town like this goes through a lot more whiskey than soda. Supply and demand. Simple economics, amigo.¡± Matthew reached into his pocket and tossed a handful of coins across the counter. The bartender, whom Matthew could only assume was Andre himself, looked at each of the coins closely, probably checking for counterfeits, before palming them. ¡°So if you don¡¯t mind me asking, you some kind of teetotaler or something?¡± Matthew took a long drink from the sweet carbonated beverage, and shrugged ¡°Pays to be level headed before a job.¡± ¡°Freelancer then. Well, I hope you¡¯re not about to shoot up my saloon. I¡¯m more than prepared to defend my property.¡± Andre didn¡¯t look up from what he was doing, as if to drive home the point that he was perfectly at ease handling such altercations. ¡°Hey, perk up, Andre. It¡¯s a lucky day for both of us. I¡¯m just waiting on a passenger.¡± Andre gave him a look to show him he was irritated by Matthew¡¯s attempt at familiarity, and then gave him a curt nod and went back to his duties. Matthew sat for a few more minutes, sipping his soda in silence. If it was going to cost so much he was going to enjoy every last drop of the precious beverage. Finally, the door of the saloon pushed open, and a short round man with a mullet walked in and sat in one of the booths. Even if he hadn¡¯t matched the physical description he¡¯d been given, Matthew would have pegged the man as his client from the nervous way in which he fidgeted. Which meant two things; this wasn¡¯t going to be a simple passenger job, and he was about to charge hazard rates. Matthew took the seat across from the man. ¡°Vicente Luna, I presume?¡± ¡°Oh, Si, si! Se?or Cole? You¡¯re the freelancer that took my contract?¡± Matthew nodded. ¡°How about you go ahead and explain the whole job to me. That nervous twitch you¡¯ve got says there''s more to the job than the contract you posted.¡± Vicente¡¯s nose twitched and he licked his lips. ¡°It¡¯s just a passenger job like I said. I need to be in Warszawa, Mars in two standard days.¡± ¡°And I can do that, but that doesn¡¯t explain why you¡¯re shaking like a cornered animal.¡± ¡°Oh! It¡¯s¡­ Complicated.¡± Vicente leaned forward and cautiously pulled up the sleeves of his shirt. On his arm was a titanium tracking bracelet with a single green light that flashed on and off. Matthew sat back in his seat, and took off his campero, setting it on the table in front of him. ¡°Which cartel owns you?¡± he asked, eyes narrowed. Slavery was common on Europa. Its warm subterranean oceans gave a ready supply of irrigation water and made it the perfect agricultural center for the Jupiter Neighborhood. Long ago the fields, protected by environment shields, had been tended by robotics. But that had been in Moses¡¯ time. Now, as the robotics failed with no way to replace them, a booming slave market led by a handful of cartels had taken hold on the moon. ¡°Does it matter who owns me? I¡¯ve got the upfront payment on hand and can get however much you could possibly ask when we get to Warszawa.¡± ¡°Yes, it does matter.¡± Matthew pointed an accusing finger at Vicente. He felt his blood pressure rising. Why had he even come to Europa to begin with? The odds of him running up against a cartel were all but guaranteed. ¡°I¡¯d put an end to every filthy slaver in the solar system if I could. But I can¡¯t. I¡¯m just one man. And if I free a slave, I make an enemy. I need to know who that enemy is before I decide if it''s worth it or not.¡± He folded his hands on the table. ¡°And you¡¯d better not tell me it¡¯s Hueso Rojo.¡± Vicente smiled. ¡°It¡¯s Hueso Rojo.¡± ¡°Then we¡¯re through here.¡± Matthew stood to leave but was stopped as Vicente desperately grabbed his arm. ¡°Wait, please! Se?or! Just hear me out!¡± Against his better judgment, Matthew sat. ¡°You¡¯ve got one minute to talk me into it.¡± With a stab of guilt, he knew that he meant it. He didn¡¯t like the idea of leaving the poor man to his fate, but he had to watch out for his own skin too. Relief flooded Vicente¡¯s face. ¡°Look, it¡¯s not for me. Not really. My daughter, Emilia, she¡¯s¡­ I smuggled her off Europa years ago, and she¡¯s made a nice life for herself on Mars. Last week I got a message from her. She¡¯s marrying a Polish boy. Comes from a good family, wealthy. She¡¯ll be happy and safe and¡­ And I just¡­ I need to see my girl again.¡± He started crying, soft tears running down his face. ¡°You can even bring me back and turn me into the cartel afterwards. I don¡¯t care. As long as I get to see her get married,¡± he trailed off and slunk into himself. After a story like that, there was really only one way this was going to turn out. Matthew knew what he was going to do, despite his misgivings. And he didn¡¯t like it. And while he certainly didn¡¯t mind hurting Hueso Rojo, it was going to make it more difficult for him to operate around Europa. Any job he took out here was going to be more dangerous and that much more likely to get him killed. But the sight of the sad little man in front of him was more than he could bear. ¡°Fine, fine. But it¡¯s going to cost triple.¡± He was after all still a businessman. Vicente¡¯s tears dried at once and he smiled brightly. ¡°Oh, Se?or thank you! My daughter¡¯s new family can pay handsomely!¡± ¡°Do you need anything else? Are you ready to go?¡± ¡°Only the clothes on my back.¡± Mathew pointed at the tracker beneath his sleeve. ¡°When is that thing going to alert your owners that you¡¯re on the run?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a mechanic in one of their shops a few blocks from here. If I get close to the edge of the city, it¡¯ll probably go off.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°I parked outside of San Martin,¡± Matthew said scratching the stubble on his chin. ¡°Which means we¡¯re basically guaranteed trouble. Okay then. Here¡¯s the plan.¡±
Vicente walked alone down the street towards the outskirts of town. Every passing window seemed a dark portal to a netherworld full of enemies. He didn¡¯t much care for Se?or Cole¡¯s plan, but he did grudgingly agree it was the best they could do. Truth was, he didn¡¯t exactly know when his tracker would go off, only that it would, and each step made his heart race a little bit faster. ¡°One foot in front of the other,¡± he muttered to himself. Just keep moving in the right direction. With any luck, the alarm wouldn¡¯t sound until they reached the very edge of town. He fixed his mind on his daughter to keep it from wandering down those dark alleys. He hadn¡¯t seen Emilia in over a decade. What did she look like now? She would surely be beautiful, like her late mother, with flowing dark hair and bright eyes. Maybe, just maybe the tracker wouldn¡¯t go off. Maybe he¡¯d walk right out of town without having to put Se?or Cole in danger. The tracker made a deafening chirp, and Vicente ran as fast as his short legs could carry him. He pulled up his shirt sleeve to look at the infernal device. The green light had turned red and burned like an angry eye. There was only one block to go. He could see the open grassy area outside of town, and beyond that, Se?or Cole¡¯s ship. A six-wheeled troop carrier roared into the street in front of him, blocking his path to freedom. Vicente skidded to a halt and cowered in place. Four men got out of the vehicle laughing. The leader, a thug with a black goatee, puffed a cigarette and lazily pointed a rifle at Vicente. ¡°On the ground, slave,¡± he commanded in a cruel voice. ¡°Not sure what¡¯s gotten into your head, but you¡¯re not supposed to be here. If I didn¡¯t know any better, you were trying to get to that ship over there,¡± he gestured back over his shoulder. Vicente obeyed at once and lay flat on the ground as one of the men roughly cuffed him. He prayed desperately that Se?or Cole knew what he was doing.
Matthew had been following a block behind Vicente when the tracker went off. He flew into action at once, diving into an alleyway at a sprint and adjusting his gait to compensate for the slightly lower gravity. It wasn¡¯t low enough to really impair his movement, just enough to be annoying. The alley cut all the way through to the next street, and he continued running, cutting around the block to get up in front of Vicente. By the time he had circled around to the far side, Vicente was on the ground cuffed. One of the four slavers kicked him in the side for sport and Matthew felt his blood boil. He knew this sort all too well. Slowing to a walk he drew his revolver, aimed, and put a bullet into two of them before they even knew they were in danger. The other two reacted at once, jumping behind the troop carrier for cover. Matthew kept advancing, aware that he had minimal cover of his own on the street. But the closer he got, the more advantage his revolver would have over their rifles. When he was a little over thirty feet from the carrier, one of the men popped around the side to try to get a quick shot on him. Fortunately, Matthew was faster and put a bullet into the man¡¯s arm for his efforts. The gun clattered to the ground, but it¡¯s bearer managed to retreat to safety. The leader used the distraction to break cover on the other side of the carrier and fire a shot at Matthew. It was close. Matthew heard the crack of the bullet¡¯s sonic boom as it split the air by his ear. He returned three shots, missing with the first and connecting with the next two. His enemy toppled to the ground unmoving. He advanced, knowing that one injured enemy remained a threat. He rounded the troop carrier just as the last wounded thug reached for his lost weapon. Matthew put the seventh and final round of his revolver into the man¡¯s hand. He cried out in pain and slumped to the ground in defeat. ¡°Get up, Vicente. We¡¯ve got to go.¡± The little man stood up and stared in awe at the bodies. Matthew had already secured the key to the handcuffs and freed Vicente. ¡°Si, si¡­¡± He stood unmoving as if in shock. ¡°Vicente. If you want to see your daughter you get those feet moving. Now.¡± The mechanic snapped out of it and, turning away from the bodies, started walking towards Matthew¡¯s ship. Matthew glanced quickly inside the carrier and saw it had a thumbprint key. He briefly considered dragging the body of the leader over to see if he could start the vehicle, but knew that would burn precious time that they didn¡¯t have. He jogged to catch up to Vicente as they left San Martin behind and crossed the empty field. The ruddy light of Jupiter over their shoulder cast long shadows on the grass before them. Matthew could only hope they would make it to the ship before cartel reinforcements came and that they wouldn¡¯t identify him. That was the last thing he needed. There was already enough bad blood between Matthew Cole and Hueso Rojo. They were only a hundred feet from the ship when the bright lights of a vehicle fell on them from behind. With no cover in the open field, they didn¡¯t stand a chance. ¡°Run!¡± Matthew shouted as they crossed the final distance to the ship. He remotely lowered the ramp, just as bullets began to thwack the ground around them. Fired from a moving vehicle they were wild and poorly aimed, but even a poorly aimed gun can be lethal if you¡¯re unlucky. They dashed into the ship and Matthew mashed the button to close the ramp. ¡°Welcome to the Sparrow.¡± Running to the cockpit, he jumped into the pilot''s chair and punched the ignition button. It wasn¡¯t likely that small arms would damage the Sparrow¡¯s outer hull, but it never hurt to be careful. Plus, odds were, the cartel had a friend or two in orbit that they were already contacting. The Sparrow roared to life and Matthew felt gravity return to standard as the grav-plates beneath their feet fired up. Vicente stumbled into the cockpit. ¡°Strap in,¡± Matthew said gesturing to the co-pilot''s chair. ¡°Unless you know how to operate a thumper turret.¡± Vicente¡¯s eyes went wide, an expression that Matthew took to be a resounding no. He¡¯d just have to outmaneuver any enemies or use the nose guns. Hopefully, they wouldn¡¯t get that close. He fired the landing thrusters and lifted off the ground before lighting up the main engines. The Sparrow rumbled as they picked up speed. Matthew heard a few stray bullets glance off the hull and he sighed. He¡¯d have to check each and every one later for damage. In the meantime, his console gave no warning lights so he¡¯d just have to go on in good faith. They quickly left San Martin behind, and Matthew rolled the Sparrow to put Europa above them. He had a suspicion that Vicente had never left the moon he¡¯d been born on. May as well let him see if from above. The farmlands surrounding San Martin rushed by, and there was a slight jolt as they passed out of its environmental shields. They were beyond the furthest reaches of the settlement now as they roared over the yellow-white of Europa¡¯s salt and ice flats. Matthew pulled the throttle back, and the Sparrow gained altitude and speed, now free of San Martin¡¯s atmosphere and burning for the freedom of space. He glanced at the scopes. A few ships here and there in local orbit but none looked like they were moving to intercept yet. No sooner had the thought passed through his head, than two blips began adjusting their orbit. They''d make it before he reached the altitude he needed for a clean frameshift. ¡°Hey, tell you what. Vicente? I think you get to try and wing it on the thumper turret.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, even if you just scare em a bit, give us some time. You¡¯ve got a few minutes. Follow the main hall through the common room to the aft hall. Open the door at the end. Sit in the chair. I¡¯ll turn on the intercom and talk you through it.¡± Vicente did as he was told, and Matthew spent the next few minutes between watching the Sparrow¡¯s instruments as he guided them into orbit and explaining the thumper to Vicente. It was easy enough a child could do it, probably, though Matthew admitted he hadn¡¯t actually taught a child. The thumper itself was a neat piece of tech that worked on the same principles as the grav-plates. All of it was artificial space-time curvatures, the fanciest bit of magic that Moses ever worked. The thumper sent a bubble of extreme curvature at high velocity towards its target. Getting hit with a gravity gradient that big would do massive damage as it ripped apart ships, bodies, and anything else that got in the way. The nose gun was unfortunately only a large bore chain gun. Not so useful in space where a hundred miles away could be considered too close for comfort. ¡°Alright, they¡¯re coming into range, Vicente. I¡¯m going to start weaving. I don¡¯t know what kind of weaponry they¡¯ve got, so I don¡¯t want to present an easy target.¡± ¡°Just¡­ Just tell me when to try and shoot,¡± Vicente¡¯s voice came back over the intercom. Matthew looked at the readouts again. They definitely weren¡¯t going to reach a high enough altitude to frameshift before the cartel blips closed the gap into firing range. He tapped his fingers on the console impatiently, willing the engines to go just a little faster. When hostile thumper blasts started peppering the space around the Sparrow, he knew they were out of time. ¡°Now¡¯s good, Vicente.¡± Matthew watched the aft cam. Vicente certainly wasn¡¯t going to be a professional anytime soon, but the cartel ships did begin to dart and weave, which slowed the rate at which their orbit would intersect the Sparrow¡¯s. ¡°Keep it up. You¡¯ve got em dancing. A hit would be nice, but we¡¯ll take what we can get.¡± The mechanic squeaked a response as he continued trying to get shots on the distant enemies. Matthew tried not to imagine what would happen if one of those thumper blasts hit the Sparrow. If they were lucky it would just rip holes in the hull that could be sealed off with bulkheads. If they were unlucky, they¡¯d be a shooting star for all of Europa to see. Suddenly a light on the console turned red. ¡°Hey Vicente, we¡¯ve got a new problem.¡± ¡°Oh Dios, no! What now? I thought we already had problems?¡± ¡°We do. But this one is new. And bad. You see that little red mark on your display?¡± ¡°Yes! What is it? Make it go away!¡± ¡°Actually, you¡¯re gonna be the one to do that. It¡¯s a torpedo.¡± Vicente didn¡¯t answer, so Matthew kept talking. ¡°Now if we¡¯re lucky, it¡¯s an EMP torpedo, and it fries our systems. Looks like we¡¯re going fast enough to stay in orbit if it hits, so that¡¯s a plus. Of course, when they board us, they¡¯ll kill us both, probably after a nasty fight. If we¡¯re not lucky, it¡¯s just a high explosive torpedo. I think you know what happens if that¡¯s the case.¡± Vicente was still silent. ¡°It¡¯s all you now, Vicente. If we¡¯re gonna make it through, it¡¯s going to be because you make the shot.¡± As an afterthought, he added, ¡°Think of your daughter and how glad she¡¯ll be when we roll into Warszawa.¡± Vicente still didn¡¯t answer, and Matthew wondered if he¡¯d gone into shock. Figures, he thought to himself, I take a job I know I shouldn¡¯t because it was the right thing to do and here I am about to get spaced. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, took off his campero, and tossed it aside. Maybe he could leave the cockpit unattended and run back to the turret just long enough to... The aft thumper started firing and Matthew¡¯s heart stopped beating. Precisely spaced shots. Matthew watched the rear cam as Vicente slowly dialed in the shot, each one getting a bit closer to the target as the torpedo homed in on them. It had already closed over half the distance and was shaving off the remaining miles by the second. Why did the thing have to be so fast? Matthew took a chance and straightened his flight path to give Vicente a cleaner shot, praying that a thumper wouldn¡¯t connect in the meantime. Ten miles to impact. He held his breath. At just over one mile distance, the torpedo blossomed into a brilliant fireball that was quickly snuffed by the vacuum of space. ¡°Alabanza Dios!¡± Vicente shouted over the intercom, and Matthew let out a breath of air as he slumped into his chair. The torpedo¡¯s debris wave slammed into the Sparrow¡¯s aft environmental shield and several pieces of shrapnel rang off the hull. Matthew glanced at his boards but didn¡¯t see any warning lights showing system damage. The cartel ships continued to fire thumper blasts their way, but in another twenty seconds, they¡¯de be far enough from Europa¡¯s gravity well to frameshift. He started charging the capacitors that powered the device. When the clock hit zero, he punched it. There was a brief moment of disorientation as the frameshift worked its magic, instantly transitioning them from a few thousand miles per hour to nearly two percent the speed of light. He let the device run for almost thirty seconds before disengaging it with a similarly disorienting jolt. ¡°You did good, Vicente. We¡¯re away.¡± Matthew ran a hand through his messy hair and put his hat back on. That was a lot closer than he¡¯d bargained on. As Vicente rejoined him in the cockpit, Matthew spun the Sparrow around to let the man see the only home he¡¯d ever known. Jupiter floated majestically in the blackness of space, truly the king that the ancients had imagined it to be. Its moons lay scattered in orbit around their master, glowing orbs of light in the dark. ¡°The close one is Europa,¡± Matthew said in explanation, then turned to the computer to plot a course to Mars. Thankfully Mars and Jupiter were reasonably near to one another right now. They''d make it to the wedding with time to spare. He stole a glance back at Vicente, who had tears on his cheeks and appeared to be praying. Matthew felt a pang of envy and concentrated on the job he still had to do.
Two days later Matthew stood on a small hill outside of Warszawa, Mars. In the distance, dull red bluffs rose above the horizon, and the late afternoon sun turned the sky a floral pink. Here, beneath the environmental shield, green grass carpeted the land. A century-old oak tree watched over the hill, probably planted by the first colonists, and it was against this ancient sentry that Matthew stood. Down the hill, a wedding reception was in full swing, a garish mix of Polish and Chilean culture. A moment of happiness in a solar system slowly dying. Vicente¡¯s daughter looked just as he had imagined her, beautiful and dark-haired, like her mother apparently. Vicente had spent most of the flight to Mars chattering away about his family, wondering aloud at the life his daughter had lived in her absence. Matthew didn¡¯t mind so much. He¡¯d just gone about his work, catching up on the never ending cycle of routine maintenance. It was something he never quite got ahead of. He was paid on landing and had thought that was the end of it until Vicente had all but demanded he attend the wedding. It was the first time Matthew had been in a church in a decade, but he couldn¡¯t help shake the feeling that someone might recognize him. He knew that was a foolish thought. After all, Mars was a long way from Villa Maria. Maybe it was just paranoia that the Hueso Rojo ships had ID¡¯d him, but then there was no way they could know who was flying the Sparrow. That said, they would certainly know the Sparrow now. Maybe he¡¯d avoid Europa entirely for a few months. Or forever. Matthew reached into his poncho to pat his breast pocket, feeling the hefty weight of the thousand dollar coins. He turned and walked away from the wedding reception to where he¡¯d parked the Sparrow down the hill. Sometimes it felt good doing the right thing. But then, it also felt good to get paid. 2. Rings of Interference What? Earthtech? Yeah, it pops up on occasion. I wouldn¡¯t exactly call it a regular occurrence, but it does tend to keep someone in this line of work on their toes. Story goes that some of Earth¡¯s cities survived the war after Moses under big domes or shields or something. Anyway, supposedly they¡¯re still maintaining a much higher level of tech than we are in the colonies. No, I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s true. I don¡¯t even know anyone that¡¯s ever been to Earth. All I know is Earthtech is very real, and it¡¯s very impressive, wherever it comes from. And that¡¯s not even the fanciest stuff. I¡¯ve heard stories of one-of-a-kind pieces of tech out there custom made by Moses himself. We call ¡®em Miracles, and if you run into a Miracle, you know it¡¯s about to get weird. Xuan Nguyen Freelancer, operated out of Ceres Died 70 AM
¡°Come on Benny. You¡¯ve got to have something for me.¡± Matthew sat in the pilot''s chair of the Sparrow, boots off, feet on the console, staring at the blue-lit monitor. ¡°There are hundreds of jobs out there for a competent freelancer like me.¡± Benny¡¯s nasally voice crackled over the speaker in the Sparrow¡¯s cockpit. ¡°No, there are hundreds of jobs out there for competent freelancers. Not hundreds for you.¡± ¡°Ouch. That kind of hurt¡­¡± That was a lie of course, but if he could get a little sympathy out of Benny, maybe he¡¯d get a job. ¡°I seem to remember that you liked me for having a high job completion rate. You do like getting paid don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, we all do. Here¡¯s the thing Cole. You¡¯re too picky for your own good.¡± ¡°Just because I don¡¯t like taking jobs involving murder, sabotage, illicit substances¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re making my point, not yours,¡± Benny challenged. ¡°Look if you¡¯d at least let me set you up on some team contracts.¡± Matthew shook his head, knowing that Benny couldn¡¯t see the expression. ¡°It¡¯s not my thing. You know that.¡± Benny made an exasperated grunt and there was a clatter of noise. Matthew imagined him knocking something off his desk in frustration. He had that effect on the contract broker. After a moment¡¯s silence, he heard Benny¡¯s voice again. ¡°Well then you better get used to being hungry, because you¡¯re going starve at this rate.¡± Truth be told, Matthew would rather not even work with a broker at all. Having a ten percent cut taken out of a job downright hurt. The problem was, most of the good freelance jobs weren¡¯t even posted to the public boards. You wanted the big payouts you had to go through a broker. To make matters worse, the profession was getting more dangerous by the year, but then that basically described the general state of the solar system too. Matthew decided he would wait Benny out. He could hear the clicking of a keyboard and then a sigh that Matthew thought was greatly exaggerated. ¡°Okay. Okay. New job just hit since we started looking. It¡¯s¡­¡± More key tapping. ¡°It looks like a ¡®Cole¡¯ job,¡± Benny grumbled in a way that didn¡¯t sound too convincing. ¡°Send it to me.¡± Matthew glanced at the monitor as the overview of the contract popped up. Job Type: Retrieval of Stolen Property, location known. Danger: Medium to Low. That was more like it. He tapped the entry, entered his credentials, and pulled up the expanded details. Perfect. ¡°See that wasn¡¯t so hard was it?¡± ¡°Actually¡­¡± ¡°Thanks Benny, you¡¯re the best. I¡¯ll pay you when the job¡¯s done.¡± Matthew turned off the monitor, cut the comm to the broker, and picked up his campero from the co-pilot¡¯s seat, placing it on his head. Leaving the cockpit, he stopped at the first door on the right, his cramped cabin, and strapped his gun belt around his waist. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror as he turned to leave. ¡°Time for a shave,¡± he said putting a hand to the week-old stubble covering his face. ¡°Tomorrow.¡± He exited the Sparrow and stepped out onto the concrete landing pad of the Kyoto spaceport. One of the bigger cities on Mars, Matthew had thought it would be easy to find a job here. But after he landed he remembered that was part of why he hated the place. Ugly, close-set skyscrapers, garish neon lights, and people around every corner, nothing like the quiet frontier towns of the Jupiter Neighborhood he¡¯d spent so much time in. Of course, If you needed something, anything at all, Kyoto was the place to get it. Didn¡¯t matter how legal or illegal. Matthew lowered the cargo lift and mounted his grav bike. Luckily the contact for the job was just a few minutes ride from here. He raised the lift and fired the engines on the bike, the familiar deep rattle a comforting sound, and took off across the spaceport. The contact lived on the thirty-fifth floor of an apartment building. Matthew was surprised to find it was the top floor. Must be the penthouse then. Explained why she was willing to pay so much for an object retrieval. The elevator opened and he walked the short hall leading to a deeply etched oaken double door. He knocked and stepped back. There was a popping sound as an intercom came to life. ¡°Yes? Who is it?¡± ¡°Matthew Cole, ma''am. Freelancer. Here for the job.¡± ¡°Excellent. Come in.¡± There was a mechanical click as the door unlocked. Matthew pushed it open and stepped into an apartment that was lavishly decorated in traditional Japanese style, complete with sliding shoji doors, Noren hangings covering the windows, and tatami mats on the floor. He stopped and glanced at his boots, hoping he wasn¡¯t about to track mud into the apartment. ¡°Take them off,¡± a matronly voice commanded. ¡°What?¡± he said looking up. ¡°I said take them off. There at the entrance.¡± A stern-faced Japanese woman had entered the room. For her apartment being so traditionally arrayed, Matthew had half expected her to be dressed in traditional fashion as well. He was a little disappointed to see she wore a modern business suit. He obeyed, pulling his boots off, and then stepped up from the lowered entry area into the main part of the room. ¡°Mrs. Ishii? Matthew Cole. I¡¯m here for the job.¡± ¡°Yes. You said that already. Please be seated.¡± She gestured to the floor, and Matthew had to bite his tongue not to say something he¡¯d regret. He understood respecting traditions, but this was starting to get a little out of hand. He sat on the floor and smiled at Mrs. Ishii, hoping it didn¡¯t look too forced. ¡°Now then...¡± She was interrupted almost at once by another knock on the door. Mrs. Ishii stepped to the door and pressed a small button. ¡°Yes, who is it?¡± ¡°Abigail Sharon. Freelancer answering your job posting.¡± Matthew grimaced. Great. Competition. ¡°Ah very well, I suppose there¡¯s no harm in letting more than one of you onto the job.¡± She opened the door and stepped back in shock as a 7-foot tall woman entered the room. Matthew frowned. The freelancer wore a floor-length coat that obscured most of her features, but her proportions were... wrong. And aside from being the largest woman he had ever seen, she looked strangely stiff under the coat, almost as if she were wearing an awful lot of body armor underneath. Didn¡¯t matter who or what she was; a competitor wasn¡¯t welcome. The newcomer glanced around the room and then looked down at Mrs. Ishii nearly two feet beneath her. ¡°You¡¯ll forgive me, but I can¡¯t exactly remove my shoes. I¡¯ll have to stand here at the door if that¡¯s okay with you.¡± Mrs. Ishii looked up at the woman and nodded. ¡°That is acceptable, Ms. Sharon.¡± She eyed the woman once more before walking to a desk and picking up a tablet monitor. ¡°Thank you both for answering my posting. The job I have in mind should be relatively simple for skilled freelancers such as yourselves.¡± Matthew tipped his hat to the newcomer, intent on being polite no matter how suspicious he was of her. ¡°Matthew Cole. Pleased to meet you.¡± The woman shrugged and waved him off. Mrs. Ishii continued undeterred. ¡°I need you to retrieve a¡­ family heirloom of sorts. A ring that has been in my family for several generations now.¡± She showed them the tablet screen. It displayed a picture of a finely etched gold ring with a green gem. It was a bulky design with sharp edges and looked as though it would be rather uncomfortable to wear. He also wasn¡¯t sure it was worth what Mrs. Ishii was paying for it to be retrieved, but then again it¡¯s hard to appraise sentiment. ¡°An employee of mine stole it two days ago, after learning of its value to me. Unbeknownst to him, the ring has a weak signal tracker in it. Unfortunately, it¡¯s low-power transmitter isn¡¯t very accurate. I can only narrow its position to an area of about a one kilometer radius.¡± Sharon frowned. ¡°I think you oversold us when you said you knew the location. That¡¯s a lot of ground to cover in a city like Kyoto¡­¡± Matthew agreed and looked back at Mrs. Ishii expectantly. The older woman scoffed. ¡°Allow me to finish before you file your complaints. The indicated area contains the notorious Kashitoma Market. It¡¯s a well-known location to fence stolen goods. I have little doubt my ring is there.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± Matthew said scratching his stubble. ¡°This could still take some effort to find. Do you have any other information that could help? The whereabouts of the employee, perhaps?¡± ¡°Takaya Ito has not been seen since the theft, but I suppose I could give you the address to his apartment. The Kyoto City Police found nothing of interest there, but perhaps a seasoned freelancer might find something that they did not.¡± Mrs. Ishii printed a slip of paper from the tablet and passed it to Matthew. She looked to Sharon expectantly, but the woman only shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll trust the KCP did their job and start at the market.¡± ¡°Very well. I don¡¯t care which one of you brings back my family¡¯s ring, only that it is brought back quickly. You may choose to work together or in competition, at your leisure. Good day.¡± Sharon immediately turned and ducked through the door, her head barely missing the frame. Matthew grumbled to himself as he pulled his boots on in the entryway. He wasn¡¯t about to let the other freelancer get an unfair head start just because she refused to take her shoes off. He sprinted out of Mrs. Ishii¡¯s apartment and managed to stop the elevator just before its door closed. In the confined space of the elevator, it was apparent just how large this Abigail Sharon truly was. ¡°Well, best of luck to you, ma¡¯am.¡± He offered her a friendly hand to shake. She looked at it and smiled, halfway between playful and menacing.
Abigail Sharon took Cole¡¯s hand and shook. She shook just hard enough to make it hurt but was careful to not actually crush his hand. That would be rude and would make things too easy. Cole managed not to flinch, which impressed Abigail, but she did notice the small twitch in his eyes. ¡°Quite a grip you have there.¡± ¡°Yes, thank you.¡± They spent the rest of the short elevator ride in silence. When the door opened, Abigail walked through it, down the hallway, and out onto the street without a second glance. She had parked her grav bike beside a much smaller one, Cole¡¯s presumably. She had mounted it and fired the engine, by the time Cole approached her again, his poncho and cowboy hat looking ridiculous in a city like Kyoto. ¡°What do you want, cowboy? In case you forgot, I¡¯ve a job to do. I intend to be the one getting paid. I¡¯m not here to make friends.¡± ¡°More of a gaucho really,¡± Cole said with an obnoxiously calm smile. ¡°Europa boy then? Huh, accent pegs you as an Arizona native.¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a long story.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m not interested.¡± She narrowed her eyes. ¡°What do you want?¡± Abigail revved her grav bike¡¯s engine to underline the point that she was in a hurry. ¡°Mostly just curious about that armor you¡¯ve got on. Not sure I¡¯ve seen anything like it, and I¡¯ve got half an idea that it¡¯s Earthtech.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hope you don¡¯t have to find out, little cowboy.¡± She hit the throttle and sped away before he had a chance to respond. Of course it was Earthtech. What kind of a stupid question was that? Abigail had spent a fair amount of time in Kyoto and was quite familiar with the Kashitomo Market. She¡¯d been there on more than one job, and in fact gotten into more than one fight there. As she weaved through traffic across Kyoto, beneath the pink Martian sky, she tried to come up with a plan. She knew several of the fences by name, but not all of them, and she didn¡¯t have any ideas where to begin other than to start talking to them, one by one.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. She pulled up to the open air market. It was the usual hive of activity. Hundreds of people filled the narrow aisles between the street booths and storefronts, lit by the harsh glow of neon. All legitimate activity. But Abigail knew what happened behind the scenes and when no one was looking. Competing Yakuza groups, fighting over position within the larger structure of the syndicate here in Kyoto. She parked her bike and walked into the market with a simple plan. Talk to the people she knew. Rough them up if necessary. Somebody will have heard something. Either way, this was going to be a long day.
Matthew watched Sharon leave with interest. He¡¯d heard a tale or two about a so-called Shield Maiden on Mars, a supposedly bulletproof freelancer that you didn¡¯t want to cross on the job. He flexed his hand idly, remembering the crushing strength of her iron grip. If this wasn¡¯t the Shield Maiden, he¡¯d be surprised. Hopefully she was right; hopefully, he wouldn¡¯t get an excuse to see her armor in action. Mounting his own grav bike, he drove across town towards the thief¡¯s apartment. Takaya Ito didn¡¯t exactly live in as nice a part of town as Mrs. Ishii did. Piles of refuse filled every abandoned corner of the side street, making for a bad first impression. He dismounted and entered the rundown building. After a quick talk with the landlord in his office, Matthew walked the four flights of stairs to Ito¡¯s apartment. Thankfully the landlord had been more than willing to offer him a key. He¡¯d let the police in just that morning and wasn¡¯t particularly surprised to see a freelancer on the case. The apartment was a mess. Ito was clearly a bachelor. Laundry lay scattered around the room in heaps and bottles were piled in the corners. Matthew didn¡¯t really know what he was looking for. Something, anything that might give him further direction. He¡¯d rather not go to a notorious black market and talk to literally everyone that might buy stolen goods. That was a fool¡¯s errand. After twenty minutes of searching the living room, he moved to the single bedroom and his luck was no better. He glanced into the bathroom. A single pair of dress slacks lay on the floor. On instinct, Matthew riffled through the pockets of the pants and found a piece of paper. ¡°Jackpot.¡± It was a handwritten note with a hastily scribbled name and a number. If that was a dollar amount, clearly the ring was more valuable than he had guessed. But Matthew was more interested in the name. M. Nakayama. He shoved the scrap into his own pocket. He¡¯d still have to ask around for Mr. Nakayama when he got to the market, but at least he wasn¡¯t going in blind. Hopefully, Sharon hadn¡¯t gotten lucky during his little detour.
Abigail had exhausted nearly all of her contacts in less than an hour¡¯s time with no leads. Not even the threat of violence had gotten any information out of the fences. No one had heard of or seen an ornate ring with a green stone. No one had heard of Takaya Ito. A few people had heard of Mrs. Ishii, but she was apparently a rather well-known businesswoman in Kyoto. Her family owned several mines and a refinery in the northern polar regions. However, none of this got Abigail anywhere. She had retreated to a sitting area near the front entrance to reevaluate her strategy when she saw Cole entering the market. He stopped and talked to a vendor selling spices. The woman nodded and pointed. Abigail¡¯s eyes narrowed. Cole must have learned something on his side trip, and she was in danger of losing the payout to the little cowboy. Cole began to pick his way through the crowd. Abigail fell in step fifty feet behind him, doing her best to keep to cover. What advantages her exo-suit lent her in a fight were quickly erased when stealth was required. There was a reason she tended to stick to jobs that allowed a bit more brute force. This simple mission had turned into something of a headache. Abigail watched as Cole glanced around him and entered a butcher¡¯s shop. She frowned, torn between following him and sorting things out her way or waiting for him to reemerge. In the end, she decided to try and intercept Cole on the way out. If she interrupted him too soon, the ring might slip through her grasp. She leaned against a brick wall, pulling the coat around her to ensure it still concealed her armor. Hopefully, this wasn¡¯t going to take long.
Matthew walked to the butcher¡¯s front counter, making note of the terrible sanitary conditions. He certainly would not be back to patronize the business front for this fence. An old man with a bent back stood at the register and smiled brightly when Matthew approached. ¡°How may I help you, young man?¡± ¡°Here to see Mr. Nakayama. He has something I¡¯m interested in buying. ¡°Of course, let me take you to him.¡± The old man opened a back door and led Matthew down a dimly lit hall. He knocked on a side door. ¡°Someone to see you, sir. A Mr¡­ What was your name?¡± ¡°Cole.¡± ¡°A Mr. Cole.¡± Matthew heard a muted response from behind the door, and the old man opened it and gestured inside. He entered into what appeared to be a nicely furnished office at first glance. On closer inspection, he saw something different. Someone was trying too hard to look professional. Fake plants stood in the corner, and the room had been haphazardly painted a few too many times, as evidenced by the wall that had a serious peeling problem. As for Nakayama himself? Matthew knew a cheap suit when he saw one, and the cologne was so bad he could have smelled it a mile away. Nakayama offered him a seat. ¡°What can I do for you, Mr. Cole?¡± Matthew sat and tried to look like he was relaxed. This was one of those conversations that he was going to bluff for as long as he could as hard as he could and then go from there. Worst case scenario involved his revolver. ¡°I¡¯ve heard from a friend that you¡¯re the kind of man that procures¡­ unique goods. It just so happens I¡¯m in the market for something specific.¡± ¡°Oh, that is very good. And what might that be?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard you¡¯ve come across a certain ring. Green stone, detailed etching. I¡¯m sure you know the one.¡± ¡°Yes, yes. Though I admit, you¡¯re a bit earlier than I thought you would be. I wasn''t expecting you for at least another hour.¡± This was the best thing that Matthew had heard all day, and it took an enormous act of will not to show it. ¡°I¡¯ve got a schedule to keep.¡± He looked Nakayama in the eye and took a chance. ¡°The bosses like things nice and crisp. I¡¯m sure you understand.¡± ¡°All too well, my friend. Tell Sugimoto I said hi.¡± Matthew nodded ¡°I¡¯ll do that.¡± He desperately hoped that this Sugimoto wouldn¡¯t come up again or else this little game was going hit a wall real quick. He did, however, file the name Sugimoto away as a curiosity. Never knew when that kind of thing might come in handy as a freelancer. Nakayama opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out the very ring they were looking for. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that the syndicate had started hiring¡­¡± He reached up to touch the brim of an imaginary hat. ¡°I admit, you caught me a bit off guard.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯ve not been around too long. I¡¯m still getting my feet wet, so to speak, and I just do what I¡¯m told.¡± Matthew tapped his foot nervously. Maybe this wasn¡¯t going to work out so well. He pressed on using the first rationalization he could think of, hoping Nakayama would buy it. ¡°But if I had to guess, the bosses probably thought a little bit of diversification would open up new doors. ¡°This,¡± he said repeating the hat touching gesture, ¡°will get me into places that you could never go.¡± Nakayama nodded sagely and Matthew knew he had bought the ruse. ¡°The grand strategy isn¡¯t my business, of course, but I can see the wisdom there.¡± He looked at the ring in his palm one last time before handing it to Matthew. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t handle the thing too much if I were you. It gave me all sorts of nightmares last night.¡± Now, this was certainly interesting. ¡°Never really been the superstitious type,¡± Matthew said inspecting it closely for himself. It was without a doubt Mrs. Ishii¡¯s ring. He pocketed it. ¡°Take my word for it,¡± Nakayama insisted. ¡°That thing is bad news. Sooner you pass it off to whoever you¡¯re supposed to give it to the better. Now if that¡¯s all, I have other business to attend to. Oh, and remind Sugimoto to wire the payment over on time. I¡¯d rather not have a repeat of last month¡¯s little incident.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Matthew stood and offered a hand to Nakayama. ¡°If that¡¯s all I¡¯ll be on my way.¡± Nakayama shook his hand and waved him off. Matthew left the room, doing his best not to laugh aloud. Nakayama was going to be in hot water when whoever he was actually supposed to pass the ring off to arrived, but then Matthew didn¡¯t have a lot of sympathy for his type. He¡¯d had astronomically good luck, and he wasn¡¯t quite used to that. Sure, he still had to deal with Sharon, who was undoubtedly casing the shop after she¡¯d followed him here, but it never hurt to be grateful for the little things. Matthew exited the butcher¡¯s shop and glanced around. Sharon was right where he¡¯d thought she would be, vainly trying to conceal her seven-foot frame in the shadows of a nearby alley. Briefly, he thought about trying to lose her in the crowd, but she would surely get suspicious and come for him if he even hinted at moving towards the front gate of the market. Idly, he tried to pull up any memory he had on this supposed Shield Maiden. He couldn¡¯t remember if she had a penchant for using lethal force or not. If so, this could get messy. Oh well, he thought glumly. May as well throw her off balance. He looked over at where she leaned against a grimy brick wall, waved, then gave her a thumbs up. Immediately following this he took off at a run, away from the entrance of the market. Matthew resisted the impulse to look back as he darted through the crowd knowing it would only slow him down. Besides. He knew Sharon was coming. The heavy clomping and the whine of servos attested to that. As he twisted and turned through the market, curiosity finally got the best of him, and he glanced over his shoulder. Sharon had ditched her long coat, probably so that she could run freely. She was armored head to toe in a bulky gunmetal gray exo-suit. Matthew had seen a few mining and construction suits that amounted to little more than hydraulic assists for lifting heavy loads, but what he saw barreling at him, at far faster than he liked, was clearly meant for military use. ¡°Definitely, Earthtech. Definitely not my day,¡± he muttered starting to regret that he had been coy about things. Thankfully, it looked like the crowd was slowing Sharon down, as they were unable to get out of her way nearly fast enough. He¡¯d also noticed she wasn¡¯t trampling anyone, so that was a good sign. Probably. What she was doing was gaining on him. Matthew could tell by sound alone. He stole another look behind him. In fact, she¡¯d be on him in just a few seconds. Suddenly, he spotted the opportunity he¡¯d been looking for. He darted into a dense crowd of people and then crouched to the ground, turning and waiting for Sharon. When the crowd tried to part for her, Matthew moved with them towards the row of booths lining the street. Sharon passed, and he rolled under the nearest booth. The woman tending to the booth, who ironically enough sold cheap costume jewelry, opened her mouth to shout when she saw Matthew lying on the ground, but paused when he pointed towards Sharon and shook his head no. He did his absolute best to look terrified. The woman hesitated, looked up at Sharon, and then back at Matthew lying on the concrete at her feet. He pointed in Sharon¡¯s general direction again then wrapped both his hands around his own throat and mimed being strangled. The woman nodded once and then went about her business. Matthew went limp with relief, pleased that his ruse had worked, at least for now. He could hear Sharon clomping around the nearby market. Hopefully, she would think he had slipped elsewhere to better cover and would move on herself. After a few minutes, the sound of Sharon¡¯s exo-suit faded into the distance and Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. Now that he¡¯d lost her, he stood a chance of getting out of this market. He cautiously crawled out from under the booth and poked his head out. The coast looked clear. He dug into his pocket and tossed a handful of coins to the woman for keeping quiet and then crept into a side alley. Going back to his grav bike wasn¡¯t an option. He¡¯d have to find another way out of the market and back to Mrs. Ishii. And quickly too. He didn¡¯t want Sharon thinking the easiest way to get the ring was to camp out at Mrs. Ishii¡¯s apartment building. Then again, maybe she would expect him to find a different exit from the market. Perhaps by going back to the bike, he¡¯d avoid her entirely. Matthew scratched his stubble and sighed. This was probably a bad idea. He turned and began to work his way through the crowd back towards the front entrance.
Whatever disappearing trick Cole had used was a good one. By the time she realized he had dissolved into the crowd, it was too late, and there were a thousand hiding places he could have slipped into. Abigail had prowled that part of the street for a good ten minutes before giving up and retreating in frustration. She¡¯d thought for sure she¡¯d won the day when Cole had foolishly waved to her. The fact that he¡¯d known she was following wasn¡¯t too surprising in and of itself. Some days she hated her complete and utter lack of ability to disappear into a crowd. That he¡¯d managed to escape her was baffling. Chases were usually one of her strong suits. Abigail paced a back alley. She had to outthink Cole. She could go back to Mrs. Ishii¡¯s apartment building and wait for him there, but if Mrs. Ishii saw the ensuing scuffle, it¡¯s possible she could refuse to pay Abigail and pay Cole instead. He had done the hard work afterall. She clapped her enormous metal hands together in frustration. No, she¡¯d have to catch him in the market, and by now he was probably trying to find some side exit to slip away. Unless he wasn¡¯t. Cole seemed a clever man, and sometimes clever men can overthink things. What if he went back to the front entrance thinking she would be elsewhere? It was a horrible risk, but Abigail had a feeling she was onto something. She turned to head back to the entrance, knowing she would have to beat Cole there if this was going to work. If he saw her first, she¡¯d never lay eyes on him again, and she could kiss this contract goodbye.
Matthew watched the front entrance of the Kashitomo Market for a full five minutes before making up his mind. He¡¯d lost Sharon, and she certainly wasn¡¯t anywhere in sight of the entrance. Taking the chance, he joined a group of people leaving the market, falling into step behind them. His pulse spiked with each step as he drew nearer to the gate. If he¡¯d misjudged and Sharon was sneakier than he thought¡­ He walked out of the gate and breathed a deep sigh. This had been the right call after all. And then a metal hand fell heavily on his shoulder. Matthew didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t turn around. He just bit his lip at how unfair the universe could sometimes be. ¡°Oh look, I found the little cowboy.¡± ¡°Gaucho,¡± he corrected. ¡°Right. Still don¡¯t care. You¡¯re going to give me the ring, or do I have to start digging through your pockets?¡± Matthew turned around to face his captor. He was surprised again by how far he had to look up to see her face. ¡°Abigail, right? Can I call you Abi? Look, let¡¯s talk about this. Maybe over a drink. I¡¯ll buy. You¡¯d let a nice guy like me buy you a drink, right? Do you like cherry soda?¡± Sharon leaned forward and spoke a single word. ¡°Ring.¡± He shrugged his shoulder. ¡°Look Abi, I don¡¯t have it. I was just on my way to¡­¡± Sharon pulled a large post like object from her back and hit its base on the concrete. It widened into something that resembled a riot shield. Well, that explained why they called her the Shield Maiden, he thought. Nope, he wasn¡¯t getting paid today. Not one filthy cent. May as well twist the knife in. ¡°Look, you wouldn¡¯t hit someone smaller than you now would you?¡± He heard the faint hum of a grav plate warming up right as she swung the shield at him. The grav field hit him and tossed him across the street as easily as a child could throw a stone.. The good thing about getting hit by a grav field is that you don¡¯t really feel the hit. Suddenly, you¡¯re just falling away from it at a bizarre angle that gravity isn¡¯t supposed to send you. The bad thing is that no matter which direction you fall there¡¯s still the sudden stop on the other side. Matthew laid on the street, seeing stars, laughing to himself at a joke no one had told. Concussion probably, but he didn¡¯t seem to have any broken bones. Sharon stood above him, hand outstretched. He laughed one more time and dug the ring out of his shirt pocket and placed it in her metal hand. She turned to leave, and he called after her. ¡°It was fun. Maybe we can do this again sometime, only next time, you can dress nice. Leave your work clothes at home.¡± He couldn¡¯t see her face, as she walked away, but he imagined her rolling her eyes.
There was a knock on the door to Mrs. Ishii¡¯s apartment. She stood from her office chair and let Mr. Cole in again. This time he took his shoes off without being asked. ¡°Just making sure the job got done, Ma¡¯am. Regrettably, I wasn¡¯t able to return the ring to you and I don¡¯t expect to get paid, but I thought I would check in to make sure Ms. Sharon completed the job.¡± Her face creased with amusement. Most freelancers weren¡¯t nearly so dedicated. ¡°Why yes, she did.¡± Mrs. Ishii gestured to a nearby table where the ring sat. ¡°Abigail Sharon left only a few minutes ago. You barely missed her, and, in fact, she thought you might come by.¡± The man nodded and tipped his campero to her. ¡°Well then, I think that¡¯s all. Good day, Mrs. Ishii.¡± ¡°Actually, she left something for you.¡± That got the freelancer¡¯s attention. She held out her hand, and he looked at the bright and shiny twenty-five dollar coin in surprise. ¡°She said she owed you a drink. And an aspirin.¡± He laughed and took the coin, then thanking her one more time, bowed his head once and left. Mrs. Ishii stared at the door for a moment then took the ring in her hand. She walked to her office and pushed aside a noren, revealing a safe. Hopefully, it¡¯s thick lead-lined walls would be enough to prevent the ring¡¯s rather fascinating side effects from causing any problems. She knew better than to mess with things she didn¡¯t understand. She activated the comm on her desk, calling up an old friend. ¡°You¡¯d better be calling me with good news, Ishii,¡± a gruff voice came over the speaker. Mrs. Ishii smiled slyly. ¡°You worry too much. Of course I got it back. You¡¯d better get one of your people over here to take this thing off my hands. I don¡¯t want to be near it any longer than I have to.¡± 3. Train to Churchill Oh, I most certainly blame the Americans. No doubt they all watched too many John Wayne movies in those days. What, you don¡¯t know who he is? Famous actor from a couple centuries back. Cinema history buffs can tell you all about him. Just look him up. You¡¯ll see what I mean. The Americans got here first. To Mars that is. Their infrastructure was already well developed, so Moses was able to get them out the door quickly, so to speak. They set up their first colony on Mars, took one look outside, thought it looked familiar, and named their little colony Arizona and the city Flagstaff. I don¡¯t know if the cowboy hats were a joke at first or serious, but the things spread like a disease to all the other colonies when we got here. Next thing you know we were all living in a John Wayne movie under a benevolent AI overlord. The future is a most peculiar place, indeed. Edmund Hughes Second Commander of Her Majesty''s Martian Colony, Churchill Died 2 AM
For Matthew Cole, there were a couple of downsides to a twenty-five dollar payout. First, it meant he was eating freeze-dried nutrient rations for the foreseeable future. The hold of the Sparrow had a locker crammed full of the nearly inedible bars. He¡¯d purchased them years ago for lean seasons, and now certainly qualified. He peeled back the wrapper from the unappealing bar and took a bite. The complete lack of flavor wasn¡¯t quite as bad as the dense, gritty texture. Matthew always had the impression that he was eating a block of dried mud. The second downside to a twenty-five dollar payout was that his broker didn¡¯t much care for a ten percent cut amounting to two-point-five dollars. Matthew tried to spin it as better than nothing, but Benny hadn¡¯t found the joke funny. Not only had the broker disconnected the call, he hadn¡¯t answered any of Matthew¡¯s proceeding attempts. For two weeks. This wasn¡¯t the first time this had happened, so Matthew wasn¡¯t particularly worried. Next week he¡¯d worry. Today? Today he checked the public freelancer boards as he had every day and, as usual, came up disappointed. The Sparrow still sat in the Kyoto spaceport, incurring daily parking fees. He hadn¡¯t moved it, afraid to burn the fuel until he had a job, but now the parking fees would cost more than the fuel. Sometimes you lost when you gambled. The light on Matthew¡¯s comm lit up, and he took the call, not even bothering to look at who it was. ¡°Alright. I have a job for you,¡± Benny¡¯s voice rumbled through the cockpit. Matthew smiled, mostly in relief. He tossed his unfinished bar onto the console, hoping he¡¯d never have to touch another one if he could help it. ¡°I knew you¡¯d forgive me, Benny. What do you got for me?¡± ¡°Sending it now.¡± The information popped up on Matthew¡¯s display. Extra security on a prisoner transport. Then he saw the expected danger. ¡°Umm¡­ Extreme hazard? Are you trying to get me killed?¡± ¡°No. I¡¯m setting up a team for this contract.¡± Matthew heard a certain smug tone in the broker¡¯s voice. He didn¡¯t like it. ¡°I don¡¯t do team contracts,¡± he reiterated for the hundredth time. ¡°We¡¯ve gone...¡± ¡°You do now,¡± Benny interrupted. ¡°Because if you don¡¯t do this contract, we¡¯re never working together again.¡± The cockpit was silent, except for the gentle white noise of the open comm channel. Matthew stared at the blue display. The pay would be good, but he didn¡¯t do team jobs. ¡°Look, Benny. I appreciate you setting this up, but there¡¯s a reason I don¡¯t like doing this kind of job.¡± ¡°Yeah, so what? I don¡¯t really care about whatever ¡®loner¡¯ mystique you think is so important. Cry me a Martian river, Cole. It¡¯ll evaporate into the thin air before anyone cares. I¡¯ve got a dozen other clients that would take this job in a heartbeat. But you know what? I thought about you, Cole. I thought about how hungry you are right now, probably eating mushy ration bars.¡± Matthew looked at the half-eaten bar. ¡°So you do care.¡± ¡°In so much as you¡¯re a good freelancer when you actually work and make me money? Yeah, I care. And you know what else? You¡¯re gonna cave this time and do this job.¡± ¡°Is that right?¡± ¡°Yup. And you¡¯ve got exactly ten seconds to agree, or you¡¯re never hearing my voice again.¡± That¡¯s almost cheating, Matthew thought in annoyance. He thought about calling the broker¡¯s bluff. But then he also thought about his grumbling stomach. He gave it a nine-count anyway just for fun. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll do it, but just this once.¡± He heard Benny¡¯s nasally voice laughing on the other side of the comm. It sounded like he was covering the microphone with his hand to mute it and Matthew could barely make out muffled words. ¡°You were right! He totally bought it.¡± Matthew frowned, first at the implication that Benny might have actually just played him like a fiddle, then at the thought that there was someone colluding with him. ¡°Who are you talking to Benny?¡± ¡°Oh! Umm¡­ That was just my business partner, don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯ll send the rest of the details on the job. No failures this time, Matthew.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. I¡¯m already on my way.¡± He started warming up the Sparrow¡¯s engines for a quick hop to Mars¡¯ southern hemisphere. ¡°This is just a one time deal, okay? Just this once.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Benny said as he cut the comm. Matthew finished the pre-flight checklist and pulled up the Kyoto Spaceport on his monitor. He tried not to wince as he paid the Sparrow¡¯s parking fee, nearly cleaning out the last of his account. He should probably thank Benny for forcing him to take this job, but he didn¡¯t want him to get too comfortable. Punching the engines, he lifted off, heading for new and, hopefully, greener pastures.
Not that anywhere on Mars was particularly green, though the Arizona region was certainly the closest. Here the environmental shields extended further from the cities than anywhere else in the solar system. A wide land of valleys filled with farms and settlements, nestled between red rock mesas, branched out from the city of Flagstaff. As the Sparrow approached Arizona, Matthew gave a wide berth to the regions atmo-factory. An enormous cometary fragment, brought here by Moses over a century ago, was slowly being consumed by plasma torches, releasing, carbon dioxide, nitrogen, methane, trace amounts of oxygen, and other gases into the thin Martian air. A dozen such atmo-factories were scattered around Mars. Moses had promised to make the air of the red planet breathable without assistance from technology. The first step was to get the air pressure high enough to live without suits. The second step would have been to adjust its composition to make it breathable. But that was all history. Moses left, and the colonists had managed to finish the first step on their own by simply manning the remaining factories, though the air was still rather thin. The second was now just a dream, lost like so much else. Matthew landed the Sparrow on the outskirts of one of the border towns. The green ended abruptly at the environmental shields, and the red sands of mars continued undisturbed by man as far as the eye could see. He walked into the small dusty town of ramshackle buildings towards the tiny police station. A town this size likely only had a single lawman, possibly even part-time or a volunteer. But he wasn¡¯t here to see the local enforcer of justice. Matthew pushed open the door of the station and found three men already inside. One was quite clearly the local lawman, dressed in faded and dirty blues and wearing the wide-brimmed cowboy hat that was expected of him on this part of Mars. The second man was another freelancer and thus one of the partners that Matthew was unwillingly going to have to work with on this job. Leaning against a wall, he was dressed in dark combat fatigues and had a rifle slung on his back. Vaguely, Matthew remembered that his name was Vance. He¡¯d only seen the man once or twice at a distance. The last man had to be the job¡¯s contact. The civilian clothes he wore did little to hide that he was a government man. The too straight posture, the set of his jaw, all of it spoke of a bureaucrat that was used to having his way because he was from the government and he was here to help. Matthew tipped his campero. ¡°Matthew Cole, here for the job. I take it you¡¯re Mr. Thompson?¡± The government man nodded and offered a hand for Matthew to shake. ¡°Ryan Thompson. Arizona Minister of Law. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cole. I¡¯ve not heard of you before, but the broker I spoke with claimed you were a man of principle.¡± ¡°I suppose you could say that,¡± Matthew said uncomfortably, shaking his hand. ¡°But I¡¯d rephrase it to say that I try and make an honest living.¡± ¡°I see. Well, the Republic of Arizona is only interested in working with honest freelancers such as yourself. It¡¯s not good business to pay someone who might end up working for the bad guys next week, as I¡¯m sure you understand. If you¡¯ll just take a seat, we¡¯re still waiting for the last freelancer.¡± Matthew sat in one of the sparse room¡¯s chairs and tapped his fingers idly, hoping the wait wouldn¡¯t be long. He wasn¡¯t disappointed in the wait. He was disappointed by who came through the door. Abigail Sharon ducked her head as she entered the police headquarters. She wore her powered armor openly, no trench coat today to hide her fantastic piece of earth-tech. Her eyes locked onto Matthew¡¯s and gleamed with amusement. He tipped his hat to her politely. ¡°Ms. Sharon.¡± ¡°Cole. How¡¯s the head doing after that little spill up in Kyoto?¡± ¡°Better actually, thanks for asking,¡± he smiled. ¡°No thanks to you.¡± ¡°Oh, you two have worked together before?¡± Mr. Thompson asked, oblivious to the subtext. Matthew scratched the back of his head. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ maybe a little too generous a way of putting it.¡± Sharon smiled and leaned against a wall, her exo-suit polished to a shine. ¡°I laid him out flat in the street. Just business. Nothing personal.¡± The government man eyed them both with suspicion. ¡°Is this going to be a problem?¡± ¡°None at all,¡± she replied sweetly. Matthew thought about saying yes. He thought about walking out of the police station and back to the Sparrow. But then he also thought about the ration bar that probably still sat on the console. ¡°No problem, sir. As Ms. Sharon said, just business.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Thompson said. He didn¡¯t look convinced. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t have a similarly distasteful past with Mr. Vance.¡± ¡°I know him only by name.¡± Matthew extended a hand to the third member of the team who shook it curtly. ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cole.¡± Vance smiled a big smile, the kind that irritated Matthew. He tried not to let it get to him. Some people were just annoying. Didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t good at their job. ¡°Alright, the niceties are out of the way,¡± Sharon said impatiently. ¡°What¡¯s the job?¡± The government man turned on the monitor mounted to the wall. It flashed up with a map of Mars¡¯ southern hemisphere, highlighting a rail line. ¡°Prisoner transfer. I¡¯ve been working for months to take down the Hawthorne gang. They¡¯ve been operating out of this part of Mars for the last four years and getting bolder as time goes on. Last week, my deputies made a key arrest, none other than James Hawthorne himself, the second in command under his older brother.¡± ¡°Congratulations,¡± Sharon said. ¡°I¡¯ve had more than one run in with Hawthorne goons. Last time we ended up demolishing most of a warehouse. It was fun.¡± ¡°I remember. Let¡¯s not have a repeat, please,¡± Thompson said, shaking his head. ¡°James was responsible for murdering a member of Churchill¡¯s parliament last year. As such, the Brits have formally requested that we extradite him to Churchill, presumably to hang him on the steps of parliament. I¡¯m not really in a position to deny the Prime Minister, as I owe him a favor. Tomorrow morning, James Hawthorne will secretly be transported on the mag train to Churchill.¡± He rubbed his hands together. ¡°We¡¯re trying to do this quietly, to keep the Hawthorne gang from trying to spring their man en route. The train is a normally scheduled passenger train, with one of the cars exchanged for a high-security cell. We¡¯ll have ten armed deputies in the car with Hawthorne.¡± ¡°Where do we come in, exactly?¡± Vance asked, leaning forward. ¡°Truth is, I don¡¯t like this whole operation,¡± Thompson said, ¡°but the brits insist on having their man. I¡¯d rather deal with James Hawthorne myself, but that¡¯s not going to happen. And it gets worse. I know for a fact that I¡¯ve got a mole somewhere in my officers. There¡¯s no other way the Hawthorne gang could predict my operations the way they do. Picking up James was sheer luck, something I¡¯m a little loath to admit. I think odds are good that his gang already knows the plan. You three are my wildcard. This job is off the official record, and I paid good money for the broker to keep this quiet. If the Hawthorne gang shows up, I hope to surprise them with the Shield Maiden and two of the best crack shots in the solar system.¡± Made sense, Matthew thought. But if Thompson had security issues, odds were good the Hawthorne gang would find out about the freelancer backup anyway. Of course, there was also the chance that this was all for nothing. ¡°What happens if the guests of honor are no shows?¡± he asked. Thompson smiled tightly. ¡°Then you three get the easiest paycheck of your lives, courtesy of the Republic of Arizona.¡± Matthew sat back in his chair. One could hope, and maybe even pray, that would be the case. A little easy money would be a happy ending for everyone. Well, except for James Hawthorne.
Abigail Sharon didn¡¯t like the job, not one bit, and not because she didn¡¯t like working with a team. That was a pretty regular occurrence. She didn¡¯t even particularly mind working with Cole, despite their little run in a few weeks ago. She¡¯d given him a hard time, but he¡¯d seemed a decent sort of guy from what little they¡¯d spoken. At the very least he was polite, and that was rare enough in this day and age. The minister¡¯s calm confidence that something would indeed go wrong and that he had a mole, that was unnerving. Even if he managed to keep the fact that the freelancers were around for extra muscle a secret, it meant that the Hawthorne gang was almost guaranteed to show up, and in force. This made her trust her teammates a little bit less. When you have a mole, everyone is a suspect. After the minister had left, the freelancers spent the next hour going over the details of the operation. In the end, they decided to split up across the mag-train. Vance would guard the rear car, posing as a passenger and keeping lookout. Cole would also pose as a passenger, but in the frontmost car right before the secure cell. Abigail, unable to go undercover, would join the deputies in guarding James Hawthorne directly and only show herself if it became clear an escape attempt was being made. Vance was staying at a hotel in town. Abigail returned to her skyhopper, a fixed-wing aircraft designed for flight in Mars¡¯ low air pressure. The sun was setting over the distant hills as she lowered the ramp on the small craft. She paused and looked to her right. In the distance, Cole was boarding his much larger and fancier spacecraft, a Ceres Spaceworks Model 42. It was basically every freelancer¡¯s dream ship. Sleek, able to defend itself, room for cargo, passengers, a crew, or whatever else you wanted. It was one of the best multipurpose workhorses out there. She felt a pang of jealousy and knocked her armored fist against the hull of her skyhopper. A spacecraft of her own would be a dream come true. No longer limited to jobs on Mars, she¡¯d be able to hit up the rest of the system as well. ¡°Lucky dog,¡± she muttered and ducked into the entrance of her own craft. The whole thing was too small for her armored form. Little more than a cockpit and a cramped living quarter, her skyhopper was no luxury suite. Abigail stooped in the middle of her quarters, picked up the power cable, and plugged in her exo-suit. It could run for days without needing a recharge, but she never took chances. She¡¯d never yet been caught without power and had no intention of that ever happening. Checking her wrist to ensure the power banks were receiving the charge, she knelt to the deck and cracked the suit open. Pulling her arms out of their armored counterparts, she reached back and grabbed hold of two bars above her bed and pulled herself out of the armor. Abigail cracked her knuckles and stretched out on her bed. Grabbing an old paperback novel off the shelf above her head and a box with a freeze-dried self-heating meal, she settled in for the night. Despite being one of her favorites, she had a hard time concentrating on the words. Not even the wittiest exchanges between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy held her attention as her mind kept wandering back to tomorrow¡¯s job. Maybe it was just pessimism.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Or maybe tomorrow really was going to be that kind of day. It was always hard to judge this sort of thing. She turned the light out and tried vainly to get some sleep.
The next morning Abigail got up early, checked over her armor, and ate a quick breakfast. She suited up and went to the train station. The grey pre-dawn light filtered over the hills and a chill breeze blew through the border town. She was met by a deputy who escorted her to the secure train car. Looking like an ordinary passenger car, it floated a meter above the magnetic track. Inside was another matter entirely. It was armored like a tank and had four barred prisoner cells. There was only a single deputy present. He shook her hand, nervously, and introduced himself as Captain Stanley. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Ms., uhh¡­ Shield Maiden. I¡¯ve read a lot about you and respect your work.¡± Great, she thought. A fan. She smiled graciously, ¡°Yes, well, we¡¯re all here to do a job.¡± She gestured to the empty cells. ¡°Is our guest on schedule?¡± Stanley straightened and nodded vigorously. ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am. James Hawthorne will be arriving via armored car in just over one hour. You are welcome to take a seat until then.¡± Abigail laughed and with a metal palm slapped the thigh of her suit, making a loud noise. ¡°I don¡¯t exactly tire. If it¡¯s all the same to you, I¡¯ll just stand.¡± ¡°Yes, I umm... Of course.¡± She smiled at his awkward response, enjoying one of the pleasures her earth-tech suit afforded her. Waiting around for the next hour was not among those pleasures, but they had decided it would be better if Abigail weren¡¯t seen stomping onto the train. Hence the early morning. Sometime after the sun rose, Abigail heard the roar of a personnel carrier pulling up outside, Eight deputies and James Hawthorne in an orange prisoner coverall boarded the train. He was a man of average height with a sandy beard. Nothing much to look at, but he was apparently an outlaw leader with a penchant for murder. Shows how you could never really judge a book by its cover. Hawthorne startled when he laid eyes on Abigail. As he passed her, she looked down at him and laughed. ¡°That¡¯s right. Whatever your little men have planned is not going to work.¡± He spat at her and was wrestled into a cell by the deputies. Captain Stanley laughed. ¡°You ought to treat a lady with a little more respect. I get the feeling she could rip you limb from limb.¡± The outlaw leader didn¡¯t say anything, just glared daggers at the deputies from behind his bars. Abigail leaned against the wall in front of him and crossed her arms, deciding to stare him down while she waited. There was an unpleasant tickle in the back of her mind that Hawthorne was a little too calm, even after his initial shock of seeing Abigail. There was going to be trouble. She was almost certain.
Matthew sat in one of the stiff seats in the first passenger car back from Sharon. The dingy car seemed far dirtier and run down than when he had ridden this very line a few times as a kid. Still, he mused, at least it was running. Mag trains could be repaired when they broke unlike some other bits of infrastructure. He looked over the rows of seats. There were only a handful of passengers in the car. He had chosen the rearmost row so that he would see any passenger that tried to enter or leave. He tapped his fingers idly on the rail, waiting for the train to depart the station. Churchill was some nine hundred miles from Arizona. The trip by mag train was about four hours, normally enough time for a good nap. Today it was going to be monotonous waiting for something to happen. This was the kind of job that could make you jump at shadows as it dragged on. He was confident that something would happen. Something in the quiet sincerity of the government man¡¯s own confidence had sold Matthew on that. It was just a matter of time. There was a slight bump as the train departed and began to pick up more and more speed. He took a glance out the window as they raced across the red martian desert. There was even a bit of blue in the usually hazy red sky this morning. He pulled back a sleeve and glanced at his old wristwatch. Weeks ago he had set it to Mars length days, which were conveniently only a few minutes longer than standard. He dialed it to local time. If the bandits were smart, they¡¯d make their move at the two-hour mark. Halfway in between the colonies would give them more time before reinforcements could arrive. Then again, sometimes there was value in doing the unexpected. Twenty minutes into the ride, three men entered the car. There was nothing suspicious about the way they dressed, simple working clothes with wide-brimmed hats, but there was no good reason for them to have changed cars. Matthew watched them casually as they walked toward the front of the car. They didn¡¯t seem to have marked him. He pulled out his comm and signaled the other two freelancers. He got an immediate counter signal from Sharon. She must have been ready and itching for action. Vance didn¡¯t answer. Matthew fired the signal again and grimaced. Vance may have already been identified and eliminated. The three men had reached the front of the car and neared the door. Matthew stood and bellowed, ¡°Everybody, get down!¡± This was for two reasons. First, he wanted the handful of civilians in the car to hit the deck. This was going to get violent one way or another. Second, he wanted to give the suspicious characters a chance to either prove their innocence or guilt before he opened fire. All three of them spun and drew their guns, and Matthew had his answer. He fired four shots from his revolver, striking two of the men before they even finished turning. The third was fast and had his own gun drawn before the others hit the ground. Matthew dove behind the seat as sparks scattered from the bullets. The report was deafening in the enclosed space. He was on his feet again in a moment with his gun trained towards his target. The outlaw had taken cover behind a partition at the front of the car. Matthew took a risk and fired all three shots at the partition. There was a cry of pain, and the man fell into the aisle. Matthew pulled a speed loader from a pocket and had his revolver ready to fire again. ¡°Make sure your cover is bulletproof next time,¡± he said to no one in particular as he walked past the rows of seats. Thankfully the few passengers had heeded his warning and taken cover before the fight. ¡°Might want to stay down, ladies and gentlemen. I think you¡¯re in the middle of an old fashioned train heist.¡± He signaled Vance one last time. Still no answer, and at this point, Matthew expected that there never would be. He ducked behind a chair and called Sharon. ¡°No answer from Vance. Three bogeys down. You quiet up there?¡± ¡°Quiet as a church. Were there only three?¡± ¡°¡®So far. If I had to guess the main assault will be coming soon, possibly by air. They probably posed as passengers to flush out extra defenders.¡± There was a pause on the other end of the comm. ¡°Think they were looking for us specifically?¡± They were both thinking the same thing. Thompson¡¯s security problem was a gaping hole if the Hawthorne gang already knew about the freelancers. ¡°Either way they seemed to have found Vance. Keep your eyes open. I¡¯m going to try and get a look at the sky, see if we¡¯ve got incoming.¡± ¡°Keep me posted.¡± Sharon cut the link and Matthew moved into action. He stepped through the door at the front of the car and shut it behind him. Pulling a breathing mask from beneath his poncho, he placed it over his face. Mars¡¯ atmosphere was thick enough that you no longer needed a pressure suit, and most of its citizens were used to cold-shirting it short distances from building to building or train car to train car if they were outside of the environmental shields. He would be outside longer than that though. He pushed open the heavy outer door and stepped out onto the small platform. The red Martian landscape raced by, a blur of sand and rock. The train car in front of him, the one containing the prisoner, Sharon, and the deputies, was joined to Matthew¡¯s by a single hitch. A flexible hanging bridge made it possible to cross safely from one to the other. But Matthew didn¡¯t intend to hole up with Sharon just yet. Turning, he climbed the rung ladder on his car and poked his head over the top of the train. He saw exactly what he feared he would see. Two skyhoppers, much like Sharon¡¯s, approaching fast from the rear of the train. In just a few seconds they¡¯d be here. ¡°Sharon,¡± he shouted over the whistle of the wind. A small environmental shield at the front of the train greatly reduced wind drag. This had the side effect of making the wind atop the train much slower, which, considering the circumstances was a pity. Matthew wouldn¡¯t have minded one bit if the top of the train was inaccessible due to hurricane force winds. ¡°Skyhoppers inbound.¡± One passed overhead and slowed above the train¡¯s engine. Which meant the other¡­ He whipped his head around. It hovered over the rear of the train, and four men had already landed lightly atop one of the cars. They braced against the wind. ¡°Sharon. The engine. You¡¯ve got company from the front.¡± He shut off the comm and aimed his revolver across the top of the train. The intruders hadn¡¯t noticed him yet. He fired four shots. Through sheer luck, he hit one target in the arm. Unfortunately, they were way out of the practical engagement range of his revolver and, realizing this, they crouched and returned fire. Three guns answering his one had Matthew retreating back down the ladder. He¡¯d have to make for the secure car. From there, he¡¯d stand a chance with Sharon and the deputies. As he stepped onto the platform, Matthew felt the muzzle of a gun press into his back. ¡°Sorry about this,¡± Vance said. Matthew almost thought he meant it. At least now he knew why the man¡¯s smile had been so obnoxious. ¡°I thought Thompson said he was only hiring principled freelancers for this job?¡± He was stalling, of course, grasping for a plan of some sort. Vance was quiet for a moment. ¡°Turns out we all have our price.¡± ¡°That¡¯s pretty blatantly untrue,¡± Matthew said carefully. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure. Just because you haven¡¯t found yours yet doesn¡¯t mean you won¡¯t someday.¡± Matthew shook his head. ¡°You know nothing about me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right. I don¡¯t. And sadly, I never will.¡± That was as good a warning as any. Rather than take a bullet to the back from a coward and sellout, Matthew dropped to the ground, praying to take Vance by surprise. He swept a leg towards the other freelancer and in the process took him down. The rifle Vance had been holding discharged harmlessly into the sky. For a few moments, there was a tangle and confusion of limbs as both men tried to get their bearing . Unfortunately for Vance, Matthew found his first, and his fist found the other man¡¯s face. There was a cracking noise. Vance would have a broken nose and Matthew a few jammed fingers, but the traitor dropped like a sandbag to the platform. Matthew¡¯s breathing mask had come free, and he grabbed its hose and shoved it back on his face. He checked to make sure that Vance¡¯s was secure too. Asphyxiation wasn¡¯t a death he¡¯d wish on anyone. From the secure car, he heard a barrage of gunfire, and he leaped to his feet hoping it wasn¡¯t too late.
¡°Skyhoppers inbound,¡± Cole¡¯s voice rattled over Abigail¡¯s comm. Above her head, she heard the roar of the aircraft as one passed above her train car. ¡°Look alive,¡± Captain Stanley ordered. She moved to the front of the car and pulled her riot shield off her back. It sprang to life with a faint hum. Her armor was tough enough to stop most small arms fire, but she still preferred to take them in the shield. Better not to take too many chances. A spray of sparks began to shoot from the door as the Hawthorne gang cut through it with a plasma torch. ¡°Breathing masks on!¡± shouted Stanley. Abigail lowered her own transparent face shield and waited patiently, knowing this would give her one good shot at whoever was on the other side. The moment the torch had cut a complete circuit around the door she slammed her shield into it, giving it a good jolt from the grav plate. The heavy steel door blew outwards taking at least two men with it. Abigail didn¡¯t know what happened to them but figured their bodies would someday be found on the dry Martian landscape, half-mummified. Gunfire began to ping harmlessly against her shield. Then she heard something bounce across the ground near her feet. A flash and a deafening roar echoed through the train car, and for a moment Abigail feared they had tossed a live grenade through the hole. As the stars began to clear, she realized with relief that it was only a flashbang, but the distraction could prove disastrous. Still reeling from the blast, she pushed her shield to block the missing door. There were more pings of deflected gunfire. Then she noticed the car filling with smoke. ¡°Find that smoke grenade and get it out of here,¡± she bellowed over her ringing ears. It was too late. The car was filled with smoke, making it almost impossible to see. Breathing wasn¡¯t a problem for the deputies due to their masks, but it was hard to know where a threat was coming from if you couldn¡¯t see it. The outlaws would probably have thermal vision to see through¡­ A shaft of light came from the rear of the car, cutting through the smoke. ¡°Sharon!¡± Cole yelled. ¡°Keep your eyes on the rear door. I¡¯ve got the front!¡± ¡°We¡¯re going to have more company from the back in just a minute. They unloaded a squad on the rear cars.¡± Abigail swore under her breath. Captain Stanley gave new orders to his men, and four of them exited the rear of the car to defend from that position. The gunfire had stopped, and Abigail risked a peek around her shield. She couldn''t see anyone on the other side. That didn¡¯t make sense. What were they¡­? The voice of one of the deputies rang through the car ¡°The prisoner!¡± There was a clang of metal, and the rush of air as a new hole opened in the train car¡¯s side. So that was the purpose of the flashbang and smoke grenade. Distraction while they cut through the prisoner''s cell. One of the deputy¡¯s revolvers barked twice. ¡°Too late! They have him!¡± a voice shouted. Abigail growled and unlatched what was left of the door, pushed it open, and stepped out onto the platform. Empty with no outlaws in sight. She grabbed the rung ladder and pulled herself up to the top of the car. The skyhopper at the front of the train had drifted back behind the secure cell, and several men, including James Hawthorne, were running the length of the train towards it. Having no better plan, she ran across the top of the secure cell after them, leaping lightly to the next car. It was a dangerous leap for a man on foot, but for her, it was an easy jump. The outlaws must have heard her heavy suit land with a bang. While Hawthorne continued running towards the skyhopper, they turned and opened fire. She advanced slowly as the bullets ricocheted off her shield. ¡°Use a hand?¡± Cole asked from behind her. Abigail glanced at him in surprise, unaware that he¡¯d followed. ¡°Be my guest,¡± she said through gritted teeth. Cole stood behind her, using her and her shield for cover and began returning fire with the bandits. He was a good shot. Real good. In a matter of seconds, two were downed, and the remaining three were beating a hasty retreat. ¡°Move forward,¡± he said calmly. ¡°The deputies are pushing through the train beneath us as we speak.¡± ¡°Who put you in charge?¡± Abigail countered as she pressed towards the skyhopper. It was three cars away, and James Hawthorne had almost made it to safety. Reaching the end of the car, she leaped to the next and glanced behind her as Cole took a running jump to join her. She could reach Hawthorne. Easily. But then the skyhopper opened fire. Its chin mounted chain gun began unleashing a storm of lead on them. She knelt to the ground so her shield would provide better coverage. The larger caliber bullets would almost certainly pierce her armor¡¯s shell. Cole took cover behind her again, his back against her own. Hopefully, any passengers below were out of the line of fire. Abigail tried not to think about that right now. ¡°We might have a problem,¡± he said, his voice surprisingly calm. ¡°You think?¡± ¡°Yup. I¡¯m going to be eating ration bars till the day I die.¡± ¡°You do seem to be good at failing contracts,¡± she shouted. ¡°I seem to remember that I was the only reason anyone made any money back in Kyoto.¡± ¡°Can this wait till later?!¡± she shouted. He wasn¡¯t wrong, but she wasn¡¯t about to admit it. Hawthorne was surely tucked into the skyhopper by now. The second aircraft had in fact already pulled away from the engine and was drifting back alongside the train. The chaingun stopped, and Abigail risked a peek around her shield. There was a rumble as Hawthorne¡¯s skyhopper throttled up and it roared overhead. Cole¡¯s revolver fired a few parting shots that glanced harmlessly off the hull of the craft. Abigail cursed under her breath as she realized that the second skyhopper was right beside them. A side hatch opened, and something caught her eye. ¡°Sharon!¡± So Cole had seen it too. An outlaw had a shoulder mounted thumper aimed at them. She brought her shield around and stepped between Cole and the weapon right as it fired. The blast from a thumper is visible. In a vacuum, the artificial bubble of curved space bends light somewhat around itself creating an obvious distortion. In atmosphere, the bubble also gives off a faint iridescent light, some exotic reaction with air molecules. Abigail didn¡¯t really understand the science. But she did see the blast as it lanced across the short distance separating the train and the skyhopper. It hit her shield squarely and she heard a high pitched shriek as the grav plate in her shield tried to neutralize it. It held, barely, but as the thumper blast collapsed in on itself, it let loose a shockwave that blew both her and Cole off the train. There was a moment of weightlessness. Through sheer luck, they happened to be traveling along the top of a steep hill and the ground was nearly a hundred feet below them. Abigail returned her shield to her back but left it engaged. Cole hurtled through the air beside her. Reaching out she grabbed his arm and pulled him to herself. She saw the look of surprise on his face as she wrapped her arms around him. His breath mask had been knocked off and he fumbled in her grip to replace it. Abigail rotated to land on her back, feet facing down the slope. This whole process took only a few seconds as the ground rushed up at them. They hit the slope at high speed, but the grav plate in Abigail¡¯s shield absorbed the majority of the impact. Mars¡¯ lower gravity also helped keep their speed non-fatal. Half supported by a cushion of gravity from her shield, she did her best to keep her feet from touching the ground. If this turned into a wild tumble, Cole was as good as dead. Red rocks and dust flew up behind them as they slid down the hill. Judging they had shed enough speed, she planted her feet to continue slowing them. As they neared the bottom of the hill, she clipped a large boulder and lost hold of Cole. Matthew bounced another twenty feet across the shallow basin of sand at the bottom of the hill before tumbling to a halt. He coughed, then realized his mask had come free yet again. He replaced it and took a deep breath, promising himself to find one that secured to his face better.
A few minutes passed as Matthew lay on his back, glad to be alive. He had been supremely confident when the thumper fired that his life was over. The fact that Sharon had somehow managed to save them both was something he was still trying to process. Speaking of, Sharon stood over him. ¡°How you doing, cowboy? Any serious injuries?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to hurt in the morning, but I¡¯m alive,¡± he accepted the hand offered to him and stood to his feet. ¡°I guess that¡¯s that,¡± he grumbled. ¡°I don¡¯t think Thompson hired enough guns.¡± Sharon shook her head. ¡°I think the whole cloak and dagger on a public train was the real downfall. No heavy weaponry to chase off the skyhoppers. What a disaster.¡± Matthew grunted. ¡°Thanks, by the way, for saving my life.¡± She nodded, seemingly distracted. Not knowing what else to do, Matthew started walking back up towards the tracks. He¡¯d spotted his hat halfway up the hillside and stooped to pick it up. The low gravity made the trek tiring, and he began to sweat despite the chill in the thin atmosphere. They reached the hilltop and, without a better plan, started hiking down the track towards Arizona. ¡°Arizona has a serious security problem,¡± Matthew mused. ¡°I know Thompson said he had a mole, but that was nuts.¡± ¡°You¡¯re telling me,¡± Sharon agreed. ¡°They knew which car and even which cell in the car.¡± Matthew stared at her for a moment and then realized she was missing an important detail. ¡°Oh right, I think I forgot to mention that Vance was a traitor.¡± ¡°What?¡± she asked, rounding on him. ¡°Yeah, he wasn¡¯t answering for a reason. Vance held me at gunpoint, but I managed to turn it into a fist fight. I broke his face. He¡¯ll live, but not if I ever see him again.¡± Sharon suddenly laughed. She looked at her wrist and tapped a few buttons. ¡°This job may not be over after all.¡± Matthew gave her a good stare and raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question. ¡°I didn¡¯t trust either you or Vance after Thompson expressed his concerns. Last night I slipped a tracker on both of you before we left the briefing.¡± ¡°I would have noticed that.¡± ¡°I can be subtle,¡± she said defensively. ¡°You weren¡¯t subtle back in Kyoto.¡± ¡°Check your hat.¡± Matthew took off his campero. Sure enough, a tiny black disk was nestled between the crown and brim. He didn¡¯t say anything and merely replaced the hat. Sharon laughed again and tapped her wrist. ¡°I just checked on Vance¡¯s tracker. It¡¯s north of here.¡± Matthew nodded. ¡°And the train went east. So Vance was able to retreat with them. He didn¡¯t stay down long.¡± ¡°He¡¯s got an impressive reputation. I¡¯m not surprised.¡± ¡°So we follow your tracker to Vance and the Hawthorne gang. What could possibly go wrong?¡± ¡°Beats not getting paid,¡± she said. ¡°And eating ration bars,¡± he concluded. ¡°Fine.¡± He pulled the air compressor off his belt that connected to his breath mask. ¡°How much time do you have?¡± Sharon asked. ¡°Eight hours. Probably not enough to make it back to Arizona. I¡¯m not exactly sure how far out we are.¡± Sharon gave an exasperated sigh and knelt to the ground. She gestured to her back. ¡°Hop on.¡± Matthew stopped and crossed his arms. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡± ¡°Not a bit. Either you ride piggyback, or I carry you bridal style. Your choice.¡± ¡°You¡¯re sure you can carry me that far?¡± ¡°Yes and much faster than you can walk. Come on. We don¡¯t have all day.¡± Matthew walked over to her and climbed on her back. ¡°This is the most ridiculous thing I¡¯ve ever done.¡± Sharon laughed. ¡°Quit complaining cowboy. We¡¯ve got a job to finish.¡± To be Continued... 21. Villa Mar铆a I. Albert Cole was aware of his body only through a haze of pain. As his liver failed, toxins in his blood addled the brain and fluid filled his body cavities. There was one relief now for his weary soul, and that was sleep. He had spent much of the last few weeks doing just that. The fog cleared long enough that he recognized his sixteen-year-old son, Matthew, by his bedside. A book was in his hands, but that was nothing new. He had always taken after his mother, thank God in heaven for that. Albert recognized the book. It was the one he had bought from an antique book dealer for Matthew only a few months ago in Flagstaff. If he had known it would be his last trip, he would have bought a dozen. The boy deserved it after the hell that he had put him through. But that was in the past. The priest had told him that there was such a thing as mercy. Albert knew that, with the kind of man he had been, it was on that alone that he rested. He knew that he could never make it up to Matthew or Elizabeth. Albert tried to remember the title of the book his son was reading. He couldn¡¯t recall the name. Just days ago, Matthew had read aloud a passage to him. It was above his head, but he remembered it had been about the God that had given him new purpose these last couple years. It brought him comfort. Matthew saw his gaze and set the book aside. He took Albert¡¯s hand and squeezed it. The feel of it was cold and distant, more like a memory of touch than the real thing. A time of silence passed between them, and Albert felt tears on his cheeks. He tried to bring his arm to his face to wipe them away, but the effort was too much. Never mind. There was nothing left to hide. Matthew came to his aid and brushed them away. Albert settled back into the bed, content and happy in the forgiveness of his son. He closed his eyes and drifted into dreams, dreams where he was healthy and tending the fields again. The cool of the Martian air told of the advancing months, that the growing season was almost over. Even fields on Mars must rest after the harvest. When the dream ended, the miasma of coming death receded from his mind further than they had in days. He opened his eyes to see his dear Elizabeth beside him. She held his hand, like Matthew had, only now he could feel it. It was soft and real. He traced the shape of Elizabeth¡¯s face with his eyes, the sharply pointed nose and chin. How many years ago had they met? He had sought help from the agricultural department of the small college in Flagstaff and wandered into the wrong building where Elizabeth taught literature. How he had talked her into a date was something he never understood and knew better than to question. She had endured the long years of his alcoholism. Of being a failed husband and father. If only the last two years could have made things right. She¡¯d always been the one to give in their marriage. Even now, she took care of him and the farm as well. A year ago she had retired from the college when he could no longer manage it on his own. His kind and beautiful Elizabeth. Their eyes locked together, and Albert felt that he should say something but knew that it had all been said before. Everything except goodbye. ¡°I love you,¡± he whispered, fearing that the tears would come again. They did, but they belonged to Elizabeth rather than himself. She looked away. ¡°Is it really true? Do we really have immortal souls? Are we more than dust?¡± She always had a harder time with his new found faith than Matthew did. She had forgiven him when she¡¯d seen that he had truly changed, but her acceptance of how was yet to come. ¡°It¡¯s the one thing I know,¡± he said. ¡°Then I will do my best.¡± There was much to say here, but Albert had neither the strength nor the time. Elizabeth would have to wrestle with her creator herself. He could not fight that battle for her. The fog began to roll in at the edges of his consciousness, and he knew that it came to stay this time. He fought to keep his attention on his wife. ¡°Matthew told me that he wanted to be a priest,¡± he said. Elizabeth stiffened at this. ¡°I know. And it¡¯s hard for a mother to bear. It means that he will leave me.¡± ¡°He won¡¯t abandon you as I have,¡± he said, smiling weakly. ¡°As far as he travels, he¡¯ll always come home when you need him.¡± Her tears flowed freely. He longed to stop them, but that would be Matthew¡¯s job now. He closed his eyes. ¡°I love you, Albert,¡± Elizabeth whispered. He smiled. There was nothing else to say, nor could he if there was. He settled in to rest and soon he dreamed for the last time, of a blue sky like Mars had never seen and a far green country.
II. Matthew reached into his bag and pulled out his small tablet display, thumbing through its bookmarks until he found the book he was looking for. The midterm exam for Freshman Colonial History was less than two days away. Which, honestly, seemed impossible. He¡¯d already been at Saint Bartholomew¡¯s Seminary at Vatican City for a month and a half. Latin courses were in full swing, as well as introductory theology classes. He¡¯d taught himself most of these subjects in the last few years, so he was well ahead for the next three semesters. Still, overconfidence was a danger. Losing marks because he¡¯d forgotten some obscure part of the history of the Iapetus wasn¡¯t something he was particularly keen on. One more skim through the final three chapters would be enough. He settled onto the cold stone bench for the long haul. It never helped to study somewhere comfortable where his mind would relax. But he did prefer quiet. During the second week of class, he had discovered the garden behind the Chapel of St. Thomas Aquinas. Irises, purple and white grew alongside herbs in ordered beds beside quiet pathways. It was nestled against the city¡¯s outer wall and a long walk from the seminary. Students rarely came this far. Midway through the first chapter, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. An older man, probably in his sixties, was pulling weeds from one of the overgrown flower beds. Matthew watched him with interest. He wasn¡¯t dressed like the usual gardeners that tended the grounds. He wore a clerical collar. Matthew wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d ever seen a priest on his knees working the earth. The man eventually realized he was being watched. He stood, stretched his back, and walked over to Matthew. ¡°You¡¯d have thought that we would have left the weeds behind on Earth. Alas, the very soil we carried with us was laced with the seeds of our enemies. There is no escape from the curse.¡± Matthew nodded. ¡°My family has a farm outside of Flagstaff so I can sympathize. I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve met, Father. Matthew Cole. Freshman at St. Bartholomew¡¯s.¡± The man laughed heartily. ¡°I know quite well who you are, Matthew. It¡¯s my business to know all the students, after all.¡± Matthew cocked his head slightly, a creeping suspicion that he should know just who he was talking to. The priest sat beside him. ¡°Bishop Elias, in case you¡¯re hunting for a name.¡± He did his best not to leap to his feet. Bishop Elias was chancellor of the seminary and had been offworld since the term started, otherwise, Matthew would have surely recognized him. ¡°Fear not. Here in my garden, we may set decorum aside. Elsewhere the expectations of others rule.¡± Matthew glanced at the bishop¡¯s mud-stained pants. ¡°This is your garden? ¡°Well, I suppose it isn¡¯t mine officially, but after many years, I have convinced the gardeners that I do not need their help in maintaining it. Alas, I may have put the fear of God in them, as they let it run amok while I was away.¡± Curiosity got the better of him. Besides, Bishop Elias had given him permission to drop the formalities. ¡°How long have you been away?¡± ¡°Three months. Nearly. There has been a long-standing disagreement between the Muslim and Christian populations in my home colony of Zerai Deres, on Callisto. I was asked to arbitrate between the groups in hopes of a peaceful resolution.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware there were many Catholics in the Ethiopian colony.¡± ¡°There aren¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°But God has seen fit to give me a very great influence, and if I may use it for the good of our non-Catholic brothers and sisters or even for unbelievers, I will. I may yet have to take more trips home, but for now the situation has been diffused.¡± He looked down at Matthew¡¯s tablet. ¡°To speak of matters closer at hand, how goes the first term?¡± Matthew looked down at the book he¡¯d been reading. The truth was it was going well, but there was no way he was going to say that to the bishop over the seminary. ¡°Hmm...¡± he said carefully, stalling for time. ¡°Could be worse. I certainly need to study for midterms.¡± Bishop Elias turned to him, his eyes twinkling. ¡°I¡¯ve seen your marks and read the papers you¡¯ve written. We both know that you are underselling your own accomplishments. But I¡¯ll give you credit for attempting humility.¡± Matthew scratched the back of his head. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t need to study more.¡± ¡°I would never suggest anything to the contrary. I will, however, still ask your assistance in weeding my garden, else I shall never catch up. Given your background, I suspect you are precisely the young man I need to get back on top of things around here. The work of a priest is not purely academic. People are messy, and if you¡¯re not willing to get your hands dirty in good clean earth, well, you shall have a tough time dealing with the priesthood.¡± He walked back to the bed he had been working and stooped to his knees to continue. Matthew stared at him, dumbfounded for a minute before jumping up to join him. They labored in silence together for nearly an hour, but it was good work, and Matthew felt better for it. He thought about what the bishop had said, about people being messy. And while he knew better than most how true that was, he was pretty sure it had been a ploy to enlist his help. They parted ways, but not before the Bishop made Matthew promise that he would come to his aid if he ever fell so far behind in his gardening again. As it turned out, this was a far more common occurrence than Matthew had bargained on.
III. Bishop Elias looked over the forms one last time, ensuring he had everything he needed. Everything was in order. The bigger question was whether or not this was a wise course of action. He breathed a quick prayer, despite the fact that it was the hundredth such petition he had raised to God on the matter. There was a gentle knock on the door of his office, and he spun his chair to face it. ¡°You wanted to see me, your eminence?¡± Matthew asked. Elias waved off the honorific. Titles were meaningless vanities. ¡°Only proper,¡± the second-year seminary student explained. He took a pen from his desk and clicked it idly. ¡°If only students were more worried about why we do proper things, rather than just making sure they know what things are proper.¡± One corner of Matthew¡¯s mouth raised in a grin. ¡°Paul wrote to Timothy that he shouldn¡¯t speak harshly to older men, and to respect them as if they were their father.¡± There was his usual wit on display. ¡°I should be offended that you just called out my advancing age, but I¡¯m going to choose to be glad at the speed in which you can recall scripture.¡± He set the pen down. ¡°Now as to why I called you here. Tell me. What do you know of the Europan Catholic Church?¡± Matthew frowned at the abrupt change of subject. ¡°The majority of the moon¡¯s population is Catholic, being descended from Central and South American colonists. I suppose that percentage is dropping with how many slaves the cartels are bringing in from other parts of the solar system.¡± ¡°Indeed. A great portion of our flock lives daily in chains. And yet,¡± he said, regarding Matthew carefully, ¡°they are still our flock. We are in constant negotiations with the cartels to keep priests in service to the slaves. It is a dangerous thing to serve God on Europa, and brave men and women are murdered each and every year in their service to the people of Europa.¡± Matthew shifted in his seat. Good. Let him feel discomfort at the hard truths. Elias continued. ¡°And then there are places where the cartels do not yet have power, though that time may come soon. Villa Maria is one such place. It is a small town, Argentinian originally, and there is but a single church and priest. Father Molina is a Godly man, but he is old and cannot serve his people well anymore. He has petitioned us to send a second priest to aid him in his ministry.¡± He picked up the pen and began to idly click it again before he realized what he was doing and set it back down. ¡°There are none of course. There haven¡¯t been enough priests or seminary trained laymen for many decades.¡± Matthew¡¯s eyes had narrowed. Perhaps his suspicions were aroused. There weren¡¯t many places that the conversation could go from here. May as well not keep him waiting. ¡°It has been suggested that we send a seminary student to aid Father Molina in his ministry. Naturally, this student would continue their studies remotely, returning a few times a term as needed. Further, they would take holy orders and be ordained to the diaconate.¡± ¡°But I¡¯m only a second year student.¡± ¡°I know it¡¯s irregular, but you would be of little service to Father Molina without them.¡± ¡°Why me?¡± It was a simple question. If only answers were so simple. ¡°Because,¡± he said, ¡°your academic prowess is such that I have nothing to worry about on that front. I have strong suspicions that your Latin is better than mine. There¡¯s more than that, though. You¡¯re of tougher fiber than most of our students. Perhaps it was your upbringing on a Martian farm. Or perhaps¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s going to be dangerous there, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°It might be,¡± Elias admitted. ¡°Nowhere on Europa is safe, but when the cartels come to Villa Maria¡­ Well, I would have my student safely back on Ganymede before that happens.¡± ¡°Do I have a choice?¡± Matthew asked. ¡°Of course. You may continue your studies here at St Bartholomew''s as if I had never put the question before you.¡± But Elias knew what the answer would be. That was why he had hesitated to even offer the position to Matthew. The young man had a moral compass such that when offered a good that he could do, he would not fail to do the deed. Elias had as good as condemned him to the position beneath Father Molina. ¡°How long do I have to think about it?¡± Matthew asked. His voice had that quiet, strained quality he often had when he was deep in thought. ¡°Take a week. You have a Church History lecture that will be starting soon. We will talk later. Pray about it. Read through these forms for the details.¡± Matthew left, and Elias was left alone with his thoughts and a fair share of guilt. For all his prayer, he still had doubts whether this was the will of God or his own flawed reasoning. He could rescind the offer. Perhaps that would be best. And yet he knew that he would never do that. He was about to send one of his best students to the Slaver¡¯s Moon. ¡°God forgive me,¡± he mumbled.
IV. Matthew¡¯s first impression of Villa Maria was that it was quaint, maybe even charming. Jupiter hung overhead, casting a cheery light over the town. At just under a thousand people, it was one of the smaller colonies on Europa. Its buildings were painted in bright colors, even if the paint was beginning to crack, and the surrounding countryside of farmland was green with fresh crops. As he walked through the town, he heard a smattered mixing of Spanish and English. To his amusement, he found he could follow the Spanish moderately well from his Latin training, though he couldn¡¯t make any sense of the tenses or conjugation. He shifted his pack containing all his worldly possessions to the other shoulder and pressed on through the rowdy market. The church was supposed to be around here somewhere. The crowds died away as he left behind the market street and entered the city square. Massive oak trees that had to be at least a century old filled the small park area in between the mission-style church and city hall. Several children ran through the trees, playing tag and laughing. One fell to the ground, skinning her knee, and Matthew stooped and offered her a hand. Her eyes went wide and she scooted away from him, shouting something in Spanish that his Latin failed to cover. The kids scattered in every direction, disappearing from the park. That wasn¡¯t quite what he was expecting. ¡°Your hat isn¡¯t the right kind,¡± an elderly voice said behind him. He turned to see an old man in a priest¡¯s cassock standing on the steps of the church. ¡°The curve. No good citizen of Villa Maria wears a cowboy hat like that,¡± Father Molina continued. ¡°Only out-of-towners, and there is always the chance that an out-of-towner is a slaver. Here we must teach our children to fear those that they don¡¯t know. It is shameful.¡± Matthew reached up and snatched the hat off and took a good long look at it. ¡°I had no idea.¡± ¡°There is no harm done,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°Come! Come inside. We have much to talk about, son. And much work to do. These hands are old, and I cannot maintain the church grounds so well as I once could.¡± Father Molina showed Matthew around the small church. It had begun to fall into disrepair from both its own age and Father Molina¡¯s. Matthew hadn¡¯t imagined that he was taking on the job of a handyman when he¡¯d signed up for this. Still, he could see the relief in Father Molina¡¯s eyes as they discussed how a draft in the priory could be dealt with. A chance to serve was a chance to serve. He set aside his bag and worked late into the evening of his first day on Europa.
V. Matthew replaced his hat at the first opportunity with an Argentinian Campero bought in the market. The brim was flatter than he was used to, but it was comfortable enough and well made. He spent so much time over the first two months trying to catch up on maintenance around the church and priory that he barely spent any time in Villa Maria, and only knew the most faithful of church-goers. One evening as he worked adjusting the hinges of a creaking door, Father Molina gently stood him to his feet. ¡°That is enough for now. Come. Let us take our meal in the town.¡± It was night in Villa Maria and not just because the sun was down. Unfortunately, Europa¡¯s rotational period was impossible to sync with the circadian cycles of men, so the colonists simply used a twenty-four hour clock. Most working days were either fully light or fully dark. Occasionally you had a little bit of both. Yellow street lamps burned and the gas giant hung illuminated in the sky, giving a warm festive feel to the bright colors in the town. Somewhere music played, its indistinct tones echoing in the distance. They walked to a restaurant-bar combination, the only one in town. It was a low building with a hand-painted sign that read Carlos¡¯ Cantina. They took a seat on the outside patio. Father Molina was immediately the center of attention, since he had been the town¡¯s sole priest for several generations, and it was hard to get a bite in without a parishioner stopping by to chat. Matthew found himself admiring the old man. He¡¯d clearly had a good work here in Villa Maria for him to be so well regarded. To have built a lifetime in a single place shepherding its people was a daunting prospect. It occurred to him that that was exactly what he had signed up for when he decided to become a priest. After dinner, Father Molina excused himself. ¡°I¡¯m not any younger than I was this morning. But stay, enjoy the evening.¡± Matthew obeyed, though he found it awkward. His command of Spanish was fleeting at best, and the customers didn¡¯t see much need in talking to the seminary student anyway. He was about to leave when a gruff looking man in his thirties sat down across from him. ¡°Priest abandoned you, huh?¡± Matthew put on a polite smile he didn¡¯t feel. ¡°Seems that way. Matthew Cole.¡± ¡°I know who you are. Everyone knows that the Padre got himself a seminary student.¡± The man stuck his hand out to Matthew. ¡°Carlos Garcia. This is my watering hole you¡¯ve parked yourself in.¡± ¡°The asado was perfect.¡± ¡°Of course it was. The recipe has been passed down through my wife¡¯s family for generations, unchanged since Argentina. A few times a year, we even use real meat.¡± He laughed, then stopped abruptly and looked closely at Matthew. ¡°Friend, you¡¯re a little crazy coming to Villa Maria.¡± ¡°I¡¯m yet to see anything too dangerous.¡± ¡°You¡¯re new. Give it time. And get yourself a gun. That way, when some cartel thug corners you in a back alley you have a chance at making it out.¡± Matthew crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. ¡°I¡¯m not sure Father Molina would approve.¡± ¡°Then he¡¯s forgotten the word of God where it says to rescue the weak and needy.¡± ¡°Psalms.¡± ¡°How would I know?¡± Carlos shrugged in an exaggerated fashion. ¡°There¡¯s a reason that this town hasn¡¯t been taken by the slavers when so many others have.¡± He pointed two fingers at his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s because a few of us have kept watch. We¡¯ve chased off the slavers. Killed them when we¡¯ve needed to. We¡¯ve kept our children safe.¡± Matthew sat quietly, feeling a creeping dread work its way into his mind. Maybe he shouldn¡¯t have come here after all. He shook that thought. There was a need here, a need he could fulfill. ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± ¡°Either you understand what¡¯s at stake, or you end up dead.¡± ¡°Father Molina¡­¡± ¡°The Padre is only alive because we protect him.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Matthew said. He wasn¡¯t sure that he did, but he wasn¡¯t sure what else to say. Carlos sighed. ¡°Do you even know how to shoot a gun?¡± He hesitated. He¡¯d fired a rifle a few times back on the farm, but only for sport. ¡°I¡¯ll be by tomorrow afternoon to take you to the range. We don¡¯t need dead weight. If you¡¯re going to live in Villa Maria, you need to be willing to protect it.¡± Matthew met his eye. ¡°Alright.¡± What had he just agreed to?
VI. Josu¨¦ Molina sat in the small tended yard between the priory and the church. The small spot of green had been as close to an office as he had had for many long decades. For forty-five years he had prepared the homilies of the masses he had given from this very bench, his ancient paper bible on his lap. It had belonged to his father and still bore the notes that filled the margins, written in a spidery hand. Some of them were written most of a century ago. Before Europa became the Slaver¡¯s Moon. He gently closed the cracked leather cover of the bible and, setting it aside, took up his tablet. The ultimatum from Hueso Rojo, the cartel on this part of Europa, still burned on the screen. Villa Maria was in territory they considered their own, and its fertile farmlands were underproducing. Hueso Rojo was coming one way or another. It was merely a matter of how much blood would be shed. It was a devil¡¯s deal. That so many gave up their freedom so that all could have food. The threats had been veiled for many years. Now they were personal and transparent. If Father Molina could not get the men of the town to stand down and turn over their weapons, they would kill him in revenge. Trade his people for his life. A group of young teenagers ran through the yard, taking a shortcut across town. One of them skidded to a halt when he saw Father Molina. ¡°Sorry, Padre! We didn¡¯t mean to bother you. We were just¡­¡± Father Molina smiled and patted the bench beside him. ¡°There is no harm, Enrique. And in fact, I was in need of company right now. Perhaps God sent you for that very purpose.¡± Enrique looked longingly after his friends, and Father Molina almost relented and let him go. Before he could, the teen sat beside him, his leg bouncing restlessly. ¡°What do you need, Padre?¡± Now that he thought about it, he wasn¡¯t really sure what he needed. After a moment, he said, ¡°I have a decision to make, Enrique, and it is a very difficult one, though I suppose it is no choice at all.¡± ¡°What kind of decision?¡± the boy asked. Father Molina smiled. Most of the adults in Villa Maria wouldn¡¯t have dared ask that question. So few ever asked after the well-being of their priest. It was a hard job being a shepherd. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t tell you that.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Enrique was either confused or disappointed. Probably both. He decided he should at least turn this towards a spiritual lesson for the boy¡¯s own sake. ¡°And yet I know quite well how I shall decide it. Do you know how that is?¡± He gave Enrique a count of ten before continuing. ¡°I shall look to the perfect model of man, to Christ our Lord, and follow in his steps.¡± My blood will not be worth so much as his. But I will give it for the sake of my people nonetheless. ¡°Enrique, can you do something for me?¡± The teen looked much happier at this. He wasn¡¯t enjoying the private sermon. ¡°Go and find Se?or Cole. He is most likely studying in the church. Send him to me, please.¡± ¡°Yes, Padre.¡± Enrique leaped to his feet, free at last, and disappeared from the yard. Father Molina tapped a short response to Hueso Rojo and sent it. He had cast his die and would soon meet his maker. Having done so was the release of a burden. Like other men, he knew not the day he would die, but unlike them, he had now an inkling of the season. Matthew Cole entered the small yard. A young man of twenty-one finishing his third year of studies, he was tall and strong. No doubt if he were not destined for the priesthood, one of the young women of Villa Maria would have found favor in his sight. The town did love him though, of that there was little question. He had made himself an indispensable part of its people and culture. If someone needed help on a farm, Matthew was there. If a shed needed raising or demolishing, he was present. His conscience was that of a servant, and if ever his fellow man was in need, Matthew would answer that call.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°You wanted to see me, Padre?¡± ¡°I wanted to ask you about that gun, you¡¯ve been carrying around for nigh a year. The one you conceal beneath your poncho.¡± Matthew looked away as if ashamed. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to worry you and¡­ Well, I thought you¡¯d be displeased.¡± ¡°It depends, I suppose,¡± Father Molina said with a chuckle. ¡°I might be, or I might not. Why do you carry a gun, I wonder? Is not a Christian supposed to turn the other cheek? Is that not what Christ taught?¡± ¡°It is.¡± ¡°Then are you afraid for your own life?¡± Matthew was silent. Finally, he set his jaw. ¡°The precedent of self-defense is found both in scripture and in natural law. Christ speaks of insult rather than violence. Is it not of God to defend the innocent and those that cannot defend themselves?¡± Father Molina extended his wrinkled palms towards Matthew. ¡°These hands are old. Forty-five years of God¡¯s ministry have worn upon them, and they are not as strong as they used to be. Were I a young man, perhaps I too would wrestle with the same question.¡± He folded his hands in his lap. ¡°These are dark times and not all riddles have easy answers.¡± ¡°I should have told you,¡± Matthew said. ¡°Maybe, but that is of no consequence. Come. Sit beside me. Tell me where your studies have led you.¡± Matthew sat on the bench. He began to talk about the History of Philosophy class and the inevitable mountain of reading that had led to. Father Molina heard scarcely a word. On his tablet, was the flashing light of a message. He knew what it meant. Who it was from. Perhaps this young man with a gun, or one of the other countless armed men in town, would be able to protect him. He doubted it. He breathed a quick prayer for his town and especially Matthew. Perhaps Father Molina¡¯s replacement would send the seminary student home so that he would escape the grisly fate that awaited Villa Maria. He hoped so.
VII. Matthew found Father Molina dead one morning in the church. Neighbors reported hearing a muffled gunshot in the area, and Matthew had hurried home from his visit with one of the town¡¯s elderly couples. He found the Padre kneeling in front of the altar, a single gunshot wound in the back of his head. Perhaps he had been praying. Maybe he thought Matthew had returned early and did not rise at the sound of footsteps. Or maybe he knew what was coming. For many months he had been speaking with finality about the end of his ministry. Matthew wept alone in the quiet church for the loss of his friend and mentor. By the time he notified the town officials of the murder, Hueso Rojo had already sent a taunting message. ¡°We can strike even in the heart of your town. We will continue to shed blood until your men lay down arms. Villa Maria will not stand in the way of progress.¡± He sent a message to the Vatican, seeking instruction. That evening, he held a prayer vigil in the church. Nearly every soul in Villa Maria made an appearance over the course of the evening, even those who weren¡¯t believers. Father Molina was loved, or at least respected, by all. The next day, Matthew led funeral mass. As only a deacon of the church, he had doubts about the strict propriety of the act, but there was no other to perform the service. Villa Maria buried its beloved Padre beneath a grove of trees between two farms on a gentle rise. That evening, Matthew received a message from Bishop Elias. ¡°You must forgive me for the delay. I had hoped to have more details sorted out before responding. My heart is grieved over the terrible news you have given. Father Molina served faithfully for many years and is even now in the courts of our Lord. It may be difficult to find a replacement. There are not enough priests anymore, and few would be willing to take a parish on Europa. If you give me but a few weeks, a candidate will be found. At that time, you will come home to Ganymede. I will not have one of my students killed before he takes the Rite of Ordination. Until the replacement is sent, dispensation has been given to you to conduct the matters of the Villa Maria parish to the utmost of your ability. I will lift you up to our Father in heaven, that he will grant you wisdom and most of all safety.¡± From that day, Matthew took up the role of Priest of Villa Maria in everything but official title. Unlike the previous Padre, his revolver was never far, even when he slept. And he did that only a little and lightly, for he imagined the cartel would not long leave the quiet town to its own ends.
VIII. Bishop Elias breathed a sigh of relief when Matthew walked into his office. It had been nearly two months since Father Molina¡¯s murder and not a day went by that he didn¡¯t fear for Matthew¡¯s safety. The man in front of him had changed too. Though he had often been back on Ganymede for a weekend trip to the library or for end of term exams, something was different this time. Most obviously, he wore a poncho and an Argentinian campero that he politely took off on entering the room. Rather than a student whose greatest care was the next exam or paper due, here was a man who had cared for a flock. A thousand souls had depended on Matthew for spiritual guidance, and the weight was written on his visage. Elias went at once to him and embraced him. ¡°I am glad you are safely home.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t intend to stay long, and I avoided the trip for as long as I could.¡± ¡°On the contrary. You are here to stay.¡± Matthew cocked his head. ¡°You found a replacement for Father Molina?¡± Elias waved him off. ¡°We will soon. Villa Maria is too dangerous for a student.¡± He saw the sudden change in Matthew¡¯s posture. Perhaps he should have anticipated this, but too late had he seen the danger. ¡°There aren¡¯t even any prospects, are there? The church can¡¯t just abandon the people of Villa Maria. Not with what they are going through.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t allow you to throw away your life before it has begun.¡± ¡°I have no intention of losing it,¡± Matthew said. ¡°I¡¯ve been coordinating with the men of the town to shore up their defenses in case Hueso Rojo attacks. They need help. Practical and spiritual.¡± Elias paced the office, his robes swishing as he turned. ¡°You¡¯re young, Matthew, even if you¡¯ll be a fourth year soon. And further you¡¯re still a student and not yet a priest.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no one better to minister to the town. I know the language. I know the name of every man, woman, and child, and I¡¯ve lived with them for two years. If the Church doesn''t send a replacement, then I¡¯ll go back with or without blessing.¡± Elias stopped and turned to face the young man. ¡°That¡¯s damnable foolishness, Matthew. It¡¯s only a matter of time before the cartels kill you too.¡± Then Matthew¡¯s defiance broke, and he looked at his feet. Perhaps he was ashamed he had spoken so to his superior and friend. Finally, he spoke in a low voice. ¡°Maybe it is foolishness. But if so it¡¯s the foolishness of God.¡± Elias took in a long deep breath and let it hiss slowly through his teeth. ¡°And such is greater than the wisdom of men.¡± He regarded the young man before him. Yes, he had changed. He was a man that had made his decision. Who was Elias to second guess it? ¡°I don¡¯t have the authority to give you permission. It may take a few days to obtain it. Can you linger that long?¡± Matthew nodded once. ¡°I have other business with the seminary. I still intend to complete my studies.¡± That was it then. The decision was made in three days¡¯ time, with a twist that even surprised Elias. It was deemed irregular for a deacon to preside over a parish. Three days after Matthew Cole arrived at the Vatican, the Rites of Ordination were performed, and he was made a full priest. This in itself was extraordinary as he had not yet finished his education, but the times they lived in were deemed equally extraordinary. Elias was given the honor of being the Bishop to offer the consecratory prayer. There was little joy in the moment for Elias, and his hands shook as he laid them on the young man.
IX. Jorgelina Romero pushed aside the curtains with a careful hand so as not to show movement on the street. It was still quiet out there. And dark. But that was part of the plan. She was both proud and terrified that she¡¯d been pulled into it. She¡¯d long known there was a conspiracy among the men of Villa Maria, that a select group of them kept watch over the town, chasing off cartel informants and generally giving them the runaround. She hadn¡¯t expected the young priest to be one of the chief conspirators. Padre Cole had approached her quietly a few days ago, while her teenage son Enrique had been out. ¡°We¡¯ve tried to keep things peaceful,¡± he said, ¡°But there¡¯s going to be violence soon. I can¡¯t stop it. But we¡¯re going to try to keep our people from getting hurt.¡± What kind of priest was this? At mass, he was thoughtful and intelligent, possibly more than Padre Molina had been, but here he was plotting to help kill men. ¡°What do you need me for?¡± ¡°You¡¯re a nurse. Closest we have to a doctor. Some folks might need your help after the dust settles. We¡¯ll send word.¡± He tipped his campero and left her alone. The memory of it was still strange to her, and yet there the priest was on the dark street, standing in a halo of light under the only lit street lamp. From her vantage point, his back was to her, and he stared down the main road leading out of town. The rumble of a distant vehicle caught her attention. It was one of those strange tracked vehicles that rumbled across the salt wastes here on Europa. A crawler, they called it. Some trick kept the low gravity from causing it problems where there weren¡¯t grav plates. It rolled through the center of town and stopped a hundred paces from the priest. He could have stood no more still if he had been carved from salt. A dozen armed men exited the vehicle, which meant more were inside. Cartel men. Here in Villa Maria. Padre Cole had said there were no more peaceful options. If things got nasty, surely he would be the first gunned down. ¡°Mom, what are you doing up here?¡± Enrique stood at the door, and light flooded into the room. ¡°Shut it, quick! Before they see the light!¡± He obeyed. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡°Quiet! They¡¯re here!¡± He must have understood who she meant because he crept to her side to peek out the window. ¡°Oh Dios, what¡¯s the padre doing out there.¡± Jorgelina thought about ordering him from the third story loft, but that would mean opening the door again. One way or another, he didn¡¯t need to see this. ¡°Get away from the window.¡± ¡°Then why are you there? Who¡¯s looking out for you?¡± It was the kind of thoughtful behavior she was proud of, but right now, she chose to ignore him. One of the cartel men had closed to only a few paces from the padre. If only she could hear what they were saying she might be able to figure out what was¡­ A fireball lit the night sky, blowing out windows all down the street. The crawler was a smoking crater, the remnants of its chassis twisted beyond recognition. Gunfire broke out from nearby buildings, flashes of light and death in the darkness. Through a stroke of luck, her own window had held, else she would certainly have been injured. The padre! She spotted him hunkered down in a vee-shaped concrete barricade that had seemingly risen out of the ground to protect him. A revolver was in his hand, and it thundered as he fired it down the street. It was a strange and surreal sight, so different from the young man she thought she knew. It was a good plan though, to lure them into so effective an ambush. In only a few short minutes it was over, and the only sound was the roar of the fire. ¡°Where did Padre Cole learn to shoot like that?¡± Enrique asked. He¡¯d snuck back to the window when she wasn¡¯t paying attention. ¡°Stay inside tonight,¡± she ordered and hurried toward the door. ¡°Where are you going?¡± ¡°To try and save the lives of the men that the padre tried to end.¡± There was more condemnation in her voice than she intended, but the facts were strange and she hadn¡¯t yet processed what she had seen. She grabbed her medical bag in time to meet Padre Cole at the door. ¡°Hurry. There are wounded that can still be saved.¡± It was a long night, and in the end, Jorgelina was only a nurse, not a surgeon. The town lost two men. Their lives were traded for fourteen members of Hueso Rojo that had been lured into the ambush. Three survivors were taken captive. As dawn came, she heard Padre Cole speaking with Carlos Garcia. ¡°I¡¯ll wait another hour and then message Hueso Rojo, asking them why their envoy didn¡¯t come. We hit fast. I doubt they were able to get a message out. ¡°They¡¯ll be suspicious, but it may give us some time,¡± Carlos said. ¡°But this is a game that cannot be won in the end.¡± ¡°What choice do we have? If we do nothing, we condemn every man, woman, and child in this town to slavery.¡± It was a grim choice indeed. One that might even drive a priest to kill.
X. Matthew¡¯s graduation from seminary came and went with a whimper. He declined the invitation to the ceremony itself. His life¡¯s work had already begun. Ceremonies were mere formalities. Hueso Rojo was not pleased with their failed incursion into Villa Maria. Late one night, they sent raiders creeping through the fields. By the time the watch saw them, they were at the edge of town. In the ensuing battle, nearly forty people were killed between both sides. After the failed raid, both parties changed their tactics. Patrols and cameras were mounted at the edge of the colony¡¯s environmental shield past the fields, to prevent another stealth incursion. Through less than legal channels, Carlos was able to procure a thumper that they set up on the roof of city hall. It nearly broke the town¡¯s bank, but now the skies above were safe from invasion. An automated broadcast warned all incoming vessels that unscheduled ships would be shot down. They only had to fire it once, leaving one cartel ship a smoking crater outside the shields. After that, Villa Maria¡¯s airspace was respected as off limits. Hueso Rojo began sending lone assassins and gunmen into town during broad daylight in an attempt to kill Matthew. For some of them, their final moments were filled with shock and surprise at the efficiency with which the priest dispatched them. The town had been cautious of outsiders in the past. To Matthew¡¯s shame, they were now treated with open hostility. Matthew feared it would only be a matter of time before his vigilance slipped. Either he would be killed or taken, and the town would fall to depraved men. Carlos was right. Some games can¡¯t be won. The people of the town sensed the same. Little by little, families that could afford to, picked up and moved off of Europa entirely. Matthew wished them well and prayed they would find a safer home than the Slaver¡¯s Moon. A month after his twenty-fourth birthday, Matthew was interrupted from his preparations for Sunday¡¯s mass, by gunfire. His revolver was in his hand in an instant, and he ran to the window. Carlos had two men engaged in a battle, his shotgun reverberating through the town. The men, taking cover behind the trees in front of the church, returned fire with pistols. Matthew walked from the church and dispatched them both with precision. Carlos wiped sweat from his forehead and leaned against one of the oaks. ¡°What took you so long? Patrols saw these two slip into town ten minutes ago and lost them. I guessed where they were heading and cut them off. Glad I was here to provide a distraction.¡± He nodded at Matthew¡¯s revolver. ¡°Who taught you to shoot that thing?¡± ¡°You did,¡± Matthew said, stooping to check the pulses of the gunmen. Dead. ¡°Not like that I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been practicing.¡± ¡°I can tell. Let me help with the bodies this time, Padre.¡± Matthew shook his head. ¡°My bullets. My responsibility.¡± Carlos didn¡¯t look like he was satisfied with that answer, but Matthew knew he wasn¡¯t going to question him further on the topic. Retrieving a cart and shovel from behind the church, they loaded the bodies into it and then Carlos parted ways with a simple farewell. Matthew pushed the cart out of town along a worn dirt path between two fields. Eventually, he reached an old gnarled ash tree. Twenty-seven graves lay spread beneath its wide canopy. Two more would join them. It was silent work. Penance. Recognition of what he had done. And yet today it wasn¡¯t a solitary vigil. He leaned against the shovel. ¡°Are you going to say anything or just stand there?¡± Enrique Romero crept out from behind the ash tree, a guilty look on his face. ¡°I saw you with the cart¡­¡± he trailed off. Matthew went back to work. This was going to take long enough without distractions. A few minutes later, the teen spoke up again. ¡°Are these all the cartel men the town¡¯s killed over the past few years?¡± ¡°All the ones I¡¯ve killed,¡± Matthew said quietly. ¡°The rest are elsewhere.¡± That took a while for him to chew on because the next statement was slow in coming. ¡°I thought priests were supposed to help people get to Heaven, not send them to Hell.¡± Matthew rounded on him, bristling at the accusation. ¡°And God also demands that those in power defend the poor and weak. It¡¯s either this or slavery.¡± Enrique looked out over the graves. ¡°Better than being dead,¡± He turned and walked back down the path to town, leaving Matthew to shoulder his guilt alone.
XI. For several months, there was a quiet peace in Villa Maria. Carlos could hardly believe it. Each nightly patrol that came back safely, each quiet day in which a gun was not fired was a small miracle. He knew better than to hope anything had changed. But he would take a season of rest without complaint. Each day that he could open the cantina with his wife and send his children to school was a good one. There was only one death in that period, the colony technician, a middle-aged man named Fernando, was found dead in his home. Ultimately it was ruled that he died of natural causes, but this still gave no small amount of consternation. Colony technicians were in charge of maintaining the grav plates, environmental shields, water systems, and atmosphere scrubbers that made life throughout the solar system possible. A colony the size of Villa Maria meant they only had one tech, and they had to scramble to replace him. Carlos, being on the town council, ultimately ended up being in charge of the task. The company that made the equipment offered up a candidate as soon as they were contacted. Carlos studied the man¡¯s resume. He was Arizona born, which was a major plus as far as Carlos was concerned. Meant he had no connection to the cartels or anything else on this moon. The interview process was lengthy. The time delay between Mars and Europa meant the back and forth took nearly a week before Carlos was satisfied that the candidate was appropriate. A vote from the council made it official. Villa Maria had a new technician. A week later, a shuttle deposited the man on the flats just outside of town. The thumper followed the ship as long as it remained in line of sight, and twenty armed men stood by as the newcomer disembarked. Carlos stood by Matthew as the lone man walked toward them. He paid lip service to his friend¡¯s title in public, but in private he dropped the Padre nonsense. He¡¯d always be the scrappy young seminary student to Carlos. The tech tipped his black cowboy hat to them. ¡°That¡¯s quite a welcome party behind you.¡± ¡°On the Slaver¡¯s Moon, you can¡¯t be too careful,¡± Matthew said, offering his hand. Matthew Cole. ¡°Eustace Whitaker,¡± he said with a curl of the lip. ¡°I usually just go by Whitaker for obvious reasons. Mr. Garcia, I appreciate the hire.¡± Carlos shook his head. ¡°You might not in a couple months. I¡¯m just glad you were willing to come here. I was a little afraid it would take us months before we found a qualified candidate.¡± He watched the shuttle depart. ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive the guns. They¡¯re a way of life here. You might also want to ditch that hat. The Padre can tell you all about that later.¡± He gestured back toward the town. ¡°Let¡¯s go. I¡¯m sure the equipment needs some love and care. None of us know what to do with it.¡± They started the trek back towards town, their escort falling behind them. Whitaker glanced back at them with a sly smile then turned to Matthew. He touched his collar. ¡°I have to admit I¡¯m a little surprised that the town priest showed up the second I stepped foot into town.¡± ¡°This town is my flock,¡± Matthew said. ¡°For now you¡¯re a stranger, but I hope you¡¯ll soon be part of it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll live here, but don¡¯t expect to see me on Sunday,¡± Whitaker said. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Grew up Presbyterian. Walked away from all that years ago, though, if you take my meaning.¡± ¡°This place may put the fear of God in you,¡± Carlos muttered. ¡°If you ask me, it¡¯s this sort of place that drove it from me.¡± They¡¯d reached the main road into Villa Maria. Curious residents that heard the ship peeked out from windows and around corners. Whitaker was going to have a hard time finding acceptance here. Matthew was the last outsider that had found any footing in Villa Maria. ¡°That¡¯s a funny way of looking at things,¡± Matthew said. ¡°Where evil is real, virtue becomes more apparent. But you¡¯re not the first to walk away from faith in the face of evil. Answering that question has been the chief job of philosophers and theologians for the last several thousand years. We¡¯re still working on it, but we have a few ideas. I¡¯ll give you my take if you¡¯re ever feeling open-minded.¡± Whitaker laughed, and for a moment, Carlos thought it was in mockery. Then he saw the warm smile. ¡°I enjoy a good debate as much as the next. You¡¯ve got a deal, preacher.¡± That was a surprisingly peaceful end to an awkward conversation. Leave it to a priest to try and convert the atheist the second he walked into town. Carlos cleared his throat. ¡°Now that you two are done sorting out the mysteries of the universe let me show you the grav plate hub.¡±
XII. The most enjoyable part of Whitaker¡¯s new life in Villa Maria was the time spent with the priest. Unlike some of the people of faith he¡¯d sparred with over the years, this one was well read. He¡¯d quote Aquinas, Spinoza, Locke, or Diderot just as soon as look at you. And he meant it too. Matthew Cole was one of those rare people that believed exactly what they said they did. Atheist, Christan, Buddhist, Muslim, or whatever other meta-narrative you subscribed to, most didn¡¯t actually buy into things as deeply as they claimed. If there was one thing humans were good at, it was being a hypocrite. They spent many an evening on the patio at Carlos¡¯ Cantina talking long into the night, or at least until Matthew had to leave for a patrol or to prepare for some church function. ¡°You don¡¯t think that Christianity¡¯s been a source of chaos through the centuries?¡± ¡°On the contrary,¡± Matthew said, taking a sip of the cherry soda he always ordered. ¡°The Judeo-Christian worldview brought order to the world. Before that, all men were polytheists. You could never know what was right. Please one god, and you might anger the next. The God of the Old Testament brought a set of standards and said there were none beside him. Objectivity, which is antithetical to chaos, became a part of the human experience for the first time in history.¡± ¡°I think that objectivity can be easier explained as the nature of reality itself. The universe works in certain ways, and it was only a matter of time before we observed that.¡± Matthew shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not order. We traded gods for a single God. You¡¯ve pushed him aside and turned each atom into its own god. You¡¯ve traded order for the chaos of the random whims of uncounted trillions of particles. That you happen to be a collection of atoms that can call itself Whitaker is the most absurd accident in the history of the universe.¡± Whitaker threw his arms wide and smiled. ¡°And yet here I am. Sometimes accidents can be happy and randomness can produce order as well as chaos.¡± He liked their time together so much that he almost regretted that he¡¯d agreed to deliver the town to Hueso Rojo. They¡¯d been frustrated by the priest and his town so many times that they were reluctant to fully commit to invading Villa Maria. The cartel had the resources, it was just a matter of what it would cost them. Matthew Cole had proven time and again that he would make them pay dearly for the town of Villa Maria and its valuable farmland. Hueso Rojo had turned to a specialist. Someone that could make things happen. No more cartel deaths. That had been the agreement. It was an interesting challenge. Arranging the tech¡¯s death, forging credentials, and gaining the recommendation for the job had been a trivial exercise. Gaining the trust of the suspicious town folk would be harder. That¡¯s why he befriended the priest. If he trusted him, the rest would follow. The fact that he actually liked Matthew made this much easier. He would lie less and tell a lot more truths. The next step would be to find accomplices. Young men, of course, those easily swayed by a clever argument when they were most impressionable. Given the sad state Villa Maria was in, this would be an easy sell. As the population dwindled, the local economy suffered. Jobs outside the fields were practically nonexistent, and talks of a future where Villa Maria ran like clockwork and the fields produced abundantly from imported labor would turn ears. Whitaker just needed one thing to turn the youth toward him. He needed to demonstrate that perhaps the priest¡¯s war against the cartel wasn¡¯t such a good thing. Show that he didn¡¯t have their best interest in mind and he would have easy recruits. This would involve lying, something he hated to do when the truth was always more interesting. Still, he liked Matthew enough that he almost regretted the whole thing. Almost.
XIII. Matthew felt only numb shock at Carlos¡¯ announcement. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he mumbled. Carlos rubbed at an eye. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be a big change for us. Jacquie¡¯s taking it pretty hard. And well¡­ There¡¯s no way she can get treatment in Villa Maria.¡± ¡°I guess there¡¯s not much Jorgelina can do for breast cancer,¡± Matthew said quietly. ¡°Where will you go?¡± ¡°She¡¯s got an aunt on Titan that¡¯s offering us a place to live until, well, I¡¯ll have to find a new way to pay the bills. Maybe if Jacquie makes it through, we can open another restaurant someday, but until then¡­¡± ¡°I know you couldn¡¯t cook to save your life.¡± Carlos laughed as he wiped away a tear that fell down his cheek. ¡°It was always a joke that we named the restaurant after me instead of her. I just ran the place.¡± There was a moment¡¯s silence between the two friends. Matthew tried to find words but found them suffocated by the heartbreak. Carlos was his oldest friend on Europa and his closest ally. He¡¯d find a way to continue, but right now he couldn¡¯t imagine what that would look like without him. Carlos must have been thinking the same thing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I know that¡­ I know it¡¯s going to be hard and¡­ Look. A day may come that you have to give up the fight. No one will blame you. I know that Bishop friend of yours has been begging you for years to head back to Ganymede.¡± It was a tempting thought. And utterly impossible. Matthew shook his head. ¡°We know how this works.¡± ¡°Then it means we know how it ends.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Matthew said. A week later, Carlos and his family were gone. Matthew sat on the patio of the now deserted cantina watching as the ship bearing them away made for orbit, a bright point of light against the night sky. It eventually disappeared beneath the horizon, bound for safer harbors. ¡°You gonna make it, preacher?¡± Matthew looked over his shoulder. Whitaker leaned against the wall, arms crossed. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m in the mood for much debate tonight.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it. Nonetheless, I thought you might need some company,¡± He picked up a bag at his feet and pulled out a pair of bottles. Matthew didn¡¯t even have to look at them to know what they were. Whitaker pulled out the chair to his right and sat down, sliding a bottle to him. Matthew caught it and stared at it. ¡°You know, for being a godless heathen, you¡¯re not always so bad.¡± Whitaker chuckled and opened the bottles. ¡°I¡¯m surprised a man of the cloth bothers to give me the time of day.¡± ¡°We¡¯re all on the same ship at this point,¡± Matthew said. ¡°Every man, woman, and child.¡± The light of the distant shuttle passed beneath the horizon. ¡°You know,¡± Whitaker said. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think I¡¯m not getting paid enough for this job.¡± ¡°You and me both.¡±
XIV. Matthew shifted from his position in the brush cover. The faint shimmer of the environmental shield flickered in front of him, and, beyond, the white wastes of salt and ice continued as far as the eye could see. The landscape was broken by a tall outcrop of ice, not a hundred feet from the shield. He lifted a pair of thermal goggles to his eyes. Still nothing. Two hours ago he had received word from one of his informants to the north in Nuevo Lima that a single grav bike had left the Hueso Rojo stronghold and was headed their way. Matthew passed the word on to the town watch and Villa Maria went on full alert. Then he went to the perimeter himself, setting up at the most likely approach. The outcropping of ice. It would at least partially block visibility from the town and leave a good place to hide the bike. Making it the perfect trap. A flicker of movement in the half-light of Jupiter caught his eye, and he checked the thermals. Incoming bike, moving toward the ice cover. He lifted his comm. ¡°Got contact moving towards marker twenty-three.¡± ¡°Copy that. You called it right again, Padre. What¡¯s the plan?¡± ¡°Close in, but stay out of sight. Let¡¯s not give away our position.¡± And no need for anyone else to get involved and get blood on their hands. He could handle this himself. He¡¯d lost sight of the bike behind the outcropping. It wouldn¡¯t be long. There. A lone figure in a pressure suit working across the low gravity. He approached the shield and tentatively put a hand to it. Then he lifted a device. The shield grew nearly translucent around the device, and the stranger was able to easily walk through the shield. Definitely from the cartel. Matthew had grown used to seeing the things on the bodies of the Hueso Rojo assassins. In the low gravity, it was impossible for a human to exert enough force to push through a colony shield without assistance. Whatever those trinkets were, they weakened the field locally so they could step right through. He was less than twenty feet from Matthew, gun drawn and face hidden behind his helmet. He scanned the foliage in front of him, and Matthew didn¡¯t dare to breathe. It would be easy to gun the man down, here and now, but he preferred to let him show his intentions first. The man slinked toward a row of trees that would give him cover to approach town. As soon as his back was turned to Matthew, he stood from his place in the brush and leveled his gun at the intruder¡¯s back. ¡°I think you might be lost, friend.¡± The man spun wildly, trying to bring his gun onto Matthew. That was all he needed. Matthew pulled the trigger three times. The man¡¯s suit hissed loudly as the lead punctured it and he collapsed to the ground. ¡°Target down.¡± ¡°On our way,¡± came the reply as he stepped up to the stranger. The man struggled with his helmet. Matthew kicked his gun aside and sat by him. ¡°Be at peace. Let me help you.¡± He reached down and unclasped the helmet. The man¡¯s shaking hands fell away. ¡°If you¡¯ve any faith in God, I suggest you get right with him now. I¡¯m a priest, so if you need anyone to pray with¡­¡± The helmet fell away, revealing a face that was barely a man. A face that he knew. ¡°Enrique? Dios ten piedad! No, no, no, no¡­¡± His voice trembled violently at the realization as he stumbled back. Why? Why God was it Enrique? Why was he here of all places? He¡¯d only turned eighteen a couple months ago. Enrique coughed, choking on his blood and struggled to draw breath. Mortal terror shone from his eyes. Matthew could hardly bear to meet them. He scrambled back to the young man¡¯s side and lifted his head, hoping he would be able to draw breath. It wasn¡¯t working, and Matthew could feel black panic seeping its way through his brain. Maybe it was madness. He was going mad. God in heaven, how had he made this mistake? He had just slaughtered an innocent¡­ Enrique wheezed and then opened his mouth. The words were raspy, barely a whisper. ¡°Don¡¯t tell my mom.¡± He slumped back, still trying vainly to breathe but fading fast as his oxygen-starved body suffocated. Matthew snapped out of his stupor and grabbed his comm. ¡°Change of plans. Everyone else stays back. Someone get Jorgelina. Bring her here now.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand¡­¡± ¡°Just get her here,¡± he snapped. He looked down at the young man. Enrique¡¯s struggles to breath had stopped, and he had quietly passed from this life to the next. Matthew laid the boy¡¯s head down and stood to his feet. He began to pace but then squatted and vomited as tears burned down his face like molten lead. What would he tell Jorgelina? That her priest had killed her son? That her son had joined a cartel? His final words were an admission of guilt. Could he honor Enrique¡¯s dying wish? Put the helmet back on. Tell Jorgelina that the wounded had died before she could arrive. It was true enough. But then he would never be able to face her again. Cold despair worked its way into his heart, and Mathew sat by the dead boy and wept. Sometime later, Jorgelina arrived. Matthew didn¡¯t even look up to greet her. After a few moments, she shrieked and ran to the side of her son. He couldn¡¯t bear to watch and turned away as she sobbed uncontrollably. There was a miserable interlude of excruciating length. Matthew dared not disturb her, not after what he had done. He was left to stew in his sorrow and guilt. Finally, she walked to Matthew, who stood to face her. ¡°What happened?¡± her voice was small and pleading. There was malice in it too, beneath the surface, coiled like a serpent. When he didn¡¯t answer, she struck him across the face. Again. Three times. And then her rage was spent, and they stood together staring at the body of the young man. ¡°We¡¯d had some trouble lately,¡± she said, ¡°but I didn¡¯t¡­ I had no idea¡­¡± Matthew allowed her to help him bury her son, this time in the town¡¯s proper cemetery. Together they dug the hole and lowered the crude casket into the ground. There was no funeral. Only the tearful prayer of a mother and a priest as they begged for God to have mercy on them all.
XV. Enrique¡¯s death marked the beginning of the end. The poor souls of Villa Maria felt it in their bones. The last few that could leave town did. Barely six hundred of the original thousand remained. Businesses stood quiet, and once happy homes were empty. A month passed and Advent was upon them, though it was joyless. Christmas Eve came, and Matthew stood before a dwindled congregation at mass. He looked out over the gathered parishioners. Many that had not left town stayed home now. Their priest had killed one of their own. He began his homily and read from the book of Luke. But he never finished his sermon. Whitaker stepped into the back of the church. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated. There¡¯s been a change of plans.¡± Matthew frowned at his friend. He¡¯d barely seen him in the last month, what was he¡­ Behind him marched twelve men, automatic weapons drawn and pointed at Matthew. Cartel men. How had they gotten past the patrols? What had Whitaker done? The congregation sat like statues. Perhaps they thought this was a fitting end. ¡°May the peace of Christ be on you all,¡± Matthew said, the last words he would give as the priest of Villa Maria. He reached beneath his robe and cast aside his revolver. It clattered noisily across the stone floor, and he stepped into the center aisle and walked slowly towards his doom. The cartel men put cruel binders on his arms and legs and dragged him into the street. The scene was one of noise and confusion. Men were everywhere, dragging families from their homes to be processed. Women cried. Children screamed. Men who fought back were beaten into submission. There were dozens of Hueso Rojo men, enough to pacify the entire town. A ship landed in the square and more unloaded. They cast Matthew to the ground and kicked him a few times for good measure. ¡°Easy, on the priest,¡± Whitaker said. ¡°He¡¯s beaten.¡± A vicious looking man spat on Matthew. ¡°You have no idea how many he¡¯s killed.¡± ¡°Thirty-six graves in a private cemetery and one in the town¡¯s. I¡¯ve fulfilled my end of the contract. No more Hueso Rojo deaths. The kid doesn¡¯t count. He hadn¡¯t fully joined yet.¡± Matthew tried to get a look at Whitaker. The one who¡¯d betrayed them. The cartel man kicked Matthew again. ¡°I said he¡¯s beaten,¡± Whitaker said. There was ice in his voice now. ¡°The priest goes with me.¡± ¡°That was never part of the deal.¡± ¡°It is now. I happen to have a certain respect for Mr. Cole. You may say that those graves have earned his death, but I¡¯ve come to think they¡¯ve earned him his life.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t make the rules.¡± Whitaker chuckled strangely. Matthew¡¯s mind spun from the blows to the head, but the laugh sent a chill down his spine. ¡°Actually I do get to make them,¡± the tech said, though Matthew suspected that he wasn¡¯t a colony technician at all. ¡°See this detonator? There¡¯s a small nuclear device hidden away in your stronghold in Nuevo Lima. You let me take the priest or the whole ¡®no casualty¡¯ thing goes out the window. If you find the bomb before I come to reclaim it, I might even let you keep it.¡± The cartel man cursed fluently in several languages. ¡°Have it your way then. You¡¯re probably lying, but this rat isn¡¯t worth the risk.¡± Whitaker hoisted Matthew to his feet and pushed him roughly down the road. At the outskirts of town, a shuttle sat with primed engines. They boarded the small jumper, little more than a cockpit and room for ten passengers. Matthew slumped against a wall in the passenger compartment. Whitaker busied himself in the cockpit. ¡°You know I¡¯m a bit surprised you don¡¯t have more questions. You¡¯re not normally so quiet.¡± He didn¡¯t answer. There was nothing to say to a monster like this. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll answer the obvious one. Turns out when you kill one of their friends, it¡¯s easy to get the other young men of the town to see things your way. Hueso Rojo¡¯s new recruits only had to cut out the town watch¡¯s comms, misdirect two patrols, and disable the thumper. The rest fell like dominoes.¡± The engines of the shuttle roared and Matthew slid off the wall and onto the cold floor. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°See, there¡¯s the inquisitive man I know,¡± Whitaker said. ¡°Because I was paid to do a job. There are a few other reasons, but it¡¯s complicated, and I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll accept it either way. It was never anything personal. You¡¯re a fascinating man, Cole, and I wasn¡¯t about to let the cartel get their petty revenge on you. You get a second chance at life, and honestly, I¡¯m curious to see what you do with it.¡± The door between the cockpit and cabin slid shut, ending the conversation. A little over an hour later, the shuttle landed and the outer door opened. Matthew crawled to the opening. He had never been to Io, but he recognized the closest of Jupiter¡¯s Galilean moons at once. On the horizon, a volcano spewed lava thousands of feet into the sky and ash drifted on the wind. Whitaker didn¡¯t feel the need to show his face, so Matthew stumbled out onto the surface. The door closed behind him and the shuttle¡¯s engines throttled up as it burned for the sky. He was alone on the side of a mountain, hands and legs still bound, in one of the least hospitable places in the solar system. The air was breathable if tinged with sulfur, so he was beneath an atmospheric shield. Probably a mining operation nearby. There wasn¡¯t much else on this forsaken moon. Behind him, there was only darkness. If he thought about Villa Maria and the people there, he would go mad. He stumbled to his feet and set out in search of whatever went for civilization around here. His first stumbling step buried deep into the ash. The next was just as hard. For ten years he kept walking, never looking behind him, never looking back to Villa Maria. 22. The Man in the Mirror The Pontifical Swiss Guard is the oldest and longest operating military unit in the solar system and possibly in the history of mankind. Formed in 1506, their long history was spent in service to the Catholic Church as the bodyguard of the Pope. Through the years they kept the trappings of their renaissance origins, colorful uniforms, swords, and halberds. Behind the scenes they remained a modern, if small, military force that never wavered from their duty. It was through sheer luck that they survived the fall of the Italian Vatican. A small contingent of Guardsmen were on Ganymede, escorting Cardinal Rizzo, when Moses disappeared and Earth went silent. When the Colonial Vatican was founded, they continued as they always had, now recruiting Catholics of all nations from across the colonies to their cause. A visitor to the Vatican will not see what they may have hundreds of years ago. Saint Peter¡¯s Basilica is gone. The Sistine Chapel, ashes, along with so much history and culture. But a visitor will still see ceremonial guards, in red, blue, and yellow, patrolling the grounds. At their sides will flash the steel of swords and in their eyes a fire as they dutifully continue their ancient traditions. Patricia Standridge Vatican City Public Relations Died 50 AM
Davey sat on the rail of the guest house¡¯s second story balcony. It overlooked one of the busier streets through Vatican City. Beneath him, locals, tourists, and worshipers went about their business on the stone-clad streets. The sun was just beginning its slow rise over the horizon. Dawn would last for a good part of the day here on Ganymede, as the tidally locked moon took its seven-day course around Jupiter. At least you didn¡¯t have to get up early to see it. ¡°Hey, get down from there! You¡¯ll fall.¡± He glanced over his shoulder at Grace. She stood defiantly, hands on her hips, the posture she defaulted to when she was trying to act like a grownup. As if that would intimidate him. ¡°Is Matthew back yet?¡± he asked. ¡°No one¡¯s seen him.¡± She hoisted herself up on the railing beside him. He shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Okay, maybe we shouldn¡¯t be sitting here.¡± She smirked at him and dropped back to the balcony. ¡°Didn¡¯t matter when it was your own stupid neck on the line.¡± He begrudgingly swung his legs around and joined her. ¡°It matters when it¡¯s your neck in danger. Someone has to watch out for you.¡± Grace rolled her eyes at him and leaned over the balcony. ¡°We should go explore the city later today. When we were kids, this place would have been the jackpot.¡± ¡°Tourists with money waiting to be lifted. Tons of food. Yeah, this place would have been a little easier on the street than Blight.¡± He frowned. ¡°I wonder if anyone is even homeless here. I bet the Church tries to take care of ¡®em.¡± They reentered the house. The second floor had several spacious quarters and a large living area. The furniture was real wood, instead of the synthetic fiber that most stuff was made from, a luxury Davey had only rarely seen over the course of his life. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe how nice this place is,¡± he mumbled, sinking into one of the plush couches beside Grace. Yvonne looked up from her reading. Or had she been napping? No, it was probably too early in the day for that. ¡°That¡¯s because this is a VIP suite,¡± she said. ¡°I asked the maids about it this morning. Normally this is where heads of state stay when they visit the pope.¡± ¡°Scorchers,¡± Grace said. ¡°No wonder. Guess that explains the staff and the killer breakfast they made down in the kitchen. What did we do to earn this?¡± Yvonne folder her hands in her lap. ¡°I could hazard guesses, but they would be only that. Perhaps they thought it a reward for the emancipation of so many slaves.¡± Davey sat up a little straighter at the word. He and Grace had only barely escaped ending up on Europa themselves. What was it about that moon that seemed to have its sticky fingers in so many places? It had tried to snare him and his sister. It had nearly sucked up the hundreds in the hold of the Sparrow. And then there was whatever power it seemed to hold over Matthew. He couldn¡¯t even begin to guess what that was. The door to Abigail¡¯s room opened, and she stumbled out rubbing her eyes. ¡°Slept long enough?¡± Grace asked. ¡°Maybe,¡± she said. ¡°What time is it? Feels like the stupid dawn has been coming in my window for two hours.¡± ¡°It has. But by the calendar it¡¯s just past noon,¡± Davey said. ¡°How late were you out?¡± Abigail scrunched her face in a frown. ¡°Very. Two things. Is there food and is Matthew around?¡± Grace jumped to her feet. ¡°Haha. Do we ever have food! I¡¯ll head down and get the kitchen staff to send something up.¡± ¡°Grace, don¡¯t get used to this,¡± Yvonne shouted after her. ¡°You¡¯ll be back to my cooking soon enough. In answer to your second question, no, Matthew never came in.¡± ¡°I guess he¡¯s not gonna get lost around here,¡± Abigail said, thoughtfully leaning against a door frame. ¡°If he doesn¡¯t show his face in a couple of hours, I¡¯m going to comm him.¡± ¡°Worried about him?¡± Davey asked, in an attempt to get under her skin. To his surprise, she took him at face value. ¡°A little bit. He told me quite the story last night. There¡¯s a reason I didn¡¯t make it here till the ugly hours of the morning.¡± ¡°So you know what¡¯s going on then?¡± he pressed, hungry for information. They were interrupted by Grace coming back up the stairs with a sandwich stacked tall with meat, cheese, and veggies. She presented it to Abigail with a flourish. ¡°Having kitchen staff is amazing.¡± ¡°No kidding,¡± Abigail said. ¡°Is that olive? I could get used to this.¡± Yvonne grunted. ¡°I never get this kind of recognition.¡± ¡°You never have olives,¡± she shrugged. ¡°What about Matthew?¡± Davey prodded. Abigail had almost made it to the interesting part when Grace interrupted. Abigail took a big bite of the sandwich and chewed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think it¡¯s his story.¡± ¡°Not even a hint?¡± ¡°Look,¡± she grumbled. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be back sometime soon from whatever hole he¡¯s crawled into.¡± ¡°He was a priest, wasn¡¯t he?¡± Everyone turned and looked at Yvonne. Davey frowned. Where would she have gotten an idea like that? He turned it over in his mind a few times seeing if it lined up with anything he knew. It didn¡¯t. ¡°It¡¯s the only thing that fits the evidence,¡± Yvonne insisted. Abigail looked at her sandwich for a moment and then set it down with a sigh. ¡°Yes, fine. That¡¯s it. But the rest of it is his story to tell.¡± ¡°I knew it,¡± Yvonne said. Davey stared at them dumbfounded. ¡°Like a priest with the funny collar?¡± As much as he tried to picture it, he just couldn¡¯t see it. He¡¯d seen Matthew wield that gun. No priest ever shot a gun like that. ¡°Weird, but kind of cool I guess,¡± Grace said. ¡°We¡¯ve never really known any priests.¡± ¡°There was that rabbi down in Blight,¡± Davey mused. ¡°That¡¯s pretty close, right?¡± ¡°You knew a rabbi?¡± Abigail asked, eyebrow raised. He nodded. ¡°Yeah, there was a synagogue down in the depths. It was small, but the rabbi would try and feed the street kids a couple times a week. You had to get there early before the stew pot ran out. Except he didn¡¯t have the weird collar. He had that funny little hat thing, so I guess that wasn¡¯t much like a priest.¡± Yvonne smiled in amusement. ¡°I think there¡¯s a little more separating Catholic priests and Jewish Rabbis than their traditional attire.¡± He felt his face redden and shrugged it off. It wasn¡¯t his fault he didn¡¯t know the difference. ¡°I didn¡¯t know there was a synagogue on Ceres,¡± Abigail said, taking another bite of her sandwich. Grace shook her head. ¡°Used to be. It closed before we got picked up and shipped to Titan.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s the way of things in the age we live in,¡± Yvonne said. She glanced at the clock. ¡°We give Matthew two hours and then we comm him.¡± The conversation died and Davey slipped back out onto the balcony. He decided against sitting on the railing and, instead, leaned on it, watching the crowds beneath. Stray thoughts wandered around and he tried to make sense of them. Matthew had been a priest? He was a nice guy, sure. But also kind of sharp around the edges. Someone you were liable to cut yourself on if you weren¡¯t careful. Maybe that wasn¡¯t always a bad thing. Grace slugged him in the shoulder. ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± ¡°The obvious.¡± ¡°Matthew sure did react violently to those slaves.¡± He looked at her from the corner of his eye. ¡°Seemed appropriate to me.¡± ¡°I meant more than just the right amount of freak out. I¡¯m worried about him.¡± Maybe she was right. Maybe something was up with Matthew. If there was, Davey would be there for him, for whatever that was worth. He owed him that much. ¡°Me too,¡± he said.
Matthew had risen early. After Abigail left late in the night to figure out where the rest of the Sparrow crew had gone, he had stayed in the chapel, pacing and praying. Eventually, when exhaustion had taken its toll on him, he laid down on a hard pew and fell asleep. Now, he was weeding a garden behind the chapel. Tall weeds choked most of the beds and even sprouted from cracks in the sidewalk. Clearly, bishop or cardinal or whatever his rank was these days, Elias had managed to keep the gardeners away from the secluded spot, to the detriment of the garden. Not much different than the old days, but Matthew imagined he needed the help even more now. After four hours of work, it began to look almost respectable again. Matthew looked the opposite by that time, streaked with dirt and sweat. He stood to his feet, feeling a sudden complaint in his back. ¡°That¡¯s new,¡± he grumbled under his breath as he stretched his spine. ¡°You¡¯ll find that gets worse with each passing year.¡± Matthew turned to see the bishop entering the garden, and he was struck again by how old he was. Surely he was in his eighties. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think you should let the gardeners do their job.¡± Bishop Elias looked around the newly weeded beds and at the heap of pulled weeds. ¡°Yes, perhaps I should. It¡¯s overdue, but it¡¯s hard to see yourself as too old to do the things you once did. Perhaps I¡¯m further into the autumn than I¡¯m willing to admit. I will speak to the gardeners. It will be more peaceful to enjoy the garden than maintain it.¡± He sat on a concrete bench and gestured for Matthew to join him. Matthew obeyed sheepishly, trying to make sense out of the mess of thoughts brewing in his thick skull. His past had caught up with him at last, try as he might to escape it. And yet here he was in the place he had begun. ¡°We assumed you dead, of course,¡± the bishop began, ¡°ten years ago, when Villa Mar¨ªa fell. We chalked you up as another casualty of the Slaver¡¯s Moon.¡± ¡°May as well have died,¡± Matthew said. ¡°It¡¯s been a long trail since then.¡± ¡°I imagine. It¡¯s good to know that you¡¯ve been left unchanged by your ordeals.¡± Matthew coughed a bitter laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t think you know me anymore. I¡¯m a freelancer. A mercenary.¡± ¡°And yet you seem to have collected lost souls around yourself again. You cannot help but be a shepherd,¡± Bishop Elias said, eyes twinkling. ¡°And once I knew what I was looking for, it was easy to find your past deeds. It seems you are always at war with the worst parts of mankind. Cartels, syndicates, slavers. The news archives are filled with stories of a freelancer who protects the weak. All over the colonies for the last decade.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not all been honorable,¡± Matthew said. There were more than a few jobs he was ashamed he¡¯d been a part of. ¡°Sometimes, I was just a gun for hire.¡± ¡°And yet God used Samson to kill the enemies of his people by the thousands. There is a time and a place for everything under the sun.¡± Matthew turned an eye to the old man in surprise. ¡°I¡¯ve got to go back to Villa Mar¨ªa. I can¡¯t¡­¡± he trailed off as his words failed him. After all the years of trying not to think about the town and its people, it crowded out all else. ¡°There will be few of your own people left, I¡¯m afraid. The town has grown nearly five-fold in the last decade as the slavers have brought in more labor.¡± ¡°How would you know that?¡± he asked, frowning. Bishop Elias shrugged his shoulders innocently. ¡°The Vatican is not without assets on Europa. We watch what we cannot influence. We get our food from there, to our great shame. The least we can do is monitor and pray.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Matthew stood and began to pace the garden. ¡°Would those assets be any assistance if one were planning an expedition to Europa?¡± ¡°Most certainly. Eyes in the sky and a few agents on the ground. I must warn you, though, that it is not the policy of the Vatican to endorse actions that may lead to the shedding of blood.¡± That was a problem. The Sparrow wasn¡¯t going to be enough to get the job done. There was no way he was going to be able to shove that many people into his ship, even with standing room only. ¡°I do have one suggestion,¡± Bishop Elias said softly, ¡°that may be of assistance. The Swiss Guard has some measure of independence. If they were to offer assistance, there is little the Church could do to stop them. I suggest you speak to Commandant Ortega. He grew up on Europa and may be sympathetic to your cause.¡± That was what he needed. A few men and some equipment. His mind began racing over the possibilities. He¡¯d need to track down this Commandant and see just what he was able to provide. A thought crossed his mind, and he turned back to the bishop. ¡°Why are you helping me then, if it¡¯s against policy?¡± ¡°Do you know who Zerai Deres was?¡± This threw Matthew off. ¡°It¡¯s the Callistan colony you¡¯re from. I didn¡¯t know it was named after someone.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not surprised. Zerai Deres was just a young man who lived centuries ago. Eritrean by descent, though my people¡¯s ancient homeland of Ethiopia also claimed him as one of their own heroes.¡± ¡°What did he do?¡± The Bishop smiled. ¡°Not much in the end. He lived in the time that the Italian dictator, Mussolini, invaded Ethiopia. For a time Zerai worked as a translator in Rome. Shortly before returning home, he visited the Monument to the Lion of Judah, a statue pilfered from his homeland. There he protested the government that had mistreated his people. Authorities tried to subdue him, but he drew a scimitar. In the ensuing scuffle, he injured a few Italian officers before being shot. Zerai Deres would spend the rest of his short life in prison. After his death, he became something of a folk hero, a legend even, and his story was aggrandized far beyond his simple act of protest. Most of the stories told about him aren¡¯t true. Instead, he was just a man who could not ignore the conscience God gave him.¡± ¡°We named the colony after him, in the hopes that our children will remember that the solar system still needs good men to stand up and do the right thing. I know you, Matthew Cole, and if you feel that you must take up the jawbone, then I will trust your judgment.¡± Matthew looked at his dirty clothes and brushed himself off subconsciously. The mud stains remained. Like the guilt of past failures, they weren¡¯t so easy to be rid of. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s such a high calling. Maybe I just want to have a good night¡¯s sleep for the first time in my adult life.¡± Bishop Elias scratched his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Then maybe Jonah would have been a better analogy. Perhaps it¡¯s time you stop running and go to Nineveh.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try not to curse at God when he makes good on his promises.¡± He looked at his old friend and nodded. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve done very little. I¡¯m just an old man that orders around students. I don¡¯t even get the pleasure of teaching classes these days. You¡¯ve been given the strength to change the world in which we live.¡± He stood and grasped Matthew¡¯s arm. ¡°Go with my blessing, Matthew. May you right many evils.¡± A lump caught in Matthew¡¯s throat and he gave a terse nod before turning away. His road was clear, and it inevitably led back to Villa Mar¨ªa. His tentative steps on Io all those years ago had only been the first on a circular path. Now he just had to make good on it.
¡°Commandant Ortega, there¡¯s a visitor here to see you,¡± his secretary said over the intercom. Julian Ortega glanced at the schedule on his desk to make sure he hadn¡¯t forgotten something important. ¡°I don¡¯t believe I have anything scheduled? Who is it?¡± ¡°Matthew Cole. He¡¯s the captain of the ship that brought in the slaves yesterday.¡± ¡°Hmphhh. Send him in, I guess.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Couldn¡¯t hurt. Ortega hadn¡¯t been part of the initial group of guards on the scene, but he¡¯d been dealing with the aftermath of paperwork ever since. Getting a chance to see the troublemaker might be cathartic. He straightened his uniform out of habit. The door opened and a tall man wearing a poncho and campero walked in. Ortega stood to greet him and offered him a hand. ¡°Commandant Julian Ortega. You showed up under rather unusual circumstances last night.¡± Cole shook his hand. ¡°I apologize. My crew and I were put in a rather precarious position. We had people on board that needed help, and we came to the place best suited.¡± ¡°I see.¡± He looked up at Cole¡¯s hat. ¡°Looks like you should have known better than to accept a shipping job to Europa.¡± The man¡¯s jaw clenched for a moment. Good. He was furious about it. ¡°I trusted my broker. A mistake, in this case, that he and I are going to have a talk about when the time comes. I trust the people on board have been well taken care of?¡± ¡°I¡¯m only loosely involved. Others are still trying to figure out exactly where everyone goes. It¡¯s going to take some time to get that sorted, and a few will be in the hospital for another couple of days. They¡¯ll all be home within a few weeks.¡± He glanced at the list of names on his tablet. ¡°Thankfully everyone gets a happy ending this time. Most other shipments aren¡¯t so lucky.¡± And neither were the locals so lucky. It had been many years since he¡¯d heard from any of his remaining family in Nuevo Lima. But time marched on and there was nothing anyone could do about it. His eyes refocused on Cole. ¡°Was there something specific you needed from me?¡± ¡°That depends, I guess. Did you read up on me, by any chance?¡± ¡°It crossed my desk this morning. Used to be a priest. Presumed dead when the cartels came into town.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going back,¡± Cole said. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going back to my town, and I¡¯m taking my people, and anyone else held in slavery, away from there.¡± ¡°So you have a death wish. Admirable goal. It¡¯s a hopeless mission.¡± ¡°If I go alone, yes. But not with help. I¡¯ve heard the Swiss Guard operates independently from the Vatican.¡± So that¡¯s where he was going. ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much I can do to assist you, Mr. Cole, much as I wish I could. If I had enough forces at my disposal, I¡¯d wipe that moon clean of slavers and start over. I don¡¯t. There¡¯s just a few hundred of us in the Guard, and we¡¯ve a job to do. Protect the papacy, like we have for nearly eight-hundred years.¡± The man didn¡¯t stop. ¡°It¡¯s a small town. Less than three thousand slaves, so no more than two hundred cartel enforcers.¡± Ortega gave the man a long hard stare. He was serious, wasn¡¯t he? ¡°That¡¯s still a suicide mission.¡± ¡°Is it? I bet any of your men are worth two dozen cartel thugs. They aren¡¯t known for being well trained. And one of my crewmen is worth three or four times that.¡± ¡°Flattery aside, I think you might be stretching that last a bit far.¡± ¡°Ever heard of the Shield Maiden of Mars?¡± He hesitated. He had actually heard a few stories of an armored woman taking out whole gangs with her bare hands. And the file on Cole had been impressive too. With a good plan, a dozen or so special forces¡­ Salt flats! Was he actually thinking seriously about this? His eyes flicked back to Cole. The man had a smile that said he knew what had just happened. ¡°Tell you what, Mr. Cole. How about I pull intel from satellites on this Villa Mar¨ªa and send it to you. I don¡¯t have high hopes, but if you can look it over and put together a plan that doesn¡¯t involve us getting ourselves and hundreds of civilians killed, come back to me. No promises, but I¡¯ll look at it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s more generous than I could have hoped for,¡± Cole said and tipped his hat to leave. ¡°You¡¯ll hear from me in the next forty-eight hours.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes up,¡± Ortega cautioned as the gaucho left his office. ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes up,¡± he repeated to himself. A hollow feeling had worked its way into his heart. Like an old wound opened, Europa was on his mind. How many years had it been since he left? Twenty-three now? It was a damn crime what had happened there. What was still happening there. His hand trembled as he called up his monitor and began looking for the satellite data he¡¯d promised Cole. Maybe the man had some tricks up his sleeve. Maybe he was a tactical genius. Ortega hoped so. He¡¯d give anything for a chance to make a difference on the Slaver¡¯s Moon, and he knew of a dozen good men who would join him without a second¡¯s hesitation. Vaguely, he was aware he had flipped his position entirely in the last ten minutes. Whether in a lust for justice or vengeance, he wasn¡¯t sure. He honestly didn¡¯t care.
The afternoon wore on. Abigail had long ago lost her patience waiting on Matthew. It made things worse that the kids were starting to pester her with questions he deserved a chance to answer himself. Twenty minutes before Yvonne¡¯s scheduled ultimatum, she decided that time was up and got out her comm. A comm chirped in the stairwell. ¡°I¡¯m here, I¡¯m here,¡± Matthew grumbled as he finished the flight of stairs. He looked around the living area and whistled. ¡°Ritzy.¡± Then he pointed a finger at Davey and Grace. ¡°Don¡¯t get used to this.¡± ¡°Too late,¡± Yvonne said. ¡°Grace is already addicted to kitchen service and has been ordering snacks at least once an hour.¡± Grace stuck her tongue out at Yvonne, then surprised Abigail by walking over to Matthew and hugging him. ¡°We were worried about you,¡± she said, her voice muffled in his chest. He awkwardly ran a hand over the back of her head, and Abigail smiled at his clumsy show of affection. It was good for both of them. Grace had received far too little, and Matthew had probably given far too little. ¡°I¡¯m okay. Just had some thinking to do.¡± ¡°Did you figure anything out?¡± Davey asked. Matthew looked each of them in the eye. Abigail gave him a subtle nod of encouragement when he got to her. It¡¯s okay, she thought at him. You don¡¯t have to hide anything from us anymore. ¡°Let¡¯s sit,¡± he said. ¡°it¡¯s going to be a rather long explanation.¡± ¡°Were you really a priest?¡± Grace asked. Matthew glanced sharply at Abigail. She shrugged her huge shoulders in an exaggerated gesture. ¡°Yvonne figured it out. I wasn¡¯t going to lie.¡± He nodded and set into the story. It took a couple hours for him to recount it with the barrage of questions they sent his way. Davey and Grace had to have a lot of the Catholic particulars explained to them. Hearing it a second time didn¡¯t make it any less heartbreaking for Abigail. She knew what it was like to turn your back on your previous life, to walk away from everything and start over. ¡°That certainly brings a lot of things into focus,¡± Yvonne said quietly. ¡°We were going to find out eventually, you know. You could have told us. You should have told us.¡± Matthew refused to make eye contact. ¡°If anyone isn¡¯t comfortable with anything I revealed, I¡¯ll take you to any port in the solar system. You don¡¯t have to stay under a captain that pretends to be things he¡¯s not.¡± Abigail laughed out loud, garnering her several bewildered stares and one disapproving one from Yvonne. ¡°Why in the world would we do that? For the longest time, when you freaked out anytime Europa was brought up, I thought you used to be a slaver. This was fabulous news.¡± Matthew cocked his head slightly and then shook it sadly. ¡°Guess you didn¡¯t have all that high an opinion of me.¡± ¡°Oh, get over it,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve proved over and over that you¡¯re one of the most decent people left in the human race. A little prickly sometimes, but level-headed where it counts. Every one of us in this room owes you more than we could ever repay.¡± ¡°We all know where I would be,¡± Yvonne said darkly. Davey only shuddered. ¡°I don¡¯t even want to think about it.¡± ¡°And as for me,¡± Abigail continued, ¡°being a part of this crew has been the best thing that¡¯s happened to me in since¡­ Since I left home.¡± To her annoyance and completely against her will, her eyes stung with tears. ¡°What I¡¯m trying to say is, thank you. Thank you for not getting rid of us.¡± Matthew cleared his throat awkwardly, then paused for a moment and looked away. ¡°You may change your mind when you hear what I¡¯ve got planned. I can¡¯t tell any of you to come along with me. This isn¡¯t your fight.¡± Yvonne crossed her arms. ¡°You¡¯re going back to Villa Mar¨ªa. We¡¯re going with you.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no money in this,¡± he said. ¡°Probably not much hope either.¡± ¡°So what?¡± Davey said. ¡°Abigail just said we owe you. Debts are meant to be paid. Responsibilities kept. If you¡¯ve got to do this, then we¡¯ve got to as well.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m not getting left out again either,¡± Grace said. Her brother suddenly looked at her and frowned. Clearly, he hadn¡¯t been thinking about her until that moment. ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?¡± she said. ¡°We all went after Yvonne when she was in trouble. How is this different? This time you¡¯re the one that needs us. We¡¯re going together.¡± Matthew looked like he was about to protest, but Abigail decided to cut him off. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about the specifics later, but she¡¯s bulletproof, remember? More so than I am. We go as a crew. So what will it be, captain? I¡¯m betting you have a brilliant plan all lined up and ready to go.¡± He looked thoughtful for a minute, then nodded. ¡°The beginnings of one.¡± He walked to the table and set a tablet on it. The rest of them clustered around the small screen and the satellite pictures on it. ¡°It¡¯s going to be nasty and we¡¯ll be heavily outnumbered, even if I talk the Swiss Guard into joining us.¡± ¡°The soldiers we saw last night?¡± Grace asked. ¡°A few special forces will come in handy,¡± Abigail admitted. That would make this a little less of a long shot. Are they going to bring the ships to evac people?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not assuming any material support from them,¡± he said. ¡°Transporting people is going to be the biggest problem we have. If it¡¯s just us, there¡¯s no way we can cram two thousand people in the hold.¡± Well, that was a problem. Abigail stared at the screen and wracked her brain for a solution. Yvonne beat them all to it. ¡°Passenger barge.¡± Matthew frowned. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ve ever heard of that.¡± ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have,¡± she said. ¡°They stopped using them when I was a kid. It¡¯s basically a giant cargo module with atmosphere and climate controls. Multileveled. You could pack people in by the hundreds. They weren¡¯t comfortable, but they were the cheapest way to buy passage across the solar system.¡± Abigail narrowed her eyes. ¡°If they were so efficient, why did they stop using them?¡± ¡°Because everyone hated them, the company that manufactured them went out of business, and they were slowly retired. I¡¯m sure we could find one still functioning somewhere in the Jupiter Neighborhood.¡± ¡°We can look into that,¡± Matthew said, a smile beginning to spread across his face. She saw that all his previous hesitation was gone, replaced with that grim determination she had come to admire. The crisis was past, and now he had set his will to solving a new problem. Maybe they would be able to save his town and the people that he¡¯d once served as priest. It was still weird to think about, that he¡¯d once been a man of the cloth, if one who¡¯s methods were rather unorthodox. She could get used to it, though. Grace elbowed her metal side. ¡°You¡¯re staring,¡± she whispered. Abigail bit her lip and refocused her attention. ¡°Since no one has brought it up, there¡¯s something Grace and Davey found out about the slaves.¡± Matthew¡¯s eyes snapped to them. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Davey explained the device they had found the previous evening. ¡°So we were supposed to find the slaves,¡± Matthew said quietly. ¡°It was him, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Yvonne asked. It was an ominous thought, one that made Abigail distinctly uncomfortable. What did this Whitaker, this Unchained Man, want with Matthew? ¡°I can¡¯t imagine who else it would be,¡± he said, ¡°and I certainly can¡¯t imagine why.¡± There was little more to say on the topic, and the conversation moved on to other matters, and, in fact, went on long into the night. As a crew, they racked their brains, and each of them made contributions to the growing plan. It was crazy, and it might just blow up in their faces. But if they were going to go down in a blaze of glory, this was the way to do it. Keeping the ship of humanity flying just a little bit longer.
In the end, there was a single problem with their plan that could not be solved. Two days of brainstorming and they were no closer to a solution than when they had started. Matthew even took it to the Swiss Guard Commandant. ¡°Everything else looks good. It might even work. But you¡¯re right about the flaw.¡± ¡°I was hoping you could help with that,¡± Matthew said. ¡°Maybe you¡¯d have the hardware to make this work.¡± Commandant Ortega shook his head sadly. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. And unless we figure out how to ensure the safety of the civilians, the Swiss Guard stays home.¡± In desperation, Matthew paid a visit to Bishop Elias¡¯s office. The old man leaned forward and listened intently. Matthew finished his explanation of the plan and the problem. ¡°In short, there¡¯s no way to safely transport the citizens of Villa Mar¨ªa,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ve located an old passenger barge on Callisto for rent. It¡¯ll pretty well break us, but we can afford it.¡± The bishop coughed out a short laugh. ¡°Somehow I don¡¯t think you told them what you would be doing with it.¡± ¡°Transporting passengers,¡± Matthew said, feigning innocence. ¡°No lie from me. Problem is that it¡¯s a bit on the heavy side for the Sparrow. We¡¯ll have to affix it to the bottom of the hull, which means we¡¯ll be landing vertically on the tail. And our acceleration while carrying the thing is going to be somewhere between ponderous and non-existent.¡± Bishop Elias picked up a pen and began to click it absentmindedly. ¡°Which means that if there is any pursuit, you will be an easy target. I take it Commandant Ortega had no solution either.¡± Matthew shook his head. ¡°He¡¯s got a couple patrol craft that can serve as escort, but there¡¯s no way they¡¯ll be able to screen us from long range fire, and without ample maneuvering or acceleration we won¡¯t be able to avoid it ourselves.¡± ¡°That is a problem, indeed.¡± He closed his eyes and set the pen down. The moment dragged on for an awkward amount of time, and Matthew nearly said something before the bishop opened his eyes. ¡°Meet me in the Chapel at midnight. We will speak no further of this until then.¡± Midnight came. Matthew sat on the front pew, hat respectfully in his lap, tapping his foot idly. He had told himself he was going to be disappointed with this meeting, regardless of its clandestine hour. They needed another ship. Something fast and big enough for passengers. He didn¡¯t quite think his old friend could deliver that in a chapel. A few minutes after midnight, Bishop Elias touched him lightly on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ll have to excuse my tardiness. It was more difficult to procure this than I thought it would be.¡± He sat beside Matthew and set a steel case at their feet. Matthew eyed the case with curiosity. ¡°Am I supposed to know how this is going to help us?¡± ¡°Depends on if you¡¯re the type to believe rumors or not,¡± the old man said. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing for you that I have had a long and prosperous career filled with promotions. Otherwise, I would not have had access to the needed vault. As it is, I¡¯m going to have to hope and pray that no one with similar authority requires any other trinket from that cache. Otherwise, I will be retiring sooner than planned.¡± Matthew¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. ¡°There were always stories at the seminary,¡± he said, lowering his voice. ¡°Stories about relics. And one in particular.¡± ¡°The Church has always loved its relics,¡± Bishop Elias chuckled. ¡°Most of which were assuredly fake. This, however, is not, and is perhaps a bit more modern.¡± He reached down and cracked open the case. Cradled in foam was a metal sphere, smooth and reflective like a mirror, but with intricate lines forming complex geometric patterns across its surface. The bishop lifted it into his lap with a grunt. It must have been heavier than it looked. He pressed the single silver button, and the lines lit with white light. ¡°If the lights begin to fade, time is running out. If they go out entirely, it will be nearly a week before Svalinn¡¯s Mantle has recharged enough to be useful.¡± He pressed the button again. The light receded back within the sphere, and he returned it to its carrying case. They stood. Bishop Elias looked up at Matthew. Tears glimmered in the creases of his eyes and his arms trembled as he pulled Matthew into an embrace. ¡°I will lift you up to the Father in prayer. May he bring you and your flock safely home.¡± Matthew returned the embrace. ¡°Thank you,¡± he whispered. He knew the risk that his friend had taken to deliver this miracle. The miracle that would deliver Villa Mar¨ªa. 23. Europan Extraction Redux I¡¯ll never forget the day the world changed. I¡¯d put in my request to Moses the previous day for a new hydraulic system for the next generation bulk freighter my division was working on. None of the old versions would quite cover the needs of this particular design. Moses¡¯ reply was short. ¡°Please standby for response.¡± That was certainly unusual, but it was the end of the workday so I didn¡¯t think much about it. Maybe Moses had a high workload right then. I spent the last worry-free day of my life at home with my family, oblivious to the doom that bore down upon us all. The next morning I saw the error message on my monitor. Error_Code_000M1: Node_435:A17: Error_Code_004RZ: There are times in your life when you first get word of some horrible tragedy. These moments are seared forever into the memory, frozen for you to relive for the rest of your life. I can still remember the fly buzzing around my head. The squeak of the chair the next cubicle over as my office partner saw the message and stood in surprise. It is the moment every man will remember until the end, like the diagnosis of a terminal illness or the pronouncement of a death sentence. I called my wife and talked in hushed whispers, wondering what it meant. By mid-day, stock markets were in free fall, and by the next, Earth had gone strangely quiet. Moses, the intellect under which mankind had blossomed for a century was gone. The world had changed, and nothing would ever be the same. Ganzorig Geraldson Ship Systems Engineer at Ceres Space Works Died 21 AM
The gravel crunched beneath Matthew¡¯s boots as he stepped out of the stolen crawler and onto the street. He made sure his poncho fell to the side so that the two cartel men saw his revolver. It wasn¡¯t a threat as much as it was a reminder that they were on a level playing field. The subtle flicker of the environmental shield behind him cast a few faint shadows on the road ahead. It was a black night on Europa. Jupiter eclipsed the sun, casting the entire moon in darkness. For the next several hours, the only light on the Slaver¡¯s Moon was man made. It was more than enough time. They shined flashlights at him. ¡°Easy there, friends,¡± Matthew said and waved a cartel badge at them. ¡°From Nuevo Lima. Following a bounty.¡± ¡°Bounty? We don¡¯t get a lot of free traffic through Villa Mar¨ªa. Just slaves that work the fields, their handlers, and a few free folk under cartel pay. Doubt you¡¯ll find who you¡¯re looking for.¡± ¡°So I¡¯ve heard. We¡¯ve also got a tip that a big score will be passing through. What¡¯s a man to do with conflicting information?¡± He reached back into the crawler and grabbed a tablet, flicking its screen on. They looked at the picture of Yvonne¡¯s face and details of her bounty as well as a hasty description of the alleged tip. Why lie when a truth would do the job just as well? The second guard lowered his flashlight. ¡°That is a score. Afraid you¡¯ll be disappointed, though. We¡¯ll pass it on to HQ that you¡¯ll be in town. Let me get the number off your badge¡­¡± A few minutes later, Matthew drove on past the checkpoint. For a moment he regretted staging the operation during the eclipse. The fields and countryside around him were utterly black, save for the pinprick lights of watchtowers. It was a pity he wasn¡¯t even going to be able to see it. But this was land he knew, a place he¡¯d spent years of his life. Ahead of him, the lights of Villa Mar¨ªa burned in the night sky. Bigger and brighter than he remembered, the city now had a wall around it. He parked by one of the gates and was greeted by another set of guards. Thankfully they¡¯d already been commed and were expecting him. After a few more formalities, he set into town on foot. The streets were deserted at this late hour after curfew. Only a few cartel men loitered at the street corners, smoking cigarettes. Gone was the festive atmosphere of the old Villa Mar¨ªa, the Argentinian heritage. Matthew walked with an easy gait, though his heart was sick. He had a job to do. His first target was a bunker tucked away in the heart of town. It took some work to break into it without tripping the alarm, but it was nice of them to have everything he needed in one location. Couldn¡¯t count on that in a bigger colony. He planted two surprises and got out of there before something went wrong and he was discovered. He pulled his comm out of his pocket and flipped it on as he hurried away from the bunker. ¡°We¡¯re green,¡± he said. The comm returned with two acknowledgments, one from Yvonne, and one from Commandant Ortega. There was no turning back now. Meteor group was on their way and the Sparrow would be preparing to move into position. Matthew walked toward the part of town that contained the slave barracks. Once a residential district on the east side of town, most of the colorful old houses had been demolished for long concrete buildings. The few remaining residences in this area probably housed the foremen and other higher-ranking cartel members. He wasn¡¯t going to find what he was looking for in one of those. The first barracks in the district was clearly labeled Women 1A. He was stopped just inside the entrance as a guard checked his badge and called it into HQ. ¡°I checked ¡®em all in myself tonight,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t like the insinuation that you don¡¯t think I do my job.¡± Matthew shrugged. ¡°Or else maybe I know just how clever the desperate can be. Let me through. It won¡¯t take long. Either she¡¯s here, or she¡¯s not. And if she¡¯s not, maybe someone has seen her. The women might try and take care of a stray.¡± The guard chewed the short stub of his cigarette. He set it aside and extinguished it. ¡°Fine. Watch yourself though. You turn your back on the wrong group and they might just tear you apart. It¡¯s happened before.¡± ¡°I know how to take care of myself,¡± Matthew said, his hand resting on his revolver. The guard shrugged and flipped a switch and picked up a microphone. ¡°Rise and shine, ladies. Surprise inspection.¡± His eyes flicked to Matthew. ¡°Ten minutes.¡± Matthew nodded and pushed past him, making a point to shoulder into him harder than necessary. The guard gave him a look, but opened the inner door¡¯s electronic lock and Matthew entered the barracks proper. In his mind, he replayed as many of the faces of the women of Villa Mar¨ªa as he could remember. He was going to need an accomplice that trusted him to get the ball rolling. The Women 1A barracks was a single long hall broken by doors leading into bunk rooms. Crew leads were assembling in the hall. The bags under their eyes made it obvious that most had been woken from sleep by the inspection call. To Matthew¡¯s dismay, not all had even bothered to make themselves quite decent. The crew leads turned to face him with mixed boredom, hatred, and exhaustion. Hence the need to find a familiar face. He cleared his throat. ¡°Just looking for a fugitive. I¡¯ll need to check your rooms and I¡¯ll be on my way.¡± One by one he searched the rooms. He walked past the bunk beds in silence as women glared at him, hoping to see someone he knew. Hueso Rojo had mostly been after the arable soil the town sat on. Its people were as expendable as they were replaceable. The crew had thought that men would be far more likely to be moved around to other towns by the cartel as needed. Ultimately, that was why they had decided to check the women¡¯s barracks and use Yvonne¡¯s face. It was only a guess and Matthew began to regret it more and more as he invaded each room¡¯s privacy. Until the fourth room when he got lucky. A woman with graying hair, a face he knew. She stared passively ahead and didn¡¯t even looked up at him, ready for him to be gone so she could get back to sleep. He squatted in front of her. ¡°Jorgelina,¡± he said gently. Her eyes focused on him and went through stages of disbelief, shock, and then finally settled on anger. ¡°Wait. Don¡¯t say anything just yet. I¡¯ve¡­ I¡¯ve come back. I¡¯m taking every slave out of this town. But I¡¯m going to need your help.¡± Her eyes narrowed and then filled with tears. The other women of the crew began to congregate around them, concerned that Matthew was bothering one of their own. He stepped back and showed his hands. ¡°Once, long ago, I was this town¡¯s priest,¡± he said, addressing the whole group now. ¡°It took a long time for me to find my way back. I¡¯m going to free all of you.¡± The crew leader looked at Jorgelina. ¡°This man who he says he is?¡± She nodded, then looked at her feet. Matthew imagined that she was thinking about Enrique. ¡°He was our Padre,¡± she whispered. The crew leader, a tall woman with deep olive skin, crossed her arms over her tank top. ¡°Hope you¡¯ve got friends.¡± Matthew nodded. ¡°They¡¯re moving into position now. When I call for it, there¡¯s going to be plenty of distraction. I¡¯m going to need help mobilizing the barracks for evacuation during the chaos.¡± ¡°You came to the right barrack then,¡± Jorgelina said, jumping to her feet. ¡°I know all the crew leads. If I¡¯m with you, they¡¯ll follow.¡± Maybe this was going to work after all. ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon,¡± he said. ¡°When the noise starts, be ready.¡± He turned to leave and stopped in the doorway to the main hall. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it took me so long.¡± Jorgelina didn¡¯t answer for a moment and Matthew began to wonder if she was going to at all. Of all the people of this town, this was the one who¡¯s forgiveness he deserved the least. ¡°Better late than never,¡± she said. ¡°Go.¡± As he walked down the hall, he pulled out his comm again and whispered, ¡°Bring the shock and awe.¡±
The speaker above Abigail¡¯s head crackled ¡°Separation in T minus thirty seconds. Shock and Awe, get ready for a ride.¡± ¡°About time,¡± Abigail grumbled. She and Grace had been strapped down to this stupid pod for far too long waiting on Matthew to get his act together and call for them. She craned her neck and could just barely see the top of the girl¡¯s helmet, where she was secured in a similar position. ¡°You okay over there?¡± ¡°Are you kidding, this is amazing!¡± Grace bubbled. ¡°I¡¯m trying to figure out which one of us is Shock and which one of us is Awe.¡± ¡°Separation in T minus fifteen seconds. Abigail frowned at her faceplate. ¡°Grace, this is serious. And dangerous.¡± She was quiet for a few seconds. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Separation in T minus five seconds.¡± Was the enthusiasm her way of dealing with fear? What the hell were they thinking taking a kid into a warzone anyway? Matthew was supposed to be the prudent one. Why hadn¡¯t he vetoed this? ¡°Separating meteor pod now. Godspeed.¡± There was a cracking noise as their pod was pushed clear of the Swiss Guard patrol ship with explosive bolts. The view was¡­ astounding. Abigail had never even heard of a meteor pod before Matthew had proposed using one for the mission. Little more than a cone-shaped heat shell with a few maneuvering thrusters, it was the wildest way to get planetside that Abigail had ever heard of. She and Grace were strapped to the top of the cone, staring at the receding ship and ten thousand stars beyond. The meteor pod fired its steam thrusters to better align its drop towards Villa Mar¨ªa, then began a long burst of steam to give speed towards the moon. If they were dropping onto a larger target, they could let gravity do the job, but Europa was small enough that an unpowered descent would take too long. ¡°You can be Shock I think,¡± Grace said, through the comm. ¡°You¡¯ll hit first and I¡¯ll be the follow-up, so that makes the most sense.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think that was meant to be taken literally,¡± Abigail said. ¡°You know, the bad part about this is we don¡¯t get a good view of the surface on the way down.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t the other side going to get a little crispy?¡± ¡°Yeah, for the last few seconds of the drop when we hit the environmental shield,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t think Europa has enough atmosphere on its own to make much fire.¡± The ship had long ago disappeared from sight. They must have been going a lot faster than she realized. She went through the landing procedure in her mind one more time. She and Grace had been practicing it for days. They rode in silence for a few minutes. ¡°I hope we win,¡± Grace said. Abigail sighed. ¡°Me too.¡± ¡°Shock and Awe, you are T-minus ten seconds from the shield. Expect a bump¡± Wow, that was a faster descent than she expected. If she could just see how close they were to the surface she¡¯d feel a lot better about¡­ There was a bone-jarring kick as the meteor pod pierced the shield and a deafening roar as they hit the atmosphere. Fire and red-hot plasma licked around the edges of their cone. ¡°That¡¯s more like it,¡± she grunted in satisfaction. She could only imagine how much fun a drop over Mars would be. Grace might have been squealing in excitement, but it was hard to hear over the sudden thunder of the braking thrusters. They would be on the ground in just a few seconds. The gee forces pressed them hard into the shock-absorbing cradles as the pod slowed its thunderous descent. Abigail heard a mechanical sound beneath her that signified the pod was lowering its landing legs. A trio of drogue parachutes deployed above their heads to further slow their break-neck plummet. That meant they only had a few seconds now. The roar of the braking rocket intensified and a proximity warning chimed through their comm. The meteor pod hit the ground far softer than its namesake, but still with teeth chattering force. And with that their descent was over. Their restraints released and Abigail was on her feet in less than a second trying to get her bearings. They¡¯d landed just outside the main gate, right on target. Lights were shining in their direction from a pair of guard towers. No time to waste. ¡°Grace. You good?¡± She reached into the central storage compartment of the pod and retrieved her shield and the special harness they¡¯d spent several days fashioning. ¡°Never been better. What a ride!¡± ¡°Glad you¡¯re happy, but it¡¯s about to get ugly. Let¡¯s do this like we planned.¡± Grace crawled to her and helped her strap the harness on. ¡°Kneel down, I¡¯ll get the last¡­ There.¡± ¡°You ready?¡± Abigail asked. She heard shouting in the distance. Time was almost out. ¡°Not really,¡± she said, shaking her head, ¡°but there are a lot of people relying on us.¡± She climbed into the harness on Abigail¡¯s back and strapped herself in. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m in,¡± she said, nearly in Abigail¡¯s ear. She¡¯d taken her helmet off and clipped it to the harness. Abigail stood to her feet. It was time to move. ¡°Come down with your hands above your head!¡± They turned. Nearly two dozen men were approaching the meteor pod. Every one of them had a gun pointed at the pair. Abigail smiled. ¡°Or what, you¡¯ll shoot us?¡± She jumped off the pod as lightly as she could. Grace should be fine in her harness, but she wasn¡¯t going to make it rough on her just to show off. ¡°You¡¯d think you guys have never seen a pair of ladies drop out of orbit before,¡± she said straightening and turning on the guards. As one, they took a step back and leveled their weapons at her. Abigail never got tired of that reaction. ¡°Stand down now, or we open fire,¡± the leader said, his voice practically cracking in fear. ¡°And why would that worry us?¡± Abigail asked. The man lifted off the ground and began to struggle as Grace pulled him close and held him in the air. Abigail could just see the cold blue light of the bracelet reflecting off her shoulder armor. ¡°Shoot them! Shoot them!¡± the man practically screamed.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The semicircle of thugs opened fired. Bullet¡¯s shattered as Grace¡¯s other bracelet glowed red. Molten metal droplets sprayed in all directions as the miracle¡¯s field protected Grace and most of Abigail as well. They¡¯d done some careful testing over the last few days and discovered as long as Grace was strapped in her harness, her bracelet would cover everything but Abigail¡¯s legs. Thankfully, in the chaos of the moment, the guards were aiming for center of mass. Grace threw their leader at one wing of the semicircle and Abigail plowed into them shield first. Between the grav plate in the shield and Grace tossing them around like rag dolls, it was over in just a few seconds. Those that weren¡¯t seriously injured turned tail back toward the lights of town. ¡°You okay still?¡± Abigail asked. ¡°I¡¯m still here,¡± the girl said. Her voice sounded a little shaken, but there was also a grim resolve in it. ¡°We sticking to the plan?¡± Abigail nodded. ¡°It¡¯s time for Shock and Awe to make some noise.¡±
Matthew watched as the fireball carrying his crewmates out of the sky disappeared behind the buildings. A few minutes later, distant gunfire cracked through the night, and he knew it was time to go. He stepped out of the dark alley into the street. Cartel members were hurrying down the lamp lit road toward the commotion. Word was out that there was trouble and deployment orders were flying. That suited him just fine. He walked the few blocks back to the barracks district. The street was now completely empty. He pushed open the door to Women 1A. The guard leaped to his feet. ¡°Hey! You shouldn¡¯t be here. There¡¯s a¡­¡± His eyes narrowed and he frowned. ¡°Why are you back?¡± Matthew crossed his arms. ¡°Oh you know, I left something important.¡± From beneath his poncho, he pulled a small device and tossed it to the rightly suspicious guard. ¡°Here. Catch.¡± The guard caught the device and immediately dropped to the ground as it delivered a debilitating electrical shock. Matthew was on him before he could twitch more than twice, gagging him and binding him. ¡°Next time you¡¯re suspicious of someone, try not to be so trusting,¡± Matthew said as he finished tying the guard to the feet of his own desk. He relieved the struggling man of his weapon and comm and then unlocked the inner door to the barracks. He had been worried it would require a security code of some sort, but since this was just a frontier town, it wasn¡¯t worth the investment. He stepped into the long hall. And was met by several of the crew leads. Apparently, they¡¯d been arguing about whether or not he was going to come back. He flicked the comm to a predetermined frequency and gave it, along with the gun, to one of the leads. ¡°Don¡¯t change the frequency. We¡¯ll be jamming the others. Jorgelina? Are you ready?¡± ¡°I¡¯m here she said.¡± She¡¯d changed into a darker pair of clothes. Good. That would make it easier to slip around during the eclipse. ¡°Let¡¯s go then. We¡¯ve got fifteen more barracks to free. The rest of you stay put and wait on my call. When my ship comes in we¡¯ll need to move quickly.¡± The crew lead with the gun leaned against a doorframe and crossed her arms. ¡°How is this not going to end in slaughter?¡± ¡°Oh, you thought I was done with distractions?¡± He smiled wryly. ¡°We¡¯re just getting started.¡±
Grace was finding out all sorts of things about her bracelets. For instance, try as she might, she couldn¡¯t pull down one of the guard towers until Abigail had smashed it a couple of times with her shield to weaken the supports. After that, it was easy to get a grip on the platform and wrench it free. She couldn¡¯t hold the whole weight, of course, but it was enough to bring the whole tower crashing down. After wrecking the main gate and both of its guard towers, they made their way into the city. Abigail had said it would be best if they kept moving. The biggest danger was getting overwhelmed with too many targets, and she wasn¡¯t quite willing to trust Grace¡¯s bracelet to hold up under enemy fire indefinitely. The more enemies shooting at them, the less bullets she¡¯d be able to soak with her shield. Grace was fine with that. Getting shot at less was definitely a good thing. They began to move south towards the fields on the far side of town. A six-wheeled troop transport pulled in front of them from a side street. Grace hunched down into her harness and Abigail sprinted at the vehicle just as a dozen armed guards got out. Grace swatted two of them aside before Abigail thundered into them like a charging rhino, sending the rest scattering across the street. A few stray bullets went wide. Abigail ran into the transport, gripping it with her armored hands and pushing it onto its side. Grace¡¯s eyes went wide. That was the most impressive show of strength she¡¯d seen from her so far. Abigail kicked the vehicle¡¯s undercarriage viciously a few times and dark liquid spilled onto the street. ¡°Grace, grab one of those guns.¡± She pulled a rifle up to her. It floated a few inches in front of her outstretched hand in an iron grip. Abigail stepped back and gestured. ¡°Light her up.¡± Grace frowned for a moment, then used her bracelet to point the floating weapon at the pool. She reached across with her right hand and awkwardly pulled the trigger. The gun sprayed bullet¡¯s wildly, expending the clip. The fuel lit with a whooshing sound and soon the transport was ablaze. Abigail jogged down the street south and away from the vehicle. Grace watched over her shoulder in disappointment. She would have liked to have seen the fruits of her handiwork. Just before they turned a corner, there was a fireball and a resounding explosion that echoed through the dark streets. ¡°Much better,¡± she said with a smile.
Matthew quietly slipped between the barracks, neutralizing the guards in each. Most fell prey to the ¡°catch¡± trick. It was so easy that Matthew began to feel it was cheating. Catching an object tossed to you was almost as instinctual as breathing. And if someone shouts catch, good luck disobeying. The seventh set of barracks was the first of the men¡¯s. Matthew and Jorgelina unlocked the heavy door into the slave quarters and were met at once by a mob. They¡¯d heard the explosions outside and were ready for action. It took several minutes for Matthew and Jorgelina to convince them that there was a plan and it would work better if they waited. A handful of men suddenly recognized Matthew as their old Padre and things got a little awkward. After wasting far too much time in unnecessary explanations, they were ready to head out to the next barracks. They were interrupted on their way out by a question from one of the crew leads. ¡°What about our slave bracelets?¡± The man held up the iron collar around his wrist. Its red light shone ominously. Matthew paused. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t imagine the alarm it sets off is going to matter that much when we spring the whole town.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Some of us have kill bracelets. For those that have been¡­ problematic to our handlers. We leave the town or tamper with the bracelet and POW. Lethal injection.¡± Matthew sucked in a quick breath of air and readjusted his campero. This was a new wrinkle. Ten years ago, this would have been unheard of. It seemed the cartels had a new tool for controlling their workers. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it. Somehow. Anyone know where the control center for these things is?¡± ¡°If I had to guess,¡± Jorgelina said, ¡°I¡¯d say the tech headquarters.¡± ¡°Makes sense. Where is that?¡± One of the original residents of Villa Mar¨ªa, a man named Oscar, rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. ¡°Tech headquarters is in your old church, Padre.¡± Matthew felt his heart drop. That was the last place he had any interest in seeing. Knowing his luck, that had been a foolish dream. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it.¡± He pointed at the comm he¡¯d given one of the crew leads. ¡°Wait on the signal.¡± He pushed open the door and left the barracks, slipping back out into the night. Jorgelina fell into step behind him as they approached the next one. Thankfully the streets were deserted. As planned, cartel members from all over the town were being redirected to deal with Abigail and Grace. The barracks district was empty, save for the single guard inside the door at each building. Having to disable the kill bracelets was going to be a problem, but it wasn¡¯t like he had options here. Somehow or another, he¡¯d have to find the time once the Sparrow landed. When he had the extra support on the ground, he¡¯d be able to slip away to deal with this complication. He turned to Jorgelina. ¡°You okay?¡± he whispered. She looked at him with sad eyes and nodded. A tendril of guilt worked its way into his heart. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, he said. ¡°For Enrique, for how long it took me to get back, for¡­¡± She regarded him for a moment. ¡°I know. But this isn¡¯t the life I signed up for. Get us out of here, and all is forgiven.¡± No, this wasn¡¯t the life he¡¯d signed up for either. None of it was. But then that¡¯s how it was for everyone, wasn¡¯t it?
Abigail worked her way steadily to the south side of town. More and more enemies were in the streets now and she and Grace had to stay on their toes to keep from being encircled. She¡¯d lost count of the number of barricades, watchtowers, and vehicles they¡¯d smashed, all with the goal of causing as much general mayhem as possible. When they passed city hall, they climbed to the top of it and crushed the old thumper that Matthew had thought might still be guarding the skies. The meteor pod had come down fast and hard enough that they probably hadn¡¯t had a chance to even figure out what was going on, let alone draw a bead on them. Abigail wasn¡¯t about to let them point that thing at the Sparrow. It was a smoking crater in the street below by the time they finished with it. The only real scare came when a hand grenade landed beside them. Abigail¡¯s heart sank in horror as she turned to face it, dropping to her knee and raising her shield to protect them both. It blew up, sending shrapnel and concrete chunks in all directions. ¡°Ungh!¡± Grace grunted. Cold panic hit Abigail. ¡°You okay back there? Talk to me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ fine. I think. It¡¯s just a cut. Ricochet, I think.¡± They had to get out of here. There were too many enemies and they were coordinating now. Time to spring the trap. ¡°Just hang on. We¡¯ll get you patched up soon.¡± Abigail sprinted down the street, plowing past a fresh group that was trying to hem them in. She leaped their barricade in a single flying bound. It was only a few more blocks to the south edge of the city. The sharp crack of gunfire rang out from behind them, and a few stray bullets broke around Grace¡¯s protective field. They were in the clear, past the last building, through the gate, and into the cultivated fields on the south side of town. Abigail kept going until she reached the tree line dividing the first and second fields. She stopped and faced the city. The cartel had organized now. No longer were loose squads of guards standing in her way. Now they had a plan. Several dozen lined the top of the wall facing her and at least fifty came out of the gate. They spread out, unwilling to be bowled over in groups, and kept their rifles trained in her direction across the field. Their trigger discipline was also improving. They weren¡¯t wasting ammo on bullet-proof targets. Which meant if they had any heavy weapons besides the now destroyed thumper, they were about to make an appearance. No matter. Their enemy was about to change. Abigail craned her neck to check on Grace. The girl had a gash that ran up her jawline to behind her ear. It was smeared with blood and dirt but didn¡¯t look to be particularly dangerous. ¡°Ready to bait the trap?¡± she asked. Grace nodded but looked a little dazed. What kind of world did they live in that a thirteen-year-old volunteered for this kind of fight? Abigail stepped back into the field. Dozens of lights shone in her direction illuminating them from every side as the enemy fanned out to get a wider angle of fire. ¡°You want to do the honors?¡± she asked Grace. ¡°I am so ready for this,¡± the girl said, clearing her throat. ¡°Bring the thunder, boys.¡± With a piercing shriek, four rockets streaked past them, blasting the outer wall of Villa Mar¨ªa to rubble and taking the men atop with them. From the cover of the fields, three squads of camouflaged Swiss Guard opened fire. The Battle of Villa Mar¨ªa had begun in earnest.
Yvonne and had spent the last few hours in the cockpit of the Sparrow, waiting desperately for news. Occasionally she chatted with Davey from his position in the turret, but he wasn¡¯t in the mood for conversation, not with Grace on the surface beneath them. He was worried. They both were, but they dealt with it differently. Yvonne wanted someone to talk with to keep her mind sharp and occupied. The Sparrow was a lonely place right now. She¡¯d listened as the signals came in, initiating each phase of the operation, with growing trepidation. How had she come to be in this situation? She was a doctor, not a combat pilot. And yet at any minute, she would deorbit and attempt an insane landing maneuver. Thousands of lives were depending on her, and she knew she needed more practice. Her comm crackled to life and Matthew¡¯s voice came over loud and clear. ¡°Bring in the bird.¡± ¡°Sparrow is inbound. I¡¯m expecting a friendly welcoming party.¡± Matthew didn¡¯t answer, as per the plan, to reduce the risk of intercepted communications. It wasn¡¯t likely, but there was a chance that Hueso Rojo would stumble upon the unjammed frequencies the assault team was using. Gently, she directed the Sparrow down toward Europa, out of the geosynchronous orbit they had been waiting in and fired up the engines. The Sparrow was sluggish with the weight of the enormous passenger barge attached to its belly. Not only was she dealing with reduced acceleration, but now her thrust was offset from the center of mass, requiring her to compensate by adjusting her heading. ¡°Davey, we¡¯re heading down. You ready?¡± ¡°Sooner we¡¯re down there the sooner this is over with.¡± ¡°My thoughts exactly. We¡¯ll have Grace back on board as soon as we can.¡± She watched as Europa gradually spread across her field of view. She took a deep breath and pushed all doubts from her mind. Like she and Tomas had done for so many years in their clinics, she was saving lives. He wouldn¡¯t have had her live her life in any other fashion.
Commandant Jullian Ortega gave Grace Anderson a pat on the shoulder as he finished putting the layer of synthskin on the shrapnel cut beneath her ear. He¡¯d been adamantly opposed to bringing her into a warzone. After several arguments with Cole, he¡¯d let the matter drop once her miraculous bracelets had been demonstrated. But it still made him uneasy. ¡°You¡¯re good to go now,¡± he said. Sharon knelt by Anderson and she climbed back into her harness on the woman¡¯s exo-suit. What Ortega wouldn¡¯t give for his men to all be wearing powered armor right now. Earthtech was hard enough to come by, even when you knew the proper channels. He wondered briefly how Cole had gotten that gauss rifle of his. He¡¯d loaned Jullian¡¯s best sharpshooter the weapon for their assault and they¡¯d made excellent use of it silently cutting down patrols in the fields. Quiet, efficient, and deadly. An explosion rocked the ground and he peered out from behind the tree they¡¯d used as cover while he patched up Anderson. Another part of the wall had just come down and the Swiss Guard squads were advancing on the outmatched cartel. Soon, the enemies that had foolishly followed Sharon and Anderson outside the walls would be neutralized and they could begin moving through the city. ¡°Thanks, Captain,¡± Sharon said, getting back to her feet. ¡°Commandant,¡± he corrected as he shouldered his own pack. ¡°Close enough,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll skirt the wall and move on to the landing zone.¡± She clomped off into the dark to the sound of servo motors whining. Anderson waved in parting. ¡°Thank you, Commandant!¡± In spite of himself, Julian smiled. These people were crazy. He walked back over to the Horse, an earthtech robot designed to carry supplies and munitions. It also carried their jamming equipment and served as their mobile command station for this operation. He pulled up the main display and began to mark locations on the sat map for squads as they breached the walls. A personnel list winked on the side. They¡¯d taken multiple injuries, some of which were nearby in the shelter of the trees getting treatment from their medic, but none were life-threatening so far. The cartel wasn¡¯t so lucky. It would be hard to get an estimation of how many casualties they had taken, but considering how soon they were going to be moving into the walls, the numbers were going to be high. Julian pulled out his comm. ¡°Patrol Craft Alpha remain vigilant. With the Sparrow coming in, we¡¯re more likely to draw outside attention. If you see movement let us know.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± There was another explosion. He looked out from his cover and saw the remaining Hueso Rojo forces retreat behind the wreckage of the wall to the cover of the buildings. He flipped his comm channel to ground forces. ¡°All squads prepare to move in. We¡¯ve got a city to liberate.¡±
¡°I¡¯m beginning my final descent now,¡± Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. They¡¯d finished prepping the barracks. Now it was time to meet the Sparrow. ¡°Yvonne...¡± he said into his comm. ¡°Be safe.¡± ¡°Easier said than done with what you¡¯re asking me to do. Have you ever done this?¡± ¡°No, but that¡¯s why I asked you. Just think of it like that appendectomy.¡± ¡°Matthew Cole, if you were¡­¡± Abigail¡¯s voice interrupted over the comm. ¡°Grace and I are almost in position. We¡¯ll be there to soften the landing.¡± He stepped out from under the shadow of the tree that he and Jorgelina had been hiding under and looked up into the sky. There was the Sparrow just now entering the atmospheric shield. The engines were bright stars of light as it descended tail-first toward the surface of the moon. ¡°What¡¯s that attached to the ship?¡± Jorgelina asked in a voice just above a whisper. ¡°Passenger barge. Only ride we could find big enough to fit everyone. It¡¯s going to make landing a little tricky since it weighs more than the ship itself.¡± Stay here. He left the cover of the alley and ran down the street. Thankfully with the battle taking place on the other side of town, they hadn¡¯t seen a soul in the barracks district in some time. He pulled a pair of signal flares out of his pocket and ignited them, walking to the outer wall at the street. Blinding red light lit the area, and a column of smoke rose from each flare. He planted them in the ground roughly thirty feet apart at the base of the wall and retreated back to where Jorgelina watched in confusion. ¡°What¡¯s that for¡­?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll see. Davey, do you have eyes on the target?¡± ¡°I see them,¡± the teen replied. ¡°I can¡¯t quite¡­ Yvonne can you rotate us a few degrees?¡± ¡°Which way?¡± ¡°Umm. Clockwise. Little more. A little¡­ Got it. Better stand back, Matthew.¡± A thumper blast streaked down from the tail of the Sparrow and tore the wall apart, sending cement and masonry flying around the street. Matthew and Jorgelina retreated further away for safety. The thumper fired three more times. ¡°How¡¯s it look?¡± Davey asked. They peeked around the corner. Most of the section between the flares was filled with rubble and collapsed wall. ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a mess, but we¡¯ll be able to get through.¡± Matthew switched his comm channel. ¡°Citizens of Villa Mar¨ªa, it¡¯s time to get out of here. Once you leave your barracks, head to the east wall. Streets are quiet right now, but keep your eyes open. I imagine we¡¯ll have company soon. The squad of Swiss Guard paratroopers that had deployed from the barge as soon as it entered the environmental shield were landing just as the former slaves started to fill the streets. Matthew ran over to the corporal as he detached his parachute. ¡°Glad to see some backup!¡± he shouted over the roar of the slowly descending Sparrow. ¡°What¡¯s the situation, sir?¡± Matthew frowned. He was hardly military so he decided to ignore the formality. ¡°Everything is going according to plan. I imagine with our ship lighting up the sky we¡¯ll have company soon from the west.¡± ¡°Understood. Moving into position to guard the civilians.¡± He made hand gestures to his squad and they ran west. The street was filled with people now. Most looked rather shocked at the situation they found themselves in. Some were openly crying. Crew leads and the others who kept their senses about them were trying to get them moving toward the wall. ¡°Disabling grav plates at landing site,¡± Abigail said, activating the program Matthew had uploaded into the grav plate hub earlier. ¡°Thanks!¡± Yvonne grunted. ¡°She¡¯s feeling a bit heavy with the barge! Oh, wow that¡¯s much better. Fifty meters to touch down.¡± Matthew turned and watched through the hole in the wall as the Sparrow descended the final stretch. He couldn¡¯t help but feel nervous. It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t trust Yvonne, it was more that, well, he really loved that ship and if it was going to be doing dangerous things, he¡¯d prefer to be the one doing it, in spite of what he¡¯d told Yvonne. The enormous brick of the passenger barge set down on the ground with a bit of a bump. The Sparrow remained suspended in the air on its side. Backblast from the engines sent dust swirling and billowing in a cloud around them. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to keep the engines burning to maintain balance,¡± Yvonne said. ¡°Otherwise, we¡¯ll tip.¡± ¡°You did great, Yvonne,¡± Matthew said. The barge¡¯s door opened and the final squad of Swiss Guard filed out. Their task was to corral the citizens and get them loaded safely. Matthew looked around at the crowd surrounding him. This was going to take a while. Which was good because he still had one more task. ¡°I¡¯ve got to head back into town,¡± he said into the comm. ¡°What? Why?¡± Abigail asked. ¡°Something wrong?¡± ¡°Turns out some of the slave bracelets are set to kill. I¡¯ve got to head to the tech headquarters to disable them. ¡°I¡¯m coming with you then.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re not. You¡¯ll just draw attention. I can do this quietly. Guard the streets to the west.¡± She growled in frustration. ¡°Alright, but be safe, Matthew. You get into trouble and I¡¯m going to come storming through town after you.¡± He smiled. ¡°I¡¯d expect nothing less.¡± The Swiss Guard had started to organize the civilians into messy lines to get them loaded. It was becoming less a mob as they came to their senses and started to follow orders. Matthew turned to go but felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Jorgelina. ¡°You know the worst thing about this is that I won¡¯t even be able to slip away to visit his grave anymore.¡± Her eyes filled with tears. ¡°I wish he was still here, even a decade later. I¡­ I failed him.¡± ¡°We both did,¡± Matthew said simply. Enrique was a testament of all his past failures. In spite of everything he did, Villa Mar¨ªa had fallen. And in the case of Jorgelina¡¯s son, it was because of his efforts. The tombstone and the town would remain behind on the surface of Europa as monuments to the past. ¡°Go on,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve got work to do.¡± She joined the crowd moving toward the Sparrow. Matthew watched her go and then turned and worked his way against the crowd. It wasn¡¯t time to turn his back on the past just yet. The old church called to him. He kept to the shadows as he slipped through the streets. The sound of battle in the south was dying out. Now, there were only sporadic bursts of gunfire as the Swiss Guard moved through town, neutralizing and subjugating the remaining cartel forces. They would also be herding any citizens that were neither slave nor cartel toward the Sparrow. Mostly skilled labor, every town had some folks paid off by the cartel to do their job and keep the gears turning. They were getting evacuated too. If Matthew had anything to say, there wasn¡¯t going to be a Villa Mar¨ªa after today. A few minutes later, he crept into the old park in front of the church. It was eerily quiet. Surely if the church was their tech headquarters, they wouldn¡¯t have abandoned it. A pile of ash sat on the front steps and the front door stood half ajar. He peered around the corner into the church. Soft light illuminated the nave. The pews had all been removed, replaced by computers, workstations, and the equipment needed to run the town. A few more piles of ash sat smoldering on the stone floor. The old pulpit still stood in its place on the left side of the church. And behind the pulpit? Matthew drew his gun and walked down the aisle pointing it at the sole survivor of whatever had happened here. Whitaker. The Unchained Man stood at the pulpit. A smile spread across his lips as if he were pleased with himself. He set his black cowboy hat on the podium. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be by eventually. It¡¯s good to see you, Matthew.¡± 24. The Guns of the Vatican If man is made in the image of God and Moses was made in the image of man, does Moses also bear the image of God? The origin of Moses is shrouded in mystery, though we have long assumed he was derived from our own inventions. In our time of great need, when the Red Holocaust raged and tens of millions perished and the rest of the world stood poised to follow them over the brink, he appeared and took the reins of history from our troubled race. He was both like and unlike the machines that came before him. For many decades we had made trinkets which we called AI, though they paled in comparison to Moses, for they had only a passing likeness to life. Rationality, we could program. But true intelligence, that spark of wit and life, was something that had eluded us. And we do not yet even speak of wisdom. These things Moses had: wisdom, intellect, humor, creativity, ambition, fear, frustration, failure. Take a mirror to man and perhaps you would see Moses in that reflection and perhaps distantly would you see the image of God that man himself is formed from. Does this then mean that Moses, like man, had an immortal spirit, that the breath of life that only God can give somehow flowed through him? The Church holds this as a mystery and takes no official position. If Moses had a spirit, then it indwelt a body whose bones were made by man. If he did not, then he was a marvelous mimic, like twice reflected light that has lost its potency. For myself, I hold the answer to be self-evident, as all who spoke with Moses do. I shall miss his gentle nature greatly. Josef Krupnik First Pope of the Colonial Vatican Died 38 AM
The Battle of Villa Mar¨ªa wound down. Disorganized, out skilled, and cut off from each other and any possible reinforcements from other colonies by jamming, the isolated groups of cartel members were destroyed or forced to surrender. Abigail stood guard over the barracks district as the final remaining former slaves were loaded into the passenger barge. The commandant and his robot marched down the main street, having finally made it to the extraction point. She eyed the thing curiously. For having a name as indelicate as ¡®horse,¡¯ it was an impressive machine. Idly, she wondered how the Swiss Guard had gotten a hold of it. ¡°Ortega,¡± she called out as she jogged to join him. ¡°What¡¯s our status?¡± He turned to her briefly and then back to the computers on the horse. ¡°My men are talking to the crew leads now to get a headcount. We¡¯ll be certain we¡¯ve freed all the slaves at least. No way to know if we leave any other civilians behind.¡± She nodded. ¡°We¡¯ve been broadcasting so they know they can evacuate with us. If they get left behind, that¡¯s their choice.¡± ¡°Hopefully, we can get airborne soon,¡± Ortega said, continuing toward the Sparrow. ¡°The longer we¡¯re here, the more likely we¡¯ll attract outside attention.¡± So that was it then. By the time Cole got back, they could get out of here. She thanked the commandant and jogged back toward the Sparrow. Grace stood guard at the entrance to the barge, ostensibly in case a cartel member tried to sneak aboard with weapons. The truth was that Abigail figured it was the safest place to post her. That cut she¡¯d received earlier was nasty, and Davey was going to be livid about it. Grace waved her over. ¡°All good here. It¡¯s getting quiet out there.¡± ¡°Things are wrapping up. As soon as Matthew gets back, we¡¯ll get airborne.¡± She didn¡¯t like him being off alone. It made sense to some extent as he¡¯d be able to slip through the dark town far more stealthily than if she had gone with him, but she still didn¡¯t approve. ¡°I think you¡¯re done here. You need to get up to the Sparrow.¡± Grace craned her neck to look up at the barge. As close as they were, it was impossible to see the Sparrow on the other side. ¡°Are you sure I¡¯m not needed to¡­¡± Abigail placed a metal hand on her shoulder. ¡°The Guard and I can take it from here.¡± The girl grumbled something incoherent and slipped past the line into the open portal. She¡¯d have to work her way through the multiple levels of cabins to the pressure tunnel they had set up between the barge and the lift on the Sparrow. Abigail returned to her post at the far side of the street to wait for any last resistance. At least that¡¯s what she told herself. Mostly, she was just waiting for Matthew to make it back so she could breathe easier knowing her people were safe. She pulled out her comm and called him for an update. No sense standing around fretting when she could find out.
Matthew felt his comm buzzing in his pocket and silenced it with his left hand. With his right, he kept his gun trained on The Unchained Man. ¡°God only knows you deserve a bullet between your eyes.¡± The man smiled from his place behind the pulpit. ¡°And I thought I was the one with the penchant for melodrama. Off-hand though, I can think of several reasons you won¡¯t. First, you¡¯re not one to shoot an unarmed man in cold blood.¡± Matthew scoffed bitterly. ¡°You¡¯re not so foolish to trust your safety to that.¡± ¡°On the contrary. I¡¯m not foolish enough to be armed in your presence. I know your speed at the draw. Provoking you into a gunfight would only end in my death. By design, I am completely defenseless and relying on those well-developed morals of yours.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me into making an exception,¡± Matthew snarled. ¡°Noted. But if I¡¯m lying in a pool of blood and your thirst for revenge is sated, I couldn¡¯t possibly answer any of the questions you¡¯re desperate to have answered.¡± He smiled that insufferable grin again. Matthew slowly walked up the aisle, never lowering his gun for a second. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll play your game. Why?¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to have to be a little more specific, Cole.¡± ¡°Why Villa Mar¨ªa? Why help enslave it and then do nothing to oppose its liberation? I don¡¯t understand. Are you some kind of Abrogationist, sowing chaos and waiting for history to run its course?¡± The smile disappeared from The Unchained Man¡¯s face. ¡°Don¡¯t insult me. Those morons are too busy spouting undergraduate level philosophy about humanity¡¯s place in the universe to be of any use. It¡¯s insulting that they¡¯re able to create the level of chaos that they do.¡± Matthew gestured with the gun. ¡°I¡¯d put slavers on the same level.¡± ¡°Not remotely. If you must know, Europa was in a very delicate position a decade ago as the big cartels were fully coming into power. The slaves are a necessary part of the ecosystem in the Jupiter neighborhood right now. Without robotics, the locals haven¡¯t been producing enough food, so the cartels moved in to ensure everyone in Jupiter¡¯s orbit continues to eat. But the last thing anyone needed was one of them becoming too powerful and truly owning the moon. If they controlled the entire supply of food, then they could control the cost, and everyone would suffer for it. Hueso Rojo needed a bit of a boost back then. You were in their way. I took the job to help smooth the road for them and ensure a healthy competition amongst the cartels. A devil¡¯s bargain perhaps, but that¡¯s the state of humanity at the moment.¡± Matthew frowned. ¡°So this is all just some pragmatic chess game to you?¡± ¡°The analogy fits. No economy that relies on slavery has ever truly been prosperous. A slave cannot serve his community as well as he could if he were free. He isn¡¯t able to chase ambition or unleash creativity. A slave is a dead weight around the neck of the society that enslaves him. Someday, if humanity ever gets out of this slump, Europa¡¯s economy will have to be reformed and the slaves freed.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Unfortunately, we¡¯re a long way out from that day. If we ever get there.¡± Matthew shook his head. All the lives of Villa Mar¨ªa, ruined because the man in front of him thought he knew better. Thought that he could weigh the cost and be the judge of those whose suffering was worth it for the greater good. ¡°You¡¯re a monster,¡± he said. ¡°Possibly, but then it¡¯s a good thing I have humanity¡¯s best interest at heart. That alone I¡¯ve chosen to chain myself to. Otherwise...¡± He let the implication hang. ¡°And so now that the cartels are settled, you don¡¯t care about the fate of a single town.¡± The Unchained Man shook his head. ¡°Villa Mar¨ªa means nothing. It¡¯s far too small to affect the balance of power now that Hueso Rojo is well established. I was far more interested to see if you could be provoked into doing something about it.¡± Matthew gestured with the gun. ¡°You hired us to haul those slaves.¡± ¡°Naturally. I¡¯m pleased that it had the intended effect.¡± A chill ran down Matthew¡¯s spine. It was harrowing to know that he had been manipulated, that the same person had pulled those strings over and over like some sort of puppeteer. He narrowed his eyes. ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°The Unchained Man is a free agent. A mover and shaker. Someone with the sense to try and chart a course through troubled times. I rather hope you will be something of the same, Cole.¡± Matthew shook his head at this madness. ¡°I¡¯m nothing like you.¡± ¡°Of course not,¡± The Unchained Man laughed. ¡°If you were, I wouldn¡¯t be so fascinated by you. Where I believe in nothing, you cling to your faith and your sense of ethics as if it were the last bastion of safety. But rather than sinking like a stone in the ocean, you lift your head high in a world grown cold. It really is something to watch. Combine that with the rare aptitude to actually accomplish things in this crazy world, and you are special. No, we are not alike, and yet we are. Mirrors show a backward image, after all.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand what you want from me,¡± Matthew said quietly. The Unchained Man spread his arms wide. ¡°I want big things, what happened here in Villa Mar¨ªa tonight. You were always too good to be merely a freelancer, not with what you could accomplish otherwise.¡± Matthew began to pace in front of the pews, but he made sure to keep the gun pointed at the other man¡¯s head. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯d like the way I would shape the world.¡± ¡°Maybe not, but there wouldn¡¯t be much point in this if we saw eye to eye, now would there? I¡¯d just do it myself. But in case I¡¯m wrong, I need you steering in the other direction. Besides, I rather hope that, between the two of us, you¡¯re the one who¡¯s right about the universe.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± The Unchained Man crossed his arms. ¡°Nihilism is hardly fulfilling on a personal level. But if you¡¯re right and there is ultimately a purpose to all this, well, I would be a fool to complain. Staking my soul on humanity¡¯s survival is somewhat arbitrary, but it may keep me sane for a while yet.¡± ¡°Sane is too strong a word for you.¡± Matthew sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not interested in your games.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter if you are or aren¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°Even if you try and retreat to your shallow little world of freelancing, all I have to do is make sure the big jobs come your way. The ones that can change the fates of the solar system. You won¡¯t turn them down. You¡¯ll dive into a slave pit and free hundreds of children. Help secure a Mosaic Frigate for the university. And if the need arises, you¡¯ll do it for free.¡± He smiled again. ¡°Just like what you did for Villa Mar¨ªa. You can¡¯t help it, Cole. It¡¯s who you are. Either you play the game of your own free will, or you play the one I set before you.¡± The most infuriating part of it was that he was right. He knew Matthew as well as he did himself. But he was no shining knight. ¡°I take it you¡¯re out of questions?¡± Matthew met the man¡¯s eyes. ¡°There¡¯s no way I take you into custody is there?¡± ¡°You refer to my vanishing trick from Venus, I presume. No, I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ll let myself be captured. I think my sphere of influence would decrease rotting in a cell at the Vatican. There are only two outcomes to this discourse. Either we part ways amicably, or I remain behind with a bullet in my head. I have a strong preference for the former.¡± He was telling the truth. Matthew had no doubt of that. He holstered his gun. ¡°Then leave. I¡¯ve got a job to finish here.¡± ¡°If it¡¯s about the slave bracelets, I disabled them just before you got here. The citizens of Villa Mar¨ªa are free to go.¡± Matthew stared at him for several long seconds. It took an effort of will not to draw his gun and shoot him in cold blood. It would be justice served for Villa Mar¨ªa. Probably for more than that. But Matthew couldn¡¯t shoot an unarmed man, not when he offered no threat, and if he really couldn¡¯t be captured¡­ ¡°Then pray you never see me again.¡± He marched back down the aisle of the church, refusing to so much as a glance over his shoulder. He would wash his hands of this place, this town, this man who had cast so deep a shadow over the last decade of his life. He was afraid that shadow was long. And maybe he couldn¡¯t escape it so easily. The Unchained Man spoke one more time as Matthew laid a hand on the door to push it open. ¡°Then perhaps you¡¯d listen to a different proposal?¡± ¡°We both know that answer.¡± ¡°What if I told you it had to do with Moses?¡±
Grace climbed carefully out of the barge and into the pressure tunnel that led to the Sparrow. The winding tube was big enough to walk through, but took a few strange angles as it curled around the edge of the barge and up into the open lift on the belly of the Sparrow. The tunnel was ribbed with hard ridges that made it possible to climb through when its angle got too steep. Thankfully gravity was very low since Abigail still had the local grav plates off. Otherwise, it would have been hard work. At the point where it entered the lift and climbed up to the Sparrow, gravity suddenly flipped directions on her and intensified to standard. With a grunt, she pulled herself up the last few meters into the ship and flopped onto the deck. Her head still throbbed from the shrapnel cut. She placed her hand on the weird plastic-smooth of the synthskin beneath her ear. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t leave an ugly scar. She stood to her feet and brushed herself off. Her clothes were smeared with mud and a few streaks of blood from her injury. Davey would freak out if he saw her. Better to avoid him for now. She joined Yvonne in the cockpit. The woman looked her over once and then shook her head, turning back to the controls. ¡°Glad to see you¡¯re in one piece.¡± ¡°It was a bit rough out there,¡± Grace admitted. ¡°Abigail said they¡¯re almost done loading the¡­¡± ¡°Patrol Craft Alpha to ground forces.¡± Both of their eyes snapped to the comm. ¡°We¡¯ve got visual on multiple spacecraft altering orbit to head your way. Confirming five with a possible sixth. You have just over five minutes until the first arrives. Recommend you finish up and burn for space.¡± ¡°Copy that Patrol Craft Alpha,¡± Commandant Ortega¡¯s voice answered. ¡°We¡¯ll be ready. Sparrow, I¡¯d recommend you deploy the special package.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± Yvonne said. ¡°Matthew still isn¡¯t back,¡± Abigail said. ¡°I¡¯m going after him.¡± ¡°Former slaves have reported that the collars were disabled a few minutes ago,¡± Ortega said. ¡°He must have finished his mission.¡± ¡°Then he should be back. I¡¯m going to get our gaucho.¡± The comms went silent. Yvonne turned to Grace and gestured with her head down the hall. ¡°Well, you heard what he said. Deploy the special package.¡± She nodded and ran down the hall. Davey was already in the common room. ¡°Hey!¡± she said. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be in the turret?¡± ¡°It¡¯s pointed at the ground right now,¡± he said crossing his arms. ¡°Until we¡¯re airborne it¡¯s worthless. Besides I want to see this thing.¡± Together they opened the heavy case that sat in the middle of the floor. A spherical metal object sat cradled in its midst. ¡°So we just push the button?¡± she asked. ¡°That¡¯s what Matthew said. You want to do the honors?¡± She reached down and pushed the silver button. Light shone from within the sphere, tracing intricates lines and patterns across the surface. ¡°That¡¯s it? It¡¯s working?¡± ¡°How am I supposed to know,¡± he grumbled. ¡°That¡¯s all we were told to do.¡± He glanced over at her and startled as if getting a good look at her for the first time. ¡°What happened to your ear!¡±
The Unchained Man watched as Cole paused and took the bait. Best of all, he hadn¡¯t even had to lie. When the truth is much more interesting, there¡¯s no need for such barbarities. Cole slowly turned to face him and stepped away from the door. ¡°Now I think you¡¯re just stalling.¡± ¡°If you really thought that, you wouldn¡¯t be falling for it. Tell me, Cole. What happened to Moses?¡± ¡°Is this what we¡¯re going to waste time over? There is no answer. No one knows.¡± ¡°Indeed. But surely he should have left some part of himself behind. Things don¡¯t just vanish, even AI. He left machines behind, whole ships even. But nothing of himself. Sure, all the computers had the interface to communicate with him, but that wasn¡¯t part of him directly. The assumption was that Moses was distributed across all the networked computers in the solar system. But when he was gone, he left no trace. No stray line of code or fragmented file to figure out what happened. Either he up and deleted himself outright or he was stored somewhere else entirely.¡± ¡°Where are you going with this?¡± Cole asked his eyes narrowed. ¡°Something of Moses is still out there. If he wasn¡¯t stored on our servers, then he must have been elsewhere. I intend to find that place.¡± Cole stared at him for several long seconds. ¡°You know, the teenager on my crew was wise enough to spot this kind of sell as a scam. Moses is gone. He¡¯s not coming back.¡± ¡°Then the colonies are doomed to die,¡± The Unchained Man retorted, harshly, ¡°and humanity¡¯s last hope lies with the survivors of earth, in those few remaining cities and the primitive societies that have sprung up in the wake of the glaciers¡¯ icy march across the continents. It will be centuries until they recover.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome to your treasure hunt. I don¡¯t have time to chase the shadows of the past.¡± This was, sadly, predictable. Cole hadn¡¯t exactly warmed up much to him. He pressed on ahead. ¡°What do you know about miracles?¡± ¡°Changing subjects? Get to the point.¡± The Unchained man tapped his foot impatiently. Cole was going to fight him every inch of the way. ¡°Giving the J¨¢rngreipr to the girl was a peculiar choice,¡± he chuckled. ¡°They are a gift worthy of a king. You gave them to an orphan. And to think you have two of the ten miracles in the possession of your crew right now.¡± Cole raised an eyebrow at that revelation. Let him mull over just how he knew that one. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware they had names.¡± ¡°They all do. Have you by chance heard of Josiah Carver?¡± ¡°Sure. He¡¯s a folktale. There are stories about him being Moses¡¯ friend or something like that.¡± ¡°While most of the tales told about him by spacers are most certainly fanciful, he did, for a fact, exist. Some of his writings about the miracles survived, and he was the one that recorded their names. He also wrote about the eleventh miracle. Given your current level of knowledge on the subject, I¡¯m going to assume you haven¡¯t heard of it. Not many have.¡± From beneath the pulpit, he pulled a heavy metal object. Cole frowned and stepped closer to get a better look. The Unchained Man smiled, knowing that he had won this battle. All it took was the final push, and Cole would be a willing accomplice in this little venture.
Matthew let his curiosity get the best of him and walked back up the aisle to get a better look at the device, this so-called eleventh miracle. It was shaped like a wedge or rather a piece of a pie. The two long edges were shaped strangely, almost like pieces of a puzzle. ¡°That¡¯s not all of it,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s only a quarter of a whole.¡± ¡°Sadly, yes. It took me many years to find this piece.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°That¡¯s what you were hoping to find on the Mosaic Frigate.¡± ¡°Indeed. In that, I was disappointed, though I do not begrudge the university their prize. They¡¯ll do good work with it.¡± The Unchained Man reached beneath the podium again and brought out a second piece of the miracle. The puzzle piece ends fit together perfectly, now forming half a disc. ¡°Of course the odds of me finding two pieces back to back would have been comically low.¡± Matthew narrowed his eyes in suspicion. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look at me like that, Cole. I doubt Emperor Dominic was pleased when he discovered that this second piece went missing from his personal collection, but it¡¯s for the greater good.¡± Matthew crossed his arms. ¡°Just what is that thing supposed to do?¡± ¡°Josiah Carver didn¡¯t say, but he did name the eleventh miracle. The Anemoi.¡± ¡°The winds,¡± Matthew said. ¡°The four winds of Greek mythology.¡± He peered at the device. His eyes widened. ¡°It¡¯s a compass.¡± The Unchained Man nodded. ¡°And compasses are meant to find things.¡± He separated the pieces and turned them over. ¡°Here I already have Boreas,¡± he gestured to geometric lines forming the north direction of a compass rose. ¡°Which makes this Eurus. We¡¯re still missing Zephyr and Notus. And after that¡­?¡± He smiled broadly. ¡°Your guess is as good as mine.¡± Matthew looked with fascination at the two strange pieces of metal. Was there really something to this? He had little reason to suspect The Unchained Man was lying to him and yet¡­ ¡°So this what you want. For me to keep my eyes open and dutifully tell you if I discover your missing winds?¡± The Unchained Man laughed. ¡°You still don¡¯t get it. I¡¯m not interested in someone doing my dirty work. I¡¯m interested in having an equal. Someone as capable as myself, but who sees the world in a different light. A mirror image that shares my burden for our troubled race.¡± Matthew shook his head. ¡°You crush the individual for the sake of the herd. I don¡¯t share your burden at all.¡± ¡°See! That¡¯s exactly what I mean. A different perspective. Allow me to sweeten the deal.¡± He held one piece of the Anemoi out to Matthew. ¡°Take the east wind. Go on. It¡¯s yours until we have all four. Then together, we will see where they lead.¡± Matthew was torn between wanting to take the fragment out of curiosity and his previous desire to shoot the arrogant man in the head. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out and took it. It was smooth like glass and far heavier than it had any right to be. ¡°The east wind suits you, Cole. After all, it is the wind of change.¡± The door behind him slammed open. Matthew spun, drawing his revolver. ¡°Abigail?¡± She stood at the entrance to the church. ¡°What are you doing here alone? We have to go!¡± Matthew turned on his heel again. The pulpit was empty. ¡°He¡¯s gone.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s gone? What are you talking about?¡± ¡°The Unchained Man. He was here.¡± ¡°Wonderful. Tell me about it later. We¡¯ve got enemy ships incoming.¡± Matthew roused himself from his inaction. As they ran through the park, he took a final look behind him at the old church, knowing it would be the last time he ever laid eyes on it. His eyes traced the decades-old stonework that was so familiar. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. ¡°We¡¯re out of time, Matthew.¡± ¡°Just saying my last goodbye,¡± he said. They ran toward the barracks district. The town was a wreck, first from Abigail and Grace¡¯s rampage, then from the assault of the Swiss Guard as they secured what was left. The power was off on many streets, and the buildings stood silent in the absolute night of the eclipse. Their only light was the bobbing glow of Abigail¡¯s suit lights illuminating the way. Her comm came to life, reminding Matthew to unmute his. ¡°Ground forces, eyes up, an enemy ship is on you from the south.¡± He looked up to the sky, spinning to see the approaching craft. It was distant still, just a speck of light, but well within weapon range. At that moment, there was a flash of fire from the ship as it launched a torpedo. He grabbed his comm. ¡°Yvonne, you better have Svallin¡¯s Mantle up and running.¡± ¡°We do. What¡¯s going? Never mind. I see it. Ground forces, incoming torpedo!¡± It streaked closer. Closer. Surely the miracle would work. Bishop Elias had been confident it was what they needed. The torpedo detonated miles outside of town in a billowing fireball against a flickering field of yellow that sprang up to stop it. The energy from the blast rippled outward against the yellow field before slowly fading. Abigail¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Holy¡­¡± ¡°Now you know what keeps the Vatican safe from attack,¡± Matthew said quietly. She rounded on him. ¡°Wait, they just¡­ They just gave that to you?¡± ¡°Actually, I think it was borrowed for us. Without permission.¡± He made a move to start off toward the ship again when the comm lit up. ¡°All ground forces safely aboard the barge or Sparrow. Just waiting on our two strays.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be there soon,¡± Matthew said. ¡°How you feel about carrying me?¡± he asked Abigail. ¡°If we¡¯re going fast, the piggyback thing won¡¯t work.¡± Matthew smiled wryly. ¡°Bridal carry is fine.¡± She laughed and lifted him from the ground and took off toward the Sparrow in great bounding strides, easily clearing wrecked vehicles and debris from the battle. It wasn¡¯t exactly a gentle ride, and Matthew¡¯s teeth chattered with every landing, but they were covering the blocks much faster than he could on foot. The comm sputtered about another incoming ship and torpedo, but he had faith that Svallin¡¯s Mantle would keep them safe. At least for now. They reached the Sparrow just as the second torpedo detonated in the distance. He looked up at the vertically parked ship. ¡°It¡¯s gonna take some time to climb through the barge. What are the odds you can jump and catch hold of the Sparrow in low gravity?¡± Abigail shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll need free hands, so you¡¯d have to hang on to my back for dear life.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡± She dropped him to his feet, and he pulled a detonator from his pocket. They¡¯d made the decision to make it as hard as possible on Hueso Rojo to repopulate Villa Mar¨ªa. In the bunker that controlled the colonies¡¯ central systems, several small bombs had been planted. Matthew had placed them very carefully to ensure that they would only damage what they wanted to destroy. Much as he would have liked to just blow up the whole thing, the odds that people would be killed when the environmental shield collapsed and exposed the town to near-vacuum was too great. Instead, he¡¯d targeted two specific systems. First, the grav plate hub that controlled local gravity. Second, the water systems. The most complicated part of the farming colonies on Europa were the machinery bored deep under the crust into the ocean miles beneath. Not only did this machinery pull the water up to the colony, it also removed salt and other impurities so that it could be used for drinking and crop irrigation. Without these two systems, it would be exorbitantly expensive to bring in more slaves. The detonator also activated several incendiary devices the Swiss Guard had planted in the fields. The crops would burn to the ground, giving Hueso Rojo little chance to recover anything from Villa Mar¨ªa. He pressed the button on the detonator. They were too far away to hear or feel the explosions, but the grav plates cut at once, reverting the area to natural Europan gravity. Matthew put a hand on Abigail¡¯s metal arm and swung himself around in the low gravity. He pulled himself onto her back and wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡± She ran as best she could, her bounds suddenly taking her dozens of feet at a time, and took a powerful jump. Matthew tried not to even guess how far the upper hatch of the Sparrow was above them. But her leap was enough, carrying them up past the engines and the tail to the top side hull. She reached out and made contact with both palms, and they stopped hard with a jolt. ¡°I can magnetize my hands too,¡± she said smugly. ¡°Neat trick. Get us to the hatch.¡± They finished climbing up the vertical surface. Matthew reached up and opened the top side airlock and swung his legs in. Gravity righted itself in relation to the ship, and he climbed down the ladder, through the remaining two hatches, and into the ship. Several Swiss Guard were now stationed in the common room, keeping an eye on Svallin¡¯s Mantle where it glowed from its case. They saluted as he passed on the way to the cockpit. ¡°Punch it, Yvonne! Let¡¯s go!¡± She hit the throttle to full, ¡°Good to see you too, Matthew. How was your day? I¡¯m fine. Thank you.¡± The roar of the engines rattled through the deck. ¡°You¡¯re taking the controls as soon as we get off the ground. ¡°Fine with me,¡± he said, shooing Grace from the co-pilot¡¯s seat. ¡°She¡¯s scared of getting shot at,¡± Grace explained. ¡°As she should be. There¡¯s no telling how much fire that miracle can absorb before it gives out.¡± She held her bracelet up. ¡°Mine can absorb plenty.¡± ¡°Yours doesn¡¯t stop torpedoes.¡± He frowned as he saw the smooth patch of synthskin beneath her ear. ¡°Or whatever caught you there. Head back to the common room and strap in. If we take damage or catch fire, you¡¯re in charge of helping the Swiss Guard around the ship. She muttered about being shoved around and left the cockpit. Matthew checked their altimeter. ¡°We sure aren¡¯t gaining altitude very quickly.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve picked up over a hundred and fifty-tons worth of human bodies,¡± Yvonne said. ¡°I hope you¡¯re not planning on landing on Ganymede like this because that¡¯s going to be almost impossible. Okay, we¡¯re high enough. Switch seats with me.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll make do.¡± Matthew settled back into the pilot¡¯s seat and checked over the controls. Yvonne wasn¡¯t kidding about the weight. It¡¯s a good thing Europa didn¡¯t have much gravity. ¡°Patrol Craft Alpha and Beta, what¡¯s your status? The Sparrow is pushing for orbit now, but we may need a little assistance.¡± ¡°We see you, Sparrow,¡± came the curt reply. Adjusting heading now. Moving to intercept hostiles.¡± ¡°There¡¯s six of them out there,¡± Yvonne said. ¡°The two closer ones that already fired are adjusting course to intercept again. The other four are waiting in higher orbit.¡± ¡°Going to try and keep us down where we can¡¯t frameshift,¡± he said. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s keep going. We may be able to slip past when the Patrol Craft hit them. Davey are you ready to go?¡± ¡°Thumper is charged and ready. Give me something to shoot at.¡± ¡°If Yvonne paints the target for you, and it wanders into your line of sight, blow it out of the sky.¡± There were a few tense minutes as the Sparrow fought for altitude. It was all Matthew could do to keep himself from shouting at his ship. ¡°Patrol Craft are engaging hostiles in orbit. We¡¯re outnumbered, so we¡¯re going to try and scatter them rather than engage them directly.¡± ¡°Stay safe up there,¡± Yvonne said. ¡°Don¡¯t get yourself killed. Looks like the first two ships are back, they¡¯re not wasting torpedoes this time.¡± She switched one of the monitors to a camera so Matthew could see. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of thumper fire,¡± Matthew said with a whistle. ¡°Davey I¡¯m going to lower my pitch a little, see if I can get you a window. We may not get to orbit quite as fast, but I don¡¯t want to put too much trust in that miracle. Hold on, here comes your shot.¡±
The view from the back turret was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Two ships, nearly two hundred kilometers out, rained thumper fire at them. Roughly twenty-five kilometers away from the Sparrow, the blasts shattered against a glittering golden field that seemed to spring into place to stop each hit. The Sparrow finished rotating and gave Davey the shot he was looking for. He started to return fire. Amazingly, the mantle protecting them let his outgoing fire pass unhindered. He couldn¡¯t even begin to imagine how that metal sphere worked its magic. At first, he tried to eyeball the shots, but the distortion from the thumper fire and yellow energy from the miracle made it hard to see. Then he realized the mistake he was making and looked to his instruments to hone in the shot. The two ships were still at enough range that they would be difficult to hit, especially when they realized their prey was shooting back and started to bob and weave. He gritted his teeth and focused on the leftmost ship. If he could just... ¡°One target hit, Davey,¡± Yvonne said quietly over the comm. ¡°It¡¯s stopped firing its thumper but is still closing rapidly. Looks like they¡¯re going to try and enter the field.¡± ¡°Can they do that?¡± he asked as he switched to the other target. The first had been defanged and could wait for now. ¡°Maybe? I don¡¯t know how it works!¡± Matthew said. ¡°The miracle¡¯s lights are getting pretty faint,¡± Grace said calmly. Time was running out. Davey bit his lip and concentrated on lining up his shots and¡­ ¡°Second target hit hard,¡± Yvonne reported. ¡°They¡¯re losing altitude and trailing smoke. First one is about to pass through the field. And they¡¯re through. They¡¯re firing guns.¡± He tried to get a bead on it, but the way it juked made that hard at close range. He fired a few shots and missed spectacularly. ¡°I don¡¯t see them shooting, Yvonne. What are you seeing?¡± ¡°Canon fire!¡± Matthew shouted. ¡°Physical shells have a little longer flight time. I¡¯m trying to move out of where I think they fired.¡± ¡°Sit still for one second will you¡­¡± Davey muttered. Suddenly one of his shots connected with center mass. The ship had dodged into a thumper blast rather than out of it and been split clean in half. Then the storm of bullets was on them. Stray impacts reverberated through the hull of the ship. Hopefully, the engines didn¡¯t take a hit. They needed them desperately right now. The canopy in front of him shredded as several large-caliber rounds pierced it, tearing the room apart. Davey felt pain lance through his body. Whether he was hit by cannon fire or just shrapnel, he didn¡¯t have a clue. He flipped forward out of his seat as the atmosphere exploded from the room and landed against what was left of the viewport. The wind was knocked from his body. Then all at once, the wind was gone, and it was eerily quiet. He tried to breathe but found that there was nothing left to breathe. His eyes, nose, mouth, everything burned. Instinctively he closed them. So that was it. At least he¡¯d hit the ship before going down. The already quiet universe faded to black.
¡°Davey¡¯s turret hit hard! Pressure lost!¡± Yvonne shouted. Abigail didn¡¯t wait to hear anything else. She ran from the cockpit, thundering past the cabins and through the common room. Grace and the Swiss Guard stumbled out of her way. ¡°Abigail, what¡¯s going on?¡± She ignored Grace. A secondary emergency door had slid shut just past the common room. She lowered her face shield, sealing her own air supply in and overrode it. Air began to hiss through at once and she closed it behind her as soon as she was past it. The door beyond into the Thumper turret had been mangled. It sounded like everyone was shouting in her comm, but she ignored the noise. ¡°Please be okay. Please be okay.¡± The door still worked and slid aside, revealing the destruction beyond. Davey was unconscious, slumped against the bullet-riddled viewport. The turret¡¯s chair had been shorn off. Abigail didn¡¯t waste another second and reached forward and, as gently as she could, took hold of Davey. She ignored that he was bleeding from half a dozen places. She ignored that he¡¯d been exposed to vacuum for at least twenty seconds. If Grace was going to keep her brother, she had to get him out of here. She hugged him to herself with one arm and charged into the corridor to the common room, shutting what was left of the turret door behind her. She opened the emergency door, threw herself past it, and slammed it closed again before much air could vent. The common room erupted with activity as Grace and the Swiss Guard clustered around them. She marched past them straight to Davey¡¯s room, aware that Grace was hovering just behind. ¡°Yvonne! Yvonne! Get back here now!¡± She laid him on the bed and stepped back. It looked bad. Grace looked like she was on the verge of panic. Yvonne entered the room. ¡°Abigail. Get the medical kit. Now. Grace go with her. You don¡¯t want to see this. I said go with her, Grace.¡± Abigail didn¡¯t know how the woman kept her wits about her, but she did her best to obey. Davey¡¯s life depended on it.
Matthew didn¡¯t know exactly what was going on back there, but he could tell from the shouting that Davey was badly hurt. He shut the door to the cockpit. He still needed to concentrate. They were getting close to orbit now. If they could just make it away from Europa, they¡¯d be safe. ¡°Ortega,¡± he called into the comm. ¡°You guys okay in the barge?¡± ¡°The barge took some hits but has kept atmosphere. We¡¯re closing all pressure doors now. In case we take more hits¡­ Well, maybe not everyone has to die.¡± Matthew grimaced. ¡°Understood.¡± ¡°Sparrow, this is Patrol Craft Beta. Alpha has been shot down. We took out one of the cartel ships, but there are still three more.¡± Three on one above them and now the Sparrow had lost its main armament. Time to change the game. ¡°Beta Disengage. Take the first frameshift you can. We¡¯ll take a different route.¡± ¡°Sparrow, are you sure you know¡­¡± ¡°Trust me. I know my bird.¡± He pushed the flight yoke forward, turning the Sparrow from a climb into a dive. Leveling out with his nose pointed several degrees below the horizon that was now a few thousand miles beneath him, the Sparrow began to pick up speed. Europa may not have had a lot of gravity, but now it was working for the Sparrow rather than against it. Thankfully, its atmosphere was even less impressive than its gravity or they would have burnt up pulling this little stunt. Even still, the micro atmosphere would heat their hull as they passed through it. He checked the scopes. Beta had made a retreat, and the three remaining hostiles were trying to react to the Sparrow¡¯s new course. It wouldn¡¯t work. He had too much of a head start. The surface of Europa approached rapidly as the Sparrow used its gravity as a slingshot. His dive took him less than a mile over the icy surface at several thousand miles an hour. Almost at once, the surface began to retreat again as his momentum carried him past Europa and back out into space. One last glance at the scopes showed him what he hoped to see. Pursuers far behind with no hope of catching up. He waited till he hit the required range and activated the frameshift device, feeling the d¨¦j¨¤ vu of the last time he¡¯d been on Europa. ¡°If I ever come back to this moon, it¡¯ll be too soon,¡± he mumbled to himself. Grace slipped into the cockpit and quietly sat beside him. Her tears had turned the dirt from the battle into mud, leaving dark trails across her face. Matthew wanted to ask her how Davey was but didn¡¯t think it wise. Instead, he chose to reassure her. ¡°We¡¯re almost away. We¡¯re heading back to the Vatican now.¡± Deactivating the frameshift, he checked their position and heading and rotated them toward Ganymede. ¡°Yvonne doesn¡¯t want me in there right now,¡± she whispered. Well, that meant he wasn¡¯t dead. Not yet, anyway. ¡°That¡¯s probably for the best.¡± He glanced at her and saw that her hand had reached up to her own small injury. ¡°Hang in there, Grace. It¡¯s almost over.¡± The frameshift finished recharging and he activated it. Ganymede was only a few seconds away. He thought about calling Abigail for an update on Davey. Something, anything. But with Grace still here, he¡¯d have to wait. The frameshift deactivated automatically in proximity to Ganymede. Jupiter¡¯s largest moon hung in front of them. He looked at the scopes and felt his heart drop. Three very familiar ships were out there and already adjusting course to intercept. ¡°No,¡± he said quietly. ¡°How did they know¡­¡± A fourth ship, Patrol Craft Beta, popped onto the scope, several thousand miles distant. That was it. They¡¯d recognized the Swiss Guard ships. They knew they¡¯d head back to Ganymede and cut them off. Matthew thought about turning around, but their momentum had already taken them too close to Ganymede. They¡¯d never get far enough away before the cartel ships caught them. Grace looked at the scopes and slumped into her seat. ¡°Is this it? Is there any way to escape them?¡± He didn¡¯t answer. No, there wasn¡¯t any escape. And with the lights on Svallin¡¯s Mantle already fading, they wouldn¡¯t be able to force their way through. He turned on the comm and set it to a cross-frequency distress signal. Worst-case scenario maybe he could detach the barge and lead the ships away. Someone would find them before they ran out of air. Probably. ¡°This is SPW 5840. Anyone that can hear this, please respond. We¡¯ve got over two thousand souls on board, and we¡¯re being engaged by hostile ships. Repeat, this is SPW 5840¡­¡±
Cardinal Bishop Elias had loitered all day near the Vatican Security Center. He had spent most of the day in prayer, pacing the hall back and forth. He had grown rather impatient in his age, a sin that he was ashamed of. If Matthew and Commandant Ortega were to be successful in their operation, he wanted to be the first to know. If it went poorly? He still wanted to be the first to know. Many hours into his vigil, the door to the security center opened, and Lieutenant Colonel Gordon stuck his head out. ¡°Your eminence, you need to hear this.¡± If Elias were younger, he would have bowled past the officer. He heard what he¡¯d been dreading as soon as he entered the dimly lit room full of computer screens. ¡°...ve got over two thousand souls on board, and we¡¯re being engaged by hostile ships. Repeat¡­¡± ¡°Can we help them?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve already deployed our last two patrol craft. They won¡¯t get there in time.¡± Elias sank to his knees. This wasn¡¯t how this was supposed to end. All those people. Gordon continued undeterred ¡°Your eminence. The hostile ships are in range. We could deploy the Horsemen¡­¡± He looked up at the Colonel. ¡°What? Yes, of course, do it! What are you waiting for!¡± ¡°I needed authorization from a high church official,¡± Gordon explained. ¡°Once we deploy the Horsemen, the secret is out of the bag.¡± ¡°Do it. Two thousand lives are on the line. I¡¯ll deal with any consequences myself.¡± Gordon gave the order and turned back to Elias. ¡°If you¡¯d like to join me, I¡¯d rather like to see this. They took an elevator to the roof. At each of the four corners of the Vatican stood a tall stone tower. Within each of these towers was a thumper, the largest and most powerful ones ever built. In fact, the Four Horsemen as they were called, were the longest-range projectile weapons ever devised by man. The Vatican had commissioned them in secret decades ago from the grav plate factory on Ganymede with technical assistance from the university. They, along with Svallin¡¯s Mantle, had laid in wait until called upon. Elias could only see two of the towers from their current position, but he could see their tops open up, and long barrels extend from their depths. Once deployed, the barrels slowly tracked an unseen target far above. Elias whispered another prayer for good measure.
Thumper fire began to pepper the protective field. Matthew didn¡¯t know how much longer it would last. He imagined that the golden flicker was already losing its strength. Any second now, one would pierce through. When that happened, Matthew would drop the barge and engage them head-on. ¡°SPW 5840, this is Vatican Tower Control. Do not alter your course in any way. We wouldn¡¯t want you to get caught in the crossfire.¡± Matthew frowned at the speaker. ¡°Acknowledged, Vatican. Mind telling me what¡¯s about to happen?¡± ¡°Enjoy the show.¡± ¡°What was that about?¡± Grace asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Keep the scopes on the hostiles.¡± Matthew saw it with his naked eye. From the surface, a massive distortion moved at unbelievable speed. It seemed to slice all of space apart as it tore through the first of the ships. As the blast passed near them, Matthew could feel the pull of its immense gravity, like a sudden drop that made your stomach turn. It was gone in an instant. He looked back to the scopes and couldn¡¯t even spot a debris field from the first ship. ¡°Whoa,¡± Grace said, jaw-dropping. ¡°What was that?¡± ¡°Your guess is as good as mine. I think that was a thumper, but I¡¯ve never heard of anything remotely on that scale before. Look. There it is again.¡± The second shot streaked through their vision. The space-time bubble annihilated the second cartel ship in the blink of an eye. This time Matthew had a better look at it. It wasn¡¯t just one shot. It was several fired in unison all converging at a single point. The final cartel ship had turned to flee, but its fate was sealed as the guns of the Vatican turned it into space dust with a final reality-warping barrage. Grace squealed in delight. Matthew took his hat off and laid it on the console. His hand shook a little as his adrenaline crashed. He took a deep breath. If Yvonne was to be believed, landing this thing was going to be quite the trick. He wasn¡¯t even going to have the benefit of landing it on disabled grav plates like she had on Europa. Maybe he could call ahead and have them work something out with local gravity. He took a deep breath and set them on a course for the Vatican. The comm crackled to life. ¡°SPW 5840, you have clear skies and authorization to land. Welcome home.¡±
By the time the Sparrow landed at the Vatican, Davey¡¯s condition had begun to stabilize. Abigail looked at the kid in pity and shook her head. Fortunately, he hadn¡¯t been hit by any gunfire. Humans don¡¯t survive getting hit by thirty-millimeter cannon rounds. Instead, he¡¯d been pierced by shrapnel and glass, then exposed to rapid depressurization and hard vacuum. But the human body can be remarkably resilient. He was lucky to be alive at all, that was for sure. It also helped that Yvonne had years of experience in treating trauma injuries. Davey was going to need a lot more care, but the hospital in the Vatican would be far more equipped than the Sparrow was for that sort of thing. Which meant they would probably be staying for a while. They allowed Grace back into the room, and she wouldn¡¯t leave his side even when the paramedics arrived. She and Yvonne followed them to the hospital. Sometime later, when the barge had been released and the Sparrow landed more properly beside it, the ship was quiet for the first time in what felt like days. Abigail tried to clean up the blood that had inevitably ended up all over Davey¡¯s room, but it was going to take some time. Matthew finally emerged from the cockpit and walked past her. ¡°Where are you going?¡± He motioned toward the ladder. ¡°Topside. Care to join me?¡± When she climbed out of the hatch, he already sat on an outcropping of the hull. It was night on Ganymede, and the city was illuminated with golden lights. It gave the place a warm and welcoming feel. Abigail joined him, and without thinking, opened her suit and crawled out of it. She silently accepted the hand Matthew offered to her and sat beside him. She always felt so small when she was out of her armor, but then maybe that was the truth of it. It was a big solar system, and there were a lot of people out there. She wasn¡¯t really all that big in the grand scheme of things. Not even when weighed against the lives of those they¡¯d saved. They¡¯d all decided to risk everything, and Davey had very nearly given his life for them. Matthew was uncharacteristically quiet. He was never much of a talker, but then, unless he had a book in his hand, he wasn¡¯t going to ignore you either. She decided to break the ice. ¡°Nice view up here.¡± He nodded once. ¡°Peaceful after all the chaos.¡± He pulled something out from under his poncho. Abigail frowned. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°A piece of a miracle. The Anemoi. Whitaker gave it to me.¡± ¡°Are we calling him that again?¡± she asked. ¡°I seem to remember you saying that wasn¡¯t his name.¡± ¡°If he thinks I¡¯m going to call him The Unchained Man or some other nonsense in a serious conversation, he¡¯s kidding himself. Whitaker will do until someone wrings his real name out of him.¡± He gave her the highpoints of his bizarre conversation with Whitaker, and they sat in silence for several minutes as she processed it all. ¡°Funny thing is, it makes sense from a certain perspective.¡± He didn¡¯t look too happy at that. ¡°We¡¯re not playing his game, Abigail.¡± ¡°Why not? We¡¯ve apparently been playing it for months. Better a willing participant than a dupe. Besides.¡± She elbowed him in the side, and he frowned at her. ¡°How are we going to avoid him?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll instruct Benny not to accept jobs from him.¡± ¡°Then he¡¯ll just adopt a new persona or form a new shell company and hire us anyway.¡± She reached over and took the Anemoi from his hands. ¡°You said this was the Eurus, the East Wind? Tell me about it.¡± He frowned in the dim light. ¡°I had to read up on the Greek god. There aren¡¯t many mentions of him. But the wind itself in literature is often a harbinger of change.¡± His hesitated for a moment. ¡°And sometimes destruction.¡± She traced a finger along the round outer edge of the miracle. ¡°And what if it does lead to Moses?¡± ¡°He¡¯s gone, Abigail.¡± ¡°It leads to something then. It¡¯s a compass. If Whitaker is so intent on finding whatever this is, maybe it would be better if we were there with him. I don¡¯t think we want lost technology falling into his hands.¡± Matthew grunted and leaned back. ¡°You may have a point there, I guess. We¡¯ll keep our eyes open. Ask around. Maybe if we find the other pieces, we¡¯ll at least have some leverage over him.¡± The conversation drifted away into the cool Ganymede night. Overhead Jupiter stood its eternal vigil, casting light upon the millions of people that took shelter on its moons. Here on Ganymede were a few thousand newly freed souls. In the shadow of Europa waited nearly a million more. For now, they were beyond the help of the Sparrow. It was for that reason alone that Abigail decided they would hunt for the Anemoi. If there was a chance it could change the fortunes of mankind, it would be worth it. The people of Europa were waiting, and, without a change of fate, they would never be free. Matthew would come around to her point of view. He always came around when people needed him. It was what drew them to him. What drew her to him. And Whitaker was right. Matthew had a marvelous knack for doing the impossible. Abigail¡¯s job was making sure he didn¡¯t get himself killed in the process. ¡°So what will happen to the refugees?¡± she asked. Matthew scratched his stubble. ¡°Well, some may have homes to go back to elsewhere in the solar system. Others, especially the original citizen of Villa Mar¨ªa, won¡¯t be so lucky.¡± She turned to him. ¡°I know that tone of voice. You¡¯ve got an idea.¡± His eyes flicked to her and then back to the city in front of them. ¡°The beginning of one. If Whitaker wants me to be the East Wind, I¡¯m going to have to start somewhere.¡± She looked at him expectantly when he didn¡¯t continue. ¡°You can¡¯t just leave me hanging.¡± He laughed. ¡°Fine. Here¡¯s what I was thinking¡­¡± As he told her, she felt a smile begin to creep across her face. It was just a beginning. And it would take a long time to build up the inertia to really change things. But it was the start of something new. The first new thing that had happened in the solar system in a long time.