A Sol of Ends and Beginnings, Part 9
The settlement formerly known as Beck - Sol 663
Morning in Beck on Sol 663, 2039 began like any other. Clara’s alarm stirred her out of her dreamless sleep. Her hand lazily slapped the clock to turn off the alarm. She had set it for what would have been the most ridiculous time back on Earth, but it made sense for Mars time. But she did have to adjust it every three sols so it didn’t get too out of sync. Today was supposed to be the day to do so. But instead, she tossed it into a waiting suitcase.
Dorothy’d say I’m clinging to the past far too much. But a girl can hope, can she?
For the last time, she went through her daily routine. She changed into her clothes, then put the rest of her outfits in her suitcase. After that, she made herself breakfast. Today, she made toast. The bread was going to go stale anyways. After that, she hand washed and dried her plates and pans as best as she could, then wrapped them in a layer of protective paper and gently packed them away. The remaining space in her suitcase was used for her remaining belongings. There weren’t many. That done, she put on her shoes, picked up her suitcase and left her residence for the last time. The door slid shut behind her and locked. The sound was the same as it always had been, but today it also took on a feeling of…finality.
She decided to take one final sweep around Nyby. There were fewer people out in public, but there were plenty of movers waiting outside her neighbors’ doors. Nearly every store in the commercial area was empty. Some were closed. Others put up signs for special promotions and giveaways. A few had even started packing up their wares. It was the same in the community center. There were no kids playing on the playgrounds today. No seniors doing exercises on the lawn. No musicians playing folksongs and pop music from old Earth. Smoke was rising from the nearby government building as bureaucrats worked to burn anything they couldn’t take. And then…she averted her eyes and looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact with the imperial patrols standing on every block.
Damn Austrians, acting like you already own the place… There was nothing left to see but a rapidly emptying shell of what had been her home for the last 21 years. It really was over.
---
Imperial troops patrolled the streets of Beck’s neighborhoods. Imperial administrators had begun moving into government offices. Symbols of the old regime were being taken down. Old UN flags laid abandoned in the streets, trampled and crushed under the treads of imperial tanks.
The situation room had been hastily cleaned up. The bodies were removed and the injured were given treatment. Now it played host to one final session of the UN government. Murad, Livia, and the surviving leaders of the UN and Demofed sat on one side of the table. Julius, Gebhard, and several imperial government officials sat on the other. Despite the equal number of representatives from both sides to give the appearance of fairness, all of the power was on the side of the newly proclaimed Holy Terran Empire.
So it was strange that Julius, the victor, was proposing the terms that he just did.
“Could you repeat your terms?” Murad said. “I’m not sure I got them.”
“I propose the following. Amnesty for all UN soldiers and government officials. Full citizenship for all UN civilians. The integration of United Nations governing bodies and institutions into the imperial government, with current leadership kept in charge. Noble titles for the officer corps and highest ranking political officials. And finally…exile from this planet on the ARC ships for anybody who does not wish to live under imperial rule.”
“My lord, please reconsider!” one general said. “What you suggest amounts to a capitulation! It would not even be a victory like with Mangala!”
“We should have all of their leaders brought to justice and executed!” Higa suggested.
“You are undermining my authority as the Holy Terran Emperor,” Julius said, “I am the sole ruler of Mars now, and I alone may decide what to do with my vanquished foes. Yesterday, as I set out from the hangars of Olympus Base, I believed that the conquest of UNAP would be short and swift, with no effort needed. I was proven wrong.”
“Lies!” Gebhard said. “You are never wrong, my lord!”
“But I was,” Julius said, “I underestimated my enemy’s resilience, their commitment to their beliefs, and the strength of their convictions. As a result, my men suffered heavier casualties than expected. Most of all, I…”
He winced as he remembered Angelica, then shook away his discomfort.
“No, I must find a cause for celebration in that tragedy,” he pushed on, “The Valkyrie of Alençon was a splendid soul, brimming with fire. She served me loyally for 21 years. She was the closest thing I ever had to a mother, actually. For her to actually be bested in battle…no, I don’t feel rage towards those who killed her. Her final opponent was her first and only worthy challenger in her many years of service. For providing her with such an opponent and letting her conclude her service in such a glorious manner, you have my respect.”
“We are sorry for your loss,” Murad said.
“I accept your condolences,” Julius said, “I know you didn’t mean to, and you didn’t know. We were at war, and you were only doing what any leader would. It is in the past now. What matters is building the future.”
“Those are your terms, huh?” Livia said.
“The best I can do,” Julius said, “I cannot give you back your land, otherwise all of yesterday’s fighting will have been for nothing. I will be lenient enough to let you serve me with as little change from your previous institutions as possible. Either that, or you may leave Mars entirely and settle wherever you want. You may even go back to Earth if you choose. We will not target your ARC ships or your new settlements, as long as you take
only ARC ships and the required atmospheric shuttles. All other ships are off-limits.”
I can’t have them pulling another Phobos Base on me.
“And why should we trust you?” Murad said. “You turned on UNAP and started this whole mess. People here have taken to calling it the ‘Great Betrayal’.”
“I gain nothing from killing the rest of you. My troops have taken this planet, and you have no hope of taking it back. All paths of victory for you have now vanished. I hold all of the cards and could crush you all as easily as I can crush a rock with the Sigurd’s fist. Yet I extend a show of mercy. You can pledge your loyalty to me, and I shall welcome you with open arms with all sins forgiven, as if you were always a loyal imperial citizen. If you cannot do that, I will permit you to leave Mars and never come back. Return to Terra and try to rebuild your old nations.”
Though that might present issues when I inevitably return there. Got to fulfill Angelica’s final wish, and there are plenty of survivors to add to our ranks. “You could go to the UNAP facilities on Venus, Europa, or Ganymede. Or you could try your luck with the ARC ships’ database and strike out for any of the habitable worlds listed there. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find the perfect planet to rebuild UNAP on, far away from poor old me. Either way, you’ll either enjoy a prosperous life as an imperial citizen or be free to reestablish UNAP on another world you can entirely call your own. It’s your choice. The least I could do is honor it. It’s what Lady Neumann would have wanted.”
“Do I have your word in writing?” Murad pointed at the documents placed in front of him.
“You may consult the terms if you wish and propose changes if they are not suitable,” Julius said, “There is also a chance someone in my delegation may have changed the terms to be extremely punitive. If so, let me know. I will revert them and have the offender executed.”
Some of the imperial delegates started nervously sweating.
“Of course, the one thing I will not compromise on is the end of the United Nations Aerospace Program’s Mars Colonial Administration and the Democratic Federation of Mars. They will cease to exist as independent governments. Yet they will live on in some way. The Mars Colonial Administration’s institutions will be preserved, only integrated into the imperial government. It will still retain the territories it controlled until yesterday, but as an imperial province. New Normandy, I’ve decided to call it.”
After Angelica’s home. “Beck shall be renamed as Valkyries’ Rest, to honor the memories of both of our autoritter champions.”
“Is this supposed to placate me after my people got conquered?” Murad said.
“Placate you or not, that is for you to decide,” Julius said, “I merely state reality. Your feelings will not change it. Now, shall we discuss adjustments to the treaty?”
Murad nodded. “Very well. Are you ready, President Ochimeca?”
“Yes, of course.” Livia put on a brave face.
---
The conference concluded, and the delegates from both sides left the situation room, heading back to their lodgings. The former UN government were allowed to return to their current residences on their own terms, with their own escorts. It wasn’t that Julius trusted them to not attempt to escape. Rather, he didn’t trust his own men to not take the opportunity to massacre them once nobody was looking.
Just like Ehrenfried did when… Oh, right. Knight Ehrenfried. Just thinking about that man and his gleeful murderous grin made him want to puke. And he had seen his fair share of crazy maniacs over the course of his life. No doubt he was being sent back to Olympus now to await judgment. He should probably check in.
He stopped outside the room. “Knight Commander Remmele.”
“Yes, my lord?” Gebhard appeared and saluted.
The two of them walked down the hallway. “Inform me of Knight Ehrenfried’s status.”
“Knight Ehrenfried?” Gebhard said. “Who’s that?”
“Knight Gotzelo Ehrenfried,” Julius said, “He commanded the squad of autoritter pilots that assisted me in the final conquest of Beck. I had him detained and sent back to Olympus for a court martial.”
“Yes, I am familiar with all that,” Gebhard said, “I know you had an autoritter squad with you during the operation, but I was looking over the roster and…”
“And what?” Julius was starting to get suspicious.
“There was never any autoritter knight named Gotzelo Ehrenfried,” Gebhard said, “I searched the whole database going back to the first recruits Lady Neumann trained. No record of any Gotzelo Ehrenfried there. No record of any tampering either.”
“But I saw him!” Julius said, his voice rising. “
You saw the bodies! The destruction! He was right next to me! He was going to slaughter UNAP’s leaders before I stopped him! How could he just
not exist after what he did?”
“My lord, I don’t doubt your memory,” Gebhard said, “I wholeheartedly believe you. I saw the footage as well. But it’s extremely suspicious that a man like him isn’t present in our database. He could have easily assassinated you, and we wouldn’t have been able to track him down.”
“We have videos and photos with his face!” Julius took out a tablet and checked the Presidency’s security footage from yesterday. Just as he thought, it hadn't been altered in any way. “See? That’s him right there! Ehrenfried!”
Gebhard nodded. “Right you are.”
“So where is he, right now?” Julius said.
“He is…” Gebhard checked a tablet. “Oh.”
“What do you mean
oh?”
“He…disappeared from his holding cell.”
“What?! Who let him out?”
Gebhard bowed his head. “Forgive me, my lord, we don’t know who, the electronic lock didn’t even register any deactivation, the cameras were turned off, and the guards have no idea—”
Julius slammed a fist against the wall. “GODDAMNIT! This man complicates my plan to Deimos and back, has the
utter nerve to say he was acting in
my interest behind my back, he up and leaves his cell, and seemingly
EVERYBODY WATCHING HIM WAS IN ON IT?! Why are my own subjects harder to keep under control than goddamn UNAP?!”
“If I may offer my own analysis, sir,” Gebhard said, “It appears there may be elements within the Reich that are…not as conciliatory as you are. I don’t know what their aims may be, but…”
“They’re traitors,” Julius said, “I can understand UNAP’s resistance. They were just trying to protect their homes and lives. I can respect that. But these people they call imperial subjects…how dare they call themselves that yet work to undermine my will. They are even worse than UNAP.”
“Makes you wonder how many others like him are out there,” Gebhard said.
Julius racked his brain, dwelling on that. Gebhard had a point. Ehrenfried’s lack of existence in the military database couldn’t have been pulled off by him alone. He had to have had help from others. If Ehrenfried’s goal was the total destruction of UNAP and all of Julius’ enemies, as the man himself said, then maybe there were others who wanted the same thing. And if he analyzed the events of yesterday, some pieces started falling into place. There were a few irregularities before and during the battle he had previously ignored, because they had all been in his and the Reich’s favor. But looking back, it seemed his victory had been
too clean.
Demofed’s President Ochimeca had stormed out of accession talks with UNAP, allegedly because of disputes over the fine print in the terms. Yet Ochimeca and Secretary-General Mozaffar looked like they got along very well and would have found some common ground. Mozaffar had even denied inserting those terms. His experience with today’s negotiations implied he probably wasn’t the only one who got a treaty changed under his nose. Had the talks gone through, perhaps the Democratic Federation’s military forces could have better coordinated their counterattack with UNAP. He probably would have still beaten both of them, but it would have taken much longer.
Speaking of Demofed’s military, those automated defenses had all miraculously failed, along with their backups, just prior to the imperial assault. He had been planning for high casualty rates as his autoritters broke through the outer defensive lines, but their failure allowed him to cross the border with no casualties at all, delivering half of Demofed into his hands within hours.
Even without the automated defenses, Beck and Piddletown would have learned of the invasion via Concordia’s early warning system. That was why he disabled Concordia with the micrometeorites and soldiers. The problem was that
Concordia should have noticed them in advance. It was an
early warning system after all. The satellites, originally Indian spy satellites from the Cold War, primarily monitored the surface, but they also had sensors looking
the other way, precisely to prevent such a scenario.
Fraternity’s vast sensor arrays would have also covered any blindspots in Concordia’s own defenses. So for not only every single Concordia satellite but also all of
Fraternity’s sensors to fail simultaneously in a way that would blind Concordia to the approaching micrometeorites and his own men was certainly not a coincidence. He had expected at least a few men to be spotted and force him to move up his schedule accordingly. But they disabled the entire network without being detected, allowing the surprise attack to be perfectly executed. There was no such thing as a perfect attack, in his book.
He also didn’t order the venting of Ramanujan Station. Yes, there were Mangalan military holdouts in that station, having refused to acknowledge the surrender of the Indian Commune Party leadership in Mangala Base. Yes, he sent troops to suppress them and take back the station. Located at the end of the Mariner Valley, insurgents could easily use the local terrain to their advantage, raiding the surrounding settlements and returning to their hiding places in the valley. Julius would have to keep troops permanently stationed in Mangala as a result. But sometime in the evening before his invasion of UNAP, Ramanujan Station suffered a sudden and total loss of atmosphere. Its main habitat dome had been cracked. Army analysts found the damage had been caused by an autoritter’s mine. Whatever the case, atmosphere was immediately lost on the surface. The underground portion of Ramanujan Station—the main part of the station—initially survived due to activating its emergency airlocks and reestablishing a seal. Then
those airlocks exploded, and then the backup ones on the next level, and then the ones
below that, until every single emergency airlock at every single level had failed. Everybody in Ramanujan Station—both insurgents and civilians—would have gotten their hopes raised by the emergency airlocks activating, only to have them dashed seconds later with yet more inexplicable sabotage, giving them barely enough time to get messages of goodbye out to loved ones in UNAP and Demofed. But the elimination of that threat in such a brutal and definitive manner would strike fear into the hearts of other would-be Mangalan loyalists, deterring future insurgencies and allowing Julius to commit his entire army to the invasion.
Finally, there was the matter of what Angelica and Dorothy had called a joust. The circumstances of how it ended were unclear. It was well documented what had happened. The Roland’s left knee joint had suffered a critical failure and exploded, tearing off the entire lower left leg, throwing off the Roland’s balance and allowing Angelica to deliver a fatal blow to Dorothy. But the exact sequence of events was suspicious. Three things came to mind. First, the timing. That joint could have exploded at any time. Yet it had exploded exactly half a second after the Durendal’s plasma had cut Angelica’s sword in half, such that the Roland’s loss of balance and fall forward perfectly moved Dorothy’s body into range of Angelica’s newly cut sword. Had the joint not exploded, that sword would not have reached Dorothy’s body, and Angelica would have been the only one who died that day. Second, there was the explosion itself. While recovering the Balmung, he had personally inspected the remains of the Roland before UNAP took it away. There was nothing in the machinery of the joint that could possibly have caused an explosion. The electrical components could have shorted out. The moving parts could have locked up or sheared off. The circuits could have glitched and stopped registering inputs. But there was
nothing in the design which could have done what he saw.
If I didn’t know any better and watched the footage for the first time, I’d have concluded it was caused by a shoulder-fired rocket. Short-range, low power, fired from behind Dorothy, so it wouldn’t be seen by her, Angelica, or anybody else or raise too many eyebrows when reviewing the footage. Shoulder-mounted rocket launchers are standard issue infantry weapons, so nobody would bat an eye if they were checked out of an armory. They were designed for use by one person. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone from my side struck out into no man’s land and fired a rocket at the Roland’s knee to ensure Dorothy’s death, then blended back into the ranks when it was over, reporting the missing rocket as being fired in the main battle. The perfect crime. It still brings up a couple more questions: how did our murderer figure out the perfect moment to fire so that Dorothy gets skewered on Angelica’s sword, and how many others in their unit were covering for them? No soldier gets to wander off from the battlefield without the knowledge and approval of their commanding officer.
And then there was Knight Gotzelo Ehrenfried. The more he thought about it, the more it felt like Ehrenfried’s main objective was not to take Beck. That was what he said he wanted to do and what they ultimately did. But there was too much suspicious about him. The way he urged Julius to keep moving and commit to the assault before thinking it through. The way he rushed through to Central Authority and didn’t give Julius a chance to slow down. The way he remained enthusiastic and motivated even after he should have heard Angelica’s last words. Any other emperor could have dismissed that all as youthful energy and impatience. But in light of what he had deduced about the joint and the true reason for its failure, he arrived at another conclusion.
Ehrenfried intentionally kept him away from Angelica and prevented him from intervening.
But that didn’t match up with the motive he had assumed so far. If everything this little conspiracy had done was to make his conquest much easier, then why kill Angelica? That seemingly ran counter to the assumed goal of ensuring his victory. Unless…that wasn’t the only thing. Maybe there was a certain condition that came with that victory. A certain condition that had no room for Angelica.
Angelica’s loss had already profoundly affected not only him but the Holy Terran Empire and its people at large. Just yesterday, her death had caused the entire battle to grind to a halt. If not for Dorothy’s own death, the UN could have pushed them all the way back to the border in a concentrated counterattack. There were massive outpourings of grief in the major settlements. Against his will, the duel had been broadcast live on public TV screens in every settlement, and millions had turned out to watch their hero fight. Now those millions were crying, sobbing, praying, lighting candles, and demanding vengeance. Morale may have plummeted to record lows, but no doubt the despair would give way to rage. Maybe that’s what this conspiracy wanted, to keep the public angry and full of hate against UNAP’s people for taking their hero away from them.
But there were other aspects and dynamics to think about. Angelica was involved in many internal political struggles within the government and the military. The autoritter and tank divisions had a fierce rivalry that extended to the top, with the former under his and Angelica’s control and the latter under the nobility’s. Angelica’s death would tip the balance in favor of the tanks; there was a very good chance he could be forced to mothball the autoritters by the end of the next Mars year, and he wouldn’t have a good justification for keeping them around now that the war was over and the bulk of military action would be limited to patrols inside cramped settlements.
Next, a growing divide between nobles and commoners. After years of decline on Earth due to the growth of the civilian government, the nobility gained a new life on Mars. The remains of the civilian government was now effectively folded into the nobility at this point, as was a good percentage of the officer corps, though not out of a conscious effort on anyone’s part. Angelica, as a commoner handpicked to by Julius’ guardian and retainer by Empress Eva herself, proved the nobility’s biggest enemy and a champion of the commoners. Unlike many of those stuck-up nobles, Angelica knew her way around politics, running circles around them for 21 years. Her death would mean the commoners lost their biggest advocate. The most powerful noble families would now start squabbling among themselves over which of them would become his next patron. Whoever that was certainly would not be as competent at advising as Angelica.
Perhaps they think they can control me like that. Is that another reason they wanted to remove her? Not only to replace her with an incompetent puppeteer who would themselves be a puppet, but also to remove the one person who could figure them out?
Finally, there was the personal aspect. There was the obvious: losing the closest person he had to a mother could have sent him into a rage and spurred him to demand proportionate retribution from UNAP.
Fits into the “weakening and demonizing UNAP” motive like with the public sentiment. People are generally easier to lead astray when they’re blinded by rage, especially after losing someone so close to them. On the more subtle and long-term side, he made a lot of questionable decisions as a child and teenager that she prevented from being far worse. He wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t make more questionable decisions in the future. Without her to keep him on the path she wanted, what other path would he take?
“Every time an Anniona is born, God flips a coin.” We’re either born brilliant or crazy. I thought I was one of the brilliant ones. Turns out…I’m the rare one who’s both. Perhaps the conspiracy would like to take advantage of my mental state. But what would they achieve from that? Making me a puppet? For what goal? Money? Control? Influence? I don’t know enough about these people to figure that out yet. I need more information.
But he had gotten enough to start piecing things together. There was a conspiracy within the military and government, whose goal was to ensure the Reich’s victory over UNAP with as few casualties as possible. To that end, they engineered several events that benefited imperial forces on both a tactical and strategic level. Yet they also wanted to weaken the imperial government in a certain way, by removing Julius’ strongest and most powerful supporters, making him a puppet, and making his puppeteers puppets themselves. Thus, the elimination of Angelica, her replacement by less competent nobles in both the political and military spheres, and her martyrdom would keep the people enraged, divided, and focused on the wrong enemy. According to their plan, the entire Reich, with a nearly intact military maintained at wartime levels, would be delivered into their hands. It seemed like the perfect plan, one that had gone off without a hitch.
They were wrong.
“My lord?” Gebhard said. “You there?”
Julius blinked. It had only been one second since he had begun his analysis, yet it felt longer in his head.
“Yes, thank you for your concern, Knight Commander Remmele,” Julius said.
“What should we do next, sir?”
Julius looked at the older general. “You are not to discuss this with anybody I have not approved to know. We are up against an enemy with vast resources and influence amassed under our noses. We must make them believe we don’t know they exist, all the while gathering our pieces and planning our counterattack.”
“Of course, my lord.”
They assumed Julius wouldn’t notice anything. They assumed he would go along with it. They assumed he could be brought to heel. They assumed they could follow their plan exactly to the letter.
But Julius knew there was no such thing as a perfect victory.
They think they’ve already won, but don’t be mistaken. No plan is 100% foolproof. You can only minimize the chance of failure. The guns may have fallen silent, but a new war in the shadows is about to begin. There is only one man fit to rule Mars, and I am him. They will rue the day they made an enemy of me, the Ironblood Emperor. Eva, Angelica…watch over me. It looks like my fight isn’t over just yet.
---
With the negotiations done—having ended in exactly the way Julius wanted—the UN delegation returned to their quarters, escorted by their surviving bodyguards. Murad’s wheelchair clacked over the pavement as he and Livia exited the Presidency for one of the last times. Every time the wheels went over a rock or groove, he felt his leg wound flaring up again. His face winced. “Ow!” he instinctively grunted.
“Sorry, Secgen.” Livia slowed down her pushing. “I was going too fast.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Murad said, “I can handle it.”
“Anybody ever say you’re too nice sometimes?” Livia said.
“Maybe that’s why we lost,” Murad said.
“Don’t say that,” Livia said, “That’s what keeps us human. Even if we lost on Mars, Julius still gave us a chance to rebuild somewhere else. And once we do…”
“We can come back?” Murad said. “What’s the point of fighting over a dessicated rock if the Gabriel ship’s database has plenty of habitable worlds we can go to? You know, I say we just take everyone who wants to leave and make for one of those systems. We don’t need to come back to Mars.” He clenched his fist. “Once we get strong enough, we can sweep away those neofeudal fascists and go straight to Earth.” His expression softened. “But make no mistake, we can’t stoop to their level. I have no intention of sacrificing the ideas we fought so hard to protect. Otherwise all our efforts will be for nothing.”
“Right,” Livia said, “So does that mean you’re going to take Julius’ deal?”
“Does it look like we're going to get a better one?” Murad said. “It’s a miracle he gave us that much. I don’t know what got into him. He has us dead to rights, and he knows it. You heard him in there—he could’ve easily slaughtered us all at any point, and there would have been nothing we could do about it.”
“Typical Annionas,” Livia said, “Always flipflopping between competence and insanity.”
“Somehow, I don’t think this is one of those insane moments,” Murad said, “Did he appear crazy to you in there?”
“If anything, the generals around him were the crazy ones.” Livia gritted her teeth. “They said exactly what we thought Julius would say.”
“In any case, it’s no longer our problem,” Murad said, “Best case scenario, those generals take out Julius in a few months over their disagreements and the whole empire explodes in a civil war. We’ve got an evacuation to preside over.”
Obviously, Murad couldn’t go up to
Fraternity until his leg healed. They weren’t in a rush, either. Launches were incredibly rough on the human body, despite refinements in the propulsion tech, but it was best not to risk launching anybody who was injured or a child if they weren’t in an emergency. He would stay and oversee the evacuation of the UNAP settlements, then ride one of the last shuttles up to
Fraternity. “Yes, I’ve got a long road ahead of me. But I hope you’ll walk it with me, President Ochimeca.”
“You needn’t ask,” Livia said, “Even if our two governments no longer exist, we can still work together to build the next one.”
“Thank you,” Murad said, “I know I can count on you.”
And it couldn’t hurt to start working out a line of succession. Murad was getting old, and the effects of lower gravity had done a number on his body, even with the recommended level of physical exercise and vitamin supplements. He probably didn’t have that many more years ahead of him. Livia, though, was much younger, and she could take over from him if anything happened. Despite their disagreements, Murad was confident she would at least carry on the UN’s ideals.
They reached Central’s residential area. A small crowd had gathered on the streets, around one of the few intact trees. When they noticed Murad, they instantly flocked around him. His bodyguards, fearing Austrian assassins lurking among them, raised their rifles and pushed them back. It would have been futile—word of the treaty’s signing had spread by now, which meant he and everybody else in the UN had absolutely no power—but the crowd, whether out of respect for Murad or past habits, held itself back, to everyone’s relief. At least physically, though.
“Mr. Secretary-General!”
“Hey Secgen!”
“Is it true you signed the treaty?”
“What’s going to happen to us?”
“Please tell us everything’s going to be alright!”
Murad looked at Livia. “Could you move me closer to the tree?”
“Sure.” Livia pushed him closer, revealing the makeshift memorial that had sprung up around it. It was like the memorial irminsuls in Saxonia, but Murad had never seen so many offerings, prayer slips, flags, and shrines crammed around the roots and hanging from the branches. He could barely see the bark underneath everything. Among the myriad photos remembering missing or lost friends and family members, one particular face popped up far more frequently—Dorothy with her cocky smile, posing in her lab. There was nothing special about this particular tree. Memorials to Dorothy had been spontaneously appeared at trees all over Beck. Dorothy’s own body wasn’t even buried here. It had been sent up to
Fraternity in a climate-controlled vacuum coffin, so it wouldn’t decay. It was up to her next of kin—or rather, the two individuals closest to her, namely that doctor handler of hers and Murad’s own aide—to decide what to do with it. From what he had discussed with them, it felt a little too early to begin funeral preparations. It was likely they would just hold a service, store the body somewhere on
Fraternity, and then bury Dorothy on whatever planet they landed on. Regardless of the details, the people were in mourning. These were dark times. Their last and best hope for freedom was gone. UNAP and Demofed had fallen. The Austrians were marching through their streets. Thousands were dead, including Dorothy. Despair had gripped them, and they needed someone to pull them out of their slump. Otherwise they would end up like those poor shellshocked souls who were so thorougly overwhelmed by Julius’ invasion of Beck that, having simply given up, they did nothing but stand slackjawed in place as they were run over by autoritters.
Murad grabbed his wheels and turned himself around, with some difficulty, to face the crowd. “Listen up. We’ve been through much worse. When Earth burned 21 years ago, we got through that and rebuilt civilization on Mars. Today it’s no different. The Austrians may have conquered our settlements, but they’ve given us a chance to leave. We can do the same as we did back then—go to a new world, where we would finally be free to rebuild in peace. And then, once that’s accomplished…we will return to this system and liberate humanity’s home. I promise you, they may have taken Mars from us, but do not let them take your sprit as well!” He waved at the memorials. “That is what Dorothy would have wanted, for us to
live. That is why she laid down her life to protect us all. They will never take our ideals from us! They will never break us! For we are humanity, and if there’s anything humanity is good at, it’s surviving! So we will—no, must survive, no matter what! That is how Earth lives on! Through us!” He raised a fist. “For liberty, equality, and fraternity eternal!”
The crowd nodded and murmured their approval.
“For Dorothy!”
The murmurs grew louder.
“For humanity eternal!”
The crowd erupted into applause. “For humanity eternal!”
Tyr Station
“Now arriving: Tyr Station. Tyr Station.”
Unlike the nearly empty Nyby, Tyr Station was alive, to a terrifying degree. As soon as the doors opened and Clara stepped out, she was swamped in an overwhelming deluge of sight and sound. There were people everywhere. The ticket counters were barely visible behind long lines of people desperately throwing what remaining Earth currency they had at the staff. She couldn’t even hear her own voice over the thousands of worried and panicking voices around her. Soldiers had resorted to yelling orders via megaphone, but nobody listened. Even with the megaphones, they probably still couldn’t be heard.
“Take my child!”
“Name your price, I’ll pay it!”
“I’m a veteran!”
“My brother’s a CEO!”
“I don’t want to die!”
“Save my mother!”
It took all of her willpower noot to break down right there. The last time she was here, it was exactly like this. When her shuttle from Phobos Base landed at Tyr Station, there was the same rush, the same panic, the screams and pleading and desperation barely held back by outnumbered soldiers. Back then, they were all newly arrived from a dead and destroyed Earth, its ashes still warm. And now here they were, leaving Mars. The planet was dead to them, killed by the imperials and their accursed boy emperor. There would be many more departures over the next few months. The spaceports at UNAP’s Tyr Station, Demofed’s Atahensic Station, and even Mangala’s Ramanujan Station—once its life support was restored—were going to become incredibly busy for the next few hundred sols. But the spaceports weren’t the only routes of escape. A handful of older settlements were built in and around landed ARC ships. These included the UN settlements of New Novgorod and Aesirlingby; the Demofed settlements of New Ireland, Saint Brendan’s Rest, Saint John, and Third Anglia; and the Mangalan settlements of New Allahabad, Raktavarna, and Pacal. Nine ships, each with an intended capacity of 100,000 passengers and crew. With
Fraternity included, that meant at least a million people could be evacuated from Mars. Perhaps even double or triple that, if more cryopods were installed and living quarters adjusted to hold more people. It would be enough to hold everybody who wanted to leave.
Clara boarded her shuttle when it was time. Half an hour later, once the airlocks were sealed, life support activated, and everybody was strapped in, it lifted off. The roar of the engines deafened all of the chatter in the cabin, aside from a few screams. A light blue glow emanated from below as the engines activated, the drive plume going down a shaft specifically designed so that the extreme heat and byproducts of nuclear fusion would not spread out to the nearby facilities. Immense amounts of g-force slammed her down into her seat, feeling almost as if she had been pinned under an elephant…though she had long since forgotten what an elephant looked like. Although Mars’ gravity was only 40% of Earth’s, it was no easier for her. She had never once left the surface in 21 years, and her body had long since adapted to Mars.
Minutes after launch, the roar of the rockets died down to nothing, and the gray haze of Mars’ atmosphere gave way to pitch black. The g-forces flattening Clara leveled off, and soon she felt completely weightless. Looking out the window, she could see the red curvature of Mars, bathed in the glow of the atmosphere. And above was
Fraternity. Its hull was battered and burned, with long gashes and tears in some places. Most of the word “
Fraternity” itself was scraped off, and all she could read was “
atern.” Many of the sensors were gone.
What did they do to you, Fraternity
?
At Fraternity
The shuttle docked at one of
Fraternity’s main airlocks. It was guided in by several crewmen, who had to manually align the two ports at a weird angle. After the crude and impromptu docking actions conducted by
Gradivus’ boarding parties, many of the airlocks had been bent out of shape, so establishing a seal required manual adjustments. Once that was done, a light flashed green, and the doors slid open. “Welcome to
Fraternity. Please take a moment to adjust to the higher gravity.”
Clara stepped through the airlock. Just as she was about to take in the construction crews patching up holes and reinforcing the walls and ceilings, her outstretched foot passed over the threshold and into
Fraternity’s artificial gravity field. Having forgotten about the Earth-level gravity on the ARC ship, her foot was immediately pulled down before she was ready, dragging the rest of her body forward, where she crumpled onto the floor. “Ow…forgot about that…” And then she remembered who invented the gravity plating. Regaining her strength, she picked herself off the floor with some difficulty. A waiting attendant passed out crutches to her and anybody else struggling. “Uh, thanks.”
After what felt like forever maintaining a delicate balancing act, Clara arrived at her destination in the Research Division. She stood in front of a closed door, behind which the sounds of whirring machinery could be heard. Her fingers ran over the one-word name engraved on the nameplate. “Sorry I didn’t come up sooner…” Whenever they had met up, it was always Dorothy coming down to Beck, not Clara going up to
Fraternity. Her eyes looking down in shame, one hand knocked.
“Uh…” she stammered. “Hello…?”
The door opened, and Demetrios appeared. “Hello, Clara.”
“Hey, uh…”
“Just call me Demetrios.” Demetrios opened the door for her and beckoned her inside. “Well then, come inside. The gravity seems a bit rough on you, so why don’t you take a seat?”
“Sure, sure.” Clara entered the lab’s common area and slumped into a chair. Demetrios took her suitcase and went into another room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Even sitting down, her body still felt tired and exhausted, as if her clothes were made out of lead. She alternated between pushing through it with willpower and just relaxing, but neither worked. On the surface, her body felt normal. But up here—subjected to the same amount of gravity as the planet she was born on—she felt like a fragile house of cards, about to be pulled apart at the seams at any moment.
“Don’t worry, Clara. That’s perfectly normal for people coming up from the surface.” Demetrios returned to the common area and placed a cup of coffee in front of her. “I’ll be overseeing your mandatory physical therapy, starting next week.”
“Next…week?”
“We operate on Earth time up here,” Demetrios said, “And the Earth calendar.”
“So instead of Sol 663, it would be…” Clara tried recalling the date on her clock. “July 1, 2039? At least in Scandinavia.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Clara smiled. “Dorothy, you’re one to talk. A girl
can hope.” And then she remembered why she was here, and tears fell from her eyes. Rivers of tears, which dripped off her cheeks as fast as meteorites streaking across the sky. Just like they did on Earth.
“I know she was your best friend,” Demetrios said, “She wouldn’t shut up about you after every trip down to the surface.”
“Did she, now?” Clara looked around the lab. It looked no different from the labs in Beck, like the one that managed the Roland’s ground operations. And yet she could still see Dorothy’s hand in the barely-legible blueprints, half-finished prototypes, randomly placed equipment, and blackboards covered in complex equations everywhere. Scattered in among them were photos of Dorothy and Clara at various places around the Mars Colonial Administration and Demofed. Beck, Aesirlingby, Nobel, New Novgorod, Saint John, Piddletown, Third Anglia, Kirovagrad—their two smiles were front and center no matter where they were.
“She wanted to protect your smile, while making sure you remembered her own,” Demetrios said.
“Don’t look outside. I’m going to become a demon on the wastes, so please…” “So that’s what she wanted me to promise.” Neither of them could keep their promise in the end. Dorothy never came back from the battlefield, and Clara watched it all happen. But what if Dorothy already knew that? What if she wasn’t being literal? “She wanted me to remember her as my friend.” A light chuckle escaped her lips. “My ditzy, dorky friend, and not the soldier who died out there.”
“Yes. That’s how she wanted to be remembered, in the end.”
Clara’s eyes fell on each photo, taking in the smiles she remembered smiling in better times. “I think that’s why she hid the details from me. She didn’t want to drag me down into her darkness.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for being part of it,” Demetrios said, “I helped cover for her.”
“Nonsense, you were just trying to help Dorothy out,” Clara said, “And it’s all over anyways. It’s in the past. No use being angry about something that’s done. Let’s just…not do that in the future.”
“Yes, yes, I promise.”
“I may not have been able to keep one promise to Dorothy, but I sure will keep the other one.” Clara weakly pumped her fists, but the heavier gravity turned that into her arms flopping awkwardly. “I’m going to live for her and make sure
you do the same.”
“How are you going to do that?” Demetrios said.
“Well, for starters, I’m going to take over her lab. Pick up where she left off.”
Demetrios frowned. “But you’re not an engineer.”
Clara held up Dorothy’s notebook. “I’m a fast learner. I’ll start with implementing the stuff she’s already written down and teach myself as I go along. Hopefully we’ll answer the questions she never got around to. And I can always rely on you to back me up.”
“
I’m not an engineer either!”
“I doubt Dorothy figured everything out on her own,” Clara said, “She had to have someone backing her up, right? Someone to make sure that gearhead remembers her own health.”
She waved her hand around at the chaotic clutter Dorothy had left behind. “I’d really appreciate it if you could back me up, just like you backed up Dorothy. It’s what she would’ve wanted.”
“Maybe we should leave this to the rest of the Research Division.”
But Clara had already sat down at Dorothy’s desk. “Wait!” Demetrios said. “Her computer’s biometrically keyed to her fingerprint—” But the computer unlocked, to his surprise.
“Well, well,” Clara said, “I had a hunch. Otherwise, Research Division would’ve had to jump through hoops to feed the computer the data for her biometrics. And that would waste time.”
“Hold on, who said you could take over for her? We have a specific process for doing things here, unlike on the surface—”
“Let’s start with her last project.” Clara flipped open the notebook to the last page, then opened the corresponding program on the computer. She typed in the last values Dorothy wrote down and began running the simulation.
“Do you even know what she’s trying to do there?” Demetrios crossed his arms. “Please don’t mess around too much, you don’t know what you might—” The computer chimed, and there was not a hint of red on the screen. “—do…”
“Wait, what?” Clara pored over the logs and debugging output. “That’s weird. I was expecting an error somewhere, but it…didn’t? Did Dorothy mess up with the code?” She pulled up the codebase and began looking through the varius libraries and utilities. “I’m not much of a programmer, but I
did have some experience working with Secgen’s computer.”
“Wait, stop!” Demetrios said, his face pale. “Don’t change anything!”
“Well, okay,” Clara said, “I’m sure it’s a false positive, but whatever, sure.”
She ran the simulation a second time. Once again, the screen displayed a successful test. This time, Clara looked at all of the numbers and messages displayed. They all seemed to match up, or at least nothing looked obviously wrong. It was then that she realized Demetrios was now standing right next to her, his jaw agape.
“Oh…my…God…” he muttered. “That’s…not a false positive.”
Clara was puzzled. “What?”
Demetrios laughed. “Looks like Dorothy left us one final gift. One that’ll be our salvation.”
It was then that Clara noticed the name of the simulation: “Hoffenberg.”
---
And that’s a wrap on this mini arc. I decided to combine the last two chapters for better flow. I think you should know where I’m going next. Yes, I’m not done with the Annionaverse just yet. I’m already planning a couple future Julius-focused arcs to address loose ends.
To close this out, I’d like to talk a little about the contrasting themes I explored here, especially in the context of the larger meta-narrative. You might notice that the HRE side of the story was almost entirely a single coherent narrative, mainly revolving around Julius and Angelica. They work alone, and Julius and Angelica rely solely on each other. After Angelica’s death, Julius finds himself unable to trust anybody else due to the conspiracy he’s uncovered, probably not even Gebhard. He decides he must walk his path alone. On the other hand, the UNAP side has multiple viewpoint characters—Dorothy, Demetrios, Clara, Murad. Their struggles revolve around trying to work together with each other to overcome their common enemy. Ultimately, they can’t find out how to fully trust each other. Murad and Livia’s negotiations break down, keeping UNAP and the Democratic Federation separate and disunited. Dorothy keeps the truth away from Clara because she wants to go it alone, and she never came home. As a result, UNAP lost to the HRE. Even though the HRE embodies the “go it alone” mentality through Julius, it did unite its entire population around one single cause, with no dissent or second opinions. On the other hand, diplomacy was weaponized against UNAP, and that lack of trust became fatal.
UNAP may have failed here, but its people will learn from their mistakes, as Murad hopes. Wherever they go next (you already know where), they’ll do better.
Next week I don’t think I’ll post since the next chapter is still in progress. Even if I do finish it, I’m going on vacation before the next weekend and I’d rather not leave you hanging.
