The Last Revolution (23 page)

Suddenly she pulled away from him and jumped up. “I’m sorry, I-I just can’t.”

She ran towards the door and swung it open. Kira gave him one last look before disappearing out the entrance. Alden closed his eyes and fell back into the bed.

Chapter 7

Arakiel stepped through the mist as he walked down the maintenance tunnels. Steam pipes ran along the ceiling carrying oxygen and water into New Tranquility. Fathoms of electrical wiring were snaked around the piping to provide clean, free energy from the reactors. It would have been impractical to wear his suit down here. It was hard enough moving through the area without the extra size, but the heat was torturous. The dull whir of distant motors processing H-3 was ever present.

The facility had been built out beyond the crater of the city, just in case. No one wanted a repeat of the meltdown at Apollo City’s first H-3 facility. This facility was a small domed structure with entry ports along the exterior edge. Heavy equipment robots weaved through the entrances carrying full loads of lunar regolith. Open pit mines were visible on the horizon, but to the untrained eye they just looked like more craters.

A launch pad had been constructed beyond the manufacturing plant and was used to ship the refined products back to Earth. The rocket would use a small amount of thrust to break the moon’s meager atmosphere and then fire a quick blast to put in on a free return trajectory with Earth. The payload would autonomously come apart and splashdown over the ocean where the Council would handle recovery and distribution amongst the Three Nations.

Since the craft never had to stop and unload, it could use the Earth’s gravitational pull to shoot it back to the moon, firing the rest of its fuel to enter lunar orbit and descend back to the surface. From there it would be fixed up, reloaded and sent back on another journey. Each trip took close to a week and the rockets could be retrofitted and ready to go again within a few days. Each lunar city launched several rockets a day, resulting in a near constant stream of H-3 being sent to Earth.

Transporting so much mass from one planet to the other seemed unsustainable, but who was he to judge? Safely delivering the reactor was the only thing that mattered now. It was a shame he’d have to give it up. No one could protect it as well as he could. Nevertheless, once he was free he could focus on finding Alden. The Guardian had told him to leave it alone, but ever since the attack on the Council facility earlier in the morning he’d felt liberated. He’d make Alden’s death look like an accident; no one would be any wiser. The lunar surface was such a dangerous place after all. Besides, given his assignment, the laws really didn’t apply to him anymore.

The barrel of his sidearm would be the last thing Alden ever saw. In the final moments of his life, the full weight of his failure would become apparent. In that moment, he’d make sure Alden knew he was receiving the justice he deserved. The maintenance shaft abruptly ended. Arakiel walked out into a large area that was filled with buzzing machines. The whole place seemed to be running at the optimal level, but there were no humans in sight. The sun had long gone down. It was odd being on the moon; there was no light of any kind when both the Sun and Earth were out of sight. Just the emptiness of space could be seen through the skylights.

Weaving between the different pieces of machinery, Arakiel deftly moved through the room, careful not to bump the bag slung over his soldier. An eerie sense came over him; he was never sure when the Guardian was testing him. He found a large beam with different mechanical arms hanging from it, each used to pull or twist a certain piece of machinery to one place or another. Securing the bag to his shoulder, he climbed to the top.

On the far side of the processing facility, giant autonomous dump trucks entered through the barrier doors. They drove underneath a building-sized vacuum that sucked the lunar regolith out of their backs. Afterwards they headed back out for another load. The grey mounds of dirt descended down a conveyer belt in the back of the vacuum.

The lunar regolith disappeared into the monstrosity of machines that filled the room. The material would be broken down to its simplest form for transport back to Earth. What little oxygen and water was present would be pulled into a purification system. They would then travel down the pipes Arakiel had just passed under. Once the compounds arrived in the city, they’d mix into the existing supply to freshen it up. Every city had hit their energy requirement years ago.

The cities would use the excess supply for lunar transportation, or sell it off to the militaries of the Three Nations for use on their Battlecarriers. There was very little waste from the process, even the random material from a millennia of meteorite impacts was melted down and turned into steel for construction. Each of the colonies had been very friendly with one another at one point, but things were quite fractured now. The metal would probably just be stored until it was needed.

Ahead, a large observation platform ran the length of the room. It provided the occasional engineer with the ability to inspect the entire operation. They were noticeably absent tonight. Overhead was a series of tiny gangways and planks used to get from one section of the machinery to another. He was about to pull himself onto the support when a sound came from behind. On instinct he whipped the handgun out as he turned.

“Who’s there?” He aimed into the dark recesses of the room. Was it possible he had been followed? He’d been extra careful disposing of the hovercraft and making his way to the facility.

“I mean you no harm.” A figure emerged from the blackness, hands held high. “Are you Arakiel?”

The figure was wearing a protective gas mask and full body grav suit. He wore a cloak and the hood was pulled down, obscuring his features.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“The Guardian sent me. I’m here to take the package. The mask obscures my identity. I’m not from the city and it’s important that no one knows where it’s going. That’s the only way it’ll ever truly be safe.”

Arakiel lowered this shoulder, allowing the strap of the black bag to slide down into his hand. He stretched it out towards the stranger. “If the Guardian trusts you, then I’ll trust you. Protect this package with your life.”

The figure grabbed hold of the bag, but Arakiel held on tightly. “If I ever find out that you’ve betrayed us or the package has been lost, I swear to God I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

Silence filled the space between them. Arakiel held firm for several more seconds to make sure the gravity of his words had sunk in. The strange figure nodded. Arakiel released the bag from his grip. The figure bowed in appreciation, then turned to walk away.

Several jets of blood suddenly burst out of the stranger’s chest. He dropped to his knees and let the reactor come to a rest on the ground before collapsing face-first.

It’s a trap! Arakiel dropped and whipped out his side arm. Rolling to one side he pushed himself back up against a large piece of equipment. He peered around the corner where a dozen rebels stormed towards his position. Sticking the gun out the side, he fired as fast as he could. He hit one of them in the head.

Something stung his hand and the gun went flying through the air. He ducked just in time to deflect a second kick. As he rolled, he saw that he’d been flanked by another group of rebel fighters. Turning, he kicked into the air and sent a terrorist flying backwards. He jumped to his feet, and swung quickly to deflect another blow.

They moved in and formed a circle around him. One of them lunged at him with a knife. Arakiel was able to deflect the blow, grab hold of his arm, and then bend it back until the knife came loose. Arakiel whipped it up and dug it in across the man’s throat. The moment it came out on the other side he flung it into the chest of another fighter. He was still surrounded; at least a dozen other men had descended on their position. He could probably take a few more out, but there was no way he could take all of them by himself.

Arakiel jumped through the space left by the soldier he’d just downed and raced across the platform. The edge was just in reach. As he was about to make the leap he felt a slight sting in his neck. His right foot lost its grip, catching the left and sending him tumbling to the floor. Arakiel landed with a thud and rolled several times, coming to a stop at the edge of the platform.

He started to stand; they would regret that. He reached up to check his neck, something soft. Arakiel plucked a small dart from his skin. As he realized the item’s use, the room went blurry. Someone walked up to him, but he couldn’t focus and his movements were heavily labored. He heard the sickening sound of metal being slammed into flesh. He dropped once more, clutching his stomach.

Everything was spinning. One of the rebels stood before him with a sidearm pointed at his face.

“Viktor, wait!” one of the rebels hollered, running up. “He’s changed his mind, he wants him left alive.”

“I don’t care what he wants! This piece of garbage killed Crist and Julian. We’ve already got what we came here for!” The man turned back to Arakiel and refocused his weapon on his chest. “Goodbye.”

There was a flash of light and then Arakiel felt his body falling off the ledge into oblivion.

***

Alden splashed cold water against his face and stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, stubble covered his chin, and the hue of his skin was fading. How long had he been out? The clock in his deck indicated it had only been a few hours…but it felt like days. His body ached, and his muscles strained as if they were responsible for holding up the kilometers of regolith above him. An unsettling sensation had been brewing in his stomach. It was slowly crawling up, taking hold in his mind. What if he failed again?

He wished his team was still with him. It didn’t seem that long ago they were strolling into the Island’s mission control simulator like conquering heroes. In the distant past, that training simulator used to strike fear into his heart. Alden could remember his heart pounding, battle formations barely memorized, instructors yelling at them from all sides. But towards the end, it became a well-worn toy, something to be bent and manipulated.

The room was always dark at first, surrounded by glowing computer panels. Anonymous military personnel hidden behind two-way mirrors would observe the simulation. They watched each student’s move with laser precision, taking notes or modifying the battle sequences at will. In the middle of the room stood four metallic podiums, three that were side by side and a fourth that was slightly elevated with a view of the others.

Gabriel walked across the room with confidence and took his place at the command podium. He pressed a button on his control panel, and brought the lower screens to life. Each of the holographic displays showcased a different aspect of the battlefield. Despite the computer’s attempts to vary the missions, they had become standard practice. Today’s trial was no exception. They would be taking on a classic scenario, the Helsinki invasion.

“This should be a cake walk,” Daniel whispered.

Alden nodded. “Did you read over the mission briefing?”

Daniel tapped his head. “It’s already up here.”

All of a sudden, the ancillary lights went out, the red warning lights came on, and sirens started sounding. A dozen fully-armed soldiers rushed into the room.

“What the hell…” was all Gabriel could say before they felt the presence of the General.

A deep red ember could be seen amidst the darkness. General Sokolov stepped into the light and pulled the cigar from his mouth. As he exhaled he said, “Stand down.”

Turning back to Alden, Gabriel, Mary and Daniel, he continued, “I’m going to give
them
the opportunity to handle this.”

“What happened?” Mary asked.

“At 0700 one of our airborne units was shot down in the Angolan state of the Islamic Empire. They’ve been cut off from their escape route. You have to keep them alive until support arrives.”

“How are we supposed to know the appropriate response without all the information?” Daniel asked.

“As a commander, you don’t always have that luxury. Sometimes you’re forced to make split-second decisions with lives hanging in the balance. This group is well-equipped, get them through this.”

Alden looked down at his map. The troops had formed a defensive position in the center of a small clearing, surrounding the smoldering wreckage of their large aircarrier. The heat signatures of enemy combatants were overlaid onto the holographic map and could be seen moving towards the group from all directions.

“Sir… Is this real?” Mary stammered.

“This is as real as it gets,” Sokolov responded. “The soldiers’ lives you now hold were in the process of extracting a piece of classified equipment.”

A giant crate sat next to the wreckage.

“You are not under any circumstances to allow it to fall into enemy hands. That is your primary directive, minimizing casualties is secondary. Now get this done.” He finished with force in his voice.

Gabriel stood tall, chest puffed out. “Let’s give these guys the support they need. Daniel, you’ll take point and lead the troops. Mary, the heavy machinery is yours and Alden, you’ve got air support.

Alden glanced down at his screen—air support? All he had were two light helicopters, a few drones and one air strike.

Mary added, “Yes sir, let’s do this.”

Alden flipped his communication device on and placed a mini comm deck in his ear. Pressing a series of images on the screen, Alden began linking his controls to the crafts at his disposal.

“Field command, come in,” Gabriel said.

The audio cracked to life. “This is commander Rikes. Who is this?”

“This is Omega Team. Commander, your squad’s survival is paramount. Do everything we say and you’ll get through this! You’re surrounded on all sides, with the exception of a giant river that’s protecting your six. Tell your men to dig in and form a perimeter in a half circle along your entire southern flank,” Gabriel finished.