The Cosmotix 2198 Read online

  “I think you’re a robot.” Everyone laughed. Jon was not a robot, he was an artiman.

  “Tell, Jon!” exclaimed Corey.

  “Aristotle thinks he might be able to obtain trilites and an anti-gravity rig for New Year’s Eve.”

  Corey was overwhelmed. “Shut your crater-ass mouth and turn that ugly dog around!”

  Jon sipped his spoon and said, “Um, ok I’ll do that.”

  With that, Pel launched a mouthful of food all over the table.

  “Ohhhhhhh...” disgusted laughter all around as they scrambled to move their plates.

  “Jon said um!” Pel pushed his plate away and put his head and arms on the table, as his shoulders jumped up and down with laughter.

  “So, is this gonna happen?” Corey asked with an overdone smile.

  “We’ll know soon. I’ve got a call in. It’s looking good,” said Ari.

  “Yowwww!!” a jump from Corey. “When you getting them? Huh?” He broke out into some ugly dancing. It started with a terrible version of The Floss, followed by the Martian Buttpush. “When you getting them? Huh, huh? I gotta practice!”

  “Tude, you’re embarrassing!” Pel whispered loudly.

  Floss Floss, Buttpush Buttpush, “When you getting them?” Corey wouldn’t stop.

  “I don’t know, what time is it?” Ari yelled. “Oh, I know…it’s time for me to know, and for you to kiss the roundness of my velvety buttocks, bluehair!”

  Corey got on his knees and shot back, “Ari, I bow to your great and massive buttocks, as I am a lowly photon who grovels in the dark matter of their universe.”

  Jon shook his head.

  “Oh, that’s some sick shit,” said Pel.

  “True that, grovel away pendejo,” Ari chided, parroting one of the few Mexican words he actually knew.

  “Are you gentlemen aware that the whole room is looking at us?”

  “We’re entertainers Jon, it’s ok,” Corey said, sitting back down. “Get up and tell a joke.”

  “Very well, then.” Jon stood up. “People, may I have your attention, please?”

  The room quieted as all eyes were on Jon.

  “Why did the paranoid cow stop eating Earth grass?”

  “Why?”

  “To get to the other side.” Jon took his seat and stared down at his bowl. The room went quiet as the three of them looked around, then they all busted out laughing.

  “Maybe you should have had a longer deepsleep Ari,” Pel snorted.

  “What the hell, Jon?” Ari’s face was blushing red.

  There was light applause throughout the dining room, and Jon looked up from his bowl to see The Cosmotix laughing their heads off, enjoying a brief and powerful moment…a moment from a period of their human lives that they would, he thought, always remember.

  3

  BROTHERS

  Tomorrow the Saturn Empris would rendezvous with the New Denver, the first space station ever built over Titan, and still the biggest and busiest one. The band would disembark there, and after a short briefing, would shuttle to McAuliffe spaceport in Cassini and on to Zubrin, Titan.

  Corey was thinking about the upcoming gig while his eyes were glued to Saturn, just outside his window. It was spectacular, bright and alive with a yellow-orange glow, and the position of the rings made it look as if he could just reach out and grab them. The ship’s reverse engines rumbled with a hypnotic low-frequency hum.

  He had been here before, but he couldn’t remember it. His father was a miner’s apprentice back then, and to be an apprentice usually meant doing time in places like Titan. Not that Titan was a lousy place to be, but for an Earthborn, everywhere is a step down.

  On Earth the air is all the difference...the trees, grass, water, clouds, those can all be duped under a climate shield anywhere, but the air…Earth has that air. A crisp sweetness, a presence all its own. It makes you want to breathe deep and long, and with the sun and the natural wind on your face, it’s like nothing else in the universe.

  The com bell tingled. It was Pel, Corey knew.

  “Answer.”

  There he was. He was making the stupid face right up against the camera.

  “Nice, brother…you checkin’ out the view?”

  “Breathkilling, tude...we’re so crazy winner to be here.”

  “Truth,” said Corey, “what are you doing?”

  “Just stretching...you?” said Pel.

  “Cleaning the stinger.”

  “There’s a joke there somewhere,” Pel said. Corey could hear his smile. “Ari and Jon are in the journey room. They met some girls.”

  “There’s a journey room on this airplane?” asked Corey.

  “Oh, there are girls on this airplane?” laughed Pel, “yeah, there is…it’s got a few toys. Actually kinda kak.”

  “I think Ari uses Jon as his chick magnet.”

  “You think? Whatever it takes, right? Tude, you suppose Jon ever gets a…chubby?”

  “I definitely don’t want to think about that.”

  “Like, what, there’s gears down there attached to a-”

  “Brother, stop. You have issues. Whoa, check out that orbiter!”

  It was a crystalline sphere, completely transparent, revealing a beautiful aqua-blue lake inside, with a clean white sandy beach around the edge. There was a water park, a lush green grassy area, and what looked to be shopping malls and hotels surrounding half of it. It was filled with people vacationing from all around the solsys, and as it ascended in the window, the boys could clearly see the same thing on the underside, upside down to their eyes. Around the equator of the sphere floated the words, Maui Wowie Dream Resort.

  “Somebody’s having a good time,” said Pel.

  “I think you have to have a real job to go there.”

  “What, we have a real job, tude!” Pel touched his wrist, “send bank balance figure to Corey.”

  An image appeared in front of Corey’s face.

  “One hundred sixty-eight American Republic dollars,” Corey smiled. “I stand corrected, you are a vault of wealth.” The image faded.

  The dream, the gig, Saturn…Corey was thinking about how far they had come since meeting Ari. This tour was Ari’s idea, and it was going to give them the exposure they needed in the Outer Rim. That was the best way to get recognized on Earth. Playing on Moon could only get you so far. Conquer the rim, hit Mars and the orbiters over and over and keep releasing holos, that was the plan. He thought about his time on Mars…

  “Pel, remember Cydonia, buzzing the skyball fields?”

  “The dry-balls fields?”

  “Haha yeah. The Ford…that thing was basto.”

  “Never did get around to painting it.”

  “Puke green wasn’t so bad. That was freedom, brother. Backstage pass to growing up.”

  “Remember McElroy in the bean field? You boomed him right on his bumpus.”

  “Moons…I always felt like crap about that, but it was funny. That was a sky hacking car. Piece of kruk, but it always hovered.”

  “That was the day we first met Brilla.”

  “Yep.” Corey’s heart sank.

  He remembered how Brilla loved driving that car, and how she could fix it better than anyone. He thought about the three of them spending that summer warping around the rural ecosystems of the Martian plains, and how much he laughed that summer and bonded with his brother like never before.

  Corey and Pel needed each other, they were new to the Labyrinth Mining Community and didn’t know a soul on Mars. It was the brothers against the world, and they had a skycar and they had Brilla. They were contenders. All others get in line.

  Brilla. Moons, Brilla. Maker Me…

  “Hey, are you ok?” Pel asked. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said…”

  “No, it’s hivol good, Pel, I was…yeah.”

  “Talk later, no worries, tude…call me if you wanna do something,” Pel smiled as the screen went blank.

  Corey thought about his brother. His bro
ther, his best friend. From his family. So good to have family. Biofamily was rare. No one he had ever worked with had family as he had: parents, male and female, with natural-born children, all living together under one roof. He always thought that was kak, even when they made fun of him in first-school, and when asked about his family, he would describe them lovingly and with pride.

  He raised his wrist, “Pel.”

  “What now?” Pel laughed. His image floated in front of Corey.

  “We never play around with mind waves like we used to.”

  “That’s because you are turning into dad.”

  “Do you remember when we got the K-5 enhancement?”

  “Yes, I do because you were an asshole that day. It was just because you were scared. Tude, you thought after the upload you were going to be smarter than Albert Einstein.”

  “And I am, of course,” laughed Corey. “But not all bio-families with the upload can do it,” said Corey.

  “That’s because they’re not Jagger-Sevens. We rule. But we’re not good at it cuz we don’t practice. That’s because dad was afraid of it, and so are you!”

  “It’s not that I’m…you know why he had us do the upload though, right? He was afraid we were getting behind in school from all the moving around, and he felt really guilty. But he didn’t like it, that’s for sure. Thought it was unnatural. It must have taken some guts for him to sign off on it.”

  “Yeah, he’s an old skrat but he’s always put us first. Tude, are you having a Corey moment?”

  “What’s a Corey moment?”

  “You know, where you get all thinky and feely and guilty that you can’t solve the solar system’s problems, and you re-examine every moment of your childhood and write shitty songs about love and peace?”

  “I’m just loving you, brother.”

  “Yep, you’re having a Corey moment.” Pel put on a ridiculously exaggerated smile. “See ya!” The image faded.

  Corey Jagger-Seven spread out on his bed and began to drift. My family...truth…my music. People will hear me.

  The hum of the ship gave him comfort as the walls of his crasher began fading to black.

  4

  THEY ARE COMING

  Internal transmission log

  Solday 360/2197 13:00- 13:12 Earth Standard

  The White House USRA

  Hexagon USRA

  Harmonia Palace Jerusalem

  Zhongnanhai Beijing

  Real-time on-premises and Telcom feeds

  originally encrypted using Global DX

  Secretary: Let the record show classified interplanetary conference call 2197-21159, Telcom register A101859. Present are the World Tribunal: United States Republic of America President Andrew Cardigan, People’s Republic of China President Tito Kwong and Middle East Republic Prime Minister Abdul Rosenstein. Also present are United Earth Secretary of Defense Allwyn Mobasi, USRA Space Force Admiral Naila Watts, and UE Deep Space Observation Team Beta Kappa, consisting of Smith-Two, Stanley, French, Adebowale, and Chang.

  Cardigan: Admiral Watts let us begin with you, the short report please.

  Watts: Misters President we are tracking a fleet of moving space vehicles first discovered in Galilea template, sector 24 lateral, 13 vertical, grid E5. Image is onscreen. What you see here are the first, second, and third images we produced just last night using Dark Matter Exacting at the Martian Orbiter Rovee. As you can see, the spaces between the objects are symmetrical and consistent. We have confirmed a propulsion wake, ruling out any random innate swarm possibilities, and we are seeing fluctuations in speed. This is intelligent.

  Rosenstein: Can you give us a count of how many objects you see?

  Watts: It appears to be in an extended formation, like a train of sorts, sir. We can count thirty-six in the frame you’re looking at now, but there are more behind. It appears the train goes a very long way. We cannot make a full count at this time, but we will be able to.”

  Kwong: Beta Kappa team, Adebowale, can you give us a trajectory?

  Adebowale: Yes, President Kwong…may I call you dad?

  [laughter]

  Kwong: No, you may not, but your mother sends her love.

  Adebowale: As do I, sir. The trajectory follows a delayed zig-zag pattern, just slightly and consistently off-axis at regular intervals. With a simple algorithm, we have determined that it will enter perimeter one if it maintains its present flight model. But there’s more. I call on Rainbow Smith-Two, who has the Beta Kappa team’s highest recommendation in the area of vector analysis.

  Smith-Two: Sirs, the fluctuation in speed is not random and may suggest a theoretical form of propulsion, but we need more time to get more readings. Suffice it to say that the speed and trajectory do put it, so far, into an intercept within one-half AU of Earth/Moon.

  Watts: Also, sirs, we were able to analyze bits and pieces of their propulsion signature, and it is similar for the most part to that of the Foon ship from 2141. The reverse trajectory does indicate the planet Heeg at the source when you account for the original flight timeline suggested by the visitors.

  Cardigan: So, the Foon may be on their way. Why? They want their prisoners back?”

  Watts: The trinitium, sir.

  (unintelligible conversation)

  Cardigan: Yes, the trinitium. Energy. Always a good reason for war.

  Kwong: When?

  Watts: Three to four months, possibly a bit longer. We will know soon, Misters President.

  Kwong: Three to four months? Even at light speed, the distance is-

  Smith-Two: I know, sir. I know, yes. And please, pardon me for interrupting. It’s a worst-case scenario, based on the possibility I shared before, regarding their propulsion. We promise we will know more soon.

  Rosenstein: Is there any indication this could be an evacuation? A mass migration of civilians?

  Watts: No way to know that, Mr. Prime Minister, but there is no evidence of trouble on the planet. The Telcom bump says all is well.

  Cardigan: How many Deep Space resources do we have on this right now?

  Watts: At your word, Misters President, it will be all of them.

  Cardigan: Abdul?

  Rosenstein: Yes.

  Cardigan: Tito?

  Kwong: Yes.

  Cardigan: Let’s do it. Are there any further questions?

  [seven-second silence]

  Cardigan: People we need every waking minute you have. We all have to treat this as Priority One; this Tribunal and this solar system are going to need you at your best. This conference is terminated. Everyone, please enjoy your day. I do not have to say this remains classified.

  “Telcom. My swipe. All-access,” said Cardigan.

  Telcom connected.

  “Space Force General James McCalvin, lunar base seventeen, face.”

  5

  ENCOUNTER

  Thick billowing clouds danced and tumbled under the lunar climate shield, swirling against the hot orange glow of the evening sky. The air was set a little warm but was being swept by a light breeze at seven-minute intervals, making it a balmy night in Tranquility, Moon. A small mining village of two thousand people was recovering from a long day’s work, a day that consisted of extracting various minerals from the myriad of surface rocks that exist there.

  The extraction was a process known as reverse fusion, and the men and women that manned the nukejacks were a rare and select breed. Nukejacks were state of the art proton smelters, and operating one was more than exhausting, due to the intense vibration and the need for concentration during the melt.

  The jacks would break the stone down almost instantly to expose the ores and allow them to separate. The minerals were then sucked into vacuum-tubes to be carried off into sealed containers, which rested on anti-gravity beds nearby. The containers were then taken to the ore processing hub by workers called crossers since they were constantly crossing long distances over the mining fields.

  An eighty-one-year-old former Earthling with an impressive reco
rd was working late into overtime, happy to show his company that middle age hadn’t slowed him down a bit. Roy Jagger-Seven had not, however, planned on the breakdown of his sled, and his body temperature rose with his frustration as his suit battled to keep him cool. He touched his wrist.

  “Roy, is that you?” came a familiar voice.

  “Mira, my anti-grav is dead. I’m at sixty twenty on the eastern edge.”

  “The skycar is gone honey; Joe needed it. Want me to drive out with the Jeep?”

  “No, no it’s too far...dammit, nobody’s here.”

  “It’s ok, Roy, I’m calling Beel now. You’re putting in overtime? You didn’t call.”

  “Yeah, I know…I’m sorry, Mira.” He listened as the love of his life swiped the wrist of their good family friend Beel Jonson, a co-worker and long-time companion of Roy’s. Beel was there at the hospital for the birth of Roy and Mira’s first-born son Corey and was a surrogate dad to the young toddler when Roy worked extra shifts at a previous job near his home in Caladan, Titan.

  Beel came on the line, “Roy I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Sixty twenty?”

  “Yes, Middleton. Thanks, Beel.”

  Roy Jagger-Seven lowered his wrist and turned to face the machine one more time, but what he saw froze him in his tracks. The blood drained from his face and the body compensators in his suit began beeping as they kicked into place. He instinctively took a few steps backward, while realizing the futility of doing so.

  Against the twilight glow, they were jet black. There must have been twenty of them, flying very low to the ground, stalking. How did they get through the shield without a response?

  Warships. They were giants. They were all identical, with a triangular main body and two long tubes running the length on the underside. They were broadcasting an audible hum of energy, of power. It was that hot, nasty electrical sound that accompanies a military conflict. It made the air stink.

  Roy had seen war as a child; he knew what these were. He had seen the clash of splitter rays and atom beams and the glow of heat death. He had heard the anguished cries of soldiers with holes burnt clean through their brains while they were still alive. He had smelled the acrid stench of seared flesh, and he feared at this moment like he had not feared since he was ten years old.