Chapter 4
There was the constant flow of goods and workers to and from the Earth station’s underground network of farms, industries, and warehouses. Robotic manipulators whirred back and forth loading and unloading cargo. The constant chatter of people filled the air; some more jubilant as they came back from shifts, others more subdued as they were heading down to start a shift. The main port was the largest area in the space station--the edge of our floating artificial society--the beginning of travel down to Earth. For everyone apart from us, it was merely to work in the underground commercial areas underneath the Earth dome, but for us--it was different. We were actually going to explore Earth and all its beauty and dangers. As we spoke, one of the several massive clunky personnel shuttles had just entered a transition chamber. Before the large interior doors slid shut, I could see the circular outer portal door. We would soon be going through there--into space.
"Keep the circulation moving," an authoritarian voice shouted from a high balcony overlooking the entire main portal. I looked up and could see a portal security uniform on the speaker. Down on the ground level with us, portal security officers dutifully obeyed, keeping the people entering our shuttle in the proper area.
Amid all this organized chaos, the four of us stood beside our shuttle entrance; our families standing by. Andy Stoneman and his dad exchanged non-committal shrugs and an awkward handshake, while his mom patted them both on the elbow. Stoneman was easier to handle in front of his parents. It was the only time he shut up. Martina’s parents came with one of her brothers. Her mom didn’t want to let go of Martina’s hand. Martina had to yank it away as one security officer shouted to us:
"Okay people, only passengers can remain here now. We're getting ready to board the shuttle!"
Doug Lloyd’s mom was blubbering the whole time, nattering unintelligibly about how he should take care of himself—be careful. Doug looked around at everyone, embarrassed at his mother’s lack of emotional control. My dad was there too, and he looked at Doug’s mom as if he could not understand for the life of him what was wrong with her. Doug smiled nervously at my dad and asked irrelevant questions about the mission to try and distract attention.
When we boarded the commercial shuttle, it was jammed with many other passengers. The hostesses ran around nervously making sure everybody was buckled in properly. The four of us were far from any window; stuck in the middle of the shuttle. I remember craning my neck to try and get a glimpse of the approaching atmosphere of Earth. We entered the atmosphere smoothly, with the usual commuters continuing to read or sleep, their heads rocking back and forth lazily. After passing through the atmosphere, the flight felt different. Even in this contained environment, I felt more alive and part of a real world.
I could hardly wait. We were approaching the Earth base dome.
The arrival of any incoming space shuttle to the Earth base is through a large tube of Zerite connected to the Zerite Earth dome. Like the rest of the Earth base, this was designed by 21st century terrorists to protect incoming shuttles from land attacks by irate Earth survivors. It is ironic to now realize the same tube protects space station citizens from the same type of terrorists who designed the system.
We took the Earth base and space station from them--now it was time to take everything else back.
The Earth dome was far different in appearance and feel to the space station's domed city. The space station domed city was designed for living, and was jammed with people trying to make the most of what was probably plentiful space one hundred years ago when it was first populated. Arriving at the Earth dome, the first thing you were struck by was how wide open it was. That first time when I came out of the shuttle and saw it; the open space made me gasp. The transparent Zerite dome only slightly tinted the majestic view of mountains.
Leading off the shuttle, people were being funnelled in a massive line to pass a security checkpoint. Beyond that there were various wide stairwells, people streaming down, heading to work. This occupied only one section of wide open floor space of the Earth base. The rest of the space was mostly empty with several heavily armed military personnel standing guard.
Away from this hub of activity, separating the mass of travelers from the more secure areas was a plexiglass fence. In this more secure area, towards one side of the dome, a military hovercraft stood in waiting. Around the base area were massive stairwells leading towards different parts of the underground tunnel system. On this side there were a couple of smaller stairwells with military personnel guarding their entrances closely.
The larger area on the secure side of the plexiglass fence had only military personnel. The security checks seemed to be going smoothly as we found ourselves advancing in the line. I was in front of my team. As I handed my ID card to the security check guard, I realized it was an android. They looked human from a distance, but their crude movements and ultra-smooth cosmetic finishing were quite apparent once you got close to them. The android held my ID card to its eyes, the familiar beep of approval, and then handed the card back to me. Andy Stoneman was right after me. He handed the android his ID card and in a very awkward glitch crushed Stoneman’s card in its silicon-covered metallic hand.
“What the hell!” Stoneman protested. “The damn android crushed my ID card!”
Two soldiers hustled over, examining the situation.
“Did you see that? That stupid hunk of junk destroyed my card.”
“We’ll have to process you manually.” One of the soldiers said. He started to lead Stoneman over to a table near an information system terminal.
The other soldier waved at the rest of the line. “Use the other line, everybody to the other line.”
Martina called to me, “I don’t know why they make these stupid androids. They always screw up. They should spend more time on making a machine that can process IDs properly instead of some silly doll that looks like a human being.”
The soldier near us frowned.
“Nothing but a hunk of junk!” she yelled.
**
“You’d think they could get a more efficient security system”, Stoneman said as well were led away by security.
“I didn’t have any problems”, I said.
“Shut up!” my three team-mates yelled, almost in unison. I looked at Doug Lloyd and laughed.
“Would you look at that”, I said looking at the great expanse of Earth mountains lying out beyond the transparent Zerite dome. Though ground level outside the dome was not visible, the mountains and sky were clear to see as you looked up and out the clear dome. “It feels like I can breathe for the first time, like I’ve just come out of a closet I’ve been trapped for years. Already it feels like home.”
“Look there,” I said pointing off in the distance to the open area of the raised plateau the Earth dome was built on, “think what a difference that will make to the first settlers—to be able to live in wide open spaces like that. The City Central dwellers that'll go from their cramped claustrophobic quarters to there; freedom and fresh air. We're living in a great time my friends. We're lucky to be alive when Earth is reconquered. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”
“Let’s see how you feel when you’re outside the Zerite dome and not protected from incoming artillery,” Stoneman added.
“You’re a real morale booster Stoneman, you know that?” Martina said.
“I hope the safe zone is really safe,” Doug said.
“Follow me,” said a soldier, stiff and official, almost as young as us. All the soldiers down here looked pretty young. We all gathered our knapsacks, heading in his direction. We were guided away from the masses of workers and to the other side of the fence. We were being led to the open area where there were just a few, less-traveled stairwells heading down below the station floor. These stairwells were reserved for military personnel. I took a last glimpse at the mountains through the Zerite dome.
We were led down a long narrow stairwell to part of the underground tunnel system. Unlike the masses commuting to work at underground factories and farms, we were led to a military barracks, which dishearteningly looked very similar to the space station’s barracks; metallic walls and floors--minus the occasional beautiful views of outer space.. It was just dark and depressing with neon lights placed periodically in the long hallways.
“Aw man,” I moaned, “this looks just like the space station.”
“That’s okay,” Doug said, “makes me feel at home.”
“’Makes me feel at home’,” Andy said. “Do you need a teddy bear?”
“Get off his case!” Martina said.
We were led into a utility barracks with two sets of bunk beds. Andy threw his stuff down on one of the lower bunks and declared it to be his. Martina and I each took top bunks, while Doug accepted the other lower one. It was early evening and we were all worn out.
"We're away from everybody else," Doug said, looking at our small barracks.
"Yeah," I said, "I expected to be with everyone else."
"We ain't just the average grunts." Andy said. "We're here for a special mission."
"Well Stoneman," Martina said. "Don't get full of yourself until we get something done."
"Who's full of themselves Lever?! I'm just stating a fact."
**
I didn't sleep much that night; too much to think about. In the morning we were taken to the mess hall. This was more what I expected the night before. It was open and had about fifty or sixty other soldiers. These were men and women posted on the Earth base for security and safe zone patrolling. Apparently the first settlement was already completed. The mess hall had several rows of cafeteria style tables. Just in case we didn't realize how different we were, there was a separate table in one corner just for us. There was a buffet line at the opposite end of the hall from our table. Most of the soldiers were waiting in line and they looked at us, but no one spoke to us directly. We were like the new kids in school; the subject of rumours and legends, all more or less fictional. I imagine they had heard stories about our mission—they must have been curious about the special treatment. We would certainly be of interest to soldiers stuck in routine security detail.
From behind us, my father walked into the mess hall. As soon as the other soldiers saw him, they stopped staring and continued to get their food and sit down and fill up the rows of tables. We were the last in line to get food and he walked up to me, putting his hand on my shoulder and saying:
“Don’t mind them; you're not part of the regular routine, so they're curious. There are special areas reserved for training for your mission, and they wonder what all the attention is about. Its human nature, people are curious about the unknown. I hope you all have that same attribute, it will come in handy out there.” He pointed up in a sweeping motion to the Earth surface above us.
Nobody said much in response.
“When you soldiers are finished your breakfast, you will be led into our training facility. It's reserved for us and we'll not be distracted by curious eyes.” My father looked around at the other soldiers who all pretended their attention was on their meals. We finished our breakfast in relative silence. My father didn't stay with us. He headed over to talk with a soldier waiting at the mess hall entrance and then left. After we finished eating that same soldier led us to the training facility.
**
The training facility was a vast circular area. Like all the living and working areas of the Earth station it was beneath ground level; the ground above a natural defence against the ever-present terrorist threat. The task of carving these vast areas out of a mountainside was definitely an impressive achievement, despite knowing the architects of the project. Along one side was a massive control panel centered by a giant screen. Several desks sat in front of the screen. To the other side of the facility was a shooting gallery. Various styles of laser and conventional guns filled a gun rack just outside the range. A large area was filled with physical training equipment built around a sort of obstacle course. In the center of the circular training facility was a round podium with the RMD-driven Covert vehicle sitting on it. Right above the podium on the ceiling of the training facility was a hatch; the podium was controlled by hydraulics, which could raise the Covert vehicle up into the air through the hatch in the training roof and out into the Earth's atmosphere--beyond the protection of the dome.
“Quite impressive, eh team?” my father said from the control panel area, “let me show you around. Over here is the theoretical training area. This is your classroom. We'll spend the mornings here discussing strategies and techniques. At the opposite end is the arms training area. We'll test your proficiency. That large area over there is the physical training area where we'll spend our afternoons; and of course, where you're all staring is the vehicle you will be using during your mission."
He walked us over to the centre of the training facility; where the Covert was held slightly above ground level by hydraulic stabilizers on all four sides.
"Dr. Svoboda has already described it to all of you in greater detail than I'd be able to myself. Suffice it to say it'll increase the security and efficiency of your mission. As the week goes on, you'll all get to train in the Covert--don't worry about that. As you can see the podium has stabilizers to support the craft. The entire podium can be changed to simulator mode wherein it will simulate the actions given by the vehicle’s controls. In simulator mode, the normally clear windshield and passenger windows dim becoming screens displaying simulated images of battle situations. This creates the illusion of operating the vehicle in various battle situations. The result is a very realistic simulation displaying visual images of Earth landscapes for trainees to navigate through."
He patted the Covert and waved us over to the theoretical training area.
In the afternoon Svoboda (in person this time) led us over to the firing range section of the training facility. The wall was decorated with numerous hand-held armaments of all shapes and sizes.
“You'll not need all this assortment of armaments. Through the initial phases of your mission, the Covert will be sufficient for defence, attack, and transportation. If, the time comes when you have to travel or investigate by foot, you still need some technology to fulfill these needs. Myself and my laboratory assistants have tried to develop an all-encompassing lightweight solution for defence and attack. Much of the advantage of the Rapid Molecular Displacement technology has been incorporated in this hand-held armament.”
Dr. Svoboda held up a sleek gun-shaped silver armament. There was a trigger in the traditional gun position, yet it had a small control panel on its wide barrel.
“While this looks like a regular gun, it is not—it is much more. As long as you are within a thousand kilometre range of the Covert vehicle, these gun-shaped objects are actually remote terminals of the Covert’s information system. You have access to many of the capabilities of the Covert vehicle.”
Dr. Svoboda pointed to four jumpsuit uniforms that were on the wall beside the array of armaments. From a distance they resembled regular army uniforms, but upon closer inspection, the fabric had a unique feel--soft but durable.
“These uniforms may look like regular clothing, but they also, are not. They are activated with the same Rapid Molecular Displacement technology, which can be controlled through your hand-held terminal—or gun, if you will. Through the control panel at the top of the gun, you can enter some of the same modes as in the Covert vehicle. You can use the terminal to activate shields around your uniform. This does not have the all-encompassing defence of the Covert vehicle but it could be used as kind of an attack resistant shield. Your head and hands are still exposed and vulnerable but in the case of a shot to the arms, legs, or body; it could very likely save your life. As far as attack mode, you can still affect the outdoor air molecules and launch them as smart guided missiles. You have an interface with the system, either through the hand-held model, or controlled by a crew member back in the Covert.”
He gave us all our guns and uniforms.
“Here are your virtual training glasses,” the doctor said as he handed us each a pair. “All four pairs are connected to the central training information system and the missions you'll be practicing are coordinated. In other words, the virtual reality in your individual simulations will be coordinated with the others. You'll be in a field-like atmosphere of mountainous Earth terrain, able to hide behind trees or rocks and fire at will. You'll be able to control the modes of your remote terminal and be able to speak with a virtual teammate in a virtual Covert vehicle. Also, the four of you will be in the same virtual training sessions. We will form teams of two and you can attack each other. There will be half an hour of this each day for the remainder of the week.”
Stoneman swung his glasses in his hand and looked at me. “This should be a lot of fun.”
“Use your time wisely soldiers,” said Svoboda. “Develop your individual skills, but also learn to work as a team. General Jonz will guide these training segments for the rest of the week. I have given you information on the technology but his military skills are what you have to develop.”
**
“Direct us to four hundred meters above the attack origin,” I said to Martina. “That’s close enough to accurately neutralize the attack origin, while giving us time to put up our shields before any counter attacks.”
“Roger, captain, coordinates set.”
Inside the Covert the interior was comfortable and surprisingly stark; two seats in front and two in back. There were vehicle control joysticks available for both pilot and co-pilot. The dash had a screen which defaulted to a radar view of the surrounding area but tapping different corners would activate screens for weaponry, vehicle maintenance or any of the other of the craft's modules. As soon as the two swinging wing doors were shut the windows entered simulation mode. The effect on your senses was immediate; simulations of the surrounding Rocky Mountains were accurate and felt completely real. There was even a gentle bobbing in the air from the controlling stabilizers--just like real hovering. As the vehicle began to "move", it was equally realistic. The sensation was of truly flying. The Covert efficiently moved to the coordinates entered by Martina. In the backseat Doug and Andy each had screens listing all the situational data.
“Nearing target coordinates,” Martina said.
“Prepare to down shields and fire on target.”
“Make sure you’re in the established area before downing the shields,” said Stoneman.
“Use the heat detector to check for activity in the area surrounding the target coordinates,” I said.
“Scan completed, nothing detected,” answered Martina.
“Down shields,” I said.
“Roger Captain,” Martina answered.
Just as she dropped the shields, the Covert rocked violently. The simulator screens went blank and an error message appeared on the front windshield.
“Catastrophic decision taken. The RMD-driven Covert has been destroyed by an attack from above,” said the information system’s automated voice.
I slapped my hand on the panel in front of me.
"Damn, we messed up!"
The two wing doors opened on the Covert; revealing the training facility and my father standing in front of us, his hands at his hips--a severe look on his face. All sensory simulations stopped. The controlling stabilizers stopped moving and we exited the craft onto the training facility podium.
“You have to look at more than the ground. This simulation was based on a true event, which happened four and a half years ago. While the terrorists who're fighting us don't have our 22nd century technology--don't kid yourselves--they still can be dangerous! They have 21st century technology, which can STILL be dangerous if not respected. They have aircraft capable of masking themselves to our on board radar system. You must be sure to check regularly with the ground crews operating the positioning system in the Earth base. They can detect these aircraft, which have no shield system to protect them from our artillery. Over the years, we've shot down dozens of these aircraft; but there might quite possibly be more out there. This was an ambush situation. The terrorists launched from a location only to draw out our hovercraft vehicles to be attacked. They are aware that shields have to be down in order to fire. You can see the results of not properly protecting your crew.”
Stoneman looked at me as we walked towards the theoretical training area. Martina patted me on the back and said, “That’s okay. We’re almost there. It’s another lesson learned.”
I nodded.
**
“Hit me like you mean it!” Stoneman said.
We were padded up and on the fighting mat together. Throughout our years in the police academy, Andy and I had sparred many times before but this was definitely our most intense session. I had usually got the better of him. Over the years, I had plenty of extra training with my father. I’m sure that had frustrated Andy even more. The others watched us from just off the mat.
“If that’s what you want, you’ll get it!” I said.
Stoneman advanced towards me. He led with a sidekick aimed at the solar plexus. I spun to the right and his leg slid off me, sending him off balance. I continued spinning around and gave him a left arm whip to the back. Doug and Martina chuckled slightly. Stoneman kept himself from falling off balance and quickly reversed his direction, coming back towards me.
I had been a little too lackadaisical, perhaps gloating a little over my first successful move, and he caught me off guard. He came up close to me, too close for me to punch him with momentum; and he powered his right elbow with a quick twist of his shoulder and caught me above my chest protection right in the throat. I felt it tighten right away and I fell to the ground gasping. I was on my hands and knees, fighting to breathe properly.
“It’s not time for a rest Jonz,” he said.
He was looking at the others with a smirk when I turned and lunged at him, tackling him with a shoulder to the gut. I heard a loud “ooff” as I felt the wind get completely knocked out of him. We were down on the ground and I was sitting on top of him. I put my hands around his throat and started to squeeze. I felt my father’s strong hand grab my forearm and pull my arm off him.
“Enough!” my father ordered.
Stoneman and I fell apart, coughing and panting, lying on the mat.
“I like to see that intensity,” my father said, “but next time, save it for the enemy. You don’t have to love--or even like--everybody on your team. But make no mistake, your life depends on working with them. So you better direct that energy towards the enemy if you want to survive. Now shake hands.”
Stoneman and I got up and half-heartedly at first, shook hands. I gripped Andy’s hand stronger and he reciprocated.
“We'll have one last Covert simulation session,” my father announced.
He clicked the remote and all four doors to the Covert whirred up, opening up a view of the cockpit inside. We climbed into the vehicle.
“Stoneman, you’re navigator today,” my father said.
After the four of us were buckled in the doors whirred shut again. There was a click as all doors sealed shut in unison.
“Entering simulation mode,” announced the soft voice of the information system.
The windshield and all the windows lost their transparency as they faded to black. Momentarily, it was pitch black in the Covert, only the faint multi-coloured lights of the control panels dimly lighting the cockpit. I looked over at Andy. He was staring at the control panels, his jaws chomping with tension. I could feel the thudding of the podium hydraulics grabbing on to the Covert vehicle.
“Simulation mode entered,” the information system voice confirmed.
Within seconds, the blackness dispersed as the windshield and windows filled with a mountain view of the landscape just outside the Earth dome. We were out beyond the protection of the Earth dome. I could feel my heart rate increase, the sensation was so real--and I wanted to get this right. The sky was clear with a few puffy clouds. All around us the jagged peaks of the Rockies were potentially hiding places for terrorists.
“Prepare for everything team, you’re on your own,” my father’s voice beamed into the cockpit.
“Stoneman, make sure you monitor the surrounding air space,” I said.
“Roger,” he responded.
“The known aircraft possessed by the terrorists has accurate firepower within 5 kilometres. We should adjust our screens accordingly,” Martina added.
“Agreed,” I said. “Adjust all screens to a six kilometre view.”
“There has been a missile attack coming from the following coordinates,” the information system voice droned. The coordinates appeared on the top of our screens.
“Navigator, set destination to the target coordinates,” I said.
The RMD-driven Covert vehicle headed towards the enemy.
“The coordinates were unusually far away for a missile attack directed towards the Earth base,” I said.
“This has set-up written all over it,” Doug said.
“Let’s make sure we do our jobs carefully then,” Martina said.
“There was rarely any return fire from the target coordinates. The terrorists know to retreat quickly. If we got there quickly enough, we can get them before they had the time to leave,” I said.
We attained a proper attack distance from the target coordinates.
“Prepare to drop the shields and fire,” I said. “Stoneman, monitor the screen and surrounding area for any enemy aircraft. Lever and Lloyd, check the surrounding areas, mountains and sky. Let’s be safe before we drop the shields.”
“Enemy aircraft spotted within their attack distance, Captain,” Stoneman said.
“I knew it,” Doug yelled.
“Reset vehicle trajectory towards enemy aircraft,” I said. “Lever, Lloyd, continue to monitor screens for any other enemy while we neutralize the enemy aircraft.”
We redirected the Covert towards the enemy aircraft. I felt beads of sweat building on my forehead. My palms were sweaty, my heart was pounding.
“Drop the shields Stoneman.”
“Roger, Captain.”
The shields were down. I readied my thumb on the trigger as soon as the information system voice announced the target coordinates were locked in.
I fired.
“Direct hit Captain.”
The crew let out a cheer but it was stifled almost immediately as Stoneman said, “Two enemy aircraft entering zone. One from the north, one from the south.”
The two enemy aircraft were already within firing range.
“They've sufficient time to fire and possibly destroy our vehicle before the shields have time to activate,” I said. I grabbed the manual joystick and pulled back, shooting the Covert up into the air. I heard the whoosh of missiles narrowly missing the undercarriage of the Covert.
“Set target coordinates to projected position of the enemy aircraft to the north in five seconds,” I ordered.
“Projected coordinates set,” Stoneman answered.
“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five.”
I fired.
Another direct hit.
I continued to fly manually. I swooped down.
“Put shields back up Stoneman.”
“Shields back up Captain.”
I felt the warm security blanket of our shields.
“Stabilize vehicle just within range of enemy aircraft, Stoneman.”
Andy entered the coordinates and the Covert quickly achieved the target coordinates. It was an agile vehicle. We could move around with great efficiency; so much so that the outdated enemy vehicle moved as if it was in molasses. In numbers, the enemy could create problems, but alone they were in big trouble.
“Set target coordinates for the other enemy aircraft. Lloyd, Lever, make sure there are no more enemy entering radar detection.”
“Target coordinates set Captain,” Stoneman said.
I fired.
A direct hit.
“All crew, continue to monitor for enemy entering within the five kilometre zone.”
The windshield and windows blackened.
“Mission successfully completed. Congratulations. Simulation ended.”
I looked sideways at Andy Stoneman. His mouth was hanging open. He looked at me and his gaping mouth turned into a sly smile. He shoved my shoulder. “Maybe you won’t kill us after all, Jonz.”
“Maybe not, Stoneman, maybe not.”