Legacy of Mars, page 3
part #1 of The Destin Chronicles Series
“I know how much you miss him, Mel. Dylan’s loss was...”
“I haven’t had time to even visit his grave, damn it. I’m done, Talus. I can’t do this anymore.”
The words leapt unbidden from my tongue. I didn’t intend the conversation to drift to the personal. My plan was to present my argument in a rational and unemotional manner. The room remained silent as I attempted to recover some degree of dignity following my outburst. I struggled to maintain eye contact with him but eventually broke away and studied my unfinished meal.
When no reply came, I looked up again. His cutlery was on the table, and his hands rested in his lap. His eyes glistened as he examined me.
Deciding my Rubicon was crossed, I continued.
“With only a few months remaining in my term, it makes sense to begin training my successor. We could share duties which would allow time to transition.”
His brow creased. “Melanie, what is this really about?”
“It’s about promises made three and a half years ago. I’m trying to ensure I don’t end up trapped in a lifetime of servitude.”
“Is your lot so terribly unbearable? You are invaluable. Parliament could not function without your unpartisan mediation. You are important, not only to the legislative assembly, but to the Martian people.”
“We agreed that Mother of Mars was to be a symbolic role. I don’t want it identified with me permanently.”
He shook his head. “We both know that will always be the case. You are the person responsible for the greening of this planet. Like it or not, in every sense of the word, you are the planet’s mother.
My fingernails dug into palms as I glared at him. “You never had any intention of simply letting me walk away from this, did you?”
He began to reply, then stopped himself and exhaled, as if to purge that thought and begin anew. “The position was always meant to be merely symbolic. You were originally intended to act in a ceremonial capacity, only. How it’s changed, I’m sorry to say, is largely by your doing.”
My hand slammed the tabletop, clattering dishes. “My fault?”
He nodded gravely. “Yes, I’m afraid so. The moment you first agreed to mediate the deadlocked parliament two years ago, everyone’s perception of you—of your role—changed. A vital oversight in the planning of our governing system was identified that you naturally and capably stepped in to fill.”
“All I did was tell off a bunch of pretentious, self-important idiot politicians who couldn’t get along. You call that mediation? I see it as babysitting. My role thrusts me daily into the middle of that chaotic mayhem they refer to as Parliament. Was I expected to sit there and ceremoniously smile while they tore each other apart?”
“You suffer the curse of the competent, Melanie.”
“I seem to be cursed with something.” I slumped into my seat and pushed the plate away from me. “I jumped right in with only the minimal amount of forethought. That’s how I always operate, and it’s gotten me into more trouble than I can remember.”
The room grew quiet once more, and I stared at a spot in the air, lost in thought. Varr gently cleared his throat to recover my attention.
“I’m sorry to tell you, but the leaders of all three parties recently paid me a visit. They are presenting a new, multiparty bill in the next session.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “It would be rare for those three to agree on a place to eat lunch. What the fuck is going on?”
“It will be called the Emergency Succession Act. It outlines the orderly transition of power in the event of the death or deaths of the prime minister or senior government officials.”
“It’s been a concern raised on the floor a number of times. Why would they visit you to discuss it?”
“They wanted my input on a particular clause.” He swallowed. “It concerns the Mother of Mars.”
My eyes narrowed. “What does it say?”
“In the unlikely event that all members of the governing council are killed or incapacitated, emergency powers will fall to...you.”
It took a few seconds for the meaning of his words sink in. When they did, my jaw fell open, and I struggled to pull a response together. “What the fuck? No way! That is not going to happen.”
“I tried to dissuade them, but they were in agreement. You have demonstrated yourself to be too capable.”
“This is a fucking disaster.”
“Mel, it’s not as bad as you imagine. The clause will only kick in if every member of the government were to suddenly die. Such an event is so unlikely as to be impossible. They only wish to honour the importance of your contributions as redefined by your actions.”
“Shit!”
“It will, however, alter the duration and manner of selection for your position.”
I raised my eyebrow. “How?”
“Your term will be linked to the parliamentary elections, which are scheduled every five years. It will become an elected office. We can’t appoint your successor, even if we wanted.”
“You speak as if the legislation has been passed. If you name my replacement before Parliament can vote on this...”
He shook his head. “They’re going to present and pass it at the beginning of the new session. I tried to talk them out of it, but...” His voice dropped off when he recognized the murderous look in my eye.
“I don’t know how, but you’re behind this.” I stood and leaned across the table. “You may think you have me trapped, but screw you. I’ll resign as soon as I get back to Olympia.”
He frowned and spoke quietly. “If you do, you jeopardize any chance of helping Adrianna.”
I fought to control my rapid breathing and suppress the urge to lunge at him. “How do you know about that?”
The expression on his face softened, and he gestured to my chair, inviting me to sit. “Is that a necessary question, Melanie?”
As I resumed sitting, he continued. “Your current position affords you access to all of the medical and scientific resources aboard Olympia. If you resign, you will lose that privilege.”
“Felix is working on the problem...”
“Imagine what he can achieve with the best facilities and researchers in the solar system available. Do you really want to risk that young girl’s future over this, Mel?”
I recalled how low Varr would stoop to get his way. Felix and I could certainly crib together equipment. We could pool our expertise, but without the full medical diagnostic and computer facilities aboard the station, our chances of success were minuscule.
“You son of a bitch.”
“All I ask is you support the bill and serve out the balance of the new term. You will have nothing compelling you to stand for reelection and will be free to go your own way. In return, I will see to it that every available resource in the system is focussed on finding a cure for the girl.”
I reached across the table for the wine bottle and refilled my glass to the brim. After taking two long swallows, I lowered the cup and fixed him with an icy stare.
“Fine, I’ll do it your way, Varr. But Adrianna is now on Olympia, so the research must begin immediately. Anything we need...anything I request for her treatment must be forthcoming, with no delay. And when my term is done, I’m gone for good.”
“You have my word.”
I snorted derisively and took another large gulp of wine to hide my satisfaction. He gave me everything I intended to wring from him on my arrival.
Chapter Four
Earth, August 21, 2292 TSD
A cloud of snow blew up around the ship’s landing thrusters, stirring up the thin covering that had settled in the clearing overnight.
The rear door opened, and six armoured and heavily armed soldiers descended the ramp before it touched the ground. Four assumed watchful positions, their weapons at the ready. Their two companions jogged into the forest of leafless trees.
Shortly, one of them returned and signalled the all-clear to the occupants of the ship.
Cautiously, a uniformed young officer emerged, his hand hovering over his holstered pistol. He briefly surveyed the surroundings then turned and nodded to those who remained aboard.
A woman in a fur-collared coat confidently descended. Accompanying her was an older male companion dressed only in the uniform of a senior officer and no overcoat to protect him from the elements. The phalanx of soldiers fell in step behind as she walked toward the woods.
Apollonia Ryder stopped to examine her surroundings. Disappointed, she shook her head. “Snow, already. It’s only the end of August. I remember my childhood, playing here in the fallen leaves well into November.”
Ivan Semanko, a head taller than her, looked farther into the white-floored forest. “Those days are gone forever, I’m afraid. Winter arrives earlier every year.”
“It will be all we know before long,” she said, a scowl creasing her worn face.
“Madam Protector,” interrupted the young officer. His voice quavered. “They are waiting for you.”
The man seemed to shrink under her gaze. Without a word, she followed the footsteps in the snow left by her advance guard that led into the forest.
Mood oscillating between trepidation and excitement, she tramped through the ankle-deep white carpet and tried not to anticipate what was about to happen.
For most of her forty-five-year military career, she had known only war. Unending conflict between rival factions had taken a heavy toll on her life. Though it had cost her the opportunity to marry and raise a family, she had long ago accepted what was required of her if she wanted to achieve her goal. Her true concern was about the price the people of Terra paid as long as the wars continued.
Humanity’s existence rode on the outcome of this meeting. Unless the ongoing, devastating conflict, along with the accompanying depletion of Earth’s remaining resources, ended soon, Earth would no longer be able to support its vast number of children. The rapidly cooling climate and the increasingly unpredictable weather were merely the harbingers of what was yet to come.
Her single-minded goal for the last half of her career was to end the squabbling between nation-states that had sapped the valuable resources needed to address a larger problem. Now she stood on the threshold of realizing her dream.
This meeting—this final critical armistice—could yet provide the salvation of humankind. Under one unified government, she believed there was a chance.
Emerging from the forest, she came upon a massive concrete building. Though only five metres of it were visible above the snow line, the foundations extended several storeys into the frozen earth; a legacy from another era. At one time, now far in the past, the once abandoned structure served as a playground for her and her siblings. Now it stood, repurposed for her immediate needs.
Within those walls awaited a dangerous adversary. Zhao Pin was the single most powerful warlord in the Eastern Bloc. Like Apollonia, he had united a multitude of warring nation-states and governed them with an iron fist. He presently held sway over the remaining 40% of the planet not subject to her authority. The continuing conflict between them was on track to destroy the world. Although both of the leaders realized they were at a military stalemate, Apollonia believed she was the only one to see the bigger picture.
Zhao wanted to hold on to power, so much so that he was willing to consider sharing it with her rather than risk the loss of everything. Though her desire to rule was more altruistic, she did not delude herself that righteousness alone would prevail against such a formidable foe. In order to win him over, she had to bring something to the table only she was in a position to offer.
Ivan Semanko stood beside her. “Every possible precaution is in place, and I’m still not sure you are safe going in there.”
“We really don’t have a choice. Time is running out. We either do this now or blow each other to bits.”
“Fortunately, Zhao views things similarly.”
“Only in terms of the inevitable outcome if we do not reach an agreement. His vision doesn’t extend beyond his own skin’s safety.”
“We turned enough of his lieutenants to help him feel uncertain. As long as he thinks knives are out for him if he blows this opportunity, things should go well.”
Apollonia straightened her shoulders and put on her command face. “Let’s get this over with.” She advanced to the door.
By agreement, only she and Semanko entered the cramped elevator that took them into the most secure level of the structure.
The doors opened to a sparsely appointed meeting room occupied by their counterparts. His lieutenant standing a pace behind him, Zhao Pin slouched in a chair at the far end of the table. An amused smile curled up the edges of his mouth at her entrance.
“General Ryder, or is it Protector? I am never too sure how to refer to you these days.”
She smiled and handed her overcoat to Semanko. She tugged at the hem of her tunic before she sat. “Let’s keep this friendly, shall we? Apollonia will do fine.”
“Very well, you may call me General Zhao.” His grin broadened.
She maintained the same smile. “We both know why we are here. There must be an end to this destructive conflict.”
The smug expression faded from Zhao’s face, and he straightened his back. Impatiently, he motioned for his aide to hand him some documents. Self-consciously, he pulled reading glasses from his breast pocket and gave the papers a perfunctory review.
“Everything seems to be as discussed...”
He set everything down and peered at her over his spectacles. “But I want to hear it from your mouth. Certain things were implied that are not written here. What is in this deal that makes you believe I will turn over everything for you to govern?”
“As explained, all provinces you control will join with mine to form a ruling planetary council of equals.”
“Under your governance.”
“Under my vision.” She leaned forward to match his posture. “Open your eyes, Zhao. None of the rivers in your home region have thawed this year, and winter arrived early yet again. All the natural resources once abundant in your territories are used up. Your forces have been recycling materials for a decade. How long do you think that can go on?”
“Your allies do not fare any better.”
“Then why have you come?”
He pushed himself back into his chair and scowled.
She smiled placatingly. “Come, General, neither of us needs to impress the other. We can afford to be honest and frank as equals. You are here because your officers have compelled you to be.”
He crossed his arms and snorted derisively.
“I want to offer you something more personally valuable; more than merely your survival and an opportunity to plot against me.”
The smile returned to Zhao’s face. “You have my interest.”
“This planet is on the cusp of catastrophic change that nobody can hold back. We’ve all been belching carbon dioxide into the atmosphere for decades, to no avail. The coming ice age will destroy everything, and there is nothing we can do to prevent it. Even you aren’t foolish enough to remain and fight in a burning house.”
He sneered, but she did not stop.
“As long as we waste our precious resources warring amongst ourselves, we can never do what is necessary to save humankind from extinction.”
“And what, exactly, is that?”
“We must migrate from Earth. Humanity must move out into the solar system en masse and regain control of what was once rightfully ours.”
“Luna? We tried that once and got a bloody nose.”
“Weak leaders failed because they would not make the hard decisions. We—you and I, are not sycophant politicians. We are warriors. A Terra no longer divided will emerge triumphant and give humanity a fighting chance for survival. And I’m not referring to gaining control over something as pathetic as Luna or the Galilean colonies.”
“Mars, then?”
“Yes. The planet is almost completely terraformed yet occupied by only thirty-five million creatures who call themselves Martians. They are not even a people who can be considered truly human any longer. Why should our legacy be left to a race of degenerate mutants? It can become a Nova Terra, a second home for true mankind.”
Zhao made no effort to hide his covetous grin.
“And you, Zhao—you can build your villa on that conquered world. You can have access to untapped mineral resources on Mars and beyond.”
“The asteroid belt?”
“Why not? Riches to those who can control them and make the best use of the wealth.”
“You make a passionate argument, Ryder...”
“Which you can choose to share in or continue to oppose me and die on a frozen, glacier-covered world, regretting the lost opportunity.”
He glared at her for several long seconds. Apollonia had no idea whether her words had moved him. Her last arrow was spent; if he was not now convinced, there was nothing more to hope for.
Zhao turned to his aide and demanded a pen. With a hurried flourish, he signed the agreement and pushed the papers across the table. “Between you and my generals, I never really had a choice. I will be watching you closely, Ryder. You may think me defanged, but you will discover that my claws are still as sharp as ever if you should prove to be weak or false.”
She did not respond to his taunt but kept her eyes fixed upon him as he rose and left the room with his man.
After their departure, a visibly relieved Semanko said, “That went surprisingly well.”
“It went exactly as I planned.”
She stood and reached for her overcoat. “Once we launch our fleet against Mars, make arrangements for Zhao’s flagship to meet with an unfortunate mishap while he is aboard.”
Chapter Five
Olympia Orbital Habitat, Mars, February 15, 2293 TSD
The robotic supply ship Herve slipped into its berth. Under the coordinated direction of the vessel and Olympia’s AI, its precisely positioned receptor sockets connected to the docking clamps. As it was pulled into the station, the external doors closed behind it.
