Interzeit: A Space Opera

  Interzeit: A Space Opera

  By

  Samuel Eddy

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016 by Samuel Eddy. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN 978-1-365-09106-3

  Take this! My love! My anger! And all of my sorrow! – Domon Kasshu

  Special thanks to Jeremie Fletcher for cover art.

  Chapter 1

  The streets echoed with the ambient static of thousands. In the fading light, the crowds shifted in a large mass. Almost choking with life, they are penned in by the tall towers of Shengen. The brilliant neons and holograms began whirring to live. They painted themselves into existence on the black canvas of the night. Ads for good times, in the place where they never ended. Food, drugs, sex, clothes, music, vulgar media and games. They were endless in the city, free from constraint, limitations set only by the mind itself.

  As it grew later, artificial watchmen of light appeared in front of businesses. Nol watched them move through the street. He peered through them all, phantoms of technology.

  On the wall, in the wall, the glassy surface inside it, a light turns from red to green. Another job well done. The system ran through its diagnostics, the lights throughout the large space flickered on and off in an ordered pattern. Doors opened and closed, there was a soft hiss as the toilets flushed throughout the house.

  Such cacophony meant success, no unexpected set backs. The wall generated a message, “Diagnostic protocol completed”.

  His smiled. Nol walked out of the half built room, and hopped down the stairs. Lower and lower down, the building was closer to finished.

  It was a freespace building, domiciles that were self-modulating and controlling. They had become a fad over the last few years. They allowed people to live however they wished, and if they could not think of what that was, the machine could decide for them.

  He reached the ground level.

  “Is the job done Nol?” one of the three asked,

  He nodded,

  “Great!” Pic, the senior system engineer exclaimed.

  Bela, and Tores laughed, excited, nervous.

  They gathered their things, hit the lights, and then the street.

  “You have the tickets, right Pic?” Nol asked,

  Pic revealed them confidently as they flowed into the crowd, they exchanged smiles.

  He had found them off an Ighzec player. They were going out of town, and the nearest stadium wouldn’t honor an exchange. Of course Pic hadn’t had an exchange, but he worked out a surreptitious deal of some kind.

  What that was, they all knew better than to ask.

  Nol and the others were feeling excited. For Nol, this was the first official planetary event he was old enough to go to. It would be broadcasted everywhere of course, but that didn’t do it justice, you had to be there, really be there, “To take in the scale of it all.” Pic was fond of saying.

  Eventually they reached the venue, “Enhanced Reality Theater”.

  The line filled in quickly, and they were in the dark amphitheater faster than expected. The tickets helped them navigate to the seats, and the experience began. As Nol sat into the chair, the darkness changed, it morphed and grew.

  Everything faded. It was faint at first, the lights, but soon they were glinting all around him. His sense of balance and orientation failed. His mind feels the change, he’s in space. Floating around weightless, the stars glint, the moon is in the distance. After much searching he finds the Earth, which is only in the most relative of ways, “below” him.

  The music starts faint, and erratic. After a few minutes it builds upwards into higher harmonies and complexity.

  “I can feel it, it’s almost here.” Tores says,

  Her face bleeds into the vacuum briefly as she speaks, but fades back into darkness silently.

  She was right, the music crescendos, then the deep bass crooned.

  “It is the 250th year of the Interstellar era. The world of humanity has reached great heights, and perilous existential lows. Two hundred and fifty years have passed since mankind took its second great leap forward into the cosmos. Space opened, welcoming them home.

  The Moon, and Mars were at last obtained. Mankind’s bounty overflowed, and all of humanity’s light, the light of life, spread throughout the solar system.

  It was good for all, until the year 120 IE. A rogue colony invaded the Earth and Mars simultaneously. The fractional and separate forces were slow to respond, and billions lost their lives.

  The Lunar Protectorate, then known as the Moon Operations Bureau, acted definitively in ending the chaos. With the launch of a new type of military craft, the war was ended before the fire burned away all of man’s gains into space.

  This new craft, partly piloted by a human, partially by machine was like a new life entirely. This cybernetic mech, “Skyking” was launched at the colony in desperation.

  The fearless pilot, Rise Nataka, destroyed the entire colony along with all of the militants in a single battle.

  Peace was returned to the heavens, but at what cost?”

  The stars morphed and zoomed past, in the distance a small yellow orb glowed with a growing brilliance. The explosion swept through Nol, rippling outwards.

  “After the fires died, everyone worked towards a unification of space. But this movement was not without its own problems. Soon groups began banding together, forming larger factions. These factions pooled together their catastrophically large resources, and began building war mechs of their own.

  As the decades rolled on, another war seemed all but inevitable. These new armies were assembled like gods of death. Tensions tightened between factions, and humanity was once again on the brink of annihilation.

  The newly formed Autocracy of Kuipterra attacked a fleet of resource probes as they passed the Saturn, violating an economy treaty with TianShanTech.

  Drone crafts in the nearby space started annihilating each other, and as the transmissions of conflict grew, more drones across the system began to engage each other out of “self defense”.

  The cost skyrocketed with both groups fumbling through the chaos, under pressure by their people to throw their new armies in to stop the madness.

  An interspace meeting of delegates came together to end the conflict. Eventually these minds and leaders reached the conclusion that all humanity must be united. There could be no separate factions or states as any major state might eliminate all life.

  They recognized that their problems were irreconcilable. The interest of the groups were too different, any compromise might force conflict out of desperation. Violence and the aggressive actuation of engineering was the only solution.

  A middle way was forged, a new structure laid over all other structures, The Planetary Cabinet. This executive administration would work with the governments of the factions to implement system wide policy.

  Its agenda and staff were to be chosen as the result of a combative competition known as “The Unified War”.

  The words materialized out of the starscape. The inebriated and the emotional cheered, unable to restrain their worship of the institution.

  So it began, the last time Nol had seen it live, he had been a child, but in truth, he was a shameless fanboy. He had seen holocordings of all nine of the previous tournaments, many of them several times.

  This year, the Lunar mech had gotten knocked out in the semi-finals by the representative from Mars. The two had fought in deep Earth orbit. The Martian unit, Phobos, successfully disabled Skyking’s main reactor, sending it hurtling towards r
e-entry. Thankfully, the unit and pilot were recovered before they crashed to the planet.

  Mars was set to face the current three decade champions of the games, The Kuipterran Autocracy, and its unit, Tystrophanes. It was piloted by the prince of Kuipterra himself, Maxelus Calatian the IVth.

  The world around them lurched onwards. The Moon and Earth were pulled away, the red planet soon replacing it.

  They descend through the thin nitrogen buffer of Mars, the sand and dust pick up as they reach the surface. Looking up from the ground, Phobos appears from over a ridge. Covered in matte black plates, and glinting red sensors, it jumps high in the air. It sails in a precise parabola, drifting down into the canyon. The Martians’ had a soft spot for the subterranean.

  Landing, Phobos draws its metallic longsword. The weapons whirrs to life as it leaves the sheath, the edges of the blade glows red hot, working up to an icy blue. It plants the weapon into the rock with a hissing sizzle, and waits.

  Several minutes pass, a faint glow is seen in the sky. It burns like a comet, and explodes. Through the smoke, several plates of metal and debris jettison off the mass. Large fins and sails unfold, the object slows and then glides towards the arena.

  Tystrophanes shines purple, its exterior hull foreign to Earthlings. Its loud colors and sharp angles cut through the sky. The sails rip away from Tystrophanes’s back, and it drifts the rest of the way down on small powerful jets.

  A pane materializes broadcasting the Martian pilot, Kales Marik.

  “Thanks for showing Max, how’s it feel to have a planet under your feet?”

  A second window opens, showing Maxelus’s pallid blue face,

  “I hope you’re ready to lose in front of your people Martian.” He sneers in turn.

  Neither continues, both faces narrow, creasing, flowing into readiness.

  A red neon line burns around the lip of the canyon, demarcating the boundary. A flare fires over head, burning in bright technicolors, it joins the machines in the arena, fizzling.

  The colors grow weak, slowing in frequency, until they die away.

  Tystrophanes produces the handle of its weapon. A bright green beam shoots out, radiating brightly in the shape of a blade.

  Phobos pulls its heatsword from the ground, pointing it forwards. Without ceremony, the Martian charges, a cascade of rockets volley fire from the many pods along its shoulders. Tystrophanes answers, boosting into the storm.

  Lasers shoot from its purple hull, meeting and destroying the missiles as they come in. They shoot forwards slicing past Phobos.

  As the missiles clear, the head of Tystrophanes focuses the lasers. They concentrate into a large beam, growing more and more intense. Phobos dashes to the right on its jets. The laser gives chase, Phobos circles around, closing in gradually.

  The result of countless calculations and exercises, Phobos closes on Tystrophanes’s flank. They try to catch him, but Phobos spins, cleaving through its opponent’s neck. The laser sputters and the head flies into the sand, burning.

  The headless giant, slashes with its energy blade. Phobos parries, and the two exchange strikes. The two swords lock, Tystrophanes grabs the wrist of Phobos’s sword hand, and leans in.

  The green blade crackles against the heatsword.

  “Nothing but an imitation!” Maxelus crackles over his comm.

  The metal quivers, bending in, and Tystrophanes cuts clean through. The left arm of Phobos goes clattering to the dust.

  Marik pulls his mech out, boosting into the air. Its remaining arm reconfigures into a large caliber cannon.

  It opens fire. Tystrophanes leaps into the hail of materiel. Its purple plates blast and shatter off the mech’s hull.

  They meet in they air, the cannon blasts Tystrophanes point blank, sending armor and fire blasting in all directions.

  Its arm snakes under Phobos’s cannon, hooking over its shoulder. Gripping it, Maxelus pulls the two mechs chest to chest.

  He throws his other arm around. Whirls of slashing destroy the jets on Phobos’s back. The two stop in the air suddenly, and careen down, crashing back towards the ground. Phobos crunches beneath Tystrophanes as they hit Martian rock.

  Tystrophanes stands, the cannon arm aims at it, but is slashed in twain by a flick of its wrist.

  Standing over Phobos, Tystrophanes spins the blade to an upright position. The machine seems to gaze at the weapon, its headless phantom eyes leering.

  Its hand rotates. The blade point hangs over the Marik’s cockpit. Tystrophanes raises its arms high, ready to deliver the last blow.

  Suddenly there is a bright flash in the distance. Something flits across the scene, and explodes in the desert behind them. The smoke settles. The cockpit of Maxelus is ripped out. A hole filled with fire and electrical sparks has taken its place.

  Tystrophanes stands over Phobos mindless, the blade locked into place. The fire in the center of the mech jets outwards suddenly, it burns bright and explodes. The audience simulation shakes in dust, and the transmission cuts back to space.

  The stadiums roars as the house lights return.

  “What was that?” Nol asks, “What just happened?”

  “What a shit show,” Pic answered, “Phobos was the first to touch the outside of the arena, and was defeated. They lost.”

  “I wonder who stepped in?” Bela asks somewhat rhetorically, “Why?”

  A short man, wired with intercom gear, stepped onto center stage. “Everyone please exit into the lobby. We’re getting reports that the broadcast ship was damaged in the explosion. We need everyone to wait outside while contact is re-established on the ground.

  The mob angrily exits the theater. Nol and the others get separated from each other by the crowd. After some searching, Nol finds Pic and Tores near the exit, Pic huffing on a vaporchem.

  “Hey Nol!” he waves him over.

  “Me and Tores are going to Jezubs to wait this out, want in?”

  “I don’t know,” Nol answered, “I feel off about this whole thing, I don’t want to get alcohol involved.”

  “Alright take care,” he waves goodbye tersely and leaves with Tores.

  Nol stood near the door, watching the large screens on the inner wall. News services commented on the happening. Early reports saying that the Kuipterran pilot had violated the rules in some way. Reactions point towards possible interference by the high brass of Mars.

  “Crazy huh?” Bela appeared from within the human mass.

  “Yea…” Nol said, “One hundred years of clean conduct, and now this.”

  “Yea,” She agreed, “Although it would be nice to get out from under the thumb of Kuipterra, Martian policy might be a good thing.”

  “Maybe,” Nol replied, “You going to Jezubs?”

  She nodded, “You?”

  “No, I think I’m going to head home, see if Clara knows anything.”

  She laughed, “What would she know?”

  Nol shrugged heading for the door, “She spends all of her time on the off-world networks, maybe somebody on Mars knows more.”

  They say their goodbyes. Nol wanders through the crowded streets. It would be a far walk home, but the streets were so strangled with ride services that he didn’t care.

  He watched the shining moon in the sky. It was waning, but mostly visible. A small piece on its surface glinted, the lights of Kovskygrad, The largest colony on the lunar surface. The decadent place was an outgrowth of an earlier time, a living memorial.

  As he broke out of the entertainment zone, the crowds thinned out. The streets grew sparse, aside the occasional light of a vehicle, or other clumps of wandering citizens. He felt his ionics vibrate. He checked it, a well conditioned reflex. His jacket sleeve showed he had a message, Tores had sent him a video.

  He grabbed the video, and held it in front of him as he walked.

  A small crowd of supporters of the Autocracy were yelling and disrupting the flow through traffic. Chants of treachery and vulgarity rung out. Some standbyers engage
d in their own epithets and challenged them. The view panned up to Tores’s face.

  “Just trying to get through,” she said annoyed, it ends with her shouting at someone out of view.

  He let the video go, the hologram flutters away. Nol felt slightly sick. He wasn’t very good at the nuances of space politics. Everything on Earth tended to go normal despite who won the games. Even with all of the advances outward, Earth was precious, treated as a prize by the factions. Even a city like Heiro, a small region in Shengen, was well taken care of by the Planetary Cabinet.

  Nol reaches his condo by midnight. He walks in the pristine living room, the lights all on still. He turns on the screen, and sits. The news headline under the talking heads comes in many variations, but is clear.

  “Mars ends UW in suspicious circumstances”

  “Cloaked rail gun destroys Kuipterran mech due to possible rule violation.”

  “Tensions high over controversial act in UW.”

  The pneumatic whoosh of a door, foot steps,

  “Weird stuff huh?” Clara asserts.

  “Yeah, really put a damper on my night.”

  Clara slinks onto the other end of the couch. She is already in, or maybe hadn’t changed out of, her baggy pajamas.

  They watched the gamut of pundits circle around the unconfirmed possibilities. Nervous drain circling, their faces are tense with strained neutrality.

  “So, do you know anything?” Nol asks

  “Well,” she ponders, “Most of the Martians…well most of them, are citing this rule in the UW charter. It basically says that militaries are allowed to step into a fight under an anti-casualty byline. If one of the combatants is about to kill someone in a way that isn’t necessary to winning the battle, any amount of force can be used to prevent it.”

  “Wow,” Nol groans, “So who is the new champion going to be?”

  “If that interpretation wins out, the Federated Colonies of Mars.”

  Nol sighs, “I somehow doubt the Kterrans will be okay with that.”

  “The KT capital colony, “Tetraphaedrome” is in the inner system for the games. If they’re going to react, they’re well equipped to do so, and quickly.”