constant violence that punctuated her life, she had only been an observer—at most, a victim. Not anymore. She left Mike at the controls and headed for the Ppod. She hated him, hated being here, hated what was going to happen to her.
Had already happened.
The Glory and the Goddess
Char must have left something in the microwave. Its intermittent beep was giving her a headache. She opened her eyes and realized she wasn’t in her apartment. She’d fallen asleep in the com center, the side of her face smashed against the hard table that held the hydroponics monitors.
The irritating noise came from the agronomist’s entertainment screen. Probably time for another of his shows. The words no signal blinked in time with the beep. She turned off the screen and stretched.
The annex was nightside. Glowlights illuminated the floors but didn’t obscure the light show out the ceiling window. Up here, free of the filthy atmosphere, the stars were brilliant, the reds and blues obvious. She couldn’t remember which color meant a star was old and which meant it was new.
There were no stars where the planet took up the view, only a faint corona of light outlining the earth’s curve. Char stood up then laughed at herself. As if in standing she would be closer, the better to detect any city lights still working on the planet surface.
She regretted the loss of her sunglasses. The slider/projector would have been useful, at least to get a better look at what was creeping about out there. Not strong enough for planet watching though. The annex must have some device for that, unless forbidden by IHS. She’d find the agronomist’s personal quarters later and see what he had on hand.
Without city light patterns, it was impossible to know where they were. The great blazing grids that marked the metropolitan centers had simply disappeared. Civilization’s organized light had been replaced by fire.
What was going to happen to the world’s knowledge? How many libraries and databases had been destroyed in the last day alone? When all this was over, there might be no one left alive who knew the meaning of the colors of stars.
War and Rumors of War. The phrase stuck in her head, but she couldn’t place it.
The Imperium, the one-world government, was supposed to have ended all war. With the corporations united behind one Emperor and the right to profit enshrined in universal law, there was no incentive to war. That was the argument.
That was the bargain human beings made with the corporations. What choice did people have when every contractor was better armed than the countries they serviced?
Of course “one-world government” turned out to be a joke and no guarantee of peace either. China refused to join, and enviros like the DOGs and religios like the TU had bigger bombs and slicker stunners than the Emperor.
In the ceiling, the earth went black, not even any fires. They must be over an ocean.
A guttural, animalistic sound came from the com board. Mike, stirring from sleep. His hair was matted down, a few errant spikes sticking out at sadly unstylish angles. Not yet fully awake, there was an innocent softness in his face.
She didn’t hate him, after all. Who was she to judge? Mike just wanted to survive, as she had in the eyeball screaming at him to launch the blanket.
“I was trying to find the Emperor’s shuttle.” He yawned and stretched then started working the board, no doubt resuming the search for his precious Emperor.
“They haven’t answered your messages?”
“I’m not sending, just listening.” He ran his fingers through his hair, absently lifting the spikes. “I don’t want to call attention to the annex.”
Char checked a monitor clock. She’d slept five hours. Apparently no one had attempted to dock in that time, but such luck wouldn’t last. As Mike had said, people knew where the food was.
And people were out there. She could see ships dead in orbit, to be sure. There were also ships
Had already happened.
The Glory and the Goddess
Char must have left something in the microwave. Its intermittent beep was giving her a headache. She opened her eyes and realized she wasn’t in her apartment. She’d fallen asleep in the com center, the side of her face smashed against the hard table that held the hydroponics monitors.
The irritating noise came from the agronomist’s entertainment screen. Probably time for another of his shows. The words no signal blinked in time with the beep. She turned off the screen and stretched.
The annex was nightside. Glowlights illuminated the floors but didn’t obscure the light show out the ceiling window. Up here, free of the filthy atmosphere, the stars were brilliant, the reds and blues obvious. She couldn’t remember which color meant a star was old and which meant it was new.
There were no stars where the planet took up the view, only a faint corona of light outlining the earth’s curve. Char stood up then laughed at herself. As if in standing she would be closer, the better to detect any city lights still working on the planet surface.
She regretted the loss of her sunglasses. The slider/projector would have been useful, at least to get a better look at what was creeping about out there. Not strong enough for planet watching though. The annex must have some device for that, unless forbidden by IHS. She’d find the agronomist’s personal quarters later and see what he had on hand.
Without city light patterns, it was impossible to know where they were. The great blazing grids that marked the metropolitan centers had simply disappeared. Civilization’s organized light had been replaced by fire.
What was going to happen to the world’s knowledge? How many libraries and databases had been destroyed in the last day alone? When all this was over, there might be no one left alive who knew the meaning of the colors of stars.
War and Rumors of War. The phrase stuck in her head, but she couldn’t place it.
The Imperium, the one-world government, was supposed to have ended all war. With the corporations united behind one Emperor and the right to profit enshrined in universal law, there was no incentive to war. That was the argument.
That was the bargain human beings made with the corporations. What choice did people have when every contractor was better armed than the countries they serviced?
Of course “one-world government” turned out to be a joke and no guarantee of peace either. China refused to join, and enviros like the DOGs and religios like the TU had bigger bombs and slicker stunners than the Emperor.
In the ceiling, the earth went black, not even any fires. They must be over an ocean.
A guttural, animalistic sound came from the com board. Mike, stirring from sleep. His hair was matted down, a few errant spikes sticking out at sadly unstylish angles. Not yet fully awake, there was an innocent softness in his face.
She didn’t hate him, after all. Who was she to judge? Mike just wanted to survive, as she had in the eyeball screaming at him to launch the blanket.
“I was trying to find the Emperor’s shuttle.” He yawned and stretched then started working the board, no doubt resuming the search for his precious Emperor.
“They haven’t answered your messages?”
“I’m not sending, just listening.” He ran his fingers through his hair, absently lifting the spikes. “I don’t want to call attention to the annex.”
Char checked a monitor clock. She’d slept five hours. Apparently no one had attempted to dock in that time, but such luck wouldn’t last. As Mike had said, people knew where the food was.
And people were out there. She could see ships dead in orbit, to be sure. There were also ships
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