LotS/The Story/Politics of War/Asteroid Belt
Asteroid Belt
“The asteroid belt?” Wilex asks. “You’re sure?”
“We have the data right here,” you say.
The Chief Assembler’s face beams at you from the screen.
“Then we have them!” he laughs. “If the Centurians have a military installation in the Sol System, the UHW can’t possibly let them get away with it. If they did, there would be chaos! When are you going to present your findings?”
“After we storm it,” you reply.
The smile disappears from Wilex’s face, replaced with a look of utmost gravity.
“You’re going to attack?” he says.
“We don’t know how long it’ll be before the Centurians find out about their stolen data, and we can’t risk them destroying the evidence. We came back to the embassy to get what we need, and to meet up with Tel and Lu Bu. Now we’re going straight to our ship.”
“If this place is so important to the Centurians, it could be heavily defended.”
“That’s why we want you to meet us there,” you say. “We’ve already sent word to the Niflung ambassador, and the others we believe we can trust. They’ll pull some strings and keep the security forces off you long enough for you to reach the asteroid.”
“You’re asking us to take part in an attack within UHW territory, without official sanction?”
“Yes. Make your decision quickly.”
You close the connection, and go to join the others.
“How did the asteroid belt even get there?” Telemachus asks.
He was disappointed to learn that he won’t be able to see the belt stretched out in all its glory through the window. In fact, from his reaction one might have assumed that the laws of astrophysics had deliberately chosen to conspire against him. So instead he’s gazing at a monitor, at a zoomed-in map of the Sol System. On that, at least, the asteroids can be seen as a ring circling the sun – human ingenuity compensating for nature’s awkwardness.
“Most physicists think it was created when interstellar dust came together to form the rest of the planets,” replies the Princess. “They say that some of the dust wasn’t able to become its own planet, because of gravitational interference from Jupiter. So it formed asteroids instead.”
You feel the smile creasing your lips. One of the finest educations in all of human space, the result of dozens of the best tutors money could buy. And it’s being used to entertain a small child.
“People used to think there was once a planet there,” she continues, “and it exploded to create the asteroids in the belt. But no one really believes that anymore.”
Loose Lips Explode Ships
“It’s just empty space,” says Telemachus, frowning at his second astral disappointment of the day.
“The asteroids are far apart,” you reply. “Otherwise they’d collapse into a planet under the force of their own gravity.”
“Oh.”
“Check the scanner, captain,” Talia says, pointing.
Two blips have appeared there, just behind the nearest asteroid. As you draw closer, you see their images on another screen.
“Centurian vessels,” says Lu Bu. “Sentries designed to warn their base of approaching danger.”
“Then they’ll know we coming,” growls Ragnar. “Fine by me, but I thought you wanted to surprise them.”
“They won’t risk sending long-range transmissions,” you reply. “If the UHW picked them up, it would reveal the presence of the base. That’s why they’re flying away from us. They want to get close enough to send a short-range message. But they’re not going to make it that far…”
Open Sesame
“Those explosions won’t have gone unnoticed,” Lu Bu says, gazing out of the window as the last lingering sparks of a ship’s life are devoured by the void.
“I’m hoping Bjorsson and the others can keep the patrol ships off us,” you reply. “But we’ll have to make this quick.”
As if on cue, your target appears before you – a large asteroid floating against a scattered backdrop of faraway stars. Its simulacrum appears on a monitor in place of the map of the system.
“There’s the entrance, according to the data we stole,” Talia says, indicating the highlighted point on the image. It’s blinking, as though urging your fire.
You descend towards the asteroid’s surface, in the direction of that blinking area. As you approach, you see green blips on the scanner. Wilex and his people, converging on your location as you asked them to.
Now you just need to get inside. You doubt the Centurians would simply open the door and confirm their presence. But that’s easily solved.
Your thumb presses down on the fire button.
Into the Breach
There’s a slight vibration through the flight cabin, as the ship touches down on the rock – near to the hole you blasted in its surface.
“You found it?” Wilex asks, his excitement almost seeming to surge through the speaker.
“We’re looking at it right now,” you reply.
There, through the window in front of you, is the entrance to the Centurians’ base – its shroud of rock destroyed by your fire.
“Helmets on,” you say.
The words are unnecessary, however. Your companions have already donned and sealed their helmets, and are grabbing hold of their weapons in anticipation of the coming battle.
Telemachus grumbles as he puts his own bulky, ill-fitting helmet on, its collar resting on his shoulders. He presses the button on its side, and a transparent field spreads over his body. When he told you that the cockpit of his mech was safe for use in a zero-atmosphere environment, you asked him if he’d ever tested it. Upon hearing that he hadn’t, you demanded that he take the helmet with him. There were no child-sized spacesuits in the embassy building.
Almost as soon as the six of you leave the ship and begin to fan out – your steps firm against the artificial gravity generated from within the asteroid – laser fire comes from within the doorway.
Centurian Secrets
Streams of fire fly towards the entrance, from your companions and from the battle bots pouring out of the ships that have landed beside your own. It’s so heavy that it seems to drown out the fire coming in the opposite direction. The Centurians don’t stand a chance. The survivors pull back inside, heading deeper into the base.
You and your companions are the first to the entrance, having pressed the attack as soon as the enemies started to retreat. There’s a shimmer of light around your body as you step into the corridor beyond, and you feel a slight resistance.
“There’s air in here,” you call out.
“Finally!” Telemachus yells.
His mech stomps along behind him, operating on autopilot. The moment it passes through the field he yanks off his helmet, causing the bulging field to disappear from around his body. Then he clambers inside the cockpit. The look of elation as he fires up the mech’s laser-edged chainsaw is both disturbing and heartwarming.
“Don’t let up!” you say. “We need to take this place hard and fast.”
“My specialty,” Ragnar replies.
You charge down the corridor, its walls and floor made of rough metal plates fastened to the asteroid’s rock, its ceiling left naked and unadorned. Your weapons blaze as new enemies to mass at the far end – their red lasers flashing towards you. What is it with evil people and red lasers?
Warmaster Kardoc
It’s as though the asteroid plunged into an ocean, and the water surged through its entrance – filling every inch of space as it rushed to drown those inside. That’s how complete and unstoppable the devastation is. Battle bots fan out down each corridor, slaughtering every enemy they come across. But compared to the carnage wrought by you and your companions, their actions are as moonlight unto sunlight, as water unto wine.
With each passage, each chamber you seize, more Centurian corpses litter the floor. Some are riddled with bullets, where Ragnar’s machinegun tore into them. Others lie with neat holes burned into their heads or hearts, victims of Talia’s fast-paced gunslinging or else the Princess’ careful, calculated shots. Those slain by Lu Bu’s blade, Telemachus’ chainsaw, or the Nifling’s axe are far less elegant. In some cases the ruined scraps of their uniforms are all that render them identifiable as human remains.
The nature of the base is soon apparent. You pass through rooms laden with heavy machinery, others full of stacked armaments. This asteroid base must have been intended as a staging point for when the Centurians were finally ready to make their assault on the Earth. Even the most idiotic UHW politician will have to sit up and pay attention when they see the footage, and read the reports.
But the final touch to your victory is provided when you enter another room, a cavern with bare stone walls – furnished with only a single large computer terminal. In front of it stands a hulking form in thick armor, his back to you. Though the last such creature you saw was almost naked, its reptilian flesh on display, there can be no mistaking its outline.
The Besalaad alien babbles away in its unintelligible language. His interlocutor is hidden from you, the screen blocked out by the alien’s immense bulk. But his savage anger is clear. He’s reporting failure.
You gesture to your companions, urging them to take up their positions. The Besalaad’s day is about to get even worse.
He turns round as lasers and bullets scar his armor, a savage roar bellowing from his monstrous face.
“If you were working with the Centurians, you can probably understand me,” you say.
The creature thrashes on the ground. But Ragnar is pinning one of his muscular arms to the ground beneath his knees. The foot of Telemachus’ mech is planted on the other. The wounded alien is powerful, his muscles perhaps enhanced by the armor he’s wearing. But in his weakened and wounded state he can’t throw them off.
“That means we can make you talk,” you continue.
“UHW regulations are quite clear when they say that human beings aren’t supposed to employ torture,” Lu Bu says. “But they don’t say anything about robots…”
The Besalaad purses his lips, and gives a low growl as if he’s about to speak or spit. His jaws make a quick, frantic movement – as though he’s eating. When at last his mouth opens, it’s neither words nor spittle which comes forth. Something large and fleshy flies from his maw, and splats against your chest before falling to the ground – leaving a green stain in its wake. It takes you a moment to understand that it’s the alien’s tongue.
Sickly green liquid erupts from his mouth, splattering across his chest. Then his great body gives one last shudder, before lying still.
By the time you get back to your ship, word has already spread. The communicator bleeps with the news of jostling transmissions, as a dozen people try to reach you. You’re about to reject them, still too filled with adrenaline and elation to deal with babble from the UHW. But you see that one of the messages is from Bjorn Bjorsson, and you decide to accept it.
“Have you heard?” he asks, the instant his image appears on the screen.
“We’ve just come from a firefight,” you reply. “The only things we heard were lasers and explosions. Why? What’s happened?”
“The Centurians have pulled out of the UHW. As soon as word came that you’d stormed their little asteroid, they knew they were screwed. Some of them managed to get into space before the security forces showed up at their embassy. The others are under arrest pending the investigation.”
Bjorsson closes the connection after a few moments, and goes off to play his part in the turbulent events unfolding on Earth.
You look to the Princess, and see her bright eyes sparkling.
“We’ve driven the Centurians from Earth!” she says. “If we handle this right, if we get enough of the UHW behind us, we can take the war to Alpha Centauri itself! And we can free Sian from the Collective’s grasp.”