Bubblegum Chaos: A Mote in the Eye of Eternity
This fic is set 100 years after the slightly altered end of Bubblegum
Crisis. It contains mature themes, language and sentence structure. Do
not fear the semicolon!
Bubblegum Crisis is owned by someone else and I have not gotten their
permission for this work. All rights Reversed.
Eighty Years Before:
The world was in upheaval. Even from his vantage point high above earth
Mackie could feel the flow of history below him, penetrating the silent
vacuum between his station and the surface. Even through the tinted
windows of the command booth he could see the flashes of light that
marked mankind's entry into Genom Year 0. Sixty years before mankind had
entered the second millenium AD in a graceful anticlimax, and around the
world Genom's spin doctors were preparing a party that would overwhelm
even the memory of the Gregorian calendar.
Mackie looked down without emotion. He felt that there should be some
reaction, some sympathy or anger or even fear but there was simply the
empty space in his chest that hadn't gone away in twenty years. He
supposed it was his neural nanonics, his father's work protecting his
son's conscious mind from insanity.
Without meaning to, Mackie remembered his sister's voice drifting
through the TacNet, desperate for the first time Mackie could remember.
Her tone a more stunning realization of their deaths than the blank
telemetry readouts. Raven's hand holding his own, the old man's strength
surprising as Mackie struggled to reply. Raven's face, ashen and blank.
He exhaled, shocked to find spherical tears floating in his field of
vision; just an empty bit of physiology as the inner vacuum still held.
Thirteen years in this very orbit, and now the station was moving.
Moving with all most a hundred more on their way to Mars or the belt.
"Tails between our legs," Mackie muttered as the flashes around
Washington escalated a step.
"What was that, Stingray?" Francis asked across the Comm.
"Nothing important," he answered, watching as Genom collected the
debts the US owed. The last great nation state collapsing into corporate
servitude, all in the name of efficiency.
"Just keep watching the sky hook. Anything starts heading this
direction and you shout good and loud."
Mackie muttered an affirmative back, concentrating on the battle being
waged. He knew what was happening down there even without checking the
data streams. The Army's tanks and helicopters and men were being taken
apart by Genom's boomers, like an elephant attacked by armed mice. Genom
would minimize damage to the nation's infrastructure, while ensuring
that certain monuments be 'accidentally' destroyed.
America lay dying below, victim of its own inactivity. The great beast
lashed out in its death throughs, nukes flashing out into space only to
be burned from the sky by Genom's SDI platforms. The organism that was
America would die; there was no one who could or would save it. After
its death, Genom would rule earth outright. The last bits of
independent humanity were in orbit or below the sea.
"It isn't over," Mackie said as the words echoed hollowly back to him.
"I'm sorry sis," he whispered, unsure if he really could feel sorry
anymore. "I'm sorry, Nene," he said softly to the command booth.
"Tzu Kung asked, 'what do you think of me?'
The Master said: 'you are a vessel.'
'what kind of vessel?'
'a sacrificial vessel.'
-The Analects, V. 4
Chapter 2: Blame it on Murakami
The scanners at Farpoint picket up the plasma trails of the Tonobu, a
bright flare in the inky black of space. The sensor operator recognized
the signals almost as fast as the computer, after all there weren't any
other ships that made a habit of appearing in the middle of Farpoint's
sensor range slowing idly at a half gee.
The ship wasn't particularly large, but it cruised unmolested through
space. Two years before a pirate had tried to capture her, just outside
the range of Farpoint's sensors. The salvage ships sent out for the
pirate hadn't found a piece larger than a couple square meters. The
compact vessel hadn't been molested since.
The sensor operator called Control and informed the traffic controllers
or the Tonobu's arrival. With some amusement he watched as control
vacated the Tonobu's traditional berth, right alongside the main
habitation area, along the central shaft that ran the length of
Farpoint's O'Neil habitat. Since its arrival six years ago the Tonobu
had been extended every courtesy from free berthing to exclusive use of
the station's fabrication facilities, all at the effect of the
Councilor.
"Old Man's still crazy," the sensor operator muttered as he watched the
dense ship slide effortlessly into its berth. He couldn't have noticed
the slight fluctuation in his sensors as the computer system succumbed
to outside pressure.
Chiriko needed off the ship. She'd been couped up inside for longer
than she care to remember and none of Andrea's urging would get her to
try Immersing. The computer tourism angle never appealed to Chiriko, who
suggested that actually travelling somewhere was almost as important as
seeing everything at one's location.
"You're such a romantic," Andrea had replied. "If its exactly like the
real thing but easier to get to, what's the difference?" she added with
the scorn teenagers reserved for backwards elders.
Hiding her irritation, Chiriko had stalked off and played guitar. She
knew they were coming to Farpoint; Isis had said as much after the
Boundless. And Chiriko wanted some time to herself. No matter how hard
she tried to isolate herself from the others she kept getting dragged
back into back into their midst. From Andrea harassing her to listen to
some 'good' music to Patricia dogging her for akido lessons or Ingrid
talking shop.
It wasn't anything personal, but Chiriko hadn't dealt with other people
like this since she'd run from the orphanage in Kyoto. The years between
had been empty of others and Chiriko had forgotten how much of a pain in
the ass other people were. All of her cabin fever had lead her sneaking
off the Tonobu through a service access port that lead across the
umbilical connecting the ship and station.
Her firm suit was snug next to her body, underneath the ship suit she'd
been issued on arrival. The suit was gently reminding her that this was
a bad idea, the tactical module's warnings a dull throb in her head. She
hadn't asked and quite honestly had no idea how Isis would react to a
request for shore leave. But that wasn't the point; no one had any right
to tell her what to do, not Isis not Ingrid not her foster parents. She
just wanted a little time in a place where no one cared about her. What
could happen?
"Shit," Andrea muttered to herself as the walls of ICE shifted. So far
she hadn't even got close enough to case Farpoint's defenses, never mind
try and pick her way through them. She backed off, frustration bubbling
through her psyche. Andrea hadn't tried to crack anything since she'd
gotten joined the Sabers, a couple of small servers notwithstanding, and
the itch had returned. Not like the old days when she got the jitters if
she didn't log in every couple hours, but now she had the firm suit's
Immersion system to dull the ache.
Even though the firm suit sated the physical aspect of her addiction,
the more abstract thrill of hacking was still alive in her. It made her
plug into the net, using the firm suit as her deck, and spend a few
hours checking out the local net. She was impressed with the ICE, with
the modern nature of the grid especially considering the traffic it
supported. Compared to Earth or even the Orbitals, the Consortium used
Immersion technology much more. Kids went to school through the net,
people worked through the net, friends hung out even when separated by
thousands of miles.
So the security was good. Extremely good. Good enough to scare Andrea a
little, especially when she saw the shapes moving around the far end of
the O'neil. Something about it screamed black ICE. Evil stuff, that
Andrea had never ran into during her days of hacking. Nothing she had
ever tried to crack was worth guarding with the stuff, simply because it
was so damn expensive.
After debating with herself for a moment, Andrea decided hacking would
be a bad idea. Instead she could sight see the interior of the habitat
simply by logging into the station. She moved to one of the gates,
attempting to contact the gate keeper program she'd seen others use to
enter the main colony.
"Hello?" she asked the gate, unable to see the friendly looking icon
that normally greeted visitors. "Anyone there?" she looked around some
more, finally deciding to try the door herself. Certainly the sysop
wouldn't mind a little initiative on her part, would he?
As her hand touched the handle to the door (which would query the
system for the entry requirements) the entire character of the O'neil's
system changed. The previously accurate representation of the station
darkened, the color bleaching out of it until it resembled something
from one of those retro detective movies that had been popular a few
years prior. The space around it changed too, tendrils of programming
extending outward from the station.
"I didn't do anything!" Andrea yelled as one of the tendrils extended
towards her, bouncing off a hastily raised data wall. Andrea retreated
from the station, noticing the Tonobu's net analog distancing itself
from station.
"What's going on!" she sent to the Tonobu's computer, expecting the
dull voice of the ships OS in response.
"We have to go," Isis told her by way of response. "Genom compromised
the station."
"How? That ICE was first rate."
"It's human written. Only so much paper for an AI," Isis replied.
"Shit," she added absently, the tone and intonation perfect. Whoever
wrote her is unbelievable, Andrea reflected absently.
"What?" Andrea asked.
"Chiriko's missing. Must be on the station."
"How did she get on?" Andrea asked, entering the Tonobu's data
structure.
"Headstrong bitch," Isis muttered, genuinely angry; below the anger was
something else, almost amusement. No, satisfaction, Andrea realized. She
almost expected this, Andrea thought as she returned to her body,
logging out of the net. Who was Isis? Andrea wondered, not for the first
time.
The command module of the Tonobu was quiet even as they watched
Farpoint's death throws. Genom was ignoring the ships fleeing from the
doomed station while boomers from concealed carriers mopped up
resistance from the Consortium navy. In the depths of space, Genom's
tools took strange shapes, not limiting themselves to the vaguely
humanoid. Massive boomers, resembling space sharks dueled with
Consortium fighters, flickering particle beams tracing a morbidly
beautiful scene.
"Seek boomers," Ingrid said softly from one of the five stations that
dotted the bridge. "Probably from the Third Fleet."
"Can we help them?" Patricia asked from her station, strapped in to the
acceleration webbing. "I mean aren't we supposed to?"
"And what exactly can we do against a whole fleet?" Andrea asked. "What
we need to do is find Chiriko and get the hell out of here."
"Agreed," Isis said, her hologram holding place at the central station.
"There's too much EM interference for any communication, but we should
just hold our place here for a little while."
"What happens when they're finished with the Consortium forces?" Ingrid
asked, watching the space battle with interest. She'd never gotten to do
any ET work and the raw variety of shapes and sizes of the opponents
intrigued her.
"They won't be looking for us," Isis replied. She looked at her screen,
apparently studying some readout and punched in a command or two. For
our benefit, Ingrid thought, mirroring the sentiment Andrea felt.
"There's someone onboard who can help her, and he'll be looking for
her."
"Who?" Patricia asked.
"The Councilman," Isis replied simply.
Ain't this a bitch! Chiriko thought with mock contentment as she
blasted her way through another pair of the spider boomers. Her laser
burned through the spherical central body of another as it loomed
further down the hall. She could feel herself grinning under her mask,
the adrenaline rush filling her. She felt more complete, as if battle
filled her out somehow.
There was music playing in her head, she realized as she picked a
corridor at random, thoroughly lost in the maze of passages in the walls
lining the central habitat. A little fragment of a song, urging her
forward. Chiriko leaped forward, sensors warning her of hostile weapons
locks. Above, surging through the roof, were a pair of the spiders. Its
body was two parts, chrome spheres linked by heavily armored
articulation. Its memory metal legs flexed and darted independently,
driving sharp claws through the deck plate at Chiriko's feet.
On pure instinct Chiriko drover her fist up, the suit's expert system
extending the wickedly sharp blade from her wrist. It cleaved through
the spider's central eye, unblinking sensor pod catching fire as the
boomer dropped to the floor. A rail gun slug later and Chiriko had
another brief break.
She exhaled, trying unsuccessfully to hide the grin on her face. Then
the sensors began demanding her attention with gradually increasing
urgency. There were nearly twenty sensor contacts, all closing fast.
"Shit," Chiriko barked, glancing around the dead end corridor the
spiders had pinned her in. A laser blast diffracted off her armor as she
pounded at one of the bulkheads, biting back swears and prayers. Chiriko
blasted back at the advancing boomers, a mix of spider and more humanoid
shapes, their silhouettes visible as the light from the spreading fires.
Beside her a section of the bulkhead slid open, revealing an empty
conduit that ran off into the dark.
The fire from the advancing boomers increased in intensity, driving
Chiriko into cover against the wall. Her return fire was mostly
ineffectual thanks to the constant stream of fire the boomers were
laying down. Left with nowhere else, Chiriko dived through the gap left
by the retracting bulkhead.
The hall's light died as the door closed, but the room was positively
cluttered to Chiriko's enhanced vision. Pipes lined the narrow hallway,
some at room temperature some a good deal higher. In fact, the room was
hot enough for Chiriko's firm suit to pull a good deal more energy from
its surroundings.
There appeared only one way to go, so Chiriko picked her way through
the maze of piping, cautiously probing her way through the service
tunnel. Behind her the boomers began pounding on the section of bulkhead
that served as her entrance. A ground shaking boom later and Chiriko
relaxed slightly, her concerns about pursuit subsiding.
She turned her attention ahead, turning her sensor probes to their
maximum intensity. Only her onboard navigation software allowed her any
semblance of location as the turns drifted through the shell surrounding
Farpoint Prime. Just as she was debating turning back she came into a
small room, with a high domed ceiling.
"Hello," a battered shell of a voice said, emerging from the cylinder
at the center of the dimly lit room. "I finally get to meet one of Isis'
girls," the voice continued, the speakers clear eyes visible in the
wrinkled mass of his face.
"Who the fuck are you?" Chiriko asked, a little disturbed by the man's
age. Old people had always made her nervous�
"Just a friend of your boss'. Councilman Stingray," the old man said,
spreading his hands in a sad gesture. "Perhaps former Councilman
Stingray would be a little more in line with the facts of the day."
"Hey, what the hell is going on around here. I just managed to get
onboard and giant spiders crawl through the walls, shooting everything
that moves."
"Genom has finally found this place, and is taking steps to remove its
competitor's main factory. From what the reports say they've succeeded."
Chiriko couldn't take her eyes off the man's empty eyes, and the
toneless quality of his voice unnerved her.
"How old are you, anyway?" she asked.
"Not much for social niceties are you? Don't worry, your predecessor
wasn't either. The two of you aren't so dissimilar after all."
"You knew her?" Chiriko asked, her own questions about the Sabers
returning to her mind.
"In another life," the man said, his tone softening. "But our main
concern now is getting you off the station." His voice hardened again as
a hologram sprang to life from one of the recesses in the coffin the man
was strapped into. It showed the space around Farpoint, a line linking
the besieged city and a small speck labeled Knight Wing.
"Sorry," he said, sounding unrepentant. The label changed to Tonobu a
moment later, the sickly grin spreading across the old man's face an
unspoken challenge. First time I've ever had an old man try and pick a
fight with me, Chiriko thought wryly.
"They left?" Chiriko exclaimed, suddenly realizing she was stranded in
increasingly hostile territory.
"The Genom Fleet is knocking on our hull right now, and Destiny came
too close to cracking the Tonobu as it was."
"They came after us," Chiriko said, her firm suit peeling back from her
face. Something about the old man set her at ease, despite the
discomfort that his eyes were causing. All the sneaking around with the
Boundless and Genom still identified them.
"I wouldn't say so. Farpoint has been living on borrowed time for a
while now. Same with the rest of the Consortium. As long as Genom kept
occupied we could live our happy little dream of independence." The
man's face creased even more as he positively radiated distaste. "It was
just a matter of time."
The Councilman's hologram flickered once, the program crashing in a
flare of static. Alarm marred the Councilman's face, and his fingers
danced through the intricate steps somatic interfaces required. "That
fucking AI is beginning to piss me off," he muttered, his tone filled
with vitrol.
"You and me both," Chiriko added, her own sensors starting to pick up
contacts. "We're going to have company in a couple of minutes."
"No, I'll be having company in a few minutes. You are getting off this
station or you'll really irritate Isis. Trust me on this one, you don't
want to see her irritated."
"What, you think I'm going to leave you here? You saved my life!"
"Don't worry about any debts. You'll have plenty of time to square them
later. Trust me."
"What's that supposed to mean? If those boomers come in here they'll
slaughter you!"
"I wish she'd sent the young one," the old man muttered, annoyance
returning to his face. His fingers flicked quickly. "I was hoping I
didn't have to do this, but I can't really say I'm surprised."
Chiriko felt her firm suit surge back over her face, cutting off her
startled yelp. Then it turned and walked towards a waiting conduit and
climbed inside. A grin spread across Mackie's face, the first bit to
true good humor he'd had in a long time. Just like playing a prank of
Priss, he thought.
"Wish I had some good last words," he muttered to himself, comfortably.
He knew he was getting a little crazy in his old age, especially
considering what he had to do to his neural nanoics to keep his brain
intact after a hundred years of running. "Something about brotherly
love, respect for other's ideas or the necessity of sacrifice�" he
trailed off as the pounding escalated. He had one last piece to play,
one low tech enough to surprise Destiny. His knotted hands played with
the switch he had constructed. Odd to think his final circuit would be
so simple.
They came through the door and he pressed it.
"I've got a sensor reading that matches Chiriko's transponder. She just
got thrown off the station!" Andrea said, her voice humming with humor.
"Par for course," Ingrid muttered to herself, obviously enraged by
Chiriko's departure.
"Is she okay?" Patricia asked, concern in her voice. Ingrid and Andrea
shared a glance then returned to their stations.
"See for yourself," Andrea said as she turned the communications link
on.
"Stupid fucking old man! Fucking high and mighty fucking Councilman
thinks he can fuck-" the channel turned off.
"I'd say she's fine," Ingrid said, deadpan.
Tumbling in space was not Chiriko's idea of a good time. Nor was
dodging the fire fight that still raged around Farpoint Prime. A brief
check of her computer and she located the Tonobu, and as she began to
send a quick message everything went white. 'Below' her, a large section
of Farpoint Prime erupted in the bright flames of energetic plasma. A
roughly square piece of hull, nearly a square kilometer in size, broke
off, the station's spin kicking it away from the battered habitat.
"Shit," Chiriko muttered, watching the doomed station tear itself
apart. She suddenly realized that there were safer places to be than
next to a dying habitat. "Um, guys?" she sent to the Tonobu. "I don't
suppose I could get a pickup do you?"
"En route. ETA three minutes," the ship OS replied. Fine, Chiriko
thought, I don't want to talk to you anyway. Her nose wrinkled in
distaste when she realized how immature that sounded. She was tired from
her trip but she couldn't help but watch the station's demise. Part of
her felt sick as the fabrication docks split down the middle, all the
more impressive with the silence of the vacuum.
For some reason Councilman Stingray came to her mind. He was dead now,
certainly torn to pieces along with a great many others as the station
slowly disintegrated. She was sure he did it somehow, smashing what the
Consortium had built, simply to prevent Genom from using it.
And he knew the original Sabers, which made him nearly a hundred and
fifty years old. A spiteful old man who dragged a million people down
with him as the O'neil burned. "What the fuck have I gotten myself
into?" Chiriko asked herself.
The Tonobu fought its way out of the chaos, most of the Genom forces
ignoring the little ship as it blazed away from Farpoint. The station
still burned bright white, though calling it a station was a bit
generous. All that remained of Farpoint Prime was a central spine, the
framework on which the entire station had been built. The remaining
power plants would soon run out of fuel, which meant the structural
integrity field would collapse and the station's skeleton would break
apart. In all likelihood Genom would built in this spot again,
considering how few stable La Grange points there were between Mars and
the belt.
Chiriko did not watch their departure from the command deck with the
others. She said a handful of words and retired to her room, unwilling
to answer any calls. Ingrid ignored the situation, studying the scans of
Genom's weapons to see if anything had changed in the 10 weeks she'd
been a Saber. Andrea remained Immersed the entire time, occasionally
emerging to grab a snack or use the toilet. Patricia called Chiriko a
few times, then finally laid out on the couch in the lounge. She read a
book from the library, a calm story of a man looking for an island
during a storm. She drifted to sleep between words. At ten pm, ship
time, Isis woke her.
The ship was dark during night mode and no one else was awake. The glow
from Isis' projection cast a ghostly tone to the entire ship as she lead
the groggy historian to her room. Muttering a thanks, Patricia went to
sleep. Isis remained, her form growing a little bit less distinct as her
attention lapsed. She went to the lounge again, and glanced down at the
book Patricia had been reading. She faded out after a moment of staring
at the author's picture, gazing out with empty eyes. M. S. Raye had
written his last novel.
Author's Notes:
And now part 5 is finished and work is beginning on chapter 3. AKA part
6. Those silly prologues ruined my whole numbering scheme. Work goes
slow on this one, which is odd since it's the only thing I'm working on.
Sure I've got a couple of ideas jumping around in my head, but nothing
else that I'm actually writing. Then why am I taking such a long time
for each part? I'm lazy.
Thanks for reading, and if you like this let me know at
jmele@brandeis.edu or visit my website at www.brandeis.edu/~jmele.