Interzeit: A Space Opera (2 page)

“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
techn
i
colors
,
it joins the machines in the arena, fizzling.

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

Tystrophanes
prod
uces 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
Tyst
rophanes
focuses the lasers. They concentrate into a large beam, growing more and more intense.
Ph
obos
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
fl
ies
into the sand, burning.

The headless giant, slashes with its energy blade.
Phobos
parries,
and the two exchange stri
kes. The two swords lock,
Ty
strophanes
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 qu
ivers, bending in, and
Ty
st
r
ophanes
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.
Ty
strophanes
leap
s
into the hail of
materie
l
. 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 t
he 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
.
T
he machine seems to gaze at the weapon
,
its headless phantom eyes
leering
.

Its ha
nd 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. T
he 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, “
W
hy?”

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 other
s
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
go
odbye
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
Kuipterra
n
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
, T
he 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
. H
e 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
engaged 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
Kuipterra
n
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 o
nto 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 Martian
s
…
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 a
n
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.”