Dato was not scared of death. He had faced it many times, mostly other people’s impending fatalities but occasionally his own life had been threatened. He liked his job and all the benefits that being Lago’s second in command could offer. He understood Lago was an insane psychopath, but Dato could usually keep him suitably distracted and distant from any important decision making. Up until recently. Lago was intoxicated with power; at best he was an egomaniac in charge of an Earth spanning empire. That wasn’t so bad, Earth had a long history of maniacs in charge and had survived so far. At worst Lago was a self-proclaimed deity who truly believed he was immortal. Dato wondered how it could be possible that someone so out of touch with reality had become the most powerful person in the world. It had been entertaining, but before these latest events had unfolded, Dato had become desensitized to the power struggles he used to love. He had become bored and strangely unsatisfied by the privilege and power. He didn’t really give a shit anymore about anything including his own mortality.
Dato had reached a level of ambivalence where he went along for the ride, to see where Lago’s insanity would take them. He did not have a high opinion of humanity, as far as he was concerned the vast majority of humans were not worth fighting for. Lago was right, the Earth was fucked. The idiots had been shitting in their own backyard for centuries, but the impending apocalypse was taking too long. Dato would have preferred a dramatic omnicidal megadeath event to the slow, boring inevitability of climate change. If the Masama attack on the elevator and the sphere of ravenous replicators was the beginning of the end times then things might have finally become more interesting.
He looked over at Lago, still nervously pacing and scratching the scar under his beard. Being his adjutant meant Dato had a share of Lago’s power and influence. That had been fun, but things were changing fast and Lago’s obsessive thirst for revenge would most likely get them all killed. Dato didn’t want to die before seeing where this crazy ride would take them. He had once been Masama, so he knew them better than anyone. Attacking them would almost certainly end in failure and death, and negotiating with them was probably also hopeless but worth a try. Living on the Moon would be arduous but probably preferable to dying in a pointless war. He decided to try once more to talk some sense into the drug-crazed fool, maybe he could prolong the ride a little bit longer.
“Lago,” he said quietly. “War should be our last resort. We should try to negotiate and come to some sort of arrangement with the Masama, a truce. Maybe we could co-exist on the Moon with them, maybe they would prefer to avoid a war. They might be willing to consider a peaceful solution.”
Lago’s dilated eyes burned with outrage. “Peaceful solution? Are you insane? Those mutants attacked me, destroyed my elevator, my home, and right now their insect machines are busy destroying my planet Dato, our planet. They declared war on us! You think they would make peace? They would slaughter us all as soon as they had the chance. I should throw you out the airlock for even suggesting such a thing.” Lago was up close in Dato’s face spraying him with spittle.
Dato did not flinch. He was the voice of reason; the conscience Lago did not seem to possess. “You should stop taking so much shabu, it’s making you more irrational than usual.”
Lago looked incandescent, he was boiling over and was about to explode. Dato stood firm and faced Lago’s rage with dead-eyed calmness. “Keep your fucking thoughts to yourself,” shouted Lago and he resumed his pacing in the volatile silence that followed.
Even as he suggested it, Dato knew there was little chance of co-existing on the Moon with the Masama. He knew them well enough to realise they would never tolerate any kind of peaceful coexistence with Lago. And he knew Lago well enough to understand he was incapable of that too. But he couldn’t see any other way to avoid a massacre. It seemed war was inevitable, a war they had little chance of winning. Dato had prepared as well as he could. They had weapons, drones, shuttles, and people after all. But the Masama would also have been preparing and they were on their home ground. And they had been fighting their entire lives.
Lago stood at the bridge staring into space, his unblinking eyes even more demented and red-rimmed than before. Looking at him, Dato was certain he had not slept for days. He had seen Lago taking more of the nanite solution, against Klara’s advice. And the shabu was a powerful stimulant. Dato wondered what excessive use of both combined would do to a human body. Millions of speed crazed nanites surging through his blood. And apparently the nanites were now almost sentient. Lago was becoming more obsessive and unhinged; his megalomaniacal dementia was just another headache for Dato. It was all down to him, if he could plan the attack, with their re-enforced fleet, they might have a miniscule chance of survival.
Dato busied himself modifying the area behind the pilot into a command centre. With Corazon’s help, he installed screens, a 3D projector and communication devices. There was no partition separating the pilot from the cabin, there was no need for a pilot at all. The shuttles all flew on auto which was much safer than having a human in control, even though the passengers apparently felt reassured seeing a pilot with some kind of steering apparatus.
“If we must do this then we need a strategy,” said Dato. “Two Tobias shuttles on point as they are the most heavily armed, two Russian shuttles next, fitted out with missile cells, railguns, and drones. The Russians also have their own weapons, some lasers and ion cannons, almost as if they were expecting a fight.”
“Russians never go anywhere without some type of weapon, probably to stab you in the back when you least expect it,” said Lago.
“Next the Dong Feng shuttles. Some of the passengers aboard were quite inebriated, they needed subduing by our soldiers.”
“Throw them out the airlock if they give us any trouble.”
“The Tobias troop carrier is in front of us next to the other K-star shuttle, all three Tobias shuttles have effectors installed. All the shuttles have printers aboard assembling drones and railguns, and we have thirty weapon platforms throughout the fleet.”
Corazon swung her chair around. “We had two hundred drones left after the destruction of the hub, and we have produced another two hundred. We are making more, but the printers require too much energy, our generators are struggling to keep up and we are running out of substrate,” she said.
“Shut off all non-essential energy needs, divert it all to the generators. We need to print as many as possible,” said Dato.
“What about these effector weapons,” said Lago. “We can fry their drones and their operating systems. Then they will be there for the taking.”
“The effectors aren’t like lasers. We have to get them within two kilometres of the target. Our new effector can seize control of an enemy system and enslave it. It’s untested, but could be useful,” said Dato.
Dato felt a little less pessimistic than he had before, at least they had the beginnings of a plan. Corazon had been overseeing the weapons manufacture and had an accurate picture of their martial assets. If he could control the fleet formation and somehow keep Lago out of any important decision making, they might have a chance. Dato had come to know Lago well over the years of service, but in the last few days he had watched him change. There were less moments of lucidity, he was losing control, sinking further into madness. Dato had to take charge. He didn’t want to entrust the last few moments of his life to the mind of an amphetamine-fuelled madman. He wanted the ride to go on a little longer.
He could see the Moon growing larger in the window. An innocuous-looking dusty white ball, pock marked with ancient craters, it looked totally inhospitable. Dato had taken the Earth for granted like so many others, counting on technology to save them from climate change disaster. But it was time to give up on Earth. He had spent the last year living on the asteroid hub, looking out at the universe instead of down at his dying planet. And now the Earth was surely being eaten by the replicators, turned into a giant all-consuming sphere of destruction. If by some miracle they won this battle and defeated the Masama, Dato would have to accept the Moon as his new home. What kind of life that would be, and how long it would last, he had no idea.
He sat at the hastily constructed command station with its array of screens, communicators, and keyboards, trying to ignore Lago’s agitated pacing. Next to him Corazon was manipulating the 3D projection of the Moon that hung in front of them. It highlighted their position, nine shuttles in formation, relative to the summit of Montes Haemus. A side window showed a magnified view of the crater. The surrounding Mare Serenitatis was bare and desolate, covered only in harvester tracks. There was a low murmuring from the technicians as the view clarified but other than that it was unusually quiet inside the shuttle.
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“Activating reverse thrusters. ETA six minutes to lunar orbit,” said Corazon.
“What have they done to the mountain?” asked the bald scientist. At the summit of Montes Haemus, a smooth black structure could be seen reaching up into space. A flickering white and red glow came from inside the hollow crater. The slopes were covered with glinting solar panels like a gigantic silver tent.
“They’re living in there. Like rats in a cave,” muttered Lago.
The fleet approached the Moon with caution. Dato made sure all the drones were primed and all the weapons ready. He knew from his communications with the BPI soldiers on the Dong Feng shuttles that their soldiers were being harassed by Son Tiangong and his entourage. The Russians on the other hand, were harsh and business-like. Dato looked around at the nervous technicians and the stoic soldiers. The plush interior of the Damned Saint was built for comfort and relaxation, not for war. It was supposed to be a serene place of luxurious excess and peaceful observation of the stars. Dato could feel the tension and anxiety building amongst the crew, not helped by Lago’s incessant pacing, teeth grinding and his wild staring eyes.
“Incoming signal,” said Corazon. “Communication from the mountain.”
“Patch it through,” said Dato.
Corazon established a video link and Jejomar’s ornately armoured head appeared where the projection of the Moon had been. Jejomar’s voice came through the comms. The clarity was so good it was like he was there amongst them. “Lago Santos. Why have you come back? There is nothing for you here.”
Dato and Corazon looked on with concern as Lago took a moment to gather himself. “Jejomar, the Moon is all that’s left. You have destroyed my home, now I am going to take yours.”
“The time of humanity is over. The evolutionary wheel has turned. Your short time as custodians of Earth has been disastrous. What you have done to your planet is unforgivable. What is happening now was inevitable. The Earth is being transformed and assimilated. This is the future.”
“I was protecting the planet and its people until you attacked us. You have taken everything from me and now I am taking something back. The Moon is mine and there is no place on it for your kind. Surrender before I destroy you.”
“You have become a degenerate god. Your empire is solely for your own veneration. Everything you say is a lie, and everything you have is stolen. There is no future for you here Lago, go back to Earth and join the Replica hive mind, at least then your corpse may make a worthwhile contribution.”
The bald scientist interrupted, grabbing at Lago’s arm. “Now is the time to broker a deal, this is our last chance to avoid all-out war.”
Lago pushed him aside with an angry glare. It was too late, they were committed to war, and Dato knew Lago wouldn’t change his mind.
“You can’t intimidate me. If you don’t surrender, we will destroy you. You and all your filthy mutant abominations. I am never going back. I will never give up. The Earth is doomed, it’s being eaten by your robot swarm. This is an attempted extinction, this is omnicide, I am fighting for the future of my species.”
“Your species has no future. You don’t learn from your own history, so you are doomed to repeat it. The Replica sphere doesn’t belong to anyone. We do not control it. Its existence is just as valid as your own and it has proven more adept at survival in a few days than humans have in thousands of years. Go away Lago, your words are empty. If you act aggressively against us, you will be annihilated.” Jejomar turned his head and seemed to speak directly to Lago. “Fate has a terrible power; it cannot be escaped by wealth or combat; no walls will keep it out, no ships outrun it. Your fate cannot be taken from you; it is a gift.”
Lago ordered Corazon to cut communications with a swipe of his hand and Jejomar’s image disappeared. Dato sensed the tension build in the charged silence that followed as Lago glared at the Moon. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, unaware of his surroundings until Dato coughed and snapped Lago out of his reverie.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Attack them!”
“We need a coordinated plan. We can’t just throw everything at them at once. Our only advantage is our mobility. We send in the first two Tobias shuttles with drone support and engage the Masama with missiles and railguns. Then we send in the Russians to pin them back even further until we get close enough to use the effectors and disable their defences. Then hopefully, the new effector on the Tobias troop carrier should be able to enslave and control their systems.”
“No, we should throw everything at them, overwhelm them. Quantity has a quality all of its own and waiting is a disease!”
Dato shook his head with exasperation. “Is that some bullshit corporate talk? This is life and death Lago, not a corporate takeover.” Given Lago’s current state of mind, Dato expected he would want to rush in and throw everything they had at the Masama in a hot-headed frenzy of blood lust.
“Great things come from great risk; I didn’t get to be the most powerful man in the world without taking a few risks.”
Lago’s rambling cliches and the increasingly demented decisions was evidence of his deteriorating state of mind. Dato was used to his paranoia and volatility but the excessive use of amphetamines and nanites were clearly pushing him over the edge. He kept looking over his shoulder and nodding, as if listening to an invisible adviser. “We can’t just throw everything at them, that’s what they want. They are protected inside the mountain; we have to flush them out. If by some miracle we win this war we will need somewhere to live.”
“Send some missiles down the crater, that will flush them out,” snarled Lago.
“Leave the strategy to me Lago. We’ll send four shuttles to attack from different directions. Use our mobility to divide the enemy.” Dato reached for the comms; he was sick of arguing but sending in four shuttles was a slight compromise. The fleet had slowed and stopped at a distance of about one hundred kilometres from the Moon’s surface. Dato ordered the two Tobias shuttles and the two Russian shuttles to move forward in an expanding diamond formation. The projection showed their fleet stationary in orbit above the Moon relative to the summit of Montes Haemus below. Their cargo doors opened, the drones and weapon platforms detached and swarmed around each shuttle like orderly insects protecting their queen. The Tobias shuttles looked bulky and bulbous after their modifications. Missile cells, railguns and effector blisters had all been hastily welded onto the exterior. They had never been fast or agile, they were basically service vehicles. They looked like easy targets.
Dato changed the view to study the Moon surface as Corazon increased the magnification. On the steep slopes of Montes Haemus, hundreds of solar panels glinted in the pale light, covering the rocky inclines with a smooth metallic patina. Corazon shifted the view again and Dato could clearly see the work the Masama had done to modify the mountain into their new home. Solar energy, harvesting helium3, and no doubt their 3D printers were working tirelessly inside the tunnels.
There was some activity around the launch pads near the shallow crater where the moon-base had once been. Dato could see the two stationary Masama shuttles, looking like giant spiders. They were larger than any of the shuttles in the fleet. Long black torsos with three limbs on each side, they looked like they had been built from the same material as the replicator sphere. Dato couldn’t supress a shudder at the thought of giant arachnid replicators.
“Corazon, can you increase the magnification there,” Dato pointed at the projection.
“What are those things, robots?” Corazon looked puzzled as she manipulated the 3D image.
Dato could make out smaller shapes moving around the old Tobias shuttle, doing repairs. It had been badly damaged. He hadn’t seen any Masama for a long time, he used to be one and even though they had evolved into creatures closer to giant insects than human beings, he still recognised their movements. “No, they are Masama, they have adapted to work in the vacuum.”
The crew of the shuttle gathered around for a closer look at their adversaries. Lago stopped his pacing and stared at the image, furiously scratching the scar beneath his beard. The Masama had shed any semblance to bi-pedal humans. They stalked around the shuttle on long articulated limbs, balanced and graceful but disturbingly alien like giant six-legged spiders. As Dato watched, one of the Masama reared up on its hind legs. It stretched its long torso even further and flexed its limbs. It appeared to look directly at them, compound eyes embedded in its insectoid head. Its attention seemed to focus on him, looking into his eyes though Dato knew that was impossible at this distance. It bent over the hull of the Tobias shuttle. Welding tools appeared at the end of each limb and dull sparks began to fly from the grinding metal. He hoped they wouldn’t have to send troops to engage them. They wouldn’t last long in hand-to-hand combat with those creatures.
Inside the shuttle there was a heavy silence as the crew watched the Masama work. The BPI soldiers had been conditioned to appear staunch and unflinching, but the technicians had never seen a Masama like this before. They crowded around the projection to get a closer view. These men and women were scientists, engineers, and academics. They looked upon the giant arachnid Masama with open horror, realising what they were up against. The technicians were not fighters; they had never held a gun. Dato could see the fear on their faces. Fear and the realisation that they had no chance against these monsters. They were already dead. He caught a reflection of himself on a screen and could see the same doomed look on his face.
He shook his head, trying to disperse the gathering clouds of pessimism. He checked on the four shuttles descending towards the summit, surrounded by their entourage of drones and weapon platforms. “Our best chance is to get close enough to disable them with the effectors, then the railguns can pick them off.”
“Yes,” said Lago, staring at the screen. “These abominations need to be destroyed. Look at them, not even human any more. We will wipe them off the surface, we will cleanse the Moon and claim it as our own.”
Dato closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. Then he looked around at the terrified faces of the crew. There was little chance of winning this war and Lago’s bluster did nothing to reassure any of them.