Lago pulled at what was left of his right ear. His lobe had been cut off and it always itched when he was stressed. He watched the severed cable as it arced back towards Earth in a continent-spanning curve. It warped from vertical to horizontal as it descended, gathering colossal speed, striking the atmosphere like a giant whip, then disappearing in a roiling, sparking, maelstrom of friction and energy. He was consumed by the view, oblivious to his surroundings. He couldn’t believe it was actually happening. His cable, linking his Earth to the stars, had been severed in seconds. The climber car disappeared into the atmosphere with two hundred passengers on board, all doomed to spectacular deaths. Lago didn’t feel any grief, he didn’t care about the casualties. He didn’t feel anything except anger at his own impotence, his loss of control, his inability to defend what he had built. His boiling infuriation grew. The nerve of the Masama, daring to attack him.
He was emasculated, his umbilical had been severed. The greatest engineering achievement in history had been destroyed. The remains of his cable dangled beneath like a giant tail, disappearing into the hazy light. Seconds after the attack, the hub began shaking violently as whiplash shockwaves from the impact travelled up the severed cable. Lago could sense the drift; they had lost their tether to Earth. He clamped his hands onto the shoulders of the bald technician in front of him to steady himself. Staring at the devastation unfolding below, his impotence fuelled his rage. His grip intensified, he held on and watched a few surviving Masama drones curve off towards his solar farm. The farm looked like a cobweb in space. They tore through the fragile construction, shredding the solar sails and smashing through the lightweight frames like they weren’t even there.
The hub had many autonomous telescopes constantly scrutinizing space, several were devoted to watching the Moon and the extensive damage Kayden’s shuttle had wrought. Lago had watched the collision with delight, revelling in the destruction, surprised at Kayden’s bravery if that’s what it was, regretting only the loss of the K-star vessel. The memory of Jejomar’s daughter and the threat of reproducing Masama had been a constant aggravation. After their disastrous meeting with Jejomar, Lago knew he would have to take action against them. Then Kayden’s suicidal shuttle attack seemed to have solved his problem. It was the best possible solution for Lago but after the shuttle attack, the Masama had moved into the lava tunnels where Lago couldn’t spy on them. He assumed they must be severely depleted, their moon-base and everything in it had been completely decimated. So, it came as a shock when the telescopes picked up the drone swarm as they launched. As soon as he saw them Lago knew he was under attack, the Masama had recovered, he had procrastinated, he was not prepared for war.
The group of technicians in front of him were barking orders into their comms, Lago knew they had procedures for a worst-case scenario like this, but he had hoped they would never have to put them into practice. They were in no immediate danger; the hub was structurally intact. He shouted some orders at his minions purely to relieve his own tension, “Activate the nav boosters, maintain our orbit and keep scanning for any more incoming, in case there’s a second wave.” The technician in front of him gave a minute nod, barely acknowledging him. Lago stared at the back of the man’s bald head. He wanted to strangle him. He wanted someone to blame. The technician shifted underneath him, Lago squeezed his shoulders and pushed him into his seat. “Give me all the angles below,” he snarled.
The technician hunched over his screen. “The remaining umbilical is five-thousand-kilometres-long, it will act like an anchor dragging us into Earth’s atmosphere. As long as we have enough fuel to keep the hub’s boosters firing, we can maintain our orbit, so we don’t get dragged down. We will be safe as long as the fuel lasts.”
“How long is that?”
“Two or three weeks. Then our orbit will start to degrade. It depends on consumption rates and the mass of the shuttles currently docked with us.”
Lago stared at the magnified screen. Some of the debris from the attack had been flung into orbit, floating around Earth with the rest of the junk. Lago could see frozen bodies amongst the shrapnel. Passengers doomed to circle the planet as frozen little satellites until their degrading orbit sent them plummeting through the atmosphere to burn up with all the other shooting stars. His grip intensified. His rigid fingers like metal talons dug into the technicians shoulders, pushing the man down, adding to the weight of Earth’s gravity. “Please, Mr Santos sir, can you let me go? We are in no immediate danger.” Lago stared at the top of the bald man’s head. Eventually he stood up straight and scratched the scar under his beard before whirling away and storming off to his private quarters.
Lago’s residence was an iron cave that had been carved out of the side of the asteroid, a panoramic window ran the length of the apartment showing millions of twinkling stars. The dark walls, low ceilings and claustrophobic nature always had a calming effect on him, but at this moment Lago did not want calm. He had been attacked, he was at war, it was not a feeling he was used to. No-one had ever dared attack him so blatantly before. When he was younger, he had been involved in many petty gang wars over drug-running territories in Manila. He had survived hostile takeover attempts and assassination plots. But he had never been the victim of a full-scale military strike, he had never been the victim at all, he was always the aggressor. Confrontations were what he did best. He had never feared for his life, he always survived; he was too important to die.
Lago had been buying helium3 from the Masama for years. They loathed each other, he knew that, but he assumed they wouldn’t have the audacity or the capability to attack him. He was invulnerable inside the BPI asteroid, encased in millions of tonnes of rock but the Masama had hit him where it hurt. The elevator was a sitting target, defenceless and vulnerable. Lago hated this feeling of helplessness, of lack of control. He called Dato, his second in command. And his personal physician, Klara. He needed someone to blame for this mess.
Lago ignored Dato and went straight to his physician as they arrived. He grabbed a small bottle from her medical bag, a cocktail of microscopic nanites. He stared at the cloudy liquid before drinking it, even though the nanites were too small to see. There were millions of the little machines already coursing through his body, purifying his blood, repairing cells, manufacturing vitamins, bacteria, and other necessary nutrients. Any wounds would be rapidly repaired, and any virus or disease would not stand a chance. He had been ingesting the nanites for years under Klara’s supervision. They were too small to think of as machines, but he didn’t care what they were as long as they kept him healthy.
The other medication he really wanted and used much more regularly had an immediate effect. Amphetamines had always cleared his cluttered mind, helped him think straight and validate his sense of self-belief. He used to inject the stuff but that was a messy business and not great for his well-worn veins. Klara had developed a small ice vial that you cracked under your nose and inhaled the vapour. He didn’t take the shabu to get high. He took it for clarity. Lago grabbed two vials from Klara’s bag and snorted them both up each nostril, then rocked back in exhilaration. He took a deep breath and pounded his fists on the glass window, raging at the universe and roaring like an animal. After a few minutes he composed himself. The cleansing crystal rush washed away the anxiety and doubt like surf on the sand, leaving nothing but a familiar sense of self-importance.
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“It’s a revenge attack, but they are also sending you a message,” said Dato.
“Really? A message. Thank Christ I surround myself with such intellectual heavyweights like you Dato, I would never have thought of that myself.” Lago didn’t trust anyone, but he usually respected Dato’s opinions, although he would never admit it.
Dato seemed immune to Lago’s anger and did not react to his sarcasm. “I know them Lago, remember I used to be a Masama. Since they relocated to the Moon, they have turned their back on Earth. They are equipping themselves to live in space permanently. The Moon is their home, and they see you as a threat to it. They want control of the solar system, and your orbital elevator was competition, providing access to space for BPI and your rich friends.”
“I don’t have any friends,” muttered Lago. “I once called your father a friend, but he’s dead.”
“My father died trying to protect you and I had my revenge on the terrorists that killed him.” Dato stared at him icily. “Lago if the Masama wanted you dead, they could have easily killed you on the Moon. They don’t see you personally as a threat, it’s what you built.”
“I never trusted them. I’ve never forgiven them for betraying me, but we had a deal. They have been delivering the helium3 for years and I pay them whatever they want. No questions asked, why would they turn around and stab me in the back again? Why didn’t you fucking warn me Dato, you should have seen this coming, we should have been prepared.”
Lago had fought many battles back on Earth, but had led a peaceful existence since he moved up to live on the hub. Had he grown complacent? Too decadent? He hated these feelings of self-doubt. “Klara, give me more shabu,” he snapped.
“Your deal died with Christophe. And Kayden’s suicidal attack didn’t set them back, it just accelerated their plans. If anyone could have anticipated this it would be you Lago, you were there dealing with them recently. They couldn’t attack the hub. They would have known we are well protected inside the asteroid, so they targeted the umbilical. They don’t need your deals or your money; they don’t need you at all.”
Lago found Dato’s constant lack of respect infuriating. “They obviously don’t know me as well as they think they do. I’m not going to retreat back to Earth without a fight. We almost had all the resources of the solar system within our grasp. I will not let those Moon mutants steal from me again.”
“Lago, the Masama see the solar system as their home, to them it’s much more than just a financial opportunity. I don’t think now is the time to pick a fight with them.”
“Now is exactly the time to fight,” snapped Lago. “I’ve single handedly saved this planet and dragged it kicking and screaming into the future. I was on the brink of leading humanity into space. We were almost there. We have to exploit to expand and the Masama are standing in our way. If they want a war for the control of the solar system, they’ve got it.”
“They are more suited to space than us, many of them don’t even need to breathe air anymore. They’ve adapted to life on the Moon, and they are already procreating. Their drone tech is more advanced, and they have all the resources of the Moon at their disposal. Lago we are in no position to fight. The Masama are demonstrating to you who’s in charge. And right now, I would have to agree with them.”
Dato’s arguments made Lago more belligerent, his hot breath steamed up the window in front of him. “Klara! Where’s the fucking shabu.”
“You’ve had enough,” she replied quietly.
“Give me the fucking bag.” He snatched the bag from her and snorted two more vials. He had never backed down from a fight, but he was not used to being the underdog. He usually always had the biggest guns. “They are starting a fight they cannot win. The traitorous mutant filth don’t know me at all. I will not rest until I have annihilated their upstart little colony from the face of that squalid rock and melted their metal bodies into slag.”
Dato stood next to him in silence for a moment, staring out into space. “That’s the drugs talking Lago, you know we have nothing to attack them with. The Masama built a war fleet of drones under that mountain, they will be prepared for any retaliation, and they will be fighting in their own environment, they have the advantage, and they know it.”
Dato was the only one who would dream of talking to him like this. Anyone else would probably not survive the conversation. Dato was the voice of reason, a conscience he didn’t seem to possess, but his words infuriated him. “So, what do you suggest we do? Nothing?” Lago rounded on Dato and stared at him, eyeball to eyeball. They were of equal height, but the younger man had a bigger, stockier frame and did not take a step back. Lago could see no fear in his eyes, only a cold, hard regard.
“We have no weapons. We had thirty maintenance drones and ten tractor drones to use against the swarm. And the two Tobias shuttles are built for cargo, too slow, too cumbersome to even get in the way of the Masama drones. We should wait, bide our time, we have no choice but to go back to Earth,” said Dato.
“Fuck that. We weaponize our shuttles with railguns and missiles. Knock out their systems with effector weapons, make our own kamikaze drones. We have plenty of printers and plenty of bodies. We will invade the fucking place if we must, throw more soldiers at them. We are going after them. I don’t care about the cost.”
“Lago, that would be suicide. The Masama already have too much of an advantage. You have lost your source of helium3, and they destroyed the solar farm. You don’t have the resources for a battle against a space hardened Masama. You have to concede. Face the facts, they have already won.”
Lago seethed with rage; Dato’s rational words inflamed him. He wanted to slap him, punch him as hard as he could. In the past, he would have. These days he liked to think he was wiser and not so hot-headed, but a sense of injustice twisted his thoughts. What was rightfully his had been taken from him. Power, control, and status. His heart was pounding, and his body was shaking. There was no doubt in his mind. Any uncertainty had been washed away by the amphetamine. Lago stared at Dato, beginning to lose focus until Dato’s words snapped him back to full concentration.
“You are not thinking clearly, you’re too emotional. Try to be realistic,” said Dato.
“I am being realistic; we have nothing to lose. I will not go back to Earth and accept my place, down there in the dirt amongst the people.” Lago spat at the window, where Earth loomed below. “I’ve never backed down and I refuse to now. Everything I’ve achieved I had to fight for, and I will carry on fighting. I created the Masama, I made them into what they are, now I will fucking destroy them.”
“The pupil always usurps the master Lago, it is the nature of the universe, it is evolution.”
Lago shook his head and scowled, sometimes he suspected Dato wound him up on purpose. “Fuck your evolution and your rationality. I refuse to sit back and let them take over. I’ve seen what they are doing up there, breeding more mutant filth, it’s unnatural, it’s inhuman. We have to attack them, if we don’t stop them, who knows where it will end. Will they invade Earth? Enslave us all? We have to attack them for the good of humanity, we have to protect our species and our planet or die trying.”
Dato shook his head and sighed. “Lago, we would be walking into a massacre. We have no army to fight them with and the Masama will see us coming.”
“I have been fighting my entire life, building my empire. But now there’s a more important fight. For the future of Earth.” There was a long moment of tense silence as Lago composed himself. “And its people,” he said as an afterthought.
Lago stood at the window staring at the stars, grinding his teeth. Dato eventually sighed and shrugged. “I don’t agree with this but if anyone can gain something from a hopeless situation, I suppose it’s you,” Dato muttered quietly. “We will need ammunition. I’ll go and program the 3D printers to start producing weapons.”
“Of course, it’s me. It has been, and always will be, only me.” Lago had total faith in his convictions; his will was strong. He would destroy the Masama and defend the Earth. The people of Earth needed him. He would wrestle back control and take back the power. He went and poured himself another drink, his amphetamine fuelled mind swirling with the machinations of war.