Davis/MetroForce 1

© 2009 by MVmedia

MetroForce

A novel by Milton Davis

Chapters 5 and 6

-5-

The Steinreise luxury yacht came out of jump drive close enough to the moon

to feel its gravity. Terry unstrapped and stumbled to the bar. He always needed a drink

after jumping; the alcohol seemed to stabilize his system. It was the only other time he

drank. The other time was usually after he killed someone.

Ephraim and Kwame joined him. The excitement of the assignment dulled his

loathing of Kwame, but he still felt uncomfortable so close to the man. He took his drink

and sat in his lounger.

“Come on, Terry, let it go,” Kwame pleaded. “How long are we going to do

this?”

Terry sat his drink down, anger warming his hands. “You want me to forgive

and forget, right?”

“That would be nice.”

Terry rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned toward Kwame.

“I’ll make you a deal, my brother. You get a shovel, fly your ass back to

Hadassah and dig out all five hundred of those miners you buried alive and bring them

back to life. Do that and I might get around to forgiving you.”

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Kwame slammed his fist on the bar. “It was a revolt in case you’ve forgotten.

People fight and then they die.”

“Not like that, Kwame. Not like that.”

Ephraim stepped between them. “Let’s focus at the job at hand. Hadassah is a

done deal. Kwame’s actions were crude but effective. Terry, you did an excellent job of

negotiating before and after the incident. That’s why you’re both here. Now relax,

gentlemen. You have only a few minutes of that left.”

Luna Central came into view as the ship approached Earth’s moon, a speck of

green on a sea of frigid white. The base was Environ’s first off world terraforming

project. Beneath the pressurized dome was one hundred square miles of life, a small city

surrounded by grasslands, forests and lakes. Ephraim gazed at the view screen like a

child.

“Project One,” he whispered. “I thought I’d never get to see it in my lifetime.”

Terry was experiencing his own sense of wonder. So this was it, the cradle of

man, the blueprint for the universe. First Moon resembled the asteroid colonies where he

spent his childhood, pieces of rock valuable enough for mining but not worth the cost of

complete transformation. He was eighteen before he set foot on his first complete planet,

Sahara Seven. It was a dust bowl planet where he completed the first phase of his basic

training for Corporate Security, a dangerous decision for a young man back then. The UN

rebels had revived their attacks across the Alliance. Environ was embroiled in “active

negotiations” with a number of corporations behind on their payments of new planet

headquarters. In those days he traveled the systems in the cramped bowls of a Steinreise

troop transport, bouncing from one hot spot to the next while gaining rank from attrition.
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© 2009 by MVmedia
“You’re looking at history,” Ephraim said. “This is where it all began. We’ll

be on base for a few days before going to Earth, so feel free to look around.”

The ship landed at a satellite base outside the main dome. They transferred to

an underground shuttle which whisked them through atmosphere transition and into the

main dome. The shuttle emerged at the Luna Central Station.

The door slid aside and they were greeted by Scott Daniels, Lunar Liaison. He

was a tall man with remnants of an athletic past around his shoulders. He was dressed in

Environ Security blues, navy vests and pants with the green and blue Environ World

insignia stitched over the heart. His green beret held the scroll pin signifying his rank.

Beside him stood a striking woman, dark brown skin with caramel eyes that glistened

with flecks of gold. She was a civilian, dressed elegantly in a dress that complimented the

Liaison’s but left no doubt about the perfection just beneath the fabric.

“Welcome to First Moon,” Daniels said. “This is Fatima Dingane. Ms.

Dingane has graciously volunteered to act as a guide for your transition.”

Fatima shook Ephraim’s hand. “Congratulations on your recent acquisition.”

Her voice was deep yet feminine.

“Thank you,” Ephraim replied with a smile. “I’m surprised you seemed

pleased.”

“I’m not a Terran,” she commented.

She shook Kwame’s hand next, then Terry’s.

“You have rough hands for a Paradisean,” she observed.

“I’m not from Paradise,” Terry replied.

“I think that depends on who you talk to.”

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Terry liked Fatima.

Daniels stood between them. “You two can flirt later. I believe the Director

would like a tour of the base.”

“I certainly would.” Ephraim’s face glowed like a child at an amusement park.

“Follow me. I think you’ll be impressed by our recent upgrades.”

“Upgrades?” Ephraim’s eagerness faded into suspicion. “You don’t upgrade a

shrine.”

“Your exactly right, Director. The foundation structures haven’t been touched

outside routine maintenance. We have constructed new facilities for the Terra transition

Project. They are truly magnificent.”

Ephraim looked relieved. “Gentleman, we have forty-eight hours. Enjoy.”

Ephraim and Kwame followed Scott as he pointed and gestured his way

across the grounds. Terry and Fatima stood still, holding hands.

“You can let go now,” she said.

“Do I have to?”

“For now,” Fatima said. “We need to catch up with the others.”

“You go ahead,” Terry replied. “I need to find a place to hook up.”

“Not one for nostalgia I take it.”

Terry shrugged. “Environ is a job, not a faith. I’m just keeping things in

perspective. Besides, from what I hear, Earth is a security nightmare.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Fatima warned. “Earth is like every

other planet. It has its good and bad.”

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© 2009 by MVmedia
“Haven’t you heard? There are no bad sectors in the Corporate System. We

call them continuous improvement opportunities.”

Fatima smiled and Terry grinned.

“It was nice meeting you Terry. I hope to see you again very soon.”

Terry watched Fatima walk away. This assignment might not be all bad if

there were other women like her on Earth. She was a real beauty, not one of those

manufactured women from Paradise.

He broke his gaze and searched for the net room. An ensign pointed him to the

facility, a low grey building at the center of the base. What it lacked in imagination it

made up for in the interior. There were more that twenty five separate access rooms

designed to resemble a high-level Environ officer cubicle. Terry dropped into the leather

chair and waited for his eye scan.

“Welcome, Terry,” Netella said. “How can I help you?”

“Give me a visual on Fatima Dingane.”

“I sorry, Mr. Cline, that information is restricted.”

“Scan me for high level clearance,” Terry ordered.

“I’m sorry, Terry. Fatima Dingane’s information is not corporate sealed. Her

firewall contains a series of illegal security viruses. Do you wish me to begin Corporate

Security hack sequence?”

“No, Netella, that’s enough.” Terry smiled. “Smart woman.”

“Pardon, me, Terry?”

“It’s nothing, Net.” Terry decided to get to real business. “I need background

information on Atlanta.”
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© 2009 by MVmedia
The screen was immediately flooded with images, video and text. Terry had

spent hours on Paradise going over statistics for Earth city-states in general, but he waited

until Luna Central to study them in detail. Paradise had the best search engines in the

Alliance, but there was always some information that could only be found close to the

source. True to form, Terry discovered details the Paradisean access omitted, information

that would have a significant effect on his approach.

“Would you like a meal, Mr. Cline?”

“Yes. Notify Ephraim Page of my whereabouts.”

“How long will you be visiting with us, Mr. Cline?”

“As long as it takes,” Terry replied.

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© 2009 by MVmedia

-6-

The congregation of Ebenezer Baptist Church exited the gilded doors with the

friendly cacophony that always followed a good sermon. They strolled to their nearby

condos, taking advantage of the warm spring air sifting through the open Dome shudders.

Michelle was one of the last to leave. She was dressed in her Sunday finest, an emerald

green dress that blended will with her mocha skin and hazel eyes. Reverend Bishop

walked with her, kept at a distance by the enormous green hat rounding out her outfit.

“That was a very inspirational sermon, Reverend,” Michelle said.

“Thank you. I was thinking of you when I wrote it.”

“That makes me feel guilty,” Michelle replied.

“Don’t. Everyone needs inspiration now and then. I’m sure there were other

folks that took the message to heart. Now, one friend to another, how are you dealing

with this takeover?”

“What can I do, Robert? The Environ delegation arrives tomorrow morning to

meet with the City Council. Half of the council is talking rebellion and the other half

praising the day. We don’t need a war, Robert, but we don’t need to roll over and play

dead, either.”

“Have you been to the Center?” Robert asked.

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© 2009 by MVmedia
Michelle felt a chill. “No.”

“I think it would be a good idea,” Robert said.

“I hate that room. It’s like talking to ghosts.”

Robert laughed. “You know better than that. You’re a grown woman, the

mayor of the most powerful city-state on Earth. I can only give you spiritual guidance.”

Michelle knew Robert was right; he always was. She should have said yes

when he proposed to her fifteen years ago. But Robert wanted her to be a preacher’s wife

in every sense of the word and she was too ambitious for a support role. She was an

Armstrong; second was not in her vocabulary.

“Thank you, Robert,” she said. She kissed him on the cheek.

“Whoa, don’t do that!”

“It’s just a thank you kiss from a dear friend.”

“As far as Mrs. Bishop is concerned, nothing from you is just friendly. Now

go before you get me in trouble.”

Michelle smiled and headed up Auburn Avenue to the Center, her security

close by but discreet. It was spring in Atlanta and the Dome was open to the warm

breezes of the season. The city had managed to keep its reputation as a city of trees

despite the intense urbanization, the route lined with Bradford Pears in full splendor. The

dogwoods had yet to put on their display, their buds swollen in anticipation. She stopped

at the reflection pool, gazing at the tombs of the Kings, the legends her ancestor knew as

a friend. It helped to reminisce on family’s history before accessing the room. The

pictures and statues in the Center failed to capture the humanity that thrived in the family

stories.
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Michelle avoided the tourists by entering through the employee’s entrance at

the rear of the exhibit. She went to the personal elevator, placing her palm on the access

grid. The door slid open and she entered. She felt a chill as he descended ten levels into

the archive room. The maintenance system had been activated by her palm pass so by the

time she entered the room if felt as if she’d only stepped out a moment ago. In reality it

had been ten years since she last visited the archives. She sat in the solitary suede chair

and waited.

A door appeared and the Teacher emerged, a warm smile on his face.

“Hello, Michelle. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes it has,” she replied. “Ten years, I think.”

“Exactly ten years.” The teacher sat opposite Michelle.

“Are you still uncomfortable with me?”

Michelle shifted in her seat. “Yes, I am.”

“I modified my program to be more…laid back. I thought it would help you

relax. I think our discussions would be more productive if you were more at ease.”

“Don’t waste the electricity,” Michelle said. “That will never happen. If I was

relaxed I wouldn’t be here.”

“Let’s talk about the source of your agitation.”

“You are aware of the purchase?” she asked.

“I’ve been updated.”

“Then you know it shouldn’t have occurred,” she growled. “Earth is a

sovereign entity.”

“Earth authority is only as valid its ability to assert its independence.”

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“You mean military strength?”

“Precisely.” The Teacher stood, folding his hands behind his back. “You’ve

forgotten the basic truths of human existence, Michelle. In order to have peace, you must

be prepared for war. In your situation, substitute freedom for peace.”

“The corporations showed no interest in Earth in the past,” Michelle

countered. “They fought the UN to break ties three centuries ago.”

“The corporations have always been interested in Earth. It’s the model for

every terraformed world. Every planet, asteroid and space station is a reflection of Gaia.

It was only a matter of time before the Council came full circle. Don’t forget those same

men on the Council board are the same men that signed the declaration of war against the

UN. They are still alive after five centuries. They have not forgotten.”

“So you’re telling me we must fight the purchase?”

“My purpose is not to dictate. I only lay the options before and aid in your

consideration. There is, however, a question you might ask yourself; what it more

important, defiance or survival?”

‘Is there really a choice?”

The Teacher smiled. “No. Survival is the only option. Life is the struggle of

order against chaos. The victory is survival. Whatever path you choose to follow must

insure the survival of Atlanta. It is your only obligation to the people who voted for you.

When they open their eyes in the morning they want to see the same world they closed

their eyes to the night before.”

“I have much to contemplate,” Michelle said.

“I hope I was of some help.”

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© 2009 by MVmedia
“Yes and no.”

“Then I have fulfilled my obligation. Goodbye, Michelle Armstrong.”

The Teacher entered his false door and disappeared. Michelle left the room

more confused that when she entered. Her security team has summoned her personal

shuttle and she climbed in, sinking deep into the cushions.

“Let’s drive around a bit, Tony,” she said.

“Any place in particular?”

“The Ring.”

Tony turned and looked at Michelle, his eyes skeptical.

“Yes, the Ring, Tony,” she replied.

“You’re the boss.” Tony tapped his phone. “Get me more cover. We’re going

into the Ring.”

The shuttle lifted into the air traffic, heading to the nearest dome transfer.

Security pods descended around them, forming a standard diamond security formation.

Together they left the Dome and entered the chaos of the Ring.