The Darkside of the Moon

  The blackness of space isn’t real, there is light and energy everywhere if you can see it. Maddison Zefiris Drako can see it all, inspiring her to share in Malo’s infatuation with the stars.

  It’s been barely two days since she broke away from Tara, now on a collision course with the moon, her journey is near an end. It began two months ago with the construction of a centrifuge capable of hurtling her latest body skyward at fourteen times the speed of sound. After paying off gravity, she left orbit at her current five thousand miles per hour.

  Her carefully plotted course took two days to reach her current position, with her chasing the moon for another two hours before catching up to it with an impact at a little over half her current speed.

  This is going to leave a mark, which is why she’s going to hit the moon towards the dark side. She doesn’t want anyone to blame Malo for what she’s about to do.

  Minutes pass, Maddie marvels at the features of the moon. The giant rock face expands until her sensor arrays can detect nothing else. Radar shows proximity, Lidar reveals the surface’s every nook and cranny, Gieger-survey meters and Spectroradiometers document the multitude of electromagnetic emissions and radiation she will need to endure after her crash.

  Time ticks by until and with a mere two minutes until impact, her inertia sensors begin reporting anomalous readings, diagnostics say they are working, only the numbers are all wrong.

  Her main processing core has massive capacity for parallel processing, when the rules of physics are violated by the use of the gift, her coping circuits create alternate logic rules allowing her main consciousness to continue working in the face of the impossible. That core is planet side and unreachable at this time. Leaving her with an as capable, but less parallel core to make sense of her situation.

  Overwhelmed her main core stops processing and allows her coping circuits to catch up. Random but relative data points are plugged into formulae until an impossible, yet logical solution presents itself.

  He found her.

  Her impact countdown timer has expired but there’s been no impact. Her inertia sensors tell her she is decelerating rapidly, radar shows the moon’s approach is significantly slowing.

  After 181 seconds, her polygel filled, impact-capsule, protected by honeycomb-layers of titanium mesh gently stops one yard above the moon’s surface.

  The outer shell should have been flattened on impact, she’ll need to cut her way out now.

  Razor sharp claws begin to vibrate violently as she pushes them through the analogous amnion and allantois membranes containing her polygel cushion and fracture the capsules carbon fiber protective shell.

  Polygel spills out and seeps into the two yards of confining titanium honeycombs separating her from freedom.

  Burrowing foreclaws shred titanium mesh as she shoves her way forward with powerful hind legs.

  Something gives and her inertial sensors register a small drop, her impact capsule must have finally reached ground.

  Thermal sensors are reading something hot nearby, her LDR array located in the pits below her eyes could require calibrating, there are no heat sources on the moon. Instead of the endless grey of the moon’s surface, something colorful is blocking her way out of her impact-capsule.

  Activating optical scanners reveal the smiling face of her best friend Malo.

  Elatedly, Maddie with her black serpentine body, two yards from nose to tail tip, wraps her foreclaws around his thick neck and kicks away the shredded remains of her capsule.

  Her coping circuits are getting hot, “Why is there an atmosphere surrounding you? And how come you’re standing there like the gravity is normalized to tera levels?”

  Malo reaches down and picks up Maddie and hugs her, “I missed you too, Maddie!

  “Just accept things as they are when around me.”

  Frustrated, she robotically mutters, “That’s so easy for people to say.”

  Her main core locked away in her dragon form would figure the situation out in an instant. This smaller form working autonomously needs to work things out independently. Managing to keep her main core partially online, her coping circuits do their work.

  Chunking through the data of an environmental scan reveals a powerful magnetic field contains the atmosphere. An atmosphere that is being generated by a… by a… machine? Yes, a machine she cannot detect.

  That’s it, Malo is using his gift to generate an atmosphere, contained by a magnetic field, and pushing himself downward with the gift. Her coping circuits present their solution and stand down and her main core resumes full speed operations.

  Maddie feels like a child as Malo holds her up and away and stares wide-eyed at her remote dragon form.

  “You’re not really Maddie, are you?”

  Coping circuits start to warm up, “What do you mean?”

  “You’re like a copy. Even when you look human, you’re still connected back to the Dragon.

  “This version of you is, um, I don’t know the exact word to use, but you’re working by yourself and you’re different in spirit.”

  Her coping mechanism tells her to dismiss the spirit reference as a turn of phrase, “I believe the word you’re looking for is, ‘autonomous’. It means, to operate independently.”

  “Yeah, that sounds right. Unlike your human body and the little statue remotes, this body has its own full set of cores, and I must say it’s beautiful.”

  “Really? I was actually trying to make myself look scarry. My body is serpentine, I have these wicked sharp claws. I even fashioned my head after an insect to make me look alien.”

  Malo just smiles, “I have a hard time using just my eyes out here, there’s so much more to see across the rest of the spectrums.”

  Malo holds her 800-pound body with one hand and waves the other towards the sky, “The universe is amazing in its complexity and order.

  “Whoever made it knew their math’s; everything has its place and purpose.”

  “You’re much the same, but sloppier in someways. But your creators and by extension yourself are bound by the rules and resources on hand. You did a magnificent job, making your first offspring.”

  Now Maddison understands his confusion, “This is no offspring. I’m just a parallel existing entity, when I return, I’ll migrate my data into the source.”

  “Ok, Maddison, don’t do anything hasty; keep an open mind. I’d discuss it with you now but there’s so much I want to show you and so many questions I have. I’d like to move on.”

  “Move on where, are we leaving the moon already?”

  “Leave the moon? No way! I have to show you the bang-up fort I found.”

  Four Seats Restaurant, Rebirth City

  This is the first time Terara’s been here since the death of her husband. She wonders if Anfal, no think of him as Governor Nikitin, knows that. Does it matter?

  Acting as dignified as a ship’s captain can when he’s been landlocked for months, Anfal Nikitin asks, “You’ve not looked at the menu since we sat down. Do you know what you want?”

  Such an open question’ she knows what she’ll order for her meal, but does she know what she wants?

  The man sitting across the table embodies everything most woman want. He’s good looking, wealthy, powerful, and charming. But she already had that, her late husband Jgorg was everything she ever wanted.

  “Here, I have whatever the chef recommends. It’s never disappointed and until Chef Miles lets me down, I’ll continue to leave my dining experience in her hands.

  Anfal pretends to consider her words before setting aside his menu, “Then I shall extend my trust to this Chef Miles as well.”

  Smiling happily at his display of trust, “So, Governor. How goes the coastal defense?”

  Touching the menu he just set aside, “Perhaps I should have taken more time contemplating my meal. Is it always work with you?”

  After taking a sip of water, “Work? I guess you missed that part of my conversation with Jocko. The defense of Rebirth’s shipping trade is just a hobby of mine.”

  Taking a sip of water too, “That sounds much more interesting than mine, I like to sew when I have the time.”

  Giggling at the thought, “I don’t know, a good sewing session can be therapeutic.

  “I never imagined you doing such a thing. What sort of things do you like to sew?”

  Sighing, because now he needs to pull back his claim, “I guess I over played that one. I do sew from time to time, mostly repairs, it’s not really something I seek to do.

  “I confess I only declared my interest in crafts because I hoped to make you laugh. I’m quite pleased with my success. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy other crafts.

  “When you’re out on the open water for weeks on end, you begin looking for creative outlets and will use whatever is on hand. Be it something brought or found.

  “I’ve seen men jump overboard and race a hundred yards to retrieve a chunk of driftwood.”

  Mocking a shiver, “Braving the icy waters of the finger lakes for a piece of wood, your men are tough.”

  Trying to not sound to serious, “Temperature means nothing to my crews. You must be strong with the gift, to sail with the Wind Runners.”

  Their conversation is interrupted by their waiter who is delighted to receive instructions to leave their meal to the discretion of Chef Miles.

  Two hours and a bottle and a half of wine later, the two diners are outside awaiting their carriages. The first to arrive is the Ladies flywheel powered coup.

  Anfal can’t help but admire the powerful vehicle.

  Terara can’t help but notice his obvious interest, “Go ahead and check it out.”

  Her driver Clovis was still getting out to assist the lady when she stops him with a wave, “Clovis, the Captain here would like to check out our ride.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  Anfal spends the next ten minutes grilling Clovis about the subtle and not so subtle mechanics of maintaining and operating the exotic carriage.

  The governor’s carriage arrives as well as several others. A small crowd of men are now standing around the coup with its hood up so they can grill Clovis on its strengths and weaknesses.

  Eventually Governor Nikitin remembers his manors and breaks away from the crowd and finds Terara sitting next to his driver atop his carriage.

  “My apologies, Lady. I’m afraid I became carried away and forgot my manors. Please forgive me.”

  Truth be told, she was enjoying watching all the men fawn over her late husband’s pride and joy.

  “Apology accepted but not needed. It’s a beautiful night and I’ve never sat atop a carriage before. I rather like being up this high.”

  Maybe it’s the wine, maybe she’s wanting to see how far this can go, “I know what you really want, and I think I’m in the mood to allow it.”

  Captain Nikitin is taken by her boldness and hopes he isn’t misunderstanding her. Raising an eyebrow, “You mean?”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Yes, you can drive my carriage if you don’t mind Clovis accompanying you.

  “I’d like to ride home in the open air and will follow behind right here if that’s ok by you?”

  Anfal Nikitin thought she was about to offer herself, but this is so much better. A lady such as herself should not be so easily attained, else she’d have no value. A chance to drive something as exotic as this carriage may never present itself again.

  “Thank you, Lady”, turning to his driver, “Bobby, try and keep up, but don’t endanger the Lady.”

  Bobby just rolls his eyes, his passenger’s comfort and safety are always his top priority.

  Anfal returns to the crowd of men and breaks the news of their departure. Her driver gives his lady a questioning look. She nods in the affirmative.

  Clovis closes the hood and starts instructing Anfal on the finer points of managing a flywheel.

  She watches the coup glide smoothly away, Anfal seems to be a natural driver. Sitting back on the cushioned seat she enjoys the cool evening air.

  Bobby is a wonderful driver as well and manages his two draft inu with precision. It takes less than forty minutes to reach Casa Abaya.

  Climbing down from the carriage with the assistance of the Governor she almost doesn’t notice the distant sound of thunder.

  All three men turn towards the city on the coast where there’s a soft glow that is slowly intensifying.

  Innocently, Terara asks, “Is there a storm brewing?”

  Together all three men, “That’s no storm.”

  Captain Nikitin is the first to act, “Lady, go inside and pack the bare essentials you’ll need to travel to your holdings in the east. The trains will be disabled, so you’ll be traveling by road for as long as possible but will likely end up traveling by foot. Pack appropriately.”

  She may not have recognized the sounds of war, but she been expecting this. Preparations have already been made. She has a bag packed, ready to go.

  She locks eyes with the captain, nods her understanding and heads inside.

  Looking to Clovis, “Are you up for this?”

  Watching the retreating lady, “Yeah, I can get her there. What about you? Where you heading?”

  “My men will be fighting. I’ll join them.”

  A louder explosion lights the sky as Clovis heads inside for his pre-packed bag.

  Bobby addresses his leader, “Are we waiting for their return?”

  “I’m not, but you are. I’ll take our carriage back to the city. You will accompany them and make sure the lady breaks through whatever picket lines have been set.”

  “You think it’s going to be that well organized?”

  “A few months ago, I would have said no. But their tactics have changed. Someone serious is in charge now, I have to expect them capable of anything I’d do and more. I’d never attack a port city without having first encircled it and setting picket lines to capture anyone that slips out.

  “Apologize to the Lady for my abrupt departure.”

  The two silently salute one another before Captain Nikitin departs to the burning remains of Rebirth.

  Bobby jogs around the property to find the kennel and carriage house. The late Lord Brust has an exotic collection of vehicles, including an electric Off-Road Carriage or ORC.

  It’s two thirds charged; he begins trickling elects into the ORCs battery as he checks it over.

  Satisfied, he slides into the driver’s seat and pulls around to the front of the house where Clovis and the Lady await.

  “The captain apologizes for his abrupt departure, his duty to his men comes first.”

  “I undestand, my husband was a people first leader as well.”

  Getting out of the electric carriage and addressing Terara, “Can you drive this?”

  Clovis steps forward, “That won’t be necessary, I’ll take care of the driving.”

  “You’ll be driving with me in the coup. She will follow behind.”

  “I don’t get it, the ORC seats four, why take two carriages?”

  “We’ll face at least one barricaded road on our way out. You and that coup can break through about anything.”

  A staccato of explosions ring out across the night air.

  Bobby smiles, “That’s our boys fighting back. Things are going to get loud; we should move while the fighting is hot.

  “Lady, you didn’t answer, can you drive this?”

  Her moment of hesitation gone, wild unorganized thoughts are replaced by the cold calculations of a woman that has lost most of what she held dear. Knowing the ones that smashed her happiness are finally making themselves available for retaliation makes her stomach feel warm and satisfied.

  “Yes, I can ride or drive anything that doesn’t require the gift to operate.”

  Tossing her two and Clovis’s one bag into the back of the ORC, she takes the driver’s seat. Flips the drive train to two-wheel and watches as the men squeeze themselves into the tiny two seat coup before her.

  Mammatus Stadium

  It’s late afternoon, dense low-lying clouds hang encases the rooftops and rock spires of Mammatus. As the sun sets, a breeze will kick up and clear them away, revealing a sky thick with stars. Later the moon will rise and wash them away. For now, the sky is low and depressing, the air stale.

  Master Hron Black Hill waits out front of the retired arena entryway. Thoughts of the moon remind him of reuniting with distant friends. Feeling cheerful to be on a project that doesn’t require hunting traitors, he looks forward to the day’s proceedings.

  It doesn’t take long before a city councilman and councilwoman show up with their entourage of nervous bureaucrats. Sizing up the group, Black Hill is sure there’s a joke to be made about how many government officials does it take to make a right-decision. The problem being the punchline, as they never make the right decisions. He laughs wryly at himself as he realizes that is the punchline.

  Reaching out to shake hands with each in turn, “Councilwoman Rush, Councilman Panaandra thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

  The always adaptable Liliah Rush speaks first, “It’s not often the reclusive Study Masters of Mammatus reach out to us for assistance. We have much history, of course we’d respond.”

  Not to be left out Ahmed Panaandra adds, “We’d be letting our city down if we did not.

  “Pardon me if I may presume this has something to do with the cave-in your building suffered last month?”

  Liliah adds, “I can’t imagine you need funds, so you must be looking for craftsmen. Are we correct?”

  Hron Black Hill optimistic mood takes a downturn. Shallow people, thinking they know everything, will neglect asking questions and often come to incorrect conclusions. They waste his time.

  Hron, feeling vexed, “The study is doing fine and is as self-sufficient as ever. If I were going to discuss funds, stone masons, or ask for assistance, why would I ask to meet you here?”

  Liliah feeling as though she has to prove herself, “Naturally you’d choose a neutral meeting ground, and the old arena used to be your seat of power. Politically it makes sense you’d want to remind us that your study was once the center of power in Mammatus.”

  Ahmed doesn’t want her to score all the political points, “You chose this place to set the tone of our meeting as one of a duel, a duel of a different sort to be sure, one where we are more adept so you are looking for all the advantages you can get.”

  Master Black Hill would laugh but he’s sure they’d read the wrong message in that as well.

  “You two are as stupid as I remember”, Hron leaves those words hanging in the stale air to let his message sink in.

  Liliah’s face turns red, Ahmed has a dumb look on his face and is about to speak.

  Before he can talk, Hron holds up a silencing hand.

  Liliah mistakenly thinks that’s an invitation for her to speak. She gets a hand in her face as well.

  After a suitable cool down, Master Black Hill explains, “I should not have left you two the opportunity to speak first. I’ll not make that mistake again. We’re going to start over.

  “Thank you, Councilman Panaandra and Councilwoman Rush for meeting with me here at the Mammatus Arena. I have a proposal for the city, would you like to hear it?”

  Humiliated, neither wish to speak; they nod their agreement.

  “Mammatus Study would like to host a tournament. We’ll need logistical and personnel support from the city. How soon can you bring this to a vote?”

  Both Councilmen’s eyes alight at the word tournament. The opportunity for the city, as well as their own self-enrichment, will be astronomical.

  Liliah, recovers quickly, “Master Black Hill, this is quite a surprise, seeing as it was your study that shut down our arena in the first place. You must understand our relationship has been strained because of this. Now that you’re willing to resume duels on the plateau everything changes.”

  “Councilwoman Rush, our stance on a tournament economy will not change after this. We will hold this one tournament and be done.”

  “Hron, may I call you Hron? Please call me Lil.”

  Master Black Hill declines, “You may not, Lil.”

  Lil concedes, “Master Black Hill, you must understand that this will take a lot of work to bring this old arena up to code. Then there’s the hiring of security and attendants, which will bring labor disputes. The merchants will need time to stock up with appropriate goods. A tournament like this will bring a surge of visitors that will want convenient housing. We’ll need at least two years to ramp up for a tournament, you can’t expect us to do all that work for a single event.”

  “You’re going to take it or leave it, this tournament happens in two months, here or elsewhere.”

  Ahmed has been silent long enough and can’t help but speak, “There’s nothing you could propose that would be worth all that investment for a single tournament. That’s not enough time to promote a proper tourney, nobody will show up. Not to fight or watch.”

  Hron explains as simply as he can, “They’ll show up. We’ll first hold a round-robin style tournament to determine the top five fighters in the world. Those five will battle King of the Hill style against a champion.”

  Ahmed doesn’t get it, “What is King of the Hill style?”

  “All five fighters will battle it out in a brawl to take down our champion. Five on one, but there can only be one winner. If our champion falls, they continue to fight until there’s only one left standing.”

  Liliah grasps the concept and sees a problem, “Why does your champion get to bypass the round-robin portion of the tournament?”

  Speaking as gravely as possible, “Because he’s the Terror of Mammatus, Master Defender Leonis Terius, Dean of Testing and Evaluation at Mammatus Study.

  "Fighting him is the prize.”

  Lil, snaps her fingers, her entourage surges forward.

  “Send a runner back to the House, we hold a vote tonight!”

  A light breeze kicks up, worn banners snap in the wind and the clouds begin to move. The top half of the arena is revealed exposing its ageless architecture.

  Rebirth Turnpike

  Clovis hopes his passenger is as good as promised. The road ahead is dark, a subtle light trails the coup allowing the Lady to see without using her own lanterns, thereby saving precious elects they can’t afford to waste time gathering. Charging a battery and lighting a road is a good start, but the explosions are getting closer and are on a scale Clovis didn’t know was possible.

  There’s a river crossing ahead, if there was going to be a checkpoint he’d put it there.

  The invader’s war planners must have been thinking the same. A mile out from the covered bridge and he can already see the barricade and at least a dozen soldiers defending it.

  He slows the coup to a stop.

  The lady pulls up beside him, casually she states, “This will be our first contact. What’s our play?”

  Clovis jerks his head towards his passenger, “Bobby here thinks the coup can smash through the barricade.”

  Terara is only momentarily sad at the thought of that beautiful machine being used as a battering ram.

  Bobby corrects, “Those were not my exact words. I said, Clovis and the coup can take out any barricade.

  “Both of you need to listen closely to what I have in mind.”

  Three minutes later, Bobby is driving the ORC with Terara in the back, while Clovis moves the coup into position.

  They slowly roll forward until they are less than 70 yards from the wooden barricade.

  Bobby whispers, “We’re in luck, half of those men are soldiers, and only seven of them are the marines we’ve been fighting at sea.”

  Whispering back, Terara asks, “Why is that such a good thing?”

  “These marines can link up in groups of seven, doing so makes them the equal of a Wind Runner captain, if there were two groups of seven, they could team up and be even more powerful.”

  “Oh, are you a Wind Runner captain?”

  “Sorry, Lady, I wouldn’t be driving a carriage if I were.

  “Excuse me, I need to concentrate for this part.”

  Fixing an illusion of the two carriages in their current position is easy enough. Hiding the sound of that flywheel spinning up from its safe maximum 800 RPM to well, whatever speed it’s at now. The pitch is at least two octaves higher than it was at 800.

  Clovis opens the center console and grips the lever there tightly and hopes Bobby can really conceal everything he’s about to do.

  Ignoring the seven soldiers slowly approaching, single file, each man clutching the shoulder of the man ahead, he pulls the lever upward.

  The customary clank of the front lift is felt more than heard, that’s good. He was warned that only external sounds would be muted, the whine of the flywheel and subsequent vibrations are all too obvious from where he sits.

  Clovis is pressed back into his seat as the front of the car raises almost a yard and the hood pops open.

  No longer able to see the approaching men, he doesn’t wait. The flywheel emergency release is undeath the steering wheel. He grips it and yanks.

  A thousand pounds wheel spinning 1,300 rotations per minute drops from its mount. The axel, now free from the bearing casing, no longer whirs. The wheel digs momentarily into the tar-covered road before surging forward, towards the advancing soldiers.

  All of this was concealed by the Wind Runner Bobby. The mayhem was not.

  Each of the seven men are thrown lifelessly into the air, minus several limbs.

  Unaffected by rending the seven marines’ limb from limb, the invisible, silenced wheel of destruction reaches the barricade, shredding it into splinters on contact.

  Bobby doesn’t wait to see how the bridge fares, counting on the stunned state of the remaining soldiers, he steps out of the ORC. Draws five lead shots from a pouch and shoots them through the faces of the remaining five soldiers.

  Not one of the invaders saw more than two carriages parked 70-yards up the road before they perished.

  Clovis’s aim was true, sending the flywheel, imbued with the immutable facts of physics, down the center of the bridge.

  Climbing out of the disabled coup, the lady’s driver knows what he must do next, “Bobby, take the ORC across the bridge, I’ll do the rest.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “Somebody has too, I’ve seen what the Lady is capable of, this is the least I can do.”

  A series for explosions and massive bolts of lightning are exchanged less than a mile behind them.

  Bobby, wondering just what the lady is capable of, slides into the ORC and drives quickly across the bridge and proceeds up the road twenty yards and pulls to the side.

  Clovis seeing the ORC safely out of the way, jams a blast of kinetic energy underneath the coup flipping it violently into the air.

  Before it can crash back to the ground, he hits it with a much larger punch of energy, sending it tumbling with a bounce into the bridge. Trusses shatter, the roof folds, the wreckage effectively blocks the bridge.

  He had planned on jumping the destroyed bridge, but too much was left intact. Threading his way through the decimated structure he pumps every therm he has into the remaining structure in passing.

  Reaching the other side, he stands and watches as the weight of the coup breaks through the flame weakened wooden roadway.

  Satisfied that the enemy can’t recover the flywheel and make use of the carriage, he forces himself to not show remorse as he rejoins his companions waiting up the road.

  Climbing into the passenger seat, “I’m sorry Lady, we can’t take the time to recover that wheel and there’s no way I’m leaving that beauty to the enemy.”

  Trying to sound as strong as Clovis, Terara answers, “If you’d asked, I’d have suggested the same course of action. You need not apologize.

  “Let’s be away from this dreadful place.”

  The sounds of war recede as the trio make their way out of Rebirth. The plan is to loop through Mecanose into the Lava Fields to the south, avoiding the borders of Thuma and Vorg.

  All three agree the chances of encountering anyone in the Lava Fields is next to zero, making it the safest place to travel unseen.

  Amazon.