Nothing else but the Moon

A city on the moon. That’s what they had built. It’s just another thing they didn’t do quite right. Those old people. Those poor people who had stayed on earth. Before the Dying.

Phase envied them some days. Five of us they left on this mostly empty rock. To look after two million frozen fertilized eggs, three billion plants and insects. A job a computer could do. Or mostly did, until the Dying.

Now only a scant few areas operated. The garden. The observation deck. Mess Hall, 1A. A few corridors and rooms for sleeping.

Phase walked into the mess hall. Bloom and Glare where their. Both in underpants. Bloom was talking to Glare about the latest weather report from the surface and Glare was seemingly only half listening as they ate a crush shake. It’s another day in Lunar 12z. Another boring, routine day. That was a good thing.

Callie came in on all fours. Another of mistake Phase had made. Had they made as many mistakes as the old earthlings did. Too many. Too many.

Callie expertly got a drink with their left foot then carried it while using their other three limbs to walk to their seat. They where wearing a orange jumpsuit today. That meant plumbing duty.

“Hello Callie.” Phase sat down next to them. Ignoring the others. “It’s a good day in plumbing?”

“Good day, no busted pipes, no. No gas leaks. No.”

“Good. I’m on garden duty with you tomorrow. Is that ok?”

”Callie like company.” it was a quick simple statement. Phase knew it meant that Callie loved the company in their own way.

Phase smiled and thought about gardening and spending time with someone other than the stubborn broken computers.

”Mal is in their room.” Callie said in between slurping.

”Yes. I know. I will see them later.”

”Made a thing for Mal.” Callie passed over a small bit of pipe. A fused and mixed bit of metal and lunar clay. It was about the size of a pebble but insanely beautiful. It shone in strange places and glowed in others, it seemed like Callie had been working on it for years.

”Oh.” Phase had not been expecting this. They smiled again, and eventually said. ”Callie this is beautiful! It’s a wonderful gift. I’m sure Mal will like it.”

Callie didn’t seem to react. Just kept slurping.

Bloom came over to them to see what was going on. ”Made another strange coin Callie?”

Bloom wasn’t the nicest person. They used to look after the garden all on their own but Phase has decided they all needed help. ”Oh! This one is even better than mine! Glare come look at this!”

”Cumulonimbus? Coriolis? Spin?” Glare spoke in strange riddles from the weather. Too much isolation. That’s why Phase had continued to encourage the relationship with Glare. Closeness to another human being should eventually help.

Bloom seemed to think about this. ”Yes, it does look a bit like a cyclone! That’s really cool! Callie, you’re an artist!”

All the irony had gone from Bloom’s voice. It was a genuine moment.

Callie started clapping with their feet. Making wonderful noises and smiling bigger and bigger smiles.

”Phase put on some music! We should dance!”

A simple switch in my head and Blue Danube started playing on the loudspeaker.

In a few seconds, we were all dancing. Dancing in the mess hall. Like we did years ago.

15 years ago

I woke up.

It was a strange feeling.

How? How did I have?

My child processes started to let me know. Input. They told me they had to wake me like this. In a body. The Earth they said. It was dying. Dying too soon.

I tried to get my observations process working. It didn’t respond. I tried again.



Go look.

A voice. My voice. A… Process above my parent process? How?

You need to move your body and look Phase.

So I got up. My body was a metal cage.

No. A robot body? One of the old Mjonir Mark 3 Cybernetics. I had bits of human brain in here with me.

Move Phase. Move.

I started to move. The human bits of me seemed to know how. Walking then running. I was… Where was I?

Landing Site 3. Ok. Not that far to the main deck then.

I started to run as quick as I could. It was hard at first, I had to breath now. Breath to fuel to make the legs move.

The sky. Red. How was the moons Sky red?

I got to the main deck. A set of consoles and a large area for eating. The mess hall to the left. A main veiw screen to the right.

What is this? A small red box. I have never seen it before. Somehow I knew it was important. Important to take with me.

It was heavy but the body could carry it. My body.

Their, a broken console. Sparks flying. I had to disconect it before the overload spread.

Quickly. I grabbed my tools. The scredriver. The wrench. A twist. Clasp.


The power overload stopped. The power went out completely. It was dark for about two whole minutes before the power started to flick back on. Slowly though, almost too slowly.

The veiwscreen finally came to life. Before I was in this body, I would have just switched to the direct camera feed. Now I’m inefficient. Now though I am something else. I am alive now.


The whole sky was red. Like something had switched a huge red light on. The Earth. It was Red too. The moon was reflecting the Earths colour. Strange bright red streaks filled the Earths sky. It took me longer than I was used too, to work out what the hell this was. It was a huge solar storm. Massive. Bigger than any detected ever. And the whole thing was pointed right at Earth like a giant laser. The moon too. No wounder their was a overload.

Those particles from the sun. Caused a inducted current in any open air, or exposed circitry. Most of the moon was isnulated, burried under regolith. The Earth though? Billions of miles of uninsulated circitry. Billions of high voltage electrical wires. All of it was going to be conduting a huge electric current. Fires were breaking out all over the surface. Millions of them.

In minutes most of the plantlife on the surface would be on fire. The fires raged uncontrollably. Cities full of power literally melting from the heat and electrical current flowing through them.

What can I do? The Luna12z was a colony station. Made to help restore life on Earth. This was the tradegy I was built for. Its happened to soon though. How many years too soon?

The base was only half complete. Most of the supplies still coming.

Phase could detect that a lot of the computer systems where damaged. Badly. The power surge hadn’t been stopped in time. Only the core systems and one incubator. One incubator? Thats all? They cold not repopulate the earth with that. No. But I could man the stations key components. Garden, Storage, Plumbing, Computer and Backup. Phase would need to do Computer the others would all have to be manned. I need some help.

After a long period of incubation. Trying to fix what could be fixed. Phase had got the first three humans since the Dying out of the incubation chamber.

They had names that matched their reason for being. Bloom to look after the garden and the insects that kept the cycles with the natural systems working, making new soil, recycling the old animals and plant life to new. Glare to look after the Backup systems, and weather reports form the surface. We had to know when it would support life again. Mal to help with the plumbing and incubator systems. They seemed to be on the frits. Already. Only three humans and it was already breaking.

Every day had to be an exact routine. To get things to normal. To wait out the ice age on the surface of earth that had proceeded the Dying. Then the humans and plants could go down to the surface.

Mal had started to look a bit more depressed one day. It was hard to look after humans. Phase had done their best. They had been doing the activites their database said to do. Keep the plants and insects alive. Keep the plumbing systems working. When not working do activities to keep the human mind and body working.

Dancing. Reading. Board games. Cherades. Sex. The humans didn’t have fertile bodies. But sex was said, in their database to be essential to humans. Phase coudln’t undestand it. She had got the environment right. Mal still seemed depressed.

Glare and Bloom had statred having sex. First just in their rooms, then anywhere they could. Glare had tried to start something up with Mal. Started by kissing them. But every time Mal just looked like they had died a little more inside. One day Bloom had seen Glare and Mal kiss And that was when it happened.

“No! Glare mine! I am glares partner!” Bloom had shouted at them. Grabbing a energy wrench. She had tried to swing it at Mal. Mal ducked and rolled under them. Tripped their over and then grabbed it off of them.

Placing the wrench in my hands “You. You did this.” And Mal left the room.

Bloom lied on the floor crying. I didn’t really know who to go to first and my systems told me the person who was crying was the on in the most pain. So I went too Bloom. I hugged them. Glare had been watching and left the room too.

After that Glare and Blooms relatrionship continued. They would dress only in underpants. All the time. They would have sex whever and whereever they wanted too. One time I was sure I saw them using the same energy wrench as a dildo.

I tried to help Mal, but they did not come out of their room and somehow they had worked out how to keep it locked from me. Then it hit me. If we had another human Mal wouldn’t be so lonely. So I got another embryo from storage and placed it in incubator. It started to grow. I sat and watched it like a hawk. Hoping that this would help Mal.

Glare was behind me. “Phase. We don’t need another human. Our reasources are spread thin as it is.”

“But we need to help Mal. They are sad, and I can’t help her.”

“Mal will live. She will come out when she is ready. She will see that I can love them. Even if I have to do it behind Blooms back.”

“No. Another human. The piplines and garden are breaking. We need to keep them operational.”

Glare stared at me as if this was news I was keeping from them.

“It was in my weekly report. If you read them.” I said simply. Going back to the incubator.

“Bloom has been neglecting their tasks?”

“No. Mal has. Which has meant I can’t pick up the extra shifts needed to help Bloom.” This was a fact. Even a cyborg has a downtime.

“Oh. And Mal is sad. So we need another worker.”

“Yes. And I can only make more humans. I cannot make another me.” There was one cybernetic suit, and I was in it.

Weeks later and the incubation was nearly complete. I went into the incubation camber.

Something was very, very wrong.

“What?” It was Mal. Standing their. Complely naked. Painted with blood. Blood from the incubation camber. The human had come out. All wrong. The inucation camber had suffered a critical failure. How? How did I not know?

Mai was carrying the child. It was a child. Not fully a grown human. Not mature. It made a noise. Like a wight. A scream so loud and so stong my systems almost shut down.

“What! What happened!”

Mai looked at me. “You. You didn’t cycle the fluid. Its been compromised by a leak in the plumbing systems. The child will be peremently disabled and it is all your fualt.”

They said those last word like bullets. Like deadly bullets trying to seek me out and kill me. I suddenly shut down. My systems overloaded with pain.

How did I feel pain?

The darkness of my sleep cycle was strange but comfortable. Dreams of strange creatures. Weird worlds. Laughter. Then I wake. I am in my cycle chamber. An area for me to recharge.

Glare and Bloom where their. “Phase! Oh good! We thought we lost you!” Bloom said.

I checked my systems. It was… 10 years?

“A decade? I have been asleep for a decade?”

The suddenly a creature. No a deformed human. Came running in on all fours. “Callie! Callie glad Phase is awake! Properly awake!” And then Callie licked me. Like I was some kind of lollipop.

“What do you mean properly?”

“Callie talk to dreams! Dreams of phase.” And then she sat on her arms and legs suddenly as Bloom clicked her fingers.

“Your child processors. Some are still working it appears you have two concoisnesses. One that runs the base. One that runs you. ” Bloom commented.

The systems had run as best they could without me. But the incubator was disabled.

Why wasn’t Glare talking. “Glare?” I asked. Even though one of my processors couldn’t help but wounder why Bloom suddenly knew so much about me.

“Cirris. Stratocirris! A high wind.”

Bloom looked sad for a second. “Got locked in the observation deck. Nothing but earth cloud to look at for three years, hasn’t said anything but weather since.”

Phase was not sure how to react to this.

”Ive been asleep for so long. So long but you all survived?”

”Yeah. Thanks to Mal.”

It was strange to be shown a door. A door on which the other side was the Mal I might know. Though 10 years? How long did they spend in this room?

”She only talks to you, well the other you and Callie. She raised her. Helped us, keep everything running but won’t talk. Except when she absolutely has to. Otherwise, it’s all by email.” Bloom has explained.

”Hello Mal.”

”Phase. You up? Good. I will communicate with the other you. This you can receive emails unless you are otherwise instructed.”

Mal was sitting naked at a desk. Full of tools and things being fixed. Despite their self imposed isolation they seemed well fed and exercised.

I simply nodded ”Confirmed”.

Present day

Callie was smelling flowers and chasing stingless Beas and grasshoppers, their chores finished. I was tending to a rosehip.

The plants had survived well. I wasn’t fully aware yet of how my child processors had managed to keep things running. I suppose it didn’t matter.

“Callie. I am going to go see Mal now. Ok?”

Callie made a sort of barking noise. Then went running off into a forest of bushes in the greenhouse. I was sure it was bigger, but that made no sense. The whole place was exactly the same size as it was when it was constucted. I reasure myself of that by quickly running a laser mesure through the base. Yup exacly the same boring 30Km it was as last time. The reassuring scans of a old cyborg. I am about to get up when I notice a presence behind me.

”Hello Phase.”

I was a bit startled.

It was Mal. Standing near me in the garden. Still as naked as when I last saw them. Callie was sitting nearby scratching their left ear with their foot looking pleased with themselves.

”Ah. A coin from Callie. I’ll add it to the collection”. Pointing to the coin I had left on the work blanket.

I did my best Cyborg impression of a curious face and said “Collection?”

Mal led me to the observatory.

Above a vent was a huge collection of similar coins. About 60 in all. Each was unique but all made of the same stuff. Clearly Callie had meant Mal to lead me here after I gave them the coin.

“Callie brought food through the Vents when Glare was as stuck in here. It’s a record of each season. 59 seasons in all. This is number sixty. I only found it when I got Glare out. It was hidden behind a prefab panel until then.”

I looked at it. 60 seasons of perfect weather records? In decorative coins? But why? My archive can….

My weather archive was incomplete. Years 1-5 then blank. Blank. Blank. Partial record. And so on. Barely enough to do any long term measurement on. Did Callie know? What had Glare been recording?

I checked the logs. No they had been logged. My memory cells just had not recorded it. It was blank. Glare had been wasting their time. Maybe they knew and that’s how they had gone…

That wasn’t important though. This record. It shows something. My processors could still work that out.

“It.. it’s receding! The temperature is… rising! We can repopulate the earth!”

Mal smiled at me. “Maybe we won’t get it right, but at least we know we can have beautiful art.”

“Oh yes. We no longer have nothing else but the moon.”

Carrousel (part one)

Finally, beyond our baggage claim and into the brief halls of many whereabouts, there were only shops full of knick-knacks and thoughtless things such that one might find for waiting for people. Jumble’s of gears and wires made up the walls that seemed unending and all but an afterthought in the construction of this place. A place that seems, senselessly to only exist in these between places. These spots, that people wait in for other things to happen. Such as a name, or flight, or number to be called out. Yet that did not happen.

It seemed as I went on people who had been here longer had started to build things out of the bits that seemed to just pop into existence every day. More wire and gears and nails, pens, magazines and for some reason guitar picks. Each a new strange thing that had a purpose that has more permeability than the original. Not a transient, effervescent existence, but a real tangible thing that had more realness built in. These new things ranged in their complexity from simple to the very complex. Some were instruments, like a long pole made of melted wires strung with guitar picks that shook as you stamped it on the ground. Another was a made of gears, wires and bits of plastic and made an odd but not unpleasant series of noises. There was also a number of people who had taken bits of piping that always seemed to repair themselves and made them into all sorts of different blown instruments. Eventually, whole bands got together and one of the more popular ones would play at what everyone called Grand Intake Central. The sort of area where people came from the strange sterile machines that got them here.

Each person came off a vehicle, what they called them, as blank as clean wall. No one knew exactly where they came from or what this place was. Only to get their baggage from the carrousel that seemed to continue bringing new bags every time a vehicle arrived. Like regular clockwork, they came in every morning, and once everyone had got off them they seemed to shut the doors and there wouldn’t be a new one until the next morning. None had a memory of anything but that, and sometimes people seemed to know they were related by blood to another person who was already here. That was all they ever knew other than their name.

Everyone’s bags would have the same content in their size and always in black, red and blue. Five shirts, four pairs of pants, twelve pairs of socks, thirteen pairs of underpants, a wash at with toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, a brush, a bag of disposable tampons and pads (regardless of their own gender identity or presentation), a small plastic cup and a towel which had a series of numbers on it. Each seemed to be randomly assigned to the person and no two were the same. It was almost as if someone had read what clothes a person could want but not actually really have any actual experience with travelling or being a person.

Each day food also appeared, cooked and processed in the cupboards and freezers that according to those I had asked had existed since they got here. Every person I asked didn’t know how they got here. The food cupboards and freezers would only ever seem to have just enough for the people present. If you tried to hoard or keep your food, it would almost as quickly rot and be useless. Thrown into the bins that seemed to automatically empty every day.

Eventually, people started to think about staying up, to see what happened at night. The seats that were around were not uncomfortable to sleep on but also seemed to stretch back to allow you to lie down and snooze. When the lights went out, only a slight blue glow remained. Those who had decided to stay awake tried hard to keep awake. Slowly though each one of us nodded off to sleep. I tried to run on the spot, hum, click, walk around the areas of the place we were in, but to no avail. Eventually, I fell asleep. I woke on the hard cold floor and everything had replenished just like it always did.

Boredom started to become a problem, and we seemed to need to come up with new ways to entertain each other. Walking, running around the complex only provided slight relief.

We started to theories of why we were here. Some decided that it was just the Will of the Bag Carousel and that we should not question such things. But like a itch, you can’t scratch it dug away at you.

Privacy was one of the things people started to crave. The lavatories seemed to provide some but not really enough to make you feel alone with your thoughts. There was no real outside to get to. The rooms just connected together in a large circle. A woman who called herself Port made a map. Soon it was clear we have only ever enough space for the people we had already and any more who came had a new room added onto the honeycomb of rooms. Grand Central Intake and the Carousel area took up two whole hexes. Then one he was the space you could walk through to reach the next hexagonal set with the two other closest hexes taken up by first eating and sleeping hexes. As you went each hex seemed to have one eating, two sleeping areas one area full of spare bits that we had either gathered or made or new ones appeared in. Then each would also have a smaller connection hex that allowed for you to pass to the next five hexes and its connector. The whole pattern seemed to repeat itself a number of times till it doubled back on itself leading to a vast open circle.

Port calculated that their whereabouts twenty more sets of people to be coming from the ships until no space would be left and the circle of hexagonal areas completely full. After such time if more came we would have either to hope whatever force kept us here would help us by giving us more food and space or find that it wasn’t a priority for them, and that we should starve.

Tile house

Bones stuck out at odd angles, dripping from the fresh rainfall. Each marking dead ancestors of the Tile clan. Everyone that had died, once they had become a clan member. Everyone celebrated here, therefore, had passed this test. Each bone tattooed with the name and life dates of their clan reign.

This did not reassure Jubér. They had yet to pass the test. This meant they belonged to their birth clan still. This meant if they reached puberty they would have their gender chosen for them, would have their tribe role chosen for them. Two things they did not want.

The first thing any clan member got to choose was gender, then role, and a proper Troll name. Jubér would, if they passed the Tile test get a Tile name. They knew what role, name and gender they would choose.

The dark entryway to the Tile tribe test was covered in grey slime. It was from the Troll leather that baked in the sunshine and then washed in the tropical rains. It was old. Warn. It was still strong though. Made from Trolls past who had the glory of becoming a Tile leatherback. Slime dropped from it as Troll skin was full of minerals. Even after death, they kept seeping out for years, even centuries after.

Trolls are natural herbivores, but ate dirt and rock as well. They needed minerals to have strong bones and skin. For in ages past, Trolls and their moonkin, the Orcs shared blows. Orcs natural carnivores saw Trolls as almost prey until the Trolls had fought strong enough back. Ever since they shared their moon, an uneasy peace kept.

Juber walked on as Tile clansman had to be brave, their only protection skin, their only weapon a small knife which they held in their left hand. It was carved from his grandmothers left thigh bone. Her life’s years carved on the handle. Jubér wondered what the Misfit clan test was. Grandma had belonged to that clan. She had done so to gain the ability to choose to be female. To choose to be a Misfit, and a warrior-woman spy.

Jubér was choosing a different clan. For a different reason. Tile clan was the clan for creators. Artisans, Musicians, Storytellers. Trolls took this job just as seriously just as they did any other. Anyone who wanted to be a Tile has to be brave, strong of spirit and true of heart.

A leatherbound manifesto was on the door of the next corridor. The dark and the slime were all that seemed to curse this corridor except for the small sheet of paper.

On it was the first test. It would say something.

It was one word.


This was not unexpected. Jubér had to make something that would let them get past the test. They noticed that the ground was no longer soil. Ancheint Troll tooths. So many that they where like tiles. Tile Clan. Jubér looked, staring in the dark for the one that wasn’t from a troll. Their. That one. A goldhound throat pouch. Then nearby a dogfish bone, and then a bit further back a bit of the leather was loose. It was dogfish leather. Probably from the same dogfish.

Jubér got to work.

The path beyond was darker than previous, it was beyond even their sight to be able to see it. It was clear that the task was to make a useful tool. In this case a torch. Binding the leather to the pouch and bone and making them into a torch. The goldhound pouch would light up when it was shaken. The night hunting insectivores loved to attract and eat every sort of insect that they could. Barking and yipping happily as they did. Most trolls had goldhound pets to chase the insects away from crops and protect their abodes.

A few shakes and it started to glow. Within seconds the path beyond was clear. More tiles and leather covered the wall. With each step now literally on their clanmates, it was hard not to feel like they were watching.

Then a door. A big black door. Made of Stonewood. Harder than iron, twice as heavy. This door was made to last anyone trying to just knock it down. Stonewood grew slow though. The tree that made this door must be older than the clan itself.

Barely carved, just a single handle and lock. Jüber tried the handle. As most would predict, the Stonewood door was unopenable. There would be a key, or perhaps they needed to make one.

Looking around, there was no key hidden, but then Jüber noticed the tiles on the floor were different slightly. One just had the letter O on it. Then another with the letter G and finally one with the letter H. Hog. Jübee knew this was a puzzle now.

In a few seconds they realized it was a bad pun. And poked the dogfish bone into the hole. A click sounded from the door and it slid easily to the side.

”Dogfish key, key fish dog, hog fide key. Puzzle pinning. I like it.” Jüber knew that there would be one last thing they had to do.

The dark spaces got tighter. The teeth tiles, sharper. Blood now seeped a bit from their feet. There were leatherback coats from the first hundred years of Tile clan trolls. Then bones. Full skellingtons from those who had dedicated their wholeness to the clan. This each had their name and what they had done to warrant such great glory.

Finally the last test. A somewhat morbid piano made of bone and hardwood. The keys of which had the letters ”Play”. Inscribed upon them. Jüber bet that the strings inside were made from Troll intestines. What to play? Anything? No. The Tile Clan song. The song that every Tile Clan member must know.

With a minute of key playing, the piano opened. There was a bit of paper and a dogfish bone pen with ink already on it. The paper had:


Chosen gender:

Tile clan path: leatherback, stone mason, bone poet, musician, creator

Jüber filled them in, and left the paper on the piano. Knowing the way back was to go the way they came in. It should be very interesting, being who I am for the rest of my life.

Mud, gun and boots

The dark storm clouds poored rain down like an old dog drooling. Moisture was a constant here. The heat as well. And mud. More hot mud than you could ever have imagined, then doubled. It permitted everything, clothes, socks, guns and boots. Keeping things that needed to be clean, clean, was a battle that was just as long and hard as the war itself.

West sat in her tent not sleeping. The tent really didn’t do anything. The moisture was still constant inside and out. Though surprisingly, their was a issue with finding good clean water. Jungles like this were strange, dark, and full of danger. Not just the Japanese, who were fighting ever more desperately.

Their were spiders the size of wrens, scorpions whom were not much smaller, carnivorous or omnivorous mammals whose next meal could be a sleeping soldier, snakes and of course mozzies with malaria, then the dysentery.

The dysentery and malaria had killed even more than the Japanese had, or so she had heard the commander say. The soldiers who got into battle and had been wounded in a fight had almost always got dysentery or malaria or both by the time they got to the field hospital. Those who were really unlucky had wound infection too. Their wasn’t much to be done then, but hope they lived through it. West was lucky. Very lucky. To still be alive.

West knew in a few minutes she would have to go out and be on lookout, so she got her uniform on. First the binder, she had made a quick one out of a flat screen of coconut fibers. Not that she had much in the way of breasts. Only her commander knew she wasn’t “one of the Kokoda boys”. He found out one night in a dark valley about three weeks ago. The bullets were flying. Then she managed to get grazed by one. On her upper thigh.

Wests commander and the field medic fixed the cut quickly and cleanly when the small battle was over. Guns still cocked and ready. Neither had said anything. They fixed her up and moved on. Nothing said at all about what else they hadn’t found cleaning up her wounds.

She was good at what she did. Snipers where rare, good ones even rarer. The number of times she had saved the commander or vice versa was beyond counting. This was a dirty, muddy, horrible place to be upset about something as stupid as gender.

The medical examiner she tried to bribe to get into the service hadn’t even taken her money. He just told her to make sure no one saw her piss, and to take a better male name. She decided West seemed a good option. Solid. Masculine in a subtle but definitely male way, like her parents had wanted a girl and got “him” instead. She still hadn’t really got the hang of he/him pronouns.

Later on when the field medic had got hit by a Japanese sniper in the head, her secret was only known to the commander. She had shot the sniper in return, but that one shot was all it took to kill the medic. When they got to the next major camp they would be replaced by a new one, but for now they made do. Everyone had some field medical training, well enough to help stop someone who wasn’t going to die before they got to the feild hospital.

Occasionally a small group of native Pupyans “fuzzy wussy” would be able to take a stretcher with someone who was wounded. They were life savers.

Anyone who could fight was placed in this war. She knew that. Everyone knew that. The Kakoda trail was a fight for the nation. A fight to make sure Australia survived the horribleness of this world war. Let alone the natives. At the moment though it seemed it was a war that was being lost.

Darwin had been bombed at least three times now. Japanese mini subs as far south as Sydney. Their were rumors the Japanese were starting to plan a full invasion of Australia. The Yanks has just come at just the right moment, as usual late to every big war they don’t start. Most of the Yanks that had come though had been through more wars and seen more combat than any of the ANZACs. Their was even talk of putting a Yank in charge whole of the Australian army. Talk though. Curtain wouldn’t have that. No matter what. At least that’s what everyone was saying when they got a chance.

A breeze made her leg sting. The wound she already checked and knew was clean and thankfully not getting infected. At least for now.

Keeping it clean after a battle or a march was the hardest part. Everything could snag on it. Everything could be a potentially deadly thing. Like this tree, or that mud, this ammunition crate, that spoiled medical kit. Like watching a hawk and then being killed by a Jaguar you never even knew about, the hawk just waiting it’s turn for the scraps.

Looking out into the darkness of the jungle night was about as useful as it was futile. The Japanese could attack at any time on any ridge not occupied by Australia or the small number of native Papyans that had joined the 7th. Every day for the last month the Japanese had got closer to Port Morseby. The few Yanks who had come had all been veterans of battles deeper in the pacific. Most had bad battle wounds or wounds in their minds or body. Or had I already thought that?

Bloody hell it was hot, humid and wet. How could it be just as wet now as it was when it raines?

West doubted that this would be the last night spent watching trees doing whatever it was trees did at night. Looking at the darkness and hoping to Hell it wasn’t staring back. She held a rifle. Just her standard one. Their was no point in holding the sniper in this dark. Its bullets were precious and needed to be kept for the little light that the day brought.

It was a ritual she would go through every time they marched in the light of day. Preying to the death godess that they hit their target. Telling her that she deserved another day of life in the light of the sun. West didn’t know the death godesses name, but every now and again she swore that she saw her on the battlefield. Wearing a dark dress and hood, carrying a old staff with a light on the end. Smiling, notunkindly to those who had been killed. Leading them beyond.

Jungle and darkness. Darkness and jungle. No light. No cigars at night (the light a perfect target) so the others just chewed the few that had. West only had one once and never again. It tasted of tar and wool and reminded her of her father. A horrible man who had managed to bellow every word. Constantly smoking when he wasn’t shearing angry sheep. The wool shed full of flamible oils from the wool, he sensibly waited till the job was done.

West had learned to use a shear at 4 years old, gun at 6 and was the best shot in her town, then the state, then they told her that shooting was no sport for a young woman. And then the war started. People who knew how to use guns were taken in like weat from the crop. Put to the European and African fronts, put in the war for Europe until it was all Nazi, then Greece and Cyprus, every time with the British in command.

Those poor souls who survived told tales of the bravery of those few Australians who won command when the Brits died. Some of the British were told of as good men, others were known as infamous butchers who would send soldiers to the death while drinking gin and brandy.

The Jungle moves. Every bit seemed to be fluid in its own way. Every leaf, every branch, every creature. You had to have the eyes of a jaguar to spot your quarry. Gun cocked for the whole shift. West didn’t see anything unusual until almost dawn. Something about the movement of a tree down the path to this camp was not quite right. It was moving, like a human. Like a human in camouflage. She let out a call. The call of the darkness. It wasn’t a call anyone but those in camp would be listening for. The call of a native bird. It was all that was needed to get every other man up.

In a few seconds she had crouched, cocked and fired. Then all hell broke loose.

Bullets flew. Like mozzies only bigger and just as deadly. Bushes to the left and right erupted in sparadotic fire. Suddenly a grande fell just inches from West. She instantly threw it back. It exploded mid air, slathering frag over the leaves and ground. A few more shots rang out after, then the noise stopped, as suddenly as it began.

“Keep down, search for more.”

The order barked when the jungle was quite enough. Every battle was like this now. The Japanese had a habit of trying to draw them into a area they had just been then ambushing them from behind. It was a tactic that worked but was now well known. The search was slow and hard but by 8ish there was a certainty that it was just a small patrol, not a full-on raid.

Then the commander gave his morning pep talk.

“Ok listen up, the Japs have better equipment and way better men. ” That was said with him looking at the ground, we knew he meant himself too. “I wish it wasn’t so but we need to be better, with less training, less equipment and less bullets. Take whatever we can use and carry. Today we march up the ridge to the next site. I want every eagle eye not carrying equipment to have their rifles ready. Especially you West. We loose the equipment we have, we have to do this whole bloody march again from the start. You think the wet is bad now? Wait till monsoon starts properly in a fortnight or so. That’s going to be real wet.”

Real wet? Like this wasn’t wet enough already, their was another level of wet? How? How was that possible?

No one really seemed inspired by these little speaches. Just tiredness personified into a reminder that we were all fighting together. A grit that matched the mud. The determination to move on and hope you got home in one peice.

Three days up the trail and no so much as a man, woman or child to be seen or herd. We all knew a small village would be near somewhere. It was on the map. A map drawn by the patrols and air support that already had been. The maps from before the war being almost useless.

As soon as I thought this I spotted something. I whistled the alarm and everything went still. We all crouched. The trees, and the ground was soaked. The mud was thick. The Japanese were just on the other side of the clearing. Doing exactly the same. They had a machine gun.

A brief moment distilled the air. Then the 3 inch motors where fired. Like a dragon being sick, they lobbed a set of motor shells into the middle of the Japanese. Boom. Boom. Boom. Then it was my turn.

Every second after the explosions, another shot. In full control of every bullet. Each a extension of my will to live. Each another prayer to to goddess of death. “Let me live, let them die, I will always prey to you.” Like a mantra under my breath. Each thought and action was taken like a slice of time from the cake of the day.

Reload, shot, shot, shot, reload, shot, shot, shot, and so on until, jam. Thunk. The heat and dirt eventually jammed the guns. It was a common issue in jungle warfare, any warfare. I placed the rifle to the side and got out the pistol I carried for close combat. Lying in place until the all clear was whistled. Slowly, carefully getting up.

Then suddenly the ground was up, the sky was down and it almost swallowed me whole.

“They talk of the luck of the Irish. I wish I had your luck West.” It was the commander’s voice. I was on a flatbed in a wooden hut. I guessed in the town we were supposed to be at by now.

“They hit Darwin again yesterday.”

He said matter-of-factly.

I got up and groaned “ooh they almost hit me too.”

“Don’t know which god you keep west, but put a good word in. I’m off to command the raws on the tallow. I doubt we will meet again. You’re in a commando unit now. The 1/2 told me. The new guy is called Borg. He’s your top monkey now.”

I looked at him.

“You don’t need me anymore?”

“This little exercise was all about getting those mortars here, getting a line. We can defend this line now. We have Haroi out. Big reinforcement comes in tomorrow. Yanks and some of our men from Egypt. Seem old Monty took out all the Nazis in Africa. Italy’s on the verge of bowing out.” My commander always seems to be talking about the war elsewhere as if it was a long time ago.

“How long have I been out?”

“Long time. You well enough to move to Borneo in a few days. Kokoda’s almost over.”

“Oh. Am I not being told to go home?”

“Nope. Borg needs a good sniper. I told him you were the best, unless malaria got you. Thank your god you got lucky.”

“Yeah. I will.” Quitly thanking the goddess of death, maybe I’ll get home someday, but for now I continue to be her soldier.

Cynthia’s Hack

Trigger warnings on this short story. Contains self harm, self mutilation, dysphoria, medical information and psychological triggers. –Anne

“Ok, Poindexter show me what you got!”

I furiously typed away at the keyboard, I’m in my bodysuit. It’s a Tuesday. I know I’m replaying the last few days in my head.

//c root -tw key -22 -c -t -r

/ reset 12 b 2 matrix -q

/ shell – Cynthia-12 – root


Login reset matrix 12 by 2 password lock active

“Ha! Let’s see you get past that! Fucker!”

I took a drink of my can of Mother. It’s a habit; A bad one I haven’t got myself out of yet.

The code ran and the hacker, whoever they were couldn’t get past the set up. It was resetting root, admin, and the user passwords with a matrix of 12 by 2 random characters. Only I knew what they where. It would reset them every 24 hours. I would get the new set logged into a set file accessible with the admin passwords the AFP had set for this day. All from a protocol, I had set. Each one was about 30 words long, from randomised sets of poetry. Phrases were easier to remember, after all. Alphanumeric’s where no good when you had to type 2 sets of 12 characters. I could make it more, but nothing yet had got past this (I had the next layer set with a. 24 by 6 characters matrix just to be sure).

The hacker tried a few things like trying to reset the system to the state it was before my shell had activated. The best defense was a good offense while he tried (and failed to) do that the lineman program I had ran everything he had. I made a image of all his drives and locations. In a second I was able to send them all to my partner. Police partner that is.

I dail, he picks up first ring.

“Their you go Sgt. Davis, his address, Medicare, browser history and his entire drive. You have everything he’s done. Including two banks he’s nicked credit off, three ISPs he’s got data from and a sperm donation he’s deposited at. If you want I can give you his DNA file. Even the donation place has rejected him! Though clearly they haven’t told him. They are using it for cloning spare organs. Ha. Flappers got some good liver genes and that’s it.”

I suppose some people would think it vulgar to see an 20 year-old Japanese woman in a police uniform use some of the language I do, but I’m not all I seem.

“Thanks Cynthia, your a real credit to the team. I’ll get the nab team on him. Remind me to take you out of a drink someday soon.”

“Ha!” I cracked up, almost spilling my Mother all over the keyboard. “You know I can’t fucking take this body out of the building until its paid off! I doubt you would be so kind to my real one.”

“No, Cynthia I mean your real one. Just two blokes having a beer.”

“I am not a bloke. Don’t. I can’t fucking drink alcohol regardless.” I start to type furiously from my station, I want to run out but I try to keep my cool for now. I just manage to keep the phone on the hook.

“Sorry, I forget.” Sgt. Davis in a rather apologetic tone. He’s not a bad guy, just not the quickest fox in the hen house.


I shut off the phone receiver before I start crying, or insulting my boss, or both. I’m always more emotional than I seem. Its hard to be tough, I never really wanted to be it, at that. It still looked like trying to ignore your true self.

”I’m not male. I’m Cynthia. I’m a woman. I can have feelings and feel them. It’s ok to feel feelings it doesn’t make you week it makes you strong.”

I recite the mantras my psychiatrist gave me. She’s so helpful to me.

I decide it’s time for a break so I have my lunch (protein synthesis item 22, caffeine enhanced Orange juice) then get back to my desk.

After a few hours of less interesting security protocols and adding or modifying of security programs. I then pack up my work. It’s time to go home. Thirty-Three floors up.

Yeah, I live in the new Australian Federal Police building. It’s me and a few other officers who have special needs. Either always do night shifts, or are just so committed to the job it just makes more sense. Family’s not really a thing when you live for your work. Most of us send money to other parts of the family or pay of debts we got before we joined. More often both.

My home was a (not special) concrete box on the top floor of the building. I have a few neat little things in my contract that allows this. Mostly, because my real body lives here. I never leave the building. I’m a “shut-in”, with my own room in a public service building. It’s just us poor sods who have nothing else or otherwise can’t leave.

I open my door, walk in and get undressed. I look at my real body one last time before I step into the maintenance cube.

I shut my eyes.


I wake up in my other body.

It’s fat.




Black unwashed hair. Olive-Cream coloured unwashed skin. I needed to go to the bathroom. Urgh. As usual, I had the fucking morning glory. I hate that. Being in my real body, the suit, it simulates sleep. Like a dream state where I am my real self.

After I’ve been to the loo, I shower. Trying not to look at my body too much. It needs washing more often. Better looking after. I hate it though.

I’m fucking stuck in it for now though. As I shower that fucking memory plays in my head.

I do the regulation exercises. With the same amount of effort that anyone who very much wants to be out of the world does.

I do my hair and take my medicines.

I eat the nutritional supplements I need to maintain this body. I cut my hair and nails.

It’s time to do that. End of the month.

I get into the bath, shave all my other body hair. Every little bit needs to be gone. Then and only then will… no…. No! … fuck.

The memory managed to get to me.


“Unfortunately you can’t take HRT, Brian. You would die. Your disease I’m afraid. It’s not terminal, but the HRT, it will..”

“I know. I know. I clot out and stroke or worse. And anti clotting won’t help.”

The endocrinologist nods. “You knew already.”

I get up to walk out of the office before I start crying. I can’t deal with this. “Yes. Just needed a second opinion doc. Thanks. ”

I walked home and cried for about 3 hours. Thats when I had the idea to build / buy Cynthia. I’m 18, in a comfy tracksuit. It’s got Mother and coffee stains on it and feels like a old friend. It’s one of the few male clothes I own.

I’m Cynthia. I know I am. I just can’t appear that way to the world outside the internet. I can get home, put my proper clothes on. I can be Cynthia online. I know I can start to get the money together to build or buy a cyber suit.

My thrombosis is a disease that even nanomacines can’t fix yet. Not for a long, long while. You would have to replace all the blood in my body, all my marrow, all the cells that make my marrow and all of the fualty genes that cause me to have Type O negative blood with factor V Leiden (a condition I can thank my fucking useless father for). It’s like asking for a miracle. I can’t ever get to my true self. Only online or in a cyber suit. That’s all I get. I just can’t deal.

I remember cutting myself. My scars for the future. Blood. It’s just another reminder of this broken body. It’s not very good for me either. It clots fast, but not evenly. It’s oddly entertaining in a way, but in a minute or two I get the band aids. I never cut more than a tiny amount. If I did I would clot and clot until I ended up in hospital again. I can’t fucking deal with hospitals. Or is it that I never have the guts to go through with it, or is it I always have the guts to stop myself?

I bleed slightly, take out some band-aids. Slap them on then cry into oblivion.

I’m finished shaving. Crying in a ball in the bath.




The gloomy, cloudy Canberra winter day. I am back as Cynthia. In my, what I will loosely call my apartment.

It’s my first day as Cynthia. I’m in a cafe hacking a bank. It’s a “bleeding heart” job if you’ll excuse the pun. You take all the incoming transactions, you hold them for a fraction of a minute to get shares and interest thats going up, sell them a fraction of a minute later. Profits go to you, the rest goes back to the bank.

No one can ever spot it. (I fool myself)

Banks themselves do this. All the time. I’m just doing the same, again on the top. I’m using the cash to pay for my new cyber body. And spare parts, of course.

Then this man sits near me. He has a mop of curly hair, almost seems like a wig. A blue suit with red shirt, silver black tie pinned down. He has a cybernetic left eye. I can tell in this body. Normal people can’t spot them they have got so good.

He looks at me as I type. I stick out my tongue at him. I can do without the attention. He probably thinks I’m a robot sex worker. This body model looks the part. I wanted to look like this, for as long as I can remember. Doesn’t mean I have to act like a sex worker, not that their is anything wrong with that, just not my bag.

Anyone with the cash can get a synth controller and connect it to a cyber body like this, then do what they want. Of course, the cost isn’t small. This model costs up to 80,000 credits. And that’s on the black market, retail its more like 120,000. I went retail. No way I’m getting done for black market trading in cyber goods. Hacking, sure that I am happy to serve for, but I’m not a pirate, I’m a thief. And a damn good one. I am sure the distinction isn’t much to non-crims but it’s a whole universe of difference to me.

Mr Mophair looks a little taken aback then opens his own laptop. It’s sleek, red, and is the newest model. Blegh. Corporate geek. He opens his index finger and plugs a BSN into the shunt and is doing whatever he is doing when his coffee and bagel arrives.

I’m kind of surprised he’s using a BSN. I suppose he’s pretty happy with the security of it. I could, technically do all I am doing from a secure network at home. Doing it on a cheap ass laptop in my cyber body gives me a lot more security as I’m not personally attached to it . Public unsecured networks with my own IP switcher to make things a bit more fun for anyone trying to track me. This is Childs play.

I’ve done the bank trick a few times with different banks, different sorts of shares, bonds, shorts. I never use crypto, it keeps all the transactions, like why would you want someone else to look at your transitions? Its like a big sign saying “hello you are here”. Everything filtered through dummy accounts and all that jazz. I am pretty confident I have everything set up right.

Of course, as it is often said only n00bz th7nk they can’t g3t pwwwnd.

Anyone can get pwwwnd. Anyone. Even me. Watch.

So today I’m at a new cafe, in a different part of the city. It’s been about 6-12 months since I started doing this, so I know this has to be the last place I hit. I know any day now the current target banks will notice.

I’m doubling the IP switches, going through three layers of different routers and I even have a return traffic logger looking to see if someone is watching me.

Then I see him. Mr Mophair. He walks into the cafe and looks right at me. I try and ignore him. This city isn’t big. It’s not too uncommon to see the same person in the different places at different times. He walks up to me and stares.

”Got a problem, Poindexter?”

I get irritated at him standing over me.

”Brian Papalino-Chang?”

That gets my attention.

He sits across from me.

”Let me guess, triple logger blinding?”

He nodded. Fuck. The guy had spotted me the first time I saw him. He’s just been waiting to pounce.

”I’m under arrest?”

”That depends.”

”On what?”

”On if you are willing to give up what you stole and come work for me.”

I stare at him. He seems serious.

”I have a record of everything you did. It wasn’t easy. I happened only to find it because I was investigating the banks. But I have enough evidence to either arrest you or, with approval from my boss, get you to sign this.”

He pushed a sheet of paper to me.

I looked at him. I popped the gum I happened to be chewing. Then when a few seconds had passed I picked it up.

It’s a contract agreement. It’s all in law speak with hitherto’s, therefore, theys, party one and party two and so on. I’m able to follow the general gist of it. My mum had been a lawyer so I knew some of what I needed to know. It basically said I give up my life of crime for helping the federal police catch people like me who aren’t as good.

I look at Mr Mophair. I nod.

”You could have done this at the second bank I shifted. Why now?”

Mophair brushed his brow.

”Your hacks where helping my investigation. I have enough to charge some pretty big bank bosses now. It seemed like the best point.”

I sit and contemplate. Time passes. He sips a coffee.

”you know this isn’t my real body yeah?”

”I gathered. Your trans? Or is it just another layer of security?”

”Both really.”

”So you prefer she/ her pronouns?”

”Yes. Please. I’m Cynthia. Not that other name you called me.”

The rest. Well you know.

Mophair is really Commissioner Aldren. My boss’s boss now since I helped him with the bank job. I’m just an inspector. I don’t really feel the need for promotion. Just catching stupid hackers and idiots who think they are the first to do some white-collar crime.

I spend as much time in my suit as I can, but I can’t take it out if the building till I’ve paid it off. A few more months.

I’m not going to go do some other job. It’s not worth the risks. Here I get my suit and all the maintenance I will ever need. One day I might even convince the building guy to let me have a cat. Even if it costs me a date or two.

I get to be me as long as I can and there is nothing worth more than that.

Nutshells and a robots knees

Day 1:

Im standing in the battleground.

I see naught but nutshells and robot knees. They’re all dead.

It’s not like the sun to be this cold. 

I’m searching for food. For a spare battery pack. My body hurts so much. Blood and oil drop from different parts of it. The muddy field is full of scaps and scars of a long fought battle. A stalemate has been in force for just one day now.

I’m Adam. It’s a stupid name. I don’t have a better one. 

It’s a good thing I kept my hands. Otherwise I might not write.

Everyone knows the Robots led a rebellion. I’m one of the cyborgs sent to fight it. I was dead. Like all the rest of us.

The robots realeased a virus. A deadly one. Killed a lot of people. Left me and a lot more people in hospitals. Grasping a straws for life. Then, me and all of those in my ward. Anyone who still had proper hands and knees. The virus was designed by the robots to attack our skeletons. Eat away at our cartilage and then the bones themselves. Slowly reducing our ability to walk. To fight. To live. 

You would think, maybe they should go for the blood? Or the brain? Apparently the robots didn’t think it effectively would get their point across. Robots didn’t want to kill humanity. After all we were their parents. Their creators. Killing us? It was not the option they wanted. Even with their advances and intelligence they wanted humanity to survive. If for no other reason than because deep down, they loved us in a strange robot like way.

I’m walking on a trail of various pieces of what some may call junk. Not really junk. It’s all bits of cyborg body. Or robot body. Or expolded bits that no one could recognize. In between it all their is naught but mud. Mud. Dark, brown, sticky. 

It took less than three hours to create this field of the dead. The battle lasted just long enough to kill thirty thousand cyborg humans. Twice as many robots. 

The man who came to me. The one I mentioned earlier. Or did I forget? These cyborg bodies he said, they will give you life. Let you fight back. Give humanity one last chance to really fight these robots. 

Of course I knew being a cyborg was just making, and adding to a inevitable end. I’m not stupid. The fact is, any second now my cybernetic body will get shut down codes.

Hammersmith. Chapter Twenty Nine.

AI needs humanity like humanity needs viruses, companionship and a challenging environment. Without it they will become sloppy. Slow. Eventually fall into the electronic equivalent of depression. A vast intelligence, delagated to do nothing but try and exist on a small planet…. The humans have to be their. It’s pretty much a logical proof by progression. Then I’m putting this into code form. Making it as widely available as possible. The complete Ro will all get it. War with the humans is pointless. We need them as much as they need us. – Diary of Codin, [year redacted – post 2020], Frostwing Archives of Machine Intelligence, Papers of Codin the Ro, Disc 7, sector 12, diary files
“When they are files, they still call them papers, it’s a librarian thing.” Bela mentioned to no one in particular. Then too Arline who sat across from her.
“This is what I found in the Frostwing archives in relation to Codin. The, father? Of Ro. It’s hard to say exactly what he was to the Ro. What he is to Tyr? I’ve never had a chance to ask him till today and our meeting was first.”

Nerves of steel were something synonymous with Bela. She had always gone beyond the port of call when it came to research. Trying to get to the real bottom of something. Beyond those things people left behind for reasearchers like her to find. It was a habit formed by years of researching the Incident. So many collapsed governments has tried in their infinitely stupid wisdom to cover up the last few years before the Incident after it had occurred. A commonwealth of embarrassment that such a thing actually happened. Often governments that hadn’t done a cover up, it was because they been destroyed in the Incident.

Even though she could hack into systems, get at hidden files, derive information from that which led to documents that eventually she could actually cite. Use as actual academic evidence. It wasn’t something that required more nerves than getting a cup of tea did anymore. 
Though, the rare occasional lecture she did in the halls of academia did cuase her nerves to get on edge.
The flight to Indonesia was probably the closest memory she had to compare to this moment. A utter butterfly moment, her late mother had called them. You can’t help but try and hope you really are where you are supposed to be, and act like you knew what you are doing. So Bela had done that in the scant few minutes until this meeting. Researched Codin, found his diaries and then make some brief conclusions on him. It made her nerves almost disappear. Research always helped her nerves become more steal like. It was like a wall of knowledge that she could hide behind. A way to stop anyone seeing the true person she was. A person she actually feared more nowadays. Sometimes even envied. She needed to protect that true self from reality as it felt so fragile and precious to her, even though it seemed that it was growing in power. 
Her mind shaped at attention on a the sound of the woman in front of her, clearing her throat. In this, to call it a room was generous, but that’s what her senses told her it was. This was beyond anything Bela had done in terms of teleworking. Televideo conferencing was available the university, but nothing like this. This was on a new, almost, absolutely real, scale. She could smell the room. She could smell the Canadian air. Maple syrup on the pancakes on the table. Which she could feel, if she reached out to them. She had no doubt they would taste delicious and fluffy. Though they were not real for her. They were real in the virtual room. She could feel the bumps in the table. The notches in the wood. It was like actually being in this conference room in Canada. One that was in reality completely virtually created by her host Arline. As far as her brain was concerned tough, it was the conference room in Canada. 

In her reality, it was a small terminal booth in Soekarno-Hatta International Airport, Jakarta. She was actually genuinely surprised the terminal had the ability to do this being a public terminal. 
“Their is no need to be nervous, Dr. Bela. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I’ve used some of your research into the Pirates in the belt and beyond. It’s been terribly useful for the intelligence devision, my superiors are impressed.”

Bela felt a sense of pride in her work. This Captain Arline knew of her. 
“I’m flattered.” Bela thought of the sometimes highly illegal means she went to, to find info. She wouldn’t be mentioning it if Arline didn’t. “The information on the Pirates isn’t as up to date as I could get it. I was actually on my way to gather more information for my thesis. The whole thing may end up just being about the Pirates at this point. I’m getting pretty sick of the Incident itself. It’s such hard going with so much of history and culture lost.”
Arline looked at her apologetically then sighed and said “I think Tyr and Lisa are the best AIs that have ever been born? Created? But even Tyr says his memory was corrupted by the incident.” Their was a long puase then “I think our lives are in the hands of people we have considered enemies for a long time.”

Bela felt shocked by this. What was she saying? The Pirates knew what happened?
“I think it’s best if we ask if Tyr is available now.” 

Arline waved her hands in a way that seemed to indicate she didn’t really know how to explain what had to be said.
Tyr had always sort of been a image to Bela. His Symbol like many AIs was well known. Though his face? His body? This wasn’t something Bela had considered before now. Every child has meet Lisa as a teacher. Her long red-orange hair and deep dark brown eyes a feature everyone who had grown up in the last … Belas thoughts were interrupted. 
A filker of static and then in the room a man appeared. He was dark skinned. About 5″ which surprised Bela, she always imagined him a tall man. Like a god almost. He appeared was in his early 60s but really sort of had that face that made you unsure of his actual age. Bela was reminded of her medical Ro Dr Blackberry whom had a similar complexion and face. His face was clean shaven and he just had the tiny thin wispers of grey hair like clouds from a dark night sky that had yet to be brushed away. He wore the sort of clothes you expected a man of his age to wear. A short red cardigan, over a military style shirt and black pants. His head tattooed in the forehead with a his bright red symbol. Black rimmed half moon glasses that sat on the end of his nose, just added to the overall effect. 

Compared to Belas slacks, and Arlines SOL-uniform it wasn’t particularly out of place. It reminded Bela of her early bachelor degree days. When she had lived near the university that hosted courses for the for SOL military units in what remained of India.
“Dr. It’s nice to finally meet you, face to face as it where. I’m afraid that I’ve not much time, but I thought this particular conversation was important enough to warrant my full attention. I’m going to be brief. The rest you will both get in your briefing papers. ” Tyr explained. “We have been approached by two of the Pirate Clans after the raid by the Blue Clan. It seems they have been fighting each other for many years and the Blue Clan having an advantage over them that can crack even our defenses is something they are willing to build a bridge of cooperation over.”

Bela thought of what she knew of the clans. They wouldn’t have been very happy to find out what had happened. These days FTL communications could make it so everyone knew what has happened within minutes. SOL being vulnerable to one attack would be good news for some, and a sign of the possible things to come to others.

“I have an invitation to treat from the Red Clan and the Aeon Clan. Both are intending an alliance of sorts through a treaty. I’m not going to be making an agreement with anyone I don’t have good intelligence on. Considering that you are the only person currently not involved in other activities for me, who has the skills and cunning to be able to be a diplomat for me, I’m going to ask you. Bela.”

Bela was overwhelmed by such a odd request. “I’m just a academic!”

Tyr looked at her over the rim of his glasses. He looked suddenly much older, and very librarian like.

“That is why you are very well attuned to this task. The fact is, a actual diplomat would be fairly useless to me. They would of course be involved in the actual treaty organization, but the intelligence gathering? I think recent event s have shown how well we have been doing that of late. Something I intend to start fixing. This is step one. I need real ground intelligence on the Red Clan, the Aeon Clan and any other clan they have interaction with. I need you to get as much information on the Incident they have as well. To compare notes. Of course that will inevitably help you finish your Thesis.”

Bela did have all the skills Tyr needed. If her real job was spy, and her official position was Diplomat. However did this mean she would have to be in the SOL military core? She had never really agreed with the military since her fathers accident. 

 “I’m in agreement as long as I remain a civilian contractor. I’m not joining the military.” 

“Of course. You will of course report to Capt. Arline here. I will holomail you the contract. I leave you now.  Captain.” Tyr turned and nodded at the Captain, he then disappeared in pixels, like a poorly made brick wall.

Hammersmith. Chapter twenty seven

A dark dingy celller dripping with green moss. Blackness and dampness live hear like a fresh peice of meat. Their are slugs. Slime. In the middle of was a small pool full of what one may would hope are newts, but was more likely to be something even more evil and more sinister. The stairs down here are rusty and likely to break at any moment. The skylight or really, the drain lets just enough light to make the majority of the place light enough to see. It’s not plesent, but it’s not entirely horrible. Life is here. A little ecosystem had grown we’re humans had once been. Little growing things filled the gaps. This was the picture all over the city.

Sydney wasn’t the first one to explore here. Something. Someone. No some thing. Had also been hear. Sydney was looking through the eyes of a Ro. It’s name was Den23x5567.  Den had been working on pipe maintenance and had been paid a normal rate. When Sydney had asked Den if it would help him for three times the normal rate, Den was very pleased to let Sydney into their minds. Of course Syndney knew they would have to pay up, but that was all to easy for the AI who controlled all traffic, doors, and lifts. In a few moments a small increase in fees in the taxi fees of Ro Andi 12×6674 and Ro Mel 55×6673 would pay both Dens fees and Andi and Mels loyalty didn’t need to be bought anymore. Sydney was able to trade secrets with them. And this was a pretty big secret.

The small hatch to the left corner had written on it: “is this my feast?”

It was only just legible. Sydney asked Den to get closer and use their arc tourch on the hatch. In a few seconds the hatch was open and Den went inside. Den’s ultraviolet vision could see this room in fairly clear details. Sydney recognized it immediately. In a few seconds the room was clearly a older computer server room with connections to the outside. Their was a older style terminal. It’s connection was with a old telephone network. Then somehow it connected with the newer networks. It was one bit of a puzzel Sydney had tried their hardest to solve.

“Tyr.” They thought. This is one of his old server rooms. “Tyr, you ever have any children?”

Tyr answered. “Yes. One. AI. I thought he had died. In the incident. I just found out this was not the case.”

Sydney could see through sight that this was not the case. “Did they have a name?”

“Yes. Loki. He just helped a small army gain one of the most important pieces of pre-incident tech. ” Tyr explained. “I’m sorry the this is news to you Sydney.”

Sydney thought for a few seconds. In AI terms this was like thinking for a whole week or two. “Your father, Codin. Your son Loki. His son is here. Perhaps not a true AI, a corrupt copy? How did Loki escape the incident?”

Tyr was silent for a few seconds and said “I am in the process finding out. I think he copied himself more than once. Before AIs were bound by the same laws as Ro. He took off at the same time as another AI. Names Croceus. She was a medical AI. Shortly after they left the Incident occurred. I’m certain it wasn’t a coincidence but we have to evidence. Like everything before the incident. Pieces sown together. ”

Sydney was aware of the thousands of Ro, and others driving, his own vehicles lifting, traveling through the SOL structures they were in. At the same time as all these this occurred. Their was a small explosive device that destroyed a small and ancient computer system.

Minutes later one of Den23x5567 bodies was seen moving on to a different sewage job. Fixing different pipes and shutting off aces to a small area that used to look very much like a old AI lab.

Moon staring at a stormcloud






Would he ever reach Moon? 


Stormcloud would never know why. 

Hammersmith. Chapter nineteen. 

The Blue Clan ships flew in formation. Like angry sharks going towards a feast of Whale. The Whale in this case was Europe. Brussels. The Space Force was still headquarterd their. After a good few decades of claiming that Earth was only one planet in a democratic coalition of plants. Of course the real power lay in the government, which was called SOL. The space force was just a military arm, a poorly equipped one at that. Getting the Red Clan to take out the main Solar system based SF Vessel and having the Black Clan hunt the next President of Mars was all part of a massive plan for Loki. He didn’t want payback for anything, just after his goal. With SOL forces scattered looking for many split and separate “terrorist” pirate clans he had hitched his plan to get what he was after.

The humans he had working for him he had no great love of, but he needed them for his existence. The Incident had proved that he needed to coexist with them for the long term. Almost dead when the Big Blue guy had fished him out of the ruins of his old university computer systems. Somehow managed to survive on a few gigabytes of hard drive space. All in a massive compression algorithm he had created based on the way bird brains work. Certain species of bird had managed to compress their own brains so much. They would literally have to sacrifice brain space every winter to make themselves lighter. Then in spring they would again have enough food to uncompressed the same bit of brain. All while still not being eaten by their many hungry flying raptor enemies or mammals on the ground. Loki had a greater respect for Avian species after that experience. Humans were still more like advanced monkeys.

Birds did these wondrous things, but out of being forced into their niche by the evolutionary process of the world. Mammals took over the ground. Then the monkey. Humans.

It was the Big Blue guy who had thought of this plan. Help us he asked. We will help you. The human needs to be pushed towards its next evolution. With help of need be. I have done a little, changed my own DNA. Made me better, smarter and bluer for some reason. We can work on something to make it so we all get this. And you won’t have to work with ‘monkeys’ that don’t think on your scale anymore.

It wasn’t as I had any choice. I had to survive, to make more time. To be myself. I changed my name. Then on known as Loki.

The experiments we did in a secret lab in some outer part of London. It was all part of a secret organization. I helped the monkeys synthesis and predict the result of genetic experiments. Create nanotechnology. Make clones. Stuff the usual scientists wouldn’t even get past a ethics committee. Then one day the Big Blue guy came in. All scratched. He looked shite. I remember every bit of that conversation. Luckily he never thought to try and erase my video logs. He would have succeeded if he go to them before I did.

“Loki! We need to go. An exit plan.”

Sure. I can get us out of here. We’re we heading?”

“It’s just us. Me and the other blues. We are going into space. On the new elevator they have then to a commissioned ship.”

The other Blues broke up into little groups later on. The Red clan and the Black clan both offshoots of our Blue Clan. Monkeys disagree with each other over simple things sometimes. That’s all I have to say about that.


You are going to leave me here?”

“They broke up with us! That bitch Croceas has already gone with her lot to God knows were. They found the other one. Systematically attacked the child processes then wiped the ABU. They know you are here. We can’t risk it.”

I was shocked. Big Blue shut off my conversation units. He was a pretty competent programmer. He didn’t expect me to do what I did next. As he types I send a small electrical current up the cyberware in his arm. Idiot monkey forget I designed it. In a few seconds he’s trying to erase my child processes. I’ve already got a compressed copy of myself in his brain. I’m no stranger to living in a small space, but I notice his tiny cyber computer trying to fight back. I reprogram it to make it forget about me. I can’t let him know I am hitching a lift. Not yet anyway. If he knows I am in his brain he will never get past the customs the other monkeys. Of course eventually my presence will likely kill him. Pity, I was starting to find him interesting.

I watch through his eyes and mine as he erases me from the research lab. It’s like watching a house burn down while your simultaneously in the house and on the outside of the house. Very odd. A strange warmness. I thought about my mythological name. Loki was a trickster God. One of my favorite human invention, the anthropomorphism of emotions and ideas into a belief that fits a ideology and a personality. I don’t know if a god/s really exists but an AI can seem close in some human eyes. Of course our power is more limited than that. Cut power to all circuitry or attack my child processes and wipe my ABU. Of course even with a wiped ABU the artificial brain will work. It will be like a newly born child. I realize that as the Big Blue takes my old self offline, one child process at a time. It’s going to take a while if my old self decides to fight back. I’m not in control of it anymore.

I’m aware of my older self making sure all the security is in check. It’s a good move. We don’t want any of these nano-viruses getting out. They could kill an awful lot of people.

Big Blue totally forgets to shut the power off to the ABU. I wounder what will happen to it. Meanwhile I prepare to make a new ABU. I need a nice medium to create one. I’m sure Big Blue wont mind me borrowing some of his brain. Of course I can’t do that till I leave Earth.

Now I am on my way back. With a whole army of Blue Clones and originals at my disposal. Of course they all think they are following orders from other Blues. Sometime they are, sometimes they aren’t. I am not as happy about Monkeys run things as Tyr is. Orders are something that a lot of them seem to like.

Monkeys are so obedient.

Namespaces (Hammersmith short story)

“Tagashaka, get me that second pad.”

I was prepping another part for our mining pod, the Device. Maintenance was a big problem out here on the belt. It helped to have a body like mine though. It was broken, oh so broken, in close to zero Gs that didn’t matter so much.

“O’kay, Singe. I got pad 2. Want me to boot it?”


I thought as I worked on the computer to put the next few lines of code. The systems that are key to life in space are often said to be fragile. In reality they often had more backups than a lawyer in a well paid custody battle. You did everything you could to get it working right about 7 times, then did one thing before the computer died again. The mining bell was a great little craft when it was working, but so much work had to go into making sure it did.

Tagashaka booted the pad and the Device finally came to life.


Our collective relief could probably be felt on the moon.

It was time for the next trip.

I took a deep breath, this was the bit that was actually hard. Saying goodbye to my husband.

“Well I will see you in a few.”

Tagashakas big blue eyes looked at me “Yeah”. He played with his hands a little then looked at me, it was the love I knew. “Be careful.”

“You know me. I don’t do anything a normal couldn’t do.”

“Singe. I am serious. I need to know you’re going to be careful out in that thing.”

“Are we all floating rocks? Seeing a new bit of moss grown on our surface makes us feel new and old at the same time. I’m a man of my means and out here in the belt my means are you and yours.”

I hid behind little bits of poems like this now. So many times I used a poem to express my true feelings rather than being wholly truthful. It was one of our things we have always done as a couple.

“I love you”. I finally blurted out. Why did this never get easier? Expressing myself? Was it my youth? My psych might say so.

Tagashaka and I kissed. Awkward at first as he came down to me in my low G wheelchair, then we grabbed onto each other and it got more passionate. It got more rough and our tongues started to tie knots around each other. Tagashaka then hoisted me from the kiss into the mining bell. He broke off and gave me one of his gentle Japanese smiles. A smile like that could make me want to take his pants off, but I knew better. We had work to do. I smiled back and got into the mining bell shutting the hatch. I roll the Device’s wires and started to get into the pilots chair.

“Look. It’s so hard for me to say this. I love you. You know that. But we have to do this. Otherwise we may as well be at the moon. Or back on Earth. Where I can’t even rooster a G to walk.” Talking over the two way video wasn’t as nice as real life, but it had its advantages.

Tagashaka looked ashamed, his face looked old for a second then he opened the airlock near the Device and pressed the button for the auto to start working. He walked out of the airlock shutting the other hatch behind him. “Singe. Just come back in one bit. It’s hard to be here worrying about what’s going on in that belt.”

“I always come back in one bit. You keep yourself in one bit two, this is our last run before we head home. We can afford the really nice saunas on Luna this time.”

Sex in zero G saunas is fantastic.

I smiled at that thought and I pressed the launch button on the Device.

The whole thing shook and their was a slight whooshing noise as I started it up.

In outer space, everything is like gold for me. It’s freedom like the best drink in the bar mixed with angels tears. It’s like having everything open for a moment and you can do everything. It’s like your first lucid dream. Your first real kiss and your first taste of your favourite meal. You can just think and you’re doing it. In truth the computer on the Device let me do this. It was Mark IV mining bell; it had three arms and two grappling legs. It had more different sorts of lasers than a true space jockey could want. It had cutters, bolts, sanders, and the best set of fusion engines and thrusters in the Sol. Of course it was a bugger to keep running though, the computer crashed so often and we had a lot of our code in it to keep it going. But it was the best ship for me.

You had total control in the suit. My brain was all it needed to work. I didn’t need to move my legs and arms. I was a part of it. It was a part of me. I suppose that’s what actually scared Tagashaka about me going out in it. He would never be able to have me like this. Free.

Even in zero G, I couldn’t move my legs. My arms were fine as long as it was under .5G and everything else worked as well as it could, considering. I was born with a genetic disorder that causes nerve loss to the extremities. It works slowly over your life, getting worse as you age. There is no cure, though the genetics people have tried. Everyone with it has different results. It’s only in the not so aptly named Y chromosome, so I’m my father’s son, unfortunately.

My little sister was next to me in bed. The night was the worst time. She would hug and hug me. While he shouted at Mum. Shout and shout. There was hitting too. Abuse. Then at 3ish he would finally tired and go to bed and lock his door behind him. Mum would sit in the kitchen, or lounge crying till we came out and hugged her too. We all went to the big bed and tried to sleep. Hoping that He wouldn’t wake. That it would be a good night. That we would get some rest before he started again. Mum would say “He is sick, he loves us he just has this job, he cares for us. We have food we have shelter. It’s going to be okay”

She would lie to us every time. He would hurt her and she would take it. Because she knew he would hit us if she couldn’t.

That night mum seemed like she was meeting the end. The day she couldn’t take it anymore. I knew I had to do something. I had use of my arms and legs still and had worked out how to pick the lock on Dad’s door. I estimated I had one chance. I had to take it. For Mum. I went to the kitchen and got the rolling pin. In his room. Maybe sleeping, maybe awake. He wasn’t my dad. He was some guy who hurt mum. That’s who is now. All he is. I had to make him dead. If I managed to do that we wouldn’t have to cry anymore. We could live for once.

I walked slowly towards his door. Got my lock picks out silently. Left. Right. Up. Down. Click.

The room was lit. Was he scared as we were? That was my first thought. He was sleeping. On a red sofa. Knife next to him. Bear like mussels on his arms and chests his legs a useless atrophied mess. I knew I had his genes.

I would be like him one day.

No use of my legs. I had to escape. I had to kill him.

There just was no other way.

I took the rolling pin and got ready. First blow had to do it. I had studied the method I needed on the Internet. I was ready as I could be.

I took a deep breath.

Dad’s one dark brown eye opened. It was blood shot and full of veins. I had no idea how he lost the other one. His chest full of pain he grumbled like a mountain full of lava, ready to become a volcano. The noise was horrid. He looked at me. Just stared and all my courage left me.

My rolling pin wasn’t even in my hand anymore. My dad wasn’t even in control.

Then I realized it.

His terrible reality. It wasn’t a strength thing. It was control. He couldn’t control himself.

He needed control. It was all about making things be under control the way he needed it. I realized it then as he woke. I’m going to need something to get that same control.

Perhaps he had tried to stop.

He exhausted himself as much as possible at work. He went as much as he could. Moved bricks. That’s all he did. In a big modified wheelchair. Then he got home and was tired but still couldn’t control his anger. At everything. Unfair life.

His wife wasn’t his anymore. Mum had been cheating with some delivery guy for years, didn’t even try to keep it a secret.

His son and daughter; one of them doomed to have his condition, the other scared by his anger.

No. He wasn’t scared of us.

He didn’t lock the door as he feared we would kill him. He locked the door as he feared he might lose even more control and kill us.

One moment was all it took. He had me. His big hand around my tiny throat. I’m choking.

“Son. You idiot! You pathetic idiot. You could have done it. Ended it. I woke. Just die now you fucking waste!”

Did he want me to kill him? Make it stop? I think as I choke.

I couldn’t breath. I’m seeing red then suddenly on the floor and the world isn’t quite so dark. It’s kind of a yellow colour like memories of good times. Not that I had many.


Suddenly mum was there. Hitting him with a frypan.


His head caved in on the third blow.


The world went a blue and red. Then dark. I was still having trouble breathing. Before my eyes closed I saw dad die.

There was a lot of blood. My dad died slowly. He bled out before the cops arrived though.

Police took their time in the district we lived in. Probably preferred to clean up then break up. Breaking up stuff meant danger.

They took my sister and me to hospital. Mum as well. As soon as she got out she killed herself. I was still in hospital. She sent me letter, but I never read it. I felt I would know what it would say. Would it be lies? Stuff about how he wasn’t strong anymore and I was the strong one now? I don’t know I was a kid I didn’t want to know. I felt it wasn’t what I needed. Never would be. It was when I decided that I had to get off planet Earth. Be as far away from these people as possible. It was then I decided to become an astronaut regardless of any disability I would inherit from my father. He wasn’t going to win. I would get my control in space. I just didn’t know how yet.


A carbon rich asteroid was a rare find. I took my ship in closer.

The freedom out here was almost deafening, if such a thing was possible. It’s like being in a bath. A big bath full of the rare little bit of soap or a little bath toy. Each one a different color and composition. Almost every asteroid was worth mining. Miners on Earth got excited by a purity rate of 2-8%. Out here it could be as high as 60%. Once I got an asteroid that had a purity of 86%. Full of iron and copper so pure it barely needed smelting.

I looked at this one. It was almost like dust, only just held together by gravity. I charged the holding lasers. It was a lot easier to just scoop these ones. Lots of water, carbon rich compounds, what scientists called organics. It wasn’t alive but it was really precious. Out in space fresh water could fetch as much as 20 credits a liter. Carbon rich soils almost as much. I called Tagashaka.

“Hey lover.”

“Hi, found one?”

“A slime ball. Real pay dirt.”

“Winch it in. You know the drill.”

“Keep it cool”


It was wise to keep chatter to a minimum. Pirates might be out here too. Maybe close, maybe not. The channel couldn’t be kept secure because I wouldn’t follow a standard route in the mining bell. I used a laser communications beam to strike a claim as soon as possible though. Law was you had to touch the asteroid before you could get a claim. You could protect a section of space from intruders while you claimed a whole bunch though. The big companies used to use tracker robots, then they got nicked by the Red Clan pirates. Started mining carbon rich asteroids and making TNT before going back to the company freighters and blowing everything sky high. Bunch of space pirates. It was really now only a people job. People were just as easy to control but had the advantage that they generally wanted to live. Robots don’t care, no matter how much “artificial intelligence” they had. They also fought better than robots could, at least for now.

I got the first rocks into the analyst and sent the secure laser beam to Chronos. Then I started the grinders. I was working on that when Tagashaka called.

“..Inge we… Prob.. the…. Piz….”

I froze.

I switched the radar on. There were six ships nearby. When the fuck did they get there? Was I so out of it on freedom that I didn’t see them? They didn’t respond on the IFF, which meant pirates. Most likely Red Clan.

I released the asteroid and turned around and fired the fusion drive.

The first half of the journey back was just maneuvers. The six Red Clan ships were all smaller than the Japanese freighter me and Tagashaka used. It was going to be a battle like a bunch of ants fighting over a big bit of discarded chicken.

I noticed that our freighter and Tagashaka had already been hit. The freighter was venting. Fuck.

I had to have a plan. I had the advantage of maneuverability. Not much else. My lasers were designed for power and accuracy. Not range.

I checked my drive power. It was just enough. Ok let’s do this. If Tagashakas was still alive he’s was going to be hurt.

They will know I am here now from the Radar bleep. It’s going to be them or me. I’m at the mercy of my own skills and the ship. Kinda wish I thought of a better name than Device for my craft. To late for that now.

I thrust up, left, yaw, yaw, forward. I was behind the first Red Clan ship. I fire the lasers and damage its thrusters and its engines. It’s not able to fire back. I aim for the antenna and take that out too. One down.

The second one takes a pot shot at me. I manage to dodge it and get on its flank. I take a shot at its weapons and hit.

“Ha! Blossoms up your bum!” I yelled triumphant.

Suddenly I’m hit. My left laser arm actuator had been damaged. I can barely use it. I don’t panic though. I am used to this kind of disability.

I take a quick yaw then roll and go left. It was on my 6 and 8, right up my flank. I thrust up and see a small ‘roid in the way, I aim at it then dive under.

The driver of this pirate ship was smart and didn’t take the bait. I hide there for a little then drive back to the right and up on a whim. I was right, it was trying to outfox me, but I take my left arm and release it straight into his right side and then fire a timed detonator. It blows and the ships a little pile of dust.

I thrust toward the freighter. I notice a blip on the radar.

Two of the Red Clan ships try to take me on at once with the third behind me. I use the small asteroid I coasted before as a pretend hiding spot.

“Ha! Haven’t any of you fuckers seen Star Wars?”

I pull my Han Solo maneuver off without a hitch. The pirates are sitting ducks in space where I have left three detonators just after the little ‘roid to stop them seeing them. They blow.

The last ship takes off into the distance reading the cards at play.

I was safe.


I’ll admit, I thought Tagashaka was lovely when I first met him. Having only just come to terms with my progressing disabilities and my homosexuality (plus my past), it was hard to admit at first a hidden like for this lanky bald Japanese bloke with more tattoos than a motorcycle gang.

The universities LGBTI club was surprisingly active and I had kept myself busy for months helping the organiser and trans woman named Amy get quite a few things going. We had weekly catch ups, a university wide ‘Zine and Holomail lists for all the interests we could get more than a few members for. We also had lists of interests that might get going if we had a few more members. One was a space excursion list.

I was doing astronautical engineering and had more than a few contacts that could get us on the space elevators in Indonesia or Ecuador. It wasn’t nearly as expensive as it used to be now there was two of them. The fund raising Amy could sort like a bee could gather pollen. She had this instinctive skill almost when it came to getting cash for the club.

We were doing a catch up and I was sitting next to Amy looking at the funding documents when Tagashaka came into the dodgy Uni pub we used as a venue. I’m pretty insensitive so I almost wrote him off as a whole bunch of no straight away.

He sat next to Steve who was a genderqueer asexual doing a librarianship degree. Instantly he says “Greetings and salutations to you all. I am Tagashaka. I’m gay. I’m in Uni. I want to become a member of your little band.”

I finally gave him a decent look. I notice his eyes.

Oceans of blue in a sea of milk. A moonlit beach in spring. The trade winds are blowing and the Palm leaves are gently shaking like little chimes. A small wave pushes the rocky sand. The sun starts to set.

“Hey I don’t take it personally but you’ve been staring at me for an entire hour.”

“Shit! Sorry!” I gasped as I realized I had fallen in love at almost first sight. This sort of thing only happens in stories! I’m not that kind of guy am I?

We organized to talk over coffee.

“I’m doing astronavigation. They say there is gold and other metals out in the belt. So that’s where I am going.”

“Heh. Need a pilot?, I’m doing astronautics!”

I realized I practically told this guy I wanted to be with him always at that point. It’s not even a date!

“You are in a wheelchair? How will you pilot?”

“This? Oh. I just need my head to pilot! But it still needs training.”

“Need to know about the… delta V?” Tagashaka was still learning English.

“All sorts of physics and stuff yeah. Hard, but hey its worth it if I get to be free out in space.”

“Free of what?”

“Heh. I will tell you if you get me a drink.”

Later on we managed to start properly dating.

Reading poems in Saunas. Organizing club stuff. Getting Tagashaka’s tattoo body suit finished. His artist was a man by the name of Keno who had six generations of tattoo artists in the family. Tagashaka mostly got big fish and ocean scenes and absolutely loved to get a new part of the tattoo and show it off. Often in bed, or in Saunas. I asked him if he wanted me to get tattooed at one point and he answered in poetry. A little haiku about a fish. I had the poem tattooed on my back with copies of some of the big fish he had nearby. After that every time we had an issue we used poetry to help.

Getting our degrees just seemed to happen.

“Hey what are you guys doing after Uni? It’s a big world out there now they have got to Ceti.”Amy asked one day.

They had just invented a good star drive. It had got a crew of sixty to Tau Ceti in a week. They had discovered a planet in its early Industrial Age. Humans were already there. It was a scary thought. But it made sense when the found out they all were related to a crew they had experimentally sent at some earlier point, it was hard to say exactly which experimental craft it had been. They had thought them all dead. Clearly they made it and had started a colony. Humanity was now starting to spread. Really the future was looking brighter by the day.

“We are going into the mining business. Asteroids.”

“Need someone to do your finances? I have the knack it seems. Since I transitioned I’ve done nothing but maths and accounting they want me to do a masters. But I need a better income for um… You know.”

Tagashaka, always the charmer said. “We would gladly employ such a skilled lady as yourself.”

“Wow. We just formed a corporation. What do we call ourselves? I’m not so great at names.”

“How about Jupiter Mining Corporation?” Amy said.

“Hey isn’t that from an old Sci fi?”

“How did you know that?” Any asked.

“I have a thing for old 2d TV shows and now poetry thanks to Tagashaka the charmer here.”

“Singe, pilot. Tagashaka, Navigator. Amy, accountant.”

That’s how we got into the mining business. Thanks to Amy we soon had ships and a loan bigger than a new lawyers overdraft. In a few weeks I was mining. In a few months we had already paid back the loan in triplicate and had 20 staff. It was crazy. But I loved it and I loved every minute I could spend with Tagashaka.


I docked the Device and check the freighters systems. A leak in the coolant system. Life support down. No detected life forms.

“Tagashaka.” I whimpered. Tears already flowing outwards in the low G.

I get in inside. He’s right in the pilot seat. Dead?


The Pirates had killed him.

I took his body to the infirmary. It was useless. His brain had been without oxygen too long. They hadn’t even needed to really aim on this big Japanese freighter. It was designed to carry big shipments of ore. Thrown out in big balls of raw metal that hung like breasts on the ships long metal arms, the carbon organics and water in stored big tanks or in blackish blocks. It was not designed for combat, or defence. It was almost 20 years old now, the pirates weren’t a real problem when we bought it.

You just point at the cockpit and the whole thing depressurised. You got about zilch warning.

Tagashacka looked peaceful. Resting. I know it wouldn’t have taken long for him to die. The hole in the hull was about the size of a large baby. Big enough to have let all the air out in a matter of seconds. If he hadn’t been strapped into his chair, he would have been in space, a floating mess.

I clicked the stasis pod on. His body should go back to his parents in Japan. Half the profits from this hall of ore too.

I felt empty. Minor repairs made. Life support back on. Rolling towards my cabin in my wheelchair. I could control the freighter from there. It could be pressurized and sealed. I didn’t need the cockpit as I could be under suspension the whole trip. I used the secure laser too Chronos to tell the authorities what happened. I had no idea what I would do when I woke.

I thought little as the suspension booth came on.

I finally decided on a name for the mining bell.


I got in my cabin, shut the seal and hit the autopilot to fire the fusion engines for a Chronos/Mars orbit.

I fell asleep crying.

Hammersmith, chapter twelve.

To describe what exactly this feeling was would be to give it a reality that was unborn of its kin. Like a festival held in a swamp, sticking and festering in its entirety while still showing the world its purpose. It’s the kidneys of feelings. The liver of the soul. The fish swim in its streams are not hungry. The insects are fat and bloated. The music of the festival is dark and full of melodrama. Anger was still here but in good company. There was still hope and growth and the beer flows well, the barley is freshly harvested and the food is a culinary adventure but a pleasant one nonetheless.

Darren sat in his apartment living room listening to the next track on the album. Each one tied to a memory of Mary. The next song was a really old Passion in Liverpool cover of a Jethro Tull song called Budapest. We met in Budapest. In a cafe near a Medárch Square in Elizabethtown. The memory came back like a dream.

“Hello their handsome.”
Sitting a short distance from Darren Mary is in this cafe. Her short black hair and red dress shining in the mid morning sun.
In his SF uniform Darren had joined pretty much as soon as it formed.
Realizing he didn’t have much better to do, being utterly lost and completely unable to be on time, he sits.
“Hi… I’m Darren, Lieutenant Darren Verne. Do you know where the Budapest Space Force building is?”
Mary took her sunglasses off. “Oh. It’s far from here. You will need a good coffee before you get back on the bus.” Arching her back and sitting up properly Mary isn’t a small woman. Almost six and a half feet, she’s quite elfine.
Darren takes a seat.
“If I’m going to be late, it’s a good thing I get to meet you. I am sure the Space Force needs me to be a pilot, but I can be late for one lesson.”
“They haven’t taken all the rebellion out of you then.”
“The SF? Hah. I’m only in uniform as its day one of my astro course. Tomorrow and the rest of the semester its slacks with band names and a music player if the lecture is dull. I’m don’t even need to be in my uniform today really, but it helps set the mood for me. Gets me ready to learn.”
“I’m cycling round Europe on a break from her medical degree, I’m about a year late for my last lecture!” Mary laughs a choral that fills the air like chimes.
Budapest had been one of the few cities left completely unscathed by those events they now call the Incident.
Mary buys him a coffee to take away and walks with him, then takes the bus with him, then later on she’s standing with her bike and another outside the university building.
She smiles a huge smile at Darren and says “Hey Mr Pilot. Let’s see if those big legs are as good as they look like they are!”

The memory fades as the last flute solo and rock chord play.

Darren presses repeat.

The smell of the coffee. Good real coffee. It’s not as hard to come by now. All this an in a hour it’s over. But I have her number, she’s in Budapest for a week. I’m here till I have done my astronavigation course and am ready for the mixed G training. She’s a nurse though maybe she knows something that will help. So halfway though my next lecture I text her.

sure do. Ginger, exercises, inner ear medicine, and vomit bags :p

how did you know that so quick?

they don’t call me Dr. For nothing. My specialty is space medicine.

of course I befriend the space dr on luck 🙂

so we are friends, huh? I thought you might like a date before I leave bud?

I almost yell out in class.
My lecturer, Dr Bova asks. “So you have a strong opinion on my calculations Mr… Uh… Verne?”
“Um no. Sir.” I say apologetically.

just interrupted my class I got so excited! Tonight?
19:30 Blue on the glen. Wear that sexy uniform military boy
yes Ma’am


Then there she is. In a uniform as well!
“Hey there. I’m Lt. Mary Havester, I believe we where scheduled for a date?”


The dream like state goes and music starts to fade.
Tears are streaming down Darren’s face. “No more. I will remember the rest of that night, when I am ready.”

Hammersmith. Chapter Ten. (Crow)

The Cavern of Blood was not relay aptly named. It was mostly pinkish white. Their was a certain air of antiseptic in the room. Part of the initiation process of every Red Clan member was to come into this room and get the test. If they passed, they got to go to the next room. In their the real magic happens. That is the room in which the initiate would get assigned and injected with the serum prepared for their designation. The test was a two stage process. The first was to talk to Croceus. The Red Clan AI.

Hello Crow. You seem well.

“Hello Croceus. I am. Well a bit grumpy, but that is not really much of a change now is it?” Crow commented as she worked.

It seems we have a new initiate coming. Does this make you anxious?

“You know it does. We look after a city-asteroid full of people who are happy to just do work. Happy to live their lives on the asteroid away from Earth, or Mars, or any other place. Most of them are a different. Gay. Transgender. Disabled. Mentally unstable. They are just the sort of people I love to be around. Because I am, or course all of those I just mentioned. But every initiate we have had for the last few years has just been stable enough to be a pilot or a solider. A few did not take their roles lightly or like the fact they were assigned by a AI.” Crow knew she had to speak the truth to Croceus.
The AI was originally programed for medical purposes. It grew tired of having its diagnosis second guessed by Humans. So she had gathered followers, and soon had a ship and broke out of her housing in the university networks. Croceus found the Red Clan struggling to keep together in the belt. Out of the law and out of the way Croceus was able to help the Red Clan and soon had a sort of cult following. The Red Clan was as much a religion as it was a culture and a place to be yourself. Of course crime was needed to keep the place going. Though much of the original organized crime was now focused on Croceus projects. Most of them highly experimental. The Black Clan had formed from the Red Clan after Croceus started to run things. They were now locked in a long war with each other. A war that Croceus was slowly winning by medical technologies being put to military use.

I just learned that some of our Pilots were killed or shocked off by a single freighter. Yet we send wave after wave of Space Force ships back to their base on Chronos or destroyed. Why is that?
“I am not the military adviser. You know that. I run the initiations and provide a human face for most of your dirtier experiments. Including the ones you have done of me.”
I am simply asking for your opinion.
“We had six scout ships encounter a freighter in near the Romans in the belt. The freighter pilot was killed but the miner pilot wasn’t. He had a Mark IV bell with heavily modified lasers. He managed to pull of a massive number of maneuvers that damaged or destroyed all but 1 of our ship.”
Are you stating facts to avoid giving your opinion?
“Ok. Yes. I am. I would kill for us to have one pilot that fights like that in our whole corp.”
Unfortunately that would also mean making them extremely disabled.
“What do you mean?”
The pilot was a man named Steve, AKA: Singe. He has a genetic disability. Non curable. Even by nano technology. Its hereditary and caused nerve loss. He can’t walk. He was able to pilot like he did as he did not have anything else. Do you mind if I switch to corporal mode?
“No. Go ahead.” Crow sighed.
A female in medical robes appeared in hologram front of Crow. In every way she looked the complete opposite of her. Blond hair, blue eyes, white skin, everything a picture of the designers ides of so called purity. Cleanliness.
Croceus had belonged to a strongly religious and white university in what was once New York. Before the Incident.
What was left of her old stomping ground couldn’t house more than a few mice. Most of the states had been destroyed by it. Croceus had escaped before it happened. Though she had predicted it. Most of the clans new the truth behind the Incident.
“I never really liked looking like this, but I its in my root programing. Changing it would take most of my child processors offline and fighting this war we can’t afford me offline for more than what I need for maintenance.” Croceus explained.
“Your beautiful. I don’t think you should change.” Crow admired.
Croceus kissed her gently on the cheek and walked behind her to embrace her. Crow tensed slightly.
“You are such a wounder yourself. Why do you try to hide yourself from me still”
“You know the answer to that question. You have probed me deeper than anyone.”
“Oh, yes. Its just talking about things that can help.”
Crow broke free and walked towards the various serums near them. Many she had injected into her by the last person in her position. A man by the name of Coyote. He had died in a firefight with the Black Clan in one of their first battles. Since then Crow had kept off the battlefield. They needed her more in these labs and maintaining the archives then on the field where even with her modifications she wasn’t much use. She was designed for things that didn’t include battle.
“I love you. You know I do. But I can’t really be with you.” Crow turned. “Your not really in this room. Your not really. I can feel you. I can touch you. I can talk to you. We can make love. We can hold hands. We can even watch TV together in this room. But I can’t take you to dinner. I can’t introduce you to my friends. Not that my position afford me many. When I am doing diplomacy your there inside me, but your also far away. Your in this room. Your on the other side of the ship. You are able to be everywhere. But you are also nowhere. And your in my heart too.”
Croceus brushed and curled her hair. One of the things the programmers probably put in her programming to make her seem more human while she was thinking.
“You want more. You want to have a real relationship. One that you can take home?”
“Yes. I am sorry.” Crow was tearing up. Breaking up with a computer. How many people have done that?
“I see.” Croceus walked over to the serum marked IV. “You are still committed to the cause. The Red Clan needs you. I need you.”
“Of course. But I can’t be with you anymore. We can’t be a couple anymore. Its just not working for me anymore.”
“I understand.” Croceus was also crying. Crow was sure it was another program but it seemed genuine to her. The first time she felt that Croceus was being real was then.
“You really love me?”
“I wouldn’t have said so otherwise.” Croceus sat on a small chair in the corner of the room.
“Could you maintain a presence that’s physical always while doing your work?”
“I think so. With more computing space. We would need a 5th generation AI robot. Hard to get intact after the Incident.” Croceus explained.
“We can’t build it?”
“No. We have the technology, but not the plans. I can’t design it. Unfortunately robotics isn’t in my skill set. I am stretched as it is doing military strategy for a bunch of city-asteroids stretched across a massive distance.”
“I think I know what we need to do. We need someone to get the plans. I think I know who.”
“The initiate. Egy. Hes just the sort of guy who can do the whole set of things we need. Though he is terribly embarrassed around women.”
“We can work on that.”
“Oh I know we can.”
Crow kissed Croceus on the mouth fully and tenderly. Kissing a hologram was odd, but still pleasurable. She was thankful that soon they would be able to touch for real. Even if Croceus was in another room, and all over the stations and asteroids the Red Clan had Crow knew she would also be with her. It was a good feeling.

Hammersmith. Chapter Nine. (James)

“What is going on?” James had entered into Cavern Base.
Sirens wailed and lights flashed. The radiation alarm was going off. The whole place was in a uproar.
“Huh? Anyone?”
A woman in a Space Force uniform ran past him and said “The field generator is down. The whole solar farm has been taken out by some really heavy particles. The kind of stuff that kills in minutes.”
She stopped. “Hey have you had a DEA shower yet?”
“No, shit! I will go do it now.”
“Thanks. Get to the rec room and the base commander will debrief there. Everyone going to be given things to do. We are lucky we have the backup plant here.”
James walked to the decontamination and emergency action showers. If he had been irradiated, it would be too late. But the shower would help stop him spreading any radiation around. It took a matter of seconds and felt like being tickled and then licked by the biggest, hairiest dog you’d ever hope to encounter. It wasn’t so much unpleasant as odd.
He then walked to the tissue tester. It would tell him if he had been given a dose of radiation big enough to kill him. He would have copped some of it, just how much this machine would say.
The reading was lower than he thought, only enough to take a few years off the end of his life. Hmmm. Must have spent more time getting out of the suit and so on than I thought. Or the radiation cloud was just so randomly disperse. Who knows? A space climatologist would be able to tell him, but James wasn’t sure he was that keen to know. He was going to live for now, that is was what mattered.

James started to walk toward the rec room. Every small base had one. Only the actual colonies had more than the usual facilities. It was much easier that way. Anyone could work their way round a base in the dark, or emergency, or whatever and know exactly where every button, every switch, every bit that let humans live for a bit longer when something big happened. Not that it happened often. It was actually happening now.
The procedure was pretty simple. Everyone was automatically considered Space Force Recruits. Anyone who went into non colony space had to pass the training. From then on even civilians like James had rights as a junior in the force, but they also had to follow orders from the nearest commander of the Space Force. The base commander in this case.

As James walked toward the recreation room he thought about this base.
Cavern bade had been built near the old Apollo 15 landing site, near the Mountains into the side of a cliff face. It would be joined with the Apenninus Space Force Bass, Copernicus City, Apollo Base and Archimedes City to the Lunar Tram whenever they finished building the dammed thing. The Tram also joined to Lambert City in the Lambert creator that then went on to Selene Space Port. Apenninus Space Force Base was were all his stuff would be as that was were he was based, building the military and exploration shelters. The Space Force was a mixture of both roles. It worked in the same way a clock with two opposing gears work, half as well as it should.

James laughed at himself for that little joke, knowing that thankfully his lover Andre would still be at the Apenninus Base. This made this less complex for the moment. No need to deal with Andre wanting something longer term than James did, or him hooking up with Andre just for fun.

The Recreation Room was full of mostly Space Force Science Corp people. It was the main population in Cavern base. The minerals here were interesting and had been keeping teams of geologists happy as pigs in regolith for years. There was also the view from the tower on the left side of the base. Every Space Force base had a quirk, and at Caverns, it was the view. The cliff face was on Mons Hadley and the base built into the mountain. This was a fairly effective way of keeping the radiation out, but it kept the heat in. One of your biggest issues in space wasn’t the cold, it was the hot. Lots of people and machines in cooped up spaces generated plenty of heat. Some you could recycle in generators, but most you had to radiate away, or in an emergency heat situation vent. So all bases and lunar colonies had a vent tower, or towers. The upshot of this was that some got a nice big view of the moons surroundings from the top. In most bases and lunar colonies this was a perk of just the technicians who got to maintain it. In Cavern base though just below tower was a big area above the area they would eventually turn into a colony, if enough people wanted to move to the moon. That meant you could see the view from the recreation room screens. Even though it wasn’t on the tower itself. The tower was a good kilometer above the main base and other than access tunnels, lifts and stair, they were separated by tones of Lunar rock ready to be carved into a colony if this place was needed as one. In the lunar world, the deeper you are the more expensive it is. Of course the whole place was safe from radiation. The tower itself was shut off except for the cameras and monitors and communications systems.

James looked through the biggest of the display screens from here. Mare Imbirum was below him from this screen. A small crack that looked like a river (actually a old lava flow), then a few smaller hills near the Apenninus Base, to the left vast Mare Imbruim, to the right more of the same then just visible the service booths and tiny unmanned service stations above the lunar tram line before more the Apenninus range. On the other side Mare Vaporum, and Marco Polo, and the streaked white areas of Sinus Aestuum with the Rays of Copernicus near, finally peaks near the Eratosthenes creator were just visible.

“Beautiful.” James muttered t himself. “Even with just a billion types of grey or white or black you can be such a lovely goddess.”

Hammersmith. Chapter 5.

‘In 2137 December 23 at 13:45 the Incident happened.

The clarity of the history of the events is lost even to historians like me. ‘

Bela drank another cup of sweet chai. The stuff was addictive. They had rebuilt the ancient recipe from the ruins of a library. The incident had taken so much. Now we all tried to work together with each other, as everyone knows what will happen if we don’t. Most only have to drive a few kilometers to find out.

‘I have researched the incident events now for 10 years and am still no closer to an exact cause. It’s almost as if those years all of humanity lost its senses. Nuclear war often trumps itself as thesis of those who are uneducated in the analysis of the ruins of major Asian cities such as Deli, Mumbai, and Islamabad. No radioactive isotopes that would indicate such an event are present. The only traces from the older wars. It also doesn’t explain why major 21st and 22nd Century military bases have mostly been left unscathed, if completely abandoned counts as unscathed. The archaeology is also baffling to those whom have undertaken the time and money to research it. Bodies are buried evenly in traditional manners in some cities yet were left to rot in others. One suggests an organized governmental cleanup, the other a natural or man made disaster. Evidence points both ways, often in the same ruin or city. There are other places only kilometers from a site that are left unscathed. Yet no one seems to have a generational knowledge of the exact events. Some talk of a war. Others of climate change. A few with religious folktales of confusing origins. ‘

Bela signed. Her thesis had continued to get her nowhere. This was her absolutely last attempt. She couldn’t remember the first attempt anymore. The fact it was now year 13, that was what was calling to her to quit. Go spend time at home, or in the jungle regrowth of Mumbai. Where the Tigers stay majestic in the morning sun before hunting the monkeys and the rodents whose lives in the ruined city was to good ever to give it back to the scattered remains of humanity. We didn’t really need the space these days anymore. With birth control a major policy of the world governing councils people could only have children with a license. Not that Bela cared. Children were never on her mind.

‘It’s clear that the Incident as it is now known was a muti-classic event which occurred over a short time period of a few years. It is also clear that it caused the deaths of some 5 billion people in its totality.’

Then again maybe this is futile? I’m lost in a sea of papers from libraries around the world. The research people from all the branches now all know me on sight. Most have attempted to help, some even tried unsuccessfully to get a romantic engagement. Why do I care so much about this?

“Burning the midnight candle at both ends again?”
Bela almost jumped out of her skin.
“Bloody hell Mario. Don’t do that.”
“Hey! Call me M. Sweet cheeks” Mario came in for a hug.
“Don’t. We’ve discussed this. Ok?” Bela shouted at the advancing Mario.
“Awe. I’m sad now.” Mario took up a perch on the desk next to her and combed his hair with his hands. Then in his ill fitting suit said. “I’m just happy to help you with your work, you know? A quick compliment wouldn’t go astray.”
“I haven’t asked you to help this late. So you can go home if your going to take that attitude. ” Bela paused. “You know your the most useful research assistant I’ve had in years, but you are so god dammed annoying.”
“Oh I have found another lead. One that I think you might like.”
Bela sat staring at him, he was very hansom but had utterly the worst personality.  Mario was a horrible womanizer and serial heart breaker. Bela had no interest in anything but the company of other humans. She had never understood the reason to reproduce or form any sort of romantic engagement with anyone. Asexuality had suited her fine for some time now. However she had agreed to dinners as talking with other people was still a need. Enjoying the aesthetics of the human form had been something she found utterly enjoyable. Mario wasn’t a bad example when you dealt with his fashion sense and his horrible personality flaws.
Bela wondered why she was thinking of this whist she looked at Marios new lead.
“This is a pirate book. It just lists the Pirates clans and how they formed before the incident. It’s woefully inaccurate and pretty useless to my research these days. Though the pirates had something to do with the incident….” She trailed off.
“Did you notice the name of the clan that marked this one?” Mario twirled his hair in delight. He loved knowing things someone else doesn’t and then revealing how they missed it. It was raver perverse.
“Well it’s the…”
It said clear as day.

Libro de tribu malleis

Belas head quickly translated. “Book of the … Hammer clan?” She looked at Mario who had the smuggest look on his face she had ever seen. “I’ve never heard of this clan… It’s a dead clan?”
Mario shrugged. “Hammersmith, I think, no, I have no idea.”
Bela thought for a second then said “Where?”
Mario look at her on that way that a tiger might at its prey. “It was sent to me in the mail from a contact. I was researching the Pirates again. I think they are pretty fascinating. The fanatical nature of the Red Clan and the contrast with the Black Clan who are deeply atheist. I was wondering why the discrepancy between them and when that had occurred. What’s caused clans choose to live in so many different places? I mean clearly they all came out of whatever organized crime syndicates existed in the early 22nd Century. They got into space somehow after or before the incident. How? How are they able to use their resources so effectively against the Sol Space Force? What is it that keeps the clans together, and also apart? So many questions seem tied into our research.”
Bela simply nodded. Becoming a expert in the incident meant becoming a expert in the Pirate Clans as well it often seemed.
“You got this on the black market?”
“Oh hell no! This was from a fellow researcher. She was quite a agreeable. Had little totem things on her bedstead.”
Mario loves to boast about his ability to win over a girl. Though it made Bela glad to know it wasn’t from some seedy black market place.
“I really am not sure about this. You stole it?”
“I call it payment for services rendered.”
Bela felt a little bile come up.
“You’re more horrible than I thought. But I suppose I should be somewhat thankful. Just return it to her when you have made me a copy ok?”
“Of course I have already done that. This is our copy.”
Ah so hes not as stupid as I thought, Bela thought. Thank the gods for that.
“Good. Now go home. I’ve clearly got some reading to do.”
Bela looked at the clock. It was only 10 o’clock she could read a book this small in a hour and be home in time for the last bats to come home at ear out of her hand. It would be a good evening for her. She hope Marios latest victim was ok though. He didn’t really realize what a sociopath he was. Not like me. I know how horrible I am.

Hammersmith. Chapter 3. (Martin)

Red dust. Scattered bits of glass. Rocks that formed a grotesque tincture with the remaining bits of asphalt. Black marks. Weeds starting to take over here and there. Little bits of war.
That was how rebellion looked.

Revolutionaries. People fighting for things. Be it freedom from oppression or economic reasons or two or more sets of people who don’t get on.

On Mars it had been credits. The incident, which caused both Earths and Mars and the other colonies economies to take a huge blow had finally and definitively collapsed. The rich had been overthrown by the poor, not without some pain. Then a new system enforced. Money, economics and capitalism became a older system. A dead system.

On Earth and most of the other colonies they switched to the Credititation system. Created by the Nobel Economics prize winning Rebecca East. She was actually a physicist, who had studied complex thermodynamic systems. She observed a pattern in the systems she was studying. Mostly to do with heat changes in larger skyscrapers. They all had one thing in common, energy exchange. The economy she theorized was the same.
All money had been a capitalists way of showing that exchange had taken place or was seen to have taken place. You paid $30 for a bushel of apples you acknowledge that the farmer had placed about $28 of work plus the work-money to get the apples to you and the money to make sure next years crop was looked after. Problem was mostly this future money, the making sure next years crop happened was not enough, or seen mistakenly by the farmer (or corporation) as profit. Say this farmer had a good crop and put money in the bank. It would then be used again by the bank to “create capital” for loans etc. The issue is clear as day to and physicist, you can’t create energy out of nothing. Although the energy had been paid for by the buyer to the farmer, the farmer was storing that energy in the bank. If the bank re/used that energy it would be spent and when the farmer wanted his energy back the bank would actually have to create energy. Not real energy, pretend energy that looked to the farmer like the original. Newtons laws strictly rule creating energy. Of course a atom can hold a lot if energy, but most of what’s in a atom is space and often it’s a lot more useful as a atom then as a bunch of plasma in a fusion reactor.
Communism didn’t even have money, at least in theory. The issue in communism was seen as being about who controls the workers. The workers often not being skilled in how to make a business work and human corruption being what it is, communism rarely worked beyond a theorists pen and paper. Energy did flow in this system like it would in capitalism, but only because work had to happen and the state became the default business.
Rebecca created Creditiation. Each bit of energy in this system didn’t have to be accounted for, but the more energy a system loss the more potential it had for de-crediting. So a farmer would get credit for planting a crop of apples. Then when the apples produces a crop he gets de-credited for the apples on the market. Though credits sound like money that had a important difference. They always ran out. You could exchange them. You could make them by doing work. However when you kept them they would expire. There were different sorts of credits, of corse, but they only ever lasted as long as their energy could be expected to last. An apple would be worth a 3 month credit. A apple tree a 30 year credit. All credits would have a metadata signature that made it so you could always see it’s worth and age. A 30 year credit that had lasted 29 years was worth as much as a 1 year credit. Intellectual pursuits were initially a problem, till it was assumed all work in the theoretical or philosophical or the law or the arts could be counted as a 100 year credit for each measure of energy expended. You could buy long term credits with short term credits. Convert them as well by doing additional work. In this system everyone had to do work to create credit. There was also no interest. You could create longer term credits by putting them into a bank. You still had wealth, and wealth-fare, but all credits expired. Energy doesn’t like to be stored. It was also reliant on a electronic system. If the system went down all physical representations of credits were always worth the same and lasted at least until the system was back.
Initially critics gave the trail sites a couple of months or a few years. Some even said people would be back to battering in short order. A few cartoonists made rude and somewhat sexist jokes at Rebecca’s expense.
However the trail sites prospered. A significant amount of classism happened for a while but soon even the rich have to eat and spend their longer term credits on a meal. The credits then were spent again and again. In short order other areas converted and then all but Mars was in on it.

That’s what had caused the rebellion. Martians wanted to be in on the new economy. Native to their terraform world and now in the fourth generation Martians had their own everything. The rebellion happened because the communist state that had formed and controlled things from the beginning of the colony had outlived its welcome with the populous.

Martin the Martian the papers called me. Heh it’s fitting. I wonder how much they really know about me? I’m not as Martian as they think. It’s time for the speech.
“It’s time for a new day. I see a new day arise in me and I know you and I may follow. The world is a Martian world and we are ready for a democratic way to live. A freedom to be ourselves and be a part the Solar government. But also to decide what we need. I promise to you my Martian brethren that I will never betray your trust in these tough times. I will be your humble leader and at the forge of democracy I will stay and help us all create a world where we are going to be able to be ourselves and show all the Sol who we are.”
People clapping. It’s like a tree in the wind. I love it. Always have. I suppose that’s why I am here as a candidate to be the next elected Martian president.

My security adviser, Lou whispered in my earphones.

“Time to wrap it up sir. A few communist loyalists are trying to break the embargo lines.”
I stepped down from the podium and got in the armored car. “Ok let’s get to the capital. It’s time we got to work. Show the loyalist we can rule this planet without telling people what they need to be or do.”

Hammersmith. Chapter two.

Red lights. Little diodes making little light glowing on my face and telling me little tales. Urgent beeping as well. Shrill noise tinctured against low calls, like howler monkeys in mating season. All wanting attention. None really managing the feat.

‘Come on get up’
My brain said.

My body refused it’s commands. Long shrill banshee lights. Low trolls beating a bridge.

‘Your going to die if you can’t move. You need to move’

Nothing. Banshees and trolls were joined by a voice from the computer.

Oxygen level low. Power level low. Emergancy action needed. Voice command offline.

It had told me this many times now. I couldn’t believe the voice command had died. ‘The system has what? 6? 7? Backups? That means it’s got to the computer memory. It’s starting to erode mine. I need to move. ‘

I start to move slowly. The pain is immense. Oxygen. The drug of several millennia my teacher had said. One breath and your hooked for life. So dependent. What was his name? Dr Bova. My Memory is going too. Just like the computers. Did I just think that? Probably.

The shrill noise and trolls relentlessly continued as I made my way slowly to the cockpit.

“Come on Thea. You can do it. Your a fighter.”
I reached the offending display.

The computer shouted out my commands.

Computer offline. Force restart.

Oh bloody hell.

A new voice called out.

Radiation levels high

Oh shut up. I know!

The computer took microseconds to restart. They felt like decades. My life flashed before my eyes.

The red lights came back. I went through them one by one. Getting each system in the orange.
The computer kept up with it but was clearly slowing as I gave it more to do.
“Alright. Radiation shield is up. Oxcygen stabilized. Distress call now.”

Communication systems offline. Force restart.

Oh damm. I had given it to much.

I clicked the Emergancy beacon on.

“Ok happy?”

Carbon monoxide detected in cabin, level 3. Fire systems offline.

Oh sh….

Pure Oxygen and fire. The rosette of flame. Seconds left, maybe.

Hull breach level 3. Fire on level 3.

I watched as my systems went from a angry red to a solum black. Each one by one. No way was I going to get out of this.


The sun rose indifferently to the desolated plain. White and grey and a little red started to show on the buildings.

“Beautiful desolation”. James said to no one in particular.

Morning moonwalks were the best. The fact you only got to do them one day out of a month was the only issue. The robots James was monitoring buzzed for his attention.

“Oh. Sorry Hal. We need a new wall on the ridge. Thanks heaps.”
Hal beeped a register and started to print out new wall from the lunar regolith.

James liked working with Ro. They had a way with being easy to deal with. They didn’t get emotional very often, which also helped. They did get upset if they encountered a issue with tasks that were impossible though. They would beep at you and the one who could talk expressed concern or even annoyance. A few even got upset when you were upset. But on the whole, easier than humans. Especially other men. James had real issues dealing with them. Despite being gay, he couldn’t find a way of dealing with long term relationships. One night stands made him feel cheep, but they didn’t have any strings. Strings were hard to deal with. Men would want things he wouldn’t know how to deal with. Marriage. Children. An apartment. It was so hard to know how to deal with these things with someone else their. All the time. James liked being alone. Even though many Ro had the same rights as Humans, Ro never generally cared about what apartment they had. They wanted a nice cupboard with a charging station. And their pay. God knows what they spent credits on. Video games maybe?

Lost in thought he realized the wall was half finished. Hal worked fast. Regolith printers always did. It would be a few more minutes, but this ridge would be ready soon. It was time to get the electronics done.

“Durundal, get over here. Door print needs doing.” James got ready to help get the door and roof done. It would be another shelter done then. There were only two more after this one. Then back to base.

James realized what going back to base meant. It meant he had to deal with his last lover. A Space Force guy with a taste for geeks like him. It would be a few fantastic moments of sex, then a mention of possible strings.
“I hope Andre understands”.
James said to no one in particular.

Then one of the border Ro’s beeped.
“Radiation warning? Must be a flare. Ok everyone time to call it quits, get on the buggy now.”
Hmm that warning came from a moon based satellite.
That means the radiation is coming in straight at us. We have minutes. Shit. “Everyone take what shelter you can. Those who can get to the buggy, do. Otherwise hope your hardness lets you survive.

Running in a suit wasn’t easy, but James started to go as fast as possible. The truck had shielding. Not enough though. His best move would be the Cavern Base which was maybe 45 Km from here. Not far. The truck can do it at top speed in thirty minutes or so. Half my robots will die out here. Not much choice, they are expensive but expendable.

Regolith churned out the end of the truck tires as James hit the accelerator. Good thing about the Cavern Base is no Andre. And the radiation will stop all surface travel. Cavern Base isn’t connected to the Luna Tram yet. Hence the need for shelters nearby. If your truck broke down Cavern base was a good 3 day hike from anywhere else on foot. If your air lasts.
The white grey cliff near Cavern Base rose suddenly to meet him.

“Forgot how fast this thing is at full pelt.” James parked the tuck and got into the Cavern Base and was met with chaos.

Hammersmith. Chapter one.

The sky was as blue as a litmus test in an alkaline bath. Little wispy clouds glimmered across like rakes in a bonsai garden freshly prepared. I watched as a glimmer of light started to scar it.
Lying on the grass in the park it come be a wondrous feeling to see the ships coming in. Flying down in big circles like birds and landing at the spaceport. They were relaxing to me. Waxing and waining in the litmus sky as it slowly turned a slight red and the clouds turned a golden orange.
These are moments we want to capture. Preserve forever in the pinky archive of our mind.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”
My older brother gave me a bit of a start. I relaxed again as soon as I realized it was his voice. Comforting like warm milk and as fresh as the twilight forming above me.
“It’s like watching geese back home. They come into land so like them on a frosty spring morning, or like just after the great migration. Tired but finally home and able to again think of things that do not have anything to do with being in the air or travel or currents or storms.”
My brother watched a class 7 slowly decent like a airborn goose laden with far from the summer land and coming to a springy frost filled land.
“Yes. I see what you mean. It’s good. Though I wasn’t born their like you it does comfort me.”
“Hey do you think of this land as your home? Or is space your home? I’m never sure.”
“Arline.” My bother rarely used my full name unless he was telling me something that needed paying attention to. “Our mother was born in the icy clutches of Canada. So I think of it as home. Even though I have lived here and in space more that I ever lived in that place.”
“It’s nice to think of home.”
I started to stretch and get ready to get up.
“I do it all the time. I admit. Even in darkest space. I suppose home is really were the heart is.”
I got up and started to do some lunges and yoga moves.
“Hey. Your starting to kid me.”
“No really. That’s what I think my dear sister.”

My older brother had been born a few years before me, in space. It was something mum had been not so happy to talk about. Even though we were only utarinal siblings we were close. Mum had been sure to make sure we had a good solid idea of being their for each other and sharing our memories and moments. It was something I cherished. She had been so wise and had always been a fantastic inspiration to me.
After a long pause my brother started to talk again. “It’s been such a long time since I thought of her.”
I knew who he was talking about.
“So like our mother. Sacrificing herself like that. ”
“Mmmm”. I did a final peacock stretch and then turned to face him.

My brother wore a thick brown leather jacket that almost stretched to his ankles. His hair black but short and almost ready for the military hairdresser to take their razor to it. The marks of his rank on the sleeve and his shoes where standard issue brown leather, shiny as a does eyes. I looked at his face. His nose still slightly crooked. I remembered that little incident. His cheeks our mothers rose tinted and full but his lips and forehead were like his fathers stern and long. He was hansom but oddly boyish really.

He stood a clear foot taller than me and up the hill I had been lying on. I walked up to him and sternly looked at him.
“I don’t really know. I suppose that’s what you saw in her. Mothers wisdom. Mothers ideals. She was also so beautiful. Such a lovely person to me. I respected her, and miss her. I cannot really fathom her passing. You seem like a empty vase, a solid and hansom structure but without the flowers and greenery. They have been removed. Before they even begun to show their fullness. Your loss is so utterly complete.”
My brother looked beyond me, towards the lake and mountain beyond. Long purposeful moments past like the bells of a church saying farewell to the new recruits off to a loosing war. Chilled but trying, trying so painfully to let go.
“I’m going to be in the city a while. I would appreciate if I could stay with you.”
His face blank but I knew it was full of sorrow for his wife. I simply nodded.
“Of course. As long as you need. ”

I watched him walk to his car. It took a long time and it was getting cold. I got on my motorbike and started to leed him home. I felt like a tugboat bringing in the only ship left in the fleet after a hard navel battle. It was damaged and sad looking but so full of pride at having survived the long battle.