July 14, 2092 - 9:34 P.M.

97 Days to Impact

“You know, I could go meet the guy instead. You should be back home resting,” Xander spoke up after a long silence, as he steered the shuttle through the air traffic.

“I’m fine,” Lira answered curtly as she sat back.

“You sure?”

“The sponsor specifically asked to see me. Must be something important.”

“Okay then. Ping me when you’re done. I might not be able to pick you up for a couple of hours, as I’ll be joining Farrah on the Mariner investigation.”

“Why don’t you two rest for the day?”, Lira said as she checked the dashboard clock.

Xander glanced at his passenger. Lira’s eyes were sunken and red, and her shoulders were hunched. She had not had a decent meal since the morning’s flour balls. Her white Field Marshal uniform looked worn from the time she helped recalibrate a malfunctioning conveyor system.

“Nah, we’re good. We’ve got rounds to finish, too. But if you need anything, just ping either of us. We got your back.”

“It’s just a routine rendezvous, Xander. It’s not a big deal. But, thanks.”

While most buildings in the Akatsuki Cluster were modern structures launched within the past two decades, there was one that stood out because of its age: the Veneran Museum. The single-story structure floated on its own plate, sitting like a tired gray elder along the outskirts of the cluster.

Lira walked up to the building entrance and pressed her palm against the access panel. The locks disengaged with a short hum, and the doors swung open. This ancient access mechanism was a relic from the first generation satellites that formed the foundation of the Colony. In fact, the entire building was fashioned from the shell of those satellites. It’s aptly described, as Farrah once quipped, as “museum pieces welded together into an actual museum”.

It was late, but given Venus’ unusual rotation, the sun was still hanging high up in the heavens. Its rays pierced the tall windows, serving as the only light source in the after hours of the museum. Lira walked the deserted atrium and came upon the first exhibit, entitled “The Venera 1 Journey”.

In the middle of the room was a life-size model of the Soviet Venera 1 spacecraft. It was the first ever man made object to make a flyby of Venus, thus lending its name to the colony that was founded there almost 80 years later.

Around the Venera 1 model were scale models of the Mariner 2, the Vega 1, and the Akatsuki spacecrafts — all vehicles instrumental in gaining a foothold on the only Earth-like atmospheric conditions in the inner solar system.

“Reminiscing?”, a mellow voice called out behind her.

“You really have a penchant for appearing out of nowhere, don’t you,” Lira replied dryly.

The pale-skinned, middle-aged man shrugged his shoulders, sending his loose gray pinstriped suit shivering. “It’s my job.”

The man continued. “So, I heard the VLF is moving its pieces across the board.”

“You heard right. Though I hope that one day you’ll tell me where you get your information. For someone who visits us only every 2 years, you’re pretty up to date on everything.”

“Well… your communications aren’t exactly secure. And neither is the VLF’s. I really wish your Colony had more IT security personnel.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve cracked our comms?”

“You shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, if we’re going to perform the guardian angel duty that your people seem to believe we bear, then we need to a little more… omniscient. ”

Lira breathed a deep sigh. “It would be really nice, you know, if you could share your trade secrets. The Colony doesn’t have supercomputers to brute-force encrypted comms, even if we come across them. If we have the keys to decode the VLF data stream, it would make things much easier for me and my team.”

In response, the man help up a thumb drive. “I know, so I prepared this. Everything you’re looking for is here. Encrypted communication sources, decryption keys, all sorts of data trail we’ve gathered from the Colony. We wish we could bring valuable information from Earth, but… well, we don’t have the computing power to crack the UN.”

Lira’s eyes narrowed as the man handed her the drive.

“What’s wrong?”, the man asked with a bemused smile on his face.

“No, something’s off, this is way too easy,” Lira answered. “Your group doesn’t usually give away information like this. In fact you’ve barely given anything outside the usual supply run.”

“What, you don’t think it’s out of our generosity and our faith in your cause?” The man laughed. “Well, I guess we’re not fooling you.”

The man then retreated into a darkened corner of the exhibit hall, and beckoned Lira to join him. As soon as he reached the far end, he pulled back a curtain to reveal a wide window wall. The sudden flood of sunlight danced with the harsh shadows of the museum’s interior, disorienting Lira for a moment.

The man beckoned again, and Lira approached carefully. She saw that in one corner the man had set up a small plastic table and two chairs. He sat on one, and motioned for Lira to take the other. On the table was a large black box decorated with a silver ribbon.

“You know, I went through the VLF communications early this morning. And I know lives are at stake, but I can’t stop myself from finding it really amusing,” he began animatedly as he pulled on the ribbon. “These guys are just so passionate about being the destined liberators of your Colony, that they forget they’re making the same mistake as the people who brought this fate to Venera in the first place.”

“And that is?”, Lira asked, confused. Right now she had no idea what was going on.

“When the last war broke out on Earth, those who fired first held themselves by the same principles that the VLF now value so dearly. Those aggressors rejected the notion of globalism, can’t stand the thought that Earth was slowly becoming one massive entity, interconnected in all ways. These people rebelled to preserve the ideals of nationalism and individuality, in a world order that ate up and assimilated everything in its path.”

The man paused and looked at Lira, whose face was completely blank. “Oh, I know the story was taught differently in your schools. They reshaped the facts to make it look like a political-economic struggle. Seems more interesting that way. But really, it was all about ideology. One side wanted to be on its own, to live freely the way it wants. The other, seeing the enemy as an essential piece in its jigsaw puzzle, refused to relent. In a way, it’s just the same old story of conquest, with a modern twist. Sure, it was also about power, yes, and both sides fought for it. But it was their ideals that gave shape to what that power looked like for them. And those same ideals brought forth war and devastation, and the rupture of the umbilical cord that sustained Venera. Once again, ideals have proven to be the greatest folly of man.”

“Though ideals can also be our greatest salvation,” Lira countered as she watched the man’s almost mechanical movements.

A few seconds later, the man finally finished unwrapping and opening the box. Inside was a three-layered chocolate cake — a luxury that Lira had not seen since she was a child.

“Salvation, is it? And how has that worked out for the Colony?,” the man resumed. “It’s interesting to see how, after the war that caused Earth to neglect your people, your rebels would wish to reassert your existence and identity though the same ideals as those who lost. I see no salvation there.”

Finally, he noticed Lira’s wide eyes, fixated on the cake. “Ah yes, this. This is a little farewell gift, which I personally chose. I thought you might like it.”

Lira snapped back to reality. “Wait. Farewell gift?”

“Would you prefer if I call it a last supper?”, the man laughed. “It’s just a little something so you won’t forget us. After all, we won’t be coming back here again.”

“What… do you mean?”

“Our group has decided to terminate all covert supply lines to the Veneran Colony.”

“You’re… you’re abandoning us?!” Lira found herself screaming the last sentence. She bolted up and slammed the table with her hands, sending her chair flying backwards with the violent motion.

“Ah, no need to be so emotional, Field Marshal. Think about it. This little partnership has come to the end of its natural life.”

The man took out a pocket knife from his breast pocket and began slicing the cake. “Let’s say you do survive the incoming onslaught, and the Colony isn’t destroyed — which, I really hope will be the case. Then there can only be two responses: either more Earth forces will come until their objective is completed, or you will be left completely alone to fend for yourselves. Our runners are already pushed to the limit as they are, trying to evade the UN blockades in our orbit. If they — and they will — step up those measures, we’ll be all out of luck. Here, have a slice,” the man ended as he gestured towards the two plastic forks that came with the box.

Lira stayed motionless for several seconds, as she let the news sink in. Of course, they had expected this moment when their supply lines will be cut off. She just didn’t think it would be this way, this soon.

“Don’t worry,” the man said as if he read Lira’s thoughts. Two weeks from now, the last supply drop will reach the Colony. It’s fifteen cargo ships’ worth of goods, and we presume they will be enough to cover your needs until the eve of battle. We’ll also be leaving all but one ship — you and your engineering corps may be able to put them to good use.”

Lira picked up a fork and poked at the cake. It sank effortlessly through the brown icing and the sponge-like body, until it was stopped by a fudgy layer somewhere in the middle. She then turned and retrieved her chair.

“You’ve always had an opinion of everything,” Lira said after a minute — or was it five? — of trying to process what she’s heard, “and now you’ve revealed you know far more than you’ve ever let on.” She then stabbed the cake violently and tore out a piece. “So tell me, what do you really think of me?” A second later — “I mean, do you think I can do this? Lead this war?”

“You?”, the man mused for a bit as he chewed. “I think you’re a regular Joan of Arc. With just about as much prospect.”

“The saint?”

“Hmm, the warrior maiden. You’re no saint, at least I don’t think anyone can be, after what happened to your sister. But your stories still match. You had been ‘anointed’ as a leader, and you have nothing on you but the blind faith that men tend to accord a symbol. To be honest, even your supporters on Earth viewed you as nothing more than that. But heck, you’ve become quite the success story, for someone of your background. You have an unexpected aptitude for all this, and it continues to surprise us.”

Lira raised an eyebrow. She couldn’t tell if he was serious.

“I’m not quite sure I like the Joan of Arc comparison. If I remember right, she was burned at the stake. That makes me sound as if I was destined to die.”

The man peeked down at the churning yellow glow below the museum window. Even for those who had lived all their lives in Venera, the burning acid clouds of the Venusian atmosphere was still a fearsome sight.

“Well, that’s your stake down there. And from what I’ve heard, just like Joan, you’re willing to embrace it.” the man replied.

And then he continued. “Do you know what Joan’s greatest mistake was? It was that she chose to be a saint over becoming a warrior. She stuck with her ‘mission’, and failed to see beyond it. She had nothing after that mission was fulfilled, and that’s when she started losing. As long as you don’t make that same mistake, I think you and your people will scrape through.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm… think about it. I’m sure it will come to you.”

They ate the rest of the cake in silence, broken by the occasional small talk. When they finally finished, it was almost eleven.

“There’s one last thing I’d like to know, since you said this is the last time we meet. You never told me your name.”

“Well, that was intentional. After all, I still have an identity I need to protect back on Earth.”

“But if I don’t know your name, I can’t thank you properly.”

The man thought for a second, and smiled. “Just call me Karl.”

“Alright, Karl.” Lira stood up and held out her hand. “In the name of the Veneran Colony, I sincerely thank you for the services you rendered. Should any of us survive, I will make sure this isn’t forgotten.”

Karl took her hand. “No need to be so ceremonious. You know I’m not the one you should thank. I’m just a representative. A pawn.”

Lira smiled. “Then that’s something we share, at least.”