Europa's Redemption

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. A silly notion warped into a profound statement. Oh, science might explain it rather succinctly—no medium for the sound to travel. Now almost a full decade into his “retirement” the screams of billions still deafen Adam Knight’s thoughts. Allowing the decimation of an entire population for political expediency could be rationalized in theory. He remembered getting an A on a paper he turned in for his military ethics class—a proud moment to be sure. On the day when the metal met the vacuum, the experience was altogether different.

“Good Morning Sir. Would you like your morning rations?” The female virtual home assistant's disembodied voice asked its morning query. The regularity of the question comforted him. The sun had not yet peaked through the tree line. He enjoyed this moment more than any other. Everything was new and the first decision of the day was about to be made. Every morning, approximately 100 grams of oatmeal, the rationed amount that would get him to his next supply shipment. Today he would splurge with a teaspoon of sugar in his accompanying tea. His afternoon and evening meals would be just as spartan, foodstuffs of various degrees of luxury from his supplies, augmented with whatever he could forage in the wild.

“Yes, I would like my morning rations. In the usual place. Give me around 18 minutes to accomplish the necessary morning rituals,” he had not stopped the grooming that had become second nature since joining the military. It was such a simple task of cleaning oneself. The days when he slept in the wilderness did not deter him from the clean shave that had been a part of the majority of his life. It was comforting, a sense of renewal and now of forgetting. Old growth was not allowed to remain. A reset of memory that allowed only subconscious muscle memory to remain.

The shower hummed as the water recycler sent the used water towards the small hydroponic section of his homestead. Allowing the recycler to get the last meager droplets from his body he waits to make his next decision. It is not what he is about to wear, for everything in his closet is the same field attire he wore when he was in the service. It simply took out one of the many daily choices, a comfort, before life’s chaotic nature presented conditional probabilities that one needed to navigate. The checklist running through his mind bounced through each utility: solar panels, electric fence, chicken coop, hydroponic farm, and the water recycler.

These main chores kept his life running in relative seclusion. A welcomed change from his former life of constant briefings. His only quasi-companion was the twenty-something woman who came to bring him his supplies monthly. She would be cordial and give him any pertinent news about the settlement she was from. The small talk belied her true nature. He suspected her to be from the intelligence division, a keeper of sorts, for the disgraced hero, who disobeyed a direct order to fire on the moon. The incident was classified at the highest levels of government and the story told of the war hero wanting to live a simple quiet life made the most sense. A grateful military had ‘honored’ the request, but not without conditions.

And now the most pressing matter was the checklist and hoping that he could find a few mushrooms on his hike. After dressing and heading towards the kitchen with one minute to spare on his self-imposed timer the table was set with a bowl of oatmeal and his morning tea. As he slowly began eating the proximity alarm started going off. He was not expecting a visitor for another week and a half.

Stepping out his front door the cloud of red dust signaled the unscheduled visitor. Given the regularity of his supply drops this was alarming, though since this new arrival was not trying to hide their presence he did not believe their intention to be violent. The idea that after so many years the military-industrial complex would value him high enough to kill seemed unlikely, yet as the cloud grew closer he was tempted to reach for his makeshift weapon, a crude metal knife that he had constructed early in one of his survivalist hobbies. No, this car was meant for something far more important than his death.

The car stopped and a young woman stepped out of the driver's seat. She was approximately 175 cm with bright auburn hair pulled into a standard military bun. She pulled off her goggles to reveal cold green eyes. She could have been synthetic, her athletic frame was flawless, but the walk was slightly off, which meant a slight asymmetry. No, the individual in front of him was a product of relentless discipline. It was comforting to know that current companies would not allow imperfections in any of their products. Still relying on algorithms made the synthetics all the more predictable. As she drew closer something in Adam tensed and he raised his hand to halt her progression.

“What are you doing on my property? This visit is not on the appointed time and you are definitely not my usual visitor.” He tried to sound even, but he doubted that he succeeded. The woman had stopped and now stood slightly at an angle gauging if all of the legends about him measured up to the rather normal-looking man in front of her. From the look in her eyes, she was still undecided.

“General Knight my name is Sydney, and your usual visitor will not be seeing you anytime soon. Now we do not have much time. I need you to step inside the building so that I may explain why I am here, or you can attempt to reach for that weapon you think I don’t know about and we can see how fast I snap your brittle bones.” Her words were not meant to be a threat. Just a simple declarative statement, and yet the brittle bones addendum had hit a mark that he did not know existed. She was young, no more than 19 years old, but there was a sense of brutality that should not be so ingrained in someone so young. Even keeping up with his military exercises he knew that standing in front of him was an assassin that could easily disarm and incapacitate.

“Very well, but admittedly the fact you killed my minder is not going to put you into my good graces,” motioning towards the door lazily moving over to his knife and throwing it away from either of them. A gesture of goodwill, but also of acceptance that he was in no position to fight. A small smile graced her lips, “ I am sure you are heartbroken over the loss, from the conversation I had with her, she was a few more visits before your first attempt to turn her—it would not have worked.” Both entered the building without any preamble.

She looked around the room quickly as she entered. It looked like the dwelling of a hermit, but the neatness expressed an unbroken mind. Adam Knight was still very much the military mind she was looking for. If only she had more time this would be easier, but she had been unlucky to arrive at the minder’s house later than expected. She had wanted to get there right after a shipment drop, it would have given them supplies and a 30-day window. Now her murder would be discovered and a team would come to find their exile and end his life. She did not dwell on this unfortunate turn. Right now all that matters is convincing this man to go with her. She was not sure that she could.

“Well, I am assuming you belong to whatever resistance movement is currently in vogue. Mars Freedom Group? Or maybe the Outer Helios Collective. I am sure there are others, but those are the two with enough resources to find the location of this place. I am after all a very public figure with an extremely private retirement life.” Adam moved to sit on his only comfortable chair, it was the only one in the living room. The rest of the room was sparse, containing only physical books and papers that he was allowed to possess.

“The Mars Freedom Group no longer exists as a resistance movement. It was bought out by some wealthy oligarchs and now represents an official party within the Terran government. The Outer Helios Collective has helped with certain items, but no I am not affiliated with them. Honestly, I am Captain in the Space Force, with a message from your protege and rival,” Sydney looked through the book collection reading the titles passively counting the number she had personally read already. A few caught her eye as being sentimental drivel, but Adam was getting on in age and perhaps he was feeling nostalgic.

“I only had one protege and I never saw her as a rival. She was a friend or at least until that day she decided to betray everything we swore to. So what's the damn message?” He knew the possibility that Sydney was only using his friend as a way to get under his skin, so he commended her silently on the tactic. Sydney turned from her spot, “She said she was sorry, and that she needs your help to correct an injustice. That the military was more wrong than even both of you thought. Europa was a catastrophe, but one that can still be forgiven.” She reached into her pocket and slowly pulled out a slip of film. He took it delicately from her and pressed the play button. The image of his former second in command started to move.

“Hello, General. I know that you did not expect to see me. You would not except you are the only person I know capable of taking an unimaginable risk. You were right all those years ago. We should have not allowed for the orbital strike to occur. I am sorry I relieved you of command and took that shot, but all the lives of our ship were at stake. They were just unintelligent life down on the moon. A few microbes that were a barrier to extending humanity’s reach in our solar system. We had orders. I wish now that I too would have disobeyed. Perhaps we would have been kept together. A cozy little prison for the two of us. Moving past wishful thinking I have sent to you with my most trusted agent proof that those microbes were not unintelligent and the current situation at Europa has become dire. I am currently the Europa Orbital commander and I have been getting reports that the microbes we thought decimated have started to multiply. They are evolving rapidly. I don’t know for sure, but I think we stumbled upon an incubator of sorts. We killed whatever had been growing in the water, but the moon has been reseeded somehow. I have been falsifying the reports, but it is only a matter of time. You are the only person I trust to find a solution to this. You are my only hope.”

The image of his former friend mocked him. She had not changed a bit. Still exceptionally competent and not even the pressure of the situation had diminished the grace captured in her visage. He looked at Sydney for the first time without concern for his safety. It was alarming that he had not seen it before. My most trusted agent, a statement of assurance was not usual for his friend. Sydney had similar features and the same presence. It meant only one thing.

“Yes, she is my mother. I found out about it not too soon after my twelfth birthday. My eggs were harvested not soon after my first period as with all cadets. I assumed it was similar to my mother. My own daughter is probably around five or six at the moment. Perhaps they used multiple embryos if I was deemed worthy enough. You can never know with the military. Sometimes they have ruthless efficiency and other times you wonder how we win wars. Either way, I am your ride to freedom.” Sydney took out a book, his own A Grand Strategy for Moral War, she leafed through the pages. She stopped at a page in the book that made him aware that she had read the book several times.

Standing up from his chair Adam stepped closer, “You know that this can never work. There is no way that we can keep this quiet. This will cause open war within factions of the Terran government. You will cause the death of hundreds of millions. What happens then? Do you want that blood on your hands?” His eyes bore into hoping not to find what he knew was already there. A zealot to a cause.

“To quote you, ‘It is better to wage war in the pursuit of truth than to live in peaceful falsehood.’ I think you know my answer to your questions. I knew this was a mistake. My mother told me that you were the only one who could strategize us out of this predicament. Now I see you all that's left is a withered man with empty theories.” She dropped the book on the floor and made her way toward the exit.

“These outbursts are definitely not from your mother’s genetics. I did not say I was not coming. But in five days we will have half the Space Force following us. Did you have a plan for that?” Sydney’s petulance gave a youthfulness to her face. He could imagine the same face on a five-year-old not getting to eat dessert before her dinner. She turned quickly with a smirk, “By the time your minder is meant to give her report I should have you on the bridge of your old ship. On our way to General Celes, Europa, and then to parts unknown.”