Transporter 001

Rome, Italy

Michael climbed into the transporter and said they could leave Rome, when Al interrupted, “we need to make a quick stop in the city.”

“Whatever for?” Tyron asked him, while he was coiling the long graphene rope between his palm and elbow.

“We are in Italy, the birthplace of pizza; it would be criminal if we didn’t buy any. I already ordered them online, we just need to pick them up,” he explained with a wide grin.

Michael rolled his eyes. “OK, we may as well; who are we to argue with Al’s appetite.”

The pizzeria was on the outskirts of Rome, a quaint little place that was about to close up. Al’s order of twenty large pies made them more than happy to wait a few more minutes for them. If they were surprised to see four men and one woman entering their shop, dressed in black battle-suits—they didn’t show it. Besides, there was a masquerade ball in the neighborhood, so maybe the strange outfits were not that surprising. They were quite happy to take cash for such a large order, and all the pies were of the biggest size they offered.

As the team was returning to the transporter, parked on a small shielded grass playground near the pizzeria, a high-pitched woman’s scream drew their attention. From one of the side alleys a young woman appeared. She was running as fast as she could, with a torn shirt and mascara tears running down her face. When she was halfway between the alley and the team, six very rough-looking men came into view, chasing after her. The girl spotted Michael and the team, with the pizza boxes in their hands, and ran in their direction.

“Aiuto! Per favore, aiuto!” She screamed again.

Max was providing automatic translation via their implants, so they knew that the woman was asking for help. Pete was the quickest on his feet; hastily giving his pies to Al, he caught the woman as she fell into his arms.

The group of thugs that were chasing her, stopped before the team and assessed the situation. Michael and the others had left their helmets in the transporter; their masquerade outfits plus the pies they were carrying must have lessened the intimidation factor of the team. One of the thugs pulled a switchblade knife and said in Italian, “Leave the woman to us and get out of here, or we will cut you up.”

Michael looked at Tyron and smirked. “I wonder how we are going to tell the story? Probably beginning with, ‘we went out for a pizza’…”

Pete told the girl, “don’t worry, you are safe now,” and gave her to Alice, then he moved toward the thugs, flexing his hands.

“I got this,” he sent through the comms.

“Run away, you fool! Or else you will die here!” the one with the knife threatened.

In normal circumstances, his threat would have made perfect sense, as he was 6.3 feet tall and had more than enough muscle mass, with discernible signs of a heavy steroid user. His friends were a bit smaller than him, but not by much.

“Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely, it would be far healthier for you to turn around and go home,” Pete said in English, which only produced confused looks.

Al, who learned Italian by his grandmother’s knee, tried to help. “He said that you all have small testicles and that you should go home and perform anatomically impossible acts on yourselves. And he said some bad stuff about your mothers too.”

“Thanks, Al,” Pete murmured, looking at his friend from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t mention it, buddy, anytime.”

“You know that Max is translating everything?”

“Yep, just wanted to give them some incentive, they look undecided.”

It took some time for the thugs to process what Al helpfully translated for them, and by their expressions, it was clear they got into the gene pool while the lifeguard wasn’t watching.

The look of rage on their faces was slow in coming, nonetheless, quite disturbing. Without any thought of tactics or coordination, they all rushed in Pete’s direction.

What happened next was an educational lesson for the Italian ruffians and an interesting display of what happens when one goes against someone who is miles above one’s fighting class.

The one with the knife was first to reach Pete; that earned him a full jaw of shattered teeth, and his own knife lodged in his shoulder. His friends didn’t fare better than him; they were soon lying on the ground moaning with several broken bones—each.

They would be fine… eventually, after extensive physical therapy and some psychiatric counseling. Pete must have had some unresolved issues as he did not hold back, and returned to serve seconds to the ones who were still being offensive.

The most entertained was Al, who sat on a nearby bench, took one slice from the box, and started cheering his friend as if he was watching an MMA fight. The only time he interfered was when one flying body was threatening the big stack of pizza boxes. Therefore, he intercepted the offender, who was still in the air, and returned him to the same direction he flew in from… while still holding his slice between his teeth.

When everyone was pacified, Pete returned to the girl. “Can you tell us what happened?” He tried to say in Italian by reading the translation on his HUD.

She looked at him with wide eyes and a bit of hero worship easily discernible on her face.

“Si, certo! I speak English, and they were going to kill me.” She said and wiped a tear sliding down her face. “I am an accountant and I realized that my boss was working for the Mafia. I reported him to the police, but he had connections there and they dismissed me. I tried to go to the newspapers, but they would not listen to me either. For the last few days, I had the feeling I was followed but was not really sure. Tonight, they were waiting for me as I was coming home. They said that I talked too much and that they were going to shut me up for good, but I managed to run away from them and that’s when I saw you.”

“Okay, don’t worry now,” Pete said, “what’s your name?”

“Lucretia,” the girl answered.

“And I’m Pete, this is Michael, Al, Tyron, and Alice. Do you have any place to stay, a family we can take you to?”

She looked at the ground and shook her head. “No, I don’t have anyone. My parents died long ago and I don’t know where I can hide now.”

Pete looked at Michael inquisitively; giving him a hurt puppy expression he learned from Al and got a nod in response.

“We are going to take you somewhere safe,” he said to the girl and received a hopeful look in return.

A few minutes later, the transporter once again lifted to the skies and set its course towards the Ascension.

***

City-Ship Ascension

Geostationary Orbit

The next two weeks after returning from the Vatican passed without any earth-shaking events; a welcomed slowing of pace for everyone. That didn’t mean that Michael had any rest, just the opposite. His workload intensified due to the preparations for the big meeting in the UN, where he was going to say some things that were bound to make waves on a global level.

He smiled when he remembered the night when they brought pizza from Rome. Their welcoming committee acted like a bunch of starving piranhas that suddenly realized there was fresh meat in the water. Michael had to use his official position to secure one extra slice for himself, which Elizabeth immediately confiscated. By unanimous vote, it was decided that a few pizza makers from Italy needed to be recruited; not that the pies from the food court were bad, it was just that the originals were way better.

The girl they brought from Rome, Lucretia, was fitting right in. She was immediately given work by Elizabeth, once she found out that Lucretia had a degree in economics and accounting from Università di Bologna, one of Europe’s premier universities. A few days after their return, Pete and Al went to see her boss, for a little eye-to-eye session, and a lesson in intimidation tactics. He was persuaded to turn himself in and agreed to be a witness in the case against his employers. Subsequently, there were many arrests in Rome that week, even a few law enforcement officers found themselves behind the bars.

Moreover, judging by Pete’s behavior, he had taken a real shine to Lucretia. Max explained it as a clash between the damsel in distress and the white knight syndromes and was already asking Michael and the others if they had any idea what they should buy them for the wedding. Pete was even seen with a flower bouquet, he bought on Earth, asking her on a date.

The life on the Ascension has returned to normal, and the borrowed virologists were sent home. They were now enjoying long interrogation sessions conducted by the intelligence agencies from their respective countries, about things they had seen here. Max said there was nothing to worry about; they were constantly under his watchful eyes, and had never discovered anything that was not already known.

With every day, the station was coming closer to its final destination, and the botanists’ contingent was performing miracles by making it look even more natural. They well should be, considering the amount of money they were spending on a daily basis by buying plants, in bulk, from all over the world. Michael saw the video of an enormous Sequoia tree that was the centerpiece of the transplanted forests; he still could not believe they managed to transport it there.

Max has sent dozens of probes to Mars, with the mission of finding the hidden stasis chamber. It would have been much easier if they knew the exact location, but at least they had a starting point—Olympus Mons. The tallest mountain in the Solar System, with a height of 72,000 ft. (21 km). The machine intelligence that took it there was programmed to use it as a starting location, so the probes would follow in its footsteps.

At the moment, Michael was standing in front of the mirror, trying to figure out how to tie a full Windsor knot on his necktie. Formal suits were not his thing in general. Give him his basic BDU or jeans and a T-shirt, and he was perfectly comfortable; yet this occasion called for more formal attire, so he had to endure.

“Here, let me get that,” said Elizabeth, and in a few magical moves tied a perfect knot. “Are you nervous?”

“What do I have to be nervous about? I only need to speak before all of the world leaders and convince them to give me something they have no intention to give,” Michael answered with a grimace.

“You are not asking them to give anything for free, you’re offering fair trade, and giving them plenty in return; have a little faith,” Elizabeth said and kissed him.

***

Half an hour later, he was sitting in a transporter that was going to New York City. Tyron and Al were with him, acting as bodyguards. They were going to the same place from where they previously took that deadly piece of art which almost killed a considerable percentage of the world’s population—UN headquarters.

This meeting was the culmination of an idea he had a long time ago, and it cost him all IOUs he had with President Garner and other world leaders to make it happen on such short notice. Nonetheless, Max’s algorithms showed that the time was right, as the world looked at them as their saviors. Their public image was at an all-time high. Still, Michael wasn’t so sure that even if they consider them all to be bona fide saints, they would agree with his agenda.

“Max, how’s the attendance?” He asked the AI whose image was on the transporter’s holo-screen.

“Every single leader of the UN is there, and they know that something big is cooking so they didn’t want to be the one to miss out.”

“Great,” Michael murmured.

“Hey, you’re going to do fine—they will not know what hit them. So… break a leg.” Max tried to encourage him.

“All right, stop blowing smoke up my ass, I’m feeling bloated. Let’s get this show on the road,” Michael replied.

In no time, they were approaching the UN building complex; he could see a distinctive line made by the members of the New York Police Department officers, and behind them a virtual sea of news reporters. They didn’t have a clue about what was going on, yet, considering that almost all world leaders were in the building, the media frenzy was unavoidable. The security was bordering on insane and thousands of security officers from all over the world were in New York City. Max had placed five of his satellites above them, just in case. A terrorist attack right now could cause a worldwide crisis.

The transporter landed at the same place as the last time, and Michael, followed by Tyron and Al, got out of it. Members of the press went into a state of hysteria, trying to shout thousands of questions from too far away. Once again, the first person they saw was agent Martin as he stood close to the main entrance, in front of the line of police officers in full riot gear.

“Leader Freeman, nice to see you again,” Martin said.

“Agent Martin, how have you been? I hope everything is in order.” Michael replied, looking at the long line of officers.

“Oh, just fine, and they are there to stop anyone from coming in before being cleared by me. You could say I got a new promotion as an official doorman of the world.” Martin said with a smile. “They’re expecting you in a few minutes.”

When he entered the building, he felt like every single UN officer in the world was inside, and among them the one he remembered from the last time. Mr. Arnold Feuer, the man in charge, who Michael last saw running away as fast as he could, to escape the bomb inside. He gave the man a small nod and the security officer looked at the floor, not being able to meet his gaze. Michael shrugged his shoulders and proceeded inside.

The Solarian Union was not yet a member of the UN, and if it were up to Michael, it would be a long time before they joined. It was too much of a hassle, yet, the veto power could save him some additional headaches in the future. If things progressed as he hoped, they would be required to have some presence here. He wondered if he could persuade Jack to take on that role. The fact that all member states had gathered here in an impromptu emergency special session, spoke volumes about the future Solarian influence on all of their lives.

He stood before the doors of the General Assembly Hall, waiting to be called to speak as this meeting was not open to the public. It barely took a few minutes before the man in a black suit opened the door and said, “Leader Freeman, if you will follow me, they’re expecting you.”

Michael entered the hall, and immediately hundreds of eyes were turned in his direction. Tyron and Al had to wait outside, and for a moment, he wanted to trade places with one of them, but that was only a fleeting fantasy. The President of the General Assembly announced him, and repeated that they were holding this meeting at the Solarian Union request.

He stood there looking at the sea of faces, all intensely focused on him. There was so much real power concentrated in this hall, he could feel it as a pressure wave. For all that, procrastinating was not something he would allow himself to do here—he had things to sell.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for agreeing to come back here on such a short notice, but it was necessary. We of the Solarian Union deemed that what we are about to discuss is too important for the future and advancement of our race. I am not used to these kinds of meetings, so excuse me if I unintentionally break some of your protocols.”

Michael looked down at a few papers he prepared, really a handwritten list of things he needed to tell them.

“In a nutshell, the Solarian Union wants to offer you a trade, in the true sense of that word. There is something that we want, and there are many things that we are prepared to give you in exchange for that. So, before I tell you what we need from you, let me show you what we are ready to put on the table.”

Max had made a presentation that started playing on the big monitors so everyone could clearly see.

The first item was the International Space Station 2, and all the amenities and advantages it provided. It was offered for all countries to use, without paying anything for it. The S.U. would be responsible for its maintenance, and they will even provide regular transportation to and from the station. The benefits for all were immense, especially now when the first one was a bunch of scrap that Max planned to use as a museum piece. Even those countries that had never had any space presence would have an opportunity to be on even footings with everybody else. Michael saw the glee in their eyes the moment he said free of charge.

Next was a long list of composite materials that would revolutionize several industries. Unbreakable glass, super-strong light alloys, transparent metals, were no more than a few of the things on the list. Max had pulled some formulas from the Knowledge Vault and they represented literal leaps of progress in material sciences.

When he said that they would make the CEI technology available to the world, the murmur in the hall grew much stronger. What he failed to mention was that those would not be CEI implants that Solarians had, but modified—light versions. Much easier to install, and as there was no need for them to control medical nanites, the required processing power was down by orders of magnitude.

He offered medical and life-prolonging treatments that made a bunch of old men in the audience spontaneously start clapping. By Max’s prognosis, a normal human life should be extended for at least fifty years, using the AutoDocs and gene therapy that Atlanteans and angels developed thousands of years ago.

Easily accessible satellite communication for all people on earth, with unlimited Internet bandwidth, again received ovations. The list went on, with some minor things, and then finally Michael offered the last item; it was the one that silenced the entire hall—free energy.

It was something Max found while searching through the FBI classified records, and they were obliging enough to transfer them all into digital media some years ago. In that sea of buried secrets, he discovered Nikola Tesla’s plans and formulas for wireless energy transfer. The man was a Serbian-American engineer and inventor, one of the brightest minds humanity ever produced. He was known for inventing the radio, alternating current, Neon lamps, wireless remote control, AC Motor, and a multitude of other inventions. Yet, the wireless energy transfer was something he never made into a reality; he even built a Wardenclyffe Tower on Long Island in 1901, to test his theory. Unfortunately, the funds ran out and the whole idea had to be scrapped. The man had not much of a business sense; if he had cashed in all his patents, he could have been the richest man on Earth. Instead, he died alone, in a hotel room—in abject poverty.

Max took those plans, and with the help of Ben’s scientific contingent, massively improved them. A fleet of satellites, placed in orbit with enormous solar collectors, could harness the abundant energy of the Sun, and then send it towards the Earth, energizing it. That way an electric car would not even need batteries; all compatible devices would always have power, directly from utilizing Earth’s energized magnetic field. The Solarian Union would provide the entire infrastructure, and supply the energy. Moreover, the best thing of all was no more CO2 emissions; that would make Greenpeace ecstatic. An entire global warming problem could be given a stake through the heart.

For a few seconds, the silence ruled, and then a true bedlam began. Every single representative was trying to ask a question, while the President of the General Assembly was banging on his gavel, asking for peace and order, and not getting any results. It took more than ten minutes for all the representatives to calm down and a semblance of order to be brought to the hall.

Michael stood there, unmoving, riding the storm and waiting for the question to be asked. As soon as the room was somewhat quiet, it arrived.

“Leader Freeman,” the President addressed him directly. “All these things you offered today would individually be a great boon to the people of Earth. Medical and life-extension therapy, not to mention CEI implants will bring great changes in our societies. I cannot even begin to imagine the ramifications of free energy. There is no one among us who would not want to have such benefits for their people. Yet, I must ask… what the Solarian Union wants in return?”

Michael looked at hundreds of faces in the hall that were completely focused on him. He felt an eerie feeling under the intensity of their gazes. There was something predatory in them, mixed with greed and want in their expressions. For a moment, he considered telling a joke and asking them for their firstborns. The scary thing was that he wasn’t so sure all of them would refuse him. Then he grew serious and followed the script they prepared.

“Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, we are prepared to offer you giant technological and medical leaps, which will help you resolve so many problems your people face each and every day. However, we ask for something that by our estimate is of equal value.”

He paused and took a deep breath.

“In exchange, we ask for the continent of Antarctica.”