New Management

DATE: Year 308-B, Sol 450 

LOCATION: Sky City 7 (Venus)

The dive lacked grace. The Mighty Sparrow fell toward the city. Phoenix wrestled the stick, fighting the turbulence. Beside him, Market was unconscious, the glow of his scars fading to a dull color. Bit was strapped into the jump seat, eyes shut, holding his breath.

-Altitude warning, Hap buzzed. Pull up.

At that moment Phoenix regretted adding the co-pilot programming to Hap.

Phoenix slammed the thrusters. The ship groaned, leveling out just meters above the acid rain.

Through the thick yellow fog, the City appeared.

-There, Phoenix said, spotting the flight deck.

It was a cracked slab of concrete jutting out into the clouds.

The Sparrow hit the runway hard, bouncing once before skidding to a halt near the edge.

-We’re alive, Bit whispered.

-Check the scope, Phoenix ordered.

-Clear, Hap said. The Forager broke off pursuit at the cloud layer.

Phoenix exhaled. He popped the hatch seal.

-Let’s go say hello to the neighbors.

They stepped out onto the flight deck. Figures emerged from the shadows of the rusted hangars. Dozens of them. They wore mismatched pressure suits and carried kinetic rifles. Long-term squatters.

They formed a circle around the Sparrow. They looked confused. Their leader, Sky-King P, was gone, sucked out of an airlock in orbit.

A woman with a shaved head and a welding torch strapped to her back stepped forward. She looked at Phoenix, then up at the sky.

-You brought the heat, she said, gesturing to the distant flashes of the orbital battle. And you killed P.

-The King retired, Phoenix said, keeping his hands visible.

-We need food, we need filters, the woman said. And you brought trouble.

She raised her rifle.

-Look up, Phoenix said.

The woman frowned. She looked up.

Breaking through the cloud layer above them was a shadow that blocked out the sun.

The Marley was descending.

It was colossal, a flying mountain of rust and iron. It came down slow, its repulsor engines blowing the acid fog away in a massive circle.

It touched down on the far side of the city, shaking the entire floating platform.

The landing ramp of the Marley lowered.

It was families. Men and women in rags, holding children. And behind them, in the cavernous hold of the freighter, the Squatters saw the cargo.

Crates. Thousands of them.

Marked with the faded logos of the Earth Zionist Movement.

-What is that? the woman asked, lowering her gun.

-That ship was built recolonize Earth, Phoenix said. It’s packed with atmospheric scrubbers. Hydroponic seeds. Fusion batteries. Medical fabricators.

A murmur went through the crowd of squatters. Most of them hadn't seen new tech in generations, even the ones who had been to other settlements on this sky city.

-We have enough soil to grow real food, Phoenix said. Maybe enough supplies to fix some of your domes even.

He looked at the woman.

- They need a place to live, just like you. Just like everyone.

The woman looked at the Marley, then at the starving crowd. She looked at the Sparrow, scarred and burnt. She looked at Bit, who was peeking out from behind Phoenix’s leg, clutching his yellow helmet.

She slung her rifle over her shoulder.

-The settler fees are going to be high, she said gruffly.

-We can pay, Phoenix said. Don’t steal from the refugees.

-Don’t insult me, the woman said. Just get him inside before the rain starts, she said, pointing at the boy.

She knelt down and held out a hand to Bit. You look hungry, little one. We have rice. Real rice.

Bit looked at Phoenix. Phoenix nodded.

Bit took the woman’s hand.

The tension broke. The Squatters moved forward to greet the refugees coming down the ramp.

Phoenix turned back to the dark interior of the Sparrow. It was useless to keep delaying it.

-Hap, he called out. Bring him out.

The massive android ducked its head to clear the airlock.

Cradled in his massive, hydraulic arms, looking like a cyberpunk rag doll, was Himalaya Market.

Market’s suit was torn. His head lolled back, unconscious. The geometric scars on his chest were visible through the rip in his fabric, pulsing with a faint, residual light against the fog.

The crowd coming off the Marley froze. They looked at the boy in the robot's arms.

-Market? a voice cried out. It was the Elder, standing at the base of the Marley’s ramp, clutching his chest.

-He’s alive, a woman screamed.

A wave of sound crashed over the flight deck, joy and disbelief. Hundreds of refugees surged forward, pushing past the confused squatters, reaching out to touch the hem of Market’s suit, to touch the metal legs of the robot carrying him.

For them he’d come back from the dead. They had held a memorial for him in the dark, mourned him as a martyr, and now he had fallen from the sky to lead them to a different promised land.

Phoenix watched them, feeling a cold knot in his stomach. He saw the adoration in their eyes. It was dangerous.

-Back! Phoenix shouted, stepping in front of Hap. Give him air! He’s very sick.

The Squatter woman stepped up beside Phoenix. She looked at Market’s glowing scars, then at the frenzied crowd.

-Clear the path, she bellowed, her voice cutting through the noise. If you want him to live, let him pass.

The crowd parted, shrinking back in awe as the giant robot carried their sleeping prophet toward the city gates.

-Get him to the medical bay, the woman told Phoenix quietly. Before they love him to death.