Fate of Terra

Chapter 12.1 - Adaptation

Stacey finished her morning report with her usual brisk efficiency, "And finally, you're due to attend a meeting with the Council at noon today and then we'll test the new world wide broadcast network by giving an address while the shield portion of the Aegis defence system is active. The Council's invited you to say a few words when they say their piece."

Michael gave a slight nod, seated across from her next to the bath. The place had quite a few new features as it had become the meeting place for him and the various department heads first thing in the morning and then again for a nightly recap of events. Aki was standing behind his seat, fixing his hair, having taken over the task of making him look presentable. Her expert fingers massaged his scalp and he groaned at the blissful feeling she induced.

He was impressed with how far she'd come in the past few months. Not only had Aki designed all the uniforms for the crew, she's begun her own clothing line that was taking off down on Earth. She was a godsend when it came to helping Michael out in the looks department. He often joked he needed all the help he could get, much to the scornful rebukes of those closest to him. Internally he knew he wasn't a 'bad-looking' guy, but he'd never thought of himself as Time Magasine's 'Man-of-the-Year' either. It was also important for him to remember that he represented close to a quarter million people on the ship and around the world. Aki had taken care of problems he didn't even know he had.

Michael gave a final nod and reclined into his seat to allow Aki access to his neck with her blade. Once the last of the lather had been flicked free and the mild sting of the aftershave had worn off, he reached out and ran his fingers through the girl's hair, letting her know he was pleased with the job she'd done. His mind thought to her sister and how well Rin was progressing on the ship and had to admit she impressed him every bit as much as her twin.

Where Aki was happy to let her creative inspirations lead her down a more artful, innocent path, Rin was a down-to-Earth thinker. Michael knew she was just as smart as him and probably twice as determined. Many of the projects and innovations his science and engineering divisions were working on had come from her. She usually spent a good portion of her day down in the AI labs with Tanya, Isaac, and Serkiss coming up with new and better inventions, many of which were going to be used in the upcoming conflict.

Michael stood and kissed each girl before he headed out the hatch, draping his uniform jacket over one shoulder. After waking up the other girls, they all headed down to the mess for breakfast. He'd gotten a feel for who regularly showed up and noticed that Marcus was missing for the third straight morning. 'Must be getting serious about that barista up on oh-deck,' He thought to himself amusedly.

Oh-deck, or Deck Zero, on the Intrepid was the centre level that had the beach area, Reception Hall, and most of the shops and restaurants. Levels above the deck were numbered positive, with most of the sublevels making up the Hangars, Brig, Mess, Training Centre for the Marines, Engineering Department, along with the cloning-farming areas.

After reviewing a new type of explosive round for the Rail-Guns, Michael and Kat boarded a shuttle and went down to New York, the current home of the Council of Terra, actually housed in the old UN building. They were then escorted, amidst nervous glances thrown towards their own armored security, to a meeting room occupied by the thirteen seats that made up the Council.

The members barely gave Kat a second glance, having become used to his ever-present shadow. There was a pulsating feeling of dread that hung almost oppressive in the air. Michael saw these men and women looking at him with mixed expressions. Some contained hope or distrust, others envy or something affiliated with reverence or awe... All looked to him to lead the effort. Micheal knew each member had their own agendas, but they knew that the coming battle would decide their own existence.

They still maintained that he should open up all of his capabilities to them and yet, there were those that trusted him more than they did other members of the Council. Michael was the teeth behind the Council's threats, but they knew no one was exempt from his decisions... not even them. In a way, having someone with no political interests or leanings carry the 'big-stick' was a boon to Earth's development. Everyone, from self-serving politicians to radical extremists, followed the rules and tried not to make waves. No-one talked about what had happened to the Brazilian Councilmember or his entire family genetic. Pan hadn't taken kindly to the poisoning attempt slipped into Micheals drink. It didn't matter to her that the Nanites in his system nullified the Nerve-Agent meant to frame the Russian Councilwoman, someone had threatened Micheal, and that was all the excuse she needed.  

Michael knew that once the B'Amuf threat was over there would probably be a huge movement against him, but for now, they needed him. He eased himself into the leather chair at the circular table. Kat ignored the one provided for her and made herself comfortable in his lap. The Council members studied the two, all thinking similar thoughts: 'What are they? Some say they can't be killed. What did they do to themselves? Are they still human? Are we making a terrible mistake by trusting them? And what about that AI he controls...'

Michael draped his right arm around Kat and rapped the table's surface with the knuckles on his left. "So," He began with his usual directness, "The probes we sent out show the B'Amuf fleet is a little more than a week out. It's unlikely, but they might speed up for whatever reason so, accounting for a buffer, we should have all our main elements in place by Thursday."

The Councilman from China grimaced at Michael's idea of 'we,' knowing he alone controlled all the probes and thus, all the information outside their solar system, but asked, "How are we going to split our forces?"

Shrugging, Michael said, "Let's skip the part where I tell you I won't follow your Admiral and you tell me the same. I'm sure your best military strategists have come up with a million and one simulations and ways to use your ships, but they aren't familiar with the capabilities of mine. All of our intelligence says they won't split their forces. Thus, I'd say a two-pronged attack, oriented with Earth lying between us far behind, should be ideal."

The French Councilman piped up, "What if they try to run between the two arms and head straight for Earth. We already know that complete annihilation is their goal."

The Russian Councilmember, an unlikely heavy supporter of Micheal, gave a snort. "Then, unless our timing is complete failure," She stated in a heavy accent, "They get shredded, only to run into the defence force. Da, 'tis good plan." Her nod seemed to solidify in her own mind the benefits of Micheals idea, before asking, "How far out do we engage?"

"Just outside the orbital plane of Mars," Michael answered.

"That close?" President Whitmore asked curiously, not condemning the idea, just wishing to know why.

Michael explained, "I have a few surprises waiting for them around the asteroid belt. And my people have crunched the numbers and the further out we close, the more likely they are to spread out and the easier it'll be for them to widen their lines with their superior numbers."

"Just how superior are they?" The British Councilwoman questioned. "I've seen the footage but I don't believe I know the exact count."

"We're looking at close to five thousand Capital Ships, twenty thousand Destroyers, with somewhere between seventy-five thousand and a hundred thousand Shuttle-Attack craft hybrids," Michael said without looking up from the table.

The quiet was deafening. The Councilwoman from India sputtered, "Th-that much?!" Micheal winced at her shrill. "But that's more than three times our number of Capital Ships and Destroyers, and more than five to seven times the number of fighters!"

Michael gave a shrug. "Our ships are better, our people are smarter, and we have the home field advantage."

"That's easy to say for you," The Nigerian Councilman snapped, "Some of us have to actually worry about the number of causalities we lose. Our ships have people in them!" He looked around feverishly, "Are you sure you can't just-"

"No!" The Chinese, British, and Russian members all shouted at once. The Russian Councilwoman continued, "We must know our capabilities." Pointing across the table to Michael, she said, "If he leave after the fight for their home, we must know we can defend ourselves. Also this, but the B'Amuf aren't only aggressive ones in galaxy. What happens if race shows up that A.I. can't penetrate?" She slammed a palm down on the table. "We have to know!"

Councilman Whitmore spoke in the silence that followed, "So... One week. One week until we see if we're really better than those space slugs. May God help us." He rapped the table and sighed before turning to Michael and saying, "I'll get with Admiral Johnson and see you get the formation details. Will you be joining us for the address this afternoon?"

Michael turned to Kat and she nodded her head. She leaned in to him and murmured, "You're going to take up the mantle of command and represent humanity among the stars. I think it's time you let people know what they're fighting for." Michael stared into her eyes and fell in love with her all over again. She was the one who had always believed he was destined for greatness, even when he'd been some nobody in high school. She'd stood by his side through it all, never doubting, always supportive. He gave a quick nod to Councilman Whitmore and gathered Kat in his arms, striding out of the room with her at his side.

They didn't make it far, Kat huddled against his chest, armoured troopers hurrying after them. When they reached the shuttle, Michael ordered everyone out and set her down on a seat. Kneeling in front of her, he leaned in and kissed her, the scorching heat of her soft, succulent lips overwhelming his senses. He gave a soft chuckle, resting his head on her shoulder, "You drive me crazy..."

Kat wrapped her arms around his neck. "Then I must be doing something right," She laughed before pointedly asking, "Do you know what you're going to say?"

Michael stared out the window and sighed, depressing the button to alert the pilot of where he wanted to go. As the last letter left his lips, the shuttle began to lift off on its own accord. 

The pilot scrambled to her chair yelling, "Shit! I hate it when she does that..." Pandora's musical laughter floated through the speakers.

* * * * *

Michael, Kat, and the small squad of Ex-SAS and Navy SEAL members made their way down the ramp and into the loud, hazy chaos that was the Detroit steel mills. The city had fallen hard when all the manufacturing companies had deserted them to find cheaper labour in China and Mexico. Now, there was a sudden need for the city's processing and construction capabilities with the planet desperately trying to mobilize and mechanize.

The proud city was once again experiencing a boom as millions of workers flooded hundreds of factories. For security reasons, the Council had decided that all missiles, reactor technology, gun batteries, and SLM (superluminal) drives shouldn't be distributed to the world en masse. It would make it too easy for terrorists to get a hold of them or for some ambitious group to start their own private army to which Michael saw the irony.

Thus, these factories were pushing out countless munitions and components a day. Spaceships would wait out over the lake and come into newly erected dry docks to be equipped. There weren't actually smokestacks and smog-filled skies due to the newly developed reactors, but the effect was no less impressive. Massive lasers shaped the metal, lighting up the sky for miles around. If the assembly lines of Henry Ford had been impressive, the man himself would berate himself for his lack of ambition in comparison to what Micheal and the Council had instigated.

The air rang with the sound of hundreds of missiles being capped every minute, the hum of reactors signalling new ships coming to life, and the grinding of heavy machinery moving, building, moulding. Detroit had been severely limited in the space they could use to expand. Unfazed, the industrious people simply went 'up.' 

Walking between skyscrapers and hangar bays large enough to house thousands of fighters at once, Michael could feel the blood, sweat, and tears these people were putting into their work. Having access to fully automated factories, he thought it was important for him to remind himself of what people were willing to sacrifice for their beliefs, their freedom, their lives. He needed to see first-hand and never forget that the ones in the cockpits weren't the only ones fighting... 

As one denizen of Detriot put it best, "The politicians can be the brains and the soldiers will always be the blood, but us here, doing this..., we're the soul. We're the ones that give the fighters something to fight for, that give the brains something to think about. Without us, their is no Terra." 

Witnessing Earth's might in action gave Micheal chills, made him proud to call himself human.

As the party toured the immense complex, word spread that Michael had arrived. People gathered wherever he went, waving and cheering at him as he passed. He was shocked. In a way, this trip was supposed to be a kind of penance for not doing more for humanity. He'd expected these people to hate him. Here they were, putting in an amount of effort that would have staggered the most vicious overseer and yet his factories in space were still outpacing them by a wide margin that was only growing larger.

He'd expected people to rage at him for not simply sharing his AI capabilities and making their lives easier. He watched as a grizzled old engineer in full 'grease monkey' attire pushed past the armored troopers and made his way to a hydrogen-powered mechanical suit and began hefting ready-made components together with a speed and skill that would have challenged his construction bots. The man looked to be at least seventy years old. Michael realized he probably wasn't ever going to retire. Rather, he would die with a tool in his hand and be happy for it.

He looked out at the plant with a new respect towards the workers. One of the black clad men in the security detail cleared his throat and said, "My old man is a worker here. He says that no one from the Council has ever visited here before. He likes his job. He's glad for the work and is proud to be of service, but he says sometimes he wonders if they appreciate what he's doing. This is probably the first time anyone of any importance has visited them."

Kat leaned into Michael and whispered in his ear to be heard above the din, "Look at them. Their backs get straighter when they see you watching." Seeing him grimace at her words and knowing him well enough to read his mind she chastised him, "They don't hate you. They're thankful that you've brought back their livelihood. They're grateful for the reactors and the technology you provided to get this place running. Hell, after this visit, they might even love you."

Seeing that her lover was still being difficult, Kat's hand shot out and gripped the point of his chin, turning him to stare into her gleaming emeralds. "They are as proud a people as you will ever find and they respect you for recognizing their worth. You're an inspiration to them. This is the power you wield now. This is what you will use to shape the galaxy."

Michael shuddered at the words she uttered with boundless conviction and he said in a voice clogged with unshed emotion, "B-but it's them that inspire me." When Kat's eyes softened in understanding she let her lips curl into a serene smile. Looking around at the scene above, around and beyond him, Micheal said, "It's them who make me fight. They humble me with their earnest work and devotion. It is they who we 'should' be fighting for. What they represent is more holy and righteous than any mosque or temple that has ever been built. They are the proof that even had I not intervened, Earth would have survived. It would have lived on... They'd have made sure of it."

Unknown to Michael at the time, a journalist from Detroit had finally made her way down to the steel mills, hearing talk of an important visitor. She managed to capture Michael's words from a distance on her receiver mic. Frankly, this shouldn't have been possible due to the jamming devices they had about their persons, but Pandora had made the decision to help her master.

Later that night, the journalist would clean up the background noise and find the gold mine of all sound bites. His words would be replayed around the world and Detroit would eventually erect a statue in his honour. The Council would formally apologize for not recognizing their deeds and it would then become a tradition for every new member elected to office to make a pilgrimage to the steel mills to give thanks and honour their sacrifice.

Back onboard the Shuttle, Kat nonchalantly walked to the Cockpit and sat on the sexy Co-Oilot's lap as the craft fired up. Her name turned out to be Eliza and she was gorgeous with caramel skin and a glossy sheen of black silky hair. Ignoring her flustered protests, Kat began whispering into Eliza's ear. In under two minutes the poor girl was flushed red and panting heavily.

She offered no resistance when the dark red-haired she-devil began exploring her body with what felt like a dozen hands. Kat spent a considerable amount of time fondling her cute B-cup tits. Giving the girl a heated kiss, she kept pulling back slightly, slowing drawing Eliza out of her chair. When her eyes widened and Eliza realized what she had done, she blushed even deeper and made to sit down again.