Free Mobius by Vincent Vale Page A

out a signal to abandon ship. Such an alert, however, came too late, and the station vanished into the brown and beige turbulence of Jupiter’s upper atmosphere.
    The recordings ended and I stood silent. I lost everything—my life’s work, my friends and co-workers, and Atticus, the closest person to a father I’d ever known.
    What is this cruel force working against me? I could only painfully wonder.
    Allienora seemed unusually cold. “Once your arm has been replaced, you’ll be brought before a panel of officials for an inquiry.”
    “I don’t understand. Are you suggesting I’m somehow responsible for this?”
    “Due to a case of blood poisoning from the shrapnel lodged in your now-amputated arm, you’ve been unconscious for a week. During this time, we’ve discovered that just before the sabotage, you invited a man named Sensimion aboard the Brahman Station and gave him the access codes to the entire facility. This man was the reported leader of a rogue group that has assassinated various members of Earth’s government.”
    “Jesus Christ! Why would I help sabotage my life’s work? You’re wrong about Sensimion and his motives aboard the station.”
    Allienora held up her hand. “Save your defense for the inquiry. Until then, you’ll remain in this room.”
    I couldn’t believe what she was implying. “And where the fuck is this room, Madam Prime Minister?”
    “We’re in a secret undersea military base just beyond the flooded ruins of Old New York City, off the coast of North America.” Allienora signaled to one of her personal guards, who had been watching on from just outside the doorway. “Get this man some clothes. We can’t have him in his underwear during the inquiry.”

    After a week of being held like a prisoner, my replacement arm finally reached full maturity. After the surgery, I lay on my hospital bed, still drunk from the anesthesia. The simulacrum began fitting a rehabilitation mesh onto my new arm.
    “Must you do this now?” I slurred.
    It didn’t respond and continued its task while reciting instructions for the rehabilitation mesh. Midway through its instruction, the simulacrum became oddly still. Its eyes, which were filled with the murk of a thoughtless drone, became clear.
    It looked at me with new spirit and spoke: “Theron Mobius, my time is brief, so listen carefully. As we speak, a fleet of one hundred and twelve Obelisks head for Earth.”
    “Who are you?” I sat up on elbows. “What do you mean Obelisks?”
    “They may be ships, they may be weapons, they may be something else. We’re uncertain. However, we believe the Fume controls them. It’s essential you get to these coordinates within four days.” The simulacrum repeated a set of numbers two times. “If you don’t, you’ll be damned with the rest of the Earth’s population to an unknown and possibly unfavorable fate.”
    “I don’t know who you are, but I’m a prisoner in this place. I’m not going anywhere. They think I’m responsible for the destruction of the Brahman Station.”
    “My leader, Sensimion, knew otherwise, as do I. Go to the underwater launching bay of this base. It should become active when they learn of the inbound Obelisks. One more thing...” The simulacrum reached under the hospital bed and revealed a hidden hypo-injector. It then grabbed me by the neck and injected me with its full dose.
    “Motherfucker!” I screamed. “What the hell was that?”
    “Trust no one save your eyes.”
    Before I could further question the simulacrum about the glowing silver content of the hypo-injector, it stepped into its holding cistern. The nano-intelligent matter of the simulacrum deconstructed itself into its viscous pre-form.

    I rested for another three days in the hospital room. Instead of finding revitalization, I grew ill. My arms were weak and heavy, my face was pale and ghostly, and my brain ached with the sensation of a hundred piercing needles.
    What the hell was in that