Chapter One - Part Two

"John, can you move? We got to get moving now!"

The signs of destruction were everywhere. A troop transport was almost completely shredded to pieces; the front was ablaze. The injured walked around almost silently, in shock of the bomb that had ripped apart a beautiful day under the clear, pink sky. An old man just sat on the curb staring blankly at the carnage, missing the hand on his left arm. Many of the nearby buildings remained intact (right along with the "Terrestrials Go Home" and Ian-ite names graffiti), though glass was everywhere.

A man in a red uniform with a bloody gash on his forehead approached a thin, red-headed woman in another red uniform who was trying to use a radio. He was yelling something at her as she pleaded with both him and the person on the other end of the radio. The ringing from the blast must be keeping...

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!

John Thompson seemed to have that same nightmare at least once a month for the last ten years. Every time he woke up from that dream, he had the exact same solution, have a sip of whiskey. It never made the flashbacks go away, but it never hurt either.

John got out of bed only to find that his sandals were no where to be found.

"That's just great."

It was time for John to wake up anyway if he wanted to be on the job on time. He found his nearly empty bottle of Irish Whiskey. Produced locally, John thought proudly. With a little extra courage to face the Monday, he went to take one of the few nice pleasures he had left in life: a nice, warm shower. Though he always seemed to rush out the door in the morning, he always took his time in the shower, enjoying every minute of it. Not to mention, that it still to a few minutes for the water to heat up to his optimum temperature. For John Thompson, his daily routine not only got him cleaned physically for the day, but it washed away all the thoughts that tormented his sleep.

While his nightmares were usually things to be dreaded, they usually woke him up a little earlier than John normally would have. This extra bit of time afforded him a rare pleasure: a chance to eat breakfast and to watch the morning news. True, John was now 32, but he still liked the childish goodness that is Mike's Sugar Flakes. After pouring himself a bowl, he sat down at his kitchen table and turned on the TV.

"...story this morning is the bombing overnight at a Terraforming Station at Apollinaris. Thirty workers are reported to have been killed, with as many as 200 injured. We have our Gusev Bureau Chief at the site of the explosion..."

"...Environment of Mars does not need to be fixed. The Green Party was entrusted with fixing the environment of Earth more than a century and a half ago, and they provided nothing but death and destruction in return and ended up screwing up the Earth's environment worse than it was. History is filled with the billions of victims of those butchers. The people of Earth may have been fooled into letting them back into power, but we will not be..."

On second thought, it was probably just better to eat his breakfast in silence. Next to his TV was his medal stand, trophies from a past life. A life he probably would rather forget, but always seemed to rear up at the worst moments. Even if the powers that be thought his actions were those of a brave soldier who merited commendations and medals, not a scared young man who kissed the ground every day he remained alive.

The ground was moist as John left his apartment as he went to work. It must have rained overnight. Of course, real rain doesn't fall in the Gish Bar Arcology. The occasionally variations in the climate apparently are psychologically important, so fake weather is generated to simulate the effect. Now though, the sky was clear with a crescent Jupiter on the eastern horizon. On one of those rare occasions, standard time morning actually corresponded to morning at Gish Bar.

The main square of the Gish Bar was bustling in the morning with people going to work or going to school. Kids were everywhere, obviously in a good spirits as the end of the school year neared. Most were playing the latest craze, a form of neural network wrestling. Good thing school can shut those off when kids get to class. Work in Gish Bar usually meant the Doute-Lopes Mine on the north side of the mountain out toward Estan.

Luckily, John owned one of the few, non-mining related businesses in Gish Bar, an adventure travel company. People from across the Solar System, particularly whales from Earth, flock to Io to see its amazing natural treasures, whether it be climbing a 17,000 meter tall mountain or getting up close with an erupting volcano. Io has no limit to its potential as a tourist mecca. Not to mention that Io's political climate is a bit more stable than Mars, which has only recently seen a boom in its tourism industry after the troubles of a decade ago.