Waking in the Stars (Marston Chronicles Book 2)

by D Patrick Wagner

  “If there is a rainy season,” answered her uncle while he wiped his forehead with a bandana. “Don’t worry. Your father knows what he is doing.”

  “Yes. But I don’t know if even he can clean up this backwater town.”

  “Probably not. This is their home, not ours. Besides, you can always visit me at Latinia.”

  “That’s all I need, being ogled by a bunch of testosterone-laden, tough wanna-be’s.”

  “Hey, your grandmother came from Latinia.”

  “Yeah. And she was tougher than anyone I’ve ever met, except for Father.”

  “He sure took after his mom, alright. So do you. With your father and you leading, we’ll get through this. We just need to stick to the plan.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You won’t be stuck on this rock.”

  “Don’t be so negative. You’ll be hopping between here, Latina and Sanctuary. Maybe even the shipyard. Besides, you’ll be working your ass off. You won’t have time to worry about the luxuries of life.” Shelly said the last with a laugh.

  By the time the Gregor team arrived at Decker’s Supply, they all smelled of heat and sweat. Lawrence Gregor led the entrance with his daughter and cousin close behind. Sean Miller and Patricia Grey came next, followed by Donald Thomas and Anthony Blandini. They all visibly relaxed as they got hit with the cold, conditioned air. Looking around, they took in the large, warehouse-like interior, stacked from floor to ceiling with all of the supplies needed to keep a planet running.

  Pulling ahead of the group and approaching the counter, Lawrence saw two men huddled over and discussing something. Harriet quickened her pace and caught up with her father.

  “Gentlemen,” Gregor began.

  The man behind the counter straightened up and stuck out a hand. “You must be Mr. Gregor. Shar commed me. Said you were coming. I’m John Decker. Call me Deek. I own this place.”

  “And six others just like it,” chimed in the other man. “You want anything, anywhere on Tolimar, you talk to this miscreant.” He jabbed a thumb at John, then himself. “I’m Randy Roth.”

  Gregor shook first Decker’s hand then Randy’s. Call me Lawrence. This is my daughter, Harriet.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Randy touched his wide-brimmed hat as he gave a slight nod. I go by Randy.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Randy.” Harriet looked him up and down. She stood five foot, ten inches in her stocking feet. In her walking shoes she approached six feet, even. The Roth man stood a head taller, with the same rangy build as his father. A clichéd plaid shirt stretched across his chest. Long, bare arms displayed cords of muscle and sinew. Large, rough hands with long fingers bespoke of the hard work they performed. Narrow hips and thick legs stretched his denim jeans. Riding boots finished the picture of someone straight out of an old western video. Looking at his waist, she saw that he even packed a gun, a revolver by the looks of it.

  “We walked your main street. Very down-to-earth, very rural.”

  “Yup,” Randy replied. “We like simple. That’s why most of us are here.”

  “You live here all your life?” Harriet asked.

  “Born and raised. Spent eight years in the marines. Corpsman. Got a lot of medical training as well as combat experience. And it paid for four years on Olympia, getting a degree in agricultural biology. Except for those years, I’ve been here.”

  “You’re enhanced, then,” Lawrence stated.

  “Yup. But the computer’s bricked.” Randy tapped his chest where the Federacy had implanted the processor. “So it doesn’t do me any good.”

  Patricia and Lawrence passed a look. She remembered when she had un-bricked Marston’s computer. He thought along the same lines. “Are there any more military on Tolimar?”

  “Lots. Place seems to be a magnet for those fed up with all that corporate play and politics. Looks like Tolimar got a reputation for the simple life. Lots of folks like it.”

  “Ready-made army,” Gregor thought.

  “Your father said you’d give us the tour, see the sights.”

  “Nothing really to see. You saw Main Street. The big businesses have their buildings over there, South Street. Nothing to write home about. I got the supplies ordered. A crew is taking them back to the ranch. We could go there, see how us country folk live.”

  “Sounds good. Lead on.” Gregor knew that the more they learned about Tolimar, the easier it would be to settle.

  Randy again touched his hat, slightly nodded and headed out the door. Deek watched as the Gregor group followed. He watched through the door as they all piled into the large van parked out front.

  * * * * *

  After everyone settled in, Harriet took over and did the introductions, naming everyone onboard, along with their titles and responsibilities. Randy turned in his seat, nodded and shook all the hands he could reach. After the introductions, he started up the van and pulled away from the curb.

  As they left the city and drove the open range, Randy kept up a monologue of the surroundings. “This planet is a little warmer than Earth normal. So the surface is dryer at sea level. But we have a pretty good-sized mountain range to the north that sees snow in the winter. Storms accumulate at the peaks year-round. So we have a constant source of rain water coming off the slopes. The runoff consolidates and flows into one big river, the Lange Fluss. Yup, it’s a hokey name, German for Long River, but that’s what the original settlers called it. It’s got two forks, the East and West. When the Roth ancestors first staked out the ranch, they made sure the West Lange Fluss ran right through the middle. The east fork feeds into Erstadt.” He jerked a thumb back towards the town.

  “The trip will take about an hour and a half. The last hour is all on the Ranch. You’ll see that it’s almost all prairie land, with natural watering holes and man-made troughs pretty much scattered about. We sit on a huge aquifer and have wells that reach deep and keep everything hydrated.”

  “We’re on our land, now. Up on that rise, you can see one of our herds. There’s about five thousand head of cattle in that one herd. We’re about ready to cull it some for processing. We’ve got ten more herds just like it.”

  “That’s a lot of cattle for Tolimar’s population.”

  “You’re right, Mr. Thomas. And that’s just us. There are around sixty, seventy other cattle ranches and dairy farms scattered about the planet. It’s not just for Tolimar. We package and sell all over the Federation. Naturally one of our main customers is Latinia, them being the closest. We do a lot of business with Mr. Moreno, but we kind of keep that a secret. We, along with the other ranchers, sell all the way to Cencore. I guess our beef has gotten the reputation of being pretty high quality.”

  “How many people have you got working your ranch?” Gregor asked, thinking about the coming army.

  “We have five man crews, three shifts working each herd. That’s about a hundred and fifty. Then we have the field maintenance crew that rotates in and out of herd management. That’s another fifty. We own the local processing plant. Another thirty. Domestic laborers and general household repairs, another ten. Close to three hundred people, there abouts. Plus all of their families. Our little town has close to seven hundred people, all told.”

  “How many ex-military?”

  “Not sure. Maybe half. A little more. You need to talk to Charlie. He’s in charge of personnel. He can give you the real numbers. I’m just the foreman around here. He gives me the people and I keep them all digging in the right direction.”

  “That’s what Mr. Miller and Harriet do. And a lot better than I would.”

  “My dad tries to sling the same load, Mr. Gregor. I don’t believe him, either,” Randy said with a smile.

  Throughout the trip, Harriet stared out the window, at the barren, strangely beautiful landscape. Periodically she would spy a natural watering hole, a mini-oasis. Bushes would surround the pond, sucking life-giving moisture from the damp soil. At one, a majestic oak had taken root and spread its giant b
ranches over the water, giving shelter from Tolimar’s sun. In between the pockets of life rolled miles and miles of plains. Golden calf-high grasses rippled like waves on a sea as the hot Tolimar winds blew in swirls and gusts. “Different, but beautiful,” she thought.

  Watching, the Gregor daughter caught sight of some kind of dog skulking across a rise. “Randy, what’s that, to your right, on that hill?”

  “That’s a coyote. After the terra-forming, many frozen embryos from Earth made the trip and were resuscitated here. From our history books, the planet most matches a southwest area of the old United States, two states called New Mexico and Colorado. Apparently those two states had a large mountain range and prairies at the base. So the scientists decided to populate the planet with the same plants, animals, fish, birds, insects and what have you. Anything that was indigenous to those regions. That critter, the coyote, is a breed of canine. They’re cowards. They aren’t a threat to cattle. Chickens, pigs, that’s another story. In the mountains, there’re wolves. Those are a whole different game. When the winters get bad in the mountains and food gets scarce, they come down in packs and attack whole herds. We have to double our wranglers and arm them with heavy-bore rifles or we’d lose a lot of beef. Some ranches have even lost men to a pack of wolves.”

  Harriet shuddered. “Give me the big city any day. At least we know the predators there are the two-legged kind.”

  “Not me. I had enough of those varmints.” Just as he made this pronouncement they crested a hill and Randy pulled to a stop. “All out. Stretch your legs. I’ll describe what ya’ all are seeing.”

  Everyone piled out, stood on the crest and stared at the valley below. Tolimar’s main river cut a swath down its center. On the far side stood an enclave of buildings bracketed by a large walled estate with multiple mansions on the left and a group of multi-storied buildings on the right.

  “That’s the homestead,” Randy began. “The big house, there, in the middle of that walled area, is the family mansion. It’s about three hundred years old. My home is that one, closest to the employee housing. That’s all those houses in the middle. Almost all of the Roth employees live there. That big building on the right is the meat processing plant. We process all the beef on this continent. The next building is the packaging, storage and freezers. In back of those two are the supplies warehouse and the repair shop. In back of those buildings you can see the pens and stables. We’ve got them separated for beef cattle, dairy cattle, horses and small livestock – pigs, chickens, and work dogs.”

  “That’s quite a layout,” Harriet commented.

  “Yup. Biggest on the planet. Oldest too. You can see the three bridges that cross the river. There’s the private one for the family, one for the townies and the big one for processing. All the heavy equipment uses that one.”

  “Is that farmland on this side of the river?”

  “Only for personal consumption. We don’t compete with Tolimar’s farmers. Our hands are full enough with our cattle industry.

  “What do you do with all the produce and small stock?

  The families take care of the farming, dairy cattle, chickens and pigs. They have a community board that manages that production. Anything they produce, they keep. The board determines how everything is distributed.”

  “How do you stop favoritism, some families getting more than others?” Harriet asked.

  “My sister, Lorna. She’s like you, tough as nails. She oversees the board and distribution center. She runs just about everything that has to do with our little township. That’s the big picture. Let’s go meet some folks.”

  Everyone piled back into the van, Randy fired it up and pulled out. Ten minutes later they reached a three-pronged fork in the road and Randy chose the left-most. Another five minutes and they reached the entrance to the family compound. No gate, just a huge wrought-metal archway with the name ‘Roth’ cut into the steel.

  Continuing through, Randy pulled the van to a stop in front of the largest building, the ancestral family mansion, and climbed out. Pulling open the sliding door, he announced to his passengers, “Welcome to the Roth compound.”

  Aboard Odin

  “Captain Brewer, while we have the time, let’s see if we can capture that alien ship and put it in our hold.” Even in politeness, Vice-Admiral’s requests were actually commands.

  “Yes, sir.” Turning to his communications operator, Odin’s captain ordered, “Mr. Connors, have Major Wilson report to the bridge.”

  Spaceman Connors turned to his task as the Captain turned to his sensor operator. “Mr. Bradley, what is the alien derelict doing?”

  “No energy signatures, no communications of any kind, sir. It’s currently following its original vector, with no deviations.”

  “It’s dead in the water. Is that your assessment?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s free for the plucking.”

  By this time Major Wilson, commander of the Odin security force, arrived on deck, spied Vice-Admiral Weiskoff and braced to attention. “Sir, reporting as ordered, sir.”

  “At ease, Major. We have a task for you and your people. Currently there is a dead alien craft drifting through space. We want it. Form a contingent of marines, requisition a maintenance tug and go get it.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Take a demolition team and have them search the ship for any explosives or booby-traps. Once it is deemed safe, latch on and bring it to a shuttle bay.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Carry on.”

  The Major smartly saluted then exited the bridge, focused on the task at hand.

  Reaching the marine quarters, he saw his marines lacklusterly lounging, playing cards, reading or writing. He could feel the emotional morass of anxiety and helplessness. Major Wilson hoped that this mission would change that. Resolutely, he marched to his Master Sergeant’s office, respectfully knocked on the bulkhead and entered.

  “Nellie, we have a mission.” In private, Major Wilson and Master Sergeant Nelson spoke personally and as friends. “Weiskoff succeeded in taking down one of those alien bug ships. He wants us to go get it.”

  “It’s about damn time we got some action. What’s the plan?”

  Taking the offered seat, “By the book. Full boarding contingent. Bomb disposal. Full inspection, every nook, every corner. Everything recorded. Everyone wears full recording harnesses. If a fly farts, I want it recorded nine different ways from Sunday. Once the ship is secured we’ll use an assault craft to haul it back to Odin, we bring it in, set it down and establish a secure environment.”

  “Consider it done, Paul. When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “On it.”

  Both military men rose and headed towards their respective tasks. Major Wilson refrained from covering his ears as he knew what was coming. Master Sergeant Nelson sucked in a large lungful of air, preparing for his entrance. Once the major reached his office, he again showed restraint and didn’t close the hatch.

  Reaching the center of the marine quarters, the sergeant bellowed, “Alright you good-for-nothing, lazy cupcakes. It’s time for you to earn those credits that the Federacy has so graciously thrown your way. We have a mission. Huddle up!”

  The air of lethargy, of uselessness, popped like a balloon. Marines snapped to attention at the foot of their bunks, clicked eyeballs straight ahead and waited.

  “Vice-Admiral Weiskoff and Captain Brewer have done their jobs. They have rendered one of those alien vessels boardable. And the good captain has bestowed on us the honor of doing just that!” a single, multi-throated shout of ‘hoorah’ reverberated around the marine quarters. “Vacuum suits, full assault packs. Small, medium weaponry. First patrol leads. Second patrol, overwatch and support. Demolition team, prep for forced entry and any kind of destructive device defusing. Four pilots, two for an assault vehicle, two for the breaching craft. Let’s go, people! Wheels up in thirty. Move! Move! Move!”

  Major Wilson watched through his door at th
e resultant organized chaos. Less than thirty minutes later two patrols of hardened marines formed up and stood at attention, fully equipped and dressed out in full harsh-environment armor. After a nod from his Sergeant, Major Wilson marched into the marine quarters, slowly paced the six rows of marines and looked each man and woman up, down and in their eyes. Satisfied at his company’s intensity, he marched to the head of the formation and continued towards the launch bay. The six squads of six determined fighters marched behind, each step a single tromp, disciplined, intent, emphasizing the hunger for prying open one of the cans that had killed one of their own.

  * * * * *

  “Captain Brewer, have your communications establish a conference link with the captains and come to my ready room.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  By the time the vice-admiral reached his ready room and sat at the head of the small conference table, all captains had established their connections and Captain Brewer had taken his usual place at the opposite end.

  “Gentlemen, we are at a cross roads. We stopped the alien’s initial thrust. Those bugs took us too lightly. They had no idea we had a new, experimental weapon. We bloodied their nose, no, we destroyed one of their front-line ships and badly damaged one of their super dreadnaughts, for lack of a better label.”

  Vice-Admiral Weiskoff paused, took a sip of water from the spill-proof mug and continued. “Their last punch showed arrogance, a sense of indestructibility. They attacked with only a small fleet. If they show that same disregard towards us, towards the human race, we will bloody them again. But, if they come in force, we will not be able to stop them. They will roll over our small fleet and we will have spent our lives and material for nothing. And we can’t afford to do that. As we speak, a team of marines is retrieving a derelict bug ship, one we destroyed using our experimental X-cannon. That intel needs to get back to the Federacy. It needs to know what it is fighting.”

  Even though Vice-Admiral Weiskoff had his shortcomings, he did earn his stars. Although his father had helped grease his path, Vice-Admiral Weiskoff did learn and practice what it took to reach his current rank. And now, for the first time in Federacy history, he was forced to take all his training, all his experience and put it to the ultimate test. Now for the first time, Vice-Admiral Weiskoff was tasked with organizing a coming battle against an alien horde bent on destroying the human race.