Having just left an hour ago, the captain skipped his usual ritual and said, “What’s the status?”
Plaas pointed to the center screen. “Captain, we’re an hour from the ship’s last known position. Nothing on RADAR.”
“Debris?” Long suggested.
“Negative, and neither ship is coming up. We did ping a freighter, half hour ago, but her situation was normal, heading toward Luna City without incident.”
“Gone over the horizon?” Long asked.
“That would be my best guess as well,” Plaas said.
“Call Luna City.”
“Devlin, hail the colony,” Plaas ordered.
“Hailing, sir,” Senior Petty Officer Anton Devlin said. “Lunar colony, this is the UNS Lexington. Come in, please.”
A half minute later, he said, “I have them, sir.”
“On speaker,” the captain said.
Devlin nodded.
“This is Captain Long of the UNS Lexington.”
“Hello . . . captain. What can I do for you?” an older male voice said, full of sarcasm.
“You can start by giving me your name, sir,” Captain Long snapped.
“Uh, sure, sure. You can call me Bob. So, like I said, what can I do for you?”
The captain and XO exchanged a frown from across the bridge while every other bridge officer tensed.
“Very well, Bob. We’re responding to a distress call from a freighter, the. . . .”
“Redondo,” the XO whispered.
“. . . Redondo,” Long finished. “Surely Luna City picked up the distress call as well?”
“Can’t say as we did, cap’n,” Bob said. “Possible she was on the other side?”
“You have comm satellites in orbit, Bob,” the captain said, trying to cut the sarcasm from his voice, “equipped with RADAR.”
“Oh, we do?”
The XO laughed. “Sorry, captain, but—”
Long gestured to his comm officer with a swiping thumb at his neck.
Jones said, “Speaker off.”
“What the hell is going on down there?” Long said, his tone furious.
“It’s not military, captain. We have no jurisdiction, and Luna City knows it.”
“Oh, sure they do,” Long said, “until they need the military to step in and save their asses. I don’t buy it.”
“Devlin?”
“Speaker?” Devlin asked.
“No, son, not yet. Listen, I want you to hack into their system and pull the comm and RADAR data for the past nine hours. Can you do that?”
“Absolutely, sir. That will take . . . just a minute. . . .”
“In the meantime,” Long said, “bring Bob back online.”
“. . . what the military wants with us here, but like I said, we—”
“Luna City, are you claiming to have no record of the Redondo on your sensors, and no comm traffic from a certain Captain . . . Merrick Lucas?”
“Look,” Bob said, his voice thick with condescension, “there has been no Redondo in or out of port today. Last I seen her was about . . . six months ago. Can’t help you, captain.”
Jones shut off the audio and said, “He’s lying, sir.”
Plaas swiftly walked to the comm station, “Are you sure, Devlin?”
“Absolutely, sir. Right here in their comm log and RADAR log.”
“Speaker,” the captain ordered.
“Luna City has terminated the connection,” Jones said. “Network also severed!”
“Battle stations,” the captain ordered.
The alert claxon sounded and cycled. “Alert. General quarters. All crew to their assigned battle stations. This is not a drill.”
“Get Rox and Buck up here on the double,” Long ordered.
The XO nodded to Jones, who hit the intra-ship button, then Plaas said, “Commander Baldwin-Garner, Commander Pierce, report to the bridge.”
“Reporting,” Marjorie said from the left rear door.
To his credit, Pierce came jogging through the door ten seconds later, despite coming from the troop barracks. “Pierce here.”
Long waved them over to the right front screen in front of the XO’s station. “Something is going on at Luna City,” Long said. “We’re going to investigate. I want fighters prepped and troops ready to hit the dirt, just in case.”
“Yes, sir!” Buck said, echoed by Rox.
“Be ready in ten,” Long said. “Dismissed.”
The troop commander followed the wing commander off the bridge. Marjorie parted with him at her office down the hall and nodded as he said, “Finally some action!”
Cmdr. Plaas pointed to the image on the center screen, which SPO Devlin had pulled out of Luna City’s logs. The smaller ship, presumably the aggressor, was attached to the belly airlock of the freighter like a leech. “Based on this timestamp and the last known position, we should be coming up on them in a few minutes. And, what about Luna City?”
“Oh, we’ll deal with Bob another day,” Long said with a smile. “I’ll bet the admiralty would enjoy having some dirt to throw at T3, though. I’ll be sure to mention it in my next report.”
The Lexington was still under general quarters when she entered a high elliptical orbit over the Moon, using gravity for slowdown.
“Still no response?” Captain Long asked, looking toward the comm station.
“Nothing, sir,” Devlin said.
“We’ve got them!” the XO said, “right there,” pointing to a blip on the horizon.
“Verified on RADAR,” CPO Jones confirmed from the navigation station.
“Very well,” the captain said, “slow us down to overtake and match their orbit.”
“Aye, sir,” said CPO Williamson at the helm. For a split second, Long could feel the reverse thrust of the engines tug him toward the front of the bridge. Everyone lurched for a moment then regained their balance.
“Slowing. We’re down to fifteen,” Williamson said. He continued to monitor the thrust maneuver, almost frantically monitoring their status on multiple screens. After two more minutes, he said, “Ten. We’re at ten.” Shortly thereafter, he said, “Six point two mps. Velocity matched.”
The captain punched a comm button and said, “Launch fighters!”
Chapter 7
One For The Road
I had no choice. The paperwork was signed.
My only way out was to go AWOL and I couldn’t dishonor my mom by doing that. I still wanted to serve, but I also wanted to be with Lena . . . now more than ever. Our relationship was blooming. How could I leave her now that we were growing so close?
Should have broken up before I slept with her. Now I’m crazy about her. More than crazy. Can’t get her out of my head. Not for one second.
“Maybe you can relocate to Luna City? Or, I can come back when I’m in port and—”
Lena put a hand to my mouth, like she often did. “Min älskare, let’s not be so . . . attached. Too many bad feelings with that kind of relationship.”
“What?” I said, feeling astonished and suspicious. “Are you talking about an open relationship or are you breaking up with me?”
“Hmm, that was not in my mind, min älskling. There is no one else for me right now, but . . . yes, I feel that we should be open, rather than—”
“No!” I said, a gamut of emotions flooding through me: humiliation; rejection; unmet expectations; a feeling of futility; enormous desire.
Lena frowned, her eyes going up and down, as if afraid to look into my eyes. Wanting to say something but feeling unsure how to phrase it. So she held a hand to my lips again.
“Darling, min älskling, it doesn’t have to be goodbye, it is just . . . tills nästa gång. Until next time. Without pain, separation, or . . . obligation.”
I felt tears welling in my eyes, and that made her frown even more. She cried softly, which only made me feel guilty.
“I’m . . . sorry.”
“This is too sad. Du är min kärlek. Min älskare. I .
. . love you . . . Dal. But I don’t believe in marriage. Too difficult. And, I won’t bring a child into the world without a pappa. Maybe never in this terrible world! Navy is hard. Space navy? No . . . no!”
“Maybe I can request an Earth-side position?” I said, realizing the words were as shallow as a rocky creek before I spoke them. “I can work on a base . . . a port base. . . .”
She grinned and laughed softly, causing her hair to fall over her face. She turned her head sideways and brushed the thin, black strands back over her ear. She was wearing burgundy skintights, black halter top, and platform shoes.
“My God, you are beautiful, Helen of Troy.”
She kissed me, fully and energetically. Let me tell you something: when you are kissed by Lena Leifsson, you remain kissed for a long time.
I looked into her eyes. Such gorgeous eyes. Deep sea blue. Dark gray in the light. I kissed her eyebrows, her forehead, her ears, her cheeks, her chin, her nose, and began to shake my head. No, dammit, no!
She smiled. “You must do your duty,” she said, nodding her head. “Go up there, protect me, protect all of us! Be a good man! My people used to honor the warrior’s life. They were Nords, you know? Vikings? Once, long ago, my people worshiped Odinsson.”
She kissed me hard again. I was still reeling from the last one.
“I will be here when you come home. Every time. I may have others, a few—not many! But, no attachments, Dal. Do you see? I will not marry. You will have me. I will have others, from time to time, but you will always have me and there is no loss.”
I nodded. “I’m not used to that, but I get it,” I said, frowning. I kissed her back. The idea of an open relationship was hard to reconcile with my upbringing. “So, dollface . . . uh, min alask—”
“Min älskare.”
“Yes, my all . . . sked. . . .”
Lena laughed. “Say, min. . . .”
“Min?” I said.
“Ell. Skett. Uh . . . älskare.”
“All scared!” I said with a big stupid grin.
She slapped me in the face, a bit hard—which was kind of hot. For a brief moment, there was fire in her eyes. Like I said before, this girl can hit me all she wants and it just turns me on. Well, hit me almost anywhere. . . .
“It is not hard! Stupid man!”
“Yes, it kind of is,” I teased.
She slapped my face really hard. “Shame, shame!”
Oh my god, Lena!
I slapped her back—gently, but with a bit of sting to it.
“How dare you strike me!” she said while slapping the other side of my face, just as hard.
Am I a masochist? A sadist? I can’t ever seem to remember which is which.
I grabbed her by the waist and squeezed . . . just so. She squealed and doubled over, laughing in my arms.
Those shapely hips will send any honest man straight to hell. . . .
“You’re amazing, Lena. Gorgeous. Free spirited. Unlike any girl I’ve ever known. I want you . . . every minute. I never stop thinking about you.”
Lena looked at me with a cruel, bitchy expression. I knew it wasn’t in her, so this was another act. She punched me in the chest, hard, and whispered, “Don’t you wish. You can’t have me.”
I grabbed her loose hair and pulled, causing her to gasp, and lightly brushed my lips against her bare neck. I could feel her tremble and goosebumps rose on her arms. Then she grabbed my shoulders and kneed me in the stomach, not quite gently.
I pretended to double over, and buried my face in her chest, then pulled her waist toward me in a strong embrace. She put her elbows up to my chest and pretended to hit me with her forearms, saying, “No, you bastard! Get off me!”
The look in her eyes and curve at the corner of her mouth said otherwise.
I don’t know if Lena is a typical specimen of womanhood, but she’s tough—a lot tougher than I would have imagined. I had such a wrong impression of girls. Or, maybe it’s just this girl. I never struck her with a clenched fist, but she was under no such restriction.
I suddenly remembered something Ortega had told me. “Wait. One. Minute!”
She took a step back, put a hand on my chest. “Huh?”
“The clause! The executive order. I can get out of the service by just telling them about you. You, Lena! They’ll not only tear up my paperwork, they’ll send me home with a bonus and give you . . . uh. . . .”
“Oh, Dal, not now, after we’re saying goodbye! It is too much. I can’t take ups and downs. Must you be so difficult?”
“Lena, don’t you want me to stay?” I asked, feeling awkward and a bit angry, to tell the truth.
“I already said, min älskare! Of course, I want you. But your duty? Think of your career. They’ll make you an officer; I’m sure of it. Then you will have a distinguished career, and opportunities few other men have. I am thinking of your future. Yours and mine. We have fun together, but you won’t lose me because I will never marry. Not you. Not anyone. Not the prince, even!”
“Well, I don’t think I’ll be an officer without going to an officer school.” She sounds so damned reasonable. Aren’t women supposed to be the irrational ones?
“Well? Yes?”
“No!”
“Å nej!” she said, putting a hand to her forehead.
“Okay, fine. Yes, okay!” I said, now fully deflated. She was being the smart one here. “You’re right. I was being—”
“Clingy? Attached?”
“Yes, yes, you’re right,” I conceded. “But you are one of a kind, darling! And in bed—”
“Yes,” she interrupted, raising an eyebrow, and planted another lovely kiss on me. “I know I am. I know. And so are you! But, I’m not an evil bitch! I don’t use people. I’m not a heartbreaker. I’m good to you, Dal. While you’re gone, I’ll have other men with the same rules. You just gotta accept that. It’s my way. I saw how miserable my parents were, even though they tried to hide it. I vowed never to do what they did.”
I frowned while nodding.
“You don’t want me to lie, do you? To make false promises, then cheat? I can’t do that! I can’t lie. If I make promises, I will cheat. End of story. Your heart is broken. I can’t do that to you or anyone.”
“No, of course not,” I agreed.
She nodded, smiling. Then kissed the corner of my mouth. She knows that makes me crazy. Then she slid her lips fully onto my mouth.
Since I will be in basic training for sixteen weeks, I’ll need that kiss to last quite a while longer than one day. Wonder if I’ll get any leave during basic?
She looked at me with impassive eyes. “Come on,” she said, “one more for the road,” and led me back to her bedroom.
Chapter 8
Harmony Colony
The inner doors glided silently on magnetic rails until fully closed.
Jack Seerva stood facing the large outer door, waiting for the cargo-sized airlock to match the air pressure outside. He looked over his shoulder, then remembered he had to turn his torso in the pressure suit. He turned to look at the people gathered around him, holding a canister carefully in the crook of one arm. Nine identical suits stood in a semicircle facing him and the airlock; faces of Seerva’s inner circle hidden behind reflective faceplates.
The man standing next to him patted his shoulder as the airlock door slid out of view with a sniff. Jack walked into the industrial-size airlock, and they followed him in. No one spoke. Their boots thudded to a stop and air equalization began. The outer door opened to a green landscape illuminated by a bright light source high overhead. The slope of Gilgamesh crater rose up in the distance and Jack began walking toward it, followed by his entourage. The crater was huge, the slopes weathered by eons of cosmic wind. They walked on a dark-gray concrete road surrounded by wild grass, ferns, and decade-old trees that already reached half way up to the overdome—the artificial sky above Harmony. The trees were all of a tropical to temperate variety since Gilgamesh crater was kept at high humidity to en
courage growth.
On this world, water was plentiful—after processing—and soil was a valuable commodity. True soil. Topsoil could not be manufactured artificially, as it was full of life. Trees, shrubs, ferns—in other words, leaves—made soil, assuming there were bacteria in the ground. If you have animals handy, that speeds up the process considerably. The toughest flora had been carefully managed on the first acre of naked regolith underground. Like the chicken hatcheries, it was flooded with warm, ultraviolet light to encourage growth, and then hauled topside.
Life doesn’t care if sunlight is artificial.
The larger tree species were given twenty feet of soil depth to encourage deep rooting—and carefully fed during that first generation. The colony might last centuries but the present generation of people needed results quickly from micro-terraforming for the grand experiment—the Ring being constructed in orbit.
There was one season under the overdome—a continuous summer—that produced an inch of topsoil every month. It would be carefully managed and delicately spread until the entire crater was arable land, down to a foot in depth. But no amount of soil, air, or water would make Ganymede a perfect home. Gravity was one-sixth Earth normal, and the human body was slow to adapt. Within the domes, one full gravity was maintained, which required a lot of power, but it was necessary for a long-term human colony. They did not want their children and grandchildren to grow tall and thin and lose bone density.
In other words, to no longer be fully human—Earth human.
The group walked quietly, respectfully, during the half-hour hike to the slope of the crater where soil gave way to primordial regolith. The suits would not be needed in a few more years. A scant number of years for a project of this scope!
“Imagine that!” Jack thought, exuberantly, the first time he had set foot in the new Earth-like soil on Ganymede.
The air was still kept thick with CO2 for soil production, which could cause dizziness during extended exposure without a breathing mask. Oxygen was pumped out by industrial scrubbers, not left solely to photosynthesis. People often worked on the surface with nothing more than an oxygen mask, but seldom ventured far from an airlock without a full suit. Robots had built the overdome out of dense nanofiber that would theoretically withstand a micrometeorite impact, but who knew? Anything bad can happen at any time. No one challenged Murphy with their lives.
The Legacy of Earth (Mandate Book 2) Page 7
