by Doug Hoffman
“Him? Dat's Freddy,” Jesse said as she filled up Ludmilla's glass.
“Freddy? How did you get him to the Moon?”
“Freddy's been wit me for years. When I come from St Croix I couldn't leave him behind. When we went on de voyage I left him wit some science folk. Dey had lots of flies to feed him—said dey used de flies for research. I got him back when de Peggy Sue returned.”
“You are not afraid he will run off?”
“No mon, dey is no flies to eat and no girl lizards to romance. Poor Freddy's the only one of his kind on de Moon,” Jesse said, sadly shaking her head. “So I feed him and he stays in de bar. Freddy helps customers know when dey's had too much to drink. Watch...”
Jesse poured a dollop of Fantasy on the polished bar top. Up on his pole, one of Freddy's independent eyes quickly drew a bead on the amber liquid. After a few moments the lizard scrambled half way down the pole, moving so quickly it was hard to follow his movement. He froze in place, only his eyes darting here and there checking for threats.
A few more moments passed—Freddy raced down and across the bar to his prize. An incredibly long, fat tongue flicked in and out, quickly consuming the small puddle of beverage. His mission accomplished, Freddy turned in a flash, scurrying back across the bar and up the pole to his original vantage point.
“Each time you has a drink I give Freddy one,” Jesse said, smiling as though she had explained everything.
“Buonasera Jesse, Ludmilla,” Elena said, walking up to the bar. As usual the Italian astronomer looked stunning in her science section burgundy jumpsuit. “I see you've gotten a head start on me, Ludmilla.”
“Yes, me and the lizard,” her friend replied.
“The what?”
“Freddy the lizard, up there on his pole. You will see when you get a drink.”
“Not yet,” Jesse said, pouring a Fantasy for Elena. “Freddy don' get a next drink til your second round. You'll see.”
Confused, Elena looked from the smiling bartender to her friend, perched on the next bar stool, and finally up at the little green lizard, high up on his pole. Picking up her drink she sensibly decided to change the subject. “Salute! So what do you hear from Gretchen and the Peggy Sue?”
“The last message came a few hours ago, saying that they had the enemy in sight and were about to attack. I have been so nervous I could die.”
“I'm sure they are all right, Gretchen is a good officer and an experienced commander. Jack trusted her with the ship and crew at Sirius”
“Do not remind me,” Ludmilla rolled her eyes and drained her drink. “Somehow Jack and most of my friends have ended up far away and out of touch.”
“You must miss him terribly, and the others.”
Ludmilla's gaze dropped and she stared quietly at her empty glass. Sensing her friend's discomfort Elena quickly said, “Let's talk about something else.”
“Yes,” Ludmilla replied, forcing her attention back to the conversation. “Like how you are doing with that handsome physicist I have seen you out with. Come on, drink up, the night is young...”
M'tak Ka'fek
When they found themselves trapped on the T'aafhal ship, 1,500 light-years from home, one of the stranded crewmembers' first concerns was for food and water. As it turned out the M'tak had plenty of the latter, but solving the need for the former took a bit of doing.
Capt. Sutton, his head jammed full of manuals and specifications for the battle cruiser, courtesy of the ship's AI, quickly realized that the ship could synthesize nearly any organic substance given a sample of the material in question. The shuttles they used when boarding contained standard stores of field rations—nourishing but hardly gourmet fare. No one, the Captain included, relished the idea of a long voyage on nothing but MREs.
So Capt. Jack had the crew turn out their personal kit, knowing from long experience that sailors, Marines and SEALs all had a habit of carrying some extra supplies when going into an unknown situation. Sure enough, a wide range of consumables were soon being fed into the ship's synthesizer. Samples of chicken, beef and bacon, along with bread, beer, wine, and orange juice were supplied. Lt. Bear had a chunk of frozen ringed seal in a compartment of his suit and Jack himself had bottles of gin and brandy, and some of Jesse's conch salad with pumpkin fritters. With the food situation sorted out the crew settled in for the voyage, their fears greatly allayed.
Compared to the Peggy Sue, the interior space of the M'tak Ka'fek was cavernous. Each member of the crew was provided a spacious private cabin, the bears' quarters suitably cold with an adjoining icy swimming pool. The main shuttle bay held a number of yet to be investigated small craft and still had plenty of open space for the crew to practice boarding tactics in their armor.
Even more impressive, there were two grand hallways that ran almost the entire length of the ship, one on the port side and one to starboard. They were joined at either end forming a continuous track nearly 500 meters around. Naturally, the Marines and SEALs turned it into a place to run. With little else to occupy themselves other than practicing on the ship's weapon systems and physical training, much time was spent running around the track. Even the sailors joined in.
Lance Corporals Jon Feldman and Roselito Acuna were on their fourth lap of the track. Running at a relaxed pace, their breathing steady, the pair were conversing.
“How have you been feeling,” Jon said between breaths, “since we came on board?”
“Pretty good, Feldman. Why do you ask?”
“I've been feeling damned good ... maybe a little too good.”
“What do you mean?”
After a few more breaths, he replied, “I mean running for 10 klicks ... plus calisthenics, weights and a little hand-to-hand ... would have left me sore the next day, back home.”
Rosey considered his answer for a few paces before replying herself. “You know you're right? ... I don't think I've ever been in this good of shape.”
A deep voice behind them yelled a warning. “Coming through!”
Jon moved left and Rosey moved right, just in time to let a large white, furry object gallop past. It was quickly followed by a second, somewhat smaller quadruped—Lt. Bear and Aput out for their daily run.
“That,” Rosey commented as she moved back to the center of the track, “is why it is stupid to try to outrun a bear.”
“Yeah, and I think they are getting faster,” Jon said. “I think all of us are.” He paused for a few breaths and then added. “You know that little cockroach Sanchez benched 150 kilos ... that's twice his body weight.”
“So? He's a wiry little guy.”
“He never could do that back home.”
“Maybe he had the ship lower the gravity ... you know what a trickster his is.”
“No, I can lift more than I ever could too ... I think there is something going on.”
“You know, now that you mention it, ... I have an old hip wound that always hurt like a sonofabitch after a run.”
“And?”
“It ain't hurt since we've been on board.”
They ran on without speaking for a dozen paces.
“I think the ship is messing with us,” Jon said.
“Messing with us how, Jon?”
“I don't know, maybe puting stuff in our food or altering our DNA when we're doing weapons practice.”
Rosey remained silent.
“I think someone should talk to the Captain,” Jon said.
“Yeah,” Rosey replied absently, her mind deep in thought. The pair finished their run and headed for the showers without further discussion.
Peggy Sue, the Kuiper Belt
The recovery operation had gone smoothly. All of the Marines were back on board, along with a load of technological booty. A dozen full type one antimatter containers and two partially full ones, plus a bunch of strange equipment that the expedition's scientists claimed were computers and navigation gear. The product of a civilization who's idea of comfortable room temperature was
colder than 50° below zero Celsius, the alien devices had to be kept at a similar temperature while they were being investigated. Even the polar bears found that a bit nippy.
Captain Curtis was in her sea cabin, conferring with her staff: Lt. Medina, Lt. Vincent, Capt. Rodriguez, and Lt. Westfield. Lt. Medina was senior by time in rank, a Navy full lieutenant being the equivalent of a Marine captain, and Dirk Westfield was junior. As Jack had taught her, Gretchen solicited advice starting with the most junior officer present—an attempt to prevent the junior officers from being swayed by their superiors' opinions.
“Tell me, Lt. Westfield, how do you assess the outcome of the mission?”
“Successful on all primary objectives, Ma'am. We seized the enemy vessel, secured their antimatter supplies, and obtained what the science section claims is navigation equipment. We suffered no casualties.”
“And the non-prime objectives?”
“We failed to capture any live aliens for interrogation, Captain. The crew fought to the last man, er, alien.”
“I see,” Gretchen said, shifting her attention to the head Marine. “Capt. Rodriguez, would you like to add anything to that?”
“Yes, Ma'am. We were very lucky, the aliens almost managed to scuttle their ship. In the end it could have gone either way. Only quick thinking by Lt. Westfield saved the prize and the boarding party.”
“Noted,” Jennifer replied. “Certainly, it's better to be lucky in battle than not.”
“True, Captain, but you shouldn't depend on luck. We took a terrible risk capturing the hulk.”
Gretchen suppressed a shudder inside as she thought of how great a risk she had taken with Earth's only major warship and only operational platoon of Marines. “Yes, I agree, but there are times in war when the enemy has the advantage and risks must be taken. As it stands, we now have sufficient antimatter to arm a dozen new frigates, which will give us a chance of standing off another attack on Earth.”
“Aye, Ma'am. Sometimes you have to make your own luck. Besides, there's no deodorant like success.”
“Precisely, Capt. Rodriguez.” Gretchen smiled a tight smile. “And how did the fleet perform, Lt. Vincent?”
“Well, Captain. As it turned out the enemy was over matched. We disabled their ship on the first pass and the corvettes soon suppressed any remaining capacity to fight. We kicked their alien asses, Ma'am.”
Gretchen nodded. “Anything to add, Lt. Medina?”
“I agree with Lt. Vincent, they were not the enemy's A team. That crudely built behemoth was not as formidable as the squadron of aliens that waylaid us at Sirius. Their ship was nothing more than a scow used for dropping big rocks on unsuspecting planets.” There was more than a hint of contempt in the chief engineer's voice.
“Very good. I expect you all to commit your thoughts to formal after action reports while they are fresh in your minds. This was a good job all the way round, people. We achieved great success and incurred no casualties, well done.”
The assembled officers murmured “thank you, Ma'am,” and finally allowed themselves genuine smiles. “A ration of grog for the Marines and Crew?” asked Lt. Medina.
“Once we are underway for Earth, Jo Jo,” the Captain replied. “Peggy Sue. Please send a message to Earth: We have met the enemy and he is ours.”
“Yes, Captain,” the ship's computer replied.
“That would be Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry in a letter to General William Henry Harrison,” noted Billy Ray. “After the Battle of Lake Erie in 1813.”
“Yes, during the War of 1812. A decisive victory that secured the Great Lakes region for the United States and ended the threat of invasion from that quarter,” Gretchen recited. “Hopefully our victory will have a similar result for Earth.”
Jesse's Place, Farside Base
Ludmilla and Elena were halfway through their second round of Fantasies, Elena having witnessed Freddy's performance with a second dollop of liquor.
“So this physicist was rescued from a laboratory in Italy?” Ludmilla asked, still trying to pry personal information out of the sexy astronomer. It kept her mind off her own lover, who was missing in action in a different star system.
“Si, Alessandro was one of those we rescued from the Laboratori Nazionali del Gran Sasso,” Elena replied, coyly prolonging her friend's frustration.
“Really?”
“It's a particle physics laboratory situated near Gran Sasso mountain, the tallest peak in the Apennines. It lies between the towns of L'Aquila and Teramo in central Italy, about 120 km from Rome.”
“That is quite close to the impact in the north Adriatic. How did they survive the blast and its aftereffects?
“They were very lucky. You see the laboratory was built to do research that requires low levels of background radiation. For shielding, much of the lab was built below ground—actually inside the mountain. Gran Sasso Tunnel is part of the A24 Motorway that links Rome and the Adriatic Sea—access to the facility is inside the highway tunnel that passes under the mountain peak.
“As soon as it became obvious what was happening—gigantic asteroids impacting around the world—they rushed as many people as possible into the tunnel and underground caverns.”
“So it acted as a bomb shelter, protecting the staff from the impact?”
“Si. In a sense they were saved by the Apennine Mountains themselves.”
“Lucky indeed,” Ludmilla said, finishing her drink. “And lucky that you knew the facility existed and guessed that there might be survivors there.”
“Yes, we found over 100 people, mostly scientists and technicians and their families. You know, when we first arrived back at Earth and saw the results of the bombardment I was afraid that I was the last Italian left in the galaxy.”
“Ah, but now you have your handsome Alessandro...” Ludmilla's voice trailed off suggestively. Before Elena could respond Ludmilla's communicator chirped. “Now what?” she exclaimed, tapping the flexible display screen woven into the arm of her jumpsuit.
“Col. Tropsha? We have received a new communique from Task Force Alpha.”
Ludmilla tilted her head back and closed her eyes. All she could think of was, Thank, God! Then, with urgency in her voice, “tell me, what do they report?”
“Commander Curtis sent 'we have met the enemy and he is ours' Ma'am.”
“Casualties,” Ludmilla demanded, “were there any casualties?”
“No Ma'am, they report no losses, no casualties. All vessels survived with no significant damage. There is accompanying video footage of the battle and boarding action coming in as we speak, Colonel.”
“Che bellezza! They not only survived but they have won, bravo!” The elated Elena bounced out of her seat and danced around her bar stool.
Silent tears ran down Ludmilla's cheeks and for a few moments she did not trust herself to speak. Then, with a slight shake of her head to clear the tears, she spoke into her comm: “Send a reply: 'Congratulations to the crews and Marines, and a safe voyage home.' Make an announcement on all the base channels. The people need to know that the task force has triumphed.”
“Roger, Ma'am. Should we release the video as well?”
“Da, yes release it all.” A broad smile spread slowly across the base administrator's face. It felt as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from her shoulders. She turned to her two companions, saying, “this calls for another drink, Ladies.”
“For true! Dis be a time to jump-up and celebrate,” Jesse's smile was almost as big as Ludmilla's. Their glasses were quickly refiled, and Freddy served as well. While the friends toasted the success of Captain Curtis and Task Force Alpha cheers could be heard breaking out at the other bars and eateries around the atrium—word of the victory was out.
Finishing her third Fantasy of the evening, Ludmilla sat her empty glass on the bar top. Rising a bit unsteadily she announced, “I am afraid that I need to get to the command center. There is no rest for the wicked.”
“No
w I tink you need to set down a bit, Miss Ludmilla,” Jesse said, motioning with her head in the direction of Freddy's pole. The other two women turned toward the pole in time to see Freddy peal backwards off his perch and fall gracefully to the bar top. He landed on his back with a single bounce and lay supine, four webbed feet in the air, unhurt but passed out cold.
Jesse chuckled. “When de third round hits you, you had best be sittin' down. You too, Miss Elena.”
Task Force Alpha, Leaving the Kuiper Belt
Having secured the antimatter, salvaged equipment, and other cargo, the Peggy Sue and her entourage of corvettes turned back toward the Sun—only a dim and distant star from their current location. The crew was in a jubilant mood, not only because of their victory over the invading aliens but because they were on their way back to Earth. At this point no one wanted to think about the herculean tasks in front of them: building a fleet to prevent further alien incursions, salvaging human civilization, and healing Earth as best they could.
In a time of war good days are to be savored, for victory is fleeting and other trials surely lay ahead. The Marines and crew were celebrating with a round of drink on the Captain—beer, wine, and a taste of rum for all. So strong were the feelings of goodwill engendered by victory that no fights broke out between the sailors and Marines, a noteworthy event in itself.
In the refrigerated compartments aft the polar bears were also enjoying a bit of blackberry brandy, a vice introduced to them by the absent Lt. Bear. That, and possibly the last nattiq, or ringed seals, they would ever eat made it a party to remember for the ursine Marines. Among the newly seasoned warriors was Umky, Isbjørn's cub sired by Bear.
“How does it feel to be a bear in full, Umky?” rumbled Tornassuk, one of the older males.
“Really? I'm an adult now? I thought that a cub had to survive a winter alone on the pack ice, without his mother, before being considered a grownup.”
“Umky, you have journeyed to a place farther away than anywhere on the pack ice,” replied Aurora, “and just as dark as winter. Maybe darker with the Sun so far away you can't find it in the sky.”
