Ships of Valor 1: Persona Non Grata

by Aaron Kennedy

  The thing about living in space is the acute internal clock that comes with it. It's a product of necessity. Not only the daylight piece but good old fashioned Oxygen. Planet-side, O2 isn't usually an issue, but on station or ship, there’s a need to track it. It's a number that's always running in the back of the head.

  Robert approached and gave me a nod, "Ms. Kellinger, upstairs is ready for you." She stood, and took my hand and we slid up to what appeared to be one of the observation decks. Our timing couldn't have been more perfect. Across the moon's horizon suspended a near perfect duplicate of my left cufflink.

  I don't know how long I was staring, but I know my eyes were dry and my cheeks were wet when I finally pulled my eyes away. Homesickness is a hell of a thing. I apologized and thanked Lysha for what I assumed was supposed to be a beautiful gift, and was.

  I stole glances between her and home. Memories flooded back. But they were the memories of youth. Nostalgia. How things were before I joined. Not the Terra of now. She was still the blue marble. Smudged a bit more, but she was mine.

  Chapter 5

  I found myself dividing my time between a few key locations, but the majority was either seeking employment or spending whatever leisure time I had with Lysha.

  We had a unique relationship mainly because we didn't have any conflicts of interest. We were looking at each other’s problems with fresh eyes. That isn’t to say we didn’t have the occasional spat. She was absolutely correct to light me up when I would get into a funk and I’d have to remind her humans need food beyond the occasional takeout. But we were actually able to talk like adult human beings. I hadn't dated much before the Legion, and what I did while in was mostly at the fling level. I never really knew how long my ship was going to be anywhere, so I never tried to put down roots. Lysha had dated, but her issue was one of peer group. At a certain point, there were only so many people at the same relative level that it became self-limiting. Combined with her and their work schedules, she had almost decided to become a confirmed bachelorette.

  My surprise stay on Luna gave me a chance to try something new. This was a positive out of this storm of negativity. Without her, I would have likely retreated to my White Caps’ room and read myself into oblivion trying to avoid thinking the situation. I was still trying to work through my frustration regarding not getting back home. She helped a lot.

  It wasn't even that I needed to go back to Terra immediately. Going back could wait, but I had set myself up with a plan, and I felt like the rug had been ripped out from under me. Pissed me off more than anything. I couldn't really understand what was going on down there, and I couldn't seem to get a straight answer regarding it. No, that's not right. Everywhere I went; from the news to Lysha I got answers. I wasn't happy with them was the problem, because I couldn't change things. That slammed me back to when I was a corporal and learned sometimes policy would tie my hands so badly I wanted to scream. I had to focus on something, anything else at least for a little while.

  Lysha was that something. Although her schedule was eclectic, it mirrored up nicely with my ability to eat at any time and limited need for sleep. I became her regular dinner companion and we would attempt to do something simple before she was called in for the newest emergency. We were normally able to spend a few minutes in the evenings together usually lightening my mood tremendously.

  I asked her one time what she saw in me, and got a quick shake of the head and “First, you're nice to look at. And tall. I've always liked tall men. But it's not like I have a whole lot of opportunities to meet people on a social level, and having you drop in my lap was a bit of godsend. You are a bit oblivious sometimes.” I caught the gentle teasing, and a quick kiss. “But I like that too. It's endearing. You don’t try too hard. You're yourself. I've never gotten the impression you are trying to impress me. It's rather pleasant. A great many people try too hard.” I let her know it was all a very good act and I was doing nothing but, and was called a liar for my efforts.

  But back to my job hunt. I was happy to temp work and had picked up day labor to keep myself busy. Manual labor was a great way to keep my mind off Terra, unfortunately, it made me a bit self-conscious around Lysha as well. I knew she didn’t care, and I was only doing it as a hobby, but she’s the kind of person that makes you want to be better just by being near her. Therefore, I had resolved to stay local, and I wasn’t exactly sure where my relationship with Lysha was going, but I really liked the direction and speed. If we lasted two weeks or a decade I think I would have been happy. She was interesting, kind, and listened to me, and I really needed her. It’s not that my past life wasn’t exciting, but it was also monotonous at times. Spurts of adventure with huge amounts of downtime and the same few dozen people to talk to.

  The benefit of working temp was every day was a little different. Different made it interesting, even if it was tedious work. Most of the longer-term employment I had encountered was outside system or significantly outside my skills set. The few inside tended to be mercenary in nature. I wasn't quite ready to cross that line yet. From what I understood, I would never really know whether what I signing on for was exactly as advertised, and my ethics sway a lot closer to black and white than gray. Unless I was starving, that option was going to be the last ditch.

  The best work I came across was dock work. Sure it was grunt work, but it was appreciated and also essential. My genemods made me as strong as an ox on Luna compared to almost everyone else, making me a cheap buy. I could move more, and faster than most others. I was worried about showing up my cohorts at first, but Looneys have a heavy streak of pragmatism that runs deep. Working faster means more work for everyone. My crew ended up getting better slots, better shifts, and better bonuses. They were happy to have me, which really was a relief.

  My circle of friends was light and adding a couple of work friends was nice. I had also taken to working out with Robert a couple of times a week. I hate to say it, but I picked up a few new moves. I did manage to actually hit him a couple of times, taking it as a sign I wasn't too rusty.

  I found out he was Imperial Army from way back. He'd been deep frozen for longer than I’ve been alive on a transport boat and made a complete hspace jump without them ever needing him. He was quite a bit older than me chronologically; it's hard to judge because of awake time. Experience adds a lot. I had a lot more combat time under my belt, but his hand-to-hand and close quarter training trumped me by a significant level.

  I'd love to present myself as a hardened war veteran, who engaged in countless operations, and constant training, but in reality, there was a hell of a lot of downtime while I was aboard ship. Using those skills only a few times a decade breeds complacency. I filled the gaps as best I could can, but sometimes fighting routine was far more important than practicing basic skills.

  Space is a big place. Massively huge. Unfortunately, because of the way hspace travel works and the lack of a real way to communicate effectively over anything larger than several light-minutes, we needed to patrol through inhabited space. The Legion does this by using big command ships like the Europe, who have dozens of smaller ships with them. Each ship is either hspace capable or will fit into one that is.

  These Legion divisions have about ten thousand people, not including Mariners and they head from one planet to another on a rotation. Some trips take days, some take months. Theoretically, most conflicts didn’t happen instantly, so there is always a division inbound once or twice a year as well as supplies.

  There really isn’t much of a quick reaction except in areas where we have outposts. Normally, those are manned by a command staff and a Mariner ship full of deep-sleepers. We can’t really justify having a full complement sitting in the middle of nowhere eating and getting fat. My first tour had been deep-sleep, and my second was essentially the latter. Looking back, deep-sleep was actually more productive in a lot of ways, as the loss of skills wasn’t as pronounced.

  A nice part about White Caps, in addition to the bar and th
e bunks, was the sub-basements had a full-scale range, which let me loosen up a bit in the mornings before my shifts. For my last couple of years in the Legion, I’d really only carried my sidearm. I’d been outside the main fray of things to the point where the only time I went to the range was during qualifiers. But shooting some of the relics reminded me of being a young stud, and the endless cleaning following the practices. Slowly replaced with less time at the range, and actually looking forward to it as the years passed and finally my weapon had become little more than an accessory, and nostalgia made me wish for those long ago days.

  The range officer started me off slow, thankfully, but after a couple of quick refreshers, I was up to date on everything from the industrial age to modern. I'd need a few more weeks of gun time, but anything I picked up felt comfortable.

  It was after one such workout when I got back to my room, and found two messages. One from the docks canceling my scheduled shift since the transporter had sublight engine problems. The second was from Lysha asking if I was available for dinner the following day. I called her back and confirmed, not thinking much of it.

  Chapter 6

  This dinner was a little more casual than our first date, if only by a hair. Lysha and Robert met me outside and we headed to a swank place over in Dome 6. I asked what the occasion was, and she looked at me as if I had grown a third eye then started laughing. I truly loved that sound. Robert, on the other hand, remained stoic in the driver’s seat with barely a hint of a smile at the corners of his eyes. I’m not sure if he was more amused at my ignorance or discomfort not knowing.

  "You really don't know do you?" after a few seconds staring at me. I confessed I had no clue and begged forgiveness for my ignorance. "It's your half-centennial, fuel for brains." Then she laughed some more. "How is it that you don’t know this?"

  I started working the math out in my head. It had been a gigasecond since I joined the Legion, right after my eighteenth birthday on Terra. After dealing with metric for so many years, I had to actually think about the conversions, even when calendars say the actual date on them.

  I hated using metric time. Since I hadn’t grown up with it, the concept wasn’t intuitive to me like some of the younger folks. A kilosecond being a thousand seconds, or sixteen minutes and forty seconds, but I always just ended up thinking of it as a quarter hour for simplicity’s sake. Hects were easy, count to one-hundred, but megaseconds and gigaseconds were where things got wonky. Who in the hell used eleven-day increments? As for gigaseconds, I knew that one intimately, being on the tail end of one, having officially retired after completing over thirty-one and a half years of service. Those thirty years were hard on the chassis.

  Add in a month being back, etc., and yep, I'd be fifty, or I could look at the date and know that. But I'm male and don't think about things like birthdays because they don't really matter. Not since I reached majority and was able to place my thumbprint to join the Legion. My birthday was only a date on a calendar taking up space in my head.

  Apparently, this was a birthday dinner. After recovering my wits, seeming to be a growing habit around Lysha, I thanked her. "Don't thank me yet, you haven't seen your present." That scared me and I've literally lost an arm. I had a feeling this night was going to get extremely interesting very quickly. My fears were confirmed with I saw the catlike grin from the driver’s seat.

  When we were inside the restaurant, the maitre d' hastened towards Lysha, without actually appearing to hurry. A slick move if I do say so, having all the elements of speed and precision but without any indication of rushing. She greeted him by name, and he was somewhat informal, but in a reserved way. About two seconds in, I realized she either owned the place or knew the person who did so well it didn't matter.

  He ushered us to a semi-secluded area where an older gentleman was already seated. A man I had not seen in a decade. His was a face I would never forget. The first face I saw after waking up with the new hardware I call a left arm. General Adam Campbell.

  I could spend days talking about this man. Legend really. Last I had heard he had settled on Luna because it was the one place no one could draft him. He'd been a strategic adviser for almost every colony for the last two centuries, not because of his war-fighting prowess but because of his peacekeeping skills. He was the man called when other diplomats failed.

  During my incident, while patching me up, he had been a passenger on the Europe. He was there when I came to, personally debriefed me, and gave me a piece of advice that has always stuck with me. "Don't revisit decisions you can't change. Whatever you did at that point was based on the information you had at that time. You already know whether you did right or wrong. No point in trying to justify it. All you can do is learn from any mistakes with the new data you have."

  These were the words running through my head as he rose and shook my hand. "Son, you're looking fit. Pop a squat and let's have us a chat." I helped Lysha sit then did as directed. Within moments, the wait staff was serving the meal. Apparently, everything was prearranged. No need for menus on this evening.

  He regaled us with stories as we dined. Some I had heard, or read, but never from a first person account. I found it epically hard not to fawn like an awestruck teenager. I failed miserably, but, the General hid any disappointment he had in our meeting.

  Eventually, as we switched from food to coffee, there was a subtle shift in the tone of the conversation, and the General asked a single pointed question. "Do you know why we don't have the problems out here like we do on Terra?"

  I replied I didn't, and he expanded. "Terra is unique. It's the one planet in the Union with multiple nations. It holds to the old ways." He sipped at his coffee and looked at me for a moment. "I'm old, but I'm a Looney by birth. I'll always be a Looney. So is Lysha. You're Terran though, but that doesn't really mean much to you, not the same as us. I've read your file, and know you're from North America up near the polar caps, but that doesn't mean anything to me. It has no context. I imagine being cold, which is hard. I’ve spent the vast majority of my life either here or on ships. The few times I’ve stepped planet-side it’s been in very controlled environments.”

  "But Terra still has countries sitting next to each other. They bicker. Like children living in the same house. We don’t have that out here. Except for the corporations, everyone spread out and established their place in the universe. No need to fight for space.”

  "I have my suspicions your problems at home are rooted in that.” Another pause as he waited for me to acknowledge my understanding. I nodded for him to continue.

  "There’s an old adage in the diplomatic corps. ‘There are no enemies or allies. Just countries whose interests currently align.’ I have a feeling our interests may align at the moment.” A very deep pause and a telling glance at Lysha. "You want to get back to Terra, and I’m in need of someone to go there. Lysha is under the impression you may be willing to skirt some of the restrictions currently placed upon you, and I think we can make all of this work to our mutual benefit.”

  Hell of a birthday present. I like to be surprised, but this was like dropping atomics. I had figured the dinner was the gift. Hell, even meeting my hero outside of work was a bonus. Going home, even for a mission was so outside the realm of my possibilities.

  “This situation with Terra hit us out of the dark. Completely blindsided us. I've been trying to figure out how for months, and I'm still stumped. There's normally some sort of ramp up to something like this. I can't find it. I can't find the triggering events. And it's bugging me.

  “We need eyes on the ground. It's really as simple as that. It's become increasingly difficult to get a clear picture of what's going on there. If we don't have that, we're going to get blindsided again, and the next time it's going to be catastrophic.

  “What I'm proposing is we send you down. You’ll scout the lay of the land, and we’ll figure out a plan of action from there.”

  This is the point where my questions started getting in depth.
Not that I was trying to be ungrateful, but Terra has a population pushing eighty billion, and Luna had about half a billion at any given point. So the real question I had to ask was why me.

  “It all really boils down to exclusions. If we take the people we currently have available and start looking at them, most aren't a good fit. A Looney isn't going to pass for a Terran.” He was right. Low-g would give them away in a second. Lunar gravity is 1.62 m/s², but Terra is rocking 9.81 m/s², meaning a Looney, is running around at six times their normal weight. That's a huge difference. Most Looneys haven't been conditioned for gravity like that. A Marsan would be closer, but they would still be dealing with over double.

  “So we need a Terran, not only because of the physiological issues but because of the cultural concepts. We're all humans, but Terra is going to be a foreign land to anyone who hasn't spent extensive time there. It's not I don't think you are the right man for the job, but we also don't have many qualified people. Lysha vouching for you and your personal desire makes you the prime candidate.”

  He had a point. It's easy to take for granted little things, like slang or body language. I had talked about how humor was different between Looneys, Terrans, and Marsans. Something as small as that could give someone away in minutes. Toss in the training I already had, and the personal connections, and the logic did make a lot of sense. Especially since this did not seem like a sanctioned operation.

  As I said, Looneys have a healthy dose of pragmatism. They're not about to let bureaucracy get in the way of getting something done. Not when the alternative is as bad as implied.