The Fly shadowed her as she moved to the shelter. The infrared view showed that there was a herd of deer in the brush, not far away. She suddenly wished she had one of the crossbows. That was a perfect solution for extending food sources.
How is this so much like Earth?
She reached the door to the shelter and realized that it was specially made to be concealed from above. The Fly looked directly down at her as she stepped under the eve in front of the doors. She seemed to have disappeared. No visual. No infrared. Nothing.
The latch mechanisms were simple. The sliding bar didn’t lock, but it held the door tight. A mouse would be hard pressed to enter. It was made to look highly rustic, but on close examination revealed that the craftsmanship was superb.
Inside, was a single, large room, about five meters by ten meters. Vast slabs of stone precisely fit together to form a roof with no columns in the center.
The floor was flagstone; and, there was simple, heavy wooden furniture. There was a table and chairs for six, and bunks, lining the back, for six. There was no bedding, but the planks were better than the ground. There was also a hearth and a good supply of firewood. The fireplace had a large, iron pot and kettle hanging there.
She didn't remember seeing a chimney.
“Poole, please use the Fly and find the outlet for this chimney.”
It took a few minutes, but a circle of rocks that covered a grate was discovered.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
She quickly set a fire in the hearth. Once it was going strong, she went up to have a look. It looked like a campfire. If you flew over and looked closely, it would look like someone camped there last night and there were a few coals still smoldering.
A plan began to form.
CHAPTER SIX
The Moon Base
“I don't think we could have survived without that specific crew. Everything seemed to be trying to kill us. Everywhere we went, we were only one step away from death.”
--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Captain James Worthington, senior surviving member of the Ventura's command crew.
<<<>>>
Lieutenant Hume, Ensign Weston, and Dr. Brian Perry put on pressure suits and exited the pinnace via airlock number three. Hume secretly smiled.
It was a three-meter drop to the tarmac, but in the lighter gravity it was easy.
“Comms check, Hume. Vid on,” Valerie said, as she reported into Tyrrell.
“Comms check, Weston. Vid on,” Weston followed.
“Ummm...Comms check. Brian Perry here. How do I turn vid on?” Perry asked.
“Just say it. I thought scientists were smart,” Hume kidded.
Perry appreciated the jab. He was very nervous.
“You’re good to go, Hume. We will maintain an open channel, Muir is on tactical.”
Their Heads-Up Displays showed Tyrrell and Muir what each of the team's helmet cams saw.
“Brian, relax. Try not to breathe so fast. You will end up hyperventilating.”
Hume stopped and let him settle down, a little. He was carrying two large cases that he set down on the tarmac, for a minute, while he took a few deep breaths.
Weston just stood there, staring at the base access hatch and control panel.
Hume checked her weapons, again.
“Weston, did I ever tell you about the time I had to jump off the dock apron of the Ventura from orbit and grav-chute to the surface of the Gourley colony?”
Weston looked at her like she had a shrunken head. He had never met her before today. She was command crew, he was an ensign in the docking bay. Then, he realized, it was for Perry's benefit.
She winked at him.
“I was convinced I would hit the atmo at 7,000 kph and burn to a cinder. Except the chute-suit I was wearing was designed by geeks like you. It had a grav-plate in it.”
“I never got over 300 kph. It was beautiful, man. Did you design that thing, Perry?”
Hume was distracting him.
“Ummm...No. It wasn't me. I can see how it could be done though.” Perry was thinking about it now.
“I still pissed myself, I was so scared. Way more scared than this,” she said to Weston. “Are we good?”
Perry nodded.
“Good. Oh, and try to communicate out loud. Nodding does no good to our friends on the bridge. I don't want them to feel left out.” She smiled.
“Yes, sir,” Perry said.
“Call me Hume. If you call me sir again, I’ll kick you in the nuts.”
He chuckled and realized his panic was gone. “Thanks, Hume.” He picked up his cases and moved toward the hatch.
***
Worthington slid out of the autoDoc as Dr. Shea spoke. “Take it easy on that break for a few days. The nanites will work as fast as they can, but don't make their job harder. Don't worry about the low-grade fever. That's just the nanites.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Jim said.
“I’ll get everyone else through here as soon as possible,” Duncan Shea said.
Just then, the main lights blinked off, on and off, then came up and stayed on.
“Commander, power has been restored,” Tyrrell reported. The gravity came back to 1G, to Worthington's great relief. His nose always got stuffy in lower G.
“Elkin here, Commander. Reactor number three is back up. It should stay up, for now. I’ll need to run a full set of diagnostics to ensure it stays up. I might be able to get reactor number one back online, if I use parts from reactor number two.” Elkin coughed.
“How are you feeling, Elkin? As soon as it's safe I want you back in the autoDoc for a full scan,” Worthington said.
“Dr. Shaw is with me and is saying the same. Let me just get a few things started and I will head up.”
“Do you have any idea regarding the status of our engines?” Jim asked.
“I can look, Commander, but propulsion is not my area.” Trish coughed a bit more.
“Good work, Elkin. Worthington out.” Tyrrell closed the channel.
***
The systems on the bridge came back online one at a time. Worthington and Muir moved from station to station, turning off alarms and checking systems.
“Jim, the main external sensor array is off-line,” Muir said. “Internal sensors are case by case. What is for sure is that forty percent of the ship is in a vacuum: core sections of propulsion, engineering, and the flight deck. It has even penetrated forward as far as the bulkhead behind the infirmary.”
“Let's work with all the hatches closed for now, in case additional failures happen,” Jim said.
“The Extra Vehicular Activity (EVA) locker room was torn up as well. Not good,” Muir said.
“Oh, shit,” Worthington cursed. “How are we going to get everyone to the base if we need to?”
“We will make it a priority to collect and test all the pressure suits,” Muir said.
“Get some drones into the damaged areas, and survey the damage. Our priorities are to make sure we’re safe and to get eyes, out there.” He pointed at the horizon of the moon. The planet was not visible. “We need to know what's happening. Survive. Recon. Plan. Act. Assess.”
“Jim, we have some sensors functioning on the forward section. The standard sensor sweep is showing some strange results. This moon is just like Earth’s moon, Luna, in that the same side always faces the planet.”
Peter and Jim looked at each other. In their entire careers, neither of them had ever seen another moon matched so closely in its orbit.
“That means we will be hidden here from the planet.”
They both looked up at the main viewer to see Hume getting the airlock open.
“Unless they are alerted that their moon base has been entered.”
***
Hume had been trained to bypass almost any airlock control ever made. They didn't change much over the decades, but they did over the centuries. She was easily able to identify this control unit as an essential colony re
doubt control. It was vintage. Over 200 years old and still working.
“Made to last,” Hume said, as the hatch swung inward. “They designed these to be unable to open unless there was a vacuum inside the airlock. And the inside hatch won't open if it's not pressurized, unlike the pinnace.”
“Why is that?” Perry asked. “Seems crazy to allow it.”
“Turns out there are lots of good reasons to allow a direct vent. Like fire suppression.” They all moved inside, as dirty lights came up and the hatch closed. “You probably never heard about the fire in the central computer farm on the Ventura. It was extinguished with a direct vent that saved all the AI systems on the Ventura. Thanks to Barcus.” Hume became quiet.
The hatch closed and the dust swirled as the large airlock began to pressurize. Weston tapped some controls on his left forearm control pad. Pressure, temperature, O2 content, and other factors came up in his HUD. There was a loud clunk, but then nothing happened.
They waited.
“Push the hatch open,” Jim said, over the comms.
Hume let her rifle hang down on the front of her suit as she pushed. It creaked loudly, but it swung inward. They moved inside the cavernous space and turned back to close the hatch with a loud clang.
Perry said, “Well, there is sound. Where there is sound, there is atmosphere!”
“Wait. Scanning,” Weston said.
“It's breathable, but it's damn cold. Super dry and -48.3°C. It's gonna hurt,” Weston said.
“Sorry, guy, but we need to save the scrubbers in the suits. We have no idea how long we will be here,” Worthington said.
“Yes, sir,” Hume replied, and with a well-practiced flip and twist, she took off her helmet and took a breath.
“Jesus, that is cold.”
The moisture from her breath, when exhaled, froze almost instantly and fell as tiny ice crystals.
She activated a powerful, tactical light on her rifle and scanned the room. Its scope automatically conveyed mapping data to Muir's tactical station on the pinnace.
“Okay, fellas. Gear up. We have some scanning to do.” Perry opened his cases and Weston took some handheld equipment from his pack.
“Sir, I think this is a classic colony redoubt shake-and-bake base from at least 200 years ago. We should have files in the system that will have the layout, once we get some detail,” Hume said, as her light examined a huge, dusty machine she didn't recognize.
“Data storage is down. Archives are off-line. All systems are running on local. Perry, do any of your people know anything about central computer plants?” Jim asked.
“Dr. Bowen knows a lot. More software than hardware,” he replied.
“Oh, boy,” Hume added.
“What?” Perry asked.
“Nothing...Commander, it looks like we’re ready to move out. Gentlemen, I recommend we run with helmets on and visors up.”
***
They soon found a very handy map of the compound, mounted to the wall of the corridor near a lift. They were in a five dome complex, with each dome about 100 meters across. The domes sat on top of a clover-shaped foundation that also went down another eleven levels into the ground.
Only one of the domes was depressurized.
Solar arrays kept the lights on, but once they were in the dark phase of their orbit, there would be no lights. The power banks were all bone-dry. Before they returned to the Memphis, they also located the water storage. It held tens of thousands of liters, but it was all frozen solid.
***
Eight hours after the attack, they returned to the briefing room. All detailed their activities and spent time listening to the condition of the ship and crew. Everyone had a med check and all the bodies had been collected and placed into a cold compartment.
Only one more area lost integrity and went to vacuum: the same room over the dock where Ensign Weston had been trapped.
“Does anyone have any other updates?” Commander Worthington asked, from the podium in the briefing room.
“What's the plan?” Dr. Bowen asked, her arms crossed over her chest.
“We will get reactor number two back online,” Worthington began, not showing his annoyance.
“Two is one. One is none,” Hume cited.
“We will assess our assets. We will recon, if possible. We will repair what we can. We will keep our heads down. We will survive.”
“I think we should attempt to contact the planet. This has all got to be a mistake. I believe we can reason with them. They’re humans!” Bowen was getting spun up again.
“They are humans that nuked the Ventura without so much as a warning,” Hume stated, flatly.
“I think if we can just talk to them, we can make them understand that we’re just a survey ship. I say we take a vote.” Bowen stood and turned to the room, with her hand raised.
“Sit. The. Hell. Down,” Worthington growled. “Let me be clear about this, right now. There will be no votes. This is not a democracy. You will do as you’re told or it's back to airlock number three for you.” He turned to Tyrrell. “We are in a communications blackout. NO communications out.” He turned to Hume. “If anyone violates that order you are to summarily execute them prior to notifying me.” He turned back to Bowen, who was still standing. “Do you understand those orders, Dr. Bowen?”
She stood there, saying nothing.
“The proper reply is, 'Yes, Commander'.”
Hume stood up at that. Standing next to Worthington, she only came up to his chest, but she was so fierce, it made Bowen flinch.
“Yes, sir,” Hume growled. Her hand was on her sidearm.
“Yes, Commander,” Bowen said, and sat down, quickly looking away.
Hume spoke next to the entire group. “The only way we’re going to get through this is to work together and to follow orders. I know that some of you are not used to this, but we do not have any other options. We are in some deep shit, people. When you’re in shit up to your neck, the first thing you do is stop digging.”
The commander returned to the podium. “Here is your first order.”
He paused.
“Everyone, call me Jimbo.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rand the Witch
“At that point I had no idea Barcus had survived and was also on the surface, starting a war of his own. Sure, I was angry. But he was biblical in his fury. So alone. But I was trained, silent running. He kept them occupied by killing a few thousand of those assholes. That distraction saved me I think.”
--Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Master Chief Nancy Randall, senior surviving security member of the Ventura's crew.
<<<>>>
Rand watched in her HUD as the figure in gray moved silently along the trail near the hidden shelter. When he rounded a large boulder, he saw a body, sprawled beside the path, facedown, arms stretched above its head, as if dragged there. The legs were straight and partially covered in leaves.
The man drew his knife and waited.
A few minutes went by without a sound, except for the breeze through the rocks and the shrubs. Cautiously, he approached. When he almost reached the body in the ditch, he sheathed his knife and took out a water skin as he turned over the body.
All he remembered, later, was pain and darkness.
***
Slowly, the man became conscious.
He tried to pretend he was still out but somehow failed. He became aware that he was blindfolded, naked and bound, tightly, professionally. He felt that he was indoors. There was a fire, not far away, to his right. He was on his back, tied to a wood surface with rough planks. Before he could assess further, a voice whispered to him in perfect High Speech.
“Who are you?” It was a deep, frightening voice.
The calm whisper, and those words, struck fear into him more than the bindings.
“Who are you?” was repeated. Followed by a crackling sound, and then an excruciating pain two inches below his navel. Was he just burned? Sta
bbed? He could smell urine from his loss of control.
“Do you understand me?” whispered the voice.
The crackling sound came again. He had answered before the pain came.
“Yes, Keeper. I understand.”
Rand raised an eyebrow. Keeper?
“Who are you?” The crackling started immediately this time.
“They call me Coff. I'm a tracker.”
He was visibly trying to calm himself through force of will. He was also, subtly, testing his bonds.
Very good, Coff.
“Why are you here?” Even more menace dripped from the whisper.
He paused too long. This time the pain was in his left foot. It was worse than the worst cramp he ever had. It was as if his leg was being crushed, or eaten while he still lived. It took him a few moments to realize he was screaming.
“I will ask. You will answer. Promptly.”
“Why are you here?” There was no hesitation this time.
“I was tracking something. Something big.”
“Tell me. All of it.”
Rand didn't know what to ask, specifically. She needed more info without giving anything away. It came out in a flood.
“I was moving south from where I spend the summers above the gorge in the north. I always come south in the winter. I cannot tolerate so much snow. I had gotten as far as Corrina Valley. I always take that route south. Fewer people.” His speech was degrading, shifting to something else. An accent or a dialect of English.
“Slow down. Speak.” There was more crackling.
“Forgive me, Keeper. I don't often speak High Tongue.”
“Why are you here?” There was more crackling.
“I was moving south in heavy rain. I decided to move through the night. I knew a warm, dry place that I could reach around dawn, where I could dry out and rest in comfort. Before I got there, I saw it.”
“What did you see?” The whisper her riot helmet made was specially designed to intimidate, to cause fear in crowd control situations.
Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3 Page 45
