Sleeping in the Stars (Marston Chronicles Book 1)

by D Patrick Wagner

  “Yes, Sir,” Sue responded, miming Krag’s professionalism.

  Eying Keiko, Krag was once again struck by the beauty of this elegant little woman. Her attire was simple-the chameleon suit, work belt, darts and knives covered by a one-piece flight suit. Instead of deck shoes, she wore her stealth boots, already attached, as were her gloves. In one hand she held the hood, with its enhanced hearing and breath-concealing equipment. The other hand clutched a hard-shelled backpack with a half-cylindrical indentation running top to bottom.

  Krag, back to his professional mindset, asked, “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” Keiko replied, as she continued to stand next to Krag, watching Mack work.

  Mack pulled his upper torso out of the second CERVE and announced, “All is good, Captain. You’re ready to go.”

  Krag and Keiko moved forward, tossed in their gear and climbed into their perspective skimmers. Mack made a point of helping Keiko, leaving Krag to fend for himself. Once settled and strapped in, they donned hostile environment masks. Although the cockpits were pressurized, the CERVEs carried only a limited amount of air.

  “Sparrow, radio check,” Krag said.

  “Loud and clear,” Keiko responded.

  “Let’s get this show on the road, then. Sue, Overwatch, Status?”

  “All clear, no one around to see you leave,” she responded.

  “Mack, it’s a go,” Krag announced through Griffin’s speaker system.

  Mack gave the two pilots a double thumbs up, left the cargo bay and sealed the hatch.

  Sub-vocally, Krag commanded Buster, "Calculate a flight path that takes us through the atmosphere away from the science lab. Then have us loop back at ground level to within one mile of the main road."

  "Done," Buster responded.

  "Also, plot an emergency return flight. I want a full hostile evasion plot for both CERVEs and the avatar. Download your results into our flight computers."

  “Yes, Captain.”

  For the benefit of his crew, Krag repeated the flight orders to Duke and continued, “Duke, open the bay doors.” Buster loaded the preprogrammed flight paths.

  The clamshell gates opened, loading ramp down and gull wing door up. First Krag then Keiko lifted their CERVEs with positional boosters, slowly glided through the bay doors and pointed their skimmers in the proper heading.

  Once aligned, Krag called Keiko. “Sparrow, everything ok?”

  “Ready to go, Captain, um, Eagle,” Keiko responded, dropping back into her professional mode, suppressing any emotional interaction that the two of them had developed.

  “On my mark, initiate insertion, “Krag commanded. “Three, two, one, Mark!”

  Krag and Keiko tapped their firing icons. The computer pilots of the two single person ships fired their rockets, accelerated to planetfall speed and guided the CERVEs to the predetermined destination. In stealth mode, the flight computers kept the speed of the CERVEs well below the speed that would create enough friction to ignite the atmosphere or create a sonic boom. At this slow speed, once glide speed and trajectory were achieved, the chemical engines shut down and the little ships’ computers’ used ailerons and wing flaps to control the flight. Both Krag and Keiko had their hands on the control pads and flight sticks but did nothing as none of their input was needed.

  The clamshell bay doors closed with a hiss and a click. The bay re-pressurized and Buster’s avatar released its clamps and began moving around. Mack watched on the bulkhead monitor that viewed the bay, seeing Buster walk over to the smuggler’s locker where the combat equipment was stored. The avatar pulled out its battle armor, a body suit of reidite crystalline ceramics almost as hard as diamonds. Just as diamonds are created from coal through extreme heat and pressure, Reidite is also created through extreme heat and pressure. The source material being Zircon, rather than the coal which diamonds are made from.

  Mack watched the supposedly worker android cover its entire body and head with the flat silver ceramic armor, leaving its forearms and hands bare. Once the armor was donned, Buster inserted each of his hands into the inner workings of massive weapons and pulled them out of their storage racks.

  As Buster pulled out and donned his battle armor and weaponry, Mack broke the hatch and stepped in.

  “Crikey!” Mack exclaimed. “What are you?”

  “I’m Buster,” the avatar replied, while continuing to attach his combat armor.

  “I thought you were Clyde.”

  “Only when I am not Buster.”

  “You’re military grade?”

  “Yes, Mr. McCauley.”

  “You’re Marston’s old battle droid!” Mack guessed. That sneaky dog. I’ll bet Sue got you moved. Does she know you’re here?”

  “I’m not sure, Mr. McCauley.” By this time, Buster was fully armored and weaponized.

  He proceeded to another bin, opened it and extracted a two-rocket jet pack. Strapping this to his back, Buster went to a third compartment, this time the large one hidden in a bulkhead, the emergency ejection tube. Mack saw a fat cigar-shaped egg, designed to hold the fully armed and armored avatar. Buster pressed a button on the cylinder and the front half swung open. Turning and backing in, Buster locked his ankles and one wrist into control bands. Slamming his helmeted head back, it attached to the constraining bracket designed to immobilize his head. Then he closed the shell and locked his final wrist in place. The prep was finished. The wait began.

  Mack watched all this. “Damn. That is one nasty piece of work. Death is coming.” He muttered. Turning, he left the bay and went to tell Sue what he saw.

  Federacy Scientific Research Center

  Keiko and Krag spent their time checking gauges, verifying flight paths and using cameras and monitors to scan the landing zone and surrounding terrain.

  “Sparrow, status?” Krag asked, all sensed and emotions .focused on the task at hand.

  “All green, Hawk,” Keiko answered, in the same mind-set.

  Studying his gauges, Krag stated, “Touchdown in forty minutes.”

  “Aye, Sir. Or is it ‘Roger’?”

  “Roger, this time. Roger means ‘I understand’. ‘Aye aye’ is an acknowledgement of an order.”

  They both dropped back into silence, scanning gauges, reviewing the mission and working through various scenarios.

  Forty minutes later, the two CERVEs executed approaches and settled down a mile from their target. The spot selected was in front of a small group of mountains and in back of a ridge of boulders, effectively concealing them from anything but an overhead view. Being highly stealthy vehicles, Krag had only a small concern that their landing would be observed.

  Krag and Keiko released their canopies, climbed out and retrieved their bags. Krag pulled out bottles of water and handed one to Keiko. Keiko settled in, sitting on her hard-shelled pack, back against a smooth rock. Krag rummaged through his bag, pulled a harness with a circular container in its center and a small black box attached to the container. Swinging it over his shoulder, he took a breath and nodded to Keiko.

  “I’m off. Stay small. Check in every fifteen minutes.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” Keiko knew that Krag wasn’t being disrespectful or diminishing. She knew that he was working in a professional mode, verifying procedure, focusing on the success of the mission. As was she. His air of strength and determination gave her confidence and a sense of security. Keiko smiled a small smile while Krag left.

  Krag, carrying his equipment, hiked up the road a mile, found a shaded boulder to sit beside and waited.

  “Buster, any vehicles?”

  “None, yet, Captain.”

  Krag settled in to wait, compulsively going over his plan, re-inspecting his pistol and harness gear, worrying about the outcome. Keiko continued to wait, wrapped in peaceful silence, emptied of worry about the upcoming action.

  Two hours later Buster broke into Krag’s reverie. “Captain, an open cargo truck just left the settlement. It should reach you in about a
n hour.”

  “Copy that. Notify me when it is one mile out.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Krag continued to wait. As a fighter pilot he had been conditioned to let time pass until it was time to take action. That time came when he heard over his cerebral web that Buster had measured that the truck had reached the one mile range. Krag moved to the center of the road, and stood, legs apart, left arm thrust out and waving in a stop gesture, his immaculate major’s black uniform standing out against the sandy brown landscape.

  The well-weathered truck ground to a halt. Krag saw only the driver, a civilian Doubting that anyone would be riding in the back, he Marched to the driver’s side and signaled for the man to roll down the window. After the driver complied, Krag stuck his slug thrower in the man’s throat, just under the ear.

  “Out!” Krag commanded.

  With one hand in the air, the driver slowly reached down and shut off the vehicle. Then, carefully opening the door, while watching the muzzle of the pistol pull out of the window and around the jam, the driver slowly stepped out with both hands in the air.

  Looking at his ID tag, Krag began, “Brian, we are going to go over to those boulders.” Krag waved his pistol towards the rocks where he had been resting. Once they arrived, Krag commanded, “Now, Brian, you are going to drop the top of your overalls and remove your shirt.”

  Brian complied. Still pointing the gun at his captive, Krag reached down and picked up the harness. “Hold your arms forward.” Again, Brian did as ordered. Krag, one handed, slipped the harness over Brian’s arms and draped it on his shoulders. Still training the slug thrower at Brian’s head, Krag circled around to his back and quickly snapped the clips into place.

  Circling back to face Brian, Krag state, “You now have a bomb strapped to your chest. It’s designed for a directional blast to explode through your chest, shred your heart and smash your spine.” Pulling out a small remote with a single button and off/on toggle, Krag continued. “This is the detonator. I can stand right here, press the button and you will go away. I won’t even get any blood on my uniform. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Brian stammered.

  “Good. Oh, and if you try to remove it or tamper with it, boom. Put your shirt back on and pull up your overalls.” Brian did as he was told.

  ”Get in the truck. Oh, and the range of the detonator is five miles. So, don’t get crazy.”

  Brian climbed into the driver’s seat. Krag holstered his weapon, checked that the back of the truck did contain only crates and not people and climbed into the passenger’s side.

  Krag saw a radio mounted to the dashboard. Holding up and waggling the detonator, Krag asked, “When is your next call in?”

  With eyes wide, Brian stared at the device in Krag’s hand. “I don’t have one. It’s a short run. Just supplies. Nothing important,” he stammered.

  “You better hope that you’re not lying. First sign of trouble and ‘boom’. Drive about a mile up the road. I will tell you when to stop.”

  When they arrived at the landing zone, Krag ordered Brian to stop. Then he unscrewed the cable that connected the microphone to the radio.

  “Stay in the truck. Don’t be stupid,” Krag ordered, while again showing him the detonator.

  Krag exited the truck, leaving the passenger door open, moved around the boulders and didn’t see Keiko. Scanning, he saw the CERVEs, Keiko’s backpack, an empty bottle of water and her flight suit. He pulled his slug thrower and dropped to a crouch, again searching the area, gun at the ready.

  “Relax, Captain,” Keiko’s disembodied voice echoed off the rocks. “I’m coming out. Don’t do anything rash.”

  Krag stood and holstered his weapon. In an eye blink, Keiko stood in front of him.

  Keiko unzipped her hood and pulled it off. Krag lost all military bearing and just stood and gaped. Except for hers coloring a matt black, she looked naked. The chameleon suit hugged every contour and curve of her body, no wrinkles or creases. Keiko, even so small, was all woman and it showed.

  Keiko saw his awkwardness and the dropping of his professionalism. She knew what she looked like. For the moment, she relaxed her manner and matched his breach in professionalism. She shot a hip, placing a hand on it and, with a humorous smirk, stated, “You can breathe now, Big Guy.” she softly laughed. “And you can blink. I’m fully dressed, you know.”

  Embarrassed, Krag tried to look everywhere except at Keiko. Looking at the ground, the six foot three, retired space force major mumbled, “You’re perfect.”

  Clearing his throat, and standing ramrod straight, he commanded, “Turn that thing back on. We’ve got to go. You’ll ride in the back.”

  The petit, chameleon-clad woman also donned her air of professionalism. “Yes, Captain.” Keiko pulled her hood back on, touched her wrist and immediately disappeared, leaving only a slight waver of light where she stood. Krag watched the backpack rise to just below the view of the passenger side window and float to, and over, the truck’s tailgate. The truck’s suspension didn’t flex a bit from Keiko’s sparrow-like body. Once inside, the pack settled to the floor.

  Krag returned to the truck, tossed his utility bag on the floor and climbed into the cab. Speaking into his throat-mounted radio, Krag asked, “Ready?”

  “Ready,” he heard.

  “Brian, so far you’ve done well. Keep going like this and you’ll have something to tell your grandkids. Now, be a good little worker bee and don’t do anything stupid, like trying to hand signal with your arm outside the cab. Go at a normal speed.”

  Brian fired up the truck and drove towards his destination.

  “Entering,” Krag whispered to Keiko.

  “Copy,” the invisible Keiko replied.

  The two guards at the gate knew Brian by sight. “Hey Brian. What’s up?”

  “Different day, same shit.” Brian sounded almost normal.

  The guard looking in the window, asked, “Major, may I see some ID?”

  Krag pulled his Federacy Sedition Agency ID (with the forged name of George S. Patton) from his breast pocket and handed it across Brian’s body.

  After only a quick glance, seeing the FSA logo, the guardsman quickly handed the plastic card back. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Yes, soldier. You can point me to the chief science officer. Oh, and what’s his name, again?” Krag politely ordered and asked.

  Pointing, “Straight ahead, in the large building, second floor. It’s professor Wellington.”

  “Wellington. Thank you.”

  Brian slowly accelerated through the gate and kept the truck at the posted speed.

  Watching the truck, the guard remarked to his partner, “Somebody is so screwed.”

  Krag looked around, as any new arrival would. He saw military barracks to his right, along with two ground-attack vehicles. Military personnel variously lounged around an athletic court, lifted weights at an outdoor workout area or played board games at multiple tables. No one carried weapons. “Lots of military, all lazy slobs,” Krag thought “Good for me. Bad for them.” Brian pulled into a parking slot in front of the designated building.

  Krag focused on Brian. “Go about your normal business. And remember, say and do nothing. Remember the bomb. Remember your family. Save your life. When your work is done, pull over and wait. We’ll be leaving the way we came.”

  With that admonishment, Krag left the truck, retrieving his duffle as he did so. A quick glance showed that Keiko and her hard-shelled backpack had already done the same. With duffle in hand and cap on his head, Acting Major Krag Marston, as Major Patton of the Federacy Sedition Agency, marched into the main building. Pausing at the door, Krag saw the medium-sized warehouse, with a solid wall at the back and a double set of doors leading to the secured area. Two servicemen lazily guarded the doors, them and their weapons propped against the wall, frittering away their time, waiting for their shift to end. To the right he saw an upper deck with three offices, all with gla
ss windows and doors. Office clerks could be seen moving around, sitting at desks, generally doing whatever office clerks did. The end of the deck buttressed up to the solid back wall, a single door for personnel entry.

  Krag walked in, found a support column, set his bag down, unzipped its top, and assumed a casual posture, making sure his head cover hid his face from the security cameras and any watching personnel. Checking out the room he rechecked the two servicemen guarding the double doors and saw one more guarding the stairwell leading to the upper deck. Two more worked on some sort of tractor-treaded vehicle, tools scattered around the area and pulse rifles leaning against a fender.

  Closely watching the upper deck, Krag saw Keiko’s backpack move a foot, stop, wait for a ten count and move again. She took fifteen minutes to cover the ground, reaching the door and stopping. During that time, the soldier stationed at the base of the stairwell came over, Saluted smartly and asked, “Major, may I help you?”

  “No, Private. I’m waiting for Professor Wellington. He should be along shortly.” Krag returned a casual salute and waited for the soldier to return to his post.

  Returning his gaze to the upstairs door, he saw an electronic palm-sized metal box materialize from Keiko’s invisible utility belt and be pressed against the electronic security pad. After a few seconds, Krag heard a small snick. The door opened and, less than a few inches from the floor, the backpack and electronic device floated through.

  Krag hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath. Watching the door close, he let it out slowly, and returned to surreptitiously keeping tabs on the five possible targets. Kneeling down, he rummaged through the duffle and pulled a folder from the bag. He rose back up, leaned against the metal I-beam support column and pretended to study the file.

  For more than an hour Krag wandered the storeroom, strolled outside or sat on a bench under a tree. Every ten minutes he would get a single click in the audio pickup of his cranial web. He kept listening for a double click, indicating that Keiko had secured the core and was making her way out. Instead, he got a triple click. That spelled trouble. Quickly moving back in side, he returned to his selected column and scanned the room. He saw the five soldiers still at their posts. Just then the upstairs door slammed open and the backpack with a long cylinder strapped to it, rapidly bounced out, followed by a charging man in a lab smock.