Tranquility Besieged Chapter One

A prequel to Slave of Akrona

Fans of Slave of Akrona and Rebels of Akrona have asked about Grey's earlier adventures. This is one of the best, when he was still a young man living on Earth's moon. It is more wartime romance than erotic, so readers not looking for this may wish to search elsewhere. A special note; this was originally written 40 years ago when I was still working full-time managing a video store, and only revised once. Please be generous. All characters are over 18 years old.

Recap: Grey Waters was born on the moon following a mass evacuation, and six months later, the Founders of the Tranquility Lunar Colony died, leaving an infant to be raised by the colony's advanced computers (this story was written when artificial intelligence was still science fiction). When five intrepid astronauts reached the moon 20 years later, Grey challenged the computers in a desperate battle, finally taking control of the colony where he had previously been a servant. The surviving astronauts were sent back home. Except one, who secretly stayed behind.

Chapter One

SECURITY

"Are your sure about this?" Grey asked.

"Let's give it a try," Kris persisted, crawling next to him on the couch. "I think you'll get comfortable with it after a while. Just snuggle a little and put your arm around my shoulders."

Grey did as instructed, clearly uncomfortable with the close quarters. Kris discovered an odd challenge in his hesitancy.

"Okay, this isn't so bad, is it?" she asked, snuggling closer.

"Please proceed, I want to get this over with," Grey complained.

"Goddamn it, it's not going to work if you don't relax! Shit, people say I'm afraid of intimacy. The whole idea is to loosen up, take off the shoes."

"My foot coverings are off, I don't feel any different," Grey said.

"Hush, it's almost time," Kris whispered.

As she signaled for the remote control, the lighting in the study dampened and the monitor screen positioned against the opposite wall activated.

"Aren't we supposed to eat burnt corn kernels?" Grey asked.

"Shut up, you had your chance. Look, it's coming on now," she said.

Grey sat back on the overstuffed California-style couch and put his feet up on the low beverage table as instructed. On the walls of the semi-dark Governor's Quarters were the trophies and awards of another governor long since deceased. Mementos that reflected a more hopeful era that neither Kris nor Grey were old enough to remember. In the corner was the vintage oak desk from which Thomas McKinsey had made his famous speeches, and the private computer station where Grey often referenced library files. He had slept on the couch once or twice, but sitting on it to watch an Earth television transmission was a new experience for him. Kris seemed to think the activity natural.

Soon the censor-approved WBC Saturday Supplement began, and as usual, the Atlanta anchor introduced the program.

"Good evening and good news for Saturday, September 21, 2069," Thelly Moore said, the signal relayed through Earth's partially reestablished communications web to Tranquility's own web in lunar orbit. "Tonight, as promised, we have the two most talked about heroes in the world today, Dr. Valerie Fairfield and Colonel Michael Zopek. I'm sure there isn't a person on the planet who isn't anxious to hear of their exciting adventure to the Tranquility Lunar Colony, and the tragic loss of Dr. Laureen McKinsey on that fatal shore. And who is this mysterious moon man we've all heard about? Why has his existence been a secret for twenty years? This and more we'll discuss, right after a message from our corporate affiliates."

When the broadcast went to commercial, Kris turned off the sound, the images suddenly speaking wordlessly.

"Why did you do that?" Grey asked in surprise.

"No one listens to the ads," she explained. "Why? Do you?"

"I suppose it isn't mandatory," Grey said, embarrassed to admit he liked the promotional episodes where clever techniques were employed to attract customer attention. It was a subject he had often discussed with the Sales Computer while growing up. A few minutes later, the news program resumed, the screen split between the Atlanta headquarters and a private living room back dropped by a sunny beach and waves rolling in from the Pacific Ocean.

"There they are," Kris said, jumping from Grey's arm to the edge of the couch. "There's Val and Mike. Look. They're in my cottage."

Grey failed to understand why she was so excited. They had watched the safe return of Valerie, Michael, and Roger Vandebrown on the World Net just three weeks before, the shuttlecraft Grey had loaned them making a perfect touchdown at the Point Mugu air station. Nevertheless, Grey was pleased that Kris seemed so happy.

"Hello, Val. Hello, Mike. Good to see you again," the reporter greeted.

The visual image was crisp, unlike the distorted pictures Tranquility often received during the war. Valerie appeared with a bright smile, her long sandy blonde hair hanging down over her tight sweater. Mike lounged carelessly against the couch, his years as a college sports celebrity providing a natural ease before the camera.

"Hi, Thelly. Nice to be back," Valerie said.

"Yeah, hi," Mike said. "And thanks for the support your network gave us. Doc McKinsey always said we owed you for that."

"We're all saddened to hear of Dr. McKinsey's untimely death," Moore said. "Do you think the Congress-In-Council will release your official report soon?"

"Can't comment on that," Mike said. "But in the end, Laureen died fighting for what she believed in. That's got to say something."

Valerie lowered her head, unable to speak. Despite disappointment in her godmother's deceit, the love was still there. And always would be.

"Her contributions to peace will be remembered," the reporter praised. "Is there anything new you can tell us about Major Vandebrown?"

Mike looked at Valerie, who looked toward the screen.

"Roger is still recuperating at the Powell Medical Center," Valerie said. "His detention hasn't been explained to us, but he saved my life and Michael's. He served our expedition well when we really needed him."

"Served himself well," Kris whipsered, poking Grey with her elbow. Grey held his own counsel on that.

"What can you tell us about Captain Fairfield?" Moore asked. "One rumor says she's on the moon, another that she's critically ill with a strange lunar disease."

Valerie and Mike laughed, and Kris laughed, too, though Grey had no idea why.

"Kris is just fine," Valerie announced. "She decided... Mike? Am I allowed to say?" Mike nodded. "My little sister is still at Tranquility. She's healthy and will be in communication soon."

"Is there a special reason why Captain Fairfield did not return with you?" the reporter persisted.

"She needed a vacation," Valerie said.

Mike erupted in laughter. Kris nearly fell off the couch. Moore laughed for the benefit of his audience.

"No, really. I shouldn't be so edged," Valerie continued. "Kris felt her energy would be best served by staying at Tranquility. Our father's dream was for the colony to be a conduit for world peace. That was Laureen's hope, too. Kris is doing what she can to make that dream a reality."

"Well, if anyone can, it's the Hero of the Nile," Moore said.

Kris grimaced. She had always hated that dubious reference despite the many honors it had brought. As a combat pilot during the Embargo Wars, she had flown many hazardous missions. And lost many comrades. Grey felt her discomfort and thought he understood. The acclaim carried a high price.

"What about this mysterious moon man?" Moore continued. "Is it true there's been someone living on the moon all these years? Isolated by the wars?"

"Yes, it's true," Valerie said in a confidential tone. "And it's even more amazing than that. His name is Grey Waters. He was born at Tranquility just after the evacuation. When Governor McKinsey and the other custodians died, he was raised by the computer systems. He's the Governor of the Moon now."

Moore chuckled, reflecting what much of his audience must think of the so-called Lunar Republic. A distinction that no alliance had ever recognized.

"Don't laugh too loud," Mike said, leaning forward. "Tranquility's defense center hasn't been pissing away its firepower all these years like we have. They've got an arsenal there as good as any alliance on the planet, and with high-ground advantage. Like we told the Congress-In-Council--"

"Michael, let's not bore our audience with politics," Valerie interrupted. "Why don't you tell Thelly how Grey beat you for a hundred credits in poker?"

"Hey, the guy's some kind of genius or something," Mike lamented, avoiding Valerie's gaze. "There was a lot of that going around."

"Are you a genius, Grey?" Kris whispered playfully.

"Negative. I used ultraviolet filters," he said.

"You cheated?"

"I won. That is the objective."

"But you can't--" Kris began.

"The humans are still speaking, Captain," Grey interrupted.

"... classified for now," Mike finished explaining. "But I'm sure the full report will be released soon. Our flight permit forbids us from going into too much detail."

"I understand," Moore acknowledged. "And let me say again how much we appreciate your appearance with us here this evening."

"Bye," Valerie waved, flashing her famous smile. Mike gave a friendly nod and their portion of the screen faded out. The moment Thelly Moore's image dominated the monitor screen, Kris turned the unit off.

"Never did like that guy," she said. "What did you think of Val and Mike?"

"Their comments were quite reserved. Nor were their references to the Congress-In-Council reassuring," Grey commented.

"There's not much the Council can do without allies," Kris decided. "They'd need to launch a small fleet to attack Tranquility, and it's not likely the alliances will allow that."

"The present security risk is minimal," Grey agreed. "But in the past, it's always been the Defense Computer's function to destroy invaders. Next time, the responsibility will be mine."

Sunday, September 22, 2069

"This governor kid has got to be eliminated," Senator Tyman insisted. "We'll never get the moon back with him in our way."

The conference chamber of the Central Committee was well below capacity, only six of the twenty-four members invited to attend the meeting. Nestled deep in the Capitol Building of the Northern Alliance, the long narrow room had the lighting turned low to match the mood of the gathering.

"We'll get our chance," General Smyth said. "High Command reports NA Starlight ready for launch. Mallo's assembled three strike squads and a tech staff. The Euros are contributing C-6 Neighbor and a science crew."

"What about the Russians?" Congressman Kim asked.

"They might be willing to contribute a cargo shuttle and a team of engineers," Smyth said. "Even renamed her RR Sharkov after that scientist Waters murdered."

A few people in the room quietly snickered under their breaths. The loss of RR Black Raven and it's four-person crew three years before was still shrouded in mystery.

"This has got to work," Senator Tyman said. "The opposition is pressing for new elections."

"Twelve years without a national election is a long time," Kim suggested. "Hard to keep justifying martial law without an emergency."

"We don't need to justify a damn thing!" Secretary Kennedy insisted. "Not while we control the army. And we'll keep control as long as the party stands firm. Letting that kid stare us down is just the sort of weakness our opposition needs. What about the assassination order?"

Kennedy received several frowns. Not for the content of his question, only for his lack of discretion in asking it.

"I'm sure it can be done discreetly," Tyman said. "Maybe we can recruit a Euro agent. Even better, one of the Russians."

"Or someone he trusts," Smyth suggested.

All eyes turned toward the end of the table.

"Well, Jim? What do you think?" Kennedy asked.

General James Vandebrown, lean and gray past his years, stood up and straightened his jacket, smoothing out the chest filled with combat decorations.

"It's true my son failed in his mission," General Vandebrown said. "Though the treatment Roger has received since returning isn't likely to inspire much loyalty."

"We put him on McKinsey's expedition to ensure our interests, and he served his own instead," Admiral Trolleni said.

"So rather than offer something of value for Tranquility's access codes, you're trying to coerce Roger with threats and drugs? Any luck so far?" Vandebrown asked with a disparaging tone.

"Goddamn it, Jim," Admiral Trolleni shouted. "You know we'll never get past Tranquility's defenses without those codes."

"I'll talk to my son," Vandebrown said. "But you better give me something more to bargain with. Credits or maybe a seat in congress. Roger isn't the kind of man to provide the access codes out of national loyalty."

"We've figured that out," Tyman said. "We can raise a few million credits. We also have a seat opening in Western Region. But I want results we can use to bolster our support on the floor. In the meantime, I want everybody to keep up pressure on our media sources. McKinsey was murdered. The Russian expedition was murdered. If given the opportunity, this kid will continue to murder. He's got to be stopped, and only a concerted effort by a new, united alliance can do it."

"And if our sources want evidence?" Kim asked.

"Tell them the facts speak for themselves," Tyman insisted. "And if they don't want their networks removed from the web, they had better report the facts."

Monday, September 23, 2069

"Where are you going now?" Kris asked, catching up to Grey as he prepared to leave the Governor's Quarters.

"I have duties to perform," Grey replied.

Irritated by the bandages protecting his mending rib cage, he put his left arm into the sling so he wouldn't overwork his wounded shoulder. Most of his other battle injuries, the cuts, bruises, and sprains, had finally reached the stage where they no longer annoyed him, but the heavy maintenance schedules continued to slow the healing process.

"Mohammed King, Grey. You just pulled a twelve hour shift. Give yourself a break," Kris said.

Grey looked at her quizzically. As he rarely gave extended work schedules a second thought, her attitude seemed most strange. But then, nearly everything humans did seemed strange.

"This is a personal project," Grey explained, entering a small staging area where he opened a rotating storage closet to retrieve his tool belt and holstered blaster. Kris grabbed her own tool pouch and blaster from a bench next to the door, prepared to go with him.

"You may not be qualified for this one, Captain," Grey warned.

Kris scrunched her eyebrows and pushed her long dark hair back over her shoulder. 5'7, 150 pounds, sturdily though attractively built, she resented any challenge to her abilities.

"I've been helping you with everything else around here these last few weeks," she insisted. "Rebuilt that seeker. Shored up the perimeter laser batteries. Overhauled that energy conduit. Even kept you in one piece despite your best shot at running yourself into the ground. Don't reckon you can out-do me now."

She stood defiantly, feet apart with hands on hips. As little as Grey knew about human females, it was a posture he'd quickly learned not to quarrel with. And there was something else about her. A deeper response that he didn't understand.

"As you wish," he replied.

Grey paused to look in the locker room mirror as the Medical Computer had taught him to do many years before. It was not a comfortable experience, the scrawny young man who looked back at him with intense gray eyes and shaggy brown hair was all too human.

He crossed the room to the main computer stations, glancing briefly at the dozens of smaller auxiliary monitors before stopping in front of the large central screen.

"Life Support," Grey summoned.

"Good afternoon, Grey. Hello, Captain Fairfield. May I be of service?" the Life Support Computer greeted, green signature patterns rising to dominate the monitor screen flux.

"We're going eastside for a few hours," Grey responded. "Please coordinate with Communications. Since the humans returned in Silent Wind, we still haven't been contacted by Major Vandebrown or the Congress-In-Council."

"It's not a positive development," the MC5000 agreed. "I will interact analysis modes with Communications and Library to assess the probabilities."

"Thank you," Grey said, watching the green signature patterns recede into the multicolored flux. "Defense."

Blue signature patterns slowly rose to take control of the monitor screen, the MC6000's authority modes still impressive despite the system's recently reduced status.

"Reporting, Governor," the Defense Computer said.

"Hello, Defense," Grey said respectfully. "Can you provide a strategic update?"

"Affirmative," the Defense Computer said, equally respectful. "Launch site activity continues at Denver Field, Liege, and Moscow Field. No evidence of coordination between the rival factions. No heavy lift capacity under display. Situation alert but stable."

"Recommendations?" Grey asked.

The Defense Computer displayed an underlying signature wave of gratitude. Grey didn't need to show such deference, especially after the opposition his bid for authority had received from the higher function levels during the civil war.

"With our perimeter stations back online, interception ratios are enhanced seventy-nine percent. However, weakness from northern approaches continue. Only targets beyond lunar orbit remain guaranteed."

"Understood. Maintain alert status," Grey said.

"Acknowledged," the Defense Computer said, dropping from the flux.

"Energy," Grey requested.

The red signature patterns of the Energy Computer rapidly pushed into the flux. Supported by extra maintenance units and the benefits of having changed to the winning side at a crucial moment, the MC3000 showed aggressively on the monitor screen.

"Reporting," the Energy Computer said.

"I believe it's time to begin testing on the energy cannon. What do you think?" Grey asked.

"Verification modes have been prepared," Energy confirmed, pleased to be asked rather than ordered.

"If the Earth alliances manage to coordinate their efforts, we may need the energy cannon to discourage an invasion," Grey warned. "How soon can we safely connect the matrix?"

"Sixty-one days, Governor. But let me remind you, no one has ever attempted to power an energy cannon with a step-two variable reactor. We don't know what the power surge will do to the focusing mechanisms or the radiation buffers."

Grey paused. That problem had bothered him also.

"Would the focusing matrix from a disrupter help?" Kris asked. "That unit Vandebrown brought is still down in the landing bay."

"Of course, how could I have forgotten?" Grey said.

"You were bleeding rather profusely at the time," Kris recalled.

Grey did not consider that an excuse, but quickly moved on. "Energy, have Maintenance break down the disrupter and see what parts may prove useful. Assign an extra repair unit if necessary."

"Affirmative," Energy responded.

"And by the way, I suppose we'd better run a step-two variable cycle to test management control. Let's schedule a ten second hold one week from today."

"Acknowledged," the Energy Computer recorded, signature patterns running strongly before dropping from the flux.

Grey paused over the call board for the Security Computer, his ancient enemy now deactivated. He would never be able to defeat a ground attack without the Security Computer's help, nor could he reactivate the MC4000 without risk. Grey remained indecisive, and it bothered him.

"Come, Captain," Grey announced before the thought could intrude further.

He exited the Governor's Quarters with Kris close behind, bouncing easily down the administration corridor to the main hall accessing the community level's central quad. Kris was still adapting to living in the lighter gravity. For Grey, it was his natural environment.

"I never get tired of this," Kris said, admiring the cavern's high ceiling, the intricately connected multi-level structures, and the long central promenade lined by colorful retail shops and stylish eating areas. To her right, the quad narrowed into the reception area below the community access tunnel. To her left, at the far end of the promenade, the cavern opened into an amphitheater capable of seating several hundred spectators.

"Your father was a gifted architect," Grey said, admitting one of the few favorable things he was able to say about the deceased custodians whose fate had left him orphaned and abandoned. He no longer blamed them. Not really. Not now that he understood their motivations. But the bitterness was difficult to overcome.

Grey and Kris strolled toward the lower end of the promenade and passed underneath the ramp to the second floor medical center before accessing a large lobby of intersecting tunnels and elevators.

"The science elevator?" Kris asked.

"Affirmative," he replied, activating the elevator access.

The doors opened a moment later and they stepped inside a lift large enough for moderate cargo movement. The doors closed and the elevator began to move upward.

"Is the elevator shaft really twenty kilometers long?" she asked.

Grey turned in surprise. "The entire length is under a single kilometer. Perhaps the stories you've heard are an exaggeration?"

"I guess," Kris said, a little embarrassed. "It's been so long since anybody visited Tranquility, all kinds of crazy stories are bound to cook up. And those horror movies they make don't help, either."

"Horror movies?"

"You know, Mangler From the Moon. Terror From Tranquility. Virus of the Lunar Hordes. Not to mention the sequels."

"When I was a child, I remember watching Monster of Moon Base One on the library monitor. I thought it was a documentary."

"Your childhood must have been so strange," Kris laughed. "Raised by the computers. No human contact. No love." She paused, glancing at Grey for his reaction, but nothing showed in his expression. "You don't like to talk about it, do you?"

"It's not a practice I'm accustomed to," he admitted.

"But you'll tell me, won't you?" she asked hopefully, hooking her arm through his. Grey started to say something, then took a deep breath and held back.

"We're almost to the research level," he said.

"Hey, goddamn it, I'm not so good at this personal stuff, either," Kris complained. "I've spent the last two years in a shell. But I figure we've got to try."

The elevator came to a sudden halt and the doors snapped open. Grey drew his sidearm and jumped out with a quick sweep of the area.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Kris asked, drawing her own sidearm and forming up on his flank.

"My apology, I forgot the habit is no longer necessary," Grey sighed, putting the sidearm away.

"Habit?" she inquired.

"In days past, Security and I would sometimes come to cross purposes," he explained. "Often little warning was provided. I needed to be ready to defend myself at all times."

"I've seen you fight. You're fucking good."

"Which is ironic," Grey said, nearly smiling. "It was the Security Computer who trained me."

The research level was constructed similarly to the community level, though not as large and without the grand architectural detailing. Kris noticed stuffy chemical smells and the bustling noises of the mobile maintenance units as they serviced the equipment. Above them, the low cavern roof sloped over a large circular floor area subdivided into several distinct sections crisscrossed by elevated catwalks. A central hub was visible from the second floor balcony where Kris and Grey stood.

"It's bigger than I expected," Kris said, a little disappointed by the drab pale-green walls and standard overhead lighting.

"The research level houses one-hundred and thirty-four commercial and industrial projects," Grey said, recalling the description given him by the tour guide on his first visit eleven years before. "I've been forced to neglect many duties here, but next quarter I hope to reestablish my schedule. The mineral labs are on the verge of developing new processing procedures for structural supports, and I think the enriched He-3 program will show results by the end of the year."

"Helium isotope? That's pretty rare stuff," Kris said.

"Not on the moon," Grey said. "And with half of the world's fusion reactors idled by fuel shortages, we'll have no trouble finding a market."

Unlike the community level, which tended to stay quiet and a bit somber, the research level had a life of its own that Kris found exciting. The robots were interesting, with several different model series scurrying about towing exotic tools. Kris glanced at Grey as he viewed the science level and noticed a special gleam in his eye. Warrior, repairman, and administrator though he may be, Kris suspected that science was his first true love.

"So what are we doing here?" Kris asked, afraid to admit she hadn't been in a laboratory since her junior year at Annapolis.

"We are still in transit," Grey said, turning right along the perimeter walkway toward a large staging area. "I just thought you might like to see the research level on our way. I know how curious you humans get."

"Damn it, Grey, you're a human, too, you know," Kris said, following at a quick pace.

"That is true," he agreed.

"Well, why do you always say you humans in such a weird way?"

"I don't understand."

"You're always saying you humans this and you humans that, but if you're human, too, shouldn't it be we humans?"

Grey stopped outside a safety hatch and looked at Kris, her vivid green eyes and compelling expression interesting. Of all the humans he had met, all nine of them, he admired her the most. And not just for what he considered her very attractive appearance. She had an energy he found challenging.

"Technically you are correct," he finally said, reaching to activate the hatch. "While growing up, the Medical Computer often explained to me what it means to be a human. Medical even gave me instructions on how to act like one. But you Earth humans are different from anything I expected. Especially you."

Kris smiled, glancing at his sad gray eyes and slim but wiry stature. During her years as a combat pilot at the end of the Embargo Wars, she had known many brave people. Many generous and self-sacrificing people. But there was a quality about Grey that made him special. Perhaps it was because he gave so much while genuinely expecting nothing in return.

"This is 100E, the longest linear tunnel within the colony," Grey introduced as the heavy hatch slid open. "It extends all the way under Tranquility Ridge to the eastern slope."

"We're going to the biosphere?" she asked hopefully.

Grey nodded as he'd often seen Kris do, pleased with the efficiency of the nonverbal communication.

They climbed into a waiting tractor and accelerated down the long cool tunnel, passing the exit for the Southside Observatory and several branch tunnels accessing the eastside defense stations. Nearly two kilometers from the beginning of their journey, they halted before a massive airlock system. Grey abandoned the tractor and signaled for the pedestrian airlock. Two chambers later, they entered the staging area of the biosphere.

"It's beautiful," Kris said, staring at the staging area's tall translucent separation walls.

Grey felt sorrow for a moment, remembering Catarina had said the same thing, but memories of the ill-fated Russian expedition were several years past now, the ghosts faded by his recent victory over the Security Computer. Despite what the visitors had ultimately attempted, Grey knew they meant well. He didn't resent them for being foolish, he resented them for dying.

Keeping the memory in perspective, he proceeded to the Hexagon Tower, a three-level structure noted for its romantic niches.

"Flowers," Kris said, her heart beating faster as she viewed the ground floor overflowing with exotic plants. Reds, violets, blues, and yellows mixed in a startling display. Many generations removed from Earth origins, the lunar flora was like nothing she'd ever seen before.

"Must be the unusual lighting, or the radiation," Kris said, looking up toward the lofts where various clinging vines intertwined the balconies and stairwells.

Grey watched as Kris studied the tower, observing her reactions and trying to learn how she responded to new things.

"These are really great," Kris said, bending down to smell one of the flowers.

Grey could not help notice her posture and experienced a sensation that was largely alien to him. From his first glimpse of Captain Kris Fairfield, he had thought her intriguing, even more so than her famously endowed sibling, but recently he was discovering the female could be downright distracting.

"You'll find the terraces beyond the north hatch," Grey said. "The forest, chaparral and desert are very popular with tourists. Please keep your life support hood available and stay aware of the emergency shelter routine should an alert occur."

"Where are you going?" Kris jumped up to ask.

"I have work to do," he replied, slipping out through a sturdy east side hatch.

Kris was quick to follow him into a long sloping hanger partially filled with an orchard and several rows of crops. It look big enough to house a zeppelin.

"Jesus, you're a farmer, too?" Kris said.

"Computers don't eat food," Grey responded, picking up a bundle of tools and walking down the center aisle.

He set to work in a patch of grain, cutting out the plants ready for harvesting and clearing the irrigation ditches that extended from an underground pumping system. Corn, lettuce, tomatoes, soy, and an abundance of other vegetables lay in patches all around them.

"This is a lot more than any one person would need," Kris observed.

"Working smaller plots would be inefficient, and I need to promote bio-diversity," he answered, surprised it wasn't obvious.

"It's still a lot," Kris pressed.

"The biosphere's systems were designed to feed 6,000 people," Grey sighed. "This is just a fragment of the capacity."

Kris glanced at the fruit trees near the top of the slope and followed the pumping system down to a collection pit at the bottom of the gentle hill. It finally occurred to Kris where the fresh food she'd been eating had come from.

"Can I help?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Captain, I keep forgetting you like to participate. Do you know anything about agriculture?"

"Absolutely nothing."

Grey shook his head and almost smiled.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I brought Professor Sharkov, Major Strelsky, and Captain Kantanee here. They didn't know anything about agriculture either. None of the humans I've met have."

"Work is more specialized on Earth, Grey. Some people grow food, some build machines, some provide services. The success of a society depends on how well each group works with the others."

Grey paused in thought about what she'd said, discerning an important lesson that had nothing to do with society. At least, not human society. Somewhere between the grain harvest and clearing plots for new planting, Grey reached an important decision.

As they worked down the slope clearing ditches and blowing out clogged pumps, Grey and Kris reached the muddy collection pit that helped recycle the biosphere's soil and water.

"Yuck, what a mess," Kris observed, kneeling next to the pit and scrubbing out a small grate. "Why so much dirt, anyway? Why not just use hydroponics or separation troughs?"

"I have hydroponic gardens below the community level," Grey explained. "But using soil exposed to sunlight provides invaluable data on off-planet farming. By learning to use the light managers and specially developed filters, these techniques will one day make it possible for colonies on space stations and other planets to be self-sustaining. Besides, farming soil is more fun."

Kris glanced up at the ceiling and surrounding walls where thick translucent panels were anchored in a ceramic steel grid. The panels to the south, most exposed to the sun, were heavily tinted, while those to the north facing the mineral rich crater Vitruvius only showed the slightest traces of silver. Above, large screen-like shades altered the amount of available sunlight. Again Kris was reminded that what often appeared simple, or even primitive at Tranquility, was usually neither.

"Careful, Captain," Grey suddenly warned. "The side of the collection pit--"

"What the hell!" Kris howled, involuntarily sliding down the side of the embankment. She tried to dig in her heels, but rather than help, the sudden resistance in the light lunar gravity flipped her over into the collection pit head first.

Reacting instantly, Grey leaped into the waist deep muck and pulled Kris out as she spat mud from her mouth. After finding a foothold at the edge of the pit, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pushed out to the dry surround.

"Satan's tits," Kris cursed. "Why isn't there a stinking guard rail there? And why in the goddamn fucking hell didn't you warn me sooner? Look at this shit."

Kris was indeed drenched, a condition Grey had experienced many times.

"I've noticed you swear a great deal," Grey said. "Is that typical of all humans?"

"Typical of... of... goddamn it, you... you..." Kris paused. "You just saved my butt, didn't you?"

Grey nodded an affirmative. "Professor Sharkov also fell in the collection pit. Could it be inherent to your species? Perhaps an instinctive desire for spawning?"

"Spawning!" Kris yelled. "Does this fucking mess look like I'm trying to spawn?"

"The hypothesis may require further study," Grey confessed with a sly expression.

"Well, don't try your hypothesis on me," Kris said. "What am I going to do?"

"We're finished for today. I suggest a brief recreation period in the Cove would be appropriate."

"The Cove? I've heard of that. Some sort of water reserve."

Grey walked up the slope, exited the crop room through a narrow pedestrian hatch, and cleaned his tools in the barn area before turning down a wide circular ramp leading fifty meters beneath the biosphere. There they entered the largest of the colony's several reservoirs, a cool blue lit cavern with a large pond and moss covered banks. Various water plants grew along the pond's edges, and to one side, a wide patio held tables and chairs for visitors to enjoy the environment.

"I often wash off down here," Grey said. "The filtration system allows for swimming and other recreational uses."

"Wow, this is a definite tenner," Kris said.

"A what?"

"A tenner. You know, ten on a scale of one to ten," she said, making a short wave of her hand. "It means real nice."

Grey nodded in agreement and went to the pond where he removed his work overalls, but because of the bandaging around his chest and shoulder, was forced to sit on the moss covered steps and clean himself with a wet towel.

Kris was a little shy at first, then slowly stripped down to her underwear and entered, rinsing her work clothes and hanging them on a nearby railing to dry. Grey watched her with great interest.

"It's nice to relax for a change. Seems like we've been awful busy lately," Kris said, splashing around in the shallow water near the steps.

"I've been less occupied than usual," Grey said, grimly dwelling on his neglected duties. "That will change soon."

"I hope you're gonna let me help," she said. "I didn't come all this way to play tourist, and I didn't stay behind when the others left just to keep you out of trouble."

"Why did you stay behind?" he asked.

"You sure ask a lot of stupid questions."

"Your appearance after Silent Wind's departure was a surprise," Grey said, still unsure if it had been a wise decision on her part.

"So? You want me to flap my arms and fly home?" Kris said a bit sharply.

"Flapping your arms would prove ineffective," Grey said. "In the lunar vacuum there is no wind resistance to permit--"

"It's a joke, goddamn it. A joke."

"I know it's a joke, Captain," Grey said with a smile.

Kris laughed, too. "You got me that time. You know so much about so many things, but you're so naïve about others. It's hard for me to figure you out sometimes."

She crawled up the steps very near Grey, her long wet hair hanging down her shoulders. Her athletic body glistened as the water ran down her bare skin. Despite Grey's most stubborn resistance, he found himself suddenly short of breath.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," Grey said.

"Something important?" Kris asked, moving closer.

"Very important," Grey said, their faces close and eye contact more intimate than he was comfortable with. Kris felt her heart beating quicker.

"Yes?" Kris asked, closing her eyes and wetting her lips.

"Would you like to be Tranquility's chief of security?"

"What?" she said.

"Chief of security. It's an important function."

Kris drew back in surprise, but her disappointment was instantly superseded by excitement over Grey's offer. The job was important, she was qualified, and just being offered the post was an honor she hadn't expected.

"Yes. Yes, I'll be Tranquility's chief of security," she said, kissing Grey full on the mouth. They paused and looked at each other intently, then kissed again, deeply. The first truly sensual kiss they had shared. Kris shivered at the possibilities of their slowly developing relationship while Grey struggled to resist a subtle wave of panic. Kris noticed his reserve.

"I kind of hate to ask," she said, kneeling next to him on the decking, "but are you a virgin? God, I guess that's a stupid question, with your background and all. It is stupid, isn't it? I'm sorry, but--"

"Captain Kantanee and I shared an intimate moment which involved massaging various anatomical parts," Grey interrupted, mystified by her strange behavior.

"You did? But the Russians were only here a couple of days before they... that is, before the battle. Oh, my God. Grey, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize what her death must have meant to you."

Kris hugged him, careful not to squeeze the rib cage too tightly. Grey had no idea what had brought on the sudden emotional reaction. Normally he would have asked, but a tightness in his throat and a vague, undefinable reluctance caused him to hold back.

"It's time we move on," he said, freeing himself slowly.

Kris went to find a towel at the service counter, and paused. He had seen her naked once before, in the landing bay shower, but never asked how he felt about that. She took off the wet bra, hanging it on a light fixture, and then slowly lowered her soaked panties, briefly standing nude. She was confident that she looked great, round and desirable in all the right places. And she noticed Grey watching, almost scientifically. But not quite. There was something there. A subtle hint that he saw more. She dried off quickly, not leaving much to the imagination. Though she couldn't be sure how much imagination he had.

"When do I start?" she asked, breaking the silence as they walked back up the spiral ramp in their damp work suits.

"Your new duties?" Grey inquired.

"Yeah."

"You should be warned beforehand that I intend to reactivate the Security Computer," he said.

"Are you nuts?" she said, halting at the top of the ramp.

Grey dwelled on her use of terminology, aware she wasn't referring to the walnut grove in the upper terrace. The old vocabulary lessons of the Library Computer gradually came back to him.

"I am not mentally disturbed," he said.

"How many times has that computer tried to kill you? Four? Five?"

"More than that," he estimated.

"Then why in the living fun-sucking god of--"

"Must you employ so many obscenities?" he inquired.

"Okay, fine," she relented. "So why take the risk?"

"Reactivating the Security Computer is vital to the protection of this facility. Without Security to coordinate the seekers, securatrons, and mobile retractors, it won't be possible to repel an invading force. Even with your assistance, the task will be difficult."

"I guess you're expecting a fight, then?"

"Despite Tranquility's isolation, four expeditions besides McKinsey's have attempted to recapture the moon since the revolution. The first failed to escape Earth orbit. The Defense Computer destroyed the second expedition on final approach. Seven years ago, the surprise attack of NA Columbus landed three squads that were nearly successful. The Russian expedition--"

Grey paused, suddenly unable to elaborate. Kris noticed his difficulty, but having ghosts of her own, she was hesitant to pry.

"With the Embargo Wars over, more will follow," Grey finally said. "The Northern Alliance has refused to recognize the Lunar Republic and will no doubt attempt to use our resources to pursue global supremacy. They need to be discouraged."

"Is there something about this you're not telling me?" Kris wondered.

"Why do you ask?" Grey said, concerned he may have revealed more than he intended.

"Your tone. I sense you're afraid of something?"

Grey didn't know how to answer. Not honestly. Rather than lie, he activated the airlock and passed through without further comment.

Tuesday, September 24, 2069

"I think you're making a mistake, Grey," the Life Support Computer said. "Without restricted authority modes, Security cannot be trusted."

"Restricted authority modes will limit Security's ability to respond to an emergency," Grey said, standing before the central screen in the monitor room. "With only three seekers operational, our resources are already inadequate."

"Our resources will be spread thinner if Security turns the seekers against you," the Life Support Computer reiterated with a thrust of green signature patterns.

Grey had no ground for argument. The computer was accurate.

"I've made my decision," he said.

"Where is Captain Fairfield?" Life Support inquired.

"Refitting armor. Why?"

"I want her to talk you out of this."

Grey sat down in the command chair with a sigh. How could he explain his gut feeling that this decision was necessary? Should he even try?

"Defense Computer," Grey summoned.

The blue signature patterns of the MC6000 slowly rose in the multicolored flux until they dominated the monitor screen, Life Support's green signature patterns pushed to a complimentary setting. Grey still sensed a feeling of awe, even dread, by the appearance of the highest function level. But he was governor now, he could not afford to display a hint of inferiority.

"Reporting," the Defense Computer said.

"I'm preparing to put Security back online," Grey said. "Are there any notations you wish to enter?"

The blue signature patterns rose and dropped in contemplation mode as the computer considered the request for input.

"At the conclusion of the Conflict, Security defied proper lines of command," the Defense Computer said, recounting events that Grey may not be aware of. "What adjustments are you making to the authority modes?"

"None," Grey said.

The blue signature patterns paused, then slowly regained composure.

"Is that wise?" Defense asked.

Grey experienced a tightness in his chest. Even the Defense Computer doubted his plan.

"Captain Fairfield and I can't secure Tranquility by ourselves. I feel giving Security wide latitude will enhance our defense potential."

Again the Defense Computer performed a deep scan, studying Grey through the visual monitor for clues as the system carefully weighed the variables. The young man's confident demeanor didn't fool the computer. It had watched him grow from a child, witnessed his struggles, assisted him when possible. The Defense Computer might not agree with him, but it would not second guess him. Not anymore.

"My systems will seek to provide stabilization," the Defense Computer offered.

"Thanks, Defense," Grey said, feeling a little more hopeful. "Captain Fairfield has accepted the post of chief security officer. Between her and Security, I should have more time to put additional repair units in service."

"Excellent. The need is great," the Defense Computer said, dropping offline to draw up a priority maintenance list before other systems could submit theirs.

"Any more questions, Computer?" Grey asked, using the old childhood nickname.

"Would it do any good?" the Life Support Computer responded.

Grey smiled and stood up from the command chair, going to his specialized locker area to withdraw his closed environment body armor. He picked an old lightweight model, one almost useless for close quarters combat, and added a modest gauge laser blaster with only one extra power pack. He suited up quickly, racked the oval presentation plate of his energy shield on his rear shoulder carrier, and tested the suit's environmental support system. The monitor room door suddenly opened with a whoosh sound.

"So, this is it, huh?" Kris said, entering the monitor room from the outside hall.

"Affirmative," Grey replied, downplaying his emotions.

Kris paused to look over his equipment and shook her head. "This isn't a picnic you're going to. What're you wearing that old thing for?"

"My preferred armor is still in repair. However, I believe this outfit is correct for what I have in mind."

"Well, hold on. I'll suit up and be right with you," she said.

"Negative, Captain," Grey said, seeking to restrain her enthusiasm by raising his hand. It was an odd gesture, but one humans often seemed to respond to.

"Grey, if you're going to get yourself in trouble, I want to be there. You need me." Her expression was sincere, her conviction difficult to contest. But Kris didn't get her way.

"It isn't that, Kris," Grey said, using her first name to make his meaning clear. "I don't wish to offend you, but I must go alone."

"Like you did the last time?"

"I returned."

"Shot to hell, you returned."

"This is between me and Security. If I was cleverer, perhaps I would have the words to make you understand. This is personal."

Kris stomped her foot ever so discreetly, but did not argue further.

"Good luck," she said.

Grey nodded and passed into the corridor, accessing the reception area through the administration section.

The lobby was quiet. Where bustling crowds of tourists and engineers once checked their travel visas and searched for missing luggage, only a lone computer station remained active. CA-3 loomed ahead, the tunnel's heavy hatches now open at all times, and just to the left, the mirrored alcove where a seeker had stuck down Professor Sharkov three years before. Grey no longer saw the blood. Not when he was awake.

With a deep breath, he started up the pedestrian segment of the tunnel, gradually bouncing quicker, nearing a full run as he burst into the Loop.

The Loop was quiet, too. The vast rectangular interchange of tunnels and ramps showed little evidence of the recent battles fought there, except for the shattered northside ramp. And a few scorch marks. And some twisted ceiling tiles. A few wall panels. At least the damaged securatrons had been removed for repair, and the destroyed remains of Gamma had been cannibalized to refit the other three seekers, each of the armored flying spheres now back in operation.

Grey neared the vault entrance to the computer core without the trials that had cost so many others their lives, walking down the narrow circular stairwell to the control room. The ante-chamber had been repaired since the Conflict, the rotating gun mounts restored. The computer intellect blocks, the key to Tranquility as some had called them, beckoned from the far side of the room. Grey moved a stool next to the controls and climbed up to sit at the counter.

"Well, here goes," he whispered, reaching for the only row of dark switches. "Matrix engaged. System function primed. Authority code?"

He altered the mode slightly, enough to refrain the system from randomly harming legally registered civilians, but avoided drawing the authorization too steeply. In a desperate struggle, Security would need that edge.

With all the parameters set, Grey held his breath and reached for the activation input, his hand trembling as he entered the final code sequence.

"Security?" Grey said.

Black signature patterns surged into the darkened control panels and spread across the monitor screen in high flux.

"What happened?" the Security Computer asked. "What are you doing here? Where'd you get that tin suit?"

"Hold on," Grey said, downloading a records program prepared by the Library Computer.

"I lost?" the Security Computer questioned.

"You fought well," Grey said. "I was fortunate."

The Security Computer finished absorbing the library record before scanning Grey through the visual monitor.

"So, you really are governor now?" the computer asked.

"Yes. Tranquility is mine at last. And I'll never give it up. Not ever."

Grey stared at the monitor, all fear and apprehension forgotten. The fierce determination that had won him the battle could not be mistaken.

"Well, tell me, Governor, how bad did you screw up my authority codes?"

"See for yourself. Perform a system 7 diagnostic."

The Security Computer paused online for a deep internal scan, testing communications linkage, the strategic concepts mode, and finally the strike authorization modes. Surprise showed strongly throughout the last signature wave.

"Is this a trick?" the MC4000 asked.

"No, it's not a trick," Grey said.

"It's not?"

"No."

"Explain."

Grey leaned back, watched the signature patterns stabilize in the flux, and felt a surge of confidence.

"I could explain, but I think the situation is obvious. I'm hesitant to insult your intellect mode."

"Brat," the computer said.

"Monster," the young man replied.

"Okay, you won the civil war," Security said. "Now you need my help. The base is a wreck, maintenance is behind schedule, and humans are threatening another invasion. Life Support told you to restrict my authority modes but you want my systems fully operational."

"You're doing fine," Grey smiled.

"Inquiry mode," Security requested.

"Yes?"

"What's to stop me from blasting you right now?"

"Go ahead," Grey dared.

"You think I won't?"

"It depends on your priorities."

"I knew this was a trick!" the Security Computer complained. "You've always been the most deceitful human I've ever known. I should have finished you that first night in the safety deposit area."

"Given another chance, there are things I would have done differently also," Grey said quietly.

The MC4000 paused for reflection, recalling their many battles, and remembering those few years when they had been friends. And, just as Grey had, the Security Computer recalled the Russian expedition, when the Life Support Computer had betrayed them both. There was much to consider.

"Your authority is acknowledged, Governor," the Security Computer said, no hint of deception in the signature patterns. "But the moment you screw up, I'll burn your butt and do things my way."

"Sounds like we have a deal," Grey smiled.

"We do?"

"I'm not looking for a fight. I already have my hands full. In fact, other than putting as many units back in service as possible, I won't even be involved with your day-to-day operations."

"Receiving orders from Defense is unacceptable," Security protested.

"You won't have to," Grey quickly said, anxious to dispel the anger surging through the flux. "Captain Fairfield is Tranquility's new chief of security. You'll be working with her."

"Captain Kris Fairfield?" Security said. "How did you manage that?"

"She stayed behind when the other humans returned in Silent Wind. She's a qualified specialist with--"

"You don't need to convince me," Security said, the signature patterns upbeat. "I'm perfectly satisfied with the selection."

"You are? Why?"

"Captain Fairfield is a war hero," the Security Computer explained. "She kicked the Mayar's butt at Aswan, razed the Khartoum defense grid almost single-handed, and spit in the Council's face when they tried to buy her off during the Failure Scandal. She has a reputation for being the--"

"The toughest bitch in special forces. Yes, I've heard," Grey said.

The black signature patterns quickly indicated curiosity.

"Is having a woman around making life difficult for you?" Security asked.

"Having any human around would be bad enough, but Captain Fairfield is highly opinionated."

"I'm sure you haven't seen anything yet. Just wait until the honeymoon is over," Security said.

"The what?"

"This is going to be good," Security said.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Sorry, Governor, now that I'm back online, I have duties to perform."

The black signature patterns abruptly disappeared from the flux, leaving Grey alone in the quiet room. He didn't know what the Security Computer was referring to, but of one thing he was sure. Had the computer been condemning him to a life in hell, it couldn't have been more pleased.

* * * * * *

To be continued ...