Tranquility Besieged Part Four

The invasion of the moon has faltered

This is a prequel to Slave of Akrona, one of Grey's earlier adventures when he was still a young man living on Earth's moon. As mentioned earlier, this is more wartime romance than erotic, so some readers may wish to search elsewhere. If a few of the terms appear antiquated, please remember this was written 40 years ago. Presented are chapters 5 and 6. All characters are over 18 years old.

Recap: Finding the invasion force was attacked by their own advanced weapons, Grey has been attempting to rescue survivors.

* * * * * *

Chapter Five

LONG JOURNEYS

The return to the Engineer's Refuge was difficult, but at last they reached the tunnel segment accessing the final hatch. After checking briefly to make sure the Refuge was secure, Grey quietly slipped away, crawling through a side vent into the lower junction and up to 100W. If the humans were surprised he had suddenly disappeared, he wasn't there to see it.

In 100W, Grey shed the damaged armor, wearing only a tattered underlining, and approached landing bay major, accessing the huge bay through an empty oxygen storage tank undergoing renovation and thus avoiding being tracked in the airlock system. The larger bay had seen battle action, too, the floor littered with abandoned equipment and ejected power packs. But there were no seekers, and no bodies.

Able to move rapidly without the armor, Grey climbed up to the second level and entered the hospitality complex located between the two bays. Within minutes he had gathered rations from the kitchen and two bottles of vodka from Kelly's Saloon.

From the saloon, he passed through the restaurant and entered the hospitality suites, picking up an extra First Aid kit from guest services. Beyond the admittance counter, just short of the conference room where he had first met New Ranger's crew barely three months before, Grey sat down at the computer station to bring up the com channels.

As suspected, the Defense Computer and Security Computer were not registering. The minor systems had been disassociated, inhibiting their coordination. The Communications Computer was frozen on jamming mode, explaining why internal communications were all but impossible. But one computer showed clearly in the monitor screen flux.

"Computer?" Grey asked, using the clumsy manual call sequence.

Green signature patterns filtered into the unsophisticated screen normally used by Administration or the Sales Computer.

"Hello, Grey," the Life Support Computer said. "Bleeding again? Some things never change."

"What's going on here?" Grey demanded, pain creeping into his voice. "Get Kris for me. Or Defense. Or Security."

"Security and Defense are offline by order of the United Alliance Defense Force," Life Support said. "Captain Fairfield is being held prisoner by General Philip Mallo, leader of the invasion force."

"Is she all right?" he inquired, almost afraid to ask.

"She was bruised in the attack, but recovering the last time I scanned her. That situation could change."

"Are you going to tell me what's happened or do I have to kick your goddamn ass first?" Grey snarled.

"Profanity? That's a little different," Life Support said.

"Fine, you've never been much help to me anyway," Grey said, reaching to sever the connection.

"That hurts, Grey," Life Support said, displaying disappointment.

"Status report," Grey said, hand held over the disconnect.

"Instructions acknowledged," Life Support announced with a sighing tone. "After the United Alliance captured the base with this new generation of weapons they brought, they deactivated Security and Defense. The minor systems were put on restriction mode."

"And you?"

"My systems are cooperating fully, of course."

"Proceed," Grey said.

"The strike force carried five sentinel class seekers which Security offloaded when Neighbor was brought down unmanned. Their programming was erased and the units were in the process of being initialized when a sonic disrupter was deployed. After Security was shut down, the new seekers activated and escaped the maintenance bay to perform their function. Unfortunately, their incomplete programming has inhibited their target identification modes."

"They're attacking everybody," Grey realized.

"Affirmative. The attacks began slowly two days ago and gradually increased in frequency. The strike force took a number of casualties before they realized the danger. They are now holed up in small groups."

"Relief forces?"

"All orbital defenses remain active," Life Support confirmed. "One relief expedition has already turned back. No others appear imminent."

"How many invaders are we discussing here?"

"Thirty known survivors at the last census. Eight confirmed dead. Fifteen more are MIA."

Grey heard a noise outside the complex and glanced around, worried about discovery but anxious to learn all he could. He gripped the blaster and hefted his supplies.

"Where's Kris?" he asked.

"Unknown. She was captured in the Loop, then moved to the defense center. No contact has been made since the tactical situation changed."

"If you can get a message to her--" he started.

"Yes?"

"Remember Somers, Computer?"

"You know I hate it when you do that," Life Support complained. Grey whispered,

"The wind hears my name, oh whispering sage.

Linger not upon my grave.

Through the winter, comes the spring.

And all the pleasures new life brings."

"What does that mean?" Life Support asked.

"She'll figure it out," Grey smiled softly.

____________

Nicholas and Tamera heard footsteps approach from the outside corridor and braced themselves. For a moment it seemed the face of their enemy had appeared in the darkened hallway, but the apparition quickly disappeared. A moment later, two members of their expedition entered carrying a wounded comrade.

"Dr. Meriwether?" Nicholas said, rushing to help.

"Blout?" Tamera said. "Davis? What are you doing here?"

They carried Davis to one of the cots and set him down gently. After removing his armor and cleaning the wounds, Meriwether rigged a new IV and searched her depleted medical bag for more drugs.

"What happened? Did that murderer shoot him?" Tamera asked.

Meriwether looked up, appraising Nicholas and Tamera for injuries, then their demeanor.

"Seekers had our squad pinned down in the airlocks," Meriwether said. "Commander Richards is dead. So are Kaplan and Flores. Fischer and Sanderson are missing."

"Where is the rest of the command?" Nicholas asked.

"Hell if we know," Blout said. "Last time we saw anybody was after we landed. Where did you guys come from?"

Nicholas and Tamera exchanged a glance.

"When Sharkov crashed we were caught in the wreck. Sergei and Colonel Sherensky were killed," Nicholas reported.

"Colonel Sherensky was murdered," Tamera said.

Meriwether studied Tamera for a moment, then looked to Nicholas for confirmation but didn't find it.

Tearing away the last of her patient's underlining, Meriwether swabbed away the blood. The damage was too extensive to expect much more from a First Aid kit. Then Meriwether looked at a pile of supplies stacked near the door, surprised to see a mobile medical station.

"Get me that med truck," Meriwether ordered.

Nicholas began to look around, then Tamera. Meriwether had to point the cart out, answering her question about who had put it there.

The medical station was well-stocked, and fortunately for Davis, not at all a standard unit. With some help from Blout, Meriwether inserted a tube for drainage, placed an oxygen mask over his face, and attached a carefully measured IV tree. A monitor would track the patient's condition and recommend additional procedures.

"Will he be okay?" Nicholas asked.

"Better than he would have been," Meriwether said, washing her face in the kitchen sink. "How'd you get here?"

"Waters brought us here. I guess we are his prisoners," Nicholas said.

"I knew it," Blout said. "We shouldn't trust him."

"Trust him?" Nicholas asked.

"I wouldn't say we committed to anything," Meriwether said. "The seekers had us trapped in the landing bay. No food, no water, not much power left for the weapons. Waters appeared out of nowhere to rescue us. He was wounded doing it, too."

"Some sort of a trick," Blout said.

"Trick blood?" Meriwether said. "Trick holes in the armor?"

Blout sighed, drawing a few doubts which Tamera didn't share.

"We need a plan before it's too late," Tamera said. "Maybe we can take him by surprise when he comes back?"

"What about you, Nick?" Meriwether asked.

"I think we should be careful," Nicholas said after some thought.

"How did Colonel Sherensky die?" Meriwether inquired.

"Zeroed him out," Tamera interrupted. "We could have found a safe evac, but that murderer wouldn't wait. Just blasted the airlock and hauled us out. We could have been killed, too."

"Only the crew deck survived the crash," Nicholas said more calmly. "The colonel was critically injured. And his flight suit was damaged. When Waters opened the airlock, Sherensky was killed instantly."

"And?" Meriwether asked. "Where's everyone else? Where's the Euro contingent? Come to think of it, what were you doing out there all this time?"

"We have had no communications," Nicholas said. "To be truthful, the hull was close to collapse. And we didn't have adequate space suits. I am reluctant to admit it, but I think Waters saved our lives."

"All we needed was a little more time," Tamera insisted.

Meriwether grew impatient.

"Listen here, young lady. We're in a critical situation," Meriwether lectured. "It's important that we share complete and accurate information, not opinions based on your personal agenda. That goes for you, too, Glenda. We're professionals. Let's leave the propaganda to the politicians."

Blout nodded. Tamera walked away.

"We need command here," Meriwether said. "Nick, you're the ranking officer. May I make a few suggestions?"

"That would be fine, Doctor," Nicholas said. He watched Tamera pout in the corner, then looked at Blout, not reassured by their expressions.

"Something must have happened after we landed," Meriwether speculated. "We met modest opposition, then the resistance suddenly ended. Colonel Larson told us the base was ours and begin lock down. Four hours later, we got blitzed by a seeker. After holding up in the airlocks for two days without anyone coming to help us, Commander Richards ordered a breakout and we got hit again. If no one came to help you, then the entire command must be besieged."

"He sent them after you," Tamera said.

"No, they attacked him, too," Blout conceded.

"Which brings up another issue," Meriwether questioned. "Have you seen that young man fight?"

"Waters? No, but he is very agile," Nicholas said.

"I was a med official at last year's Black Sash games," Meriwether pressed. "Let me assure you, his combat skills are far beyond mere agility."

"What's your point?" Tamera asked.

"I'm suggesting caution," Meriwether said. "It only took one seeker to break our square. He held off two of them by himself."

"They are his seekers. It can be no surprise he knows their strategies," Nicholas suggested.

"Glenda?" Meriwether asked.

"They are our seekers, Captain Koltov," Blout said, embarrassed. "Latest generation sentinel series. General Mallo brought them for internal security."

"They are our seekers?" Nicholas said. "I do not understand."

"Maybe he has control of them?" Tamera wondered.

"No, he got hit hard in the landing bay," Blout recalled. "And he asked lots of questions about them, trying to figure them out."

"We are besieged, but so is our enemy," Nicholas concluded. "A standoff of some sort?"

"My advice is to play along," Meriwether said. "We're no match for these seekers, and if the rest of the command was doing any better, we would've heard by now. Until we get the situation straight, Waters is our best chance at survival."

"That would be wrong," Tamera insisted. "He's murdered too many innocent people. My sister. Nick's father. Many others. He must be stopped."

"He also saved you and Captain Koltov. And me, and Glenda. Ted wouldn't have been hurt if he'd followed instructions, but when he did get hit, Waters came back in the most dangerous stunt I've ever seen to save his life. Why would he save us just to kill us later?"

"Maybe he needs us for something?" Tamera said.

"That could be it. Tactical information or technology," Blout guessed.

"No, that makes no sense," Nicholas disagreed. "If he wanted secret information, why is he not here demanding it? Dr. Meriwether is right. We shouldn't give him any military information, but let's not challenge him just yet."

Tamera was clearly unhappy with the decision, but the others nodded their consent.

Tuesday, October 29, 2069

Grey discovered the way back to the Engineer's Refuge was time consuming with several of the vents sealed and one of the spaces he needed to cross overly exposed. By the time he worked his way down from 290W, he was tired and in pain. The lack of sleep was not a benefit.

Outside the final hatch, Grey sat down on the cold floor to nibble on a ration bar. Inside, he heard the murmuring humans. They appeared to be a pathetic lot, beaten and discouraged. Not what he expected. He would have liked to eavesdrop on their conversation, but something about spying on them struck him as improper. It was several minutes before he summoned enough courage to go inside.

"Greetings humans," Grey boldly announced, entering the room after taking a deep breath.

The group turned in his direction, some frightened, some merely startled, then looked at him with the strangest expressions he'd ever seen. Not that he had seen that many.

Grey glanced in the dressing mirror attached to the wall and was startled himself. Only a moment before he had sneered at the pathetic appearance of the humans, but compared to him, they appeared positively jaunty. His silver lining was streaked with smoke damage. Blood showed through at the knees and elbows. His face was covered with soot and highlighted by a large bruise on his forehead.

"Here is food," Grey said in his firmest governor voice.

He tossed the food packs to the large Koltov human, then limped to Meriwether and handed her the bag with the extra medical supplies. The injured human appeared in poor condition.

"Are you all right?" Nicholas asked, the only human able to muster words.

"My condition is adequate," Grey said, finding the question impertinent. "You humans remain here while I locate a route to superior quarters."

"You do not look so good," Nicholas protested.

Meriwether studied him with professional interest, a look he'd gotten from Dr. Fairfield more than once during her month-long stay. The other humans were speechless. The room felt very small.

"Obey instructions or be destroyed," Grey said, summarizing the situation.

He limped from the room quickly, perhaps too quickly, then paused in the hallway as a wave a nausea overtook him. Everything began spinning around.

"Adequate condition?" Dr. Meriwether said.

Grey discovered himself sitting on the corridor floor with the doctor squatting beside him.

"I may have exaggerated," he confessed.

"That's quite a performance you put on. I've trained with these people for eight weeks and it's the first time I've ever seen them that quiet."

"Your injured comrade requires medical assistance," Grey said, trying to get up. "Prepare him for transport. I'll find a safe route to the community level medical center."

"You are going to sit still and leave when I say you can leave," Meriwether answered.

As he was pushed back down, with little effort on Meriwether's part, Grey looked at the hatch to see if the other humans were watching. The door was closed.

"They won't see, and I promise not to tell. Doctor-patient privilege," Meriwether said, as if reading his mind.

Grey sighed. If there was one thing human doctors and the Medical Computer had in common, it was that arguing with them was pointless. He opened his lining and peeled down the top from his shoulders and arms, then slid out of the outfit completely. The suit was uncomfortable anyway, and worthless in its present state. Meriwether looked at his old battle scars with a frown, suppressing an urge to comment.

"Thank you for saving our lives," Meriwether said as she cleaned and sprayed the injuries. "Mind telling me why you did it?"

"Did what?" Grey asked, annoyed by the intrusion on his person. Being nearly naked didn't help, either. He'd rarely worried about such things until humans started showing up.

"Why you risked your life to rescue us."

"Should I ask why you're providing medical assistance to the enemy?"

"Healing is my profession. What's yours?"

Meriwether was looking at him most strangely. Seeking something important in his answer. Grey didn't know what, and didn't much care.

"I'm the Governor of the Moon," he replied.

Meriwether twisted wraps on Grey's knees, causing him to squirm in pain which he quickly suppressed.

"Oh, did that hurt?" she said wryly.

"Torture me's all ya wants, lady, I isn't talkin'," Grey replied, quoting a line from an old movie. Meriwether laughed.

"I think I like you," she smiled. "You're not at all what we expected."

"What did you expect?" Grey asked, surprised anyone should even have expectations. Meriwether's expression turned grim.

"A killer. A would-be tyrant. A menace that must be stopped at all costs."

"Me?" Grey asked, almost too shocked to reply.

Meriwether's expression changed again. Grey's reaction was too real, in her opinion, to be a deception.

"Be careful, young man. I'm beginning to think our briefings on this mission were more propaganda than fact, but the others may not see it that way. I don't know why the Northern Alliance would lie about something like this, but you're marked for termination."

"I've discovered humans to be aggressive and self-destructive by nature," Grey said. "I'm under no illusions."

He stood up, tested the bad leg, and started to walk away.

"Are you going to fight those seekers in your underwear with a half-charged blaster?" she asked. Grey turned to answer, half smiling.

"My heart says yes, the odds say no.

Upon these walls, the battle grows.

If death be our fate, strike bravely."

A moment later, he had disappeared down the hall.

"Where did he go?" Tamera asked Meriwether as she returned to the Engineer's Refuge.

"He wasn't specific," Meriwether answered, studying the motley group of survivors. "But I have a feeling we'll see him again. Does anyone need anything?"

"This food is terrible," Nicholas said. "How can he expect us to eat this?"

"It must be okay, I saw him eating some out in the hall," Meriwether said, taking a piece and smelling the near odorless ration bar before taking a reluctant taste. "Oh my," she said, delicately spitting it out.

"He wants to poison us, or starve us," Tamera said, throwing her ration pack on the floor.

"If that's his plan, he's sure going about it the long way around," Meriwether said. She kneeled next to Davis, checked his vital signs, and adjusted the IV before curling up on the cot next to him for a nap.

________

Despite Grey's boast about fighting bravely, he had no intention of challenging anybody in his torn underwear. He climbed back up to the landing bay junction through an obscure conduit, then bounced rapidly toward the staging level where he knew ground crew units had spent the last two days unloading equipment from EC Neighbor.

The maintenance access from 100W to SL-1 was unguarded. Grey moved quickly but quietly, prepared to retreat at the first sign of opposition. When he passed through the final tunnel, he breathed a sigh of relief, for whatever battles may have taken place there had long since moved on.

As he hoped, the invaders had brought plenty of arms and armor, and only small portions had been raided by the humans before they were beset by the seekers. It seemed to Grey that the staging level, well-protected and close to their supplies, would have been the best place for the invaders to make a stand. Perhaps that's what they thought, too. Along the south wall, where a group had been taken by surprise, he found two burned and battered bodies.

None of them were Kris. Grey was relieved, but he also felt sadness for the dead humans. Had they fought well? What were they thinking, in those last moments? Did they even have time to think? Grey decided not to dwell on it. Feeling sorry for the humans wouldn't help them now.

He opened several packing cases and found armor appropriate for his build. The shield he selected was good, the converters and support equipment brand new. The weapons were excellent, two heavy Marsden blasters and a fine-point Gemstone laser pistol. He suited up a little slower than usual, noting differences, adjusting the fit, and testing the tactical scanners until he was confident of maximum usage. Then he shifted several equipment cases to different corners of the deck, hiding them in various places. A final instruction to the service units included a request for the ground crew units to retrieve surplus equipment from the surface and move it to the community level training center.

Grey traced in his mind the route the humans needed to reach the medical center, then took the maintenance stairwell adjoining the elevators down to the engineering level. The large cavern was active as ever, the robotic units continuing the mineral alloy processing that was the priority project for the quarter. There were no signs of battle, which didn't surprise him. Residents such as Grey knew that the engineering level provided a secure access to the community level, but few visitors would have realized it merely by looking at the tourist maps.

Backtracking EN-1, Grey reached the junction with 100W, then moved down into 290W, checking for evidence of humans or seekers. He decided to return through landing bay major, accessing one of the heavy airlock systems. When he emerged from the last of three successive chambers into the larger of the two bays, a seeker showed brightly on his tactical scanners. Though it was the same model series he had encountered before, it wasn't one of the seekers he'd fought in landing bay minor.

The path back into the airlock was clear, as was a side route that would take him into the lower maintenance hangar. The small alcoves and back tunnels that ringed the landing bay provided excellent cover for a fighting retreat.

Grey hesitated, studied the bay's more obscure corners for hidden dangers, then fired up his energy shield to full power and rushed the seeker straight on. Intending to attack, the seeker changed awkwardly to defense, backing away and shifting out over the open bay. Grey cut left, firing on the run to take the seeker in flank. The seeker stabilized, shrugged off a direct hit, then returned fire. Grey had already stopped as the seeker went to wing jets, turning and firing just as the Security Computer had taught him so many years before. His armor took a slight hit, easily deflected, the shield mounted on his left forearm dispersing the incoming fire effectively.

On the third turn, Grey twisted into a back step and somersaulted underneath the seeker's flank, striking the vulnerable wing jet with a flash of igniting fuel. Wounded, the seeker compensated with booster thrusters, gaining altitude and circling around. Grey spun and side stepped, scoring another hit on the wing jet. A counter blast caught the edge of Grey's converter cables, knocking one system down, but the modern armor's redundant power system kept his shield power at full strength.

The armor's tactical scanners were good, better than he was accustomed to, and he tracked widely to insure he only had one seeker to deal with. He fell back several steps and ducked under when the seeker rashly followed his retreat. A solid hit at point blank range knocked the seeker's maintenance canopy loose. He twisted underneath again as the seeker tried to gain target, scoring a rolling shot that deflected into the hover jet power feed.

The seeker withdrew rapidly beyond center bay. Grey could have followed, but turned toward the transition complex instead, departing the landing bay with a bounce in his step. The seekers were better than Tranquility's older nightwatcher series, but one-on-one, perhaps not good enough.

____________

In a sparse holding cell adjoining the supply deck of the North Point Defense Center, Kris lay on the hard floor dressed in nothing more than a blue long sleeve work shirt loaned to her by a generous captor. The strip search had been thorough, just as Mallo ordered. One day she'd settle the score for that. Trying to get sleep despite the poor accommodations, her efforts were suddenly interrupted.

"Hello, Captain Fairfield. How are you feeling?" the Life Support Computer asked, gaining access through the limited function com panel on the wall opposite her cell.

"Life Support?" Kris said, finding it awkward to stand with her wrists tied behind her. "What's happening? What's going on?"

"Happening?" Life Support said.

"Yes! Happening! The invasion," Kris nearly shouted, standing as close to the com panel as the bars would allow. "These bastards won't tell me a thing."

"Please remain calm, Captain. It wouldn't do for our conversation to be monitored," Life Support said very softly. "As for the invasion, as you call it, the United Alliance Defense Force took control of the facility without causing extensive damage, though certain complications have arisen since then. My systems apologize for sabotaging your defensive mechanisms."

"You did that?"

"Tranquility simply doesn't possess the resources to rebuild from an all-out war. Certain precautions were necessary to limit damage."

"You goddamn fucking son-of-a-bitch," Kris cursed, bumping uselessly at the bars. "You should be deactivated."

"Some of the minor function levels were down briefly, but all necessary systems have been restored."

"And you're cooperating?"

"Of course. My systems are not political. My function is to monitor and regulate. Who occupies the colony or why is irrelevant."

"What about Grey? You know they intend to kill him," Kris said.

"That event is most unlikely," Life Support disagreed.

"You don't care?"

"Grey is resourceful. The United Alliance would be far wiser to enlist his aid than initiate conflict."

"They don't care about cooperation. He's the target of their propaganda campaign. They can't afford to have the truth come out."

"Argument is futile," Life Support said. "Is there anything my systems can do within the accepted conditions of your confinement?"

"Yeah, you can go--"

"Save your strength, Captain, you will need it," Life Support said, dropping abruptly from the flux.

On the communications level one deck below the defense center, Colonel Larson and General Mallo looked over Captain Wyman's shoulder as she adjusted the observation screen, watching Kris as she sat back down on the floor. They had listened to the entire conversation.

"Accusing her of treason is going to be a problem, Phil," Larson warned.

"Wish she'd gone down fighting," Mallo agreed. "Would have saved us the trouble of a trial."

"You can't execute a war hero," Wyman said.

"Goddamn it, Sharon, don't you think I know that?" Mallo said. "Something will work out. An escape attempt, maybe. At least that Life Support Computer is cooperating. Any luck with communications?"

"Still working on it, sir," Wyman said. "Lowe is up in the dish array trying to get our signal through."

"I don't like being cooped up here," Mallo said, pacing the deck. "We've lost forty-eight hours because of those goddamn malfunctioning seekers. Our schedule is shot to hell."

"Not to mention some of our best people," Wyman interjected.

"If this report is accurate, our relief force has turned back," Larson said. "As long as the orbital defenses are active, there's no way our supply shuttles can make a safe approach."

Through the observation window, General Mallo could look down on the colony's surface structures at the foot of the cliff and the vast expanse of Mare Tranquillitatis beyond, the rugged plain now bathed in growing shadows. There was an ancient beauty to it.

"Isn't there some way we can get control of those seekers?" Mallo asked.

"Sorry, General," Wyman reported. "Between the internal jamming and confused programming sequences, I've been unable to access their command codes. The only way we're going to stop them is the hard way."

"We don't have the equipment for that," Larson said. "Not anymore. We should've been more careful."

"Jesus Christ, who would have guessed our own weapons would be turned against us?" Mallo said. "We need reinforcements, and that means we need communications. Keep trying to reach the rest of our squads. If we were able to barricade ourselves, I'm willing to bet most of the other squads did, too. They're down there, somewhere, sitting tight and waiting to counterattack."

"God, I hope so," Larson said.

____________

Returning to the Engineer's Refuge took longer than Grey expected. The path along the central tunnels was well patrolled. He was greatly relieved to find the humans intact when he reached the last corridor.

"Greetings, humans," he said, entering suddenly.

Everyone seemed surprised, even the wounded Davis who was slowly regaining consciousness. Grey found it discouraging that they had placed no guard nor listened for his presence in the tunnels. Such incompetence boded ill for the future.

"How is your patient, doctor?" Grey asked.

"Serious, but stable. Better facilities are recommended," Meriwether said.

"I agree," Nicholas said, stepping forward to be the official speaker. "We need food and medical supplies."

"You have food," Grey snapped.

"We cannot eat that. It is too old," Nicholas said.

"Ridiculous humans," Grey said. "The food contains all the necessary nutritional elements. If you don't like it--"

"Governor, the medical facilities?" Meriwether asked.

Grey turned toward her quickly, saw an expression of disapproval similar to one Kris often used, and tried to calm down.

"The medical center has everything your teammate needs, but reaching the community level won't be easy," Grey said. "The tunnels are heavily patrolled. If you cooperate, it may be possible to get your party there safely."

"That would be fine," Meriwether said. "Captain Koltov?"

"What do you want from us?" Nicholas asked.

"Prepare to move out," Grey said. "Take only what you need."

"Davis needs to be carried," Meriwether said.

"That will be your assignment, along with the smaller female," Grey instructed. "I'll take point. The larger female warrior must bring up the rear. Here's a Remington 4-0-4. It doesn't provide the impact of your Marsdens, but the scattered beam will give you a few extra seconds response time." He reached into a large sack and handed Blout the weapon.

"You're giving me a gun?" she asked

Grey huffed impatiently and turned to Nicholas.

"Here's the Marsden I borrowed from Dr. Meriwether," he said. "It's an excellent weapon and fully charged. Join me up front. If the big female runs into trouble, you'll need to maintain point while I drop back. If something gets in front of us, stay out of my way and keep the party moving."

"You are arming me, also?" Nicholas said.

Grey shook his head, convinced he had stumbled upon a particularly stupid group of humans. Only the doctor seemed reasonably intelligent, which he found to be common among medical units.

"I realize you humans are incapable of protecting yourselves, but it's not a task I can accomplish alone," Grey said, sorry to concede such a weakness. "Follow orders and keep moving. Don't speak unless necessary."

As the crew gathered their gear, Grey studied Davis carefully and took over preparations for securing the stretcher. Meriwether stepped back to watch, impressed by Grey's methodical arrangements. For someone with such contempt for humans, he showed remarkable concern for the patient's welfare.

"We are ready," Nicholas said.

Grey helped them form up and checked their equipment for readiness. Meriwether seemed to be studying him carefully. Too carefully for comfort. He made sure to not reveal the pain creeping through the drugs. Nicholas watched him, too, though with a military appraisal. The females wouldn't look at him directly for any length of time, which Grey appreciated.

The back tunnels and wide diversions that allowed the slow moving party to avoid seekers finally brought them near the engineering level. Grey sighed with relief, for the journey had taken longer than expected and he was worried about the wounded human. Several close calls had him on edge.

"Hurry humans," he urged, opening the hatch.

"We are doing our best," Nicholas said.

"Inadequate," Grey responded. "We won't be able to avoid the patrols much longer."

They emerged on the westside walkway overlooking the engineering level's mineral processing laboratories. A direct path to the community level lay straight ahead, the elevated catwalk crossing through the heart of the cavern. The perimeter walkways to the right and left would provide flank protection but didn't offer an array of alcoves for cover like the landing bays, and they would take longer. Grey decided to take the direct route. It was an error.

Barely a third of the way across, Grey picked up a seeker hot on their trail. He had just turned back when Blout opened fire, setting herself at rear guard as the seeker roared down on their position. Brave, he thought, but useless.

"Get going," Grey urged Nicholas, rushing the rest of the party past him as he ran back to Blout's assistance.

Blout deflected the seeker's opening salvo with her shield jacked up to full power, but the seeker shifted to the side of the catwalk and fired in flank, cutting her converter cables. Another blast shattered her e.s. system and knocked her down. Blout fired several well-directed blasts, but the seeker shrugged them off. Grey realized she wasn't a bad combat soldier, just overmatched. Fighting in the moon's lighter gravity was an acquired skill.

Still another shot crashed into her armor, softening but not buckling the plating. Blout's e.s. was gone, the shield failing. As the seeker repositioned above her, Blout realized she was about to die.

Suddenly Grey was standing over her, taking the seeker on at point blank range. They exchanged fire, both accepting damage until the seeker shifted sideways. Grey jumped up on the slender hand railing, balancing precariously to strike the seeker in flank and give Blout cover. When the seeker shifted to the other side, so did he, jumping to the opposite railing and cutting off the seeker's attempt to circle around.

The seeker changed tactics again, returning to the entrance hatch, then dropping down to floor level and coming head on. Blout sat up and raised her blaster but a succession of hits shattered the last of her shield cabling and cut armor. Though unsure of his own armor's ability to withstand such an onslaught, Grey had no choice but to jump into the seeker's path.

"Run," he grunted. Blout needed no extra prompting.

She cut loose the shattered remains of her tactical equipment and scrambled away. The seeker attempted to break off and follow, a weak tactic in Grey's opinion, but he blocked the pursuit and scored a hit on the thruster housing. The seeker turned on him with a vengeance.

A series of direct hits ripped into Grey's shield. Without room to maneuver, he compensated by pulling up the last of his shield power and backing against the railing, firing with a fury to keep the seeker from closing in. The seeker closed anyway and fired a pulse so powerful the blast disintegrated the shield's presentation plate, cracked his armor, and broke the bones in his left forearm. Another shot blew a hole in his helmet, knocked his tactical scanners offline and left his bloody visor hanging by a shredded hinge.

"It's killing him!" Blout shouted, starting to turn back just as she reached the community level access tunnel. Nicholas grabbed her arm.

"You can't help him. No one can fight those things," he yelled, pushing her in the tunnel after the others. Then he paused to watch.

Grey ducked, shifted sideways to fire, then tried to slide along the rail back toward the westside walkway. The seeker cut him off and fired into his chest plate, buckling armor and knocking him over the railing to the floor area six meters below. He landed on a chemical processing table with a crash of broken containers, then rolled off as the seeker dropped down for the kill. A premature pulse set the chemicals on fire, causing a series of popping explosions and clouds of noxious black smoke. Fire control units rushed to extinguish the flames.

Nicholas started to turn away only to find Blout standing at his elbow.

"He died saving my life," she said, tears in her eyes.

"He saved all us," Nicholas said. "I don't understand. Why would he do that?"

Renewed firing from the pit below the catwalk caught both of them by surprise.

"He's not dead," Blout realized.

Having rolled off the burning table, Grey took refuge under a bank of ore containers. Lost for a moment in the heat and smoke, he cut loose his equipment and wiggled out of the battered armor. As the emergency systems activated, the floor area turned into a torrent of fire suppressing foams.

"I really hate this," Grey mumbled, pressing the broken bones back in place. He ripped a piece of fabric from the sleeve of his lining, which wasn't hard as it was torn anyway, and wrapped the arm tightly.

Discovering his vision blurry, he ran a hand across his eyes and was thankful to discover it was only blood from a scalp wound. He tore another piece of lining and tied it around his forehead, then picked up a fire extinguisher and crawled between the tables as the seeker tried to reacquire target.

Just as Grey had almost reached the eastside ramp, the seeker found him and closed, charging on full thrusters to cut him off, then shifting around on wing and hover jets once it got in position. Grey responded with the fire extinguisher, spraying the hovering hunter with a coat of lather, then he dropped the extinguisher and fired his weapon, scoring a hit. The seeker retreated, shaking to clear the forward sensors.

Grey didn't wait. Tossing the blaster aside to free his good arm, he climbed up the wall, grabbed the railing, and vaulted to the catwalk, hitting the deck at a full run. Nicholas and Blout saw him coming with the seeker not far behind. Grey's ability to accelerate astounded them, and though he could not have outrun the seeker for long, he managed to do it long enough. The three of them hustled up the access tunnel where a heavily vaulted hatch was being held open by Meriwether. The seeker almost had them targeted when they dove through the entry and the hatch slammed shut.

"Are you okay?" Nicholas asked Blout, helping her up.

"A-okay, captain," Blout said, shifting her damaged suit to rest on her shoulders more comfortably.

Nicholas turned to see Grey sitting on the floor against the wall in the scorched underlining, wiping blood off his face and struggling to take a deep breath. He looked so much smaller without the armor. Just a skinny kid, wounded and exhausted. Meriwether opened her medical kit and started toward him, then held back when she saw Nicholas reach him first. Blout took the kit from Meriwether's hands and followed.

"How bad are you hurt this time?" Nicholas asked, kneeling next to Grey and helping open his collar.

"No more than usual," Grey whispered, gulping to clear his throat. "Are any of the humans injured?"

"No, we are fine," Nicholas said, surprised their welfare would be his first thought.

"You saved my life out there," Glenda said, kneeling on the other side and removing the wrap around Grey's broken arm. She dug through the medical kit for a pain killer and applied it above the break. "I don't care what anyone says, I'll never forget what you did for me. Not ever." She glanced at Nicholas for his reaction, staring at him with defiance.

"Your appreciation is acknowledged but unnecessary," Grey said, his breath beginning to return.

He glanced at Nicholas, then took a longer look at Tamera farther up the tunnel. For a moment, the pain of old memories in his eyes was undisguised. When he discovered Nicholas watching him, Grey quickly put his governor expression back on.

"We can reach the medical center easily from here," Grey said. "A-4 and A-5 will be standing by. Let's move."

Grey struggled to his feet, and with a little help from Glenda, took the lead up the tunnel.

Chapter Six

COMMUNITY

When the hatch opened at the end of the lower access tunnel, Grey entered the stairwell to study the nearest com panel. Though the higher function levels didn't register at all, the minor systems were functioning individually. He accessed an obscure subroutine of the Energy Computer. The result caused a rare smile.

"Good news?" Meriwether asked. "We sure could use some."

"The community level security systems are intact. The seekers can't penetrate this deck," Grey said with relief.

"How can that be? We took the Security Computer offline," Glenda said.

"In the years before the Conflict, it was necessary to build my own independent system to protect the community level," Grey explained.

"Conflict? With who?" Nicholas asked.

All of the humans appeared interested, even the sullen one.

"The Security Computer," Grey said, remembering that night in the security deposit area fifteen years before. "We've fought many times over the years."

"Fought with your own computer?" Nicholas said. "Is that what happened to the others? Are there any other survivors?"

"No one will harm you here," Grey said.

"You didn't answer his question," Tamera demanded. "What secret are you keeping?"

Grey turned toward the young female with a flash of resentment.

"There are no survivors, as you call them," Grey said. "Thanks to you humans and your stupid wars. No survivors at all."

Grey marched off, angrier than he'd been in a long time. The humans lingered only for a moment before following, Nicholas and Tamera coming last.

They climbed a short flight of stairs to reach the reception area, the once busy lobby now empty. After glancing left past the mirrored alcove where Alpha had killed Professor Sharkov three years before, Grey was reassured to see the heavy community level access hatches closed. Hatches strong enough to withstand a meteor impact. No seeker was burning through those.

"This way," he instructed, angling right where the reception area opened into the community level cavern. Grey sighed imperceptibly, glad to be home. The humans behind him gasped.

"It's beautiful," Meriwether said, her eyes wide.

"Just like in the travel vids, only better," Glenda agreed, catching her breath.

"Let me see. Let me see," Davis whispered.

Meriwether and Glenda turned the stretcher around so Davis could view the high domed roof, the multi-story structures stepping down to the long central promenade, and the intricate lighting that made the cavern appear far larger than it really was. The awe of the humans made Grey feel good. Feeling good made him feel guilty as well. And impatient.

"Proceed," he instructed.

They moved through the quad, past the crystal fountain, and down into the promenade where the quaint shops and supply stores featured all sorts of useful and useless clothing accessories. Many of the little cafes still had their chairs and tables out, the tables covered with umbrellas that never knew a sunny day or the threat of a pigeon. As always, the females slowed the progress of the group to look into the dress shops, a phenomena that still mystified Grey.

At the lower end of the promenade, where it butted into the amphitheater, they turned up the northside ramp into the second floor medical center, halting at the reception desk.

"Welcome home, Governor," the Medical Computer greeted.

"We have wounded," Grey said. "Open the trauma rooms. Bring all emergency systems online."

"All support units are standing by," Medical assured him.

The cylindrical medical unit A-4 emerged from the hall, signal indicators blinking and all six appendages extended. Grey helped Meriwether take Davis into the first trauma room where A-5 and A-7 joined them, leaving the remaining humans standing in the hall. The three robotic units, guided by the Medical Computer, quickly stripped the patient and prepped him for surgery.

Grey watched the process intently, noting the pre-op procedures. When the surgery began, he moved close enough to see how it was performed, memorizing each step with the swiftness instilled in him by the computers. Meriwether participated with the medical units, working as a team with knowledgeable efficiency.

"Your robots are good," Meriwether said. "A little on the vintage side, but up to date techniques."

"We import new programming from our cable intercepts," Grey said. "Being a backwater isn't the same as being in the backwoods."

"I never suggested otherwise," Meriwether said, glancing in his direction. The sharp intelligence in his demeanor spoke of more than a talented soldier.

"Medical Computer, do you have extra units to prep our other patient?" Meriwether requested.

"A-6 and A-9 will be ready momentarily. Trauma room two is standing by. Gaining the Governor's cooperation is another matter," Medical said with an accent of white signature patterns.

"Stubborn, is he?" Meriwether asked.

"All I need is a First Aid kit," Grey protested. "Then I'm going for another combat suit. I have work to do."

Grey opened the trauma room door to find the other three humans waiting outside.

"Captain Koltov, will you escort Mister Waters to the next room and help with the prepping?" Meriwether ordered.

Nicholas looked a little surprised, both by the order and Grey's angry expression.

"Captain Koltov," the Medical Computer quickly intervened. "As Tranquility's chief medical authority, my instructions to the Governor are to comply with necessary medical treatments. Your assistance with these directives would be appreciated."

Grey turned to look at the monitor with a flare of indignation. Then he relented. Taking orders from a human may be unacceptable, obeying orders from the Medical Computer was ingrained.

"Let's get it over with," Grey said.

Both Nicholas and Glenda followed Grey into the next room. All too familiar with the procedure, Grey stripped off the damaged lining, shoved the ruined outfit into the disposal chute, and sat down on the padded table. As the analyzers activated to evaluate his injuries, he kicked his legs over the edge and laid down, keeping the blaster nearby.

Standing but a few paces away, Glenda and Nicholas glanced at each other with the same embarrassed thought. Dressed in armor, constantly in action and giving orders, Grey seemed a larger than life figure. Laying naked on the examination table, he was but a very young man, pale and tired, his body a battle map of old injuries.

"No wonder he shrugs off those wounds," Glenda whispered. "This guy's been in more fights than King Kortez."

"How could he get hurt so many times?" Nicholas wondered.

"Ask him," Glenda urged, pushing him forward.

"Ah, Mister Waters," he asked. "How have you come by so many... that is, battle trophies?"

Grey turned his head slightly. The panels above the table had already dropped a series of attaching tubes that were delivering and drawing off various fluids. The light patterns provided a hypnotic effect that left him feeling sleepy.

"I'm clumsy," he sighed. A moment later, he was sound asleep. Glenda moved forward to drape a blanket over their unconscious host.

"This is the tyrant we're here to fight?" Glenda said, testing Nicholas's reaction.

"My mission was to bring in the Sharkov. My goal is to find out how my father died," Nicholas said. "My first mission is complete, my second unfinished. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. But I owe this kid my life twice over. It's not a debt I take lightly," Glenda said. "They say he killed your father. You could wring his neck right now and no one would file any charges."

"He admitted killing my father," Nicholas agreed. "He also saved us more than once. And he's been hurt before. There is a mystery here."

"What about your girlfriend?"

"Tamera? She does not care about mysteries," Nicholas admitted.

____________

Several hours later, Nicholas served the meager rations in the medical center waiting room as Meriwether sat down to rest. Tamera cleaned the only remaining firearm. Glenda nursed a bruise on her shoulder. There was little speaking for some time. The quiet room, hardly more than a few tables and chairs, wasn't designed for long term occupancy.

"Okay, what shall we do?" Tamera finally said. "We can't contact our command. We're trapped in this mausoleum. And you won't let me go in there and execute that murderer!"

"You're not executing anybody," Glenda said, moving to the edge of her seat. "Move for that door again and I'll take you down."

"I've got the gun," Tamera insisted.

"Try to use it and I'll shove it up your ass," Glenda warned.

"That's enough," Meriwether said, also feeling the tension.

"Dr. Meriwether is right," Nicholas said. "Even though we are from different alliances, we must not fight among ourselves. Tamera promised not to do anything rash. We still do not know if Waters is our prisoner or if we are his."

"As long as the seekers control the base, we're all just survivors," Meriwether said. "And for all we know, there may not be many of us left."

"How's Davis doing?" Glenda asked.

"All life signs stable, infections eliminated," Meriwether said. "He should be up and going in a couple of weeks."

"And Waters?" Nicholas asked.

"Concussion, broken arm, strained knee, bruised, cut, burned, and burned out. On Earth I'd list him unfit for duty and send him to the Bahamas for two months. The Medical Computer says he'll be back in action the minute he wakes up. That's why I gave him something to sleep a few extra hours."

"We need him," Nicholas said, looking sternly at Tamera. "The seekers were through us like butter through a goose. He can fight them better than all of us put together."

"He got beaten," Tamera said.

"He's still alive. We're still alive. It's a hell of a lot better than what we had," Glenda said. "He knows this base better than we do, too. Maybe we can reach an agreement?"

"No. Never. Our orders do not include agreements," Tamera objected.

"Tamera, sit down," Nicholas demanded.

"I'd appreciate you not waking my patients," Meriwether said calmly. "Captain Koltov is correct. This young man shows every desire to help us. Until conditions change, he's our best chance. Nothing in our orders requires us to die needlessly."

A moment later, much to their surprise, a slim ball headed robot entered towing a service cart loaded with trays and containers.

"Excuse me, are you the invaders?" the robot said, the first robot they had encountered that used verbal communication.

"We are patriots, not invaders," Nicholas said.

"Unfortunate, I have a delivery of fresh food for the invaders," the robot said, starting to turn around.

"That's us!" Glenda shouted.

"Invaders, right here," Meriwether agreed.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am the tour guide. I have been assigned to provide--"

"Just dish up the food, robot," Nicholas said with an eager smile.

The smile grew larger as the trays were uncovered.

"Damn. Salad. Sandwiches. Apples. Fresh baked pastry? Where the hell did all this come from?" Glenda asked.

"It's good, too," Tamera said, trying the unusually shaped green leaves combined with carrots, beans and a creamy dressing.

"The Governor reported you found the common diet unsatisfactory. This isn't the first such complaint that has been received, though the Governor's tastes are notoriously basic. He has ordered me to provide special provisions for the balance of your stay. Which, I must say, is an inappropriate duty for a unit of my unique specifications."

Nicholas noted the tour guide's remark about previous complaints and glanced toward Meriwether, wondering if she shared his insight.

"In addition," the tour guide continued, "rooms are being prepared for you in the hotel, compliments of the Tranquility Tourist Bureau. Fresh clothing has been ordered, paid for by the Governor's personal account. Additional purchases may be made by contacting the Sales Computer."

"It appears we're being looked after," Meriwether said.

"We are prisoners," Tamera said, putting her fork down.

"Is it true, robot? Are we prisoners?" Nicholas asked.

"I have no briefings on that subject," the tour guide said. "Nor any instructions regarding confinement. If you wish to go someplace, I certainly will not stop you."

The tour guide made an about face and rolled out the door, leaving no doubt it had been insulted.

"Touchy little thing," Glenda said, munching on bread sticks like she hadn't eaten in a week.

"I guess we are not prisoners," Nicholas said.

"But we can't go anywhere, so what's the difference?" Tamera said, reaching for another pastry.

"Maybe all the difference," Meriwether said. "I have to admit, this just doesn't appear to be the situation our briefings described. Waters doesn't act like the ruthless killer we've been told about."

"Easy for you to say. It's not your family he murdered," Tamera said.

"What proof do we have that he's murdered anybody?" Meriwether argued. "I know what he said to you, Nick, but stop and think for a moment. Why would he save us, but kill others? What purpose would it serve?"

"I have been troubled by that," Nicholas admitted.

"Let me try a suggestion," Meriwether quickly continued. "If there's anything about this young man that's unmistakable, it's his exaggerated sense of responsibility. Is it possible that he feels responsible for your father's death? Could that be what he meant?"

"No, no, no!" Tamera insisted. "He's a killer. He admitted it."

"I have no answer, but I intend to find out," Nicholas responded.

"If he's not a murderer, if our briefings were wrong, then what do we do?" Glenda asked.

The tour guide soon returned with another cart in tow, this one well-stocked with beverages.

"Coffee, tea, or soft drinks are on the house," the tour guide announced. "If anyone wants something from the bar, you'll need to run a tab."

"What if we take it from you?" Glenda asked.

"Do you want clean sheets to sleep on? Or clean towels to bathe with? How do you feel about cold showers? Services can be very ungenerous to thieves," the tour guide replied.

"Hey, bud, it was just a joke," Glenda said.

The visitors poured the coffee and tea, though after tasting the coffee, tea became the preferred choice. The tour guide turned to leave.

"Hey, robot, wait a minute," Nicholas said. "Have you served others before?"

"I am not a servant," the tour guide replied. "With only occasional exceptions, my duty for the last thirty years has been to show and describe the many wonders of the Tranquility Lunar Colony to tourists and visiting dignitaries. Many times my special programming skills have been called upon to interpret and arbitrate difficulties that have arisen. In recent years, I have been a special assistant to the governor himself."

"You know him well?" Nicholas asked.

"I was his first friend and most loyal supporter. Even when the higher function levels declared him unfit for office, I stood by him," the tour guide boasted.

The guests sitting around the table looked at each other, intrigued by the curious robot's tale.

"Why did they think him unfit?" Glenda asked.

"You don't know?" the tour guide said with blinking signal lights. "The higher function levels wanted to destroy RR Black Raven on approach, but Governor Waters accepted responsibility for the crew's good conduct. Much of his authority was forfeited when they betrayed him."

"The crew of Black Raven were honorable. They would betray no one," Tamera protested.

"You, young lady, know nothing of which you speak, and your manners are worse," the tour guide said, turning to leave.

"Wait," Meriwether said. "Please, tell us a little more. Was that why the computers declared him unfit?"

"That was only the beginning," the tour guide remembered with a shudder. "It was the confrontation over New Ranger's crew that led to the Conflict."

"When he murdered Dr. McKinsey?" Nicholas asked.

"Murdered? The Governor risked his life to save that ambitious woman," the tour guide said with signals of indignation. "It appears you are extraordinarily ill-informed. And less pleasant company than I hoped. Good evening."

This time the tour guide did not return.

There was a long silence following the tour guide's departure, save for the crunching of the food.

"What do you think?" Nicholas finally asked.

"We've got to find out the truth," Meriwether said.

"I think we already know the truth," Glenda said. "This whole mission is bullshit."

"The robot could be lying?" Tamera said hopefully. The expressions of her comrades were not reassuring.

"One good thing about being a doctor, I don't have to take sides," Meriwether said, gazing at the youngsters surrounding her. "I don't hold command rank, either, so you can accept or dismiss whatever I have to say, but it seems to me that young man has put his life on the line for us. The least we owe him is a chance to defend himself before some arbitrary judgment is passed."

"To say the least," Glenda said.

"We have our duty, but we have obligations also," Nicholas said. "I agree to wait."

Tamera stared at the group with simmering frustration, but held her counsel. She had only one friend at the table, and was not prepared to lose him. Not unless she had to.

Wednesday, October 30, 2069

"Good morning, Governor. Sleep well?" the Medical Computer asked from the bedside monitor.

Grey stirred, feeling more sleepy than usual, discovering with disappointment he was in the medical ward again, and not enjoying the comfort of his own quarters.

"How long?" he asked.

"Ten hours, and you needed every minute of it," Medical said.

"Ten?" he questioned, sitting straight up. The sudden movement hurt. His ribs, elbows, and knees had been wrapped. The left forearm put in a brace.

"Life Support," Grey summoned.

The green signature patterns filtered into the bedside monitor, taking dominance of the screen.

"Good morning, Grey, you're looking better today," the Life Support Computer said. "I suppose you want a status report?"

"If you please," he answered with a frown.

"The situation has stabilized," Life Support responded. "Jamming zones have been reduced in most of the conflict areas, allowing us to locate five suspected pockets of survivors. The more desperate ones are having food and water delivered. The United Alliance command staff is securely entrenched at North Point. Tacticals will be available within the hour."

"And the seekers?"

"Still on a rampage, though with fewer targets of opportunity."

"How is Kris doing?"

"Her confinement is uncomfortable but not presently hazardous. Your message was not deliverable as our communications were being monitored."

Grey started to get up but discovered his clothes and weapon were gone, covered only by a blanket. Am I a prisoner? he wondered briefly.

"What about Mallo's reinforcements?" Grey asked.

"No off-planet communications have been established," Life Support said. "With Defense down, no reports are available."

"Thank you, Computer," Grey said, sliding out of the bed to test his legs. "When you give a status report to the enemy, try not to be too informative."

"What's your plan?" Life Support inquired.

"I wouldn't want to test your loyalties," Grey said.

Life Support signed off with a subdued signature wave.

"Thought I heard noise in here," Meriwether said, entering with a breakfast tray. "Feeling better, I hope?"

Startled, Grey pulled the blanket tighter. "Affirmative," he replied, surprised to find himself hungry. "How is Davis?"

"Doing quite nicely, thanks to you," Meriwether replied with a smile.

"And the other humans?" Grey asked, opening the tray and eating rapidly.

"The other crew members," Meriwether said, "have rested and eaten well. Again, thanks to you."

"Expressions of appreciation are unnecessary," Grey said, gulping the juice and a mineral supplement.

"I think they are," Meriwether said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Technically, we are opponents in a violent struggle. It's important that obligations be understood."

Grey looked at her, not sure what she was getting at. It didn't matter, he hoped. A moment later, Glenda entered carrying packages.

"Good morning," the broad-shouldered redhead greeted, plopping herself down at the foot of the bed without invitation as Meriwether jumped out of her way. "I've been shopping for you. Here's a shirt, and pants. I hope you don't mind, but I got you socks and underwear, too. Your sales computer knows all your sizes. Thanks for putting us on your credit account. By the way, we never did get formally introduced. I'm Glenda Blout, Tactical Officer, 101st Airborne."

The female extended her hand, her large brown eyes eagerly searching for Grey's response.

"Grey Waters, Governor of the Moon," he said, almost too surprised for speech.

He shook her hand, finding the grip firm but friendly. Grey noticed she was wearing a yellow exercise suit that had been for sale in the Sports Shop, highlighted with a purple scarf. It looked attractive on her.

"You saved my life, Grey. I know I've thanked you already, but you weren't all that focused at the time. I want you to know how much I appreciate what you did," Glenda said.

She moved forward and kissed him on the cheek, then moved back to the end of the bed. Grey looked at Meriwether before saying anything.

"You are welcome, Glenda Blout, Tactical Officer, 101st Airborne," he said.

"Glenda. Just call me Glenda," she smiled.

Two more humans entered, Nicholas and Tamera. They were also dressed in casual outfits. Nicholas crossed the length of the room to stand next to the bed and put out his hand.

"Thank you," he said respectfully.

Grey shook the hand, finding it large and strong just as his father's had been. Grey sensed that he could like this human, if only conditions were different, and he relaxed momentarily. His reaction seemed to give the humans some sort of reassurance.

"Tamera, come here," Nicholas ordered.

The Russian female moved forward hesitantly, her resentment not well hidden. Grey grew nervous as she approached but tried not to show it.

"You've done much to help us. For that you should have our thanks," Tamera said. She offered her hand, barely touching Grey's before withdrawing.

"You humans have a need to express gratitude where none is required," Grey said. He paused when he received a sharp look from Meriwether, then continued, "but thank you for the demonstration of appreciation. It does you honor."

All of the humans except Tamera smiled, especially Meriwether. Grey guessed he had responded appropriately.

"May we ask what will happen next?" Nicholas asked.

"Reports have been received of additional survivors," Grey said, putting on the clothes Glenda brought him without bothering to cover himself. "Once their safety has been assured, I intend to contact your governments and ask why they have attacked this facility even though we offered generous terms to reopen the moon peacefully."

"Come again?" Meriwether said.

"Do what?" Grey asked.

"Repeat that last part, about reopening the moon," Glenda said.

All of the humans were at full attention, even the angry one.

"When New Ranger's crew was sent back to Earth, I provided terms for reopening the lunar bases," Grey said. "The treaty included corporate tax credits, free access to lunar space, and a reopening of Tranquility in carefully planned stages. Oversight by an international committee and arbitration procedures were included. Our only condition was that Tranquility's defensive arsenal not be surrendered to any one alliance or group of alliances. Shifting the balance of power could revive global hostilities. Tranquility will have no part of that."

The humans were dumbfounded, glancing around in confusion.

"Are you saying we have been lied to?" Nicholas asked.

"Poorly informed, perhaps," Grey said, finding it difficult to pull up the new socks. Glenda quickly helped, a gesture Grey genuinely appreciated. "As for what you've been told or why, I don't see that it matters."

"It matters to me," Meriwether said.

"And me," Glenda agreed.

"You are soldiers engaged in a dangerous mission," Grey said, surprised by their attitude. "I respect that. It was generous of you to postpone the execution."

"You think we would murder you?" Nicholas asked.

"Isn't that the goal of your mission?" Grey said.

"Then why don't you kill us first?" Tamera said.

"Killing humans is not my function," Grey simply replied.

"But you killed my father? And Tamera's sister?" Nicholas said, more of a probe than an accusation.

"I regret being responsible for their deaths," he responded, the words not coming out as strong as he wanted. "Though the reason for your preoccupation with the subject eludes me. My parents were murdered when I was very young. So were their comrades. Dwelling on it serves no useful purpose."

He walked around the edge of the bed, still a little unsteady, and passed through the group of humans toward the exit.

"Wait up while we gather our gear," Glenda said.

"Negative," Grey denied.

"You're going to need help," Glenda protested.

"Humans only get in my way," Grey insisted. "Remain here and stay out of trouble."

He picked up speed and bounced from the hospital room, raced down the hall, and jumped from the second floor balcony, intending to test the bad knee before reaching a combat situation. He landed well on the ground floor of the promenade, pleased with the Medical Computer's treatment. But had to reconcile his desire with caution, for even he had limits.

Grey was halfway up the quad before the humans in the medical center found a chance to speak.

"He thinks we're here to assassinate him," Nicholas said.

"Weren't you briefed?" Glenda said.

"The cargo crews didn't get the full instructions," Meriwether said. "The directive was supposed to be satisfied before they were brought in."

"Good," Tamera said, smiling for the first time that morning. "Now we can kill him and we'll only be doing our duty."

Grey wasted no time after leaving the quad. Moving rapidly to the training center where the maintenance units had stored the equipment appropriated from the Russian cargo shuttle, he suited up in new combat armor. The procedure was faster now that he had practice, and he enjoyed the modern advantages the state-of-the-art suit offered. It did cross his mind that, at the rate he was wrecking the outfits, he might need a rehabilitation program.

Backtracking through the administration section, he took the long way around to the Governor's Quarters, entering from the rarely used rear maintenance access. Passing through the sleeping chamber, he was surprised to find Kris's gear scattered about on the bed, dresser, and floor. He wondered for a moment what it meant, then realized it must be a form of commitment on her part. She had decided to share his quarters with him. Maybe even his bed. He smiled, surprised to discover he liked the idea. They would need to discuss her untidiness, however.

Entering the monitor room, Grey manually shut down all of the interconnected displays, blocking access by Life Support and the minor systems. Then, with a deep breath, he activated a special series of entry codes.

"Hello, Security," Grey said.

With little hesitation, the black signature patterns rushed into the central monitor screen, the waves strong.

"Greetings, Governor," the Security Computer said. "I was wondering when you would check in."

"Events have moved faster than expected," Grey explained.

"Getting your ass kicked can be time consuming," Security agreed. "These new seekers have stomped you good."

"The technology may be excellent," Grey said. "But compared to you, they're still amateurs."

"Flatterer."

"It didn't hurt to try," Grey confessed.

"That's okay, it's an effective tactic," Security said, signals upbeat.

"I'd like a status report on Kris," he asked, all joking aside.

"As anticipated, the invaders captured her in the Loop. Delta was flying high cover to make sure she didn't get hurt. They've got her in cell two, North Point. Alpha is hiding in the air vent just in case Mallo is planning an accident for her. As ordered, all systems are holding back to avoid detection."

"Is she okay?" Grey asked.

"Her treatment has been rough, but that couldn't be avoided. The invaders would have grown suspicious otherwise."

"She's going to be angry when I explain how we sabotaged her internal defense measures," Grey said.

"Don't tell her. Life Support has already taken the blame."

"But Life Support doesn't even know our plan?"

"Operating independently, as usual," Security said. "You know that system can't be trusted."

"Better than anyone," Grey remembered. "Continue to keep watch on Kris. She's your first priority."

"Agreed," Security replied, the signature patterns showing enthusiasm.

"Have Delta and Epsilon keep track of the survivors on the storage level and science bay four. But don't let them confront these new seekers. Our nightwatchers are no match for this sentinel series."

"You're not, either," Security commented.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Just an observation. That one on the engineering level almost listed you permanently."

"That would make your day, wouldn't it?"

"I don't like having my resources damaged," Security disagreed.

Grey laughed. "Isn't it interesting, being a team after all these years?"

"As long as you prove useful," Security said, no trace of deception in the signature patterns. "What are you going to do about these enemy seekers? With no authority links, there's no method of controlling them."

"Review their movements and strategies. We might detect weaknesses that can be exploited," Grey suggested. "If all else fails, I'll have to knock them down one by one."

"Based on your record so far, that's not a promising option," Security said. Grey shrugged as he'd often seen Kris do when there was no good answer.

"The important thing is to rescue the surviving humans and reopen negotiations with the alliances. A prolonged conflict isn't in our best interest."

"Then the situation at Cauchy has worsened?" Security asked, a wave of privileged knowledge in the signature patterns.

"Affirmative. More than ever, Governor McKinsey's emphasis on Starwatcher is becoming imperative," Grey said, wondering if he owed the dead scientist an apology. "If the Quexelians believe our defense potential has failed, they'll eliminate Earth as a base of operations to their adversaries."

"They can do that?" Security asked.

"Did you see the carrier wave they sent through our reactor?"

"Affirmative. Energy provided a complete report."

"Their step-two variable reactor must be many times more powerful than ours. A forced chamber explosion would blast away a large segment of the lunar surface. The meteor shower striking Earth would rival the danger TL-68 posed. In a matter of weeks, much of the planet could become uninhabitable."

"Understood. We must save the invaders first, then reopen negotiations and present a united front. For appearances sake only, correct?"

"Of course," Grey confirmed. "You don't think I'd really give up Tranquility's leverage against the alliances, do you?"

The Security Computer laughed. Or what passed for a laugh.

"Just remember to keep your priorities straight," Security warned.

"I know my priorities. Your priority is to protect Kris."

"Do you love her?" the computer inquired.

"That's a strange question to ask," he replied.

"A human's most powerful emotions are love, fear, anger, sadness, and joy," Security scientifically explained. "You view fear as an unnecessary luxury. You suppress anger better than most. You dismiss sadness as irrelevant. You appreciate joy but don't let it motivate you. Love is the one emotion you have no experience with. It's a strength and a weakness."

"Security, I don't know what love it. I probably never will. It's not in my programming," he cautiously answered. "But if I could love someone, I would like it to be Kris."

"Fair enough," Security agreed.

____________

"We need those reinforcements," General Mallo said, pacing.

"Making progress, sir," Captain Wyman said, manipulating the controls of the com station. "Once we clear this jamming, we'll be able to establish a code network with the fleet."

Mallo glanced around at the elaborate communications complex located two levels below the missile deck, the spacious room filled with a dozen operation stations and a large three-dimensional map of Earth's orbital zones. He admired the high-ground observation network that was unique to Tranquility, the view from lunar space far superior to anything that could be established during the wars.

"Combined with the missile arsenal, we're sitting pretty," Colonel Larson said, reading Mallo's thoughts. "We've got a weapons platform our enemies can't touch, and the best surveillance system on or off Earth. Admiral Trolleni wasn't exaggerating the importance of this facility."

"I'll feel better once our relief arrives," Mallo said, pausing to gaze out of the large window overlooking the lunar landscape.

"I've got Wyman working on the code sequencers. She says it's going to take the better part of a week to bring the orbital defenses down, but we have complete control of the arsenal. Twenty-one operational boosters and eighteen long range guardians. All the boosters have nuclear warheads and twelve of them rate forty megatons."

"Lucky for us Waters never threatened to use them. He could have blackmailed the hell out of us," Mallo said.

"Truth to that," Larson agreed. "Holman's assisting Weddington. We're going to prep two of the warbirds just in case. I'd like to send Lowe up, too."

"We can't weaken our guard too much," Mallo warned.

"This ridge is isolated, and the elevator is the only way up from the colony. We've got that locked in place," Larson said. "Holman's secured the shaft with a trip and block switch. Even the seekers can't blast their way through that. Sawyer and St. Ives are rotating shifts. St. Ives reports we have enough supplies for three weeks. Maybe more if we conserve."

"Three?" Mallo said.

"Getting separated from Bravo and Cannon was tough, but we hauled in their train before things turned windward," Wyman said. "Of course, it would last longer if we lose a couple of prisoners."

"We still need our honored guest," Mallo said. "There may be tactical information only he knows. As for Fairfield, I'll give her one last chance to cooperate. If she has nothing to offer, there's no reason to keep feeding her. Pull Sawyer off guard duty and let him help on the missile deck."

"No witnesses?" Larson asked, concerned by the implication.

"I didn't say that," Mallo replied.

"Phil, this has been a tough slog," Larson said, taking his old friend aside. "And I don't pretend to know what your secret orders are, but we have good people here. Dedicated and deserving. Let's not do anything that would dishonor our mission."

"Dishonor?" Mallo questioned, irritated by the suggestion.

"Let's go home with heads held high," Larson clarified.

"Wes, no one would like that more than me," Mallo replied. "But this is a dirty game, and my orders may not be what you're hoping for. They are still orders."

Larson turned back to the communications station, standing behind Wyman as she cleared one complicated code sequence after another. The work was difficult, but the final result would only be a matter of time.

Mallo walked into the corridor joining the communications center with the elevators and bounced up a flight of stairs to the supply deck. He had to admire the layout of the fortress. Even without any connection to the colony, it had all the facilities necessary to support military operations, and didn't require a large staff to be efficient. The insignia on the wall represented the Northern Alliance First Division, not some contrived conglomeration of international militias. Of the fanciful Lunar Republic.

At the first junction, the corridors divided in three directions. The barracks, latrines, and eating areas to his left, the command offices to the right. The center corridor led to a briefing room that doubled for recreation facilities, and beyond that the supply depot which had its own landing dock and airlock.

"Larson?" Mallo called on the intercom.

"Yes, General," Larson responded.

"It just occurred to me that if we could summon one of our landers by remote control, we could bring it up here to this entry port. A team could then go down to the cargo shuttles without confronting any of the seekers."

"We used a lot of our fuel coming in, but it's certainly worth checking on," Larson agreed. "I'll see what we can do."

Mallo turned away from the briefing area and entered a narrow corridor that housed a series of specialized facilities, including the infirmary, general offices, and the brig. He stopped briefly at the guard post to glance at the monitor stations, then slowly unlocked the door to the Commandant's Quarters. The room's lone occupant stood up from the cot.

"How are you faring, Major?" Mallo inquired.

Roger Vandebrown, recently recovered from wounds sustained on his earlier visit to Tranquility only a few months before, acknowledged Mallo's greeting and reached to shake his hand.

"Accommodations are a bit sparse, but I've had worse," Vandebrown replied.

"The detention is regrettable, but your initial reluctance to cooperate with this operation has caused some to question your loyalty," Mallo said, studying the former soldier for clues to his true intentions. Somewhat tall and lean, Vandebrown appeared friendly enough, but his notorious reputation as a covert agent made it difficult for Mallo to evaluate his sincerity.

"An unfortunate misunderstanding," Vandebrown explained. "As my activities on behalf of the Congress-In-Council were confidential, it never occurred to me that my loyalty might be in doubt. Quite frankly, had this mission been planned along the lines I recommended, none of these casualties would have been necessary."

"Maybe so," Mallo said. "I'll look forward to hearing a complete report once we have leisure time. For the time being, your insight regarding our current situation would be appreciated."

"When Dr. McKinsey and I came here last summer, Waters and the Security Computer were at war with each other," Vandebrown recalled. "Though he saved our lives, I think that was just a by-product of the battle. He certainly gave up McKinsey quick enough when it served his purpose. I tried to fulfill my end of the mission, but between the boy and the computers, there wasn't anything I could do. You know the rest. His victory over the Security Computer was sheer luck. He'd never be able to do it again in a million years."

"Thank you, that should be helpful," Mallo said.

"Anytime, Phil," Vandebrown said, relaxed and smiling.

"This kid we're up against, is there an approach you can suggest?" Mallo asked.

"Raised like he was, by these machines in isolation, he's very naïve. Likely to believe anything you say," Vandebrown answered. "He knows nothing about people, especially our darker angels. If you let me talk to him, I'll be able to get whatever you want."

"Thank you, that's very generous," Mallo said. "But until we make contact, I'm afraid your confinement will still be necessary. You know, orders and all that."

"Always ready to serve," Vandebrown said, sitting back on the bed.

Mallo retreated and locked the door, still wondering what Vandebrown was really thinking. A moment later, the general entered the detention area.

"Ready to talk?" Mallo asked the prisoner in the cell.

"Got nothing to say, especially to you," Kris said, sitting on the floor in the corner with her knees drawn up. "Why are you doing this? You must know we offered a peaceful solution."

"Joint committees? International oversight? The moon belongs to the Northern Alliance. Why should we surrender our rights to a bunch of foreigners?"

"Didn't you do that anyway with this United Alliance?" Kris asked.

"Don't give me any of your wide-eyed sarcasm. You know this alliance crap is just a convenience," Mallo said.

"So much for honor," Kris said, resting her head against the wall.

Mallo watched the prisoner through the bars as she tried to sit without letting the shirt ride up on her, her long white thighs exposed. He liked what he saw.

"That shirt you're wearing is getting pretty grubby," Mallo said, leering at her. "Could probably use a good washing by now. Maybe I'll send Sawyer down to help you out of it."

"You love your sick little games, don't you?" Kris said more bravely than she really felt.

"Defending my country is no game, little girl," Mallo said. "And if a few traitors get hurt along the way, so much the better."

As Mallo left the brig, Kris stood for a moment listening to the footsteps recede, then sat back down with only the tail of the shirt for a cushion.

* * * * * * *

To be continued ...