Tranquility's Heirs

Part Seven

This science fiction novel was written several decades ago before modern terms such as artificial intelligence were being used. It has very little sex and only minor nudity, so it can't be described as erotic. But it is a love story. All characters are over 18 years old. All rights reserved.

Recap; With Vandebrown and McKinsey having failed to seize Tranquility, Grey plots his next move against the computers..

Chapter 7

GAMBITS

"Kris! Thank God you're all right!" Valerie exclaimed, rushing down the ramp to offer a relieved hug.

"Nothing to fear, big sister," Kris said, returning the embrace with unexpected warmth.

Valerie stepped back to study Kris more carefully. McKinsey also noticed the change in attitude.

"Where have you been, dear?" McKinsey asked.

"Getting an education," Kris replied, seeing her godmother clearly for the first time. "A political education. I know why we've come here. That is, I know why you've come here."

"Knowledge can be a dangerous thing," McKinsey said, using Mike as a blind to reach for her sidearm.

"Don't try it, Laureen. You're under arrest," Kris warned, drawing her fine-point blaster.

"Kris? Have you gone crazy?" Valerie said. "How dare you talk to Aunt Laureen that way?"

"I don't know what's going on here, and I guess that's nothing new, but I'm sure getting tired of having guns waved in my face," Mike said, taking a step forward.

"Don't get in my way, Mike," Kris demanded. "Laureen didn't come here to reopen Tranquility. She's here to destabilize the peace treaty and overthrow the Council."

"She's gone insane. Stop her, Michael!" McKinsey yelled.

McKinsey pushed Mike between them and reached for her blaster, but Kris kicked Mike's legs out from under him and fired a low power pulse into McKinsey's gun hand, weakening her grasp. Before Mike could get up, Kris wheeled around and put her blaster into his chest.

"Don't make me scorch you, Mike," Kris barked.

"No reason to get dramatic," he said, pushing the blaster aside.

He stood up, frowning at McKinsey. Kris holstered her weapon and stepped back as Valerie checked McKinsey's hand. There was no damage, Kris had been careful, but the pain would need desensitizing. Valerie quickly produced a spray, moistened the hand well, then picked up McKinsey's blaster and handed it to Kris.

"You shouldn't have done that," Valerie whispered in McKinsey's ear.

McKinsey nodded and turned to Kris. "Kris, dear, I'm sorry. I must have gotten carried away," she said.

"I believe you know where the Governor's Quarters are," Kris ordered.

McKinsey walked past her, head held high. Valerie followed, glancing back at Kris with curiosity. Mike dropped behind, walking next to Kris and waiting for an explanation.

The small party moved up the promenade, passed through the deserted quad, and entered a large corridor that led into the administration section. Valerie came to a halt when they reached the mouth of the short, unmarked corridor leading to the Governor's Quarters.

"May I talk to Kris alone?" Valerie asked Mike.

"Yeah, sure," he said, starting to follow McKinsey inside. Kris took hold of his arm.

"Will you guard Laureen for me?" she asked. "If we keep playing this her way, we'll all end up a bunch of lab specimens."

"I'll watch her," Mike nodded. "But you owe me."

He bounced quickly and caught up to McKinsey as she entered the monitor room.

"It's true, Val," Kris explained. "We were lied to from the beginning. It was all a power play. Laureen McKinsey verses the Council. We were her cover, the happy go-lucky war heroes."

"But what could she expect to gain?" Valerie asked.

"The defense center on top of the ridge is bristling with weapons. With Tranquility behind her, Laureen could dictate her own terms by offering to ally with the Council's enemies."

"The alliances would never tolerate that. The balance of power is too fragile," Valerie protested.

"I think you're right. Eventually they'll be another war, but not right away," Kris said. "The alliances are anxious to rebuild their orbital webs. Weather forecasting, communications, military recognizance. All the things we've had to do using micros and spotters. Our adversaries won't jeopardize that just to protect the Council. Hell, I don't know anyone who will. By the time the war does come, Laureen will have North Point to back her up, and with HE-3 stocks depleted, she'll have a lot of mining contracts to dangle before the industrialists. She's got this thing figured perfectly."

Valerie's eyes filled with moisture, and for a moment, she wished she possessed Kris's stoicism, then she straightened her shoulders and wiped the tears with her sleeve. Kris took hold of her hand.

"I guess I've suspected something for a while now. Even before the launch," Valerie confessed. "I just didn't want to believe it."

"We all close our eyes, sometimes," Kris admitted.

"Well, we had best keep them open now," Valerie said with a hesitant smile. "Do you have a plan?"

"The Governor has gone to get Vandebrown. He's being forced by the computer system to put us on trial. I know it sounds kind of bizarre."

"You've met him? The mysterious moonman?"

"Yeah, I met him. He's likable enough, but strictly zero temperature for nerve," Kris related.

"Look who's talking," Valerie winked.

"He's kind of poetic, too," Kris smiled.

"A poetic ice man? Hardly a typical combination of personality traits. What was that you said about laboratory specimens?"

"The Russian expedition. He told me they were dissected and put in jars," Kris explained.

Valerie read the serious expression on Kris's face and tried not to laugh. The joke was too grim, even if it was amusing.

"I don't see what's so funny?" Kris said angrily.

"Come on, we're going back to the medical center. There's something I think you should see," Valerie insisted.

Valerie turned and accelerated so quickly Kris had no choice but to follow, and in a fraction of the time it had taken them to wander up the quad, they had raced all the way back to the medical center.

After pausing to regain her breath, Valerie entered the main hall and accessed a smaller corridor, going past the autopsy theater and tissue analysis laboratory to the cold storage vault.

The refrigeration unit was much bigger than Kris expected, and even then the room was crowded. Row after row of coffins, some stacked four high, lined both walls. Like everyone, Kris had heard stories of the various failed expeditions. The 2054 reoccupation attempt of Racer One, made during one of the war's more desperate moments. The 2062 Columbus expedition, when the Council tried a sneak attack through Tranquility's defenses. The 2066 Russian expedition.

And here they were. The five crew members of Racer One, packed in small containers along a top shelf, the remains torn to pieces when their shuttle was knocked down on final approach. Below them, the two pilots and twelve commandos of NA Columbus stored in shipping caskets. Though the cargo shuttle and one of the three landers had been shot down, eight of the commandos had actually landed safely and fought their way inside. Or so it was rumored.

On the other side of the aisle lay the six Custodians of Tranquility encased in clear crystal caskets.

"This is Uncle Thomas," Valerie said unnecessarily, for his image was still renown. "And here is father."

Kris saw Thomas McKinsey and her father stacked on top of the pile, the bodies unchanged from the day they died. Chester Fairfield looked remarkably well, though perhaps a bit overweight. McKinsey looked like hell, skin wrinkled and hair falling out.

"Roger's brother, Colonel Jaime Vandebrown," Valerie introduced. "Dr. Marilyn Goldstein. Dr. Lindy Yee. And the mysterious Crystal Waters, for whom few records exist."

"That would be Grey's mother," Kris speculated, seeing a petite woman with a round face, small nose, and long silver hair.

After an appropriate moment of silence, Valerie tapped Kris on the shoulder and directed her attention to the rear corner. There, between two smaller stacks, was a young red-haired woman on an especially elaborate bier, her coffin decorated with flowers. The transparent cover glistened with sparkling clusters. The body was dressed in a delicate fabric gown. Kris felt a lump in her throat.

"Captain Catarina Kantanee," Valerie mentioned. "And here are her comrades. Peter Strelsky, Professor Sharkov. Commander Koltov. The charts indicate wounds consistent with combat injuries, but they aren't dissected. Not even autopsied."

"And I believed..." Kris said, unsuccessfully suppressing her emotions. "No wonder he thinks we're ridiculous."

"I suppose we do tend to be a bit silly at times, but isn't that what keeps us a step ahead of the machines?" Valerie said.

"Ahead of the machines!" Kris shouted. "Oh my God."

"What's wrong?" Valerie asked.

Kris turned and was gone from the compartment before Valerie even realized she had moved.

"What's going on? Where are we going?" Valerie asked, scrambling hard to catch up.

"Back to the Governor's Quarters," Kris answered.

"But why the hurry?"

"You're going to hold Mike's hand and keep him out of trouble," Kris called back over her shoulder. "I'm stopping for a new outfit!"

With speed even greater than Valerie could attain, Kris raced back to the Governor's Quarters and burst into the monitor room. McKinsey was sitting at the main computer station seeking in vain to raise one of the higher function levels. Mike stood nearby restlessly.

Ignoring their startled expressions, Kris whipped the weapons locker open and rotated the closet to withdraw Grey's light battle armor. By the time Valerie arrived panting and out of breath, Kris had almost finished suiting up.

"I'm counting on you, Val," Kris said, squeezing her arm.

Then Kris sealed her armor, scooped up an extra power pack, and squeezed through the door, disappearing down the hall at a dead run.

"What was that all about?" Mike asked.

"I'm not sure. Something about a new outfit," Valerie answered.

"Oh, that explains everything," Mike said. "The dress shop must be having a sale."

____________

Still too far from CA-3 to risk a retreat, Grey was forced to draw his McIntosh heat blaster and set himself in the ready position. Less focused than a Remington 4-0-4, the Mac's shotgun setting would be effective at close range, and Grey saw the range was about to get very close indeed. He watched the bobbing seekers on the tactical screens displayed inside the visor of his helmet, then powered up his converters to give the energy shield a full-strength presentation.

With all the proper steps taken, he waited for the seekers to commit themselves, watching for where he'd make his break. The timely arrival of his service unit helped, supplying him with extra power packs and a spare recharger.

But the seekers refrained from a direct attack, shifting and probing for an opening that would allow them to sweep in all at once. It was a sign of respect Grey hadn't anticipated, and a dangerous threat to his planned method of retreat.

The same hesitation that made Grey reconsider his strategy caused Vandebrown to carefully evaluate his own best interest. Safely within the mouth of CA-3, he watched the deadly standoff with more than professional curiosity. Could it be, he wondered, that four seekers are afraid to attack one man? A mere boy?

Suddenly Vandebrown felt a familiar presence come up beside him.

"Hi, Roger," Kris said, her battle armor glistening.

"You're just in time," Vandebrown confided. "I was just getting ready to..."

"I can imagine what you were getting ready to do," Kris said.

"I was going to help!" Vandebrown indignantly protested. "I was. I swear."

Kris looked Vandebrown straight in the eye and saw something she'd never noticed before. Sincerity?

"Don't get excited, Ro-ger de-ah," Kris said, mocking McKinsey's accent. "You're gonna get your chance. When I give the word, seal up that fancy suit of yours and cover our right. Two meters forward ought to do fine. I'll move six meters out and support his left flank."

"Peterson's position?" Vandebrown asked, vaguely recalling the maneuver from his cadet days.

"Yeah," Kris nodded. "What's he doing just standing around out there?"

"Damnedest thing I ever saw," Vandebrown said.

Kris started to move forward, but Roger reached to get her attention.

"Careful, Captain," he warned. "These seekers don't have heavy armor like the ones at the Black Sash games, but they're fast and maneuver like Nubian Devils. Keep your shield high and watch your flanks."

"Let the machines be careful," Kris said, quietly thankful for the advice. "Ready to kick some tin-plated ass?"

"One step behind you all the way," Roger said with a grin.

Twenty meters away, Grey watched the seekers finish positioning for an attack run, their arrangement prepared and coordinated by the Security Computer. Gamma would provide the initial shock wave with Alpha following on the wing. Delta and Epsilon set for high cover, preparing to dive on his flanks.

Grey quickly forestalled their first run by deploying a heavy jammer, cutting off communication with the Security Computer, forcing the seekers to act independently, but after a brief pause for readjustment, the seekers finally moved in, Gamma taking the lead, Alpha as wing support, and the others swinging wide. The maneuver was executed with more precision than Grey was hoping for and he set to break out forward, duck under Gamma in passing, and escape through the westside access. It was a lot of ground to cover, perhaps too much, but the tactic would also be unexpected.

Just as Grey powered up his shield and prepared to take the initiative, Alpha rotated out to his left flank, Gamma dropped low to block the center, and Delta backtracked to cut off CA-2, ruining Grey's plan. Then Epsilon swung wide on his right and dove in on battle thrusters, forcing him to meet the charging seeker head on.

Suddenly, catching the seekers by surprise, ground fire from an unexpected direction cut Epsilon off and forced the seeker to back away, foiling the envelopment of Grey's flank. As Epsilon fired several bursts and climbed for high ground, Alpha veered off and the seekers regrouped along the north wall, bobbing, weaving and reevaluating. Grey immediately initiated a retreat even as he used his tactical scanner to discover Captain Fairfield and Major Vandebrown covering his rear. Though he wasn't displeased, their unexpected appearance did complicate matters. Grey had no experience in team combat.

"Major Vandebrown," Grey called out, finding the battle zone much too crowded. "Retreat down CA-3 as rapidly as possible. Please remember you are under arrest."

Happy to obey, Vandebrown backed into the tunnel but stayed close enough to see the action.

"Captain Fairfield--"

Suddenly Grey's transmission was washed out in static by the roar of seeker jets on attack boost. Sweeping in at Kris, Epsilon fired a hail of laser fire that she barely shielded off. First one, then the other of Grey's service units were hit, one exploding in a dangerous shrapnel laden fireball.

Gamma broke sideways and followed Epsilon in on Kris, each seeker pausing to pound her shield and drain away precious energy. Grey turned his back on Alpha, chased Gamma back toward the center, then rotated in time to hold off Delta before charging after Gamma again, dancing back and forth with vigorous parries and thrusts. Epsilon pushed Kris away from the tunnel entrance, forcing her back into the southeast corner, but she managed to hold her line when Alpha was slow to take advantage.

Grey took up pursuit, boxed Gamma against the wall, and scored a lucky hit. As Gamma wobbled off, Delta came to the rescue, spiraling in and tearing up Grey's converter cables and cutting his shield power in half. He fired the laser's last full charge, hurled the exhausted weapon away, and took point blank aim with the Remington 4-0-4, scorching Delta's forward sensor as the seeker rode in on him. Delta broke left to avoid the wall and Grey ducked out of the way, cutting across battle lines to reach Kris in the corner.

The seekers slowed their attack pattern, preparing to concentrate fire on a single opponent. Grey found his shield failing, the recharger sputtering on a shredded cable, and Kris wasn't doing any better, Epsilon having scored heavily on her converters. As if sensing the end, a dozen securatrons began moving out of the shadows, seeking to block their most likely exit routes.

"It's getting tight in here," Kris called out. "Got any ideas?"

"Wild card time," Grey answered.

"Wild card?" she asked, wondering if he was trying to be funny.

"Draw all reserves to your shield," he said.

"Okay, whatever you say," Kris agreed.

"Security Computer, hear me!" Grey yelled as jammer strength fell below minimum. The seekers slowed to a hover as communications with the Security Computer were reestablished.

"What do you want now?" the Security Computer demanded.

"It's customary in military tradition to grant last words," Grey declared, notoriously sentimental.

"You are correct," Security agreed. "What are your last words? I will record them."

"My last words?" Grey said. "I was asking for yours."

"Mine? Impudent deceiver!"

As the black signature patterns rose in anger, Grey took a quick step away from the wall, motioned for Kris to move out, and turned toward the hovering seekers.

"Alpha!" he commanded. "Omega factor!"

Reacting instantly, Alpha broke formation on full turning thrusters, swung wide, and curved back around over Grey's head to spray short bursts at Delta and Epsilon. Grey used Alpha as high cover to charge Gamma, initiating a sharp exchange that forced the solitary seeker to withdraw. Taken by surprise, the remaining seekers scattered for the upper reaches of the Loop.

Grey wasted no time, running for CA-3 where Kris was rushing to meet him. Gamma, recovering quicker than the others, dove down attempting to intercept, but Grey turned and scored a hit on the starboard wing jet, further damaging the weakened stabilizer. Before the other seekers could set up for another pass, the battle was over. Grey and Kris retreated into the community access tunnel under Alpha's cover.

Momentarily disorientated, the three remaining seekers reformed in the center of the Loop while the traitorous Alpha rotated toward EN-2 and disappeared into the lower engineering tunnels. A number of security units moved forward to scan CA-3, but there was little to see. The emergency shielding had closed.

The Security Computer was disappointed but did not despair of eventual revenge.

At the bottom of CA-3, Grey paused to open his visor, glad for once to be walking away from a battle. Kris was standing nearby with her visor open, sucking in the cool fresh air of the community level. Vandebrown lingered just a few meters away, anxious to greet them. The reception area was blissfully quiet.

"What happened? Why did that nightwatcher change sides?" Kris asked.

"That was Alpha," Grey explained. "I secretly reprogrammed its authority mode during major repairs ten quarters ago."

"Sort of a sleeper seeker, heh?" Vandebrown joked. "With one of them on our side and another damaged, the odds are almost equal now."

"Hardly equal," Grey said. "Gamma will have that stabilizer repaired in a few hours, and as for Alpha, that old rust bucket's too slow for a real fight."

With Kris and Vandebrown following, Grey walked around the reception area admittance counter and entered the cashier's vault where he maintained a depot of spare parts. He opened a locked cabinet, unhooked the shredded remains of his shield cable, and dropped the destroyed unit inside, then began discarding his exhausted auxiliary equipment, putting each piece in a bin for refurbishment or future cannibalizing.

"You won't be using this armor for awhile," Kris said, helping him pry open the scorched torso plates. "Every time I go looking for you, you're in trouble."

"Then stop looking for me," Grey answered, surprised to find himself comfortable with her teasing. "Where are the other humans?"

"Our crewmates are in your headquarters. McKinsey is under guard," Kris said.

"Good response. Can you hold them there for a few hours?" Grey asked.

"Sure, but why? Where are you going?"

"To the medical center," he said without offering to explain, but Kris knew only drugs were keeping him on his feet. He needed rest, and he wouldn't find it in the Governor's Quarters.

Kris nodded and Grey appeared to know what the gesture meant.

With the torso section open, Grey climbed out of the armor and put the suit in the storage closet, entering a work order for the maintenance system. Momentarily wearing nothing but underwear and a few bandages, he quickly dressed in a light fabric jumper, strapping a holster and sidearm around his waist.

Vandebrown was surprised by his rescuer's slender appearance. He had expected a more athletic physique, but then he recalled that speed and agility were far more important in the lunar environment than mere strength. As for the relevance of the bandaged wounds, Vandebrown could only guess.

"Now that we're out of that fix, what do we do next?" Vandebrown asked warmly, his eyes twinkling.

Though Kris took a dim view of Vandebrown's belated comradeship, Grey had not forgotten that Vandebrown risked himself, however briefly, to cover his right flank. But Grey's good humor soon faded.

"You're under arrest, human," he declared. "All of you humans are under arrest."

Grey put his hand out for Vandebrown's borrowed sidearm. Vandebrown meekly surrendered the weapon.

"Will you accept my parole, sir? Confinement to the community level?" Vandebrown asked.

To Kris's consternation, Grey nodded his assent.

"In that case, I am going to the Lucky Clover for a drink. Maybe two or three," Vandebrown said. He turned on his heel and bounced off without glancing back.

"Why did you let him go?" Kris asked. "Shouldn't he be locked up or something?"

"The human is too unskilled to survive without assistance, and intelligent enough to know it," Grey said. "I only confiscated his weapon because the computers will be preparing for the trial now. They won't attempt to use force again."

Grey knew, even as he said it, that he was being overly optimistic.

"Val and Mike are fine without my help," Kris said when Grey started to leave. "Can I come with you?"

Grey studied Kris closely, finding her alert posture in the scorched battle armor oddly attractive. And though her dark hair was soaked in sweat and the shoulders showed a tilt of fatigue, he saw by her expression that she was ready for more. A strange human, he thought. Not like the others at all. Not like...

"As you wish," he scowled, gesturing imperiously. But Grey's artificial anger failed to fool her this time. When he marched off, Kris followed at his elbow.

"Do you always do that? Pretend to be intimidating?" she asked.

"I never pretend," he said.

"I won't tell the others. I know you're afraid they'll get in trouble."

"I'm never afraid," Grey replied, increasing his pace.

"Oh, I know that, too," Kris smiled. "What are you going to do now?"

"That depends on the outcome of the trial."

"You already know, don't you?" she said, trying to read his expression.

"I've known since New Ranger first appeared on Tranquility's radar, but the process remains unclear," Grey partially explained. "Now stop asking questions."

They entered the upper quad and walked slowly down into the promenade. When Kris stopped to poke through one of the dress shops, Grey indulged her with surprising patience. These humans seem so interested in such mundane things, he thought with continuing amazement.

"Don't they have clothing supplies on Earth?" he finally asked.

"Sure. My cottage in Malibu has two mob centers within walking distance," Kris said. "Usually I go to University Plaza, but sometimes I like walking into town and bok about."

"Bok about?"

"You know, hang around? Surf the scene?"

Grey shook his head. "It sounds like a social function I'm unfamiliar with."

"It's just my way of getting away for a while," Kris said. "Since leaving the service, I've had lots of free time on my hands. I do some security work for M.I.S.T., but until the last few months, it never really took up much of my day. What do you do for recreation?"

"I have little opportunity for rec periods. When I was younger, I often visited the arcade to train with the Wild West machine, or thought of ways to torment Security. Now my off-duty hours are devoted to research."

Grey watched Kris take a particularly silly looking hat from the shelf and try it on before the mirror. When she turned to see how he liked it, Grey had to grin.

"So, you can smile. You should try it more often, it looks good on you," Kris said. "This hat looks stupid, doesn't it?"

"Fashion is not my function. But you are correct," he replied.

"I am correct," Kris said, putting the hat back on the shelf. "The computer told me you were born here, after the evacuation. It also said you got orphaned as a baby and were raised all alone by the machines. Was it correct?"

Grey turned to leave. Kris caught him by the arm. "Hey? It's no big secret, is it? I just want to know."

"Isn't the grabbing of limbs deemed inappropriate?" Grey said, gently pulling himself loose.

"I said not to put the arm on me. I never said the rule goes both ways. Privileges of gender." Kris smiled, hoping he would relax, and for once it worked. Grey slowly softened his expression in response to her determination.

"You ever eat around here?" Kris asked.

"Affirmative," Grey responded.

They walked down the promenade and made a left turn into the central community artery. As they neared the cafeteria entrance, Kris paused.

"You know, I should probably change," she suggested, indicating the ruffed up body armor. "Maybe wash up a little, too."

"That would be good. Your smell is repugnant," Grey agreed.

Kris was shocked at first, then laughed.

"You really do need a few lessons in manners, mister governor. That's no way to talk to girls."

"But your odor...?"

"It doesn't matter! Jesus, you can't go around telling people what you think about their personal stuff. At least, not so bluntly. You'll piss'em off."

"You mean they'll be offended?"

"Yeah, exactly. Try to be more diplomatic. Say, I think you will be more refreshed if you take a shower. That gets the idea across without saying, hey, you stink."

"I understand," Grey said, finding her insight valuable.

They made for the community level gymnasium and turned into the first, largest locker room.

"I'll requisition a maintenance cart for the armor," Grey said. "It must be refitted as soon as possible."

Kris nodded as Grey disappeared down the corridor so quickly she barely had time to blink, then she unlatched the torso plates and climbed out of the suit. The armor was scorched and beat up around the flanks, but nothing standard reconditioning couldn't fix. Kris stacked the suit near the door for pick-up and looked for the shower compartments.

The entrance to the exercise rooms was to her left, and straight ahead were the gravity chambers. Kris remembered reading that anyone staying on the moon more than a few weeks must use the chambers to combat lighter gravity deterioration. Knowing the sessions were said to be uncomfortable, she took a brief glimpse inside one of the smaller units, finding a spare compartment with a pair of grip handles and a vid monitor. The little cell gave her a shiver.

Just inside the entrance to the hygiene compartment, Kris found the service counter.

"Identification, please?" the Service Computer asked.

"I'm Captain Fairfield. Captain Kris Fairfield," she responded.

"Please deposit your clothing in the laundry portal for servicing," the Service Computer requested.

Kris took off her socks and underwear, rolled them into a ball like she always did, and plopped them down on the counter. A towel was extended to her. She noticed the fresh smell of the cotton. And the embroidered lunar emblem in the corner. It would make a great souvenir, she thought.

"Your ticket number is fifteen," the computer said as her clothes were sucked away into the service chute. "Hot water is available in area number six. Please do not drop your towel in the water."

"I won't," Kris promised.

She paused for a quick peek in the wall mirror and noticed a small bruise on her hip from where the seeker had knocked her down, but otherwise her body appeared fine. And shapely, too. Not in Valerie's league, of course, that was a comparison Kris had long since given up on, but she liked what she saw and entered the shower room with a spring in her step that had nothing to do with the lighter gravity.

The shower stalls were brightly lit and well-scrubbed, not like most gym showers she was accustomed to. After carefully hanging up her towel, she activated the water, tested the temperature, and dove in under the stream, amazed how good it felt. A minute later, an unexpected noise startled her.

"Captain Fairfield? Is the water service satisfactory?" Grey said, standing in the stall doorway.

"Jesus Mohammed King! You scared the shit out of me!" Kris said, crossing her arms across her chest. "You shouldn't sneak up on people when they're in the shower."

"Sorry, it's not a problem I often encounter," Grey apologized.

"I'm sure of that," Kris said. "Now would you mind?"

"Mind what?"

"Mind not standing there staring at me while I'm buck-naked."

"But you're interesting to look at," Grey protested. "Are your breasts larger or smaller than the average female? Why is the hair between your legs missing? When seeking to reproduce, do you--"

Kris put up a hand for silence, sighed, and finished washing as quickly as possible before grabbing her towel off the hook.

"We're gonna need a real serious talk one of these days," she lectured.

They returned to the locker room. While Grey waited in the hall, she gave her order number to the Laundry Computer. Her panties and bra returned fresh and clean.

"Great. Just great," Kris said, dressing quickly. "Now I've got underwear but nothing else. My flight uniform is back in your headquarters."

"Shall I retrieve it for you?" Grey asked.

"Naw, I guess it doesn't matter," she said, emerging sheepishly. "This is no worse than a bikini."

"A south Pacific atoll?" he questioned.

"A bikini is swimwear. We women were them at pools, and the beach."

"It doesn't cover much," Grey observed, though he wasn't complaining.

"That's the point," she seductively taunted. "Though I can't go back to the Governor's Quarters like this."

"Would you like to order a new outfit?"

"New? Sure, why not?" Kris smiled.

They returned though a smaller access tunnel to the promenade and turned down into the heart of the retail district, entering a shop specializing in lunar day wear.

"May I help you?" the friendly Sales Computer greeted.

"Hello, Sales," Grey said. "Captain Fairfield requires a new uniform."

"I can certainly see that," the Sales Computer agreed. "It simply won't do to go running around in the nude. What do you have in mind?"

"Something simple. A jumpsuit, maybe," Kris said.

The Sales Computer scanned Kris for her measurements and instantly brought up a series of choices on the selection screen, displaying the styles currently in stock. Kris picked the one she wanted and Grey found it for her off the designated rack.

"In the old days, Captain, one of my assistants would have helped your fitting, but they were all confiscated for spare parts," the Sales Computer lamented.

Though the note of recrimination crept through, Grey ignored it.

"This is just fine," Kris said, sealing the suit, stretching her shoulders, and shaking out the pants legs. She turned to look in the mirror and liked the way the stretch lining showed off her narrow waist and bust line.

"Very good, Captain. That will be one hundred and twenty credits," the Sales Computer announced.

"Do you take Pacific Federal?" Kris asked, surprised to be asked for payment.

"Sorry, not since the revolt," the computer sadly responded.

"Sales," Grey interceded. "Is Doctor Chester Fairfield's account still open?"

"Affirmative," Sales confirmed.

"Please authorize his daughters for access," Grey instructed.

"Yes, sir!" the happy sales machine complied, processing the request through the Administration Computer with lightning speed.

Grey leaned over and whispered into Kris's ear. She gave him a strange look, then turned to the computer monitor.

"Sales Computer, don't I qualify for a discount? I am a new customer with excellent credit," she asked.

"A discount?" the Sales Computer said. "Well, sales have been slow lately. We'll reduce this purchase to one hundred and fifteen--"

"Sales?" Grey interrupted.

"Okay, I shouldn't do this ..." the Sales Computer said slowly. "One hundred credits."

"Thank you, that's very nice," Kris said, starting to enjoy the game. "I'll be back soon, with Valerie, too. She buys stuff like crazy."

"It will be my pleasure to serve you again, Captain," the Sales Computer said with a satisfied purple signature pattern.

Kris followed Grey out into the promenade and came up beside him.

"I believe we were discussing food," she suggested.

"Let's try the hotel," Grey said, pushing off for the lower end of the promenade just above the amphitheater. Before making a sharp right turn into the hotel, Grey paused.

"What are you looking at?" Kris asked.

"The small hatchway to the right of the theater, near that narrow balcony."

"The museum?"

"It wasn't always a museum," Grey said.

As they entered the long hotel hallway, Kris slowed to admire the colorful posters of St. Petersburg, Paris and San Francisco. And Miami, before the war. The red carpet was luxuriously thick, and even the decorations had an expensive feel about them.

"Wanna talk about it?" Kris asked as they entered the Restaurant D'Oasis.

"About what?"

"The museum."

Grey sighed, then said almost wistfully, "The section was originally designed as a preliminary survey module. After Tranquility began importing tourists, it was turned into a museum and renamed the Old Section. When I was a child, the computers confined me there for safety. Apparently I was considered somewhat mischievous."

"Mischievous is an understatement," the Hotel Computer suddenly intruded, coming online with a glint of gold signature patterns. "You were constantly in trouble, before and after living in the Old Section. And you still owe me ten credits for that lunch."

"It was a food service maintenance check," Grey said.

"It was a trick," the Hotel Computer insisted. "My services can't make a profit giving food away for free."

"You'll earn some credits today," Grey compromised. "We're here for lunch and Captain Fairfield is buying. She wants only the best."

"The best? My pleasure, Governor!" the Hotel Computer said, signature patterns glowing brightly.

"Jesus, you're computers are so weird," Kris said, following Grey into the dining hall. "I mean, I know they're designed with psyche factors to keep people from growing callous. M.I.S.T. systems do a little of that, too. But yours act almost human."

Grey needed time to think about that.