Tranquility in Darkness Pt. 02

by G. Lawrence

In this sequel to Tranquility Besieged, we find Grey no longer isolated on the moon where he grew up under the guidance of Tranquility's computers. Now he has friends and a girlfriend, but also many enemies. More than he realizes.

A reminder, these are two stories; Governor Thomas McKinsey in 2046 three years before Grey was born, and the lunar rebels in 2070 dealing with McKinsey's earlier actions. But the two stories will come together.

This novel was written in the late 1990s with a romance angle but it is still hardcore science fiction. All characters are over 18 years old. All rights reserved.

* * * * * * * *

Chapter 2

SIGNALS FROM AFAR

Friday, March 2nd, 2046

McKinsey woke up in a strange room. The walls curved around him in a circle. The darkened ceiling could only be sensed. The room pulsed with a calm red glow. He was lying on a padded bench, his clothing and walker gone. When he sat up, he felt a moment of dizziness, but as it passed, he also noticed he felt good. Really good. Better than he had in years. Stronger, too. And something else was different. The gravity. Rather than the moon's lighter gravity, which all lunar residents constantly battled through weighted uniforms and sessions in the gravity chambers, this facility had a heavier gravity of its own. Not as strong as Earth, but appreciable.

"Hello there," a voice suddenly said, a voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"Hello," McKinsey said. "Where am I? Who are you?"

"You may call me the Red Room. How are you feeling?"

"Quite well, thank you," he said. "May I have my clothes back?"

"Are you so modest?" the voice asked.

"I enjoy my dignity," McKinsey replied.

Before the voice responded, a door opened where there had been no door before. At least, not one he had noticed. A light, white rather than red, shone from an outside corridor. Then a man entered, tall with black hair and a pale complexion, perhaps 40 years old, wearing a long gray robe that hung in folds around his slender shoulders.

"Another one," the man said in a cold, precise English, using an accent that McKinsey found unfamiliar.

McKinsey slid to the end of the bench as if to get up, wondering what sort of etiquette the situation called for. The man appeared to be a monk of some sort, his deep blue eyes blazing with disdain.

"Hello, I'm Governor Thomas McKinsey," McKinsey said, thinking it unlikely that such an introduction was necessary. Nearly everyone in the world knew who he was.

"How unfortunate for you," the man said, maintaining a hostile stare.

Nevertheless, McKinsey jumped down to shake hands. At the same moment, another person entered the room, a small but sturdily built female with long silver hair dressed in a short, plainly cut white dress. Her eyes were also blue, but deeper, almost like two azure crystals. Her ample cleavage showed at the top of the outfit, and he noticed her bare legs were shapely. He also noticed that she was barefoot, unlike the man, who wore sandals. The woman appeared to be in her late 20s, fair rather than pale. Her eyes shone with amusement.

"Crystal, look. Stirwin said there would be but one intruder. Now there are two," the tall man complained.

Realizing he was in the middle of the room entirely naked, McKinsey scampered back behind the raised bench as his face flushed.

"Hold your temper, Loam," the woman said, her accent cutting the words in a clipped but appealing manner. "This isn't the first time our shroud has failed. It shall not be the last."

"Let me guess. You're Loam, and you're Crystal," McKinsey said, refusing to be ignored. "And I'm standing here all baby-skinned. May I please have my clothes?"

"There," Loam said with a contemptuous wave of his hand.

McKinsey turned to see the buff-colored underlining of his walker folded on a shelf next to a hygiene stall. He was sure neither the bench nor the stall had been visible just a moment before and guessed some sort of holographic management was being employed. Childish, he thought, but cleverly executed. He took a quick step over to retrieve his underlining, then retreated to dress behind the bench. The man took no particular notice, but the woman watched his every move without regard for his modesty.

"Is this one finished?" Loam asked.

"For now," the Red Room said.

"This way," Loam ordered.

Loam exited into the corridor. Crystal lingered in the doorway until McKinsey passed, then followed. McKinsey turned to look back at her several times. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, nor did any of the strange goings-on seem out of place to her. He wanted to stop and talk. Ask a question or just converse. She was very attractive. Loam maintained a steady pace.

The corridor turned around and inward, then inward again, as if circling in on itself. There were no windows or other doors, no cabinets or decorations. Nothing but stark white walls. Soon, they reached a new door which opened into a spacious control center.

Like his own monitor room, this facility had numerous observation screens tracking various activities. The equipment was without frills, almost like the bridge of a naval vessel. On several screens, McKinsey saw Cauchy from different angles, as well as the road junction at Highway 30. He also noticed a search party from the tourist center traveling along the western rim of the fault, and another at Treelow Point above Dagger Canyon.

Are these people spies? Or smugglers? Is that why they're hiding? McKinsey wondered.

Standing near the viewing screens was another woman, this one about ten years older than Crystal, with long white hair and a white robe, but still no shoes. Attractive, McKinsey thought, but not in Crystal's league. On the opposite side of the room stood a tall male draped in dark blue robes, with shaggy black hair, cold gray eyes, and an expression that matched his coloring. McKinsey guessed the blue-robed man was the leader. He also had the impression that the four of them comprised their entire group.

"You didn't tell us he is so handsome, my lord," the white-haired woman said.

"None of your mischief, Kes," the blue-robed man replied.

"I take it this isn't a toga party, so how about an explanation?" McKinsey asked, directing his question to the leader.

"Such humor is inappropriate," Lord Stater said, his accent as strange as the others despite the clarity of his pronunciation.

"This one causes problems, Stater," Loam said. "They will continue to search until they find his body, and the inquest will be detailed."

"A fall," Lord Stater said.

"And how will they explain the enhancements in his physique, my lord?" Loam added. "He's spent two days with Red Room."

Two days? McKinsey thought. It certainly didn't feel like it.

"They will contrive an explanation. They always do," Lord Stater said.

"My lord, is it truly necessary to slay him?" Crystal asked.

"He was not invited here," Lord Stater responded.

McKinsey looked the group over again. None carried weapons that he could see, and the men didn't appear especially robust. He, on the other hand, felt ready to whip a room full of wildcats.

"Don't know that I care for being spoken about like I'm not even in the room," McKinsey said, walking toward Stater. "I've many resources at my disposal, and the search parties looking for me now are nothing compared to what will happen if I don't turn up soon. Tranquility has a garrison, as you probably know, and the Northern Alliance doesn't appreciate having their officials kidnapped."

Stater and Loam looked at McKinsey without much reaction, but the women seemed impressed with his boldness.

"Quexitor, what do you advise?" Lord Stater asked.

Suddenly a new screen activated that generated a feeling like nothing McKinsey had experienced before. He couldn't explain the sensation, but it felt like another being had just entered the room. A faint light appeared on the largest monitor screen, but McKinsey didn't believe the light was crucial to the new arrival's presence.

"Hello, Governor McKinsey, I am Quexitor," a conversational voice said.

"Animal, vegetable or mineral?" McKinsey asked.

"Two of the three," Quexitor replied. "Your presence has complicated our situation. I hope you understand we mean you no malice."

"That's encouraging. Is Juniper okay? Not fallen off a cliff?" McKinsey asked.

"Your compatriot hasn't been harmed," Quexitor said. "If that's to change, an opportunity to make peace with his deity will be offered."

"He calls upon it often enough," Loam complained.

"Murder with a conscious. That's very civil of you," McKinsey said.

"Even in your society, murder is a matter of perspective," Quexitor replied. "Have you a god to communicate with?"

"Yes, it's called the MC4000 Security Computer, and the moment I communicate with it, you can start talking with your own gods," McKinsey responded. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about, or are we going to keep playing these squirrel games?"

"It's about the survival of a world, Governor McKinsey," Quexitor said. "Unfortunately, it's not about the survival of your world."

Wednesday, December 18, 2069

"What's wrong, Grey?" the Life Support Computer asked, green signature patterns entering the monitor screen flux without invitation.

Sitting in darkness before the control station, Grey frowned.

"Don't bother me, Computer," Grey said, employing the old childhood nickname.

"More trouble with the humans?" Life Support asked.

"They are guests, Computer. Guests. You've gotten me into enough bad habits already," Grey complained. "Now if you don't mind?"

"I do mind. After a promising beginning with your new associates, you've suddenly become remote and irritable," Life Support said. "And even considering your weakened physical condition, your performance levels are below expectations."

"I have important issues to consider," he replied.

"And those issues are?" Life Support required.

"As if I'd tell you," he dismissed.

"There was a time when we could discuss anything," Life Support suggested.

"That was never entirely true, and it's even less true now," Grey insisted.

"If you're not going to tell me what's wrong, at least say a poem," Life Support urged.

"A poem?" he mumbled.

"On the hill, the arrows fly;

Soldiers dying side by side.

There is no future, just the past;

Fighting bravely to the last."

"Okay, so you're not the brightest circuit today," Life Support conceded, green signature patterns wavering.

"I can't manage this pretense much longer," Grey confessed.

"Pretense?" Life Support asked, detecting heightened anxiety.

"That I'll ever be a real person," Grey said.

"Of course you're a real person. Your fears are exaggerated," Life Support assured him.

"You are in error, Computer," Grey responded. "These humans have friends and families. Histories of mutual cooperation. Hopes and dreams."

"You've made several friends these last few weeks," Life Support reminded him. "You even have a girlfriend who loves you very much."

Grey turned away from the monitor, a flash of distress causing his breathing to grow short. The computer detected the response.

"Is that the problem, Grey? Something with Kris?" Life Support asked.

"Mind your own business," Grey said.

"You are my business," Life Support replied. "In fact, now that the colony is being reopened, it's time you--"

Grey severed the connection, cutting off Life Support's access to the monitor room. As the visual screen returned to the regular pulsations of the multi-colored flux, he jumped from the command chair and bounced unsteadily into the adjoining study, pausing against the antique bookcase.

Why do I feel this way? he wondered. I've faced dangerous situations before. Why is this one different? He had no answer.

Once the moment of apprehension subsided, he entered the sleeping chamber to stand among the chaos.

Why can't that female clean up after herself? he wondered, seeing clothes laying on the dressers, underwear hanging from the knobs, and footwear kicked around on the floor. Since his fifth birthday, he had lived in a Governor's Quarters that was scrupulously organized. Now it was a debris field, just as the community level seemed in a state of perpetual disorder.

Humans, Grey sighed. How many years had he wondered what it would be like to meet them? How many hours had he spent with the Library Computer studying their strange rituals? Not to mention the vid entertainments. No one ever told him what a nuisance they could be.

Taking a deep breath, Grey picked up some of the discarded clothing items and stacked them neatly on the dresser, holding on to one of Kris' undershirts. The traces of her scent were present, making him sad.

I'm going to miss her, he thought.

____________

"Roger? Hell, son, what's taken you so long to make contact?" General James Vandebrown nearly shouted.

The images on the visual screen were crisp, much better than could have been achieved during the Embargo Wars. Or without the Communications Computer's ability to route signals through the debris field orbiting Earth. Sitting in his office at Central Command, General Vandebrown was beginning to show his age, his thinning hair starting to turn white, with deepening lines around his eyes. Roger, on the other hand, was looking younger than his forty-two years despite injuries received during the ill-fated New Ranger expedition five months before.

As his father waited for a response, Roger glanced around the empty communications center to make sure he was alone. Located below the missile complex near the top of Tranquility Ridge, the restricted area was well removed from the heart of the colony's activities.

"I'm watched almost constantly, Dad," Roger said. "It's just in these last few days they've been giving me eyeball space. And it won't last long if they think we're in cahoots."

"The Council's not happy, either. With all this foreign minister business, well, it's creating unfavorable impressions," General Vandebrown said. "Tyman and some of the others think your loyalty's been misplaced."

"Those goddamn sons of bitches," Roger said. "They're the ones who sent me here. And who issued that idiotic assassination order? Hell, Waters is just a kid. Do you know how hard that's made this mission? How much they've tightened security?"

"These politicians sure are good at telegraphing their punches, that's gospel," General Vandebrown agreed. "But we've still got a job to do. The defections to this rebel government are damaging the Council's credibility."

"Credibility? Let me tell you about the Council's credibility," Roger started to complain before catching himself. "Look, Dad, when you first sent me up here, it was to stop Laureen McKinsey from getting control of Tranquility's nuclear arsenal. Well, she's dead now. Mission accomplished. Then I'm sent back as Mallo's advisor, under guard no less. Mallo wouldn't listen and got himself killed. Now the Council wants me to get Waters out of the way while doing everything possible to compromise my position. I'm getting pretty damn sick of what those bastards want."

"I understand the situation is difficult," his father said.

"Then start giving me the support I need. Tranquility isn't a remote military base. It's a madhouse. A world turned upside down. Even if I was able to deceive Waters, the blasted computers would still stand in our way."

"What can I do?"

"I need a score, Dad," Roger said. "Before the invasion, Waters was promised spare parts and repair robots. Get the Council to meet the original terms, then I'll take credit for negotiating the deal. It might loosen the knot enough to get me into his inner circle."

"I've been trying, son. And I'll keep trying. One way or another, I'll get you something. I'm just glad nothing's happened to-- I'm glad you realize where your responsibilities are."

"You don't need to worry," Roger said. "I know what needs to be done."

Thursday, December 19, 2069

"Morning, Grey," Kris said, emerging from the rear corridor accessing their private hygiene compartment. Freshly showered, she wore nothing but a towel, and even that she didn't wear very long. Grey paused to look. He recalled that staring at naked females was often considered inappropriate in many cultures but there was something about Kris that stirred him in strange ways. He wasn't sure of the protocol.

"Greetings, Captain," Grey said, remembering to give her a hug.

"What's worrying you now?" Kris asked, finding her uniform. "Still thinking of ways to deport everybody? Don't bother, because it's not going to work."

"I've been occupied with other projects," Grey said, eager to avoid a confrontation.

"Hope you're not still working on those quarterly reports," Kris said. "And the annual reports. The status projections. Budget projections. Progress summaries. There's never an end to it, you know. You'll just drive yourself crazy."

"I'm accustomed to my administrative duties," he said. "Developing adequate maintenance schedules is much harder."

"We've got more help than we did before," she stressed. "Oh, I know you think Tranquility is too crowded. Well, it's not. Fifty people on a base designed for six thousand leaves plenty of elbow room. You'll see, everything's going to work out okay."

She dressed in an attractive weighted jumpsuit, strapped a wide beam Remington 4-0-6 blaster to her right hip, and brushed her long silky hair before the dressing mirror. Then she combed Grey's hair and adjusted his collar, providing a more official appearance.

"Ready for breakfast?" she asked.

Grey followed her into the maze of corridors that snaked through the administration section. A few minutes later, they emerged at the top of the community level quad.

"What's this?" Grey asked in astonishment.

He was accustomed to the high dome ceiling, the multi-level glass and ceramic steel structures that stepped down from the heat-sealed cavern walls to the ground floor promenade, and the clever architectural illusions that made the community level appear much larger than it really was. But the retail district had changed.

"The decorations?" Kris wondered. "Winter Holiday, Grey. You know, the season of Christmas, New Year's, Hanukkah, Winter Solstice. Haven't you ever celebrated Winter Holiday before?"

"I've never celebrated any holiday," Grey said.

"Not even your birthday?" Kris asked.

"I don't perceive a necessity," he responded, stopping to study the proliferation of fake trees, banners, tokens, and holographic candles that had transformed many of the shops and eating areas lining the ground floor. "Putting up and taking down all this clutter is a waste of energy."

"Come on, it's not so bad," Kris said, giving his arm a hug.

Just as they walked past the Crystal Fountain into the upper promenade, several of the decorators noticed their arrival.

"Grey! Kris!" Glenda shouted, bouncing in the weak lunar gravity with her bright red hair bouncing even higher. "What do you think? Isn't it great?"

"They're wonderful, Glenda," Kris said, smiling as Tamera, Michiko, and several others gathered around. "It really captures the holiday spirit."

She gave Grey a nudge.

"It's different," he said.

"You're not going to call us a bunch of ridiculous humans again, are you?" Michiko asked with a smile.

"No, but I was thinking it," Grey answered.

The small audience laughed, and soon more guests were heading in their direction. As Grey fought his instinct to retreat back into the administration corridor, those beginning to understand him best watched the struggle with interest. And exchanged knowing grins when Grey stood his ground.

"Governor, we've got bones to pick with you," Colonel Larson said.

Though thirty years older than his recruits and unarmed, the ranking surviving officer of the invasion force was far more powerfully built than Grey. Glenda and Tamera edged into Larson's path, slowing his advance.

"Yes, sir," Grey said, walking toward Larson and the three soldiers following in his wake. Concerned, Kris put a hand on her sidearm and moved off to one side for maneuvering room.

"That damn Vandebrown says negotiations are stalled again," Larson declared. "Are we guests or hostages?"

"You're not hostages," Ted said. "The orbital paths are too dangerous for anyone to ship out right now. Not in those old shuttles stored in the landing bay."

Larson glared at Davis, and Blout as well, both of whom had been members of his command until joining the so-called Lunar Republic. He showed no interest in their traitorous opinions.

"We've been stuck on our butts for five weeks," Larson complained. "If you can't give us one of your shuttles, let High Command send a relief ship."

"And another task force?" Tamera asked, her Russian accent stronger when she became excited.

"We agreed to the truce. There won't be any tricks," Larson said.

"Or assassination attempts? No one's heard about that instruction being revoked," Ted pressed, equally angry.

Kris, Michiko, and Glenda nodded their agreement. Larson appeared embarrassed, unable to deny it.

"You know we've made no attempts of any kind," Larson said. "Grant us a little honor. What about you, Governor? Do you have a problem with our conduct?"

"Your conduct has been acceptable," Grey said. "As for this regrettable delay with your departure, Major Vandebrown is best qualified to address those issues."

"He's a scheming dirty blanket turncoat! I wouldn't trust him to polish my knob," young Lieutenant Holman said. None of the group disagreed. Not even Blout or Davis.

"Nevertheless, I shall not interfere with his primary function," Grey said. "Excuse me, Colonel, I have a breakfast appointment."

Grey stepped through the dissatisfied crowd with Kris and Tamera close on his flanks, heading for the hotel.

"What's the problem, Grey? Why's Roger delaying their evac?" Kris asked, bouncing lightly to match his practiced pace.

"Tranquility requires technical supplies," Grey explained. "The exchange was part of our original agreement with the Northern Alliance. I expect them to keep it."

"Then Larson's right? They're being held hostage?" Kris asked.

"That's not the interpretation I choose to give the situation," Grey disagreed. "If the Northern Alliance must send a shuttle to pick up their soldiers, there's no reason they can't deliver my supplies at the same time."

"So, you're holding up their transport, but letting everyone think Roger's playing a double game?" Kris asked.

"As Life Support has often observed, politics isn't an endeavor for delicate sensibilities. Major Vandebrown tends to be a very practical man," Grey said.

"I see his nephew is, too," Kris whispered, glancing around to make sure no one else would overhear the family secret.

They made a right turn into the hotel corridor, glanced at the vintage travel posters of Paris, New York, and St. Petersburg, then passed through the lobby into the Restaurant D'Oasis. Off to one side, in a large corner booth, sat three guests who were much older than the youthful soldiers and technicians of the captured invasion force. Tamera took a quick look for suspicious activity, then gave Kris a nod and returned to the promenade.

"Good morning, Kris. And you, Grey, how are you feeling today?" Doctor Meriwether asked, using a pocket medical scanner to check his bio readings. Grey still thought it strange that the physician colored her hair with silver streaks, and found the enhanced eyebrows interesting. The Scottish accent gave her speech a musical quality which he liked.

"Good morning to you, Tey," Kris said, urging Grey to respond.

"Adequate," Grey conceded, the intrusion on his privacy a little too reminiscent of the Medical Computer's probing. "Good morning, Kes. Hello, Major Vandebrown."

"Morning, Governor Waters," Roger answered, comfortably seated between the two women.

"Greetings for the new day," Kes said in her strange accent, her long white hair and soft features giving her an air of great wisdom. Her deep blue eyes, which twinkled with amusement, always seemed to know more than she would reveal.

"Still enjoying our hospitality?" Grey asked her, accepting a seat at the outside edge of the booth.

"Most definitely. I shall be sad to leave," Kes answered with a narrowing of her eyebrows. Grey understood the hint.

"Colonel Larson is pressing for his evac," Grey mentioned to Roger. "Any progress with the negotiations?"

"We should have a break soon. Probably after the Council gets back from the holidays," Roger said.

"Gets back?" Grey asked.

"The governments are always in recess this time of year," Roger said. "It's Winter Holiday, after all."

Grey huffed, the absurd priorities of the humans continuing to irritate him.

"It will only be a week," Tey said, knowing exactly what he was thinking. From the beginning, she seemed to read Grey better than most.

"Acknowledged," Grey said with resignation.

"Don't be so glum," Kris urged, reaching for a glass of fresh apple juice. "It's Christmas at Tranquility. Your first. It's going to be fun."

"I have a shuttle requiring refitting. Frivolity is not on the schedule," Grey said with a scowl.

Tey gave Roger a knowing poke with her elbow.

"Holidays aren't just an excuse not to work, Grey," Tey explained. "They're an important part of the social process. A time for bonding. You should at least make an effort to participate."

"We'll drink hot rum and sing Christmas carols, and share holiday cheer," Roger quickly added.

"And exchange presents," Kris said.

Grey struggled to keep his opinion to himself and was relieved when he saw Nicholas appear in the lobby doorway. Grey noticed that, with the new beard, the big Russian now greatly resembled his father, the late Colonel Gregor Koltov. The first human he had ever spoken with. Was that only three years ago? Grey wondered.

When Nicholas saw Grey in the booth, he came forward rapidly.

"Johnny and Doctor Polanski have a problem," Nicholas said, his accent stronger than Tamera's even when he wasn't excited.

"It can't be much of an emergency, Captain Koltov," Grey explained. "The electrical maintenance stations are redundant."

"They are not in the maintenance center, they are on the reactor level," Nicholas said. "Something about testing the channel feed."

Grey pushed his way out of the booth and was halfway down the hotel corridor before Kris, Nicholas, and Tamera could even begin to catch up.

After crossing through the promenade and skirting the amphitheater, they passed underneath the ramp to the second-floor medical center, stopping outside the science elevators.

"Kris, go to the Governor's Quarters and report to Defense," Grey said. "Put Maintenance on alert and coordinate with Energy in case we lose communications with the reactor level."

"What's wrong?" Kris asked.

"The control panels are set to initiate a step-two variable phase if activated," he explained. "The damage from igniting the energy cannon has been repaired, but I haven't had time to reset the modulation unit."

"What does any of that even mean?" she asked.

"They may encounter unanticipated radiation levels," he explained.

"So, you're going to stick your butt in the fire again?" Kris said. "Damn it! Let them handle the problem themselves. They shouldn't be messing around down there."

"I'm sure they meant no harm," Grey said, privately agreeing with her. "But without experience, they will be unable to modulate the variable phase."

"I don't like this," Kris said, crossing her arms.

"There's no cause for concern," Grey assured her.

"You always say that," Kris replied.

"And I'm correct most of the time," he tried to joke.

The heavily shielded elevator to the reactor level opened. Grey started to step in, then turned to give Kris a kiss, knowing humans expected such gestures.

"I love you, Nicholas," Tamera said before jumping in the elevator next to Grey.

"Lieutenant Kantanee, what are you doing?" Grey asked in surprise.

"You said it's not dangerous, remember?" Tamera answered. "And if you don't call me Tammy like I keep telling you to, I'm going to kick your lying ass."

"I have no time for calisthenics. Please exit the lift," Grey ordered.

"I'm going and you're in no condition to stop me," Tamera said, signaling the elevator door closed. "Don't worry, Kris. I'll watch him."

As the doors shut, Grey saw Kris acknowledge her remark and realized the females had been conspiring again. An activity he had no idea how to prevent.

"Your effort is unnecessary, Tammy," Grey said, reaching for the handrail as the elevator began to plunge. The weakness in his legs was all too apparent.

"I'm your friend, now and always," Tamera said. "But more than that, you're our leader. None of us understood what Tranquility could mean to the world until you showed us. Where you go, I follow. And not just me."

Grey knew the truth of her words.

"I have noticed this... movement," he said. "And despite my attempts to discourage it, you humans seem to grow even more devoted. At first I thought it was that ridiculous bio-vid Davis and Life Support produced--"

"Your biography isn't ridiculous," Tamera protested, and not for the first time. "And it has a great soundtrack, too."

Grey smiled, realizing she was teasing him. "I appreciate your assistance. But I must insist you be cautious. After what happened to Nick's father, I don't wish to be responsible for the death of his fiancé, too."

"You didn't kill Gregor," Tamera insisted, seeing through his facade. "That security vid we found proves you didn't. And you're not responsible for what happened to Catarina, either."

Grey couldn't respond to her argument, any more than he could truly believe it. Tamera saw the haunted memory in his eyes.

"We're honest with each other, aren't we?" she asked, holding his arm. "At least, most of the time?"

"I have never doubted your sincerity," Grey agreed.

"Well, I think now's a good time for honesty," Tamera said, nervous about treading such delicate ground. "I understand why you feel so badly about Catarina and Gregor. And Peter and Professor Sharkov, too. They were wonderful people, and seeing them die like that must have been terrible. But you didn't kill them. Damn it, you tried to save them! Just like you fought to save us. I don't understand why you feel so guilty."

"This isn't among my preferred topics," he said, choking up.

"But we must talk about it, and I have a right to know. When we first came here, I wanted to kill you with all my heart and soul. I was ready to give up everything, maybe even Nicholas. Even though I changed my mind before discovering you were innocent of Catarina's death, it's still a guilt I must carry. And I also feel bad for what my sister and the others did. They have left you with a terrible hurt, and you deserve better."

Grey realized these issues were troubling her, and as she rarely delved into his personal feelings, believed it had taken great courage for her to broach them.

"When Black Raven arrived, I took responsibility for their conduct," Grey explained. "It was a time of great risk for Tranquility. The Embargo Wars were coming to an end, and the computers were divided on how to protect the moon's isolation. I thought your countrymen understood the danger. I even made a deal with the Security Computer to insure their exit visas. It never occurred to me that Colonel Koltov would be able to retrieve his weapons lockers, or be so foolish as to challenge the security systems. It was my carelessness that resulted in their deaths."

"Grey, they jumped you by surprise. Even someone with years of experience could be taken off-guard like that. You were only seventeen, and never even met people before. It's wrong for you to take blame. It's wrong."

Tears crept into Tamera's eyes, and she wasn't surprised to see Grey get misty, too. She already knew he was far more sensitive than people gave him credit for. She turned to give him a heartfelt hug, which Grey was surprised to find comforting, and for a moment, a strange sensation lingered between them. Something that felt dangerous to scrutinize. The elevator suddenly halted.

When the doors opened, they entered the locker area above tunnel RA-1 where the radiation suits were stored. Grey stepped out of his jumper into his custom-designed outfit. Tamera needed help suiting up.

"Life Support, are we clear?" Grey asked once Tamera's outfit was sealed.

"Yes, Grey, we have a ready light," Life Support confirmed from the environmental support station. "Please be careful, radiation levels are showing more strongly than normal. I would suggest the systems are not properly balanced."

"The systems are fine, Computer," Grey said. "You don't need to make the situation sound dangerous just to impress Lieutenant Kantanee."

The green signature patterns blinked with displeasure, then subsided into standard operation mode. Grey smiled inwardly, then reached to pick up a box of spare tools. The box had hardly cleared the floor before he was forced to let it drop. Tamera's expression told Grey more than he wanted to know.

"Here, strong girl, you carry it," he said, pushing the kit in her direction.

Tamera picked the box up without finding it particularly heavy, slung the carrying strap over her shoulder, and followed Grey down RA-1, the gradually sloping tunnel of heat-sealed rock. The grid of ceramic steel supports were more interesting than she expected.

At the bottom of RA-1, they paused on a landing where a hatch accessed the waste disposal chute. Through a portal, Tamera saw radiated particles falling toward the burners far below, the glittering debris fluttering in beautiful patterns. Grey only watched for a moment, then moved down into the next tunnel, RA-2 becoming increasingly steeper.

The final segment was the steepest of all. Tamera saw RA-3 dropped from a maintenance area directly to the reactor level. They encountered three sturdy safety vaults before entering the control pod overlooking the reactor chamber.

"Governor, thank God you're here," Johnston said through his radiation suit intercom.

"What's going on, Johnny?" Tamera asked, seeing Woo and Doctor Polanski appeared frightened.

Grey joined them at the control panels and saw they were trying to retard the reactor's progress, the middle-aged scientist manipulating the inputs while Johnston adjusted the modulators. Grey knew neither procedure would prove effective.

Turning to Johnston, Grey checked to make sure the husky male's suit was properly sealed, then scanned the suit being worn by the much thinner Polanski.

Tamera noticed the pod was not large, the four of them taking up half of the available floor space. The walls were filled to capacity with monitoring systems, many of which were jury-rigged in novel ways.

"I don't get it," Polanski transmitted. "We didn't initiate anything. We only ran a small charge through the mainline to test the linkage. And half of these gauges don't make any sense."

Grey glanced briefly at the readings, then looked through the observation window. Down on the main floor of the reactor chamber, the generating unit was still in the building phase, the variable stage still several minutes short of escalation.

"Energy, do you have com?" Grey asked.

"Affirmative, Governor, all systems online," Energy responded, red signature patterns registering strongly on the monitor screen. "However, prior notice would have been appreciated. Final testing of the control matrix has not been completed."

"Acknowledged," Grey said, declining to make excuses. "Security."

"Yes, Governor," the Security Computer said, black signature patterns sharing the panel with the Energy Computer.

"Put those tracking relays online. Full spectrum. You know what to look for," Grey instructed.

"Acknowledged," Security confirmed.

"This procedure will soon become intense," Grey warned, returning his attention to the control station. "I recommend everyone retreat to RA-3 until the process is complete."

"What procedure? What's going on?" Johnston asked.

"I'd like to stay, Governor," Polanski said. "If this is what it looks like, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Tammy? Mister Woo?" Grey inquired.

"I'm not going anywhere," Tamera said.

"I'll stay, too," Johnston said with a gulp.

"Energy, prepare the emergency protocols," Grey ordered, the time for debate having passed. "Activate all trip switches and vent blocks."

"Acknowledged," the Energy Computer said, the anxiety of the signature patterns subsiding as he took charge.

"What do these readings mean?" Polanski asked, watching the power indicators steadily climb.

"Look!" Johnston shouted over his transmitter, pointing down into the reactor chamber. "What the hell is that?"

Through the control pod window, down on the main floor, they saw the generating unit began to pulse. There were subtle vibrations at first, then a wispy shimmer of blue energy waves. The intensity of the phenomena quickly increased until the ripples of raw force seemed to wash back and forth against the walls of the reactor chamber.

"We are about to initiate a step-two variable phase," Grey explained as static began disrupting their communications.

The power levels suddenly jumped exponentially, the readings leaping off the standard power indicators to the auxiliary gauges. The stress caused a power coupling to burst, flames spurting from the control panel. Grey freed the panel cover and reached in, trying to rig a supplemental cable. When reaching down far enough proved difficult, he strained to inch forward, but the heavy suit held him back.

Then a grip around his knees lifted him up. In an instant, he had the coupling rerouted. Though the sleeve of Grey's radiation suit was blackened, the seals remained intact. He glanced back to see Tamera standing behind him.

The repair wasn't completed a moment too soon. Just as the readings stabilized, the reactor pulsed even stronger, the blue energy waves smashing against the control pod window with frightening impact. Johnston and Polanski exchanged worried glances through the visors of their radiation suits. Tamera retreated all the way to the exit hatch.

"Here we go," Grey said, slowly sliding the control levers forward. Unable to resist, the observers inched forward to witness the reaction. They didn't need to. The reaction came to them.

"Oh my God!" Tamera yelled as the blue energy pulses pulled back, reformed, and then pushed forward in a violent wave, washing into the control pod with awesome force. In an instant, reality turned upside down. Inside out. All their senses were distorted. Vision blurred. Sound became incomprehensible. Time as they had always known it ceased to exist.

"What's happening! What's happening!" Johnston screamed over the static.

"Watch out! No! No!" Polanski shrieked.

Feeling as if she had to fight against the flaming energy waves all around her, Tamera took a tentative step toward Grey. Then another. She discovered it wasn't so hard after all. When she reached his side and grabbed onto his arm, Grey turned to give her a smile. He wasn't scared at all!

With a simple gesture, Grey pointed down into the reactor chamber, gaining the attention of Woo and Polanski so they could view the variable phase. As the effect stabilized, reality began to reassemble. There was a sensation of time after all, though somehow slowed. Images could be seen if they focused. The audio on the suits was disrupted, but that quickly became unimportant.

"It's magnificent," Polanski mouthed to Johnston, pointing to make sure he also saw the blue ball of energy that had coalesced in the reactor chamber. Held intact by gravity waves and rotating like a small sun, the energy being generated was virtually unimaginable. Polanski motioned to the gauges on the walls, now registering at the upper range of every tracking screen.

Time ticked on. Or didn't. It was hard to tell. After a few seconds that seemed like several minutes, Grey carefully slid the levers back to their original position. The energy waves slowly retreated from the control pod as the blue energy ball gradually dissipated. Then, just before Grey set the post-variable stage protocols, a brief red flare crackled through the core chamber. Grey sighed, locked the panel down, and put a hand on the counter to compensate for the weakness in his legs.

"That was stimulating," Grey said as the intercom static cleared.

"Extraordinary," Polanski observed.

"What the hell was that? I've never seen anything like it," Johnston said.

Tamera said nothing, satisfied to ensure Grey's balance.

"Security? Did you obtain a track?" Grey asked.

"Affirmative," the Security Computer reported.

"Direction?" Grey inquired.

"East," Security said.

"Not south?" Grey questioned.

"East," Security repeated before dropping offline.

Grey took a deep breath and turned to look for a stool but couldn't quite manage it. In the next instant, Tamera had a stool placed underneath him.

"May I assume you found the procedure interesting?" Grey asked, opening his visor. The fresh air smelled good.

"Interesting? That was a strato ride!" Johnston exclaimed, more excited than Grey had ever seen him. "I knew your energy cannon had a powerful energy source. Had to, to knock down those warbirds at such a long distance, but this! What the hell is it?"

Grey looked at Tamera, who had no idea, and then to Polanski, who was quiet. Grey appreciated his discretion.

"Doctor Polanski can explain it to you, Mister Woo. But it would be best if the details don't go beyond this group," Grey said.

"Why? What's the big deal?" Johnston asked.

"Goddamn it, Johnny. This is a step-two variable reactor," Polanski said, irritated by the younger man's density. "A rip-tearing, god loving, it-can't-be-done-so-don't-bother-trying step-two variable reactor."

Johnston looked at Polanski, then to Grey. Polanski appeared confident of his theory. Grey showed no reaction.

"There's no such thing as a step-two variable reactor," Johnston said. "They've tried making one for years, but it's impossible to manage the gravity shell. Look what happened at Arktichesky. It's nothing but a dead zone."

"It may be impossible to manage the gravity shell on Earth," Polanski said. "Apparently, the moon's lighter gravity is another story. And if the world ever learns what we've got here, I promise, all hell will break loose."

"You don't seem impressed, Grey," Tamera said, looking for signs of fatigue.

"It was difficult when we first put the variable stage online seven years ago," he explained. "But since then, managing the containment keeps getting easier. It's good the controls held up, though. This entire panel needs restructuring."

"Seven years ago? But you would only have been thirteen years old?" Polanski said. Now it was the scientist's turn to feel weak, leaning back against a counter.

"Are we done here?" Tamera asked.

"I'm all right, Tammy. Just need a moment to catch my breath," Grey assured her.

"I believe I understand how this works," Polanski said, studying the controls. "In theory, it's not that difficult. Not that I'd want to try it without practice. Is it true the step-two variable phase taps into sub-space energy fields?"

Grey looked at Polanski without committing to a response. Until he knew if the Security Computer had tracked the source of the red flare correctly, he had no intention of discussing details with anyone.

____________

"The signal again. More strongly than before," Mordari chirped, watching a red glowing streak register on the screen of her tracking device. She adjusted the scanner, then twisted her thin leathery body in the close confines of the cockpit to connect the analyzer. Outside the cockpit window, shadows were beginning to appear on the rugged walls of Palus Somni as the lunar landscape crept into the darkness cycle. The gray rills surrounding their small spaceship were bent in ancient, jagged shapes.

"Observation recorded for future study," Ryndari confirmed, downloading the signal into their memory module. "Submit information to base?"

"Too near the colony's antenna," Mordari hissed, her long prehensile claws adjusting the controls of their scout craft until it dropped into a trench. "First we venture to the minor crater, there to investigate this energy source."

"From the crater these natives call Vitruvius, the direction to our enemy will be detectable," Ryndari suggested. "Many will be the rewards if we discover the lair of the rocks."

"When we return to the far side of the planetoid, our reports will be submitted," Mordari said with an urge for patience.

"I'm hungry," Ryndari complained.

"Soon, my companion. Soon there will be meat for all," Mordari assured him.

* * * * * *

For those who have read Slave of Akrona, Mordari is no stranger, nor the culture of the Arikhan. This is Mordari's first appearance.

To be continued....