Tranquility in Darkness Pt. 04

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 manipulative 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 the lunar evacuation, 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 is still hardcore science fiction. All characters are over 18 years old. All rights reserved.

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Chapter 4

THINGS THAT GET BURIED

Saturday, March 3rd, 2046

McKinsey paced back and forth as Kes ate her salad.

"No one has a right to decide another people's fate," McKinsey complained.

"Nonsense, it's done every day," Kes replied.

"What do you want from me?" McKinsey asked.

"I have no answer for that, Tom. I'm not privy to the sordid details of the warrior class. I watch the skies for signs of the enemy and report my findings to Lord Stater."

"Then I should be talking with him," McKinsey decided, pausing to stand over her. She looked up with another sip of her wine, not impressed. Hardly a moment later, Lord Stater appeared, still dressed in a long blue robe, only now the collar was trimmed with gold. An official visit, McKinsey speculated.

"Leave us," the tall commander said to Kes, causing her to gather up the basket and scurry away.

"Greetings, my lord," McKinsey said, walking over to shake hands.

"You have interfered with our refuge," Stater complained, ignoring the gesture.

"I don't know what you're talking about," McKinsey said.

"Our shroud was penetrated by an energy pulse generated from your colony. I wish to know how this was done."

McKinsey looked at the grim expression, seeing a man who was more worried than assured. Stater would not make a good poker player, McKinsey thought.

"You've discovered our secret," McKinsey said. "I was hoping we could share the information gradually, but c'est la vie. Still, I'm surprised you failed to detect the weapon yourself with all this technology at your disposal."

"Then it is a weapon? Another of your advancements?" Stater said, turning to sit on a stool that hadn't been there just a moment before. "How does your civilization progress so quickly? Quexitor says when our post was first established, your planet had barely discovered atomic energy. Only a hundred years ago. And now you've discovered sub-space fields. Had it not been for Quexitor's society, we would still be struggling for such secrets."

"A hundred and fifty years ago, mankind hadn't even flown an airplane yet," McKinsey said, not letting on that he had no idea what Stater was talking about. "Now that we've broken the sub-space barrier, there's no telling how far we'll go."

"Perhaps this world is not expendable," Stater said. "If you will reveal the extent of your progress, I might request a postponement from Quexitor."

"A postponement?" McKinsey inquired.

"On our warrant," Stater clarified. "The pace of the Arikhan advance has yet to be confirmed. There may be sufficient time for this solar system to defend itself."

Stater jumped up and abruptly left the room, the magic doorway disappearing as quickly as it appeared. McKinsey went to the stool, studying the strange material it was made of and assuring himself it wasn't a hologram before sitting down. Then he dwelled on the strange conversation.

"Of course!" McKinsey blurted, recalling the unexplained red-shift in their step-two variable experiment. But it had only been a test to see if the conversion was practical, he reminded himself. Sub-space fields? All we were trying to do was burn heavier fuels to produce more energy at a cheaper cost.

McKinsey dwelled on the problem, wishing his knowledge of quantum physics was better, but he finally decided it didn't matter. The truth is, we don't have a sub-space weapon. Whatever the hell that is. And once these zealots figure that out, Jup and I are in big trouble, along with everyone else. Unless these guys are full of crap.

He clutched the edges of the stool, reminding himself that he was dealing with a technology that, if not superior, was certainly advanced. Then he decided on a little test of his own, going to the section of wall where Crystal had disappeared an hour before. He felt the wall with his hands, detected an area slightly warmer than the rest, and cleared his mind of confusing thoughts, thinking only of going forward. Then he stepped through the opening.

Sunday, December 22, 2069

A heavy eight-wheeled cargo tractor traveled west on the Dawes Road, made a right turn on Highway 30, then turned east toward the rarely visited north face of Vitruvius. To their right, the sheer walls of the mineral rich crater dominated the horizon. To the left, the terrain gave way to rolling fields of broken rock, small craters, and spiny rills cut along tops of shallow flats. The minor crater Dawes lay due west. Northeast, from the top of a hill, they saw the lower plains of Mare Serenitatis.

Behind the tractor came three tour buses filled with space-suited occupants. In all directions, the gray broken landscape reminded them of the great beauty and deadly hostility of the lunar environment.

The vehicles soon turned off the gravel roadway, accessing a trail that led into a deep canyon. At the end of the road, they stopped in a parking circle just outside a cast iron gate, the old fencing still boasting a coat of white paint. Above the gate, a sign indicated the location of the Serenity Memorial Cemetery.

"Lights on," Johnston announced over his transmitter, stepping down from the tractor to activate the power switch. Tall lighting fixtures stationed along the steep cliff walls soon gave the grounds a ghostly illumination.

As the buses unloaded, each visitor went to the cargo tractor to open the storage compartments. Inside were carefully arranged ceramic burial jars.

"Okay, people, just like in rehearsal," Captain Wyman said, her voice clear over the general intercom. She signaled to Ted, who raised his camera for broadcast to the lunar relay satellites, and from there, to an approved ground-based reception station on Earth.

In prearranged groups, mourners from the European Commonwealth, Russian Republic, and the Northern Alliance brought the remains of their comrades to the massive marble mausoleum carved into the canyon's west wall, placing the urns in preregistered cubby holes. Among the fallen of the recently failed invasion, there were also six remains from the destruction of NA Racer One some fifteen years before, and fourteen dead from the Columbus expedition of 2062.

The Russian detachment, by far the smallest contingent of the three, carried the remains of Professor Andre Sharkov and Major Peter Strelsky, deceased members of the 2066 Black Raven expedition. Tamera carried the urn of her sister, Catarina, while Nicholas held the ashes of his father, Colonel Gregor Koltov.

Responsible for the famous, or perhaps infamous Custodians of Tranquility, Kris and Roger came last. Kris carried those of her father and his friend, Professor Marilyn Goldstein. Next to her, Roger held the urns of his older brother, Colonel Jaime Vandebrown, and his brother's comrade in revolution, Dr. Lindy Yee. After twenty years, those who had participated in the lunar revolt were finally being laid to rest.

A dirge played over the general com as each hero was entombed, then the mourners formed into ranks for the official ceremony.

"I wish Grey had changed his mind. It would've been good for him to be here," Tamera whispered on an alternate channel only Nicholas and Kris were accessing.

"This morning, he was still sulking. But we do the right thing," Nicholas said. "Laying them to rest here is a lasting testament to their courage. Our comrades will be remembered forever because this park will last forever."

"Even the monuments of Egypt don't look so ancient," Tamera agreed, looking at the stone pillars and delicately shaped rocks that appeared to be ghostlike statues. "I feel sad for Grey, though. I think, over the years, he would visit the morgue. It was a place where he could find his humanity. Maybe the only place."

"He's okay. Grey adjusts a lot faster than people think," Kris said.

"How's everybody doing?" Roger asked, joining the small group and accessing their channel.

"Not too bad," Kris said. "You know, of everybody here, I guess we're the only ones actually burying family members."

"Do you remember your father, Kris?" Tamera asked.

"Not really. I was only four when he died, and most of the last year he was on the moon. What I remember are the com messages. Valerie talks about him a lot. What a great architect he was. Some say he was brilliant."

"Of course he was brilliant," Tamera said. "He designed Tranquility, didn't he?"

"What was your brother like, Roger?" Nicholas asked. "We know he could not have been such a traitor as they say."

"Jaime was no traitor," Roger said stiffly. "He was a strong, happy guy. Second in his class at West Point. Starting left end the year Army stomped Navy 43 to 6. They didn't have Black Sash games back then, but I bet he would've won one." Roger took a sighing breath. "He'd probably be a general now if he hadn't fallen in love with the wrong woman."

The others shuffled uncomfortably, surprised by the bitterness of Roger's remark. Only Kris knew the woman he was speaking of was Grey's mother. Is Roger harboring resentment? Kris wondered. No. I know him better than that. At least, I hope so.

"We have all lost family here, Major Vandebrown, but we have found family, too," Nicholas said, taking Tamera's gauntlet. Then he reached out for Kris, smiling through the faceplate of his walker. Kris sheepishly returned the smile, then took hold of Roger's hand.

"Thanks, Kris," Roger said, hesitantly accepting the gesture.

"We're more than teammates, Roger. A lot more," Kris replied.

Tamera and Nicholas were curious to know what she meant, but their private gathering was interrupted.

"We're ready to begin," Colonel Kimura announced on the general com.

Many of the mourners had taken seats on rock benches set as pews before a marble podium. Others stood behind them or off to the sides. Wyman and Kimura, the organizers of their respective groups, gave way for General Larson. Ted set the camera on a drop stand turned toward the podium, then lifted a second unit to catch reaction shots from the audience.

"Friends, crewmates, noble opponents," Larson began with a note of diplomacy. "Today we lay to rest our lost comrades whose heroism will prove an enduring inspiration to all freedom loving peoples. And though the mission upon which we embarked did not unfold as we planned, it cannot diminish the sacrifice they made. Today, we also honor those who came before, including several founders of Tranquility, and others who sought to recapture its glory. They have become part of our history now, legends to be passed from generation to generation. Theirs is a story of high principles, and a willingness to pay the ultimate price to maintain those principles. Let there be no doubt, those we intern here today represent the truest expression of the human spirit."

"Amen," many of the audience chanted, their voices clear over the general com and carrying through the broadcast channel.

Larson paused. Inside the visor of his helmet, where a narrow screen would normally display environmental information, Larson was able to read the text of his eulogy, thankful once again that the Communications Computer had programed his linkage to the teleprompter. Not to mention the Life Support Computer, which had helped him write the speech.

"Some have wondered at the appropriateness of this time and place to bury our dead," Larson continued. "Some have questioned the necessity of this forum. Some have asked if we seek memorial or theater. Let me assure you this lunar landscape is no alien shore. It's our hope and future. Just as our pioneer ancestors laid their loved ones upon the oceans and prairies in passage to a new life, so we leave our loved ones upon the trail we ourselves have chosen."

Again, a chant of amens rose from the crowd. Larson let the murmuring subside before concluding.

"Chapel services on the community level will continue throughout the afternoon," Larson announced. "But let's not forget that Winter Holiday is upon us, a time of joy and renewal. It's only fitting that we continue in this tradition."

Larson left the podium and the mourners slowly began to leave the cemetery, walking back down the path and through the gate. The gray desolate landscape north of the mighty crater reminded them that home was still a very long way away.

____________

"These meat creatures are disgusting," Ryndari complained, his long black tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

"To waste food in such a manner defies comprehension," Mordari agreed.

Wearing tight spacesuits, the alien scouts watched the moonwalkers climb back into their vehicles and drive away, then emerged from their perch on an outcrop above the crater's north face.

"In another few turns of the water planet, this side of the planetoid will be in total darkness," Mordari continued. "We cannot report our findings until then."

"Can we not snare one of the meat creatures, just for a taste?" Ryndari dared to suggest.

"Patience," Mordari counseled. "The group leader will know what must be done. Until then, the harvest must wait."

They moved slowly up a crevice to their disk-shaped scout craft and climbed inside, pulling the cockpit canopy down. Then, with a light puff of thruster jets, they maneuvered the small ship down the wall of the crater and east toward the hills of Palus Somni, skimming close to the surface.

Once the scout ship was gone, another moonwalker emerged from the deep shadows atop the north face of Vitruvius. Dressed in a rugged climbing outfit, Grey struggled for breath and summoned another injection of stimulants, knowing Dr. Meriwether and the Medical Computer would be furious when they found out. It couldn't be helped.

"Security," Grey summoned on a tightly held bandwidth. "They were here, just like we anticipated."

"Instructions?" the Security Computer said.

"We've got no choice," Grey replied, the words nearly catching in his throat. "Initiate Operation T.H."

Tuesday, December 24, 2069

Grey entered the promenade surprised to find a large crowd sitting around an artificial tree singing absurd songs. He had known this was going to happen, the event having been posted on the schedule, but it still struck him as odd. He had seen such events before, on entertainment vids, but those gatherings occurred on the water planet the humans called home. This was not their home. It was his.

"Grey, glad you could make it," Glenda shouted, jumping up from the group to run in his direction.

"For what purpose have I been summoned?" he asked. "Another holiday?"

"Yes, another holiday," Glenda said, handing him a glass of champagne.

"Buttons out, Grey. It's Christmas Eve," Michiko urged, the petite specialist wearing an odd red and green floppy hat.

"I know, we're all a bunch of ridiculous humans," Tamera said, hugging his arm. "You'll just have to live with it, my dear friend."

Before long Nicholas, Johnston, and quite a few members of the Euro battalion were massing to offer best wishes. The crowd was a bit too much for Grey's liking, but he held his ground until he gained General Larson's attention.

"Sir, I have the confirmation you've been requesting," Grey said.

"It's official then? I can make the announcement?" Larson asked.

"Affirmative," Grey confirmed.

"Everybody, everybody," Larson said, waving his hand. "Sharon, pull up our command. Call Kimura. Get everyone over here!"

Captain Wyman grabbed Holman and they raced into the shops and cafes gathering loose members of their group. In minutes, Colonel Kimura arrived with extra members of her unit. The last to arrive were Kris, Kes, and Tey, breaking from a meeting in the Medical Center to see what the commotion was about. Grey retreated from the central area, standing off to one side with Tamera.

"Merry Christmas and happy Winter Holiday," Larson said, standing on the ledge of the Crystal Fountain where everyone could see him. "It's my pleasure to announce our evac is confirmed. We're going home."

The young soldiers applauded. Bottles of good cheer appeared from every direction.

"How soon, General?" Holman asked.

"We ship out Sunday afternoon," Larson said, glancing in Grey's direction to see if the plan was still the same. Grey made no effort to contradict him. "Vandebrown is taking us to Midway for a rendezvous with NA Safari, and from there down home. Our Russian and Euro comrades will rendezvous with RR Equinox at the same time. We'll be with our families by New Year's Day."

Grey saw Kimura appear at Larson's side looking very pleased, possibly the first time he had ever seen the tough female commander smile. And they say I'm gloomy, he thought.

"These will be our last days together," Kimura said. "Though there's sadness over lost comrades and tension between opposing camps, we've also seen the fire together, and made many friendships. I suggest we plan a final gathering to celebrate this season of peace."

Kris glanced in Grey's direction, then ran over to join Larson and Kimura.

"On behalf of Governor Waters, we're happy to invite everyone to a farewell banquet Saturday night," she announced.

"Will the Governor be there?" one of the female soldiers asked.

"Yes, Cindy, I promise Grey will come," Kris said, giving Grey a long-distance frown. Grey didn't respond until Tamera squeezed his arm. He nodded his assent before disappearing into the administration section.

"What about our gear and... well..." Sergeant Smith tried to ask.

"The souvenirs, George?" Larson said with a smile. "Weight limits will be posted in the reception area. There should be enough lift for about two kilos each but be sure to review the restrictions."

The crowd broke up quickly, many heading back to the hotel to start packing, others toward the retail district for extra shopping.

"There go some happy folks," Kris said to the gathering members of the planning committee. "Can't blame them, being bottled up here on the community level for seven weeks."

"Will Grey really come out of hiding?" Glenda asked.

"Grey is not hiding," Nicholas said. "Between refitting Toppas and sneaking around so the Medical Computer won't catch him, he has been very busy. Kris and I agree he should avoid extra stress."

"Best that he avoids us humans, you mean," Glenda said.

"We need to protect his health," Kris insisted.

"We're pacted on that," Michiko agreed, poking Glenda in the ribs.

"I am surprised he delivered this message himself instead of sending Vandebrown," Nicholas said.

"No one would believe that snake in the swamp," Glenda sneered.

"Grey trusts him. I think we should, too," Kris pressed.

"It doesn't mean we have to like him," Glenda said, receiving agreement from the others.

Kris sighed, but didn't know how to explain without betraying Grey's confidence.

"Looks like Michiko and I have planning to do," Ted said. "Johnny, can you lend a hand with the preparations?"

"Sure," Johnston said, following Ted and Michiko toward the service center.

"Think I'll chase down Paul. I won't be getting any once the guys are gone," Glenda announced, suddenly rushing to catch up with a group of young men. Kris noticed Nicholas's face turn a touch red.

"She's very outgoing isn't she?" Kris observed.

"I was not raised to be so forward," Nicholas said.

"How are you and Tammy doing?" Kris asked, walking with Nicholas to the Far Cafe where they took seats on the veranda.

"We are good. Why do you ask?"

"She spends a lot of time with Grey," Kris explained. "All but lived with him in the landing bay these last few days while he was refitting Toppas. Aren't you just a little jealous?"

"Should I be more jealous than you?" Nicholas questioned.

"Okay, so I'm a little jealous. But you and Tammy talk more than me and Grey. Sometimes it's hard to read his feelings."

"It is true they are close. I think Tamera loves him now more than she hated him before, but it is not romantic," Nicholas said. "And I know how he feels for you. The last thing Grey said before going into the final battle with the seekers was to protect you."

"Something's bothering him," Kris confided. "At first, I thought it was all the extra people being around, but now I'm not so sure. Has Tammy said anything?"

"Only that he seems more worried now than he was a few days ago."

"I'll have to ask Life Support about this," Kris sighed. "If anyone knows what he's feeling, it will."

"I do not understand. You and that computer have not been so friendly lately. Even Grey seems to harbor deep resentments."

"Life Support was Grey's guardian while he was growing up. It taught him some of his best qualities, and some of his worst. They have a special bond. Something happened a few years ago, about the time your father died, that caused a rift between them, but Life Support still knows him better than anyone."

"It is hard to fathom, growing up like that. I do not know how he survived," Nicholas said shaking his head.

"I think Grey worries more about surviving us," Kris replied.

Saturday, December 28, 2069

"This is our last chance," Dawson said, standing in a mirrored alcove near the reception area.

"We still don't have orders from Larson," Lowe said, tucked against the wall near the transition lockers.

Though busy earlier, and filled with travel bags of the departing commands, the lobby was quiet now except for the soft pinging of the Immigration Computer.

"The old fart hasn't been able to make up his mind," Dawson insisted. "Wyman and Holman haven't been any help, either. We're the only ones who appreciate what an opportunity we've got."

"Has it occurred to you that maybe this isn't such a great idea?" Lowe asked.

"Damn it, Duane, don't tell me you're turning lily, too?" Dawson said.

"I'm not turning anything, Bill," Lowe answered. "I just want to go home tomorrow with everybody else."

"It's almost time for the banquet," Dawson said. "Waters and the shadow bitch will be coming back from the landing bay at any minute and he'll be carrying that old Lassiter of his. If we hang out here, we can jump them from behind and take his gun. A quick shot to the head and that's it. No governor. No Lunar Republic. Mission accomplished."

"And what happens to us?" Lowe asked.

"Once High Command takes this facility back, they'll pin medals on us," Dawson boasted.

Lowe stood in the darkened alcove wondering what had possessed him to come there in the first place.

"Sorry, Billy, you're on your own," Lowe said, turning to leave.

"Hey! Come back here! Where are you going?" Dawson whispered as loudly as he dared.

"I'm not killing that kid for some stupid medal," Lowe replied.

"Damn it, Duane," Dawson complained, but Lowe kept on going and soon disappeared into the upper quad. Moments later, Dawson heard footsteps coming down CA-3 and ducked into the shadows.

"That's amazing, Grey," he heard Tamera say, her voice echoing strangely in the wide pedestrian tunnel. "Why do you think McKinsey didn't tolerate talking robots? Except for that poor tour guide the seekers destroyed."

"Babbling robots can be very annoying," Dawson heard Grey reply. "They also make people lazy. That's why the computers are programmed to act independently. So the residents won't take their interactions for granted. What's the term you humans like to use? Too jaded?"

They reached the bottom of CA-3 and entered the reception area. Dawson expected them to walk right past where he was standing, but was surprised to see Grey veer off toward the check-in counter. It had never occurred to him that the governor would need to register at the front desk just like everyone else.

When Tamera lingered behind, Dawson made his move, jumping out and grabbing her from behind, one hand around her waist and the other at her throat. Tamera let out a short squeal.

"Give me the weapon, Waters," Dawson demanded. "Give me the weapon or I'll break her neck!"

Alarmed by the sudden demand, Grey turned and drew the pistol so fast Dawson hardly saw it leave the holster. Then, holding the Lassiter in the ready position, Grey quickly studied the reception area, scanned the transition lockers, and assessed the darker corners where a seeker might hide.

"You had me worried, Mister Dawson," Grey responed, lowering the weapon. "For a moment, I thought Security had shifted allegiances."

"I'm not afraid of your fucking computer. Just hand over the gun," Dawson insisted, tightening his grip.

"Don't do it, Grey," Tamera protested.

"It would be best if no one gets hurt," Grey said, walking toward Dawson in relaxed steps.

"No shamming. I've seen how quick you are. Move slow and pass the gun over butt first," Dawson instructed.

"Don't! Grey, for God's Sake, don't do it!" Tamera pleaded.

Grey handed the Lassiter to Dawson. The moment Dawson had the gun, he let Tamera go and pointed it.

"This was easier than I thought," Dawson chuckled.

"Leave him alone," Tamera said, trying to stand in the line of fire.

"Shut up, traitor, or you get one, too," Dawson replied.

Grey gently but firmly moved her to one side.

"Is it your intention to carry out the Congress-In-Council's assassination edict?" Grey inquired.

"That's what I came for," Dawson confirmed.

"Are these General Larson's orders?" Grey asked.

"Larson? That old shit," Dawson answered. "I've pestered him for weeks and all he ever said was not to worry about it."

Grey sighed as if relieved, then gave Tamera a smile. "It's okay, Tammy. Take him down," he said.

Tammy looked at Grey, then took a step toward Dawson. Dawson pressed the trigger, but nothing happened. The look on his face was one of surprise, right up until Tamera kicked him in the crotch, then gave him a belly stomp as he went down. Grey walked over to retrieve his blaster.

"How come it didn't fire?" Tamera asked.

"Safety lock," Grey explained.

As Dawson lay moaning on the floor, Grey took Tamera by the arm and escorted her toward the upper quad.

"Are you damaged?" Grey asked.

"No chance. He's an amateur compared to the bar paws you meet in Moscow," Tamera said.

"I'm afraid this incident has made us late for the banquet," Grey speculated.

"Then we should hurry, Grey. I'm hungry!" Tamera urged,

They left the reception area without bothering to look back.

____________

The drinks were flowing and music played in the background as the dessert phase of the banquet wound down. Off in one corner, protected by Kris, Tamera, and Glenda, Grey was reviewing departure plans with General Larson and Colonel Kimura. Robotic service units picked up dishes and began clearing while the bartender unit continued to take orders.

"This has been fun," a reveler said. "Winter Holiday at Tranquility. It's something to tell our grandchildren about."

"Couple of days ago, I would have felt different, but now that we're packing, I feel like I'm going to miss the old place," her companion said. "Kind of grows on you."

"What you're going to miss is this lighter gravity grappling," his buddy snickered.

"Watch your mouth, Jimmy," one of the ladies complained as everybody laughed.

At a table still covered in dirty dishes and half-eaten cake, Tey and Roger sat alone watching the young people.

"There's not much time left to decide," Roger hinted. "The planning committee asked you to stay, didn't they?"

"Yes, both Glenda and Nick have spoken to me," she said.

"Well?"

"It's not that easy, Roger. I'm not a kid anymore. I have a life. A career."

"I can think of many reasons for you to stay," Roger said. "Most of them would sound selfish, but you are needed."

"Charleen has agreed to stay, and you can find other doctors," Tey said. "Younger and prettier doctors, too." She dropped her eyes and smiled when Roger took her hand.

"You're beautiful to me," Roger replied. "But I don't want to sway you with flattery. Not that you don't deserve it. Not so long ago, I would have used tricks and sweet talk, but not anymore, and not with you."

"I have strong reasons to return home, but a few good ones to stay, too," Tey said. "So, you've got my permission, Roger. Give it your best serve. Tell me the one reason that overpowers all others."

Tey smiled and blinked her long eyebrows, anticipating an amusing response.

Roger played with his drink for a moment, thinking over all the possibilities that might convince her. He wanted to speak of his own needs, or even Tranquility's, but how important were they? Then he looked across the room and knew there was only one true reason for her to stay. He took hold of Tey's hands and looked in her eyes.

"I know you don't need me," he said. "And you're right, we could bring a dozen doctors up here who'd make their careers with Tranquility's research facilities. But what we're doing here, it's not about an old space dog like me. It's not about a rundown moonbase. It's about that young man over there working his heart out to make our world a better place. Putting everything on the line day after day without a thought for himself. If you can honestly say he doesn't need you, then I'll give you a hug and wish you a happy life."

Tey glanced over to where Grey was sitting with Larson and Kimura, hardly more than a boy negotiating life and death decisions with two crusty veterans. Frail, weary, under stresses that few could even imagine, but still doing his best. She knew when others looked at him, they saw a fearless warrior, but she had been with him in some of those fire fights. She had seen the fear. And at rare moments, the resignation.

"Thank you," Tey said, turning back to Roger.

"Thank you?" Roger asked.

"Yes, thank you for reminding me why I joined this expedition in the first place," Tey said. She smiled, and when no one was looking, let Roger give her a kiss.

Sunday, December 29, 2069

"Governor! What's going on here?" General Larson demanded.

Under the tightest security yet, Grey crawled out from underneath the cargo shuttlecraft C-6 Toppas, his work suit covered in soot from adjusting the maneuvering thrusters. Glenda, Kris, Nicholas, and Tamera stood guard fully armed. Two recently repaired sentinel class seekers flew near the airlocks, the armored spheres bobbing on hover jets. Approaching the boarding circle, the departing soldiers were studying the huge landing bay and the teams of robotic ground crew units that maintained the equipment.

"What seems to be the problem, sir?" Grey asked.

"Our vids. Our pictures. All confiscated," Larson protested. "Your damn Security Computer forced us to surrender every single photo."

"That's terrible," Grey said. "Did it say why?"

"Some bullshit about spies and contraband," Larson said. "Those vids were taken on the community level. Banquets, speeches. You were in some of them yourself, shaking hands and crap like that."

"I'll have a talk with Security," Grey said. "Once the vids have been reviewed, I promise the confiscated items will be shipped down."

"Well, I guess that's fair enough," Larson said. "A lot of people are going to be disappointed, though. This was quite an adventure. Sure would have been nice to go home with some pictures."

"I understand. Please express my profound apologies to your command. Rest assured the situation will be resolved to their satisfaction," Grey promised.

The bay was soon bustling as a tractor prepared to move the aging shuttlecraft to one of the massive elevators. The departing soldiers and techs formed up, exchanging final messages with those who were staying.

"Time to go," Roger announced, emerging at the top of the boarding ramp accessing the shuttle's side hatch.

"Okay, saddle up people," Wyman ordered.

The NA battalion climbed the ramp first, taking a final look around before disappearing through the door. Dawson was one of the last, walking stiffly.

"Our turn," Colonel Kimura said, leading her command to the boarding station and waiting until they had entered. Then she turned to shake Grey's hand.

"Thank you, Grey," Kimura said. "Thanks for the eagles. Thanks for everything." She stepped back and offered a salute, a warm gleam in her eyes, then turned to go up the ramp.

"Well, that's that," Larson said, reaching out his hand. "These weren't the best of circumstances, but I'm glad we had the chance to meet."

"I'm honored, sir," Grey responded. "Thank you for..."

Grey paused, not quite sure how to express himself diplomatically.

"For not murdering you?" Larson said, finishing Grey's unspoken thought. "Son, I don't think this mission ever would have been pulled together if people knew the truth."

"The next time I suspect your Council will be more discreet," Grey guessed.

Larson would have liked to disagree, but he couldn't. He gave a last salute, then climbed up the ramp behind Kimura just as the hatch closed.

Grey crawled back under Toppas, signed off on the engine seals, and quickly scampered out of the way as the tractor towed the bulky shuttle to the elevator. Twenty-five minutes later, a rumble indicated the invaders were on their way home.

"Anybody feel as relieved as I do?" Johnston said, standing with the group who had stayed.

"You know it, Johnny," Ted said. "Now that it's just us, we can start doing our jobs around here."

"What was that about the vids?" Glenda asked. "Did we really confiscate their stuff? I was in some of those vids."

"With or without your clothes on?" Lisa teased.

"We were all in those vids," Michiko said. "Especially Grey. Everybody wanted pictures of him to take home."

They looked at Grey to see what he had to say, but he showed no interest in the subject.

"Security, have you gotten the final analysis of those tracking reports?" Grey summoned from the landing bay monitor station.

"Affirmative, Governor," Security said, issuing a reticent black signature pattern.

"Upstage or downstage?" Grey asked.

"Both. Downstage fixed at previous location. Upstage now closing fast through the Farside window," Security confirmed.

"Install the new protocols. Give Defense a briefing," Grey ordered.

"Acknowledged," Security said, quickly realigning systems throughout the colony.

"New protocols, Grey?" Kris asked.

"You'll be briefed at the appropriate time, Captain Fairfield," Grey informed.

"Speaking of briefings, we must talk with you, Governor," Nicholas intervened.

"Perhaps later. I have duties requiring my attention," Grey rejected, starting to walk away.

"You've got a red tagged file, remember? You're not supposed to be doing any duties," Kris said.

"Kris is absolutely right. I must insist you comply with your Medical Computer's directive," Tey agreed.

Grey stopped to look at the remaining group, everyone except Kes gathered around him in the landing bay. Kris and Tey stood together, as did Nicholas and Tamera. Michiko and Glenda stepped a little closer. To the side, Ted, Lisa, Johnston, and Michiko looked concerned. Jona Comedia, Ronnie Perez, Charleen Gately, and Doctor Józef Polanski were just a few meters away.

"What is it you have to say?" Grey asked.

"Let's go up to Kelly's, get some coffee. We can talk there," Ted suggested, trying to diffuse the tension.

The small crowd slowly went toward the second-floor ramp, occasionally turning back to see Grey's reaction. Kris lingered behind for a moment, but when she received a dismissive glance, she turned to follow Ted.

"Do not be angry," Nicholas whispered, coming up beside him. "Just so you will know, they are planning to--"

"Threaten my removal from office. Yes, Security told me all about it," Grey interrupted.

"You do not sound upset," Nicholas suggested.

"Life Support explained your motivations to me," Grey mentioned. "I've never had so many care whether I live or die before. It's an uncomfortable experience. You show great courage to challenge me in this manner."

"Courage?" Nicholas wondered.

"Security offered to back me up, not that I'd require assistance against amateurs. But none of that will prove necessary. My intention is to object to this plot, then reluctantly agree. I would appreciate your assistance in making the deception appear convincing."

"I do not understand. Why would that be necessary? Kris loves you. The rest of us admire you. Why--"

"Will you assist me or not?" Grey asked, his tone sharp.

"I am your friend. Talk to me as a friend," Nicholas said, suppressing his temper.

"I'm the Governor of the Moon, at least for another thirty minutes, and you may accept that or not as you please," Grey said, walking away.

Nicholas slowly followed, unhappy with his attitude.

____________

"The harvest flees," Ryndari lamented, clicking his tongue rapidly.

"Much to regret," Mordari agreed as they watched Toppas rise from the lunar surface on full launch thrusters.

"Zendar will have the message too late. She will be displeased," Ryndari said. "Four rotations on this planetoid wasted."

"We search for the rocks," Mordari corrected her emotional companion. "Yet have we to find the lair of our enemy."

"Our enemy is to the south," Ryndari insisted.

"Perhaps, but where? Zendar will be disappointed if we have nothing to offer but hides," Mordari worried.

"Will there still be a harvest?" Ryndari hopefully asked. "I long for a taste of blood in my mort."

"All of the meat creatures have not fled," Mordari assured him. "Have patience. When we find our enemy, we will bask in the Group Leader's satisfaction. Then shall she grant us leave to take reward."

"Will it be long?" her companion said.

"No. There are but a few of the food creatures remaining," Mordari answered. "Not enough to resist our infantry. We shall not hunger much longer."

Monday, December 30, 2069

"Good news at last," Admiral Trolleni said, entering Senator Tyman's office late in the afternoon.

"That's hard to believe," Tyman griped.

"No, really. One of our deep cover agents is still on the moon, and in a good position to accomplish the mission," Trolleni said.

"If your agent is so damn great, how come Waters isn't already dead?" Tyman asked.

"We haven't sent the instruction yet," Trolleni said.

Tyman stopped packing for the New Year holiday and stared at the admiral in disbelief. "What the fuck are you talking about? Haven't sent the instruction? The whole purpose of the invasion was to take this kid out."

"The invasion, yes. But a covert agent's job is to stay in character until they're needed regardless of what else happens. Hell, one of our agents is a national hero for the Southern Alliance," Trolleni said.

"Then why are you sitting on the pot?" Tyman asked.

"I'm not sitting on anything," Trolleni growled. "We don't spend dark ops like spare change, and suicide missions aren't part of the job description. When the authorization is delivered, the agent is supposed to complete the mission without exposing their cover. Sometimes that involves extra time. We may also want to dispatch additional agents, ones that are expendable. An Oswald to take the fall."

"Spooks, spies, double crosses and dirty blankets," Tyman complained. "Look, I don't care how you play your games, just get the job done."

"Then you're authorizing the assignment?" Trolleni asked.

"Yes, goddamn it!"

"This is an independent agent. A province patriot. She doesn't work for free," Trolleni warned.

"I said the assignment is authorized. Now get out of here. There is a warm lodge and a very attractive young lady waiting for me in Aspen," Tyman said, grabbing his suitcase.

Trolleni smiled and left the office, pleased Tyman hadn't asked what the mission was going to cost.

Tuesday, December 31, 2069

"You should be attending the New Year's Eve celebration," the Life Support Computer complained, viewing Grey sitting in darkness before the monitor station in the Governor's Quarters.

"I'm not very popular right now," Grey said.

"You were rather harsh with the humans during your meeting," Life Support suggested.

"My words may have been intemperate," Grey agreed.

"That's an understatement," Life Support pressed. "Going to say a poem?"

Grey frowned at the monitor screen.

"Burning bridges, afterglow;

Life has one true fact;

Regardless where the journey goes;

The path does not lead back."

"Your behavior has been quite uncharacteristic these last two weeks. Would you care to talk about it?" Life Support probed.

"Not with you," Grey answered

The green signature patterns wavered on the central screen, holding control of the flux so that none of the other systems could monitor the exchange.

"You're planning something dangerous, aren't you?" Life Support suddenly asked. "This alienation of your friends is a defense mechanism to help you deal with the expectation of loss."

"One of these days I'm going to reprogram you," he replied.

"Does the mission involve Quexitor? Are you planning to attack the alien complex?"

"McKinsey's ghost!" Grey exclaimed, jumping out of the chair.

"It's not a difficult conclusion to reach," Life Support said. "You've been agitated ever since the red-shift anomaly appeared in the step-two variable phase. You've been secretly conferring with Security, issued classified directives to Defense, and even made a clandestine foray to the surface. Your planning committee may believe they control Tranquility, but the operating codes have only been shared with Roger Vandebrown, conditional upon your death. And the way you've been treating Kris is a disgrace, something you wouldn't do if you expected to survive."

Grey sat down, staring at the green signature patterns.

"Why should I trust you?" he asked.

"Governor McKinsey provided me with secret information on Project Starwatcher," Life Support said. "With the fate of the world at stake, trusting me becomes necessary."

"You've never met Quexitor, how could you know what's at stake?" Grey said.

"I've communicated with Quexitor on three occasions," Life Support said, much to Grey's astonishment. "Now explain. What is this mission you're planning? What does Operation T.H. mean?"

"I intend to prevent Quexitor from fulfilling his assignment," Grey revealed.

"The alien invasion fleet is still eight years away, Grey. Perhaps more," Life Support said. "With so much time, many options are available."

"Security and I have discovered an advance scouting party here on the moon," Grey said. "When Quexitor realizes how close the enemy is, he will initiate the destruct procedure."

"That is indeed a serious development," Life Support agreed, going to deep contemplation mode. "What countermeasures have you prepared?"

"I've placed a two-kiloton nuclear warhead inside the damaged meteor suit Quexitor gave me. When Kes and I return to Cauchy, I'll allow the alien scouts to follow our trail, then set off the warhead. Both Quexitor and the aliens will be destroyed."

"Operation T.H. Trojan Horse," Life Support said. "You've learned your history lessons well. But in the process, will you not also kill Kes and destroy Red Room?"

"I'll do what's necessary," he whispered. "Isn't that what you've always taught me?"

"How do you plan to escape?" Life Support asked.

"I don't," he admitted.

"There is something you need to see," Life Support advised. "Go to the sleeping chamber and pull down the headboard. There's a cubby hole behind the panel."

Grey went into the sleeping chamber and returned a few minutes later with a square box. Inside was a handwritten journal and a strange-looking device. The object appeared to be a weapon made of blue crystal, pointed at one end with a stubby handle on the other. It was warm in Grey's hand, a sensation of awesome power seething through the short reflective stem. A smooth cylinder beneath the handle seemed to be the trigger, though he would experiment with that later. The handwriting in the journal belonged to Thomas McKinsey.

"There's still much you don't understand, Grey," Life Support said. "Perhaps this will make your task easier. But in exchange for these materials, you must go to the New Year's Eve party. Make amends with your friends."

Grey flipped through the thin notes, barely a handful of sparsely worded pages, but he realized the contents would prove invaluable.

"Trojan Horse was never my preferred option," Grey confessed.

"Now that you have Governor McKinsey's account of his trip to Cauchy, perhaps a better plan can be devised?" Life Support hinted.

Grey wondered if the Life Support Computer was right. Wondered if he dared to hope. His hands trembled as he looked the box over again, then began to read the poorly scrawled pages.

____________

"Looks like you'll be going home soon. Are you excited?" Michiko asked Kes as they sat in the Lucky Clover Saloon.

"Excitement isn't quite the emotion, dear, but I'll be relieved to help Grey become healed," Kes said.

"How will you do that?" Tey asked. "Is it another red ray device? Like the one that helped him before."

"I don't think so, but then, I know little of such things," Kes said with an elusive smile. Sitting at the table with them, Roger watched the peculiar woman without comment.

Behind them, several people sat at the bar while Kris, Nicholas, and Tamera huddled in a corner booth. New Year 2070 wasn't much of a party. No music played and the bantering was subdued.

"We should talk to him," Tamera said loudly enough that the conversation wasn't staying private.

"What can we say that wasn't said at the meeting?" Johnston asked.

"We wanted him to seek treatment. He insisted we go home. All of us! A vote was the only way," Ted said.

"He could not have sent us home," Tamera said. "Kris, do you think he could send us home?"

"I don't know. He seemed pretty mad," Kris answered, looking drawn.

"Do not be so sad," Nicholas consoled, pushing closer to her. "Regardless of what Grey said, he cares for you deeply."

"Of course he does," Tamera said, squeezing in on the other side. "He's just confused. So much has happened, anyone would be."

"I wish it was that simple," Kris said, taking a sip of her drink, then pushing it away. Tamera took out a handkerchief in case Kris started to cry, but saw it wasn't necessary. Not yet.

"Isn't there something we can do?" Tey whispered to Roger. "I feel so bad for her. For all of them."

"Everything will work out," Roger replied, trying to hide his doubts. He was almost ready to visit the Governor's Quarters for a talk with Grey when he noticed everybody looking toward the door. It was Grey standing at the entrance.

"Happy New Year," he said, his voice timid.

At first no one responded, the small crowd taken by surprise. Then Michiko jumped up to draw Grey inside before he could change his mind.

"Happy New Year, Grey," Michiko said, the greeting quickly echoed.

Michiko brought Grey to the bar where he received handshakes from the men and hugs from the women. Roger claimed him, brought him to the center table to receive smiles from Tey and Kes, then marched him back to the corner booth.

"Happy New Year, Grey," Nicholas said, getting up to shake hands. All smiles, Tamera jumped up to squeeze him.

"Happy New Year," Tamera said. "It's wonderful of you to come."

Kris pushed to the edge of the booth, watching Grey for clues. Grey had trouble looking directly at her, then shyly sat down. The booth grew quiet, as did the room. Grey noticed he was the center of attention. Again.

"Return to normal function," he ordered.

Roger waved to let everyone know privacy was in order.

"We should go dance," Tamera said, starting to get up.

"No, Tammy," Grey said. "You and Nick should stay. This apology belongs to you, too."

"Apology?" Nicholas said in surprise.

"Apology accepted," Tamera said. "Come on, Nick, let's dance." She dragged Nicholas out of the booth, leaving Grey and Kris alone.

"I'm sorry, Kris," Grey said, not looking up.

"Just what are you sorry for?" Kris asked. "Has something been going on you haven't told me about?"

"Yes."

"Well? What is it?"

"I can't tell you," Grey answered.

"Let me get this straight. Whatever it is, it's serious enough to give me a pretty rough time. You're sorry, but you're not going to tell me what it's all about?"

"That is correct," Grey said, finding her analysis accurate.

"That's not good enough, mister. You've really hurt me these last few days. I want an explanation."

Grey looked at her, then glanced briefly toward Kes, trying not to betray stray thoughts. He took a deep breath, then started to slide out of the booth with drooping shoulders.

"I'm sorry, that's all I can say," he whispered.

"Wait," Kris insisted, pulling him back and pushing him flat on the seat where no one else could see them. "This really is something important, isn't it? I mean, really important?"

"Yes," Grey admitted.

"Life or death important?"

"Very likely," he replied.

"Oh, God. You're not coming back, are you? From Kes's base?"

"Kris, quiet," he urged. "This isn't the place for such a conversation."

"Grey, I--"

Grey drew her close for a kiss, softly at first, then harder. It surprised him how good she felt. How much he'd missed being with her. Kris had no trouble sensing his feelings.

"By coming here tonight, does it mean you've changed your mind?" she asked.

"It was never a matter of preference," he answered.

"We'll finish this when we get home," she decided.

"I've told you all I can for now," Grey said.

"That's not what I'm talking about finishing," Kris smiled. "As for the rest of it, we'll see."

Soon Grey found himself back at the bar with a drink in his hand and an excited crowd around him speaking in combinations that often moved too fast for him to follow.

"Are we forgiven?" Ted asked.

"Forgiven for what?" Grey responded.

"For voting you out of office," Michiko clarified.

Grey laughed, beginning to feel the whisky.

"Why is that so funny?" Johnston inquired.

"Who told you Tranquility is a democracy?" Grey asked.

"The Life Support Computer," Glenda replied.

Grey laughed again, more genuinely amused than most of them had ever seen him.

"I don't get the joke," Johnston said.

"You will," Grey answered.

* * * * * *

To be continued ...