Tranquility in Darkness Pt. 06

by G. Lawrence

No longer isolated on the moon where he grew up under the guidance of Tranquility's computers, Grey now has friends and a girlfriend, but also many enemies.

A reminder, these are two stories; Governor Thomas McKinsey in 2046, and the lunar rebels in 2070 dealing with McKinsey's earlier actions. But the two stories will come together. All characters are over 18 years old. All rights reserved.

* * * * * *

Chapter 6

TOO MANY NEW ARRIVALS

Monday, March 5, 2046

"How do you feel?" Crystal asked, kneeling next to McKinsey as he lay bound hand and foot on the floor of a featureless room.

"Thirsty," McKinsey said.

"I'm not surprised. Lord Stater would not allow Red Room to treat you, and without stasis, your body can't replenish liquids," Crystal informed, giving him a sip from a jug.

"How long have I been out?" McKinsey asked as he managed to sit up.

"More than a day. I'm sorry about Loam," Crystal apologized. "He shouldn't be making this difficult merely to indulge his repulsive disposition."

"Then there's not much time left?"

"We've been packing our equipment," Crystal said. "We must be ten million of your kilometers away when the reactor implodes."

"You can't let this happen. Insist they stop," McKinsey demanded.

Crystal almost laughed, not that she found it funny. "I'm a geologist," she replied. "Studying the unique minerals of your solar system has been a privilege, but I have no authority over Lord Stater."

"You must have some influence?" McKinsey asked, looking at her with that special glint in his eye.

"Kes may have had some influence with Lord Stater at one time," Crystal speculated. "Not that she and I especially care for either of our collaborators."

"You are not mated?"

"Not in the manner you infer. On occasion, I may indulge Loam, though he holds little interest for me. Kes no longer shares with either of them. And even if we did, it would not gain us influence over their decisions."

"What about Quexitor?" he asked.

"What about Quexitor?" she answered.

"You might have some influence over him?"

"Him? That is humorous," Crystal said, feeding McKinsey a piece of spiced bread and another sip of watered wine.

"How's Juniper doing?" McKinsey asked.

"I don't know. I think Loam has him in the other wing where Kes and I don't enter."

"Untie me," McKinsey pressed.

"No," she denied, giving him more bread.

"I insist! I can't just sit here while my world goes up in smoke," he demanded.

"You've none to blame but yourself, Thomas," Crystal said. "You were foolish to challenge Quexitor in such a manner. Especially with no method of supporting your threat. Do you believe our culture so feeble? Lord Stater and Loam come from a long line of warriors. All of our people do."

"I don't. I'm a man of peace, and I can prove it if only you'll give me the chance," McKinsey pleaded.

"If I release you, you'll get in trouble. When our vessel leaves this solar system, you may come with us. There's no reason for you to die now."

"Kiss me," McKinsey said, leaning forward.

Crystal backed away at first, then slowly came forward and kissed him gently on the lips.

"You must be very lonely," McKinsey guessed.

"We hibernate most of the time, but you're right. Even when awake, there's rarely more than one other to share with," Crystal complained. "Had Stirwin not awakened us all at once, we might never have met."

"Who is this Stirwin?" McKinsey asked.

"Stirwin is like Quexitor and Roman, one of our three guardians. Your experiment with sub-space energy fields caused Stirwin to believe our enemies had arrived. Our screens were prematurely dropped in an effort to raise the ship for departure. Now that we know it was a false alarm, I hoped Lord Stater would change his mind, but your threats have provoked him."

"Curse me for a fool," McKinsey said.

"I will try another of your customs instead," Crystal said, giving him a long, passionate kiss. "I like the way you reciprocate. You don't kiss like an old man."

"I'm only fifty-eight! And after help from your Red Room, I don't feel older than twenty-five," McKinsey said. "How old are you?"

"I have twenty-five waking years and forty sleeping years," she said.

"Sixty-five years? Hell, little girl, you're older than I am," McKinsey laughed, a charming twinkle in his eye.

Crystal gave him the last of the bread, then took out a bottle of black wine, gradually relaxing as she sat at his side.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" McKinsey asked.

"I can have you if I want you," Crystal purred.

"There's truth to that," McKinsey agreed, struggling against the bindings to show how helpless he was. "But if my hands were free, it could be much more pleasant."

Crystal leaned over, kissing him again. "I'll help you if I can," she whispered before leaning back. The promise was made so quietly McKinsey almost didn't hear her. He wanted to say something, but her expression warned him to be careful.

"You lecherous old man. How dare you make such a suggestion," she suddenly shouted, slapping his face. She jumped up, smoothed her skirt, and picked up the basket. In an instant, she was gone from the room, her exciting posture agitated with insult.

A door opened into a corridor, but no one was there. McKinsey edged up to the entrance, then managed to wiggle through. The bindings on his feet loosened for no reason and he was able to stand up, but his hands remained tied.

An invitation? McKinsey wondered.

He walked down a long circular corridor until he finally entered the next room. It was the control center. Empty. Except for Quexitor.

"We finally have a chance to talk alone," McKinsey said.

"No one is ever alone," Quexitor observed. "Crystal will risk much for you. Are you going to allow it?"

"Yes," McKinsey said.

"It would seem you have little conscience when it comes to using people," Quexitor mentioned.

"Conscience is but a word that cowards use," McKinsey replied.

"To paraphrase your Immortal Bard. Yes, the sentiment has substance," Quexitor agreed.

McKinsey thought the proverb Machiavellian rather than Shakespeare, but was glad to hear he was on intellectual ground. And surprised that Quexitor was familiar with Earth literature.

"I think you've got this whole destroy-the-planet stuff backward," McKinsey said. "You'd do much better to make us a buffer from your enemies than a dead zone."

"The Arikhan have steadily pressed outward for thousands of years. It's said that three dozen star systems have fallen to their advance. None have ever successfully resisted them. Why would your world be different?"

"Earth already has powerful weapons, and formidable systems for delivering them. And even if we didn't defeat these Arikhans, I'm willing to bet we could bleed them," McKinsey encouraged.

"Your civilization has progressed more rapidly than any in our memory," Quexitor admitted. "When we first encountered your species, you were still attempting the earliest forms of agriculture. Now, just four thousand years later, you've reached the doorstep of sub-space theory. But you're still several generations short of the development necessary to challenge our enemies."

"Shouldn't you at least give us a fighting chance? How much do you really have to lose?"

"We could lose our homeworld," Quexitor said.

"If this advance is so relentless, then it's just a matter of time before they reach you, regardless of what happens to Earth."

"You make a valid argument," Quexitor agreed after a period of contemplation. "But depriving the Arikhan of this solar system would give my civilization an additional fifty years to define a strategy. And the Arikhan may recede into civil war as they have done myriad times in the past. With good fortune, they may never reach my world at all."

"Is your civilization so lofty that it's worth such a price? I thought your people prided themselves on their warrior heritage?"

Quexitor laughed. McKinsey couldn't believe it. His own computers were programmed for a sense of humor, but their registrations of levity were always muted. This was a genuine expression of amusement.

"The human beings you've met here are not my people, Thomas McKinsey. They are your people. But we find them useful, and the society they've improvised is entertaining. Over the last three millennia, we've established a strong relationship. This is why the decision cannot be mine alone."

"Is it Loam or Lord Stater I must convince?" McKinsey asked, not looking forward to the challenge.

"A consensus of all four is necessary," Quexitor said. "I know you have looked upon the interaction of our males and females with a prejudiced eye. Their society has evolved differently than yours. But be assured, each sex in their own manner plays an important role."

Suddenly Quexitor was gone. McKinsey didn't know how he knew that, for nothing in the room had changed, but the absence of the mysterious presence was palpable.

"You! How did you get here!" Loam shouted.

McKinsey turned just as the angry man bore down on him, his right fist flying. The blow caught the edge of McKinsey's chin, but not enough to knock him down. With his hands still bound behind him, McKinsey was forced to step right and reply with a spinning hook kick to Loam's ribs, then a quick thrust kick to the face. Loam went down, nose and mouth bleeding, but the man was too tough to lose consciousness. McKinsey kicked him once more, a strong blow to the side of the head, then took off running toward the wall without even thinking about it. A door appeared at the last second, and before Loam had cleared his blurred senses, McKinsey was gone.

Saturday, January 18, 2070

"Is this the final list?" Nicholas asked, sitting at the head of the table. "The ones that are actually coming?"

"Each candidate has been confirmed," Glenda said, sitting to his left.

"I still don't understand how the approvals were made so quickly, or why the Northern Alliance is willing to cooperate," Michiko asked.

"I'll tell you why," Tamera said. "They have agents planted among the colonists."

"That's not likely, Tammy," Roger disagreed, receiving a frown for his informality.

"We checked everybody's credentials," Glenda said, defending the work of her committee. "All have solid backgrounds in engineering or life sciences. Except the children, of course."

"Children?" Kris asked.

"We're bringing up several family groups," Glenda said. "And that's only the beginning. The Administration Computer insists we establish a repopulation schedule. The Sales Computer is pushing for it, too."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Kris warned. "First of all, we can't feed very many people without regular supply shipments, and we can't guarantee the space lanes right now."

"Kris is right," Roger said. "This agreement with the Northern Alliance is to let in one group of colonists and a shipment of medical equipment. It's a one-shot deal and my father had to fight like hell to get it for us. The Congress-In-Council isn't committing to more."

"Fifty colonists are enough for now," Nicholas said. "We have many demands from the computers already. We should not let them push us into something we are not prepared for."

"Speaking of the pushy computers--" Ted started to complain.

"I can tell you tales of pushy computers," Lisa agreed, snapping her hair back over her shoulder.

"Life Support is the worst," Michiko said, hunching forward.

"No, Security is the worst," Glenda protested.

"Have you tried working with the Defense Computer?" Roger questioned.

"Oh, do you mean God?" Kris said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"What about you, Tey? No complaints about the Medical Computer?" Michiko asked.

"No, none," Tey said.

"Why is that?" Michiko wondered.

"Charleen and I don't let the Medical Computer tell us what to do," Tey said with a grin.

"We don't have that luxury," Dr. Polanski said after a moment of silence. "Without guidance from the computers, it's not possible to maintain the equipment."

"For now, anyway," Kris said. "Once we get more help, the computers won't be able to pull this crap on us anymore."

"That seems hard to believe," Lisa doubted.

"You've got my word on it," Kris promised.

"How did Grey do it?" Michiko said. "How did he manage to live with these horrible machines all those years? Just thinking about it makes me sick."

"He had no choice. He was their slave," Tamera answered.

"Grey doesn't see it that way," Kris mentioned. "He faced the same problems we have, but he overcame them. He learned to do everything that needed to get done, and he learned to do it better and faster and smarter. And he learned not to take shit from the computers without challenging them."

"Grey's experience should teach us something," Roger said. "Let's remember that before whining about how hard the work is."

"I wasn't whining," Johnston said resentfully.

"Me either," Lisa agreed, turning her back.

"I was," Michiko said. "But I'll try to do better. When Grey comes back, I don't want our first conversation to be about a bunch of problems I couldn't handle."

The room grew quiet after Michiko's comment. Even Kris and Nicholas wondered if saving issues for Grey's return was the right thing to do.

Tuesday, January 21, 2070

"Good morning, Aunt Kes," Grey greeted, taking a seat in what had become their breakfast nook. Awake for the last week of treatments, he was starting to understand the Quexelian complex and its maze of doors that were not doors. It wasn't where you were going that mattered, he had discovered. It was thinking about where you wanted to be, and then being there. Strange, but efficient.

"Aunt Kes? How extra personal," Kes said. "What do you want?"

"Information. These invaders, other than vague arrival estimates, the data is scant. What can you tell me about them?"

"The Arikhan?" Kes replied. "I'm not sure. I've never actually seen one. Nor do I know anyone who has. Or anyone who knows anyone who has. There's been no direct contact between the Quexelian and the Arikhan for centuries."

"There has to be some intel. Biological weaknesses. Technical strengths. Goals. Strategies?" Grey asked.

"Without doubt many of these things are known, but I'm no strategist. I'm just a science adviser. Crystal was a researcher. Lord Stater, our original leader, had strategic talents, but he's been gone for many years. Loam, who was of the Guild of Engineers, also studied such things. Alas, he's gone, too. Perhaps our mutual friend can help you?"

"Quexitor is no friend of mine," Grey replied. "I'll have no traffic with genocide."

"Please, Grey, not so loud," Kes urged. "What's gotten into you?"

"Tell me what I need to know," he demanded.

The table shifted with additional liquids suddenly within reach. Kes picked up a tall glass to sip the contents, then gingerly ate more of her breakfast grains.

"The Arikhan are said to be a cold-blooded race, descendants of a reptilian heritage," she explained. "They are large, two meters tall or better, bipedal, with muscular limbs. Modestly intelligent, but their technology is largely stolen from other cultures. They eat meat and aren't particular about what sort of meat they eat, which several conquered populations have discovered to their dismay."

"How many planets have they occupied? Are there so many available?" Grey asked.

"We've discovered that perhaps one inhabitable solar system in fifteen hundred has intelligent life forms," Kes guessed. "Planets dominated by humans tend to run in strands, possibly from an ancient culture's seeding project. The Arikhan have captured sixteen planets along this particular strand that we know of. They occupied an uninhabited planet in the Vega system three hundred years ago, and now Earth is their next objective. Peaceful coexistence is impossible. We are nothing but a food source to them."

"Thank you," Grey said in a whisper, going back to his meal.

"Is that all you needed?" Kes asked.

"It's a start," Grey said.

____________

"Zendar comes with two ranks of guards," Mordari announced.

"Our mission is nearly complete," Ryndari said.

Emerging from their scout craft in the canyon below the Crystal Caves Tourist Center, the scouts wore their thin spacesuits as they explored along the floor of the fault.

"Much time wasted, yet still no sign," Ryndari said, waving the tracking device in his long bony claw. "Here they must be, but they are not."

"The lair must be close. We will find it," Mordari said. "The heat of their vehicle disappeared within minutes of entering the chasm. It could not have gone far."

"They use the tricks of light," Ryndari said. "Many times could we have passed the lair. They hide like crawling vvleen."

"The servants of the rocks will taste better than vvleen," Mordari said with a click of her black tongue. "And the rocks will be our prize. Much reward will we gain, and honor."

"If we could gift Zendar with the location, she will be pleased," Ryndari agreed. "The fault is large, our searcher small. Many light cycles could the hunt take before the lair of the rocks is discovered."

"We have narrowed the pursuit to a narrow patch," Mordari said. "If we find the lair before Zendar arrives, more to our glory. But it will be found. Worry not, we have earned first taste."

"Could they be hiding in the shelter above?" Ryndari asked, pointing at the tourist complex at the cliff's edge.

"No, our enemy is subtle. They have hidden long to avoid the indigenous creatures of this planet," Mordari said. "Once again we must backtrack to the end of the canyon, then probe toward the crater."

Mordari pointed south where, only twelve kilometers distant, the crater Cauchy dominated the horizon.

Friday, January 28, 2070

"Good morning, Grey," Red Room said as he woke up from a light trance. "How do you feel?"

"Quite well, thank you," Grey said.

"The treatments are nearly complete," Red Room announced.

"I feel fine now," Grey hinted, flexing his muscles. Though getting his coordination back would take a little longer, he was relieved to feel strong again. As much as he hated to admit the truth, the thought of slowly wasting away had frightened him.

"Am I up to Earth standard now?"

"Temporarily," Red Room confirmed. "If you continue living on the moon, eventually your status will regress."

Grey acknowledged Red Room's assessment with a sigh, going to the dining area where he found the biggest salad he'd seen since arriving four weeks before. The food was good, and the dressing made it even better. Just as he was finishing, there was a summons to the control room.

"Harmony, my nephew," Kes said, looking unhappy.

The monitors were activated. On one screen, Grey saw an NA shuttle clearing debris from Earth orbit. On another, efforts by a Japanese shuttle to retrieve a dormant communications satellite.

"Space is getting crowded, isn't it?" Grey remarked.

"The planet is just beginning to rebuild infrastructure. No capacity exists to establish defenses," Quexitor concluded.

"There will be," Grey asserted. "By this time next year, the prototype of a new spaceship will be under construction. I've already issued purchase orders. Two years from now, the alliances will agree to build a fleet. It won't be a large fleet, but with step-two variable technology, the ships will be faster and more powerful than anything yet developed."

"Very ambitious, but there's no evidence the strategy can be executed," Quexitor responded. "Earth's strongest national alliance is your enemy. The weaker alliances distrust each other. Several Asian regions have not recovered from their nuclear exchanges. No central leadership prevails."

"The Northern Alliance won't be a problem much longer," Grey promised. "And you underestimate the secondary alliances. The Commonwealth and Russian Republic are cooperating. We've made contacts with the Japanese Empire on technology exchange, and the Australian Federation has requested a trade agreement. Our orbital paths are opening because the Equatorial Alliance and minor confederacies are anxious to form new partnerships. Even the Southern Alliance has indicated an interest in formal contacts."

"There isn't time," Quexitor persisted.

"Maybe the invaders will reach your planet first?" he suggested. "That would give us an extra twenty or thirty years, wouldn't it?"

"Quexel does not issue radio signals. The invaders have no reason to believe our solar system is inhabited," Quexitor insisted.

"You're wrong," Grey said. "In fact, Earth has an advantage. These Arikhan know our technology is primitive. Probably not a threat to them. Your world, on the other hand, would be a worthy conquest."

"Are you saying the invaders know this?" Kes asked. "How could they?"

"Quexitor told them," Grey answered.

"Impossible," Quexitor objected.

"Believe what you want," Grey said with a shrug. "I have work to do back at Tranquility. If I can recover my equipment, I'll be going."

Grey turned toward a door he recognized and accessed a storage space, finding his flight uniform and travel bag. He started dressing as Kes entered.

"Grey, what's this all about? It's unwise to provoke Quexitor in this manner."

"I'm weary of endless threats. If you want to implement your final solution, go ahead," Grey said, pulling on his boots, stuffing his spare shirt in the bag and going toward the landing bay. "Say goodbye to Roman for me. At least one of your guardians has a morality mode."

"Don't do this, Grey," Kes said, reaching to grab his arm.

Grey saw she was truly upset, the first time he had ever seen her calm veneer so disturbed. He gently removed her hand and went through the next door, but he didn't enter the landing bay as he expected. He was back in the control room. The monitors were subdued now, showing nothing but generic lunar landscapes. Kes followed a moment later.

"You've demonstrated your resolve. Now explain," Quexitor said.

"Why should I?" Grey asked.

"Kes has suggested we form an alliance with the Lunar Republic," Quexitor said. "Perhaps this option can be pursued if your information has value."

"I don't want an alliance. How could I ever trust you?" Grey answered.

"Remember your manners, young man," Kes demanded. "Your anger is understandable, but you must never question Quexitor's honor. In our society, there are some things that may never be forgiven."

Grey managed to suppress a smile, struggling to keep the angry expression for a few more seconds.

"I'm sorry, Kes," he said, appearing to calm down. "Quexitor, I apologize if I've offended you."

"I seek to fulfill my responsibilities, just as you do," Quexitor replied.

"Will you abandon your scorched earth policy?" Grey asked.

"No, but postponing the initiative another few years shouldn't make a great difference," Quexitor conceded.

Grey nodded as if he expected the response, careful to hide the depth of his disappointment. Then he sighed, steeling himself for the grim task ahead.

"I want Kes returned to Tranquility as your representative," he suddenly required.

"Grey! You've no right!" Kes protested.

"What about it?" Grey pressed.

"Is she to be a hostage for our good behavior?" Quexitor inquired.

"Call it whatever you want," Grey responded.

"Is your information of sufficient value to warrant such a sacrifice?" Quexitor asked.

"It is," he said.

"Quexitor, I am not your property to be bargained with," Kes protested.

"Little one, you grow spoiled on this world," Quexitor observed. "If we may contemplate destroying an entire planet's population, we may certainly require that a colleague associate with her own kind. Is such an assessment so unreasonable?"

Kes fell silent, looked at Grey, then dropped her head with resignation. Two chairs appeared. Grey sat down, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Your enemies are strategic thinkers," Grey began. "They wouldn't send an invasion force such a long distance without surveying their objective first. You've been eavesdropping on Tranquility's step-two variable experiments since we first put the reactor online. Last August, when you tapped the variable stage, it generated a carrier wave recession."

"This is indeed serious," Quexitor said. "Stirwin should be privy to this information."

"Why? What does it mean?" Kes asked.

"Was the recession scanned?" Stirwin asked, a second faint light seeming to appear alongside Quexitor.

"A regressive signature registered in the down stage," Grey recounted.

"What is the point of origin?" Stirwin inquired.

"All we've found is a general outward pulse," Grey lied, "but the source of the scanning will have discovered your efforts to monitor Tranquility's reactor experiments. If you've sent any communications to your home planet in the last six years, the observers may have tracked your transmission wave."

The room grew quiet. Grey saw Kes had only followed part of the discussion but had no doubt she understood the important elements.

"Are you suggesting the Arikhan already have a base in this solar system?" Stirwin asked. "Do you know where?"

"I have a theory," he said. "In the last forty years, three expeditions have traveled to Mars. All three failed. My guess is your enemy has installed an outpost there, probably with automated observers."

"Had an Arikhan outpost attempted to communicate with an approaching fleet, we would have detected the activity," Quexitor speculated.

"You would know more about that than I would," Grey replied.

"If such a facility exists, it must be destroyed before the information is transmitted," Stirwin said.

"Building a deep space craft is time consuming," Grey hinted.

"Without doubt you have a proposal to make," Quexitor realized.

"If Stirwin could coordinate with my energy computer, it might be possible to integrate a step-two variable reactor into a reconditioned cargo shuttle. This would allow me to assemble an expedition by the end of next year," he suggested.

"You ask a great deal," Quexitor said.

"By working together, we also have much to gain," Grey replied.

Saturday, February 1, 2070

"Here they come!" Tamera shouted, bouncing with excitement.

"Direct them to landing bay minor," Kris ordered from the North Point Defense Center. "Flight Control, full tracking. Maintain those directional beacons. Maintenance, prepare ground crews for spray down. Security, refrain from interference unless ordered. Defense, have you received the approach codes?"

Through the observation window atop Tranquility Ridge, Kris saw the ring of defense batteries along the southwestern perimeter activate as the cargo shuttle lumbered over Mare Tranquillitatis. Particularly well-placed was battery number three. If the shuttle wasn't the colonial transport it was represented to be, the battery would target the ship before it ever reached the perimeter.

"Code sequences correspond," the Defense Computer reported. "All defensive systems maintaining alert status."

"Damn this makes me nervous," Kris said.

"It will be all right, Kris," Nicholas said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Let me have the com."

Kris stepped aside as Nicholas accessed the communications panel.

"Tranquility to EC Juno. Come in Juno," Nicholas requested.

"Juno here, reading you clearly Tranquility," a voice said. "Nicky, is that you?"

"Yes. Is that you, Alex?" Nicholas asked.

"Damn right, you young revolutionary. Marie and little Gregor are with me. So are Susan and Theodor," the voice responded. "Get the vodka out, we're coming down."

"I know Alex is your cousin, but who are those others?" Kris asked.

"Don't worry, Kris, everybody's cleared," Glenda said, nevertheless wearing a blaster on her hip. "Marie is Alex's wife. Gregor is his nine-year-old son. Susan and Theodor Nishimura are professors from the University of Vladivostok. Both topnotch systems specialists."

"It is like we explained, nearly all of the colonists are people we know, and several are bringing their children. This is not an invasion force," Nicholas said.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but Grey was really worried about something before he left. Let's keep our security tight," Kris said.

"Like we have a choice?" Glenda laughed. "The Security Computer is already threatening to lock everybody up. Us included."

"Don't take it too lightly, Glenda," Kris said. "You weren't here last summer when Security decided it could run Tranquility better than anyone else. It was a mess."

"We will instruct the immigrants to obey the security protocols," Nicholas assured her. "Life Support says that if we are careful, there won't be any problems."

"I sure hope so," Kris said.

Tuesday, February 4, 2070

"Thanks for the hospitality," Grey said, packing his Lassiter into a shoulder bag. The room they occupied featured blue walls that changed shades in a subtle fashion. A picture window showed the image of a lush green planet that was not Earth.

"You are most welcome, nephew," Kes said, packing a few items she wanted to take back to Tranquility. "Though I must protest these high-handed tactics. You really have a lot of nerve, you know."

"Quexitor made the decision, as I remember," he reminded, not exactly denying the accusation. "Stirwin, is Groundhog flight ready?"

"Your primitive vehicle is prepared for launch," Stirwin confirmed, the voice coming out of everywhere at once.

"I have a request, if you don't mind. The meteor suit Quexitor gave me was damaged. Would it be possible to borrow another?" he inquired.

"If Kes doesn't object," Stirwin said.

"Nephew Grey is welcome to borrow my walker," Kes agreed.

"I understand the original suit belonged to my mother," Grey said. "If I ship it back to you on a tractor, can it be repaired?"

"Meteor suits are not difficult to heal," Stirwin agreed.

"Good. It has much sentimental value. May I have the new meteor suit now? I've decided to walk home."

"Grey, you can't walk that far, even in a meteor suit," Kes said in surprise.

"I don't literally mean I'll walk all the way back to Tranquility," he explained. "While you return in Groundhog, I'm going to the Crystal Caves Tourist Center to make adjustments on the environmental controls. I'll return home in one of the maintenance tractors."

"No residual anger from that vote your friends took?" she said.

"I have no doubt they meant well. I hope Kris or Nick won the election to replace me."

"You know they've held no election. And never will."

Grey shrugged as if he didn't care.

"You're not delaying your return because of the new colonists, are you?" Kes asked.

"Just a little. I need time to consider how this new society is going to function. I'm also not sure what my role will be."

"It won't be the trial you're anticipating."

Grey declined to respond, putting her bags in the hopper and helping her into the cockpit.

"Clear check, Groundhog?" Grey asked.

"Affirmative," the hopper's flight computer said.

"You are directed for a straight route back to Tranquility. No deviations under any circumstances," he ordered.

"Understood and verified," Groundhog acknowledged.

"Any messages for Kris? Or anyone else?" Kes asked, buckling down at the pilot station.

"They have their instructions," he answered, closing the canopy.

Grey stepped back, and a moment later, the hopper lifted up and disappeared into a dark tunnel. It was nicely done, he thought, for the engines had not ignited, nor had he seen evidence of an airlock.

"Time to go," Grey said. "Is the suit ready?"

Grey turned to see a meteor suit standing near the doorway, the bulky metallic outfit just like the one Quexitor had given him five years before. Only this one lacked the battle damage inflicted during the New Ranger expedition. Grey pressed the collar indentations to release the gauntlets first, then repeated the sequence to open the chest plates, immediately struck by the obnoxious smell of the mucus-like bio-oil lining the interior. Unable to wear clothing inside the suit, he stripped down, folded his uniform into his shoulder bag, and climbed inside, legs first, then his arms. When he reentered the code, the suit sealed. Then the lining expanded in a very intimate manner, providing a snug fit. Thankfully, the strong odor was no longer noticeable.

"We'll be scanning the solar system's fourth planet in anticipation of your mission there," Stirwin said.

"Though we can have no formal alliance, we may provide assistance on occasion," Quexitor volunteered.

"The deep space scanning array at Farside may have untapped data, but it's been more than three years since I adjusted the antenna. I'll get over there and report back with the results," Grey offered.

"Satisfactory," Quexitor said. "And good luck."

"I'll make my own luck, but thank you anyway, Quexitor. And thank you, Stirwin, for agreeing to cooperate," Grey said. He picked up the shoulder bag, and an instant later, disappeared through a portal.

"Will the youngling accomplish what he promises?" Stirwin asked.

"I'm not sure what the young man plans to do," Quexitor said. "But if Homeworld's location can be protected, we must suffer the risk."

____________

"Kris, he's back," Ted said, running across the ground floor of landing bay major. Sounds from the secondary airlock were followed by the elevator lowering from the upper chamber.

"Excited?" Glenda teased.

"Yeah, sort of," Kris said, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"What's Grey going to think about the new colonists?" Michiko asked.

"He probably won't like it, but life is tough," Kris smiled.

"There it is," Tamera said, pointing at the hopper as it rolled into the receiving bay.

They ran across the floor area, stopping just as the canopy popped open.

"Kes?" Kris said. "Where's Grey?"

Kes wiggled out of the pilot's seat and allowed Nicholas to help her down the side of the craft.

"Grey insisted on staying behind at the tourist center," Kes explained. "I told him how disappointed everyone would be, but he was quite determined."

"Stayed behind!" Tamera exclaimed.

"Just for a few days, dear," Kes quickly assured her.

"It is good to see you, but I thought you had no plan to return," Nicholas said.

"My plans were changed. I expect to be a guest at Tranquility for quite some time," Kes explained.

The small crowd saw the mysterious woman showed no enthusiasm for the situation, creating a high degree of curiosity. None were foolish enough to expect an explanation.

"Welcome home," Michiko said, giving Kes a hug.

Lisa and Tamera also rushed forward, hugging Kes as Nicholas picked up her travel bags.

"Don't feel bad," Michiko said. "There are worse things than being with those who love you."

Kes stopped, a surprised look on her face.

"What's wrong?" Tamera asked.

"This morning, when I was trying to convince Grey to return with me, I told him the very same thing," Kes recalled.

"And?" Kris asked.

"I never realized it might apply to me as well," Kes confessed.

____________

Grey slowly moved along the canyon floor. The old trail lights were not functioning, though whether this was a recent development or a process of many years he didn't know. As he reached the bottom of a winding path leading up to the tourist center, he stopped to use the infrared scanners of the meteor suit.

The disturbance was subtle. There, perched below an overhang to the right of the path, a disk-shaped craft was hiding from observation. The craft appeared to be abandoned, but he thought that unlikely.

The object was not an Earth vessel, lacking the necessary thruster ports and external sensor equipment. Nor did he think it Quexelian, though in truth, he had no idea what a Quexelian spaceship might look like. The disk appeared to be twenty meters in diameter and twelve meters high in the middle, the edges gracefully sloped. Grey wondered at the owner's physical appearance. He did not have to wonder very long.

"Do not move, food creature," a voice crackled in stunted English over his suit's audio receiver.

Grey turned to see two humanoid shaped figures standing below a jagged ledge, each pointing some sort of energy weapon at him. Wearing tight spacesuits, he saw they were better than two meters tall and bony in construction. It was hard to see much more in the flickering canyon lights.

"Greetings, messengers of the Arikhan," Grey said on a very focused transmission beam, holding up the palms of his hands to show he held no weapons. "Long have I awaited your arrival."

"Mordari, that is not a native suit it wears," the huskier alien said, the transmission also tightly focused. "It is different. Is it our enemy?"

"Yes, Ryndari. A servant of the rocks," the other one said.

"Is it edible?" Ryndari asked.

"They are meat and blood, just like this planet's natives. We will feast well," Mordari said, her tone betraying excitement.

"Excuse me," Grey interrupted. "But I've just offered you greetings. It's proper manners to return the gesture. Your lunch menu can be discussed later."

"It speaks impertinently," Ryndari protested. "Perhaps it should not be granted a swift death?"

"Meat is best when bled slowly," Mordari agreed, clicking her tongue with anticipation.

"But there is no space for preparing the carcass in the sho'kar. How is it to be accomplished?" Ryndari asked.

Grey noticed the alien glance at the spaceship and guessed sho'kar was the name for their craft.

"We must erect the bubble tent," Mordari said. "It is high enough for hanging and will protect the meat from the vacuum."

"More work, but worth the effort," Ryndari eagerly agreed.

"I have access codes to the tourist center," Grey said, pointing to the top of the cliff. "I was going to invite you in, but you're so rude, I think I've changed my mind."

Grey turned and started to bounce up the winding rock path toward the top of the cliff, pleased with his newfound strength and the lightness of the Quexelian suit.

"Mordari, it flees," Ryndari called out.

Ryndari quickly followed his prey up to a wide landing where Grey had paused to read the bronze tourist plaques. Mordari returned to the sho'kar, climbed into the cockpit, and released the gravitational locks, allowing the vehicle to rise from the surface. Then she gave it a brief burst of compressed hydrogen to follow Grey and her comrade.

Grey waited until the aliens had nearly caught up, then resumed his trek up the cliff, gaining momentum with each stride. Once or twice Ryndari came within a dozen meters, only to be left behind again. It was a good test of the alien's agility which Grey was careful to observe.

Before long, Grey reached the top of the trail where a circular veranda overlooked the canyon. He saw the sho'kar seem to float to the rim, then swing wide for a landing beside the loading dock. Almost immediately, a gray shroud was extended to camouflage the craft from observation. Ryndari struggled to the veranda a moment later, breathing in snorting gasps. Though he could easily have entered the nearest airlock alone, he stopped at the last minute and waited.

"It is fast," Ryndari said, sucking air.

"And clever," Mordari realized. "What is it you want, impertinent creature?"

"Many things, but first, I want an apology for your bad manners," he insisted, carefully applying a commanding tone to his voice.

"Apology?" Mordari asked.

"I have never apologized to my food before," Ryndari denied.

"Then I'm not inviting you inside," Grey said, pressing down the access lever for the pedestrian airlock.

"We will apologize," Mordari conceded. "We acknowledge your greeting."

"You should not do that," Ryndari objected.

"Our mission is to acquire intelligence for Zendar," Mordari responded. "Let us discover what this creature knows."

"That's better," Grey said, standing to one side as the outer hatch opened. "Can you breathe an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere?"

"We breathe the same air," Mordari confirmed, pointing toward the blue water planet hanging in the void above them. "Our home world is not so different as this one, only more beautiful."

Grey let the aliens enter the airlock first, then followed, deliberately making the acclamation process look more complicated than necessary.

In the canyon, surrounded by darkness, Grey could only make a rough appraisal of their equipment. Now he saw the aliens wore tight thermal uniforms, bubble helmets, flat bottomed boots, and communications collars around their slender necks. Their knees and elbows were large, causing Grey to wonder if they were double jointed. Their brown skin had a leathery appearance.

Five minutes later, they emerged into the maintenance wing of the tourist center, tractor bays to their left, tool and storage compartments to the right. Straight ahead, another airlock accessed the main complex.

"Attempt no tricks, food creature," Mordari said, aiming her weapon. "Long have we hungered for fresh meat. We will dine well."

"No doubt I'll prove a tasty morsel," Grey said lightheartedly, rolling back the visor of his helmet for a closer look at his captors. The aliens opened their faceplates as well, apparently anxious for a breath of the freshly circulated air.

Grey tried not to be shocked, but it was a struggle. Their eyes were large, yellowish, with coal black pupils that darted from side to side as they warily inspected their surroundings. And though Kes had described them as reptilian, the visual evidence for that was meager. More birdlike, he thought, with hard beak-like noses and pointed nails on their four-digit claws. They wore no hair or feathers, but each sprouted a mane of webbed membranes behind the tiny ear holes and around the sides of their heads. The angular jaws assisted long, lipless mouths that showed fangs when opened widely. They appeared intelligent enough, though more crafty than intellectual. He suspected neither was a brilliant conversationalist.

"What are your names? Your designations?" Grey asked.

"I am Mordari, Scout of the 44th Camp," the female Arikhan said. "This one is Ryndari. Why have you brought us here?"

"Have our roles changed? Did you not declare me your prey?" Grey said. "How can we maintain discourse if you don't pay attention?"

"It is not a good prisoner," Ryndari complained. "Why is it not afraid?"

"Perhaps it does not recognize danger?" Mordari said, waving her weapon.

Grey activated the meteor suit's collar code, freed the gauntlets, and then opened the massive chest plate to crawl out of the bulky suit. Interestingly, neither alien appeared distressed by the shocking smell of the bio-oil that so many humans found obnoxious.

When Grey turned to stand before the aliens without a stitch on, he sensed the moisture building up in their mouths, the mere appearance of his bare flesh acting like a drug. Then he picked up his satchel and withdrew the Lassiter, the movement so swift the distracted aliens were targeted before they could react.

"Now you are my prisoners," Grey declared. "I will feast well tonight. I bet you taste like chicken."

"We are food!" Ryndari exclaimed.

"We are not food," Mordari calmly replied. "These creatures do not eat such as us. If it willed our destruction, we would be destroyed."

"Failure is to be careless," Ryndari lamented, holding his weapon but hesitant to raise it.

"Mordari is correct," Grey said, pulling his powder blue flight suit from the satchel to get dressed. "I have no desire to harm you. Nor must your mission be a failure, if you're willing to listen."

"How may we serve?" Mordari asked, keeping her weapon ready should Grey grow lax. He noticed her brow-rings rose and fell as she spoke, higher when curious, lower when making decisions. He suspected they would not make good poker players.

"What is it you seek?" Grey inquired.

"We must discover the lair of your masters," Mordari answered.

"I have no masters. Of whom do you speak?" Grey demanded.

"Are you not a servant of the rocks? You wear their technology," Mordari observed.

"Is it the Quexelian base you search for?" Grey asked.

"Yes, our enemy. The Quexelian. The rocks," Mordari said. "Are you not their servant?"

"I am Cal, sole survivor of the Abandoned Tribe," Grey said. "Long have the Quexelian plagued me. If you seek to destroy them, I may be persuaded to assist. Provided you don't make me a dinner snack."

Mordari and Ryndari exchanged looks, apparently pleased with the turn of events.

"Exceptions have been made, though only the Leader may make such an arrangement," Mordari advised.

"Where is your leader?" Grey inquired.

"She approaches," Ryndari said.

"We will rendezvous on the far side of the planetoid, there to give our report," Mordari clarified.

"Does your leader come alone?" Grey asked.

"Two ranks of guards does she bring," Ryndari boasted. "First we will capture the rocks, then--"

"Ryndari prattles," Mordari interrupted. "We mean no harm to your kind."

"My kind?" Grey said.

"The natives of this planet who inhabit the nearby hive," Mordari specified.

"I have no people there," Grey said. "I hate them and wish them destroyed. If you will not help me, this exchange is over." Grey turned toward the next airlock, bouncing away at a slow pace.

"Wait, strange creature," Mordari pleaded. "We will help you destroy the native creatures if you will help defeat the rocks."

"That's better," Grey said, pausing at the airlock. "I care nothing for the rocks. They are yours. I care nothing for the Earth creatures. Let them be food. But we must meet with your commander, for I will have revenge upon my enemy. He is the most dangerous creature of them all."

"With the Leader's permission, you will have our help," Mordari promised. "Who is this creature that inspires such hatred?"

"He is called Grey Waters, Governor of the Moon," Grey replied.

____________

"Tey, did you hear?" Charleen said, bursting into Meriwether's office.

"Yes, I know Grey should be back by now. Let me finish these reports on the new colonists or I'll be late for the reception," Tey said, briefly looking up from her desk.

"He didn't come back. Kes did. Alone," Charleen reported.

Tey looked up again, this time with concern, and put her work aside.

"Where's Kris?" Tey asked.

"Everybody's gathering at the Lucky Clover. I overheard Kris and Nicholas wondering how to explain Kes to the new colonists, as if anyone could do that," Charleen said, hinting for information.

"You won't discuss Kes with anyone," Tey said. "Not until we know a lot more about her than we know now, and not until the planning committee gives us the okay. There are enough strange rumors floating around already."

"I'm glad you feel that way," a firm voice said. They turned to find Roger standing in the doorway.

"Orders, Major Vandebrown?" Charleen asked with a frown.

"If that's the way you want it," Roger replied.

"It won't stop the questions," Charleen warned.

"And we'll probably need some answers, but it doesn't mean giving out the wrong kind of answers," Roger insisted. "If you'll remember, we invited these colonists without Grey's permission. I think he should be consulted before we start revealing Tranquility's secrets. And if nothing else, Kes has been a friend. The least we can do is respect her privacy."

Charleen lowered her head and started for the door. Roger didn't impede her departure.

"What happened to Grey?" Tey asked.

"He's got things to do. Called them important chores," Roger said.

Tey laughed as Roger mimicked Grey's unique accent.

"Sounds like you knew he wasn't coming back," Tey guessed

"Suspected it. The environmental systems at the Crystal Caves Tourist Center haven't been adjusted in years. He should be along in a few days."

Tey studied Roger's mannerism and guessed he wasn't telling the whole story.

"He's not ducking our new population, is he?" she asked.

"Might be," Roger said. Again, Tey could tell it wasn't the truth.

"Well, he's a very stubborn young man. I suppose he'll turn up when he feels like it," Tey said, picking up her note pad. "Any progress on those food stuffs we ordered?"

"Not yet. Space lanes are slammed tight for now," Roger reported. "But I did get a message for you, from Doctor Carlisle. She says they'll keep your chair open for another year. Two, if you need it. She also wished you a happy anniversary."

Tey dropped her note pad, the hard casing bouncing off the tile floor. Roger leaned over to pick it up.

"Tey, are you all right?" he asked. "You're white as a ghost."

"Yes, I'm fine," she responded.

"Thought you wanted your position held open?" Roger said.

"I did. Bless me, that's what I wanted," Tey replied, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

* * * * * *

To be continued ...