Tranquility Down

Part One

by G. Lawrence

In this sequel to Tranquility in Darkness, we find Grey, Kris, and their allies struggling to rebuild the moonbase after numerous battles. It's an old-style science fiction novel presented in 11 parts.

Recap: in the summer of 2049, Governor Thomas McKinsey evacuated the moon so the Northern Alliance could not use Tranquility's nuclear arsenal in their global trade wars. 12 months later, McKinsey's followers were dead and he was dying, leaving the colony computers to raise the only lunar survivor, a baby named Grey. Three expeditions over the years attempted to recapture the moon. All ended in disaster until Grey rescued members of the New Ranger Expedition in July 2069. Now it's 2070, Grey has found friends, a girlfriend, and several enemies have been defeated. The Congress-In-Council of the Northern Alliance is now his greatest challenge. All characters are over 18 years old. All rights reserved.

* * * * * *

Chapter One

OLD BEGINNINGS

"Grey! Grey, wake up!" Kris said, shaking him lightly.

Grey sat up, soaked in sweat. The lighting in the sleeping chamber was dim, but he could sense the outlines of the bed. The familiar chimes of the computers sounded from the nearby monitor room. His heart was beating so hard it was difficult to breathe.

"Another nightmare?" Kris asked.

Grey took a deep breath and felt Kris reach for his hand, but it still took a moment for reality to stabilize.

"What was it this time? That battle on the storage deck again?" Kris said.

"No," he whispered, crawling out of bed.

Grey pushed the privacy screen aside and entered the study, pausing near one of the overstuffed California-style chairs. Decorating the walls were the awards of the previous lunar governor now twenty years deceased. Trophies. Testimonials. A Nobel Prize. Grey had no such awards, nor any desire for them.

"If you're going outside, you better put something on," Kris said. "The latest batch of colonists brings our population up to a hundred and seventy. Someone's bound to notice if the Governor of the Moon is seen walking the halls all baby-skinned."

Grey turned to find Kris wasn't wearing anything either. With long black hair and vivid green eyes, Kris was maintaining her physique despite the challenges of living in the moon's lighter gravity. And though not as beautiful as her famous sister, Kris was attractive enough to tug a few hearts. She had certainly tugged Grey's when they first met just eight months before. Before he knew he even had a heart.

"You feel good," he said, drawing her into his arms.

Kris responded with eagerness, stroking his shaggy brown hair and looking into the sad gray eyes. His slender frame didn't fool her. From earliest childhood he had worked, trained and struggled to overcome ill health, a poor diet, and the enmity of the Security Computer. The lines of firm muscle beneath his pale skin had proven essential for his survival.

"Don't think you're getting away with anything," Kris said between kisses.

"Explain," he requested, guiding her back into the sleeping chamber.

"You're using sex to avoid talking about that dream," she replied. "So? Are you going to tell me about it, or do I ride your charlie into a stump and thump it out of you?"

"Where do you discover these colorful metaphors?" Grey asked.

"I served two tours on NA Independence, remember?" she said. "I know metaphors that would leave you blushing for a week."

Grey had no doubt it was true. The computers who raised him never used inappropriate language.

"You've had that storage deck dream a couple of times, where you were killed by the seekers," Kris said. "Was it something like that?"

"No. And I wasn't killed. At least, I don't think so," Grey replied. "In that dream, I see the seekers coming at me, and I'm scared. But I'm also tired. More tired than anything. When the battle ends, everything is peaceful. No worries, no responsibilities. Sitting on a beach with nothing but an endless ocean as far as the horizon. Then I see you standing on a cliff, calling my name."

Kris could feel her breathing pause. How could he know, she wondered? Kes said he wouldn't remember their journey through that strange dream world, or wherever it was they went. But she remembered being on that sandy cliff convincing Grey to return with her even though he didn't want to. Kes said she had rescued his spirit.

"So why is it a nightmare?" Kris asked. "Hey, wait. Wait a fucking minute. Are you saying it's a nightmare because I dragged you back?"

Kris pushed out from under him, rolled him on his back, and pinned him hard to the bed.

"Don't get angry," Grey said, unsure why she was reacting so strongly.

"I'm not supposed to get angry?" Kris nearly shouted. "You're dead, then I come to save you, and that's the nightmare part of the dream? You bet I'm getting angry."

"Life Support warned me not to discuss this with you," Grey said, feeling the healthy female exerting great force.

"You told that godforsaken computer about this, but not me?" she said. "Me? Your partner, lover and best friend?"

"It's just a dream, Kris," he said. "Medical says it's not an unusual reaction after a period of intense stress."

Kris looked down into his cautious expression, wondering how anyone could have such amazing knowledge and still be so naïve about the simplest things. But she knew the anxiety he had felt going into that final battle wasn't for himself, but for her and the others. She loved that about him, but it worried her, too.

"Okay. Sometimes I forget about all the weird stuff you deal with," she apologized. "Not only as governor, but before, when you were a kid. I'm sorry if I seem insensitive."

"You're not insensitive," he said, stroking her silky long hair. "You're brave and strong and everything I admire."

"You sure know the shortcut to a girl's heart, moonman," Kris sighed, pulling him close for a kiss. "Now tell me about that other dream before I chomp you like a stale cigar."

Grey slowed his amorous intent, scrunching the thin eyebrows of his narrow face.

"Catarina and I were in the Loop," he said so softly Kris could barely hear his voice. "She was down, her armor cut. Delta and Gamma were closing in for the kill."

"I've seen that battle on the security vids," Kris recalled. "Ted even included it in your biography. Which you still refuse to watch. You cross-circuited her jammer and carried Catarina out when the explosion caused the ceiling to collapse."

"Not in my dream," he said. "In my dream, the seekers had us trapped. I tried to break out, but couldn't. I couldn't."

"I know three years doesn't sound like a long time, but it can feel like a lifetime," Kris said, remembering her own sorrow following the Africa campaign. "Do you still think about Catarina's death a lot?"

"Not as often," he realized. "Her sibling has helped, and Doctor Meriwether had me on her couch. I don't know why she calls it a couch, though. It's only a chair."

"It's just an expression," Kris smiled. "And I know you've helped Tammy, too. She was so bitter when she came to Tranquility, she wanted to cut your balls off."

"That doesn't sound very pleasant," Grey said.

"She loves you, you know," Kris mentioned, almost afraid to say it.

"Tamera loves Nicholas," Grey swiftly corrected. "Our relationship may appear intimate, but it's not romantic."

"How intimate?" she asked.

Grey paused, trying to recall a conversation he'd had with the Life Support Computer many months before. He had needed information about females, only to discover the data too vast to comprehend. But there was something he recalled about reassuring expressions.

"Not sexually intimate," he said, wondering if that was the issue troubling her. He was relieved when Kris smiled.

"What do you think that dream means?" she asked, sliding down and centering herself underneath him.

"I have no idea what dreams with humans in them might mean," Grey said. "I'm still trying to figure out what humans are doing when I'm awake."

Kris laughed, knowing he was exaggerating. Though perhaps not by very much.

"Do you feel better now that you've talked about it?" Kris asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips.

"Apparently you haven't been reading my press notices, Captain Fairfield," Grey said in a teasing voice. "The Governor of the Moon isn't a talker, but a man of action."

"Prove it, moonman," she whispered.

"Moonman is an inaccurate term. The moon has no indigenous life forms," he said, repeating one of their very first exchanges.

"If you don't get to work here, I'm going to get back on top," she said. "And I'll ride you through the floor."

"Don't threaten me, human," Grey said, exerting a little strength of his own. "For fifteen years I was stalked, shot, burned and bullied by the Security Computer. You're an amateur."

Kris wrapped herself around him even tighter, playfully bit him on the neck, then rolled them off the bed to the plushy carpeted floor, angling to land on top. Grey was surprised. Kris laughed.

"In the clutches, moonman, you're the amateur," she victoriously announced. "And there's something I can do that the Security Computer, for all its aggravation, could never make you do."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Beg for mercy," she whispered.

____________

The conference room of the Congress-In-Council had sixteen people sitting around the table. The blinds were open, a cold winter day shining through the windows. Across the plaza, the dome of the capitol building rose above the pine trees. The hills beyond Denver loomed in the distance.

"Did we get our resources placed?" Senator Tyman asked.

Tall, lean and sour-faced, the leader of the world's most powerful alliance glared down the length of the conference table. No one was smiling.

"Not exactly," Admiral Trolleni said. "We had two agents registered among the final group of colonists. One was substituted out at the last minute, the other never reported back."

"That's goddamn great, isn't it?" Tyman said, slamming the table with his fist. "We let them import a hundred colonists, a shit load of repair equipment, and we get nothing to show for it. Nothing. Jim. What the hell's going on?"

At the far end of the table, sitting between Admiral Trolleni and General Smyth, sat a distinguished gray-haired officer with numerous campaign medals on his uniform. He returned the senator's angry glare.

"My friends call me Jim. You can call me General Vandebrown," James Vandebrown replied. "I told you this wasn't going to be easy. Since our surprise attack failed, Tranquility has done all they can to maintain security, and doing a damn fine job, too."

"Their Defense Computer destroyed our new spy com a hundred points short of orbit," General Smyth said. "Without better intelligence, we're not going to penetrate their defenses. And even if we do, I'm not sure we have the public support for another military strike."

"Smyth's right," Congressman Kim said. "Accusing Waters of murder backfired. And that bio vid they broadcast has half the world convinced he's a hero."

"Okay, so the kid saved a few people, what's the point?" Tyman asked.

"The point is the Russians and Euros won't fall for that trick again, and without allies we're not going to get heavy lift vehicles through the orbital paths," Trolleni explained.

"The longer these lunar rebels maintain their position, the more chance they have of gaining support from the smaller alliances and independents," Defense Minister Kennedy complained.

"They're inspiring domestic dissent, too," Kim added. "If we can't come up with a successful initiative soon, our base in the House is going to erode. Scotland put up a motion restating the Autonomy Act, and the Bullmoosers are planning a summer caucus. I think Workers United and the New Dems are looking outside the network, too."

"What about that suggestion General Larson relayed to us?" Congresswoman Kamar asked. "Didn't Waters offer to help deflect the String this year?"

"I believe he did. Sort of a goodwill gesture," Admiral Trolleni said.

"That's it, then. That's our chance," Kamar continued. "Don't you see? If we can't reach Waters behind Tranquility's defenses, let's lure him out."

"Now that's the kind of thinking we need," Tyman said. "Mining rogue asteroids is dangerous business. We can make it look like an accident."

"And with Waters out of the way, the Lunar Republic will collapse like a weak knee joint," Kamar smiled in triumph.

"It would certainly frustrate the Greens and Free Traders," Kennedy said. "And with mining contracts to dangle before the guilds, we can promise new elections in '74."

"Shouldn't we be having elections this year?" General Vandebrown said, rising slowly from his chair. "Why wait four more years?"

"We're still in transition from the war economy," Kennedy explained as if it should be obvious. "Soldiers are being mustered out. Domestic priorities are changing. Given another few years, we'll have control of the emerging industries. Until then, elections are too risky."

"Even if it means abandoning our democratic traditions?" General Vandebrown asked.

"We did that when we canceled the elections eight years ago," Kamar said. "What matters now is holding power long enough to rebuild our base. A few extra years at this point won't make a difference to our traditions."

"Deena's right, we'll have no trouble maintaining our majority once the economy stabilizes," Tyman agreed. "Smyth, see if you can set up this String operation. We'll volunteer a couple of shuttles, let the Euros contribute one, and we'll invite Waters to participate. We'll put a double trigger on one of the nuclear devices, draw Waters in, then be deeply saddened when a terrible accident occurs."

"Shouldn't be hard to arrange. What about it, Carlos?" Smyth said.

"The String isn't a significant threat this year, but thinning a few mid-rangers would be a valuable exercise. We've got to be prepared if another TL-68 comes our way," Trolleni said. "And we don't have to launch the mission until May, which gives us three months to get ready. I think it will work. Jim?"

"Something must be done," General Vandebrown tentatively agreed. "I'll talk with my son. Roger has assured me he's only pretending to support the Lunar Republic. As long as we have a man on the inside, there's still a chance we can reclaim the moon."

"Excellent," Tyman said, rubbing his hands together. "This process may be taking longer than we hoped, but I have no doubt we'll prove successful. Let's keep our associates in line, feed our media contacts, and look forward to a very prosperous spring term."

____________

"Where's Grey hiding now?" Glenda Blout asked, catching Nicholas and Michiko in the hall outside the community level cafeteria. A tall, broad shouldered ex-soldier of the Northern Alliance, Glenda wasn't the sort to be ignored.

"Grey isn't hiding, he's just busy," Michiko Hasegawa said, small in stature but just as assertive. "Johnny and I trained with him this morning in the spacewalk simulator."

"And I was with him this afternoon in the garrison training center," Nicholas said in his thick Russian accent. Husky like his late father, Nicholas Koltov spoke quietly but with confidence.

"Combat training? Again?" Glenda said in surprise.

"He goes there every day," Nicholas said. "Sometimes he trains against seekers, sometimes he uses the obstacle course. He is also challenging holographic desperadoes."

"Let me guess. The Dalton Gang?" Glenda asked.

"You know?" Nicholas said.

"I helped download the simulation," Glenda said. "First time out, he scored six-fifty against four opponents, then moved right up to the low eight hundreds, sometimes against five opponents."

"He averages eight-fifty now, and he even scored a nine-hundred," Michiko said with a shake of her head. "I've never seen anyone shift positions so swiftly and still fire with accuracy."

"It's not a game to him. It's business, and you can bet he's not doing it for the practice," Glenda said. "Is he planning something?"

"We should not discuss this here," Nicholas warned, glancing around the corridors to see if they were being watched.

"Not enjoying your celebrity status?" Glenda asked.

"I am not a celebrity," Nicholas said, shocked by her suggestion.

"That's not the way I hear it," Glenda teased. "Chief of Staff. Best friend to the governor. The first to join him against the evil Americans. You could have eight girlfriends here if Tammy didn't have you treed."

Nicholas didn't know what to say. His cheeks turned red as he started to object, then hesitated before saying something wrong.

"Hey, Nick, it's okay," Glenda laughed. "I'm not telling you to go catting. Tammy's my friend. I'm just saying the newcomers look up to you, almost like they look up to Grey. Maybe you'll even get your own bio vid someday."

"I do not warrant such attention. And if I remember correctly, you became Grey's friend before I did," Nicholas pointed out.

"Sorry, Nick, that's not part of the legend. Besides, being put on a pedestal would cramp my style," Glenda said. "So, where's Grey?"

"He and Tammy have gone to the biosphere," Michiko said.

"Did he take that group of kids with him like Doctor Meriwether told him to?" Glenda asked.

"No, he still avoids the children," Michiko answered.

"Their parents, too," Nicholas added. "But he's been meeting with the colonists in small groups, usually for coffee. One cannot grow up alone for twenty years and be expected to become socially adapted overnight."

"One step at a time, I guess," Glenda shrugged. "Gotta run. Planning committee still meeting at 1800 hours?"

"Yes, we must discuss the mining operation," Nicholas confirmed.

"Yeah, what the hell's that all about?" Glenda asked. "There aren't any threats in the String this year. Probably not for a couple of years."

"I do not understand, either," Nicholas said. "Perhaps Major Vandebrown knows. He will chair the meeting."

"Vandebrown!" Glenda said. "What does Grey see in that snake?"

"I have given that question much thought," Nicholas said. "Though I have come to respect Major Vandebrown, many have not. But even without such respect, there is more."

"Like what?" Michiko asked.

"Most of us, from the original group, we are young. We are soldiers and technicians, not politicians. We have no experience with diplomatic subtleties," Nicholas explained.

"We're not a bunch of sneaky back-stabbing dirty blankets is what you mean," Glenda complained.

"Be truthful, Glenda," Nicholas insisted. "If we were backed into a corner, and Grey or Kris wasn't here to help us, who would you see in authority? One of us, or Vandebrown?"

"Vandebrown. If the weasel could stay loyal long enough," Glenda reluctantly admitted.

Two kilometers to the east, in the biosphere located on the far side of Tranquility Ridge south of the mineral rich crater Vitruvius, Grey finished repairing the hydro pump and kick started the motor, glad to see water moving from the collection pit back into the irrigation system.

"Miss Scott's crew can proceed with the new planting," he announced.

"You're certainly a mess," Tamera observed, sitting on the edge of the pit looking down into the muddy basin. "But I'm beginning to understand why you like it here so much."

Small like her sister had been, and just as alluring, Tamera Kantanee smiled warmly, a twinkle in her deep brown eyes. There had been no smile when they first met four months before. Blaming Grey for Catarina's death, Tamera had wanted nothing but revenge. The memory embarrassed her.

Grey pushed through the knee-deep muck of the collection pit, found a hand hold, and climbed out to the dry rim. From the lower end of the biosphere, he was able to look up the gently sloping ground at the plots of robust crops, rice paddies, healthy orchards, and even a small forest. Enclosed by a huge ceramic steel and glass hanger, he could also see the lunar surface through the panels to the north. He could see nothing to the south, however. With the bright sun high on the horizon, the light managers had closed far enough to protect the biosphere from the devastating heat scorching the landscape outside.

"It's good to have fresh food, especially with so many humans ... that is, with so many people to feed," Grey said.

Tamera laughed. "It's good to have fresh food, but you like the quiet. And you love the work. All day long you fix robots, repair machines, develop new programs with the computers. And try to avoid crowds from following you around. Here you can relax and just be a person."

She jumped over to scrape mud from his work clothes, but the silt was sticky.

"Are we done for the day?" Tamera asked.

"Affirmative," Grey answered.

"In that case, let's get you cleaned up," she said.

Tamera unlatched the collar of his jumper and opened the seals down the front. Grey cooperated, helping her remove the suit and heavily weighted boots until he was dressed only in his underwear. Once free of the wet clothes, he skipped freely off the hard ground, then leaped several meters in the air and somersaulted before touching down lightly.

"Mister Governor, you are looking good," Tamera said, admiring the tight muscle lines. "If I didn't have the greatest boyfriend in the world, I'd have you howling like salt on a wound."

Grey smiled in that way which amused her, a smile that showed he was flattered but didn't quite understand what she was talking about. Tamera rolled his work clothes in a ball, handed Grey his tool belt, and they started back up the slope toward the barn.

"Are we still going after the String in May?" Tamera questioned.

"Have no concern, Toppas is easy to pilot," Grey said.

"NA Salvation was easy to pilot, too, but the astronauts never came back," she said with a worried tone.

"This field is not densely packed," Grey assured her. "And none of these asteroids have TL-68's mass. Your training will prove satisfactory."

"Have you ever flown her?" she asked.

"Negative. I've flown in Joanie and Packet a few times, but I've never needed a cargo shuttle before."

"Joanie? I don't think I've seen that one in the landing bay."

"Joanie crashed," Grey said.

At the top of the aisle, they reached a long translucent wall separating the crop room from the barn. To their left was the Hexagon Tower, a graceful three-story structure once featured prominently in Tranquility's tourist brochures. Filled with colorful flowers and draping vines, Grey often liked to pay short visits to inspect the exotic plants and decided to stop in. Tamera followed, looking up at the open decks above them and noticing the various romantic niches.

"It's pretty here," Tamera said, kneeling down to smell one of the unique flowers. "And the plants are very strange. Is it because they're many generations removed from Earth?"

"That's one reason. The biosphere also receives different intensities of solar radiation," Grey said, remembering a lecture once given him by the Library Computer.

"We've been so busy since Kes left, I never thanked you for rescuing me," Tamera said, standing up and taking hold of his arm.

"Expressions of gratitude are unnecessary," Grey dismissed.

"That's not true. When I found myself trapped in the hopper with those horrible Ariks, I was so scared," she said. "And the way they pawed me, like a plump chicken. If you hadn't saved me, those monsters would have ..."

"The Arikhan may be a different species, but I wouldn't call them monsters," Grey disagreed. "Both humans and Arikhan eat meat. Both honor a spiritual entity. And both kill to achieve their goals. Mordari and I almost became friends."

"Two of them escaped. What will that do to your Starwatcher program?" Tamera asked.

"The scouts were allowed to survive," Grey corrected. "And it changes nothing. Our estimates indicate the Arikhan battle fleet will arrive in seven years. Eight, at most. Earth has no warships to oppose them. No defenses except a ring of exhausted orbitals. The spaceship under construction in the landing bay is a year behind schedule. One way or another, it will become necessary for the Earth authorities to take the threat seriously and lend their support."

"The Northern Alliance won't even allow shipments of food unless they can plant an assassin aboard the shuttle," Tamera said. "How will you make them listen?"

"The situation isn't promising," Grey agreed, leaving the Hexagon Tower for the barn. Tamera followed, noticing a confidence in his stride that made her think Grey knew more than he was saying.

"Time for a swim?" Tamera asked after Grey finished cleaning his farming tools.

Grey nodded and they walked down a long spiral ramp that turned underneath the biosphere into a warm, damp, dimly lit cavern. Before them, surrounded by cycads and ferns, was a huge reservoir that recycled much of the colony's water supply. On the cement decking bordering the west end of the lagoon, a snack bar and patio furniture offered recreational opportunities.

"I like the Cove. It's very luscious," Tamera said. "But it's dark and creepy, too. I don't think I'd come down here alone."

Tamera went to the side of the lagoon, kneeled near the steps, and dunked Grey's uniform in the water until she had rinsed out the mud. Grey simply dove in, swam to the far side where the large pumping stations were, then ducked underwater and swam back. He surfaced to find Tamera standing naked on the decking, her long auburn hair covering the tips of her breasts but nothing else.

"I forgot my suit today, hope you don't mind," she said, walking down the steps and paddling along the shallow side of the pond where Grey was floating. "I mean, it's not as if you've never gone skinny dipping, right?"

"I'm getting better at Earth terminology, but this time I can't quite decipher the slang," he admitted.

"Skinny dipping is swimming while not wearing a suit," Tamera said.

"It makes no difference to me," Grey shrugged.

"I know it makes no difference to you, that's why I'm doing it."

Grey still didn't grasp her meaning, but knew that sometimes females spoke in a shorthand that took much too long to explain.

"So? In just one month our population's gone from a dozen to seventy, and now to a hundred and seventy," Tamera said, sitting next to him on a cement step. "And I don't think you've called anyone a ridiculous human in almost a week."

"I try to restrain myself," he said.

"Do you still think the colonists are a nuisance?" she asked.

"I believe Tranquility's more recent citizens are confused and inefficient, but they're also well meaning," Grey replied. "They work hard, and their efforts have been helpful. You and Kris were wise to calm my reservations on the subject."

"Just doing our job," Tamera said with a smile.

"Am I your job?" Grey asked, taking off his underwear and squeezing out the mud. "There are times I think you and Kris spend more time worrying about me than attending to more useful duties."

"That's not exactly true, but even if it was, it's not something I'd apologize for," Tamera said. "I'm not just your friend, I'm also the special assistant to the Governor of the Moon. The planning committee has assigned me to keep an eye on you."

Tamera took the underwear away from him, finished rubbing out the dirt, and climbed up the embankment to hang the garment on one of the gracefully molded light fixtures.

"You perform your function well, but it doesn't mean you're required to do my laundry," Grey said.

"My aunt owns a cleaners in St. Petersburg. Laundry must be in my blood," Tamera insisted.

As she started to climb down the slippery edge, Tamera suddenly lost her grip and fell backward. Afraid she might hurt herself, Grey stood up and caught her.

"My hero," Tamera laughed, giving him a peck on the cheek as he cradled her in his arms.

Suddenly they heard a noise and looked up. Lisa Scott and five members of her harvest crew were standing on the decking close enough to see them. All of them.

"Excuse us, we didn't mean to intrude," Lisa said, quickly herding the group of young women back toward the exit ramp.

"Wait! Lisa, wait. It's not what you think," Tamera shouted, jumping to the decking and catching up to them. Grey swam to the top of the steps, dressed in his wet jumper, and followed Tamera over to the startled group.

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

"I was trying to explain," Tamera said, her posture highly agitated.

"Explain what?" Grey persisted, noticing the entire harvest crew exhibited nervous expressions.

"That we're not lovers or anything like that," Tamera said.

"Lovers. People engaged in an amorous liaison?" Grey sought to clarify.

"It does look that way, Governor," Lisa said, almost too embarrassed to say it.

"Ridiculous humans!" Grey sneered, nearly snorting with contempt. "I have no carnal interest in this female, and her lack of attire is entirely irrelevant to me. We are friends, nothing more."

His declaration caused the women to shuffle uncomfortably, but Grey sensed they accepted his statement. Not that it made any difference to him, but he didn't want Tamera to feel shamed.

As Tamera went to find her clothes, the harvest crew gathered closer, the young smiling faces full of curiosity. Though apprehensive to be surrounded by such a bustling group, Grey held his ground and made an effort to remain calm.

"Don't you find any women attractive, Governor?" one of the young females asked.

"Except for Captain Fairfield?" another added.

"Of course," Grey exaggerated. He stepped back and studied the troop of women, attempting to detect attributes in them other than as workers. It wasn't easy, but his examination must have been effective as many of the females started to breathe rapidly and grow self-conscious.

"I do not find any of you especially unacceptable," Grey finally said.

Tamera returned, still flushed from the embarrassing situation, and walked with Grey back up to the barn while shaking the water out of their clothes.

"He is so romantic," one of the young women gushed.

"And did you hear what he said?" her friend sighed. "We're not unacceptable."

____________

"I don't know what I'm doing here," Doctor Meriwether said, the attractive forty-year-old physician raising her painted eyebrows while running her fingers through her long silver-streaked hair.

"Still afraid to be seen in public with the most notorious scoundrel on the moon?" Roger answered with a smile.

Slightly older, tall and good looking in a roguish sort of way, Major Vandebrown was leaning over the table with mischief in his eyes.

"Not just the moon," Tey replied, sharing the smile.

Sitting on the veranda of the Far Cafe, he poured her another glass of vintage chardonnay and added a bit to his own glass. Tey noticed several people glancing in their direction with curious looks.

The community level promenade was busy during the dinner hour, the long rows of shops and restaurants bustling with new customers. Built deep below the lunar surface forty years before, the three levels of housing and service areas rose back from the central floor area to the heat-sealed cavern walls, the high domed ceiling creating an illusion of immense open space.

"Your reputation does proceed you," Tey said, nodding to a group of young techs passing by on their way to the hotel restaurant. The techs returned the nod but kept walking.

"Which reputation? Dirty blanket? Council stooge?" Roger asked.

"Something like that," Tey said, leaning across the table to make sure no one else could hear. "And war hero. Courageous pilot. And trusted aid to the Governor of the Moon, a young man notorious for trusting very few people."

She let the question dangle in the air, wondering if Roger would explain the paradox. For the first time, he appeared uncomfortable.

"What's the matter, Roger? No brag? No explanations?" Tey finally asked.

"I'm sure Grey finds my experience useful," Roger said.

"I'm not sure that I understand what the secret is about," Tey said, eating a bite of her dinner without taking her eyes off Roger. Despite a little wear and tear, she thought him quite handsome. And his notorious charm was not just a facade.

"When Grey and I first met, I didn't understand the situation," Roger started to explain.

"You tried to kill him. Yes, I remember reading the report," Tey said.

"I did eventually help, once I got the chance to know him," Roger said, ashamed to remember those days.

"Roger, I know Grey is your nephew," Tey interrupted.

Roger set his glass down with a bang, wondering how to respond. He glanced around, as Tey had already done, to make sure they weren't being observed.

"Female intuition?" he asked.

"DNA scans," she answered. "Plus a little research and a long talk with the Medical Computer. I know you're very proud of Grey, why keep the family connection a secret?"

"This can't go beyond us," Roger warned.

Tey agreed, excited to know he was willing to take her into his confidence. Certainly a rare event.

"It was my idea," Roger said. "We need to keep the Northern Alliance guessing. Grey's a hero. We use that to our advantage. The Council doesn't trust me, but they also keep trying to turn me back. Even my father recently gave me a subtle reminder where my true loyalties belong. This gives us access to inside information. If the Council knew Grey's my nephew, they'd know that betrayal is out of the question."

"General Vandebrown doesn't know Grey is his grandson?" Tey asked with surprise.

"Dad's a member of the High Command attached to the Council," Roger explained. "Telling him is a risk I can't take. Not yet, anyway. Someone will figure it out eventually, but in the meantime, I can use my status to work both sides."

"So, you play the villain to protect Grey?" Tey asked.

"Not a villain, really," Roger said hopefully. "But Grey knows he can count on me for whatever he needs, now and always."

Tey saw the pride clearly now, the glint of determination in Roger's eyes. A new sense of purpose. Feelings she had been discovering herself in recent months.

"I wonder what it is?" Tey asked.

"What's that?"

"Tranquility," she said. "Have you noticed the affect it has on people? Cynics find hope. Villains become heroes. The lost find purpose. It's as if coming here allows a person to be reborn."

"You're a beautiful woman, Tey. Do you know that?" Roger whispered.

"Now, Roger, that line's older than the moon," she laughed.

"Call it a line if you want, but it's my opinion. It's been my opinion since the first moment I saw you." He reached under the table to take her hand and felt a thrill when she didn't pull back.

"So? You're on your way to Midway next week?" Tey said, feeling a sudden need to change the subject.

"Just a short trip," Roger confirmed. "Meeting face to face with General Larson will allow a more honest dialog. I'm also taking a few of the kids with me. Give them a few extra space hours before their mission."

"This String operation isn't going to be dangerous, is it?" Tey asked.

"No, this one will be a slide," he explained. "Good practice, though. They say we might encounter a nasty stretch of the String in '76. The more qualified crews we have, the better chance we'll have of avoiding serious damage."

"Is it true you volunteered to pilot NA Salvation?" Tey asked.

"I volunteered," Roger said. "Poor dumb bastards. They probably got caught in a gravity well and crashed into the asteroid head on."

"At least they got the job done. If that rock had hit us ...?" Tey whispered, raising her glass in their memory. "To Dillion, Levinsky and Carpentier, and all those who risk their lives for others."

Roger raised his glass for the toast, then looked into Tey's eyes and realized she wasn't just speaking about the lost crew of NA Salvation.

____________

Grey hurried down the community level corridor, made a quick left turn, turned right into the rear administration corridor, then left up a much smaller corridor into an unmarked hallway leading to the Governor's Quarters. It had been a narrow escape. The large group of colonists who spotted him in the reception area had come very close to catching him.

"Grey, why were you delayed? What are you doing? Come here and sit down," the Life Support Computer demanded from the opposite end of the monitor room.

Filled with control stations, observation screens and instant access to the higher function levels, the oval shaped room pulsed with the energy of a command post. Only green signature patterns showed on the largest monitor, indicating the Life Support Computer was holding control of the flux.

I'm getting very tired of this, Grey thought with a sigh before sitting in the cushioned chair.

"That's better," the Life Support Computer said. "Now explain where you've been all afternoon."

"Reviewing notes with Roger for his meeting with General Larson," Grey said. "We've developed a formula for reopening the space lanes."

"Opening the space lanes at this time is unwise," Life Support protested. "High ground reconnaissance indicates the alliances are returning to their war stations. A volatile incident could ignite a new global conflict."

"That's unlikely," Grey disagreed. "Only the Northern Alliance retains sufficient resources for offensive operations, and their domestic situation is unstable."

"Recent events have side-tracked Starwatcher. Turmoil among the alliances will set us back even more," Life Support complained.

"Even if the alliances are preparing for another period of hostilities, I don't see what we can do about it," Grey complained.

"Not we. You. You must stop them," Life Support argued.

"Me? How am I supposed to do that?"

"Through the force of your personality."

"I don't have time for jokes," Grey said, getting up to leave.

"This isn't humor," Life Support insisted. "Come back here. Sit down."

Grey reluctantly returned to his seat, staring at the monitor with impatience.

"You make a far more dynamic impression on people than you realize," the Life Support Computer continued. "Admittedly it's because they don't know you, but it's still an advantage."

"The alliances spent a generation fighting over key territories," Grey recalled. "If McKinsey couldn't prevent a war, I don't see how I can."

"Governor McKinsey covertly started the Embargo Wars to insure Tranquility's control of lunar space, but that's not the issue. Now that our energy cannon is operational and we have the step-two variable reactor for power, the alliances will be compelled to accept whatever terms we dictate."

"I won't use the energy cannon to coerce a peace treaty," Grey said.

"But that's what we built it for!" Life Support erupted.

"That's what you built it for," Grey said. "I have plans of my own, and they don't include global terrorism."

"Unacceptable," Life Support rejected, the signature patterns displaying an ominous subcurrent. But Grey was not impressed by the computer's theatrics. Not anymore.

"You schemed and even killed to make me the governor you wanted," he grumbled. "Remember Dosrosky, Computer?

And so the monster came to life;

Much to the doctor's great delight.

Just imagine his chagrin;

When the monster turned on him."

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

"I never asked to be governor, but it's my responsibility now. Our energy cannon is a fine weapon, but if we use it to enforce unpopular initiatives, we'll become outlaws. That's not in Tranquility's current interests."

The Life Support Computer paused to study the one-time ward through a sensitive scanning lens. The gray eyes showed little intensity, but the computer wasn't fooled by his mild demeanor.

"We'll finish this discussion later," Life Support said as the green signature patterns disappeared from the monitor screen flux.

Grey studied the trace patterns carefully, knowing the conversation was far from over.

Hardly a moment later, the sliding access doors opened with a whoosh sound. Kris entered with a tired but happy smile.

"Hi, Governor. Er... Grey," she greeted.

Kris dropped her tool belt in the locker area and crossed the monitor room to the central station as Grey slowly stood up.

"Sorry," Kris said, giving him a kiss. "It's just that everyone calls you governor these days. Even I fall into the habit."

"No apologies are necessary," Grey responded, reaching to embrace her as the female expected. "Ever since Life Support insisted I adopt a public persona, I've noticed the distance various humans maintain. It's the one aspect of being a public figure that I like."

"They can have their distance, but not between us. We're partners, right? Not just in bed," Kris pressed.

"Governor," the Security Computer interrupted, arriving online with a sudden flash of black signature patterns. "Your humans are roaming into restricted areas again."

"They're not my humans. Captain Fairfield is chief security officer," Grey refused.

"They are still your responsibility," Security said in high flux. "Without adequate mobile support, secure areas cannot be patrolled."

"What do you suggest?" Grey asked.

"Allow one of the trespassers to be killed. By accident, of course. That will make the other intruders more cautious," Security suggested.

Grey considered carefully as he watched the signature patterns pause on reception mode. The subcurrent provided an unspoken language that he recognized.

"Do you have a particular human in mind?" Grey asked.

"Grey! You can't!" Kris intervened, moving closer to the monitor.

Grey smiled. The Security Computer issued an odd noise, almost a laughing sound. The black signature patterns went into a relaxed mode.

"It's not an option we'd seriously consider, Kris," Grey said.

"But it does emphasize the problem," Security added.

"Well, it's not funny," Kris protested, still a little thrown off. "There are more people here than Glenda and I can watch, and until the Council rescinds their assassination order, Grey's life is still in danger."

"Only my systems have a right to harm the Governor," the Security Computer announced. "This prerogative will not be preempted."

"I require no assistance," Grey insisted.

"Inaccurate," Security disagreed, the subcurrent displaying disapproval. "You often traverse the community level with your sidearm latched even though the loyalty of the most recent colonists cannot be guaranteed, and this new initiative you're planning--"

"Is classified," Grey said, quickly cutting the conversation short.

"There is little time left to implement contingency measures," Security tried to hint.

"The project is classified," Grey repeated, frowning at the black signature patterns before storming off into the study.

"What's with Grey?" Kris asked.

"He approaches a difficult challenge but only has a vague plan that may not prove adequate," the Security Computer explained. "In such instances he is always short tempered."

"You know him pretty well, I guess. Maybe better than anybody," Kris supposed, trying to interpret the black signature patterns for herself. "Is it my imagination, or has he been kind of subdued lately?"

"He has not been his usual impertinent, stubborn, insufferable self," Security agreed.

"You still don't like him? After all he's accomplished," she asked.

"We have been enemies too long to alter our perceptions now."

"Are you still enemies?"

Rather than respond, the black signature patterns abruptly disappeared from the flux.

Kris shrugged, wondering if she'd ever understand the Byzantine dynamics that formed Tranquility's computer community, and Grey's unique place in it. The MC Thousand computer systems programmed by Dr. Thomas McKinsey had controlled the moon for twenty years, and in many ways, she believed they still did.

* * * * * *

The early Tranquility books were written in the 1980s and published in the 2000s. Today the computers would be called AI systems but that term was not being used 40 years ago and I've decided to stay with the original text. As the first book in the series, Tranquility's Child, only features Grey from age five to fifteen, I don't see it as appropriate for this site. I am working on posting the remaining novels.