Tranquility Down

Part Two

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 Two

MIDWAYS

Toppas floated closer to the Midway Space Station employing maneuvering thrusters, then slid sideways on the starboard wing jets. An experienced pilot as far back as Tranquility's glory days, before the Embargo Wars, Roger provided instructions as Tamera guided the medium sized cargo shuttle gently into the dock. Located at L1, the Earth-Moon Lagrange point, it had maintained a stable orbit through two decades of neglect.

"Wait for the clamps," Roger advised. "We'll disembark once we've got seal on the airlock."

Tamera tried not to get impatient while Nicholas, Michiko and Johnston looked out the portholes at the beautiful blue water planet rotating in the distance. Close up, they could see the world's only surviving space platform, a long metal cylinder with docking extensions at both ends. Still rotating around the central hub, the wheel shaped living quarters provided enough centrifugal force to let the crews sleep in normal gravity.

Before long the hatch slid open letting the visitors float into the receiving bay.

"We call this the Left End," Roger explained. "Midway's designed for a staff of sixteen and transition facilities for forty, so there's no trouble accommodating a few visitors."

"The cabinets are well stocked," Michiko reported, checking the emergency supplies.

Roger sat down at the control panel to run a diagnostic, explaining each procedure to his trainees.

"Just as Grey said, the station is fully functional," Roger announced, much to everyone's relief.

Roger opened the next airlock and led the way toward the central hub, fifty meters of research facilities, observatories, and even a recreation department.

"Don't touch anything you don't understand," Roger cautioned. "Just relax and go easy. Take a nap in the wheel if you want, but read the instructions on the latrines before using one. We don't want to spend the next two days floating around in our own crap."

Michiko and Johnston laughed, then went to inspect the engineering stations while Tamera floated toward life sciences. Nicholas followed Roger as he reviewed the power station, pleased to see the fuel readings all within acceptable limits.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Roger said.

"It does look good," Nicholas agreed. "If the Northern Alliance knew how well this station has held up, they might have reoccupied it before attacking the moon."

"Grey said he's done maintenance here several times over the years. I doubt it would still be habitable if he hadn't," Roger explained.

"Can we visit the observation deck?" Michiko asked.

Followed by the youngsters, Roger floated through the central artery, then ducked into a hatch near the center of the station, passed through the galley, and emerged into a comfortable room underneath a large dome. Roger pushed a lever and the shield moved aside revealing a spectacular view of Earth.

"Home looks a lot closer from here," Michiko sighed.

"Too close. I bet it won't be long before our company arrives," Johnston worried.

He was right. They had hardly spent half an hour enjoying the scenery when evidence of another spacecraft appeared.

"There she is," Nicholas announced, pointing out the observation window.

"I hope they brought supplies," Tamera mentioned. "We may have plenty of air and water here, but not much food."

"Grey says the galley has a food dispenser," Roger mentioned.

"Twenty-year-old reserves? No thank you, sir!" Michiko laughed. "Maybe Grey can eat that stuff, but I want a lamb chop."

"I am tired of salads and soybeans also," Nicholas said. "Maybe they will have some fried chicken? Or a tuna?"

Just a streak of light at first, NA Safari gradually came into view and maneuvered into the open dock opposite Toppas, approaching extra slow to compensate for the pilot's inexperience. Space flight isn't the profession it used to be, Roger sadly thought. He glanced at Nicholas and realized the young engineer was thinking the same thing.

They floated back down the corridor to the main artery toward the Left End, encountering the new arrivals as they emerged from the airlock. A pair of pilots, half a dozen mission specialists, four marines for security, and several officers.

"Hi, Roger, good to see you again," General Larson said. A stocky man in his early fifties, Larson reached to shake Roger's hand.

"Hello, Wes," Roger acknowledged. "Looks like you brought plenty of company."

"Don't worry about your status," Wes quickly assured the group, particularly Johnston, who had once been a member of his immediate command. "I have a guarantee for your safe conduct. We appreciate the effort you've taken in meeting us here."

"We're grateful for that, too," Roger said, neglecting to mention he had already guaranteed their own safe conduct, as spies are inclined to do.

Larson floated forward, gave Roger a gliding shove, and they drifted toward a view port where they could speak with reasonable privacy.

"How's the lad?" Larson asked.

"Doing fine, Wes," Roger said with surprise.

"My grandkids keep asking me what it was like to spend Winter Holiday at Tranquility," Larson continued. "Grey is quite a hero among the youngsters, you know."

"No, I didn't," Roger said. "We hear rumors, of course, but it's hard to get the truth with all the censoring."

"I realize we can't talk here, but when you see him, pass along my best," Larson urged.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that," Roger said with a smile. The smile didn't last long as a lean officer with an ambitious gleam in his eyes floated toward them.

"This is my mission adjutant, Commander Joshua Sykes," Larson introduced.

"We'll have time for pleasantries later," Sykes remarked, nothing in his voice indicating that meeting Vandebrown was a pleasure. "We're making the reoccupation of this station permanent whether Tranquility approves or not."

"Diplomatically phrased," Roger said, withholding his true opinion. As usual, Tamera wasn't so shy, but Nicholas put a hand on her shoulder to urge restraint.

"We've got a passenger you haven't met yet," Sykes added.

As if on cue, the airlock opened again, revealing an old soldier with distinguished gray hair and a slender build. The intense gaze caused instant pause among those being studied, then the old soldier gave himself a push forward, floating into the receiving bay.

"Roger, good to finally see you again," General James Vandebrown greeted.

"Dad? What the hell are you doing here?" Roger replied.

"Not too old for field work yet," James said, reaching to shake his son's hand. "If the rest of you will excuse us, my boy and I have issues to discuss."

They floated back into the artery, then climbed up a spoke of the wheel, gradually picking up enough gravity to sit in one of the lounges.

"Finally a little weight," Roger said. "I was starting to get a tinge of space sickness there."

"I've been sick for the last six months," his father replied. "We put you on New Ranger to get our moon base back, and now you're the goddamn foreign minister of the goddamned Lunar Republic."

"Afraid of being outranked?" Roger teased.

"I didn't put my butt in an antique spaceship to trade barbs," James complained. "I want to know why you've betrayed your country. Why have you betrayed our family?"

Only the second accusation hurt.

"This isn't a secure facility, Dad. Nothing we say here is held in confidence," Roger warned.

"What is there to tell?"

"I'm no traitor. As for foreign minister of the Lunar Republic, it's just a title. It means nothing to me. When the time comes, you'll see exactly where my true loyalty is," Roger explained.

"Then you haven't disappointed me?" James asked.

"Dad, for the first time since Jaime died, I know just how important family is," Roger assured him.

"That's good, son. You've really had me worried," James said. "About this kid. This Grey Waters. That biography they broadcast has gotten a lot of attention. Even in the NA, the censors can't suppress the stories. If we don't put a stop to it, the Lunar Republic will go from a joke on late night vid to a legitimate government. We've got to do something."

"The Council's not giving me much to work with," Roger argued. "As it is, I'm never allowed to see Waters unless armed guards are present. If I could get credit for bringing in the supplies we need, I might be able to gain his confidence. Maybe convince him to give up this Lunar Republic nonsense."

"Can't promise much," James warned. "I'm not all that popular with the Council these days myself, but I'll try to get you something."

"More the better. After I tried to kill him last July, getting his trust is going to take time," Roger insisted.

"I'm surprised they tolerate you at all," James said. "And your popularity back home isn't at high tide, either. Half the Council wants you returned in irons."

"The more I do to alienate the Council, the better chance I have of penetrating Waters' security," Roger suggested.

"Yes, of course," James agreed. "Don't worry, I'll set the record straight with those who need to know."

"Thanks, Dad. Your help means a lot to me."

"I understand you and Larson are here to discuss mining the String," James mentioned.

"New crews need to be trained. With the war finally over, this seems a good time to start," Roger explained. "Every year that asteroid belt crosses our orbit. One day we'll need to fight back, like we did with TL-68."

"Will Waters be joining the mission?"

"He wants to," Roger said.

James went to a view port and looked out, hesitation in his posture.

"Roger, this kid. What's he really like?" James eventually asked. "Watching that video ... Well, he does seem to be a very courageous young man. Even admirable."

"There's no denying that," Roger said.

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt to postpone this String operation. Wait until conditions are more stable," the old soldier suggested.

"I appreciate your concern, Dad," Roger said, a little surprised. "But we've already done most of the planning. Why? Is there a problem?"

James continued looking out the view port as if there was something more he wanted to say. He glanced at Roger, wondering what his son might truly know, or suspect, about the mission, then withheld comment. He had said too much already.

___________

"He did it. The son of a bitch did it," Admiral Trolleni shouted, running into Tyman's office waving the report.

"Did what? Who did what?" Tyman asked.

Looking up from his legislative review, Tyman appeared annoyed. Tyman's much aggrieved House Whip was even more upset to have his conference interrupted.

"We're busy," Congressman Gumper protested.

Trolleni refused to be put off.

"Roger Vandebrown convinced Waters to lead the String operation personally," Trolleni said. "Got word straight from Larson. They'll be going after seven mid-rangers."

"This is great news," Gumper said, smiling for the first time in months. "I'll let our floor advocates make the announcement, then we can schedule a press conference."

"Make sure there's no misconceptions," Tyman warned. "We're not abandoning our rights to the moon, just cooperating for the better protection of our citizens."

"Thanks, Roy," Gumper said, rushing toward the executive offices.

Tyman stood up from his cluttered desk to look out the window. Just across the plaza, the capitol building gleamed in a bright Denver morning. Hundreds of staff workers and aides were hurrying to work, the process of rebuilding the Northern Alliance a long one after so many years of war.

"Who's commanding the mission?" Tyman asked.

"Marlborough's our best high ground officer," Trolleni said. "Not many left with any deep space credentials, you know. Thought we'd give him the Lindley and have Major Cordova command Hawkeye. I know Cordova only has one mission in his satchel, but we need to train new field officers."

"Cordova is an idealist," Tyman said, rejecting the suggestion. "Put Sykes in Hawkeye. He's hungry."

"What about the rest of the crews?" Trolleni asked.

"Pick whoever tops the duty roster," Tyman advised. "Remember, there's going to be questions later. We can't have the mission look like we packed it with assassins."

"Does Larson know why we sent him to Midway?" Trolleni asked.

"To arrange a goodwill mission to mine the String," Tyman said. "That's what everyone thinks and that's what everyone is going to keep thinking. Assign a silent force to assemble the warhead, then have Sykes report to me."

"So, we keep this strictly below the water line?" Trolleni asked.

"Damn right. Freeze out Smyth and the Old Man, just in case. They haven't been very enthusiastic about this."

"Well, come on, what do you expect? The kid's a hero," Trolleni said.

"I don't give a greasy dump if he's Mother Mary Terry. He's gotten in our way once too often," Tyman rebutted. "I was a young Congressman when Racer One almost got the moon back for us. That was fifteen years ago. I made the motion that authorized the Columbus expedition in '62. Fourteen marines dead. Not to mention those farmers we executed after the revolt."

"What does the uprising have to do with the moon?" Trolleni asked. "Once we canceled the elections, some sort of protest was inevitable. You could even say it was a matter of patriotism."

"I'm a patriot, too, goddamn it, and nothing's as patriotic as winning," Tyman said. "Eight years ago, if the Columbus had recaptured the moon, do you think we would have needed tanks to suppress the revolt? Would there have even been a revolt?"

"I guess things could have turned out differently," Trolleni confessed.

"It's our job to make things turn out differently," Tyman insisted. "You've got six weeks to get this String operation going, I suggest you focus on getting the job done this time."

___________

"Kris! How are you, dear?" Valerie Fairfield said.

Sitting in the monitor room of the Governor's Quarters, Kris adjusted the communications monitor to enhance the video image. During the war, the transmission would have been grainy. Peace had brought a slight improvement.

"Hello, big sister," Kris said once the signal stabilized.

Just over thirty, strikingly beautiful, with long blonde hair and vivid blue eyes, Valerie offered the famous smile that made her a tabloid treasure. Next to Valerie sat her husband, Michael Zopek, a former college football star and war hero. Their courtship at the height of the Embargo Wars had made headlines throughout the Northern Alliance.

"Hey, Kris, good to see you," Mike said. "Nice to finally have a private com channel. Well, sort of private, anyway."

"Yeah, Mike, good to see you, too. New house?" Kris asked, noticing a familiar library in the background. Having once been security chief for the Malibu Institute of Space Technology, Kris knew the residence well.

"They gave me the office, figured I may as well take the mansion, too," Valerie smiled. "It's really big and we love the view of the ocean. Needs new drapes, though."

"My sister, President of M.I.S.T.," Kris said with a shake of her head. "I thought you had to be an old lady to chair a university?"

"What can I say, I needed a job. We all can't be living out grand adventures on the moon," Valerie answered. "How's Grey? Has he finally slowed down long enough to let those wounds heal?"

"He slowed down, for about an hour," Kris sighed. "It's hard having such a pig-headed beau. No insult intended, Mike."

"Good to know you won't be harping on me as much," Mike said.

"And the other matter?" Valerie asked.

"I think Grey may have a touch of battle fatigue, otherwise he's doing okay," Kris reported.

Valerie and Mike noticed something vague in her tone and realized that, with the communication possibly being monitored, there might be some details best left undiscussed.

"Hey, I heard you were invited down for the Black Sash games. Going to pay us a visit?" Mike asked.

"Not too likely. Keeping Grey out of trouble is full time employment," Kris said. "Sure would be nice to see some of the old gang, though. The Independence crew is having a reunion. But you know, things being what they are. It's not like our relations with the NA are that great."

"How are you really doing, dear?" Valerie pressed.

"Really? Better than ever," Kris replied with a smile. "What's new with you? Going to have a baby or anything?"

"No, no babies yet," Valerie insisted. "Some influential people are asking me to run for the senate, though. That is, if the Congress-In-Council ever schedules new elections."

"That would be great, Val. They really need you," Kris urged.

Valerie smiled but Mike frowned. Kris wasn't surprised to see he was less than enthusiastic. Since the Africa campaign, all Mike had wanted was a quiet, normal life. Being a part of a world-famous couple, traveling to the moon, and possibly being the husband of a prominent senator hadn't been sketched into his game plan.

"They've got to have new elections eventually," Mike said. "People are really getting fed up with all this bull. I don't know what anyone can do about it, but I sure wish somebody would do something."

Valerie and Kris laughed. "Maybe Michael is the one who should run," Valerie said, hugging his arm.

"He'll get my vote," Kris agreed. "Guess I should probably go now, but you guys be careful, okay? Especially if you're getting into politics. Plans gone bad is what got Laureen killed, and I can tell you, living with these computers here at Tranquility is an education. Machiavelli could take lessons from them."

"Is the Life Support Computer still up to its old tricks?" Valerie asked.

"Worse than ever," Kris said.

"What about the Security Computer? Is it true you guys turned that thing back on?" Mike questioned. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Actually, Security and I get along pretty good. In a weird sort of way, I trust Security a lot more than I'd ever trust Life Support."

"You moon people, life must turn upside down for you every two days," Valerie laughed. "Take care, little sister."

"Bye, Kris," Mike said, waving his hand.

"Yeah, bye guys," Kris said, surprised by Valerie's comment.

Jeez, Kris thought, leaning back in her chair as the monitor screen went to standby. Am I a moon person now? What a strange idea.

___________

The huge landing bay was bustling with robotic activity as Grey climbed out from under Toppas.

"The starboard thrusters are working fine now," Grey reported, wiping soot off his work suit.

"She's looking good, Grey," Kris agreed, her overalls just as dirty as his. "Kind of old, but plenty sturdy."

Grey walked around the cargo shuttle looking for flaws as it rested in the maintenance dock, but he seemed satisfied with the repairs.

"Black Raven and Packet are rating good, too," Kris said, glancing over toward the storage bays that held two more shuttlecraft. One, the sleek A-6 carrier class Black Raven, was technically the property of the Russian Republic. The rather small A-2 messenger class Packet had once belonged to the Northern Alliance postal service, prior to its confiscation by the Lunar Republic.

"Our fleet should prove adequate," Grey said, dispatching several ground crew units to finish the seals.

Kris paused to study landing bay major's spacious floor area, the many service bays tucked into the walls, the huge domed roof, and the two massive elevators that lifted the shuttlecraft up to the airlocked launch tubes. To her right, the triple chamber airlocks provided access to the colony's underground facilities. To the left, up on the second level walkway, she could see the hospitality complex which included lodgings and a variety of amenities for the shuttle crews. Including Kelly's Saloon, once the most notorious den of spies and smugglers in the solar system.

"This is where we first met," Kris said, indicating a place on the upper walkway not far from the emergency airlock system. "You were dressed in that sentinel outfit and claimed to be a robot."

"I've never claimed to be a robot," Grey corrected. "I claimed to be a computer, which on reflection, was inaccurate."

"You lied," she pointed out.

"I wanted your expedition to go home before I was forced to confront Security. I failed," Grey explained.

"You tried your best, we just refused to leave," Kris said, not the least bit sorry to have ruined his strategy. "And when you shipped Val, Mike and Roger back to Earth, I stayed behind. And when you talked about sending everyone home after the invasion, I told you to shove it up your butt. You're stuck with me, moonman, and don't you ever forget it."

Grey liked the way Kris stood defiantly with her hands on her hips, a seductive glint in her eyes, and a challenging smile on her lips. He felt the strangest impulse to pull her close, to kiss those challenging lips, tear the soiled uniform off her defiant body, and--

"Look! It's the Governor!" someone shouted.

Kris and Grey turned to see a dozen new colonists rushing in their direction from the airlock system with a slender, ball-headed robot leading the charge.

"The tour guide?" Grey asked in astonishment.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you," Kris said. "We managed to scrape together enough spare parts to rebuild it. Though if I'd known it was going to interrupt what I think just got interrupted, I'd have turned it into a clock-radio instead."

Though he knew it was silly, Grey felt tears welling up in his eyes. It's not often an old friend returns from the dead.

"Greetings, young sir. Hello, Captain Fairfield," the tour guide said.

"What are you doing here?" Kris asked, trying not to sound unfriendly in front of the guests.

"It is my privilege to show and describe the many wonders of the Tranquility Lunar Colony," the tour guide grandly announced. "And may I say what a pleasure it is to once again be performing duties appropriate for a unit of my unique specifications."

"You might have omitted the vocal track," Grey whispered to Kris.

"Now you tell me," she laughed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Grey Waters, the Governor of the Moon," the tour guide said quite unnecessarily. "The governor was born here at Tranquility on July 31, 2049, only the fourth child ever to survive a lunar pregnancy. I was his first friend and most trusted confident. In 2058, following a meteor strike that hit the biosphere ..."

"Thank you, tour guide, you've been most informative," Grey interrupted, using a curt tone to end the babbling.

"Hi, Mr. Ralston," Kris said, stepping up to greet the colonists, including two youngsters in their early teens. "Hi, Bobby, having fun? How's the tour, Melinda?"

"It's great, Kris," young Melinda said. "We saw the storage deck where Governor Waters fought the seekers. Now we're going to see Kelly's Saloon."

"Would you like to meet the Governor?" Kris asked.

"Yes," Melinda said very shyly, dropping her eyes to the floor.

Kris turned to give Grey an encouraging look, then stepped aside so Bobby and Melinda could approach. Grey smiled as best he could and briefly shook their hands. Soon more colonists were coming forward, including several aggressive females anxious to meet the elusive young man they had heard so much about.

Intimidated by such a bold group, Grey nevertheless stood his ground and shook hands with each colonist as protocol dictated. And though irritated by the hero worship the group displayed, he managed to maintain a calm demeanor.

"This has been very nice, but Governor Waters has more duties now," Kris finally said, much to the crowd's disappointment.

Kris took Grey by the hand and they bounced back toward the airlock system, quickly accessing the first chamber.

"Thank you," Grey said once they had escaped, his breath somewhat short.

"They're only people, Grey, and they like you. There's nothing to be afraid of," Kris teased.

"I am not programmed for fear," he objected.

"You've got a yellow streak wider than the Cauchy Fault," Kris laughed. "But that's okay, I love you anyway."

___________

"Well, it looks like everyone's here," Roger said, looking down the length of the table at the assembled planning committee.

To his left, Nicholas, Tamera, Lisa and Michiko represented the administration and life science departments. To his right, Johnston, Ted, and Glenda represented engineering and communications. A new member, Theodor Kantorovich, was head of the recently established immigration department. All were young, hardworking, and devoted to the Governor of the Moon.

"One week from today Governor Waters leaves to mine the String," Roger said. "Since much of the senior staff will be on the mission with him, this will leave me in operational authority."

"Why is that?" Lisa asked.

"It was his request, Miss Scott," Roger said.

"Grey will be in com, why do we need a change in command?" Ted asked.

"The Governor requires an experienced administrator while he's gone," Nicholas said. "Major Vandebrown has his confidence."

Not many others did, it seemed, and several appeared anxious to challenge the decision, but a moment later the doors popped open. All heads turned as Grey and Kris bounced in, both dressed in dirty work uniforms.

"Sorry we're late, guys, got ambushed in the landing bay," Kris said. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, all is fine," Nicholas said, glancing at the dissenters.

"Thank you for attending on such short notice," Grey said, going to the head of the table. When Roger started to get up, Grey put a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated. The gesture was noticed by all, for Grey rarely went out of his way to make physical contact with anyone except Kris.

"Governor, about this mining operation, and the command structure," Ted asked. "Do you think this is all really necessary?"

"Major Vandebrown and I have been engaged in negotiations with the Northern Alliance to import the supplies we need," Grey said, no nonsense in his manner. "If this mission is successful, it could improve our diplomatic relations and make new initiatives possible."

"It would be great to have more repair units," Johnston said.

"And fresh meat," Nicholas said. "I am very tired of cornburger."

"Aren't we all," Tamera agreed, everyone nodding except Grey.

"There's nothing wrong with people wanting a wider variety of food, Grey," Kris said quietly.

"I never said there was," he whispered back.

"But you were thinking it," she insisted.

"I think a lot of things," Grey replied.

"Are you going to call us a bunch of ridiculous humans again?" Michiko asked. The other committee members laughed.

"You are ridiculous humans, spoiled and lazy, hardly worthy of programming the service units," Grey said with the barest hint of a smile. "But I suppose I can put up with you awhile longer."

"Thank you, Governor," Lisa said with a flirt.

"It is not every day we have such high praise," Nicholas added.

The mood in the conference room relaxed. Grey moved to activate a large monitor screen on the wall.

"This is an outline for Tranquility's future operations," Grey said, an eager gleam in his eyes. "It begins with the reopening of luna's mining colonies, a modern space station, and soon, the next generation of spacecraft. It's time this planet starts looking toward a prosperous new era, and Tranquility will be at the forefront of this endeavor."

Then Grey began elaborating on his plans in such detail that it became clear he'd been developing these projects for many years. Charts, methods, procedures, financing, obstacles that needed to be overcome. The committee members, and even Roger, came to view him with a renewed sense of awe. All had been under the impression that Grey rarely gave Earth's problems much thought, only to realize they'd been seriously mistaken.

"The Lunar Republic isn't just a struggling new sovereignty," Grey concluded. "It's a launching platform."

As his audience jumped to their feet and applauded, Kris came up to hug him, so proud she could burst.

___________

"Do you realize how much luck you'll need to survive this mission? Let alone be successful?" the Security Computer said, black signature patterns blinking thoughtfully on conference mode.

"A degree of luck is necessary to any plan, this one just requires a little more," Grey said.

"What are you going to tell Kris?" Security asked.

"No more than necessary," Grey responded with a frown.

"She's still Tranquility's security chief," Security hinted.

"Humans only get in my way. Then they get hurt or killed. I have enough to worry about already."

"Then Kris is off the field?"

"Affirmative."

"And your planning committee is not to be informed, either?"

"Certainly not," Grey snapped.

"After that inspiring speech you made, shouldn't you tell them what this mission is really all about?"

"The humans will believe what I tell them to believe," Grey said.

"Don't try to fool me. You're just as idealistic as they are," the Security Computer observed, not necessarily with approval. "I also know you meant every word you said during that conference."

"It will give them something to strive for until I get back," Grey said, trying to downplay his feelings.

"Is there more to this mission than you've explained?" the Security Computer persisted. "If so, my systems will need that information for contingency planning."

"We both know that one day I'll leave on a mission and not come back," Grey said, angry that it needed to be said. "The plans I outlined at the conference belong to their future, not mine."

The Security Computer paused on consideration mode, deep scanning the young man through the sensitive observation lens.

"And you don't trust Life Support, either?" Security asked.

"That's a stupid question," Grey responded, surprised the computer would even suggest such an idea.

"So, you're going it alone? Again?" Security criticized.

"Not alone. I have you," Grey answered.

The black signature patterns blinked with confusion, if not actual distress, at the sudden addition of responsibility.

"If you screw up, I'll leave you to the jackals and do things my way," the Security Computer warned.

"That appears to be your option," Grey said, staring at the wavy black signature patterns as they danced across the monitor screen. Finally, decision mode was reached.

"Some of your concepts are impractical," Security said. "My systems will evaluate your plan and prepare modifications."

"Thanks, Security," Grey said with hidden relief.

"Do you know Life Support is planning to take dominance the moment you're gone?" Security reported.

"Let Life Support play its games," Grey smiled. "Bring Defense in when it's time. I've briefed Major Vandebrown on what needs to be done on the diplomatic front."

"Are you sure about this plan?" Security asked.

"It's not something I'm looking forward to," Grey admitted. "But I've got to neutralize the Congress-In-Council, and the only way I'm going to be successful is to attack them from a direction they don't expect."

The black signature patterns blinked acknowledgement and dropped offline.

___________

"With the mission starting in a few days, this might be our last quiet night at home for a while. Can we order out?" Kris asked, finding Grey sitting in the study with a quarterly report pad in his lap.

"What's that?" Grey asked after checking off a list of budget figures.

"You know, order food without leaving the Governor's Quarters?"

"Affirmative. Services will accept delivery orders if it has a unit available," he explained.

Kris briefly returned to the monitor room, made sure a unit would be dispatched despite some objections from the Service Computer, then sat next to Grey on the couch.

"Anyone ever say you work too hard?" she said, taking off his boots and putting the report pad to one side. It wasn't easy, but after a while, she sensed he was beginning to relax.

"Just what the doc ordered," Kris said, activating the entertainment monitor. "A quiet night at home in front of the vid screen."

Among other functions, the wide screen monitor accessed the lunar satellite web which tapped Earth ground stations. Though censored, as most Northern Alliance programming was, Kris knew Grey found the American news reports amusing and activated the screen, finding one of the regularly scheduled programs from Atlanta.

"This feels strange," Grey said without actually objecting.

"Everyone gets to untangle sometimes. It's not like you haven't gone service."

"Gone service?" he asked.

"You've earned it," Kris said.

Grey wasn't inclined to agree but didn't argue. "I suppose I can survive one evening of relative inactivity," he conceded.

"Other than the three days we spent at the Crystal Caves Tourist Center, when was the last time you had a vacation?" Kris asked. "And I don't mean laying around in the medical ward recovering from battle injuries."

"A vacation?"

"Yes, a vacation. A process where you take time off, pack your bags--"

"I know what a vacation is."

"Well?"

"I've never had a vacation," Grey admitted, embarrassed by what she might think. At age five, he remembered doing routine maintenance for the computers. By age nine he was performing technical repairs, and by age fourteen he was putting in twelve hour days as the colony's chief engineer. Vacation, Grey thought. Slaves don't have vacations.

"Never had a vacation. Never celebrated Winter Holiday. Never even celebrated your birthday," she said, her voice tinged with rebuke.

"What would be the purpose?" Grey said.

Kris sighed and held him a little tighter, worried he might jump off the couch at any moment.

"Grey, look. There's that Jenny Oliver again," Kris said when a pert, somewhat wild-eyed woman appeared on the monitor screen. "She's a real planet chaser. Always coming up with bizarre conspiracy theories."

"Didn't Jenny Oliver help expose the Failure Scandal?" Grey asked.

"Well, yeah," Kris admitted.

"She also predicted the Congress-In-Council would suspend elections indefinitely, and they did," Grey pointed out.

"War is no time to be holding elections. It's a time for people to be pulling together," Kris said.

"The war's been over for two years."

"Okay, maybe she gets one right every now and then," Kris relented. "Let's see what she's up to this time."

Kris raised the volume and edged closer to the screen.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Northern Alliance, on May 17th of last year, the fourth anniversary of Salvation Day, confidential records were released proving that astronauts Dillion, Levinsky and Carpentier could not have been responsible for deflecting the killer asteroid TL-68 prior to its predicted collision with Earth," Oliver said, appearing before a large, restless audience. "The loss of telemetry from their spacecraft, and the ten-day delay before the warheads finally detonated, makes it impossible to believe they survived long enough to accomplish their mission."

"This is wrong," Kris said, bolting upright. "They were heroes. They deflected the Bulldozer and saved Earth. Why does Oliver have to cut them down?"

"Recent events have made some unanswered questions clear," Oliver continued, ignoring the hostility of her fellow journalists. "It has been asked, if these heroic astronauts did not destroy TL-68, who did? This summer, we learned for the first time that someone has been living on the moon all these years. Someone with the logistical and technological resources to complete the mission our brave astronauts started."

Kris felt Grey stiffen and put her arm out to keep him seated.

"Don't worry," Kris said. "She's not going to drag you into some stupid controversy. Oliver has zero credibility."

"That's reassuring," Grey said, slowly settling back. "It would be wrong to belittle the expedition's sacrifice."

Others apparently agreed. Before Oliver could expand her opinion, a broadcast producer halted the show and the station switched to a report on agricultural challenges in California.

"The nerve of that shark-bitch," Kris said. "Hacking NA Salvation and trying to exploit your name. We should issue a statement denying the whole thing right away."

"I agree," Grey said, pulling Kris back in his arms.

"Hmm, this is nice," Kris whispered, snuggling closer.

"Affirmative," Grey said, wondering for a moment what it might have been like to have grown up like a real person. To have once had a vacation. But those events were somewhat beyond his imagination.

* * * * * *

To be continued ...