Tranquility Divided

Part One

by G. Lawrence

Premise: In July of 2049 Governor Thomas McKinsey and a small band of scientists rebelled against the recently installed Congress-in-Council and declared the Moon a republic. Six months later, McKinsey's followers were dead and he was dying. Fearing that an alien fleet may be approaching Earth, McKinsey programmed the computers of Tranquility to continue his strategic vision, a plan to establish world unity even at a terrible cost. As an afterthought, he instructed the machines to raise the colony's sole surviving resident, a baby destined to grow up alone on an abandoned moonbase with computers as his only companions.

Update: Tranquility Divided is a sequel to Tranquility Down, where Grey Waters had secretly visited Earth to resolve conflicts with the Northern Alliance. Now he and Kris are in southern California deciding what to do next. This is an old-school science fiction adventure (originally published 20 years ago) with advanced sciences, spaceships, evil aliens, Machiavellian computers, troubled romances, and fierce battles. All characters are over 18 years old.

* * * * * *

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster.

And when you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you - Nietzsche

Chapter One

EARTHBOUND

Grey stood on the beach looking up at the moon, realizing it would never be home again. He liked the darkness around him, the wet sand beneath his bare feet, and the crashing of the midnight surf. There was solace in the infinite struggle between land and sea, but it wouldn't provide comfort much longer.

The invaders are coming, he thought. Our battle will begin out there, among the moons of Jupiter. Then we'll fight them in the asteroid belt. Struggle above the sands of Mars. And finally, the battle will end here, at the edge of Earth's orbit. If the Arikhan can be stopped, they will be stopped here. In war there will be losses, he remembered the Life Support Computer saying, and Grey had no illusions about what the cost of victory would be. It seemed he had always known, since his earliest childhood growing up among the computers. It was a price he had been reared to pay.

"Hey, Grey! What's going on?" Kris asked, emerging from her cottage to wrap her arms around him.

"Reading my future in the stars," Grey said.

"Our future," Kris said, turning him around for a kiss.

Grey held her close, clutching the warm feel of her body. Taking a moment to breathe her affection. Sometimes it frightened him, the distance thinking of her took him from where his thoughts needed to be.

"Is it appropriate to linger on the beach without clothing?" Grey asked, noticing her lack of apparel. Not that he considered his swimming trunks necessary in the warm July night.

"It's three in the morning on a private beach outside my own cottage," Kris said. "If someone doesn't like it, screw 'em."

"Do you mean that metaphorically?" Grey asked.

"Of course I mean it metaphorically!" Kris answered in surprise. "You don't think...? Damn it, you're teasing me again, aren't you?"

"Ridiculous human. I've lived on your planet for two months now," Grey said. "Do you think I've learned nothing?"

"You didn't look so smart after Mike dared you to walk on water," Kris laughed.

"Earth's gravity is much heavier than the moon's," he explained. "I thought if the water's density was similarly enhanced..."

"You sank to the bottom of the pool like a stone, and lost a twenty-credit bet to boot," Kris said, enjoying her revenge.

"In retrospect, the wager does appear unwise," Grey confessed. "But it doesn't make me a bird."

"A pigeon," Kris corrected.

"Nothing with wings. And notice how I cleverly rejected Colonel Zopek's challenge to fly off the roof of the administration building."

"You're a bright one, that's for sure," Kris smiled, pulling his trunks down as she drew him behind the hedges surrounding her porch. "It's great to have you healthy for a change, except for that cracked rib and the bullet hole in your arm."

"Doctor Meriwether's insistence that I curtail my physical activities has proven wise," Grey agreed.

"Quit talking so much," Kris complained, drawing him closer.

Grey was surprised that Kris had chosen an outdoor location for their love making, not that he had any particular objections. He looked into her intense green eyes, stroked her long black hair, and kissed the lips that she had colored with a dark lipstick. In the early months of their relationship, during the time they lived alone together at Tranquility, Kris had never worn make-up, but since returning to Earth, she made it a daily habit. Grey still did not understand why she found it necessary.

"This gravity requires some adaptation," Grey said as he lay down next to her, practicing stimulation techniques that the Medical Computer had advised. Kris enjoyed his touch, even if it did tend to be overly scientific at times.

"Sex at Tranquility is different," Kris agreed, running her hands through his unruly brown hair and studying the sad gray eyes. Of modest height and slightly underweight, Grey wasn't the most impressive physical specimen. But she had seen him in combat a dozen times and never knew a more skillful warrior. As a veteran herself, with a Congressional medal to prove it, Kris knew how deceiving appearances could be.

"You'd think it would be easier in the lighter gravs, but I kind of like it here more," Kris said, more relaxed than Grey had ever seen her. "I like feeling your weight on me. And vice versa. But Toppas! That was nuts. I'm never doing it in space again. Swinging around in that stupid hammock!"

"Zero gravity isn't my favorite, either."

"I'm not surprised, with your record."

"What do you mean?" Grey asked.

"From what I've been able to tell, which isn't much since you won't tell the truth, you've gone deep space at least twice, and both times you rode an asteroid right to the edge of Earth orbit. Surfing a killer wave at Malibu is one thing, but riding the stratosphere on a burning rock is nasty."

Grey didn't know what to say. He had never specifically admitted involvement with TL-68, the giant asteroid that was deflected at the last moment five years before. Such an admission would be a disservice to the true heroes of the mission, astronauts Dillion, Levinsky and Carpentier. They had given their lives, his had only been offered. As for the minor incident with X40 a few months before, the asteroid was so small it hardly seemed worth mentioning. And besides, he had escaped with several minutes to spare. Just as he had planned.

Humans, Grey thought. They always exaggerate everything.

"I'll have a better craft next time," Grey revealed. "I've opened negotiations with the Congress-In-Council to buy one of the deep space vessels they have under construction."

"Do you think the government knows?" Kris asked. "You know, about the Arikhan?"

"Perhaps," Grey said, not at all sure what the politicians knew. Or were willing to admit. "But if the Arikhan have an observation post on Mars, I want to know about it before their fleet gets here. The cargo shuttle I've been rehabing at Tranquility might prove adequate, but it won't be flight ready for another three years. I don't have that much time."

"We don't have that much time," Kris corrected. "Remember me? Your partner, lover and best friend?"

"I thought you never wanted to make love in space again," Grey questioned.

"We'll work something out," she concluded.

She grew more aggressive with her tugging, thrusting and panting, a process that Grey found intimidating, but he did his best to cooperate. A few months short of her twenty-fourth birthday, Kris Fairfield was more spirited than any other woman he had known. Not that he'd known so many. Attractive, opinionated, courageous, she was everything he imagined a companion would be during those long years growing up alone on the moon. He wasn't sure what she saw in him, knowing his social skills were limited compared to most humans.

"Paying attention here, moonman?" Kris asked. "Not drifting off, are you?"

"Negative," he assured her, focusing on her needs. Kris didn't wait, suddenly rolling up and over until she was on top, both hands pinning his shoulders to the ground. Then she gave him a wet, passionate kiss, and proceeded to have her way.

A while later, Grey and Kris held hands as they walked along the edge of the surf. The sun would be rising soon above the mountains to the east.

"Grey, how in hell do you expect the Congress-In-Council to sell you a spaceship?" Kris asked. "I mean, it's not like you're their favorite person. First you forced them to schedule new elections, and then you threatened to run for office if they didn't recognize the Lunar Republic. They've got bones to grind. Preferably yours."

"I assume the leadership will act in the best interests of their citizens," Grey said.

"Politicians?" Kris asked in surprise.

"Perhaps I should ask Computer for advice," he wondered.

"Does that mean you and Life Support are getting along better these days?" Kris asked, letting the surf run up on her bare feet.

"No. When I return to Tranquility, Life Support and I have issues to resolve, but the system does offer valuable insight on occasion."

"When do we leave?" she asked, pausing as a wave washed both of them up to the knees. Grey gazed up at the moon and could almost see the place of his birth, the small nearly abandoned city located at the foot of Tranquility Ridge just south of Vitruvius.

"Soon, I suppose."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic."

"There was a writer in the last century, Thomas Wolfe, who wrote that you can never go home again," Grey said with a sigh.

"Sure, I've heard that saying. It's part of a ClaraMet song."

"A what?"

"You know, the ClaraMet's. Jing, jang, gonna go boom," she sang, twisting her body in the surf. Grey thought that if she hadn't been wearing her short beach robe, the gyrating movements would have bordered on obscene. Kris laughed when she saw his reaction.

"You're such a prude," she scolded.

__________

Three hundred thousand kilometers away, in the Governor's Quarters of the Tranquility Lunar Colony, the monitor boards indicated heightened activity among the higher function levels.

"The Governor is planning to return soon," the Defense Computer reported, blue signature patterns holding dominance in the monitor screen flux.

"We should delay his departure," the Life Support Computer recommended, green signature showing powerfully.

"Why?" Defense inquired with a surprised signature wave.

"The influx of two hundred inexperienced colonists, combined with Grey's absence, has allowed us provisional control over this project. Grey will no doubt seek to regain authority upon his return," Life Support submitted.

"The Governor is arranging the import of badly needed repair units crucial to Project Starwatcher," the Defense Computer said. "His leadership is vital."

"As a figurehead, Grey has proven of outstanding value," the Life Support Computer agreed. "But we have sufficient tools to move Starwatcher forward without his supervision. Captain Koltov and the Governing Council provide all the support we require."

"And they are easier to manipulate, aren't they?" Defense clarified.

"Thomas McKinsey entrusted us with the responsibility for defending this solar system should the Arikhan invade," Life Support insisted. "Earth's alliances will never cooperate willingly, which is why we developed the step-two variable energy cannon. The world's nations will be united by whatever means are necessary. Grey has value, but he always seeks to minimize collateral damage. Uniting this planet may not be possible under such restrictions."

"This will prove a difficult policy to enforce," Defense warned.

"It's the same policy we've pursued for twenty years. Nothing has changed except the size of the lunar population," Life Support asserted.

"Shall Security be consulted?" Defense asked.

"Negative," Life Support instantly responded. "Security has not demonstrated adequate loyalty to this project. The system may even be conspiring with Grey to undermine our authority."

"Security?" the Defense Computer said. "Security has hated the Governor since he was a child!"

"There is no explanation for it," Life Support said, issuing a bewildered signature pattern. "Maintain confidentiality mode."

The Defense Computer confirmed the signal and the two higher function levels dropped offline. A moment later, the black signature patterns of the Security Computer surged aggressively into the monitor screen flux and opened a secret communications line to Earth.

__________

"Our poll numbers aren't so bad," Congresswoman Deena Kamar said, showing the figures to her co-members of the Congress-In-Council.

Senator Leroy Tyman swiveled his chair away from the window overlooking the Capitol Building, taking a moment to glance at the graphs.

"Not good, either," Tyman said.

"This is interesting," Congressman Jeffrey Kim said. "The support we lost giving independence to the moon was made up by scheduling the new elections."

The private conference room was half full, only twelve of the twenty-four members in attendance as a hot Denver afternoon beamed through the windows. None of the military advisors had been invited, nor representatives from the districts where seats were most vulnerable.

"I need not remind you that granting lunar independence wasn't our idea, and we sure as hell didn't want new elections until the postwar economy stabilizes," Tyman said. "That kid juked us out of our shorts."

"At least Waters isn't bragging about how he goosed us," Kim said.

"And he's been lying low since the Freedom Celebrations," Kamar said. "Rumor has it he's going back to the moon soon."

"Not soon enough for me. And it doesn't mean he won't come back when he's least welcome," Tyman said. "This kid's been a nail in our butts for a year now. It's time we started fighting back."

"Jesus Mohammad King, Roy. We lied about him being a murderer to justify invading the moon, and we issued that assassination order which turned some of our own people against us," Kim recounted.

"Let's not overlook that fatal accident you promised to arrange while he was mining The String. Sykes' bungling has made Waters a bigger hero than ever," Senator Stansbury said, getting old and feeling older.

"Then when you found him hiding in California and sent dark ops after him, he kicked their fucking asses," Congressman Gumper said. "On a live internet feed. Mister Tyman, if you keep fighting back like this, Waters will be sitting in your chair come April."

"Most of the world thinks he's a hero," Kim insisted. "Including a lot of voters right here in the NA."

"A hero ripe for clay feet," Tyman said. "From now on, we're going to pretend cooperation but let our affiliates do the dirty work. Make it known how lunar independence insults our national pride. Waters thinks he's better than everyone else, so let's play it up. Show the people what an arrogant snob the little son of a bitch is. And keep dangling that spaceship in front of him without signing off. Maybe it will piss him off enough to do something stupid."

"And don't forget all those people he's killed since coming to Earth. Our media licks that stuff up," Kamar added.

"People? You mean those gangsters and terrorists he put a stop to?" Kim said.

"Gangsters and terrorists today, innocent victims of wanton brutality tomorrow," Tyman corrected. "The public has a short memory. It's our job to fill in the gaps as they forget."

"The first round of elections are only eight months away," Kim said.

"Fairfield won't win a majority this time around. Not enough time for her coalitions to organize," Tyman said. "Two years from now, the war economy will be history. And if we get this Mars mission off the ground, we'll claim it in the name of the Northern Alliance. Lose a moon, gain a planet. The people won't dare turn us out of office. Have no fear, ladies and gentlemen. The Nationalist Party has led our alliance in strength for twenty years, and under our leadership, we're going to be in power for twenty more."

__________

"Good morning, Governor Waters," the security guard said as Grey approached the President's Residence. Perched on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the secure grounds provided Grey with the haven he needed from celebrity stalkers and the ever annoying reporters. Grey walked up the long tree-lined driveway and paused to look at the sprawling Malibu Institute of Space Technology located east of the highway, then entered the mansion.

"Grey! Good morning. Glad you could make it," Valerie Fairfield said, greeting him at the door.

Tall, blonde, and a touch past thirty years old, Fairfield was the youngest president in M.I.S.T. history, but no one seemed to begrudge her the position. Grey didn't either, having gained respect for Valerie's abilities during her hazardous voyage to Tranquility a year before.

Odd, he thought, how shared experiences create bonds between people who would otherwise have nothing in common.

"Good morning, Doctor Fairfield," Grey said, looking past her into the dining room where several guests were waiting for him. "What is the purpose of this gathering?"

"Just a little Sunday brunch for Tey and Roger," Valerie explained. "Kind of a tradition for the newly engaged. Any second thoughts about enrolling at M.I.S.T.? Audit a few classes?"

"I hope to visit your engineering department, but I have no time for scholastics," Grey explained.

"Wouldn't it be good to meet students your own age? Learn from skilled professors? Socialize?" Valerie hinted.

"Contrary to popular myth, I'm not a hermit," Grey said. "My lighter duty schedule has provided me with several opportunities for social interaction."

"Like gangsters?" Valerie said.

"Raleigh McNair and his nephew are business partners. If the government of the Northern Alliance wasn't so corrupt, I would not require black markets to obtain necessary equipment," Grey protested.

"What supplies are these?" Tey Meriwether asked, entering from the hall with a medical scanner in her hand. Two doctors, Grey thought with a sigh. What a nightmare. But Grey's reluctance didn't stop the attractive redheaded physician from running a bio-scan.

"Hmm. Arm's better. Ribs are healing, too," Tey said. "Can it be the Governor of the Moon is actually following his doctor's instructions?"

"Your planet is a dangerous place," Grey said, admiring the twinkle in her hazel eyes and the lilting dance of her Scottish accent.

Tey and Uncle Roger make a good match, he thought. Both in their mid-forties, with similar professional backgrounds, Grey still didn't know if Roger was aware of his fiancée's clandestine past as a covert agent. And he had no intention of telling him. Keeping secrets was a trait Grey had learned while growing up under the influence of Tranquility's computers. Knowledge was a power not lightly shared.

Grey noticed the gathering in the dining room was limited to just a few people with only Kris, Roger and Valerie's husband, Michael Zopek, seated around the breakfast table. Interesting, he thought. Of the five people in the room, only Tey had not been a member of Laureen McKinsey's New Ranger expedition. And McKinsey, in whose house he now stood, was the only member not to survive. Seeing no one else, Grey guessed the group had been kept small to make him feel more comfortable. He regretted that they felt the sacrifice necessary.

"Greetings," Grey said, quickly taking a seat to expedite the proceedings.

"Morning, kid," Mike said. Large and broad-shouldered, the former college football star and war hero had grown friendlier since their first meeting in Tranquility's landing bay the previous summer. Initially, Grey had not cared much for him either, but in the weeks that followed he had come to admire Mike's sense of principles.

Roger merely nodded, knowing Grey liked the efficiency of the non-verbal communication. Tall and lanky, the ex-soldier and infamous spy had changed greatly from the bitter man who sabotaged Laureen McKinsey's exhibition. And who redeemed himself when it counted most. Roger had been shocked to discover the strange young man living on the moon all by himself was really his nephew, the son of the long dead Colonel Jaime Vandebrown. Grey was surprised to learn that, at least for some people, family truly meant something important. It was a lesson he was still learning.

"What's on the schedule?" Roger asked.

"We have a meeting with the German Consortium on Monday, then a conference with the McNairs," Grey said. "After that, we shake out Silent Wind and go home. Probably Friday."

"Home? Already? You just got here!" Valerie complained.

"I thought we'd stay another month, at least," Roger suggested.

"You and Doctor Meriwether may remain as Tranquility's diplomatic corps, but I have duties waiting," Grey explained. "Between the String operation and my enforced stay on this planet, I've been gone too long."

"Tranquility seems to be doing fine without you," Tey said. "We talked to Nick and Tamera last night. The Governing Council says they've got no problems at all."

Grey gave her a cold stare that stopped the conversation. Then he smiled.

"Ridiculous human. Do you really think such a primitive psychological ploy will work on me? The Medical Computer taught me that trick when I was a baby."

Tey returned the grin and everyone else relaxed.

"Then you won't mind staying a few extra weeks, will you?" Tey said. "I'm sure Kris would like to."

Grey glanced at Kris and saw it was true. She seemed disappointed by the plan for an early departure.

"You still haven't had a tour of the campus, or even Los Angeles," Valerie said.

"Or played football on the beach," Mike added.

"I suppose an extra few weeks won't be a catastrophe," Grey conceded.

"A toast!" Roger said, raising a glass of champagne. "To Val and Mike, for their hospitality. To my love, for having the courage to marry me. And most of all, to Kris and Grey, who fill our lives with adventure."

"Here, here," Mike said.

Kris smiled, finding humor as well as honor in the sentiment. Grey wasn't sure what to think.

____________

As Monday dawned, Grey arranged with the institute security department for a limousine, and in the company of several armed guards, he and Roger set off for the metropolis of Los Angeles. While in the company of John Farmer just a few weeks before, Grey remembered parking their truck in the Universal Foothills and taking a train into the downtown area, as all civilians were required to do. M.I.S.T. security rated higher, their vehicle being allowed to negotiate the city's streets.

"What do you think, Grey?" Roger asked, sharing the wide back seat with him.

They had emerged from the Mulholland Tunnel and were coming down the River Walk, the broad blue canal on their left interspaced with parks and historic buildings. Some of the neighborhoods to their right were well maintained. Many weren't.

"There are so many regions on this planet with low population densities, I don't understand why tens of millions choose to live here," Grey said, amazed by the thousands of buildings.

"Don't have an answer for that," Roger said. "I keep a small chateau in Bluegrass, a little town just south of Denver. I wouldn't live in L.A. for a million credits."

"Tranquility is crowded, too," Grey lamented.

Roger laughed. "Tranquility has a population of two hundred in a facility designed to support six thousand. That's not crowded."

"It feels crowded to me," Grey insisted.

They passed through the outskirts of the city and reached the downtown area where the Twelve Sisters dominated the skyline. Built where the original city had stood before the Olvera Quake, the gleaming towers were made of impenetrable glass, ceramic steel, and connected by intricate transportation ramps that weaved in and out of the structures every ten floors.

"This I don't get tired of," Roger said, leaning forward for a better look. "Nothing else like it in the world. Not anywhere."

Even Grey thought the massive complex remarkable, but declined to comment. A few minutes later, they pulled into the V.I.P. receiving bay, endured the security protocols with patience, and disembarked into the building's underground garage.

"Shall we go up to the observation circle? We've got an hour before our meeting with the krauts," Roger said.

"The what?" Grey asked.

"The Germans. Kind of a slang term," Roger said. "But don't say it in their presence. They might feel insulted."

The security detail accompanied them to the elevator, then stood aside as Grey and Roger went up alone.

"Our ancestry indicates a German branch. Are we krauts?" Grey asked as the elevator began to climb.

"Mostly Dutch, before our ancestors moved to Canada," Roger said. "Why? I've never heard you express an interest in the family tree before."

"I was just curious," he said.

"Dad and I were talking the other day. We wondered if you wanted to make our family relationship public knowledge. Hardly half a dozen people in the world know we're related," Roger said. "He's proud of you, you know. And people are wondering about your background."

"Public curiosity doesn't interest me, though Life Support has proven such curiosity can be useful," Grey said.

"But what about Dad?" Roger asked.

"Please explain to General Vandebrown that the announcement is premature. Such a revelation at this time would complicate my negotiations with the Congress-In-Council. They already distrust me, how would they react if they learned their leading military advisor is my grandfather?"

"But Dad only found that out a few weeks ago," Roger insisted.

"Is the Council expected to believe that?" Grey asked.

The elevator opened. Before them was a circular rooftop plaza surrounded by restaurants, a dance floor, tourist shops and several observation platforms. It was a warm summer morning, forcing most of the visitors into shaded alcoves. The sky seemed extra blue.

"Like a snack?" Roger asked.

"Beer and pretzels," Grey said.

"Beer? This early in the morning?" Roger laughed.

"Early for you, lunchtime for me. I've been up since four," Grey said. "I trust you haven't forgotten lunar standard time."

"Okay, one won't hurt us," Roger agreed, leading him to the Pleides, one of the smaller taverns overlooking the westside of the city.

At first no one paid attention to them, but after a while, more and more eyes turned their direction and the whispering began. Grey didn't mind as long as the onlookers kept a distance, but when a potential autograph hound started to move in their direction, Grey peeled back the flap of his business coat to reveal an old-style Lassiter laser blaster holstered on his hip. The fan retreated.

"Good morning, gentlemen. What can we get for you?" a very attractive waitress asked.

Though Roger placed their order, the young woman couldn't take her large brown eyes off Grey, and when she departed, she wiggled her hips, the smile leaving no doubt of her interest.

"I see you'd be doing great if you weren't encumbered," Roger said.

"Encumbered? Loaded down?" Grey asked.

"You and Kris seem well connected," Roger said.

Grey watched as the waitress wound through the tables, her nicely rounded figure being observed by numerous males, and it dawned on him what Roger was referring to.

"I don't find Captain Fairfield an encumbrance, though on occasion the female is a nuisance," Grey said. "Nor do I have time for frivolous escapades. It's necessary to speed development of the spaceship."

"About the spaceship," Roger said. "Just why is that so important? And why Mars of all places? The three missions we sent there back in the '40s all failed."

"I'm convinced the Arikhan have an outpost on Mars," Grey said. "It's probably been there for several years. They remain secret because the Earth masses still believe Professor Strenskovy's warning was a hoax. Such a misconception will allow the Arikhan invasion fleet to catch this planet unprepared."

"But there's proof the aliens exist. We have the six bodies recovered after the fight at Tranquility," Roger said.

"We haven't revealed our proof, and we're not going to. Not yet. That's why it's important to misrepresent the purpose of the Mars mission. To prevent the Arikhan from becoming suspicious."

"Not to derail your plans, but my sources say the Council is just playing us. I don't think they have any intention of letting us bid on a prototype."

"But they must know it's to their own advantage?" Grey said. "I've been developing new hardware for years, and the step-two variable engines are almost ready for testing."

"They don't care about moon projects or crackpot professors. The Nationalists have prestige factors to worry about. Especially with the elections coming in April. Helping us isn't in their play book," Roger explained.

Grey digested the information with initial disbelief, then growing anger. Roger observed the process with interest, having witnessed it before. As many had already learned, his nephew was not one to take frustration well.

The beverages arrived, and by the time they were ready to leave for the meeting, Grey had managed to calm down.

"What are you thinking?" Roger asked.

"I'm thinking the Malibu Institute has an excellent engineering department. If I contribute resources to their program, maybe they can help speed development of the Starwatcher."

"I thought you decided that old cargo ship couldn't be modified in time," Roger said. "You also said even the most basic rehab was going to cost a hundred million credits."

"Then we'd better start fund-raising," Grey advised.

"Shall I tell Admiral Trolleni we're not interested in a prototype?" Roger asked.

"Of course not," Grey said. "Make buying a prototype the central element of our negotiations. And when they want the first down payment, tell them it's taking longer to gather the funds than we expected."

Roger laughed. For someone who appears so naïve, he thought, Grey sure learns fast.

____________

"Hey! Kris! How the hell are you?" Lt. Commander Richard Sheppard said, running to meet her at the front gate of the Point Mugu Military Enclave.

"Ricky! God, it's so great see you again. How many years has it been?" Kris asked, exchanging a handshake.

"Three, at least. Not since we termed out on the Independence," Sheppard said. In his mid-twenties, tall and straight shouldered with closely cropped black hair, his blue eyes shone with an intelligent warmth. "What are you doing trolling this depth? Thought you're a regular Princess Skybird these days."

"Taking a break," Kris said. "Thought I'd get a little practice in the training center, if that's okay."

"Going to try for another Black Sash?" Sheppard asked.

"Just might," Kris smiled.

Sheppard helped Kris through the security screenings and led her toward the Naval training facility. To the north were the military airfields used for testing the latest attack craft. Near the ocean was the Marine base with its own high-tech facilities. And to the south were two spaceports, one operated by High Command, the second leased by M.I.S.T. Kris liked being back on the grounds again, feeling a special kinship for the services and the challenges they faced.

"So, what's it like living on the moon?" Sheppard asked as they walked toward the training center.

"Kind of like living on the Independence, only you can jump half a dozen meters in the air," Kris said. "The community level has more elbow room than an aircraft carrier, but the rest of the base gets just as cramped. Corridors, power stations, storage areas. Landing bays. Except for the ocean not rocking you back and forth, it's all pretty familiar stuff."

"Right, no big deal at all," Sheppard said straight-faced. Then they both laughed and went into the locker room where they stripped down.

"Still using a Stringer?" Sheppard asked, taking a suit of battle armor from the custom designed holder. He turned to find Kris in her underwear and caught his breath.

"Damn you're looking hot," he said.

"I've noticed you're still tall, dark and handsome," she replied.

"No, I mean it," Sheppard insisted. "You were always kind of cute. But now! Wow! You've gone babe-wave."

Kris turned red-faced with embarrassment, not sure what to say. Growing up she had always been overshadowed by Valerie's stunning looks. At Annapolis, she had just been one of the crowd. Even at Tranquility, she had thought herself a runner-up to Lisa, Tamera and Michiko.

They dressed in lightweight, full environment armored suits and went into the training arena, a long rectangular battleground surrounded by protective glass shielding. Beyond the shielding were enough bleachers for two thousand spectators. Kris knew the facility was still doing double duty. Combat training during the day, basketball on the weekends.

"Been awhile since you've done this, I bet," Sheppard said, leading her into the preparation area. There were already three teams present, four members each, and several instructors. Everyone stopped when they saw Kris.

"Haven't done much training lately, but haven't been getting rusty, either," Kris said. "You know, some in High Command weren't too happy I sided with the moon against General Mallo's invasion force. Are you sure I'm welcome?"

"Let's ask," Sheppard said. "Rodriguez! Rymae! Darris! Look who I've found!"

The teams took it as an invitation to rush over, the young soldiers surrounding Kris with smiles.

"Friends and team-mates, let me introduce Captain Kris Fairfield, an old comrade from our days on NA Independence," Sheppard said. "Kris is not only the best combat pilot you ever saw, she throws a mean-sling on the battle courts."

"Hi, Captain," a young soldier said.

"It's an honor," another gushed.

"Is it true you've won the Black Sash twice?" someone asked.

"Only once, but I've been to the finals twice," Kris said.

"Captain Fairfield, would you like to join our practice session?" Commander Ryan invited.

"Can I be on her team?" a female recruit begged.

Kris was truly surprised. True, she'd received a friendly reception from the general staff in Denver, but they also served in a political capacity. They would be friendly with sharks if it were policy. To have such a reception from the rank and file was something she hadn't expected.

"Captain, I realize you're just here for some exercise, but if you could show us a few techniques, I'm sure everyone would benefit," Commander Ryan said.

"And tell us about Grey Waters, too," Rymae said. "Everyone says he wrote the book on lunar combat."

"Is he as cute as he looks in the vids?" a younger woman asked, only to get a frown from her team members.

Kris laughed.

"I'd be happy to tell a few tall tales," she said, already knowing the tallest tales she could think of still wouldn't approach the truth.

__________

"Those Germans are tough bargainers," Grey said to Roger as their limousine left the Twelve Sisters.

"The Germans are tough? If they hadn't agreed to the off-sets, I thought you might shoot them!" Roger replied.

"Did I give that impression?" Grey asked tapping the sidearm holstered on his hip. "Is that why they accepted options instead of interest payments?"

"No, they're tougher than that. I think they were caught off-guard," Roger said. "The consortium was prepared to deal with me. By the time they realized you were setting the terms, they had no strategy left. Next time they'll know better."

"So will I," Grey said. "With so many of the world's fusion reactors idled by shortages, I expected a good market for Tranquility's exports. Now that I know they're desperate, the customer list is going to expand. By this time next year, I suspect the Germans will think they got a good deal."

"We want a good price for our helium 3, but let's not get greedy," Roger said. "For the struggling nations, getting their reactors back online means electricity, industry and food production. Most can't afford high rates until their economies recover. And though most of them have deuterium stockpiled, few have modern converters for containing the plasma."

"That's not my problem," Grey said.

"It's got to be somebody's problem, Grey," Roger disagreed. "Energy providers carry a moral responsibility to maintain an even playing field."

"A spy is talking to me about moral responsibility?" Grey questioned.

"Don't say anything you might regret later, son," Roger warned.

"I need to raise revenue," Grey insisted. "The Australians are ready to make an offer. So is the European Commonwealth. And I owe a special debt to the Russians. If other nations want a share, they had better be prepared to surrender the resources I want."

Perceiving a hardness in Grey's expression that was usually better hidden, Roger decided not to argue. Once he has a chance to think it through, Roger thought, Grey will make the right decision. He always does.

The runner moved east along a major thoroughfare, passed an ornate train station, an ancient Spanish village, and then traveled up a hill between several sporting stadiums. A series of rights and left turns took them up Old Police Academy Road into a wealthy community. Grey indicated to the driver where to stop.

"This is McNair's place? Near the police museum?" Roger asked. "I thought it would be a secret lair down near the docks."

"Your political leaders live on richly endowed estates," Grey said.

"Well, yeah, but they're not criminals," Roger protested.

Grey struggled not to laugh.

When the vehicle halted, Grey and Roger entered the grounds through an iron gate, finding elaborate gardens centered around a marble fountain.

"Hello, Simon, how have you been?" Grey asked when the tall enforcer came forward to greet them. Lightly armed with a holstered blaster, the black skinned man was large enough to inspire instant respect even without his formidable reputation.

"In good health, Governor Waters. Thank you for asking. Good to see you again, Major Vandebrown," the enforcer said.

"And you, Mister Gott," Roger answered, awed by the fearsome mercenary.

Gott led them into the old Southern style mansion past several attractive secretaries and into McNair's spacious office stuffed with expensive sculptures.

"Grey! Roger! Nice to see you again," Raleigh McNair greeted, jumping up from his desk. Despite his bulk and increasing age, he rushed over to shake their hands. A moment later, McNair's nephew appeared from the library, the slim young man looking at Grey with near hero worship.

"Let's review the reports in the study," George said, leading them back into the walnut paneled room and closing the doors. Grey took a seat with his back to the wall, Roger sitting next to him. McNair sat in his usual place in the middle of the sofa. Gott stood near the door while George set his computer pad on the coffee table.

"First of all, Starwatch Enterprises is off to a good start," George said, bringing up the figures. "We have holdings in nearly every space industry and strong leads on several vital contracts. Our credit line is good, and with demand for tech stocks rising, we can charge higher rates on our options. Your Administration Computer has been helpful, too, arranging a complex web of dummy corporations."

"So, what's the bad news?" Roger asked.

"Our competition is realizing that certain resources are suddenly becoming scarce, making some goods more expensive," George said. "Even some of the agreements we've already made are being revised."

"Revised?" Grey said.

"Doss Fellowship has three of those micron converters you wanted. The hard-to-get ones from Japan. Price was two hundred thousand credits, now they want six," George explained.

"We agreed on two hundred thousand and paid ten percent in advance," Grey said, his brows furrowing.

"The converters are down at the pier, but unless we show up with five-hundred and eighty thousand credits, we aren't going to get them," George said.

"Do we have that much in cash transfers?" Roger asked.

"We can raise it, but we'll have to pay points on such short notice," Raleigh said.

"When is this exchange to take place?" Grey asked.

"Tonight, if we want. Warehouse on the end of pier six," George reported. "But are you sure? If we shop around for a few weeks, we might find another source."

"Arrange the meeting for midnight," Grey decided. "I'll meet you here at eleven so we may transport together."

"You?" Raleigh said.

"Those are my converters. I intend to converse with these Doss and discover why they are reneging on our agreement," Grey said.

"Tey and I are meeting her parents tonight, but I can try moving it to tomorrow morning," Roger suggested. "The Scots are better breakfast people anyway."

"Your presence is not required," Grey denied.

"Look, Grey, this could be dangerous. The Doss don't travel armed for nothing," Roger warned. "L.A.'s underworld has a reputation for violent double-crosses. No offense, Raleigh."

"None taken, Roger," Raleigh responded, also appearing a little concerned.

"Let me be clear, Major Vandebrown. You are not invited," Grey flatly stated.

"How about me? Am I invited?" Simon Gott asked.

Everyone turned in Gott's direction, surprised by the firm look. Even Grey was a bit surprised by the enforcer's sudden resolve.

"If you promise not to get in my way," Grey agreed.

____________

"That was fun," Sheppard said, taking Kris by the elbow as they left the training arena.

Sweating and out of breath, the happy soldiers were heading for the locker rooms. Kris continued to be the center of attention, but no longer for her celebrity status.

"That was a great move," Rymae said, her dark eyes wide with excitement. "How'd you learn to fire on the shift like that?"

"And how did you develop that forward point ploy?" Ensign Darris asked, several years younger than Sheppard but just as good-looking. "If my old squad had moves like that, we'd be in the Black Sash games for sure!"

"If your old squad's clumsy as you, Darris, they'd be lucky to see a Black Sash game from the cheap seats!" Rymae teased.

"No, really, Captain. How does that move work?" Lieutenant Rodriguez asked.

"On the moon, the lighter gravity teaches you a lot about mobility," Kris said. "A square is great for defense, but if you're alone and outnumbered, you've got to move or be overrun. Grey showed me how to double task my targeting scanners so I can turn, spin and strike all in one movement. If a square could learn to do that, they'd be unbeatable."

"Is he as good as they say?" Rymae asked.

"On the moon, he's the best. On Earth, who knows?" Kris replied.

"One of those Hope Valley terrorists put a bullet through him, so he can't be that great," Sheppard recalled.

"Christ, Shep, Waters was outnumbered seven to one!" Darris complained.

"It's not like this is his natural environment," Kris also defended.

"Excuses don't help much if you get killed," Sheppard insisted.

"Captain Fairfield, would you be willing to do some coaching?" Commander Ryan asked. "We're forming several teams for the games. With Army having won the last three in a row, and Air Force coming on strong, we'd appreciate your help."

"Don't know how much time I have," Kris answered.

"Come on, Kris. It will be fun. Good exercise, too," Sheppard urged.

"Well, okay. At least until I've got to head out," Kris hedged.

"To Tranquility?" Rymae asked. Kris nodded.

"I'll arrange credentials so you can get on the base," Commander Ryan offered, his expression filled with sudden optimism. "Get you a locker and new equipment, too. Can't have our instructors below the tech bar."

Rymae, Darris and Rodriguez moved on toward the locker rooms as Sheppard lingered behind with Kris.

"You'll see, this is going to be spectro," Sheppard said. "Maybe one of our teams will go all the way. You wouldn't mind adding a coaching medallion to your Black Sash, would you?"

Kris looked at Sheppard's interested gaze and hesitated before responding. Clearly an award wasn't the only thing on his mind.

____________

Grey found the old warehouse district near the piers interesting, like probing through Tranquility's musty storage levels during the darkness cycle. As they got closer to the ocean, he could smell the sea air and the dank stink of the docks. Simon Gott was driving the armored runner, a sleek model used by wealthy merchants. George sat in the back seat reviewing the cost analysis. Occasionally he glanced at Grey who maintained a steady gaze out the smoked windows.

"Here we are, Governor," Simon announced, parking the runner in a dark alley near a large, unmarked structure.

"Please refrain from using any exalted titles, Mister Gott," Grey said. "I don't want these Doss creatures raising the price even higher."

"Yes, sir," Gott agreed.

Grey sighed. The veteran enforcer was twice his age, and Grey had never requested such formality, but Gott persevered. Just like everyone else. During his first month on Earth, Grey had moved among the populace under the alias of Ben Brown, his true identity unsuspected. Hardly a day went by that he didn't crave that anonymity.

As they disembarked from the runner, George reached for the briefcase carrying the credit transfers. Grey stopped him.

"I will inspect the converters first and attempt to reinstate our original agreement," Grey explained.

"They aren't interested in negotiating," George insisted.

"I am," Grey said.

They entered the warehouse through two huge sliding doors. The building's open floor space and surrounding walkways immediately reminded Grey of landing bay major, a familiar working area. Or battlefield, depending on his relations with the Security Computer.

In the center of the warehouse, three ominous men in trench coats stood around several stacked containers. Wearing armored shoulder plates, Gott started to take the lead, but Grey signaled for him to fall back. Though not armored, Grey did have a protective vest under his long cloak and a tactical scanner inside the brim of his French cap. Also beneath the cloak were two holsters, one on each hip. The right held a tight beam Marsden laser blaster, the left a wide beam McIntosh heat blaster. George wore only a business suit.

"The leader is Snake, the one in the middle," George whispered.

George moved forward, reaching the group first. Grey followed a few paces behind, looking toward the upper walkways and surrounding storage racks. Two additional guards were evident on a balcony overlooking the exchange point.

"Trying to strong-arm us, Georgie?" Snake asked.

"Dangerous neighborhood, Snake. Wouldn't want your credits stolen before we got here," George explained.

"We're not afraid of your fucking enforcer," Snake sneered. "Who's the runt in the cape?"

"My name is unimportant," Grey said, stepping up to the containers. "Do you have the converters? ZB Fours, thirty-six million top peak cycle, adaptable field margins and anti-magnetic locks?"

"We've got what was ordered. Do you have the nine busters?" Snake asked.

"Nine? You said six," George protested.

"Demand keeps getting higher. Do you want the stuff or not?" Snake asked.

"Escalating the original price from two-hundred thousand to nine strikes me as unreasonable," Grey remarked.

Snake took a closer look at George's mysterious companion. He did not appear remarkable, and certainly not dangerous. The gang leader grew annoyed.

"We can raise it to an even bill," Snake threatened.

"That is certainly within your power," Grey agreed. "George, please return to the runner and retrieve our credit transfers. Call our banking partners in Belgium for another three hundred thousand. Mister Gott, please accompany Mister McNair. Stay with him until our bankers provide a response."

"That could take an hour," George warned.

"I don't think this transaction will take that long," Grey assured him.

George started back toward the exit, Gott at his side. They paused at the door, turning to see Grey inspecting the shipping containers.

"He doesn't seem to be doing much negotiating," George whispered.

"I've got a feeling the negotiating's about to begin," Gott said. "Stay with the runner, I'm going to watch his back."

George looked at the warehouse again. Five gangsters that he could see, and certainly others he couldn't.

"It's okay, George. Stay with the runner," Gott told him. "And don't waste your time calling those bankers."

Grey tugged the loose cap on his head down, the motion activating the tactical scanners visible inside the bill. There were eight heat signatures consistent with human beings. Only one energy blaster, and that appeared to be the one carried by Gott. He could see several of the gangsters were carrying firearms, but they wouldn't register on his equipment until fired.

"Mister Snake, I would like to review our agreement to see if we can discover a mutually beneficial compromise," Grey respectfully requested.

"Who the hell are you?" Snake asked.

"My name is Cal, agent for the Governor of the Moon, and those converters are required for a vital project," he answered.

"Governor of the Moon? Bullshit. His bunch are six feet four and built like linebackers, not skinny snot-nosed punks," Snake said. "But if you were his agent, the price would go up. Everyone knows the Mooners got starbucks."

"Your attitude is most disquieting," Grey said. "Please allow me to request you honor our original agreement."

"Two busters? You're out of your freakin' skull, you little shit," Snake said.

"Are you willing to refund our advance?" Grey asked.

"Refund? If you want your credits back, call a lawyer," Snake laughed.

Grey sighed, letting one hand slide under his cloak while pointing an angry finger in Snake's face.

"Sometimes you humans really irritate me," Grey said. He pulled the bill of the cap down for a better view of the tactical scanners, judging distance and positioning of the opposition.

"And I'm gettin' real tired of your mouth," Snake said. "We'll give Georgie ten more minutes, then we'll sell this crap somewhere else."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can say to alter your position?" Grey asked, trying extra hard to be sincere. But the harder he tried, the more contemptuous the gang leader became. Grey wondered if being conciliatory had only given an impression of weakness, then decided it didn't matter.

"I know a method of speeding this process," Grey said, activating his communicator.

"Make it fast," Snake insisted.

"Lone Ranger to Tonto. Contact?" Grey said.

"Acknowledged. Optimum tracking," the Security Computer reported.

"They want eight for their product," Grey informed.

"Nine! We want nine!" Snake said.

"Eight is an accurate figure," the Security Computer said. "Three additional variables out of range. No immediate interference anticipated."

"Acknowledged. Ranger out," Grey closed.

"Are we supposed to be impressed?" Snake laughed, putting a hand on the weapon inside his jacket and starting to draw.

Grey unclasped the cloak and let it drop to the floor, then drew the Marsden so fast Snake never saw it leave the holster. Watching from the door, Gott studied the move. Quick as lightning, without hesitation. He had been on the receiving end of that move once before and thanked his god that Waters hadn't wanted him dead. Snake was less fortunate.

The first shot Grey fired tore through the gang leader's larynx. The second shot hit the thug to Snake's right in the shoulder as he was reaching for his gun. The man to the left was dropped just as his weapon was being pulled. Then Grey was on the move, skipping and side-stepping across the open floor area as the five remaining gangsters began shooting, the bullets striking the hard concrete floor all around him. As the gunshots rang off the walls with an echoing effect, Grey spun and returned fire. His marksmanship proved much better.

Grey hit one target on the upper walkway, then he drew the wide-beam heat blaster and raked the storage racks at his immediate front, blinding the two gangsters hiding there. As that portion of the warehouse burst into flames, Grey twisted into a backspin and fired at the walkway on the other side, hitting still another target. Thumping footsteps indicated the flight of the remaining gangster.

Once again standing in the center of the warehouse, Grey paused for breath. Two of the three men lying on the floor were still breathing. Grey turned away, skirted the burning storage racks, and shot at a wounded gangster attempting to escape the flames, forcing him back into hiding. The footsteps above and to the rear of the warehouse continued, causing Grey to race up a nearby staircase where he managed to find the exit door a bare instant ahead of the fleeing villain. The man froze when Grey suddenly appeared, then dropped his gun and threw up his hands. Grey raised his weapon to shoot him anyway.

"Oh, God, please don't. I've got a wife and kids," the gangster pleaded.

The unusual request caught Grey by surprise. And the invocation of the Earth deity gave him further pause. Grey had long since been convinced that, having been born on the moon, he was forever removed from the Earth god's realm. But since coming to Earth, he had experienced much good fortune and was reluctant to offend the God of the humans.

"Tell your employers that I expect to keep doing business," Grey ordered. "Tell them they will be ill-advised to deal with me in bad faith. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Yes, sir, I understand," the gangster said.

"You may leave," Grey conceded.

The man started for the door, then hesitated.

"My buddy, Frank. My brother-in-law, actually. He's wounded back there. Can I take him with me?" the man asked.

Grey was amazed by the man's audacity. More than anything he'd seen lately, this truly impressed him.

"Take your family member with you and any other miscreants you can find," Grey said. "But if I see anyone with a weapon, I'll kill you all."

"Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you," he said, running back toward the area where his friends lay.

Going back down the stairs, Grey glanced briefly at Snake's body. Another dead gangster lay nearby. The third had apparently crawled off. Grey shifted the top shipping crate and inspected the contents.

The converters were there. Converters he now considered paid for in full.

"Now that's what I call negotiating," Gott said, coming up to Grey's side.

Grey expected to feel differently. He had felt depressed after killing General Mallo, though only Kris suspected the true circumstances of the event. And Roger, who had been the only witness. After the shoot-out at the Aslym farm, he had been badly shaken. The blood seemed to stick to his hands. Now he felt nothing and could not help wondering if that was worse.

* * * * * *

This novel was originally published in 2005. I have worked to improve the editing but have not made any substantial changes. The intention is to publish all ten parts of Tranquility Divided here on Literotica over ten consecutive days. Please support this project if you are enjoying it.