Tranquility Divided

Part Three

by G. Lawrence

This science fiction novel 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 working on their future. This is an old-school story with advanced sciences, spaceships, evil aliens, Machiavellian computers, troubled romances, and fierce battles. For previous references to the Arikhan, see Tranquility In Darkness. All characters are over 18 years old.

* * * * * *

Chapter Three

BREAKDOWNS

"This is going to be quite a party," Valerie said, organizing the elaborate flower decorations. "The mansion hasn't been this busy since Laureen's funeral."

"It's a bigger reception than I ever expected," Tey agreed. "My parents are coming in from Glasgow, several colleagues from Edinburgh, and Roger's father is expected with members of the senior staff. And now Grey's invited these businesspeople, too."

"I heard Grey's Life Support Computer suggested the new additions," Valerie mentioned. "Roger is foreign minister of the Lunar Republic, so that makes your engagement a state occasion. You don't mind, do you?"

"Actually, no," Tey confessed. "When my folks first heard of Roger's reputation, they were awfully unhappy, but when they found out how close he and Grey are, they decided to give him a chance. They're a bit more open minded now."

"Do they know about the family connection?" Valerie asked.

"Roger and Grey are still keeping it a secret," Tey said with a shrug. "Don't ask me what the big mystery is for."

"You know what the big mystery is for, honey," Roger said, entering the room from the foyer to give Tey a hug. "Dad's still an advisor to the Council, not that the politicians will talk to him anymore. Dad's also helping us work out security arrangements with Trolleni and Smyth. Once we go public, those relationships will be harder to maintain."

"And what about Grey's relationships?" Tey asked. "You'd think James is embarrassed to admit Grey is his grandson."

"If Dad's not embarrassed to be seen with me, why would Grey embarrass him?" Roger asked.

"I understand your political games, but I think family should come first," Tey insisted. "Grey needs all the connections he can get, and what could be more important than his grandfather?"

Roger saw that Valerie agreed with Tey. And that they had obviously discussed the subject before.

"It wouldn't surprise me if you're right," Roger said. "Everyone will be together tonight. We'll talk about it. Maybe it's time."

"Maybe it's past time," Tey said.

Just after sunset, students and instructors from the institute appeared, then some candidates running on Valerie's slate, all elegantly dressed despite the tropical July evening. Excited family members arrived joined by friends, industrialists, journalists and even a few members of Mike's football club. Joining Tey, Valerie and Michael in the reception hall, Roger was surprised by the many warm greetings. Nothing in his previous experience had prepared him for his newfound celebrity, and he started to gain some insight into Grey's impatience with fawning admirers.

The spacious mansion was soon filling up, the foyer and dining area receiving the first guests before they spread to the huge sitting room. Drinks and snacks were being served on the wind-screened patio, many pausing to look at the beach below and the ocean beyond. A live band began playing the latest jazz hits.

Toward the end of the big rush, a limousine pulled up and four sharply dressed military officers emerged, each attended by an aide. Roger and Tey met them at the door.

"Congratulations, son," General James Vandebrown said, shaking Roger's hand before giving Tey a kiss. Medium height and gray-haired, the general appeared taller because of his erect posture, a result of forty years' service to his country. Tey was quick to notice the family resemblance, especially between James and Grey. The slender torso, the square of the shoulders, and the hawk-like glance darting from the dark, perceptive eyes.

"You know Admiral Trolleni and General Smyth," General Vandebrown continued. "And General Larson, of course."

"It's good to have you here, Wes. I know Grey will be happy to see you again," Roger greeted, shaking Larson's hand.

"Pleased to be his friend," Larson said, ignoring the hostile glance from Admiral Trolleni. "From what I've heard, he's managed to avoid a life threatening situation for over a month now."

"Depends who you listen to," Tey said. "It's great to see you again, Wes. How's Angela and the kids?"

"Just fine, Tey, just fine," Larson said, exchanging a look that only former comrades under fire could share.

Last to arrive were Kris and Grey, both appropriately attired. Grey wore a formal black dinner suit with a checked shirt and gray tie. Kris wore a long blue evening dress with high white collars and flair shoulders. When contrasted with her dark hair and green eyes, the appearance was striking.

Roger noticed Grey was looking tired, though given his activities during the previous week, it was easy to understand why. Kris looked distracted, which Roger would not have expected.

"Dad's here," Roger said. "Do you have a minute?"

"Affirmative," Grey agreed.

Grey followed Roger through the dining area, speaking briefly with several people requiring acknowledgement, then went out the back door to the patio. Roger stopped at the bar to pick up three fruity rum based drinks, handed one to Grey, then went down a winding brush lined path until reaching a secluded niche near the bottom of the cliff. A dim yellow light and a three quarter moon were the only illumination.

"Here we are, Dad," Roger said, handing his father the extra drink.

"Hello, there, Grey. Seems you've been keeping busy," James said.

"Yes, sir," Grey replied.

"Congratulations on your theory, that was one tough nut," James complimented, studying his grandson for clues to his character.

Grey thought the strange terminology over, then smiled shyly, realizing the implied compliment.

"Grey's been busy all week," Roger said. "Vid links with science councils and universities all over the world. Picked up six honorary degrees. Rumor has it he may be on the short list for a Nobel Prize."

"That's most unlikely," Grey disagreed with embarrassment.

"Not impressed by all the attention, Grey?" James asked.

"It's odd," Grey confessed. "I don't even have a high school diploma, having never attended a formal school. Now some humans want to call me Doctor Waters."

"People, Grey," Roger corrected, sensing Grey was nervous.

"Yes, that's what I meant," Grey said.

"So tell me, grandson, what are your plans?" James said.

"I'm going to Mars," Grey answered.

The announcement required some thought. Roger indicated to his father the plan was genuine.

"That's quite an ambition. Most folks who go to Mars don't come back, but that aside, may I ask why?" James asked.

The question flustered Grey, unprepared to divulge his motivations. James thought the reaction rather strange, and soon realized Grey wasn't going to answer.

"It's okay, Grey. We're family," Roger urged.

"I have several reasons. It's not an unusual ambition," Grey hedged.

"Strikes me as unusual," James disagreed.

When Grey continued to hesitate, James grew even more curious.

"Grey, this is your grandfather. We're all the same blood," Roger urged.

Grey sighed, struggled for a moment, then finally gave in.

"I believe there is a base on Mars acting as a forward observation post for a dangerous enemy," Grey said. "This outpost must be eliminated, but first there's information I must obtain. It will be a difficult mission."

"Enemy? Forward observation?" James doubted. "What the hell are you talking about, boy?"

"The Arikhan," Grey said.

"Do you mean the Australian Federation?" James wondered.

"No, Dad, not Aussies. Arikhan," Roger said. "You remember Professor Mikel Strenskovy, don't you?"

"Not that crackpot. Alien invaders. Flying saucers. War of the worlds. You can't really believe that nonsense?" James said.

"We've met them," Roger said. "Actually, Grey met them. I helped fight them. And we've got six alien bodies in Tranquility's morgue to prove it."

James sat down on a nearby bench, then gulped the rest of his drink.

"It's unbelievable," James finally said.

"I wish it was," Roger sighed.

"If Strenskovy was right, we've got to get ready for them," James decided. "We'll take this to the Council. Our entire planet could be at risk!"

"Negative," Grey objected. "Perhaps a limited disclosure is permissible, but there can be no general announcement. Especially about the Martian outpost."

"Why?" James asked.

"The Arikhan monitor Earth transmissions," Grey explained. "If there are public warnings of the danger, the Arikhan will be alerted to the true purpose of my mission. Gathering information on their fleet may prove impossible."

"What can you expect to do?" James asked.

"Grey, I've wondered about this, too. You've never gotten around to laying this out for anybody," Roger said.

"It would be unwise to divulge details," Grey hedged. "A successful deception will be difficult enough without broadcasting my plans."

"I would rather you did reveal details," James insisted. "This isn't a trip to the ball park you're talking about. Lives are at stake."

"I'm fully aware of that, sir," Grey acknowledged, feeling his temper rising. "This information may be new to you, but I've been working on this project for many years. It's what the computers trained me for. I've fought the Arikhan once and I expect to fight them again. And I expect to win, if you humans don't get in my way."

"This can't be your decision to make," James warned. "If you won't take it to the Council, then I'll have to."

"This information was revealed in confidence," Grey reminded with an angry furrowing of his eyebrows.

"Sorry, that can't be helped. We'll want to see your evidence, too. The real stuff, not digital transfers," James insisted.

"What if the evidence isn't forthcoming?" Grey threatened.

"What if your next supply ship doesn't get clearance?" James responded just as heatedly.

"So much for family," Grey concluded, putting his drink down on the planter. "But keep in mind, sir, that your politicians aren't qualified to make decisions on this issue. Any more than you are. And I can be a very unpleasant opponent."

Without another word, Grey disappeared back up the trail toward the mansion.

"That didn't go the way I hoped," Roger confessed.

"How long have you known about this?" James asked.

"Only a few months," Roger admitted. "Didn't know for sure until Tranquility was attacked by these things in February. They even kidnapped Tey. If it wasn't for Grey... Dad, Grey's right. We're willing to bring some of this to the Science Council. Start an effort. But we can't go public until we know more about this invasion fleet, and the only way we're going to gather intelligence is from the enemy outpost."

"He's only a boy, Roger," James said. "You can't entrust him with the fate of the whole world."

"Dad, I'm just a glorified spy," Roger said, looking his father straight in the eye. "And you're an old soldier ready for pasture. The fate of the world is Grey's profession, and if you ask me, he's pretty damn good at it. You'd agree if you knew him better."

"I'm taking this to Sam Smyth and Trolleni. From there we'll see who needs to know, and what we need to get prepared," James said. "I'd appreciate your help, but it's not required."

"Do what you have to, Dad, but don't be surprised if you find Grey true to his word," Roger warned.

__________

Kris found herself restless as the party proceeded. Grey seemed troubled by something but wouldn't discuss it while Roger and his father were barely speaking to each other. Nearly all the guests were dignitaries or friends of the couple, most of whom she didn't know. But everyone seemed to know Grey, or wanted to, and most of his time was being spent with Roger making special introductions.

"What's wrong, honey?" Valerie asked, finding her sister sitting in the foyer staring off into space.

"Oh, nothing particular. A little bored, maybe," Kris replied.

"Well thanks. It's nice to know what you think of my parties," Valerie teased.

"It's not that. It's just that everyone here is so important," Kris said. "I'm playing fourth base."

Kris glanced across the room and saw Grey surrounded by several business magnets. Not all of them men, and not all of them old enough not to bother her.

"Maybe we didn't get off to the best start with Roger, but he's our friend now," Valerie said. "And you've known Tey for a while. This party is for them, after all."

"Yeah, I know. I'll be okay. Guess maybe I'm a little tired from practice today."

"How's that going?"

"It's been good. Some of these new kids are really talented. Instructing's fun, too. More than I thought it would be."

"Sounds like you're doing fine. Stay out of trouble," Valerie suggested, offering a smile before moving on.

Kris lingered in the foyer a few more minutes, then ventured out to the patio for a drink and retreated into one of the corners far enough back to observe without being seen.

"Isn't he cute?" Kris heard a young woman say, the daughter of a visiting politician.

"Smart, too. Have you tried getting a date?" her giddy friend agreed.

"He doesn't seem interested," the first young lady sighed. "Such a shame, a prime guy like that stuck with a cold war-bitch like Fairfield."

"I know what you mean," the other said. "I'm surprised the grim reaper showed up in a party dress. You'd think her wardrobe would be all khaki."

The young women laughed and returned to party, but Kris wasn't laughing. The moment she knew no one was looking, she ducked out the side door, went down the path to the beach, and ran back to her cottage. She didn't care to have anyone see her cry.

Grey found himself trapped against the wall by two assertive females, each hoping to gain a nebulous advantage over the other. A stout middle-aged military officer suddenly came to his rescue.

"Excuse us, Governor Waters and I have important matters to discuss," General Wes Larson interrupted, drawing Grey away. The moment they had gained sufficient distance, Larson reached to shake Grey's hand.

"Looks like you keep finding ways to get in trouble, lad," Larson remarked.

"The computers never prepared me for this sort of danger," Grey agreed. "Even the sentinel class seekers weren't this aggressive."

Larson laughed. "Well, at least you haven't lost your sense of humor. It's hard to believe eight months ago we were sitting at a piano on the moon singing ballads."

Grey also had fond memories of those clandestine meetings in Kelly's Saloon. Playing pool. Tossing darts. Drinking scotch. Larson had taught him much of what it meant to be a soldier. And more. Grey smiled before reciting an old poem;

"Alas fare days, we knew them well;

We wonder where they've wandered.

It's not the truth we must recall;

But how it may be pondered."

Larson smiled. Like Grey, those quaint days of isolation seemed buried in a distant past.

"Staying on Earth long?" Larson asked, walking with Grey toward the snack trays.

"I expected to go home after my meeting with the Council, but new issues keep arising," Grey sighed.

"Try sticking around for a while," Larson said, the smile fading. "I know more about your work than most. Probably more than you realize. We need you. That new theory you discovered may impress the uninitiated, but I know it's only a beginning. And if you ever need my help, just ask."

"Thank you, sir," Grey said, not sure what to make of the unexpected offer.

Grey didn't return to the cottage until dawn. Feeling sluggish from the extensive alcohol that seemed a mandatory part of the happy couple's engagement process, he stripped off his formal attire and dove into the morning surf, feeling a sense of stimulation from the cold waves. Hardly a moment passed before he discovered he wasn't alone.

"Hi, Grey. Early, isn't it?" Snappy said.

Surprised to find Michael Zopek's naked cousin in the water with him, Grey shook his head and looked around, wondering if the beach was more crowded than expected. They were alone.

"That was quite a party," Snappy said, standing tall in the surf where the rising sun glistened off her wet well-rounded body. Still in her late teens, the attractive female was clearly displaying her wares. More broad-shouldered than others of her sex, Grey could see why she was such an excellent athlete and assumed the appropriate genes ran in Michael's family.

"I've had a great time playing football with you," Snappy said. "We've really kicked butt. You've surprised me, too. You're a lot more competitive than you look."

"Victory is the object of the endeavor," Grey said, walking from the water toward his clothes. Snappy followed, coming up to the edge of the surf.

"Touch football has its merits, but it gets tame after a while. Would you like to try a little one-on-one tackle?" Snappy asked, bracing her feet in the wet sand. Grey actually thought it might be fun, but worried the activity might be deemed inappropriate.

"What the hell's going on here?" a loud voice suddenly shouted. Grey looked up toward the cottage to see Kris standing a few meters from the porch still wearing her evening dress. She looked upset.

"Nothing, Kris. Nothing at all. Just a morning swim," Snappy said, gathering up her clothes and scurrying away.

Kris came down to the water's edge, fire in her eyes, and threw Grey's shirt to him.

"What's the matter, one woman not enough for you anymore?" Kris said. "I waited all night for you to come home. Where have you been?"

"Learning to socialize, as per my doctor's instructions," Grey answered, displeased with her tone.

"You learn pretty damn fast, don't you?"

"There is no cause for such an attitude," Grey complained as he got dressed.

"No cause for you, maybe. You've got it all. Girls, fame, awards. Strangers slobbering all over you. And me, just hanging around waiting for a moment of your free time."

"Your observation is misconceived," Grey protested. "I'm not preoccupied by frivolous activities, nor have I regulated you to a minor function. I think the heavier gravity of this planet has disturbed your brain functions."

"My brain is just goddamn fine!" Kris said, whirling around and marching back up to the cottage. For a moment, Grey considered following her, then decided to head up campus instead.

________

"Grey, we have bad news," Nicholas Koltov began.

Grey was sitting alone in the student communications center looking at a small com monitor. Joining Koltov on the other end of the line were members of Tranquility's newly christened Governing Council, all former members of the United Alliance invasion force. Ted Davis, who had produced the bio-vid program that made Grey a hero, was sitting to the right. Tamera Kantanee, Nicholas' girlfriend and special assistant, sat to the left. Others at the table included Glenda Blout, Johnston Woo, Michiko Hasegawa and Lisa Scott. Though young and new to the moon, all had demonstrated loyalty to the fledgling Lunar Republic. And to Grey in particular. There were also several fresh faces that Grey barely recognized.

In the old days of Grey's childhood, during the Embargo Wars, communicating with the moon was nearly impossible. Now that Earth's satellite networks were being restored, the process was growing routine. Even Grey found it hard not to take the new access for granted.

"What seems to be the problem?" Grey asked, his temper shortened by a lack of sleep.

"We have gathered eight shipping containers of He3, but we may not send them down yet," Nicholas reported, his Russian accent strong. "We have not been able to bundle the new alloys, either."

"Why?" Grey asked.

"The Flight Control Computer will not provide a safety clearance for the transport," Nicholas said. "And the Administration Computer says we have not secured the necessary permits. The exports will not be released until the legal technicalities are in order."

"That's fine, Nick. Now what's the real problem?" Grey demanded.

There was a pause. Nicholas had trained as an engineer, Tamera as a communications specialist. Both were former members of the Russian Space Force. Ted, Lisa and Johnston had come to the moon as Northern Alliance technical staff, while Michiko had been a Commonwealth co-pilot. Grey knew that none of them were trained administrators or prepared for the assertive schemes of Tranquility's computers.

"Life Support and Defense are giving us problems," Ted finally admitted, the accent betraying his midwestern upbringing. "They have everyone working on private projects. Trade isn't a priority."

"They have slowed work on your spaceship, too," Tamera said. "We wanted to test the engine mounts, but Life Support said an accident would endanger the assembly bay. The test has been postponed."

"Even food's a little scarce," Lisa hinted. "We may been issuing rations if a supply ship doesn't arrive soon."

"What about the farms?" Grey questioned. "We opened four new plots before I left."

"Production in the biosphere is improving, but the population has increased faster than the food supply," Michiko replied, having anticipated his question. "You've grown food here your whole life, Grey. We're still green. Engineers and technicians don't necessarily make good farmers."

Grey huffed with impatience, but realized harassing the humans wasn't going to help. Nor could he expect to coerce cooperation from the computers from so far away.

"I'll process a revised supply requisition through the Sales Computer," Grey decided. "I'll also advance the food exchange. Tranquility has acquired agricultural assets that should meet our needs. In the meantime, do your best. Don't take no for an answer."

"How are you, Grey?" Tamera asked.

"What do you mean?" Grey responded.

"You're looking dogged out, Governor. Earth catching up to you?" Johnston observed.

"My resources are adequate," Grey insisted.

"You always say that, and it's hardly ever true," Tamera scolded.

"Is there anything else?" Grey asked.

"Just a message," Ted added. "Kind of weird, but it came with your private security code. It says, call Tonto."

"Acknowledged. Waters out," Grey said, closing the com channel.

As the screen went blank, the conference room of the Governing Council remained quiet for a moment. The long table seated a dozen people, most dressed in their work uniforms. The monitors on the wall, convenient for communicating with the many computer systems that coordinated base activity, were dark at Grey's request. He had never cared for their eavesdropping.

"Gee, he sure was in a bad mood," Lisa finally said, breaking the silence.

"Even more than usual," Johnston agreed. "And this is the first time Kris wasn't online with him."

"I hope she's okay. Kris told me she's instructing at Mugu. Black Sash training can get dangerous," Glenda mentioned.

"That is not it. I do not know, but something else is troubling him," Nicholas pondered.

"He'll be okay," Tamera replied. "If Grey can whip the Arikhan, I don't see how a planet full of humans can scare him."

__________

The moment Grey signed off, he brought up a new channel, bouncing the transmission through the space debris in Earth's orbit, then accessing an obscure sub-routine.

"Lone Ranger to Tonto," Grey requested.

"About time you checked in," the Security Computer complained. "You've been out-code for twelve hours. Sure you have enough time for official duties?"

"What do you want?" Grey asked.

"The Arikhan are back. Same entry window as before," Security reported.

"Scout craft or raiding party?"

"Unknown. The wave disturbance was minor."

"Are they in the vicinity?"

"No readings in evidence after they penetrated lunar space above Farside. Had our track not been narrowly focused, we wouldn't even have that. High ground surveillance reveals no local disturbance," Security determined.

"Do the humans know?"

"No intelligence has been divulged. Recommend a lock-down and full activation of our protocols," Security suggested.

"Negative. If the enemy realizes we've heightened our security levels, they'll know we can track their movements. Open the file for Defense and order a series of security drills. Restrict movement outside the colony with a solar flare warning. I'll conclude my business as rapidly as possible."

"Do you have time for business with all your social activities?" the Security Computer criticized. "If you were here, where you belong, these enemies would not be skulking on our borders ready to strike."

"We don't know what they're doing, or why, so don't make any assumptions," Grey said. "And unless you know how to build a fleet of spaceships without adequate resources, I suggest you keep your damn opinions to yourself."

"The humans are right, you are in a bad mood," Security observed.

"Silent Wind is standing by at Malibu Field. I'll accelerate loading and ask General Larson for a flight permit," Grey said. "Keep the colonists out of trouble until I return."

__________

The prototype development department was crowded, every student and staff member assembled for the Tuesday morning meeting. When Carmino and O'Neal entered with Grey at their side, the boisterous crowd fell silent.

"We have an important announcement," Doctor Carmino said. "In keeping with this institution's traditional relationship with Tranquility, Governor Waters is offering us assistance in the development of the XL-3. For a small compensation, he'll be supplying alloys for the exterior shielding."

"This contract will open many exciting opportunities," Professor O'Neal said. "Our staff will be expanding to meet new needs, and M.I.S.T. will be going for the far reaching point. Security black. No details are to be discussed outside this facility."

Grey could tell the engineers and graduate students were excited by the announcement, many fearing career setbacks if their prototype was unable to meet Northern Alliance specifications.

"Speech! Speech!" someone yelled, the request followed by many others.

"Governor Waters?" Carmino prompted.

Feeling his heart beating faster, Grey stepped before the group.

"With Tranquility's help, the XL-3 will be the most advanced spacecraft ever built on this planet," Grey said. "Our engineering departments have developed new alloys that will make your ship lighter and stronger than any yet assembled. With the assistance of this able staff, the XL-3 will be able to investigate the asteroid belt and bring back minerals unavailable on Earth. The Northern Alliance is not alone in this ambition. Many alliances are intent on exploiting deep space resources. The Lunar Republic, which I am proud to represent, will assist these endeavors for the benefit all of humanity."

The crowd cheered, much to Grey's relief, and he was glad to have delivered the speech adequately. When the Life Support Computer had suggested it, he had been warned not to overstate the mission.

"Are you sure the payment schedule is okay?" Carmino asked once they were back in the private offices.

"Tranquility has been stockpiling alloys for many years," Grey assured him. "Our major expense will be transporting the bundles down. We won't make a profit with this contract, but we will on the ones that follow."

"It's still a generous offer. A subsidy of this magnitude will put us on an even playing field with Lockheed and Stargroup," O'Neal said.

"It's my intention to make M.I.S.T. a competitive force in defense contracting," Grey said. "Though it isn't publicly acknowledged, Tranquility holds a substantial investment in McKinsey Industries."

"What about you? Are you an investor?" Carmino asked.

"My assets are in lunar credits," Grey said. "Once we establish monetary exchange protocols, I may consider making some investments. I've arranged options on land here in California."

"A farm?" O'Neal said with a smile.

"I was thinking of buying the San Joaquin Valley," Grey said, his expression so serious it took Carmino and O'Neal a moment to realize he was joking.

"How far have you progressed with your spacecraft?" Carmino asked. "You won't make the XL-3 an antique before we're even off the launch pad, will you?"

"The Starwatcher is a converted C-4 cargo shuttle," Grey said. "When I started work eight years ago, I considered it state of the art. There's no fear of that now, except for the power plant. If my contributions to the XL-3 prove adequate, perhaps your engineers can help me redesign the main frame to support extended thrust."

"Send us the plans, we'll be happy to look them over," O'Neal agreed.

"When are you returning to Tranquility?" Carmino asked.

"Silent Wind is in preflight now," Grey said. "I expect to discuss departure plans with Captain Fairfield this afternoon. We have a Thursday predawn launch window."

"You know, with all these supplies you'll be shipping down, maybe some of us should come to the moon. Help coordinate," O'Neal said.

"Volunteering?" Carmino asked him.

"In a heartbeat," O'Neal said.

__________

"This is humid work," Lt. Commander Sheppard said.

"Yeah, I'm sweatin' like a pig," Kris agreed.

The arena was crowded as the trainees watched the veterans set their defense. Before them was the danger zone, a minefield supported by a retracting pulser cannon, four turtle-shelled securatrons, and most formidable of all, two jet-powered flying spheres armed with energy cannon. Pitted against the mechanical weapons was a square of four. Kris held point, Sheppard at left guard, Lt. Darris Ge'taka at right guard, and Lt. Rymae Mastobo in support. Each was outfitted in full body armor, carried Marsden laser blasters in their right hands, and the oval presentation plates of their defensive energy shields strapped to their left forearms. Tactical scanners inside the visors of their helmets would allow them to read the battlefield.

"Okay, everybody, pay attention to the advance," Sheppard ordered. "Captain Fairfield uses her energy shield to draw the enemy fire while Darris and I present flanking support. Rymae holds the rear guarding our supply. Hold and press, hold and press. Then close once the enemy line is weakened. Got it?"

The trainees moved back behind the protective barriers surrounding the combat arena and the attack modes were activated. At quarter power, the risk of serious injury was minor. That wouldn't be the case as the semester proceeded.

The square began with a straight front, then rotated into a diamond formation with Kris in the lead. She fired at the securatrons, scattering her bursts, and pushed forward to drive a wedge in the enemy line. Sheppard and Ge'taka stayed on her flanks, forcing the turtle-shaped securatrons back even further. The retractor roared to life, the fixed energy cannon pounding out scorching waves of intense heat, but the commandos' energy shields shimmered at the contact, soaking or deflecting most of the force. Kris saw the power drain on her shield and boosted converters to keep her energy screen at full strength.

As the square occupied the center, the basketball-sized seekers began their move, flying around the flanks on thruster jets to fire short, jabbing energy bursts, each probing for weakness. The soldiers joined their screens into a defensive wall, leaving thin seams so they could fire back. Both seekers took hits.

"Stay focused on your marksmanship," Kris shouted. "These seekers are slow. On the moon, where the gravity is weak, these things move like lightning. Don't get complacent!"

After expending energy on the failed flank attacks, the seekers withdrew behind the securatrons, forming a new defensive line.

"Okay, that's the set we want," Sheppard called out. "Strike on three!"

On the third count, the square pushed forward as a unit, the flankers gradually spreading out. In support, Rymae sent off a sonic disrupter, causing the mines at their front to detonate. Kris charged through the smoke first, leaping on top of the fixed retractor and firing down into the vulnerable power supply, knocking the cannon off-line. Sheppard and Ge'taka took out the securatrons as they tried to flank her, then moved against the seekers. The enemy formation was thrown into disarray as the team methodically recorded a rapid series of kills. Once their energy levels dropped below critical, the mechanical units withdrew, ending the simulation.

"Four hundred ten points for offense, only twenty-three points for the defense," Sheppard said, reading the score. "Not bad for a scratch team. Not bad at all."

"You were great, Kris," Rymae said. "The way you charged that retractor was amazing!"

"Couldn't do it without my wingmen," Kris said, boosting the oxygen ratio in her suit for an extra deep breath.

"As we've shown, unit cohesion is essential to a successful defense, and without a good defense, there's no way to evolve a successful offense," Sheppard said once the trainees had reassembled. "Learn to trust your readings. When it gets thick, you won't have time to shift back and forth from visual to instruments. Any questions?"

There were lots of questions, mostly for Kris. She fielded them as best she could, though sometimes she found the admiration embarrassing. She felt relieved when they were able to leave the squads to their practice.

"Good session, Kris," Sheppard praised as they walked back toward the locker rooms. "Any more thoughts on reinstatement?"

"Thinking about it," Kris answered. "It could only be occasional, though. I do have other responsibilities."

"On the moon? Hell, that battle's been fought," Sheppard countered. "Council's given up our rights, even if it was a mistake. No one's going in guns again."

"They'd get the hard one if they did."

"Is Waters really that good?"

"Grey's good, no doubt about that. But the Defense Computer has upgraded the satellite defenses, North Point has an arsenal full of missiles, and the Security Computer has four sentinel class seekers on line," Kris said. "It will take a fleet action to knock those walls down."

"So what's the problem? We need you here, and it's obvious you like the duty," Sheppard insisted as they reached the equipment room.

Along the walls, form-fitting racks were set to hold the armor and weapons lockers were available to store the sidearms. Sheppard unsuited quickly, stripping down to his long underlining.

"This armor is good. Rugged. Kind of hard to get out of, though," Kris huffed.

"They upgrade every six months," Sheppard mentioned, going to her aid. "Always getting stronger and lighter. Support, too. Converters generate twice the power of just a few years ago."

"Don't underestimate those shields," Kris said, thankful to have the upper torso removed. "I could feel the vibrations right though the suit."

"I'd like to do a little vibrating with you myself," Sheppard said as he helped her out of the armor. Down to her underwear, Kris felt oddly vulnerable.

"We should keep it pro, Ricky," Kris said, accepting a towel to dry off the sweat.

"I'm military, you're civilian. No harm there," Sheppard said. "If you take reinstatement, I'm pretty sure they'll bring you back as a major."

"Major?" Kris said with surprise. "I'm still Navy, Ricky. Captain is my brevet rank. As far as the Navy's concerned, I retired as a lieutenant commander."

"Nothing wrong with being a commander, is there? Or even a major, if we go combined division with the Marines," Sheppard urged. "Rumor has it High Command's going to train sky dogs for the Mars mission. With our experience, we'd be top list. I know we'd make a great team."

"I'm already involved," Kris said.

"Engaged?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Any talk of getting engaged?"

"No, not yet," Kris said.

"Sounds like there's still some searching going on," Sheppard said. "I don't know Waters. Hardly anyone knows much about him, except for those crazy stories. But I know a lot about you, and I like what I know."

Sheppard slowly drew her forward, then kissed her. Kris did not pull away, but wasn't eager, either, unsure how she felt. Then Sheppard slid his hands down, pulling her closer as he squeezed the soft curves of her backside. Kris was about to disengage when they were interrupted.

"Shep! Captain Fairfield! Look who's come to visit!" Rymae said, appearing suddenly in the doorway.

Kris and Sheppard turned to see Grey standing next to Rymae, his expression more hurt than Kris had ever seen.

"Excuse us," Rymae said, retreating quickly.

"Perhaps this isn't the best time for us to talk," Grey said, following Rymae with great speed.

"Grey! Wait!" Kris said, rushing into the hall. But Grey had already disappeared around the corner.

"Captain, you can't go running around like that," Ge'taka said when he saw her half-naked in the hall.

Kris dashed back into the locker room and quickly donned her uniform, but by the time she reached the main gate, Grey was already gone.

__________

"This is a surprise," Raleigh McNair said, leading Grey into his private office. "What brings you back to the city so soon?"

"Concluding my business before returning to Tranquility," Grey said.

"George is in Singapore working on those i-boards you wanted. Won't be back until tomorrow," McNair reported.

"I didn't come to speak with George. Have you had any difficulties with the Doss?"

"Not yet. We're being careful," McNair replied.

"My schedule requires an acceleration of the acquisition process. We need to insist on faster delivery," Grey pressed.

"And I'd like to back my cargo runner up to Fort Knox," McNair laughed. But Grey wasn't laughing.

"Use whatever methods you find necessary," Grey instructed. "Tranquility can provide high ground intel if it proves necessary."

"Gang bosses don't have space weapons. Do you want your name dragged into this?" McNair asked.

"Negative. There's an agent who will front for our activities. He's a highly dangerous mercenary who will stop at nothing. I'll provide access codes to contact him through Tranquility's web."

"This is all rather sudden, Grey. Is everything all right?"

"In what respect?"

"The changed timetable. Going strong arm after we were told to back off. And to be honest, you look edged."

"Your planet can be most unpleasant at times," Grey explained. "And situations back home require my immediate attention. I've brought these issues to you because I don't want George drawn in. He supervises legitimate business interests that I can't afford to compromise."

"I couldn't agree more," McNair said, offering his hand. "Everything will be taken care of. You have my word on it."

"Thank you," Grey replied, showing more relief than he intended.

"Need a ride back to Malibu?" McNair asked. "I noticed you didn't bring a security detail."

"My train ticket will suffice," Grey answered, preparing to leave.

"Oh, Grey, I almost forgot. Who is this rogue at Tranquility we're supposed to work with?"

"His name is Cal," Grey said.

__________

The saloon located down the darkened street from the old train station was noisy. With an hour between transfers, Grey decided to wander in and see how the less fortunate denizens of the city chose to socialize. He was surprised how seedy the establishment was, even though he had seen such places in vid programs. The tavern was poorly lit, the floor dirty, and lurid paintings decorated the walls.

"I'll have a red eye," Grey ordered as he took a stool at the bar.

"You tryin' to be funny?" the bartender questioned.

"Whisky, straight," Grey corrected.

"We don't serve teenagers here," the bartender announced, getting grins from several disreputable looking patrons.

"I am not a teenager," Grey replied.

"Yeah? Well, how old are you, runt? Drinkin' age in the city limits is twenty-one," the bartender insisted, leaning close enough for Grey to smell his foul breath.

"What time is it?" Grey inquired, unwilling to open the pocket where he kept his timer. It being the same pocket where he hid his civilian model Lassiter.

"Twenty minutes after midnight," a patron said. "Why? Gonna turn into a pumpkin? Or are you one of the mice?"

Many people laughed at that remark, though Grey was not amused.

Grey reached into his breast pocket, found the identification disk issued to him by Northern Alliance authorities, and displayed it to the bartender.

"Well look here," the bartender shouted. "Born on July 31st, 2049. He's come all the way downtown to celebrate his twenty-first birthday with us!"

Many of the locals surrounded Grey, most dressed in frayed work clothing. Grey wore a common maintenance suit from the M.I.S.T. engineering department, but it was clean, freshly pressed, and featured a patch for the XL-3 project. Instinct told him to reach for his weapon, but such an action seemed premature.

"What are ya' doin' here on your birthday, boy? Slummin'?" someone asked.

"Look at them pretty decorations," someone else said. "He must be one of them college kids from that fancy space school."

"That it, kid? Come down here as some kind of fraternity initiation? Will they make you an astronaut if you survive?" a rude fellow asked.

"I have entered for a quiet refreshment and prefer to keep it that way," Grey answered, starting to get irritated.

"I don't think he likes us," the loudest of the group said. "What's the matter, fancy suit, ain't we educated enough for you?"

"That's an understatement," Grey agreed.

"Listen to the mouth on this puke!" another said. "I think he's lookin' for a fight. Lookin' for a fight, smart mouth?"

Grey found himself pressed by three ugly males, all reeking of excessive libation.

"None of you are armed," Grey observed. He turned back to his drink, only to have his seat rotated around.

"I don't like you," the shortest of the three said. "I don't like your fancy suit. I don't like your fancy school, and I don't like you comin' in here like you have a right to."

"There is no sign on the door declaring this a private club," Grey disagreed.

"A real man don't need a club, just a good right," the bully replied.

Before Grey could respond, the man hit him in the face, knocking him back into the bar. The blow had been so unexpected that Grey hadn't thought to duck, and a second punch to the gut soon had him on the floor.

Less concerned about the propriety of drawing his weapon, Grey reached to unlatch the pocket only to be kicked in the stomach by one of the other bullies, then the third one stomped him. Grey crawled back against the bar trying to block the blows with his arms only to be hit again. Then, to the amusement of the crowd, the bartender leaned over the counter and poured a pitcher of beer on him.

"A whiskey ain't a whisky without a chaser," the bartender laughed.

"Looks like fun, Sam. Get me a pitcher, too," the short bully snorted.

Suddenly those laughing from the rear tables grew quiet. A chill flowed through the crowded bar like a cold wind.

"That's enough," a deep growling voice said from the saloon doorway.

"Yeah? Who the fuck says so?" the tallest man asked.

"I do," the intruder replied.

"Jesus Christ! It's Simon Gott!" the bartender shouted, backing toward the door to the kitchen.

Others quickly cleared out of the way, making a path for Gott as he strode steadily to where Grey lay. Though Gott hadn't drawn a weapon, or even appeared to be carrying one, the tavern was dead silent.

"You okay?" Gott asked, helping Grey up.

Feeling his eye beginning to swell, Grey suspected he didn't look very well. But it was only pain. He knew how to deal with it.

"Thank you," Grey mumbled.

"We didn't mean nothin'," one of the men whimpered. "Honest, Mister Gott, we'd have bought him a drink if we'd known he was a friend of yours."

"That's nice of you. Let me show you my appreciation," Gott said.

Gott's left fist jabbed out, knocking the man flat. Grey guessed from the sound that the man's nose was broken. Then Gott turned on the short bully and slapped him across the room with the back of his hand. The rest of the crowd stood frozen in fear.

"No need for violence, Simon," Grey said, stepping forward to intervene. "I appear to have intruded where I don't belong. It's been a habit of mine lately."

"Just one more, sir?" Gott asked.

"Okay. That one," Grey said, indicating the third bully. The man turned to run only to be grabbed from behind, lifted in the air, and thrown over the bar into the wide mirror on the back wall, shattering the glass. The tavern keeper didn't complain.

Gott helped Grey outside where a black limousine was waiting, one of Raleigh McNair's vehicles. Grey climbed in without needing to be convinced.

"You need ice," Gott said, opening a refrigerator in the rear and wrapping a cold pack in a towel. "Appears Mister McNair was right to have me follow you. He didn't like the idea of you running around this part of town by yourself."

"I'm not unhappy that you interceded," Grey confessed, holding the cold towel against his face. "I feel foolish to have so naively gotten myself beaten up by a drunken mob. My judgment was poor."

"You can stack that pile high," Gott lectured. "You may be governor on the moon, but here you're just a kid from a small town. In your case, a really small town. You've got to be more careful."

"What I've got to do is go home," Grey concluded.

__________

"Is everything ready for the party?" Valerie asked.

"Yes, Grey will be here at seven," Roger confirmed.

"You're going to make sure he's unarmed, aren't you? We don't want to jump out and yell surprise only to have him mow us all down," Tey warned.

Valerie and Michael laughed.

"He's more careful than that," Valerie said. "We've seen him in some pretty tough spots and he still kept his cool."

"You wouldn't believe the things I've seen him do," Tey mentioned, remembering that day Grey had cut his arm open and invited the Arikhan warriors to drink his blood. "But you're right. For such a young man he does seem to keep a steady nerve."

"I'll make sure his blaster's latched, just in case," Roger joked.

"Where's Kris? I haven't seen her all day," Valerie asked. "For that matter, I haven't even seen Grey today. They're usually around in the mornings before heading off to do whatever it is they do."

"Saw Kris on the beach this morning but she wasn't too talkative," Michael said. "I don't think the kid came back last night."

"Grey was downtown on business," Roger said. "He'll be back this evening."

"Are you sure?" Valerie asked.

"Positive. Tey and I have set an April date. We're announcing it at the party, Grey just doesn't know the party is really for him."

"That's great! We wish you every happiness," Valerie congratulated, giving Tey a hug. "Do you think Grey and Kris will stay that long?"

"Don't know, but Grey's processed quite a few purchase orders in the last few days, so I know we have a shipment going up sometime in the next month," Roger replied. "Personally, I think he promotes our initiatives better here than from the moon. The more people who meet him, the more cooperation we get."

"Hope he stays around for a while," Michael laughed. "Our beach club hasn't lost a game since he started playing!"

__________

Grey looked out the window at the City of San Francisco as the hopper flew over the bay. He admired the graceful bridges, the strangely shaped buildings, and the quaint vehicles moving through the streets. Below him, Treasure Island appeared, the flat piece of land having had many careers over the years. Now it served as the headquarters of Homeland Security's Western Division.

The jet-powered hopper set down on the landing pad and the side hatch slid open, allowing Grey to jump out on the tarmac. Simon Gott followed, then the two pilots.

"Grey!" General Larson shouted, walking rapidly to greet them. "This is a surprise. Your first trip to Gold Country?"

"First and last, Wes. Is there a place we can talk?" Grey grimly answered.

"Yes, of course," Larson agreed, alarmed by Grey's forbidding tone.

Ten minutes later, Grey and Larson were sitting comfortably in an observation tower overlooking a yacht harbor. Two glasses and a bottle of vintage rye sat on the table between them.

"Happy birthday, lad," Larson said, offering a toast.

"Thank you, sir," Grey said, almost smiling.

As he finished his drink, Grey dabbed a little of the whisky on his swollen eye. Larson noticed the bruise but declined to ask questions.

"I've come for a favor," Grey said. "I require special launch clearance for Silent Wind tomorrow morning, and I would like you to keep Captain Fairfield here on Earth as long as you can."

"It's none of my business, but are you breaking up?" Larson asked.

Grey reached into his pocket and took out a sealed envelope, putting it on the table.

"Have you spoken with General Vandebrown recently?" Grey asked.

"There are some strange rumors," Larson said.

"The rumors are true. It's possible the moon will soon become a very dangerous place to live," Grey revealed. "The information on this memory strip is for your attention only. It includes background and codes. If something happens, use it wisely."

"I guess we've got a fight coming," Larson said.

"A difficult one," Grey agreed. Your alliance is the strongest on the planet. When the day comes, you'll need to be the backbone of the resistance."

"At least you and I will be on the same side this time," Larson smiled.

Grey didn't respond, but he hoped Larson was right.

__________

"He's coming now," Tey announced, looking out the window toward the long driveway. "Roger's going down to greet him."

"I hope we don't piss him off," Kris worried, more nervous than many had ever seen her.

"Grey won't make a scene, honey," Valerie assured her. "Everyone he knows is here. The kids from the institute, the Farmer family, the engineering group. I'm sure he'll feel honored."

"Grey told me he's never celebrated his birthday before," Kris remembered.

"Twenty-one is a good time to start," Michael replied.

"Quiet, everybody, here they come," Valerie said as the guests scrambled to hide. A moment later, the door to the foyer opened.

"Surprise!" everyone shouted, jumping out as Valerie brought up the lighting.

But only Roger entered.

"Tey. Kris. Can we speak for a minute?" Roger requested.

As the crowd stood in silence, Tey and Kris followed Roger out the front door and around the side of the mansion to a viewpoint above the cliff. Grey was near the railing looking at the ocean. Kris saw he was wearing a new flight suit.

"What's going on?" Tey asked.

When Grey turned around, they saw the bruise over his eye, but it was his expression they noticed most.

"I appreciate the event you've organized on my behalf, but I can't stay long," Grey explained. "Silent Wind is in the final fueling stage. I have a dawn launch window."

"Dawn!" Kris said. "Why the sudden change? When were you going to tell me?"

"I was going to tell you yesterday," Grey answered without elaborating.

"This isn't fair, Grey. Not fair at all," Kris protested.

"I agree," Tey complained. "This decision affects many others besides yourself. Roger and I have plans to make. Just this afternoon, Kris was offered extra responsibilities with her training class. And there are dozens of people who will want to say goodbye. It's wrong to run away like this."

"I have a small amount of time to say goodbye now. This event will need to suffice," Grey replied, almost apologizing. "I'm leaving Roger in charge of Tranquility's diplomatic affairs."

Grey glanced at Roger, the look in his eye communicating confidence.

"And me? What about me?" Kris asked.

"A shuttle will be bringing up additional supplies next month. You may return to Tranquility then, or you may continue with your current activity. That's your choice," Grey suggested.

"You son of a bitch, you didn't even give me a chance to explain!" Kris said. "Just decided all on your own to leave me behind."

"Explanations are unnecessary. This has nothing to do with your attraction for Commander Sheppard," he responded.

"Like hell it doesn't! You didn't see what you thought you saw, and it's not like plenty of girls haven't been chasing after you!"

"Roger, I don't think this is any of our business," Tey said, taking Roger by the arm and leading him back up to the house.

"Grey, I don't get it. I really don't," Kris questioned.

"I'm sorry you think this is about you, because it's not," he replied. "Important tasks need to be accomplished. Instead of focusing on my duties, I've shamelessly indulged myself in superfluous activities. I've engaged in distracting personal relationships. Sought adventures. Even stayed on this world longer than I should. You have a life of diverse opportunities, and you should live it. I don't. I never have, and I never will."

"Of course you will. You do. You can't expect to cut yourself off from humanity because it doesn't work that way."

"I must leave soon to begin preflight procedures. Perhaps I should say good-bye to Doctor Fairfield's guests while there's still time."

"So that's really it? You're just flying off?"

Grey could see she was hurt but steeled himself to do what was necessary, whispering;

"Time casts shadows over us all;

It's not just empires that rise and fall.

And though our lives are but a day;

It does not forbid tomorrow."

"I'm going to miss you doing that," Kris said, tears in her eyes. "But don't think you're getting away with anything. I'll be on that shuttle next month whether you like it or not."

Grey suppressed tears of his own, already knowing she was not going to be on next month's shuttle. He was going to miss her.

* * * * * *

The Arikhan are back, and more than anyone, Grey knows that's not a good thing.