Tranquility Down

Tranquility Down

Part One

by G. Lawrence

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

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

* * * * * *

Chapter One

OLD BEGINNINGS

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

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

"Another nightmare?" Kris asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How intimate?" she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Prove it, moonman," she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

"What's that?" he asked.

"Beg for mercy," she whispered.

____________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____________

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know?" Nicholas said.

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

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

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

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

"Not enjoying your celebrity status?" Glenda asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like what?" Michiko asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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