Tranquility Down

Tranquility Down

Part Two

by G. Lawrence

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

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

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Chapter Two

MIDWAYS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How's the lad?" Larson asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Afraid of being outranked?" Roger teased.

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

Only the second accusation hurt.

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

"What is there to tell?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Will Waters be joining the mission?"

"He wants to," Roger said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

___________

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

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

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

"We're busy," Congressman Gumper protested.

Trolleni refused to be put off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And the other matter?" Valerie asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Worse than ever," Kris said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

___________

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

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

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

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

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