Tranquility Down

Tranquility Down

Part Four

by G. Lawrence

In this sequel to Tranquility in Darkness, we find Grey, Kris, and their allies struggling to establish the Lunar Republic as a legitimate nation. This old-style science fiction novel is presented in 11 parts.

Recap: It's 2070, and in a cooperative effort with several nations, the lunar rebels joined a mission to neutralize a dangerous meteor field. But all did not go well and now Grey's shuttlecraft is missing. All characters are over 18 years old. All rights reserved.

* * * * * *

Chapter 4

STRANDED

The surface of the small reservoir bubbled as the escape pod sank into the greenish depths. Sitting on the embankment in a worn work suit, Grey adjusted the straps on his canvas backpack, then hid his holstered sidearm in an old shoulder bag. The outdated Lassiter and a handful of power packs wouldn't protect him from an entire planet full of hostile humans, but having been warned of the inhabitants treacherous nature, he was prepared to put up a struggle.

The atmosphere was warmer than he expected. The sky shone blue in places with a streaky gray cloud cover extending toward the ocean only a few dozen kilometers away. The air smelled heavy, and the steep gravity was annoying. But despite some apprehension, Grey had to smile. Of all the places in the solar system he had ever expected to visit, none of them were Earth.

Grey glanced again at the reservoir where the charred escape pod had disappeared from view, the water sufficiently murky to make its immediate discovery unlikely. Just as well, Grey thought. The only equipment in the pod that could help him was the transmitter, and that would broadcast his location to the local authorities. If he was going to communicate with Tranquility, a more subtle means would be needed. He felt no particular hurry.

Beside him lay the personal hygiene kit that the Security Computer had insisted he bring on the mission. As much as anyone, he liked to prepare for all contingencies, though at the time he thought the kit's contents unnecessary. Not anymore. He used the small dye comb to run a blond coloring through his thoroughly brown hair and trimmed it short along the sides, giving himself a different appearance. Along with the week-old beard, which in truth, wasn't much of a beard, the disguise would decrease his chances of being recognized.

It's not as if I'm a celebrity, Grey thought. Other than one televised speech, and that silly biography that Davis and the Life Support Computer produced, his media exposure had been tightly controlled. With such a limited number of images available, he guessed the chances of recognition to be minimal.

His emergency supplies also included a few basic necessities, including counterfeit identification documents, a small amount of hard currency, and a variable tracking beacon. He kept the identification disk and credits in his pocket but put the tracking beacon deep into the shoulder bag. The only people who might search for him here were not likely to be friendly.

Grey noticed the dirt around him had an interesting texture. Hard, almost like cement, and the sparse grasses were fascinating. Familiar only with the crops he cultivated in the biosphere, it was strange to see so much vegetation growing naturally.

Around the reservoir, covering several low hills, were a large variety of trees and bushes. Being late in the spring, some of the countryside was turning brown, but there was still enough color to give him a sense of awe. Grey also felt the strangeness of being outdoors without a spacesuit was going to require some getting used to.

Grey stood up, shook the soggy sleeves of the beat-up work suit, and moved away from the reservoir toward a gravel road lined by very tall trees. Far taller than any Tranquility could boast. The soil changed, becoming softer and moist, with significantly enhanced growth potential. Grey studied the dead leaves and the longer grass stems, fascinated by every biological feature. When he stumbled upon an ant hill, his joy of discovery knew no bounds.

Eventually, he had to move on. Though the terrain seemed to offer abundant sources of editable nuts, plants and roots just like the ones he had studied with the Library Computer, he suspected that a vagabond living off the land might attract undesirable attention.

He followed the road toward a paved highway, jumped a very ineffective chain-link gate, and was surprised to find a road sign that suggested his location. While his shuttlecraft was breaking up, Grey had watched the autopilot struggling to eject the escape pod toward the North American continent. Apparently the program had managed quite well. The metropolis of Los Angeles, capital of Western Region, was a hundred or so kilometers to the south, while the old Point Mugu air station was just two dozen kilometers west.

Grey was pleased to have landed in an area well known for its agricultural heritage. A small town was within walking distance, and even in the authoritarian state imposed by the Congress-In-Council, Grey had little doubt of finding the resources he required. And if worse came to worse, he still had the blaster.

He wondered what time it was. He was accustomed to Tranquility Standard Time, but the rapidly moving sun overhead only gave him a scant clue of the local time, having no personal experience with a twenty-four-hour light and darkness cycle. The moon's two-week solar schedules would hardly apply here.

How long has it been, Grey wondered, since he had discussed these questions with the Library Computer? He had been five years old the first time, just before the higher function levels released him from the protective isolation of the Old Section. What a glorious day that had been! The whole community level cavern spread before him. The high domed ceiling. Huge open spaces far larger than anything he thought theoretically possible. And now this. A world enclosed only by layers of air! Grey knew he should be afraid. Such a strange environment, enemies everywhere, and little chance of immediate assistance. But he felt no fear. He was excited, eager for the next challenge, and curious about this bizarre new world. Is this what it's like to be on vacation? he wondered.

He reached a division in the road, the better maintained highway going west, a smaller road turning northeast toward the community of Hope Valley. Grey took the smaller road, strolling along the dirt shoulder and fighting a temptation to take samples of the nearby flora. He had hardly been walking half an hour when a primitive ground vehicle approached from behind, a machine Grey recognized as a hydrogen powered runner designed for hauling modest loads. The vehicle slowed as it came near, then stopped abreast of where Grey stood. Grey put a hand on his shoulder bag but did not want to draw the sidearm prematurely.

"Hello, there," a large male said, leaning over to speak through the right-side passenger window. "Need a ride?"

"For what purpose?" Grey asked, taking a cautious step closer.

The human was giving Grey a close scrutiny, causing him to wonder what the stranger was seeing. Grey knew his work suit was badly worn, and the boots were not his best. Though he carried many valuable tools in his shoulder bag, they were not visible, and by contemporary Earth standards, probably outdated. Grey felt embarrassed to realize he must appear somewhat of a vagrant, but it couldn't be helped.

"I can give you a lift to town," the friendly human said. "You won't get there on foot before curfew."

"Curfew?" Grey asked.

"Sunset," the human said, showing surprise. "In this sector, no one's allowed off grounds after dark without a permit."

"I was unaware of the restriction," Grey said, concerned the local regulations might be more complicated than he expected. "Thank you for the offer of transportation."

The vehicle's passenger door slid open and Grey climbed into the cab, noting the mechanical smells and worn condition of the seat. Having driven tractors, hoppers and even shuttlecraft, the factoring of the runner was both familiar and different. The dashboard had room for various computer links, but nearly all of them were inactive.

"Name's Farmer," the human said as the vehicle resumed its previous course. "Farmer John Farmer. You can call me John or Farmer, don't matter which."

Grey glanced over to see the human's dark brown eyes and interesting expression, wondering if it would be rude to inquire further. He was muscular, entering his mid-thirties, with coal black hair just beginning to show a touch of gray. Dressed in old blue jeans, a checkered shirt and dusty cowboy boots, he looked just like the farmers Grey had always imagined.

"Yes, I'm a farmer, my first name is Farmer, and my last name is Farmer. I've heard all the jokes so don't hurt yourself," he said. "What's your name?"

"Ben," Grey said, remembering the documentation in his pocket. "Ben Brown."

"Well, Ben, what brings you this far inland?" John asked.

"I want to see a farm," Grey explained.

"Plenty of farms about, that's a fact," John said. "Not what we were before the war, maybe, but hanging on. What's your interest? You don't look like an agricultural inspector."

"I enjoy farming," Grey said, turning to look out the window.

As far as the eye could see, there were pastures, trees, occasionally orchards, and even some large animals. Grey had never seen an animal up close before and wondered what it would be like.

"Where you from, if you don't mind me asking?" John prodded. "That accent of yours isn't one I'm familiar with."

"Quite a long distance away," Grey said.

"How long a distance?" John asked even more directly, and with a hint of suspicion. Grey realized that he had better come up with a story if he wanted to remain unmolested by the populace.

"The Aleutians," Grey said.

"Damn, talk about the sticks! Heard you guys got it rough up there," John said.

"I'm accustomed to isolated conditions," Grey agreed. "But the wars were hard on everybody. I have no complaints."

"See some action? You know, in the service?"

"I have been in several combat situations," Grey confirmed.

"You don't have to explain. We get a few vets through here from time to time. Young guys looking for a little peace and quiet. It's getting late. Have you got reservations?"

Grey had to think the expression over, wondering how he should interpret the question. "Lodgings?" he asked.

"Yeah, at the motel," John said.

"No," Grey replied.

"Have many credits?"

"Not many," Grey admitted.

They reached the end of a long tree lined section of road and Grey was able to see acres of flat farmland stretch out in all directions. The spring harvest was just ending, many of the fields now empty, and soon the summer planting would begin. Judging from the amount of land that looked unprepared, Grey assumed that much of it would go unutilized. He also guessed the difficult economic times and harsh government restrictions were taking an unfortunate toll on productivity.

The town appeared, a dozen old brick buildings grouped around a small central plaza. Nearby was a local school, a park and an old white church. The plaza was dominated by a stately town hall that appeared to have been built two centuries before. Though some of the storefronts surrounding the plaza were empty, many featured the same services offered on Tranquility's community level. Tools, clothing, eating areas, and even a grocer. The town also had a real estate office, and like Tranquility, it looked like the office had been closed for many years.

At the end of town, a rundown motel flashed a neon vacancy sign. The vehicle stopped but the engine continued to run.

"The Palm is a dump and will cost you thirty credits a night," John said. "If you want, I've got a spare room off my barn. Not fancy, but it's clean and you can spend the night for twenty."

"Ten," Grey countered.

"Fifteen, and I'll throw in a meal," John offered.

Grey had heard stories of what Earth humans liked to eat, and without specifics, the thought made him shudder.

"Twelve credits. I'll supply my own food," Grey said, feeling the backpack for his emergency rations.

"Squared," John agreed, speeding the runner up again.

Soon they were back in the countryside, the fields growing darker as the sun dropped quickly behind them. After a twenty-minute drive they turned onto a short access road, went around a bend, and traveled up a gentle hill to a quaint two-story house accompanied by a wide corrugated steel barn. Though the buildings were adequately maintained, the landscape showed evidence of neglect.

"I'll get you spelled, then tell the wife we have a guest," John said as he pulled the runner into a garage adjoining the barn. "Wouldn't want her coming after you with the shotgun."

Grey followed John into the barn and was amazed when he activated the light switch. The barn was full of equipment! Tools of every size and shape, specialized vehicles, terra forming trailers, and a large multi-function tractor.

"Have you no worker units?" Grey asked in surprise.

"Worker what?" John asked.

"Robotic assistants," Grey said.

"Even field hands come dear these days," John said. "With Region taking a third of everything we grow, not much left for wages. As for robots, well, some of the big corporations use them, but you need a whole technical staff to keep them running. The handful of techs we had here in the valley are either in the service or down at the university. Hell, I can't even keep my combine working anymore."

"I understand," Grey said, knowing better than anyone how daunting a labor shortage could be.

The spare room Grey was shown proved very nice, with a comfortable bed, an old wood dresser, a private hygiene compartment, and even a window that looked out toward the nearby foothills.

"It's not much," John said with hint of an apology.

"Quite adequate," Grey said with approval.

"Well, that's fine then," John smiled, starting to withdraw toward the door before pausing.

"Ben, the--"

"Yes, the payment," Grey said, quickly handing over several five credit disks. He could tell the farmer was pleased even though the sum was small. A sad situation, Grey thought.

"I'll get you change from the house, along with a blanket and some sheets," John said, quickly backing from the room.

Grey glanced over the quarters again, put his backpack on the floor, his shoulder bag on the bed, and returned to the barn where he studied the implements with fascination. Though some of the equipment was newer than the tools he used at Tranquility, most of it was similar in vintage, or even older. A random inspection indicated that only half were in working condition.

"I'm afraid none of its worth stealing," a female voice said.

Grey turned to see a woman carrying linens, her expression one of suspicion. She was older than Kris by several years, yet much younger than Doctor Meriwether, and by Northern Alliance standards, very attractive.

"It might be worth stealing if you'd repair it," Grey said.

The woman laughed, her squinty hazel eyes showing amusement. Unlike Kris, who had long black hair that was often tied back, this woman had brunette hair that curled at the ends around her shoulders. Her old-fashioned dress was casual but seemed to suit her.

"I'm Marsus, John's wife," the woman said. "These should make your night more comfortable."

She disappeared into the spare room and reemerged a few minutes later with a satisfied sigh.

"Do you need anything else, Mister Brown?" she asked, making an attempt to be friendly.

"My resources are adequate," Grey said, not sure what social etiquettes were called for.

"There's a vid receiver in there that still works. No national access but we get a few of the regional nets," she suggested. "If Susie or Jaybee gets in your way, just send them back up to the house."

"Susie or Jaybee?" Grey asked.

"Our children. They know better than to bother strangers, but you know how kids are," she explained.

Having no idea how children may behave, Grey declined response.

Marsus smiled politely and left, looking the stranger over one last time with more than a little curiosity. Though he looked like a teenager, especially with his slender physique and curly hair, she suspected he might be a little older. The stranger moved with confidence, confirming in her mind that he had served in the military, and he didn't seem intimidated by the new surroundings. But most of all, she noticed the intensity in the stranger's eyes. Maybe John thought he was just another aimless vet, but Marsus was convinced there was more to Mister Ben Brown than a case of lost generation.

Once the female was gone, Grey went to his room, took a hot shower, and sat down for a moment, looking over his supplies while munching on a ration bar. The dry cake was made softer with some water that Marsus had thoughtfully left in a pitcher on the dresser, not that Grey cared much for luxuries. Though the ration bar served his immediate needs, he promised himself to take advantage of the many roots and nuts he'd noticed growing wild near the road.

Wondering what had happened in the fourteen hours since his shuttlecraft lost orbital stability, Grey activated the television monitor and tried to find a news network. The search wasn't easy, the region apparently excluded reception from the fledgling global net he usually tapped, but eventually he found a station from nearby Los Angeles, a local channel well known for sensationalizing events to attract unwarranted viewership.

"Good evening my friends. Annie Brewster here with tonight's latest update on the String and accusations of treachery from the rebel Lunar Republic," the broadcaster said, quickly gaining Grey's full attention.

"As expected, heroes of the Northern Alliance space command today risked their lives to place mines among this year's String and divert the asteroids from colliding with Earth," the reporter continued, not telling Grey anything he didn't already know.

Grey noticed the image of the reporter move to a corner of the screen, now shared by a series of colorful graphics that inaccurately illustrated the six-day operation.

"The mission has been an outstanding success," the reporter continued. "Damage from the few meteors that reached Earth, including several right here in Western Region, was very minor, and the String has been completely neutralized!"

Grey grunted, wondering if anyone truly believed that an entire asteroid belt could so easily be made harmless. Even though a few stragglers had been diverted from their collision course, it would take months to analyze the String's new configuration. No doubt it would be a nuisance again next year.

"The most crucial part of the mission, destroying seven of the larger fragments, apparently suffered a minor glitch when the nuclear devices were detonated out of sequence, endangering a spacecraft piloted by the lunar outlaw, Grey Waters. Though it first appeared that Waters's craft was caught in the blast, a Tranquility press release indicates he is returning safely to the moon. Tranquility's foreign minister, the notorious traitor Roger Vandebrown, has falsely accused the Northern Alliance of deliberately setting off the devices in an effort to assassinate the rebel leader. Our own Congress-In-Council has stoutly denied this perfidious accusation! In other news ..."

Grey turned the program off. There were several promising suspects in the premature detonation of the mines, but blaming the Congress-In-Council was the most useful. The ploy made Grey smile.

Having heard himself spoken of from such an unusual perspective helped Grey understand why the citizens of the Northern Alliance would distrust him. Member nations of the NA, especially the Americans, still found the loss of their former colony hard to accept, and it reminded him to be careful in his dealings with the local humans. Then he picked up his tool belt and went back into the barn. There was much repair work to do.