Tranquility Down

Tranquility Down

Part Five

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. With his spaceship having crashed, Grey is now hiding on a California farm calling himself Ben Brown. All characters are over 18 years old. All rights reserved.

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Chapter 5

WATER RIGHTS

Black Raven dropped through Tranquility's defense perimeter, fired landing thrusters to set down on landing bay minor, and was towed to the elevator for the descent through the airlock system. Kris waited impatiently for the final chamber to open, then jumped from the lift and bounced toward the hospitality complex, leaving Johnston to deal with their exhausted spacecraft.

Landing bay minor was active, ground crew units performing repairs on the recently returned Toppas in one service bay, routine maintenance on Equinox in another, and major repairs on New Ranger in a third. Packet's bay was empty.

Kris ran up the ramp to the second level and bounced along the walkway overlooking the central floor area, heading for the transition center located between the two landing bays. She had almost reached the pilot's check-in station when Nicholas walked out of Kelly's Saloon.

"Kris, welcome home," he said.

"Hi, Nick. Can't talk now, I want to see Grey as soon as possible," she replied.

"Kris, come and sit. We must talk," Nicholas insisted.

Kris started to object, but when she saw his worried expression, she became even more concerned. Nicholas gently took her hand and drew her into the saloon, seating her in a leather-covered booth just off the main bar area. Tamera and Ted were already there.

"What's wrong?" Kris asked.

"Grey isn't here," Nicholas said. "Packet did not return from the mission."

"Where is he?" Kris asked.

"We don't know," Ted said. "Initially we thought he was taking a long loop back to the Farside station. There are messages requesting the facilities be activated, but none of the tracking points have been reached."

"I have been working with Flight Control, but there is no confirmed data after the last asteroid was deflected," Nicholas added.

"There's a coded message that says, proceeding as planned," Tamera said quickly. "Do you know what that means?"

"Usually Grey works out contingency plans, but nothing we needed on this mission," Kris replied. "Not after the asteroids were already diverted."

"We don't know what it means, either," Ted said. "Life Support is speculating that Grey might have already landed somewhere. There was one additional transmission. It said, 'approach achieved, Packet out.' But we can't trace the source of the transmission. And it was on an open band."

"What's the bottom line here?" Kris asked.

"The bottom line is that Grey is missing," Nicholas said. "The Defense Computer does not think he is in danger and has not initiated emergency procedures, but we still do not know where he is."

"Kris, did Grey say anything about an extra mission? Farside, maybe? Or the Quexelian base?" Tamera asked.

"No, nothing like that," Kris said, trying to think. "He only said he was thinking about taking a vacation."

"A vacation? Grey?" Tamera questioned.

"It didn't make any sense to me, either," Kris admitted.

"We're going to keep looking," Ted promised. "New Ranger's getting ready for search and rescue, and the Flight Control Computer is going over all the data. We're still trying to figure out how that warhead activated. Maybe that has something to do with all this."

"The good news is that the world is very grateful," Tamera said. "Especially the way Grey ran down that rogue. Many are saying he saved thousands of lives."

"Even the NA media has been honest about that," Ted agreed. "They resent being accused of setting off the warhead but agree Grey's action helped avert a disaster. Major Vandebrown says it's helped with the negotiations."

"Negotiations for what? What does Roger say about all this?" Kris asked, angry that so little seemed to have been accomplished.

"I guess none of us asked him," Nicholas confessed.

"Well, I'm going to ask him," Kris said. "And I suggest everyone start working a lot harder. Stop relying on the goddamn computers for answers. If this is another one of their stupid schemes, it will be a rainy day in hell before we learn the truth."

Kris stormed out of Kelly's without waiting for a response, more furious with each step.

"Do you think the computers really know more than they're saying?" Tamera asked.

Nicholas and Ted could only shrug.

___________

John and Grey drove up to the Higgins ranch on Friday morning to meet several other Hope Valley residents just as determined to assert their water rights. Grey found the motley group of seven men interesting, four farmers, two ranchers and a citrus grower. Nearly all were different ages, sizes and colors. Two of the farmers, closer to Grey in age than the rest, were sons of an older farmer.

The group looked at Grey with skepticism, seeing a very young man in worn overalls who displayed a strange sort of nervousness. Not fear, they decided. At least, not the same fear they felt. More like claustrophobia, and right out in the open, too. Grey's fear was soon suppressed. Their fear wasn't.

"I want this as much as you do, Farmer," Higgins said, a broad-shouldered man with thinning yellow hair. "But every year we go up there, every year we have trouble trying to prime the damn pumps, and every year we get chased off before we're half done."

"And last time they said if we try it again, someone will get hurt," the citrus grower said, a stocky black man named Jones with a slow, drawling accent.

"We'll see who gets hurt, Trammel," a very elderly man said, a rancher named Old Sam who cradled an ancient shotgun in his lap. None of the others seemed to take the old man seriously.

"We should at least try," John said. "If we get the station working it will prove to the board that we can operate it. McNair will have to leave it alone or risk an investigation."

"He won't want that. The cost of bribery's gone up considerable since the war ended," Higgins concluded. Several others laughed.

Grey noticed that the two young farmers stood off to the side speaking with each other rather than participate in the discussion. Grey guessed by their ages that they might have been in the service at one time but probably had not seen combat.

"What makes you think this kid can help us?" Bill Edelson asked, introduced to Grey as the father of the two younger men.

"Ben's the best repair tech I've ever seen," John said. "He's had experience with pumping stations, and he's willing to help us for free."

"Free?" Jones said.

"Jobs worth five hundred, no, probably a thousand credits. Why would he do it for free?" Higgins asked. Grey could see the others were interested in this question, too.

"Ben?" John asked.

Grey stepped forward struggling to appear composed. The humans did not appear hostile, nor especially friendly either. The two younger males seemed to find his appearance humorous.

"This is a project I wish to undertake," Grey said. "You have no funds to pay me and I have no need for the credits. I intend to go to the pumping station whether you accompany me or not. As far as I'm concerned, whatever decision you make is irrelevant."

"Well how to you like that?" Higgins said.

"I like this kid," Jones said. "Anybody with sass like that has got to be worth his shit."

"Are we going, then?" John asked.

Everyone nodded. Old Sam hefted his shotgun.

The pumping station was located at a rock-lined reservoir in the foothills above the valley, one of several such reserves in the region. The aging square building was open on one side where equipment could be organized underneath a pavilion while the pump controls were installed in an interior room. The surrounding area was dusty and overrun with weeds.

Grey could tell the station had not been operational in several years, possibly since the uprising, and he was pleasantly surprised to find the systems were similar to the hydro pumps in Tranquility's biosphere.

"Not looking too good," Higgins said, jumping down from one of the three trucks and kicking at a tumbleweed.

Grey stashed his shoulder bag in the rear of the control room, then pulled out his tool belt and started to survey the deficiencies.

"This is going to take a couple of days, John," Higgins said. "The electrical feeds all need cleaning and the main valve is stuck tight. Probably rusted. Don't know about the auto controls, either. Balancing them isn't easy."

"Young Walter here says the whole station's antiquated," Jones mentioned, pointing to the younger Edelson brother. "Says we'd do better with a bucket brigade."

"I'll want to hear what Ben says," John said, trying to remain hopeful.

A moment later, Grey emerged from the canal below the pumping station, his face and work suit already covered in silt. He shook some of the mud off, then wiped his hands with a towel John gave him.

"Well, Ben? What do you think? Walter doesn't have much hope for it," John said. Grey's thin eyebrows went up in surprise.

"The station is in excellent condition," Grey said, the excitement of the task showing through his quiet demeanor.

"How long's it gonna take? A couple of days?" Jones asked.

"Days?" Grey said. "The project will be finished this afternoon. Except for some dead vegetation, all but one channel is clear. Once the valves are lubricated and the electrical systems refurbished, I'll reset the controls. These old Kester Pumps were made for extensive abuse, and this one isn't even breaching yet."

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" the older Edelson brother said, the one named Peter. The human was tall, strong, and seemed to think his superior size would intimidate Grey. Seeing no point in debating one so ignorant, Grey turned to the other humans.

"The motor mounts need to be dismantled before cleaning," Grey instructed. "It's important the connections be secure during reassembly due to the power surge caused by the restart. The lower canals also need to be shoveled out. I'm going to hardwire the valve kick, then test how much power can be pushed through the line."

"We've all done maintenance. We'll get right on it," John said.

Grey nodded and disappeared into the small control room.

"Gives orders like a goddamn general," Higgins said under his breath.

"Maybe he'd calm down if we offer to pay him?" John said.

"Hey, did I ever say there's anything wrong with generals?" Higgins laughed.

Several hours later, John reassembled the task force. All the workers were muddy now, but enthusiastic about the rapid progress of the endeavor. A few minutes later, Grey emerged from the main channel underneath the pumping station so covered in sludge that he was almost unrecognizable. But he, too, was feeling energetic from the effort.

"Damn, this is great," John said.

"Better than I expected," Higgins agreed.

"There is a final task to accomplish," Grey advised. "After that, adjusting the water flow and timers should not prove difficult."

"It's no small task," Walter said, carrying a report chart on the electrical systems. "The transformers can't carry the surge this station needs to kick start the pumps. The motors are only rated for regulation loads."

The work force accepted the bad news with disappointment, and a degree of resignation. All knew that upgrading the existing systems would cost time and money they didn't have. Grey studied their reaction with impatience.

"Ridiculous..." humans, Grey almost said, despite the many times he had been warned not to. He backed off, angry but realizing that anger would not resolve anything. He walked back a moment later, struggling to present his opinions calmly.

"The situation with the transformers can be bypassed," Grey explained. "I will need someone to--"

"The transformers can't stand the stress," Walter interrupted, holding up the chart. "We're wasting our time to think..."

"Are you an engineer? What's your rating?" Grey demanded.

"I've got a little experience. Three semesters at..." Walter started to justify.

"I've been an engineer my whole life," Grey said, his voice swelling with resentment. "I was repairing sub-systems before you learned how to manipulate an integer, so don't presume to tell me my trade."

The entire group jumped back, surprised by the stranger's burst of indignation. But when no one protested, Grey tried to relax, taking a deep breath as the Medical Computer had taught him.

"The transformers are not rated for the influx necessary to jump start the pumps," Grey said, agreeing with Walter's analysis. "However, we don't need to rely on electrical power alone. The turbines will supply the necessary power once the lower chamber is flooded, and the pumps will initiate movement on their own when sufficient pressure is applied. I've closed the inner flood gate and placed a trip-lock on the release mechanism. Once we flood the outer chamber, we'll free the trip-lock. The rapid flooding of the inner chamber will supply the momentum necessary to jump start the pumps. Then all we'll need to do is program the regulators to make the station self-sufficient."

"It sounds easy," Peter said, looking at his brother. "Well, Walter, will it work?"

Walter punched in his calculations and appeared surprised by the answers. But he wasn't convinced yet.

"There's one small difficulty," Walter said. "The inner gate's lift engine isn't working."

"What about the hand crank?" Trammel asked.

"The gears are stripped. How do you expect to release the trip mechanism?" Walter said.

"I intend to knock it open with a mallet," Grey answered

"That's impossible," Walter objected. "When that trip-lock is freed, the inner chamber is going to flood. Water will come down that channel like a brick wall and anyone down there will be shoved through the separation grate like graded cheese."

Again, everyone looked to Grey, who had no trouble explaining his plan.

"I'll wear a harness attached to a safety line," he said. "When the trip-lock is struck free, I'll step back and be pulled up through the maintenance well. It's a simple procedure with minor risk."

"And if you're not pulled up in time? Or the line breaks?" John asked.

"I'll be shoved through the separation grate like graded cheese," Grey tried to joke. Only Old Sam thought it was funny.

"I don't know. It sounds too dangerous," John said.

"The trip-lock is already in place," Grey said. "I would appreciate your help, but the maintenance well does have a ladder."

"For God's Sake, Ben, don't you ever listen to anybody?" John asked.

"Not very often," Grey confessed.

"I'm with the kid," Jones said. "If he says this is the way to do it, I say we back him up."

"Me, too," Higgins replied.

"And me," the senior Edelson jumped in. "John, you said Ben knows what he's doing. Besides, I want that water. Let's give it a try."

"Us, too," Peter said, giving his younger brother a shove.

"At least let one of us free the lock," John said. "It's our water. Our farms. We should take the risk."

"Right," Walter said. "Let me or Pete do it. We're strong and fast."

"That's very generous," Grey responded, impressed by their offer. "But the lock needs to be struck from exactly the right angle, with just the right amount of force. I'm the only one here qualified to execute the procedure."

As there was no arguing the point, the group moved inside the pavilion above the maintenance well. Grey gave Walter instructions for activating the power grid, then let John and Higgins help rig a harness around his waist and shoulders. Then Grey crawled down into the lower flood channel as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

"I'm a little nervous about this, Farmer," Higgins admitted, holding the safety line tightly.

"Hell of a time to get squeamish," John said. "Thought you wanted the water?"

"That's what bothers me," Higgins said. "Hate to think that someone might get hurt because I got greedy."

"It ain't greed," Jones said, holding his end of the line. "I don't know why, but if the little general thinks he can do it, I believe him."

"You kids talk too much," Old Sam said, sitting in a chair underneath the foyer. "Just pull the damn rope when you're supposed to."

"We've got our orders," Higgins laughed.

"Almost time," Peter announced, running from the control room. "This has got to be timed exactly." He grabbed a section of the rope even though the task seemed well in hand, rapid breathing betraying his apprehension.

"Primers on." they heard Walter shout from the control room.

"Okay, okay," Peter said, looking at his watch. "Here we go. Six, five, four, three, two, one ... Pull! Pull! Pull!"

Beneath them, a thunderous roar rocked the pumping station. Like a group of dedicated fishermen, the crew pulled hand over hand on the rope, gaining a good deal of initial slack at first, then a sudden resistance that pulled them forward.

"Pull, damn it, pull!" John shouted.

The rope fought them for another moment, then jerked upward, everybody losing their footing from a sudden lack of resistance. John was sure the line had snapped and cursed himself for being talked into something so foolish, but Peter kept reeling in the line until a very big fish emerged from the mouth of the maintenance well.

"That was fun," Grey choked, spitting up a belly full of water.

John dropped the rope and ran to his side, searching for signs of injury, but Grey only smiled.

"Are you all right?" John asked.

"Affirmative," Grey responded. "Simply because an operation requires precise timing doesn't make it dangerous. Didn't you play football in college?"

"People don't get killed playing football," John said.

"That's not what I've heard," Grey recalled.

"You're the wettest mackerel I've ever seen," Jones observed, helping Higgins remove the harness. "Is there an inch of you that's not soaked through?"

"I should have taken off my footwear first," Grey lamented. "These boot linings will take hours to dry."

"Hell, I'll buy you new boots if this damn thing works," Higgins said.

"It's looking good," Walter reported, walking over from the control room. "Pumps are primed, the turbines are rotating, and the channels are clear. If the computers can be set to time the regulators, we're all squared."

"Not a problem," Grey said, shaking his soggy sleeves. "I have a special affinity with computers. I'm sure they'll cooperate."

"Does that mean we did it?" John questioned.

Grey stood up, let some of the water drain from his work suit, and briskly disappeared into the control room.

"Did he bring a change of clothes?" Peter asked.

"Ben always carries his shoulder bag with him. He's probably got something in there," John said. "And speaking of something."

John ran out of the pavilion to his truck and returned carrying an ice chest.

"Guess you know what time it is," John said, handing a beer to Higgins, then another to Jones before opening one for himself. The three Edelsons and Old Sam quickly helped themselves, taking their first relaxed breather of the day. Hardly a minute later, a large black ground vehicle pulled up just outside the pumping station.

"Oh, crap, here it comes," Jones moaned.

"Stay calm," John urged. "And take that shotgun away from Old Sam before someone gets hurt."

The farmers formed into a group as four intruders emerged from the vehicle and slowly walked into the pavilion, the sunlight from outside keeping their images shadowy until they were all the way inside.