Tranquility Down

Tranquility Down

Part Six

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 told in 11 parts.

Recap: Hiding on Earth after the crash of his spaceship, Grey is working on a southern California farm pretending to be a drifter named Ben Brown. All characters are over 18 years old. All rights reserved.

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Chapter 6

ON THE TOWN

Marsus made a point of giving Grey a big meal Saturday evening and modifying an outfit for him to wear, tailoring the pants and shirt sleeves for a better look. Grey thought all the fuss a bit wasteful but cooperated rather than give offense. The whole family, in fact, seemed excited by the preparations, everyone giving advice or making comments.

"You have our number, right?" John asked again.

"Your communications access. Yes, the coordinates are secure," Grey assured him.

"Don't drink too much and don't get in any fights," Marsus warned.

"Fights?" Grey asked.

"Those Edelson boys can get rowdy," John said. "Don't worry, Mar. I made Pete promise to keep Ben out of trouble."

"Use your scanner if you have problems finding girls," Jaybee advised.

"I recognize your remark as humor, young person," Grey said. "Rest assured that identifying females is within the scope of my abilities."

"Don't be too sure, Ben. We're not that far north of L.A.," Marsus laughed.

"Let's not confuse the boy," John said. "But hold on to that scanner, just in case." The whole family laughed, but this time Grey didn't understand the joke.

A runner pulled up out in front, a bright red road vehicle much different than any of the transports Grey had used at Tranquility, with a raised passenger compartment in the middle and sleek, streamlined sides. Powered by hydrogen charged cells, it was efficient and capable of great speed. Grey chose a place in one of the rear seats, nodding at the two young men in front.

"Remember what I told you," John said, speaking sternly to Peter and Walter through the passenger side window. "I'm holding each of you personally responsible for my guest."

"Yes, Mister Farmer, we'll be careful," Peter said.

"Mind you are," Marsus stressed. "Ben's from a small village way up north. He doesn't understand all our urban nonsense."

The vehicle turned in a tight circle and was soon headed down the hill toward the main road, giving Grey a chance to feel the imitation leather seats and notice the runner's unique smells. The movement was different, too, much smoother than John's truck, and better visibility through the bubble top windows.

"This really your first trip to the big town?" Walter asked. "Where are you from?"

"The Aleutians," Grey said again, wondering why people seemed to readily accept that particular explanation. But the Security Computer had said humans were more likely to believe big lies rather than small ones.

"We were kind of rude at the pumping station," Walter said. "We didn't mean nothing. That work you did was great. Going to help everyone. And when you kicked Mason's ass, that was a hundred degrees."

"I kicked no ass. I merely suggested they leave peacefully," Grey said.

"Everyone in the valley's talking about it. Some say you're a rogue enforcer, others say you must be a retired Black Sash doing a Lone Ranger," Walter suggested, leaving an opening for Grey to confirm one of the rumors.

"A Lone Ranger?" Grey inquired, unhappy to hear the pumping station incident had received so much attention.

"They say there are some vets who roam the countryside defending people from the gangs, and even sometimes from the government," Peter explained. "No official status or anything, just out to set things right."

"I've not heard of such phenomena," Grey said.

"Just rumor, not anything you're going to hear on the news," Peter elaborated. "When people get desperate enough, all kinds of stories get started. I don't buy it. Life isn't that romantic."

"Just because Jillian dumped you," Walter prodded.

"Oh, shut up," Peter said.

"Well, what about it, Ben?" Walter asked.

"I am not a Lone Ranger or government agent, nor have I ever participated in the Black Sash tournaments," Grey said. "Mister Farmer required assistance, so I helped. That's all."

"See? I told you," Peter said.

The landscape whipped by as the vehicle sped along, the number of private houses and multiple unit dwellings increasing as they passed through several small towns before approaching a moderate sized city. Grey thought the sights interesting and wished they were not going so fast.

The City of Ventura had brightly illuminated streets, a multitude of businesses, and vehicles of various functions parked next to the wide sidewalks. Most of the buildings looked old, at least on this side of town, and some were nearly ancient.

They stopped in a parking lot near a large auditorium decorated with colorful neon signs. By the number of people flowing into the building, Grey had to guess it was a popular gathering spot, and he grew nervous to realize he might encounter more humans than he'd ever seen before. The last banquet he had attended at Tranquility, which had fifty participants, suddenly seemed very small. Then Grey noticed the name of the establishment.

"The Lunar Landing?" Grey asked.

"Uh-huh, this is the hottest nightclub in town. Maybe the region," Walter said. "Total moonscape."

"Why?" Grey asked in astonishment.

"It's all the pop now," Peter said, not quite as enthusiastic. "Ever since they broadcast that documentary, it's all the kids want to talk about."

"You saw it, didn't you? Governor of the Moon," Walter questioned.

"Some of it," Grey replied. "I wouldn't describe it as a documentary, however."

"You don't like him?" Walter asked with a hint of anger.

"Like who?" Grey asked.

"The Governor of the Moon. Grey Waters!" Walter exclaimed. "The bravest, most ass-kicking fighter there ever was. He once beat five seekers with nothing more than a half-charged blaster. He doesn't take shit from anyone, not even the Congress-In-Council, and danger means nothing to him."

"Sounds rather foolhardy," Grey demurred.

"He's a hero," Walter persisted. "A real hero, not like those political clowns the government slaps medals on."

"Give Ben a break, Walter," Peter cut in. "Maybe he's seen enough action that he's not so easily impressed."

"Have you?" Walter asked.

"I've had my back to the wall once or twice," Grey confessed, wondering what Walter would think if he found out his hero was just an ordinary person. "Maybe I'll appreciate the Governor more when I've learned more about him."

"Can't be fairer than that," Peter said.

They had a lengthy walk to the nightclub entrance where Grey was required to flash the fake identification reluctantly forged for him by the Administration Computer. He was given a tag and followed the Edelsons inside.

Just beyond the entry, Grey saw the main hall had a towering ceiling and numerous food service providers installed in the surrounding walls. A wide dance floor formed a big circle around the room, and in the center of the hall was a multi-level saloon with a glowing replica of the moon hanging over it. Huge wall panels featured electronic displays replicating romanticized views of famous lunar landmarks including Tranquility's landing bays, the White Towers, and a rough outline of Tranquility Ridge. There was loud music playing and the lighting altered on a frequent basis, causing a mild degree of visual distortion. It didn't look like anything he had ever seen before, but the patrons seemed at home in the bizarre environment.

Grey followed Peter and Walter through a noisy crowd to the bar where they found seats in an outer ring overlooking the dance floor. Most of the dancers were young, in their late teens to late-twenties, and wore clothing that was skimpy on material. Especially the females, who were showing many of their attributes.

"Isn't this great?" Walter said.

"They've done a terrific job," Peter agreed. "This used to be the old Marine Corps training center, before they moved the unit over to Point Mugu. You'd never guess how drab this building was."

Grey would. He had rehabed enough aging storage decks to see the modifications clearly. But he also knew what it's like to work with scarce resources, so he didn't dwell too critically on the results.

"May I bring you something?" a very attractive hostess asked.

"You can bring me everything," Walter said with a twinkle in his eye.

Grey noticed that the female server wore a tight-fitting silver outfit with wide padded shoulders, apparently designed to resemble the space clothing he had seen in old science fiction programs. She had long auburn hair, nice brown eyes, and wore a headband with the Tranquility Lunar Colony logo on it. Grey smiled, finding the uniform humorous, but in a strange way he was also flattered by the homage to his birthplace. The hostess noticed his smile and smiled back, willing to ignore Walter's clumsy flirting.

"I'll have a Sunrise, my brother will have a Jack and Six. What about you, Ben?" Peter said.

"I'll have a red eye," Grey requested.

"Ah, the Governor's favorite," the hostess said, tapping a keypad as she scanned their ID tags.

"Wait, I'll have a red eye, too," Walter decided.

The hostess changed the order and disappeared into the crowd.

"How are the nightclubs back home?" Peter asked.

"Smaller, and not so many people," Grey said, working to control his nervousness. Fortunately, few if any of the humans bothered to look twice at him, unlike Tranquility where his every move felt scrutinized. Grey liked the sensation of anonymity.

"What happens next?" Grey asked.

"First we dwell, spy the ground," Walter said, holding his hands out flat to emphasize the strategy. "Then get a snack and hunt some legs."

"What is the purpose of hunting legs?" Grey pursued.

"Get honeysuckled. You know, poached? Don't tell me they don't get laid in the Aleutians?" Walter said.

Grey thought the terminology over carefully, recalling some of the slang words used by Kris and many of Tranquility's more recent visitors.

"The purpose of this exercise is to engage partners for sexual intercourse?" Grey inquired.

Both Peter and Walter stared at him, then laughed.

"That was funny. You said that just the way Grey Waters would have," Walter grinned. "You must have liked that vid more than you thought."

The hostess returned with their drinks and Peter produced his credit disk. The drinks were in colorful beverage containers with decorations showing famous lunar landmarks such as the Apollo Landing Sites and the Space Heroes Monument.

"Here's to the best crop we've ever had," Walter said, offering the toast.

"We don't have a crop yet, but I agree," Peter said. "To our best year ever."

Grey sipped the whiskey, finding it strong and flavorful, then took a stiff drink, enjoying the hearty burning sensation. Walter coughed on his red eye and had to slow down.

Over the next hour, Grey watched the brothers approach and make startling statements to many of the females, occasionally with some success, but usually not. He was satisfied to view the storm of social interaction raging around him from a distance, the pace of the exchanges far more intense than the relaxed socializing he had studied at Tranquility. Where once he had seen two or three pairs of humans flirting on the community level promenade, now there were hundreds of attempted communications in patterns that seemed to change by the second, each filled with hope, excitement, fear and disappointment. Until this moment, Grey realized he had not understood what the Medical Computer meant about overactive hormones.

"What do you think, Ben? Does California have the prettiest girls in the world or what?" Peter asked. "Are you having a good time?"

"It's very interesting. Thank you for bringing me," Grey said, relaxing enough to let the room's unique energy filter in.

"Rough night," Walter said, returning from another unsuccessful foray. "How you guys doing?"

"Saw Sandra and Mitzi, both with dates though," Peter reported.

"I keep telling you, you've got to break new ground," Walter lectured. "How about you, Ben?"

"Making excellent progress," Grey said, giving Walter an excuse to change the subject.

Suddenly a roar of noise arose from far off to the rear, hundreds of voices cheering in unison. The big room started to empty rapidly.

"The games are starting. Hurry or we won't get seats," Walter shouted, jumping up from their small table.

Grey and Peter rushed to follow as Walter jostled through the crowd, entered a gate that greatly resembled the one at Lunar Stadium, and made it to an aisle overlooking an arena. No, not exactly an arena, Grey thought, more like a training field decorated to give a more entertaining appearance. The ground floor, about twenty meters wide by sixty meters long, was similar to the garrison training center at Tranquility. Which was no surprise. Both were made around 2040 by the same contractor, only here, the live fire shielding protecting the spectators had been removed to give a wide-open view of the action.

Walter wasted no effort getting them seats, forcing several couples to move over. The expectation level of the audience was high, some sort of sporting event apparently being anticipated.

A few minutes later, to great fanfare, a man outfitted in an old spacesuit walked to a podium overlooking the arena

"Honored guests, tonight the Lunar Landing is proud to present our 20th Weekly Free Open with the very latest holographic displays," the man announced. "Pump your shields and seal your armor, here comes our first contestant."

The crowd screamed as a youthful male entered the arena wearing extremely light full environment body armor, complete with a holstered sidearm, an energy shield still racked on his rear shoulder carrier, and a belt filled with jammers, a converter, a recharger, and even spare power packs for the blaster. Grey instantly realized the equipment wasn't real. Facsimiles. Training tools. He studied the overhanging beams and saw a vast array of holographic projectors similar to the ones he had trained with as a child. Before he decided that live fire exercises would prove more valuable.

Suddenly a bell rang three times, the contestant closed the visor of his imitation armor, and the holographic image of a seeker appeared at the far end of the arena. Modeled exactly like the nightwatcher series that Grey had battled so often while growing up, the flying armored sphere moved forward in a manner and speed that was only possible in lunar gravity. Even the sound effects were good, the hissing wail of the thrusters accurately replicated.

At first the seeker image jetted forward on power jets, then circled into the contestant's weak right flank on wing jets probing for an opening. The contestant unracked his energy shield, strapped the oval presentation plate to his left forearm, and drew the blaster with his right hand, stepping sideways to avoid the seeker's movement. After a brief exchange of low intensity laser fire, the seeker continued the circling movement.

Though the image moved quickly enough, Grey thought it lacked the agility of the seekers he had fought, the slight bounce and shift that gave them a defensive advantage not quite sharp enough. Apparently the programmer was still thinking of their movements in terms of Earthly gravity.

When the seeker backed off and then charged again, the contestant scored a direct hit and the image disintegrated. Grey was amazed the battle ended so suddenly. None of the seekers he had fought ever folded after just one shot, and that last generation of seekers brought to Tranquility by the United Alliance, the sentinel class series, was so heavily armored almost nothing could knock them down. Nevertheless, the crowd cheered even if Grey didn't.

The second round also featured a lone seeker, and though the attack pattern varied and movement was more rapid, the outcome remained the same, the holographic image overmatched by the contestant's modest skills. Admittedly it took a direct hit to score, and the intensity of the sensor contact was a factor, but Grey still yawned and wondered what time it was.

"Isn't this fabulous?" Walter said. "Just like the battles the Governor fought, taken directly from his biography. The Governor has fought seekers lots of times. They're almost impossible to beat."

"Doesn't look so hard to me," Grey mumbled.

"Just wait," Walter urged. "That's only the prelim. There are five rounds altogether, if he makes it that far." Walter's eyes were bright, the crowd noisily enthusiastic.

"We know it's not like the real thing," Peter admitted. "Not even like the live fire tournaments the army holds. But only soldiers get to test their skills there, and only the elite get a chance at a Black Sash. Here anyone can have a crack at it."

Round three began and this time two seekers appeared, one coming straight on and the other moving into flanking position, ducking low and scoring hits on the contestant's converter cables. The combatant stepped backward, fired at the closest opponent, then turned on the flanker to chase it off. He was quickly attacked from behind, however, by a blaze of aggressive laser fire, then squeezed by a double flanking formation. Rather than roll out, the contestant stood his ground, destroyed one seeker, but then took a fatal hit from the other direction. The game was instantly over.

The crowd applauded with appropriate admiration, the contestant's score of three kills a little better than expected.

"He should have moved more," Peter said. "Last time we were here, someone made it all the way to round five. He was good, but three seekers at once was too many for him."

"Three seekers at once should be too many for anybody," Grey said.

They watched two more contestants, the first losing a few seconds into the first round, the second putting up a sturdy fight, winning the first three rounds before getting careless in round four. With a little more practice, Grey thought he might have lasted longer. At least against these images.

"You should try it, Ben," Walter said.

"Yeah, Ben, do it," Peter agreed. "Top prize is five hundred credits."

"Is your friend any good?" someone behind them asked.

"The best," Walter said, lacking the slightest evidence to back up his boast.

Grey was ready to reject the invitation when many of the spectators jumped up chanting, "Over here. Over here," and pointing at him. A spotlight searched the area of noise and two ushers came down the aisle, signaling for Grey to follow. Rather than make a fuss in public, he got up to follow the ushers with Peter and Walter eagerly trailing behind.

The locker room beneath the stands offered adjustable suits in a variety of sizes. While Peter dealt with the registrar, Walter and an assistant helped Grey select an outfit and suit up. A second assistant laid out the weapons, power packs and an energy shield, and a third assistant read Grey a list of rules laced with advice. Grey didn't hear anything he hadn't already observed, so he spent his time checking the equipment, particularly the ejector mechanism on the McIntosh blaster. After ejecting and inserting new power packs several times, he tested the weapon's accuracy on a nearby target screen. It was sufficient.

The round in progress didn't last long, an unqualified female contestant going down in less than thirty seconds. The next round didn't even last that long, the contestant leaving the arena to the jeers of the heavily drinking crowd. Grey positioned the holster on his hip the way he liked and tested it with a slow draw.