Tranquility's Heirs

Tranquility's Heirs

Part Two

Their space shuttle has crashed on the Moon

This science fiction novel was originally written many decades ago so let's be generous. It is the prequel to Tranquility Besieged where Grey and Kris meet for the first time. There is very little sex and only minor nudity, so it can't be described as erotic. But it is a love story that builds over time. All characters are over 18 years old. All rights reserved by the author.

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Chapter 2

THE SENTINEL

Mike and Kris emerged from New Ranger's upper airlock and climbed down the side of the tilted shuttle. Of the five crew members, they were the only two who had never before been on the moon, so they moved cautiously, testing the restrictions of their walkers.

"Damn," Mike said as he bounced in the powdery lunar soil and watched the dust settle strangely in the vacuum. "You know, I didn't think this would be any big deal. First moonwalk and all. But now that we're here... Well, you know."

He turned to look for Kris but saw she was already bouncing up the hill toward the colony, casually drawing her sidearm as she reached the crest.

"Hey, slow down!" he called out as he bounded after her, finding the steep climb much easier than expected. Kris paused next to a large solar collector.

"We're just outside the perimeter," she said, pointing at the darkened ground stations spreading out in both directions. She scanned the area with her tactical sensors before holstering her sidearm. "Even though the laser batteries are inactive, these solar panels are still functioning."

"We landed in a good spot," Mike observed. "The fort on the ridge can't fire down on us without going through this mound. How far do you figure to those landing bays? Two kilometers?"

"Sounds about right," Kris agreed. "Shouldn't take more than a couple minutes." She moved rapidly, taking advantage of the weak gravity to sustain momentum.

"Quit showing off," Mike complained, skipping awkwardly to keep pace.

"You should 'of taken the training course, half-bird," Kris laughed.

"Yeah, right. Off-planet combat techniques 101. Just what every pilot needs."

They bounced down the opposite side of the hill, crossed a shallow flat, and started up a long series of gradually ascending slopes toward the eastern foothills. At the edge of the plain, they encountered an emergency landing platform and scrambled up to get their first clear view of the colony. There, on the near horizon, overshadowed by the towering rock wall of Tranquility Ridge, they saw a dozen surface structures grouped around a small knoll at the base of the cliff, the structures dominated by the gleaming twin spired White Towers. Below the knoll were garage entrances and equipment depots, and in a shallow valley nearby, they saw two large platforms providing access to the underground landing bays. Twisted wreckage from the partially destroyed control tower lay toppled down the far slope.

"Quite a place," Kris said, her heart beating quicker.

"Just another ghost town, if you ask me. No different than a hundred others we saw in Africa," Mike replied, refusing to share her enthusiasm.

Mike heard Kris grow silent over the intercom.

"Sorry. Shouldn't have said that," he apologized. "Let's see if we can get in the smaller bay. That one to the right."

She nodded and they started down into the valley, Kris taking out her scanner and moving cautiously.

The main airlock to landing bay minor refused to respond, the control system inactive. The secondary entrance was blocked, the pedestrian airlock buried under a piece of the control tower. They walked up the hill and tried entering through the garage access portal, but the heavy doors were stoutly locked, as were several smaller maintenance entrances.

"Fuck! I hope they all aren't like this. I'd hate to blast one of 'em just to get in," Mike complained.

"That won't be necessary. Let's try the landing bay again, these doors are mostly for tractors," Kris said.

"Surprised we haven't bumped into nothin' yet. Nightwatchers or security units," Mike said, continuing to scan as they moved back down the slope.

"Maybe the same barriers keeping us out are keeping the securatrons in?" Kris speculated.

Mike nodded and they returned to the landing bays, finding the pedestrian airlock of landing bay major. Parts of the destroyed flight control tower lay in this area, too, but the pieces were not as large.

"If this debris isn't too heavy, I bet we can work our way in through there," Kris said, pointing into a dark niche.

Mike crouched down, pushed aside a shattered piece of retaining wall, and found an entrance only a few meters away. The emergency entry display appeared active.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Let's do it," Mike answered. "Grab that beam for a lever. We'll lift this chunk of wall and stick a brace underneath. If the airlock's functional, we'll widen the path for the others on our way out."

Mike levered the beam while Kris braced the wreckage sufficiently to reach the recessed entrance. Their primaries were beginning to run low when Mike and Kris finally pushed forward into the small alcove and activated the airlock, but for a moment, there was no response. Then a blinking yellow light indicated activity.

"Glad this ain't no emergency. We'd be dead as Damascus by now," Mike said.

A minute later, the heavily reinforced hatch slid open to reveal a poorly lit cubicle.

"Ladies first," Mike offered.

"I wouldn't dream of usurping your authority, Commander," Kris replied, stepping aside to let him pass.

"Well, here we go," he said without moving.

"Right behind you," she answered, standing perfectly still.

Mike sucked a deep breath of warm, stuffy air and reluctantly stepped forward, ducking unnecessarily as he entered the small airlock. Touching her sidearm for reassurance, Kris followed. The door gradually closed behind them.

The airlock was dark and noiseless, no safety lighting, not even indicators to show if pressurization was occurring. Kris activated her chest lamp and looked at the instrumentation, but the environmental monitors appeared inactive. She probed the control panel, checked each system one at a time, and found the environmental override generating a weak response. She activated the switch and stepped back.

"Give it plenty of time. I'd rather get inside with the airlock intact," Mike advised.

Five minutes later, when their environment support systems approached alert status, they went to auxiliary battery power and checked their reserves.

"Guess we'll have to cut the lock after all. My walker's only got forty minutes left," Mike said.

"We'd better reopen the outer hatch then," Kris advised. "Sudden pressurization in such a small place could be dangerous."

"You're right, I hadn't thought of that," Mike agreed, turning to pull on the door lever. But the mechanism had frozen.

"It won't open! Kris, it won't open!" he exclaimed. "Goddamn! It's a trap! We're trapped!"

Kris rushed to add her weight to the lever, but the bar wouldn't budge. A second effort with both of them working together also failed.

"We could rot in here!" Mike said.

"Let's take another look at the entry panel," Kris suggested, turning her lamp back on the dimly lit display. "I'll bet we can manipulate the controls directly."

She used a demagnifier from her tool pouch to take off the panel cover, then probed the energy modulator. Before she had finished her preliminary examination, the emergency pressurization mode activated. A noticeable change soon proved the pressurization cycle was complete and the inner door opened with a crisp suddenness.

"Good work, Kris," Mike said.

"But I didn't do anything? It activated by itself," she answered.

They entered a second, somewhat larger airlock that was no less bleak than the first. The hatch closed instantly behind them.

"Jesus, not again," Mike said, when they found themselves once more blanketed in darkness.

"I guess so. Let's hope this one doesn't give us so much trouble," Kris answered.

It did. A full ten minutes later, after Kris had virtually dismantled the inner lock mechanism, the door finally activated. They found a third airlock inside.

"This one's locked, too," Kris quickly reported.

"Damn it!" Mike said. "If someone's fucking with us, I'll break his--"

Before Mike finished his threat, the final door activated, opening onto a darkened walkway with a cavernous open space in the gloom beyond.

"Careful, Kris. I don't like this," Mike said, starting to go first.

Kris drew her sidearm, a Marsden heavy-force energy blaster, and brushed past him, emerging out on a wide walkway overlooking the landing bay hanger. With only their chest lamps for light, visibility was too limited for a thorough appraisal, but the bay appeared immense. And completely deserted.

"Whew," Mike said, his spirits improving. "For awhile there I wondered if we'd ever make it in."

"I'm surprised it took so long," Kris said. "This equipment's in pretty good shape. I didn't notice any unusual wear or deterioration. Circuitry even looked recently serviced."

"Our check-in's overdue," Mike said, switching to a stronger band. "Guess we better tell 'em we got inside. Zopek to New Ranger. Zopek to New Ranger. Val? Hey, Val, are you receiving?"

There was no response, not even static.

"We should have anticipated this," Kris said. "The bay walls are too heavily shielded for our intercoms. Necessary to block radiation."

"Let's look around. Maybe find access to an outside dish."

"Should we open our faceplates?" Kris suggested.

"Not yet. Let's see what we're up against first," Mike said. "Don't want gettin' poisoned now."

He walked to the railing and tried to survey the floor area with his lamp, but the beam wasn't strong enough to search out many of the large hanger's shadowed crevices.

"Try following the walkway to the right," Mike ordered. "I'll go left and meet you around on the other side. Look for a light switch or power station."

"Got'cha, boss," Kris answered.

"And Kris? Be careful. This place is spookier than a studio tour."

"A what?" she said. "Oh, sure. You be careful, too."

Mike turned his lamp on her, and though it was difficult to see her face through the mirrored visor, instinctively felt something was wrong.

"You alright? It's not like you to drift on me."

"A-okay," she calmly insisted, gazing at the murky images visible in her searchlight. "It's just... Hell, I don't know. There's a strange feeling here. A mysterious... something."

Mike stepped closer until he was sure she had him on visual. "Maybe we shouldn't split up?" he suggested.

"Listen up, half-bird," Kris said, turning and stabbing him in the chest with her fore-finger. "I'm long past needing your apron strings! Long past!"

"Okay, okay, don't fire up," he said, pushing the jabbing appendage aside. "Just watch yourself. This isn't some Gothic romance."

He stepped back, tried to detect an expression on her face, then bounced slowly toward the north side of the landing bay, probing the off-shoot corridors for a communications room.

Pleased to finally be alone, Kris stood at the railing to survey the quiet floor area, feeling more alive than she had in years. She understood how Mike felt about the mission, the danger and foolishness of it, but somehow that didn't seem to matter. Tranquility. After all the years. All the stories.

Kris bounced along the wide southside walkway in easy hops, taking time to scan the walls for light switches. Everything she saw, regardless of how trivial, became remarkable and interesting. The ramps and walls were solidly structured like an underground fortress, built to withstand the heaviest impact. Then she remembered Khartoum and halted, angry at herself.

Why? she wondered in frustration. It's been three years already. Three years. Why can't I put it aside?

Suddenly a gloomy figure emerged from the shadows up ahead. Kris focused her lamp on the shiny image of a stoutly built robot. At least, it looked like a robot. Some sort of constructor with humanoid streamlines that couldn't disguise an inherent bulkiness. But bulky or not, the strange apparition accelerated quickly and with so little effort that she was taken by surprise.

Kris slowly drew her sidearm, but as the thing came steadily closer, her fear mixed with curiosity. She instinctively raised her weapon to the ready position but wasn't trigger happy. When the robot came to a halt at an acceptable distance, she put the blaster back in her holster.

"Who are you?" Kris asked.

The robot stepped forward into her lamp, the beam reflecting off the surface in a shower of tracers so bright Kris had to drop her sunshade.

"Who are you?" she asked again.

The stranger remained motionless. No movement at all. Kris had a feeling she was being scanned and boosted her battery power, hoping a stronger transmission beam would help. The result was static.

Curse this interference! she thought. Then the robot reached up, tapped its head, and pointed to the control on her visor.

"You want me to open my faceplate?" she asked. It seemed to nod.

Hesitantly at first, Kris raised her hands, found the sequence plates, and opened the visor. The air was good. Musty, but good. And the ventilation felt great, the heat of the suit giving way to a cool draft. She turned her lamp down so the beam wouldn't reflect back and found she could see the robot more clearly. And was it something to see! Heavily encased legs, a barreled body, and a short, squat domed head nearly buried into the shoulders. Obviously a prototype, the form was unlike anything she'd seen since the Future Show when she was a little girl. The robot's smooth surface emitted energy as well as reflecting it.

"Can you hear me now? Who are you?" Kris asked.

"A computer," the construct said, the voice coldly interpreted through an unseen speaker.

"You don't look like any computer I've ever seen," she said. "More like a constructor. Or a sentinel."

"Sentinel will suffice," it said.

The sentinel paused strangely. Kris had a distinct feeling of being studied. Stared at. The sensation was a unnerving.

"You are trespassing a declared military district," the sentinel eventually continued. "Leave immediately. Go back where you came from."

"Our shuttle crashed. We can't leave," Kris explained.

Is it my imagination, Kris wondered, or does it seem concerned?

"We have an injured person in our party," she added, oddly out of breath. "We need help."

"This unit apologizes for damage to your craft. Is the human seriously damaged?"

"I don't know what her condition is," Kris admitted. "But we can't care for her in our ship."

"Is the damaged human McKinsey or Fairfield?" the sentinel asked, much to her astonishment. Kris quickly tried to figure how it knew their names, then realized they couldn't be much of a secret. Every media group on Earth knew the crew of New Ranger.

"Doctor McKinsey," she answered.

The sentinel straightened stiffly, leaned backward, then corrected to a slightly forward leaning position, as if compensating for a damaged part. A malfunction? Kris wondered.

"This unit is willing to negotiate," the sentinel said.

"What do you want?"

Kris felt her heart beat faster as she waited for the robot to answer, almost embarrassed by a sudden flush. Then she noticed with concern when the sentinel wobbled again, the balance tenuous.

"Your party..." the sentinel whispered, "will be given access to the landing bays. Facilities to repair your shuttle will be provided. Upon completion of the repair work, you will return to Earth."

"And the alternative?" Kris asked.

"Your expedition will be destroyed."

"Like the other expeditions?"

"Affirmative," the sentinel replied.

Kris decided she could get huffy, too, standing straight with her chin out. "I'm not authorized to negotiate. May I discuss the terms of our surrender with other members of my party?" she said.

"As you prefer. This unit does not wish to be unreasonable."

Kris liked the way the sentinel said that. She softened her stance and tried to reappraise the situation. Suddenly, from somewhere behind them, a hovering beam of light appeared.

"That must be Colonel Zopek," Kris warned.

When Mike's lamp caught the two figures in center beam, he slowed with sudden caution, drawing his Marsden.

"Mike!" Kris called out.

As the sentinel turned toward the approaching human, a bright flash glanced off its surface into Kris's unprotected eyes, causing her to stagger backward and nearly lose balance. The sentinel, moving with unexpected agility, took hold of her arm to restore equilibrium.

"Kris!" Mike yelled. "Kris! Move away! I'll cover you!"

Mike raised his weapon. Kris regained her balance and promptly tried to thrust herself into the line of fire, but the sentinel reacted more forcibly, pulling her back and activating a fierce protective energy screen. Startled, Mike fired point blank.

"Mike! Goddamn it, don't do that!" Kris yelled, her transmission washed out by static.

But Mike had already seen his error. After a brief, showy burst of dispersing hot energy, the sentinel straightened up undamaged and turned toward him. The blast had been deflected by the energy field.

When Kris moved away unharmed, Mike quickly holstered his sidearm, holding out his empty hands. The sentinel watched carefully for a moment, then let the intensity of the energy screen slacken. Kris found it easier to see again once the bright glare was gone.

"This unit anticipates your response," the sentinel said to Kris.

Before she could reply, the sentinel turned for a disdainful glance at Mike, then bounced away into the darkness.

"What the hell was that?" Mike asked, rushing up to Kris and popping open his visor.

"I don't know," she answered. "I really don't. But it was kind of cute."

"Cute?" Mike laughed uneasily. "Doll, it has been too long for you."

Kris whirled on him and Mike was sure he'd overstepped the boundary of decorum once again, but she wasn't angry.

"Let's get back to the ship. I've got an important message to deliver," Kris said eagerly.

____________

The return journey didn't take long with the previous obstacles removed and most of the trek going downhill, but seemed longer because of the silence. Kris seemed off in a world of her own and neither of them were inclined to discuss the confrontation with their mysterious host. When they reached the shuttle, Mike quickly scampered up the side, dropped into the upper airlock, and anxiously waited for Kris. She followed so casually he almost yelled at her.

"They're back, Doctor McKinsey. They're entering the airlock now," Vandebrown said, poking his head through the bridge doorway.

"Thank God," Valerie said with relief.

"Indeed. Is our equipment ready to move?" McKinsey asked.

"Everything on the list is stacked near the airlock," Valerie replied.

She knelt next to her godmother and reached into her medical pouch for a packet of green capsules. McKinsey tried to stare her down, but Valerie just smiled and broke one open with a well-practiced twist of her fingers, holding the fumes under McKinsey's nostrils. McKinsey took a quick breath and started to turn away, but Valerie gripped the old woman's forehead and made sure she inhaled the full dose.

"While we're on the surface, I'm increasing the oxygen ratio in your walker," Valerie scolded.

"Do whatever you wish, just stop hovering over me like a blasted angel of mercy!" McKinsey snapped, wiping her nose and eyes with a handkerchief.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Laureen," Valerie said in a hurt voice, looking down as she pretended to reorganize her medical bag.

"Oh, I apologize, dear," McKinsey sighed, lifting Valerie's chin. "You know what I mean."