T'aafhal Legacy 1: Ghosts of Orion (5 page)

Atrium Restaurant, Farside

The morning after TK's campfire discussion, the three officers all resigned their commissions in Earth's Space Navy. On their way to Fleet HQ, the four friends agreed to meet for lunch at the restaurant overlooking the Atrium just before noon.

Mizuki and Bobby already occupied a table when Beth and Billy Ray entered the large, second level restaurant. Being just outside of the base administrative offices, the restaurant was always crowded, even though the food was unremarkable. Mizuki was dressed in her usual science section maroon, but Bobby was wearing the plain tan of a civilian resident of Farside, as were Beth and Billy Ray.

“I guess this makes it official, pardner—we ain't in the Navy any more,” Billy Ray said with a grin.

“Yeah, I almost didn't recognize you two in civies. I hope we get better looking clothes from the company.”

“You still have your government jumpsuit on, Mizuki,” said Beth.

“Yes, I have some things to wrap up in the lab so I gave them until the end of the week. Unlike everyone else, I am not yet free.”

“Depends how you look at it, Mizuki,” said Beth taking a seat. “You're the only one of us still employed.”

“It feels so weird to not be in uniform.”

“I know what you mean, Bobby. Beth and I felt like fish out of water inside the HQ wearin' these civilian duds.”

“At least we all have off base housing,” Beth observed, “so we don't have to move on top of everything else.”

“That is good,” said Mizuki with a hint of a smile. “It could be hard finding a new place that allows pets.” 

This time it was Billy Ray's turn to be momentarily confused, until he realized she was referring to her flock of winged admirers.

“Why couldn't you just make do with a dog or cat, Mizuki?”

“The butterflies aren't that bad,” answered Bobby, coming to his partner's defense. “At least they don't need a litter box or have to be walked. We do take them out every now and then, kids love 'em.” 

“That's because, outside of the polar bears, there isn't any wildlife on this rock.”

“I suppose that you would want to keep horses, if they let you, Billy Ray,” Beth teased.

“Actually, they've brought some horses up from Earth,” Billy Ray answered. “They intend on sending them along with the colonists.”

“What in heaven's name for?”

Bobby, whose vast knowledge of science fiction made him an expert on colonizing hypothetical alien worlds, jumped in with an explanation. “If you are going to establish a colony dozens of light-years from Earth, where the cost of transporting agricultural equipment would be astronomical, horses make sense.”

“Really? How so?”

“They can be fueled locally anywhere you can raise grass. They are not apt to break down and become useless for want of spare parts, like mechanical farm equipment. And if you take both mares and stallions with you they can make more on location.”

“I never thought of it that way, Bobby. I guess I'm just not much of a farm girl.”

“That's one of the things I love about you, sweetheart,” said Billy Ray, giving his wife a peck on the cheek. “One ex-ranch hand per family is enough around here.”

“I hope we find out more about the coming voyage when we visit the company offices after lunch,” said Mizuki, changing the subject. “We will need to find others to help crew the Peggy Sue for any significant trip.”

“You're right, of course. I think that TK is holding back some of the details until we are officially signed up. I wouldn't be surprised if some old friends and acquaintances sign on as well.”

“Really? Like who?” asked Bobby.

“I don't know about you, pardner, but I can't imagine a trip on board the Peggy Sue without Chief Zackly.”

“We'll need more than just the Chief to run the ship,” said Beth

“We will need a number of scientists: a geologist, a chemist, and probably several biologists,” said Mizuki, “and we will also need a doctor for the medical section. We have never gone anywhere without needing medical care.” 

“Right, so let's get something to eat and think about who else we need to take along.”

Chapter 3

The Orion Arm Trading Company, Farside

“Good afternoon, I'm Billy Ray Vincent and we're here to talk with whoever is in charge,” Billy Ray said to the receptionist inside the nicely decorated lobby of the Orion Arm Trading Company.

“Yes, Captain Vincent, we have been waiting for you to arrive,” the woman said, her distant stare indicating that she was checking the other's identities with her data enabled contact lenses. “Someone will come and collect you all in a moment.”

“Thank you,” said Mizuki, with a polite bow. Her companions looked around the lobby of their new employer—a tasteful blend of wood veneers, natural rock and brushed metal. Flanking the receptionist's desk were two large potted palms and on the walls hung panoramic holograms of distant star systems. 

“Looks like TK isn't skimping on the start-up money,” observed Bobby, “the decor is top notch.”

“Yes, moon modern,” quipped Beth, less impressed by their surroundings. On one side of the lobby a door slid open and a trim young man entered.

“Good afternoon, I am Remi de Voorst, director of personnel for the company. If you will please follow me we will dispose of the formalities of bringing you all on board.”

They followed the gentleman down a short hallway and into an office. The office contained a desk to one side and a larger conference table in the middle. De Voorst motioned to four chairs along one side of the table while he sat in the lone chair on the other side.

“Please place either hand on the tabletop in front of you to identify yourself to the company computer net.”

As they complied, their pictures appeared with a welcome message on the table's display surface. These were soon replaced by legal looking documents adorned with company letterhead.

“Before you are your employment agreements. Note the base salaries have been communicated to each of you privately and do not include profits from any expeditions you might participate in. Please sign the form by pressing your right forefinger to the table in the rectangle provided on the form image.”

Mizuki hesitated.

“I am not yet released from my old job with the science section. I do not think it proper to sign this form before the end of work on Friday.”

“Of course, Dr. Ogawa,” said de Voorst, tapping his fingers on the table top in front of him rapidly. “If you will look closely, I have just changed the effective date of your employment to this coming Saturday. If you will sign now confidentiality agreements will be put in place so you can attend today's briefing.”

“Thank you, that will be satisfactory.” Mizuki signed the document. 

“Given that Capt. Vincent has had the most time in grade and has commanded the Peggy Sue on previous voyages the board has named him captain for the upcoming venture.”

The four new employees all nodded.

“It should also be noted that this is a civilian vessel, not a Navy ship, and that the command structure is not the same as in the military,” the company representative said. “Given that Cdr. Danner has extensive time actually piloting the ship it was thought that he could serve as sailing master and Cdr. Melaku as first officer. Dr. Ogawa would be the head of the mission's science section. Do you all find this agreeable?”

The four looked at each other and replied in the affirmative.

“Very good then, I think we are done here. Welcome aboard,” de Voorst stood and shook hands with each one in turn.

“Now that you are officially part of the company we can proceed to the main briefing room for an overview of the star system we have identified as the target for your first mission. The briefer will be our staff astronomer, Dr. Lucrezia Piscopia. I believe that you already know her...” 

Commercial Port, Farside

The in-system freighter
Isaac Asimov
had just docked after a return voyage from Olympus Mons. On the outbound voyage the hold had been stuffed with equipment and the passenger section bulged with 200 refugees headed for a new life on the red planet. That trip took three weeks while the trip home took only two due to changing orbital configurations and lower mass. Combine the shorter trip with the fact that only a half dozen passengers booked passage to the Moon and the trip home was a comparative pleasure cruise. Now, with the passengers disembarked and the scant cargo unloaded, members of the crew were free to go ashore.

Two of the crew were old time spacers, having done time on a number of Navy ships before switching over to the merchant marine. Where once they traveled among the stars, now they traveled local space, hauling people and cargo between the various planets and moons of the solar system.

“Well, Stevie. Looks like we survived yet another death defying voyage through the icy vacuum of space,” said Matt Jacobs, as the pair shouldered their sea bags and headed across the docks.

“Matt, the only thing life threatening on that tub is the boredom,” his friend, Steve Hitch, replied. With no alter-space drive and barely able to pull 1G when heavily laden, the Asimov couldn't really compare with any Navy vessel.

“Hey, you were the one who was tired of the Navy chicken shit, and the low pay.”

“Come on. You can't say that what the Navy had us doing was anymore exciting than this. The only difference was having to take a ration of crap off of the officers and senior chiefs. Admit it, the pay is a lot better and it's not like the Navy was an adventure. Nothing like the old days on the Peggy Sue.”

Matt gazed across the huge open space that was Farside's main commercial port and sighted a familiar shape—a beautiful swan nestled among the ugly duckling transports. There was no mistaking that bow, the curving transparent panels framed by sinuous sliver strands, like half of a crystal egg designed by Fabergé with a hint of Gaudí for good measure. 

“Speak of the devil, isn't that the Peggy Sue across the way?”

“I think you're right. It looks like the old girl has been getting refitted—I wonder what for?”

“I think we ought to find out, don't you Stevie?”

“Hell yes. Let's stow our gear back at our quarters and go do some investigating.”

“By investigating you mean drinking in some of the dockworkers' favorite bars?”

“Damn straight, my friend. No reason gathering a little intelligence can't also be enjoyable.” 

Apt 32, Refugee Housing, Farside

Among the refugees rescued with Imam Mustafa were a pair of sisters: Shadi, then fourteen years old, and Dorri, eleven. They were not a part of the Imam's terrestrial flock. The sisters' family had lived in Tehran, where their father was an engineer. Engineers were valued, even in the economic basket case that was twenty-first century Iran. The ruling mullahs recognized the need for men who could actually design and build things.

As a result, Shadi and Dorri grew up in an environment as close to middle class as existed in modern day Persia. They attended private schools, enjoyed modern amenities and knew something of the outside world. In a country where many girls were uneducated, they could speak and were literate in Farsi, Arabic and English. Their parents, while Muslims, were not overly religious—attending prayers at their local mosque just frequently enough to avoid suspicion.

Both girls were attractive, their long, raven black hair framing faces with flawless pale skin. Beneath dark brows flashing grey eyes peered mischievously, almost seductively at the world around them. Their blossoming young bodies remained mostly concealed beneath the modest dress demanded by the theocratic state in which they lived, but even the hijab could not hide the truth—these were two very pretty young women. Undoubtedly, they would both grow into stunning beauties like their mother. 

Just by chance, the girls had been in the mountains visiting a favorite Aunt when fire rained from the skies and the world was broken. The torrential rains that followed the alien bombardment sent a cascade of mud through their Aunt's village destroying most of the houses. Somehow the sisters managed to survive and months later were swept up by a rescue mission sent from the moon base—the same shuttle that gathered up the Imam and his flock of true believers. With no parents or adult relatives of their own, the refugee officials simply lumped them in with Mustafa's other followers. That was over two years ago. 

When Mustafa himself became aware of the girls' addition to his flock he greeted them with kindness, as required by the teachings of the Prophet. He attached them to his own household and treated them like his own daughters. The Imam's first wife, Manijeh, took them under her wing and put them to work. Treated with strict compassion, life for Shadi and Dorri was a far cry from what they had been used to, but as long as they did their chores and attended prayer five times a day with the other women, things were tolerable. 

The girls slept on mats next to each other in a room shared with five other girls ranging in ages from six to fourteen. They spoke in English, having discovered that none of the other girls could understand the language of the infidels.

“Do you ever think we will see home again, Shadi?” asked Dorri in a hushed voice.

“No, Dorri,” her sister replied, “I think we are never going to see Tehran, or even Earth, again. I overheard the men talking and they say we are to become colonists on some strange new planet.”

“That might not be so bad, as long as we are together.”

“Yes, little star, as long as we have each other,” the older replied.
No need to tell her that we will both be married off to strangers when we arrive at our final destination. No need for her to worry about that until the time comes.
 

Briefing Room, Orion Arm Trading Company

“Our first target system is an interesting one—a triple star system located in the constellation Scorpius called 142 G. Scorpii, with a catalog designation Gliese 667,” said Dr. Lucrezia Piscopia, known to her friends as Elena. The astronomer summoned a star chart on the wall display.