The Legacy of Earth (Mandate Book 2) (8 page)

“Yes,
sir
!” Buck said, echoed by Rox.

“Be ready in ten,” Long said. “Dismissed.”

The troop commander followed the wing commander off the bridge. Marjorie parted with him at her office down the hall and nodded as he said, “
Finally
some action!”

Cmdr. Plaas pointed to the image on the center screen, which SPO Devlin had pulled out of Luna City’s logs. The smaller ship, presumably the aggressor, was attached to the belly airlock of the freighter like a leech. “Based on this timestamp and the last known position, we should be coming up on them in a few minutes. And, what about Luna City?”

“Oh, we’ll deal with Bob another day,” Long said with a smile. “I’ll bet the admiralty would enjoy having some dirt to throw at T3, though. I’ll be sure to mention it in my next report.”

The Lexington was still under general quarters when she entered a high elliptical orbit over the Moon, using gravity for slowdown.

“Still no response?” Captain Long asked, looking toward the comm station.

“Nothing, sir,” Devlin said.

“We’ve got them!” the XO said, “right
there
,” pointing to a blip on the horizon.

“Verified on RADAR,” CPO Jones confirmed from the navigation station.

“Very well,” the captain said, “slow us down to overtake and match their orbit.”

“Aye, sir,” said CPO Williamson at the helm. For a split second, Long could feel the reverse thrust of the engines tug him toward the front of the bridge. Everyone lurched for a moment then regained their balance.

“Slowing. We’re down to fifteen,” Williamson said. He continued to monitor the thrust maneuver, almost frantically monitoring their status on multiple screens. After two more minutes, he said, “Ten. We’re at ten.” Shortly thereafter, he said, “Six point two mps. Velocity matched.”

The captain punched a comm button and said, “Launch fighters!”

Chapter 7
One For The Road

I had no choic
e.
The paperwork was signed.

My only way out was to go AWOL and I couldn’t dishonor my mom by doing that. I still
wanted
to serve, but I also wanted to be with Lena . . . now more than ever. Our relationship was blooming. How could I leave her
now
that we were growing so close?

Should have broken up before I slept with her. Now I’m crazy about her. More than crazy. Can’t get her out of my head. Not for one second.

“Maybe you can relocate to Luna City? Or, I can come back when I’m in port and—”

Lena put a hand to my mouth, like she often did. “
Min älskare,
let’s not be so . . . attached. Too many bad feelings with that kind of relationship.”

“What?” I said, feeling astonished and suspicious. “Are you talking about an
open relationship
or are you breaking up with me?”

“Hmm, that was not in my mind,
min älskling.
There is no one else for me right now, but . . . yes, I feel that we should be open, rather than—”

“No!” I said, a gamut of emotions flooding through me: humiliation; rejection; unmet expectations; a feeling of futility; enormous desire.

Lena frowned, her eyes going up and down, as if afraid to look into my eyes. Wanting to say something but feeling unsure how to phrase it. So she held a hand to my lips again.

“Darling,
min älskling
, it doesn’t have to be goodbye, it is just . . .
tills nästa gång
. Until next time. Without pain, separation, or . . . obligation.”

I felt tears welling in my eyes, and that made her frown even more. She cried softly, which only made me feel guilty.

“I’m . . . sorry.”

“This is too sad.
Du är min kärlek
.
Min älskare.
I . . . love you . . . Dal. But I don’t believe in marriage. Too difficult. And, I won’t bring a child into the world without a
pappa
. Maybe never in
this
terrible world! Navy is hard.
Space
navy? No . . .
no
!”

“Maybe I can request an Earth-side position?” I said, realizing the words were as shallow as a rocky creek before I spoke them. “I can work on a base . . . a port base. . . .”

She grinned and laughed softly, causing her hair to fall over her face. She turned her head sideways and brushed the thin, black strands back over her ear. She was wearing burgundy skintights, black halter top, and platform shoes.

“
My God
, you are beautiful, Helen of Troy.”

She kissed me, fully and energetically. Let me tell you something: when you are kissed by Lena Leifsson, you remain kissed for a long time.

I looked into her eyes.
Such gorgeous eyes. Deep sea blue. Dark gray in the light.
I kissed her eyebrows, her forehead, her ears, her cheeks, her chin, her nose, and began to shake my head.
No
,
dammit, no!

She smiled. “You must do your duty,” she said, nodding her head. “Go up there, protect me, protect
all of us
! Be a good man! My people used to honor the warrior’s life. They were Nords, you know? Vikings? Once, long ago, my people worshiped Odinsson.”

She kissed me hard again. I was still reeling from the last one.

“I will be here when you come home. Every time. I may have others, a few—
not many
! But, no attachments, Dal. Do you see? I will not marry. You will have me. I will have others, from time to time, but you will always have me and there is no loss.”

I nodded. “I’m not used to that, but I get it,” I said, frowning. I kissed her back. The idea of an open relationship was hard to reconcile with my upbringing. “So, dollface . . . uh,
min alask—”

“Min älskare.”

“Yes, my all . . . sked. . . .”

Lena laughed. “Say, min. . . .”

“Min
?”
I said.

“Ell. Skett. Uh . . .
älskare.”

“All scared!” I said with a big stupid grin.

She slapped me in the face, a bit hard—which was kind of hot. For a brief moment, there was fire in her eyes. Like I said before, this girl can hit me all she wants and it just turns me on. Well, hit me
almost
anywhere. . . .

“It is not hard! Stupid man!”

“Yes, it kind of is,” I teased.

She slapped my face
really hard
. “Shame, shame!”

Oh my god, Lena!

I slapped her back—gently, but with a bit of sting to it.

“How
dare
you strike me!” she said while slapping the
other
side of my face, just as hard.

Am I a masochist? A sadist? I can’t ever seem to remember which is which.

I grabbed her by the waist and squeezed . . . just so. She squealed and doubled over, laughing in my arms.

Those shapely hips
will send any honest man straight to hell. . . .

“You’re amazing, Lena. Gorgeous. Free spirited. Unlike any girl I’ve ever known. I want you . . . every minute. I never stop thinking about you.”

Lena looked at me with a cruel, bitchy expression. I knew it wasn’t in her, so this was another act. She punched me in the chest,
hard
, and whispered, “Don’t you wish. You can’t have me.”

I grabbed her loose hair and pulled, causing her to gasp, and lightly brushed my lips against her bare neck. I could feel her tremble and goosebumps rose on her arms. Then she grabbed my shoulders and kneed me in the stomach, not quite gently.

I pretended to double over, and buried my face in her chest, then pulled her waist toward me in a strong embrace. She put her elbows up to my chest and pretended to hit me with her forearms, saying, “No, you bastard! Get off me!”

The look in her eyes and curve at the corner of her mouth said otherwise.

I don’t know if Lena is a typical specimen of womanhood, but she’s
tough
—a lot tougher than I would have imagined. I had such a wrong impression of girls. Or, maybe it’s just
this girl
. I never struck her with a clenched fist, but she was under no such restriction.

I suddenly remembered something Ortega had told me. “Wait. One. Minute!”

She took a step back, put a hand on my chest. “Huh?”

“The clause! The executive order. I can get out of the service by just telling them about
you.
You, Lena! They’ll not only tear up my paperwork, they’ll send me home with a bonus and give you . . . uh. . . .”

“Oh, Dal, not now, after we’re saying goodbye! It is too much. I can’t take ups and downs. Must you be so difficult?”

“Lena, don’t you want me to stay?” I asked, feeling awkward and a bit angry, to tell the truth.

“I already said,
min älskare
! Of course, I want you. But your duty? Think of your career. They’ll make you an officer; I’m sure of it. Then you will have a distinguished career, and opportunities few other men have. I am thinking of your future. Yours and mine. We have fun together, but you won’t
lose me
because I will never marry. Not you. Not anyone. Not the prince, even!”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be an officer without going to an officer school.” She sounds so damned reasonable. Aren’t women supposed to be the irrational ones?

“Well? Yes?”

“No!”

“
Å nej!
” she said, putting a hand to her forehead.

“Okay, fine. Yes, okay!” I said, now fully deflated. She was being the smart one here. “You’re right. I was being—”

“Clingy? Attached?”

“Yes, yes, you’re right,” I conceded. “But you are one of a kind, darling! And in bed—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, raising an eyebrow, and planted another lovely kiss on me. “I know I am.
I know
. And so are you! But, I’m not an evil bitch! I don’t use people. I’m not a heartbreaker. I’m good to you, Dal. While you’re gone, I’ll have other men with the same rules. You just gotta accept that. It’s my way. I saw how miserable my parents were, even though they tried to hide it. I vowed never to do what they did.”

I frowned while nodding.

“You don’t want me to lie, do you? To make false promises, then cheat? I can’t do that! I can’t lie. If I make promises, I will cheat. End of story. Your heart is broken. I can’t do that to you or anyone.”

“No, of course not,” I agreed.

She nodded, smiling. Then kissed the corner of my mouth. She knows that makes me crazy. Then she slid her lips fully onto my mouth.

Since I will be in basic training for sixteen weeks, I’ll need that kiss to last quite a while longer than one day. Wonder if I’ll get any leave during basic?

She looked at me with impassive eyes. “Come on,” she said, “one more for the road,” and led me back to her bedroom.

Chapter 8
Harmony Colony

The inner doors glided
silently on magnetic rails until fully closed.

Jack Seerva stood facing the large outer door, waiting for the cargo-sized airlock to match the air pressure outside. He looked over his shoulder, then remembered he had to turn his torso in the pressure suit. He turned to look at the people gathered around him, holding a canister carefully in the crook of one arm. Nine identical suits stood in a semicircle facing him and the airlock; faces of Seerva’s inner circle hidden behind reflective faceplates.

The man standing next to him patted his shoulder as the airlock door slid out of view with a sniff. Jack walked into the industrial-size airlock, and they followed him in. No one spoke. Their boots thudded to a stop and air equalization began. The outer door opened to a green landscape illuminated by a bright light source high overhead. The slope of Gilgamesh crater rose up in the distance and Jack began walking toward it, followed by his entourage. The crater was huge, the slopes weathered by eons of cosmic wind. They walked on a dark-gray concrete road surrounded by wild grass, ferns, and decade-old trees that already reached half way up to the overdome—the artificial sky above Harmony. The trees were all of a tropical to temperate variety since Gilgamesh crater was kept at high humidity to encourage growth.

On this world, water was plentiful—after processing—and soil was a valuable commodity. True soil. Topsoil could not be manufactured artificially, as it was full of life. Trees, shrubs, ferns—in other words,
leaves
—made soil, assuming there were bacteria in the ground. If you have animals handy, that speeds up the process considerably. The toughest flora had been carefully managed on the first acre of naked regolith underground. Like the chicken hatcheries, it was flooded with warm, ultraviolet light to encourage growth, and then hauled topside.

Life doesn’t care if sunlight is artificial.

The larger tree species were given twenty feet of soil depth to encourage deep rooting—and carefully fed during that first generation. The colony might last centuries but the present generation of people needed results quickly from micro-terraforming for the
grand experiment
—the Ring being constructed in orbit.

There was one season under the overdome—a continuous summer—that produced an inch of topsoil every month. It would be carefully managed and delicately spread until the entire crater was arable land, down to a foot in depth. But no amount of soil, air, or water would make Ganymede a perfect home. Gravity was one-sixth Earth normal, and the human body was slow to adapt. Within the domes, one full gravity was maintained, which required a lot of power, but it was necessary for a long-term
human
colony. They did not want their children and grandchildren to grow tall and thin and lose bone density.

In other words, to no longer be fully human—Earth human.

The group walked quietly, respectfully, during the half-hour hike to the slope of the crater where soil gave way to primordial regolith. The suits would not be needed in a few more years. A scant number of years for a project of this scope!

“Imagine that!” Jack thought, exuberantly, the first time he had set foot in the new Earth-like soil on Ganymede.

The air was still kept thick with CO2 for soil production, which could cause dizziness during extended exposure without a breathing mask. Oxygen was pumped out by industrial scrubbers, not left solely to photosynthesis. People often worked on the surface with nothing more than an oxygen mask, but seldom ventured far from an airlock without a full suit. Robots had built the overdome out of dense nanofiber that would theoretically withstand a micrometeorite impact, but who knew? Anything bad can happen at any time. No one challenged Murphy with their lives.

Jack turned to look back at his home. The top of the first dome rose out of the ground like an uncovered fossil bowl—one of a dozen such underground domes, most of which were deeper underground than the first one. The old spaceport was the most visible landmark, with its charred concrete pads and exposed airlock openings jutting up from the underground. A new spaceport was built outside the overdome near the rim of the crater. Most food was still grown in the hydroponic dome since greedy Earth crops consumed soil at an alarming rate. A couple square miles of engineered crops were visible north of the old spaceport. Copses were growing toward each other into forests on either side of the road.

“Beautiful,” Jack said, helmet in hand, and everyone followed suit. Soon they were murmuring about the vista, pointing out landmarks. They could breathe the native air for only a few minutes.

The interior of the crater now revealed very little of the original colony. Overhead was the rim of the crater and the dome that enclosed it, made of opaque, triangular-shaped panels. It was breathtakingly beautiful to a Harmony colonist, not because of its appearance but because of what is represented. There was no marveling at the majesty of the universe from inside the colony, not with the naked eye anyway, since the dome was opaque. But down inside one of the early domes, the entire ceiling displayed a live, panoramic view of the sky, from a series of cameras on top. Jupiter came into view like clockwork, returning to the same point once per week.

Boosted by the energetic conversation, Daniel Grant smiled at the vista. He was awed by their progress in just one decade. He blamed himself partially for their slow recovery after the loss of automation—after they were abandoned by Decatur.

“Penny for your thoughts, Dan?” Megumi asked.

He looked at her, startled. “Oh, I was just. . . .” He gave her a pained look. “I was just reflecting on how much progress we would have made if Decatur were still here.”

Megumi pulled on his shoulder, causing him to face her. “Look, Dan, I know you blame yourself, but you really need to stop that. Just
look at it
, would you? It’s magnificent! The overdome alone, not to mention the Ring—”

“—was built by Decatur,” he said.

“Of
course,
it was. You’re being ridiculous. But who built Decatur? Do you resent a backhoe for digging a trench faster than a man with a shovel?”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Emma walked toward them. “Everything okay?”

“Beating himself up again,” Megumi said quietly.

Emma frowned, not wanting to criticize her husband, knowing that he needed to get out of this state, not driven deeper into it.

“I’m growing angrier about this rather than coming to terms with it,” Dan said.

“But, just
look at this
,” Emma whispered, pointing at the horizon—the other side of the overdome was at the horizon level due to curvature. “A hundred fifty
miles
across. That’s seventeen thousand square miles of dome, Dan—without columns. It’s an extraordinary feat of engineering. Nothing on Earth comes close. We can’t even see the other side from here, even here on the slope. I’m in awe, Dan, and I’ve lived here for years.”

“I hear you. Eventually, this will be a sustained ecosystem,” Dan said, snapping out of his mood. “I’m thinking of what might have been, of the betrayal.”

“Think instead,” Megumi said, “of where we are, right now, at this moment.”

Jack knelt down and set the canister on a rock, shifted it so the etched plaque was facing Harmony a few miles away. “My darling, you will always be here with us. It’s because of you that we made it this far. You gave your life to make it happen.” He stood aside to make room as each charter member of the colony paid their respects.

Deeptimoy was last. He knelt and touched the canister, saying, “My dear friend and colleague. Rest in peace, Ari.”

The group began to replace their helmets and fade back down the slope, leaving Jack alone. He knelt beside the container, touching the nameplate with gloved fingers, and tried to keep his emotions in check.

Arianne Collins-Seerva

6/16/1991 – 4/08/2031

Beloved Wife, Colleague, Friend

Four suited figures lingered halfway down the slope, one of them looking up at Jack. “You know he’s—”

“Not out here, our voices will carry,” another said. The four waited for Jack, who soon joined them for the walk back. No one felt like talking so they walked quietly. Jack always clammed up when she was on his mind anyway.

The four were met by two others in an unused conference room on the other side of the cargo warehouse. Andy Grant looked at the faces around the room, feeling out of place among the elders—Daniel, his father; Megumi Endo; Chase van Allen; Deeptimoy Danir; and Tom Baker, Andy’s father-in-law. This was a family meeting of founders, original colonists. Not everyone, just those most concerned about the Elder—a reverential name they used for Jack even though some members (like Tom) were older than Jack.

“You know why we’re all here again,” Chase said to get the meeting started.

“Of course, we know,” Megumi said, frowning. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“He never recovered,” Chase said. “You were all there, but I tracked him down in Christchurch. I’m telling you, he didn’t want to come back. He was done. I . . . should have left him there that day.”

“He never stopped grieving,” Deeptimoy said.

“It’s safe to assume now after so long that he never will,” Tom said. “It took him this long to give her a final resting place. He’ll never let her go, even with that gesture. I’m not unsympathetic, but we need to think of our future.”

Megumi looked pained. “I don’t see how we can broach the subject without him feeling . . . betrayed.”

Chase leaned back, irritated. “It’s not betrayal! We all care deeply for him. But, he just . . . won’t move on! He’s reliving the day she died, over and over.”

“Slowly going mad?” Daniel dared suggest.

“Daniel!” Megumi chided.

“It’s not as offensive as it sounds,” Tom said.

“Andy, what do you think?” Deeptimoy asked.

Andy sat up in his chair, suddenly yanked out of his thoughts. “What do I think?”

“Sure,” his father said. “What’s your take on the situation?”

“I . . . I don’t think he’s losing it,” Andy said, “but what you see is what you get. That’s all there is to him, a man who lost the love of his life while accomplishing his greatest dream. That’s a dichotomy few could cope with.”

“Maybe Decatur can do something for him?” Megumi said.

Daniel’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “Meg, you know that’s a dead end for us now.”

“Oh, I don’t know, “ Megumi said. “I think Dee is still with us. Or, some part of him is, somewhere. He’s just up to something.”

“
It
, you mean,” Tom suggested.

“
They
is a more accurate word,” Daniel added.

“We haven’t heard a single word from
them
in—how long?—two years?” Daniel said. “That’s not a good sign with techsystem time dilation. It literally takes
no effort
for Dee to talk to us. The gap between each word is a whole day to him.”

Andy said, “Well, what do you think happened to Dee and the rest of them? Where did they go?”

Everyone sat quietly for long seconds. Daniel shook his head and shrugged. “No one knows.”

“They did so much for us. It’s hard to believe they all just left,” Andy said.

“Men have become the tools of their tools,” Andy said.

“What’s that?” Deeptimoy asked.

“Oh, just something I read once,” Andy replied. “Uh, Thoreau, I think.”

“Good one,” Megumi said, smiling.

“I suspected something was wrong when the hypercomm went offline,” Daniel said. “It just doesn’t
stop working
like that.”

“Oh, we’ve been over that so many times before, Dan,” Megumi said.

“I know,” Daniel said. “But, it’s relevant again. We have
no idea
what’s happening on Earth.”

“Now, that’s a telling point,” Tom said.

“Oh?” Deeptimoy said.

“Of course,” Tom said. “The Decaturians stopped communicating with us at the same time that the hypercomm went offline. Coincidence?”

“Could be,” Chase said.

“Yes, it could,” Tom said, “but the simpler answer is that the two events are related.”

“Occam’s Razor,” Andy said.

“What would it take to disable a hypercomm device? And, more importantly, why haven’t we just built another?” Chase asked.

No one spoke up and they all looked to Deeptimoy for an answer. He shrugged and said, “We did try to build one. These devices were built by Erik Smirnov, but we have the blueprints.”

“Why didn’t it work?” Andy asked.

“A key schematic was missing,” Deeptimoy said. “I . . . can’t follow the equations to kickstart a hypercomm. We have one—
apparently
working—but no way to turn it on.”

“What piece is missing?” Megumi asked.

“Correction,” Deeptimoy said quickly, “it’s
on
but we don’t know how to tune it. And, we don’t know what’s missing, exactly—a separate piece? We don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s essential. Like the eyepiece on a telescope, maybe. It must have been intentionally removed.”