c. 2024 Rod Ice
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(8-24)
Lead Technician Rand Farcourt stood stiffly before his console at the Mars colony in New Cleveland. He had been monitoring the Morningstar III since its departure from their space dock, on a research mission to Planet Earth. The time for their return had come and gone with no communications between the vessel and his operational center. So, he felt a measure of unease when reaching out, on a predetermined emergency channel.
His voice cracked with emotion while hailing the tardy ship.
“Commander Block, this is NC Center. You were scheduled to arrive here at 1600 hours local time. Is there an issue with your craft? Please respond! This is a Code One request. I say again, please respond! Are you in distress? We need to know your status so a proper aid mission can be sent, if necessary...”
Static filled his wireless earpiece. He repeated the call over and over, until his throat went dry.
Engineer Nyugen-Ron Hideki fiddled with virtual dials, at a pop-up display behind the main panelboard. He wore thick spectacles held in a composite frame, with a zebra pattern. This gave him the appearance of a college nerd, revisiting New Wave trends from ancient history. A vibe that he liked to project.
“Sir, there’s a clear shot for our signal. Conditions in the solar system are quite good right now. I can’t see any reason why they won’t answer. Should I magnify our volume level? Maybe there is interference due to solar flares, or some kind of spatial distortion caused by asteroids that are crossing the plane of our alignment with their current position!”
His superior officer sighed with frustration.
“No, there’s no point in wasting the energy for a bigger radio boom. I know their team, Hornell Block and I both went to the academy at Texas City. If he’s running behind schedule, there’s a good reason. He will explain later, I am sure, not that it matters to you or me. The high council will have more to say about this, going forward. He will offer some rationale for dragging his feet, I just can’t guess what that might be...”
The engineer tapped at lighted squares on his panel.
“Sir, I show the commander’s vessel still in Earth orbit. They haven’t embarked on a return vector, just yet. That’s really odd, it takes some time to get from there to here, even with a full charge of the crystal inverters. They’ve been circling the old homeworld for plenty of time to do a phased restore. I don’t get it!”
There was a squawk of electronic anguish from the contact array, which formed a ring around the room. Then, a familiar bellow of contrition echoed from the speakers.
“NC Center! This is the Morningstar. Sorry, I let the crew sleep in today, bad on me for giving them too much slack. We’ll be departing planetary orbit in fifteen minutes...”
Technician Farcourt slapped his palm on the console. He was wet from perspiring.
“Commander, you’ve been giving us fits out here at the Mars colony. What the hell is going on?”
There was a brief pause, followed by more static. Then, the Space Force veteran offered an unconvincing string of excuses.
“Rand, don’t get your shorts in a bunch! We had a problem with the Cloitanium reserve. It wasn’t responding to wave stimulation at normal levels. I connected with someone from a station in the Calimex district. That’s the most sophisticated region left from what used to be America. They’ve attempted to follow our pace of technological advances over the past hundred years. Not quite there yet, but working on it...”
His counterpart in New Cleveland sputtered and groaned. Something did not sound plausible in the timeline. He could smell a pungent aroma of agricultural manure in his nostrils.
“If you ran the reserve down, it would take weeks to correct. You can’t just throw a switch and juice up those crystals! I know the deal with 22nd century propulsion! What’s the game you’re trying to run on me, Hornell?”
Block reddened with embarrassment, but maintained composure.
“Look, I can show you the ship logs when we get home. Right now, just trust me when I say that our delay wasn’t intentional. A massive storm fouled things up on the planet below, that caused a rough ride for Lt. Strafe and Dr. Baines, as they returned in the Digger shuttle. The magnetic disruption hit us hard. There were streams of energy sparked by lightning on the planet surface. Things have gotten spooky since the Great Uprising. That conflict upset the equilibrium of nature. I don’t know how anything can live here in current terms. The seasonal patterns are wild...”
Farcourt scratched his head and peered at readings on the flat display. He was tired of debating over details.
“I show you powered-up now, and ready. Godspeed, Morningstar! See you soon!”
The commander gestured to his crew, feeling confident that the disingenuous ruse had worked. At least for the moment.
“Engage the drive, bring the Cloitanium reserves online, lieutenant! Full ahead, toward Mars! Let’s get out of this neighborhood while the going is clear!”
In his quarters below, Dr. Judson Baines sat with a container of freeze-dried coffee, and a stack of notebooks taken from Evergreen Estates. The isolated community of mobile homes had been surprisingly well-preserved for having survived a century of unpredictable weather. He flipped through the handwritten pages carefully, reading and taking notes on his wireless device. There were entries that described wanton acts of violence and political resistance. A kind of civil unrest not seen in old America for generations. He noted that bloodstains had splattered some of the covers. And gunpowder burns left their imprint. Those telltale signs of woe made him shudder. They had seen a makeshift graveyard in a field next to the maintenance garage, where an on-site manager once supervised the working-class development. He wondered how many residents of the park had been buried there, in the midst of their rebellion.
“Talk to me, Great Granddad Link. Tell me what you know. Tell me what really happened with the uprising and the MAGA Defense. I’m listening! Tell me all of your secrets!”
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