c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(10-24)
Commander Hornell Block felt a sense of joy when the Morningstar III embarked on its next mission, to visit colonies that were scattered around the outer planets. After having been ostracized for an extended period, the feeling of once again retaking his place as chief officer on the spacefaring vessel gave him a sense of validation. Now, he was truly secure as a member of the force. Someone who had proven his worth to the military hierarchy, like Admiral Corel Nauga. His name had become known across Mars, and their solar system.
Yet a nagging bite of guilt gnawed at his subliminal self, over what had transpired with Lieutenant Kelly Strafe.
The professional soldier was oddly bland in her service, after surviving treatments in the Hideki Wellness Chair. Her quirky, combative humor and lively personality had vanished. In their wake, she projected little more than a dutiful observance of commands and goals. Her competence remained intact. She continued to be an asset for the ship’s crew. Yet a glazed look of emptiness filled her deep, dark eyes. When she spoke, her answers were always delivered in a monotone of indifference.
Block directed his vacuous subordinate to take the vessel out of orbit, and chart a course toward one of the Jovian moons. A distant point where a research station had been located to promote study of the gas giant. Her obedience ticked off like the beat of a metronome. She did not seem curious or eager.
“Aye sir. Full ahead... with the C-drive. We will be... up to speed... in about two minutes.”
Navigator Benson Rayl glanced sideways, while making gestures over the control panel. He was younger and still very green as a member of the Space Force. But quick at learning routines. His eyebrow raised while pondering the stiffness of this restored affiliate, in action. He looked upon her as a big sister. So, with a careful nod, he whispered low, under his breath.
“Lieutenant, are you okay? Everyone else is excited to be back on duty! You aren’t even cracking a smile!”
Strafe was pale and slim. Her ponytail hung limply, over one shoulder.
“Yes... I... am, of course.”
Commander Block leaned forward in his swivel chair. The craft hummed and whistled with energy as its drive components came online.
“Callisto Fort is primitive. The engineers who man that installation are rough and crude by our standards. Like the sort of people one might expect to find in a border town of the old, American west. I would caution everyone to use their best diplomatic skills when we arrive. There have been several incidents when our vessels visit. The team there does not consist of conscripts or designated officers. There is no regular chain of command...”
The lieutenant frowned as if she were confused.
“No chain... of... command? How does... that... work?”
Rayl chuckled to himself while tapping at his console.
“Not very well, I’d bet! But those guys are builders and explorers. They put up with harsh conditions. Like carving caves out of ice, and solid rock!”
Strafe seemed to be focusing on some distant memory. Her reactions were delayed.
“Caves in... the rock? You mean, in... the craters... of that moon?”
Block wrestled with the folds of his uniform tunic. He could not get comfortable in his seat.
“They’re a ragged bunch, as I remember. One of my first expeditions with the force came through a mission to that outpost. We were delivering supplies on a freighter loaded at the Mars dock. In those days, military transports had to handle everything. The private contractors hadn’t gained acceptance just yet...”
The junior navigator brightened at this mention of their historical timeline.
“My father used to talk about those memories, fondly. He eventually died when one of the capsule communities sprung an oxygen leak. That’s a tough way to meet your end! But he saved the other technicians by diverting what was left from their harvesting apparatus.”
The commander slapped one side of his chin, as if to wake himself from a daydream.
“My goodness! That’s a hard tale to hear, Mr. Rayl. But I get it, we took lots of risks moving out to the distant planets and their satellites. You can be confident that your dad was a hero. Those pioneers gave us what we sometimes take for granted...”
Lieutenant Strafe had become lost in a flashback episode. An invisible glare of blue-white electricity filled her head.
“Pioneers... yes, we owe a lot... to those... pioneers.”
As the ship achieved cruising velocity, there was a notification chirp from its communications array. Reflexively, Block thumbed an illuminated tile on the arm of his chair.
“This is the Morningstar! We are headed to Callisto, and Jupiter! State your business, please!”
Admiral Nauga barked in the hard tone of someone who had just endured a difficult meeting with the high council of their colony. He did not attempt to be civil, or gracious. Instead, he gave an order that immediately had everyone scrambling.
“Commander, you’ve been rerouted in the opposite direction. This wasn’t my idea. Drop off your cargo at that moon installation, and make a U-turn. The Martian leadership has requested another look at our ancestral homeland. They are furious about loose ends not being tied together!”
Rayl covered his mouth with one hand. He trembled visibly.
“What in blazes is this? We’re turning back?”
Block slammed his open palm on the control grid of his perch.
“Loose ends? Sir, this makes no sense to me...”
Admiral Nauga had a sheen of perspiration over his face.
“Your opinion is noted, soldier. Rest assured that this wasn’t my take on the situation. We’ve got some meddling bureaucrats here, they like to squabble about details. The gossip around New Cleveland and Texas City has been that we let an instigator off the hook. That university geek, Dr. Judson Baines. They are afraid he will dig up dirt on our civilization, and poison minds here at home. The plan is to get him on their side. Or neutralize his work as an archaeologist, or whatever the hell he claims to be, officially.”
Strafe felt prickly sparks of energy poking at her brain, from the ether.
“Dr. Baines... Judson... Juddy...”
The commander clenched both fists, and his teeth.
“If you needed a delivery truck, any other transport could have carried goods to Callisto. And you could send out an enforcement party to nab that nerd who stayed in the hinterland of what used to be Ohio. You know, a police patrol! The Morningstar is a big damn boat to be sending around in circles! We’ve got a full compliment of staff and crew on hand, sir! With respect, I think this is a strategic mistake! And definitely, a waste of our capabilities!”
Nauga had heard enough dissension from his counterpart.
“NOTED, DAMMIT! YOUR OPINION IS NOTED! YOU’VE GOT YOUR ASSIGNMENT, NOW FOLLOW THOSE INSTRUCTIONS! OFFLOAD THE SUPPLIES FOR THAT JOVIAN BASE, AND MAKE A HARD TURN BACK TOWARD PLANET EARTH!”
No comments:
Post a Comment