T'aafhal Legacy 1: Ghosts of Orion (2 page)

The probe switched on its gravitonic drive and laid in an intercept course for the planet designated Gliese 667Cc. It would take closer readings, but preliminary indications were that it had found what it sought—a planet that could be colonized by Earthlings.

Jesse's Bar, Farside Base, Present Day

Jesse's bar was the most exclusive drinking hole in the solar system. Not the swankest, or the most expensive. There were no gatekeepers at the entrance passing judgment on who could enter and who should be turned away. It was a more self selecting process—those who didn't belong felt uncomfortable and soon moved on. This was because Jesse's bar was a Navy bar, filled with veterans from the Fleet. 

Those veterans were mostly officers, though senior NCOs sometimes gathered to drink the potent tropical concoctions served up by the bar's eponymous owner. Foremost among the proffered libations was the Fantasy, a mixture of tropical fruit juices, strong Island style rum and “secret” herbs and spices. The first Fantasy was often described as creating a sense of warm contentment, the second euphoria, the third mind erasure. There have been those who consumed more than three Fantasies at a single setting. It is rumored that they are confined for their own safety at a special psychiatric facility on one of the outer moons of Saturn.

It's not that imbibers aren't cautioned about over consumption—Jesse and the bar's watch lizard, Freddy, are careful to warn those sailing into dangerously drunken waters. Sadly, some customers, having spent too much time pondering the dark void between the stars, come seeking oblivion. Not everyone is meant to travel the inky vacuum that is space, or the even more mind-bending nothingness of alter-space. Others, however, thrive on it.

At a far table, under one of the big palm trees, was a gathering of four such travelers of the void. Three of the four were dressed in the black jumpsuits of naval officers—one captain and two commanders. Among them, they had held the post of captain aboard a dozen starships. The fourth was dressed in the dark maroon of the government science section, an astrophysicist of some note and an adventurer in her own right. 

At other tables and from seats at the bar, other customers cast surreptitious glances at the four. Not because they were high ranking naval officers, but because they were former members of the original crew of the Peggy Sue and known friends of Captain Jack Sutton and Colonel Ludmilla Tropsha. The Peggy Sue was Earth's first starship and as much a legend as its Captain and his lady. Jack and Ludmilla were pretty much credited with saving Earth and all its lifeforms from extinction at the hands—or equivalent appendages—of the Dark Lords' minions. 

After the battle for Earth, the couple stuck around only long enough to make sure things were running on a mostly even keel. Then they departed in the M'tak Ka'fek, the four million year old T'aafhal battle cruiser that had accepted Jack as its captain for life. One rumor was that they left to look for the T'aafhal home worlds. Others say they went to hunt the Dark Lords themselves on their rogue planets, drifting in the cold darkness between the stars. Jack and Ludmilla and their small crew of close friends didn't say where they were going, or when they might return. That was over two years ago.

As former associates and friends of the departed saviors of mankind, Capt. William Raymond Vincent, Cdr. Elizabeth Melaku, Cdr. Robert Danner, and Dr. Mizuki Ogawa were the objects of much unwanted attention. They were treated with a mixture of awe and resentment that they all found annoying at best. Most troubling, because of their special status, they found themselves courted by political factions within the Navy's growing ranks. As the waiter departed after serving their first round of drinks, the senior officer, Billy Ray, spoke. 

“You sure you two kids are old enough to drink those Fantasies?” The facetious question was directed at Bobby Danner and Mizuki Ogawa, Bobby's significant other.

“Just because you and Beth are a half a foot taller than we are doesn't make us children,” Bobby replied. “Besides, we've all fought enough aliens to qualify for a bar pass.”

“These drinks are very strong,” said Mizuki after taking a sip of the cloudy, apple cider like liquid in the glass in front of her.

“Don't consume them too fast, Mizuki,” Beth warned, “or you will end up with a very short evening and a date with the porcelain throne.”

“That's true, you have to just sip at a Fantasy,” Bobby confirmed. “Jesse should rename them Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters.”

“That would be appropriate, pardner. I think ol' Douglas Adams would have approved if he had ever tasted one. How did he describe the effect of his favorite fictional cocktail?”

“'Rather like having your brains smashed out with a slice of lemon, wrapped around a large gold brick'," Bobby answered his friend, pausing to take a sip of his own drink. 

“He never did write down a recipe,” said Beth, taking a sip of her Hendrick's martini. “Pity, really.”

Beth had grown up on the outskirts of London, though her roots were in Ethiopia. She and Billy Ray were a stunning couple, both near two meters in height and fashion model attractive. Standing next to them Mizuki and Bobby did look like adolescents, though they were contemporaries of the taller couple. 

“So how are things going with you two?” Billy Ray asked, “And where are the children?”

This caused Mizuki to look at Billy Ray with a puzzled expression on her face while Bobby suppressed a grin. Beth elbowed her man in the ribs.

“He means the butterflies, Mizuki-chan,” Bobby told his love. Several years ago, while on a mission with Capt. Jack, Mizuki was part of a boarding party that had to fight its way across a gigantic alien space station in search of antimatter to refuel their ship. During that action, a semi-sentient flock of alien butterflies became enamored with the katana wielding astrophysicist. They had been with her ever since, following her everywhere she allowed.

“Oh, you were making a joke,” Mizuki said with a smile. “We left them at home in our quarters. The last time we brought them with us Freddy the bar lizard tried to eat one of the flock.”

“Yeah,” Bobby added, “he snagged a butterfly with his tongue and it shocked the shit out of him. He fell off his post and lay on the bar top like he was dead—Jesse had a conniption.”

“My goodness!” exclaimed Beth, looking across the bar to find the little green lizard at his normal post. “It looks like he survived the ordeal.”

“Yes, but so as not to upset Jesse, we no longer bring the
aoi chō—
the blue butterflies—here with us.” 

As everyone at the table enjoyed a polite laugh, Billy Ray made a casual scan of the bar's interior and decided that their conversation would be private enough. “Any more thoughts about re-upping with the Fleet?”

Bobby half laughed, half snorted.

“We have not yet decided, Billy Ray,” said Mizuki quietly. “I have been offered a position at a research base on Triton. There would be no problem with Bobby signing on as a shuttle pilot with them.”

“Triton?” asked Beth, incredulously. “Isn't Neptune a bit far away?”

“About as far as you can go and stay in the solar system proper,” Bobby agreed.

“Astrophysically speaking, Triton is a very interesting moon,” said Mizuki, a scientist to her core. “It is an irregular satellite—its orbit is retrograde to Neptune's rotation and inclined relative to the planet's equator. It, and Neptune's six other irregular satellites, are probably gravitationally captured objects from the outer solar system.”

“Seems like a damned cold, remote place to go to just to study strange moons,” commented Billy Ray, swirling the bourbon and ice in his glass. “And flying a shuttle has got to be a comedown after captaining a starship.”

There were a few moments of awkward silence as the four friends avoided eye contact by staring at their drinks. Finally, Bobby broke the silence.

“What have you and Beth been thinking, Billy Ray?”

“Maybe pooling our accumulated back pay and buying an asteroid mining ship.”

Beth looked at her husband and lay her hand on top of his.

“It's almost as disagreeable an idea as fleeing to the outer solar system,” she said, “but there is really no good alternative.”

“Yup,” Billy Ray added, “the only employers for starship captains are the Fleet and the Colonization Board. The CB is a bureaucracy run by idiots, and both Beth and I have had our fill of the Fleet's internal politics.”

“I hear you, brother,” said Bobby, nodding in agreement.

Until the first dome of the new Earthside base was completed, Farside's Atrium, with its palm trees and waterfall, was the largest habitable space on the Moon. As the quartet slipped into a morose silence a strange object floated into the bar, past the towering palms. 

About the size of a golf ball, the object was polished silver in color and hard to distinguish against the background. It flew a zigzagging course until it hovered above the friends' table.

“What's that thing?” asked Bobby.

“I don't know, pardner.”

As the foursome rose, preparing to vacate the area, the hovering sphere hummed and projected an image beneath it. Floating above the table was a man's head and shoulders—like a living bust. Each of the four saw the man face on, regardless of their position around the table. At the same time their view of the rest of the bar darkened and became blurred.

“Good evening, children!” said the apparition. “Don't stop drinkin' on my account.”

“TK?” said Beth in an unsure tone.

“Yes Ma'am, in the flesh. Or rather, in the hologram. I was hoping to catch you all together.”

TK Parker was a former Texas oil billionaire who had bankrolled the construction of the Peggy Sue and her first voyages into space. He was now a member of the ruling council and rumored to be the richest man in the solar system.

“If you wanted to talk with us you could have just called,” Billy Ray replied, settling back into his chair, “why the parlor tricks?”

“The little gizmo in front of you has a remote holographic link over a quantum encrypted comm channel. It also cloaks the conversation on your end so no one can listen in. I don't really trust the public network.”

“Isn't that rather paranoid, TK?” asked Beth

“Even paranoids have enemies, darlin'.”

“So what's up, sir?” Bobby said, hoping to get to the point so they could go back to drinking in quiet misery.

“I understand that those of you who are currently serving in the Fleet are being pestered to commit to an extended period of service. Once you sign on there's no tellin' where they'll send you. Now I'm not one to tell folks how to live their lives but it seems to me that young people like yourselves would much rather have jobs where you could stay together.”

“Please explain, Mr. Parker,” Mizuki said.

“Call me TK, no need bein' so formal, girl. Anyway, if you're interested, I would rather explain in my residence later this evening—say around 11:00?”

The friends looked at each other and found almost instant agreement.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Great! See y'all then.” The hologram vanished and the small silver sphere flew off through the surrounding foliage, disappearing into the night.

“So what do we do now?” asked Beth of her companions. “It's only 9:30.”

“I think we have another drink,” said Billy Ray, motioning to the waiter loitering next to the bar.

Officer's Quarters, Farside

In a different part of the base, three Fleet officers were holding a clandestine meeting of their own. Each of the three steadfastly believed that things would be much better off for the human race if they were in charge. In a sense, they and others like them were the cause for the friends' complaints. 

The Fleet was expanding rapidly, doubling in size since the momentous battle in which the minions of the Dark Lords were defeated and life on Earth saved—at least for the present. New, larger warships were added and the existing frigates upgraded with more effective shields and more powerful weapons. With the expansion came the recruitment of new captains and crews for the added ships. The best berths went to the veterans of the battle for Earth, those with actual experience in space combat. 

While this made sense, it created two classes of naval officer: those who had defended the solar system under the command of Captain (now Admiral of the Fleet) Gretchen Curtis, and those who came later. Naturally, the late comers felt unfairly discriminated against. They despised those at the top of the command chain, who held their positions not through merit but because of personal ties to Adm. Curtis and Gen. Rodriguez, the head of the Marine Corps. They only held their positions because they happened to be in the right place at the right time, or so the disaffected officers thought.

Moreover, those not among the higher ranks suspected the top of the command structure was occupied by two women as a ploy by the rich civilians who ran the place. It was not enough that the old billionaires on the ruling council kept the Fleet on a tight leash by controlling the means of production, be it ships, food or ammunition. By keeping officers they could control in charge of the Fleet and the Marines they made sure they remained on top of the political heap.

Those officers not in favor with the powers that be were shunted into non-combat commands—personnel, supply and maintenance. In times of peace, such positions often held more sway than those commanding the sharp end, but that was little recompense for the officers sharing a drink in private quarters that night.

“It looks like the first of the colonization ships will be operational within a month,” said the middle ranking of the trio, a commander in procurement. “That means continued delay in building more cruisers to patrol beyond the solar system.”

“Yes, the building of the colony ships will slow production of new combat ships,” said the senior officer, a Navy captain in personnel. “That means fewer senior slots to fill with new officers.”

“It also means that there will be further delay in the launch of the first Planetary Combat Ship,” added the third, a Marine major assigned to training. “Until that happens we have no good way of getting more than a few platoons of Marines to an exoplanet.”