Contents
INTRODUCTION
EDITOR’S NOTE
BEST AND BRIGHTEST
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EDITOR’S NOTE
FRICKIN’ GUARD GUYS!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EDITOR’S NOTE
FOR THE DUTY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EDITOR’S NOTE
DICK DIBBLE’S BIRTHDAY
Chocolate Cookies
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EDITOR’S NOTE
THE DECISION
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EDITOR’S NOTE
CAG
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EDITOR’S NOTE
OLIVIA AND THE ASTEROID PIRATES
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EDITOR’S NOTE
SLIVERS OF HOPE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EDITOR’S NOTE
ONE TIME, ONE NIGHT ON ALDRIN STATION
EDITOR’S NOTE
WHAT WE LEARNED FROM THE FIRE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EDITOR’S NOTE
VISITORS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SPACE FORCE:
BUILDING THE LEGACY
A Military Sci-Fi Anthology
Edited by Doug Irvin
SPACE FORCE:
BUILDING THE LEGACY
© 2020 Midlands Scribes Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of the content of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system, or copied by any technology yet to be developed without the prior written permission of the author. You may not circulate this book in any format. This is a work of fiction. All characters in this anthology are fictitious and not intended to resemble any living person.
Editor: Doug Irvin
Cover by: Richard Paolinelli
ISBN: 9798644328451
ASIN: B087BPC18S
INTRODUCTION
Welcome to the opening of a new era, the era when space as an operating environment comes of age.
When I first heard the 45th President of the US call for a new branch of the military, my first reaction was excitement. Sure, several nations have ventured outside our atmosphere, and several vehicles have landed on the Moon, as well as Mars. But where other branches of service have played a part in space activities, it was the primary focus for none of them. This announcement, however, set in motion a dedicated intent to go into space, and stay there.
My second reaction was the thought, what would their legacy over time be like. At this point, the Space Force had no legacy to lean on. Every other military of every nation on Earth has a legacy, a history, that helps define their members outlook. They all have their heroes, their screw-ups, their examples of how to behave - and how not to.
With that thought in mind I asked a few people I knew who were involved in either publishing or editing. The initial reaction wasn’t overwhelming. Hey, everyone has their own concerns, their own priorities. Developing a series of stories for a new concept wasn’t a pressing issue.
But several weeks later, one editor contacted me. If I were willing to undertake the receiving and editing of stories, he had a publishing imprint he had started a few years before, but never used. Would I take the challenge?
Would I! So with his guidance a call was put out for stories. And people responded.
The stories contained here are a sample of the ones I received. Some of the stories I couldn’t use. Understand that I did not have a theme I wanted the stories to follow (I won’t make that mistake again!), though I did have a few limiters. I decided that the Legacy would span a century of time - the first one hundred years of the Space Force. The stories had to project the Space Force in a positive light. A lot of very good stories don’t do that; but a negative slant wasn’t what I wanted.
And it had to be the United States Space Force. Several good stories fell out of the running because they presented more of a United Nations force. That was too wide a gap to span. A multi-national force has too great a swing in customs for a fledgling branch to handle. Too much dilution of ethos.
There was no restriction to the nationality of the writers - and in fact we have several foreign nationals represented here. But their stories maintained a USSF centered outlook.
In all, I’m impressed with the shared vision these people have presented. They aren’t identical, but they portray an identical wish for the stars. I hope you like them.
Many years ago I ran across a phrase that motivates me, and I think it does for these people.
Un rêve d'étoiles - A dream of stars.
That's a fine focus.
- Doug Irvin
EDITOR’S NOTE
People in the military, no matter the branch, enjoy a joke; too often that joke is on them. But they are known for looking - if not on the brighter side - on the lighter side. After all, as the saying goes, if they couldn’t take a joke, they shouldn’t have joined.
The newest branch of the service won’t be an exception.
BEST AND BRIGHTEST
P.A. Piatt
“Sergeant Kowalski, this Board of Inquiry was convened by a presidential decree to investigate recent events at Moon Base Kilo Zulu. This is not a court martial, but you are under oath and we may use your testimony as evidence in future proceedings. You waived your right to legal counsel. Is that correct?”
Kowalski nodded, stone-faced. He was a big man, thick through the shoulders and hips, and his Class-A uniform looked to be a half-size too small. His beefy hands stuck out of too-short shirt cuffs, and the top button of his shirt struggled to contain the girth of his neck. His wide, flat face remained impassive, and if he felt physical discomfort or nervousness standing in front of the seven-member board, he didn’t show it.
The Board President, a tall, gray-haired general with thick braids of gold on the sleeves of his blue uniform, gestured to Kowalski. “We’ve read your statement, Sergeant, but why don’t you tell us, in your own words, what happened?”
Kowalski cleared his throat and his hands twitched. “Okay, uh, sir. I operate heavy equipment for a living, just like my dad. Dozers, graders, excavators, dump trucks, I drive them all. I even drove a cement truck—”
“Pardon the interruption, Sergeant.” A stern-faced Navy officer, with a star on each epaulet and her hair tied back in a severe bun, wagged a finger. “What does this have to do with Moon Base Kilo Zulu?”
“Yes ma’am. Well, uh, you see, I… I didn’t start out in the USSF. I was Navy. A Seabee.”
The USSF, or ‘YEW-seff’, was the United States Space Force, the newest branch of the U.S. military.
“I switched over because I heard they had better chow and prettier girls.” Kowalski gave a big wink to a Marine Corps colonel seated at the end of the table. “Wrong on both accounts. I figured I’d be assigned to build a headquarters building somewhere nice like Colorado or Hawaii, but that was wrong, too. After a few weeks of training, they stuck me in a rocket with a bunch of other construction types and enough stuff to build a base on the Moon. Kilo Zulu, they called it.”
Several of the Board members nodded.
“Me and Finny, that’s what I call Corporal Finnegan, were on the rocket with all the gear and half the pre-fab buildings. We went up out of Florida. The other rocket, with all our guys an
d the other half of the pre-fabs, went up out of California.
“We got there first and the autopilot brought us down pretty hard, but it was okay. The other lander… well, they weren’t so lucky. They cracked up in that boulder field and it jellied them all. Helluva mess.”
For a long moment, Kowalski stared at a spot a thousand yards away on the wall behind the Board members. Finally, the stern-faced Navy officer cleared her throat and interrupted his reverie.
“Please continue, Sergeant.”
“Uh, oh yeah. Sorry.” Kowalski chuckled. “So, me and Finnegan reported what happened and built a hab pod to live in while we waited for an answer.”
A squat Army colonel seated next to the Marine flipped through a stack of papers on the table in front of him. “That was on the twenty-fifth?”
Kowalski shrugged. “I’m not too good with dates, Colonel. Sounds about right, though.
“Me and Finnegan built six more pods and set up the water plant, but we couldn’t get it to work right. The water plant got scattered all over hell and back when the other lander cracked up. I guess something got busted inside, because we only got a cup a day, no matter what we did. Finnegan, he’s a welder and I move dirt, so whaddya expect, you know? It didn’t matter though, because we thought there were more rockets on the way. That’s when we heard about the war, and then nothing.”
Several of the Board members cleared their throats and shifted in their seats. The Board President, the general with gold braids, sent a warning glance around the table.
“There were an unfortunate series of events, Sergeant, but peripheral to your situation.”
“If you say so, General, but we were stuck on the Moon with no way home and hardly anything to drink. The only thing on the radio was World War Three. It didn’t seem all that peripheral to us.”
The general shook his head. “We’re not here to discuss other matters, we’re here to investigate your actions. Please, continue your story.”
“After the uh, unfortunate series of events, me and Finny took stock of what we had left. It wasn’t much, let me tell you. Hydraulic oil contaminated the seed bank when the other lander crashed. The impact crushed the greenhouses, and we only had seven cases of tube food. I told you about the water situation. Things looked grim, let me tell you.
“Anyway, after a week of scraping by on rationed tube food and a sip of water, we decided we had enough of the race between death by starvation or death by thirst. Finny made a speech about raging into that good night, and we got to work on our monument to the futility of Mankind. We decided we’d eat regular rations and work until we had one day left, and then pop our lids.”
A serious-looking Air Force colonel waved his hand. “Pop your lids?”
Kowalski nodded. “Yes sir. Pop our lids. You know, crack the seals on our helmets and let the atmosphere do the rest. They say it happens so fast that it’s painless. It can’t hurt worse than crapping out baseballs after eating tube food for a month.” He gave another wink to the Marine Corps colonel at the end of the table, who appeared mildly annoyed at the gesture.
“Whose decision was it to build your, er, monument?” The female Navy officer had her pen poised over a note pad. “Was it you or Corporal Finnegan?”
Kowalski scratched his chin. “I think it was both, ma’am. We were talking about how fucked—er, screwed we were, and we started talking about how we could leave our mark on the world. Our legacy, so to speak.”
“And that was the best you could come up with?” She arched a skeptical eyebrow at him and wagged her pen when Kowalski opened his mouth. “Never mind, Sergeant. You need not answer that.”
Kowalski looked around at the other Board members as if waiting for additional questions. When none came, he shrugged and stood silent.
“Finish your story, Kowalski.” The Board President gave him a thin smile. “What happened next?”
“Yes sir. Well, we mapped the whole thing out on the surveyor’s computer, where to dig and how much we had to do every day to finish before the food ran out. It was Finny’s idea to point it at the Tycho Crater. I gotta give him credit for that. I gave him some quick lessons on how to drive a dozer and then we got started.” He smiled and shook his head. “We laughed a lot while we worked. It seems silly now, but when you stare Death in the face, you either laugh or scream. Me and Finny, we ain’t screamers.
“We were two days from being done when we saw the lander go by overhead. Surprised the sh—er, heck out of me, for sure. By the time we finished, Major Banks and her troops were there. That’s it.”
There was a long moment of silence as Board members jotted notes. Finally, the Board President spoke.
“Are there any further questions for Sergeant Kowalski?” Everyone shook their heads. He looked back at the heavy equipment operator with a grave look on his face. “Sergeant Kowalski, Project Kilo Zulu is still Top Secret, including the name of the operation. If you disclose any details of the project to any unauthorized persons, you may be subject to severe penalties including prison, fines, or both. Do you understand?” Kowalski nodded. “Then you’re dismissed while we deliberate.”
Kowalski surprised the Board President with a sharp salute and marched out of the room. When the door closed behind him, the tension in the room dissolved. The Army colonel and his Marine neighbor laughed aloud, and the Air Force colonel gave a nervous smile.
“Would you gentlemen care to share your joke?” demanded the female admiral.
The Marine immediately resumed his air of stoic military discipline, but his red-faced Army neighbor couldn’t contain his mirth.
“I’m sorry, Admiral,” he blurted out. “I find this entire situation hilarious. You can’t make this stuff up. Kowalski and Finnegan are straight out of Central Casting—”
Crack! The admiral slapped her hand on the table and abruptly cut off the chatter and laughter.
“This is not ‘hilarious’, Colonel,” she spat at the suddenly serious Army officer. “Do I need to remind you that Kowalski and Finnegan committed a massive violation of good order and discipline and endangered a highly classified military operation?”
“Everyone, please.” The Board President got to his feet and began to pace around the room. “Let’s put this incident into perspective. We put those men into an impossible situation, and their reaction was… well… unexpected. That doesn’t mean they risked national security or damaged military discipline.”
“They drew a PENIS on the surface of the Moon!” The admiral stood up, and her face flushed purple and red. “Every child on Earth with access to a telescope can now look up in the night sky and see a seven-hundred-mile penis, courtesy of the USSF!”
“Don’t forget the two-hundred-mile balls,” sputtered the Army colonel, and the other Board members lost any shred of gravitas they had remaining. Everyone laughed, and after several seconds, even the offended admiral cracked a smile and chuckled.
“It is kind of funny, isn’t it?” she said to no one in particular.
The hilarity subsided and military gravitas descended on the room once again.
“Kowalski and Finnegan have put us in an impossible situation of our own,” the Board President stated.
“We have to punish them,” said the admiral.
“Punish them how? A court martial? Which article of the Uniform Code of Military Justice covers drawing a dick on the Moon?”
“Article 134. The General Article.”
The Board President rubbed his chin. “Okay, Admiral. Let’s charge them under Article 134. We’ll send it to the Judge Advocate General for prosecution. When they ask Kowalski and Finnegan why they were on the Moon in the first place, are you ready to explain Project Kilo Zulu?”
The admiral nodded. “Yes sir, I am. Stress-testing a detachment of USSF personnel deployed to a distant planet is a valid research topic.”
“It
is, under the right conditions, with proper controls in place. What about when ninety percent of the subjects are killed, along with all control personnel? You knew those men had limited food and almost no water, and yet you allowed the ‘experiment’ to continue, impromptu. At what point did the experiment become mistreatment?”
The blood drained from the admiral’s face, and she managed a hard swallow.
“Admiral, do you want to explain how Exercise Control lost control of the situation you created? You let those two believe that World War Three ended civilization as we know it. What if those men had decided to ‘pop their lids’ on Day One when they realized how bleak their situation was?” The general wagged his finger and shook his head vigorously. “No, Admiral, a court martial takes this out of our control and exposes everyone in this room to questions nobody wants to answer.”
The Board members traded guilty glances, and the admiral slumped down into her seat. The Marine Corps colonel stood up and cleared his throat.
“General, I recommend that you, as the USSF Commander, award Kowalski and Finnegan medals for their bravery and fortitude in the face of certain death. We should commend them as two of the USSF’s best and brightest, not punished.”
Heads nodded up and down the table. Even the admiral, who knew her career would crash and burn if the truth about Project Kilo Zulu ever got out, bobbed her head in assent. The general made eye contact with each Board member, but he saw no doubt in anyone’s eyes.
“Then it’s settled. I will arrange for their medals. The rest of you, bury the records of Project Kilo Zulu so deep nobody can find them, and let’s put this entire affair behind us. This Board of Inquiry is adjourned.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
P.A. Piatt was born in the 60’s, grew up in the 70’s, matured in the 80’s, and has been regressing ever since. He is the author of The Walter Bailey Misadventures including Redcaps Rising, The Conjurer of Chaos, and Heretic’s Fork. He is also the author of the Abner Fortis Space Marine series including Honor Flight and Cherry Drop, and stand-alone novel The Marchioly Project (vampire horror). You can find links to all of his books and other published short stories at https://www.amazon.com/P-A-Piatt/e/B07BB1G9WL
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