The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history

by James S. Peet

  “Can I help you?” he asked, staring at Bill with gold-flecked hazel eyes.

  “Hi. I’m Bill Clark, and this is Matt Green,” Bill said, pointing back to Matt, who was standing by the carts on the sidewalk. “We’re your new roommates.”

  “Oh, hey. Great. C’mon in,” the young man said, opening the door wider and giving them a welcoming gesture.

  “I’m Jordan. Jordan Washington. Our other roomie is in the can, but he should be out soon.” Jordan held out his hand to Bill.

  Bill took it and gave a brief, firm shake, and was rewarded with the same type in kind.

  “Let me get my stuff,” Bill said.

  Meanwhile, Matt had already figured out that pulling the cart up the stairs was not a happening thing, so he had grabbed a box and was heading up, passing Bill on the way.

  “Hi,” he said to Jordan, nodding instead of trying to balance a box and try shaking hands.

  “Nice to meet you, Matt. Welcome. Just pile your stuff up in the main room and I’ll give you guys a tour. We’ve got two rooms left so you’ll have to fight over them.”

  Bill and Matt quickly emptied their carts, creating a small pile in the main room. Thankfully, the cabin was air-conditioned.

  As Matt was bringing in his last box, he heard the sound of a toilet flushing, and then another young man stepped into the main room. This man was also in his early twenties and short, but barely clearing five feet, black-haired, and quite obviously of Asian ancestry.

  “Hey Thep, meet Matt and Bill, our new roomies,” Jordan said.

  “Hi,” Thep said, shaking their hands. “Actually, my real name is Thepakorn Daeng, but everyone calls me Thep.” Despite speaking in fluent American accented English, it was obvious that it was Thep’s second language.

  “So, how about the grand tour?” Jordan asked the group.

  “Lead on,” Matt replied.

  Jordan spread his arms and waved around. “This, well, this is the great room, living room, main room, whatever you want to call it.” The room Jordan indicated contained a small leather sofa and a couple of leather chairs, a coffee table, and a few end tables with lamps on them. There was nothing else: no television, no stereo, no pictures, just blank walls. The wood floor looked like it had seen some heavy use, but was still in good shape.

  “Follow me,” Jordan said, and led the men into a kitchen with a small dining nook attached to it. “This is where we fix the occasional meal, and, more importantly, where we store the beer. Most meals are in the cafeteria, so we don’t do much cooking here.”

  Next to the kitchen was a utility room with a washing machine and dryer. “Here’s where we try to clean clothes, and our ‘guest’ bathroom.” Bill could see the appliances and suspected that the toilet was hiding behind one of them. He saw a door leading out to the backyard through the room.

  Jordan led the three men back to the main room, and then up a flight of stairs. There were three doors at the top landing, one in front of the stairs and one to either side.

  “That,” Jordan said, pointing to the front door, “is your bathroom,” then pointing to the other two doors, “and those are your bedrooms. Thep and I have already claimed the first-floor bedrooms, so these ones are yours.”

  Matt said, “I’ve got no preference. You choose.”

  Bill considered it for a moment. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take the one on the left.” Considering just how hot it got in eastern Washington for the summer, and that they were in the same location here on Hayek, he would rather have a north-facing room in the summer.

  After making his decision, Bill opened the door to his room and looked in. It was pretty sparse: a single-bed with only a bare mattress, a small built-in desk, a work chair, a closet, and a small gun safe. He was curious about why they each had a safe and asked Jordan about it.

  “From what I understand, everyone’s supposed to keep all firearms locked up if they aren’t in direct control of them. Since we get issued several rifles, I suspect the Corps don’t want us losing them or having them stolen. You can read more about it on the Base Information Pamphlet.”

  “Oh. Any idea where this pamphlet is?” Bill asked.

  “Downstairs. I’ll get it for you after you get moved in,” Jordan said.

  All four men returned to the main floor, where Bill and Matt began the process of moving their belongings to their rooms. It didn’t take long.

  Bill set most of his stuff on the floor, with the exception of the duffel bag, which he placed on the bed’s mattress.

  Then he spent a couple of minutes figuring out how to operate the safe. There were instructions on the safe’s top. The first step was to insert his ID into a slot just above the door. After he extracted the card, a fingerprint sensor above the door handle would light up where he was to place his thumb and then his index finger. He was advised to do so several times at slightly different angles, then remove his ID card. The safe would then be active and ready to be opened.

  Bill was able to open the safe within a couple of minutes. He closed the door and did a dry run to see how fast he could open it again. Within seconds the door was open.

  Over at the bed, he pulled clothes and bed linens out of his duffel, eventually exposing his rifles and pistol case.

  He pulled the first rifle out, a Ruger Mini-14, checked the chamber to ensure it was empty, and set it in the gun safe. The second rifle was a rather unique one, a break action single shot carbine manufactured by Thompson Center Arms. It was a Contender carbine, designed to allow the user to switch barrels for a variety of calibers. Bill had two barrels, one in 6.8 SPC, and the other in .22 long rifle.

  Bill broke the rifle open and checked the chamber. Seeing it was still empty, he closed the action and set it in the gun safe, then retrieved his final firearm. He opened the case and extracted the pistol, a Glock 19. Holding it in his right hand, with his finger down the side of the trigger guard, he pulled the slide back, checking the chamber to ensure it, too, was still empty, and there was no magazine in the magazine well. Seeing it conformed to all the firearm safety norms he was taught, he released the slide and placed the Glock on the shelf that was inside the safe on top.

  He debated putting Jessica’s ring in the safe, but decided to keep it with him. Never know when you’ll find a good pawn shop, he thought

  Satisfied, he closed the safe door and heard a click indicating it was locked.

  Once they all congregated back in the main room Jordan handed Bill a pamphlet. “You’ll want to spend some time on that, but maybe after lunch. Whaddaya guys say? Should we go get our feed on?”

  Bill looked at his old-fashioned analog watch and discovered that it was almost noon. “I’m up for it.”

  “Me, too,” replied Matt.

  Thep just nodded his head and started for the door.

  Bill set the pamphlet down on the coffee table and joined the exodus.

  Stepping outside, the group was met by a veritable heat wave.

  “Gonna be another scorcher,” Jordan said.

  “How hot you figure it’s going to get?” Matt asked.

  “According to the weather report, all the way up to 38.”

  “Huh?” Matt said. “What’s that in English?”

  “Oh, a bit over a hundred Fahrenheit, I guess. Nobody here uses the English system, other than gold and silver ounces, which are really Troy ounces, so you better get used to going metric.”

  “Yeah. Never could figure out why you Americans used that old system, anyhow,” piped up Thep. “Even the English and Canadians gave it up a long time ago.”

  “I guess we’re just stubborn,” Matt muttered.

  “So, how long have you guys been here?” Bill asked Jordan and Thep.

  “Well, I got here two days ago, and Thep arrived yesterday,” Jordan said.

  “Wow. For some reason, I thought you’d been here longer,” Bill said.

  “Nah, but we’ve made the most of it,” Thep said.

  “Ah, here we are—the
Culinary Institute of Sacajawea Base,” intoned Jordan, as the group arrived at the cafeteria, getting a chuckle from them all.

  The cafeteria, in addition to being air conditioned, was large, capable of seating 250 people at a time. Most of the round tables were empty. Bill saw that there was at least one uniformed member of the Corps at each of several tables, surrounded by people who were dressed in civilian clothing. Some of the uniformed members had long hair, though most had short.

  As they loaded up their trays, Bill saw that some foods were labeled ‘vegan’ or ‘vegetarian’. He elected to try a vegan lasagna along with a large scooping of cantaloupe for dessert, along with a tomato-based drink, much like the V-8 he used to enjoy on Earth.

  Once their trays were filled, the four men sat down at a table occupied by two young women in civilian clothes and a tall, young, Polynesian-looking man in a field uniform. Bill noticed that there were no ribbons on the man’s uniform.

  “Howdy,” said the Corps member. “Jordan, Thep,” he said with a nod. Turning to Bill and Matt, he added, “I’m Luke. Luke Kanehama.” After handshakes and introduction, Luke gestured to the two young ladies. “This tall brunette is Kim Smith, and the shorter gal is Brenda Lightfoot.” Kim appeared tall, even sitting, while Brenda looked like she might be a Native American. Bill thought the table looked like a liberal professor’s ideal version of diversity, despite the fact they all probably shared the same ideology and desires.

  Once they were seated, Luke asked, “So, I guess you guys are full of questions?”

  Matt and Bill nodded.

  “Thought so. Most Probies are, so that’s why I’m here.”

  Bill asked, “I couldn’t help but notice, the people on Earth who greeted us were amputees. Is that common?”

  Luke swallowed a mouthful of food before chuckling and responding.

  “No, not really. But, it does happen. And once you lose a limb, you’re pretty much toast for field ops. That doesn’t stop people from wanting to serve, so the Corps will usually put them in positions that they need filled, but don’t need all the body parts.”

  “How do they usually lose limbs?” Matt asked.

  “It depends. For many, it could be an equipment failure, like a plane going down. For others, it might be nature. Like Janice Goodland, who was probably the one who checked you in on Earth. She was attacked by a smilodon on a survey. Damned lucky she only lost an arm and got those scratches. Smilodons usually kill whatever they attack. That woman’s one tough cookie. In her case, the smilodon lost,” he finished with a tight smile.

  “Ouch,” muttered Matt.

  Bill grimaced, then asked, “I noticed that a lot of Corps members have ribbons on their chests. What do they represent?”

  “Hmm. The most common ones are Survey medals, Purple Hearts, and Trekker medals,” Luke said. “Survey medals can be for ground or aerial surveys, and they’re awarded for completing a survey. Purple Hearts are the ‘I forgot to duck’ medal. They’re similar to the US military Purple Heart, but in this case, it’s for any injury sustained in the line of duty while on a survey. See, most of what we do is dangerous. You’re out there, mostly all on your own. Even a minor mishap could lead to some serious consequences. So, a horse falling on you and crushing your leg, or a branch coming down on your tent in a storm qualifies you. You don’t need to be shot at or in a war, although the militia and the standing army give out the Purple Heart for those reasons.”

  “Oh, so that would explain why Janice and the other guy at the gate had Purple Hearts,” Matt said.

  “Yep. If I’m correct, they also had the Trekker medal,” Luke replied. “As a matter of fact, I know Goodland does.”

  “What’s that one?” Bill asked.

  Luke set his fork down and put his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers in front of him. “It’s the one you don’t want. Technically, it’s called the Survival Journey medal, but we just call it the Trekker medal. It’s the one given to anyone who has to trek back to the local base, IP, or civilization after something went terribly wrong. In Goodland’s case, her survey flight went down on the east coast here on Hayek about twenty-five years ago. It was just a routine mapping survey. She and the navigator were the only ones to survive the flight, and that’s because they bailed out before the plane crashed that they survived. Anyhow, they had to trek halfway across the continent until Goodland got rescued. She lost the arm and the navigator on that trek. Hence, the three different medals.”

  Matt and Bill raised their eyebrows at this, as did all the Probies around the table, with small mutters of “whoa” and “holy shit” came from those seated at the table.

  “There’s also medals for saving lives—one just for saving a life, and another for putting your own life at risk to do so. You’ll see a lot of those. Of course, there are also some that one can earn in the Militia or the military that Corps members are authorized to wear, including military medals from Earth, if it’s a real thing, not just a ‘been there, done that’.”

  Luke took a sip of his coffee and continued. “Typical military medals are campaign medals, and medals for bravery. Anyone involved in a shooting match, and I’m talking real combat, gets the Combat Action Badge. It’s similar to the US Army’s CAB, but here we don’t differentiate between a Combat Infantry Badge and a CAB, everyone gets the same thing. After all, if it’s a shooting war, and you get into action, it don’t matter if you’re infantry or a cook. It’s all the same thing.”

  Luke took another sip of coffee. “Anything else?”

  Kim asked, “Why do some Corps members have long hair, but most don’t?”

  “Ah, great question. Notice my hair is short?” Luke pointed to his head. “You might have noticed that those with the long hair also have a Trekker medal. The Corps requires short hair, but they decided that anyone who can survive a trek could pretty much do what they damn well please when it comes to their hair length. It’s actually usually pretty long by the time they show up in civilization, so it’s not so much growing their hair as it is just not cutting it. They’re also allowed to grow beards, while the rest of us peons can only have a mustache. Of course, you Probies can’t have any facial hair, so you’ll have to wait a bit if you want a stache”

  At this point, Jordan rubbed his small mustache and made a face.

  Brenda asked “What about women? They won’t require us to cut our hair like the guys, will they?”

  Luke shrugged. “Actually, they do. You’ve seen the women in Corps with the short hair?”

  Both women nodded.

  “Well, they’re the same as you and me, Corps members who haven’t had to trek. You have to keep in mind, Hayek has probably one of the most egalitarian cultures out there and the Corps is even more so. Of course, that can sometimes cause angst, especially for those who like to differentiate between genders or races, but it is what it is.”

  Luke took another sip of coffee, while the others continued to eat.

  “So, where are you guys from?” Luke asked Matt and Bill.

  “I’m from Memphis,” Matt replied.

  “Where’s that?” Luke asked.

  It was at this moment that Bill realized that Luke might not be from their Earth.

  “Uh, it’s in Tennessee,” Matt replied.

  “Ah, one of those states around the Appalachians,” Luke said.

  “Actually, more along the Mississippi River,” Matt said.

  “That would explain the accent,” Luke said, nodding his head in understanding.

  Luke then looked at Bill expectantly.

  “Oh, I’m a military brat. My dad was in the Air Force, so I’ve lived all over the place. I’ve lived in Seattle for the past four years, attending U-Dub.”

  Matt asked “U-dub?”

  “Yeah, the University of Washington, the letters U and W, shortened to U-Dub to describe the school.”

  “I’ve seen it a couple of times. Didn’t know it was called that,” Luke said.

  The other four ha
d been quietly eating during this exchange, but then Thep asked, “So, where are you from Luke?”

  “I grew up in a small city on the other side of the Cascades, Tahoma. It’s pretty much in the same place as Earth’s city of Tacoma. Originally, I’m from Earth, but my folks migrated here when I was a toddler, so I’m not too familiar with Earth, other than the occasional notification or recruiting trip.”

  “What’s a notification trip?” asked Kim.

  “Next of Kin notification. You know, ‘Sorry to inform you Mrs. Smith, but your boy got eaten by a terror bird while on a ground survey’ type thing,” Luke answered.

  “Is that common?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately, all too common. We lose several members every survey. Usually to beasties, but sometimes to equipment failure, nasty bugs, or just plain stupid shit. I knew one guy who got killed when a tree branch fell on him. Talk about some bad karma,” Luke said with a sad shake of his head.

  “You did know about the mortality rate before you signed up, didn’t you?” he then asked the group, looking at them intently.

  All of them nodded their heads. Brenda said, “Yeah, but you figure it won’t happen to you.”

  “There is that,” Luke said.

  Matt turned to the others. “So, where’s everyone else from?”

  Brenda said, “I’m from Colville—it’s a small town just north of here on Earth, close to the Canadian border. Unlike dog boy here,” she said, pointing at Bill, “I went to Wazzoo. Go Cougs!” she finished with a hoot.

  “Wazzoo, what the heck is that? Sounds like a body part you sit on,” Matt said, with a slight upward curl of his lips.

  “Washington State University. Easier than saying that or WSU,” Brenda answered looking slightly miffed.

  Matt raised his eyebrows. “That makes sense, but why did you call Bill ‘dog boy’?”

  “Because I went to U-Dub, home of the Huskies,” Bill answered for her.

  The others laughed slightly.

  Kim spoke up. “I’m from San Antonio, Texas. My dad was also military, but he was stationed in Texas most of the time.”