Waking in the Stars (Marston Chronicles Book 2)

by D Patrick Wagner

  “Let’s go back to the cove after work. I’ve been around people to long. Getting cranky.”

  “I didn’t bring anything to change into. I would need to go back to town.”

  “Nah. I’ll have Janet bring out the clothes you wore last time. And a dinner basket.”

  “Well, ok.”

  “And swimming. I need to get this sweat off.”

  “I don’t have a suit. And don’t tell me you’ll get one of those two-piece string jobs from the guest house.”

  “I’ll call Lorna. She’ll have something.”

  With full stomachs, a warm summer day and nothing but quiet, Harriet leaned back against the tree and just watched the world around her. Randy pressed the button on his throat mic and called the ranch. After a lengthy conversation with the kitchen and in the middle of the second conversation, he turned to Harriet.

  “Lorna has a bunch of one-piece swim suits she uses for long-distance swimming and diving. She says they’re elastic, so they’ll fit. What color do you want?” never mind. I know, black.”

  “Smug, aren’t you? Maybe I want red. Or green. Yeah, green. Does she have one in green?”

  Randy went back to his discussion with his sister then back to Harriet.

  “Yup. She’s got a green one. And sandals. She says she’s sending sandals, too.”

  “Then we’re all set.”

  “Yup. Drive or ride?”

  “Hell. I might as well go all country. Ride. Buffy.”

  “That’s the spirit, Tenderfoot.”

  Randy got back on his communicator and called the family stables. Once done, he disconnected and leaned back, next to Harriet. They both just sat and watched, content to be in each other’s company.

  “Back to work,” Harriet announced as she stood and began to pile up the eating paraphernalia.

  “Slave driver.”

  * * * * *

  Fifteen minutes before the end of the work day, a truck towing a horse trailer pulled to a stop in front of the command bus. Janet climbed out of the passenger side, clutching a cloth carry bag and a pair of boots. An obviously Latin teen climbed out of the driver’s side. Both met at the bus’s main door and looked around. The two didn’t wait long. The doors opened and Harriet stepped out.

  “Evening, Mz. Gregor.”

  “Good evening, Janet. Call me ‘Harriet’. Who’s your friend?”

  “Jorge. Jorge Gonzales.”

  “Hello, Jorge. Pleased to meet you.” Harriet held out her hand. The Latin youth shyly reached out his work-hardened hand and shook it.

  “Let me get Randy.” Harriet touched her throat mic and commed Randy. “Janet’s here.”

  After listening for a moment and clicking off, she turned back to the two teens.

  “Um, Miss Lorna told me to give you this.” So saying, Janet held out the carryall and boots.

  Taking the offering, the Gregor daughter peeked inside and saw the bundle of clothes which Randy had ordered.

  “Thank you. Randy will be here shortly. Do you need anything? Something to drink?”

  “No. we’re good.” Janet answered for the both of them.

  “Well, I’m going to change. Be right back.”

  Turning her back on the two teens, she re-entered the bus and the doors closed.

  They waited, kicking the dirt, watching the construction, idling away the time. Harriet reemerged, now dressed as a Tolimarian ranch girl. Over her shoulder she carried the bag, now containing only a swim suit, sandals and towel.

  Randy pulled up in his small work vehicle. Climbing out, he gave Harriet the once over and whistled.

  “Looking good, Lady.”

  “You still look like someone who’s rolled in the mud.”

  “I did. I am. But we got a lot done. I’ve sent you updated progress reports. We’re ahead of schedule.”

  “You’re taking me out and you’re talking work?”

  “This is a date? Like a date, date?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I thought I heard that.”

  The heads of the two teens watched, their heads swinging back and forth like people watching a tennis match, trying to get a read on what was going on.”

  “Hola, Jorge. Schatten give you any trouble?”

  “No, Mister Roth. We’ve had many conversations about being polite. So he’s no trouble.”

  “Glad to hear. Let’s get them out. Janet, get the supper baskets.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “Thank you, Miss Harriet.”

  By the time Randy and Jorge had unloaded the previously saddled mare and stallion, Janet and Harriet had pulled out the joined baskets, checked that everything had survived the journey and packed Harriet’s swim gear.

  After throwing the baskets over Schatten’s haunches and tying them down, Randy mounted the black stallion and turned in the saddle to watch Harriet. He knew that coddling Harriet would be a very bad idea.

  Harriet approached Buffy from the mare’s left, circled to the front and looked her in the eyes. Reaching out, Harriet gave the horse an ear scratch, rubbed the center of her head and snout then scratched under her chin.

  “Well, here we are again, girl. You and me.”

  Buffy snorted and bobbed her head, as though agreeing.

  Going back to Buffy’s left, Harriet grabbed the horn, stuck a foot in the stirrup and swung up and over. Once astride, she turned to Randy and smirked.

  “Ok, ok. You’ve got a good memory. Decent skills. For a tenderfoot. Now to the watering hole.”

  Waving a farewell to his two employees, Randy led Harriet southeast, over the bridge spanning the Lange Fluss and down the eastern bank, heading to Randy’s private cove, the one he had previously taken her to.

  Moving at a leisurely walk, Randy and Harriet rode side-by-side. Again, Randy assumed the role of tour guide and pointed out everything he found interesting, beautiful or dangerous. Once far enough away from the human settlement, wildlife, birds and ground denizens began to appear. Spying a rock with a small overhang, Randy pulled to a stop and dismounted. He waved Harriet to follow. Once both stood in front of the rock, Randy motioned for Harriet to step back a few paces. Finding a stick, he hooked it under the rock’s lip and flipped it over. An orange and black, two-foot long lizard whipped around and hissed at Randy’s boot.

  “Say hello to a Gila monster. It’s the only venomous lizard on the planet. In another few hours, just around sunset, this guy would be out hunting down his prey. They eat anything from eggs to birds to small animals.”

  Only slightly bending towards the creature, Harriet commented, “Why are the pretty ones the dangerous ones?”

  “Is that a projection I just heard?” Randy laughed.

  Harriet gave him her disgusted look.

  “This land looks barren, but there is a load of life flourishing around here. You just need to know where to find it. Oh, this guy is good eating. You just clean him like a fish, put it on a spit and slow cook it over a fire.”

  “For you, maybe. I pass.”

  “Your loss. Won’t know it if you don’t try it.”

  “Then I won’t know it.”

  Both remounted and continued on their way. A couple of hours before sunset, they reached the cove. Once again, Harriet was struck by the natural beauty of it all.

  Both dismounted and Randy took the reins. As he led Buffy and Schatten to the tie tree, he pointed to a stand of bushes and commented, “You can change over there. I promise I won’t peek.”

  “Wait.” Harriet hustled over to one of the baskets, pulled out her swimsuit, towel and sandals then headed in the direction Randy had pointed.

  Once Randy secured the horses, he pulled off the saddle baskets and proceeded to set up the picnic-supper. When Harriet finished changing and returned, she saw a full supper laid out on a cloth ground cover. Looking at the horses, she saw them wearing food bags over their snouts and contentedly munching away.

  “You’ve been busy.”


  Randy didn’t see anything but Harriet. He saw a tall, long-legged brunette, perfectly proportioned. He almost gawked at her like Jorge gawked at Janet. Quickly grabbing his own rolled up swimwear, he dashed towards the bushes.

  “Yup. My turn.”

  By the time Harriet found a spot to drop her borrowed clothes, Randy returned, dropped his towel and headed for the water. Walking straight in, reaching knee height, he dove, swam a distance underwater and surfaced.

  With equal amounts of anticipation and uncertainty, Harriet followed. Reaching calf-height, she accused, “You didn’t say it would be cold!”

  “Come on. This isn’t cold. It’s just below seventy degrees.”

  “Well, we keep our pool at the mid-eighties. So this is cold.”

  “Wuss.”

  “Insensitive lout.”

  She dove, swam and came up gasping. “It is too cold.”

  “Like I said, wuss.”

  Seeing a large boulder jutting out of the lake. Harriet swam for it. Randy easily caught up. She swam faster. Again, he easily caught up. The race was on. Harriet lost by only half a body-length. But she knew he held back.

  Climbing up on the rock, she plopped down, shook a spray of water from her hair, slicked it back and sighed. Randy stayed in the water, resting his arms on the boulder’s edge and resting his chin on his arms. He watched the long-legged woman in the glistening, emerald-green swimsuit stretch out and relax.

  “You like it here.”

  Laying back, hands behind her head, eyes closed, she asked, “What, your hideaway?”

  “That and Tolimar.”

  Still lying in her dream state, “It’s different. More open. I’m not used to that.”

  “You like it here.”

  “You keep saying that. I like the variety. The mountains, the plains, the river. I haven’t seen your ocean, yet. I’ll probably like that too.”

  “Stay.”

  “Can’t. I’ve got too much to do. What with Sanctuary, the ship yards and our new town, I’m all over the place.”

  “Your mom’s running Sanctuary.”

  “She needs my help.”

  “You came from her. Knowing you, she doesn’t need your help.”

  “The ship yards.”

  “Mr. McCauley’s got that. When his son gets back, those two can handle that. You’re needed here. The new town needs you.

  “I suppose. Running this place is as good as any.”

  Besides, I like you here.”

  That made Harriet sit up. “Why haven’t you made a run at me?”

  “You’ll let me know. Then I will.”

  “What? You’re reading me like you do that horse of yours?”

  “Yeah, kind off.”

  “Well, Doctor Doolittle, I’m hungry.”

  Standing, then stretching with both arms high overhead, she found purchase for her feet, pushed off and dove in. the swim back took more time, less effort. Reaching the beach, Harriet grabbed her clothes bundle and headed back to the bushes. Randy began opening packages, starting the self-contained stove and began heating dishes.

  When Harriet returned, back in her barrowed cowgirl garb, Randy handed her a glass of wine, grabbed his bundle and headed to the changing bushes. When he returned, she already had a plate built for him and just finished her own. Sitting cross-legged, she watched him lower and do the same.

  Taking up his plate, he moved closer to Harriet. The two spent the next time-span eating, drinking and watching the sun turn the fluffy clouds into riotous oranges and reds as it set beyond the lake and behind the mountains.

  With the food polished off, the wine bottles empty and the last rays of the sun just dying out, Randy shuffled around on his knees and began packing up. Harriet joined in. Once the baskets held the remains of the evening meal, he started to rise.

  “Whoa, cowboy.”

  “That’s ‘wrangler’, ma’am.”

  “Well, wrangler, take your run.”

  “Subtle.” He did.

  Aboard Odin

  The alien super dreadnaught did not stop to lick its wounds. As Odin fled from the giant predator, the predator charged in the other direction, towards the Cencore gate, throwing out signal suppressors and communications jammers like so much confetti. Two giant ships of war sped in opposite directions, one fleeing for its life the other setting the stage for more destruction and killing.

  “That monster is heading towards Cencore’s gate.”

  Vice-Admiral Weiskoff, First Lieutenant Clark and Captain Brewer stood in the Vice-Admiral’s ready room and watched the large monitor.

  “Obviously they don’t think of us as very important.”

  “Today, that may be true, Admiral. But our day will come.”

  “Yes, David. We’ll get our pound of flesh.”

  “Do you think they spotted Skadi?”

  “Not with Captain Young at the helm, David. Billy’s smart. He’ll stay small, hide, get away from that monster.”

  “He better. That reprobate owes me fifty credits.”

  “I know Reyes. He and Billy will get them through.” Jerome worked at bolstering the Captain’s confidence.

  “Yeah. But Skadi is pretty beat up. Who knows how long she’ll hold together.”

  “We can’t think like that, David. No doubts. Captain Young and his XO, Reyes are old hands. They know what they are doing. They’ll get through, warn Cencore and then our fleet will kick some alien butt.”

  “Did you notice? I didn’t see those aliens make any effort to collect their dead or search for survivors.” Clark made the remark as he finished putting together his coffee.

  “No, none whatsoever. Those creatures don’t seem to have any sympathy or care for their fallen. They are a cold lot.” Captain Brewer had finished making his hot drink and had already dropped into one of the plush chairs in Weiskoff’s ready room.

  “I hate having to run from those bloodthirsty bugs.” The venom in Weiskoff’s First Officer fairly dripped.

  “We all do, Jerry.”

  “Well, some day, we’ll give them theirs, sir.”

  “Yes. Just not today. They got in the first punch. There will come a time when it is our turn.”

  “The sooner, the better.”

  “But, the way they treat their dead and wounded tells us a lot, David.”

  “How so?”

  “Jerry?”

  “One, they spend as much of their resources and personnel as they need for victory. And two, they believe they have enough resources and personnel to achieve their goals.” Weiskoff’s First Officer answered the question.

  “So, that proves our supposition that this alien race conquers through overwhelming force. No real strategic planning.”

  “That’s right, David.”

  “How does that help us?”

  “Remember your Old Earth history? How did Alexander of Macedonia stop the Persian and Indian hordes?

  It took a small while for Weiskoff’s Lieutenants to mentally drag out their academy lessons and figure out how to apply them.

  “The phalanx.”

  “Right, Jerry. The phalanx. An unbreakable wall. The downside is that it isn’t an attacking formation. It moves forward, with the supposition that the enemy will either attack or engage when met.”

  “And, we know that our alien friends love to attack and smash.”

  “Exactly. They carve off a section and destroy it. Or they roll over us with overwhelming force.”

  “Your thoughts are to set up an invincible position and invite the aliens to attack.”

  “From what I’ve seen, if we are going to take our worlds back, that is the only way.”

  “Nice thoughts. But we are a long way from that.”

  “Yes. Right now, this is just brainstorming. Something to plan for when we get the chance to fight back.

  Captain Brewer held up his hand. “Mr. Bradley reports that we are five minutes from the gate. Then fourteen days until Corrinar.”

  “Th
ank you, Captain. Well, I have a war to plan and you have a ship to run. Shall we?”

  With resentments of having to run and thoughts of fighting back, the three broke up to do what their duties required.

  Sasania First Recon Patrol

  First Sergeant Boulos and his now-five original members of the now-named First Recon Patrol encircled their newly-drafted seventh.

  “So, you think you can play with the big boys, now, huh newbie?”

  “The first Sergeant thinks so, sir.”

  “I work for a living, PFC Ajam. I’m Wadji to you, newbie.”

  “Enough.” Like all sergeants in every military on every world, even talking normally came out like something a lion would roar. “Gear up. Gone in thirty.”

  Before the early morning sun reached another thirty minutes of rise, six members of the now-named First Recon Patrol stood in line, casually at attention, awaiting their leader. First Sergeant Boulos looked over his team, spending more time on PFC Ajam than all of the others combined. After he timed how long it took the newbie to squirm, the Sergeant jerked his head towards the mountain upslope and commanded, “Wadji point. Ajam, accompany, signal directions. Twenty kilometers. Today, gentlemen. Move out!”

  The squad started out lucky. The miserable, bone-soaking rain held off for the first five hours of the trek. With their enhanced bodies, the seven still labored to climb the steep terrain, keeping the pace that would achieve twenty kilometers before nightfall. At times the marines would grab trees and shrubs to pull themselves up. Other times they would kick their heavy boots into the scree, achieving traction and not sliding back down the steep incline. For some of the steeper slopes, they would pull out their pick shovels and use them as pitons. They’d swing them forward and down, digging the sharp ends into the ground then pulling on the handles.

  Hour six brought the now-familiar deluge. Seven members of the First Recon Patrol donned and strapped down their camouflaged, water-proof ponchos, covering them, their oversized packs and their weapons. By now each man had grown accustomed to not burning through their stimulants and accelerants to make their slog up the mountain any easier. Once gone, their enhancers were truly gone. So they plowed on and pushed hard, fighting to get those twenty kilometers in by sunset.