The Legacy of Earth (Mandate Book 2)

by J. S. Harbour

  When I neared the top, I began to feel the pull of the core’s plating, and my perception shifted with the gravity as it changed direction, causing my up to become down and I fell . . . up . . . onto my head. I can’t express fully the intensity I felt as I reached that tipping point. Like most of the other newbies, I crumbled onto the deck, panting, gasping, and terrified of the view all around me. I quickly moved out of the way of the next guy and was thankful for the size of the island. If it weren’t for the tri-beam at the center, reinforcing my impression that it was attached, I would have been hopelessly paralyzed with vertigo.

  Most of us crawled to the center but there was nothing to hold, no way to feel grounded. We were sitting upside down facing the ground far below—above—our heads. The island was stable, the surface rough—not slippery—but the view around us was fiercely terrifying. Although I was facing the ground above my head, the edges were sheer cliffs. I could see other trainees over the edge, walking at a ninety-degree angle relative to me, but my instincts refused to believe I could crawl over the edge and not fall to my death. This was the first time in all my training that I was worried about the possibility of not just failing, but of dying.

  * * * *

  Three months of space ops training went by in a blur and every day was exhausting. I trained with other navy recruits, and we learned to call each other spacers. I had a hard time getting used to the term. But, the old naval term of seaman did not translate well into outer space—that would have been spaceman by rights and that was just terrible, so I don’t blame the brass for coming up with the new term. But . . . was spacer any better?

  I stopped complaining when I met my first marine, who shared the training facility with us. Well, first marine since the Sarge.

  They weren’t marines any longer, they were troopers.

  I watched them train any time I had a short break, and the training looked hard. Watching them erased any complaints that started to bubble up. Ego talking. They worked those troopers as if their lives depending on physical perfection. And here I’d believed that had ended at boot camp. Hardly! These guys were the real deal, learning to run and dive into zero-gee zones and hit moving targets with their M66 TARs.

  One of my regrets was not getting more trigger time with either the handgun or rifle. I knew how to fire both weapons proficiently, and according to the Navy, that was good enough. The troopers, though, kept training continuously with their weapons drawn and ready.

  They were impressive.

  I’d die before admitting it, though.

  Navy didn’t mingle with—no, I needed to get used to this, after all: spacers did not mingle with troopers. Sure, that’s a nice theory. I’ll mingle if I damned well feel like it! Not that I have, exactly, yet.

  We were given two weeks of leave before being sent into orbit for our assignments. I graduated. Fanfare and all that. Yay! I’m skimming over the details of those three months because there isn’t anything to say about it. After the novelty of gravity wore off, it was nonstop physical training to get our minds and bodies used to the idea of combat in space.

  All I could think about was getting back to Lena and spending as much time with her as possible before shipping out—up, that is . . . shipping up.

  I tried calling literally seconds after leaving the base, wearing my civvies, freshly charged phone in hand. Got her voicemail. I didn’t want to leave a message. After all, I hadn’t seen her in three months. I arrived by way of New York City this time and took a train. I kept calling at every stop, but she never answered. What could’ve possibly happened in just three months that was so serious that no one had told me? I was worried, now, but also feeling kind of annoyed.

  When I arrived in Kansas City, Dad picked me up at the station, and he hadn’t heard from her, either. I felt a bit rude saying this, but I asked him to stop by her place on the way home so I could check on her. This surprised him. I didn’t recall keeping Lena a secret from them, but maybe I hadn’t filled them in? At any rate, I knocked on the door of her family’s house. Her mom answered.

  “Yes? Oh, it’s you! Dallas?”

  “Yes, ma’am, pleased to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand, which she shook briefly.

  “Oh, dear. Hold on, I won’t be a moment,” she said and left. She returned quickly and, looking grim, handed me an envelope.

  “Huh? What’s this, ma’am?”

  She shrugged.

  I looked at the envelope. It was card-sized. I opened it, and inside was a folded letter.

  A Dear John letter.

  Damn.

  Well, not exactly. A handwritten letter was pretty unusual today. I mean, a text would have been simple enough. She wasn’t dumping me. It was more like, not wanting to be tied down. Not wanting the commitment. Not surprising, but I’d gotten my hopes up so high that this was a huge downer.

  I sighed, then thanked Mrs. Leifsson, and she closed the door.

  Lena had joined the Red Cross as a disaster volunteer. That was just like her. Well, all I could do is hope to run into her again someday. At least it wasn’t outright rejection. I latched onto that.

  She hadn’t ditched me for another guy. I’d lost her to a cause.

  Chapter 11

  Harmony Ring

  Dawn was just a few minutes away.

  As the sun came into view, Ward Gaines slowly opened his eyes and squinted at the brightness, covering his eyes with a sleeved arm. He made a viewfinder with forefinger and thumb and spied the central hub miles overhead.

  The wind always picked up ahead of the terminator, and it was eerily still on the day side—mere seconds apart. Ward held up his arms to welcome the day, and the change was immediate. He smiled at the warmth on his face.

  There was no sun and nothing remotely like a true dawn or dusk. The terminator between day and night was a sharp line. Ward smiled and went back to pulling weeds, humming an old tune from long ago when he had drummed for the Cambridge Concert Band. There were some days when he brought music to listen to while working the rows, and some days when he just wanted to feel the fresh air and listen to the wind without manmade gadgets getting in the way.

  “Ward? Ward?”

  He stood and waved, “Over here, love.”

  Beverly handed him a container with two egg sandwiches inside. “Good morning, darling,” and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, my, we’re dusty this fine morning!”

  “Aye, we were just run over by the daytime,” he said, laughing, and pulled out a sandwich and took a big bite.

  Beverly peered up at the hub overhead. “The hemp will be ripe about now, I expect. Going to let them mature a bit, then?”

  “Right, just a bit, when the barley is about ready, we can harvest back to back, pull the sugarcane, and run a brew early this year.”

  “Pushing awfully hard, dear, just to run an early brew? Why, love?”

  Ward slapped his hat against his leg to dust it off, then stood to stretch his legs. “If we beat Mercer to the yeast supply—”

  “He’ll be right pissed, Ward! Do you want that?” his wife said.

  “I don’t bloody care what angers Mercer, truth be told; I’ve had it up to here,” he said, raising his hand up to the top of his hat, “with that damned fool. No ma’am, we’re not trading with him no more!”

  “Oh, dear, why can’t we just live in peace?”

  “Don’t I wish for it too, but I won’t be pushed around by a bully, and that’s that. I haven’t the stomach for it.”

  “Alright, we’ll beat him to the first run of yeast, then what, when he denies us his peppers and tomatoes?”

  “Oh yeah?” Ward said, “I’ll withhold his sugar if it comes to that!”

  “You’re getting upset, darling. How about we go in for a bit? Call it a day?”

  “Can’t, love, got the chickens to tend to if I want another of these lovely sandwiches!”

  Beverly smiled and squeezed his arm.

  “Who’d have thought?”

  �
��What’s that, dear?” Beverly asked.

  “Us, here, today, farming on another bloody planet!” Ward said, triumphantly, and laughed cheerfully.

  Beverly danced a whirl and laughed with him, then they fell to the ground together. After a while, she stood and dusted herself off. “Ward, dear, I’ll be heading down to the pub. Can’t leave it in the hands of that boy.”

  “Who, Ronnie? Oh, Beverly, leave the lad alone. He does a fine job!”

  “Says you, mister. I’m not so easily swayed by youthful zest.”

  “Oh, I see how it is, then,” Ward teased.

  “What? How is it, then?” Beverly chided, swatting him with her hat. “Well, I’ll be off soon. Sure you won’t come back for a rest?”

  “Sure, dear. Be careful on the way down.”

  * * * *

  Jack emerged from the rail car and looked up at the ceiling, frowning.

  Chase climbed out behind him and pointed toward the exit stairs.

  “Jack, there’s a great view once we’re on the way up.”

  “I just wanted to see the tower, figured it would be visible from here.”

  “Oh, you really haven’t gone up before, have you?” Chase asked.

  “No, first time,” Jack said.

  “That’s unbelievable! How is it that you got us out here to Ganymede, for crying out loud, but you’re the last one to visit the ring?”

  “To be honest, I have a problem with heights,” Jack admitted.

  “Huh? So? Since when did a little anxiety stop you?”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know, my friend. Must be getting old.”

  They emerged from the underground tunnel to a surface dome five miles from the center of the colony.

  “Ah, one of the older domes, I see,” Jack observed.

  Chase shielded his eyes with an arm as he looked up, with Jupiter shining brightly overhead. “I’m surprised you didn’t follow any of this, Jack. I guess I just didn’t notice that you weren’t involved.”

  “Was anyone?” Jack said.

  “Uh, good point. I’d say, we were all involved in watching it go up. Don’t recall if anyone was consulted about it at any stage.”

  “That’s just my point,” Jack said.

  They took an electric car the final quarter mile out to the ring station. Jack looked straight up at the old dome overhead. When it was first built, before the entire crater was covered, the ceiling of the dome was equipped with a cable airlock. That was removed when the crater was sealed, and the entire vine enclosed in a transparent tube.

  “They’re magnetic,” Chase said, pointing to the grooves around the outside of the vine, which looked like a hexagonal flag pole that went up and up and up, forever into the sky. “Around the thin tower,” he explained, “are six grooves, one for each car.”

  “I just can’t imagine, falling from such a height,” Jack said, and he shuddered at the thought.

  “First, it’s never happened. And before you say it, I know all about Murphy. Which is why the cars have backup jets with enough fuel to descend all the way down if need be.”

  “Alright, I’ll try it, but don’t expect me to do this again,” Jack complained. “I would rather go up in a rocket.”

  “This is extremely efficient, Jack.”

  “What is the altitude of the ring, anyway?”

  “I believe it’s about a hundred fifty miles up,” Chase said.

  “Seems awfully close, doesn’t it?” Jack asked.

  “Hmm, I don’t know the math, but with Ganymede’s low gravity. . . .”

  “Maybe, but it’s still a planet, after all,” Jack said.

  Chase was quiet for a moment, then said, “I recall someone saying, the ring is more like a building than an orbiting . . . station, I guess you would call it.”

  “A building?” Jack said and stared out the window again. “That’s incredible! But, I get it. Okay, let’s go.”

  “Here we are, car number four,” Chase said, directing Jack to get into the compartment. It could comfortably seat eight people. The chairs folded down into the floor for cargo loads.

  “Do we just stand in here?” Jack asked.

  “No, not at all,” Chase said. He knelt down and pulled a metal handle, which responded with a clank, and the seat rose on springs to full height and snapped into place. “There, see? Nothing to it.”

  “That’s . . . efficient,” Jack noted while pulling on a handle to bring his own chair up. He dropped into it and patted the armrests. “Fascinating! Now, where are the parachutes?”

  Chase laughed, then looked at Jack seriously.

  Jack pointed a finger at him, and they both laughed. “Right, no air, you got me!”

  “Should I be offended that you thought, for a moment, that I was serious? That I’m losing it?”

  “No, of course not, Jack. Not at all. I actually forgot for a moment there too! This reminds me of the cargo bay of one of those huge cargo planes. I get the same vibe.”

  A voice came on over the intercom system. “Car number four, prepare for lift in sixty seconds. Please fasten your seatbelts. To abort lift, please say abort or push the red abort button on any chair. After liftoff, it is not possible to abort until the first mile marker.”

  “You must be thinking of a C-17,” Jack said while fumbling for his seat belt.

  “Oh, right, that,” Chase said. “That rings a bell. But, I was thinking a little more old school, like a C-130.”

  “That is old school!” Jack said, enthused.

  “Car number four, departing in thirty seconds. Please fasten your seatbelts. To abort lift, please say abort or push the red abort button on any chair. After liftoff, it is not possible to abort until the first mile marker.”

  “This thing is really totally automated? Shouldn’t someone at least monitor it?” Jack asked.

  “Well, the cars don’t lift off until boarded and they’re on a half-hour schedule. And, anyone riding on the lift should belong here, given our small population, so. . . .”

  “Makes sense. I’m just thinking about the legal angle. Seems dangerous. What if a kid sneaks out here and gets on board?”

  Chase shrugged, “Then I guess there will be a very angry parent in the morning and a very grounded kid!”

  “Car number four, prepare for departure. Remember, you may abort at any point until we lift off. Countdown commencing. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

  Jack leaned back heavily into his seat and grasped the armrests tightly.

  Meanwhile, Chase, in the chair beside him, had one leg crossed over the other, and was looking amused.

  The car gently lifted off the ground and began to rise quietly like an elevator.

  Chase raised an eyebrow at his former boss, causing the other man to laugh. “You were expecting booster rockets at three gees?”

  “Yes, well, I was, admittedly, and now feel the fool for it,” Jack said, looking a bit red in the face.

  “You did mention rockets at some point in our conversation, though. What was that about again?”

  “Emergency backup. If the car goes into free fall, we won’t become a new crater.”

  “In which case,” Jack laughed, “they would have to decide who between us to name it after.”

  “Well, that’s a given, boss.”

  “Now, now, hold on a minute, I’ve had enough attention in my life. I think you deserve this.”

  Chase frowned. “I do?”

  Jack belly laughed and had to unstrap his seatbelt to catch his breath. “Uh, are we . . . you know, can we move around?”

  “Sure, as long as you’re seated at liftoff and arrival. The problem would be a matter of balance in an emergency descent. The autopilot can compensate but. . . .”

  “I get it. With just the two of us here, though, shouldn’t be a problem even if the worst happens.”

  Chase nodded. Jack walked to the wall of the half-moon shaped cable car and gasped. A railing occupied the lower three fe
et of the wall. The rest of the wall and ceiling were transparent. “Glass, I presume?”

  “Oh, no, not at all, Jack! That’s transparent nanofiber. Similar to the material used for construction but . . . there’s something to the material that makes it partially see-through.”

  Chase stepped up beside Jack. “See, there, if you look closely,” he said, leaning close to the wall, “you can see it’s more like a screen than glass.”

  Jack looked closely. “Oh, my, yes, I do see it. Hadn’t noticed. The grid is as tiny as semiconductor wires.”

  They both looked out at the vista, their cable car being one of the six that was oriented toward Harmony colony rather than away from it. Jack looked up and saw the overdome coming up fast and it appeared they were going to run right into it.

  The cable car passed through the massive crater roof and an instant later they were out in the open. The ceiling had become a new ground vista stretching out to the horizon.

  Jack gasped.

  “The ceiling had a thickness to it. Did you see that? I pictured it being thin like the walls we’re used to.”

  “Yes, I noticed,” Chase said.

  “And I still don’t see how something that enormous can stay up without supports,” Jack mused.

  “Well, the engineers have their theories. I believe the favorite is that the hexagonal segments are magnetized, not just welded or bolted to each other.”

  “The view is extraordinary,” Jack said, gulping down a combination of two phobias at once—agoraphobia and acrophobia. He walked quickly back to his chair and sat, leaned his head back and closed his eyes, gripping the armrests.

  “Sorry, I should have warned you. Here, we have pills, there’s a med bay around the corner.” Chase came back a moment later with two pills and a cup of water, which he handed to Jack. Jack gave him a quizzical look.

  “It’s just your run-of-the-mill motion sickness meds with a calming agent added in. Works wonders.”

  Jack didn’t argue; he swallowed the two pills and drained the cup.

  “I can opaque the walls if you want.”