Tina had known Jameson long enough to realise when he needed her support. She knew Jameson better than most people did (for her sins). “All right, Phil. I’ll get Billy to prepare the Lab. How long have we got?”
“I would estimate a couple of hours. Can you be ready?”
“Oh, you know me. Once my master asks a thing, it’s as good as done.” Her sarcasm dripped like a block of ice in summer.
Jameson smiled. “Thanks, Tina,” he said, sincerely. Then made to leave.
“Wait! Phil?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. Come back in one piece, OK?”
Jameson must have been feeling his own mortality, he came closer to Tina. “You do know how I feel about you, don’t you?”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“You know that I… How much I…” he stumbled over his words; he wasn’t good with expressing his emotions - at least, not this kind. “One more year of flying these tin cans and I’ll be ready for the hangar, Tina. Honest. But, right now, I need to prove something…”To myself? Crisp? Everyone? “I don’t want to let anybody down.”
Tina smiled at him. “OK, Fly-Boy. Get out there and find me something to do. Space is so boring these days.”
Jameson laughed. Some girl, he thought. “You know, maybe later tonight, Tina. When all this is over, we can -”
There was a noise from over by the lab door as Billy Ng feigned a small cough. “Sorry, sir, ma’am. It’s Lead-Out from Loading Bay on the C-system, Captain. She says there’s something you need to see down there. Right away, sir.”
Jameson’s eyes turned dark. In the back of his mind, he knew that this mission was not going to be a simple game of ball in Muhaze Park - especially now that he’d torn up his rulebook.
When Jameson arrived at LB he found Lead-Out and Gadget underneath the Argon Rover on back trolleys.
The Rover was a compact lunar vehicle in the shape of a small airstream van, with oversized wheels and a whacked-out suspension system that allowed for a wide range of alternative-terrain scenarios. Silver in colour, with a circular, blaster-proof Actionglass compartment on the front right for the driver, it could carry up to 12 personnel in the rear area. It was a tried and tested mobile unit, now used by all TAPCON spacecraft.
“Sir,” said Lead-Out, coming out from under the vehicle. “The Rover’s torsion beam is damaged, sir, the front ball joint is completely blitzed. TAPCON said they’d checked and secured everything before we left Muhaze, so it must have developed some kind of fault in transit. Gadget is onto it, though, sir. We should be ready in ten minutes - fifteen at most.”
“OK. Thank you, Corporal,” said Jameson.
He looked around the docking bay and saw, through the connecting Actionglass panel, that the other crew members were putting on their combat armour in the suit-up chamber. He joined them and began his own preparations. In a few minutes, they were making their last checks. Jameson called his squad to attention.
“Cox, McGilvary, you’re with me. Hellius, Crim, you’re back-up. Follow us in and keep watch for any unusual activity. I want to go in steady, get this critter and get the hell out of there. The animal will then be taken to Medical where Dr. Gössner will run the necessary tests. Oh, and Hellius? The Baal-500 terrain is pretty tough going, so go carefully, will you? I don't want this suspension damage to be any more of an issue than it already is, got me?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the bull-necked Sergeant. “I'll get us there and back, safe and sound, sir, no problem.”
“Good. All right, are there any questions?”
The crew were silent.
“Good, let’s not mess this up. I’ve got a date tonight.”
The crew looked around at each other and grinned back at their Captain. “Yes, sir,” they replied, as one.
The Argon Rover had been repaired. Gadget and Lead-Out had retreated back into the operations room. They were ready to pressurise the Loading Bay to match the outside atmosphere.
“Are we set, Gadget?” asked Jameson, over the radio.
“Yes sir, we are ready to roll.”
“Excellent. We’ll commence a full investigation into the cause of the suspension failure when we get back, Corporal.”
“Yes, very good, sir.”
“Pressurise Loading Bay, Corporal Lead-Out.”
“Pressurising, sir.”
“Engage Loading Bay doors.”
“Loading Bay doors engaged, sir.”
“Ready to proceed, Hellius?”
“Ready, sir.”
“Are we at full pressure, Corporal?”
“Loading Bay now at full pressure, sir.”
“Open Loading Bay doors.”
“Yes, sir.” Lead-Out tapped the control screen and the doors began to slowly move apart, letting in the muted, evening light of Baal-500.
Hellius brought the Rover out onto the exit ramp and down onto the rocky, vermillion coloured sands of the moon. As he squeezed the accelerator, Hellius soon realised how bumpy the surface actually was. “I hope you’re all buckled-up in the back?” he drolled.
“Just concentrate on the driving, Sergeant,” said Jameson, curtly.
Hellius smiled to himself and hoped Lead-Out and Gadget had fixed the suspension correctly in such a short space of time. But he had faith in their abilities. What Lead-Out didn’t know about repairing vehicles wasn’t worth knowing, and Gadget was a true artist when it came to electronics and hardware - a sociopath in personality type, admittedly, but nearly god-like with technology.
It took Hellius a full 20 minutes to get to the station entrance, and several times the Rover’s big-wheeled suspension took a pounding from the rugged landscape. But, once there, Hellius pressed his control screen to open the rear doors and the team leapt out, ready for action.
“Lieutenant McGilvary, all systems functioning correctly?” inquired Jameson.
“Air supplies and radio are all running properly, sir. Looks like the Rover’s transmitter survived Hellius’ road rage,” she said, grinning at the Sergeant.
Hellius bowed mirthfully in reply.
“OK, people, let’s be careful in there,” reminded Jameson.
Crim and Hellius set off for the station buildings. The two Sergeants were well armed. Crim - who, at 6ft 3”, was tall for a woman of Highland ancestry - held the large Pro-cannon high on her shoulder, while Hellius had a standard issue Macklin-Bilson strapped to his heavily-tattooed right arm - both weapons, and soldiers, could pack a punch.
Meanwhile, Jameson, McGilvary and Cox were making their way toward the rear compound of the Border Station. Cox picked up the muidog on his scanner immediately.
“This way, sir,” he said, pointing in the direction of the back gates.
Following the Flying Officer’s scanner signal, they soon found the muidog. It was lying down in a small, fenced enclosure panting and breathing hard.
“It’s still alive, sir!” said Cox, reading the stats on the machine, “But only just.”
“OK. Let’s not take any risks here,” warned Jameson. “Knock it out, Cox.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, reaching over his shoulder for his Torq-Gun.
He loaded it with a single dart and fired, hitting the muidog in its long neck. The dog’s body spasmed with the impact, then immediately slumped onto the pink earth. “That should do it, sir. It’ll be out now for about 3hrs.”
“Thank you, Cox. OK, let’s get this beast packed up.”
Jameson and Cox approached the dog - still with some caution - but Cox’s dart had done the job. McGilvary wheeled a specimen crate over beside the animal, while Cox lifted it up and placed it gently into the secure box.
Suddenly, there was a loud noise and a bright flash, as Cox fell backwards into the fencing!
McGilvary rushed to help him.
“Sir!” it was Crim’s Celtic burr on the radio. “We hae located a young laddie in the office buildings. Looks like a Code, sir.”
“A Code?” ask
ed Jameson. “Be careful, Sergeant! He’s armed! I think he just hit Cox.”
“Aye,” replied Crim. “We just saw that, sir.”
“Take him in. Do not kill him. I repeat, do not kill him.”
“Roger, sir.”
Cox was still alive; he was moving, but it was clear that his suit had been compromised. There was a massive rent around the upper chest area and he was losing blood fast. In this oxygen-low atmosphere he would die within 10 minutes.
“McGilvary, get the muidog. I’ll take Cox,” ordered Jameson, moving towards the injured airman. “Can you stand up, Lieutenant?”
“Uh… Yes, sir… I think so… Aaah! My shoulder!”
Jameson helped him to his feet. ‘McGilvary, get that hell-hound out of here!”
McGilvary wheeled the muidog out of the compound while Jameson followed with Cox.
Jameson’s radio crackled. “Sir, we’ve detained the Code bairn,” reported Crim. “He’s unarmed - dropped his drainin’ blaster and surrendered as soon as he saw us, sir.”
“Good work, Sergeant. Meet us back at the Rover. We need to get Cox back to the ship, fast!”
“Aye, sir. Leaving the offices noo,” replied Crim.
The Code was a young man of about 18 or 19 years old. He was tall, thin, with long, blonde hair, plaited - like most Codes - and there was blood on his hands and down his arms. His eyes were a beautiful violet colour - unusual eye pigmentation being a hereditary feature of the Codes, bright colours: yellow, orange, green. Dull shades, like humans had, were not to be found in their genetic make-up. Yet strapped into the back of the Argon the youth's violaceous gaze was fixed on the secure container holding the muidog, and his eyes were not bright. Not at all. In fact, he looked like he was going to cry.
The rocky surface once again prevented Hellius from picking up the speed he so desired. Nevertheless, he kept the pedal to the metal and ignored the consequences. And, as it was getting dark, he needed the Rover’s external lights on, so his outside view was somewhat marred by the glare. But this was of no consequence to Hellius. He was the kind of soldier who maintained an overriding sense of loyalty to his fellow GI and he needed to save one of them right now. He knew it was his job to make that happen, come what may.
Hellius noticed that the Rover’s suspension was holding up perfectly, despite his attempts to completely ruin the repair job of his crewmates. Good going, Lead-Out. Good going, Gadget, old buddy.
In the back of the Rover, Cox was still conscious, though he was fading fast, and the jarring 1km return journey to the Argon seemed to be taking forever.
Cox was a popular member of the crew - quiet, yet loud in his actions - and the entire team had that familiar worried look that meant ‘this one might not make it back alive’.
Hellius got on the radio to the starship.
He thought he heard Lead-Out pick it up, but the line was all static and the reception intermittent. “Lead-Out!” he shouted. “We’re coming in! Cox has been injured! We’ll need medical back-up! Urrrrrrnggggh!”
The whole left side of the Rover plunged over at almost 45 degrees. The vehicle had gone over a massive crater .
“Drain this dust ball of a moon!” bellowed Hellius, as he swung the wheel hard round to the right, bringing the Rover out of the crater and back onto level ground. He thought about the crew in the back and knew they would be cursing him. It’s Cox’s life or a few bruised bones, take your pick! he thought, with a grin.
He tried Lead-Out again.
The radio spat and fluttered, and then, went dead.
Hellius threw the handset at the dashboard. “Firing piece of TAPCON shizz!” he hollered. Then again, “Useless bunch of draining android-builders!” That was better. Let it all out, Hellius!
In the back, Cox lost consciousness.
“Sir! It’s Cox!” shouted McGilvary to Jameson. “He’s out cold! He’s lost too much blood! What’ll we do?”
“Pray,” said Jameson, though he was genuinely worried inside. This expedition had been his idea, and now he was about to have one of his men die on his watch - on an unapproved mission to boot.
Up front in the cockpit Hellius pushed on. He was driving like a man possessed. “Come hell or high water!” he proclaimed. “Hang in there, Cox, you son-of-a-fujiwug!”
Then he saw the small, external strobe lights radiating from the starship. And, as he drew nearer, he saw that the Loading Bay doors were open and he could make out Lead-Out and New-Boy waiting inside with Dr. Gössner and Ng.
The radio suddenly sprung to life, as Lead-Out informed Hellius that they were ready with medical equipment and a stretcher for Cox.
Thank shizzing Herra! he thought to himself.
Hellius drove the Rover up the Loading Bay ramp and slammed on the brakes, coming to an abrupt halt right beside the medical team.
The back doors of the Rover flew open. Crim and Jameson jumped out, then quickly brought Cox down onto the platform. Gössner and Ng secured him to the stretcher and were soon inside the decompression chamber headed for Medical. McGilvary followed carrying the muidog crate, while Hellius escorted the captured Code into a holding area then up to the Stateroom for questioning.
It transpired that the boy’s name was Zanthu X, youngest son of Qaanhu X, the leader of the Codes.
He'd been working as a border guard, for the summer months, before he was due to start his ‘Reckoning’ in the autumn - the initiation rite taken by all young Codes upon entering into the top school on Baal-500: the Acoustika Institute.
Zanthu had a high forehead, fine porcelain features and his skin possessed a translucent quality that seemed to glow in the light. You could almost see into his body to the veins and the skeleton beneath. He was astonishing to look at.
Underneath the dirt and grime, it was clear that Zanthu was dressed in the traditional Code costume of dark, leathery garments (kilt and jerkin) all embroidered with an unusual pattern called a Scyfer that was like an Earth-based Celtic knot, albeit more complex. These patterns were unique to each Code and were used for identity purposes. The exact same pattern was permanently imprinted on their upper chest, when they became 13 years old, as part of their adolescence ritual. Every Code had to have one - girls and boys - and each one wore their Scyfer with pride. He also had on a large earring depicting a dragonfly, the Codes iconic symbol of peace.
“So, Zanthu, tell us, what is happening with your people and the animals?” asked Jameson.
Zanthu replied, choosing his words carefully. “Something has befallen every species here on Baal-500. They have turned on us, attacked us and we do not know why. We cannot defend ourselves against our animals, as we are not allowed to harm them in any way. We are Codes, it is against our principles to hurt any animal life form. Therefore, we have forsaken our Linked ones in order to prevent committing deeds that we cannot, will not, justify.” Zanthu looked down at his feet. “I could never leave Spoolu. She was my first Linking. I love Spoolu.” Zanthu looked up at Tina. “And you can save her, yes?” he asked.
“We will see,” interjected Jameson. “Dr. Gössner and Ng will do their best, my boy.”
Zanthu’s face flushed. “I am not a boy! I am a man!” he affirmed, raising his chin in defiance.
“Yes, well, boy or man, you managed to severely injure one of my men out there,” retorted Jameson. “You do realise that this is an offence in the eyes of TAPCON, don’t you?”
Zanthu shook his head. “We Codes do not live by the laws of TAPCON. We are a peaceful, ancient people. We took our place in this galaxy long, long before any TAPCON. We have our own ways of - ”
“Yes, yes, I understand,” interrupted the Captain.
“No! No, you do not!” exclaimed Zanthu. “You most certainly do not understand!”
“Zanthu!” McGilvary scolded. “You will not speak to Captain Jameson in this way! You will talk to the Captain in a manner befitting his position.”
“No, McGilvary,” said Jameson, calmly. “It’s fine. I’
m sure these last few days have been hard for Zanthu. In fact, let’s get him cleaned up, then take him down to the canteen. I’m sure he could use something to eat.”
Zanthu gave a slight, almost apologetic, smile to Jameson.
The Captain nodded in acceptance. “Zanthu, you are welcome onboard my ship,” he said. “Please, treat it like your own.”
The Code made a shallow bow and left with McGilvary.
Jameson radioed down to the Med Lab.
“Medical. Gössner.”
“Tina, it’s Phil. Any news on Cox?”
“Well, we’ve sedated him, Phil, he’s sleeping now. There is evidence of oxygen depravation, though nothing too serious. He just needs rest and he’ll be OK. Two to three weeks and he’ll never know it happened. I’d say this, though, he was very lucky that Hellius made it back so quickly.”
“And the rabid cur?”
“Ng has it on the table now. We’re just about ready to do a preliminary check. Unfortunately, we can’t do full tests until we’re back at the base. This new equipment is playing up. TAPCON haven’t installed the scanners properly - amongst other things.”
“Thanks Tina. Just do your best. That’s always good enough for me.”
“What a charmer,” said Tina.
“Yeah, thanks,” said Jameson, with some sarcasm. “I guess I’ll need what little of that I have left when I inform TAPCON,” he grimaced. “Sempre is not going to like this.”
“I’d say that was a correct assessment of the situation, Captain,” Gössner cajoled.
“Hmmm. So, what do you think? Six months detention, with no pay?”
“Oh, at least,” she teased.
“Looks like this retirement business is going to come sooner than I thought.”
Tina smiled to herself. That wouldn’t be so bad.
Chapter 5
17:06 - Saturday, July 28, 2187 (TAPCON Towers, Muhaze, Tapi-36)
David Sempre used his cash for two things - the military, and the creation of Muhaze in his glorious self-image: grand, modern, with superlative flair and genius. He was seriously deluded, of course.
The Golden Circuit (The Smith Chronicles) Page 4