Lunara: The Original Trilogy

by Wyatt Davenport

  Eamonn played it coolly. He replied, "Sublevel three." And as smooth as silk, he turned away from the controller, awaiting the platform’s start. He expected to go down.

  The platform jerked and descended slowly. They, freedom fighters of the dreaded Alliance, were about to get inside the MSA’s supply depot for their primary shipyard, unnoticed…for now.

  Standing elbow to elbow with Samantha Burns, from their current location atop the Phobos command tower, Seth watched the viewscreen as Eamonn Dalton and Parker McCloud rode the platform elevator down to sublevel three. His former friends had put themselves into an extremely compromising position. The sublevels only had two exit points: the platform elevator or the pedestrian ramps. The platform was under the control of a loyal MSA controller while the security ramps had two dozen guards spread over each of the sublevel concourses. No escape seemed likely for them.

  Seth narrowed his eyes toward the screen. As soon as he saw them, although the picture was grainy and flickering, Seth knew Eamonn and Parker’s faces without doubt. Their foolish disguises might have worked on the rest of the MSA, but not on him, not after his tour on the Protector.

  So far, so good for him and Samantha. Parker and Eamonn had severely compromised themselves, but moving deeper into the heart of the MSA-controlled facility, and with Atalo Grove in hangar fifteen, Shannon and Chloe weren’t far away, possibly at the destination the two men intended to go next. Seth smiled. The first part of Samantha’s and his mission was complete. With any luck, the rest of the Alliance would be ahead.

  "I want them arrested as soon as they enter any of the sensitive subsections of the colony and we see what they are looking for." Samantha barked orders to the head of security, Constable John Andrews, across the command center.

  "Constable, belay the order," Seth said.

  Constable Andrews hesitated and looked toward Samantha.

  Seth turned to her as well. "We need to follow them. They’ll lead us to Chloe and to Sarah McCloud."

  "Captain Dalton has slipped through my fingers far too often to allow me to let him go again, especially with Parker McCloud with him. A two-for-one day fishing at the pond," she said, then turned toward an awaiting Andrews. "Continue as I instructed."

  Andrews nodded and moved toward the communications terminal.

  Seth stepped in front of Samantha. "Chloe and Sarah will be at their final destination. You must know it. I do."

  "Possibly, but also possibly not," Samantha said. She paused for a moment. "I understand your angle, but it is too great a risk. Their arrest, trial, and highly public executions will flush them out."

  "But…" Seth cut off his words. Samantha was right. Sarah and Chloe would try to rescue them, and using them as bait seemed like the best choice, but he wouldn’t put Chloe in unnecessary danger. He had to convince Samantha to flush them out his way. Silently and without the MSA security force getting trigger happy. "Why are they here?" he asked.

  "I don’t know," Samantha said, rubbing her index finger along her chin. "That is why we are allowing them further access."

  "And we still might not know. Even if we know what they are here to steal."

  Samantha peered at him. Her blue eyes, harder than sapphires, studied him. "Your point?"

  "My point is…we should allow them to leave with whatever they steal and follow them down to the surface. If the Alliance is planning something big, they’ll execute it even if we capture those two. We can stop the entire Alliance if we find out where they are hiding and what their plan is."

  "The risk magnitude is off the charts. If Gwen finds out we lost Eamonn again, she’ll have both of our heads."

  "And if we find them and destroy the Alliance, her MSA will be in total control."

  "Aren’t we already?"

  "Your arrogance will be your undoing. The security of our transports has been at risk for weeks now. You and Gwen can try to hide it, but there is an unspoken dread within you that the Alliance will start to terrorize public locations. The Alliance bringing the fight to Mars will undermine your government. We must stop the Alliance permanently."

  "You think too much, Mr. Smith," she said.

  Seth didn’t reply. Instead he held his gaze steady.

  Samantha’s gaze slackened, and she looked down for a moment before looking back at him. "What are you thinking?"

  "Come with me," he said. "We have to hurry to hangar fifteen."

  Samantha paused, clearly displeased with Seth’s eagerness. Her mouth made as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she waved her arms, gesturing Seth to lead.

  Churning a plan around in his mind, Seth hurried to the elevator with Samantha.

  Parker and Eamonn loaded the last of the metalor explosives into the crates and assembled them neatly on the dolly. Stressed under the weight, the dolly’s motor fought to start its initial movement back to the elevator platform.

  Sweat pooled along the base of Eamonn’s back. He leaned his arm against the crates, resting his weary bones as he walked beside it. After so many years as captain, he had forgotten how manual labor wore on his joints, especially now that he was nearing forty.

  The loadcart turned from the aisle to the main laneway, moving toward the elevated platform.

  The supply depot was wide open and bright. Shelving lined the room from wall to wall, some fifty acres’ worth and stretched from top—over fifty meters above them—to bottom. Each shelf contained several wondrous objects to both Parker and Eamonn: power relays, gun turrets, missile guidance systems. The Protector’s power would double with the upgrades they found there.

  The facility impressed Eamonn and also worried him. He had little doubt of the MSA’s absolute power within the solar system, if by no other argument than this room. Such size and resources made this mission almost futile.

  Ahead of him, Parker lead the dolly, his pace quickening with each step. Eamonn understood Parker’s apprehension. But after two years as the prey, he knew better than to get anxious at the wrong times. He would worry back at the ship. Between here and there, the MSA had enough time to realize what inventory was missing and who had taken it. In the hangar, with its cold walls and plasma-shielded exit way, would be the point where they were the most vulnerable. The only escape from there was suicide. And he would definitely take that over another stint in an MSA dungeon.

  They reached the platform, and the dolly stopped with a screech. Eamonn stepped on the platform and signaled to the controller their readiness. It moved upward. Again, the realization that there was no turning back flashed across his mind again. To him, there was no worse feeling in the universe than knowing you were about to be caught.

  He swallowed the feeling down.

  Seth and Samantha arrived in the control room for the east hangars. Looking through the viewscreen, they saw Atalo Grove pacing to the back of the ship, which had its ramp extended, waiting for the cargo to be delivered.

  "Where are Parker and Eamonn?" Seth said.

  "They just departed from the platform," Samantha said. "They will be here in about five minutes."

  "We better hurry then."

  "What is the plan? How can we determine their destination by coming here? I should be in the command tower contacting my security force to track them."

  "You can’t have everyone in the fleet and the bounty hunters clamoring to get in line to trail them. They’ll notice. We have to use the utmost discretion."

  Samantha shook her head. "A tracking tag will be useless. They’ll have scanners for it. And besides, I won’t let them out of my sight again."

  "We have to board the ship and stow away."

  Seth moved over to the security station, reached under the paneling, and opened the compartment underneath. He retrieved two sonic pistols but failed to find any extra rounds of ammunition. He gave Samantha one of the pistols.

  Seth’s glance caught Samantha’s; the glimmer of their hatred for one another burned in their eyes. They could kill each other. Only the necessity
of the situation washed away any evil thoughts they were both thinking. Seth holstered his pistol into the back of his pants and then tucked his tunic over it.

  "We should call security," Samantha said. "Assemble a team to do this. We aren’t trained for it—"

  The deep rumble of the hangar door opening stopped her words short. Looking on the screen, they saw Eamonn and Parker move in with the dolly close behind them.

  "Don’t be scared," Seth said. "I won’t let anything happen to you."

  "Somehow, I don’t find that reassuring."

  Seth smiled. "I promise…I understand the risk you are taking and appreciate it. I hate to say it, but your help has been invaluable. I promise to protect you."

  Samantha grumbled a thank-you mixed with regret.

  Seth nodded and then moved to the access tunnel, removed the grate, and entered it. Samantha followed closely behind.

  They crawled. The flooring was stiff and unyielding, doing no favors to Seth’s knees. However, they had no time for comforts. They had to find a way out of the access tunnels and to the shuttle. Moving faster and faster, Seth didn’t give the grates toward the main entrance a second glance—too exposed, he thought, and scampered around the hangar until they reached the rear access grates. Then they paused to listen.

  The sound was normal. By this time, Parker and Eamonn had arrived, and they gave no indication of sensing that anyone else was there. From the sound of it, Seth’s former crewmates were finishing with the loading, and they would lift off in a matter of moments.

  Silently, careful to avoid the rigid metal against the flooring, Seth unlatched the grate and placed it on the floor. He crept out and moved around the extraneous crates lining the far end of the hangar. He peered toward the supply ship. Already Parker was in the pilot’s seat with Atalo and Eamonn still to the rear. Seth felt Samantha come up behind him. He brushed his hand backward to indicate she had to wait for a moment. She obeyed. They couldn’t make their move until all three were inside the supply ship, preferably in the cockpit.

  If Seth remembered the layout of a standard supply shuttle correctly, a large supply closet rested adjacent to the cargo hold. It provided ample room for both Samantha and him.

  First, they had to get inside without detection. That is the trick, he thought.

  After five minutes of waiting, Atalo was inside the cockpit with Parker, running the preflight diagnostics. Eamonn had entered the ship, but Seth couldn’t see him from his vantage point. He could be anywhere aboard it.

  Seth got up. "We will need to make a break for it. We won’t get a better chance."

  "And if they see us?"

  "We can take action, and you will have your men."

  They both turned and moved forward together. Behind them, the cockpit’s vantage point disappeared, hiding them along the side of the ship. As they moved along, they kept their ears alert for any signs of movement. They heard none. The humming of the engine mounts starting their preflight engine routines deafened them slightly, and Seth wondered what was next.

  Then he felt the squeeze of Samantha’s hand against his arm. He stopped, sensing she was warning him.

  He heard the tramping of boots walking down the ramp, pausing before they reached the end. It was Eamonn. Seth tensed every muscle; one turn and Eamonn would see them.

  Seth felt Samantha start. He moved his hand out, holding her back from tearing around the back of the ship and arresting Eamonn right there.

  "Come to the flight cabin," Parker’s voice sounded over the radio. "We are ready to take off."

  "I’m ready," Eamonn replied, hurrying up the ramp.

  Seth heard the buzz of the ramp’s servomotors lifting. He didn’t hesitate, dashing around the ship and hopping on the ramp, now parallel to the ground. Samantha hesitated, and by the time she arrived, the ramp was sloping back into the ship. Seth leaned over the edge, stabbed his arm toward her outstretched hand, grabbed it, and pulled her upward. She flung her leg over the edge and pulled herself over. They both slid down to the bottom with a thud.

  They were inside.

  Instantly, Seth drew his gun and swept it across the hold. Nobody was there. As he moved to the front, he saw that the door to the flight cabin was closed, which was standard protocol for such flights. Seth relaxed his muscles and holstered his gun. They were inside and unseen.

  Immediately, Samantha moved toward the closet and opened it.

  "Get inside," Seth said.

  Samantha’s head swung upward. "I still can’t believe you talked me into this."

  Chapter 15

  "Supreme Commander, they are nowhere to be found on the lower levels," Constable Kylor Neptune announced as he stood before her.

  Trivium Port was the chief trading colony within the realm of the MSA. As Gwen looked from her position in the conference room overlooking the trading floor, the port bustled with business, and a swift cleanup masked the news of the burglary at the museum. Still, knowing the people of Trivium Port as she did, news of the break-in, the daring escape, and the chaos on the landing pad, or at least rumors of it, would soon reach everyone. She came to clean the mess up, mask it, and bury it. Then, after plenty of bribes and coaxing, everything would be back to normal. Already set into motion, the morning news reports would downplay the incident into a youthful act of rebellion. Her media staff had already found two willing patsies.

  Kylor Neptune was fair-haired, broad, and short. He had a rigid way about him. He had never belonged to either of the major colonies; he was an independent, which made him more autonomous than most of her officers and far more than she generally cared him to be. His knack for keeping the peace between the Aethpisians, Zephyrians, Alliance members, and independents forced her to keep him as constable. In addition, his guiding hand after the war had brought a turbulent Trivium Port back into order. His fairness, no matter a person’s affiliations, proved useful to the MSA’s reputation.

  "Call off your search," she said. "Have guards posted around the port as spotters. We’ve lost our advantage."

  "Agreed, my lady," Neptune replied and then reached into his pocket and removed a squared bar about twenty centimeters long. Two lights blinked toward one of the ends; other than that, the bar was a consistent dark gray. "We found this among the tools strewn across the tunnel’s floor. I checked with the technician and it’s not assigned to the original manifest for the loadcart."

  "Was the tech mistaken?"

  "I don’t think so." His gaze remained on her. "He is reliable, and it is not something I’ve seen before."

  "So what is it, then?"

  "It hasn’t been identified as of yet. Perhaps Intelligence can figure it out."

  Gwen slipped the bar into her pocket. "I’ll look into it. Your chief concern is to make sure the people don’t know what happened. We can’t have Shannon Buckley and Eamonn Dalton running around Trivium Port. They are champions for a lot of people."

  "I’ve already started posting pictures of two fractious teenagers."

  "Excellent," Gwen said.

  "Thank you, my lady," Neptune said, bowing before her before leaving the room.

  Gwen was alone. She retrieved the mysterious bar from her pocket and looked at it again, closer this time. The lights were both yellow. She ran her fingers along its length—smooth, metallic, and cold. She turned it over and found on the end opposite, an inscription. Turning it into the light, she read, "Cycle 97."

  "The bar was made over one hundred years ago," she muttered. She stowed it in her pocket again. She had to find out why Shannon wanted the bar. She needed the curator of the museum. He would know.

  When Shannon came to, she clutched the locator close to her side. She stretched her laid-out body. "What happened? Where are we?"

  "You don’t remember coming in here," Chloe said softly, keeping her voice low. "We are in a medical kiosk in the west section of Trivium Port."

  "So we haven’t been caught," Shannon said. She tried to raise herself up to her elbows but coul
dn’t. "I feel sick."

  "Stay down," Chloe whispered. "You have lost far too much blood as it is. Luckily we were walking by this place when you collapsed."

  "I’m fine," she said.

  "The green on your face says otherwise."

  "It’s that obvious?"

  Chloe nodded. "I gave you a stimulant. Give it a few moments. We’ll move soon, but you need your rest for now."

  Shannon peered down at her arm. "You did a good job with this wrap."

  "Does your head hurt?"

  "No, I’m fine. You were in the military?" Shannon showed her arm to Chloe.

  "Sarah made me take first-aid courses while I was in Aethpis in case the Alliance ever needed a field nurse. She didn’t think I would make much of a fighter, in spite of my piloting skills."

  "I think Eamonn mentioned you were a pilot of a starwing."

  Chloe hesitated. "Happiest time of my life," she said softly, remorse swallowing the spirit in her words.

  Shannon closed her eyes. "I know exactly the way you feel. I was only a year out of the flight academy when the war started. My squadron was assigned to the northern Utopia Planitia rescue division. The work was dangerous, but it brought us closer together. I loved my squad more than I have ever loved a single person.

  "But everything changed the night of the gala. That night, on a routine flyover of the southern perimeter of Utopia Planitia, my radio dropped. With everything jammed, I returned to the base where I found everything and everyone destroyed. I flew over several times, in such disbelief that I ignored everything around me.

  "Out of nowhere, an MSA ground unit attacked me, but I managed to avoid the ground fire and slipped away to the Aethpisian Air Command. I survived while everyone else died. How is that fair?"

  "War isn’t fair. Else we would call it something else."

  Shannon smiled. "Very ambiguous of you."

  "Thanks. My dad used to say things like that. He would always reply to my objections with, ‘Chloe, think between the words.’"