Stars Fell on Trieste

by M. Alan Marr

  “Why is it so cold out?”

  “The Herculaneum Meteor shower last month . . . it marks the beginning of the crossover.”

  “The what?”

  “The crossover . . . when Trieste and Triton exchange orbits.”

  “Oh, right, I forgot about that.”

  “You guys haven’t been looking up. Tomorrow, take a look at the sun. You’ll see the right edge turning greener every day as Gemini comes out.”

  “Very cool.”

  Corona Borealis is a binary star system. Gemma, the parent star, is a blue-white star that normally hides the much smaller Gemini, the yellow companion star. As the orbits of Trieste and Triton exchange, which happens every three or four years, the new positioning brings out Gemini. The exposure of the smaller star keeps daytime temperatures nominal, but at night, the temperatures begin to drop. The equatorial regions stay comfortable, but other areas on Trieste begin experiencing fall and winter conditions.

  “When Trieste fully assumes Triton’s orbit, Gemini will be fully exposed during the day.”

  A quiet, unhurried dinner is enjoyed by both. They eat outside on the patio with small heater units radiating from the strings of decorative lights. This is the first time since their arrival a month ago that Chaz and Dev have really been alone. It feels wonderful. A long dinner, followed by an even longer stroll along the waterline to a popular dessert spot, then a slow stroll back to their quiet dwelling. The evening alone is long overdue. Dev does have a couple hours’ worth of work to catch up on. Chaz takes a long, hot botanical shower then falls asleep on the couch while reading his new fighter flight manual.

  ***

  Chaz wakes several hours later and checks the time. It’s very late and quiet. Dev is still working diligently in his study writing reports and doing whatever a Flight Commander does when he’s not flying. Chaz stands up, stretches, and walks up into the study. “You’re still working?”

  “You fell asleep, so I thought I’d catch up on some administrative stuff.”

  “Any word on our Ensigns?”

  “None.”

  “It’s pretty late. Do you think they’re okay?”

  Dev smiles. “I discreetly checked on them while we were at the restaurant. They were still at the officers club. I also programmed their credit to cut off at 3100 hours.”

  Chaz checks his chrono. “That was four hours ago. Maybe we should check on them again.”

  “Okay.” Dev enters a few commands in his computer. The screen plots a detection grid and zeros in on four targets in a discreet corner of the Fleet Officers Club.

  Chaz recognizes the geography. “Still there.”

  “Wait a minute,” Dev says with concern. “That’s the same image I saw before.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, they haven’t moved an inch.” Dev thinks about it. “Oh, . . . they didn’t.”

  “What?”

  Dev quickly programs his computer. “Please, please, please, tell me they didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Commissioning night is known for its frivolity. That’s Tertian for out of control.” Dev picks up his interlink device and keys in a few commands. He waits for someone to answer on the other end. “This is Flight Commander Caelestis. Are the Ensigns from Oasis still there?”

  Chaz watches Dev’s expression as he talks on the interlink. “Were they alone?” Dev listens. “Thank you.” Dev ends the call. “That was the Equerry at the club. He said our Ensigns left there hours ago.”

  “Where’d they go?”

  “I don’t know.” Dev keys his interlink device. “I’m calling Steve.” Dev waits, but the call does not connect. Frustrated, Dev tries Harrison . . . then Jen . . . then Matt. Nothing.

  “They’re not answering?”

  “The calls aren’t connecting. Someone has shown them the stealth setting on their interlink devices.”

  “Stealth setting?”

  “It basically makes them invisible.”

  “We have four drunk, invisible Ensigns on the loose?”

  “Not physically invisible. Sort of like a do not disturb, but with a radar blackout.”

  “What about their Ti-Phones?”

  Dev shakes his head. “They mimic whatever setting is on their interlink devices.”

  “Can we track them?”

  “Nope,” Dev says, closing his computer interface. “It’s stealthy for a reason.”

  “What can we do?”

  “They’re likely drinking themselves from one end of Trieste to the other.” Dev keys an icon. “Bross, our Ensigns have gone missing.” Dev turns to Chaz. “We’ll probably find them at or near the last place they ran up a tab. Either that, or we’ll find out where they ran out on the bill.”

  “Deep space dine and dash, great,” Chaz says, shaking his head. “Let’s go find them before the cops do.”

  “Uniforms, Chaz. This may turn official.”

  Dev and Chaz quickly change. The Fall/Winter uniforms are the blue double-breasted tailcoats. Dev pulls their bicorn hats out of the closet.

  “I thought we only had to wear the hats if we’re on duty.”

  “Oh, trust me, we’re on duty.” Dev plants his hat on his head, then grabs both of their cloaks. Chaz thinks Dev is handing him an outer coat, but the cloaks are actually capes.

  “Capes? We’re wearing capes?”

  “Cloaks. It’s cold out, and you’ll be glad you have this.”

  “Okay,” Chaz says while flinging the cape around him, “but I feel like a magician.”

  Dev puts his cloak on and then adjusts the left side of the cape over his shoulder, and then does the same for Chaz. “Like this.”

  “We’re wearing these to stay warm, but leaving them half open?”

  “Unless you need more warmth, yes. If you’re covered and encounter other officers, traditionally you’ll cast the left side of your cloak back to show your rank.”

  “Love all these traditions you have.”

  Bross is in the living room looking at his interlink device. “Commander? Exchequer reports last charge was made by Ensign Matt in Alisela.”

  “Of course it was,” Dev says as he marches to the lift. “Send me the location. I’ll notify you when we find them, Bross.”

  In the lift, Chaz can see Dev is bristling. “What’s Alisela?”

  “Two provinces south of here.”

  “How do we get there?”

  “It’s about a twenty-minute train ride.”

  chapter 18

  STARS AND BARS

  ☆ ☆

  Arriving street level in Alisela, Chaz looks around at a colorful, almost Vegas-like atmosphere. The air is crisp, but the winter uniform and cape keeps them comfortable.

  Not as flamboyant as Las Vegas, but a town that looks very much like a welcoming social environment. It’s late, and though the streets are calm, many of the bars still have revelers enjoying themselves inside.

  “Whoa.”

  “Alisela is renowned for its clubs and restaurants. Trieste’s best culinary academies is here. Hundreds of restaurants and bars line these streets. These establishments are always busy. There’s also a large shipping and travel port on the far side.”

  Stopping at a popular bar near the transit station, Dev queries the barman. Chaz can see the man nod. He also sees Dev shake his hand, and depart.

  “Were they here?”

  “Yep. They came, they drank, they left.” He adds, “In high spirits.”

  “High spirits?” Chaz says. “Is that Tertian for drunk as thieves?”

  “Yep.”

  Another couple of queries from various bartenders and servers yields nothing but a couple of points in the right direction.

  “Apparently, they went that way.”

  “This looks like a main thoroughfare.”

  “It is.” Dev motions down the way. “It’s about three miles long to the seaport at the other end. It’s sort of tradition to see how far you
can get.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before you pass out.”

  “Ugh.”

  They walk down the street and into range of some music.

  “How the hell are we going to find—” Chaz stops in mid-sentence when he realizes the music is familiar.

  “What?”

  Chaz looks at Dev. “Listen.”

  “Sounds Lyran.”

  “No, that’s Andy Grammer. It’s from Earth.”

  Dev is initially a little confused. “Earth? How is Earth music—Oh my God.”

  “I’ll kill them.”

  They hurry into the bar near a bridge. The patrons inside are all moving to the beat of the new music. Dev speaks to the bartender, while Chaz meanders around the room looking for their lost squadron mates. They meet up again near the door.

  “They were here, all right,” Dev says. “The barman said when their charge was denied, the ‘younger’ officer offered to pay in trade with a piece of original Earth music.”

  “They’re bartering with their music libraries?”

  “Apparently so,” Dev says with disapproval, but then adds, “Got to admit, that’s pretty clever.”

  Chaz laughs at their ingenuity. “Well, should make finding them easier.” Chaz looks at the patrons; all are captivated by the music.

  Farther down the street, Chaz’s ears perk up again. “’Downtown Girl.’ Hot Chelle Rae.”

  The patrons are all dancing and moving to the new and unheard-of music. Apparently, the Ensigns also taught the Tertians how to dance to this music. Dev and Chaz wade through the late-night crowd looking. Stopping multiple times, they ask patrons and workers about the whereabouts of their officers. Once again, they were there, but now are not. Onward they press.

  A few bars onward, Dev hears something that sounds very unfamiliar. “What is that?”

  “German drinking music,” Chaz replies, shaking his head. “Unless it’s Octoberfest in Alisela, I’d say they’ve been here. Harrison’s work, I bet.”

  “I am so going to lose my commission.”

  “God, I hope they don’t play violent rap.”

  “If they do, we’ll both be in trouble.”

  “Oh, please, let them be smarter than that.”

  Moving on, they hear more.

  “’Sunday Morning’ in Alisela.” Chaz says. “Maroon Five.”

  The music is guiding their way, but so far, no Oasis Ensigns. Each venue where the new music is playing, the patrons are all having a blast. Dev and Chaz continue onward. Ahead is seemingly pretty normal, until they near a distinctive beat coming from a dance club.

  “Oh my God, they didn’t,” Chaz says.

  “Didn’t what?”

  “‘Evacuate the Dance Floor.’”

  Inside, the patrons are in full swing, dancing to the new and exciting music. But alas, no rogue pilots.

  Pressing onward, there seems to be a definite lull in the repertoire, to the point Chaz and Dev think the damage has been contained to the places they already visited. The streets of Alisela, away from the bars already corrupted, are their usual normal selves. It’s now late, so a lot of the action has died off for the night. Jazz piano notes register in Chaz’s ears.

  “I don’t know this one.”

  “I like it,” Dev says. “Let’s go in.”

  Inside the club is a blue-lit room with crystal candles on each small table. The music is playing, with a few patrons comfortably listening to the gentle tune. Abandoning the search, Dev takes Chaz’s arm and leads him to a vacant table where they take off their hats and sit. Dev orders two short nightcaps. While the barmaid is setting down the drinks, Dev queries her.

  “What is this music?”

  “It’s from Oasis. It’s called ‘Stars Fell on Alabama.’”

  “I like the sound of that,” Dev says.

  Chaz raises his glass. “Gotta say, they’re picking great tunes.”

  They toast.

  Onward, it becomes eighties night.

  “That’s Toto, ‘Africa.’”

  “I like that..”

  No luck. Pressing onward, they walk past many clubs and eateries free of Earth music. Then, out of the calm, Chaz stops short upon hearing the next music.

  “Wait—they’re in there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Showtunes.”

  They enter a dark performance club, where the Oasis Ensigns are all on stage. Matt is practically in drag with a giant headdress and feather boa worthy of a Vegas showgirl. The others are his backup. Jen has lost her hat and is wearing a lampshade. Matt is front and center lip-syncing to ‘In These Shoes.’ He has one foot up on a stool, emphasizing his uniform boot. Whether it’s all the alcohol, or careful planning, the group of Ensigns seems oddly well choreographed. The act is sensuous and erotic, with Steve and Harrison playing the male objects to the song.

  “Oh my God,” Chaz says, stopping short inside the door.

  Dev eyes the stage. “Holy fuck.”

  They stand and watch the spectacle. Dev, unamused, pulls his interlink device and makes a call. “Bross, I need discreet airborne transport for six. Hurry.”

  Bross, on the other end, hears the loud music and is not even sure if Dev could hear his reply to the order. Dev hangs up and stands next to Chaz. The crowd is roaring and in high spirits watching the Earth residents’ performance. Matt is absolutely animated and lip-syncing so well, the patrons think he is actually doing the singing. Harrison and Steve, for two straight guys, are doing a fabulous job as backup. No one in the room has ever heard this particular song, or style of music. It is part jazz, part salsa, and absolutely mesmerizing.

  Dev and Chaz watch in astonishment at what their squadron is doing. If they weren’t so good, it would practically be a court martial offense. The song continues chorus after provocative chorus, effusing sex and scandal, the four Ensigns parading around the stage in full flourish.

  The end of the song arrives, and the crowd goes absolutely wild. Applause and a standing ovation is nonstop for about ten minutes. The owner of the club rushes to the stage and shakes the hands of all of them. He turns to the crowd. “Denizens! Our new friends from Oasis!” The spotlights are on the Oasis group, and another round of raucous applause erupts. Patrons fling little flowers to the stage. Matt is gushing, blushing, and loving it. Harrison, Jen, and Steve take a bow. The entire ensemble gathers hands and takes a stage bow. The Oasis group is practically mobbed by the audience, who all want to meet the Earth residents. Matt and company work their way through the crowd, shaking hands, accepting high praise (and a few shots of liquor). One patron diverts a server with a tray of drinks to the thirsty Ensigns. The spotlights switch off, and the house lights come up, revealing the only two people in the room not smiling and not clapping: Dev and Chaz.

  The Ensigns suddenly pull focus on their commanding officers.

  “Uh-oh,” Matt says, stopping short, creating a cascade of bumping into the other guys.

  “Huh—oh, party’s over,” Jen says, in full lampshade.

  “Out. Side. Now,” Dev orders.

  The proprietor replaces Jen’s lampshade with her junior officer’s hat as she passes him. She doesn’t even notice.

  Outside, Dev leads the way, following the coordinates Bross sent to his interlink device, leaving Chaz to herd the drunkards. They follow Dev around a building to a city landing pad, where a small CDF personnel transport is touching down. The doors open, and Leftenant Bross emerges, looks around, and sees the group. Dev stands to one side with a stern look on his face.

  “Whoa, think they’ll let us fly?” drunk-Harrison says to drunk-Steve.

  Chaz intervenes. “Get your asses inside.”

  Standing by the boarding door, Bross quickly salutes Chaz, and then watches as the Ensigns trip over themselves, and the steps, trying to board the transport.

  Bross speaks discreetly to Chaz, “I have Parting Shots for them, Commander,” Bross says, referring to the vials of al
cohol-neutralizing enzymatic compounds.

  “Belay that, Bross,” Chaz replies. “This is one night they’re going to pay for.”

  During the short flight to Bari, Dev stands in the cabin and dresses down his drunken Ensigns as they are strapped in their seats. He is not happy. “Commissioning night is known for its frivolity, but the four of you have taken it to an unprecedented level. If any other senior officer saw what was taking place tonight, you would have been dragged off to the nearest brig!” He turns, hesitates, then turns back to the Ensigns. “And whose bright idea was it to sell Earth music to the barkeeps!”

  Steve burps, “Sir . . . sorry. Something went s-s-screwy with our credit accounts.”

  “Nothing went screwy,” Dev says sharply. “I cut you off! I thought you might have gotten the idea to call in!”

  The normally quiet Harrison starts a rambling, drunken line of defense. “The guy said we were cut off, and then asked us to pay in Sovereigns, but we were like, we don’t have any cash, and he was like ‘cash? what’s that?’ so we asked if there was an ATM and he didn’t know what we were talking about. And even if you have ATM machines, we don’t know how to use them, so we asked if we can pay in some other way, and he asked what do we have to barter, but we didn’t have anything, so we were like, what are we going to do? We didn’t want to get in trouble, and since we were in a club, we said, hey, what about Earth music, because we’ve got a lot of music, and we thought they might be interested in hearing some new stuff.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Harrison continues his rant, “Yeah, so Matt said, we’ll trade an Earth song for a round of drinks, and the guy was like, ‘you’re from Earth?’ and he bought us a round of drinks anyway, you know, just because we were from Earth—wasn’t that nice? So then we played the music and they went nuts—like happy nuts—and they bought us another round. We didn’t want to be all drunk in front of them, so we left and went to another place, and we did the same thing. Then we came to this beer hall, and I’m like, I have beer hall music. We didn’t like the beer they had, so we left and moved on, and everywhere we went, we were like the life of the party, but then we got worried we were doing something wrong, so we took it easy and just walked around for a while, but then we were like, this is dumb, they love us here, so between getting commissioned, and just being from Earth, and having lots of music, they pretty much let us drink all night for free.”