Stars Fell on Trieste

by M. Alan Marr

  Beech takes Matt’s hand. “We’ve had diseases that swept through our society as well. In my own lifetime, we’ve had entire planets that were under quarantine because we didn’t have adequate defenses to keep the pathogens from spreading off-world.”

  “Really? Even here?”

  “Truly,” Beech says. “Even here. The Human body continues to come up with ways to unravel our work.”

  “What do doctors do here?” Matt asks. “I mean, everyone seems so healthy.”

  “Most of us are. A lot of our work focuses on casualty medicine; I believe you call it emergency medicine. Accidental injury, broken bones, and so forth. Non-casualty work focuses our efforts more on the molecular level. We identify markers of disease and work to reverse or cure them before they manifest.”

  “And no one has swept you off your feet yet?”

  Beech laughs. “Too many years of academics and dedication to my work. Or, maybe I was waiting for a dashing aviator from Oasis.”

  “Oh my God, I’m from Oasis!”

  “You are?”

  “And, I’m an Aviator of the Crown.”

  “Well, I guess I can stop looking.”

  “We were commissioned last night. I’m now Ensign Matt.”

  “Oh, had I known, I would have sent my congratulations.”

  “It was a surprise to us. Then, our fellow officers got us terribly drunk. Our Commanders picked us up in Alisela early this morning. We were in pretty bad shape.”

  “Must have been. The worst cases are when the reveler forgets their Parting Shots.”

  Matt looks embarrassed. “We didn’t know about Parting Shots until a few hours ago.”

  “Oh no!” Beech laughs. “You must have felt horrible! Come on, we’re going to the market.”

  “Why?”

  “You and your fellows are going to need some additional electrolytes. Have no fear, Doctor Beech is on duty.”

  They laugh and carry on. The big cat runs away when they start laughing, but soon returns and follows them up to the pedestrian road.

  Beech and Matt enter the small market, where Beech picks up a case of electrolyte drinks. He opens the cover and pulls one of the small bottles out and reads the label. “This will do.” He looks at the produce bins. “However, we’ll need some additional nutrients. Red Citrum will work.”

  Together, Matt and Beech select four red ripe Citrum fruits and place them in a sack. Beech pays the grocer for the items.

  Returning to the group, Matt and Beech hand out the small bottles.

  “Steve, Jen, Harrison,” Matt says, “drink this, and eat one of these.”

  “Why?”

  “If we don’t, our hangovers are going to return.”

  They all grab a fruit out of the bag and drink their juice. No one wants a hangover.

  Some local eateries within sight of the beach began sending servers out to see if anyone needed anything. Some even brought out supplies simply because it is MerTodos. Visitors from the building, the friends met a few weeks ago, and even a few passersby, all stopped over, if for nothing else than to say hello. Many fetch or order components to keep the pot MerTodos going—fish, breads, sauce, water, someone broke out the lager, but the Oasis crew take it easy, as they all have to fly early in the morning. Gin finally shows up and takes Jen to a nearby restaurant since she doesn’t much care for seafood, but they return to the beach after they eat.

  As the suns begins to set, the giant pot of MerTodos is finally empty. The campfire is maintained on the beach after dark. Despite the flame, by the end of the day, the big cat has taken up residence in Chaz’s lap near the fire. Even with the number of people nearby, the Feline has found protection with Chaz.

  “I love this cat,” Chaz says.

  “He’ll still be here when we get back.”

  “How long do they live?”

  “Fifty years or more,” Dev says. “They have no natural predators, and they only breed at the end of the planetary exchange.”

  “Really?” Jen asks.

  “Yes, for some reason, the exchange causes many of the animals here to go into their breeding cycles. These felines usually only have two cubs, a male and a female.”

  “Wow.”

  “Mother Felines raise their cubs and teach them to hunt, but after a few months the cubs set out on their own. It’s interesting, when they set off, one cub goes one direction, and the other goes in the opposite direction and are on the move for the better part of a year.”

  Dr. Beech addresses that curiosity. “They do that to maintain genetic integrity. By setting out in opposite directions, the cubs will never crossbreed. The distance they travel further enforces that. That’s why they’ve survived so long. That’s also why they’ve evolved into such large animals. They are a very hardy breed.”

  “Beech is a doctor,” Matt says proudly.

  “Oh my God, a doctor and a Yale man,” Jen says. “Perfect combination.”

  “Yale man?” Beech asks.

  “The university I attended,” Matt says to him.

  “He’s being humble,” Jen says to Beech. “Yale is one of the most prestigious universities on Earth. You don’t get in on your good looks.”

  “Although I certainly could have.” Matt smiles and winks.

  “Yes, cutie, you could have.” Jen smiles back at him.

  Beech is impressed. “I’d love to see your world sometime.”

  “Commander? Would that be possible?” Matt asks.

  “Maybe,” Dev says. “It’s not like he would be unsupervised.”

  “What do you say, Beech? Care to take your next vacation on Earth?”

  “I’m in the middle of a large research project, so I wouldn’t be able to leave for some time,” Beech says sadly. “But I would love to.”

  “You’re a civilian, Doctor,” Dev says. “The Admiralty would have to interview you and evaluate the request. Our support will help. Are you deep space certified?”

  “Yes, sir, I did my fellowship on Lyra.”

  “Yay!” Matt yells. “Oh, if they let him go, we’ll have to take him somewhere on the jet.”

  “Naturally.” Dev smiles. “Doctor, I’ll put my adjutant, Leftenant Bross, in contact with you.”

  Jen looks up at Gin. “How about you, Gin?”

  Gin makes a face. “I’m not very good with space travel. I went on an orbital cruise once, and it was agony. I don’t even like atmospheric flights. I’m more of a terrestrial body.”

  “That’s not uncommon,” Beech says. “Gravity Sickness. Middle ear issue. Subtle changes in gravity affect equilibrium, balance, digestive system, and even muscular motor control.”

  Dev adds, “Imagine seasickness combined with airsickness, with an ear infection and cramps.”

  “Yikes.” Jen nods. “Stay on the ground.”

  “Exactly.” Gin smiles. “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy seeing your world. I would just be a complete wreck.”

  “That’s all right. I know the way here.” Jen watches one of the building tenants bring out a case of water bottles for the group. “I can’t believe everyone is so nice here.”

  “Quite a change from home,” Harrison says.

  “And this soup thing . . . those restaurants even sent stuff out.”

  “MerTodos is like that,” Dev says. “It represents a collaboration stemming from difficult times.” He sits up and continues. “One of our historical figures once said, ‘Give a man a fish and he feeds for a day; teach a man to fish and he feeds for a lifetime.’”

  “Jesus,” Jen utters.

  “That’s right.”

  Some passersby stop and point to the horizon. Others on the beach look up as well.

  “What are they pointing at?” Jen says to Dev.

  Dev turns and looks at the setting suns and smiles. “Hey, look.”

  The Oasis group looks up at the setting suns. As Gemma and Gemini sink below the horizon, the beautiful neon Dué begins to rise.

  “Wow,” Matt says.
“Every moment there’s something incredible here.”

  Dev’s chrono sounds a tone. He looks at the device. “Oasis officers and crew, it is now 1900 hours.”

  “Study time,” Jen says, while getting up. “Sorry, Gin, we have work to do.”

  Gin stands as well. “I understand.” He smiles warmly. “I hope we can meet again soon.”

  “So do I.”

  Gin kisses Jen’s hand and bows slightly, making her blush.

  Dev and his group begin cleaning up the mess. Everyone helps out. Dev offers to put out the fire, but some of the building residents elect to stay and assume the responsibility for that.

  Farewells are made, and Beech escorts Matt back to the building, where they bid each other an affectionate good night.

  Franz, Milo, and Annette take all the dishes and the big pot to their dwelling, rather than disrupt Dev and Chaz.

  It was a really good day. But now the Ensigns of Oasis (and Chaz) have work to do. They have to study the specs for the Class I TransAt Fighter. Tomorrow begins their first simulation, and they have a lot of material to cover tonight. They have several hours ahead of them before they go to sleep. Fortunately, the thirty-one hours in a Tertian day helps.

  Dev works on some reports at his desk and looks over to see Chaz sitting on the floor, studying. “Chaz? Wouldn’t you rather sit at the desk?”

  “Huh? Oh, no, I’m fine. At the Naval Academy I spent four years studying on the floor.”

  “They made you do that?”

  “No, but I was too tall for the tiny desks they had in our rooms, so I always ended up on the floor. Really, I’m fine here.”

  “Okay . . . doesn’t look too comfortable.”

  Chaz is right back in his study materials. “I’m good.”

  Dev sees the focus Chaz is putting into his study and quietly goes back to his own work.

  ***

  The next morning is brisk. There is some low mist. Not quite ground fog, but just a cool mist hanging in the air.

  “How did the temperature drop so fast?” Chaz says, returning to the living room from the balcony.

  “Trieste is on a fast outbound orbit now. The temperatures will get steadily cooler.”

  “This is so wild. Hard to imagine two planets exchanging orbits.”

  “It seems strange, I know, but, it’s really just two elliptical orbits intersecting.”

  “Will Triton ever collide with Trieste?”

  Dev laughs. “No. In fact, the crossover takes place when Trieste is at its perigee to Gemma, and Triton is at its apogee. Trieste locks onto the tail end of Triton’s orbital track, and Triton swaps over somewhere near the front. In three or four years, it will happen again.”

  “Last night you said the seasons change during the crossover?”

  “Yep. Seasons; lakes and rivers will turn over, the difference between high and low tides are more apparent because we’re getting farther away from Dué. Deciduous trees shed their leaves, many animals go into hibernation, and seasonal animals begin to migrate. It’s just like autumn on Earth, only here it lasts a year, followed by a year of winter, and then two or three years of spring begins as the seasonal orbit heads back toward Gemma.”

  In the bedroom, Dev pulls out his and Chaz’s bicorn hats and returns to the living room.

  “You’re wearing your hat? I thought they were optional with flight suits.”

  “Optional in summer. As of 3100 hours this morning, no longer the case. We also have flight jackets if you need additional warmth, but probably won’t need them this week.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Bross enters the room. “Commander? Time, sir.”

  Chaz grabs his hat and follows Dev to the living room. “This is going to blow their minds.”

  The Ensigns, and Crewmen Franz, Milo, and Annette enter Dev’s dwelling and stand in a line.

  “Oasis squadron officers and crew reporting for duty, sirs,” Steve says professionally.

  “Ensign Steve,” Dev says. “Thank you, sir. We have some business to attend to.”

  Bross hands Chaz a pad.

  Dev calls, “Attention to orders.”

  The entire group stands up straight.

  With a nod from Dev, Chaz reads the pad, “Admiralty Directive, Oasis zero-zero-four. Effective upon reading, Ensigns Steve Fitzgerald, Harrison Franklin, Jennifer Spangler, and Matthew Thompson are each hereby promoted to the rank of Flight Leftenant.”

  Bross removes and replaces the Ensign shoulder boards with Leftenant shoulder boards.

  “You might be asking yourselves why,” Dev says. “The answer is, Ensigns do not fly TransAt fighters.”

  Bross has replaced all the insignia. The new Leftenants are surprised and impressed with this new milestone.

  “You guys look good.” Chaz smiles.

  “You have three hours before we depart for the Training Command to begin fighter training. Use the time wisely.”

  The group disbands and returns to Steve and Harrison’s dwelling, where they continue studying the fighter specs.

  ***

  Jen shakes her head. “This thing is nothing like the trainers.”

  “The advanced trainer’s engines have the photon-equivalent to one hundred thousand pounds of thrust each; the fighter has four engines rated at two hundred forty-five thousand pounds of thrust—each. That’s almost a million pounds of forward thrust available.”

  Steve pages forward a little in his pad. “According to this, a full power military departure will have us clear Trieste’s atmosphere in a matter of seconds. How long did it used to take the Space Shuttle to reach orbit?”

  “It was like seven minutes or something like that,” Harrison replies.

  “We can practically fly to Dué in seven minutes.”

  A tone sounds in the room. They all look up.

  “What’s that?” Steve says.

  “I think that’s the guy downstairs,” Jen says. “Just say your name.”

  Steve looks up. “This is Steve.”

  “Leftenant Fitzgerald, it’s the Chamberlain, sir. Representatives from the Admiralty are here to see you and Leftenant Franklin. May I admit them, sir?”

  “Yeah, Chamberlain, thanks.”

  “Yes, sir. Oh, are Leftenants Spangler and Thompson with you by chance, sir?” He mispronounces Matt’s last name, enunciating the t-h as in Thor or Thump.

  Steve smiles. “Yeah, Thompson’s here, so is Spangler, send them all up.”

  “Great, another nickname,” Matt says, shaking his head.

  “Well, since Skinny Merle doesn’t fit anymore, you needed a new one,” Jen comments.

  “I thought I was HazMat.”

  “Yeah, but that’s more of a call sign than nickname.”

  “Whatever, I’ll answer to anything.”

  There is a chime from the foyer. Steve walks to the rounded lift tube and presses the button. The lift foyer is slightly different in Steve’s dwelling, since multiple dwellings on the same level share a common lift. In this case, the lift tube rotates to align with each individual entry foyer. After the tube aligns, the doors open. Inside are two crewmen and two garment racks filled with shrouded finery. Since Leftenant uniforms are markedly different than their Midshipman and Ensign uniforms, the Quartermasters were immediately dispatched.

  The lead crewman comes to attention and salutes with his knuckle.

  “Quartermaster Crewmen Dell and Valden, sir. We bring new uniform items, sir, reflective of your promotions.”

  “Great, come in.”

  As the crewmen wheel out the two garment ranks, Jen motions to Matt to follow. “Hang on, I want to try that stuff on.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Leftenant . . . ”

  “Spangler. Come on, Thompson, let’s go down to our place.”

  Matt and Jen enter the lift with one crewman, while the other tends to Steve and Harrison.

  The Quartermaster Crewman opens the garment covers, showing dress uniforms, bicorn hats, formal hats, extr
a shoulder boards for their flight suits, several pairs of uniform pants in white, dark blue, and black, also finally fleet utility uniforms, all Leftenant ranked. There are also new uniform shirts, waistcoats, cloaks, and neck floss.

  Steve takes the bicorn hat and puts it on. “Nice. I like these better than the caps.”

  Harrison puts the cape around him. “What do we wear these with?”

  “With either the standard or dress uniform, sir.”

  “Not with flight suits, though?”

  “No, sir.” The crewman pulls a sort of all-weather flight jacket off the rack. “Flight jacket, Leftenant, for additional warmth and weatherproofing.”

  “Are these required?”

  “Wear them at will, sir.” The quartermaster crewman adds, “Sir, if you no longer need your old uniforms, we will be happy to take them with us.”

  “Sure.” Steve motions for the crewman to follow him to his wardrobe closet. The crewman initially swaps out Steve’s old shoulder boards from his flight suits.

  “I’d like to keep one pair of those.” Steve says. “And a set of the Midshipman boards.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Yeah me too,” Harrison says.

  The quartermaster crewman hangs all of the new uniform pieces in the closet, arranged in proper military form, then departs with the outmoded stuff. Steve pulls one of the double-breasted tailcoats from the closet and looks at Harrison with a smile. “We’re wearing these today. We can pack our flight suits in our briefcases.”

  “You know what? I think that’s a great idea. I’ll call Jen and Matt.”

  The new Leftenants arrive downstairs wearing their new Admiralty semi-formal uniforms and hats. They each stand a little taller, a little prouder, and every bit a new Leftenant.

  “Well,” Chaz says, “don’t we look dapper this morning.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Steve happily replies, touching the side of his hat, in a Tertian style salute.

  “Leftenants, you all look incredible.” Dev compliments. “Very professional. Those uniforms suit you.”

  TRAINING COMMAND

  ADVANCED ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT CENTER

  Each pilot, now in flight suits, stands inside much larger simulation bays in the new part of the simulation facility. A Class 1 TransAt Fighter sits in the simulation berth. The ship itself is much larger than either of the trainers previously flown. It has four very powerful engines and a formidable and deadly arsenal of weapons. The fighter is configured with side-by-side pilot seating, with two additional seats behind the pilot stations. A large canopy provides ample vision on all sides. The canopy frames are articulated to open like gull wing doors. The upper aft canopy has a circular airlock for hard docking to stations or other vessels. Angular wing-like stabilizers and twin tails give the fighter an aggressive, menacing appearance.