The Imperative Chronicles, Books One and Two: The Mars Imperative & The Tesserene Imperative

by Mark Terence Chapman

  “My God, look at the moon. It’s huge!”

  Daniel nodded. “Yeah, we’re an eighth of the way there now, and there’s no atmosphere to obstruct our view. Impressive, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say! It’s incredible!” He marveled at the sight a while longer.

  Daniel broke the spell that gripped James. “By the way, did you hear that they recently discovered life on the moon?”

  “You’re kidding! After all this time? What is it? How does it survive? Where’d they find it?”

  Daniel smiled and raised a hand to fend off further questions. “Give me a second and I’ll tell you. It’s apparently some form of parasitical blood-sucking insect.” He paused for effect. “They’re called Lunatics.” Daniel nearly fell out of his chair as he delivered the punch line.

  James slapped his forehead and groaned. “Jeez. I can’t believe I fell for that. I might as well go ahead and have yagger tattooed to my forehead right now!”

  They continued to admire the scenery until a brief bump signaled that the magnetic brakes had kicked in and were slowing the car gently. Moments later the Fasten Safety Restraints sign flicked off.

  “We’ve still got time for a couple of games of speed chess,” Daniel offered. “I’ll give you a chance to try to even up the score.”

  “Thanks, but maybe another time. I’m all chessed out right now.”

  “What, after only ten games? What a jellyfish! I took you for sterner stuff than that.”

  James shrugged. “What can I say? Now that we’re almost there I’m excited to see Nautilus in person. I don’t think I’d be able to concentrate on a game.”

  “Ah. Gotcha. Yeah, I felt that way myself the first time. Okay, we can pick up where we left off later.”

  “Thanks. Then I’ll kick your butt.”

  * * * *

  The Fasten Safety Restraints sign lit again, and the recording intoned, “Arriving at destination in two minutes,” in a repeat of the departure procedure. Once again the flight attendant checked everyone’s restraints before securing her own.

  James continued to watch their approach on the main holoscreen as the huge ODF filled the viewscreen. The first four cars on the cable were easily visible now as the car containing the two young men crawled up behind them.

  “Thank God that’s over,” Daniel said. “These trips always seem to last forever.”

  James sketched a sardonic smile. “What’s the matter, was the company boring?”

  “Yeah, that must have been it.”

  In truth, they had become close friends during the trip. As the two discovered, they had several interests in common, including fútbol, “moldy oldies” from the late twenty-first century and their fierce passion for chess.

  Moments later, the car docked and they departed with their bags. Because this was the fifth car on the cable, the passengers exited through the four cars docked ahead of them. James consulted his wristpad to see where he needed to go.

  “I presume you’re supposed to report to Murtagh for orientation,” Daniel said.

  “Yeah. I just have to figure out how to get there. How’d you know?”

  “Everyone reports to Murtagh for orientation. Don’t worry, I can take you. I’m in no hurry. How long before you have to report?”

  “A little over an hour.”

  “Tell you what: let’s find your quarters first, drop off your bag, then get you a haircut. I could use a trim myself.” He ran his fingers through his unruly mop.

  “A haircut?”

  “Didn’t they tell you about Murtagh back home?”

  James frowned. “Tell me what?”

  Daniel shook his head. “Probably someone pulling a fast one on you—you know, haze the rookie. Murtagh is retired old-school British military. He absolutely insists on buzz-cuts on rookies, kinda like in boot camp. He gets pissed off when new-hires—he calls them recruits—arrive with long hair. He thinks they’re showing a lack of respect and makes it twice as tough on them during orientation.”

  “Really?” James frowned again. “Are you sure?”

  “Believe me; I heard all the horror stories from the other new-hires last year. Oh, and one other thing: when you introduce yourself, stand up straight like you’re at attention. He hates recruits who slouch; again, a lack of respect. And do change into something a bit more formal; he hates casual. And always address him as sir. Believe me, orientation is tough enough. You don’t need to get on Murtagh’s bad side!”

  “Wow, thanks for telling me. You’re right. I sure don’t want to start off on the wrong foot. He sounds like a real tight-ass.”

  “No problem, mi amigo. I just wish someone had warned me last year.”

  They passed through the elevator terminal and out into the ODF reception area. When they turned a corner they were faced with a spectacular view of Earth, seen through a wall-length window. The entire western hemisphere was laid out before them: lightning flashed over northern Mexico; clouds obscured Cuba and northern Canada; the snowcapped Andes gleamed in the late afternoon sun. Skinning the curve of the Earth, a thin blue rind revealed the dimensions of the atmosphere. James stood there speechless for a solid minute before shaking himself out of his reverie.

  “That’s…incredible. It looks like I could reach out and touch it.”

  Daniel nodded. “It’s amazing all right. I’m awed all over again every time I come back. But there’ll be plenty of opportunities to marvel at the view. Right now, we need to get you suitably attired and shorn. There isn’t a moment to lose!”

  * * * *

  An hour later, they walked together to Murtagh’s office.

  “Good luck, James. Remember everything I told you and you’ll be fine. You look perfect. Knock ‘im dead. I’ll catch you at eighteen-hundred for dinner. Remember: Leoni’s In The Square.” He slapped James on the back of his starched tunic and headed for his quarters.

  James smiled to himself. I may not know anybody else up here, but at least I’ve found one friend. He braced himself and opened the door into the waiting room, where he faced the receptionist.

  “New recruit—I mean new hire—James McKie reporting for duty, ma’am.”

  The receptionist—Ms. Josephson, according to the nameplate on her desk—looked at him askance. “I’ll let Mr. Murtagh know you’re here. Please be seated.”

  James sat on the edge of the sofa, stiff-backed.

  It wouldn’t do to let Murtagh see me slouching when he comes through the door. He ran a hand over the stubble on his newly naked scalp. The draft from the overhead air vent tickled.

  His eyes wandered over the reception area. It seems odd that such a hard-ass would have all these pastel colors in here. He shrugged mental shoulders. Who knows? Maybe he’s color blind and has no idea what the colors are.

  “Mr. Murtagh will see you now, Mr. McKie. Please go right in.” She gestured at the other door in the room.

  “Thank you ma’am.” He noticed her shake her head slowly as he passed through the door. What’s that all about?

  As soon as he entered the room, he announced, “James McKie reporting for duty, sir!” He stood as stiffly as he knew how, staring straight ahead and hoping he showed the proper amount of respect. He certainly didn’t need to get chewed out in his first meeting!

  Elmer Murtagh looked up from his papers, assessed James, and shook his head. “This ain’t the friggin’ army, son. Y’all can pull that stick outta yore butt and relax.”

  James was stunned. Huh? Is this the same “hard-ass ex-British military” Murtagh that Daniel was telling me about?

  “Y-yes, sir.” His hand twitched by his side.

  “You can stuff the ‘sir’ nonsense, son. The name’s Murtagh; just Murtagh. And if y’all were about to salute me just then y’all might want to think twice about that.”

  James was thoroughly perplexed. “B-but—”

  “If yore gonna fit in here, son, y’all gotta learn to relax; wear something more comf’table. That outfit ain’t gon
na cut it ‘round here. And what’s with the scalp job? Don’t it get cold in Winnipeg this time o’ year?”

  James finally looked closely at Murtagh, who was wearing a floppy moth-eaten sweater, and was clearly several weeks overdue for a haircut. Wha-? The light bulb finally clicked on in his head.

  Lim. That sonofabitch! I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill him dead, if it’s the last thing I ever do! I’ll take that “we rookies have to stick together” crap and shove it right down his throat! That sonofabitch! James fought to keep the anger and humiliation off his face.

  The rest of the meeting went quickly. At the end, James vaguely remembered doing more nodding than talking.

  “That’s all for now,” Murtagh concluded. “Report to Hangar Fourteen at 0800 tomorrow.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Murtagh gave him a dirty look.

  “I mean, okay Murtagh.”

  “That’s better. See you tomorrow, James.”

  James turned and left. As the door closed behind him, he heard, “Rookies!”

  At the appointed hour, James stopped sulking in his quarters and showed up at Leoni’s In The Square with fire in his eyes.

  * * * *

  Daniel beckoned James to the table where he awaited, stifling a grin. Uh-oh, he looks pissed. Maybe I went a bit overboard, but he made it so damn easy!

  Ah, screw ‘im if he can’t take a joke. “Hi, James, how’d it go?”

  James loomed over the table, arms waving. “You sonofabitch! What did I ever do to you? I thought we were friends. What was that crap all about?”

  “Hey, calm down, James, it wasn’t anything personal; just a little friendly hazing—sort of a tradition. They did the same kind of thing to me last year. It didn’t kill you, did it?”

  “Obviously not; but it was humiliating. I’m sure I came off as some country bumpkin fresh off the rutabaga truck. Thanks a lot!”

  Daniel finally gave up trying to hold in a laugh. “God, I would dearly love to have seen your face when you figured out what was going on! Pull up a chair; I’ll buy you a beer. It’s the least I can do.”

  “I think you’ve done quite enough for one day, thank you very much!” Nevertheless, he sat. “Make it two beers and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  When the first round arrived, Daniel raised his glass with a crooked grin. “Welcome to ODF Nautilus, rookie!” He whipped out a portable holochess board. “I’ll even spot you a pawn this time.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Engineering Marvels: Orbital Docking Facility (ODF)—Earth’s first surface-to-orbit space elevator, ODF Nautilus—named for Jules Verne’s most famous invention—was built between 2068 and 2071. Nautilus provided the first practical method of getting cargo up to and down from the space station at a cost of mere dollars per kilo. It is tethered three hundred and forty kilometers east of French Guiana in the Atlantic Ocean, to serve the Americas.

  A total of two dozen ribbon cables were assembled over the next thirty years, as the quantity of passengers and cargo passing through the ODF multiplied. With six separate elevator cars per cable, Nautilus has 72 cars ascending and 72 cars descending during each forty-eight hour time period.

  GRAVITIC FIELD GENERATORS (GFGs) provide localized Earth-normal gravity (1.00G) on the elevator cars. Without a GFG, once a car reached geostationary orbit (approximately 35,786 km altitude), the passengers would be weightless. Beyond that altitude, centrifugal force would force the passengers outward, to the ceiling of the car. The GFG allows passengers to maintain the same orientation all the way from Earth to the ODF. Similarly, the ODFs use GFGs to control the degree and orientation of gravity as needed.

  — Excerpt from Encyclopedia Solaris, 2176

  * * * *

  James was determined not to give Murtagh any more reasons to think him a screw-up, so he arrived at Hangar Fourteen early, dressed in a jumpsuit. He’d had the forethought to ask Ms. Josephson for advice on the subject on his way out of Murtagh’s office the day before. She informed him that jumpsuits were traditional shipboard dress. That was good enough for James.

  Although he was fifteen minutes early, James wasn’t the first trainee there by far. More than a dozen men and women had beaten him to the hangar and were milling around the empty cavernous chamber. James casually eyed his fellows as several more new hires wandered in. He was surprised to find one that he recognized.

  “Daniel! What are you doing here? Didn’t you go through all this last year?”

  Daniel shook his head with a rueful smile. “I wish. Remember, I was only an intern then. They didn’t let us do anything dangerous, so there was no need for any of this. As far as they’re concerned, I’m just as much a rookie as you are. By the way, did anyone tell you that the informal name for orientation is Boot Camp?”

  Boot Camp? James didn’t like the sound of that, but he wasn’t sure he trusted this bit of data not to be one of Daniel’s pranks.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen,” Murtagh called out, cutting short any further opportunity for discussion. He’d slipped in while James was distracted by Daniel. “Y’all form four rows of six on the marks in the middle there.” He pointed to the Xs taped to the deck in front of him. Murtagh stood facing the first row with his back to the bulkhead and his hands clasped behind him.

  As the new hires milled about, deciding where to stand, Murtagh counted. “Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…. Okay, it’s after 0800 hours. Who’s missing?”

  “Me, sir!” A red-faced young man rushed through the door. “Sorry sir! I got lost.”

  “Cut the ‘sir’ crap, Andropov, and get in line.” He shook his head with a look of exasperation. As Andropov stood on the final X, Murtagh continued. “Physical fitness is important on an orbital docking facility or spaceship, even when equipped with Gravitic Field Generators. So we’ll begin every session with thirty minutes of calisthenics to make sure no one gets flabby.” He appeared to suppress a smile as several rookies groaned.

  “We’ll get to the more cerebral stuff later. But first,” he opened a cabinet recessed into the bulkhead and grabbed an armful of exercise slippers, “everyone put these on.”

  He waited a minute while the trainees complied. Suddenly there was steel in his voice. “Now drop and give me twenty!”

  Despite some grumbling, the new recruits did as ordered. Most had no trouble, but a couple struggled. “That’s just plain pitiful, Cosby. You too, Cappelletti. Just because you’re a woman, don’t expect me to cut you any slack.”

  He surveyed the group. “Y’all need to work on your conditioning. You’re mine for the next three weeks, and you will get in shape before you move on to your permanent positions. I promise you that! Now, turn over and give me fifty sit-ups!” The groans were more prevalent this time.

  Nobody said anything to me about calisthenics. Nonetheless, James was determined not to give Murtagh any reason to single him out for ridicule.

  Murtagh worked them through several more exercises, until all the recruits were dripping wet. “All right, children, last one. Twenty-five jumping jacks and then we’re done.” He paused for a moment as they got into position. “Ready? One!” Just as everyone leaped upward, Murtagh pressed a button on a handheld remote. A klaxon sounded, blaring BRAAAK! BRAAAK! BRAAAK! and startling the recruits. It echoed deafeningly in the enclosed space. That was the first surprise. The second was that instead of dropping back to the deck, the rookies continued soaring upward.

  What the hell? James wondered, disoriented, as his stomach lurched. His breakfast threatened to revisit.

  Why didn’t someone warn me we were going to be doing zero-gee exercises? I didn’t think I’d need a patch here in the ODF!

  James looked down at the deck receding beneath his feet. He craned his neck and saw the distant ceiling approaching rapidly. He began gyrating in midair trying to orient himself with feet facing the ceiling, to cushion the impending impact. All he succeeded in doing was to turn far enough to hit the ceiling flat on his b
ack and knock the wind out of his lungs before rebounding and drifting slowly back toward the floor. As he drifted, he could see others in similar straits. Some appeared to be doing handstands on the ceiling. Only one was actually standing on the ceiling: Daniel Lim.

  Figures. I’ll bet he’s done this a hundred times before.

  “Pitiful, people. Just plain pitiful. If this had been an actual emergency, most of y’all would probably be dead. Lim’s the only one who might have had a chance to reach safety. Well done, Mr. Lim.” Murtagh pushed off from the floor where he had waited all this time. Shortly before reaching the ceiling, he executed a perfect flip and bent his knees to absorb the impact, landing on the ceiling as lightly as a feather. He walked over to where James was drifting and pulled him back to the ceiling, along with two others.

  “As those of y’all who landed on your feet have discovered, these slippers are slightly magnetic. Not enough to keep y’all from bouncing if you hit too hard, but sufficient to hold you in place if you land softly. Before you leave me, you will be able to do that successfully, and a lot more, or you’ll be packing to go home. These are essential survival skills, people. If you can’t learn them you don’t belong in space. That’s all there is to it. Now, let’s see if y’all can execute a flip when you’re prepared for it. Push off!”

  James regained his feet and launched himself toward the floor high “above” him. His flip was not a thing of beauty. He landed too hard and bounced back slightly, floating a few centimeters off the floor; but at least he was upright this time. Some of the others didn’t do even that well. Several were scrabbling in midair, two were tumbling uncontrollably, and one woman, comically, was even cartwheeling across the hanger.

  “Cappelletti!” Murtagh hollered. “What in tarnation do you think you’re doing up there!”