Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3

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Solstice 31: The Solstice 31 Saga, Books 1,2,3 Page 67

by Martin Wilsey


  Barcus realized he was starving. Tan’Vi made sure everyone had drinks and full plates.

  There were additional tables set up under the lights that held a wide selection of items. Most were projects and tasks that were either completed or simply paused for the midday status. Then, his eye fell on one particular table.

  He saw the books, first.

  They were the books from the gatehouse. There was also the Telis Raptor tail knife that Grady had fashioned. It even had a sheath. Below that table were five chests of various kinds. And, behind the table were about two dozen cases of the Hermitage wine.

  Barcus knew someone had been back to the Abbey to salvage what could be saved. It had been a mercy for AI~Em to assign the task to someone else.

  Worthington began the briefing while everyone ate.

  “As of this moment, we are on track and ahead of schedule,” Jim said, to claps and to cheers, through full mouths. “We have added items to the schedule, however.

  “We have decided to salvage reactor number one from the Memphis, before we leave for Earth.”

  The displays changed behind him. Schedules cascaded and simulations of the install of the dark matter reactor in the Sedna were shown.

  Trish Elkin spoke, “The dark matter reactor is modular and easy to move. We should be able to move it over, install and test it, in less than a day. By having it, we can run the fabricator, the entire trip, with no impact and continue repairs and even upgrades.”

  Worthington continued, “This presumes that Barcus doesn't blow himself up, extracting the missiles.”

  Barcus knew he was joking, but Po wasn't so sure.

  “We have also come up with a far less risky way to transfer the fuel, without killing Elkin.”

  “Thanks, Captain, for thinking of me,” Elkin said, smiling.

  “After Barcus retrieves the missile pod from the platform, they will land in a remote area in the tundra, far north of here.” Worthington started another simulation. “The pod will already be retrieved and secured inside Par, the Emergency Module, during the operation. They will be dropped off along with the fuel tanks from the Sedna. Em will extract, process and transfer the nuclear material to the shielded fuel tanks and leave the unused parts of the pod there. All this will happen while we can use the laser comms on the moon as a relay, to keep in touch.”

  Elkin added, “With the plutonium in the shielded tanks, they can be picked up, reinstalled and we will be good to go. And, my tan will stay as pale white as ever!”

  “Handling risks will be minimized,” Worthington added.

  AI~Em spoke at that point, “We will then be good with water, food and fuel.” The task lists opened. “The remainder of the major tasks will be repairing the hull breaches, cleaning the CO2 scrubbers, and testing the computers, the hull and the seal integrity.”

  The fabrication schedule was impressive.

  “When are we getting Wex?” Grady stood in the light by the tables. In his hand, he held the tail spike from the Telis Raptor. It looked like a short, curved sword. He looked worried, angry.

  AI~Em replied, “In three days, Barcus, Po, Rand, and Worthington will be going to Exeter. To the Flask and Anvil, to meet with the High Keeper's chief engineer. Ronan has already begun setting up transportation and the potential evacuation of Wex. It will be a simple milk run.”

  “I'm going,” Grady said, in a tone not to be debated.

  “I guess I'm going, as well,” Ulric said. “None of you have even been there, before. I have. Besides, I know where we can get a few cases of excellent bourbon.”

  Hume spoke next. “Captain, you should stay here. I'll go.”

  “I'm going because the rest of you have tasks to complete, if we are to remain on schedule. We are getting close,” He pointed at Hume. “You’re not going because Ronan advised against it.” Before she could interrupt, he continued, “Not only are you a woman, I think you are the only Black woman on this whole, damn planet.”

  She was taken aback.

  “You would draw too much attention.”

  “As it is, we’ll have to dress her like a man.” Ulric pointed at Rand. “I have not seen a man on this planet as tall as she is.”

  Everyone laughed. Except Rand.

  ***

  They finished eating and providing additional status updates that the dependency schedule didn't convey. Barcus helped Elkin, Weston and Worthington moved the shielded plutonium containment units onto the shuttle and secured them. Each was about the size of a coffin, and weighed so much they had built-in, grav-skid plates that helped with mobility. They had to be secured on opposite sides of the cargo bay, to help the shuttle maintain its balance.

  Po was getting a lesson on the helmet functions, from Hume, when Rand walked up to Barcus to talk.

  “Barcus, what do you know about her?” Rand asked, quietly.

  “There is not much to know,” he confessed.

  “She says that she couldn't read at all this time last year.” Rand moved closer. “And now, she can pilot a PT-137? That thing is full manual. Half the people here couldn’t fly it.”

  “I know. I’m the one that taught her,” Barcus said. “To read and to fly.”

  “You ever teach anyone else, before?” she asked. “Do you have any idea how hard it is?”

  “Well, no,” Barcus admitted. “Never had much of a chance.”

  “You taught Olias, as well?” she asked.

  “Well, I tried. He has the extra challenge that he doesn't speak Standard English. It's a slow go for him.”

  Barcus looked toward Po. She activated the helmet lights, without using her hands.

  “She has a personal HUD as well, now? It has comms, storage and a full-time link to the most advanced AI I have ever worked with, and she doesn't even blink.” Rand paused, looking over her shoulder. “You don't find that odd?”

  “She thinks it's magic.” Barcus looked at her, as well. “By her definitions, it is magic.”

  “Barcus, I don't know if you knew that Worthington had me take a closer look at her. Even her medical scans.” She watched Barcus for his reaction to her statements. “She survived horrific torture and received massive injuries, in the past. I can't even tell you how many bones had been broken and not properly treated.”

  Barcus grew a bit angry. “So, she is smart and tough. So what?”

  “And, she has genome markers.” It was evident Barcus did not know the significance of that statement. “These kinds of markers are only used for a couple reasons. Genetic test subjects mostly—control groups, test subject tagging, that sort of thing. It started when they used prisoners as lab rats. One of the researchers noticed that the subjects in the trials were much easier to track in a double-blind study, if they had genetic markers installed. It made it easier for both the subjects and the researchers to NOT know the control group from the test group, even from one generation to the next. Even tissue samples would then be clearly marked.”

  “So you think she is some sort of guinea pig?” Barcus asked.

  “Did any of those mercenaries ever say why they were told to kill every man, woman, and child above the gorge?” Rand asked.

  He looked across the hangar at Po, again, as she laughed, taking off the helmet. He saw the strength in her bare arms and her shoulders.

  “Did Olias have those same markers?” Barcus asked.

  “No,” Rand replied.

  “This changes nothing,” Barcus said, defensively. “In ten days, we’re out of here.”

  Barcus started to walk away. Rand stopped him, stepping into his path.

  “Listen closely, Barcus,” Rand said, in an angry whisper. “Do you think, when we get out of here, this is over?” They stared, eye-to-eye now, their faces only inches apart. “You think you're going to just go home, and what? Get assigned to another ship? Go back to being maintenance guy number forty-two?”

  They stared at each other.

  “Someone murdered the Ventura. Other ships as well. Someone
powerful. They sent us here to die.” She was growling now. “What do you think they will do, when they find out we lived?”

  “Shit,” Barcus said, under his breath.

  “I don't know why, or even if, Po has been genetically altered, yet.” She looked at Po, again. Po watched them now, as well. “There are just too many things wrong on this planet. Too many questions.”

  “Like what?” Barcus was angry and didn't understand why.

  “The defense grid around this planet for starters,” she said, as if it was obvious.

  “So they don't make them like they used to. So what?” he quipped.

  “They NEVER made them like this.” She wasn't whispering anymore. “And this planet. Terraforming is never this perfect! Honey bees, for Christ’s sake? Deer? Foxes? Dogs, cats, mice, and even rats? How many colonies have you been to? Are any like this?”

  “No. Especially the terraformed ones,” he admitted.

  “And, why the hell would this ass-backward society halt progress? Do any of this?” She ranted, no longer trying to be quiet.

  “Because of the Keepers.” Po approached, without their notice, and she interrupted. “The answer to all your questions is because of the Keepers. The High Keeper, specifically.”

  Barcus and Rand remained silent, for a long moment.

  “Barcus is right. This changes nothing,” Rand said. She glared at them both. “Ten days.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The Pod Run

  “They had no idea the depth of the damage that was being slowly repaired inside Po. I think they had been testing how much abuse she could withstand.“

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, the chief medical officer on the Memphis.

  <<<>>>

  Po found Barcus, alone, on the bridge of the STU, an hour later.

  “I think the nanites have done something wrong to me,” Po said, as she crawled into his lap, the way she used to in the gatehouse. “I can't stop thinking about...being with you. It's very distracting.” Looking up at him, she added, “And, very…wet. All the time.”

  Barcus laughed and then kissed her.

  “I'm afraid, Barcus.” She looked up at him. “I pretend all the time that I'm not afraid. I've done it my whole life. It's never been this bad.” She looked into his eyes. “I never had so much to lose, before.” She hammered her fists on his chest, halfheartedly. “Damn you.”

  “I’m afraid, too,” he said, quietly. Po had expected him to deny her feelings and to whisper platitudes, in that voice that calmed her so well. Instead, he was honest.

  “I will be careful. Hume will be there, in case something happens.” Barcus tried to reassure her. “Besides, Em will be there, too. She'd never let anything happen to me.”

  Somehow, that fact made her feel better.

  Po said, “Stu, lock that hatch, please.”

  ***

  The shuttle approached the dead satellite at a very slow speed. The cargo ramp was already open, and Hume clicked her safety line to a loop on the starboard side.

  Barcus was already inside the black maintenance suit, running a comms check; first with Hume in her pressure suit, and then with Worthington via the relay on the moon. It took about three seconds for the audio to get there.

  “We are approaching the satellite now, Jim.”

  Barcus and Peace entered the rear hatch of Par and secured themselves to each side, facing the center. Barcus was still amused by the smiley face Cook had painted on Peace.

  “Slowing. Will reach full stop at thirty meters.” There was a pause of about a minute. “Full Stop.”

  “Jumping in ten seconds,” AI~Pardosa's voice said, in a very businesslike way.

  “Jumping.”

  The rear hatch remained open on the spider as they crossed the open space to the launch platform.

  The EM drifted across the open space and latched onto the launching pods, trailing cable behind it, like the silk thread of a web. Em rotated the spider, so Barcus could reach an antenna spire and guide himself down, on his side, as Peace climbed silently down, using the launch apertures as hand holds.

  “It looks like we are in luck already, Barcus,” AI~Em said to him, out loud, for Worthington's benefit. “It looks like the clamps are simple, magnetic clamps. Press, here and here, and they will release.” Peace demonstrated.

  The pod was about three meters by three meters. A cube. Peace stood on the business end, where there were ninety-nine missile launch tubes configured in a ten by ten grid. A small hatch covered the area where the upper corner tube would have been.

  Barcus opened the hatch.

  “Em, stop! It is powered up. Status lights are green.” Barcus looked closer. “Holy shit. This pod is not 300 years old. All of this tech looks new. I thought this was going to be fried by Ulric's EMP canon.”

  The HUD came alive with a schematic for this precise unit.

  “Barcus, you are looking at the control and maintenance systems for this pod. It is currently armed. The very first thing you need to do is lift this toggle cover and flip the manual switch to deactivate the self-destruct unit.”

  A simulation played for him in his HUD, to show him what to do.

  Barcus followed the simulation accurately and the buttons turned from green to red. He closed the toggle cover, so that switch could not accidentally be flipped again.

  “I thought all of this was dead.” He looked up at the antenna. It was obviously ancient. “I think the comms array was destroyed, not the pods. Tell Elkin we may have better plutonium than we initially thought.”

  “I think you should detach that cable from the array,” AI~Em said, as she highlighted the coupling in his HUD.

  It was a standard pressure coupling, and it came loose with a squeeze in the right place.

  There were twelve magnetic clamps. They released all, but the last two—one at each end.

  “Okay, Em. On the count of three, release the final clamp and lift. One, two, three, go.”

  “Barcus, hold. It's caught on something,” AI~Em said.

  “Shit, more cables.” Barcus moved to the right and focused a light between the pods. “Just one more. Jimbo, are you seeing this? Is that what I think it is?”

  Comms were quiet for six seconds, before he heard, “Don't move. That line is attached to a pin on a mine just below the pod. Another ten centimeters and you're dead. DO NOT MOVE.”

  “Hume, do you copy?” Barcus asked.

  “Go for Hume,” she replied.

  “Send a line over, Hume,” Barcus requested. “I need you.”

  A magnetic grapple flew into the back of the Emergency Module a second later. She must have had it already in her hands.

  “Clipped on. Moving.” Hume clipped a ring on the line that connected the Stu with the EM. She flew across the void. “Secured. What do we got?”

  A safety line played out as she drifted over the tops of the pods. As she came across, she attached a series of magnetic handholds across the top of the pods. She stopped neatly, at the edge, and looked down the crack at the line.

  “I see it.” Hume twisted, so her legs were out over the loose pod. “I may be able to get to it, from below.” She climbed down the launch tubes. Just as she was about to slide under the pod, she ran out of slack. Without hesitation, she said, “Detaching safety line.”

  “Hume. Wait,” Barcus said.

  “This will only take a second.” Her voice was strained as she extended her arm. She wriggled. The pod moved slightly, giving her more room.

  “Got it. Lines detached. This one and the next one were hooked on the same ring. Raise the pod. Straight up,” Hume said. “Jesus, Barcus. These are Javelin missiles with high-yield warheads. Do you have any idea how much these cost, a piece? My God. And just on this side, there are almost 1,600 facing the planet. What. The. Hell?”

  Hume rode the pod up and toward the cargo bay of the spider, clinging to the cluster of pods. The pod would fit, comfortab
ly.

  “Hume, get that safety line back on, and get back over to the shuttle. Use the line you have already attached to draw the EM back into the shuttle,” Worthington ordered.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Soon the pod was secured inside the EM, and it was slowly towed back to the shuttle.

  “Secure cargo and descend. The hard part is next. I want you well away, before they even begin,” Worthington ordered.

  ***

  The shuttle was down on the ground in the middle of desolate tundra in about a half hour. The spider exited the STU’s cargo bay and waited.

  Barcus cleared out of the suit, and soon Ash and Peace were moving out the containment units and a case of tools, as Hume and Barcus watched from the bridge.

  The STU was aloft when they had barely cleared the apron. They had to be away before the harvesting began.

  “The schedule says the harvesting will take about twenty hours for all ninety-nine warheads,” Hume said, as she took off her helmet.

  “Elkin will be picking them up. You'll be at some bar in Exeter, dammit,” she teased. “Have one for me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The Flask and Anvil

  “While we were in Exeter, distracted, it happened. None of us saw it coming. None of us knew then that it was all a set up, an escape.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Captain James Worthington, senior surviving member of the Ventura's command crew.

  <<<>>>

  Worthington, Barcus, and Rand dressed the same in elegant, black tracker garb that Ronan had sent along. Rand wore the unnerving security helmet from the Ventura. It helped hide the fact that she was female. Her voices were set to menacing male tones. With the hood all the way up, it was not noticed. Her drone also flew recon as they worked.

  Ulric dressed in beautiful, traditional Keeper robes of dark browns. The other three will be his personal guards. Po dressed in the traditional, black habit and hood with veil. She’ll stay with Ulric, as well.

 

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