by Mars Dorian
Woah.
The war hero appeared haggard and stiff. He seemed to experience difficulties standing up straight. Tavio tried to hide his surprise and welcomed Jackstadt with a solid salute.
The old man said, “It’s been too long, Alterra. When was the last time we spoke to each other?”
Tavio couldn’t pinpoint the exact date, but it felt like it happened in a different life. Probably because it did. “At least a decade, sir.”
“Good gosh. Time is truly relative.”
He coughed and focused back on the conversation. Jackstadt had never been the chitchat man. “Listen, son, the signal we have received through our space telescope is verified by our tech specialists. Further probe scans of the planet’s surface haven’t revealed any signs of an alien civilization, but we did find a strong, electro-magnetic presence that contradicts the planet’s geographical layout.”
He paused to get more air. “Command believes it’s worth dispatching a small division of elite officers to check out the beacon. That’s why you’re here today.”
Tavio thanked the man with a short bow.
Jackstadt continued. “I’ve advocated for you because of your vast experience from the Colonial War. This is not a military mission per se, but it helps to have a leader who can deal with unknown variables.”
Tavio nodded like a boy getting lectured by his grandpa. Jackstadt sounded much more amiable than during the war; maybe old age did soften up the former fleet general’s edges. “Please don’t screw this up, Alterra. It took me more than a hundred years to build my legacy and I don’t want to leave this world with my record stained.”
Or maybe the former fleet leader was still the same bastard from the old times. Either way, Tavio enjoyed seeing the iconic Jackstadt shining through this cranky figure. “I’ll raise my standards, sir.”
“I know you will.”
Tavio had just passed his second regeneration session, which made him look like an offspring unit compared to Jackstadt’s third. But even humanity’s advanced nanomed technology couldn’t guarantee immortality. The ex-fleet general neared his final years.
“Remember that this will be a joint venture between colonies of the Alliance. Ship and crew will be provided by Earth, Moon, Mars and Venus, which means a harmonious collaboration is of the utmost importance.”
Tavio realized the gravity of the situation. With anti-Alliance sentiments on the rise, a successful joint venture could unite colonies stronger than hundreds of cringeworthy ‘better together’ ads. After all, one couldn’t force colonial solidarity through law. It had to develop naturally through teamwork.
“Sir, can I ask one last question?”
“Go ahead, son.”
“Why wasn’t my brother picked?”
“Brother?”
Jackstadt narrowed his eyes like someone who knew the answer but was afraid to share it. Or maybe the old man had forgotten about his twin brother. “Let’s say he showed inconsistent behavior during his psychological profiling. You survived the Colony War with far fewer emotional scars than Quintan did.”
A flat response, but Tavio decided not to follow up. Jackstadt must have noticed his disappointment. “Don’t worry. He will continue to serve the Alliance. And who knows what might happen after you initialize first contact.”
His tired face seemed to age by the second.
“We might need every member of the Fleet.”
9
Tavio found some rest after the chief director’s call. He didn’t know why, but seeing the ailing man hurt. Back in his younger Colony War days, Jackstadt used to be the classical tough bastard with a will powerful enough to break through tungsten hulls. Tavio didn’t like the ’Jackal’ back then, but he did respect him. Being hard but fair had always worked in the forces. At least the old man still served instead of cashing out his military retirement on some colonial resort and turning into a tanned vegetable.
Tavio relaxed for half an hour before the mission briefing popped up on his schedule. The encrypted message appeared in his virtual vision and flashed to convey urgency.
Mission briefing ++00 hours:30 minutes:24 seconds (Central Ares Time), CIC, Strategy & Tactics section.
Tavio expected many more talks and training sessions, but the Exo Protectorate hurried like an express delivery service. Probably because the journey to the planet would take weeks, and they didn’t want to squander their first chance at an inter-species connection.
The captain left his quarters and took the main corridor to the strategy room after passing yet another biometrical scanning frame. Intelligent cameras lurked in every corner and rotated their heads like cybernetic predators. The station boasted more surveillance than a high security prison on Earth.
He finally reached the oval-shaped, metallic, mission briefing chamber located in the Strategy & Tactics sections. At least twenty people wearing armored gear and Exo uniforms filled the room. All heads craned toward the ex-captain the second he traversed the auto-door frame. “Too late?”
Chief Director Jackstadt’s holo proxy walked among the presenters and held still. Mission Master Kelly saluted Tavio with another one of her petawatt smiles. “It’s good to have you with us, Captain.”
“About time,” said a Martian with the build of an amped ground-pounder.
Tavio greeted everyone and sat down in the front row circling the tech table in the center of the room. Mission Master Kelly continued. “And now that we’re complete, let’s introduce our crew. Members of Operation First Contact, please stand up, tell us who you are, and where you come from.”
Four members erected from their chairs. Kelly winked at a middle-aged man with South Pacific features from Earth. “Chief of Engineering and Technical Support, Srini Naveesh. I’m originally from a flotilla on Venus, but I have worked for a variety of Martian corps in the past decades. Consider me the ship assistance in flesh form.”
He paused and offered polite eye contact to every member in the room. “It’s an honor to have been picked for this mission.”
“It’s an honor to have you on-board, Naveesh,” Kelly said. “Your technical and private military expertise will be the backbone of this operation.”
The intro traveled to the slender women with the almond-shaped eyes and the milky skin. She wore a ponytail and traces of nano-glitter on her high cheekbones. Her white uniform hugged her body like an invisible sheet. “Dr. Shay Eriksun, scientist and Chief Xenologist from the Moon’s Lunar City.”
The doctor bowed with a faint smile, as most Mooners did. Earth’s natural satellite had always attracted Asians from around the globe who set up their helium mining and science conglomerates.
“I’m so grateful to be able to participate in humanity’s arguably biggest event. Let’s work together and turn this first contact into a happy one.”
Tavio’s glance rose to the last crew member in the round—the Martian from before. The man carried the typical build of a synthetic soldier and measured at least seven feet. “Veteran Sergeant Bellrog BV forty-seven from Fairstryke Solutions.” His grave voice roared with authority. “Mars, obviously,” he added with a confident smile.
The soldier stressed the veteran part. Tavio raised his eyebrow. “Fairstryke Solutions?”
“Best PMC in the system,” the synthetic soldier said with a raised chest.
Tavio had heard of the private military corporation. Martians founded the company shortly after the colonial war and employed mostly veterans and patented breeds. Filling the military spot with a former rival seemed like a risky idea, but the Exo Protectorate must have had its reasons. “I hope we will have a smooth ride, Sergeant.”
The ground-pounder expressed a faint smile. “I won’t be the problem, Captain.”
Tavio held the Martian’s attention until the mission master clapped her hands. “Wonderful. There will be an additional special member who we shall introduce shortly.”
She put emphasis on the word special and made eye contact with everyone i
n the room. Kelly started to sound like a PR employee trained to tease. “And now that we all know each other, let’s jump to the second most important part of the mission—the ship that will get you to exoplanet E405.”
10
Kelly tapped an option panel of the tech table. Blue wireframes morphed into a hologram and created visual eye-candy. Tavio’s mouth dropped like a broken hatch when he witnessed the 3D miniature model projecting into existence. The vessel carried a slick angular design with a ring framed around its center. Form and function flowed into each other like organic matter. Silver letters spelling out SAS Moonshot graced the metallic blue rear of the ship. Even the ground-pounder whistled.
Kelly smirked. “You can close your mouth now, Captain.”
“And critics say the Alliance doesn’t innovate.”
“The critics will learn to drool again. The Moonshot is a state-of-the-art MARC frigate with offensive and defensive capabilities, commissioned by the Alliance and developed by Pegasus Aerospace.”
“A company from Mars,” Sergeant Bellrog said like a proud father.
Kelly joined the Martian’s smile. “MARC stands for Medium-Armored Reconnaissance Craft and is a new class developed for scout missions deep into territories with highly unknown variables. We will send you the schematics which you can then upload to your memory cells”—she smiled—“after you fingerprint a non-disclosure agreement, of course. Pegasus has worked almost a decade on perfecting this craft and is keen to protect its patent.”
Tavio immediately thought of his brother. Quintan would have drooled all over himself seeing such a technological masterpiece. Slick angular design, impressive armament, and a next-generation fusion drive would sway any ship fanatic. Even Tavio had to admit he couldn’t wait to board the baby.
Mission Master Kelly interrupted the crew’s swooning. “This is a reconnaissance mission which means your top priority is to investigate the beacon of E405. You will secure the area and report your finding.”
Kelly hesitated with her next words. Chief Director Jackstadt’s hologram took over. “Since we’re dealing with a potentially sentient life form, physical conflict may be likely. The SAS Moonshot is equipped with the latest directed-energy and kinetic impactor technology. Fairstryke has also sponsored an on-board weapon’s bay with infantry arms and drone units.”
Every person in the chamber fell silent. Dr. Eriksun frowned and cocked her delicate eyebrows, as if she suddenly found herself in the wrong room. Tavio assumed she didn’t have a military background. Kelly softened the director’s tone. “But please remember the purpose of this mission. Your priority is to initialize the first contact. Combat is the last option of engagement. We hope for the best, but are prepared for the worst. Questions?”
The Martian ground-pounder raised his beefy arm. Of course he demanded everyone’s attention.
“Yes, Sergeant?”
“If we’re that far out in the rim, how will we connect with CENTCOM?”
“Good question. Since the quadrant of E405 is still beyond our satellite network’s reach, you will have to send an encoded laser signal from the Moonshot’s comm array which will be tagged by our nearest satellites in the sol system.”
“How much delay are we talking about?”
“The exact duration is unknown, but it could unfortunately take up to several hours.”
A murmur went through the chamber. The delay sounded savage in the time of intercolonial messaging. Over the past century, the Solar Alliance had set up a dedicated node network of satellite arrays within the sol system that could relay information at the quantum level—a requirement to communicate with colonies around the stretched-out system. But exoplanet E405 lurked outside the sol system and thus posed greater challenges.
Kelly clapped her hands. “You have my comm ID and can message me anytime. You can also use the virtual intelligence which accesses the general Alliance database.”
The crew nodded. The hologram of Chief Director Jackstadt fizzled. “You will launch in forty-nine hours, central ares time. So in between the medical checkups and the equipment assembly, feel free to connect with each other. A high troop morale is not only crucial for the mission’s success, but also for the future of colonial collaborations. The Alliance and its billions of citizens are watching you, ladies and gentlemen.”
“No pressure,” Tavio said and caused some snickering around the room.
Jackstadt smiled for the first time. “If anyone can handle the challenge, it’s you, Captain.”
Everyone but the ground-pounder affirmed. Jackstadt dismissed the crew and disappeared from the chamber. The rest of the crowd dispersed. Some members chatted about mission details but Tavio wanted to follow up on his new teammates. Dr. Shay Eriksun caught up with him at the gate frame. “I appreciate your experience and service, sir.”
“Now comes the ‘but’.”
Her smile sharpened. “Maybe a captain with a scientific background would have been more appropriate, wouldn’t you think?”
Definitely a test question. Tavio had to realize he was dealing with alpha personalities from now on. “I think you should trust the Exo Protectorate’s excellent selection process.”
The doctor smiled but kept her sharp eye contact. Tavio tagged her under ‘pacifist’ in his memory cell. “I’m not so bad once you get to know me.”
Dr. Eriksun flicked a glance at Chief Engineer Naveesh talking to Sergeant Bellrog. “Maybe we should start with that. I and Srini are planning to go to a local bar in the entertainment section later on. I’d love to have the captain along.”
Tavio suffered from exhaustion but didn’t want to pass on the opportunity to learn more about his new crew members. Especially the Martian. >“I’ve neglected orbital barhopping for far too long. Count me in, Doctor.”
After all, Tavio faced his final hours in a human-controlled environment. He wanted to make every minute count in the safe zone.
11//Tavio’s temporary quarters
Eleven standard hours until launch.
Tavio checked his biometrical scanner which showed him a solid charge left for about six and a half hours. Since he had cleared the mission briefing and the schematic upload, Tavio could focus on the troop moral. He leased a temporary nightlife suit and wrapped it around his trained body. He summoned the mirror in his hygiene corner and realized he looked damn good in civilian clothes. Granted, the pricey regeneration session on Earth did half the job, but Tavio had worked hard on keeping his body in shape. Three hours at the gym in the Training Center for almost a decade and constant sessions in the zero G chamber paid off.
Dr. Eriksun rang him up and revealed her location within the station. Five minutes later, he found her in front of an intersection near the entertainment hub. The doctor wore a simple but elegant bombshell dress with V-cut. The nanochip-embedded cloth adapted to its surrounding temperature and light incidence. Naveesh stood next to the doctor and looked rather uncomfortable in his loose jacket and geeky pro-Alliance shirt. Only the Martian was absent.
“Where’s the Sergeant?”
Naveesh answered first. “Still in his quarters, checking his equipment and running simulations on CQC.”
“He’s dedicated to the mission,” Dr. Eriksun said.
Or likes to avoid me, Tavio thought. But going out as a team wasn’t an order, so he couldn’t accuse the ground-pounder of insubordination. “So where are we heading?”
“Two choices. One is Skylander’s, a colonial style pub, and the other is a classical Martian tavern called Dune which offers ear-busting music and woody vibes.”
“Well, when on Mars, do as the Martians do.”
“Great choice,” Dr. Eriksun said and led the trio through the entertainment district. The section resembled nightlife places on Mars’s Ares City. Since the ceiling hung low due to the station’s space constraints, the walls consisted of data plates channeling a star-crested nighttime sky and light points.
Dr. Eriksun jumped up once and tried to re
ach the ceiling. “I think I can touch the sky.”
“All five meters of it,” Tavio added with a smile.
Bars, mobile snack shops, and box-wide restaurants graced the view. The corridors reminded Tavio of Neo-Tokyo with a dash of South America.
The news of the alien signal dominated the reporting at the station. Holographic pillars acted both as street lights and information outlets which featured the eight second footage. It was surreal to Tavio that in fewer than ten standard hours, he and his new crew would fly to an exoplanet outside the solar system.
A group of young settlers with colored faces passed the trio and handed out old school motion flyers with an apocalyptic warning of humanity ending. “Doomsday is upon us.”
“Better hide then,” Tavio said and ignored their propaganda.
The group moved on from him and bothered the next passersby. The farther Tavio and his new team ventured, the more the corridors filled up with crowds.
“We’ve arrived,” Dr. Eriksun said and pointed to a wooden tavern sign with artificial decay. Inside the bar, Tavio noticed dozens of military personnel. Everyone wore civilian nightlife clothes, but their body language betrayed the military origin. Folks in the forces walked with swagger. Thanks to advanced basic training, they grew conscious of their body and surroundings and behaved accordingly.
Tavio had to smile. “Confidence is flying high at the Dune.”
Dr. Eriksun tilted her elfin head. “We can go to another place.”
“No sweat. We’re on a military space station after all.”
The trio chose a more quiet spot in the corner and ordered non-alcoholic drinks.
“The Donner Gurgler is the best,” Naveesh said. “Even without alcohol.”
“Gurgle sounds good,” Tavio said and pinged the service bot back behind the bar counter. Half a minute later, the rainbow-colored drinks arrived. Everyone clank their mocktails and toasted to the Alliance. Naveesh beamed with excitement. “Do you know why our ship is called Moonshot, sir?”