Across a Sea of Stars Page 2

  The old man bowed deeply. "It is you! You don't remember me. I'm the magician who performed at your tenth birthday party." The old man spoke with an English accent. "I'm doing the Hunzucker party up the street. I wanted to apologize for the Mars thing. But Cris, Mars is so overrated. And oh—" He nodded down the road Galinda had just departed on. "She's not right for you."

  "Who the hell are you?" Cris asked.

  "Just know this…we need you very badly where you're going."

  "On the Moon?"

  "Oh, no my boy, not on the—look!" The old man crouched and pointed into the sky behind Cris, who snapped around looking in the direction the crooked old bony finger had indicated. Instantly, there came a popping sound, and Cris was enveloped in a white cloud of smoke. When it cleared, the old man was gone.

  "Wow," Cris muttered. "I'm sorry I don't remember his act. Must have been great!"

  ○O○

  The following Monday found Cris at the driving school, at the simulated lunar terrain model in Arizona where he learned to drive the Moon buggy and the larger lunar personnel carrier, or LPC. This training took two full weeks.

  "I'm a pilot," Cris complained to his classmates. "I have no business in a wheeled vehicle."

  Back at the IIEA in Houston, Cris underwent eight more months of intensive training. Then, the day finally arrived, and he was making his final preparations for his departure to the Moon. All packed, he just had to attend a few briefings and he would be ready for departure on Wednesday.

  The return of the shuttle program after decades on the shelf was controversial, because a competing private enterprise was using a much less inexpensive method of getting man into space. They carried their orbiter atop a conventional, though specialized aircraft to an extreme altitude, released it, and its engines punched it into orbit. Problem was, their orbiter was small and its payload too limited.

  Cris would be boarding NASA's Shuttle at 05:30 with a launch time of 08:00. The Space Transportation System, or STS, launch had become old hat; no one seemed to get too excited anymore, least of all the media.

  There was nothing new in any of the briefings. Captain Miller was, of course, present, expressing his condolences at Cris missing out on the Mars mission. Jake was a genuine guy, and he meant it.

  Wednesday morning finally arrived, everyone showed up in the prep room at 03:00 to get themselves wired and suited up. By 05:30, they were being strapped into their respective seats in the shuttle. To accommodate the additional passengers, the shuttle's launch and habitation module or LHM, had been placed into the cargo bay. Access was gained through the airlock on the mid deck. Getting into their assigned seats with the chamber on the vertical was a real feat in their bulky suits, but they had trained for it. Plus, they had ground crew assistance.

  The crews of the shuttle have long referred to the orange launch and entry suits as "pumpkin suits" because of the color. The suits include the helmet with communications gear, parachute pack and harness, a life raft, life preserver, gloves, oxygen manifold and valves, boots, and various other pieces of survival gear. All together a very heavy load on the ground.

  Cris was on his back because all the seats were horizontal for lift off. As he waited, he set his communications to internal and listened to the crew up on the flight deck make their final checks before launch.

  "Start APU."

  "Roger, APU started. Fuel tank VLV one, two, and three set to open. Hydrogen circulation pumps one, two, and three set to off."

  "Check APU/HYD ready to start indicator."

  "Indicator is gray."

  "Set APU operate one, two, and three to start/run."

  "Roger."

  "Check MFD two."

  "APU is at nine hundred PSI and rising."

  "Set hydrogen main pump pressure to normal."

  "Roger."

  "Check MFD two."

  "Roger, APU now at 3,000 PSI."

  The crew went on through this checklist for quite some time as they, as well as control, checked and re-checked everything. But, at long last, there came the final countdown.

  "—four, three, two, we have main engine start, one, zero, and lift off of STS one-seven-three-five, Whiskey."

  The spacecraft began to shake, and the blast of the mighty engines could be felt coming up throughout the orbiter. Cris felt the ship lift off and the G forces began to increase.

  At T+37 seconds, the commander called ground control. "Houston, this is Icarus Two, roll program." Cris felt the ship roll, and for a time, he felt as if he were upside-down.

  "Guidance looks great, Houston."

  "Roger."

  "Stand by for SRB separation. Check OPS CRT display."

  "SRB combustion chamber pressure is just under fifty PSI."

  At two minutes into the flight, the Solid Rocket Boosters were jettisoned.

  "MECO in fifty seconds on my mark...mark. Check main engine light status."

  "Roger, we are go."

  "Set forward RCS HE pressure A/B tank ISOL one, two, and three, four and five to OPEN."

  "Roger, tank open."

  "Set manifold ISOL one, two, and three, four and five to OPEN."

  "Roger, manifold ISOLs are open."

  At T+9 minutes, the main engines were cut off.

  "We have MECO everyone, welcome to space."

  Shortly thereafter, the external fuel tank separated from the orbiter.

  "Prepare for the OMS burn."

  "Roger."

  The Orbital Maneuver Subsystem engines are located in pods on the aft section of the orbiter. These engines place the shuttle into final orbit, change the ship's position, and slow her down for re-entry. They were fired now to place the Icarus Two into its designated orbit and eventual rendezvous with the lunar transport docking station or LTDS. This was a new station built to replace the New International Space Station, or NISS, destroyed when the terrorists attacked the Joint International Lunar Laboratory, JILL.

  It took almost an hour to dock with habitation sphere number three, one of four similar spheres. Here, the cadre and the transients resided. Connecting each sphere was a cylinder where low, simulated gravity was maintained through the rotation of the cylinder. This collection of spheres and cylinders were connected to a huge framework designed to hold both Lunar Transport Vehicles and the STS securely in place for passenger transfer, refueling, cargo transit, or maintenance. Both LTVs were never at the same place at the same time. If one was here, the other was on the Moon.

  Cris's mission had military priority; he would not be staying at the LTDS. His LTV was waiting for him and his fellow passengers. It took only about forty-five minutes to transfer the cargo pod from the STS to the LTV. While they all waited, they changed out of their pumpkin suits and into a much more comfortable, two-piece flight suit, then they were ushered aboard the LTV.

  The trip to the Moon would take about thirty-six hours. Therefore, the interior of this craft was designed for comfort, as well as being more aesthetically pleasing to the eye. The seats were not typical space craft launch seats, but more like a comfortable overstuffed chair you might have at home. They could recline, so with the additional built-in harness the passengers can secure themselves for sleep, such restraints are necessary in a zero-gravity environment to prevent the sleeper from drifting about the cabin.

  Each seat was provided with a computer so that work, calls home, reading, or movies were available to aid in passing the time. Cris was fortunate enough to have some mission-related reading to review.

  The interior of the cabin was a long way from the instrument covered walls of other space craft, rather they were soft pastels, there were murals, and even observation windows.

  Present also were treadmills and other exercise equipment, for those so inclined.

  As they entered orbit around the Moon, the pilot spoke to his passengers, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll place your computers in the exterior observation mode, I'll show you our destination."

  Ahead, the base could be
seen rolling over the limb of the Moon on Mare Insularum. It was west of the crater Copernicus, about half-way to the crater Kepler, and just north of the crater Hortensius.

  The base's designation was the Joint International Lunar Laboratory, but her citizens affectionately referred to her as "JILL."

  From up here, one could see that JILL was a collection of domed structures. They were of various sizes and each dedicated to a different task. Tubes that allowed both foot and motorized traffic to flow between them interconnected all the domes.

  Immediately to the east of the community of domes, was a massive, solid-looking structure, roughly circular in shape. Cris recognized this as the new addition to JILL referred to as the Barbicane Science Center.

  The facility was huge, nearly thirty kilometers north to south and almost forty-five east to west with a number of smaller, secondary structures in proximity. This modern addition was nearing completion on the day the moonquake struck, less than a year ago.

  The defense of the base by the Lunar Civil Defense Detachment, after it was attacked by terrorists, was already the stuff of legend. Though classified, the report was mandatory reading for all military personnel assigned to JILL.

  The damage caused by the moonquake was still quite evident, though repairs were all but completed. That strange event was the topic of all conversation on Earth for a very long time, still is in some quarters, and the ramifications of its incredible aftermath are still reverberating, and undoubtedly will for generations.

  Captain Miller leaned over, pointing at Cris's monitor. "Look, there on the west end, that's where dome forty-five slid under. It's now the entrance to the archeological site, and it looks like it's the center of attention."

  "Is it any wonder?"

  Upon landing, all the passengers moved directly into the main administration dome. The grand lobby was a beautiful place, despite the ongoing reconstruction. Here were to be found the fountain flowing with virtual water, wonderful works of art, and beautiful sculptures in both metal and stone that had already replaced those destroyed in the fighting. The floors were covered with beautiful rugs, chandeliers hung from above, and modern furniture was spaced about, much like a hotel lobby. Huge monitors were placed in key positions, displaying all manner of information of interest to the citizens of JILL; these were salted with the occasional commercial for restaurants and shops that seemed to be sprinkled all about the base.

  Just after entering the lobby, their group was stopped by an Army soldier in the uniform of the Lunar Civil Defense Detachment. He was a handsome fellow, about twenty-five years old and sporting the rank of staff sergeant. "Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please," he announced in a commanding voice. "As you are not yet accustomed to our lower gravity, I must ask you to please watch your step. Bounding in the facility is strictly forbidden. Will all civilian employees meet with Mr. Kim over there? Will all newly-arrived scientists please meet with Doctor Jeffries over there, and will all military personnel meet with Lieutenant Wilson, there? Thank you."

  There were only two civilians on this flight—a couple of IIEA scientists. As the group of new arrivals began to break up, Captain Miller approached the staff sergeant, who snapped to attention. "At ease, Sergeant."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Sergeant, I might be out of line with this question; if I am, I apologize, and you don't have to answer if you don't wish to, but—"

  "Sir, you want to know if I'm a cybernetically enhanced and uploaded human being, as was Staff Sergeant Hugh Pacherd?"

  "Well—yes."

  "Yes sir, I am a SUB."

  "SUB?"

  "We prefer to be called SUBs based the sound of the acronym, C.E.U.H.B."

  "Oh—ah—how many of you are there here now?"

  "Almost half the LCDD, sir. We are a lot less expensive to maintain up here than our fully biological brothers."

  "Wow," was all the captain could come back with.

  "Will there be anything else, sir?"

  "No—thank you, Sergeant." The sergeant saluted smartly and departed.

  "Oh, real good, Jake, we're not here five minutes and you're already making friends." Cris punctuated the remark with a sarcastic look.

  "Yeah, I feel real stupid right now."

  The four military members presented themselves before Lieutenant Wilson. He also was an Army member of the LCDD. "Ma'am, sirs, if you'll follow me, please."

  The young lieutenant led them to five electric vehicles that somewhat resembled old open-topped jeeps.

  "Ma'am, sirs," the lieutenant continued. "These vehicles will take you to your quarters. If your luggage is not already in your rooms, it soon will be. The current lunar time is 20:25. There will be a briefing tomorrow morning at 06:00. These same vehicles will be awaiting you outside your billets at 05:30 with a departure time of no later than 05:40. Once in your rooms, please take a moment to acquaint yourselves with Standard Operating Procedures on your room's computer, toward the back of the SOP you'll find a list of important contact numbers. I am your point of contact for the time being; you'll find my card on the desk in your rooms. Goodnight, I'll see you in the morning." He saluted, mounted the first jeep, and departed.

  The drivers of the other vehicles, all Army rather than Air Force, were standing by their respective jeeps and in sequence announced the name of their assigned passenger. Cris's jeep was the last in line. He hopped into the passenger seat.

  "Good evening sir," said his driver. "I'm Specialist Thibodaux, I am your assigned driver."

  "Say, are the four of us the only Air Force types up here?"

  "Oh, no, sir. The blue suits fly the ships. Security is the Army's job."

  "Well, Specialist Thibodaux, where can I get something to eat?"

  "The dining facility is closed now, sir, but if you like burgers, The Crater House is open—best burgers on the Moon."

  "Burgers it is. Can I get you one?"

  "No, sir, thank you."

  Both men remained silent as the jeep began to pull forward. After a few moments, Thibodaux said, "Yes, sir, I am."

  "You am what?"

  "I'm a SUB, sir."

  "I didn't ask you that."

  "No sir, but everyone wants to know, since the news of Sergeant Pacherd broke."

  "Are you a good driver?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "That's all I care about. What's your first name, Specialist?"

  "Yves, sir. But I go by Ives."

  "Okay if I call ya Ives—when it's just us, I mean?"

  Ives cracked a large grin and shot the captain a glance. "Sure—if you don't mind me calling you sir, sir."

  They both chuckled.

  In less than five minutes, they were in front of The Crater House.

  "Sir, I'll wait here; don't want to be caught fraternizing with the brass, you know."

  Inside, Cris was greeted by a host, then seated and provided a menu. Wow, this is just like back home, he thought, and then he noticed the view out the large picture window. He was facing east and could see, above a line of mountains formed by the rim of the crater Copernicus, the waxing face of the planet Earth. Cris froze, he was mesmerized. As his waiter approached, he rose, his eyes never leaving the view.

  "Sir, what can I—"

  "Just a minute—please."

  Cris walked around the tables and other diners until he was standing at the large window. There before him stretched the lunar surface, its shadows stark in the harsh, unshielded sunlight. Above, was the ebony sky, bursting with billions of unblinking stars, and over it all, the blue crescent of the Earth. Cris suddenly felt very small.

  He was jarred from his awe when from behind him a female voice spoke his name. "You must be Salazar, one of the new pilots."

  He turned to see an attractive major in her flight suit sporting astronaut wings.

  "Yeah," Cris muttered. "I mean, yes, ma'am, Captain Cris Salazar. I just arrived."

  "Salazar—I read your file. Impressive." She turned and looked out the wind
ow. "Some people grow accustomed to this sight, I haven't. Something tells me you won't, either."

  "I never—in my wildest dreams—it's beyond description."

  "That's exactly what those first Apollo astronauts thought. I take it you've not been briefed yet."

  "No, ma'am, I literally just arrived. I haven't even been to my quarters yet."

  She pointed to a squadron patch on her left breast. "This is Easy-eight, Exploratory Squadron number eight. I recommend you ask to be assigned to us."

  "Why is that, ma'am?"

  "Because we have the most interesting section on the far side."

  "And that's good because—?"

  "Two reasons, Captain: one, this side has been under the eye of cartographers since Galileo. It's been mapped to death. The far side, however, is the undiscovered land. And two," she leaned in close and whispered, "there are odd things afoot in section eight. Now, go get some chow and hit the rack. You've a long day tomorrow."

  "Good night, ma'am," he said as she turned to leave. "Odd things afoot?" Cris said to himself.

  Chapter 2

  Squadron Number Eight

  Cris's quarters were typical of all Bachelor Officer Quarters or BOQ: small living space set up as an office with an attached kitchenette, small bedroom, and smaller bathroom.

  He got himself ready for bed, then lay down with his computer and glanced over the SOP for a time. Looking up, he noticed a black arch on the ceiling above the curtain. It wasn't a stain, it was there intentionally. He rose and went to the curtain to draw it aside. It hid a porthole almost a meter in diameter. Outside, the brilliant sunlight reflected off the Moon's surface. Again, he was transfixed by that harsh, yet beautiful, landscape with its vast number of craters ranging in size from a dime to the state of Rhode Island. He could also see those craters that collapsed in the quake, and the new mountains, sharp and jagged without a single crater in them. There were boulders and hills, and rills. Above loomed the endless void with its countless stars and glowing clouds of the Milky Way. He'd never seen them except through the atmosphere, haze, and lights of Earth.