Harvest Moon

“First things first,” Wallace said. Leda watched the people he put behind him slump with relief. “Introduce me to you stellar performers so I can know who to thank for keeping the company in such good category.”

“We all do our part, sir,” Cutter said and stopped in front of a trio of neatly groomed and attired men, two cookie-mold Caucasians and a tall African. “My assistants… Gerrard, Novex, and Kotumbe… the security directorate is nothing without them. I fully expect that they will find their way to directorships of their own when the opportunity arises. I’ll hate to lose them.”

“Gentlemen, well done.” Wallace said, stepped up to each and shook their hand, then moved past them. He continued down the line in silence, nodding at the mumbled greetings given him, but stopped in front of Leda, who anchored the end opposite where he’d started.

“Stars… who is this?” He said as Cutter paused beside him. Leda smiled and accepted the handshake Wallace offered, holding it as he surreptitiously massaged her hand gently with his.

“Leda Montgomery, sir… certified liaison and my most esteemed advisor,” Cutter said in an even tone. “She predicted the EuroCon collapse a year ago…among other things… which allowed us to adjust our production factors accordingly. I trust her.”

“Then I have a prediction of my own to make,” Wallace said as he let his hand drop. Leda resisted the impulse to wipe her hand on her slacks. “I predict that Miss Montgomery will go far, and do great things for the company.”

Leda blushed as Wallace adroitly leered and said, “Thank you, sir… but as Mister Cutter noted, we all do our part. I’m happy I can make a contribution.”

“Fine, fine,” Wallace said as he turned away, moving to take the seat at the head of the table that Cutter had vacated. Novex filled a coffee cup from the service and moved to set it with the CEO’s reach. “Artemis, you now have my full attention.”

“Lights- dim,” Cutter called out and the building computer responded, reducing the setting of the overheads to 5 candlepower. A large, flat-panel display lowered into position and locked. A large header came up on screen that read, “Restricted- Onyx Clearance.” In terms of classification, the material about to be viewed was considered secret, everyone in the room had been pre-cleared and pre-selected. “Roll it.”

File footage of Amber-Rivet on the tarmac at JBMS slowly played while Cutter provided the commentary. “Shortly after the recent solar-storm, reports began coming that there was a migratory asteroid field moving in from the Kupier region. Customs Authority closed Omega Control Zone to merchant traffic but we got the OK to go in for a look. Amber-Rivet launched five days ago to do just that. Except for the new Bonventure-class, she’s outfitted with our best sensor technology, and the pilot… Hale Uzen… is one of our most experienced men.”

The display changed to show the location of the field in relation to Omega Beacon, equivalent to the distance between Earth to Jupiter, with the field shown as moving in-system at 40 km/sec. The scene froze and a yellow circle appeared at the edge of the field as Cutter continued.

“Amber-Rivet approached without incident and the pilot began transmitting visuals. Everything was fine until he powered his active sensors. Twenty seconds after that, Amber-Rivet disappeared at the location shown here, just after reporting some very unusual scans.”

“Such as?” Wallace said and swiveled in his chair to face Cutter.

“That the asteroids were of relatively uniform shape,” Cutter said and folded his arms as he stared at the screen. “That they were emitting thermal radiation, and most surprisingly, that they seemed to be hollow.”

“These asteroids clearly have already been mined out,” Wallace said and turned back to face the display. “I’m not sure how this constitutes a threat to the security of the company… unless you think one of our competitors was responsible for the loss of our spacecraft. I read the report on the problems we’ve been having with AtlasCorp. Have you verified this data?”

“Impossible, sir,” Cutter said. “We were about to launch a search-and-rescue for Amber-Rivet but the military has closed Omega Control Zone entirely, the traffic advisory was issued twelve hours ago. Half of the Home Fleet has embarked with orders to form a picket line around the control zone. Nothing gets in or out. Research vessels are swarming over the area. If this information weren’t being suppressed it would definitely raise some eyebrows.”

“What’s your assessment of this?” Wallace said.

“Our sources within the military report that they’ve been receiving a message from within the field,” Cutter said. “There’s someone or something out there asking us for sanctuary. They’re not human.”

“As a species we’ve been waiting a very long time for this day,” Wallace said and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. “We’ve found other life… but not intelligence, until now. You’re correct, Artemis… this changes things from now on, but how can we assure our position in the new world coming?”

Cutter shrugged. “That’s for marketing to decide.”

“Yes, indeed,” Wallace said as a smile crept over his face. “In the meantime, find out all you can about our new friends. Find out what kinds of things they need, or want, specifically the things we make that they can use… all in the interests of security of course. How soon can you have something ready?”

“We’ll already working on it, sir.”

“Good, good.”

***

47 Ursae Majoris

Pathfinder 7

“…after careful analysis of the mission logs from Task Group Romeo, the parliamentary council has issued an evacuation advisory effective immediately. All citizens are encouraged, in an orderly manner, to make their way to the nearest civilian or military spaceport and await further instructions. To reduce space requirements, no pets and only one bag per person will be allowed. All members of the Avalon Defense Force are to report to their designated assembly points immediately and await further instructions…”

Now they tell us, the Communication Officer thought and shut off the radio. She was a reservist with another two years on her contract and had never imagined the day would arrive when she would be so afraid of real war.

"Papa Seven to control, over."

The communications officer took her finger off of the "transmit" button and waited… and waited. The ship was passing the gas giant labeled Ursae Majoris-4… its orbit marking a distance of 30 A.U. (1 A.U. = 91.4 million miles at Perihelion) from the star. As deep as the ship was into the outer system, the signal required ten minutes to travel from transmitter to receiver. The return from Avalon took just as long to get back. Task Force Romeo was disappearing from their scopes, each ship on a heading for Phi Beta Canatorum, the next system down the run, the last system on the run was 61 Virginis.

"Control to Papa Seven, we read you." The signal from ADF Command was weak. The comm officer boosted power to the high-gain array.

"Papa Seven to Control, we've completed our sweep, there's nothing out here. Sectors one through nine are clear out to thirteen light-hours." She said. The ships monitoring the approach corridors from Zebra Station showed only friendly craft conducting search and rescue. Most of the pods from the destroyer Pickett had been retrieved. Past thirteen light-hours there was nothing but trace interstellar hydrogen.

"Papa Seven. Sweep sectors eleven through nineteen and report any contacts immediately."

The communications officer groaned. Only days before, she had been enjoying a comfortable life in the Solstice settlement, but Pathfinder 7 was fully loaded and could stay out for months without replenishment.

"Contact… I got contact." The sensor operator called out.

"Talk to me." The captain said from his position forward.

"We just got a massive power spike… like a feking planet just came out of transit. Once it dissipated we got the first contact but there’re more. Doppler indicates the contacts are moving, twenty KPS," The sensor operator said with some distress in his voice. "Wow, they're big."

"Call it in."

"Papa Seven to control. We have contact, sector eleven. Repeat, we have contact, sector eleven."

***

SOL-4/ Mars

Jena walked slowly into Kinkaid’s office, eyes fixed on the brim of the wide-bottomed mug she held between her hands, watching the coffee inside it slosh from side-to-side with each step. Kinkaid, deeply engrossed in an old book she could only see the title of- “Prospero and Caliban/ The philosophy of colonization”- lifted a pen to underline a passage he thought particularly relevant.

She set the cup down on his desk and stepped back as he reached for it, lifted it to his lips, and took a loud sip. He frowned as he swallowed, lowered the cup, and gave her an irritated look.

“Is everything all right, sir?” Jena said and smiled meekly.

“This is the worst coffee I’ve ever had,” Kinkaid said and pushed the cup away. “It tastes like Juan Valdez took a shit in the pot and cut it with some Chicory.”

“I’ll make some fresh, sir,” Jena said and stepped forward to retrieve the mug. “Is there anything else you need?”

Kinkaid laid down the book and rubbed his eyes. “I need a situation update on Omega control zone, and I need to know how long it will take Home Fleet to deploy, and I need to know why my son won’t speak to me, and I need to know when NorCom will let me retire. If you have any of that info, please tell me.”

Jena cleared her throat and said, “Well, sir… the speed of the asteroid field is unchanged, nor has the message. The signals that Omega beacon has been transmitting into the field have gone unanswered. The last report from HMS Hood indicates that they’ll be in position within eight hours. As for the last two, sir… those I can’t answer. I didn’t even know you had a son until recently.”

“Neither did I,” Kinkaid said with an exasperated sigh. “Duty kept me away from home so often. I went away one day, came back another, and found him all grown up. Poor Melvin. We didn’t even know each other. He wanted to follow in my footsteps though, despite his mother’s best efforts to talk him out of it. Mel served under my command during Procyon. It was a mistake… I should’ve reassigned him.”

“Did he not live up to your expectations, sir?”

“That wasn’t it,” Kinkaid said and shook his head for emphasis. “He was with fighter command and damned good at what he did. The Octavians hated him enough to put a bounty on his head, but that’s not what the problem was, not at all. The crisis dragged on, and he- like a lot of others did- started to question the wisdom of our intervention there. He felt that too many lives were being thrown away and that as commander of the U.N. expedition, I was responsible.”

“And after the crisis had passed?”

“I came back to Earth,” Kinkaid said and leaned forward on his elbows. “He went… I don’t know where, but I’ve heard stories about what he’s been up to while I’ve been in storage… bringing shame to the family name. I’m not sure I even have a son anymore.”

“Excuse me, sir.” Someone said from behind her. Jena turned and saw a scrawny twenty-something with dusky skin and dark eyes standing in the open doorway, holding a sheet of hardcopy in one hand. A Mexican flag was stitched onto his right sleeve above his rank.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” Jena said as she folded her arms. “You’re relieved of coffee-making duty, Valdez, effective immediatly. What do you want?”

“Priority message from Earth, ma’am.” Valdez said and offered the hardcopy forward. Jena took it and scanned over the lines as Valdez about-faced and hurried back to his station.

“Word from NOAA, sir,” Jena said as her eyes traced over words, she drew in a sharp breath, urgency suddenly making her heart race. “Another solar storm just erupted… the same strength as before. It’ll be here in six minutes.”

“Sound the alarm!” Kinkaid said and surprised Jena with his agility as he leapt up and moved to close the heavy metal shutters over his office windows. Jena turned to see all eyes in the command center on her.

“You heard the man,” Jena called out and moved to slam a palm down on the large red button next to the 3-D situation board mounted to the far wall. “Get this building locked down. Issue alerts to all planet-side commands and to all ships in orbit. Establish a comm-link with Customs Authority… we’re gonna be very busy. Move, move, move!”

Kinkaid had his command staff trained well. They went about their duties in an orderly and efficient manner as the emergency specific warning tone sounded from PA speakers throughout the complex. Jena pressed her face against the nearest window as a storm shutter began to lower. Workers in space-suits were bounding across the dusty red landscape for the safety of the Holdfast or scrambling into the few vehicles in sight near the building perimeter.

“What in God’s name is going on?” Kinkaid growled from beside her. “How can we have two Mega-class storms in the same week? Why hasn’t NOAA given us any warning?”

“It surprised them as much as it did us, sir,” Jena said and handed the sheet in her hand to Kinkaid, who snatched it from her and began reading down the lines of text and data. “We might have to close Sol system to traffic until we can get some better early detection equipment online.”

“A fine thought,” Kinkaid grumped as he dropped the hardcopy into the nearest shredder bin. “But convincing the NorCom, EuroCon, and Outworld Alliance of that would be a different matter entirely. Sol system has never been closed… not even during the Neo-colonial War. They certainly won’t do it now… they’ll just leave the mess for us to clean up. What’s the status of the fleet?”

“Valdez!” Jena yelled. The young Mexican lieutenant lifted his head from his commo board and removed his headset. “Did you get the warning sent out?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Valdez said. “All commands have been alerted and we’ve gotten replies from Home Fleet units in near orbits. The units picketing Omega control zone won’t receive our message for another eight minutes. Customs Authority is mobilizing. Ares Prime spaceport is officially closed for the duration of the storm.”

“The spaceport traffic in queue for landing are burning for high orbit.” The lanky, red-headed Canadian in charge of sensors called out as the situation board came to life, displaying the shipping traffic over the Holdfast and over the civilian spaceport on the Mons.

Jena stepped away from the window as the heavy shutter reached the bottom of the window and locked into place. Kinkaid was already in action.

“Is the Holdfast secure?” He bellowed.

“We’ve still got people on the outside!” The operations officer, a captain of the 92nd Highlanders, looked up from the display showing a silhouette of the Holdfast, the airlock symbol was blinking red at several locations, indicating that the building was still open.

“Sensors! Report!” Kinkaid called out as he folded his arms across his chest and turned to the sensor station. The female junior-officer tapped her fingers on her console as she waited for a return. She looked up when she had it.

“The plasma wave from the storm will be here in three minutes.”

Kinkaid turned to the ops-station and said, “I want this building secure in two-minutes. No exceptions. None.”

“Aye, sir.” Operations replied as she programmed instructions into her console. The computer responded with a code string of system acknowledgements.

“Get me an outside video feed.” Kinkaid demanded as he moved to the operations desk and leaned over the girls shoulder. Jena followed him and looked over his. There were ten cameras set up around the Holdfast and the view from each took up an entire display screen… 9 were empty, but there was a speck of white on #10. The camera zoomed in. A person in a spacesuit, a man judging by bulk, was running for the Holdfast, arms and legs pumping furiously, stumbling over the rocks dotting the terrain, nearly losing his balance.

“He’s not gonna make it.” Operations said quietly.

“Get a vehicle out to him.” Kinkaid said.

Operations shook his head and said, “There’s no time. He’s too far away. All of our vehicle sheds have already been sealed.”

“Damn,” Kinkaid said as Jena turned away. She stopped as she felt his iron grip seize her shoulders. “I want you to watch this, Commander. This person has just guaranteed his death by letting himself get too far away from shelter. Someday you’re going to be running your own crew… I want you to remember this.”

“I believe you, sir,” Jena said as he spun her around. Her eyes immediately locked on the desperate figure on the screen. She gasped as the man tripped over a rock and fell, raising a cloud of red dust, but his was up after a single bounce and running again. She tried to step away but was held in place by Kinkaid’s suddenly iron grip.

“All other sections reporting secure, sir.” Operations called over his shoulder, his hand poised above the switch that would seal every entrance to the Holdfast still open, waiting for the order to drop the doors.

“Two minutes!” The sensor operator called out.

“This man is buying you a lesson, Commander, a lesson that you are never to forget,” Kinkaid said with soft firmness. “Always know what safety is… never let yourself drift too far way from it… have a plan ready in case the worst case scenario comes true.”

“Yes, sir.” Jena said and wondered if the man she watched could see death running beside him with a stopwatch.

“Even when you think you are safe, you are not safe,” Kinkaid said, gaze fixed on the screen, a figure in white reflected in his eyes. “Even when danger is a thousand kilometers away, it is right next to you… it is always around you, waiting for the opportunity to strike… accept that.”

“I accept that, sir.” Jena said.

“If you let your guard down for only a moment it will find you,” Kinkaid said. “And if that happens it may not only cost you your life, but also your ship and lives of your crew, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“One minute, sir!” Sensor called.

“Seal it up.” Kinkaid said quietly. The operations officer lowered his eyes to his desk and brushed his thumb against the toggle, his display changed, each blinking airlock symbol went from flashing red to solid and the Holdfast was closed. Jena turned as she felt people behind her. Valdez and several other staffers were clustered around the Operations board, eyes fixed on the screen, looking on in morbid fascination.

“Here it comes!” The sensor officer said finally just as the resolution on the display screens began to fuzz. Outside, the man in the spacesuit slowed to a walk, arms limp at his sides, then began to stagger. He took several reeling steps forward and then stopped, torso swaying, trying to keep his balance. Jena gasped as he took one more step, closing her eyes as he tumbled face down into a cloud of dust, after a moment she opened them again and saw him laying there. A wisp of black smoke from inside the helmet dribbled into the placid Martian sky, the electronics inside the suit had just been fried by the intense radiation of the storm, as had the occupant.

***

UM-2

Freeport

"We just lost Sally-two!"

Greeley and the rest of the council sat in silence around the meeting table, listening to the morbid play-by-play called in by the forces engaging the bogies coming in from 55 Cancri, the last system in the Virginis run. They had come as a surprise and had refused to identify themselves until the system defense boats moving in to intercept them were fired on. Greeley had never met any of the SDB (System Defense Boat) crews in person but he felt each loss acutely. They were all Avalon boys.

"We saw it, Sally-nine,” The flight leader called. “Close in with Sally-five and six once they make their pass and come about. We'll hit 'em from zero-zero-seven this time."