SG: Aurora #49 - Though My Soul May Set In Darkness... (Part Two of Two)

[Frobozz]

[[Continued from part one!]]

    "It's less than a week now."
    "I'm sorry!"
    "Yup... my Beanstalk access gets revoked once the split is official..."
    "I said I'm sorry!"
    "I guess we're going to have to find a new place to meet... -all- 
because you just -had- to go into space..."
    "Okay, fine," sighed Al Peterson, as he set down his sandwich. "It's 
all my fault. It's not like I don't get this enough from my mother, but 
now you John? Et tu?"
    "Et your sandwich," replied John Clark, grinning to his friend. "Hey, I 
guess it's not completely your fault. -Doyle-'s the one who put the notion 
in your head in the first place."
    "Yeah!" replied Peterson, matching Clark's grin. "It's all his stinking 
fault!"
    "To Doyle!" yelled Clark, raising his can of Vernors. "The guy 
responsible for kicking me and mine out of the Beanstalk!"
    "To Doyle!" replied Peterson, raising his glass. "Who I'm sure is 
really sorry too!"
    Both men chugged their harsh ginger beers and slammed down their 
respective tumblers. Peterson laughed, then gave his best friend an 
apologetic look.
    "Seriously, John. I'm damned sorry about this. But I'm really glad 
we've been having these weekly get togethers, you know? Space-training 
with the crew's making it just a little hard to fit anything unscheduled 
into the roster. I just wish we weren't losing common ground."
    "Hey, don't worry 'bout it, Al," replied Clark. "It's for the best. To 
be honest, the moment Doyle started talking about taking Aurora 
international, I knew this day was coming."
    "Well, you know... there -is- a way to stay in the 'stalk..."
    "Thanks but no thanks," replied Clark, waving the notion away with his 
can. "I've done my soul searching on this already. The 'black' Aurora's 
just not my bag. Even if I took a ground-based position, I just don't 
think... yeah. I just don't think I'd fit. If there's one thing I -do- 
regret, though..."
    "Yeah?"
    "It's that you guys're taking the Aurora name away from us. Couldn't 
you monsters leave us with anything?"
    "You're not going to let me live that down ever, are you?"
    "Nope. I figure any time you come back Earth-side, that -alone- is 
going to be good for cadging a few free drinks off of you before you head 
back into the dark. And hey... if we wind up with a real stinker of a 
replacement name, I might be able to double the free beverage."
    "John... trust me. You're my best friend. You're going half on all the 
drinks, *forever*."
    "You say that now, but you have no idea how much guilt I can bring to 
bear on you. You have not yet begun to be guilted."
    "Years of living at home've made me immune, you sap." Peterson sighed, 
shaking his head. "But honestly? It just feels wrong that... we're not 
going to be working together. Or even in different branches of the same 
service."
    Clark shrugged. "There's no way in Hell(tm) that Canada's superguy 
defense force and the world's black navy could coexist. You guys -have- to 
avoid the perception of being influenced by the petty needs of your host 
country. 'course, you know what the real irony of it all is?"
    "Not a clue. What is it?"
    "-You're- the one heading into the life of being rules-bound, 
always-watched and forever-writing-reports. And me? We're probably going 
to be more devil-may-care than we ever were as Aurora."
    "Oh Elvis, John, why'd you have to go and depress me like that..."
    "Heh heh heh. Well, someone has to keep doing it. Otherwise, your head 
would just keep swelling and swelling..."
    "No chance of that with you around. Refill?"
    "You buying?"
    "Nope, it's your turn, damn your eyes."
    "Oh fine then. Another round." Clark tapped the table lightly in 
thought. "This is just between us, okay?"
    "Hey, you know I'm good with secrets."
    "Just don't let this be where you stop, okay?"
    "Okay, okay, fine! I promise not to turn into a gossip. What's the 
scoop?"
    "Well..." Clark smiled slowly, looking up at Peterson. "Graham's 
staying on as leader of the paramilitary forces. But he's admitted... he 
doesn't have the head for being the overall head."
    "Oh yeah? So who's taking on -that- thankless task... oh my God."
    "Mmmhmmm... you guessed it."
    "Geez, Clark! That's great! Seriously... that is great. 
Whoever-The-Hell(tm)-You-Guys-Are is in great hands now. This I know for a 
-fact-."
    "Thanks, Al. I've got some ideas too. Big ones."
    "Yeah? Spill."
    "Well, a bit of a change of direction. In some ways it'll seem like a 
step back. But personally, I think we've got a great chance to do some 
good if we start--"
    Both men were silenced by the sound of Clark's commo sounding off. 
Clark sighed as he fumbled for the noisy device.
    "Raincheque?" he asked, rising to his feet.
    "You better believe it," replied Peterson. "There's no way I'm letting 
you off the hook. You've got me all intrigued now."
    "Couldn't've timed it better if I'd tried."
    "Yo... Clark. I know it's not my business any more, but... what's the 
emergency?"
    Clark checked his communications device and let out a laugh. "Wow."
    "Wow?"
    "Yeah. Giant mutated cat, threatening the West Edmonton Mall."
    "Oh damn! That brings back memories..."
    "Don't it just? Gotta run, Al. See you next week."
    "Next week," replied Peterson, to Clark's already retreating back. He 
sat back in his chair and picked up his glass, swishing around its 
contents for a moment before raising it.
    "To the past," he murmured. "Because the future ain't what it used to 
be."
    Peterson knocked back his drink and rose, leaning only lightly on his 
cane as he headed out of the Beanstalk's number two rec lounge.

***

    "Well," began Doyle, as Peterson took his seat in the head of Aurora's 
office. "Everything I've seen coming from the Trent is looking good. I'm a 
little surprised at your choice of head of ground force, though. Are you 
sure it's going to work out?"
    "If it doesn't," replied Peterson, with a shrug. "Then I don't deserve 
this captaincy."
    "True enough," replied Doyle. "Speaking of which, captain, I have some 
good news and I have some bad news."
    "Do I get to choose which I hear first?"
    "No. That would just ruin the presentation. The good news is that as 
far as the yard's bully boys can tell, the Carol Trent is ship-shape. 
She's ready for her shakedown cruise."
    "Doyle?"
    "Yes, Peterson?"
    "There is absolutely nothing you could possibly that up with which 
would ruin my day. You're serious? We're ready? We're finally ready to 
take it out for a spin?"
    "Yes. Yes we are, Peterson. I know how much you've been anticipating 
this day--"
    "No you don't!"
    "Ahem. And I know you've shown great patience while military vessel 
construction got bumped up the queue ahead of your ship--"
    "Incredible patience! Astounding patience! Patience that would knock 
the holy socks off a saint!"
    "Yes, I -do- get the point. At any rate. It's time to take her out for 
a spin, and once the engineers have had a chance to replace any bolts that 
shake loose, she's yours. I've persuaded the signing nations that 
exploration needn't take a backseat to in-system defense."
    "So... when? Seriously, when?"
    "Five days. It's the minimum time we need to get your orders draughted 
and, more importantly, recall your crew from leave. Speaking of which..."
    "Is this the 'bad news' I've been hearing so much about?"
    "I'm afraid so, Peterson. As part of the compromise in advancing the 
exploration budget, the signing nations have insisted that exploratory 
crews be... 'diverse'."
    "Define, please?"
    "Naturally. They want representation on our ships. Imagine," said 
Doyle, his voice becoming dry. "If Canadians were the only ones to make 
first contact. Why that would just be awful for the universe, wouldn't 
it?"
    "Uhn hunh," replied Peterson, fighting to control his emotions. "So 
what does this mean for the Trent? We've been training together long 
enough that I don't think drop-in crew replacement is going to work so 
well."
    "That's the argument I made to the nations, and after... lengthy... 
discussion, I brought them around to our point of view. The Trent will 
enjoy a partial exemption to the new policy... your officer core will 
remain intact. But several key specialists -- notably in medical, heroic, 
first contact and science -- will be added to your roster. This is a 
potential blessing in disguise, Peterson. Your ship -will- benefit from 
cross pollination of other points of view."
    "Yeah... yeah, I know Doyle. I just hope this doesn't lead to any us 
versus them mentalities on-board."
    "I know. But Peterson? If it does..."
    "It's the captain's job to squash them. I know. Seriously." Peterson 
essayed a grin. "Like I said, none of this is going to put a damper on my 
day. There's not a lot I wouldn't sacrifice for the chance to go... out 
-there- again. With the chance to look around and say howdy, instead of 
fighting anyone we meet."
    "I completely understand that," replied Doyle. "I--" The computer 
personality paused, frowning. "Well."
    "Yo? Can you tell me what it is, or is this above my pay grade?"
    "I'm honestly not sure whose pay grade it falls into, Peterson. One of 
the DEW stations we've been placing in the outer system is chirruping. It 
seems that something small and unknown is entering the solar system under 
its own power. And it's sophont-made."
    "We sure?"
    "It made a course correction. It's either artificied or it's a really 
fastidious comet."
    "Doyle? I have a -wonderful- idea..."
    "No. I know what you're thinking, and it's absolutely out of the 
question."
    "Why? This would be perfect. We need to shake down the crew as well as 
the ship, you know..."
    "What crew? Most of them are still someplace sunny, enjoying the idea 
of having weather for another few days."
    "We have a skeleton crew in-'stalk, Doyle. Which includes almost all 
the officers. We could take the Trent out there, meet and greet... "
    "And if it turns out to be hostile?"
    "We run and hide till one of the Big Cows can get our fat out of the 
fire. C'mon, Doyle. You know this is one of those rare everybody wins 
situations"
    Doyle sighed, shaking his head. "I'm probably going to regret this..."
    "No," said Peterson, all trace of whimsy vanished from his voice as he 
levered himself up on his cane. "No you won't. This is it, and if you 
think I'm going to blow it... you don't know me very well."
    "Peterson... I have every faith in you. But not every crisis comes from 
being a screwup. Your ship is untested and this contact is completely 
unknown."
    "The ship'll hold together, Doyle. I've seen the yard reports. She's 
been tested in-dock. This isn't where we find out if we've accidentally 
hooked the engines up to the microwave. This is where we see if she stalls 
when we put her into seventy-second gear. And this is where we see if we 
can get our hash together while there's still an Earth nearby to bail us 
out if we can't. It makes sense on every level."
    "I'm not sure I agree with it making sense on -every- level. But your 
point is made. I'll activate as much of your crew as I possibly can. You 
have six hours to launch. By that point the object is expected to be 
within the orbit of Uranus. No jokes."
    "Trust me. -That- joke got made to death in the first week of training. 
Sir. Thank you -sir-."
    Doyle smiled and saluted Peterson.
    "Make Earth proud, Al. You already have me."

***

    "That... is one trashed mall," exclaimed Clark, as he stared down at 
the gigantic shopping-plex below.
    "Forget the mall," replied Jack Wynn, leader of Mythos, who was also 
staring out of the window of the troop transport. "Look at the size of the 
cat!"
    "Yeah, they can get a bit big if you feed them too much... and expose 
them to strange and hideous radiations. Now there's a trick to fighting 
giant cats..."
    "You're kidding me."
    "Not even a bit. This isn't even our first mall-cat-grudge match."
    "I had no idea this was such an epidemic. Does Sally Struthers know? 
And what's this secret?"
    "Don't. Shoot. Them. It makes a mess, it makes them mad, and it 
traumatizes the kiddies who watch the fight on the news that night."
    "Subdue and capture time? I see why you wanted us along."
    "Yeah." Clark hesitated, then shrugged and continued. "Actually, that's 
half the reason I wanted Mythos along. The other half is that I wanted to 
have a chin wag with you."
    "Sorry. But... did you actually use the phrase 'chin wag'?"
    "Yes, I did, and I'm not going to apologize."
    "I'm not saying that you -have- to. Only... well... "
    "Can we drop this?"
    "I'm not sure I can ever fully drop it. But go on. What are we talking 
about? This isn't about asking for my blessing, is it?"
    "In a sense it is. But... and I feel really slimy saying it this way... 
it's not about Karen."
    "Well, I'm intrigued. What do you need to talk about?"
    "Not now. We're almost to the LZ. But after, we need to hit a bar. I 
have some ideas about the future of Aurora. And you're the top guy on my 
list to talk to..."

***

    Peterson grinned as his transport capsule slid through its tube towards 
the SS Carol Trent. He'd taken this trip more than once in the past three 
years, but this time was different. This wasn't a walk-through inspection, 
nor was it another dry-run live-board training exercise.
    This time, it was for real. At his say-so, the ship would glide out 
into space. Something unknown would be made known. And then... who knew 
where this moment of decision would next take them. That was the point of 
it all, wasn't it? -No- one knew what lay ahead, and the notion of finding 
out fired Peterson's soul.
    "She's a beauty, is she nae?" murmured Colleen, her voice drawing 
Peterson out of his reverie. "T'is the finest ship I've had the privilege 
to work 'pon. An' I promise you, she will nae let you down."
    "I believe it, fair Girleen," replied Peterson, turning to smile down 
at the redheaded engineering genius. "On first sight, I knew that she was 
the love of my life. I may have to kiss you for delivering my Truest to 
me."
    "Ach, nay," laughed Colleen, shaking her head. "Ye'd make two very 
jealous should you do that."
    "Oh? My dear ship, she doesn't have to see." He winked to Colleen, who 
rolled her eyes.
    "Nah, nay her. One who abides... and one who waits for -me- tae get off 
work."
    "Colleen... you -minx-. Congratulations. When did -this- happen?"
    "Oh, last year," replied Colleen, airily waving away the notion of it 
being anything special. "T'is nothing yet. We're but seeing if there are 
sparks past the first."
    "I am... truly happy for you, Girleen. After what you went through the 
past few..." He shook his head. "No one deserves happiness more."
    "We can discuss -that- another day. For now, t'is time for ye to kiss 
your one an' only hello."
    "Yes. Yes it is," said Peterson, as the capsule came to rest inside one 
of the Trent's docking areas. "Hey, would you like to come with?"
    Colleen snorted lightly. "Nae, sirrah. I'm here tae oversee the 
transfer of power from external tae internal and then I shall return to 
the safe confines of the Beanstalk, while ye and yer insane rabble voyage 
forth tae seek who -knows- what."
    "Ah well, I tried my best. You can't blame me, can you?" Peterson 
paused, then leaned down and pecked the engineer's cheek just before the 
capsule's doors slid open. "Permission to come aboard, major?"
    "Permission granted," replied head of the Trent's ground forces, major 
Chambers, in her usual lovely sing-song. "Welcome to the Carol Trent, 
captain. Why is Colleen blushing like that?"
    "Who can say?" replied Peterson, looking impish as he stepped above his 
ship. "I relieve you, major."
    "I stand relieved. No seriously, she's lit up light a Christmas tree. 
What did you do to her?"
    "Unspeakable and vile things, of course. Shall we to the bridge?"
    "Of course, captain. Tell me or at some random point during the cruise 
I'll organize the entire crew in a continuous chorus of 'are we there 
yet?'"
    "That's just a risk I'm going to have to take, major. Colleen, this is 
where we part ways. I'll see you again when we've shaken down and we need 
your yard boys to correct -all- their mistakes."
    "In a pig's eye, Peterson," replied Colleen, sticking out her tongue. 
"Fare thee well an' safe voyages."
    "Thank you, 'leen. For everything." Peterson turned back to Chambers. 
"Are you as excited as I am?"
    "Not a blessed chance. You're looking like a kid who's about to get ten 
Christmas' worth of gifts in one day, and then have sixteen birthday 
celebrations right after. How could I compete with that? Let's get you to 
the bridge before your head pops from the excitement."
    Peterson grinned and offered an arm. After just a moment, Chambers 
accepted it and escorted her captain from the docking area to an elevator 
tube.
    Colleen watched them go, then shook her head. "T'will be interesting," 
she remarked to nobody, as she stepped into her own transport tube. "Now, 
let's shall we see how well ye light yer own fires, dear?"
    She rested her hand on the Trent's metal and smiled. Even if she would 
be staying safe on Earth, a bit of her would go forth with this ship. And 
-that- was a legacy she could live with.

***

This issue is mine, mine, mine and you can't have it. Nyah and copyright
belongs to Frobozz/Chris Angelini, 2008. Mess with my legal rights and
I'll send over Gggthstx to discuss 'fair use' with you. Email to
frobozz at eyrie.org. Homepage at http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz.

---
-Chris
frobozz at eyrie.org
http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz

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