Comet Riders — Part Four

Destiny takes a left turn

The Year 10,779 of Life — The Ice Station

A hand jostled Gray-rock’s shoulder.

“Wake up, sleepy boy.”

The hand pushed, rolling him from his belly to lie on his back.

“Oylo,” he groaned.

He cracked open an eye. As he adapted to the bright room light, he focused on Soft-petal’s face. He was lying on the bed; she was kneeling on the bed, leaning over him.

“What the muck?” he asked, seeing that she was attired in only her underwear.

“It’s getting late, brother,” she said. Easing off the bed, she stood. “You do remember? I told you about the Station Commander? He wants to meet with you.” She placed hands on hips and cocked her hips to one side.

Gray-rock sorted through the foggy memories of the night’s partying. He found the correct one. Two of his mates had been composing a song to commemorate the rescue of the Ice Station from destruction when the team commander had pulled Gray-rock aside. His mind’s eye replayed the conversation where Soft-petal had told him he was to report to the Station Commander at nine o’clock.

“Yes,” he said. “What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty, you have barely enough time to shower and get there. You certainly don’t want to be late.”

Gray-rock took stock of his current situation. He was covered by the bedsheet, but otherwise nude. A glance around the stateroom told him this was not his own room. He searched his memory, but could find no record of how he came to be here, or what had transpired after he had arrived. Given his extreme drunken state, he doubted very much could have transpired.

“I brought you here so I would know where to find you,” she explained, doubtlessly seeing the bewilderment on his face. “There’s the shower. Jump to it, brother.” She nodded toward the small door behind him.

This was clearly her cabin. Only the officers had freshers in their staterooms. The rank and file, like Gray-rock, had to use communal facilities.

She jerked the bedsheet away.

He rolled from the bed and stumbled into the fresher. Inside, he found the essential supplies to shower, shave, and wash his teeth. When he returned, Soft-petal was dressed in her work dungarees. Being of command rank, she wore gold with black trim.

“I took the liberty of getting a dress uniform for you.” She pointed to the blue jumpsuit trimmed in black draped across the bed.

For the Royals, Gray-rock thought to himself. The Ice Station was the most remote outpost in space, and its staff rarely wore the prescribed uniforms. Everyone knew everyone else, and they usually wore more comfortable tunics and trousers. However, with the Royals visiting, everyone would make their best appearance. He wondered what they might have thought, had the members of the Royal Family seen them partying last night.

Searching through the bed covers, he found is underwear. She had not provided fresh ones. Pulling on the dress uniform, he realized it was a bit too small. Either he had gained weight since he last wore it, or it was not his own. Rather, it was one she had obtained on short notice. No matter what the case, he said nothing.

***

“Sir, Gray-rock of the Crescent Lake reporting as ordered, sir.” Gray-rock saluted the Station Commander and stood at attention.

The man, at least a hundred years Gray-rock’s senior, did not return the salute. Instead, he stood, came around the desk, and pulled Gray-rock’s hand into a firm handshake.

“Oylo, that was one fantastic maneuver you made, brother,” he said. “I’ve watched the replay a dozen times. I swear, had you tarried more than a second, it would not have worked. How did you come to the plan?”

“Uh, sir,” Gray-rock said, not following the commander’s informal speech pattern, “I don’t really know. I didn’t think about it at all. I just did it.”

“Well, that was the finest instinctual flying I’ve ever seen.” The commander released Gray-rock’s hand and waved to a chair. “Sit down, brother.” He returned to his seat behind the desk as Gray-rock settled into the chair. “What do you think went wrong?”

“Sir?”

“With that fragment of ice — why did it break away? Wasn’t it surveyed?”

“Sir, the surveying of the ice is not my expertise. I couldn’t say what went wrong.”

“You’re an engineer, eh?” He pointed to a display screen with what appeared to be Gray-rock’s personal information.

“Yes, sir, but I’m a flight engineer, not a structural or mineral engineer.” Gray-rock knew the man was not dimwitted and wondered what purpose this conversation served. The primordial hunk of ice had been drifting through deep space for billions of years. In the nearly absolute zero temperature, the ice crystals had become as hard and as dense as a diamond. However, while the ice surface was harder than steel, the crystal structure could be fractured along planes parallel to the molecular structure — just like a diamond. This was how they had separated the hunk from its host comet. The commander knew this as well as anyone working with the ice.

“Ah, I see it here. You want to return to the University and work on space ship design. Seems like an…” He thought for a moment. “An inappropriate application for your talent. I mean, we have nearly completed the sweep of comets threatening Layall. Of what use will the Royal Family have for more space ships?”

If anyone aboard the Ice Station knew the plans of the Royal Family, it was the Station Commander. He was married to one of them; thus, technically he was one of them. Gray-rock wondered what could be the purpose of his rhetorical question.

“Sir, there are the planets to be explored, and a rumor of a possible starship being constructed.”

“A starship? That sounds rather fanciful. How do the rumors say this ship will travel faster than the speed of light?”

Gray-rock had not mentioned the faster-than-light attribute which the rumors attached to the proposed starship; clearly, the Station Commander had heard the rumors. But, why is he questioning me? Gray-rock asked himself. In response to the commander’s rhetorical question, Gray-rock shrugged.

“Oylo, I have a new mission for you, Gray-rock.” The commander pivoted to a new topic.

“Sir?”

“There’s been a discovery. The scientists have found something — call it an artifact. Anyway, they want it sent to Layall for examination. For whatever reason, they are in a hurry. I’m assigning you the task to ferry it down the hill.”

Helos was at the bottom of the planetary system’s gravity well. While Layall orbited the star at a distance of ninety-million miles, the Ice Station was twenty times farther from Helos — nearly two-billion miles. Thus, traveling from the Ice Station to Layall was called sliding down the hill.

“You want me to do that?”

“Yes, there is an ulterior motive. The Fleet Commander wants to meet you. Perhaps he is going to give you a medal, or something.” The Station Commander chuckled. “Or, a kick in the ass. Anyway, you’re off in the morning, so don’t make another bender of it tonight.”

Gray-rock wondered if Soft-petal was going to babysit him again. He involuntarily smiled because this time he would not be too drunk to enjoy her attention.

“In my Lancer, sir?” Gray-rock asked.

“Seems your Lancer has been badly contaminated, all that back spray from the torch bouncing off the ice block. That cargo ship you saved brought up a new Lancer. It’s yours for this mission. Try not to scratch the paint.”

Gray-rock withheld the quip which appeared in his mind. Only moments ago, the commander had said the Royal Family was not interested in new spacecraft. Then Gray-rock remembered the other spaceship docked with the Ice Station.

“Sir, why don’t the Royals take the artifact back to Layall? Or, is it dangerous?”

“The Royal Family doesn’t share their plans with me.” Gray-rock’s expression must have reflected his doubt in the complete honesty of this statement; the commander continued, “Seems they intend to hang around a while, and the scientists are in a big hurry.” The commander ignored Gray-rock’s second question.

“Should I take my kit?” Gray-rock wondered what the Fleet Command really wanted. With this question, he was asking if he would be coming back to the Ice Station.

“Brother, who can say what will happen, eh? I expect to get my new Lancer back. Take a dress uniform — one that fits — and whatever else you need for a few days. Should the need arise, we’ll ship your kit down to you. Now, if there’s nothing else, report to the docking bay at 0800 hours.” The Station Commander gestured dismissively toward the door.

Lost in thought, Gray-rock departed.

In his cabin, he found the flight suit he had worn the previous day. Soft-petal had not had it cleaned. As ordered by the commander, Gray-rock did not imbibe when he joined Bird’s-eye and his other mates that evening. He related the conversation with the Station Commander and the tale of the odd mission down-the-hill.

“In a Lancer — in a new Lancer?” Bird’s-eye questioned.

“Why not? We go two or three billion miles to get the comets, and we ride in Lancers.”

“The Lancer spacecraft is certainly capable of long-distance flight,” Bird’s-eye said, but he did not add that the Lancers rarely traveled such distances alone. Most of the missions undertaken by Soft-petal’s flotilla were into the cometary cloud surrounding Helos at a distance of more than five-billion miles. Most of these missions were to push ice blocks into stable orbits so they did not become future comets which could threaten Layall. Riding comets was the slang term for moving them out of harm’s way, or bring them to the Ice Station.

As the conversation with his mates progressed, speculation about Gray-rock’s assignment grew from a simple cargo run, to a command appearance before the Fleet Commander, before settling on a secret mission for the Royal Family. However, no one was able to dream up a plot for the secret mission. As the evening waned, Soft-petal briefly joined them. She made no reference to the previous night, but wished him a safe journey. Before midnight, Gray-rock bid his mates farewell and returned to his cabin alone.

THE END of Part Four

Part Five, We all must serve

Copyright ©2023 by S. M. Revolinski All Rights Reserved

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