Starfarer: Rendezvous with Destiny

By Edward Crichton

In the year 2595, immense starships the size of Europe’s largest countries act as humanity’s sole means of transportation to the stars. Owned and operated by a government-owned Chinese corporation, these ISLAND Liners have allowed humanity to colonize the galaxy with the use of a mysterious technology known as WeT Tech. Employed solely aboard China’s ISLAND Liners, all that is known about WeT Tech is that it works – allowing humanity to travel to other worlds.

The technology, however, is deeply flawed, used by the Chinese only because no other means to travel quickly between planets exists. Operating from the core of each gargantuan ISLAND, lost and all but forgotten, it’s only a matter of time before disaster occurs, but after hundreds of years of colonization and with humanity spread across dozens of planets, there is little the Chinese can do but continue operation and hope nothing goes wrong.

But something does.

The ISLAND Liner Sierra Madre is left adrift in the depths of space and its WeT Tech is charging itself for a trip to an unknown destination. Compounding matters is that the most powerful technology known to man is now vulnerable, and something so powerful in the wrong hands could alter the economic and political landscape throughout the colonies. In a race against time, military operators, intelligence operatives, mercenaries, and others with more hidden agendas will make the arduous trek to the very center of the Sierra Madre to reach the lost technology first. The journey will be long and dangerous, but it will reveal more about the enigmatic WeT Tech than anybody has ever dreamed possible.

A bold Military SF adventure mixed with elements of a larger Space Opera, Starfarer: Rendezvous with Destiny will unravel the truth behind humanity’s place in the galaxy, and will explore the question of whether or not our future truly rests among the stars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward Crichton
• Release date: Apr 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301719969

Edward Crichton

Edward Crichton, a native Clevelander, lives in Chicago, Illinois with his wife, where he spends his time coming to grips with his newfound sports allegiances. A long time enthusiast of Science Fiction, Fantasy, History and everything in between, he spends his time reading, writing, and overusing his Xbox (he wishes). Until recently, Crichton had often hoped for a cat, but his wife decided to let him have a baby boy instead. Born in November of 2013, the child has turned into a little hellion but he and his wife couldn't be happier Nearly two years old at the time of this Bio update, said little hellion has grown into a wonderful little boy who keeps his daddy busy and occupied doing anything and everything but writing. Now a work-from-home-dad, Crichton squeezes in bouts of writing when he can. Due to his changed lifestyle, he has decided to shift his focus to shorter stories to improve productivity. His first novella, Along the Path of Darkness, will be released October 1, 2015. Following its release, Crichton will return to work on his long dormant Starfarer Series, again focusing on tighter stories to keep the words flowing...

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Starfarer

Rendezvous with Destiny

By Edward Crichton

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013

This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only and is not to be reproduced, resold, or altered in any way. The author thanks you for respecting his intellectual property.

Acknowledgments

To my faithful alpha readers: Amanda, George, Michelle, & Taras. This one was a big one, and each of you offered one piece of insight or another that brought the whole thing together. I can’t wait to discuss my plans for the next one and watch as you tear my well thought out ideas to shreds.

Books by Edward Crichton

The Praetorian Series

The Last Roman (Book I)

To Crown a Caesar (Book II)

A Hunter and His Legion (Book III)

All Roads Lead to Rome (Book IV)

Starfarer

Rendezvous with Destiny

Table of Contents

SECTION 1

SECTION 2

SECTION 3

SECTION 4

SECTION 5

SECTION 6

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Timeline

More from the Author

Biography

Author’s Forewarning

There is at least one intentional, purposeful error hidden within the text of this novel. If you find it, try not to judge too quickly. It all might make sense once you finish the story.

Prologue

INCOMING TRANSMISSION . . .

TO: John Paul Sterling, Admiral, Allied Space Navy (ASN)

FROM: Alexander Mosley, First High Admiral, Allied Space Navy (ASN)

ORIGINAL REPORT: Richard Alderman, Colonel, Office of Strategic Space Intelligence (OSSI) – Original Report Attached

SECURITY LEVEL: CLASSIFIED

XXXXX - XXXXXXXXXX - XXXXX

SUBJECT: Anomalous ISLAND Activity – Action Required

SENT: 11.13.2595 (11:20:11)

AUTHENTICATION CODE: Echo Echo Bravo Zero Zero Seven Echo

Admiral John Paul Sterling,

This could be big, J.P., so I’ll dispense with the usual pleasantries. Word has been sent to OSSI that our Chinese friends have encountered an anomaly along ISLAND Transit Route AlphaCOL–BetaCOL. The spooks haven’t been able to get anything specific out of the Chinese yet, but it has The Star Destiny Corporation, at least, very concerned.

They’re going to lose contact with the ISLAND Liner Sierra Madre on the aforementioned course very soon, and while OSSI isn’t saying much, we could be talking about another rumored contact with alien technology aboard an ISLAND. That or they may have simply experienced their first mishap with WeT Tech.

Consider this your unofficial readiness report. Prepare the 3rd Fleet for immediate redeployment back to Earth and launch the Alcestis as soon as possible. I don’t think I need to remind you to keep your wits about you, John Paul. There’s more at play here than even I’m aware of, and I can’t offer you much more advice than that. This won’t be some silly sim we mucked about with back at the Academy. Something big is about to happen and something about it stinks.

Regards,

First High Admiral Alexander Mosley, ASN

Admiralty Board, Chair

Washington Aerospace Naval Headquarters, Luna

P.S. Should we get through whatever this thing is, I’ll get you a case of that ancient Jameson swill you love so much.

<<<<< SEE ATTACHED FILE FOR ORIGINAL REPORT >>>>>

SECTION 1

The ISLAND

High Earth Orbit /

ISLAND Liner Sierra Madre – Red Zone /

Power Conduction Shaft – Delta /

11.06.2595

07:35:08 Zulu

That which defines mankind is nothing more than what he leaves behind. In no other way will he be remembered when his presence in this universe becomes little more than dust to aid in the formation of new celestial bodies, and the onset of space travel centuries ago only helped to safeguard this legacy. Later, the ability to travel to other planets cemented it. If every human in existence simply vanished from reality, the ISLAND Liner Sierra Madre would remain, drifting through the depths of space for time immemorial.

And whoever finds it will think it little more than a hulking piece of junk.

Senior Chief of Electronics Dhaval Jaheed knew that was unfair assessment of a large portion of the ISLAND, but in the presence of so many undocumented, unbundled, ungrounded, and unfamiliar wires, connectors, cables, circuits, and other forms of electronic mayhem before him, gave him pause to curse the wretched ship. It was a safety inspector’s worst nightmare, and the Red Zone was already an extremely dangerous, almost mystical, place, quarantined from entrance by all travelers aboard the ISLAND.

Senior Chiefs never sent technicians into the area, mostly because they never needed to, but the occasion had arisen today, much to the dread of every technician under Dhaval’s supervision. His rank of ISLAND Senior Chief of Electronics gave him seniority over every electrician or technician aboard the Sierra Madre, and made him the only person he was willing to send into such a hazardous portion of the ship. The rest of them were all back in the Green Zone, the outer layer of the ship that surrounded the Red Zone like an egg encasing its yolk.

Despite knowing it was in his best interest to focus on his work, it was difficult for Dhaval not to wonder exactly what kind of genius would let something as important as an ISLAND Liner fall into such disarray. ISLANDs were the sole means of transportation to Earth’s colonies, and the only way to keep humanity’s presence amongst the stars connected. The mess he was in now was a disgrace to mechanics, technicians, electricians, and engineers alike, but he supposed that’s what happened after hundreds of years of neglect.

Find the breaker yet, Chief? Asked an unwelcome voice that infiltrated every recess of his mind. It came so suddenly that Dhaval stumbled from his perch overlooking the exact breaker box he had in fact been searching for. He shot his hand out to seize the nearest stabilizing handle, only to have it break away from the shaft in his grip. His life was spared by a safety cable that secured his belt to a ladder rung – which amazingly held firm. Dhaval dangled there for a few moments, his forehead glistening with sweat as he stared down the conduction shaft, noticing the green safety lights fixed to the wall descend only about ten meters before becoming overwhelmed in darkness. The shaft descended for hundreds of kilometers, all the way to the Core, but few knew what was down there.

Dhaval touched a red button on his exo-suit, and a small object shot out from a mechanism on his back. The magnetic wafer attached itself to the metal wall and reeled him back into a standing position upon his perch. Once upright, he deactivated the magnetic anchor and took a deep breath as it recoiled.

Chief? Came the disjointed voice in his head again, somewhat more worried this time.

Dhaval gritted his teeth in frustration and keyed his com. This is Senior Chief Jaheed. I’ve found the conduit. Initiating repairs now.

Copy that, Chief. Be careful down there. Some of that equipment could be a hundred years old.

Dhaval paused for the briefest of seconds in frustration before returning to his work.

As far as he knew, he was the first person to visit this realm of the ISLAND since the last round of ship wide upgrades and renovations that had expanded the Sierra Madre’s overall size and mass to its current level. There may have been the riff raff and Unwanteds who had inherited the bowls of the ship over the past few centuries, but even they were smart enough to stay out of the conduction shafts and rarely breached the Red Zone.

The only reason he was even down here was because the ISLAND’s Senior Systems Officer had identified a small power drain that originated in the very spot Dhaval now occupied, one that threatened the ship’s next WeT Jump. Such a problem hadn’t arisen in the thirty-five years since Dhaval had been conscripted to work aboard the Sierra Madre, but it wasn’t Dhaval’s position to question how such a problem had arisen. His job was simply to fix the broken conduit and bring the conduction shaft back to peak efficiency. All he cared about was that the one hundred year old power box he was currently manhandling seemed repairable. He pulled a data cable from his chest rig and jacked it into a port that seemed like it would accommodate the plug. Numbers and figures poured across the Lens in front of his left eye, most of which was meaningless gibberish even for someone as experienced as Dhaval, but he comprehended enough to tell him it was at least fixable.

Just as Dhaval thought he had enough information to begin, he heard a loud metallic bang above him that reverberated through the shaft. It was repeated a number of times before ending just as suddenly as it began. It sounded like someone carelessly knocking over machinery as they moved through the area.

Hello? Dhaval called into the darkness, knowing he was supposed to be alone. He hadn’t been sure what he’d heard, but it sounded distinctly like moving people. Hello? He repeated. Is anyone there?

Only silence answered him.

Dhaval shrugged and eyed the darkness above him one last time before returning to his work.

You’re getting paranoid in your old age, Dhaval.

He shifted in his seat and got comfortable on his perch, locking his exo-suit into a comfortable sitting position for a long repair job. The Sierra Madre wasn’t due to depart on its two year voyage for another nine hours, and Dhaval had no idea how long this was going to take. The last thing he wanted to do was report a failure to Ship Master Na and risk delaying the ISLAND’s departure time. This was the young woman’s first voyage as ship master of an ISLAND Liner, and rumor had it that she was as ruthless as she was new to the position. Upsetting her would not bode well for even a veteran like Dhaval Jaheed, for no matter how good he was, he was still an Indian aboard an ISLAND – little more than a slave on a farm.

Earth /

Havana, Cuba /

ISLAND Departure Spaceport /

11.06.2595

08:00:00 Zulu

In a time of great prosperity, the most obvious course of action is toward progress.

Growth.

Modernization.

To build toward the future and create a utopia of high tech splendor.

It’s what happened in the days following the end of Earth’s population crisis and later economic boom that came with the advent of interstellar trade and colonization only a century ago. Cities across the globe became shining, glimmering metropolises of glass and light, more beautiful than ever, but not Havana. Its spaceport may be the sole means of transportation to the High Earth Orbit ISLAND Docking Facility in the western hemisphere, and a prosperous city because of it, but it appeared little more than a dirty small town on the cusp of social annihilation.

At least that’s how it seemed to Carl Lawson as he sat in a local cantina, waiting for the departure time for his shuttle to arrive. The seedy bar was something out of a Western vid, an entertainment genre made famous once again after centuries in obscurity. It was a setting that belonged in a museum, like the one Lawson had in fact seen at the Cleveland Museum of Ancient American History when he was eight years old. The only difference being the lack of holographic personifications of living, breathing humans performing any number of mundane, yet clichéd tasks like bartending, piano and card playing, wenching, and the like. This bar was authentic, with real live people enjoying the relaxed, stress free setting which Havana still exuded. On any other day, Lawson probably could have died content as he sat among fellow travelers in seek of a cold cerveza, but life was never completely stress free, especially not with his folks visiting to see him off.

This isn’t what you want to do, his father, John Lawson, said from across the table. ISLANDs only come back to Earth every three years.

About two actually, Carl Lawson replied, not understanding his parents sudden desire to dissuade him from leaving. He ignored his father and turned to the bartender. "Señor, otra cerveza, por favor." The bartender nodded and tossed him a can of beer and Lawson couldn’t help but smile.

Where has this place been all my life?

But you won’t know anybody, his mother, Eileen, chimed in with her ever chipper voice. All your friends and family are on Earth, not to mention your friends in the military.

Outwardly, his mother was the sweet and caring type you’d find in any homestead across the galaxy, but Carl had known the truth behind it since he was a toddler. Underneath that façade of motherly kindness was the attitude of a woman who simply didn’t give a shit, and only kept up her disguise to fit in with societal pressures. The fact that she still treated him like a child, instead of the forty-five year old man that he was, said something about her. She was the kind of person who would shop for yet another needless product to sooth her own fickle desires on her Lens’ Inter-Lens Service, while maintaining only the barest semblance of attention during what someone else would consider a very personal conversation.

Mom, Carl said with a sigh. Why do you think I’m even doing this? The only friend I still have left is coming with me, so why stay.

The statement wasn’t a question, and he didn’t expect his mother to answer anyway. Not because she knew it hadn’t been a question, but because he knew she didn’t actually care.

John Lawson ignored his wife and pressed on. You realize, son, that if you leave, you’ll be doing little more than admitting your own guilt and running away in shame?

Carl turned away from his mother, who no longer seemed interested, preoccupying her attention instead on the young Cuban bartender whose biceps were at risk of bursting through the sleeves of his tropical style shirt. He fixed his father with a stern gaze and lowered his voice.

Is that why you’re here? To convince me to stay on a world that would rather see me hung by the gallows because the firing squad would be too quick? There’s nothing left for me here. At least if I go, I can visit in a few years when things have quieted down. In time… who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to return one day.

No one is saying you should go on the Lens and draw attention to yourself, son, but if you stay and lead a quiet life, at least you can say you kept your honor intact and stood your ground.

Whose honor exactly am I protecting? Yours or mine? Better be careful, dad. You don’t want to be taken off the list of all those holiday parties you’re always invited to.

Don’t take that tone with me. I’m past caring about whether what happened was your fault or not, but our reputation has already been blemished by all this as it is, and the only thing you can do to repair it is to stare your accusers in the face and refuse to admit defeat.

I already did that. Don’t you remember? When they stripped me of my rank and all my accomplishments and held me up as an example to save face with the Chinese? No, I did my part thank you much. I think I’m well and done with all that bullshit.

John Lawson folded his arms and glared at his son, watching as Carl swallowed that last of his beer.

Don’t do this, Carl. Don’t expect a home to come back to if you do.

Carl smirked at his father and picked up his travel bag before getting to his feet and throwing some anachronistic monetary coins down on the table. Physical money may have been extinct on Earth for centuries now, but for those traveling to the outer colonies, it was a necessity, not to mention for those few who knew to stop at this lovely hole-in-the-wall before departure. "Don’t worry, father. I haven’t been coming back to one since the day you tried to save your own face in all this at no one’s expense but my own."

With nothing left to say to his father, he reached out and grabbed his mother’s arm before passing by her. He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek, knowing he’ll miss her despite all her faults. Say goodbye to Lilly for me, mom.

Eileen flicked her eyes away from her beefcake pretty for just a second. Oh, your sister will miss you terribly. Won’t that help you cha…

Goodbye, mom.

Oh, well, goodbye, dear. She turned back to her lustful desire and said nothing else.

Lawson looked back at his parents, now both ignoring him for completely different reasons. He couldn’t believe it had come to this. His own parents had turned their backs on him in a time when he needed them the most. When the entire world was against him, he should have been able to turn to them and expect comfort and reassurance, but no such sentiment existed, and he was on his own.

Carl Lawson versus the universe.

He turned and headed towards the door, stopping only briefly to take in the surreal atmosphere of one of the most unique places he’d ever visited. With a nod of approval he walked out into the dusty streets and turned north towards the only sign of progress and hope as far as the eye could see: the spaceport.

And his future.

High Earth Orbit /

ISLAND Liner Sierra Madre – Green Zone /

Command Deck – Bridge /

11.06.2595

08:35:16 Zulu

Ship’s status?

All indicators save one show green, ma’am.

What’s the situation in Power Conduction Shaft – Delta? Are we on still on schedule?

Senior Chief of Electronics Jaheed is on it, ma’am. His controller indicates he should have the problem locked down well before our time of departure.

Good, Ship Master Mei-Xing Na replied behind a hard smile, pleased at her new crew’s performance.

She abhorred incompetency – a cancer that had to be rooted out of as soon as it was discovered – and would not have been pleased with lackluster personnel. Whether her perfectionism was a byproduct of her Chinese ancestry or her own tenacity for perfection was anyone’s guess, but she knew that her own personal level of expectation came from hard work and a selfless dedication to the fruition of her life’s goals, and today would mark her first steps toward fulfilling her destiny. Today, she would take her first voyage as the ship master of an ISLAND Liner, and she wasn’t about to let incompetency blemish such a step.

Ship Master, another voice called out from her right. Docking Control has indicated the first wave of shuttles are on approach. We should expect our first class passengers to arrive within the hour.

Mei-Xing nodded, but a sneer crossed her face at the continued use of the Common language amongst her crew. It was an excessively antiquated speech, an ugly speech, burdened and littered with the drivels of the old English language.

It may have been the language of international trade, commerce, and cooperation centuries ago, but the galaxy is so much bigger now! She thought. With Chinese as the dominant language on more planets than any other, isn’t it time for us to speak our own language, with our own people, on our own ships?

She frowned. There was little hope to be found in such thoughts. The Americans were still too heavily involved in galactic affairs for Common to just go away, even if all they’d been reduced to was a security guard for planet Earth. There was also the problem that while all ISLANDs were crewed by Chinese, they were still staffed by subservient Indians, creating yet another language barrier. Mei-Xing sighed to herself. Since Common was taught to every new born baby alongside their own native languages, there was no way to change the status quo now.

No matter how disgusting it felt on Mei-Xing’s tongue.

Ship Master? The voice spoke again.

Very good, Mister Chen, She said, glancing at the chronograph in the upper right hand corner of the oval Lens situated in front of her left eye.

08:36:02.

Only a minute late. She supposed that was within even her standard of punctuality, especially considering how complex the last twenty four hours before an ISLAND launch was.

She blinked and sent a slight mental nudge toward her Lens, and a visual feed of the docking bay sprang into view. She saw the deck crew scurrying about with guidance lights in their hands, red carpets sprawled along the deck to help facilitate the boarding of travelers, and concierges, ready at the beck and call of any passenger to set foot aboard the Sierra Madre.

Good, good.

With another mental nudge, the Lens feed shifted back to her To-Do-List, which she kept as her default setting. She checked off the numbered event concerning the arrival of passengers and looked at the next thing on the list. She already knew what it was, but the internal comfort of continuously checking her lists gave her piece of mind. Item number five for the day was to rest until 14:00:00 when the next item on her list came about. It was barely nine o’clock in the morning, but she’d already been on the bridge for nine hours performing the ISLAND’s pre-flight check lists with her bridge crew. Feeling weariness creeping in, she stood and surveyed the bridge.

The bridge was built like the quarter of a sphere removed from the remainder, with the ship master’s station at the very center, raised above all others by a semicircular platform about a meter above the deck. Arrayed around her from left to right, along the curved interior of the viewport that encased the bridge were her officers’ duty stations. Everything from navigation to communication to ship’s systems and a half dozen other flight sensitive tasks. Beyond these stations, wrapping around the entirety of the curved section of the bridge, was the transparent viewport that connected the bridge to the emptiness of space. It wrapped above and behind and around Mei-Xing as she stood at the foot of her dais, and all she could see was space. It was something she had enjoyed immensely since her first moment on the bridge of her new command only one week ago.

Immaculate, the bridge was lit with bright lights and streamlined interfaces. It had red carpeting on the floor and wood paneling along the bulkheads, luxury items that simply screamed: civilian. It was nothing like the cold steel and colorless white Mei-Xing had seen aboard the Allied Space Navy’s ships of war she had toured during her training.

Interestingly, she had to admit that she approved of the sterility those ships exuded more.

Finally, directly behind the ship master’s chair was the lift, which she promptly started for.

XO, she said as she stepped off her dais. A small man with a well-greased comb over straightened from his position overlooking the shoulder of the ship’s Communication Officer.

Ma’am? He asked.

The bridge is yours.

Aye, ma’am, he replied with a slight nod. Mei-Xing did not return it but made sure her look lingered just enough to be obviously suggestive. Her executive officer didn’t dare make mistakes while she was away, and her subtle look served as a reminder that he’d better not. It wasn’t that she was unsure of his abilities, in fact, she couldn’t ask for a more competent first officer, but that she never dropped her persona, not even for him.

She didn’t want her crew to fear her, but she demanded their respect all the same.

She turned and entered the lift, but instead of indicating her intended destination with a simple thought through her Lens, a door whooshed open in front of her, opposite the one she’d just came through. Stepping through, she entered the atrium of her personal quarters, a space about the size of a small living room despite its sole purpose as a place to receive guests and store her footwear.

Once through the lift doors, which silently closed behind her, she immediately slouched her shoulders and rolled her neck. She wasn’t a machine, despite what others may think, and she needed to relax as much as the next person. She slipped off her bulky duty boots and placed them in a small compartment that quickly retreated back into the bulkhead after she’d placed them within, and opened the large, ornate door to enter her new home.

Those who knew anything about space travel, especially those like the Chinese or Americans who dominated the practice, understood that space was always at a premium aboard a spacefaring vessel. The Americans would especially understand this, as their use for space travel revolved almost solely around combat, where every cubic inch of a spaceship was used to fit ammunition, life support, provisions, berths, or any number of mission critical essentials. The Chinese understood this as well, and abided by such a concept with most of their ship designs.

But not for ISLAND Liners.

Inter-System Luxury Aerospace Destination Liners had no need to worry about space constrictions. Each ISLAND was almost five hundred years old, beginning their lives as simple transport shuttles that had once ferried supplies from Earth to China’s first colony on Mars in the late 21st century. But as time progressed, repairs and refits had been necessary, giving designers the unique opportunity to build on top of the existing infrastructure, creating larger and larger ships. Four hundred years later, those original ships had grown to immense sizes, each slightly different from the next. Each ISLAND was literally the size of Europe’s largest countries, hundreds of kilometers long, and half as wide and tall. Shaped like an angular, blocky cone, the engine block was the wide base and the bridge its tip.

They were space worthy countries capable of supporting millions of passengers.

Designed for comfort and leisure, Mei-Xing, as ship master, was entitled to the most extravagant suite on the ship. Two stories with five rooms, three baths, a solar to view the stars, a central atrium, dining room, and equipped with an emergency escape capsule, it was easily the most opulent accommodation available. Decorated in mainly Chinese motifs, Mei-Xing could almost pretend she was back on Earth in her ancestral home that had provided her with so much.

She looked at the vaulted ceilings, tassels, hangings, bronze sculptures, and gold inlaid furniture and sighed. Here was a place worthy of her accomplishments. It was a place where she could relax and enjoy the fruits of her labors. She glanced at the central fountain that flowed gracefully into its basin and touched the water. It rippled at her gesture as she continued to her room, ascending the port side staircase, having already chosen that she would only descend down the starboard side one.

It took her nearly thirty seconds to climb the stairs to the landing separating her quarters from the rest of her suite. Reaching out to grasp the intricate handle before her, she twisted and opened the wide double doors and entered her immaculately furnished room that gleamed in pristine opulence. She started the process of undressing herself as she strode across the room, removing each piece of her uniform carefully, meticulously folding each article of clothing and placing them on her dresser and throwing her undergarments down her hidden laundry chute.

Before stepping into bed, Mei-Xing moved to stand before the full body mirror she’d brought with her from her childhood home. It was an ovoid with gold designs twirling around the edges, coming together at the top to form two small cherubs blowing small horns at the other. It had been a gift from her grandmother for her eighth birthday and she had always treasured it.

What she really loved about the mirror, however, was how it presented her body. Of course, Mei-Xing knew it reflected her no differently than any other mirror, but something about the gold designs and cherubs framed her in a more perfect way.

She was tall for a Chinese woman, standing at 1.75 meters, with a strong and powerful body most women would be hard pressed to replicate. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, but she didn’t care about such things. Her face was just as hard as her body or her mind, with small but full red lips and dark eyes that could look as intensely serious as they could sultry. Her skin was smooth and soft, but it was the angle of her cheeks that provided her with the prized sternness she was so proud of.

Assured that her face was clear of any blemishes she may need to take care of, lowered her hand and examined her breasts. They were firm and well sized and Mei-Xing hummed in satisfaction. She then turned to the side to inspect her backside, likewise content at its shape and firmness, but then she frowned. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that her abdominal muscles seemed less defined than normal, showing almost an imperceptible amount of paunch over her otherwise taut stomach.

We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we, Mei-Xing?

The last week hadn’t left her much time for physical exercise, and she could now see the results of her sedentary lifestyle. It did not make her happy, but she knew once her ISLAND was successfully under way, she’d have time to work on it again. With one last look at herself, she nodded at her reflection and quietly padded her way to her bed. Slipping in beneath her silk sheets, she nudged her Lens to deactivate the lights in the room and set her alarm to wake her in four hours.

She needed to be well rested. ISLAND departures were still an important ordeal for the citizens of each planet it visited, and even though the ship wouldn’t be back for another two years, and in that time any mistakes her crew may make well and forgotten; she would not forget them. She would take them to her grave – should such a day ever in fact arrive for Ship Master Mei-Xing Na.

Low Earth Orbit /

ISLAND Transport Ship Wuhan /

First Class Section – Cabin 14 /

11.06.2595

08:40:00 Zulu

Thank you, ma’am, Lawson said politely as the stewardess handed him his dinner.

The young Chinese woman with large almond eyes beamed at him, her eyelids fluttering rapidly as she replied. Such a gentleman. Can I offer you something to drink? Perhaps… something else? She raised an eyebrow at him suggestively with her last comment, and Lawson couldn’t help but smile at her. He’d had his eye on her since the moment she’d greeted him on board, drawn to her beauty that had probably been enhanced at one of China’s many Beauty Upgrade Boutiques.

Water will be fine, thank you.

She pouted just slightly at Lawson’s rebuff, but poured him his water all the same. As she handed it to him, her fingers brushed gently against his own. Well, if you have any sudden urges in the future, feel free to buzz me.

Lawson continued smiling and nodded his head. I’ll… do that. Thanks.

She beamed at him and closed his cabin door, leaving him alone once again with one last look before the door slid shut in front of her. When she was clearly out of sight, he let loose a long sigh of contentment and carved into his steak. Most women he encountered liked what they saw in him, at least they had thirty pounds ago, but most weren’t nearly as brash as that stewardess. He wasn’t sure if she was simply trying to gain entrance into the Ten Thousand Mile High Club, or if it was simply more common amongst ISLAND travelers than he suspected. Whatever the case, he decided to focus on his meal. All those beers earlier had made him hungry.

Lawson had never flown first class before, let alone as a passenger on an ISLAND Liner, and this trip had really made him regret that fact. First class accommodations hadn’t changed much since its inception in commercial voyages at sea during the 19th or 20th century, but that was just fine. His own cabin, entertainment, and dinner aboard the shuttle craft were only the tip of the amenities offered him, for his first class status would carry over for the first three legs of the Sierra Madre’s twenty stops, and Lawson was more than excited to find out what exactly that entailed.

He speared the last bit of steak on his tray, already having finished off his soup, salad, corn, and potatoes, and popped it into his mouth, savoring the flavorful piece of meat that melted in his mouth. He chewed slowly and sat back in complete satisfaction. Savoring the morsel as long as possible, he eventually swallowed, finished off his water and placed his tray in the garbage chute. Lawson leaned back once more and took a deep breath.

It came as no surprise to him that he hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. Not since the day when his world came crashing down around him with the pounding of a gavel. Life certainly had not been easy since then. Lawson had been an elite member of the prestigious First Detachment of the Special Operations community. Trained to kill all those set before him in any number of destructive and clandestine ways and complete any mission, no matter the difficulty. But that had been in the past, and Lawson hadn’t done much of anything in the past six months. He’d lost muscle mass, gained thirty five pounds of other stuff, and had misplaced his perspective as well. He’d been completely directionless until an old friend had called him on the Lens only two days ago.

Lawson rubbed his chin in thought, an old habit he’d picked up from his father. The man had rubbed his chin so much that Lawson wasn’t sure he could still grow facial hair there, and he’d never seen his father with a beard. Catching himself performing the gesture, he moved his hand towards his left eye socket and reached for the Lens that sat just in front of his eye. Squeezing his fingers around the two metal studs holding it in place, he popped it off and started to clean it with his shirt.

The Lens.

Lens didn’t stand for anything, nor was it an acronym or a product name; it was just something humanity called the four inch long, clear, oblong, and concave shaped object every baby obtained in utero – at least the studs and bio-circuitry were surgically implanted in utero. The Lens itself came later when the baby reached the six month mark. He remembered his great grandfather once calling it an oversized contact lens once – whatever that was. In his great grandfather’s day, Lenses were in high demand, and extremely expensive. Today, however, the product was so ubiquitous that the studs were surgically implanted in utero while every gestating fetus on the planet was still in the womb.

Most of the circuitry that controlled the Lens was implanted within the skull and in the studs, which were simply two pearl shaped pieces of metal implanted near the edge of a person’s left eye socket. It was all implanted during a baby’s third trimester, because scientists discovered that the earlier a person was fitted with the circuitry, the stronger their mental connection with the Lens became, allowing for more adept control of it.

Or so Lawson had read.

Lawson rarely thought about his Lens. It was as much a piece of him as either of his thumbs, but lately, it had special meaning to him. For an average person, the Lens could do plenty of things. It displayed the time, could act as a vision magnifier, possessed a map function, facial recognition software, a finder function, and access to the Inter-Lens Service, where people could socialize, shop, learn, and a myriad of other mostly meaningless tasks. In that regard, it was just a more sophisticated toy than all the ones that came before it. But during Lawson’s time in the military, it had performed a range of tactical and strategic functions as well. It was the source of his communications capabilities, his Orbital Bombardment/Deployment Designator, Terrain Detection Interface, targeting reticule, and vital statistics monitor for the men under his command – amongst many, many others. It was an asset for any operator, but for an officer like Lawson, it was the most important tool he’d had besides his weapon.

But those functions were gone now. Locked out of his Lens by military encryption experts who couldn’t actually remove the programs, but could certainly ensure he never had access to them again. The loss of those functions was a constant reminder of what he had lost.

His life and his pride.

Lawson held the Lens up to the light and checked it for smudges. Satisfied it was clean, he slid it between the studs and locked it into place. It started to flash at him and he swung the Lens closed so that it covered his eye and saw the familiar face of the last friend he had left in the upper left hand corner of it. He smiled and with a simple thought, answered the call.

Chris! Lawson practically yelled. I cannot even begin to thank you enough for these first class tickets. The service is fantastic and the stewardesses… well, let’s just say I could get used to this.

The image of his friend Christopher Oakes didn’t change in his Lens, but Lawson could sense him smiling. The lack of face-to-face video conferencing was not due to a lack of technology, but because it was deemed too dangerous. Allowing the Lens to obscure half of a person’s vision in a world where most people took their Lenses for granted already would cause an undo amount of accidents.

Yeah, you owe me one, Carl. I had to cash in my entire pension to afford this trip.

Lawson couldn’t actually hear his friend’s words, as his Lens was unable to emit sound, but the words formed in his head all the same. It was almost like seeing visible words float up in a dream for him to read, but his brain processed it as though he was hearing it through his actual ear drums. It kept conversations private and familiar, but comforting for a species that still used its ears the majority of the time.

Hey, you offered, Lawson jested.

Don’t remind me, his friend replied bitterly.

Cheer up, Chris. I hear Epsilon Colony is beautiful this time of year.

Of course it’s beautiful this time of year. It’s beautiful any time of the year. Every warm blooded male throughout the Twenty Colonies knows that.

Lawson smiled. Epsilon Colony, Earth’s fifth, had been comprised of colonists hailing mostly from old-Russia and some parts of Eastern Europe. Earth had gone through some major changes since the turn of the millennium, the most obvious being a global cooling effect that had lasted almost an entire century, that while leaving most of the planet relatively unaltered, played hell with Russia’s very northern climate, leaving it frozen for most of the year.

When it was determined that Epsilon Planet’s orbit and axial rotation provided it with short winters only every few years or so, and temperate weather the rest of the time, many Russians jumped at the chance to go. Russia’s population surplus had been amongst the worst on the planet at the time, and with the combination of their frigid climate, nearly ninety percent of their entire population volunteered to colonize Epsilon Planet. Those who remained were staunch Russians or entrepreneurial giants who’d prospered during its tough economic times, even if most of them had relocated over the years as well. The Old Russian country was mostly desolate now, and Lawson had heard that mainly survivalists lived there now.

But the most obvious reason why Epsilon Colony was so desirable is because it was a female dominated society. Men weren’t subservient in any way, but the demographics definitely skewed heavily towards women – women who saw the warm climate and demographic superiority as a reason to wear as little clothing as possible whenever possible. It wasn’t a promiscuous planet, but it was the only one where you could walk down the street and witness what some would consider beach ware on a more conservative planet. It had become a social norm for residents of Epsilon, and a male tourist’s mecca, which was probably why it was damn near impossible to get a visa to visit. Luckily, Lawson and Oakes possessed very specific skills that the local government was willing to pay for.

It seemed like a perfect place for Lawson to go, especially since most in the colonies didn’t care much for Earth based internal politics, and it was probable no one beyond Earth even knew who Lawson was. So when Lawson received the call from Oakes a few nights ago, he hadn’t needed a second thought before agreeing to go. They were off to work as personal security contractors for the most beautiful governmental body in the known universe.

So what the hell are you complaining about? Lawson asked

Nothing, I’m just bored waiting for your ass to get on board. What’s your ETA?

Estimated at thirty five minutes.

Copy that. Contact me when you land.

Yes, sir, Lawson said before he cut the line, happy at his friend’s use of military jargon. It made him feel home again.

Oakes had been his closest friend since they went through basic training together over twenty years ago. Once commissioned as officers in the Allied Space Navy, they’d gone their separate ways. They’d joined the Special Operations Forces and climbed their way through the various detachments at separate paces. They hadn’t seen each other much over their first decade of service, but their last decade of service in First Detachment had brought them back together. The two were brothers, and it hadn’t surprised him one bit when Oakes had called him up with his preposterous plan to work for the lovely ladies of Epsilon Colony.

Lawson settled back into his comfortable chair and waited for the shuttle to land. He hadn’t brought anything with him to do, no longer owning anything besides the clothes on his back and a few personal items in his bag. Nor was he particularly interested in viewing the news off the Inter-Lens Service, and he’d never been much of a reader. He leaned back and noticed the call attendant button glimmering like a retrieval beacon above him. He smiled wryly, reached up, and before he could think about it, pressed it twice. At the very least, he’d invite the stewardess to chat if she had the time. There’d be plenty of time for fun and frivolity later.

He just needed to take her out to dinner first.

High Earth Orbit /

ISLAND Liner Sierra Madre – Green Zone /

Docking Area – Shuttle Bay 15 /

11.06.2595

09:31:23 Zulu

Christopher Oakes could barely contain his excitement.

This was his most brilliant plan to date, and he’d had plenty of bright ideas over the course of his life. Epsilon Colony was always looking for trained military personnel to work as bodyguards for government staff due to the huge influx of horny men who tried to vacation there. And men like Oakes were in such high demand because the Allied Space Navy had banned its veterans from taking any jobs there. Punishment included the freezing of assets, the discontinuance of a veteran’s pension, and time in the brig if they returned to Earth.

Luckily for Oakes, he wasn’t a veteran, at least not technically. He’d resigned after what the military had done to Lawson and had taken what paltry payout they’d given him, cashed in his savings, and bought two first class tickets to Epsilon Colony the next day. The deal he’d found had been unbelievable: over sixty percent off the normal ticket price. Oakes had always thought himself a lucky guy before, but he still couldn’t believe his good fortune even now as he stood in the shuttle bay. He hadn’t even been sure Lawson would go for his scheme since the guy was more straight and narrow than Oakes’ paternal grandfather, but was glad that he did.

Lawson had always been the model officer for the Allied Space Navy, meant for the recruiting vids and inspirational posters, but Oakes was the kind of officer the military tried to hide away in dark corners, only to be brought out when an impossible job needed doing. Lawson’s honor was beyond reproach and he would never do something he thought was illegal, but Oakes had taken care of everything. What the Admiralty had done to Lawson was a travesty. It was something that should have happened to a guy like Oakes instead, and he owed it to his friend to help make things right.

Quit it, Chris. You’re retired and on the adventure of a life time. Fuck the Allied Space Navy and everything it stands for. Managing to unite a hundred nations under one military banner doesn’t mean shit if they’re just going to sacrifice a guy like Carl.

Oakes was just as finished with the military as Lawson was, and he was happy for it, having joined for the wrong reasons anyway. He’d been sucked into it by people just like Lawson, but after what the Admiralty had done to his friend, he couldn’t care less about them anymore.

He shrugged away his thoughts and focused on the shuttle craft setting down in front of him. His Lens highlighted the large shuttle in front of him and flashed the word Wuhan beneath it. Unless Lawson had missed his ride, he should be aboard.

The docking bay was already a bustle of activity.

The Wuhan was the twentieth shuttle to land so far, the other nineteen already lined up neatly in a straight row off to Oakes’ right. People were milling about all over the right side of the bay as they tried to find their personal staff of maids or butlers that had flown in earlier to prepare for them.

Oakes shook his head, wondering how such extravagant social divides could still exist in a civilization that had fallen so low and only just recently recovered. Most of these travelers were Earthborn, looking to relocate and take the wealth their families had hung onto over the centuries with them. That, or they were simply rich enough to take a two year vacation. They weren’t people Oakes was familiar with and even though he shared the same ticket they did, he knew better than to interfere with them.

A strong blast of air drew Oakes attention back to the Wuhan, which had just settled comfortably on the deck and was already lowering two sets of stairs and opening its hatches. A few seconds later, the first class passengers began to disembark. They were more of the same of what Oakes had already seen in the docking bay. Pompous assholes with more money than they knew what to do with, many holding tiny, furry animals as accessories – creatures Oakes thought of more as a potential meal than an accoutrement. They wore fine cloaks and elaborate hats and men dressed up in suits more expensive than Oakes’ tickets. Most of them glared at him, probably wondering what this smiling piece of riff raff was doing in their part of the ship, but Oakes didn’t care. He merely grinned at them with flashing white teeth and gave off the impression that he felt they were the ones beneath him, not the other way around.

As the passengers continued to disembark, Oakes was beginning to wonder if Lawson had in fact missed his flight, but was distracted when a young woman stepped through the hatch wearing casual clothing and a designer bag thrown over one shoulder. There was nothing particularly spectacular about the woman. Her clothes were just as plain as his were, her black hair was pulled back in a tight, unfashionable pony tail, and her face wasn’t particularly lovely, attractive, maybe, but she was easily forgettable, frumpy almost, but something about her nagged at Oakes none the less. There was something off about her, but he wasn’t sure what it was that bothered him about her.

But before Oakes could continue his speculation, Lawson finally stepped through the hatch behind her and he couldn’t help but be impressed at the sight of him. He’d gain weight recently, but he still cut an imposing figure. Always one of the tallest men in the room, Lawson dominated everything he interacted with. The man exuded charisma more than anyone else Oakes had ever met, and it had never surprised him how quickly Lawson had been promoted through the ranks. The guy was a born leader.

Oakes saw Lawson’s eyes scan the crowd of thousands with the precision and thoroughness of any First Detachment operator, but Oakes sent him a quick ping through his Lens to help Lawson locate him. Immediately, Lawson’s face turned in Oakes’s direction and they looked at each other happily, an expression rarely seen on Lawson’s face, even before the incident.

Oakes stepped forward as Lawson descended to the deck. When they reached one another, Oakes threw his arms around his friend’s shoulders and hugged him tight.

It’s great to see you, Chris, Lawson said as he pulled away.

Good to see you too, buddy, Oakes replied, but quickly shifted his attention over Lawson’s shoulder, distracted. Hey, Carl, you ever seen that girl before? He asked, pointing with a not-so subtle finger.

What girl? That girl? Lawson asked, pointing randomly to one in the crowd, a far more lovely specimen than the woman he had in mind.

No, that girl, Oakes insisted, pointing more clearly this time.

Lawson squinted in her direction, probably using his Lens to magnify the view. No… can’t say that I have. Why? Spotting your first mark already? You do realize we’re going to a planet with the mos…

You sure you’ve never seen her before?

Lawson sighed and gave her a second look. Yeah. Pretty sure.

Oakes frowned and continued to stare at her, but as he held his gaze on her, she turned and noticed his inappropriate attention and glared at him. Over the years, he’d caught the eye of plenty of girls and he knew better than to look away first. That’s what made it seem suspicious. If he held her stare he could make it seem like she was the asshole. A second later, she snapped her head away and unceremoniously marched toward the lifts.

Oakes looked at Lawson out of the corner of his eye. Sure you’re sure?

Lawson, who stood a few centimeters taller than Oakes, looked down at him. Chris, we’ve got months together. Don’t make me regret this in the first five minutes.

Oakes finally tore his attention away from the spot the girl had vacated and clapped Lawson on his shoulder. Sorry, buddy. You know how I can get. Let’s get you settled in and find a bar. So, how was your flight?

Lawson gave him a smug look. Well, let me tell you about my young, leggy Chinese stewardess who I’ve got a date with tomorrow night…

High Earth Orbit /

ISLAND Liner Sierra Madre