The Remains of Yesterday

By Stephen Knight

A world in chaos. A mission unfulfilled. A history confronted.

This is a novella of approximately 15,000 words, or 40 pages. It is not a novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stephen Knight
• Release date: Jun 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463386170

Stephen Knight

Stephen Knight was a journalist and the author of ‘Jack the Ripper: The Final Solution’ and ‘The Killing of Justice Godfrey’. He also wrote a novel, ‘Requiem at Rogano’. Stephen Knight was the writing name of Swami Puja Debal, a follower of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh. He died in 1985.

Book preview

THE REMAINS OF YESTERDAY

by

Stephen Knight

© 2018 by Stephen Knight

1

They look so cute together, Kelly Jordello said as she looked over the sandwich she held in her hands.

Mike Andrews glanced up from his own lunch, then turned to take in what had caught Kelly’s attention. Sitting several tables away in the Commons Area, he saw his executive officer, Leona Eklund, sitting down and enjoying her own lunch. Across from her was the hulk and bulk of Command Sergeant Major Scott Mulligan. She was a slender, tall girl of mixed parentage, blessed with a dusky skin that hadn’t paled one iota since Harmony Base had been sealed off over a decade ago. He was a virtual giant, standing in at six inches over six feet and with the mass to match, his brown hair going gray at the temples. There was at least a thirty-five year gap in their ages, but their differences were much deeper than merely chronological or physical. Leona possessed an almost regal air about her that simply oozed intellect. Mulligan, on the other hand, was about as stately as a bloody broadsword. It was a circumstance of night and day personified. Both simply sat across from each other, eating their lunches, on break from mission planning. They didn’t look at each other, and didn’t talk. To Andrews, it was almost as if two strangers were sharing the same table.

What’s so cute about them? he asked, turning back to Kelly.

She frowned at him and brushed a stray strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. Dude, you’re such a guy. Take another look.

Andrews sighed and examined the mismatched duo once more. They merely ate and sat, concentrating on what was on the trays before them. He started to shrug and get back to his own meal when he saw it: Leona had her foot snuggled up against one of Mulligan’s boots. There was no way the big sergeant major couldn’t have known it, and he hadn’t pulled away from the contact.

Andrews snorted. I see it. A couple of smooth operators.

I don’t know why they’re not more open about it, Kelly said. Everyone knows they’re sleeping together.

Lee doesn’t like attention. And I’m pretty damned sure Mulligan doesn’t dig it, either, Andrews said. Not that kind of attention, anyway. They’re pretty private people.

I hope they have kids. Could you imagine? Mulligan’s brawn and Leona’s brains? It’d be, like, the beginning of a new super race.

Yeah, well. I’m not sure we could handle that, Andrews said, returning to his lunch.

I think it’s great they found each other, Kelly said. They fit, in a really odd way. But it works. Never though the Old Guard and New Guard would click like that.

Kelly? Stop staring. The last thing you want to do is rile up Mulligan.

She waved the notion aside. Pshaw, how could he still be one hundred percent badass when he’s with Leona?

"You make it sound like he’s spending his off-hours knitting doilies. He’s been kicking our asses for the past four months with small unit tactical training, and you think he’s not still a hundred percent badass? Weren’t you the one who started puking all over the place after he made you run five miles?"

Kelly frowned. Okay. Ninety-five percent badass, maybe. She took another bite of her sandwich. So hey, I hear you guys are leaving the base tomorrow—I see Four’s on the deployment chart. Isn’t the rig designated for the Northwest run? I thought you finished all the shakedowns.

Yeah, we did.

Okay. So?

Andrews fidgeted a bit in his chair. It’s just a little run. An outing. Something the command group wants to keep under the radar.

Kelly chuckled. Yeah, like that’s even possible. The HBT is probably already fired up over it. What’s the mission? HBT was the informal acronym for Harmony Base Telegraph, which was the local rumor mill. In an isolated, subterranean fortress like Harmony, rumors and gossip were one of the lubricants that kept things running. People needed a distraction from the monotonous