Mission: Lights of Langrenus

  Mission: Lights of Langrenus

  By V. A. Jeffrey

  Copyright © 2014

  All rights reserved.

  Artwork by Streetlight Graphics

  An Epistle Publishing book

  The stories contained in this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, past or present is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  If you haven't picked it up yet,

  don't forget the first book in the Mission series:

  Mission: Flight to Mars

  or book three:

  Mission: Attack on Europa

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  1

  My hands were steady along the shaft of the rifle, my concentration keen. Not only was I looking for the sneaky target, I was also in expectation of the powerful jolt of the weapon itself. Instead of fear this time, I felt exhilarated. Well, maybe a little fear. I still found it disconcerting to use, but my skills were growing. At least that's what Fred said. I could sense the growing strength I'd acquired over the months of working out. I was rather proud of it.

  The target moved across the wall again, this time it was a ghost bird, barely perceptible. I was quicker this time, holding the shaft of the rifle still and straight, lifting it up just enough to get a bead on the image fluttering in and out of sight. It disappeared again and I stilled myself until all around me was utter silence and stillness except the thundering of my heart in my ears and the faint trembling of my own breathing. I stopped breathing and even in this tense moment I felt relaxed. The target flew up again this time to the right, near the top of a fir tree. I arched slightly upward, fixed the rifle on the target and pulled the trigger. Missing the first time and undeterred, I lowered it a centimeter and fired again, this time a small explosion flying up as the power of light from my ancient retrofitted atomic rifle exploded out. I felt the physical power of the weapon surge through me, even into my back and spine, but I held my ground against its force as Fred had showed me. He'd said to anticipate the power and ride with it. Until I'd had lots of practice I had no idea what he meant by “ride with it”. Basically, it meant to not fight the power of the weapon or fear it. It felt satisfying. I could handle an atomic rifle without dislocating a joint now. Atomic rifles were unpredictable though, which is why few people used them. The federal government had even banned the use of these particular kinds of rifles. They were only supposed to be decorative, not used by civilians and the vast majority had either been destroyed or collected by museums. Normally, I always followed the law, but lately. . .well, I had an attachment to this particular rifle, for obvious reasons.

  I'd been practicing with a few other weapons as well, especially the longbow and arrow, a truly ancient weapon that one needed a certain amount of strength to use. I'd also taken up broadsword practice, which I was terrible at, and also target practice with various laser guns. I wouldn't say I was masterful with any of these weapons, but I was proficient in using some of them. With work and family, I didn't have enough time to progress in weapons training as much as I would've liked.

  My phone beeped. I tapped my ear piece which erupted in a flutter of blinking light.

  “Yeah, what's up?” I could tell by the ring that it was Jerome, head of security at Vartan Inc.

  “Bob! Glad I got a hold of you. You know the flight lessons you asked about?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, we've finally arranged for someone to help you out. My younger brother James is a pilot. Used to be military but now he's an indie contractor carrier-pilot. Flies cargo for different companies and owns a few ships of his own. I don't know if you've ever heard of him, but a long time ago he made a name for himself among the Firewake set.”

  “Firewake? What's that?”

  “Young daredevils. Let's just say they have their own way of doing things. Anyway, word got to me you needed some lessons and that's the guy I know. I sent his number to your phone. Best pilot this side of the west coast! Anyway, I gotta meeting. Gotta go!”

  “Jerome-” he hung up with a click.

  Firewake? Looks like I had some research to do.

  . . .

  You see, what Jerome didn't tell me was that this brother of his also had some mighty shady connections. I took it that Jerome may have had an inkling but didn't truly know all about his brother's other activities. Jerome was the type of guy that was always on the straight and narrow. Which was why, I found out later, why they didn't really get along.

  Gangsters, drug dealers, illegal arms dealers, illegal traffickers and all kinds of other rogues with something to trade or sell often kept tabs on and sought out young people who participated in Firewake, I'd later learned. He not only worked as a cargo carrier, but he was a smuggler. I'd already figured that if he was part of the Firewake crowd, those brave young souls, or fools - depending on one's take on it - that go out to the Antarctic or the Kalahari Desert with their aircraft and do amazing, insane stunts, then he was a bonafide, highly skilled pilot. I had no idea about what he was smuggling. But more on that later.

  I contacted him and instead of another voice on the other end I got a message with directions to go to a specific location. A place called Burning Man's Field. I was already not liking this. But my little network that I was trying hard to grow wasn't exactly official and I needed all the help I could scratch up. It was small and secret as of now and those of us in it wanted it to stay that way. When I thought about it, I guess I couldn't really look askance on James, given my own current shady situation. I chuckled a bit at that and then my heart started pounding when the seriousness of the undertaking hit me. Learning to fly a spacecraft was frightening to me but I was sure that sometimes auto-pilot didn't work. I didn't want to get out in the middle of the great black maw of space and find that the auto-pilot program on my ship had stopped working.

  I kissed Pam goodbye after dinner. It was late evening in September and a year after my first mission to Mars. Pam was my rock and I'd told her enough of my situation without going into too many details that she understood that I had extra duties assigned to me from Mr. Vartan – of which no one had seen in a great long while after his supposed ouster. That was a confusing situation that none at work talked about. A fascinating black-out of information on that. I say so because the rumor mill at work usually went full tilt on things like that.

  So, I went to this field of fire. It was really an abandoned meadow surrounded by walls of unruly blackberry bushes in the middle of the city. Above, the sky was crowded with traffic to the east. To the west, there was still a good view of the stars. Standing in the middle of the field with a small civilian ship behind him and leaning across it lazily was a tall, slim young black man who looked as if he could pass for Jerome's eldest son. He grinned as he saw me approach.

  “So you're the mysterious daredevil Jerome's been talking about,” I said.

  “Jerome's been talking about me? I thought he'd given up speaking to me or talking about me. Anyway, I was told you needed some flight training.”

  “I do. How do we get started?” I asked. He looked me up and down and then grinned.

  “Well, the first thing we do is get acquainted with the ship. Oh, by the way, the name's Diamond Dog. That's what everyone calls me.”

  “Diamond Dog? What kind of name is that?”

  “A damned fine one,” he flashed me another toothy smile. “Ready for lesson number one?” I nodded cautiously, still suspicious of what I might be getting into.

  “Good. My brother told me that some big wig at his company was looking for a pilot instructor. So they cal
led me. I'm the guy that's gonna teach it to ya. Never had a student before. This should be very interesting,” he said with great relish, clasping his hands together. Oh great.

  2

  Diamond Dog, aka James Jenkins, was a great pilot. A great teacher? Well, I don't know about that. Over the next few weeks, in the mornings if I didn't have work, I practiced on flight simulator software that I'd downloaded from the Dappa network. I would meet Diamond out in Burning Man's Field at night for real time lessons. I did a lot of yelling, vomiting and panicking while Diamond Dog did a lot of laughing and trash talking, which only enraged me further. He didn't seem to have much compassion for my predicament. I suppose he wouldn't, given his history, but that didn't change the fact that I was mad as hell after each lesson. His lessons felt more like ridicule sessions and there were times when I wanted to tear his head off.

  We used his fly-car that he usually had towed behind his own ship, or sometimes he only brought the fly-car. I could drive a fly-car just fine if you were merely driving it as a terrestrial hover car. He programmed it in ship-mode which meant that it could then serve as a low-flying spaceship. Our last flight session ended in a huge shouting match in which I wanted to punch him in the face. He regarded me steadily for a few seconds after we landed.

  “Look buddy! I've had it with you and this nonsense! This isn't a lesson, this is playing games with my life!” His expression had changed from irritation to slight sympathy.

  “I apologize, Mr. Astor. I realize that this is hard for anyone, especially for rank amateurs. But out in space there is no pity, no mercy, nor quarter given, whether you're talking about human enemies out there or Nature itself. And considering what we are all facing – yes, I know all about your travail to Mars 'cause I work for some of the same folks you work for - it would be best if you decided now if you can do this. You're being groomed for hero status by The Boss. In case you didn't know.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What do you mean what am I talking about? You flew all the way out there to Mars without any training or knowledge at all and took care of business and came back in one piece? Wake up, man! We need folks like you, but first you need training. Training is hard if you want to do things right. You did a grand thing, but it won't happen a second time without knowledge. The next time you could end up stranded out there, which means death. Luck holds for only so long.”

  “Alright. But why all the crazy maneuvers?”

  “I'll admit I'm a daredevil. I love stuff like that, but you never know when a difficult maneuver will mean life or death. Being a daredevil has saved my life on many occasions. But I guess we started out too advanced. I'll start at real basic for you.”

  “Thank you!” I said, relieved. “But sometimes I really don't know if I'm cut out to do this. I don't think I have it in me to be a pilot.”

  “It's a mental thing, you know. Most things are. If you don't have it in you, it's because you've trained yourself to think that way. You've been working as a cog in a huge corporation for too long. It's my personal belief that your job has trained you to think that you are merely part of a collective and useless without that collective. That ain't so. I can't believe that anyway, considering what you've done.”

  “I really think that was a fluke.”

  “Nothing wrong with flukes. Doesn't mean it can't be done again, this time with intention.” I sighed.

  “Diamond, your brother said that you used to be in the military. Is that true?” His expression darkened.

  “It's true. It's a part of my life I prefer not to talk about. At all.”

  “I see. Sorry.”

  “No worries.”

  “You've said you've worked as a smuggler in the past.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What sort of things did you carry?” He frowned and took a long pause before speaking.

  “Well, usually that's my business. I'm not proud of everything I've done in my life and I've seen some frightening stuff out there. One memorable job was when I carried supplies for a company doing business with one of the mines on the moon. I have no idea what it was I was carrying. As a professional, I didn't ask questions and these folks don't volunteer information. Anyway, I saw the strangest stuff out there. I'm not even sure how to explain it.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Well, that's the thing. I don't know how to describe it. Words fail. But it was creepy as hell. One of the companies that contracted me was NCO, I think. The other was some dummy corporation, called International Emergent Medicine. Lane Pharmaceuticals was the real company behind it. Through my own contacts, I found that they shipped a special patented drug to a medical center which services workers employed by one mining company on the moon. Drugs no one else uses. In fact, I believe it was that same mining company that NCO does business with.”

  “NCO?” The name sounded vaguely familiar.

  “Yeah. They were doing business with one of the worst mining companies out there, from what I'd heard. They put some of the bad actors here on Earth to shame.”

  “Why did you do it?” I asked. He shrugged.

  “At the time, it paid the bills and I needed the money. After I was discharged from the military I joined the Firewake vagabonds, traveling from place to place with them for a while. Later, I was recruited by an old smuggler that liked my piloting. I was seduced by and enjoyed the glamor and the danger. I guess at the time I was aimless, lost and broke. I needed some excitement and meaning in my life. I like to think I was rescued from going too deep into smuggling by The Boss. It can get ugly depending on who you're dealing with. To be honest, I'd gotten myself into a bad situation with a smuggling group that wanted to boil me alive, claiming that I'd crossed them.”

  “Did you?”

  “I sure didn't!” He said indignantly. “But when you're dealing with bad folks there's no telling what they'll try to cut you over. You can just give somebody the wrong look and they're ready to chop your head off. Literally. There's one smuggler out there who has a large collection of glass jars with heads in them. Heads of smugglers and dealers who'd crossed him. I was a hot head and I was moving up, building my own smuggling crew and getting my people some of the most lucrative work in the business. My crew was efficient, fast and trustworthy. We had a good rep among the various smuggling rings. Some of the old established crews felt threatened. They put a stop to it and even though I can be a bad-ass in a ship, I'm no cold-blooded killer. If The Boss hadn't convinced me to leave the life, I'd be dead by now.”

  “I'm glad you got out, James.”

  “Me too. And just call me Diamond.”

  “Alright, Diamond. I'm also glad you came over to the Light side. We need folks like you with us.” I sighed heavily. “Okay then,” I said, blowing my breath in and out to psyche myself up. I stretched my arms out, trying to get my mind in the right space for this, even though I still felt queasy. I was going to have to do this thing. Like Yoda once said: “Do, or do not. There is no try.” Yeah. Thanks, Yoda.

  “I'm ready to continue my lessons. . .Diamond.”

  “Good. Let's get real basic from here on out. First, banish the word “can't” from your mind. It'll do you no good right now. You can ponder on your limitations later, once you can actually fly the ship.”

  “Alright.”

  “And stop whining so much. It's pitiful, grown as you are. Like I said, outer space gives no quarter. Besides, in space, no one can hear you whine anyway.”

  . . .

  Work was going well at a clipping pace. We were coming to the end of one more project, the building of pre-fabricated domiciles for another city that would be built in space in the near future. I looked over at the digital clock in the wall. It was 9:00 A.M. And who walked in but Fred, right on time. I smiled broadly.

  “Hey, hey! How's it going? You and Bev have been gallivanting all over the world lately. Finally decided to come back to work, huh?”

  “Well, you know. I have to make money to do
all that gallivanting.”

  “I've noticed you've been coming in earlier and staying later this week, Fred.”

  “Overtime. Bev wants to remodel the house. Again,” he grimaced.

  “Ah. I see.” Was the overbearing black and gold get-up she had in her house not enough?

  “Anyway. I didn't come here about all that. I came because I've got news.” He rubbed his hands together with an excited look on his face.

  “Don't keep a guy waiting, Fred.”

  “I've heard that there's going to be a Green Room meeting tomorrow. A surprise one.” Rarely was anything like that a surprise around there. My grin disappeared. I raised an eyebrow and gave him an expectant look.

  “But this meeting is about the new city poised to be built north of Langrenus, Bob!”

  “Really?” I perked up. Now that was news. “I thought that was just wisps of rumor, Fred. This has been rearing up its head every few years. They aren't poised to start building the new city until 2169.”

  “Nope. I assure you that this issue will be brought up and expanded upon in the next meeting. Which will be happening next week. Besides, what do you think all these housing modules down there are being built for?” He grinned like a Cheshire cat. I knew better than to doubt Fred's ability to ferret out accurate information from the web of gossip at work.

  “Good point.” A year ago we were building housing modules that could be used on Mars. Now, I'd heard talk of these particular modules being shipped off for building on Venus, considering the extreme heat and pressure proofing the materials had gone through before being assembled. But Fred was often right. I guess the human Martian city had been put on hold – probably a good thing, considering. . .

  “Word is, they have a building plan. A model already made about how it's going to look. From what I've gathered, the terrain around this city will be near the highlands. North or northeast. Not far from the dark side of the moon.” I raised a brow.