Third Moon Rising Page 7

  “I’ll state the obvious: you can deposit sperm or egg cells that will be stored for future use.”

  There were no additional questions or comments. Fremont gave the group a few minutes to think things over, and to discuss the conditions with their prospective partners.

  Gloria turned to Carlos, gripping the chair arms as she leaned close. “I admire your ability to make the decision without knowing who the team members would be or whom you would be partnered with.”

  She paused reflectively. “You and I have become good friends the past several months. I think you know I wasn’t contemplating a close personal relationship right now. This requirement is a shock, as is the probability I’ll never have children.”

  He reached over and touched her right hand. “I understand, Gloria. I also have major reservations about the conditions. But I couldn’t turn down this opportunity.”

  Gloria placed her left hand on top of his and said very seriously, “I understand the importance of this mission, and I’ll agree to the conditions.” Then she smiled. “Carlos, as attractive as you are, I ask that we proceed slowly and solidify our personal friendship before moving to the intimate phase.”

  He smiled broadly. She found him attractive! “I’ll go as slowly or as quickly as you wish. I’ll try to not be too aggressive as I become more enamored with you.”

  She blushed and withdrew her hands. “I guess we’ll have our date after all.”

  Carlos smiled and nodded. He noticed that George and Amanda were watching. George winked, and Carlos knew the two would be on the team. He glanced across the table at Alex and Laura Brown, who were talking in low whispers and holding hands. If Carlos had to guess, he would say they had also decided to join. Now if only the others fell in line.

  Fremont called the meeting to order a few minutes later and started at his left, polling the team candidates individually. The first four quickly offered firm commitments, and this encouraged the others to do likewise. The only one who had difficulty getting the words out was Maxwell Williams, but he, too, made the commitment with no verbal reservations after his partner, Sharon Ling, gave her positive response.

  Carlos felt relieved and excited. They had their team!

  Carlos stood under the shower longer than he should have, trying to ease the tension in his neck and back muscles. His mind was just as tense. The team selection and follow-up planning sessions were the most strenuous he had ever participated in, made so by the selection criteria surprises. He shut the shower off; the hot water wasn’t helping.

  He toweled dry, donned pajama pants, and looked again at the stateroom assigned to him earlier. It was small, with two bunk beds, a small desk, and an equally small bathroom and closet. Normally two were assigned to the room, but considering his new status, he was the only one assigned. Some of the other team members had moved into similar compartments nearby.

  Carlos sat on the bottom bed and contemplated the day’s events. Minutes later, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He rose and opened the door to another shocking surprise—Gloria Ceyam stood in the passageway, wearing a light robe over what looked like pajamas. Her auburn hair glistened with dampness, like she had just showered. She looked wonderful.

  He tried to say hello, but no words came out. Gloria moved forward, and he stepped back to give her room to enter. She closed the door and leaned back, all the while looking intently at his eyes, as if she could read his mind.

  “Carlos, in spite of what I said earlier, I want to know if we are compatible before we go through the Ferguson Relationship Bonding Process.”

  She stepped forward, letting the robe drop to the floor. He caught his breath—she was naked from the waist up. He looked at the sexiest pert breasts he had ever seen, and his excitement mounted. Her protruding nipples showed she was excited as well. He stepped forward, looking into her captivating green eyes, and pulled her into a gentle hug as he lowered his lips to hers.

  The kiss started gently, then progressed quickly to a deep, passionate exchange. He slid his hands down the soft curve of her back, pulling her closer to feel her full warmth. He came up for air and kissed her cheek, then neck, then on down to her taut breasts.

  They fed on each other’s mounting desire, shedding their initial awkwardness. Gloria finally pulled away and wiggled out of her pajama bottoms. She was not bashful at all in showing more of her redeeming features. She lay down on the bottom bunk bed and stretched out provocatively. She looked at him in anticipation, tongue wetting parted lips.

  Carlos shed his pants and moved quickly to the bedside. He leaned over and resumed kissing her breasts. But Gloria cupped his face in her hands, pulling him up. The look in her eyes told him the time for foreplay was over. She spread her legs and guided him into place.

  Their lovemaking started slowly but quickly achieved a frantic pace. Carlos experienced pure ecstasy as waves of pleasure flooded his senses. Gloria’s moans and muscle spasms were clear indicators that she was also captive to the moment. When she quieted, he kissed her gently, then lay down beside her. She looked at him, face flushed, and offered a smile that touched his heart. He responded in kind, and she snuggled close.

  They woke sometime later and began the slow, gentle process of getting to know each other even more intimately.

  FIVE

  WAKING DREAMS

  Anchora paced from one end to the other of the presidential suite. He was not a diabolical person. Then why had he suggested a plan that could lead to death for everyone in the Messier envoy to Zilia? They would be martyrs, but dead just the same.

  The answer was obvious from the viewpoint of what was best for humankind. His inner circle thought it was a bold strategy, and they had quickly laid the groundwork for the plan, should it be needed.

  Anchora was no longer sure. Particularly since learning the envoy leader was one Carlos Geraldo Sepeda, the great-grandson of Geraldo Horacio Sepeda, who was president of the North American Union when Anchora first came on the political scene. President Sepeda had been a key supporter and mentor early in Anchora’s career, a memory he cherished.

  Now he had signed what could become the death warrant for President Sepeda’s great-grandson. It did not matter that the elder Sepeda had passed away over two decades earlier. Anchora felt that somehow he had let the old man’s ideals down.

  He stopped and frowned at thought of another issue discussed several times with his staff. The first emigrant transport would arrive at Zilia within five years of the Messier envoy arriving. This was why they had insisted on the deception to make the Zilans think an Earth spaceship could travel to Zilia very quickly. What message would it send if the Messier envoy was successful in soliciting agreeable terms for immigration, and then an armed transport showed up shortly thereafter? It could undo a peaceful solution worked out by the envoy.

  He was coming to like Joseph’s suggestion that they divert the lead transports to the Messier Colony and have the diplomatic team on the lead ship coordinate the Messier envoy’s activities from there. This would more than double the size of the Messier Colony, but it had more positives than negatives going for it from the colony’s long-term survival perspective.

  Another plus was that Joseph had handpicked the diplomats in the lead ship. He was confident they could improve the Messier envoy’s probability of success. This approach would also provide additional time for the Messier envoy to work out a peaceful solution for future emigration to Zilia. If not, they could send the other armed transports en route to Messier on to Zilia, per the original plan.

  Earth could continue aggressively launching emigrant transports, up to a point, without totally overwhelming the Messier Colony. He could envision even sending additional transports toward the much- more-distant Cheng Ho Colony on New Earth, helping shore up that seed colony, their only other extrasolar colony.

  He thought again of President Sepeda, who had told him early on that great men saw their destiny, and then set about achieving it. This approach felt r
ight—had the feel of destiny about it. Perhaps he could establish a worthy legacy after all.

  Old friend, Anchora thought, perhaps I can pay back some of the debt I owe you, and just possibly seed a solution for emigration to Zilia that will benefit both civilizations.

  Cold…wet…bitter cold. Simple thoughts were all that registered in Carlos’s waking mind.

  It’s cold as a tomb, a dark, watery cell, came the morbid thought. I’ve got to breathe!

  But he could not. His throat constricted and the rising panic would have overpowered his mind if not for the slowness of thought; mind was as numb as body.

  Carlos sensed he lay immersed in cold liquid, but somehow he was staying alive in spite of this. A light of growing intensity appeared in front of his eyes. He tried but couldn’t open them to reveal the source. He strained to rub his eyes and discovered straps bound his arms. Panic rose again, and he tried kicking his feet, but they, too, were restrained.

  Then a calming influence spread over him, relaxing tense muscles. Still, he struggled with conflicting emotions, trying to make sense of what was happening. As dire as the situation appeared, it had a growing familiarity.

  Then a thought leaped at him as from the ether. Commander Sepeda, you are safe here.

  The light brightened and seemed to draw him in, and he heard a beautiful, musical voice singing in a strange, foreign language. He slipped into a dream world just as the song began making sense.

  The scene that coalesced was in the childcare center of the sprawling Messier Space Station. He hovered over several small children playing under the watchful eye of a male attendant. They were playing a holocube game, an interactive holographic building block game, at one side of the room.

  The center access door suddenly slid open, but no one entered.

  Carlos felt drawn toward a small boy playing with his back to the door. He swirled above the children to face the boy, who was not more than three years old. The boy had thick, black hair, dark-brown eyes, almost black, and smooth, tanned skin much like his.

  No, not like his—it was his. This was his young self that day long ago when his parents last spoke to him. He was pulled forward and into the young body. The last thing he saw before becoming the boy was the open doorway to the childcare center. He played the holocube game until hearing his name called.

  “Carlos, come here,” his mother called.

  He turned from the game and saw his parents standing just inside the door. He smiled and ran to them. His mom squatted and hugged him, then stood again beside his dad, who bent over and ruffled his hair. Both had strange, wistful smiles on their faces.

  “We’ll be gone a long time,” his mom said, “and we want you to stay with Aunt Claire and Uncle Joe. Make sure you behave, Carlos.”

  “I’ll be good, Momma,” he replied, not at all concerned because they often made trips away.

  First his mom and then his dad bent over to kiss him on the forehead, squeezing his shoulders and telling him they loved him. He felt big and important.

  “You be a good boy, son,” his dad added, patting him on the head. Then both parents left.

  The attendant had watched curiously as Carlos went through the motions of talking to someone at the door, and then ran back to play the holocube game.

  The attendant walked over to the group. “Carlos, were you talking to someone by the door? Can you tell me who it was?”

  “Didn’t you see?” Carlos continued playing the holocube game.

  “Well, I was occupied with other things. Please tell me what happened.”

  Carlos looked up, agitated. Couldn’t the man see? “It was Mommy and Daddy. They’ll be gone a long time.”

  In his dream, Carlos somehow knew what the attendant was thinking and feeling. The attendant stood in stunned silence. He felt deep sadness and compassion for the small boy, as he did for the others who had just lost parents. He turned away to hide his tears.

  The attendant had been informed just minutes earlier that a horrific accident had killed all onboard an outbound shuttlecraft. Remarkably, it was the first serious accident in the six years since the Messier expedition spaceship entered its orbit around the planet Hope in the Earth year 2177. The attendant was shielding the children from any news of the accident so family and friends would be the first to break the news to those affected.

  But still locked in the realistic dream, Carlos was very happy. He resided in a loving family, with parents who made him feel he was the center of their world. He lived in an exciting place and time, in a huge, bustling world floating magically in space around a larger world. And he loved to play games, as he was now doing with the other children.

  The dream faded, and Carlos once again felt the coldness chilling him to the bone.

  I saw my parents in the childcare center, and no one else did. Things are not always as they appear to be! He longed for the warmth and sanctuary of his mother’s arms.

  As cold as he was, it felt different from when he’d first awoken. He no longer felt the pressure of the surrounding fluid. A layer of the thick liquid still coated his skin, and he couldn’t breathe. But that was OK, for he now realized where he was.

  Damn, I hate the process of waking from deep hibernation! He had been through it before but without immersion in thick, oxygen-rich liquid. Entering deep sleep was not a situation inducing stress, for you drifted off to an anesthetized sleep. But waking was a different story, with the body and mind protesting at every step in the process. You would think that a society launching extrasolar expeditions could develop a smoother rehab process.

  Carlos tried to relax and calm emotions that were reacting wildly after waking immersed in liquid, and then experiencing the dream. He was encouraged when a warm, tingling feeling started in his extremities.

  Then he frowned. He shouldn’t become conscious until the fluid was gone, including the thin layer covering his body and residue still in his lungs and other orifices. He could almost feel the nanobots swarming over his body, converting the thick liquid to harmless gas. Something must be drastically wrong!

  “Everything is fine, Commander,” a musical female voice said directly in his mind. “You were in hibernation as planned for ten and a half years. The rehabilitation process is proceeding well. Please relax.”

  How could he relax under these conditions? Then he realized the voice had spoken in the strange language of the people of Zilia, the destination planet. This waking process was more than a little surreal.

  Carlos tried focusing on events back at the Messier Space Station right before mission launch. What came to mind was his growing awareness back then that all on Earth was not as it appeared to be. He was in a minority harboring such thoughts at Messier, and still felt the sting of his superiors rebuffing his questions. He was in an awkward position to substantiate such thoughts, having no firsthand knowledge of what motivated Earth’s leaders. Nevertheless, the thoughts persisted, strengthened by the blatant deceptions Earth’s leaders insisted on including in the mission plan.

  His glorified perspective of the home world Earth and its society was fed by viewing images of a beautiful world of blue oceans and clear skies. A world having large, white polar caps, continents containing sprawling cities and large cultivated areas, and vast reserves of lush green forests. He admired Earth’s society for focusing intently on expanding into space, moving the center of humanity out among the stars to counter a perceived, distant alien threat.

  This perspective was tarnished somewhat by an inadvertent disclosure by his philosopher mentor, Professor Alexi Stavonoski, right before launch of the mission to Zilia. At age fifty-two, Dr. Stavonoski had been the oldest individual permitted to join the original Messier expedition to Nepali A in the year 2151. He had studied the diverse factions in Earth’s society for decades and was acutely aware of the impact environmental conditions were having on the global community.

  Just once, in a moment of melancholic reflection, Alexi had shared with Carlos a startling vie
w of Earth in an advanced state of decay, with grave, irreversible environmental damage and depletion of natural resources. These conditions, coupled with failed global birth control measures and persistent acrimonious relations among religious sects, had stimulated widespread civil strife, often with horrific consequences.

  It was the good philosopher’s opinion that the center of humanity must move out among the stars to survive, and doing so was a critical step in the collective evolution of Homo sapiens. However, he expressed concern about what measures the desperate leaders of Earth might undertake to ensure success of this necessary step.

  This concern effectively sensitized Carlos, although Alexi quickly recovered from his melancholy musings and advised him to ignore the baseless worries of an old man. Carlos would likely have done so, except he was privy to the innermost details of the Zilia mission plan.

  He tried to shake off these disturbing thoughts and focus back on what was happening in his rehabilitation process. He was getting warmer, and his mood improved likewise, although he didn’t enjoy the ongoing electrical stimulation of muscles in preparation for selfmotivated movement. The stimulation was becoming painful. The cell monitor must have detected his condition, for he felt the soothing effects of pain-inhibiting medication.

  He drifted off to sleep again, a restless, dream-filled sleep. He was three years old, seeing his parents; then seven, recovering from being trapped in the hold of a shuttlecraft; then eleven, fighting with George. He heard sirens calling from a distant shore in a sweet, musical language.

  The dreams lingered as Carlos came back to consciousness. He felt secure in his dreams, as if guided and looked after by his own personal angels, a feeling that had persisted throughout his developing years. The dreams reinforced that feeling and sensitized him to look for clues as to Earth’s true intentions with respect to Zilia and its hominid population.

  A bright light was still visible through his closed eyelids.