The Moon and her Sister.

Year 2249.

The Earth has two moons. This is common knowledge. First there was Luna; bright in the sky since time immemorial and revered by societies from ancient times through relatively recent history. The name given to this old moon is the one chosen by the ancient Romans.

Secondly there is Selene. Hanging in low-Earth orbit, less than a single percent of Luna but seeming nearly as large to the naked eye due to its closer proximity, Selene was a gray hunk of rock that nearly struck the Earth in the year 2095. This near miss succeeded in cracking the VR haze that had encompassed the world for nearly 50 years and fueled an explosive surge in technological research and development that led mankind increasingly off-world. When, in the year 2100, Selene made another pass, having been slingshotted around the sun, the people of Earth were ready. In time she, one of the largest asteroids in the Solar System was brought to heel by humanity. Given the Greek name for the same goddess worshiped by the Romans as Luna, Selene has sat dully in geosynchronous orbit along the equator and over the Pacific Ocean ever since. Threat averted, humanity went back to their distraction; the virtual reality world known as the Grid, content that they were masters of the universe once more.

Viewed from the outside Selene doesn’t look like much; medium-gray, rich in base metals and slightly oblong in shape. She doesn’t turn on an axis and she’s attached at virtually all points to an ever-growing series of satellite platforms that form an interconnected web above the Earth. On the inside she’s something else.

Beneath the surface Selene has been largely hollowed out over the past 150 years. Her metals, largely gone now, becoming countless buildings, vehicles and other things needed by humanity. In their place mankind has built a variety of facilities largely devoted to space travel. It’s also the home of humanity’s fledgling interstellar governing body; the Galactic Confederation. Con-Fed for short.

Aboard a Tunnel Transport (an omni-directional elevator commonly just called a lift) being shuttled quickly through the endless hallways within Selene was Susan Chu. Endlessly recycled, filtered and purified the air assaulted Susan’s senses. At once pleasant and unnerving the smell of it just reminded her that she wasn’t yet where she wanted to be. Rather she was stuck at a waypoint waiting for the next step in her years-long journey.

“Welcome to Asteroid Base Selene transport tubes, Doctor Chu. May your stay onboard the Confederation’s largest space station be a pleasant one” quipped the hopeless A.I. hostess. There was no way an Artificial Intelligence speaking with a voice, let alone a painfully mechanical one, was going to make Susan feel welcome. The only good thing about it was that the computer called her “Doctor” rather than Lieutenant, a rank so recently earned that the proverbial ink for her commission had barely dried. It knew because of an electronic device in her neck that allowed her, and most of humanity, to attach to the Virtual Reality “Rigs” that created the lives they lived. This same interface transmitted a short-range radio signal that kept security airtight as the space station it gave her access to.

Her annoyance at the computer was not because of any aversion to technology but rather because of an over familiarity with it. A native of Earth Susan was one of the few who found both the knowledge and the will necessary to escape the Worldwide Virtual Reality Network that almost all Terrans found themselves addicted to. Though she’d never had much individual human contact, a studious loner, her career had forced her to lecture to others who sometimes even shared her own interested. Presently, her goals would require her to associate with a large number of them face-to-face. Moreover it would be nowhere near Earth.

Now for Susan the sky was no limit but it was an obstacle; thousands of hours of training to gather degrees including her PHD in Xenobiology had kept her on or near Earth even as offworld bases were being deployed all over human controlled space. Even Selene, known now for 150 years as Earth’s second moon, was overly familiar. It was where many of Susan’s courses about actual spacefaring had occurred and she knew virtually every inch of the nearly 550-kilometer diameter’s useful corridors and so her hurry to reach her destination was not abated in the least as the over-processed atmosphere gave way to the iron and dust-heavy odor of Selene’s interior.

“Damn over-mined rock” she muttered under her breath as she merged with the crowd on one of the many conveyor walkways that spanned the interior of Selene. Quickly she scanned around until she caught sight of the one that led to the shipyards and pushed her way in among some workers easily carrying massive powered tools in Selenes microgravity. They looked her over at length as she endeavored to ignore them. “Savages” she thought; “probably here to dig the last of the Uranium out of this place … maybe perform maintenance on some silly little intra-system shuttles.” From there it only got more awkward as she avoided eye contact and refused to respond when they commented among themselves about her various physical features.

It was easy enough to forget the speed of the conveyors when not distracted and when you’re focused on avoiding human contact it becomes doubly so. It wasn’t that she minded human contact though the divide of the Grid, even public speaking was only a slight chore. But she could smell the the sweat of the men, taste the flaked out ores on the back of her tongue. Because of this Susan very nearly missed her stop. Seamlessly she was switched to another track and had to shoulder her way back through the workers who laughed uproariously at her frantic manner all while staggering to maintain their own balance on the track.

Repeating her previous thought aloud she shouted “Savages!” as they sped off, and they shouted back at her with some comments unintelligible some merely inappropriate. She covered her chest with the little case containing her printed orders and personal assistant. As they whizzed around the corner she gathered herself, setting the case down, straightened out her uniform and then walked the rest of the way to the airlock separating the transport tubes through which the conveyors flowed and into shipyard C1 where the CNS Blackburn waited for its new science officer.

Bracing herself for the inevitable Susan waited as the doors whooshed shut behind her and the high-powered fans recycled and filtered the air and, she knew, tested for any of the common and uncommon contaminants that must be isolated and kept from transporting between sections of the base. Finally, through gritted teeth, she heard the musical tones she’d heard four times already since boarding Selene today and then; “Welcome to Asteroid Base Selene shipyard, Lieutenant Chu. May your stay onboard the Confederation’s largest space station be a pleasant one”.

---

Within the shipyard stood Commander Jane Markus, beset upon by all manner of personnel both civilian and military. The Blackburn was restocking, refueling, making personnel changes and who knew what else and she was in charge of keeping track of it all as the officer on duty. The captain was at rest in his quarters and Jane, uncomfortable with having independent contractors and government employees stepping on her ship was conducting business in front of the long, sealed conveyor that lead to the docked Frigate. Her stylus, a wireless data transfer device connected to her personal assistant, touched many a data panel as she sped through this and that request giving no one any more time than strictly necessary.

For lesser duties such as carrying supply deliveries up the long tunnel from the airlock to the ship and maintaining security should anyone have a stupid idea, there were drones. “Drone” was a blanket term that had, by now, grown to mean any autonomous contained mechanical entity. While ships, other vehicles and suits of mechanical armor had drone systems they were intended to be operated by people and those systems mere backups. A “Drone” was not something you controlled but, rather, something you talked to and, if it liked, feared or respected you, it would talk back. While Jane’s countless new friends mostly consisted of small helper drones or medium repair drones Jane, or more accurately the Blackburn, had two large ones waiting beside her. Nearby a flatbed rover, bearing a black flame insignia, sped along, lifting crates with powerful, dextrous mechanical arms, making sure all provisions were precisely placed. To Jane’s right, however, hovering nearby and scanning the surrounding area, was Duke.

Duke was the name given to the 250-kilogram, waist-high tank with all the weapons that tended to follow Jane around whenever she moved. He was thoroughly convinced that he was her pet or, more precisely, he was “people”. Sometimes Duke could be convinced to go elsewhere and he did need downtime for his radioisotope generator to recharge his graphene power cell but, unless something else was stopping him, he was with Jane.

Into this mix was thrust Dr Susan Chu. Storming up she almost barreled right into the sea of humanity as they came and went. Bent on avoiding eye contact she failed to take into account that these strangers weren’t actually paying attention to her leading to a number of near collisions (all of which she blamed on the other people). Having never been in a crowd quite so large she felt more on edge than before but was pleasantly surprised when nobody tried to engage her.

Now taking in her surroundings she was befuddled by where all these people were coming from until she realized that more conveyors like the one she entered on flowed to and from the neighboring bays. Amid the hubbub of people coming and going she pushed, flinching at every near touch, dodging fellow pedestrians that weren’t all that near her and all the while trying to get a good look beyond the massive glass wall that reflected and seemed to amplify the interior lights. Looking down she saw tracks. Tracing these to the machinery that could open the wall allowing ships to “dry dock”; mounting to a system of lifts for more serious repair, abruptly she noticed it. Beyond the transparent wall of hexagonal glass panels was a ship that seemed, to her mind, impossibly large.

“It’s … majestic…” she gasped, falling silent.

It was at this moment that Jane spotted Susan. There was a moment, for which she was very thankful, that nobody was shoving anything in her face to be signed and she knew on sight who she was meeting. “Isn’t she, though?” remarked Jane knowingly, which snapped Susan out of her reverie.

“Yes. Uh, I, I’ve only seen pictures. Never had the authorization to get into the shipyard before. 150 meters in length, not counting the antenna, tracking dish and other sensors in the array. It, uhm, doesn’t really come across in pictures. The size, I mean.

“Armed with 6 high velocity, Rail/Gauss hybrid Mass Drivers capable of firing the standard .1 kilogram AP round at a rate of 12 shots per minute, more if you don’t mind reducing the weapons operational life significantly,” stated Jane confidently at the ever widening eyes of Susan.

“That’s very impressive,” Susan managed..

Doing her best to maintain an authoritative demeanor Jane cleared her throat. There was a pause as Susan came back to herself. Still nervous, she looked all around first, making sure that the sound was aimed at her. This behavior, to Jane, was both amusing and familiar. For Jane could tell that, to Susan, the real world was new. “I’m Commander Jane Markus. And you are?”

This simple question made Susan’s head swim. She’d had a plan all laid out; first approach the commander in her office (but she was outside the ship), state her rank, name and that she was reporting for duty (but the commander spoke first) and … what was the rest? She couldn’t remember. “I’m … Susan?”

Smiling expectantly Jane dipped her chin and raised her eyebrows as if imploring Susan to say more. The cue was clear enough but still took a moment to have it’s full effect.

“Doctor Susan Chu. Uhm, rather, Lieutenant Second Class Susan Chu, sir. Ma’am. Rep-reporting for duty … ma’am.” There. She’d said it. She’d said it poorly but now it was out there. But somehow the Commander wasn’t satisfied. She was just standing there, staring and smiling. Then her eyes darted repeatedly to the case that Susan still clutched to her chest. “Oh!” she said or, rather, shouted … much louder than she’d ever meant to.

Scrambling she dropped the case to the polished hematite floor and worked the latches to open it rapidly. Pulling out a diminutive device consisting of two narrow rods she pulled them apart to reveal a screen between them. Eye contact with the retinal scanner served to log her into her personal assistant, active tracking of her eye movements moved her into the data transfer application and a single, no-touch gesture sent a copy of Susan’s article of deployment to Jane’s own assistant. Instantly Jane saw the document which she had, of course, been waiting for, and she nodded.

“Excellent. Everything seems to be in order. Welcome to the CNS Blackburn, Lieutenant. I see that you are to be our new science officer serving in a research capacity. “The Blackburn has been without a scientist on board sinces its commissioning”

“I thought one of the main responsibilities for a Confederation ship was research and exploration,” stated Susan.

“One of, yes,” replied Jane, “However Captain Harris has been far more involved in the protection and assistant portion of our mission.”

Susan swallowed, “

the

Captain Harris?”

“Yes,” replied Jane evenly, “the old pirate requested you himself which is a huge compliment, do you have any idea why?”

“Thank you ma’am. As to why; you can see I have extensive training in several areas pertinent to the Blackburn’s mission. Biology, linguistics, physics--”

Jane instinctively signed the document, clearing it through and making Susan’s deployment official before either one of them were aware it was happening. Examining her new officer she decided that enough stick had been used, now for the carrot. “No need to convince me, Susan, we’re glad to have you. You aren’t on duty yet, either, so you can just call me Jane.”

“Caught flat-footed Susan scarcely knew how to respond. “Jane,” she repeated “yes, uhm, nice to meet you as well. Permission to come aboard?”

“Permission granted” stated Jane, still bemused by Susan’s demeanor.

Without further conversation Susan started to move towards the door that would lead her up to the CNS Blackburn when something brought her back to reality “Lieutenant?” said Jane Markus. Surely a bad sign since the Commander had just made a point of keeping things loose and friendly. Turning half back towards Jane, who had not yet looked up, she waited for the other shoe to drop. “You haven’t been dismissed.”

Thinking back to her training Susan came up blank as her heart started to pound in her chest. Assuredly there was some protocol she was supposed to follow in this situation; something she had missed. Opening her mouth, hoping the right thing would come out, Susan said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Permission to be … dismissed?”

“Permission denied.” Jane said flatly. Her face was placid but beneath the surface she was amusing herself in a way that made her almost feel guilty. Susan squirmed in place, considered going AWOL, but wound up just pulling inward in a mild catatonia.

Chuckling slightly Jane chose to take the pressure off by asking “First time off-world?”

It was a straightforward question but one that elicited a detailed response from Susan. “Yes. Well, no. This is the first time I’ve come to Selene for something other than low-G and zero-G training, weapons training and the like. I’ve actually logged more than 1,000 hours aboard the station counting downtime between courses--”

“Really what I meant to ask was ‘first time on a ship?’ Selene is hardly off-world seeing as it’s tethered both to an extensive ring of geosynchronous satellites and the surface of Earth.”

“Oh, yes. Rather I still haven’t been off-world then.”

“It gets easier” said Jane, peering meaningfully into Susan’s eyes. As the commander expected Susan immediately looked down. “Outside of the rig, I mean.”

Abruptly Duke took two steps forward, rotated his turret, and bombarded Susan with a full spectrum array of intense lights. Throwing her hands up, unaware of his intent, Susan backpedaled in fear. “Stand down, Duke” was all Jane said to cease the screening.

Uncovering her face, looking down at the rather impressive weapons platform with apprehension, Susan’s voice was low and pensive. “Why did he

do

that?”

“Great question.” said Jane, lowering her assistant to give Susan her full attention. “Marine Drones are another thing you’ll have to get used to I’m afraid. Drones do a lot on Earth but, with the tiny apartments most people don’t care to own them and the ones in public service either keep their distance or aren’t the type you want to see coming your way; law-enforcement and the like. Duke here has a pretty advanced A.I. and he’s very protective of me.

“Duke?” asked Susan, cautiously. “Is he friendly?”

“Well yes, to us. Every drone onboard the Blackburn has a personality and name designed to be friendly, to us. Duke here is an “Anti-Armor” unit, capable of engaging in combat much the same way as an OGRE-class heavy weapons suit. He’s great for security on-ship; better on mission. Just now he detected that your vitals were spiking and was trying to determine if you needed medical attention or, possibly ... if you posed a threat.”

Looking down at Duke Susan breathed deep, trying to keep her heart in her chest. “Hi Duke. Nice … Dukie?” This got a laugh from Jane as Duke folded the sensor array back into his frame, satisfied that the threat was averted but insulted at the abbreviation of his name.

Susan had never seen a drone harumph with quite so much patience.

Smiling meekly Susan waited for Jane to stop laughing. On recovery she looked to Susan, smiling, and asked, heaving a giddy sigh, “Before I dismiss you--” emphasizing the ‘before’ “--do you have any questions for me?”

This was a difficult one for Susan, who had always been so sure of herself and her abilities. “Well…” she pondered for a moment before finally remembering “...you said my position was new, correct?”

“So it is.” remarked Jane. “Typically, in the past, someone with your expertise would be in a lab, researching the human Genome; how to improve it, etcetera. Most Confederation vessels, including the Blackburn, have seldom been involved in missions where a specialist of your caliber would be required.

“Right…” Susan trailed off, not sure where this was going. “But now what, will the Blackburn be searching for new extraterrestrial life? I was set with a limited comission for this mission for the Kepler outpost”

“You’ll find the navy grows on you, Susan. I’m sure the Captain will want to be the one to brief you on that.”

“Great,” smiled Susan, “I was concerned as to when we were going to travel to the outpost. Can I assume we will be leaving soon?”

Realizing she’d painted herself into a corner Jane fell silent and began to look around herself. Noting that the crowd had mostly dispersed and nobody was looking their way she felt it safe to make the revelation. “We are. Susan … as it stands your first mission is already set. You will be outfitted with an EVA scout-class exo-suit and assigned a drone before deploying to explore Keplar 186 F in the Fringe. The only report so far has been a single unmanned probe incapable of the type of research necessary…”

Susan smiled, no she grinned like a child really, her mind flashing though the trip. Her triumphantly getting the station online and performing the necessary research over the next several months. Her name would be all over the academic circuit.

Jane watched the fantasy play out in Susan’s eyes with a sudden uneasy feeling, “No more discussion. I can see Buster, the flatbed there, coming back with your EVA. I trust you’ve received exo-suit training?

“Yes, yes ma’am.” said Susan, her eyes widening still further. Her training had been in a Rig and the thought of operating a 200-kilogram-plus armored exoskeleton was thrilling for her.

“Good, suit up. The hallway to the ship isn’t pressurized.”

“I, whoa, it isn’t!?” and Susan thought back to her first impulse; to step into the airlock like all the others before and just go, no conversation. There wasn’t any way Jane wouldn’t have stopped her but, then, she saw the tube before she saw the Commander.

The airlock doors slid open letting Buster back in with an unceremoniously clamped lump of metal and plastic on his bed. The arms he had, like forklifts with gripping claws, placed said lump down and it began to awaken; mechanically unfolding as it detected the presence of it’s new owner. Three short steps rolled down and Susan’s EVA waited for her to enter. Instead of immediately stepping in she stared out past the wall, past the ship and into the vastness of space, enraptured by the possibilities.

Aware that Susan’s behavior, stunned as she was, might draw undue attention Jane spoke up. “Lieutenant Chu you are dismissed. Please board the Blackburn. Once aboard report immediately to Captain Harris for your initial briefing.” There was some tension in her tone as she was apprehensive of sensitive information being inadvertently released to the public.

“Y-yes ma’am.” she muttered, numbly, as she stepped up into her suit and, as it folded up, conforming to her body like a rig with arms and legs, she couldn’t help but say, one more time in a hushed tone “aliens…”

As the EVA closed up in a dome-like structure over her head Susan Chu stepped into the airlock now aware that her life would never be the same again.

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