Chameleon Ch 25

Captain Jackson insisted on being on the bridge whenever they entered orbit of a moon, planet, or other roving space body. More than anything else his first duty was to the safety of the ship and the crew. Getting into orbit was not as easy as it appeared on the surface.

Part of the difficulty was in paying attention to the helm when you wanted to be staring out the bow windows at the magnificence of the world below. Planets with oxygen atmospheres glowed around the edges in blue hues as their protective shrouds scattered the short wavelengths in the visible spectrum, protecting the life from ultra violet rays.

Tau Ceti D was no different. It hung in the sky much as Earth, indeed the most earth-like exoplanet for a dozen light years in any direction. At less than an AU, and half the axial tilt, the temperatures were warm for the entire revolution around Tau Ceti. Cold was a relative term; very little land ever froze solid, and even then, not for long.

Lieutenant Lee’s expertise at the controls once again ensured a smooth slip into a stratosphere, speeding along just enough to keep the ship from falling into the planet.

“How long until station keeping?” Jackson asked.

“I can have us there in about thirteen minutes, sir, right over coordinates 25.761 degrees north; 00.192 degrees west.”

“S S Maria Mitchell, this is Terra Ceti Supply, we have you in orbit.”

“Terra Ceti, this is Captain Thomas Jackson. We have a significant amount of cargo to transport down. Can you send a haulage vehicle to dock and we can get the goods down double time?”

“You read my mind, Captain. Hold a stationary orbit and I’ll have a conveyance ship there in an hour. Earth portal?”

“Standard Earth portal and we’ll see you in an hour. Maria Mitchell out.”

Jackson headed for the cargo bay as if gravity was extra low in the ship. A gleeful smile kept appearing on his face no matter how he tried to suppress it. Fresh air, verdant trees, azure skies, all waited for him and the crew to come down and enjoy like a week on a Caribbean beach, surfing, swimming, soaking up sun, and having someone bring fancy drinks with tiny paper umbrellas jammed in tropical fruit.

“Let’s light a fire, gentlemen,” Quixote called from the opposite side of the cargo bay. “The sooner we get this done the sooner the shore leave will begin.” An odd collection of crew members hustled up and down the stairs and in and out of the shuttle.

“Quixote, thanks for getting everyone started,” Jackson said.

“Is that not a function of the X O, to anticipate the captain’s wishes and carry them out?”

“I made the right choice. Who all is here?”

“John Chin is inside, directing the organization. Campbell, Harchett, and Graham, Wagner, and Bowen are up and down the stairs. Painter is on the bill of lading and Byrd is directing the others.”

“Looks like all is running as smooth as the engines.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“I asked the Terra Ceti group to dock a haulage ship so we can unload the bay twice as fast.”

“Supreme idea. As soon as we are full, I’ll send them upstairs. One deck down, one deck up, what difference does it make so long as we get the job done.”

“How long to fill Osprey?”

“Another forty minutes, perhaps less.”

“I’m going down with the first load. Give me a shout if I lose track of time, yes?” Jackson asked. The smile crept onto his face again, not just lips but cheeks, eyes, and brows worked together to make a full-countenance beam.

“Rianya and the children?”

“They’re staying aboard for now. I can’t keep an eye on them and oversee the cargo offload at the same time.”

“Very good, sir.”

“You’re going down, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but when the planet turns to night side. I’m certain they’ve never seen any of my species. No reason to cause alarm.”

“Very insightful.”

Jackson realized he left his coffee in the doyen’s office, but for some reason he didn’t care. Meh, there was always another, but right now he went to his quarters to change into something more formal. As was typical, the more formal the uniform, the less functional it was. However, he’d have meetings to attend and representatives to shake hands with, so day dress it was.

“Well, look at you,” Rianya greeted him when he came in the door. “Excited?”

“I’m hopeful. I hesitated about returning here but I can move past the disaster.”

“When the power place was bombed?” He nodded.

“It was devastating.”

“Well, have fun without us,” she said with a smile.

“You’re not being fair. My first duty is to this ship. It has my head, but you have my heart. When the head is done, I can give you what you want but not when I have a job to do.”

“I meant what I said,” she called as he marched to the bedroom. He changed his shirt and jacket, and exchanged a striped necktie for a solid, crimson one. She peered around the corner at him while he flipped one end over the other and tucked it through. “I’m not teasing you. I want you to enjoy the time, and when we come down, we’ll enjoy it without the ship in our way.”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

“You’re very sensitive these days.”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she smirked. He hunched into his sleeves, pulling the cuffs out of the jacket. He stopped to look at Rianya’s face, her soft pink skin, her deep-amethyst eyes and their daisy pupils. Her lips, thin, almost transparently pale, stretched into a gentle curve. He sighed with a huff.

“I’m not sure if I’ll be coming back up. I don’t plan to. You come on down with the last cargo shuttle.”

“Isn’t that ship’s business, riding on the cargo transport?”

“Rianya, just come down when you want. It’s a friendly planet, ask for the Earth Settlement or the Terra Ceti Supply Conglomerate.” He was starting to lose patience. He had to greet the cargo hauler any minute. “Come down with a shore leave party.”

“We will.” He nodded, gave her a brief kiss on top of her head and darted out. On the way to the docking port the reality of his situation crept to the fore of his thoughts.

The nuclear reactor was the least of his worries, and not the best of his memories. He wouldn’t be in disguise this time, to look like a local with brick-colored paint on his skin, so blending in wasn’t a worry. He wasn’t here covertly to infiltrate the electric authority, negotiate a truce for three alien species, or track down the remains of a friend killed in the bombing. It should be a spectacular shore leave, with his Love, and daughter, walking along the ocean shore, the sand and surf…

No, he wasn’t concerned about that. He was afraid he would run into her, Quinaal, the wife of his dead friend. This city was ground zero, just a stone’s throw from her home. No, he wasn’t going to run into her. And he wasn’t going to look for her, as he’d done on his last visit. After the Pegasi bombed the reactor to sabotage the Kiians’ profits, he’d left the planet. He left Quinaal, widowed, with a child.

“Captain Jackson, the freighter is docking in two minutes.” Jackson straightened his spine and tapped the intercom.

“Thank you, Cerebrus. I’ll take it from here.”

þ

 As the first shuttle touched down, Jackson felt that same angst in his chest that squeezed from the inside out every time he went down to an alien planet. This was only his third visit, and from his perspective it was an entirely new planet again. As the dust settled, he stood ready to be first out the door. Mr. Lee unlocked the hatch. Jackson stepped out into the light of Tau Ceti; the heat radiated through his jacket. His sister’s cat w as a sun worshiper, and he suddenly understood the need to soak up sunlight.

“How long has it been, sir?” Lee asked, climbing out next to him.

“Since we left Earth,” Jackson said. “Eta Cass’ planets were nothing like this, B H Four was drowning in air pollution.”

“You don’t count Novissimus?”

“Filtered red light is nothing like this,” he said, wrapping his arm around Lee’s shoulders, and reaching for the sun with his other. “It’s like being home.”

“I have to agree with you,” Lee said. He glanced back at the Osprey. “I better get started.”

“I see our contact,” Jackson said, walking toward a male human dressed in jungle khakis and a pith helmet. The man was so dark he could have been Dr. Karabou Clarke’s brother or father.

“Jambo, karibu!” the man said with a wave.

“Hujambo,” Jackson said. Hello and welcome were two words he remembered from Karabou’s mostly unsuccessful attempt to teach him Swahili. He could say hello in about twenty languages. The only other foreign word he knew in such abundance was ‘taxi’.

“You are Cap Jackman?”

“That’s close. Captain Jackson, yes.” They shook hands.

“I saw your uniform, and said to myself ‘that is captain from Earth.’ Yes, rafiki, come, I take you Terra Ceti Supply.” The man waved come-hither to Jackson.

“Rafiki, you do speak English?”

“I am speaking English,” the man laughed. “Call me Mosi.”

“Nice to meet you, Mosi. Do you work for Terra Ceti or at the Earth compound?”

“Officially Terra Ceti, but if Earth compound needs something, they call me. I am easy to work with.”

They walked across the landing plat toward a gravel walkway leading to the compound. Jackson felt the possible encounter with Quinaal ghosting him as he walked. Mosi chattered about the compound and Terra Ceti, and although he could hear Mosi’s words he hadn’t a clue what the man was talking about. His speech cadence, the somewhat backwards accent, his ebony skin, and radiant smile reminded him of Karabou, another ghost haunting him.

“What was that, Mosi? I got distracted.”

“There is going to be fabulous party in few days, here in our city, not at the alien compounds. People come from all over to celebrate city’s change to electricity power.”

“Will you be there?”

“Oh, all aliens go, and there is music, and foods, oh, all kind foods, and mead and beer, wine. It is marvelous!”

“So, it’s a celebration of electricity?”

“Actually, it is festival of old. All electricity is turned off from dawn to dawn, and everything is how it was many years ago. Foods come from open fires in carts, and games have no power, everyone must walk, and few konjis come out of retirement to pull carts – those are oxen – and all torches are lit and people carry oil lanterns with them.”

“It sounds like a great day. I’ll have to be sure my wife comes down to join me.” Mosi stopped; Jackson stopped.

“You have wife? You are first starship commander I know with wife. To compete with ship, she must be lovely.” Mosi smiled wide, his paper white teeth, the two, front incisors covered in gold, sparkled with a scallywag that reminded Jackson of a pirate.

“She is; quite.”

They had finally come to Terra Ceti Supply. Inside, cool air from a fan gently circulated around their heads, and white electric lights generously flooded the room with optimism.

“I will take my leave of you now, Captain. Let us find each other at festival. I would like to meet your lovely wife.”

“I’ll look for you, Mosi. Thank you.”

“Kwaheri!”