Chapter 18: Memorial Day

Bradbury Canal, October 7, 2141
Memorial Day

The head of the PMP (People’s Martian Party) Dr. Herbert Burgman sent a message to Perseverance City demanding that Assemblyman Ray Clark come speak to him about some comments he made during the election two months ago. Ray replied in typical Ray Clark fashion, “I will be in Bradbury Canal to honor the memory of my sister and her husband on the anniversary of their death. You may speak to me then.”

He got off the train at Bradbury Canal and headed in to see a few old friends when a mountain appeared before him. “Doctor Clark,” the beast snarled.

“And you are?” said Ray. Ray had a doctorate in engineering, but he rarely, if ever, mentioned that fact. He says it’s because people would expect something from him and would put him to work. Lars Olsen was one of the very few people that knew he had an advanced degree, and this was definitely his old friend Lars.

“You can call me Stan,” said Lars.

Ray nodded. Clearly, Lars was working security for somebody. “Where are we going, Stan?”

“Doctor Burgman want me to make sure dat nuttin happins to ya.”

“I’m sure I’ll be in excellent hands.” Lars was speaking in a weird accent. He normally has perfect diction and never speaks like a big galoot. “Where’s a good place to get a bite to eat around here?”

“Sachmo’s would probably be da best for ya,” said Lars.

Ray didn’t like this one bit. Sachmo’s was his favorite restaurant in Perseverance City, not in Bradbury Canal. Lars was telling him that his life was in danger here. “Is Pesky’s Grill still open? Maybe there.”

“Dat’s a good place,” said Lars. Pesky’s was a sidewalk style restaurant. Nobody would try anything there. They walked to Pesky’s and Ray sat at a small table while Lars loomed over him like a guardian mountain.

“What’s going on?” asked Ray.

“I don’t know,” said Lars softly. “When you got elected to parliament Herbert Burgman freaked out and proclaimed the Martian Parliament to be an anomaly and banned talk of it in Bradbury Canal government offices.”

“Bradbury Canal doesn’t have a government, so how can they have government offices? They’ve been squawking over that since I was a kid.”

“Herbert Burgman took over the auditorium where the blowout occurred and turned it into his personal office. He thinks he’s the government of Bradbury Canal and demands respect from the people. He doesn’t want you speaking at the ceremony today.”

The thought of Bergman sitting on his fat ass in Lauren’s grave angered Ray so much he could barely see. “Fuck him,” spat Ray. “I was asked to speak by many people who lost loved ones ten years ago, their agony trumps Herbert Burgman’s butt ache.”

“That’s just what I wanted to hear,” said Lars. Ray had his back to Lars, but he knew that grin that Lars would get when he was planning to make mischief.

“My escort should be here any minute now,” said Ray as his cup of tea was brought to him.

The NSS Borman slipped into an areostationary orbit above the Martian colony of Bradbury canal. The Borman was an early carrier that barely has enough room for a full squadron of fighters. “Are you ready Honey Bunch?” asked Hilde as they kissed before climbing into the cockpit. She only has two rules for him: no pussy penetration, and no L-word. He could feel it all he wants, but he can’t say it.

“Why do you call me that?” asked Alan, blushing furiously. He’s spent months with this woman and if you asked, he probably would say he was in love with her. They’ve had months of intimacy, making love any way that Alan could imagine, doing everything but vaginal penetration. If he felt a need to penetrate, there were two other options for his use. Hilde was adamant about that, and Alan never complained, but she was “saving herself.” Yet, he could be balls deep in her cloying asshole and the name Honey Bunch would still cause him to blush furiously.

“Why? Because you’re so cute when you blush,” said Hilde. That was one reason. The main reason is when he tries to bury his embarrassment, he works extra hard on his flying and calling him “honey bunch” did the trick the best. He could fly a troop transport through the eye of a needle trying to hide his embarrassment. “Did your mom have a nickname for your dad?”

“No, my folks were nerds. Scientists. They studied ancient dead viruses that were fossilized in Martian rocks.” He wanted to add ‘they were spies too,’ but he couldn’t bring himself to say that. There’s a spy that has been following him, he knows, because last night Noxie gave him a message from his spy. “See you tomorrow. From your Guardian Angel.” It had to be a spy. A nerd spy. Who else could get a 10 year old toy to talk like that?

They had pre-flighted their Curtiss-Convair F-119 Berserker fighter-bomber. It was another unsuccessful space/atmosphere multi-role space/aircraft often called by wags a spaircraft. It actually flew well in the atmosphere, and in space it was so-so. It didn’t carry enough oxygen and fuel to fly longer than 3 hours, and it had no environmental system, so you had to wear a space suit with an ME-24 environmental control unit (oxygen pack) on your back. The oxygen pack fit into a recess on the ejection seat, and it was annoying to wear, but all in all, the Berserker was incredible for training. It was fast and nimble and very responsive, so it was fun to fly through the asteroid belt zipping between the rocks, as long as you had some place to land quickly.

As soon as Hilde settled into her aft cockpit, Alan released his magnetic boots and drifted up to his forward cockpit and settled down into it. He chatted with the plane captain as he settled in, and soon they were ready to go. “Borman Spaceboss this is Bravo Charlie Zero One, preflight inspection complete, we’re ready for engine start.”

“Roger BC-Zero One. Release magnetic clamps for alignment and prepare your system,” said the Launch Officer of the NSS Borman.

“Roger, clamps released.” He felt the F-119 start to drift. That’s because two plane captains with magnetic boot soles were pushing it toward the launch ramp. The launch ramp was a narrow section of the maintenance hangar. He felt the magnetic ‘trolly’ under the deck grab his landing gear and pull them backwards to the back of the hangar. As soon as the tail of their ship almost touched the hangar door, a door closed in front of them, sealing the hangar, and the door behind them opened. “BC-Zero One Ready for start,” said Alan as he finished the pre-start checklist.

“Roger,” said the Spaceboss. “Good luck and have a pleasant flight Mister Martian.” With a silent yank, they were tossed out into space. They were launched aft off the fantail and Alan let the sprightly little fighter drift backwards for a while. When they were clear of the small carrier, Alan raised the nose of the F-119 and at the prescribed distance from the Borman, their main engine, a United Reactions series N-30, lit with a bang. Alan and Hilde were slammed back in their seats as they charged toward the Borman and passed over it.

Alan couldn’t help but showboat. As he passed over the bridge, he extended the delta shaped wings and did a victory roll before diving into the thin Martian atmosphere. His training squadron wanted to do a fly-by to show solidarity with their Martian flight leader. Alan thanked them but begged them to stay behind. They do not know how paranoid Mars is, and he wasn’t sure that he would not be taken as a threat.

“Ok, why is Mars so paranoid?” asked Hilde as she monitored every move Alan made from the back seat. Even though this is a “good will” mission, he was still being trained and evaluated.

“These colonies are one hundred percent academic. When Earth decided to blow themselves up in the 2085 war they came and scooped up every single student. No one came back, every man they took died. The colonies were left with emotionally shattered old professors and widows. The suicide rate was horrific. Like Luna our workforce was gone, but Earth did nothing to help us except wish us luck. We closed most colonies and organized around Perseverance City and other nearby colonies until the population recovered. When Earth pulled their heads out of their asses, several large universities came to our rescue and set prospective Martians. When the dust settled we found that the eastern bloc had occupied several abandoned colonies, so we vented them. Only Rock of Ages, now known as Kōngchéng remains, but the Martian war went on for several years. That’s why you’re not welcome in uniform.”

Hilde was shocked. They didn’t teach anything like that in Luna’s history classes. “I didn’t know. How did your population recover?”

“We’re nerds, I’ll bet the idea of mate sharing like on Luna never occurred to them. They used Invitro Fertilization and egg sharing along with collective families.”

“So, Mars still hates Earth?”

“Mostly. We really hate the Eastern Bloc. My mom and dad raised Christa and I to not be judgmental about Earth,” said Alan. “But that didn’t apply to the Eastern Bloc. Dad hated them, and he really never said why.” He rolled upside down and watched several Martian landmarks pass overhead while they inched closer to the surface of the red planet.

“Is that a colony?” asked Hilde, who was trying not to vomit.

“That was the Phlegra Montes colony. It was the biggest colony to be abandoned. When the Eastern bloc took it over, they trashed it. It’s barely worth scrapping now.”

“Wow,” said Hilde as she watched the wreck of a colony pass overhead. “How can you fly like this?” she asked finally.

“I like looking at the ground, but the nose of the ship is in the way, so I roll over and the nose isn’t in the way anymore.”

“How much longer?” asked Hilde.

“You mean, are we there yet?”

“Yes, are we there yet daddy?” she asked, trying to be cute.

“Almost,” said Alan. “We have to burn off some more speed, I’ll do a hundred twenty degree turn and line up for landing.”

He rolled over upright and opened the speed brakes on each side of the tail. Hilde was amazed. They barely covered in-atmosphere flying, but he’s handling this like a pro. He pitched the F-119 to its side and made a hard turn over a sharp sided crater and lined up on a colony building in the distance. He was flying nose high, using the entire belly of the ship as a speed brake until it felt like it had stopped fighting and he brought the nose down. That’s when he saw the patch on the side of the colony. It was a huge ugly patch made up of layers of sheet aluminum slathered with a thick gooey sealant. He flew a tight orbit around the colony, shedding the last of their speed, then using the positioning jets, he set it down near the huge ugly patch and shut down the ship.