Sarah stepped off the hover tram, the San Francisco chill forcing her to shiver involuntarily. It was good to be home. She tossed her bright red hair with a shake of her head and headed up the steep' street.
After five years of work on her PHD, two years working in the WSC Exploration Training Program, and a year of Active Duty, she was finally free again, at least for a short time. Since the WSC was a quasi-military organization (how better to keep order than to adopt the sea-faring organizaion of a Navy), she now held the rank of Lieutenant, which was fine, since her rank of Captain in the Air Force would be real confusing on a space station.
At her entrance into the training program, Station III had not yet been named, the wild-eyed concept still retaining its at one time top secret codename of NeoLyte Station. This name in turn was derived from the codename NeoLyte Project 12. Not that there were 11 failures. Project 12 was just one of 25 separate projects within the member nations of the World Space Consortium designed to finally and permanently colonize the vast space around the world of shrinking space, now called Terra 1.
Sarah, of course, knew nothing of the Neolyte Projects when joining the WSC program, her only interest was in pursuing the lofty goals of her PHD counseler, Bret Aitkens, back at M.I.T. Bret said, "Go where the action is, Sarah. And right now that is ETP".
Sarah was not all that sure, at the time, whether it was the right step, but like her family before her, she made the decision to take the chance, and never glanced back.
And so now she was finally home. The world had changed drastically since she was here last, but San Francisco was still a beautiful place to be. The changes were few, and only quite superficial. The trolley cars still ran, and that old fossil the TransAmerica building still gleamed on the skyline, just like Coit Tower perched on its vibrating mass of mud. The steep drive down that particular hill was gone, the almost cobblestone like paveway having finally been churned to globs of concrete by numerous earthquakes. The fact the old tower was still standing amazed everyone, especially the scientists.
But Sarah knew. Nature was never that good at killing off landmarks, only humans were able to hold the record for that kind of destruction.
Sighing in the realization that her politics were still unchanged, Sarah began the short walk to her grandfather's old walk up. Crossing O'Farrell, she felt a brief glow of rapture, as she breathed in the cold air and pushed with her ankles to make the trek up hill.
Turning at the corner as she had done a hundred...no, a thousand times before, she looked down the long street of Geary, noting that she could almost pick out Market Street at the far end of the ancient boulevard. Some fifty years after a terrorist bomb all but obliterated the Ferry Building and many blocks around it, San Francisco's most famous street shone with a beauty unseen anywhere else in the United States.
A deadly beauty to be sure, the mis-fired tactical nuclear weapon having turned the Hyatt Regency hotel into a glassy bubble of rubble that remained today a reminder of how far terrorism could go. Who would have guessed that the survivors would build every type of glass window, doorway, decoration, and memorium in honor of that cataclysmic event. The reflected light from all these thousands of mirror like surfaces, making the area another "Wonder of the World".
The thought occurred to her that if the hero Charles Hastey II had not jammed a moderator rod into the core of the terrorist bomb, there would be no corner of O'Farrell and Geary for her to be standing at. She only hoped that given the opportunity to be a similar hero, she too would be able to make that kind of sacrifice. But not only did she doubt the opportunity, she doubted her line of work would ever result in any publicity. No, here job was, for the most part, going to be heroless work, not for glory. Never-the-less, she would do the best she could, even if it wasted the major parts of her education in computer technology. Oh well, at least it paid well.
With an audible sigh this time, she continued her walk down to the aging old "hotel" housing her grandfather and his 100 year old neighbors. It was somehow fitting, she thought, that men and woman enjoying birthdays greater than 100 should be housed in buildings twice their age. Too bad the buildings were in such poor shape, and had not been taken care of. At least her grandfather was in good shape! The guy had a grip of steelworker. He was still as randy as all hell, too, as her girlfriend Mellissa would testify too. She had given the old guy quite a thrill, and both were convinced that if Melissa hadn't finally begged off, the old guy would have bedded her without a second thought.
The grin on Sarah's face triggered a nod from the old security guard and the desk, and Sarah returned the gesture by gently slapping the man's hand on the counter, having known him for 15 years.
"Welcome home, Miss Sarah".
"Thanks Gerard. It is just great. You're looking like a young stallion still I see."
The older man puffed up a little and retorted, "I'd give you a whirl, little filly. Seriously, your Grandpap has been leading our group in working out. Ever since his heart attack, he decided we all should get better fit. Last year I'd have asked you to have a word about it to him, but not anymore. I haven't felt this good in a hundred years!"
"I'll tell him you said so, Gerard. It'll please him for sure. See Ya!" and she bounced over to the elevator, grinning even wider now. Imagine her old fart of a grandfather having such a positive effect on people. Amazing really.
She rode the rickety old elevator up to the eighth floor, and broke a fingernail on the old folding metal gate separating the inside from the outside of the elevator.
"Damn" she murmered to herself, and then sucked the sore quick before using her teeth to get rid of the remaining shard. No sense in getting a hangnail too.
Her grandfather opened the door with a bang, enveloped in his arms and tears came to both their eyes.
"Look at you", he cryed, his teary eyes taking in her fully mature beauty. The last time he had seen her, she was still a fifteen year old, embarked on life without even her breasts grown out yet. Now she had appeared a mature and striking looking woman with not only a nice figure, but a set of breasts to die for. At least that's what she had been told numerous times in the last two years. It pleased her to have her grandfather notice, his sexuality a throwback to many years hence, but never-the-less recognized as too entirely human and healthy.
He made her twirl around once to get a good look, clucked his tongue once, and then said, "Wow. If your old man wouldn't kill me when I got to heaven, I'd take you on. You look absolutely great! Your mother would be so proud!"
"Oh stop it you old goat. What will the neighbors think?" She grinned at him as he closed the door. They moved into the living room, sat and began their reminesences. After what seemed only a few minutes, she realized they had been chatting like that for over two hours.
"Hey Gpop. Let's go get something to eat."
"You don't wanna help me fixup something here?"
"Naw. Let's celebrate. I want a real bowl of clam chowder, some good sour dough, and an Anchor Steam beer."
"A woman after me own heart, she is" replied her grandfather in his best Irish lilt.
It was a time to remember, and Sarah could feel its importance even then. Little would she know it would be one of few happy times in the next five years.
The next morning, she woke in the guest room, and realized she had fallen asleep naked face down on her bed. She would have bet big money the old goat probably stood at the door, waiting for at least an hour in hopes she would turn over. Oh well, it did the old fart good to see a nubile young thing once in awhile. Maybe it would frisk up the life of some older woman the Gpop managed to coerce into familiar territory.
She got up, and after completing her toilet, she opened her satchel, pulled out the GComp, and plugged into the aging ISDN connector in the wall. With a few keystrokes, she was into the Email account at the WSC headquarters in S.F. Checking her mail, she was surprised to see a couple of messages from her new boss, Lt. Commander Greg Carlisle, a real asshole, but respected leader of men AND woman. Or so he thought. Sarah did respect the man for his Security skills, but thought he had learned interpersonal from some book written by a former HP executive. All for show, no real human understanding, connection, or vision. Yep. That was pretty precise.
She read the messages with growing alarm. Globular 1 was still drawing too much power and Commander Carlisle was looking into the whys and how comes. That was dangerous work, especially if one knew the history of that particular module. It would be the first of the non-project oriented sections to be mated to Station 3, and she knew full well it was a military mission...that much was quite clear. The fact that it was drawing an in-ordinate amount of power meant trouble for the whole station. Carlisle's analysis looked a little flawed however, so she pretty much decided that should would re-analysis once she got up there. At least she could worry about it later.
It was the second message that really got her worked up. It started out pretty ominus. Carlisle was going over to talk to a contact he had made, the name not given, who was going to slip him some information. But before she could finish reading the message, a slight burble of sound announced an incoming high priority call. With a "pop" sound effect, a pop up window flashed up on her screen.
She pressed the receive button, and was greeted with an "ENCODED" banner. Surprised, she fumbled in her satchel, still buck naked, for the codebook. Still fumbling, her nervousness presenting itself as a sudden loss in dexterity, she managed to drop the book twice before getting it open to the page containing this months codes. She scanned down to today's date, and entered the 32 bit encryption key.
The machine burst forth with what had obviously been an attached TRIV broadcast. The 3D effects were garbled by the small screen, but never-the-less assaulted her attention.
"...In other news, the WSC today reported the unfortunate death of Lt. Commander Greg Carlisle in an unfortunate accident on Station 3. According to Benjamin De forte, Station 3's public relations officer, the accident occurred on a brief shuttle trip between the main station and an external module due to be linked up after the main station was fully online in December. Commander Carlisle was survived by his parents who live in Rhode Island."
Now an "Attention" screen lit up, with the WSC Secure Transmission's logo. After a brief second while the ISDN link exchanged her code again, the face of WSC Security Chief, Admiral Kalsey filled the screen.
"Message from SCOPHQ.
- Forwith. Lieutenant Sarah J. Winston is instructed to surrender her commission as Lieutenant, WSC Security. Attention to orders, Sarah J. Winston is hereby commissioned at the rank of Lieutenant Commander, active duty reserved, United States Space Force.
- Lieutenant Commander Winston is hereby detached for duty serving the United States contingent, WSC Security, persuant to the orders of the WSC Chairman, and with the concurrance of the President of the United States, is assigned Commander, Security Forces Station 3. SCOPHQ, DECEMBER 2045, 22:30 GMT"
"Attention to Orders. TOP SECRET, CODED JAGUAR. Lt. Commander Sarah J. Winston is directed to report to Station 3, U.S. WSC Contingent. Officer is instructed to travel NODEP, SECURE to Station 3 at all possible haste to fill the post now vacant. Lt. Cmdr. Winston is instructed to report to Captain Jennifer Presinden, Station Commander, no later than December 30, 2045. All communications prior to reporting are to be coded "TOP SECRET JAGUAR" and must be transmitted through secure channels. Date of Orders, December 24, 2045, Admiral Kalsey, SCOPHQ. TOP SECRET JAGUAR, SCOPHQ; DECEMBER 2045, 22:32 GMT."
The screen went blank, but not Sarah's mind. Promotion. Security Chief of Station. All because Carlisle got space happy and fucked himself and his shuttle up? What the hell was going on here? She wracked her brain. It was then that the ominus second message reared its ugly little head, and her confusion was nearly instantly replaced with a cold fear. Was there a relationship? Would she be walking into danger? She began to dress quickly, thinking too of how she was going to break the news of all this to Gpop. The old guy had his heart set on a Christmas feast, and opening presents.
Then as she finished fastening her bra, and began to slip it around, back to front in its proper position, she realized that that old fox Kalsey had given her some extra time. It would take no more than 24 hours to get up to Station 3, and he posted her report date as December 30. She still had time to get there AND enjoy the holiday! What a break. It sure paid to be nice to Admirals she thought. Good thing Kalsey hadn't tried to get into her pants like a few of the others in her short career. It could easily have gone the other way. Great!
Early on the morning of the 28th, she was standing in the officer's lounge a the WSC spaceport on the site of the former Vandenburg U.S. Air Force Base, right next door to sunny (hah!) Lompoc, California. Perched on the edge of the California Coast, Vandenburg had been the launch point for the majority of the U.S. Air Force's spy satellites in the late 20th century. An old Shuttle Transport System launch area had been upgraded (actually dug up and replaced) with the HyperGlide Launch Port for the WSC. The rest of the base was entirely "owned" by the WSC, but oddly enough still patrolled and guarded by the USAF military police crew. They had treated her like a USAF officer, however, with salutes and "Yes Mame's" when she asked for directions. She wonder if they knew that she didn't know a flight stick from a hockey stick. Didn't matter, somehow, as she knew "an officer is an officer, no matter how crude", as Gpop had told her many times. Five years of WSC training had not made her into an experienced officer, she knew, and her new post was going to be a real trial.
Outside the lounge window, the HyperGlide could be seen steaming, the sub-zero fuel and cooling mixtures steaming as if they were being loaded on a spring day. It gave the awesome and sleek looking craft an errie, shifting glow, as light was refracted through the sinous clouds of steam. The dark skin of the aerospace plane seemed to absorb all the lights color however, so the effect was one of a slight lightening and then darkening of the skin color, almost as if the beast were breathing. Taking deep breaths as it was readied for rapid flight up and out of the atmosphere.
Unlike space vehicles in the past, the HyperGlide did punch straight up at ninety degrees from the planet to escape the pull of earth's gravity, the sleek hypersonic craft accelerated at a nice constant velocity increase to its inflight fuel transfer, which really made it ready for the escape. Once at 100,000 feet, the arrow like craft would nose up, fire the rocket to force escape velocity, then shut down and glide on a long unstable orbit to the Shuttle waiting also in a similar unstable orbit. The shuttle would then take the passenger and cargo module up to the syncronous orbit of Station 3. Meanwhile, the HyperGlide, minus its cargo module in its storage bay, would reenter just like the old SR71 hypersonic spy plane, refuel again, and then head from home.
Sarah knew how all this worked, but it still seemed like magic, and the thought of getting to ride again on the black beast had her heart beating double time in anticipation. As was usual for her, the new feelings took on a nearly sexual tone...a glow spreading all over her body as she realized she was once again living a part of a dream. The dream world she had as an elementary child, and then again as a young teenager. At 23 years old, she was no longer a child, but still an emotionally inmature adult ready to take on a heady responsibility.
She was sure the job was a temporary one until a more experienced officer could be found, but she also knew that her superiors would be watching to see how she took on this challenging assignment. It would have good or disastrous effects on her WSC career, there was no doubt of that. The thought made her shiver, and the warm almost sexual glow dissappeared in an instant. She bit back a sigh, and once again sat down, crossing her legs to the left this time.