It was early afternoon; we had no trouble finding a table to ourselves. We sat in a corner and did not talk for almost a minute. “How is Jennifer?” I finally asked.
“She’s good,” Lee said. “We’ve traded a couple of letters since Hawaii, but I get the feeling she’s moving on.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I said.
“You know Kasara is getting married next week, right?” Lee asked. He read my expression and knew the answer.
“I heard from her the day you went to the House,” he said. Your speech was big news. She actually called me to ask if you were all right. I think she still has a thing for you; but you’re off being a Marine, and her old guy is right there on her planet.”
“And her fiancé was okay with her calling you to ask about me?” I asked.
“I doubt he knew. I get the feeling there are a lot of things he doesn’t know, like the fact that his soon-to-be bride did more than get a suntan in Hawaii. Jennifer wrote me about it. She came home talking about breaking things off. That lasted about one month. Then she never heard from you. Next thing you know, Kasara is announcing she is about to get married.”
“So we’ve both been dumped,” I observed.
“Well, I never thought of Jennifer as marriage material…but damn fine scrub.” He laughed.
“To damn fine scrub,” I said, and we clinked our beers. And then we both became quiet again. This time the silence lasted longer.
“Harris, I don’t know if anybody can survive in a trap like Ravenwood; but if anybody can, it’s you. I wanted you to know that. I know you thought Shannon was the perfect Marine, but you’re even better.”
I did not know what to say. I looked at him and smiled, but inside I felt incredibly alone. “What about you, Vince? You made it. You were the first orphan to make lieutenant. Wasn’t that the first step toward a life in politics?”
He shook his head. “Now that I’m here, I think I like it. I like life among the natural-born. I think I’m a career Marine from here on out.”
Still the same guy, I thought. If any clone ever suspected his synthetic origins, it was Lee. And if ever a clone spent every waking minute trying to deny that suspicion, it was him again. And now he had landed himself in a position that truly did mark him as a natural-born…even if he was synthetic.
“A career man, eh?” I said. “You’ll do one hell of a job.”
I felt a sinking feeling as the doors of the kettle crept closed, blocking any hope of escaping back onto the Grant. The men in my all-clone platoon did not speak much as our transport took off. Two diligent Marines field stripped and cleaned their M27s. Most sat quietly staring into space. One fellow even managed to fall asleep. We had a five-hour ride ahead of us. I envied him.
A few minutes into the flight, I went to visit the cockpit. There were two officers flying the ship—a pilot and a navigator. “Could you turn down the lights in the kettle?” I asked. “I want these boys rested.”
It was very dim in the cockpit. The only light was the low glow from the instrumentation. A soft blue-green halo glowed over the small navigational chart near the pilot.
Many of the energy and communications displays glowed
white and red. “Want them all the way off?” the pilot asked.
“Can you give me ten percent luminance?” I asked.
“No problem, Lieutenant,” said the pilot.
“Thank you. Oh, one other thing,” I said as I turned to leave. “Could you call me before we land? I was hoping to get a look at the planet as we approach.”
“No problem,” the captain replied as he turned back to his control panel.
I closed the door behind me and returned to my seat. The pilot had dimmed the cabin lights so much that I could barely see in front of me. Dressed in green armor that appeared black in the dim light, my men looked like they were carved out of stone. A few conversations still smoldered around the cabin. Men spoke in whispers, hoping not to disturb comrades sleeping around them.
I dropped into my seat and thought about Hawaii and swimming in clear tropical waters. My eyelids fluttered, and my thoughts lazily floated into dreams, becoming more vivid and colorful. I felt myself floating in balmy currents, slowly rising and sinking in gently changing tides. I could see shapes moving just beyond my reach. As I concentrated on those shapes, I realized that I saw the bodies of men tied to the floor of the sea.
“Lieutenant.”
A hand gently nudged my shoulder. I blinked as the dimly lit cabin came into focus. The navigator stood over me, speaking in a soft voice. “We’re just coming up on Raven-wood now.”
“Okay,” I said as I stretched. My mouth was dry and filled with a bad taste. The stale air in the transport cabin had left my nose congested. I also had the dozen or so assorted aches and stiffnesses that come with sitting up while sleeping.
I entered the cockpit and got a quick glimpse of a gray-and-blue planet. I saw no hint of green on the planet’s surface, just the black and gray of stone surrounded by the iron blue of frozen seas.
“Welcome to paradise,” the pilot said.
“So that’s what paradise looks like,” I said.
“What did you expect?” the navigator asked.
“I’ve got a lock on the landing site beacon,” the navigator said. “You’d better get back to your seat. We’ve got to prepare to land.”
“There’s an empty seat,” I said, pointing to the copilot’s chair. “Mind if I stay for the landing?”
“Suit yourself,” the pilot said.
I peered out the cockpit door and noted that the lights had come back on in the cabin. Almost everyone would have woken up.
We were flying over a wide expanse of prairie. There were scabs of yellow-brown grass on the ground, but most of what I saw was a rock floor with patches of ice. Above the dismal prairie was a sky choked with clouds. In the distance, enormous mountains jutted out of the plains like great daggers that pierced the swollen sky. We did not travel as far as those distant cliffs. Our little fort sat by itself on a flat plateau. Its gleaming white walls looked insignificant, surrounded by thousands of miles of rock and ice.
As the transport approached, I was very pleased to see that Ravenwood Station was made of sturdy concrete and steel, and not just a prefabricated Quonset hut. Small, with thick ramparts and bulky architecture, Ravenwood Station was built to withstand a war. To my great relief, I noticed shield projector rods on its outer walls. If we could get the generators running, we would be able to seal the base off from all but the most violent of attacks. Considering the story Captain Pollard had told me, I doubted that the generators would work.
The AT touched down on a small pad just outside the walls of the station. Looking out the cockpit, I watched as our landing jets vaporized the thin sheet of ice that covered the cement. The ice turned into steam that rose along the hull of the ship. Moments later, two small streams of condensation raced down the windshield and froze in place.
“I’ve transmitted your security clearance code,” the navigator said. “Your men can enter the base.” I nodded, then turned back to the window in time to see the two doors made of seven-inch-thick metal slide apart.
The fortress was completely dark inside, but that was of little concern with our night-for-day vision. I worried more about the condition of the outer walls than generators and power supplies.
I went to the bulkhead and called, “Marsten and Gubler.” Two corporals came to the front of the kettle. “Leave your rucks. I need you to have a look around the base to see what works and what is broken.”
They saluted and left.
According to their profiles, Arlind Marsten and Max Gubler were skilled field engineers. With any luck, their journeyman’s knowledge would be enough to get the security, communications, and life-support systems online. Pausing only to pull their tool cases, they scrambled out of the transport.