Change in Management: The Curse is Cast (Jim Meade: Martian P.I) Read online

  Change in Management -

  The Curse is Cast

  A Jim Meade Martian PI Short Story

  Change in Management

  The Curse is Cast

  From the files of Jim Meade: Martian P.I

  By: R.J. Johnson

  Copyright 2013

  R.J. Johnson

  First Edition

  R.J. Johnson

  [email protected]

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents:

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Other Books by RJ Johnson

  Change in Management

  Rosetta

  The Twelve Stones

  1.

  He loved Departure Day. As captain of the Coalition’s flagship the UCC Madera, he had to deal with a lot of bureaucratic bullshit that caused more than his fair share of headaches, but all those stresses instantly disappeared the second he stepped out on the flight deck during Departure Day.

  It wasn’t just one thing for Captain Len Gonzalez that made Departure Day so special, it was a combination of things - the optimistic energy of the fresh-faced immigrants headed for Mars, the stories they told each other all about what they thought their future life on the desolate red planet might bring, and the relieved faces of men and women who were finally escaping whatever hellhole they were coming from.

  Some were off to find their fortune, while others simply wanted to try and make a better life. Whatever the reason for their journey, the world weary faces often showed hope for the first time when they stepped on board his ship and it was that more than anything that fueled his desire to run a tight ship.

  But, as it was with all good things, it had to come to an end sooner. Today’s Departure Day would be the last he’d administer. Retirement (and all that meant) was all that awaited him only a few short weeks ahead after his final trip to Mars.

  He stood and watched as hundreds of his crew rushed about; their faces deep in concentration on whatever task assigned to them so his ship would be prepared in time for launch and safely make its journey through one of the most hostile environments known to man – outer space.

  He inhaled the air of Luna Spacedock for the last time and thought of the first Departure Day he had overseen. The memories flooded through him and he chuckled, realizing that nothing much about the trip had really changed all that much over the last twenty years.

  “Captain,” a yeoman approached and offered a display to the captain for his signature. “Passenger manifest for your signoff, sir. Fifteen hundred, forty-five souls on board.”

  He grunted and scrolled down the list of names. Fifteen hundred passengers (not counting his crew), and all destined for a new life on Mars – a light load compared to how it used to be when the Coalition first opened up New Plymouth to general immigration. Back then, he’d have to pack ‘em all into The Madera like sardines. Some voyages carried more than ten thousand people stacked together in a transport designed for less than half that.

  These days, his passengers were mostly folks joining their families on Mars along with a few hundred stragglers who still believed they could make money on a remote ORI mining claim that hadn’t been already picked over by the Coalition.

  He flipped the display over to the VIP transports that would be on board for his last run and made an interested sound.

  “This kid on board yet?” he showed the yeoman waiting patiently for his signature the name on the manifest. The enlisted officer nodded.

  “I want him in my Ready Room after we depart.”

  The yeoman snapped off a sharp salute and then hesitated for a moment as if uncertain if he should speak. The captain looked up from his tablet at the young enlisted officer and raised an eyebrow, “Was there something else?”

  The yeoman dark cheeks reddened as he looked up to the captain, “Sir, scuttlebutt on the ship says it’s your last voyage.”

  He grunted and signed the display the yeoman had given him to approve the cargo load and acknowledging the passenger manifest, “Twenty years is a long time to be schlepping myself between the Homeworld and Mars don’t you think Yeoman?”

  “I just wanted to say…” the yeoman paused, clearly intimidated by the senior officer. “Sir, it’s been an honor to serve with you.”

  He grunted in appreciation for the compliment, “Son, there’s a hundred better assignments out there besides this tub.”

  “Yes sir, but none are captained by you,” the yeoman replied, his eyes shining.

  He was touched. He loved his crew – he knew he didn’t show it often enough, but that was a necessity of command. He did his best to project the image of a stern, yet kindly grandfather, and remain unflinching in his expectations. He always expected their best and they knew it. He was also more than fair when he needed to dispense punishments and they knew that too.

  Thankfully, on a transport designed to ferry passengers back and forth between Earth and Mars every six weeks, most of his service on The Madera had passed without any major incidents. There had been the occasional crewmember who might get too drunk while in port on Mars or Luna 1, but those who violated the law were swiftly dealt with and rarely repeated their appearance before the captain. His crew didn’t like to disappoint the “old man” and the crew chiefs were very good at keeping their people in line. His crew lived an easy life and anyone considered an agitator was quickly shipped off to faraway assignments that put them far from the Coalition and the comforts of civilization. He nodded to the young crewman.

  “Thank you son, but I think it’s about time that I pass the torch along to someone else. There are just too many young bucks out there who deserve a ship of their own. I got my retirement and a plot of Martian soil rich in ORI waiting for me back on Mars, or at least so my real estate agent tells me,” he allowed a slight smile to touch his eyes as he returned the salute. “Yeoman, thank you for your service. Keep your nose clean and you’ll go a long way. The Coalition needs more people like you.”

  “Sir!” the yeoman snapped off his salute, turned and marched smartly away.

  He allowed a slight smile to touch his lips – he’d miss the little gestures of respect most of all. He sighed and looked around at the colonists chatting excitedly around him. He moved past them and caught little pieces of their conversation. Most were talking about the long voyage ahead or how much money they planned on making with their ORI claim.

  When the Coalition and Consortium unleashed nuclear hell on each other, no one really considered what humanity would do once the bombs finished dropping. Countries fell, Governments collapsed and the globally connected network of free trade became a thing of the past.

  No one on the Homeworld was spared - those who couldn’t find work or food on a regular basis often decided to sign up for a one way trip on Mars. Some said it wasn’t much better trying to survive on the Martian surface, but for many, the idea of starting over on a fresh planet was better than drinking irradiated water and barely subsisting on whatever food they could raise from the Earth’s ruined soil.

  Mining ORI for the Coalition had become big business and was a great way for many to make enough money to support t
heir families. Unfortunately the men and women who went to Mars to become miners always ended up working for the people who made the real money off the ORI mining.

  A combination of osmium, rhenium and iridium, these rare earth metals used in nearly every electronic device, ship hull and engine in the system, the valuable ore had been found in high concentrations in the Martian soil and in the asteroid belt.

  ORI was a valuable substance and was in fact the lifeblood of the whole Coalition economy. The possible rewards for some were more than enough reason for anyone willing to risk their life by going into space. It was one of those commodities that if you hit a big strike, it meant you were guaranteed a very comfortable life for you and yours in a world that didn’t give many breaks to people.

  A klaxon sounded and a pleasant female voice came over the Spaceport’s speakers:

  “Passengers who have tickets for passage on the UCC Madera for transport to Mars must be on board and cleared by security in five minutes. There will be no further announcements on this departure. Have a pleasant Sol.”

  The announcement echoed through the cavernous hangar bay and activity around his vessel picked up. He watched as the Luna engineers began disconnecting fuel lines and generator cables that secured the Madera to the spaceport.

  Time to get moving… he thought to himself and took one last look at the exterior of his ship. She was beautiful and had served him well over the years. He walked up the ramp to the circular entrance that led into the interior of his huge ship.

  Five hundred and fifty meters from stern to bow, the Madera had been the flagship of the Coalition fleet for almost as long as Gonzalez had been in the corp. It wasn’t as large as some of the newer models they had planned, but it was still big enough to make walking from one side to the other a chore.

  In his younger years, he’d run the interior at least three times a week to keep in shape, but as he’d aged, he’d slowed down a bit. There just never seemed to be enough time or energy to keep up the same kind of fitness regimen like he used to. At sixty-five years old though, he figured that he could be excused if he missed a few days. Besides, restarting his workout routine after he retired would be a good way to help fill the time.

  He moved through the throngs of men, women, and children who were settling in for the voyage to Mars. The Madera had been designed with five separate compartments that lay on both sides of the main cylindrical beam where the Coalition crew drove and maintained the ship. This allowed the crew of the Madera to service crucial parts for the engines and life support during the duration of the voyage without having to disrupt the passenger’s ride.

  Each “wing” or compartment deck on either side held three hundred people apiece comfortably. On this voyage however, there were hardly enough passengers to fill the first two decks. This wasn’t a bad thing - the lower amount of total mass should allow the Madera’s engineers push them to a faster cruising speed meaning his retirement party could begin a few days early.

  Nothing wrong with that, he thought, it’s not like they really need me after I get the new blood there safe. And then he’d be able to settle in and figure out what he really wanted to do with the rest of his life. Perhaps he’d take up watercolors.

  He arrived at the bridge and paused watching his crew who were busy with last minute preparations. He grinned watching them efficiently move about their tasks. The second he stepped past the threshold his XO Gina Usher stood at attention and barked out to the crew, “Captain on the bridge!”

  There was a quick flurry of movement as his people set aside their tasks and stood at attention.

  “As you were,” he said coolly. He moved to the conn and began looking over the checklist for departure. He’d run through the damn thing so often, he could probably recite it in his sleep. As much as he’d like to skip the useless gesture, he knew that all the i’s must be dotted, and all the t’s crossed so that they could demonstrate to whatever bean counter back in the bowels of the Coalition that they were following all procedures for their departure, no matter how inane.

  Besides, if he deviated from the list in any way, it’d drive his by-the-books XO batty. If she knew he was even thinking about skipping through her checklist, she’d raise hell. Might even be worth it so she has something to complain about for the next six weeks, he thought to himself.

  “Captain!” a voice called to him from across the bridge. Chief of the Boat, Graham Snider was standing behind his console touching his control panel, supervising the final engine and maintenance checks. “We have a green board and are cleared for launch.”

  He cleared his throat and was suddenly very aware that this would be the last time he’d give this order.

  “XO, prepare running lights and signal departure from Luna Spaceport. Once clear, chart course for Waypoint 1, and set engines to cruising speed.”

  His crew moved to follow his orders with the smooth efficiency born from many years of experience and practice. Captain Gonzalez watched and he resigned himself to the idea that it was official. In a little under six weeks, he’d touch down on Mars, go through some pro forma debriefing and then, he’d officially be a civilian. It was a journey that had begun for him over forty years ago when he was barely a teen and The Last War had broken out between The Coalition and The Consortium.

  Now, he found himself staring at an existence where society had no use for him any longer. He had been told time and time again how lucky he was that he could enjoy a healthy retirement, but somehow the idea of living free on Mars without any real responsibilities was terrifying to the man. He worried the bottom of his lip and he quickly stopped himself. It was a nervous tic he’d never been able to shake.

  “Aye, aye, captain. Chief of the Boat, make your speed five hundred meters per second per second and chart course for Waypoint 1,” the XO called out the orders and the crew jumped into action. The engines that had been a part of his home for the last twenty years thrummed to life underneath his feet. Waypoint 1 was the first LaGrangian point between Earth and the Moon and the Madera was going to use the Earth’s gravity well to help goose their speed towards Mars.

  “Five hundred meters per second, per second, aye sir,” Snider called back to the XO.

  He sat back in the Captain’s chair and connected his ArmBar to the ship’s computer system. A heads up display popped up in front of him displaying the health of his vessel and he grimaced at what he saw. The Luna spaceport engineers hadn’t serviced the airlock hatch blowout rings like he’d asked them to. The lack of maintenance wouldn’t harm the vessel or its passengers during the voyage, but the longer his ship went without basic maintenance like that, the more expensive it would be for the next Captain.

  He made a note in his log to send a message to the senior engineer at Luna Spaceport and have him ream out the wrench monkeys who had forgotten to do their job. Once he got to Mars, he’d personally make sure those engineers actually did what he asked. He’d be damned if he’d hand off a less than perfect ship to his successor.

  “Captain, your guest is in your office,” Commander Usher called out to him. He nodded absentmindedly and shutdown his ArmBar display. The ArmBar might be useful, but he always thought the portable computer device on his forearm was a pain in the ass. Even though it connected him to the cloud and access to any piece of information he might need, they were uncomfortable and annoying.

  However, Gonzalez knew better than most that you couldn’t resist technology forever. ArmBars had become ubiquitous for both Coalition and Consortium citizens and most used them to run their lives, communicate with loved ones, mine ORI, and even perform self-defense if necessary depending on the type of attachment you had on the end of it. The five by seven inch square of flexible plastic computer was incredibly powerful and no one in the system accomplished anything worth doing without one.

  “Very good XO, you have the conn.”

  Gina Usher nodded and stood behind the Captain as he rose out of the chair moving towards the exit.

&nb
sp; “Captain,” Usher called out to him.

  He turned as he approached the door and to his surprise saw his entire bridge crew standing at attention, saluting him. He smiled, and returned a crisp salute.

  “As you were,” he said and turned quickly to hide his eyes which were beginning to shine with moisture he didn’t care to explain. He’d miss his bridge crew most of all, with his daughter off on assignment, they had become his family over the last few years, and he knew they felt the same way about him.

  He sighed and made his way down the hallway and towards his ready room. The only thing constant in this life was change.

  2.

  He moved down the hallway to his ready room and opened the door to see a young man, no more than seventeen years old stand at attention. He quickly covered the smile that appeared when he saw the young man looking so eager. The kid probably attended the best military academies since he’d been old enough to hold a gauss rifle so he’d do well to observe protocol for once around the young man, lest he corrupt him with his bad habits.

  “Cadet Raymond Cooper.”

  “Sir!” the young man stood at attention, staring straight ahead, the medals on his dress uniform clinking slightly. The young man was tall and gangly, and hadn’t yet packed on the muscle that would help fill out his frame. He had no doubt that the young man’s new assignment on Mars would do that nicely.

  “Your billet tells me that you’re headed for Mars to be part of Ambassador Corcoran’s detail, is that correct?”

  “Sir, yes sir!” the Cadet’s eyes never moved from the invisible spot on the wall he was focusing on. He moved from behind his desk and stared at the young man for a moment.

  “Do you know what you’re getting into?”

  The question threw the young man and his eyes darted over to Gonzalez.

  “Sir?”

  “I asked if you knew what you’re getting into?”