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Requiem
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Requiem
D.M. Pruden
Copyright © 2019 D.M.Pruden
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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D.M.Pruden asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
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ISBN: 978-0-9953013-8-2
ISBN-13: 9780995301382
Created with Vellum
Contents
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Preview of Armstrong Station
Other books by D.M. Pruden
About the Author
Introduction
The Requiem’s Run Series is a prequel series to the Mars Ascendant series of novels. It tells the tale of Mel Destin’s adventures before the events in the novel, The Ares Weapon.
The book you are about to read is the prequel novella to the Requiem’s Run Series. The story is set a few months before the events in Armstrong Station, and chronicles Mel Destin’s arrival on Luna, and how she came to join the crew of the Requiem.
It is my sincere hope that you enjoy this offering of my imagination.
D.M.(Doug) Pruden
Calgary, February 14, 2020
Prologue
“Get down!”
A strong hand grabs my arm and pushes me to the metal deck. Seconds later, a spray of gunfire tears into the bulkhead behind me. Instinctively, I cover my head as the projectiles fly.
“Bullets on a spaceship? What the fuck is the matter with them?”
Roy Chambers peeks over the cargo containers that conceal us. “I don’t think they care, Mel.”
“Who the hell are they?”
“They’re the real owners of that.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the large, coffin-shaped container behind us.
I frown as I consider the object, wracking my brain over what it might contain. The mystery has vexed me since it came aboard under questionable circumstances some days earlier.
I start to ask a question, but he raises a hand.
Mag boots click against the deck.
I cock a questioning eyebrow. “How many of them?”
He holds up two fingers.
“Shit! What the hell are we going to do, Captain?”
It was his turn to scowl at me. I never call him that, except to be sarcastic. He appears to be distracted by something.
“They’re jamming my cortical implant. I can’t raise any of the crew.”
“If anyone is still alive.”
I wonder how long we have left…
Chapter 1
Six weeks earlier…
The whine of the ship’s engines spins down. Like an excited child, I gaze out the window while I await permission to release my harness. Everything at Artemis Station is so shiny and new. It is as if the lunar surface was a canvas to start over and build something proper, with a plan in mind. Off to my left, a few kilometres from terminal complex, earthshine glints off the transparent dome that encloses the capital city.
This is my first trip to Luna. I’ve never been anywhere, really, and I don’t want to miss a thing. My thirsty eyes drink in all the sights. Even the sparkling lunar dust blown up by our landing seems magical.
The most difficult thing to grasp is the absence of people. Aside from the occasional worker in a spacesuit, there is no one between me and the close horizon. I can only look at the emptiness for so long before I need to return my attention to the motley group of weary travellers inside the transport.
I wipe the sweat from my brow. The passenger compartment is too warm, and the stench of unwashed bodies hangs heavily in the poorly circulated air. After gulping the last of my bottled water, I attempt to return it to the holder on my seat but clumsily miss. Fascinated, I watch as the bottle falls in slow motion to the floor.
A green light above me flashes on. I release my restraint and enthusiastically spring to my feet. Too late, I realize my error as my head bangs into the overhead bin.
Embarrassed, I rub the growing lump on my scalp and wait for the other passengers to gather their belongings and move to the exit before I attempt to stand again.
The strangeness of walking under lunar gravity is difficult to describe. In some ways, each step is like the spring one feels on a trampoline but followed by a feather-light landing. By the time I arrive at customs, I hope I’ve mastered it enough not to appear as ridiculous as I feel.
“Dr. Melanie Destin?” The middle-aged officer looks up from my documentation.
“Yes.”
“Doctor of what?”
“I hold joint degrees in medicine and nanite research.”
He seems unimpressed. “What is the purpose of your visit?”
I direct him to the immigration document in my file.
He stares at me before examining the information. After a few anxious moments, he nods and returns my documents to me.
“You are being issued a provisional visa. Within sixty days, you must prove gainful employment in your field or face deportation back to Terra. Any questions?”
“No, I understand the regulations.”
“In addition to registering your cortical implant address with us, you will be required to be fitted with a temporary subdermal transponder to monitor your whereabouts during your probation. Do you consent?”
I swallow and nod.
He directs me to a door. Cautious not to embarrass myself, I turn slowly and awkwardly bounce toward it.
Inside the room, a much more pleasant tech invites me to sit and describes what is to follow.
I smile at him and condescendingly reply, “I’m a medical doctor and familiar with the procedure.”
His manner hardens. “The implant is the property of the Lunar Republic. Removing or tampering with it is a punishable offence. Any questions?”
“Will it be removed when I’m granted full citizenship?”
An amused smile turns up the corners of his mouth. “It will dissolve after you leave this jurisdiction.”
I study him through narrowed eyelids, unsure of his meaning. “I’m immigrating.”
“Only if you find employment in your field. Please roll up your sleeve.”
He injects the device under my skin, then abruptly ushers me out of the room through a different doorway. I emerge into the passage that leads to the surface monorail that goes to the capital.
I am finally on Luna.
The first major surprise on my arrival at the domed city is the Earth-normal gravity. Graviton technology beneath the city’s footprint is a welcome relief, given the awkwardness of my first steps on lunar soil. Though mildly disappointed at the lack of authenticity, I understand the reasoning behind the prohibitively expensive engineering feat. Long-term exposure of the human body to microgravitational environments leads to a whole suite of health complications. Working under Earth-normal gravity maintains muscular and skeletal fitn
ess and decreases the need for remedial medical care.
Artemis is the crown jewel of the recently formed Lunar Republic. Constructed and financed by its eccentric, obscenely wealthy president, it is a model for the future development of the entire Moon.
Both Terra and its one-time colony suffered devastation during the war of independence. While Earth struggles to restore the critical parts of its damaged and crumbling infrastructure, Luna seeks to accomplish something greater. Its president, Regis Mundi, has a vision to build an economic powerhouse in the solar system. He courts major Terran and Martian corporations to establish headquarters on the Moon to bolster the tax base with highly paid professional staff who provide the financial and technical means to fulfill Mundi’s vision.
Luna’s capital is an impressive example of what can be achieved. It vibrates with excitement and possibility, and the mood it projects is infectious.
Though it is not my intention to remain here for long, my first taste of the exotic environment is intoxicating. I can imagine the possibility of settling down under the dome.
The brilliant blue orb of Earth hangs high above the horizon, and seeing it, I sigh. I have accomplished a great deal by arriving here. By escaping that hellhole, I am one step closer to achieving my dream.
From the monorail station, I take a robotic surface car into the city’s core. I have a five-night reservation at one of the nicer hotels, an indulgent reward to myself for my courage. It will burn up a significant chunk of my funds, but I don’t care. Frugality will come when I find a job and a modest place to live. I estimate I need three years to reach my savings goal. After that, money will not be an object.
“Fifteen hundred credits a night? That isn’t what was advertised when I booked.”
The tall, unnaturally thin young woman behind the desk raises an eyebrow. “The rate you were quoted is two years old. Some of the less established Terran travel agencies can’t remain current, it seems.”
“But I paid a deposit,” I say, trying not to react to her attitude.
“Deposits are only refundable up to a week before the booking. There is nothing I can do.”
“Fuck!”
The expletive echoes through the lobby, and every eye in the place is locked on me. Miss Snooty glares at me, and my cheeks warm with each passing second of silence.
Realizing my deposit is lost, I storm from the building. Outside, I find a bench, drop my bag beside it, and sit down. I need a new plan and have no idea where to begin.
This is a fine start.
Several hours later I am at the bar at my new, significantly downgraded accommodations. The Cernan Hotel is nice enough and well maintained. It’s located outside the city core, and my room offers an unobstructed view of the lunar landscape beyond the dome. The barren monochrome vista complements my mood.
The bartender wipes down my table. “Are you here for long?”
I don’t look up. “Just for a couple of drinks.”
He chuckles. “No, I meant to ask if you are staying at the hotel for a long visit? We offer a discount for guests.”
I hope the dim lighting hides my blushing cheeks. “No, I need to find a cheap apartment. Any suggestions?”
“Ah, you’re from Terra, here to make your fortune.”
“I take it I am not the first with that brilliant plan.”
He laughs. “We get about a dozen or so in here every week. Everyone arrives bright-eyed and enthusiastic, and then, after about a day or two, they try to figure out how to book passage on the next transport out of here without money. From your appearance, you’re on the latter part of that journey.”
I smile. “Wrong on both counts, my friend. I just arrived but had a little trouble with my accommodations. I’m only here to take the edge off a difficult first day.”
He picks up my empty glass and departs. A minute later, he returns with a fresh drink.
“It’s on the house. You look like you could use it.”
He indicates the chair across from me with a question on his face. I glance around the abandoned bar and nod for him to join me. He sits and introduces himself as John.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” he says, “what kind of job are you hoping to land?”
“I’m a physician.”
“Oh, I see...”
“What?”
“I’m guessing from the fact you’re staying at this hotel that you aren’t contracted for a corporate position.”
“Um, no, I just arrived.”
“And what is your plan?”
I sit up and scowled. “Who are you? My employment counsellor?”
He smiles. “I’m your helpful neighbourhood bartender who’s seen a lot and might be able to offer a few pointers. But if you want to go it on your own...” He begins to rise.
“I’m sorry I was rude. Please, sit. I’m grateful for any advice.”
A self-satisfied smile spreads across his face as he resumes his seat.
“Why did you respond like that when I told you I’m a doctor?”
“Well, that kind of position is hard to come by. Most people need connections to land one; you need to know somebody.”
“I’m a specialist in emergency medicine and nanotechnology.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Unless you were recruited by a corporate rep on Terra, they won’t even let you in the building.”
“Well then, I should spread my net a bit more and apply at some of the hospitals.”
“They are all private and run by the companies for their employees. It’s the same in most of the major centres.”
“You’re kidding me, for sure.”
“Nope. Look, you’re new here, so I’ll explain. On Luna, there are basically two types of people; the Corporates, and everyone else.”
“And who do you identify with?”
“I’m employed by the corporation that owns this hotel. That makes me one of the first group.”
“Aside from the income source, what is the difference?”
“Everything,” he says. “If you land a position with one of the corporations, your life is set. They provide housing, generous perks, and the best medical care available anywhere.”
“That’s why I want to work for one of them.”
“Yeah, so does every other person in the solar system. They cherry-pick people from Earth or the outer colonies. Unless you’re recruited by them, you don’t stand a chance. Better for you to use what remains of your money to return home.”
“There is no fucking way I’m going back there,” I say. “I don’t believe you. I would’ve heard about this back on Terra.”
“Look, I don’t know why you didn’t know how they hire, but you don’t need to take my word for it. Go ahead and inquire. See for yourself how valuable your degrees are. I’ll bet money you can’t even get past the security desk.”
“Well, what do the others do for medical treatment—the ones not employed by the corporations?”
“There are a few public health clinics run by charity groups. You might check with some of them if you’re feeling altruistic. I understand the pay is shit. Aside from that, not much is available.”
Guess where I end up working.
Chapter 2
When humans first stepped on the moon, humankind got a romanticized view of what it was like. Everyone’s seen the historical vids; relived the first steps and heard the historic words. Grown men in ancient and unwieldy space suits hopping around the surface like a bunch of kindergarteners out for recess. Everything appeared pristine and innocent.
What most people fail to realize about Luna is that it is an ugly place.
Sure, it looks shiny and untouched from the Earth when it rides full in the sky. Even when it runs through its phases, and the lights and patterns of human habitation are visible on the shadow side, it possesses a geometric attractiveness that suggests something exciting awaits, if only you could find your way to it.
Then you arrive and learn the hard t
ruth.
After six weeks on Luna, one basic lesson is drummed into me: the cheap bars here are the same as anywhere else.
“Want another?”
My new friend, John the bartender, is keen to see me drunk. Why not? It’s his job, after all. If I was in better humour, I might consider leading him on for the other thing he is obviously interested in.
“The Moon is no different from any place touched by humanity,” I say, my words only slightly slurred.
He raises a sardonic eyebrow. “How is that?”
“The beautiful domed cities with their modern spires are seductive. But the whole thing is another kind of bait and switch for suckers like me.”
“Oh, it isn’t that bad. You just need to find the opportunity.”
“And I suppose you’re prepared to show me?”
“I could introduce you to the right people after I get to know you better.”
I return his smile while I gaze into his eyes and nudge my empty glass toward him. “Does your offer come with free drinks?”
His grin widens as he pours me another. I pick it up and lean close to his ear. “Thanks for the drink, but nothing’s for sale here tonight.”
I toss my credits on the bar. With a scowl, he scoops up the money and leaves to see to his other customers.
“Some women would lead him on for another hour.”
Another prospective player has sat next to me to try his luck. Deciding that playing the game is going to be my only fun this evening, I size him up. He is in his late thirties, with a sexy touch of grey flecked throughout his full head of thick, black hair. His lean build tells me he is a lifetime spacer who spends a lot of time in artificial gravity fields.