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CYBERIUS III
By
S.J. Willing
© copyright December 2005, S.J. Willing
Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright December 2005
ISBN 1-58608-770-3
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s
imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely
coincidence.
Acknowledgments:
I'd like to thank Caro, Jean Marie and Tree for their helpful comments and
watchful eyes as they constantly checked and rechecked Cyberius III and I'd especially like to
thank Teri whose support, strength and determination kept me going until Cyberius III was
finished. Thanks guys.
Chapter 1
Sherri felt her pulse race and her face warm with
excitement as she watched the sweating bodies pumping away in front of her. Well-built,
heavily muscled men and lithe, perfectly-curved women had gathered in the arena in four large
groups and were now working away in perfect synchronicity.
In the grandstands all around them, safely huddled under the huge concrete dome,
the rest of the Cyberius III colony were gathered as a cheering mob--each one egging on their
favorite team. Through the small skylights in the dome above Sherri could see the sky graying, one
of the few nights left for this season. Sherri felt contentment underlying her growing thrill of
watching the contest before her, the night signified the end of a weeks hard labor for all the
colonists.
The colony had just finished their fourteenth Quarternal Migration and this
contest, the highlight of a two-day celebration, had become the colonists’ biggest stress relief
after the hazardous move. Fan groups and betting sharks had been following team members since
training began. Sherri knew some of the participants, and had seen them begin the arduous training
almost a year ago.
The arena had been carved out of the bedrock, granite stone cut into concentric
rings of smooth, polished seats rising out from the center, and rough surfaced steps, at regular
intervals, for access. All to provide the colony citizens a prime view of the action below. At one
point of the circle an executive box had been set. Cut from a dark blue marble air-lifted from the
distant mountains it had been polished to a deep shine. Then set in place in the arena where it
stood out like a sentinel against the warm reds of the local granite.
Seated in the executive box Sherri cheered for the Blue Team. The team,
designated by the intricate blue decorations they had painstakingly painted onto their bodies, was
working the pump handles in perfect rhythm. It wouldn’t be long, Sherri knew, before the
half-frozen water from the underground streams burst from the huge pump and began to service the
North Colony buildings again. Just in time too, with children maturing and new emigrants arriving
every week the colony had grown to over five thousand adults. This meant the emergency water they’d
stored for their return was almost exhausted. She’d have to commission more reservoirs before they
left for South Colony again. Not for another four years, thank God.
“It looks like you are right again, Madam." Praetor congratulated
her.
Below them the Blue Team ran squealing and cheering from the torrent of icy water
that suddenly burst out from the pump outlet. Within seconds they’d reattached the viaduct which
directed the water to the treatment stations. The colony had water again. She checked her timer;
they’d broken the record for the fastest time.
With the remaining teams sluggishly finishing their tasks, the Blue Team began
their victory lap of the arena. Sherri glowed with satisfaction, ignoring councilman Praetor’s
distaste. Praetor’s favorites, the Green Team, were the last to finish, but then the councilman was
known for his habit of backing the losing side. Warmed by the success of her friends under their
new team leader, and able to relax now they had a renewed water supply, Sherri finally allowed her
childhood memories to surface.
Sherri had been amongst the first arrivals, just grown out into adulthood when
the first wells had been sunk. In those days it had been different, and so serious. Getting the
water was vital for survival and the entire colony had been involved, children too. There was none
of the ritualistic pomp and excitement of today, no arena, no cheering mobs. Just a worried huddle
of colonists standing on a small rocky plateau surrounded by trees, watching hopefully--late into
the evening--as the wells were sunk. Back then the colonists’ only had time, and the material, to
sink two wells. But they only needed two, since barely a thousand, half of those sent, had survived
the journey through space. Even so, with the elation of their arrival at Cyberius III, a comradely
competition had arisen between her father’s and Liether’s team. Dressed in regulation civvies both
teams had raced to charge the pumps.
Being the first to breech the underground caverns and provide fresh water to the
parched water systems of their makeshift homes was a major milestone in setting up the colony’s
independence. It had raised Sherri’s father to hero status amongst the colonists. Liether had
joined in her father’s praise. But then Liether had been far much more sensible than his son,
Praetor, had become. Sherri still sensed resentment in Praetor at her father’s
success.
Now, though, the display was all for show and play, a time of frivolity when the
children were safely tucked into beds for the night. It would be easier to just prime the pumps
mechanically but then, Sherri listened to the roaring crowd, it had become a tradition amongst the
colonists to charge them by hand. The two days of celebration surrounding the event helped to keep
the tradition alive too and, she realized, most of the colonists sane.
The Blue Team stopped in front of the executive box for the traditional
presidential speech. Standing, she smiled warmly at them.
“Will the leader of the Blue Team come forward please?” She waved them in. Then
paused, swallowing as her face flushed.
She hadn’t expected this. The mysterious new leader of the Blue Team who stepped
forward, and started up the broad steps to the executive box, looked like a movie star from one of
the old realvids the massive merchant ships sometimes traded with them. Tanned, muscled and with a
handsome chiseled face and tawny gold hair he studied her with blue eyes that glowed brighter than
the mid-summer skies. And the traditional swimming thong he wore left nothing to the imagination.
Old unfamiliar feelings raged in her chest as Sherri fought to remember the words she’d written in
her speech. He was so, so ... God she hoped he wasn’t too young for her.
For once Sherri blessed their Earth based employers for the
free anti-aging drugs. Yes, they kept the colonists working many more years--a wise
investment when you consider the cost of shipping a replacement workforce almost half a
galaxy away--but it had its good side. Having a body still as young and supple as a
26-year-old, and over 70 years experience under her belt, was a definite
advantage.
The Blue Team leader had followed her gaze to his groin then grinned wickedly at
her. Blushing with excitement, she felt tingly between her legs, only just realizing how wet she
was down there. How could someone she’d never met have such an affect on her? She hadn’t felt like
this with a man since her husband had died eight years ago.
The memory sobered her. Daniel had been performing the final shut down inspection
here at North Colony two migrations ago. His shuttle had failed and crashed in the first of the
long winter blizzards as he was making his way home. That had been eight years ago and she hadn’t
felt anything towards another man since. Until now....
“Urh.” Sherri fumbled.
Praetor shuffled in irritation at her delay. The younger councilman had very
little time for others, unless he wanted something from them.
“This is Lieutenant Jonathon Shore, Sherri.” Marny, her
personal aide rescued her. Sherri insisted that her friends call her by name, and not with a
precocious presidential address. “He joined the colony two years ago from Magatrops Mining
corps in the Pleiades. He was working Agri ‘til last year when he passed the tests for
shuttle piloting and then the Mil took him on, he passed the officer's tests almost
immediately.” From her tone of voice that fact obviously impressed Marny. “He’s very popular
amongst Civvies and Mil alike.”
Sherri looked at Lieutenant Shore again, swallowed once, and nodded to him. He
gave a firm salute in return that flexed his muscles and made her belly quiver
inside.
“We have to congratulate you and your team Lieutenant Shore.” Sherri managed to
speak at last. Her words, transmitted to the newsvid system by the small camera on the balustrade
in front of her, finally quieted the last few cheering members of the crowds. “That is the fastest
time any team has made for preparing the pumps.” She picked up a silver trophy and held it out to
him. “We welcome you, and your team, as Guests of Honor to next Migration’s Celebration.
Congratulations.”
Lieutenant Shore made the last few steps up the carpeted ramp and accepted the
prize. Sherri’s heart thumped loudly as he leant forwards to receive her kiss on his cheek and his
masculine scent sent her mind spinning in all sorts of directions.
“Don’t the victors have their choice of reward?” he asked,
almost as if he’d read her mind.
“Yes, they do.” Sherri answered, hating how her voice was so soft. “Didn’t your
team put theirs on the entrance forms they handed in?”
“The other’s did.” Lieutenant Shore agreed. “I wasn’t sure of mine ... Until I
saw you.”
Sherri forced herself to breathe. This was so silly. She was far too old to be
acting like a lovelorn teen.
“How about dinner, tomorrow night?” He grinned at her, almost melting her
away.
Hope flared and her insides turned to jelly as she looked at his melt-away grin.
Then she sighed.
“I have to do the last inspection of Southern tomorrow.” She apologized. “I won’t
be back in time.”
“I know,” Lieutenant Shore smiled again making Sherri wish they were somewhere
else. Somewhere very private, and very naked. “I’m your pilot for the
trip.”
Sherri gave a tiny gasp; whether she wanted it or not, it seemed her wish was
going to come true.
* * * *
The next day started early. Just after dawn Sherri walked the underground route
to the small shuttle port at the other end of the colony.
If Praetor had his way she'd have been escorted here, with a guard of thirty
military bodyguards, and much pomp and display. No one on Cyberius III, besides Praetor, considered
the presidential post more than just a working position. Sherri's job was to protect the interests
of the colonists in their dealings with the Earth Federation, and to make sure the colony ran
smoothly. She was little more than a CEO, a hard working CEO, for a medium sized corporation. The
colonists had voted her in simply because they trusted her to look after them and, truth be told,
very few of them wanted the position themselves. Sherri didn't care. As far as she was concerned
these were her people, she was going to look after them.
While the final preparations were being made to the shuttle, Sherri patiently
waited in the control tower that overlooked the field. This tower, a large column built for new
arrivals, a warehouse and hanger domes nearby, were the only buildings in the fenced off landing
zone. Since they were still waiting for the first harvests from this zone the port was unusually
quiet. Later in the year this small landing pad would be frenetic with the constant launch and
arrival of the merchant's shuttles. Colonel Riehard and the other Federation Mil sitting or
standing at the small terminals around her would be rushed off their feet scheduling and tracking
the hundreds of crafts in the tiny airspace over the launch pad. For now, though, all she could see
was the small figure of Lieutenant Shore in his Mil blue and gray, three stories below on the
surface of the shuttle landing-zone. He was fussing over the shuttle as if it were his newborn
babe.
The other two pilots, and most of the unoccupied Mil, were
currently out in the fields dealing with an unusually large pack of Saphons. The sleek
tiger-like beasts, fresh out of hibernation, tended to get aggressive when they first woke in
spring. The damage a pack could cause to a freshly planted field was astronomical. This
problem left no one but Jonathon and Marny to accompany her to South Colony. Except, Praetor
now needed Marny's computer expertise with the North Colony servers. So Sherri was stuck with
the socially inept Marke, instead--one of Praetor's favorite interns. Native born, and a
staunch Separatist supporter, Marke had no concept of Cyberius III's dependency on the
Federation. Without their cheap medical supplies, and the loan of Mil protection, Cyberius
III would die.
“This is the moment I like best.” Colonel Riehard had walked over to join her and
spoke softly next to her as the sun burst from over the distant mountain range. Like liquid gold
the bright light spread over the vast forest of Cionda trees and the huge fields that were now
being prepared for sowing and cleared of the Saphons. “Only another three months of it.” Riehard
sighed. “Then all we’ll get is sun for three years. No more dawn, dusk or night, just sun, sun,
sun.”
“Yes,” Sherri agreed with the amazing view and Riehard’s
wistfulness. “And before I forget, have some of your engineering squad go around and check
out the air conditioning for the residential areas.” She grinned. “Can’t have the Old Lady
complaining now can we?”
Riehard grinned back. Well over two hundred years old and looking no more than
fifty Retired Colonel Wellard sometimes forgot she'd retired from the military and handed over
military command of the colony to Riehard almost three years ago.
Sherri, unable to stop herself, let her gaze fall back to
Lieutenant Shore and his loving care of his craft. Sherri knew she could never have children
but maybe he would take care of her like that, maybe somehow…?
Sherri blushed, then quickly looked back at Riehard. The
Colonel was studiously organizing a maintenance crew on the comsets. The other Mil workers
were seated at the circular array of consoles, each busy with tasks relating to the huge
machine infra-structure of the colony. From here they could locate and communicate with any
of the thousands of Agri-machines that worked the distant fields. Alternately, when the huge
freighters arrived in orbit, the Mil would schedule and direct the shuttle
rotas.
Sherri had to put Lieutenant Shore out of her mind. She’d
embarrassed herself greatly by investigating his background during her free time last night.
Finding, to her horror, he really was as young as he looked. Born only twenty five years ago,
colony bred on Magdallen V in the Pleiades system, he was literally young enough to be her
grandson. Sherri may look only twenty-six, thanks to the anti-aging drugs, but it certainly
didn’t feel right to get so hot for someone so young. Yet, in spite of her resolution, her
eyes kept wandering back to him, far below.
Finally Lieutenant Shore’s voice broke out over the coms, confirming readiness
for launch. Sherri felt a shiver of anticipation as she headed for the stairs down to the launch
zone. It was time to ride.
The walk across the landing zone revealed how warm the day already was. Now, just
after dawn, it was reaching the high 70’s. It would be in the high 80’s easily by the afternoon. In
high summer Sherri knew they’d have almost two and half years of temperatures in the 100’s. With a
combination of genetically adapted seed stock, careful irrigation, good soil and constant sunlight,
the colony would be producing at volumes over 1000% of an equivalent plot of land on earth. It was
why the colony was created–why they could exist. Cyberius III had little else in natural resources.
Without the trade in food stock the colony would slowly fall apart.
“The shuttle is ready, Madam President.”
Lieutenant Shore was waiting at the foot of the embarkation steps that led up
into the bus-like craft. His posture and expression were perfectly in accord with his military rank
and duty. Thankfully there wasn’t a hint of that sexy smile. “I had my mind on other
things.”
The presidential shuttle was, in many ways, more luxurious than her home. The
craft had originally been designed to hold five platoons of troops. Now it had been adapted to hold
ten people and a pilot in a comfort that was palatial. Thick soft carpet was spread throughout the
passenger sections and most of the seats had been fastened forward facing a large screen that would
show movies, news items, com messages or, more frequently, be used for rushed briefings on
potential disasters. Another ten chairs were loosely set, and magnetically clamped, around a teak
table towards the back--teak was a luxury no home on Cyberius III could afford. There had been the
occasional emergency meeting Sherri had pulled around that table. Minor catastrophes that,
uncontrolled for too long, could have turned major and lead to deaths in the colony. Ten small
bedrooms were set at the back, just in case they had to stay out in the wild's overnight, an event
that Sherri liked to encourage.
Refreshments for the passengers were provided by a bar, with an automatic
bartender, and a fully stocked auto chef. There were also small portholes along the sides to let
the occupants view the passing terrain. It had been a fight to get those
installed.
Still feeling a little nervous, she settled back into a velvet-covered seat,
carefully fastening the safety belt. Then looked around, puzzled.
“I understand Intern Marke is running late,” Lieutenant Shore said, correctly
interpreting her glance. “I’ve been informed he will be here shortly.”
Sherri gave a small hum of displeasure. “I assume ten hours
notice wasn’t enough for him to be on time.” Being late for a shuttle launch was a severe
breech of decorum. Later in the season, when harvesting began, the shuttle pad would be a
constant string of shuttles leaving and arriving. Any unacceptable delays could easily cause
an accident, possibly even a fatal one.
“I suspect it’s more to do with that fact that Earth Mil ordered his presence.”
Lieutenant Shore said. His voice marked with disapproving undertones.
Sherri shook her head. The request for Marke to come to the
shuttle had been the most polite and diplomatically worded memo she'd ever read. Only Marke's
hatred of anything associated with the Federation could have interpreted it as an
order.
“Ah, it looks like he’s coming.” Lieutenant Shore said, looking out of one of the
small portals. “Madam, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and rerun through the prelims, ready for
launch.”
“Of course, Lieutenant Shore. I apologize for Marke. I understand how important
it is to keep the shuttle launches on schedule.”
“Thank you, Madam.” Lieutenant Shore gave a small bow and left through the door
to the pilot’s cockpit.
Sherri’s heart finally stopped its heated pounding, it refused to behave in the
Lieutenant’s presence. Yet, instead of nervous excitement, there was a sense of emptiness, a sense
that something special had been lost as he’d walked through the door, not to be seen again until
after the shuttle had landed at South Colony.
Sherri gave Marke a hard stare as the harried intern made
his way onto the craft. Pale, even beneath the sweat generated by running across the landing
pad to the craft, Marke looked nervous and ill at ease. He clutched his attaché case like it
was death itself. She watched as the intern pressed the buttons and pulled the levers that
would pull up the ramp and seal the door. Then, with barely a grunted hello, he darted to a
seat in front of her and belted himself in. Carefully choosing a seat where he wouldn’t be
able to see her.
Sherri sighed, wishing Marny could have come instead of Marke. She had the
feeling, already, that this was going to be a very long trip.
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