A Glibertarians Exclusive: Listening Post, Part 1
Personal log entry: 22 May 2234, Mimas Listening Post
There has been no sign of the T’Cha since they swept through the solar system on March 1st with a swarm of nanotech hunter-killers and three Moon-sized conquest ships. There has been no word from Earth, from Luna, Mars, or any of the other trans-asteroid belt stations. Long-range examination by the Mimas Listening Post astronomers doesn’t look good. Earth and Mars are showing extremely high radioactivity levels. All of the other stations we have been able to see show no signs of life. It’s unknown why the T’Cha, after several failed attempts at meaningful communication, simply chose to wipe humanity out. And it’s even more puzzling how they managed to destroy an entire civilization and yet leave untouched one tiny listening post staffed by only a dozen humans.
It can’t go on for long. Eventually our resources will run out. We have plenty of water and oxygen. Mimas is mostly ice. The reactor will last for another hundred years, so we have heat, power and the magnetic shield will stay up. But food, of that we have a limited supply, and there won’t be any more coming. We’re facing death not by the T’Cha, but by starvation.
Last night, after delivering his complete report on the state of the solar system after the T’Cha’s attack, our chief astronomer went to the main airlock and blew himself out onto the frozen, airless surface of Mimas. Now there are only eleven of us.
Recorded 2242 hours station time, 22 May 2234, Chief Electronics Mate Bel Deveran, Coalition Navy
***
Chief Deveran switched off the recording and leaned back in his chair. Alone for the moment in the Mimas Listening Post’s claustrophobic command suite, he breathed a small sigh, and looked up at the massive, looming presence of Saturn overhead. The chronometer told him his twelve-hour shift was almost over. I have no idea why we’re even bothering to keep up the monitoring, of Saturn or anything else. It’s not like there’s anyone to report anything to.
But the listening post commander, Lieutenant Commander Venko, insisted on keeping to routine. “We keep at it,” he had said to the assembled staff of the Mimas Listening Post in this morning’s briefing. “If nothing else, it keeps us all from going crazy and following Lieutenant Foxx out the airlock.”
Something to that, I suppose, Chief Deveran had to admit, if only to himself.
So, the crew of the Mimas Listening Post continued their routines. The post itself was an oblong dome, two hundred and forty meters long by eighty meters wide, sunk twenty meters into a rocky outcrop sticking out of the mostly water-ice surface of Saturn’s innermost moon. A pressurized corridor led down into the rock eighty meters deep and two hundred south to the station’s fusion reactor. Another corridor led a kilometer west to the landing ports, where supply ships docked – or had, before the T’Cha came.
Before the T’Cha, the post was manned by Navy personnel, each on a six-month hardship rotation, tasked to monitor and study Saturn’s massive magnetic field and radiation belts, and to detect any unexpected objects passing through the area bound for the inner solar system.
Now, after the T’Cha, the Mimas Listening Post, as far as its staff was able to determine, was the last outpost of the human species.
When the shift change chime sounded at 2300 hours station time, Chief Deveran had little to report to Astronomer’s Mate Second Class Jule Hortenz, who replaced him: “A class 2 comet, two Grade 3 flares from Saturn’s magnetic field that the post’s shielding handled just fine, and no contact from anyone else in the System. No sign of the T’Cha.”
“Well, that’s good news,” AstM2C Hortenz grumped. She was on the wrong side of forty, dumpy, and sour – having failed the Chief’s exam four times would do that to a person.
Not that it matters any more, Deveran reminded himself as he walked out of the command suite. Not that anything matters much anymore.
Like most of the posts’ staff, Deveran’s family had been on Earth when the T’Cha struck.
It was a walk of forty meters from the command suite to the station’s dining facility but feeling little need to deplete the station’s resources by even enough for a sandwich, Chief Deveran walked on past the facility to his tiny personal cabin. There, he kicked off his shoes, folded down his cot and lay down.
For a moment, he was keenly aware of the main airlock, twenty meters down the C corridor. He shook his head. Sara wouldn’t have wanted that. She would have wanted me to hang on, to go on living.
But for what?
That was a question Chief Deveran didn’t want to examine too closely. Not with the airlock only a few paces away.
With a sigh, Deveran picked up his VR headset. On an assignment like the Mimas Listening Post, a hobby of VR recording could be a lifesaver. Now, at least, it was a way to go back to better times. He put on the headset, tapped the power stud, and said softly, “Deveran, Carolina, Barrier Islands, number fourteen.”
The VR headset chimed, activated, and Chief Deveran went “home.”
Blue sky, clear blue sky above. Deveran could feel, somehow, the sand beneath him where he lay on the beach. Summer vacation, on the beach, as he and Sara had done every year since they married five years before.
The surf lapped in, slowly, almost lazily. The children played at the edge of the water. It took him a moment to remember the year, then it came back: Ten years earlier. 2224. Boo was four, Jin three.
He turned his head. Sara Deveran lay in the sand beside him, her bikini figure unaffected by her two pregnancies. Her black hair spilled out over the towel she had laid down under her. Her deep brown eyes were closed, but she felt Deveran looking at her and smiled.
“What are the kids doing?” she asked, without opening her eyes.
“Playing in the sand,” Deveran replied. “I think Boo is going to be an engineer. He’s trying to build a sand tower.”
“An engineer? Making a tower out of sand? He has a lot to learn,” Sara said, smiling.
Deveran looked up. A gull sailed by overhead, coasting effortlessly on the wind, its black eyes scanning the sand below for anything edible. The sun was warm, the sand was rough, the wind was cool, and the sound of the waves relaxing.
Deveran reached out and took Sara’s hand. “I’m glad you changed your mind about me,” he said. “You took a little convincing.”
“I saw potential,” Sara grinned. “Well, maybe I was a little nervous about marrying a Navy man. But it’s worked out pretty well. You’re on planet more than off, anyway.”
“For now. I’m overdue for a hardship tour. Six months off-Earth, some hellhole like Titan or Europa.”
“Well,” Sara replied, reaching for Deveran’s hand, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Deveran nodded. A few yards away, Boo’s sand tower collapsed. Both children burst out laughing and started to gather sand for another effort.
The post’s alarm system cut off his VR headset. Deveran removed the set, opened his door, looked out in the corridor to see people running past.
“What is it?” Deveran shouted.
The post’s medic, Chief Pharmacist’s Mate Qul Abend, shouted over her shoulder as she ran past. “Mess Steward Koal,” she called. “Out the airlock.”
Deveran closed his cabin door. He looked at the VR headset. “Shit,” he said, quietly, to himself. “And then there were ten.”
Then, with a sigh, he put on his shoes, left the cabin, and headed for the airlock. Nothing I can really do, he told himself, but I guess we may as well stick together – those of us left, anyway.
Sara would be there, in the VR set, waiting for his return.
***
I laid on a dune I looked at the sky
When the children were babies and played on the beach
You came up behind me, I saw you go by
You were always so close and still within reach
Sara, Sara
Whatever made you want to change your mind
Sara, Sara
So easy to look at, so hard to define
Good start. ASM2 would probably be an ASM1 if she just failed the Chief’s exam – unless she got demoted for something else.
Sent you another quick PM on the forum too.
Yeah, after all this time I still get confused by Navy enlisted grades.
Think about the modern army
https://duckduckgo.com/?t=ffab&q=army+enlisted+grades%2Franks&atb=v198-1&iax=images&ia=images&iai=https%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F_U9_GXBYjMsk%2FTGhVzZRNSaI%2FAAAAAAAAAAs%2F-wSTeqO_gT0%2Fs1600%2FA_US%2BARMY%2BENLISTED.JPG
So they’re bringing back the specialist ranks ? I thought that died in the 80s when there were SPEC-5, SPEC-6, and even SPEC-7.
Hypothetical Insignia of Rank: US Army & Army National Guard Enlisted Rank Insignia
At the lower ranks SPEC-4 vs Corporal, I kinda get it. It got muddied for me when you could have a SPEC-6 or -7 that could get punked by a “hard stripe” E-5 NCO. Then again, even a Warrant Officer with 20+ years was subordinate to the freshly minted ROTC LT2.
Responsibility. That hard stripe or the 2nd LT have it; the CW3 or the SPEC7 did not.
Conversely, I saw a E5 get dropped by his E4 squad leader after a ND (blank) during a field problem. E5 was reclassing so was in the position due to his collar rank, E4 didn’t have a PLDC slot but was short qualified NCOs and he was already fasttracking. Neither one gave a hesitation.
I came in as a SPC in 2004. (ie. SPC-4). It was interesting seeing the ranges at Jackson named after folks from Vietnam – ie. SPC-6, etc.
They’ve mentioned having enlisted non-NCO higher ranking specialists again in the past few years….kinda as a parallel to Warrants (maybe for technical stuff, languages, etc) – doesn’t seem to have gone anywhere though.
Fear of the La Cosa Specialostra.
+1 Sham Shield
Wait until they bring back the Technician ranks (T4, T5, etc.). Seriously though, in my unit, if one was going to advance to E5 or higher, one was made a SPEC-4 and sent off to PLDC. If one’s career was not on track for higher promotion, one would be given a Corporal’s rank and shunted off to busy work in the arms room or motor pool.
I got to do PLDC at Ft. Hood. Other NCO’s I knew got sent to Hawaii.
/kicks rocks
Dumpiness unbecoming of a sailor.
There are times when nearly every person has these similar feelings. Too often the young act on the feelings, old people on the memories.
That was a question Chief Deveran didn’t want to examine too closely. Not with the airlock only a few paces away.
No shit.
Great start, Animal! I’m looking forward to seeing where this one goes.
Uruguayan cuisine?
The two that went out the airlock already could have been a couple weeks more survival. Just sayin’.
Hey, they’re freeze dried already.
Yup. They’re not in space. The meat is recoverable.
Tastes just like pork roast !
Alternatively, they didn’t want to be jerky to the others and consume valuable resources, but their sacrifice may turn out ultimately to be ironic.
Cool start, Animal, there are a lot of directions I can see this one going.
Nice work Animal! a twister already!
/Sci Fi Monday!
I know…I may need to find some reason to play Mass Effect again.
Top notch writers here.
Just like the peak years at Playboy.
We do have tits from what appear to be actual women, and advice columns. Maybe I should start painting pinups like Vargas.
I want to see that TOK!
/Hawt
Something akin to Rubens for me, please.
You’ll get Botero and you’ll like it
Ahh, no, Rubens Yes Vargas certainly
thicc
too much Kewpie Doll.
Well, it’s certainly a style . . .
Not one I care for.
You have to scrream when you hear the secret word.
Big Pee Wee Herman fan, are you?
Paul Reubens, George Michael, and Larry Craig meet in a bathroom…
I think they called that play “Stomp”?
So, SugarFree is our Robert Anton Wilson and CPRM is our Kliban?
No one is going to take the bait?
“I just get playboy for the articles.”
Good stuff Animal thanks.
LOL.
FINISH HIM !
I actually laughed out loud.
Saw your friend situation after the last post died. If she’s selling the property, I wouldn’t even bother with fencing off the driveway access or putting up no trespassing signs, as satisfying as it would be. Sell it and let the new property owner deal with the neighbor. Escalating conflict with a neighbor is more likely to turn away a potential buyer.
Yeah. The best revenge would be to make sure to sell the property to a lawyer.
I say fences make for good neighbors.
Or a permanent easement for about $80k, either way.
I would not be excited as a buyer to see a neighbor constantly driving on the property without a defined easement.
When Floor Sweepings Attack!
The sudden stops and looks into the distance off camera really made for the build up.
LOL, I needed a good laugh, thanks! Ninja Janitor!
Spoiler: that’s Festus.
And he claims he doesn’t have any marketable skills! PSHAW!
Magnificent.
I was wondering what happened to lightsaber kid.
The epic battle between mom and teen last night was all about his driver’s test and requirements. We made it very clear when they got their learners that we would pay gas, insurance and provide our time so they can practice driving. They are responsible for asking us to drive and to ensure all their requirements are met: time behind wheel, the course they need to take, school attendance, etc.
Teen waited til last Monday to sign up for the online portion of the training. It is a 30 hour class, that takes…30 hours. As of last night he has 12 hours still left. Some of it was because the course was ‘offline’ due to upgrades/maintenance. The battle was he was trying to offload his laziness on us. “You restrict the internet! You make me work!”
He was also shy a few hours on the supervised logs, but those I could overlook. He is a good enough driver as one can be at 16.
Long story is…he rescheduled. Now brother is also up against a timeline and needs to somehow get his SS card from an agency that isn’t really working. Again, I have told him all summer…you need to do this…you need to do this….where is my gun.
Still doing that shit with a kid who just turned 21…
My wife and I often marvel at how little our parents did for us – they were wiser.
Ah, youngsters. Procrastination is my superpower, but I still get irked when THEY procrastinate.
You and me both. Why do it today when I can do it maybe tomorrow? And their procrastination doesn’t bother me as much until they try and say it was our fault. That gets me going.
Mine are a little older now. My oldest is having an epiphany now that he has a full time job and Mom and Dad can’t cover for him.
If you wait until the last minute, it only takes a minute to get it done.
My kid is actually good with this stuff, and with saving money. I am the one who needs a hard deadline or a crisis to get anything done.
God, I miss logistics.
Same here zwak. I need conflict, deadlines, and chaos happening, otherwise it is the devil’s playground for me.
Same deal with XX. She needed labs drawn fot her next doc appt, and I kept telling her and telling her and and and…
How is moving going? Other than that it sucks by definition.
Thanks, Animal, I am intrigued. OK, a bit depressing for starters, but I think I’ll stick around to find out what happened to the T’Cha. And whatever other surprises you’ve got lined up
The protagonist wakes up in the last chapter, and it’s all a dream.
A tangerine dream
and…failed to link.
I was hoping for this.
^ go with the classics
The classic.
Thanks to both of you for fond memories. TD was the background to many a fine evening spent in the dorm room of a friend who was studying Pharmacy. A willing test subject I was.
Well, I was tying into space so…whatever…go away!
go away!
‘Batein?
Same shit; different day.
WASHINGTON – The Supreme Court sided Monday with police in two cases in which plaintiffs claimed officers used excessive force, overturning separate lower court rulings that had allowed the officers to be sued for civil rights violations.
In two unsigned opinions, the court stressed police are entitled to be shielded from liability unless it is “clear to a reasonable officer” that their actions are unlawful. In both cases the court ruled that the officers were entitled to qualified immunity, the legal doctrine that protects police from liability for civil rights violations in many circumstances.
In one case, the Supreme Court overturned a lower court ruling that found an officer in California who placed his knee on a prone suspect could be sued. In another, it overturned a lower court ruling that two police officers in Oklahoma could be sued because their actions before a fatal shooting escalated the potential for violence.
But put some bullets in a woman that ‘tapped’ your cruiser while aiming out the driverside window, blindly discharging your firearm is totes cool. Or panic fire into a crowded hallway when you had support inside that hallway and coming from the rear…also, totes cool.
Reasonable officer standard!
Biden quitely fucks over his voters again.
The Biden administration is developing plans for how it will restart federal student loan payments early next year when the pandemic pause on monthly payments for tens of millions of Americans ends, according to documents obtained by POLITICO and two sources familiar with the plans.
The Education Department is eyeing proposals that would give borrowers new flexibility as they face student loan bills for the first time in nearly two years, such as an initial grace period for missed payments, the documents and sources show.
Some bright news for a change.
I’ll take it.
Local rag is already running the women hit hardest angle on the loan repayment.
rag…women…hardest hit. Steaming pile of patriarchy right here in your writing.
Hopefully not front running a PM Link.
Netflix trans employees and allies release a list of demands ahead of the walkout
People, we have demands here. Demands!
Well, if your group is large enough and talented enough…take your show on the road…
Priscilla, Queen of the Desert?
As my man Crow T. Robot said, “Wish in one hand, shit in the other, and see which one fills up first.”
Halfway through Day One of my combat shotgun class. No fatalities or even serious injuries.